#are they getting ready to get rid of this cast? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lambilegs · 1 month ago

Text

getting acquainted with the dildo: attempt #1

contains: sevika teaching reader how to suck the strap, dry humping (reader doing it on sev's thigh), friends with (resolved, thank god) tension, slight humiliation kink, a bit of a spit kink, teasing, inexperienced reader, implied age gap (both reader and sevika are adults), sevika calls reader "kiddo" teasingly, reader's body is referred to w/ the following terms: "pussy," "clit," "cunt"

when you tell sevika that you've never used a strap-on before, you nearly beg some higher force to let the ground swallow you whole. you two have been friends forever, but lately, it's undeniable that some sort of molten desire has been pooling at the center of what you have. maybe it was always there, and had just been in denial. but, it's undeniably present now, impossible to ignore, thick and heavy in the air, lining every interaction with a sort of hot lava.

and it's made confessions like this, ones filled with sexual secrecy and exposed desires, carry a lot more weight than they did prior. you're pretty much confiding in a woman who you're aching to have sex with about just how much experience she should and shouldn't expect of you. it's way more vulnerable, and it feels like you're spoiling her prematurely by peeling away sexual secrets that in a different circumstance, one with just regular dating, she would've discovered on her own in the context of wanting to have sex with you. but, doing it in a friendship, when you don't even know for sure what she feels, is more uncertain. it's farther away from the line of actual romance and desire, and therefore feels risker to admit. because if your inexperience deters her, maybe she'll easily dismiss and rid herself of any attraction she might've once harboured for you, since it'd be simpler to as just friends.

so, to say the least, you're scared when confessing this secret to her.

at least, that's until you see the way her lip curls up when, while laying on her couch, you confess that you're nervous about one day using the strap due to never having done it before. she seems equal parts intrigued and amused by the revelation. from where she sits, picking at one of the screws in her arm, she asks, tone low, steady, "well, do you feel ready?"

"I don't know." you stare up at the ceiling, for the thought of maintaining eye contact through this conversation is a bit too unnerving for your liking. "I mean, I'm sure everyone feels... not ready when they start using it, right?"

she shrugs. "maybe. to a degree. but, you don't need to push yourself if it really scares you." her voice has turned tentative, face absent of the initial mischief. with the way she angles herself away from you, it seems that she's somewhat uncomfortable with giving such earnest advice.

"thanks for the sex-ed," you laugh, trying to ease the mood some.

"well, considering I've actually worn the strap and you've barely touched it, you could use all the advice you can get."

you try not to visibly tense up at the casually tossed comment. you knew sevika has used a strap, of course you did. you've been at her apartment enough times to catch sight of her lube or dildos (because, yes she has several) scattered about. but, god, the idea of it taut on her pelvis, ready to be used to pump into you, has your thighs tightening.

"well, then, oh-wise-one, what would be your advice?"

she shrugs, avoiding your gaze for a few seconds before saying, "getting acquainted with it. with things like sucking, touching, you know."

"sucking?"

"yeah." the corner of her lip quirks up as she raises an eyebrow at you. "never done that either?"

you feel your face warm, feeling awfully pathetic under her pointed gaze, years of experience behind it. "no." you groan, swiping a hand across your face. "god, I'm gonna be so horrible at it when I first do it."

"then, practice."

you scoff. "with who?"

"by yourself?" she drawls, casting you an incredulous look as though she aims for you to question your own stupidity.

you huff, turning away. "I can't do it on my own, how will I know if I'm even doing it right?"

"then, I don't know," she sighs exasperatedly, lighting her cigar. "someone you trust, I guess. someone who wants their dick wet."

"the only person I know who wants to get their dick wet is you," you snap, a petulant part of you hoping you can embarrass her as much as she does with you.

her lips wrap around the tip of the cigar, that scar on the bottom one seeming to deepen. it's almost entrancing, hooking your eyes in and leaving you resistant to its power.

you only snap out of the spell when she says, "is that your way of asking for it to be me?"

the words have your lips parting before you can force them shut. what the fuck is that supposed to mean? you're well-aware of the tension that's been there between you two, of course you are. but, you never imagined that sevika would actually initiate anything. sure, she's flirted here and there, and you're convinced she's started purposely mentioning stopping at babette's for the sole purpose of making you jealous (after all, she always has such a shit-eating grin whenever you fidget or glare at her in response). but, still, it's never amounted to an actual offer, an actual step over the threshold between friendship and, well, something else.

you know it's the more responsible decision to say no, and shut this down before things get complicated. or at least until you clear up whatever it is you guys consider yourselves to be in relation to each other, and if it's something that carries as much emotion to her as it does to you.

but, part of you wants to give into the throb between your legs, the thick tension crackling in the air, the way her gaze is resting on you calmly, as though debating whether or not she should pounce. and god, you want her to, itching with curiosity as to what she'd say if you teased back.

and so, you do. "why, are you offering?"

you get a world of satisfaction from the way she coughs at the question, puffs of smoke blowing from her mouth as she roughly clears her throat. beneath it all, though, is a very apparent underbelly of nerves in your stomach, tingling in anticipation for her answer.

when she finally sets the stupid thing down, giving her lungs a well-deserved break, she says, "why, do you want me to?"

you grit your teeth, a spark of irritation set aflame from this back-and-forth. you wish she could treat you with the courage she does anyone else, just answering your question then sweeping you off your feet with no action required of you. but, no, she just has to be cautious, and hesitant, and sweet. today, of all times.

you sigh. you suppose it's on you to end this game. your chest is tight with anxiety, the words about to roll off your tongue heavy and filled with consequence. but, you push through, anyways. if you remain vague, she will too. if you say no, you may lose your chance with her for god knows how long. so, the only option is: "fine, yes."

immediately, regret weighs upon you, sinking down into your guts. you shift, eyes pointed down to your knees, trying not to panic, when a small huff meets your ears.

it's sevika. sevika chuckling.

your eyes tentatively raise up to her, nails digging into the plush of the cushioned seat you're on. her small, endearing gap flashes as she shakes her head slowly, her laughter sounding split between amused and incredulous, bordering on a scoff.

you feel nearly glued to your spot when her eyes finally rest upon you, the grey shine in them wrapping around you and pulling, pulling and pulling.

she leans back in her couch, spreading her legs out. "well, then, hop on, kiddo."

and that's how you wind up on her thigh, her arm wrapped around your torso as you fist at the fabric taut over her broad shoulders. her mechanic hand squeezes into the silicone balls of a dildo, eyes stuck on your lips as she traces the tip over them. your breaths are heaving with anticipation as she strokes the head along the inside plush of your lips, getting the bulb of it wet and slick with your spit. the experience is exhilarating, for you know she's capable of going harder than this, of fucking your throat raw. but, no, she wants to take her time with you, draw out every drop and dribble of pleasure for the both of you.

"who knew you had it in you?" she muses with a raspy laugh.

before you can even speak to protest, she slides the entire head in, capturing your voice and transforming it into a broken, wanton moan of surprise. her eyes practically gleam at that, and she slides the dildo out of your mouth's confines with a pop before sliding the tip back in. your lips latch on automatically, hugging around the head and letting it roll around the flat of your tongue. despite the sheer anxiety of having sevika's attentive eyes on you, the motions of her push-and-pull into your mouth is almost -- well, relaxing? the repetitiveness of it, the way it gives you something to direct all your five senses to as it lolls about in your mouth, your lips tightening and loosening -- it makes your brain feel softened, hazy, lost in this.

"ah, look at that," she coos, her tone hushed and sharpened with an edge of mockery. "sucking on that like that's all you're good for."

the playful degradation makes your clit fucking throb, and without meaning to, your hips automatically jerk forward, the firmness of her thigh making your eyes nearly roll back.

"oh, someone liked that," sevika mutters.

her thigh suddenly bucks up, sending you bouncing on her lap and nearly toppling over if not for her muscular arm steadying you. the pressure against your pussy makes you whine around the toy, your lips stretching open to release the noise only has her pushing it in deeper, nearly a quarter of it now sliding up and against your tongue.

"suck it in and out, just like that," she whispers, her eyes burning into your skin as she intently watches you. you try to follow her directions, but your sucks are too eager, too fast, and sevika reaches her hand up and gently grabs your jaw, coaxing it into fluid motions that has the dildo being softly pressed and released by your lips' grip, over and over and over again.

you know this is a horrible idea, a fact that only becomes more punctuated with every thrust of the toy into your mouth. you know you should've had some more self-control, and should've put a stop to this inane idea before it had manifested into a reality. but, no, you just had to think with your pussy, and now look where it's landed you? on your friend's, a good, loyal, helpful friend's, lap, practically rutting like you're in heat and sucking dick with zero technique.

"when that gets a bit too repetitive, you can lick it." she abruptly yanks the dildo from your mouth, and an embarrassing wad of spit stretches out with it, spilling thickly down your chin. your face is practically burning from the heat of humiliation, but sevika doesn't seem to mind, only smirking and saying, "now, I was gonna tell you you can get messy with it, but you're a step ahead."

now that your mouth is finally freed, at least you get to spit out, "you're such a dick," as though your pussy isn't practically leaking with arousal.

"oh, so you suck off any asshole, then?"

"maybe I will once you're done with this lesson," you haughtily snap back.

her eyes narrow at that, but she says nothing to it, smacking the tip lightly against your mouth. "open."

despite your snapping, and much to your annoyance, your mouth immediately goes slack, falling open for her.

"tongue out, now."

you obey, sticking it out.

she snorts, shifting in her seat as she raises the dick to you. "such a little sub."

you roll your eyes at her words, jerking when she grabs your jaw, forcing you to face her. "keep those eyes on me."

your pussy clenches down on nothing. god, you need her. not that you'd ever admit it -- the last thing she needs is another ego stroke.

"show me how you'd lick this."

giving you so much control causes your confidence, however little you had of it, to waver. you hesitate before tentatively stroking the flat of your tongue along the head, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time. a tiny burst of pride ripples through you when you see her eyes widen imperceptibly. it's barely there, but you know her well enough to know it wouldn't have happened unless, at the very least, a small part of her was surprised, or maybe even impressed.

the reaction eggs you on, and you do it again, running your tongue along the entire length of the dildo, using the tip to trace along the bulging veins. when that's done, you lap at the head, the flat of your tongue quickly moving along it in steady movements.

when sevika speaks, her jaw is clenched, and the deep breath she takes shudders. "good."

"yeah?" the clear effect you're having on her is most definitely getting to your head, and it makes you desirous to push and prod at her more. "am I being good?" you end the question with a kiss right to the tip.

almost as though sevika is tethered to the toy, she swallows hard at the sight. "yeah," she says, her voice firm. "you're doing good."

the praise has your hips bucking again, and you internally curse at the leverage you've so clearly given her, another wicked smile curling at her lips.

her thigh resumes its actions from before, pumping up to meet your clothed core as her arm grips your waist tightly, keeping you anchored as she encourages you to rub yourself on her. your body acts before your mind can catch up, hips pressing down so that your clit receives some friction through the layers of fabric. you hate to admit it, but sevika's muscled thigh is a perfect helper.

"you can flick your tongue on the tip, too," she says, her voice a lot rougher than it was a few minutes back. you derive some pleasure from it, for even if your resolve is loosening and waning in wake of her touch, at least hers seems to be too.

"how?" you ask, your voice an embarrassing pitch from the desperation accompanying the word. but, as soon as it slips from you, your mind conjures up a single image, and it drives you to ask, "can you show me?"

"you kidding me?"

"no." you bat your eyes, hoping it'll get her more susceptible.

"I'm gonna need a bit more convincing than some pretty eyes."

oh, well, never mind. you deflate physically, though something tickles your stomach at knowing she finds your eyes pretty.

"oh, c'mon, please, sevi," you say, tugging on her arm with a jutted bottom lip.

after a few moments of casting you a deadpan stare, she sighs, tentatively turning the dildo around and raising the head to her mouth. voice warm, so velvety, she murmurs, "like this."

you hold your breath as the tip of her tongue pokes out, flicking along the head of the toy, flapping over it fast and hard. she may not realize it, but she's giving you a crystal clear shot of exactly how she'd look devouring your clit. you pocket the mental image, already knowing you'll pull it out the next time you get off.

when you follow suit, lapping at the tip, your tongue's point making little zig-zag wags, sevika's hand tightens on your hip, and with just one pull, you're back to riding her thigh. the pleasure coursing through your pussy, deep and aching from the pressure, is making you lost in sensation. your eyes flutter close as your hole clenches and your clit swells up, sevika's muscular thigh hard and lovely.

meanwhile, she's easing the toy into your throat, laughing when you gag all over it, spit gushing from your mouth. she's relentless in her practice, just coaxing you to move faster on her thigh as you struggle to accommodate the dildo, pathetic whines tumbling from your mouth everytime she pushes it in and your throat seizes with a choke. it leaves you more sloppy, more wet, more nasty than you were before, saliva trailing down your chin and getting your neck cool and sticky.

sevika's hand slides up your waist, just barely grazing the side of your breast on the way up, before brushing a thumb against the corner of your mouth, wiping away the residue. the touch seems wholly intimate compared to the ones that preceded, especially when she uses the digit to encourage your mouth to open and take the dildo in again. she seems to be more cautious of your limits now, easing it only halfway in. your eyes flutter shut, sucking nonsensically at it, losing yourself to the rhythm as you jut against her thigh faster.

sevika's eyebrows furrow in as you speed up, her breathing laboured, and you nearly giggle around the toy at the evident impact you're having on her. but, that's not all there is to it, for her expression only has a series of more hot, tempting mental images bursting through your mind. her panting like that when thrusting into you, her eyebrows scrunching in concentration like that while she lavishes attention all over your soaked cunt.

the thought has you bouncing faster, and sevika growls. actually fucking growls. her hand abandons your face, opting to grip your ass tightly and drag you harder against her. your bud is practically weeping with desire now, desperate to have its wants sated as you grind down harder. the weight of the toy on your tongue, the way your mind is numbed from the bodily chaos of sucking, thrusting, clutching -- it sends you rolling close to your orgasm, just barely teetering on the edge of it.

what finally sends you hurdling past it is how sevika bites her lip when she pulls you forward again, her thigh pumping up and down to meet your thrusts. she looks so concentrated on you, her dark eyes hooded and intense, and the pure want on her face makes you feel so desired, so aroused at the idea of how many ways you can get that expression on her face again. that, paired with another aggressive press from her thigh, and a tight suck on the dildo, sends your body crashing with an orgasm, walls spasming as your thighs go taut. you writhe in her arm, nearly tipping all the way back if it weren't for her catching you and holding you close. your chest presses flush to hers as you tremble like a leaf, clit sopping and stinging in sensitivity as she continues pushing against it.

you whine in protest, slightly lifting your hips, and she immediately takes the hint, slowing her movements to a stop. all the while, you keep sucking on the dildo, the shape of it in your mouth, the way it offers you something to latch onto and ground yourself with, practically addictive.

sevika watches you carefully for a few moments before gently tugging it out, a string of saliva hooked between the head of it and your bottom lip.

you moan in surprise when shr leans in and runs her tongue along your chin, curling it right at your bottom lip, swallowing down the saliva all for herself.

"you're such a mess," she mumbles, sucking languidly at your chin.

"it's not my fault," you grunt, voice raspy from all the noises you made. now that the heat of the moment has worn off, the searing burn of embarrassment begins to imprint itself on you. god, you were so loud, so desperate, so--

"you looked good."

you lick your lips, some of the nerves calming. "yeah?"

"don't let it get to your head."

"that's true, I already had my fair share of head for today."

her eyebrow raises at you in a distinct lack of amusement. "you're lucky you're cute."

your stomach sizzles with oh-so-stupid butterflies. god, why does she have this much of an impact on you? and it's so effortless on her end too, which makes it all the more frustrating for you.

"you think I'm cute?" you ask, forcing your tone to sound teasing so she doesn't realize just how earnest you are.

when she falls silent for a few moments, you tense up, wondering if she can tell how serious you are.

"who's the one leaking through my favourite pants right now?"

or maybe not. face twisted into a cringe, you grip her shoulders to stumble into a standing position, her hand still loosely hanging by your waist. "on that note, I think I'll go wash up."

her fingers dig with a bit more pressure into your skin, and to your shock, she says, voice gruff, "not just yet. just sit for now."

you let her tug you back into her lap, your arms immediately winding around her neck. "what for?"

she shrugs. "just comfortable." her eyes finally lift to you, and it's like you could plummet to the ground with how swept over her steady gaze makes you feel.

"was it not you who just made made that stupid pants comme--"

"do I need to get the dildo again?"

you burst into laughter, eyes crinkling as you shake your head at her. "is that gonna be your go-to whenever I piss you off now?"

"amongst other possibilities." her fingertips ghost your waist, and you shiver.

other possibilities? you know it's not the smartest thing to dwell on -- after all, she might've just said casually with no serious intent. but, sill, your stomach warms from something you had been trying your best to avoid this entire interaction.

hope.

but, when she touches your waist like that, and seems to struggle to remove her hand from you as you walk away, you can't resist the little part of you of that whispers, maybe it's warranted.

but, you don't want to get ahead of yourself. so, you keep it at just a maybe.

#scheduled #s.writing #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika arcane #arcane x reader

3K notes · View notes

loonylupinblack3 · 7 months ago

Text

Jealous

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content, slight violence

Summary: Logan see's a guy flirting with you and gets jealous

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: this was written while i was sleep deprived and had no idea where tf it was going so enjoy

Logan wasn’t a very jealous person. He never had reason to be; everyone knew you were his and he didn’t feel the need to scare anyone off. He knew you only had eyes for him, and he didn’t feel threatened by anyone else.

Usually.

Yet as he was watching you laughing with that guy at the bar, like he was somehow the most hilarious fucking person on this planet, all he wanted to do was walk over there and punch the guy square in the jaw.

He didn’t though, because he’d learnt from the past you were not a fan of his outbursts but fuck he wanted to. He could feel his claws itching to extend, to rip through his flesh and proceed to rip out that guy’s flesh. He knew you were dating Logan, he’d have to. He was a new mutant to the school sure but he’d been here for about a week. It was common knowledge you and Logan were in a serious relationship; he’d have to have heard about it by now.

So he was flirting with you knowing you were taken. He might as well have been flirting with death.

“Calm down there mate.”

Scott’s voice took Logan out of his stewing. He glanced at his friend, who had noticed his jealousy and was staring at him with an amused look on his face.

“Shut up,” was Logan’s gruff response, eyes going back to your smiling face, resisting the urge to walk over there and claim you as his right in front of the bastard.

He was also miffed with you, however. Surely you weren’t that dumb. Surely you could see the blatant attraction the man held for you. Yet you did nothing to diffuse the tension or let him know you weren’t interested.

“Dude, you’d think you had my laser eyes with the way you’re glaring at that guy,” Scott said, not helping Logan in the slightest. He wished he did have Scott’s lazer eyes so he could get rid of this irritating problem.

Jean decided to walk up at that moment, casting Logan a weary glance. “I’m not sure how long he can take before he snaps.”

“I can hear you y’know,” Logan said through gritted teeth, though Jean wasn’t entirely wrong.

It was when the guy laid his hands on you, squeezing your arm the way Logan did, that he finally ‘snapped’ as Jean had called it.

His friends didn’t even try to stop him as he stalked towards you, knowing it’d be no use. Logan was ready to rip that man’s arm off his body if he kept touching what was Logan’s, and he wouldn’t even feel bad about it. He’d enjoy it.

You turned towards him when he arrived, shining him a bright smile. God, you really were that naive when it came to other men. Logan knew he should be grateful, knew this obliviousness came from a place of love, where you simply didn’t see any other man that way so you didn’t pick up on the obvious cues, but right now it was doing nothing but irk him, seeing another man flirt with you and seeing you do nothing about it.

“Logan,” you greeted warmly, wrapping both your arms around one of his, and shaking the other man’s hand off in the process. A bolt of satisfaction struck him at the action, but it wasn’t enough to quench his overwhelming jealousy.

He tugged you closer, feeling a deep sense of contentment when you eagerly complied, and his irritation towards you lessened slightly. Noticing the man’s narrowed gaze as he watched the two of you however only increased it.

He raised an eyebrow at the man. “Something wrong?”

He tried and failed to mask his face, Logan seeing the twisted jealousy lurking beneath the surface. It was so similar to his own it caught Logan off guard for a second, and his own anger towards the man wavered.

That was until he opened his mouth.

“Just the fact you can’t give your girlfriend more than five minutes of space before you’re crowding her again.”

Logan was going to kill this man.

You seemed to realise that too as your hold got a tad tighter, as if to hold him back. If you weren’t wrapped around his arm his claws would already be out, yet you knew exactly how to stop him, and had it so Logan couldn’t attack this son of a bitch.

“Excuse me?” was his response again, and the people around them quietened, as if sensing the danger.

He felt rather than saw Scott and Jean move closer, to protect Logan or the man he wasn’t sure.

The man scoffed, glancing at you who was certainly not smiling at him anymore. “You see her chatting to me and you have to barge in. It’s like you’re scared if she talks to another guy she’ll realise you’re not all that and fuck off while she has the chance.”

Yep, this man was dead. He couldn’t just run his mouth like that, in front of you, and expect Logan not to pummel him into the ground. He was going to make sure the man’s death was painful and slow, that he felt every cut and bone breaking.

Yet before he could do a single thing you stepped forward and gave the guy a glare so dirty Logan was relieved not to be on the receiving end of it.

“You speak about my relationship with Logan like you have any idea of what goes on between us again and I’ll fuck your shit up.”

The man looked so stunned he couldn’t even formulate a proper sentence. “But you- but he-”

“Did you ever think maybe I like having him around? That maybe spending time with my boyfriend is what I want? And even if I didn’t, did you really think I’d prefer you instead? A man who barely knows me yet tries to speak for me and insults the people I love?”

Logan was staring at you in awe. The way you kept going, stripping this man of his arrogance and self assuredness, ripping him to shreds verbally the way Logan would have physically, well, it turned him on. You matched each other so well he couldn’t help the smug smile tugging at his lips as he turned back to the now humiliated man.

“I think she said it all.”

He sent Logan one last glare, and he thought that would be the end of it when he caught the muttered “bitch,” the man sent your way.

Immediately Logan’s fist was in his face, slamming into his jaw, his nose, any piece of flesh he could find. He was barely aware of the gasps around him and you’re incessant tugging of his shirt as he grabbed the man by the neck and looked him in the eye.

“If you so much as look at her in any disrespectful way again, I’ll tear you to shreds.”

Then he dropped the man, watching him scramble upright and swear profusely at him- though not a single word or glance was directed at you- before getting the hell out of there.

Satisfied, he turned to find you glaring at him, hands on your hips with a stern look on your face.

Logan held out both his hands in defence. “What?”

“I had that handled.”

Logan grabbed you by the waist and tugged you close, and though you weren’t exactly happy with him you weren’t completely mad either, because the man had been a dick, and let him reel you in.

“I know Bub, I just couldn’t let him get away with calling you that.”

You sighed but pressed your head into his chest and Logan knew he was victorious. “Let’s just get out of here, yeah?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Yeah?”

You smirked, “I want to see how wild you get when you’re jealous.”

Logan grinned a purely animalistic smile as he brought you close, pressing his lips against your ear as he whispered roughly, “oh just you wait Sweetheart.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #x men #xmen #xmen fandom #xmen fanfiction #x men x reader #x men fanfiction #x men fic #marvel

2K notes · View notes

suiana · 1 month ago

Text

you're a fairy, they're a human

thats something no amount of potion is ever going to change

how many times has he heard that already? give up, look for someone else, just simply stop thinking of you. humans and fairies could never be together no matter how hard he tried after all. especially because he was your guardian fairy, meant to watch you from afar and bless you with a happy life.

and that's the problem.

he's tried. god, he's tried everything to forget that you even exist. to stop this disgusting feeling that crawls up his chest at every mere sight of you. you have no idea how many times he's been scolded by his supervisors for not looking after you and skimping out on work. really, this is your fault. he's tried to tell them.

you think he wants to feel like this? fuck no. he absolutely detests getting this fluttery feeling in his chest, the heat that rushes to his cheeks as he tries to brush his embarrassment off as the summer heat.

but what can he do? when all he wants to do is come back and see you? to hold you sweetly in his hands even though it's not possible? what can he do when this tiny fairy loves you with all his body?

the answer is: you can't. you can't do anything to stop the feeling.

in fact, every time he tries, it's like the feeling grows stronger. and that sucks. really sucks. especially because he gets so, so flustered that... he ends up treating you like shit. and it's not like he wants to either! he just can't fathom that you make him feel like this.

so he calls you stupid, pushes you away in hopes that it'll get rid of the feeling in his chest. the supervisors don't even do anything. just tell him to take some fairy dust and get with another fairy to take his mind off of you.

but really, it only worsens the feeling.

what does he do then? what on earth does he do now that he realizes pushing you away doesn't help, and actually makes him feel worse? that being with others makes him feel like he's commited a treacherous act, like you're the only person he should be this intimate with?

that's right! he violates fairy code and casts a spell that sizes him up to the size of a human. that's not something he should be doing but who cares at this point? he has nothing left to lose. at worse he'll just get killed and then he won't have to feel this disgusting feeling in his chest anymore.

however... he hadn't expected the fairies to go after you.

you of all people. the person that he cares about. the person that... that he broke a law for. you! you, goddamnit!

and he's ready to wage a war for you. doesn't matter if they come at him with an army or not. whether it's one or a hundred, he'll fucking kill them all for even daring to lay a hand on you.

he's your guardian fairy after all. he'll protect you. and he'll make sure of that even if it costs his life.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere fairy #yandere fairy x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

632 notes · View notes

gokyrts · 2 months ago

Text

prickly fuzz | C.S. 55

18+ | warnings: body worship (m receiving), d/s dynamics, denial, mention of razors (shaving), slight size kink, carlos being a tease wc: 1.4k minors dni

author’s note: here’s the first of many, please enjoy. feedback is always appreciated, lemme know what you think down below or in my ask box!! <3

Sitting at the dinner table, you absentmindedly traced the thick layer of hair on Carlos’ forearm with your eyes. you always admired it, anywhere he showed skin, there was a patch of dark hair on it. on his arms specifically, it stretched all the way to the second knuckle of his fingers. his thighs, too, were covered, the hair prominently peaking from underneath any pair of shorts he wore. he groomed himself though, and you noticed that, especially during the summer break when his upper chest was suddenly smooth as he was putting on his biking gear. the slight disappointment you felt manifested itself as a frown on your face and despite not saying anything, Carlos knew. he knew even then as you were sat next to him, munching on your dinner, eyes cast on his arm, that there was something up with the way you felt about his body hair.

His mind was made up later that night in the shower as he held a razor in his hand, ready to get rid of the fuzz that had grown over the last few weeks on his chest. his gaze flicked between the device and the hair between his pecs a few times, his bottom lip twitching in thought before he abandoned it back in its place, remembering the slightest of pouts on your lips.

Carlos exited the shower, not bothering to put on a shirt or bottoms, his boxers would do. he had a plan after all. with his hair still damp from the shower, Carlos shuffled towards the kitchen where he heard you move around, stopping in the doorway and leaning against it. there you were, in your adorable sleepwear, turning around just in time to see him with his hand rubbing at his chest, and to your surprise, the chest hair you’ve been missing on your boyfriend was still in its place. you must have been staring for quite a second because Carlos was grinning as you so shamelessly ogled him. he stalked closer to you, slow and measured, his eyes signaling the underlying desire he felt.

“you like it, princesita?” he purred, the corner of his mouth curling up in a self-satisfied smirk. when you didn’t answer, his hand, large and warm, wrapped around your delicate wrist, gently bringing it up to the fuzz on his chest. the hairs prickled your fingertips, the edges sharp from continuous shaving. his hand stayed right there, spread over yours, swallowed up in the size difference, his heart thudding steadily right beneath. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, the unconscious act not escaping Carlos’ keen eyes and he knew he had done something.

“ah?” he encouraged, the sound accompanied by his eyebrow rising. Carlos knew when to press for an answer to get what he wanted from you.

“mhmm…”

oh, how sweet was that? something cocky flared in him at your wordless answer. he tugged you closer by the waist, not fully satisfied with your reaction. the dip of your waist felt warmer where Carlos’ palms engulfed it through the material of your top and you almost shrunk under his gaze.

“ah, so you do…” he mused, his smirk widening at the revelation that you indeed preferred his chest hairy to smooth. your other hand joined the first on his chest, having nowhere else to go, not that it wanted to go anywhere else. Carlos studied you with his gaze, reading your body language, taking in your expression. his thumbs slowly found their way underneath the hem of your shirt, brushing the soft skin of your love handles. they dug into the plushness with gentle pressure, his eyes finding yours.

“come on… don’t get shy on me now…” he cooed, offering you a softer smile this time, leaning forward, letting the fullness of his chest fill your open palms. “you know i like it when you touch me, princesa.”

you didn’t need more encouragement than that, sliding your hands up and down his chest, tracing the dark patches of hair, each small prickle sending a shiver through your body. Carlos watched with interest, nearly grinning when you finally came out of your shell and acted like the girl he knew you were.

“mmm, there’s my girl…”

he hummed in approval, feeling his cock twitch at the attention. his hips shifted forward, grinding against your own but before your gasp could sound in the open air, Carlos swallowed it when his lips smashed against yours. he kissed you hungrily, his grip on your soft curves tightened, the hint of pain making your skin tingle. kissing back, your teeth found the plush softness of his bottom lip and nipped at it in retaliation, eliciting a near growl from Carlos. unable to hold himself back, he took one hand from your hip and pressed it against your chest, effectively pinning you against the surface of the kitchen island behind you. he broke the kiss to breathe, his forehead pressing against yours.

“bedroom…?” Carlos asked, waiting for you to confirm and then gently shoving you in the direction of your shared bedroom. before your back could even hit the mattress, your shirt was already off, a courtesy of Carlos’ impatience. once it was off, his lips were on the exposed skin of your collarbone, kissing and nibbling, while he lowered himself on top of you. his chest pressed against yours causing your nipples to harden as they brushed against his chest hair, making another delicious moan fall from your lips. Carlos deliberately did it again, smirking at your reaction.

“tell me you like it.” he was all about hearing you admit what you liked, always wanting you to use your words, relishing in the occasional embarrassment that came with it. his lips trailed down to your chest, hot breath fanning over your perky tits.

“i- fuck, i like it, Carlos…”

your answer was rewarded with that oh-so-familiar grin before his lips finally closed around your nipple. gasping with pleasure, your hand fisted in the soft strands of his hair, back arching into his mouth. Carlos hummed with approval, pulling away to speak.

“mmm, good girl. i know you do,” his tongue flicked over your nipple again teasingly before continuing.

“you should have told me, mi amor… i would keep it for you.” you would have told him your preference for how he kept his facial hair but mentioning your more subtle favorite hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“you’re lucky i saw you…” he murmured, his lips trailing back up to your own. you were already leaning in for a kiss but Carlos stayed where he was, giving you a look, a look that made you pause.

“show me you like it.”

he commanded, his gaze unwavering. it made your breathing pick up. your eyes fell on the dark hair between his pecs then back up at him. slowly, carefully, you lowered your mouth to his chest, not daring to break eye contact before you felt the first prickle on your lips. that didn’t discourage you though, you continued, pressing one kiss, then another, then another. kiss after kiss, you mapped the expense of Carlos’ chest as his hand came up, gently wrapping in your hair.

“so good for me... doing what you’re told.” he praised, using the other hand to palm himself through his boxers. the act of you worshipping that part of him making him harder than ever. he sat back on his heels on the bed, pulling you up with him.

“what about here, princesa? do you like it here too?” your head turned slightly to see him flexing his forearm, while he still palmed himself with it, the thick strands of hair on his skin nearly covering it all. in a soft act of submission, you switched to his arm, trailing kisses down his forearm to his hand, over his wrist, until you were nearly nosing at his clothed cock, the soft hairs on his thighs tickling your cheek.

“and there?” he continued, pushing your head down to do the same to his thighs. you worked deliberately for his approval and praise, not leaving one inch of the warm skin of his thighs unkissed. your legs pressed together in need, trying to find some friction to relieve the tension building in your gut as your mouth worked over his thighs. the more you were down there, the hazier your mind became, till Carlos caught you mouthing at his boxers.

“tsk tsk, needy girl…” Carlos tutted, his hand in your hair tightening, keeping you just out of reach of what you wanted. he lowered his head slightly, his eyes intense, lips curled up in a cruel smirk.

“you have to earn it first.”

wanna be notified next time I post? Lemme know and you’ll be added to the tag list !

2024 @ gokyrts . do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #gokyrts #cs55

439 notes · View notes

ellievickstar · 7 months ago

Text

Lover’s Lullaby

A/N: Here’s part 3 of Bloodied Bonds, Part 2 is here, I hope you guys love this as much as I did, I put so much effort into this and I do genuinely apologise for the length of time it took for me to get this out. Thank you so much for waiting I love you all and I hope you guys enjoy!! <3

Summary: Decisions have been made, hearts have been shattered, but can Azriel finally save his beloved?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You have considered what I said,” She smiled at Azriel, but what once looked sweet and soft now seemed calculated and manipulative.

Azriel went nauseous at the thought of what Elain may have done if the bond had not countered the more extreme effects of the aphrodisiac. Thanking the Mother that all he had done with Elain was hold her hand and even hen he wanted to burn his hands all over again at the very thought.

He really was a dirty low born Illyrian.

And he had not deserved you.

“What do you want from us Elain?” Rhysand snarled, violet eyes brimming with anger.

“Get your fangs away from me Rhysand, do not think for a second that you are in a position to demand for anything,” Elain grinned, “After all, I know how to counter your daemati powers, Azriel himself taught me the basics.”

Casting a glance at Azriel, Rhysand noticed how he had paled significantly, gawking at Elain to remember when he had taught her anything of the sort. Cassian looked all but ready to leap at Elain and tear her to shreds. Rhysand was inclined to do the same.

“Just tell us what you want, Elain,” Cassian ground out. He was tired, sick and tired of being played in this game the middle Archeron sister was playing. He wanted out, desperately.

And he was not even the damned male she wanted.

In all honesty, if this situation had not been as dire as it was, Cassian would have been teasing Azriel for finally being able to attract the females around him.

“I want protection. A guarantee that I will continue to live here, protected by Azriel no matter what,” She smiled sinisterly, “I want a bargain saying that if I tell you how to save your mate you will guard me with your life.”

“But that would mean-“ “Exactly.” Elain smiled again, her amusement dancing in her eyes, malice growing on her face even with the grin plastered on.

Realisation dawned on the three males all at once.

No matter what, Elain would always torment their lives, this bargain only made it that much harder to get rid of her. But it would save his mate…and break her heart at the same time.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel spent half a day agonising over the decision. Rhysand had opted to isolating himself in his study once more and Cassian took his frustration out on a training dummy.

Why?

Why did it have to come to this.

When did it all go wrong?

Cassian wanted to blame himself, in fact a part of him did feel guilty. While helping the Archeron sisters to integrate into their world they had shut her out, and despite her best attempts to assist in any way, Y/N had always been unable to fit in. Like a flip had been switched, he finally recalled every moment where he saw her expressions change, where she masked her pain, her hurt, just to accommodate to them.

After all this time, eventually she had protected them and they had to pay for it. For not noticing.

Wanting to punch himself was an understatement.

Cassian gave his all to the training dummy, recalling how Elain acted, how when Y/N was near Elain would always be cold, how Y/N always dismissed it as just Elain being hostile to her environment, how when Y/N lashed out because she was tired of being treated like shit by Elain, Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel had all stood by Elain and called Y/N unreasonable at first.

Unreasonable.

And now she was dying.

Falling to his knees, Cassian buried his face in his hands, his hair falling over his face as his hair and snapped, and thunder roared above him.

And just like that, he let his tears pour free for his friend, his only sister, he let his sorrow come loose and he cried.

The general of the Night Court, cried.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Rhysand had was familiar with pain.

He had felt pain when his mother was murdered, he had felt pain when Amarantha had tried to torture him during the first war. He had felt pain in war camps and felt pain every single time Cassian punched his face for being stupid or just because of a stupid fight.

Rhysand was familiar with pain.

However, as he sat in the corner of his study, as he curled up against the wall, his head bent over, leaning against the brick, his heart ached. Ached in a way he was more than familiar with but was devastingly painful anyways.

Rhysand had always felt pain.

But as he thought of his sister, at everything she meant to him, at every single time she had called him stupid, told him he was a jerk, every time they cried together, every time they fought with each other, every time they fought for each other.

Rhysand could not stop the pain.

Not as his eyes hurt from crying so much, not even as he tried to curl further into the corner, trying to imagine her warm hug when he was first used by Amarantha. For the first time in centuries Rhysand realised how easily he could lose his sister. Even as he gagged from not easting, even as his legs went numb from sitting in the same position, even when the sky went dark, Rhysand sat there.

“Come home, little star,” He whispered into the darkness, “We can go to your favourite bookstore, I’ll let you put me in a dress again, I’ll even let you put make up and jewellery on me,” He let out another choked sob.

“Just come home.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

When the decision was made, Azriel slowly went to Elain’s room in the dead of the night. Elain stirred softly before she came aware of his presence.

“I will make the bargain with you, but only with one condition,” Azriel spoke softly.

“And that is?” Elain purred.

“The bargain will only be effective if she lives. Because if she does not survive this, I think I would die anyways,” He replied softly. At least this way, his starlight would be safe. His mate would have to live.

“Fine,” Elain shrugged.

And just like that, a tattoo burned onto Azriel’s ankle, and as he glanced down, he saw the outline of a bloodied rose, thorns and all.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“What in the world,” Cassian breathed.

Azriel had done it, he had made the bargain and now knew how to save Y/N. However, as Azriel explained how it should be done to both him and Rhys, the plan seemed a little…..volatile.

“So we’re supposed to use Rhysand’s daemati powers to enter her subconsciousness, and travel into her mind where it’s probably sitting there thinking she’s asleep, manipulate her subconsciousness to make introduce her to a dreamscape, and from there materialise a dream version in her head of ourselves in order to explain to her this entire mess and convince her that Azriel still loves her?” Cassian repeated.

The long winded explanation was….long, but it did summaries what they were going to attempt. Rhysand tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently as he weighed his options, the plan did seem viable, not something that he had done before, but viable.

The only problem now was….

“Who’s going in to talk to her?” Rhys asked.

How would someone go in and convince his dying sister that her mate, who she thinks cheated on her, still loves her? Who would be the best choice in this?

Pacing from one side of the room to another, he ran his hand through his hair.

“Azriel should,” Cassian piped up, but Rhysand shook his head.

“No he could trigger her and send her in the other direction, he could make her die faster,” Rhysand said.

“Or he could show her that he still loves her, give him a chance to explain and ask for forgiveness, do you think she’ll magically believe what we say? Azriel himself will be his proof that she does not need to die.” Cassian countered.

“No I won’t,” Rhysand shook his head, “I won’t let him hurt my sister again.”

Azriel visibly flinched at that.

Growling at his high lord, Cassian stormed up to Rhysand, snarling in his face.

“Azriel might be the only chance your sister has to survive this! And you are willing to throw that away because you don’t trust him anymore?” Rhysand snapped back, “I am not putting my sister’s life in his hands, not again!”

“She’s my sister too!” Cassian screamed.

Rhysand faltered at Cassian’s words.

“You weren’t there the first time this happened, you weren’t there when I found her, bloodied in the snow, when they tried to kill her when she was 15 because she was causing too much trouble in illyrian camps,” Cassian sobbed, “You may have been her real brother but when you were trying to be High Lord, she was trying to survive without a family! I was her family!” Cassian begun pacing himself now.

“You weren’t there when she got her first crush, when I taught her how to throw a real punch, when I taught her how to fly when she was 10 because her father deemed her unworthy to learn and her mother could not teach her!” Cassian looked Rhysand dead in the eyes.

“She was my sister too, and with all my heart I believe that Azriel is her best shot.”

Hesitating, Rhysand looked between Cassian and Azriel, before nodding slowly.

“Fine.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Sitting beside her bed, Azriel grasped his mates hand for what seemed to be the last time. No. Not the last. He would not allow it to be. Regardless of the cost, Azriel would bring her home.

Hundreds of possibilities ran through his head as he gazed at her sleeping face. She looked like she was sleeping, but it was…wrong. Her head was not in an awkward position for him to adjust, she did not stir ever so slightly in his presence to greet him with a soft whimper that he was breathing too loud. She looked like she was sleeping, but in his bones he knew she was not.

Squeezing her hand one more time, he turned as the door open, allowing Rhysand, Madja and Cassian to walk in.

“Nesta will handle all the training today, Feyre promised to continue overseeing all diplomatic and court duties, we’re all set.” Rhysand explained.

Nodding his head, Azriel set his eyes on the wooden floors as he took a deep breathe, closing his eyes as he let the familiar tendrils of magic curl around his mind. He would bring you home.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

He felt as if he had been walking for hours, his soul on the brink of collapse. The heavy weight on his ever preset body, as he kept going forward into the darkness.

There was no light in this place.

Even as he fell to his knees, he crawled, only one person on his mind. But where was she? Where was he?

He could only keep crawling, moving, doing anything but stopping. And even as the ground seemed to swallow him whole, he did nothing.

Maybe he deserved this.

Maybe he needed this.

Pain screamed at him from ever direction, the darkness raging.

Yes.

He deserves this.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Waking up with a start, Azriel sat up as he looked around him, his memory hazy as he tried to recall the last thing.

Right in from of him was the Sidra, its water currents moving as he stared at the river, looking around for signs of anything else. However, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. Velrais, was empty.

Standing to his feet, he let out a shaky swear before taking a moment to stretch all his limbs. This was….Y/N’s dreamscape, her subconsciousness.

But where was she?

Wading through the streets of Velaris, he silently took note of how everything was the same, except there were no people. He could hear the sounds of a bustling city, but it was as if they were whispers of wind, taunting him of a world that was currently not real.

“Y/N?” He called out. If this was her dreamscape, surely she could hear him. That’s when an idea struck him. Grappling for the tendril in his soul, he almost shook with relief when a gold thread appeared in front of him, and he looked to where it led, his heart almost dropping.

Her favourite bakery.

Of course.

Entering the small shop, he saw his starlight in the corner of the bakery, curled up against the plush bright seats, a croissant in one hand and a book in the other.

“My love,” He whispered.

Looking up, your eyes widened as you dropped the book, your mouth agape as you took in the male before you.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded. Your heart palpitated in your chest as you stared at him. He was not supposed to be here. You were supposed to be either waiting for your impending death so your soul could travel to the next life, or wait for Madja to save you.

He just stared at you.

Stared at you, speechless, as he looked over you as if he could not believe you were in front of him.

“I won’t repeat myself!” You yelled.

“Sweetheart, I-“ He started but you flinched away when we tried to walk towards you.

Feeling his heart shattering, he just looked at you helplessly, he wanted to tell you that it was alright, that it was safe, but how could he when he has been the cause of your pains?

“I just came to explain, we found a way to enter your subconsciousness and I came, I needed to explain, I need you to understand-“ “Understand what?” You scoffed, “That my mate, cheated on me?” He shook his head stepping towards you, even as you tried to claw at him to escape, to leave, to do anything but look at him.

You struggled as he grasped your wrists, tried to kick at him, but he would let you hurt him if you just listened.

Even as you calmed, giving in to the fact that he was physically stronger that you, you spoke, “Loyalty, equality, eternal and forever,” You recalled the promises he had made you, “Who would have known the spymaster’s ‘forever’ really meant ‘until there is better’?” You wanted to laugh, laugh at yourself for how foolish you were, cry at how much it hurt to think of how he had broken our trust, scream at how you had hidden your pain to save HIM and now you were the one suffering.

“You are a joke, Azriel, a liar and a joke.”

“Please listen to me,” He breathed, “Please just let me explain.”

“Explain what!? Was she better, prettier, more compliant? Is that it? You couldn’t take the heat of someone so strong headed anymore, right? Too many opinions, too much energy, just too much right? Do you think I haven’t suffered enough? Why are you still here to torment me? Do you think I did not spend enough time agonising over how you loved her more than me!?”

“I was drugged!” He exclaimed.

Silence.

As the words sank in, as your eyes widened and you finally, finally looked him in the eyes.

“I was drugged,” He repeated, “Elain had started sneaking in aphrodisiacs into my tea when I first started accompanying her to help her adjust. I never noticed, I only realised there were blocks of time I could not recall here and there, that everything seemed hazy, but I couldn’t stop it. It was sheer luck that Cassian noticed when Elain was trying to give me the daily dose of it.”

You wanted it to be true. More than anything you wanted what he said to be true. Because that would mean he never stopped loving you, that all the times of thinking you were less than, it meant that you had been wrong.

But you could not.

You refused to give your trust away to him again, because more than anything you knew he held your heart in his hands even now. Instead of delighting in that fact like you used to when you were happy, now you were terrified.

Your life hung in the balance.

And you had to choose yourself.

“Go back, Azriel,” You sighed, “Tell Madja to just kill me, because I am…so tired,” You breathed.

“No, no, no!” Denying your request, he knelt before you, hands on your waist as he buried his face into your abdomen, as his eyes flooded with tears and he shook.

“Please,” He begged, “Please, come home, let me fix this. Please, let me love you, let me show you that there was never a doubt in my own sane mind that I love you. Please.”

The spymaster, on his knees before you. Begging.

“I can’t, Az, can’t you see?” You lifted his chin to look at you, your own tears beginning to well up and trickle down your face, “I’m dying, I’m dying and if you don’t leave this place then you’ll die to. We both know there isn’t enough time.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Azriel murmured, “I’ll go with you and I will follow you, all the way till the end. I told you I will love you, until we are nothing but the stars travelling across the sky of Velaris, I will follow you, and I will love you.” He pulled you down, embracing you, “So don’t make me go, Starlight.”

As you breathed, in and out, in and out, as you let out a choked sob as you finally, finally let yourself embrace your mate, you let out a soft, mumbled, “Okay.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: I know it’s not done but I have one LAST part after this I just wanted to really really really not rush this I tried fitting it all into one last part but sadly I could not next part will be happy I promise.

The people who are crossed out are the ones I could not tag please please please tell me in the replies if you want to be tagged, series taglist will NOT be repeated across parts.

Azriel’s taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Series taglist: @its-sam-allgood @skylarkalchemist @doodlebugwatkins @buttermilktea11 @lilah-asteria @loverofclones @evergreenlark @tele86 @kingdomofstarrynights @peachyxlynch @annamariereads16 @unlikely-lovers-together @div94 @saltedcoffeescotch @ccacotartoglover @crazylokonugget @tanyaherondale @gabbiskylar01 @mariahoedt @that-one-little-soybean @cat-or-kitten @hauntedstudentobservationus @thefandomplace @minaaminaa8 @amysangel @mich0731 @petersunderoos96 @sidthedollface2 @wallacewillow0773638 @annaaaaa88 @azzydaddy @the-sweet-psycho @alaia-aya @laurzwrites @michellexgriffey @st4r-girl-official @krowiathemythologynerd @anuttellaa @i-am-infinite @iwishiwasaprincess @sad-anxious-muffin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @circe143 @deeshag @acourtofbatboydreams @randombibitch @romantasyreader28 @jojo2343-blog1 @lady-targaryens-world @nayaniasworld @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @mochibabycakes @bookisposts @moonlwghts @rcarbo1 @sunnyspycat @tee-hee135 @winnerwinnerchickendinner22

#acotar #acotar fandom #acosf #azriel shadowsinger #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel angst #rhysand #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel x oc #azriel imagine #azriel acomaf #azriel acotar #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

683 notes · View notes

starry-fame · 5 months ago

Text

18+ Overboard [Caleb x Gender Neutral!reader/MC]

Summary:

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

Like a moth to a flame, you follow.

Tags: Smut, Pining, Confessions, Porn with feelings, Dom/Sub Undertones, Overstimulation, Body Worship, Penetration, Rough Sex, Begging Ambiguous Genitalia!reader/MC, Gender neutral!reader/MC

Word Count: 11,734

Author's Notes: I posted this a while ago on ao3 and wanted to try tumblr as well! I can also post silly MC stuff and character edits haha. Anyway, I hope Caleb lovers enjoy! Also, certain parts technically aren't canon as of A World Underneath release, but that's okay :')

Ao3 Check out Linkon Lounge, an 18+ Lads Themed Otome Discord Server! We stream otome/anime/movies, have lads boys rp/text bots (+Caleb ofc), and chill!

Masterlist

Sequel - Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

It burns.

The air’s filled with plumes of smoke, darkened to an ugly red clouded in ash. It waters your eyes and fills your lungs with soot, wracking you with dry coughs that destroy your throat. It’s hot — so hot — your body feels heavy. You’re crawling — you think? But the ground seems to slide beneath you, and your palms scrape against the concrete, bloodied.

Though your ears ring a terrible, destitute tune and your chest cries in agony — the only thing your mind screams is to get away. Run. Crawl. Slide. Drag your useless limbs and get away. You have to run; stand up and run but your body just lays there.

It’s coming. You can’t get away — you’ll die. You don’t want to die. Shelter’s right there. So close — so close. You drag past a mangled, severed arm, and instantly retch. But you keep moving. So near. Right there. But the sound of inhuman dragging grates your ears behind you and—

Your eyes shoot open, body doused in a sheen of sweat and heart ready to burst. The sheets feel far too sticky and clammy under your fingers and you’re quick to peel them off — rid yourself of anything that makes you feel hot. Confined.

One breath, two, three… it takes a moment to gather your bearings. You’re not freshly seven drowning in a sea of pain and desperate tears. You’re in your childhood home, resting on your sheets and surrounded by memories of the past.

Seems that no matter how much time passes, your dreams will always find a way to torment you as though you lived them yesterday.

What a mood-killer. You’re finally in your old home after an extended absence, and all your mind can do is taunt you by conjuring up your darkest memories.

The room’s bathed in darkness — a glance at your watch shows it’s late in the middle of the night. Not exactly time to rise, but you’re not so trusting of your dreams either. The sweat that dampens your brows and the front of your shirt feels disgusting, so you fan yourself mindlessly. You have to do something, be anywhere but here.

You’re quick to stand, stumbling a little from the sudden shift in gravity. Your eyes are still bleary, crusted, and you rub at them as you trudge out your room.

The house is dead silent, which only makes the sound of your footsteps more apparent, has you silently wincing at every step. Still, you do your best to move quiet as you can to the fridge. Grab yourself a water and chug about half of it in one gulp, cooling your clammy skin and ridding that feeling of scalding — of hot ash coating your throat. You enjoy the crinkle of the cool bottle in your grasp, how the mundane, predictable noise reminds you of reality and the now.

The incessant buzz of crickets in the distance is almost calming. The house is otherwise tranquil and calm. Peace and — you hear a quiet thump. Okay, not as quiet as you thought. Setting the bottle down, you slowly turn toward the noise, reminding your quickening pulse that unless your hunter’s watch is buzzing with a warning, there’s no imminent danger.

A few footsteps and… a tall figure emerges from the doorway, bending so he can properly fit through. Though he’s doused in shadow and you can only make out the slight glimmer of his two-toned irises, his name naturally falls from your lips.

“Caleb…”

“Thought I heard someone sneaking around in here. Why am I not surprised?” He languidly strides across the moonlit room, pausing to gently ruffle your hair like its tradition; he’s been doing it for so long, it might as well be. Even when you two were little and you had a bit of height on him (he’d prop up on his tip toes to pat your head — it was pretty adorable, in hindsight.) So you can’t bring yourself to swat his hand away as he goes for the fridge to grab a drink of his own.

Instead of drinking, though, Caleb pauses and scrutinizes the water, like it did a personal wrong to him. Before you get the chance to probe his mind, he presses the chilled bottle against your forehead. The cold makes you flinch on instinct and shoot a quick glare at him.

“What was that for?”

“Wake up call. Did you get thirsty in the middle of the night? Or you just can’t sleep?” He raises a brow, wearing a grin coated with worry as he takes a drink. Caleb’s always been terribly perceptive, he seemed to just know when you were having a terrible day or if something was amiss. Whether it was the years you’ve spent in each other’s company or Caleb’s innate sensitivity to human emotion, you have no clue. A mix of both, maybe.

Like always, he watches. You look away.

“Thirsty.”

“Uh huh. And I guess all that thirst’s what made your eyes red. You’re looking a little hot there too. Should I crank up the A/C?” Caleb raises a brow, and you wonder why he even bothers asking when he comes to his own conclusions. He should hardly be able to tell these things in the dark — does he just know? Or are the faint streaks of moonlight through the window just enough to tell him everything he needs?

“It’s not a bad thing to admit when you’re having nightmares, y’know. I mean, when you were a kid, you’d come knocking on my door in near tears and—“

“I get it, Caleb. I don’t need the whole rundown.” You snap, fighting the immediate embarrassment that wells up at your vulnerability and dependence as a child. For how strong you like to deem yourself now, it’s not like that was always the case. You were an easily frightened kid, especially jumpy after the attack. You clung to everyone and everything around you because you lost everything you held dear once before.

“And for the record,” you add, “it was a two way street. I can name a few times you came to my room saying you just wanted to talk. You look like you’d been crying for the past hour.” Right. Seeking solace in one another because you were confused kids who had their lives flipped upside down in a single afternoon.

You and Caleb were friends before the tragedy, neighbors who played together a few times at most. Not best friends, but he was the nice kid down the block you enjoyed spending time with.

When you found Caleb during the Catastrophe, you remember like it was only days ago. Crawling frantically, trying not to collapse from the pain that engulfed your being enough to make your vision swirl. In the makeshift shelter, you saw a few injured adults — some minimal, some fatal, and even fewer children crying tended to by lesser wounded adults. You could barely sit up. Someone tried to offer assistance, you think, but then a kid your size rushed beside you and knelt down, asking if you were okay.

Your ears were ringing and you could barely get a noise out, but you could tilt your head up and see those raven eyes with a hint of amber, full of absolute terror. You whispered his name so hoarse — “Caleb…” and like the turning of a faucet, an ugly mesh of tears and mucus immediately began streaming down your face. The smell of red — death, the sights, your bloodied hands, aching body, screaming heart, all honed in at once. All you could do was sob while Caleb knelt down beside you and cradled your head, tears prickling his eyes. It didn’t take long for you two to break down in one another’s arms.

From then on, you couldn’t help but stick to Caleb like glue. Caleb was the only person you had connected to your old life — the only remaining stability when everything else crumbled to dust. When you were bundled in your room and didn’t even want to talk to Grandma because she was some strange adult whom you now lived with — Caleb would sit in with you. He’d remain as long as he had to, validate every last awful thought you had in your frustrations and soothe you with sweet caresses and gentle words. As embarrassing as it is to recall, as a child, he was your lifeline. Caleb’s the reason you didn’t run away in a frenzy when everything was too much and you felt like you just needed to be away and gone. He’s the reason you were able to eventually adapt to your new lifestyle and warm up to Grandma over time. It’s ridiculous, really, how much Caleb meant and was able to do for you by just existing as himself. Caleb could sit in your room minding his business, and his presence alone was enough to soothe your tired limbs and mind from punching your pillows and recalling every terrible thing that happened that fated day.

He was always there for you, one way or another. It’s just the way it’s always been.

It’d be nice if you had something of an effect like that on him, too.

“Right. Because sometimes a little chat is all you need when you’re not doing so hot,” Caleb says, leaning on the counter and gesturing his bottle to you. Yeah, just like him alright, to flip it around on you even when you try to call him out. Makes it feel like every conversation with him is a losing battle, like he always has the upper hand because he knows just the right thing to say and how to say it.

“Alright, alright. Yeah, I had a nightmare. Happy?” You sigh, resigned at this point. You can’t even really be angry when Caleb’s been nothing but reasonable from the start, speaks out of pure care and concern. Rather, perhaps it’s the fact that he’s always reasonable you tend to get irate.

“‘Course not. It’s not like I like hearing you still get them. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to instead of keeping it all to yourself, right?” His eyes crinkle so sweetly, non-judgmental. It’s that look that always breaks you, forces you to spill anything and everything he can pull from you. He never takes advantage, just offers support, so you fall into his trap every time.

“It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I can’t just run to you every time I have a bad dream,” you still utter. It’s weak at best, but you can’t toss all your issues onto Caleb like you did as a child. He lost everything that day too, and he still took the time to comfort and spoil you every single time you sought him out (or he came to you), no matter the day or hour. How many of those times did he cry himself, but choke back the tears just so he could attend to you?

“I didn’t say all that. But it’s not gonna kill you to quit bottling up your emotions, y’know.” The amber in Caleb’s eyes seem to flash, and yours flicker down in turn. Sometimes it feels like he still sees the same seven-year-old you once were, pitiful and dependent.

“I… know that. It’s just….”

A heavy breath leaves Caleb’s nose. He closes his eyes, sits on his words, and opens them with a twinkle of clarity.

“You gonna fall back asleep soon?”

You blink. “Huh?” Caleb doubles down.

“You planning on going back to bed soon? Or what?”

You chew on your lip, trying to gauge the meaning in his words. You pull up nothing, so you decide to just answer honestly. “…Not really.”

“Alright then, keep me company.” Caleb swings around to face the foyer, casting a long glance over his shoulder. “I’ve always been more of a night owl anyway.”

The liar. Caleb’s always been able to get up at the crack of dawn since he was a teen. It’s such an obvious fib, but he says it anyway, shamelessly directing you to his room.

You’ll let him have this one though; swallow your complaints and choose his method. You dip your head and follow him to his room, still decorated with posters of My Life as a Hunter and old-school shooter games he raved over as a kid. Though he grew a passion for piloting after a period, he still had an interest in Hunter shows as an early teen, posters and figures scattered about his room proof as such. You think they existed in attempt to ease the public into the idea of Hunters, hell, even to coerce a few impressionable people in the process. A small part of you always wanted a way to reign in control of your life, to be someone who can do the saving, not sit in tears and wait to be saved. The show just increased your resolve, if anything. Though, you remember a short period where Caleb tried to convince you otherwise.

Eventually, you think he understood well enough to quietly show his support, if only because you weren’t backing down. And it tickles the nose a little, knowing you’re now something he admired with sparkling eyes as a kid.

Like always, he sits on his bed, and you take a spot in the swivel chair at his desk, idly spinning back and fourth. There’s a dim, pale night light to give the room a low glow. It’s easy on the eyes and you can still comfortably make out the ridges of Caleb’s face, his indiscernible expression when he settles and just seems to think.

“…Feels like we haven’t done this in forever,” You murmur, eyes trailing around each and every corner. You well with nostalgia, so much it makes your heart ache, bittersweet.

“Yeah, guess we didn’t get much time once I left. Not soon after you were off getting your Hunter’s license, so we were both pretty busy,” Caleb responds, and you wonder if he feels the same way you do. A tinge of sadness, but serenity at the familiar scene. Getting to sit in one another’s company like you always would in the past.

“Getting used to you not always being around was…” It feels embarrassing to just admit how much you missed him, how empty the house felt without his lively presence. “Hard. Harder than I expected, anyway.”

“It was weird not waking up to Gran’s cooking or your demands, that’s for sure.”

“Demands?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way. You always act so proper around other people, but not with me and Gran. Everyone needs a place to loosen up, someone you can just be yourself around. And a little selfish.” Caleb’s laugh makes your cheeks warm, though your ears seem to love it. It fills you with various memories and you realize man, you really missed Caleb. When you talk, it’s like you two were never separated. But it’s times like these the feeling of truly getting to see him every day, just be with him, swells in your heart. You sigh, grasp your nightshirt, and peer at Caleb through your lashes because you fear how telling your expression is.

“Then… is it the same for you? Or was it easier to loosen up around your friends?” You ask nonchalantly, as though the question wasn’t gnawing at you from the inside out. Did Caleb feel at home, or like he had to put on a show and be the ‘strong one’, only able to let loose when he’s around peers and not biting off more than he can chew?

“Mmm…” You hear a low hum, and fingers ghost over your forehead, gone before you can even get a noise out. Caleb watches you intently, enough to make you break his gaze first. He looks pleased.

“It’s different with other friends, sure. Because you’re not them, and they’re not you. There’s ways I can relax with them, and reasons I can relax here,” he answers. His gaze feels loaded, and you vaguely wonder if there’s more to that answer with how his eyes bore into you. But you bite your tongue and decide to let the question go unsaid.

“I see.”

Caleb’s gaze persists. It’s gentle, not demanding of anything, or even expectant. But for some reason, it makes you want to turn away so you don’t have to be subject to it.

“I did miss home y’know, pipsqueak.” You wonder if that’s what Caleb was watching for, trying to see if you were silently doubtful. You bite your lip and decide to just let the words spill out before your pride makes you swallow them whole.

“I missed you.”

Caleb’s eyelids widen almost imperceptibly, but you still catch it. He blinks, and they relax with this look that feels fond, but also seems to carry another aspect you can’t decipher with so little light.

The sound of crickets buzz in the distance. The extended silence makes your grip tighten on the arm rest.

“This necklace is nice, y’know. Whenever anyone asks, I get to bring you up. They probably get sick of it after a while,” Caleb murmurs, and he lifts the silver chain you placed around his neck, ruby glimmering in the light. Knowing he kept it, the way he so proudly handles the chain, makes you feel fuzzy.

“You tell other people about me?”

“So much they could probably write an essay. How you’d cling to me as a kid, when we’d hang out together, how, for a short while, we were all the other had.” Caleb squeezes the chain and lets it dangle against his tee, expression gentle, and part of you wishes you had a chain too. Something to remind you of Caleb, an excuse to think or talk about him. To rub between your fingers and recall a time you were both in a fit of laughter, young, happy and free.

“I relied on you a lot. More than you deserved, especially as a kid. …Sorry.”

“Seriously?” Caleb gapes, and a snort leaves his mouth. “Never thought I’d hear that. But you don’t have to—no. I don’t want you to apologize. It was nice. Part of me kinda misses it. I mean I get it, you can handle your own. It’s not like you need me looking after you anymore, but… I liked it. And nowadays, I can’t help wanting to at least support you,” Caleb shrugs, like those words don’t penetrate your core and settle deep in your chest, breath hitching. A million responses swim through your mind, none of them breaking the surface.

“Oh, uh…” It’s… embarrassing, hearing that blatantly said aloud.

“And, to be perfectly clear, I missed you too,” he adds. Your throat bobs. You enjoy hearing those words from his mouth, the way he says them so easily with a hint of affection. While it’s enough to make your body feel flush with embarrassment, it’s nice he’s never too stubborn to show his care. If anything, you’re far more stubborn in admitting your feelings. Perhaps that’s why you told yourself to just say it, not let the pride win and be honest every once in a while.

“It… sucks. I only get to see you for a few days at most and poof, you’re gone,” you gesture along with your words, hastily getting them out while you still have the weak confidence to. “Your cooking, waking up to you everyday, when you get me little snacks just because…” Your legs swing back and fourth, antsy, but your heart feels lighter when you can freely speak your mind, say all the things you were too prideful to say as a kid.

Caleb listens silently with solicitous eyes. His mouth parts, closes again, and he seems to swallow. You time the kick of your legs, so you don’t start kicking them faster while you’re left on the waiting end, mute until Caleb responds.

“It’s pretty dull not having your own personal 5-star chef, huh?” He finally says, with a grin, and you softly deflate. Your legs slow to a stop, and your heart feels heavy again.

“Yeah… I… I guess—“

“No,” Caleb hisses under his breath. You think it’s to himself. But he leans forward on his duvet and reaches up, brushing his fingers over the jut of your eyebrows so light you can barely feel the touch. Your eyes shut reflectively, and his hand eases to your cheek, knuckles gently sliding down. You peek an eye at the sudden touch, trying to not make your mild startle too known. He’s the type to stroke your head or push you away in jest. This brand of touch is new. Foreign.

Your lips tremble and Caleb’s eyes flicker down to them.

“I’d do all those things every day, if I could. Listen to you get ridiculously excited about those rare kitty cards, see you when I get home from work; when you get home from work…” His knuckles trail down to your chin, dangerously close to your lips.

You inhale slowly, and try not to show your panic when your heart begins to beat an erratic rhythm. This is the first time Caleb’s ever made your heart race — like this anyway, and a flurry of thoughts and emotions you never dared consider all invade you at once. If you were standing, you’d stumble on the spot.

“I miss seeing your mug, what can I say?” Caleb laughs, gives your face two playful pats, and retracts his fingers. You withhold the urge to chase them, press his palm against your cheek. Instead, you bite the inside of your cheek to curb the desire.

They’re nothing but strange thoughts in the heat of the moment, a little too drawn in by the touch of his fingers after not seeing him for so long. Equating nostalgia with attraction is not a good look, and you know to smother it in its wisps before it engulfs into a bed of flames.

“When — when we were kids it was kind of like this,” you begin, trying to even out the tremor in your voice. “We weren’t telling each other we missed one another, of course. But I’d sit in this chair. And you’d wipe my tears when I was sad. No matter how long it took.” You say, and you know you’re just making conversation to push your mind away from uncouth thoughts. With luck, Caleb won’t pick up on a thing.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a crybaby. Always barging in, no matter the time, just to have someone to cry to. It was pretty cute, though.” Caleb stands slowly, already no more than a foot in front of you, and he bends down to rest one hand on the armrest while the other palm holds your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye. “Just like this.”

This… feels dangerous. The part of you that automatically reacts to his teasing wants to glare and push his hand away, scoffing and spouting some retort. That’s how you should respond, how he expects you to.

This new, faint part of you wants to close your eyes and lean your cheek into his palm, turn your head so your lips rest on his fingertips. You do neither, and just peer up at him through your lashes, too scared to tilt your head up and have your face reveal every dirty thought racing through your brain.

“It was cute when you’d come to me, too. You’d sit next to me, trying to act all strong. Then I’d pat your shoulder and you’d go ‘I’m not crying’ while you kept wiping your eyes. Couldn’t fool a baby. But it made me happy. That you came to me,” You speak, and reach up to Caleb’s shoulder, giving it a few soft pats. “Just like this.”

Caleb’s fingers dig into the armrest though his face remains moderately amused. He tilts his head, murmurs a “Guess we were both the type to tear up,” with a cryptic smile, and moves to pull his hand away.

Subconsciously, against any rational thought, you chase after him and hold tight to his shoulder, other hand keeping Caleb’s palm firmly in place.

He blinks once, twice. The moment is palpable. You know you can’t explain yourself out of this, but your gut instinct just doesn’t care. It craves to stay in Caleb’s proximity, to keep him by you. Like he’d melt away if you let go, and the moment would be lost to eternity.

“Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, rubbing a curious thumb across your cheek and it’s all you can really take. You feel the way Caleb tenses up when you bury your nose in his palm, when you shakily inhale and just settle into its warmth. You think you’re trembling a little, and fear eats at your racing heart. Fear of shattering the relationship you have — pushing beyond the bounds of your preconceived ‘normal’. This isn’t what you and Caleb are. Caleb calls you an infuriatingly affectionate nickname when he checks up on you. You and Caleb bicker about mindless things and easily make up in a few hours because Caleb always gives in. You and Caleb were friends since you were children, kids who played together, teens who begrudgingly got along, and adults who were still close and made efforts to visit home on your shared time off.

It wasn’t whatever the hell this was. And the guilt that rises in your throat is immense, taking Caleb’s actions to make them something they’re not — twisting his kind gestures into something awful. You force yourself to recede from his palm, mouth open to utter a soft apology.

Just as that soft ‘sorry’ passes your lips, Caleb coaxes your head up, peers long and hard into your eyes, like he’s searching the depths to find whatever it is he seeks, needs.

You think he finds it, because his breath hitches, the hand on your face seems to quiver, and his face leans so close to yours. Not touching, no, his hot breaths ghost over your lips, his nose tickling your cheek. You swallow thickly, and the warmth from his proximity spreads like wildfire.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispers, urgent. Almost desperate, like it takes every ounce of self-restraint to remain as he is. So near but never bridging the small gap.

“I…” You start, knowing this is the tipping point. He’s still kind enough to give you an out, to let you reject any notion of whatever this is and pretend none of it ever happened. Makes it seem like he doesn’t want it to happen. Caleb’s always been kind like that. And maybe, in the long run, it would be the better option. To not risk destroying the relationship you’ve built and nurtured for well over a decade.

But, meeting his pleading eyes with your own, you know the only words that can leave your mouth. It’s the sole thought that repeated over and over in tandem with each shaky sigh that parted from his pink lips.

Slowly opening your mouth, you take the plunge. “I do.”

You don’t know whether Caleb’s face flashes with relief or pain — maybe both — and his lips press so deep into yours, slow and heated. It elicits a quiet, gasping noise from your throat that Caleb swallows. You have to wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself because his kisses are starved, like he’s been craving this moment forever and you wonder if that’s really the case. His hand on the armrest moves down to grasp your thigh and a pleased noise rumbles in the back of your throat, his thumb stroking the inside of it so tenderly you could tremble. The sense of relief, of immediate euphoria of having this man on your lips almost makes you wanna cry as he kisses you senseless, licks his tongue into your mouth and coaxes every soft noise he can with each repeated press of his lips. When your fingers sneak up to his neck, quiet sounds hum in his throat and they envelop your mind, drugging you with the sound and feel of him. You could do this for hours, kiss Caleb until the only thing your mouth knows is the taste of him.

“I can’t believe —“ Caleb gasps between breathless kisses, speaking against your lips and sliding his hand down to rest on the junction of your head and neck. You tremble and he pecks the corner of your mouth in response, as though to soothe you. “You’re actually—“ He kisses at your cheek, then your nose affectionately. You feel the heat rise in your neck and avert your gaze out of pure embarrassment. “Letting me…” He laughs against your cheek, face alight and you hope the pain you perceived earlier is a little lessened now.

“I didn’t know you wanted to…” You murmur, and stretch your neck up again to capture his lips. Somehow, each kiss only seems to improve upon the last, and when his fingers slide against your neck, a quiet moan vibrates in your throat. Caleb pulls back with low lids and ragged breaths, lips pinker than you’ve ever seen and covered with a sheen of saliva. Kiss swollen’s never a look you imagined on him, but you quite like it.

“Guess I’m good at keeping secrets then,” Caleb says in a huff of soft laughter, and he’s gently tugging, guiding your body up and off the chair to sit beside him on the duvet. “Or,” he leans down and pets the front of your throat, lips steady against your fluttering pulse. “You’re just stupidly oblivious.”

“There’s no way I would’ve…” you begin to murmur as your fingers clench on his nightclothes. Your body reacts to the sensation of his lips kissing every bit of skin he can reach on your neck, licking but mindful enough to not leave marks and the consideration alone is hot enough to make you shudder.

Could you have? Your mind is hazy and each time Caleb mouths at your throat you lose it a little more, but you vaguely replay memories in your mind. Caleb’s mindfulness, his perception, his endless kindness — but he’s like that with everyone, so how could you have known you were special beyond your friendship and shared past? Granted you probably got a little extra pampering from him — but you shared a home. Of course you’d get more if you saw him more.

“Good. I was never gonna tell you, y’know,” he breathes. His large hands gently ease you backwards and you comply, letting him press you against the mattress. It smells like a mix of him — that same oak body wash he’s used since he was a teen (thankfully you bullied him out of that terrible smelling cologne phase), and fresh detergent from the laundry he took care of earlier. You resist the urge to turn your head and bury it into the covers, inhale deep, for you’re sure it’d come off as a little strange.

“Never?”

“Never.” He rests his forearms next to your head, face mere inches away. He seems to like watching you, those dimly lit eyes of his boring into you. “I mean, I thought about it sometimes. But we’ve known each other what, sixteen years now? We played together since we were preschoolers,” he sighs, thumb brushing over your cheek. His face is so raw and open, flushed and longing. Like he can finally spill every dirty little secret he’s kept hidden forever. His thumb moves to swipe across your lip and you kiss it — innocently enough. His breath stutters.

Then you open your mouth, gently suck on the digit, and he stops breathing altogether.

“Mm…” You hum in agreement, though with the way Caleb’s eyes darken, you figure it more resembles a moan.

“Damn,” he curses, and experimentally swipes across your tongue. You shamelessly take his thumb in deeper, revel in the way his lips tremble and he bites them, as though to curb some thought or action that sprung in his mind in response.

“You’re friends with someone that long, you figure there’s no chance. Figured you saw me as a brother or something. I mean, I kinda did it to myself,” he speaks, but looks absolutely enthralled by your mouth around his thumb. The way you swirl your tongue around him, encouraging him to just let go. You think his words are half spoken on instinct with how dazed and red-faced he looks.

“Fuck , if I just knew…” Caleb hisses, and he leans forward for balance, forehead pressed against yours (he’s so warm) while his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, resting just below your navel. The proximity to your waistband makes you subconsciously squirm a little, and his hand presses firmer, stilling your hips. “I could’ve done this so much sooner.”

You try to murmur a response past his thumb but the welcome intrusion makes your words incoherent. He gently retracts it from your lips to press against them, saliva coating his thumb, your lips, and wetting your chin.

“What’s that, pipsqueak?” He murmurs. You feel his hand creep up to trace your abdomen, catch at your side and massage there mindlessly.

“For someone who wants to do this so bad…” you sigh, and look up at him, unamused, trying not to let your mild fluster show. It seems even pinned under him, you can’t help but want to be a bit of a brat in his presence. “You’re sure taking your sweet time.”

Caleb’s brow twitches and he completely stills, staring at you with those gorgeous sunset eyes of his up close. You watch his throat bob as he swallows, and his fingers on your torso squeeze, not painful, just a firm hold.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he finally exhales, exasperation plain on his face. He affectionately rubs his forehead against yours, the gesture so sweet it makes your heart swell. “Don’t forget, you’re the one that spurred me on.”

And like a man on a mission, the sweet moment is gone, replaced by greedy lips and needy hands. His mouth is back on yours and you gift him an appeased hum, instantly lost in the warmth of lips and the way he kisses you like he’ll never kiss again. So heated, so, so perfect, and you reach your fingers to tighten in his hair, lift your hips to wrap your legs around his torso. You both sink into the duvet with the strength of his kiss, his hands shamelessly trailing up and down your torso, mapping it out, squeezing when he hears quiet noises and whines emerge from your throat.

You think Caleb enjoys the sounds you make most, because he’ll do anything and everything to draw them out of you, hands frisky and shameless. They’re calloused and rough in the best way and you squeeze his hair in approval, press fleeting kisses to the corner of his lips when you part to breathe. He laughs, happy, and you laugh in turn.

“It’s a little hot, don’t you think?” He murmurs, and uses that as his excuse to push the hem of your shirt past your chest, encourages you to slip your shirt off and sit with your bare torso.

The way he stares at your body, your chest, like there’s nothing else in the word makes your body singe. You reach a hand up to cover his wandering eyes, scoffing. “Don’t just stare, it’s embarrassing.”

“All that talk and you’re embarrassed when I look at you?” He gives your hand a few taps before prying it away, taking in the view just as shamelessly as he did before, if not more so. You’d smack his face with a pillow if he didn’t have your hand held so tightly. “Telling me not to look’s like telling a dehydrated man not to drink. It’s plain cruel,” he laughs, and pulls your hand to his lips to give your fingers a fleeting kiss. Your eyelids flutter alongside your heart, and he grins.

Satisfied with the view, he slides down on the covers (you have to loosen your legs to accommodate), and stares up at you with a playful, shit-eating grin, his chin rested perfectly above your chest. “You don’t mind, right?”

“Don’t ask, do,” you huff, turning your head away in mock annoyance. Caleb’s more than happy to oblige and hums his approval while his hands move to trace the contours of your chest, moves down to press a light kiss to one side, and is quick to focus his mouth where it’s sensitive, have the bud harden under his tongue and send shocks of pleasure coursing through your body.

It even surprises you, how much you feel your face flame not just from pleasure, but pure embarrassment. This is Caleb , of all people. Not just some guy you started crushing on. Being this vulnerable and having his lips on your chest isn’t something you imagined even yesterday. If he saw you like this yesterday, you’d definitely die from shame. There’s not a glimmer of regret, but there’s heaps of embarrassment to spare and you bury your face into the pillow under you, tensing the more he plays. You knew nipples could feel good, but wow, they can feel good and his mouth on them sends shocks straight down your abdomen, makes heat settle low between your legs.

Finally, he pulls away, though his thumbs still graze over them, and he moves up to press a kiss to your jaw. “Don’t get all shy now. C’mon, show me that cute face of yours,” he hums, and you want to bury it even further being called cute (seriously, what the hell? You don’t know if it’s more embarrassing or insulting). But if only to show some semblance of control and confidence, you pull your head away and force yourself to meet Caleb’s adoring eyes, giving him a halfhearted glare with lips curled into a small pout.

“Looking at me like that only makes me wanna tease you more,” he murmurs, and moves to kiss your cheek (he’s so affectionate. It’s so much you almost don’t know how to handle it). And his hands slide down from your chest, settle at your waist and massage right above the band of your sweatpants. So close but not enough, the more his thumbs tease the more the heat becomes unbearable.

“Maybe you should use that mouth of yours for something other than talking,” you grumble, palms pushing Caleb’s head away. You huff with a side-turned head and peer at him from the corner of your eye, wiggling your hips. You couldn’t be more obvious.

“Demanding today, aren’t we?” He rubs his hands forward and back on your hips, trailing a slew of kisses down from the center of your chest to your abdomen, leaving flames in its wake. “Like what? I could make out with you until the sun rises, easy.”

The way Caleb looks at you, eyes flashing, you know what he wants. Those words to fall so reluctant from your tongue, to watch you drop your pride and ask. But Caleb’s had his way well enough, so instead of giving him the satisfaction of your words, you slide down your sweats and underwear, exhaling at the lack of restriction, the free air against your throbbing arousal. Caleb’s eyes go wide and you’re dragging his face between your thighs before he can retort, trying not to tremble from the absolute need that courses through your body. The thought of Caleb’s mouth on you, his tongue against you until your mind is numb.

“This.” You breathe, and Caleb can only let out a breathy chuckle.

“Whatever you say, your majesty,” he teases, smug but lets you guide his head, him dragging his hands down with it and across the planes of your thighs. They slide and down, palming close to your hips and earning him a small jolt, a bitten down noise.

Your fingers dig into his short hairs, dragging him down and rolling your hips to meet him halfway, urgent, needing. Caleb complies, gently mouthing at your inner thighs, biting at them (that gets a startled sound out of you that you instantly smother in fear of making too much noise.) And kisses and licks his way further up until he’s exactly where he needs to be, breaths hot and lips so close they could brush over you.

“To think you’re like this already…” he murmurs, cheeks flushed, and he dives his head down to slowly lick you into his mouth, your legs tensing and fingers shivering. His hands pet your thighs soothingly (it only makes you tremble more) and he sucks, holds your thighs so nice while they shake in his touch. He’s horribly slow, taking his sweet time to mouth against you, kiss against your aching heat and so gently take it into his mouth, painstakingly swirls his tongue. It’s not enough and you roll your hips into his mouth, mumbling curses.

“Dammit Caleb…” you groan, urging for more, grabbing and releasing at his hair, and his eyes flicker up to you, pupils blown and face a pretty red.

“Mm…” He hums, you shudder, and try not to burn at the sight of Caleb so pleased between your legs. Hands anchored to your thighs, mouth busy with a hardworking tongue as he eagerly lavishes you with attention. It’s good this time, not slow torture, and Caleb easily lets you rock your hips into his mouth, whine under the flat of his tongue and the sight of him between your legs. He pushes, holds you when you gasp and jerk into his touch and murmurs soothing hums while his mouth is busy on the taste of you. Your hips develop a rhythm of their own, chasing Caleb’s mouth over and over and when he briefly pulls back, he’s quick to stroke his fingers where his lips were, watch you sigh and and clutch at the parts of him you can reach.

“I wanna—“ he breathes, leans down to kiss the swell of your heat, laughs when you jump because of how swollen, how sensitive you are to his every move. You drag his face back down, his lips around you, not letting him finish the words he was trying to say. You just — his mouth — his warmth, you need, and you buck your hips into his touch, bursts of pleasure coming through you in waves the more his mouth moves in rhythm, the perfect pace he sets and the unfair way his tongue seems to do just the right thing to make you whine against bitten lips.

“Caleb,” you whisper, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Caleb’s tactic changes, he’s using one hand to keep a steady grip on your thigh while the other reaches up stroke at your sensitive hip, then sneaks up to your nipple to tease it under his thumb and forefinger. His mouth remains occupied, tongue and lips unrelenting, and the dual pleasure is so much it almost feels like too much. But he moves, hot, mouth in tandem with your restless hips, confident and warm and the almost unbearable heat between your legs grows and grows, until you’re biting back a strangled noise and digging your fingers into Caleb’s scalp. You hold his head in place while you ride out the throes of pleasure, Caleb’s mouth easing you through it, still pressing and stroking with the heat of his tongue when the orgasm ebbs away. You have to squirm and push Caleb’s head away, panting and soaked in a sheen of sweat.

Caleb’s lips, nose, chin, are coated in you and he shamelessly licks what he can away, watches as you breathe, catch your breath amidst the aftershocks of your pleasure. Your entire body feels flushed with heat, and the only sound you’re capable of making are quiet gasps for a moment or two.

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, presses a hand over his mouth and he’s scrambling off the bed, rushing to rifle through his drawers. He pulls out a bottle of lube and jerks his head to where you’re still settled on the bed, steadying your pulse. You’ve eased yourself to sit up on your elbows, so you can watch in your curiosity, see what’s got him so worked up. Seeing him still fully clothed while your pants lay sweat-ridden and bunched at your ankles, shirt tossed in some corner makes your face fill with heat.

“Can I—would you—“ he returns to the bed, crawls between your open thighs and presses his forehead to yours. The heat of his breaths make you dizzy, and you can feel the flicker of a flame despite just bursting with heat. “Fuck, I just…” he murmurs, moving his head down to rest against your shoulder, lips pressing against the jut of the bone. And the way his nose presses against you, he nuzzles against you and so dearingly asks makes the answer come far too easy. You inhale, stroke his cheek, and nod.

“Mhm,” you agree, moving your head to press a sweet kiss to Caleb’s temple. He groans, wastes no time coating his fingers and slipping them against you, stroking in a tease, then pressing in one.

It’s cold, you tense and Caleb mouths at your collarbone, murmuring “I got you,” while his fingers sits, letting you adjust and you relax to the chill, shudder to the way the digit settles in you, doesn’t feel like enough, and he moves.

Maybe — you think — you didn’t properly think this through. Because while you’ve a short respite from coming, now you have a finger inside you, a hand exploring every inch of your body it can reach, and lips playing with the soft patch between your neck and shoulder that has you sighing and subconsciously quivering. Somehow it’s all too much and not enough all too soon after — and you actively dig your teeth into your lip to keep quiet, not risk sounds traveling through the walls.

“So…” Caleb inhales, his lips travel down to kiss at your chest, lick at your nipples once more and they stand to attention at his efforts. “So damn warm…” You wonder if he means the heat from your body or the way you feel around his finger. His lips tease while his finger thrusts at a steady rhythm and when it becomes comfortable (and lacking). You start to grind into his touch, craving more, shuddering when a soft noise leaves his throat.

You exhale, peer at the pink cheeks of your childhood friend — hell, your best friend. You feel your heart melt, then your body melt in tandem when his finger slips out so he can ease two of them in, slowly stretching you. They move deep, curling inside you and with the just perfect brush of his fingertips, you let out a pitched gasp and pull a hand up to cover your mouth. Caleb doesn’t say a thing, instead makes sure to move against that bundle of sensitive nerves over and over, watches you tense and squirm the more he focuses his attention.

“You’re pretty good at keeping quiet,” Caleb praises, and moves his face up to draw you into a long kiss, mouth in sync with the way he fucks you with his fingers, steady and perfectly bent to leave you panting. You whine against him, chasing his fingers with your hips. He sucks on your bottom lip, pulling away with a dirty pop, lips glistening. “Can’t wait for the day you don’t have to hold back.”

“Hah—shit…” You curse, wanting to come up with a coherent response but your words catch in your throat, interrupted by gasps, and your mind can’t even conjure what to say to something like that, but you feel your body throb, your hips jump at his praise. Caleb hums, presses a kiss to your cheek, and slides down.

He does that thing where he looks up at you from between your legs, cheek rested on your thighs damp with sweat. His lips curl into that gorgeous, sinful grin that’s stupidly hot and infuriating all at once and you squeeze his hair in half-assed annoyance. He kisses one thigh, turns and sucks a gentle bruise into the other - fuck, why does that feel so damn good. And he busies his mouth with the taste of you, fingers working a slowly building rhythm that has your palm firm over your mouth and the other hand steady in his hair while you try — and fail, to not fall into a haze of pleasure. You almost want to curse, being so weak under his fingers and mouth. Flip the scene and give him a taste of his own medicine. But his tongue knows just what to do and he knows just the way to move his head to have you unable to do anything but let out choked gasps and rut into his eager mouth.

Though you take his fingers easily now, feel prepared enough to handle all he has to offer, he doesn’t stop. The sound of his fingers sliding in and out of you and his pretty, obscene mouth on you fill the otherwise silent room, save for your gasps and sighs. You curl against him and huff, biting your lip and using both palms to still his head.

“If you keep going, I’ll—“ you warn, because his fingers aren’t enough but his mouth is too much, and if you’re left a quivering mess you won’t be able to handle Caleb fucking you on top of it. Caleb hums, his glimmering eyes flicker up to you, and you think they crinkle in amusement. You’ve learned not to trust that face of his.

And of course, the dick , he keeps going. Holds you down with one hand so he can push and spread his fingers deep, taste you on his tongue as he sucks. It’s enough to have you arching your back, whimpering quiet noises into the pillow you bury your face into. Your hips squirm of your own according, the heat pooling in your gut and threatening to burst and you try to push his head away, gasp weak complaints. Too much if he doesn’t stop you’ll — But he’s relentless and overwhelming. Fingers curling, mouth moving, his hand gripping your waist. And your body accepts it all until that feeling crescendos again, you turning into a shaking mess as you whisper quiet curses into the pillow, try to escape his mouth but he licks and pumps his fingers into you all throughout it to prologue how your back arches, the high washes over you over and over. When you slowly relax, he pulls away with a messy mouth, leaving you with breaths labored and somehow still sane enough to sport a glare.

“I told you—“

“Sorry,” he says, and kisses at your navel while he watches you with enthralled eyes, like you’re a piece of stunning art. But his eyes aren’t apologetic in the least, and you’d think it right to demand a proper one if your heart wasn’t thundering so quick you think it’ll leap out your chest. He sighs, scoots up to press a kiss against your chin, and whispers, so quiet. “Can I…?”

You huff, try to steady your breathing, and zone into the dull ache between your legs and the empty feeling from losing his fingers. Of course you want it, want him, it’s a matter of already having been pleasured to hell and back by this man twice. You’re spent, even if the idea of Caleb nude and flushed against you is hot as hell.

“There’s a reason I tried to tell you…” you sigh, brush some slick hairs from his eyes and observe the dazed, greedy look in his eyes. He really just wants it all, doesn’t he? You always thought you were spoiled by Caleb, but maybe, there are times when you spoil him.

“Mmm… it’s just nice, seeing you lose your composure,” he nuzzles into your neck, breath warm and your entire body reacts to something so small, so soft. “But we’ve got all the time in the world. Next time.”

And he exhales so warm, pulls his head away and you immediately grab both cheeks, drag Caleb’s lips to yours and kiss him so sweetly it feels something akin to love. Your hips tingle, and the idea makes you absolutely dizzy, but you mouth it against his lips anyway.

“Finish what you started.”

Caleb doesn’t immediately answer or react, he simply observes you, watches the way your arms cling to him. For good measure, you wrap your legs around him and roll, right into the hard erection confined in his pants. He gasps, gripping the duvet beside your head.

“If… If it’s too much. Just pinch me. Or tap me a few times. Do whatever, really, shit,” Caleb hisses, and he’s finally stripping off that stupid bed shirt of his and tossing it unceremoniously across his room, breaths slow and deep as though to calm himself.

It’s not your first time seeing Caleb shirtless, but it is the first time you’re able to admire the full view in dim glory. Amidst the streaks of moonlight through the window, the red of his necklace sparkles. He wears it, even in his sleep, and you try not to think too much on how he must’ve cherished it. Treated it like a prized possession, because it makes a surge of happiness flood through you with a mix of guilt for never treating Caleb’s gifts or gestures just as precious.

“Oh, so when I stare, it’s a problem. But when you stare, it’s fine, huh?” Caleb chuckles, and his pants are kicked off with no shame. He’s so eager he doesn’t even try to make it sexy, he just looks like he’s dying to feel every inch of you, finally be able to feel the whole of you tight around him. It’s so silly and so Caleb you just have to laugh, and it’s nice when he laughs in turn, makes you feel serene.

“Think of it like payback,” You decide to say. Payback for making you come from his mouth and fingers when he knew you wanted to feel him inside of you. Caleb makes an approving noise, leans back over you, and the sight of his flushed, toned body with his necklace dangling down is way sexier than it has any right to be. He slides a hand up your thigh, gives it an encouraging squeeze when you tremble, and his lips find yours in a fleeting kiss.

“Guess I gotta do all I can to make up for it,” he whispers in a ghost of a kiss, and settles between your legs, erection strained in his underwear and words way too calm for someone who looks like he can’t stand waiting a minute longer. He shoves them down well enough with one hand and he springs free, eager and leaking at the pink tip. You think it’s almost pretty, the way it stands, twitches when you thumb his cheeks.

He captures your lips the same moment he lifts your thighs, lines himself where he had his fingers buried deep only a minute or two ago, and slowly, slowly pushes. Sighs into your mouth as he sinks into you, and you grab at his back, wrap your arms so tight around him as he just fills you, moves as you cling to him. You think the wait alone is torture when he finally settles deep, hips flush to yours and mouth swallowing any weak noises you utter. You’re still so sensitive and even just the feeling of his cock inside, barely moving, is enough to make you clutch at him.

“You feel so perfect,” he utters, shaking hands settled on the sides of your face, lips plush on your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, slowly, slowly moves out, and you can feel his entire body shaking on top of you as he pushes again, deep into you and fills you perfect. So hot inside of you, you can’t help but squeeze around him. He chokes against your skin, kisses at it while his hips steadily draw out—then you think he loses his composure a little. His hips sputter, and his pushes into you quicker, steady, and holy fuck is your body just quivering and you already feel a mess, heat between your legs near unbearable and Caleb’s cock stretching you open for him.

“Caleb…” You gasp, bite back the moans that want to continually spill from your throat while Caleb steadily pumps, in and out. It’s so tender, and even though your body is an absolute mess, you just need more and drag in Caleb with the strength of your legs wrapped around him, helplessly grind into his cock, and Caleb understands the message loud and clear. He shakes, kisses your shoulder, and pulls out to snap his hips against yours, murmurs small affirmations against your skin as he fucks you, heavy and deep and your body is a squirming mess, like it isn’t even your own. You’re whining and biting back every loud, broken noise that threatens to leave your mouth with the rock of his hips.

“Shit—Caleb, it’s—“ you gasp, be hums into your shoulder and looks at you with wild eyes while he pushes into you over and over. Your legs are a mess and you’re gasping, trying to focus on swallowing down the noises in your throat but Caleb’s driving you absolutely insane and when he positions himself just right, you’re letting out a sharp cry and your body arches into his touch.

“Don’t wake the whole neighborhood now.” He coos against your collarbone, and gently covers your mouth, palm flat so all you can do is groan against his hand, weak noises and sharp gasps muffled. Every inch of you feels sensitive, alight, and the hand not silencing you gently massages your chest while he fucks you deep into the mattress, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. It’s filthy and you absolutely love it, even if your body is screaming it’s on fire, and all your nerves are alight from being so thoroughly handled.

“Mmn—!” You gasp, unable to even articulate how it feels to have Caleb rolling his hips into yours so damn hot while you can barely control the way your body reacts. You think he swells even more when inside you, thick and hot and nearly every thrust hitting you so you see stars. You gape, claw at his neck and anything you can cling to on him, while his movements gradually speed up and he pounds into you relentlessly, cries muffled by his palm.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this…” Caleb gasps, breaths heavy, lifting his palm and resting it sweetly on your face instead. He looks at you so damn adoring while he’s fucking you senseless, watching you gasp and start to squirm under him when the sensation builds upon too much. “Wanted you. Like this.”

“Gh… Y-Yeah…?” You somehow manage to choke out while your body has a mind of its own, squirming and shaking and Caleb’s hands hold you right where he needs you as he slides in and out of you again, pulls out so only the tip is in and snaps his hips against yours in a fluid motion. You wonder if it’s because your most recent orgasm was so close, left you so sensitive you feel like you’re already on the brink. You hang onto Caleb for purchase and try not to cry out as he pushes into you over and over and over.

“You’re way too hot. You feel way too—haah —good.” Caleb curses as he moves, hold your hips and reaches a hand down between the two of you to tease you with sweet fingers while he pumps into you. “You. Undone. Under me,” he murmurs, and your hips helplessly buck into his touch, fingers clutch him tight as he fucks you.

“Y-You…ah—Caleb,” you try to respond, but the way Caleb rocks his hips, and his hand wastes no time driving you mad, you feel that feeling build, build and build so quick, so perfect. You want to retort, say anything to flip his words on him, but you know you’re a gasping mess and can’t focus your mind enough to put up a decent argument. So you clutch at his slick skin, bury your fingers so deep it pales, and whine “I’m… I’ll… ‘M about to…”

Caleb hears you loud and clear, keeps the pace of him pumping into you and is always sure to angle the way your hips slot together perfectly, so each thrust hits you with a deep wave of pleasure and his fingers leave you weak.

“You always act so strong, so tough. It’s nice I can get you like this,” he speaks, and if your mind wasn’t in such fog you’d probably be a little annoyed, but all you can do is whimper at how his voice whispers low in your ear, and the way he circles his hips perfectly to make you gasp, clench, and make him groan in return.

That feeling approaches, the familiar feeling of being undone by Caleb and at the mercy of his mouth, fingers and thrusts. He murmurs sweet words against your lips, and it’s all you can handle when you’re biting your lip and your body is pulled taught like a string, shuddering and powerful as you feel a burst of pleasure like no other, so strong and prolonged you wonder if it’ll ever end, so much you actually see white. Caleb doesn’t relent on his thrusts, fucks you through it, and he doesn’t stop when you’re quivering either and suddenly it’s too much all at once. Your body is still in tremors and shakes as he grasps your hips firm, presses a soothing kiss to your temple as you start to squirm and let out weak noises.

It’s too much and too fast and you’re so sensitive and you can’t— “Caleb,” you choke out, body naturally moving to escape the sensation, but Caleb’s hands hold you steady.

“Want—“ he rasps, “want me to stop? All you gotta do is tap me,” he murmurs so sweet in your ear, and tears prick in your eyes as the pleasure, the sensitivity is so blinding you can’t keep them from your face. And you quietly cry and squirm but hold on tight, not tapping, not pinching. It’s torture but it feels terribly amazing in the best way, even if Caleb has to keep a firm hold so you don’t scramble from his grasp.

“Too much, I can’t, Caleb,” you sob, Caleb kisses the tears that fall down your cheeks so sweetly and proceeds to fuck you silly. Your heart is pounding, your whole body is a shaking over sensitive mess and the feeling is so intense your mind can barely formulate words. “I—please, fuck…” you babble, can’t string together full sentences and just whimper under him. Fuck if you’re never at someone’s mercy like this, you wonder if it’s better or worse that it’s Caleb.

“So damn cute,” he breathes out in broken fragments, breaths quickening as he thrusts deep, hard, accepts every whimper and plea that leaves your wet lips. “You can relax around me, trust me. Let me take care of you.”

“Ah…!” You wish you could respond, you really do, but the only thoughts you can formulate are pleads and Caleb, the endless pleasure bordering pain he pushes you through. He’s so sweet in your hair as his pace quickens and his breaths are shallow, ragged. His face is a damp mess and strings of hair cling to his forehead as he utters your name — your name, not ‘pipsqueak’, over and over. Whispers your name in your ears, mouths it on your temple, presses his lips against your neck as he sighs it. You melt and squeeze your teary eyes shut, clawing at Caleb and letting him pound you into oblivion. You feel fucking ruined and Caleb kisses your tears and pets your head all throughout it.

“Dammit, seriously, what am I gonna do with you…” He rasps, and you think your hazy mind can classify it as positive. His thrusts are quick and it’s not soon after that he’s suddenly groaning, hips going still as he holds deep inside you, trembling as he spills. Deep, warm. You quiver and finally find relief in his slowed thrusts, the way he holds himself with shaky breaths and bright red cheeks, sweat sliding down his temple. Slowly, he stills, panting, and when he’s nearly done shaking, he slowly pulls himself out. The feeling of both being empty and filled is filthy, but you haven’t the energy to burn on feeling embarrassed when you can barely form a sentence. You gasp, wipe at the tears that rolled down your face, and can’t keep the tiny quivers from racking through your body even after the high has passed.

“You okay, pipsqueak?” He whispers after, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. You nod, mute, and have to give yourself a bit to be able to respond in full. He seems to understand that much, and rolls to the side so he can gently hold you in his affection.

“That was…wow,” you murmur, and bury your head into his damp chest, the sent of oak and sweat. “Can’t move…” The thought of so much as standing seems impossible, your brain is in this weird, pleasant fog and you can barely focus.

“Did I go overboard?” His laugh is light and raw, lips settled on your forehead.

“It was a lot,” you answer, and your fingers trace over his bicep. Who knew fighter pilots had to be so toned? “It’s hard to think but…” you hum, and adjust your buzzing limbs so you’re a little more comfortable. “It was… good.”

“Good. Guess I’ll put that on the list of things you like,” you feel his lips curl against your forehead, probably grinning. You don’t even have the energy to glare.

“You have a list?”

“In my mind,” he says, and you decide to pull back from his chest a little, if only to see his expression.

Sweat-ridden but sparkling with an air of pleasant satisfaction. Eyes alight, cheeks warm. Since when was Caleb so damn beautiful?

“Next time…” You look up at him with heavy eyes. Feel almost drunk as your body sags and your speech comes out in quiet rasps, throat spent from all the cries you swallowed down. “It’s your turn,” you run your fingers across his lean chest, feel the way his muscles jump with laugher and his heart is starting to slow into a steady rhythm. He’s so irritatingly attractive.

You’re not used to feeling so utterly spent, helpless after. Your legs would collapse under you like a fawn learning to walk if you tried anything right now. You’d like to see Caleb come undone under your fingers, unable to keep himself from writhing while you tease him endlessly. In that way, you’re both similar, you suppose, and you can hardly blame Caleb for the way he gets off on you clawing at him.

“Can’t wait,” he says easily, almost makes you more mad at how easily he accepts your words. He strokes your cheek, wipes the remnants of tears, and holds you comfortably in his palm. “You look so good when you’re a mess.”

“Hush now,” you sigh, and turn your head to kiss his palm. He pads your lip so gently, traces shapes across them (you think one is a heart). It’s so silly but so him and he continually manages to make your heart fill.

“I’m scared I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.” He pulls you to him, buries his nose in your hair and strokes your back like he hasn’t seen you in years and needs to confirm your existence. “It feels like a dream. You in my arms. Kissing me. Wanting me.” He draws back so he can tilt your head up and peer into your eyes. You think the sun is starting to rise, his eyes are as clear as ever yet clouded with contentment and apprehension. “You like me, don’t you?” His hands hold you so sweetly, his eyes are so raw. “Pretty sure I’ve loved you as long as I can remember.”

You blink, try to process his words in the fog of your mind and feel yourself run warm when you’re able to take his words piece by piece and understand them, digest them in full. The word ‘love’ tickles your ears, and you try not to let the tears flow again (who knew being so wrecked made you stupidly emotional) and nod quickly, covering the hand that holds your cheek.

“Of course I like you. I’ve trusted and cared about you as long as I can remember.” Your hand on his chest stills, presses so you can hear the drum of his heartbeat that’s now relatively fast. You can’t judge, when your heartbeats are so heavy you feel them in the back of your throat. “I’ll love you back, someday. The way you love me. I’ve loved you like my best friend, as a person, for the longest, though.”

“I’ve waited so long to hear that…” Caleb sighs, your eyes flicker to the chain around his neck, and you silently vow to yourself to sometimes let go of your stubborn streak, take care of Caleb the way he loves to take care of you. You hum and nuzzle into his chest, basking in how warm he feels, skin against skin, heating you, like a pleasant wood fire on a cozy winter night.

You sigh, can’t bite back a small smile, and let your eyelids flutter, your weak body sink into the mattress as Caleb’s slow breaths and caresses lull you, goad you to rest.

Caleb’s skin, heat, the love and affection you feel encased in each featherlight touch draws you in, comforts you enough to let your consciousness fade. Like a soothing lullaby.

It’s perfect, knowing you’ll wake up in his arms the next morning.

—

Sequel — Caleb Loves to Bully You in Bed

#love and deepspace #caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #gender neutral reader #caleb love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace smut #xia yizhou #xia yizhou x reader

321 notes · View notes

notapradagurl7 · 2 months ago

Text

Rather Love Than Lost.

Black Fem!Queen! Reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.King!

Summary: In a world where duty and tradition weigh heavily, You found yourself being chosen to a suitor in an arranged marriage, soon to betrothed to your childhood friend, Kelvin in order to save your family from ruin.

Word Count: 2,525k

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @henneseyhoe @writingsbytee @life-in-the-slut-house @euphorichappiness10 @miguelspvssy @blackmoonchilee @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @planetblaque @keyera-jackson @sageispunk @slippinninque @soft-persephone @avoidthings @dxddykenn @pocketsizedpanther @kaylaahisthebestest- @thevelvetwhispers @ovohanna24 @liatreads @sweettea-and-honeybutter @babybratzmaraj @mymindisneverhere @nayaesworld

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, praise, PWP, mention of wealth and power dynamics, profanity, consensual for both parties, mention of emotional distress, defiance against social expectations, PIV, fingering, oral(fem receiving), fighting, angst, arranged marriage, mention of grooming, mention of verbal abuse.

A/N: Happy New Year! I decided to kick off the year with Kelvin! Enjoy! Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

—————

You sat by your ornate, stained glass window with your pen scribbling across the journal in your hand, your purple dress billowing softly around you, the light of the sun shining on your brown skin, your heart felt heavy, expectation and duty gripped you by the throat.

The golden light of the sun steamed through, casting hues on the polished white marble floors.

You promised yourself never to journal again ever since your father chose to read it without your consent, it frustrated you. Before he could read anything else you toss it in the fireplace.

“At last, the day for me to rid of this place has come, finally,” you whispered to yourself, smiling at your writing.

Hearing the sound of heels clicking on the floor toward made your heart race. Your brown hair styled in box braids, tied up in a bun, your crown decorated with an amethyst at the center.

You did it after every time you chose to write, how could he chose to invade your privacy? He explained that you never chose to tell him but that didn’t give him to do that.

A knock on the door made you stand up from your chair quickly before throwing your written piece of paper into the fireplace, the flickering of fire made you set free, “Come in!” You called out, moving the chair back to the table.

“Y/N, are you squandering in your chamber? Why do you linger there my dear?” Your mother asked in a curious tone.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “No, mom. I’m already dressed and ready to get this shit over with,” you replied, standing up.

The door creaked open, your mother stepped inside and her face twisted up. “Watch your mouth young lady, come on, we must get ready for your courtship with Kelvin, we are meeting his family today then the wedding will happen,” she said with pride.

“I never asked for this future, Mother,” You protested, your tone filled with frustration.

She placed her hands on your shoulders, her face softening at you. You felt the tug at your heartstrings from the memories of your childhood with Kelvin, running through the gardens.

“The same dreadful way happened to me when I was your age, your father wasn’t the best husband, the miscommunication, leaving me with you and your siblings, fucking those jezebels, Thankfully he died and I earned every single of his fortune,” Your mother confessed.

Your father was neglectful to you, hadn’t shown much affection or nitpicking at everything, you, your siblings, your mother. He was a bully, he had no discipline and refused to change, he drank liquor and smoked cigarettes all day.

The day that he died you felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. Relief that the torment was over, but sorrow for the man who had failed to be a father, a husband, or a friend.

"Y/N, You must understand, this marriage to Kelvin is more than just a union of hearts. It's a bond that will secure our family's future." your mother's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present.

They were soon to be married just like you, All of you were groomed at a young age to be the dutiful wife, the husband who provides, perfection is what they wanted.

You were the oldest of your siblings, you had to be the first one to be able to save your family, why did have to be you?

The thought of marrying someone you didn’t know made your skin crawl.

Your lips sealed at her voice, your brown eyes locked with hers. “Let’s go, sweet pea,”

You walked out of your room beside your mother, her curls bounced gracefully with every step and her hand on your back. She quickly moved it away, you put on a fake smile once you stepped out.

Walking through the hallway and out of the house, trotting the stairs and your mother called the servants to get the purple carriage with brown horses, it arrived quickly.

Enzo opened the door for both of you, you grabbed his hand and walked up the steps, seating yourself on the plush seating. Your mother sat across from you while the door closed.

“Take us to the Harrison’s castle please, make it quickly.” Your mother announced to them, closing the velvet curtains.

The carriage ride began with the horse neighing, and showing the path lined with blooming flowers, you looked outside of uncertainty. Still, your mother urged on.

“We can reclaim our family’s status. You will be the queen of a powerful kingdom, but love will grow, you and Kelvin have history,” Your mother trailed off.

You only nodded and hummed in response, repeating “Yes, Mother, I understand,”

The carriage came to a halt, and you stepped down. The grand entrance loomed ahead, flanked by guards in polished armor, their eyes trained on you as if you were already a queen.

"Remember to stand tall, my dear. You are a royal now," your mother whispered, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Inside, the air was thick with anticipation.

Candelabras flickered, casting warm shadows on the walls adorned with portraits of past black kings and black queens with their children.

There, in the center of the grand hall, stood Kelvin-handsome and regal, dressed in a finely tailored suit that accentuated his lean frame.

Your mother and Kelvin spoke of you and him, making the promise of fortune, well known status of greatness, and unfortunately, grandchildren.

"Y/N! I missed the hell out of you," he exclaimed, a wide smile breaking across his face as he rusher toward you. "You look stunning."

“Thank you Kelvin,“ you replied, your voice steadying as you approached him.

You stood beside him with a smile, “It’s been a while, yes! I've missed you too darling,”

He grabbed your hand and kissed it tenderly, “I missed you more beautiful,”

It was evident that you and Kelvin had genuine feelings for each other, you remembered him as the boy who made you laugh, you felt cherished and cared for,

After the conversion with both of your families, his mom clapped her hands and said “Let the wedding begin! Oh I can't wait for it!” she exclaimed.

You walked down the purple velvet carpet with flowers in your hands, your white gown draped over your feet while Kelvin winked at you, smiling at his bride-to-be.

Finally making it there, standing across from Kelvin, you looked up at him. “I'm glad it's you,”

“I'm glad it's you, only you,” he reassured softly.

Vows were spoken in short and sweet ways, “Kelvin, I promise to love and care for you,”

“Y/N, I swear to provide you, protect you and be there for you, I've dreamed of this day ever since,”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride”

As the priest said the words, you cupped his face and pulled him in for a passionate kiss. Your families erupted in applause, cheered both of you on, walking down the alise beside him. Flowers petals were thrown in the air like confetti.

Walking out of the church, trotting down the stairs while the carriage pulled up at the right time, wanting not to talk to your family.

“Are you alright Y/N?” he asked in concern, his eyes on you.

The carriage door swung open, and you both climbed in, the plush interior wrapping around you. As the carriage began to roll away, the cheers of your families faded into the distance.

Both of you sat across from each other, leaning against the seats. Looking outside to your freedom, they were heading toward the castle.

You shook your head, feeling the tension release. “No, I'm not, just...a lot to process, you know? I never imagined I’d be here, at this moment. I'm just a ticket for my mother to get more status and wealth Kel,”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders. "What if I can't? What if it's all just a façade?"

Kelvin reached out, his hand enveloping yours. "Then we'll break down those walls together. We'll find our way through this maze of expectations. I promise I won't let you go through this alone."

A small smile tugged at your lips, but it quickly faded. "You say that now, but what if you change? What if you become just like them?"

He shook his head vehemently. "I won’t. I refuse to become that man. You mean too much to me. I want to protect you, not control you. Just give me a chance to prove it."

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, but all you found was sincerity. "You really mean that, don’t you?"

"With every fiber of my being," he replied, squeezing your hand tighter.

The carriage ride finally came to an end, The castle loomed ahead. Both of you stepped out, hand in hand. Once inside the grand castle, the air was thick with opulence.

Chandeliers glimmered above, and the walls were adorned with gold accents. You felt like a fish out of water, but Kelvin's presence grounded you.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice low.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied, taking a deep breath.

You walked through the halls with him, entering the bedroom and closed the door. Immediately kissing him passionately, unbuttoning his shirt while he unbuttoned the back of your wedding dress, the dress fell on the carpet.

“Damn, you’re just as fine as I remember,” he groaned against your lips, his hands roaming over your waist, pulling you closer.

“You’re so passionate baby,” you breathed, your fingers sliding over his waves as you deepened the kiss, pouring everything you felt into it—anger, desire, frustration, and a longing you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge.

He responded by lifting you slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall, his body a hard contrast to the softness of yours.

You tucked at his belt buckle and moved your head to the side to tease, “Take it off for me, baby,” you demanded with a firm tone.

Kelvin’s eyes darkened with desire, the challenge in your voice igniting something primal within him. He smirked, his fingers deftly unbuckling his belt, eyes never leaving yours.

“I'm all yours, I promise to make you so happy,” he said softly, his smile shining from the moonlight.

“Just kiss me,” You chuckled, cupping his face. He kissed your lips once more, his lips soft and plump.

With a swift motion, he freed himself from his pants, the tension between you two palpable. “You’re right, but there’s no going back after this,” he replied, his tongue gliding across his lip.

He moved you to the couch, taking off your pants and underwear and you laid forward on the cushions, he hovered over you with his hands on your hips tight. “You ready?”

“Yeah, just fuck me already,”

By your word, he pushed his dick inside. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his length stretching you out, he groaned from the warmth and wetness around him. “Pussy’s still wet and tight as hell like I remember,” he grunted, biting down on his lip.

His hips rolling into you at a fast yet rough pace, your hands gripped the armrest. His hand rested on the nape of your neck, pulling in for a kiss, moaning Your essence coated him making it easy for him to slide right back in.

Your past, your anger to your mother, damn near everything faded away from every single thrust from the male, tears falling from your eyes. Replaced with pleasure, your screams echoed around the walls.

“Ouuu, I missed this dick,” you cried out, nails leaving marks on his back. Your eyes closed, rolling your hips with him.

He darkly chuckled at your moans, your face twisting up in pleasure, his tatted hands cupping your breasts softly. His mouth wrapped around your nipple, his tongue tracing shapes. “You don't even miss a nigga, baby?” he mumbled against your dark brown skin.

The moonlight peeked through the curtains, showing off his dick going in and out of your perfectly, “F-fuck, maybe..” cutting yourself with a moan.

“That’s not what your pussy is saying, you hear that?” He growled, referring to the skin-to-skin slapping in the room. His finger rubbed your clit in circles, driving you wild.

You nodded eagerly, gasping at his thrusts once they turned jagged to deliberate, knots tightened in your stomach. “Yes, your dick is so good.” His lips trailing kisses on your neck and left hickeys on your skin. “Yesss..ah shit, right there,”

Hitting that sweet spot right on cue, you whimpered lowly and wrapped your arms for dear life, “I-cumming!” you announced, eyes rolling back.

“Let it out, baby,” he soothed in your ear, his finger rubbing your clit in circles.

Your essence spewed onto his dick completely, he moaned deeply at the feeling of you, your walls clenching around him like it was all his, he pulled out of you and his tip spewed cum on your rug.

“You’re…cleaning…that..shit up,” you panted heavily, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He chuckled but did as you told him, pulling up his boxers and pants, making sure to get you a warm washcloth, he wanted to clean you up, and Kelvin cleaned the mess using a towel that he got from the bathroom.

He crouched in front of you, his hands gentle as he wiped the remnants of your shared moment. Picking you up in his arms and carrying you into the spacious bathroom, running your bath.

He sat down across from you, he scooted closer to you, his forehead pressed against yours, kissing your lips, “I love you,” he confessed softly.

“I love you more, Kel,”

You didn't have to hesitate with Kelvin, he made everything better. You had everything in the palm of your hand, fortune, updated status in society as a queen, and power.

That didn't matter to you as long as you were with Kelvin, your king, your best friend and now husband. You washed everything away as he helped wash your back, he kissed your shoulder.

There was an undeniable chemistry simmering between both of you, one that made your skin tingle and your heart race.

—————

#black!reader #black fanfiction #kelvin harrison jr x reader #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrsion jr. fic #black writer #black fantasy

204 notes · View notes

lilacxquartz · 3 months ago

Text

under his authority;

officer kenjaku x f!reader

plot: finally ridding yourself of your problematic ex, he comes back in the worst possible form — themes: yandere kenjaku, (eventually) willing reader, stalking, dubcon, manipulation, he/him pronouns for kenjaku, mundane au — w.c: 3.5k — a/n: considered making this a shorter one shot, but an idea wouldn’t leave my head — warnings: extremely dubious consent, but reader is willing by the end — masterlist • ao3

Every night before you headed off to sleep, you would take the extra effort to barricade yourself in your apartment, with all sorts of intricate preparations in place… just to keep him away. You’d lock the windows, put up a bar against the front door, tuck a chair underneath the door handle of your bedroom, and sleep with a knife within reach—just in case.

Deep down, however, you knew that it was all pointless in the long run. You could never truly get rid of him, not even if you traveled to the very ends of the earth (or left it entirely). Your ex was simply not the type to let go and even though nothing had yet happened in your year alone without him, you knew that from the moment that you’d let your guard down, that he’d strike.

See, you knew him perfectly well and the sly way that he approached every little intricacy in life. He dated you for a couple of years, bending and twisting your life into all sorts of directions like a puppet on a string, swaying and meddling with the cross, having you thinking that you were the one in the wrong the entire time when it was his manipulation having you feel that way all along.

At some point, you woke up to it all however, and simply just left—choosing to start somewhere else entirely, ready to put up a fight if need be—but to your surprise, he never followed you. This is why perhaps you knew that you were in more danger than you could comprehend because if you knew one thing about him, it was that he had a penchant for holding onto grudges (and never letting anything, or anyone, go).

Such a suspicion was sorely implied however, when out from the corner of your eye on every other occasion, you would spot a glimpse of him. For a while, you thought that they had finally gotten to you; that they had driven you to complete and utter insanity, if you must have been seeing them in places that didn’t make sense. You sought help for that one however you could; through countless reports made through a system that didn’t take you seriously for whatever reason and then, later, through the means of therapy, which did help for a while. Just as you thought that he was out of your life, however, he started showing up again and in full force, too.

Your reports, just like before, meant nothing at all. All of those reports of stalking and someone lingering around your home, of your windows being scratched on and at your doors rattling during the odd hours of the night, only to be dismissed with the ask of ‘have they hurt you yet?’ or the claim that the evidence was still inefficient, so please only make such a report again if you have something to prove.

Such a ridiculous system, but that’s why you went to such great lengths to take things into your own hands. You had no choice, so what else were you otherwise supposed to do?

You were certain that all of those strange happenings were him, after all.

You weren’t going crazy.

It wasn’t like moving on was helping, anyway. His presence was constant and overwhelming, following you around like your own shadow. You were perhaps being driven crazy indeed, but it wasn’t your own doing as everyone else had otherwise claimed. You knew that deep down, these weren’t desperate illusions cast from a worn-down mind, but rather that they were strikingly real and he was surely toying with you, unable to let you go after a hasty, unspoken breakup, hell-bent on punishing you for daring to have a spine.

And just like every other time, everything was all locked up and ready to go; you were as safe as you could get. You did your usual clean sweep of everything and found nothing that could hint at danger, and yet, just as you had settled into bed… you heard something from the inside.

Tearing upright from your bed, you grabbed your phone in a hurry, dialing the police and urging that this time, this wasn’t a drill, that there was someone actively in your home so to please, please, send someone over and just because the claim was so desperate and dire, they did indeed send someone, reassuring you that it would be soon and to please, stop fretting so much. Such a soothing gesture threw you off guard a little, the pattern of the sentence piquing your interest as something once familiar, but your sleepy mind didn’t make the full connection just yet.

You opened up the door as soon as they knocked too, not thinking all that hard about just how on earth they knew which door in the block called for such a thing to begin with. You were exhausted, after all, worn down from a full year of constantly doubting your own mind, of course, your judgment was hazy. All it took was a bit of correctly applied confidence and a smooth, reassuring voice to render you compliant, to slip downstairs along with them under the claim that you would be going to the station to take a statement before you realised the chilling truth that slipped right past your nose.

That voice.

Those mannerisms.

It was him—you were with him.

You tugged at the car door, desperate to suddenly break free and yet he had you securely confined right in the back of his vehicle, driving you off into some unknown location without a single second to spare.

“You… how did you—” you spat out, your voice faltering in disbelief.

“You know, you should really practice better judgment when you’re tired, hm?” He spoke, his voice sickeningly condescending yet calm and sweet. “And now you’re in trouble. Oh dear.”

In protesting refusal, you kicked at the seat with your heel in an attempt to get them to slow the vehicle at least and plot your escape and yet, he seemed to handle such violent complaint with calculated ease, as if knowing your attempts were futile, as if knowing that he had already won.

“Let me go, you asshole,” you spat, continuing to knock on the seat.

Yet, they continued to remain infuriatingly composed, adjusting the mirror in the dark, allowing you to catch a glimpse of their coal-black eyes in the passing streetlights that phased through the road. He clicked his tongue in amusement before swerving the car off to an emptier road, forcing your body to hurl to the side in a grounding warning. “Careful,” he said, his voice laced with a cold threat, “you’re in no position to make such demands, now are you?” he asked, the reminder of your compromised circumstances hanging in the air. “Believe it or not, my role is genuine in this exchange and I could approve a warrant for your arrest if you’re not careful, so you would be wise to calm down and listen to me. How does that sound?”

“Arrest?” you scoffed. “For what?”

“Well, it could be anything, really,” he mused, calmly driving once more, “but let’s try those narcotics that I planted in your home—quite bad ones too, they would get you into a whole wealth of trouble—especially given those paranoid reports you’ve been making. Am I really that bad that you consider me a daily nuisance? I haven’t done anything that wrong, surely.”

You blinked. “You have been stalking me.”

However, all that he could do was huff out a humourless laugh as he composed a response, “Interesting claims, but I think you’ll find that I have evidence of me being busy at work for the good remainder of the year, but…” he paused, considering a pint, “how sweet of you to think of me so often. Have I been on your mind that often? Maybe you’re seeing things you want to see.”

“I wouldn’t want to see you at any time at all, you damned stalker—” you repeated, only for him to interrupt you.

“—stalker?” he asked in a completely deadpan tone, though there was a thin jab of mockery laced within it. He parked the vehicle off to the side of a lesser traveled road where the lights couldn’t quite reach before sitting with you in a stagnant silence for a while. When he finally broke the quiet, he spoke up again in a hushed tone, as if careful to not be heard (even though it was just the two of you in the car), “your claims aren’t entirely baseless, I have been… keeping tabs, but I have been careful,” he admitted, “I have been eliminating all traces of evidence from the moment that anything surfaced, ridding myself of anything compromising. You can try and rattle me out to the authorities if you wish, I won’t stop you, but you won’t get very far.”

“Was the break-up that significant that you can’t leave me alone?” you redirected.

Another silence brewed between the two of you, but then he quickly composed himself. “How silly of you to make such outrageous claims as if we were an item to begin with, but, I suppose that you could say that our time together was significant enough for me to be… conflicted about our parting, for a lack of better words.”

“That’s a long and pointless answer to mean ‘yes’, but alright, you do you, Kenjaku,” you mumbled, crossing your arms as you sank back into the seat.

“And what would admitting such a thing do?” he asked, drumming his fingers along the hard leather of the wheel. “We were together for a moment and just as things were getting interesting, you walked out on me,” he added, not quite losing his track of words but still pausing for a moment to school their demeanour back into something better controlled. “...Let’s say that we did leave on a bad note, surely you can understand my confusion and… interest in picking up where things had left off?”

“I understand the need for wanting answers,” you admitted, “but it doesn’t justify stalking, surely.”

“It justifies my need for closure,” Kenjaku corrected, “and now that I have you back in my hands, I think you’re overdue for some long-awaited discipline, don’t you think? Luckily for you, I’m surprisingly fair with how I deliver it, so I won’t hurt you, but I do have something in mind for the way you humiliated me.”

“Humiliated?” you scoffed yet again, although given his lack of immediate reply, you had an uneasy wave of dread pass you by with the hanging implication of what was yet to come. Something felt off, but they weren’t being clear with their delivery.

Before you knew it, he suddenly got out of the car and slammed the door shut, leaving you alone in the back of the police car for a beat, and then, without warning, tore open the back door, yanking you right outside. You landed on your bottom initially, but then he leaned you forward, pressing your chest against the dirt and cuffing your wrists right behind your back.

Pulling you up after, he slammed you into his car, caging you in with his looming overhead frame, making you feel suddenly quite small and trapped. He leaned in with his breath hot against your neck, allowing his pressing arousal to push into the small of your back while holding you in place.

“Humiliation is a two-way street, you know,” he whispered as he pulled down your jeans to your knees with your underwear following suit, “and I don’t think I can forgive such abandonment, at least not so soon.”

You remained frozen in place, realising exactly what he was planning to do, letting him talk as words refused to leave your own lips, “I always did like the lack of fight you put up during our time together,” he purred, “I bet it’s because you secretly like submitting to me like this, huh?”

His words were intentionally full of spite and mockery, but you were still confused and barely recovered from the extreme relationship they had you trapped in prior; it was an overwhelming time that left you with a piled-up emotional burden and nothing else beyond that point… but their touch admittedly, always succeeded in making you feel good in a way that nothing else or nobody else could compare. So skilled was the feel of his fingers over your skin—the only time he would ever listen to you.

“And what happened to your snark?” Kenjaku hummed, unzipping his slacks, dropping the pair to gather at his thighs, “I thought you had a lot to say just now? Did that all disappear too? Do you want me to make you feel good again? I bet none of those late-night hookups you’ve been having have been satisfying you the same way I ever could.”

It was humiliating alright, he knew exactly what you wanted and how you wanted. You loved it when he bit at your neck and when he pulled your hair just enough to make you feel good, but without long-lasting pain. You loved the way his hands would smack and smooth over your tender skin, bruising galaxies from his feverish touch. How his teeth would graze along the sensitive spots, making your life feel like putty in his hands; so malleable and yet so rigid, and yet, you knew fully well that he was bad for you.

He didn’t give you much time beyond that point to seek out confirmation, readily lining up the tip of their hardened cock to press into your soaked entrance, finding it almost peculiar at just how desperately soaked you already seemed to be. With a gentle push inside, he buried his shaft within your slick walls, easing into you slowly, taking his good, sweet time to get used to the feel of you again. Almost achingly slow, he pushed himself into your hilt and then back out, feeling almost insultingly delicate.

Kenjaku’s lips then lined up with your neck, peppering lazy kisses against your throat, but not surrendering to the heat of the moment like you almost desperately, guiltily craved. Such burning need that was evidenced by the full year of not being able to let you go and yet, now that he had you—he held himself off.

Albeit involuntarily, you drawled off a low whirring whine, arching your back into his form, letting him deepen his shaft into your core, yet never once accelerating as you hoped. Kenjaku remained infuriatingly composed and controlled, never once losing his cool, gently rolling his hips out and then back in, letting the need build up in you, yet never satisfying it.

“Such a needy thing,” he murmured, “what’s the magic word?”

“P-pl—” you were about to say, stopping yourself right as you were about to give in.

Kenjaku sucked at his teeth. “We’ll get there. You could never make me soft.”

He continued to roll his hips back and forth against you, nice and slow, pressing your body straight up against the cold, uncomfortably hard surface of the car with his uniform uncomfortably digging into your back. The coarse material roughly chafed through the thin fabric of the top you wore, rubbing painfully against you as all the wrong sensations were tackled instead.

It was painful, almost, and yet you felt your composure letting slip earlier than you would have liked, wanting nothing more than to give into the moment and for once, forget about him and what he put you through prior and just… feel good.

“P-please,” you gasped and then bit your lips, curling them into your mouth to stifle the remainder of the confession—humiliating, indeed.

He stilled for a second and you swore that you could feel his eyes bore into you with an almost feral resolve. For a while, he didn’t say a single thing and then, without warning, you cried out a choked-out whimper without registering exactly what had happened.

Suddenly, a deep, searing pain flooded your senses, making your eyes well with tears and spill in a matter of seconds. The realisation hit just a moment later, recognising the sensation as pain as he thrust repeatedly into your teased cunt at full force; his cock hitting right where it hurt and then without stopping, doing it again and again. Your reactions were poorly timed as you moaned out of sync with his feverish movements, pistoning himself into you with the driving force of someone crazed with reckless abandon. With such sawing aggression that emphasised just how needy he truly was, no matter the claims that otherwise left his lips, pinning the blame on you.

His hands then snaked around your chest but didn’t settle, reaching to wrap around your neck instead. His palms squeezed against your sensitive skin, choking out whatever pretty little noises you had left behind.

Your body recoiled slightly in pained protest as he continued to impale you; his hot breath rolling steamy pants of air that prickled against your clammy skin, pushing you closer towards the edge. His breathing became sloppier too, as he fucked himself as rough as he could into your sopping heat, quite literally spearing his length into you, until he couldn’t anymore. With one stuttering, rough, and final thrust, he melted into you entirely, crashing his body against yours as he filled you up with his own pent-up need. For a moment after, his hips gently bucked, albeit seemingly involuntarily as he sought to ride out the aftermath of his near-violent orgasm, only parting when he could quickly recompose himself and regain control over both of the situation—as well as you.

And after a while of such recovery—after helping you find your balance and dress you back up with almost attentive care—a darker thought slipped into his mind. Helping you sit back inside of the car, into the front this time, he let you quietly recover as he drove off somewhere else this time. Not to your home, nor to his, but… somewhere else entirely, because, if he was being real about you, he already knew that you wouldn’t give up on trying to get him into trouble—wouldn’t you? You silly thing. Oh no, he had to do something about that, and luckily for you, he had no such intention to kill you off, because you were the only thing in his life that he wanted to keep around for good and he had a good idea that you wanted this too, even if you were being so stubborn lately.

“Wait,” you piped up at long last, “where are we going?”

Kenjaku snorted out a half-laugh, finding your late realisation to be amusing before clearing his throat and answering you, “I’m not letting you go this time, so we’re taking a little detour—I’m going to keep you holed up with me forever,” he revealed, “maybe in chains at first as I figure out something more… permanent, but it’s all for a good cause, you know?”

You huffed, only to be interrupted, “A good cau—”

“—yes,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, “a good cause. I want to keep you forever, but I can’t have you running off on me. At least not again.”

You found yourself reacting in a way that surprised you, trying to sink into the seat again and kicking at whatever you could, but not as a means of escape, but rather out of frustration at your own mind. You could only respond in an uncertain murmur, still exhausted from the rough encounter, “You’re impossible, just… let me go,” you requested instead, although not sounding convincing to either him or yourself, knowing that it would probably be easier to just surrender instead.

“Oh you”, he endearingly cooed, smoothing his hand over your thigh, “I can’t do that. Not to you. But just know this, if you try to run away from me again, I’ll figure something out, maybe plant something compromising on you,” he replied, pausing for a moment to plot something out on the spot, “maybe have you arrested and locked up, because that way I can be sure to keep you in one place forever.”

You tilted your head off to the side, catching a glimpse of his thinly concealed mania burning in the depths of his eyes. “You wouldn’t go through that much, would you? You’re not that insane…”

Kenjaku however just shrugged, finding the calm conversation to be amusing, knowing that by even humouring him to this extent, you had already given up. “Just keep it in mind, will you? If it ever did come down to that, then guess who’s going to be the one to get you out to begin with?”

He let the implication hang in the air for a moment longer, before pushing you back further into the seat and finally letting go. “Anyway, rest up, will you? You have a lot of apologising left to do when we’re there and I fully accept you to be awake and alert for everything I have in store for you.”

You gulped, but you did as you were told, finally broken down enough to listen to him at long, long last.

261 notes · View notes

infamous-light · 4 months ago

Text

The Cuddle Conundrum

Agatha Harkness x Gender Neutral Reader

AO3: The Cuddle Conundrum

Summary: You were excited to show Agatha a new spell you had learned but when you mispronounced a word, you inadvertently cast a spell that left you both stuck together.

Agatha seizes the opportunity to mercilessly tease you about your magical mishap.

Word Count: 1.2K

You stood in the middle of Agatha’s cozy living room, excitement buzzing in your veins like a live wire.

You had been practicing a new spell all week – poring over ancient texts and experimenting with every incantation you could decipher – and now you were finally ready to show it off to her.

“Just promise me it’s not another attempt at making my tea taste like lavender,” Agatha quipped, amusement glinting in her eyes as she crossed her legs, the fabric of her coat shifting with the motion. “I still can’t get rid of that awful flavor you concocted out of my mouth.”

You could feel your cheeks warm slightly at her words. The image of Agatha grimacing after her first sip was etched into your memory, a mortifying reminder of your less-than-stellar tea-brewing skills.

“No, this is different,” you insisted, brushing aside her sarcasm with a wave of your hand. “It’s a spell that forms a barrier of warmth around you. Imagine it like a cozy shield that wraps around you whenever you start to feel cold.”

Agatha arched a single eyebrow, a playful gleam flickering in her eyes as she took in your serious expression.

“Really? A cozy shield?” She echoed, leaning back against the plush cushions of the couch, her posture relaxed. With a theatrical sigh, she added, “How quaint. I suppose next you’ll tell me it comes with little hearts and sparkles, too.”

You responded with a deadpan stare, refusing to indulge in her teasing. “Ha-ha. Winter’s coming soon, and I get cold easily.”

Her lips curled into a smirk as she tilted her head, a cascade of long, brown hair falling over her shoulder. “Is that so?” She enunciated each word slowly. “Well then, show me what you’ve got. I’m curious to see if it’s as delightful as you claim, or if it will leave me wishing for another cup of that dreadful tea.”

Determined to prove to Agatha that you’re capable of achieving this spell, you squared your shoulders and met her gaze with unwavering confidence. Carefully, you arranged the ingredients on the coffee table – some assortment of herbs, a delicate sprinkle of salt, and a few shimmering crystals.

Agatha watched with a raised brow, her expression somewhere between amusement and intrigue as she nestled deeper into the cushions. She observed your every move, her eyes tracing your hands as they glided over the items.

Once you’d finished combining the ingredients, you straightened back up, letting your shoulders drop as you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the moment.

With a steady voice, you began the incantation, the ancient words flowing from your lips like a melody. You closed your eyes, drawing in the ambient energy around you, feeling it swirl like a gentle breeze. You could feel it buzzing at your fingertips, eager to manifest the magic you were trying to conjure, and a thrill shot through you as you envisioned impressing Agatha with your newfound skills.

Her attention remained fixed on you, her curiosity piqued, but then her expression shifted from interest to alarm as she heard one of the incantations sound off.

“Wait–” Agatha interjected; her voice laced with urgency. “Are you sure about that last part? I don’t think–”

Before she could finish her warning, a blinding flash of light enveloped you both, drowning out her voice and leaving you momentarily disoriented. In an instant, the world spun in a whirl of colors, and an odd tugging sensation seized you, as if an invisible force was drawing your body toward Agatha's. When the light finally faded and the world around you sharpened into focus, you looked down in horror to find that you were completely stuck to Agatha’s side. Your arms were hopelessly entangled, the skin of your forearm brushing against hers while your legs were awkwardly intertwined. It was as though the spell had fused you together in a bizarre embrace.

“Well, this is charming,” Agatha drawled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She attempted to adjust her position, but the effort proved futile, only causing both of you to wobble precariously. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, pet.”

You couldn’t help but feel the flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks, hot and betraying. “I may have mispronounced a word or two.”

“A word or two?” Agatha retorted, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated flair. “I think you’ve accidentally created the world’s most inconvenient cuddle spell.”

As she spoke, you tried to maintain your composure, desperately fighting the flush creeping up your cheeks from the way your bodies were inexplicably linked. However, Agatha’s keen gaze flickered over your flushed cheeks, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You could feel the weight of her scrutiny, but you tried to ignore it.

Then, a spark of mischief ignited in her eyes, a glimmer that sent a nervous thrill coursing through you. Without warning, Agatha leaned back against you, the warmth of her body pressing into yours. The contact was electric, sending a shiver down your spine as you instinctively shifted beneath her, hyper-aware of the closeness that set your heart racing like a wild drum. Agatha seemed to revel in your discomfort, her laughter spilling forth like a melodic tease, light and airy. It was intoxicating and disarming all at once.

“You know, pet,” Agatha purred, each word drawn out in that dangerously smooth tone. “It’s adorable watching you squirm like this. You look positively flushed.”

You opened your mouth, stammering in response, “I-I’m not – I mean, it’s just… you–” But the words tumbled out in a disjointed rush, your voice wavering as the heat of embarrassment crept further down your neck.

The next action caught you off guard as Agatha wrapped her legs around yours, her grin widening as she caught the frazzled panic in your eyes.

“Aw, you poor thing,” she cooed, her voice dripping with playful mockery. “I didn’t mean to make you so flustered.”

As she nestled closer, a soft squeak escaped your lips, a sound of surprise that only fueled her delight.

“I don’t think you realize how much of a personal cushion you’ve become,” she mused, allowing her head to rest heavily against your shoulder. Her dark, loose hair fell around you in a silky curtain, the strands cool against your flushed cheeks. “You really should consider the implications of your little spell before casting it again.” She continued, her voice low and sultry.

The heat in your cheeks deepened. “I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this. I was just trying to–”

“To what?” She interrupted, her smirk widening as if she were savoring the moment like a fine wine. “Impress me? Because I assure you, you have succeeded, my dear. A cuddle spell that binds us together? How utterly romantic.”

The playful lilt in her words only made your heart race faster, a wild rhythm you couldn’t control. It was astounding, really, how easily this witch could get under your skin.

“Maybe next time, I’ll just… stick to the basics.” You winced internally at the awkwardness of your tone.

“Or perhaps,” Agatha murmured, lifting her head to meet your gaze, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “You should embrace it. I find it quite cozy. Besides,” she added, her voice dropping to a soft, enticing whisper. “I could get used to this.”

Maybe this accidental cuddle spell wasn’t so bad after all.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness #agatha all along #marvel #agatha all along fanfic

337 notes · View notes

highonmarvel · 4 months ago

Note

heyy lov ur fics. saw you wanted some bucky recs so i got one. how about like bucky and reader have been dating for 2-3 months and he's always sweet to her and always making sure she was happy. he even promised to get rid of almost all of his weapons. but then he secretly didnt. he still had them, for "saftey purposes" he couldnt let anything happen to u. so he kept them in a secret room along with some pictures of u he took when he was observing(stalking) you before he entered into ur life -P1

that’s actually such a scary idea, i love it. okay, okay, you had a lot so apologises if it’s a bit different than you were expecting, but i tried, and i had fun! let me know if you like it! and my sweet sister @thehydraethereal, tell me what you think.

The Sun

Bucky Barnes: Bucky’s world revolves around you, The Sun, his sunshine, and he’ll do just about anything to make you happy, but everything to keep you safe.

CONTENT WARNING: This is a dark fic, please read content warnings here! 18+!

You’ve always been more of a glass half-full type of person, but with Bucky, you’ve really turned into a ray of sunshine—he just brings that out in you, treating you as precious as every breath he takes and as vital to life as the Sun itself. He said that to you once, when you asked why he calls you sunshine while laying your head in his lap, smiling in bliss as he stroked your hair. He said, “My world revolves around you.”

Even after three months, he still treats you with the same respect and gentleness and love and patience as that very first day, if not even more. There was only once you two had had a serious disagreement—it wasn’t really an argument, no one was angry, but it certainly could’ve been a massive dealbreaker for you.

Bucky never spoke much of his childhood, his teenage years, or even his adult ones, he only really went three years into the past, max, but you had pieced together he’s been through a lot, and so you never pushed him, but you made sure to make it clear you’d be there for him if and when he was ready to talk about it. There was a lot he did that showed you he was a war vet, and that as reluctant as he may be to admit it, he was suffering from some form of PTSD—he doesn’t like watching espionage films, or even movies with too much violence (which you don’t mind skipping, you don’t care too much for them either way), he’s sensitive to loud noises and a few times he’s jolted you out of your slumber with his nightmares, but he claims they’re much better with you than before. The metal arm also fascinated you—he said it’s made of vibranium, and you frowned at the thought of why he would need such a strong arm, but that you managed to get used to. What you couldn’t get used to, however, was his weaponry.

You had been sitting on the couch together when there was a thud from the next room over, and Bucky jumped up, soldier stance and everything, ready to go check it out. You were about to assure him it was nothing, tell him you forgot to close a window and a breeze probably knocked something over, when he slid a knife out of his boot and your breath caught in your throat. You followed the silver glint with your eyes as he stalked around the corner and then disappeared for a few moments.

“Birdie slammed against the window,” he said, relieved with a small smile, and you could hardly believe the juxtaposition between his use of the term ‘birdie’ while he held a knife securely in his hand. When you didn’t respond, staring at him with wide eyes, his brows turned downward in show of concern, and his voice came sincerely, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? It was nothing.” He incorrectly assumed the noise had scared you, but quickly came to understand when he noticed your gaze fixed on the knife.

“This?” he asked, casually, spinning the knife on his finger, but when you jumped back, he quickly hid it behind his back and cast his head downward in shame. He hadn’t meant to scare you, and though he felt bad, he couldn’t help but feel a little offended you’d think his arsenal was something to be afraid of. He’d never lay a hand on you, let alone a tool, why were you scared? Did you not trust him? He only kept this stuff to keep you safe. And besides, you knew about his slight paranoia with defence, so why did this catch you off guard? Sure, maybe the knife in the boot was a little too much for you to handle, but you seemed to take more issue with its existence rather than his convenient hiding.

“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology, managing to look up at you. “I didn’t mean to scare you, just had to make sure everything was alright.” He offered a weak smile in hopes of setting you at ease, but it faded when you stood up to confront him, shaking slightly.

“Why do you have a knife?” you asked in horror, voice raising in pitch. “What— do you just— do you just always have that on you?”

It’s the knife you’re worried about. Darling, if you knew the half of it.

“Protection,” he answered simply, innocently, not understanding your reaction.

“What— what else do you have? And— and in your house? You have to get rid of it!”

At any other time he would have pushed back on this (gently, of course), but in your frantic state he knew it wouldn’t serve either of you very well. He really hadn’t expected you to start hyperventilating about it. He switched to soothing you, holding you in his arms and promising he would get rid of all that, that you could feel safe… even though in his mind, his weapons were to make you feel safe, to keep you safe.

There’s a cupboard in Bucky’s house that’s always locked, and he tells you it’s just tools and some clutter he needs to clear out. But what you don’t know is he’s still got his shit in there. In any other circumstance, he would do anything you asked of him, but in this case, he got the impression you didn’t understand, that you were a little naïve when it came to this sort of stuff, like you’d always been sheltered and protected in a way that never needed violence. But he knows what the real world is like, and he knows what he’s got to do to keep you safe.

That was a few months ago. Now, trying to watch a film from the 40s—something with Jimmy Stewart, to grant Bucky a little nostalgia and tick another movie off your cinephile list—you both doze off, but you wake up before him. He usually wakes up earlier than you and falls asleep later, so you rarely see him asleep, only once you had to wake him up from the vivid nightmare, but here, now, he’s peaceful—his eyes are shut, his breathing is steady, his muscles aren’t tensed, this is the first time you’ve seen him lose himself to unconsciousness, and your heart swells at the realisation he feels safe enough to be so vulnerable around you.

As much as you would have loved to watch him breathe, after all the snacks you ate during the movie, your hands are sticky and you can’t really fall back asleep without washing them. On the way to the bathroom, you pause just before the door. The cupboard Bucky keeps his tools in is slightly ajar, it’s always been locked. And you’re not sure what compels you to head over to the door, but you carefully open it, wincing when it creaks slightly, before gasping at the scene.

He said he’d get rid of them! Not only are there multiple sharp blades of varying lengths, there’s more ammo that you could ever imagine needing, pistols, and a shotgun on the wall, you’re pretty sure you spot a fucking grenade, but maybe most terrifyingly is a mask. If this really was for safety (you’re really trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here) why the fuck did he have a mask? Like he was hiding behind it. He wouldn’t need to hide his identity from an intruder, he’d only need to if he was trying not to get caught if he was doing something wrong, if he was—

Bucky drops the bat to catch you before you hit the ground, wincing at the sight of your limp body in his arms. Fuck, he had stuck up a few more pictures of you earlier that day, and clearly forgot to lock the closet. The guilt from hurting you is enough to make him sick, but he’s got to figure out how to savage this.

If he just sets you right back on the couch and puts on some kind of thriller movie, you’ll think it was a dream when you wake up again, right? That your subconscious mind was taking in what was playing on the TV and affecting your sleep. That makes sense, that makes perfect sense, and that’s for you to figure out on your own; he won’t need to explain it or answer questions because really all it was was a bad dream, and he knows about those, you know he has experience with them, you’ll believe him when he tells you how real they can feel—you’ve seen it—and trust that everything’s alright, and he’s good to keep you safe.

After an hour, you begin to stir, and he redirects his gaze from being hyper focused on you to watching the film intently, though this far in he doesn’t know anything about the plot and hopes you don’t ask too many questions about it.

When he hears your quiet moans indicating you’re awake now, and feels your stretch beside him, he looks back at you. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” he teases, hoping you’ll giggle and say something about not realising it was dark outside. But you don’t, instead you startle and recoil back slightly, eyeing him suspiciously.

He forces his brows to furrow in confusion as he sets his half empty bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. He tries to shift towards you but when you shift back, he sighs and stays in place.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, his tone sincere and soothing. But he can tell you don’t buy it.

“You said you’d get rid of them!” you yell, and he winces slightly—you’ve never raised your voice at him, and if you’re this worked up over it it might take him a little more patience than anticipated to do some damage control.

“Get rid of what?” he asks. The best thing to do here is just play dumb.

“Your— your weapons! There’s— there’s so many of them, you said you’d get rid of them!”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he coos when you start breathing heavily, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “You just had a bad dream, okay? It’s alright…”

“No!” you shriek, kicking him away from you. “In the— in the closet!”

“What closet?”

“The— the one with the tools!”

“There’s nothing in there, sweetheart.”

“Then open it.”

He freezes for a second—he hadn’t expected you to ask that. “I don’t— I don’t know where the key is.” Fuck. He’s fucked. He knew it from the moment he hesitated, and his stuttering further solidified his guilt in your mind. His eyes grew just a little wider as he waited for you to respond, hardly breathing. You can read him like an open book, and he knows he can’t backtrack the few small ticks that set you on the scent.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him for a moment, but blink, and then nod, slowing your breaths down and directing your stare to the floor. “Alright,” you say, and Bucky himself can’t help but sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” he coos as he shifts closer to you, and this time, you don’t shift away. He puts his arms around you and comfortingly rubs your shoulder, resting his head on top of yours.

You don’t buy it for a second.

That’s way too specific a dream for you to have months after even thinking about that stuff, and you’re not fucking stupid, you can tell what’s real and what’s not, and that was real. But for the time being, it seems easier to appease him. Maybe you really did imagine it… you doubt it, though, especially when Bucky’s body went rigid in response to your request. Even if you didn’t see what you thought you did, he’s definitely hiding something in that closet.

His phone rings, and he sighs, apologising as he carefully unwraps himself from you, reaching into his pocket to answer the phone as he stands up. “Hello?” There’s a few quick and low words from whoever’s on the other end and the groan he lets out allows you to guess it’s something Avengers-related. Though he isn’t an Avenger anymore (he gave up all violence, even in the name of justice) Sam does occasionally call him up to ask for advice on espionage matters or blueprints or just his thoughts on whatever’s going on.

“I’ve got to run, sweetheart; Sam’s being an asshole and I need to do some damage control,” he chuckles, and looks back down at you hesitantly, waiting for a response of some kind, but you’re quiet, arms crossed over your chest, slouched on the couch and looking at the floor, almost petulant but more… pensive. And that worries him.

“I can— I can stay if you want me to—”

“No,” you answer so casually it’s like something in him shatters. Sure, you’re not always grovelling at his feet when he opens the door but you’ve never been so nonchalant about him leaving to go take care of stuff. Even if it wasn’t all that sincere, you’d still make a little scene out of missing him so much. “I’ll see you later.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it, pressing his lips into a thin line as he nods, and then sighs.

He can’t leave you alone here: you’ll either run the second you can or hurt yourself trying to figure out how to get the cupboard open again. In both cases he won't be able to keep you safe, you’ll get hurt. But you’re also not yourself right now, and he doesn’t want to come on too strong and risk scaring you off for good. Not that he’d ever let you get away.

So he leaves, locks the door, but doesn’t get in his car. Usually he would grant that you’d be able to see the red flag there but you seem hyper focused on getting to his shit and he surmises he can get away with it. Between the tall plants covering his windows, he can just about make you out, sitting completely still on the couch for a few moments, it’s like you’re not even breathing. He subconsciously finds himself holding his breath as well—Are you waiting for him to start the car? Have you noticed he didn’t take his wallet?—narrowing his eyes at you, trying to anticipate your next move.

60 seconds, and you jump up.

***

You take a very quick look around the lounge, just to really make sure he left, and with no sign of him, you start off down the corridor again to his cupboard. It’s locked, and you know better than to even try to look for the key. But you have to do something: how could you live with yourself knowing that either you’d have broken up with your seemingly perfect boyfriend for no reason at all, or ever feel at peace again when there’s this heavy suspicion just hanging there?

You don’t know how you ever learnt it but you pull a pin from your hair and unfold it, closing one eye and sticking your tongue out slightly as you wriggle it around in the key slot, muttering “Please, please, please, please, please” to yourself over and over as you strain to hear for the clicks. One, two, three clicks and it opens! And you have no idea how you did it but it’s done now. You quickly open the door and gasp. You really shouldn’t be surprised—you know it wasn’t a dream—but the double confirmation really takes the wind out of you, and you feel betrayed. He lied to you, why did he lie to you? But there’s something else you didn’t notice before. On the inside of the door, polaroids of you that you know are before you met him are hung up haphazardly with messy tape—and they’re pictures of you doing mundane tasks, your everyday life. With shaking hands, you reach towards one that you’re afraid is of you in the shower, tears collecting on your lashes. As you reach for it, your elbow hits a shotgun and it falls and fires.

You scream as you jump back, and away from the door, you come face to face with Bucky at the end of the hallway, looking horrified as if it’s you who’s doing what you’re not supposed to.

Why the fuck is this thing even loaded if it’s just sitting around? These are assault rifles and deadly tools just at the ready, all the time.

Bucky carefully calls your name, and you turn on your heel and sprint towards the bedroom door at the opposite end of the corridor, but he catches up to you way too easily. He grabs you and slams your head against the doorway, causing you to black out and fall to the floor.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck! How was he so careless not once but twice? What if you’d gotten seriously hurt or even killed? And he’s mad at himself but he can’t help but feel mad at you, too. Why didn’t you just leave it alone? Sure, he fucked up by forgetting to lock it but why on Earth did you push for it? It was locked this time, why were you so obsessed with this!?

He takes a few deep breaths to stop himself from launching into a panic attack. He can fix this, it’s fine, you just need a bit of time to calm down, but he has a feeling if you took a relationship ‘break’ he’d never find you again. So you can’t leave, you just need to be somewhere safe.

Bucky’s basement is hardly even a room—that’s why he keeps his weapons upstairs, and so that they’re always there when he needs them. It’s small, but big enough for a few shelves and a twin-sized mattress, it’s more a very temporary storm shelter—or a panic room, to a weaker person. There aren’t any windows, and so the thought of getting you situated there for an indefinite amount of time isn’t pleasant. He always gets up before you, and, yes, part of that is nature, and part of it is his awe for your peaceful sleeping form, a level of serenity in darkness he’s not sure he’d ever be able to achieve. The sun peaks in through the curtains and lightly bronzes your skin for a few minutes until you stir and wake up to him beside you, pure adoration in his eyes. And every morning, he knows he’d give up the light of day forever if he could only wake up next to you one more time.

***

You grimace as you wake up, feeling uncomfortable—the room feels somehow cold yet stuffy, and the mattress you’re laying on feels scruffy and a little old. You toss and turn a few times before you realise that this is real. When the thought hits, you rip your eyes open, shooting upright to scan your surroundings while your breathing gets heavier and heavier.

Your eyes land on Bucky sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a book in one hand, his metal one mindlessly twirling a thick chain between his fingers, tightening and loosening it. To test, you tug on your leg and he automatically grips tighter to the restraint, even before noticing you’re up.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he coos, setting his book down and letting go of the chain. He crouches down and sits at the bottom of the mattress, coaxing you with soothing rubs on your shin like you’re a mental patient or a wild animal, unpredictable. “How’re you feeling?”

How are you feeling? How are you feeling?

“Are you out of your mind!?” you shriek, and kick at him—it doesn’t hurt him, but he does raise his palm from your leg. Dropping his voice to a sweeter tone, he tries to calm you down. “You’re alright, you’re safe, everything’s okay, baby.”

He reaches out a hand to stroke your face but you slap it away, looking up at him with wild eyes and messy hair, you let your tone drop to a dangerous low as you warn, “Don’t… touch me.”

He gives a disappointed sigh but eventually tuts to himself in agreement. You just need to get this out of your system, it’ll be fine.

But it’s not. It’s not fine, and it’s taking a toll on him. You’ve never been like this before, so angry and irrational and erratic and unpredictable, but that’s not what he minds. He can deal with you throwing insults his way, swinging at him (in vain, of course) or resorting to silence, but what really starts to tick him off is when you refuse to eat. He let it slide the first day, tried to play it cool and just left the tray down for you, but he went upstairs and nervously paced back and forth until the morning. When he came down with breakfast, he discovered you hadn’t so much as touched your meal, not even the tray itself, and though he asked you in an even tone to eat something (and got nothing but silence in return) it was worrying him, he nearly wanted to plead with you, but he knew if he cracked you’d see a weak spot and keep ramming it until you get your way, and he can’t have that.

It’s the third day now, and he finally decides he needs to feed you. He sits down in front of you and pulls the tray towards him, scooping up some rice on a plastic spoon. He holds the food to your lips but you keep them shut tight, even when he gently pokes your mouth a few times. He’s sure you can see the stress you’re causing him: he’s hardly sleeping, as shown by the bags under his eyes, and he can’t even go for a jog to clear his head in case you do something crazy while he’s gone. With a deep breath, he sets the spoon down and leans back, considering his next move. Maybe you’d drink a smoothie. Not ideal but better than nothing.

“Alright,” he huffs as he stands up. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna make you a smoothie.”

He’s only just turned his back when he hears clattering, and when he looks back to you, you’ve got fury etched onto your features and the food he so carefully and lovingly prepared for you is strewn across the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” he bellows, and backhands you, sending you to the floor. With your mouth agape, you clutch your cheek and look up at him in shock. He’s never even raised his voice at you, let alone yelled, let alone lay a finger on you. “Just fucking listen to me! Eat!” He kicks the tray further back and you startle, paralysed by pure shock.

He takes a deep breath in, and a long huff out, clenching his fists at his sides. His blue eyes you had once thought of as calm oceans are ablaze, he’s shaking with anger, and his voice quivers as he tries to speak in a level tone to you. “I… am going to make you a smoothie, and you are going to drink it, or you’ll never see the sun again.”

When he slams the door shut behind him, you finally allow tears to fall. You don’t know what that threat means—will he never let you out? Will he kill you? At first you didn’t think so, even when he held you down as you screamed and kicked, but you never thought he’d hit you either, you never thought he was capable of such rage, and though he kept it relatively under control, you saw what that was. It wasn’t just ire, it was like flames licked his entire being, engulfing him and lighting him up. While you thought of him as your Sun, now, that was for a different reason—now, he feels like the actuality of the star: unpredictable and unbearably dangerous, but… necessary for survival, and inescapable.

✪

[my beloved taglist; @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10]

#dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x you #dark bucky x you #dark!bucky barnes x you #dark bucky barnes x you #dark bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #dark avengers #dark!avengers #dark fic #dark!fic #request

250 notes · View notes

thesilmarillionblog · 7 months ago

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟑

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, language, established relationship, everyone is liar, reader is manipulated, suspense

Word Count: 5206

A/N: English is not my first language.

He would make a great son if he didn't mean to be a great father.

That's what he thought when Homelander entered the locked room; his father was locked up. Leaning through the glass, he whispered, "All this time."

In other words, his father did not die. He should have known since, aside from Homelander, his father, Soldier Boy, was the most powerful Supe in the whole world. It seemed impossible for anyone to kill him, and no one could. There were some differences between Homelander and his father, but they differed from the other supes.

Homelander's eyes softened as he peered at his father, who lay peacefully unconscious in the box from the gas he had endured. They should rule the world together as father and son.

And Ryan.

Homelander inhaled deeply as he considered his son. It was undoubtedly another problem. Butcher was the reason behind it all. He was a fucking son-stealing piece of trash. When he had the chance, he should have slaughtered Butcher. There were a lot of opportunities lost. Now that he was most likely the one who killed Vicky, Homelander felt compelled to act because things were undoubtedly getting out of control.

Homelander opened the box without thinking, and the guardian stared at him in horror.

Ben quickly moved his arms to remove the handcuffs that were tying him to the bed after getting rid of the gas that was making him sleep like a fucking rat. He didn't waste any time opening his eyes and getting to his feet. This time, he knew he was somewhere else. God only knows how much time has passed since then.

Ben didn't care that the guardian ran out of the room. At last, he was free once more.

“Where the fuck am I?” Seeing Homelander in front of him, Ben asked.

“I-” Homelander tried to speak, but he was surprised that his father had not attacked him right away. He was ready for another fight, in fact. “Dad, I came here to save you. I had no idea you were still alive,” Homelander muttered, yearning for some praise from him.

Ben's eyes instantly opened as he thought about all that had transpired, and he blinked again. “Where the fuck is Butcher?” he asked, his mind instantly racing with images of you. Ben's final memory of you was of you hitting your head really hard because of Butcher. But before he blew up, he knew your heartbeats were still strong.

Homelander said, “I don't know. We are searching for him everywhere, but it seems the CIA is working hard, doing their best to hide him and his fucking team.”

Ben remained silent, considering everything and casting a suspicious glance at Homelander.

“Why the hell have you saved me now?” Ben asked, closely observing Homelander. After all, Ben attempted to murder Homelander, his biological son, as well as his grandchild. If Butcher only didn't interrupt him, he would do it.

“Of course it's because you're my biological father,” Homelander stated, his gaze softening. He needed Soldier Boy to tell him he was proud of him, even though he hated to admit it. Homelander accomplished many things, but his constant yearning for his family was something else. “It's obvious we couldn't make a good start.”

After helping his father retrieve his suit, Homelander led the way to Vought Tower. Ben remained silent the entire time, although he was suspicious about Homelander. His heart ached as he remembered his times with you as he gazed out the window at the entire city. This time, he would kill Homelander there with his one and only mistake. Taking control of the entire tower wouldn't be difficult.

Homelander became worried when he noticed his father was silent and deep in thought, so he continued, “We—I'll kill every one of them soon.”

Ben snapped, “No,” and turned to face him. “There is one of them inside the team you should never lay a hand on.”

Confused, Homelander asked, “Who?”

When Ben said your name to him, Homelander simply nodded. He had seen you no more than twice. Even so, you weren't that significant.

“But why?”

“Because,” Ben answered in a raised voice. “I have to locate her right away, together with Butcher and the other members of the team. I'm going to kill that son of a bitch, for real this time, by myself.”

“Okay,” Homelander muttered, glad that Soldier Boy had already determined. He didn't even have to make an effort. “But I need something as well.”

“What the fuck is it?” Ben asked in a severe tone. He was sick and tired of being begged for assistance only to have it turned against him.

“I and the vice president cleaned your name, so the public will not be hating on you anymore, and all we need is your support and using your power to convince people that our country is safe from now on.”

“And why the fuck would I do that?” Ben moved forward and inquired. He has had enough of dealing with business matters. “Why would I even believe that you're all fucking different than Butcher and you will not deceive me?”

Homelander was clearly startled by his father's lack of trust, and his mouth dropped wide. “I'm..your son and I saved you.” Homelander spoke as if it were the most ordinary thing ever.

Ben inhaled deeply, obviously uninterested in the situation at all, but he didn't want the CIA to play games with him any longer, and the arrangement wasn't worse than Butcher's offer. If not, he would be forced to murder a lot of people very soon.

“Fine, but keep in mind that even if you find her before me, nothing bad will happen to Y/N. If not, the deal is offer,” Ben stated at the end. “I suppose I'll just have to put up with this nasty shit and forget that I was beating my meat into a cup just for them to create another me; a total disappointment.”

Homelander felt the impact of Ben's remarks hit hard, but he decided to ignore them. It was enough of a start, and there were things to do. He would ultimately beat Butcher and the CIA with Soldier Boy's assistance and reclaim his son. With his family by his side, he was going to transform this nation into a paradise, just as it should be.

“Frenchie,” Butcher angrily called him. “Will you ever fucking get this thing ready?”

With a frustrated sigh, Frenchie, who was working on Kimiko's ripped and infected leg, turned Butcher and pleaded, “I'm working day and night; give me some rest.”

Kimiko, expressing her support for Frenchie, shot Butcher a glare.

“Well, we all will take a nice break when Homelander breaks this door with his daddy, Soldier Boy, and lasers our hairy asses one by one, won't we?”

You hurriedly added, “I'm sure he cares and takes this issue seriously as much as you do, Butcher,” attempting to support Frenchie, who was already under a lot of pressure.

With a muttered, “Fucks sake,” Butcher put his head in his hands.

You asked, “Are you okay?” Clearly, he was the most stressed person in the room.

With a feeble smile, he said, “Yeah, sure,” and walked across the lab to a chair.

You noticed that Frenchie and Kimiko were having a heated discussion when you glanced at them. While working, Frenchie was cautioning Kimiko to stay away from the virus.

You put your hand on Butcher's shoulder after noticing him deep in thought while he smoked. “Are you really okay?”

He answered, “Of course I am,” but his smile didn't reach his lips. “It's all going to end soon after all, once Frenchie gets this thing ready.”

You stated firmly, “He's talented and, most importantly, determined. With each other, we'll overcome this. You'll see.”

You cautiously inquired, “What exactly happened with Soldier Boy?” after he nodded to you.

Butcher turned to face you, his expression conveying annoyance. “Why are you asking this?”

“I thought that it would be best to be informed about changes while I was away. You know, just to catch up. I had long since believed he had already died. Really, I can't believe he's still alive. Everything is just too much.”

Butcher rubbed his eyes, smoked another cigarette, and said, “Alright. He had been held captive in Russia for decades, but the CIA decided to free him in exchange for defeating Homelander. It appeared that we were out of options for the time being. Clearly, the cunt is powerful.”

“And?”

“It came out that Homelander is his son, and after he eventually betrayed us, father and son have come together again. That's the story.”

You asked with disbelief, “Did he change his idea just because Homelander is his son?”

“Who knows?” However, Butcher remained silent, his gaze fixed on Frenchie.

“But, sweetie, some things are certain. He isn't a good man. He deserves to die, no matter what, because he is just as evil as Homelander. He killed innocent people in New York, then in Herogasm. Those were innocent people. Like Homelander and the other members of the Seven. He is a mentally ill, self-centered bad guy.”

You were surprised to see how serious he was, yet you still managed to respond, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“Y/N,” Butcher called you when he noticed you were confused. “Homelander and Soldier Boy must both die, no matter what. You are aware that it's for the best, right?”

You were taken aback by his questioning and sincerity as well, but you managed to mumble, “Of course I'm aware of that. Whenever I'm needed, I'll contribute what I can. I swear to you on that.”

“If you ever come across him, remember to never believe anything he says, okay? All he is is a dangerous cunt.”

Even though you were perplexed and didn't fully get what he was saying, you nevertheless nodded. "Butcher, I promised you. Since we are a team, I support your desire for Homelander to die. We all want that here. You will see that we will overcome this."

When Butcher realized you were trying your hardest to stand by him, he gave you another weak smile. He was aware that you would try to kill him there and never forgive him once you learned the truth. But he knew that this was a game he had to play.

Although it was cruel and unjust to you, Butcher really used your memory loss as a tool to his advantage because Homelander and Soldier Boy had to die, and if he needed to use you to accomplish this, he would use you without blinking an eye. After all, in wartime, nothing was fair.

Butcher did all within his power to mislead you: he erased your existence from the moment you met Soldier Boy, ensured that Kimiko and Frenchie would never discuss your abortion, and persuaded the team to speak with you as though it were their first time meeting.

He didn't plan for Soldier Boy to awaken once more, of course. The worst thing that might have happened did really happen. Butcher, though, had to keep his cool and play his game with you all. He was certain that you didn't feel any form of attachment toward him; therefore, it didn't matter if he told you everything that had transpired months prior.

But it would still be better if Soldier Boy was unable to find you.

Butcher rolled his eyes, sensing what was about to happen when Annie gave him a look as he watched you move away from him and hang around with Frenchie and Kimiko. Sometimes Annie was such a pain in the ass.

“Are you even aware of the seriousness of the issue, Butcher?” Annie asked in a sour tone.

“You're simply exaggerating. She is quite happy in that sense, even if she can't recall a single fucking thing. Everything's fine.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Annie exclaimed, “I fucking can't believe you. He's fucking going to kill all of us when he finds her and discovers your lies about him.”

Butcher remarked, “He won't find her,” annoyance evident in Annie's voice. “What do you believe will happen even if he does, which is not at all important? Will she recall him suddenly? No fucking way.”

“What happens if she does? She is going to hate each and every one of us, but above all, Soldier Boy will murder us. Butcher, he's fucking free. Are you blind?” Annie attempted to keep calm as she talked, but it was difficult to argue with Butcher without becoming outraged.

“Stop being a fucking coward; you're just exaggerating the issue, and what if she doesn't act like she does?”

“What do you mean?” Annie asked, perplexed.

“I spent hours considering this. We could definitely benefit if she fucking forgets everything. We will just make her believe that they have a background that is obviously unimportant and biased if he speaks with her, and she will choose to assist us in killing Homelander and him.”

“Oh my god, you're insane,” Annie muttered as she stroked her head. “Everything is being calculated, except for Y/N's emotions. It would be even worse if she were to suddenly remember that we would be using her to kill Soldier Boy. She cannot pretend to love him while she is completely clueless and confused.”

“You're absolutely mistaken, sweetie; she has no feelings for him. All they did was fuck, that's all. Even if she doesn't recall anything, that will put us in a strong position. Soldier Boy doesn't give a fuck about her. He's an awfully self-centered jerk.”

“I'm not sure, Butcher. In the previous few months, they were pretty close. He may have feelings for her, and if so, he must already be looking for her everywhere. I hate to admit this, but it's possible.”

“Annie, don't be a fool. Please stop making me laugh, will you? He is the type of man who will never, ever fall in love. Did you witness him brutally murdering Crimson Countess? You fuking did. He had declared that she was his true love. What happened then? Without batting an eye, he fucking slaughtered her. He had only known Y/N for a single year, but he had known Crimson for years. The cunt is not and will never be in love with her. It's a good thing she can't recall anything at all about him.”

Butcher's mention of the Crimson Countess issue gave Annie some relief. He killed his girlfriend as soon as he was released, proving that he was, in fact, an obsessed psychopath.

“So you're going to turn her into both a hunter and a prey at the same time? If Soldier Boy ever finds her, will you tell her the truth about everything that happened between her and him?” Annie asked while she saw you two laughing with Kimiko.

“She will know what she needs, nothing more.” Butcher's mind raced with ideas about your abortion and pregnancy. Though it was difficult, he was doing his best to push the bitter moment behind his memory. His only wish was that you would never know this. “You don't tell her anything about anything if she suspects something, alright?”

“I know, I know,” Annie muttered, becoming irritated at the situation's whole complexity. “But I'm not quite sure, Butcher. She has been kind to everyone for more than a year, but she is naive. I believe we are violating her trust.”

Butcher just responded, “No,” in a tone that seemed detached. “We're doing our best for her. She and Soldier Boy would never have a life together. Is that something you can think about? It's preferable to help her overcome this than to witness her breakdown due to a false sense of reality. She needs a real life. She's better off without him, or else she'll die the same fate as Crimson Countess. She holds no importance for him.”

“Yeah,” Annie murmured. “I guess you're right.”

There was nothing at all about you, even if Ben waited for hours to gather information about you, even if it was something else. You seemed to be missing.

“Will you fucking put in more effort?” He looked at the woman staring at the computer in front of her, attempting to find something with shaky hands, and he added angrily, “Why is this fucking company paying you for?”

“I apologize, sir,” she muttered. She appeared as though she would burst into tears in a second. “We're all trying our hardest to locate or find a thing about her, but nothing at all has been found. Not even one thing at all. She seems to be nonexistent.”

Ben completely lost patience after she finished speaking, and as he glared at her with hate and disgust, he grabbed one of the room's tables and threw it away, causing terrified witnesses to gasp in terror.

“Please, sir,” the woman pleaded, asking to speak again. “Just give me some more time.”

“I'll kill every one of you before I fire your useless fucking cunts. If you fucking don't find her, Butcher, or anyone else I told you to find, you're all fired. I swear to you that. Understood?”

Her hands were fisted in her skirt as she took a swallow and watched Soldier Boy depart the room before he broke down more computers in a fit of rage. “Yes, sir,” she responded in a shaking voice.

Ben turned to face his surroundings and peered out the window, looking in on the entire city, which was a flurry of lights and sounds. Since he was free, his supe hearing was much more sensitive, and he tried his hardest to concentrate on every sound in the area in an attempt to desperately detect a trace of you, but there was nothing.

Ben's heart hurt with grief and agony, recalling your last conversation the night before the catastrophe. It was getting unbearable how much he had missed you. He had no idea that one day he would be sitting in the Vought chair and you would disappear. God knows where you were.

Despite his assurances to you to avoid Vought and all associated matters, he ultimately resumed his business with Vought. He was left with no other option. He would play their games, though, if it meant protecting you and himself. Ben was merely unsure about your possible reaction to everything, though.

Ben was confident that you had already seen the media speech he gave earlier. When he found you, he would explain his actions, even if you were presumably disappointed to see him collaborating with Homelander and Vought. He didn't want a life without you. He just wanted to live a life with you, far from everything else, but he realized that as long as he remained as Soldier Boy—the world's toughest superhero—that wouldn't be possible.

Ben gave himself a sour smile as he thought back to your final day together. He had really missed your cheerful and lighthearted attitude toward him. However, even after he made it clear to the media that he would be in the Vought Tower, where were you, and why did you still refuse to approach him?

“Dad?” Ben scowled as Homelander muttered.

“For god's sake, stop fucking calling me that.” Ben remarked angrily, “You sound like a pathetic little child. Fuck, it's so fucking weird and makes me feel like a fossil.”

Homelander responded, “All right, fine,” while glaring at him with hurt pride. “You need to talk to some of the politicians who back us and build a little goodwill in order to start off well. Though the Vice President and I have made it abundantly clear that you will always have our backing and our support for you, too, certain voices still persist because of an incident that happened months ago in New York. Fixing the issue is better, and it would be even better if you went alone, you know. I am actually expected at the meeting, but I have things to do.”

“Christ, I fucking hate this already,” Ben murmured in an angry tone. It felt like decades ago when he was always in communication with the politicians. He was going to become sick. “And what the hell will you be doing?”

“It appears that a few executives and individuals with significant knowledge about the company are absent. I must locate them and take care of the situation.” Homelander sighed, as if there was just too much to get done. He was just thinking about A-Train's betrayal. He needed to locate him as quickly as possible.

“Okay, this is the best I could do so far. I think it's strong, but I'm not sure if it's strong enough to kill Homelander,” Frenchie remarked, showing the virus in a little tube in his hands as everyone stared at him nervously. “We have to give it a shot.”

With a dubious glance at Frenchie, Butcher seized the tube and examined the virus closely. “How much do you think it's strong?”

“I cannot say something without trying.”

With a furious sigh, Butcher began to consider his options. He understood that going forward, he would need to take extra caution. Everybody was proceeding carefully.

MM remarked, “We have to try this, Butcher,” and you remained silent, observing Butcher's expression.

At last, Butcher remarked, “Alright, ladies. As far as my knowledge, tonight Ninja Cunt and Octupus Fucker are hosting a party, and of course, politicians will be present. Soldier Boy and Homelander will not be there. This indicates that we are getting close to killing Homelander if we are able to eliminate Flying Narcoleptic Cunt. Then we will strengthen it so that it can kill Soldier Boy and Homelander too.”

“It seems like a suicide attempt to me,” MM remarked, but the way he looked was devoid of fear.

You remarked, “Where there are politicians, it means it will be well protected,” as you waited for Butcher to go into detail about his strategy.

“Damn, it's easy to go inside, sweetheart. Finishing the job is what matters most,” Butcher remarked, grinning and glancing between his fingers like a hunter does. “Their asses cannot get away from the CIA.”

“What do you think?” When Butcher saw everyone's bewildered expressions fixed on the virus-filled tube, he asked.

Annie sighed and added, “It's risky. Still, we must give this a try. We didn't have a lot of options left. Now, we just have one chance.”

Butcher smiled broadly at you all and put the tube in his pocket once you all nodded. “Then let's fucking kill some super-whores.”

You had to fight for nearly an hour until Butcher and the others agreed that you could do this assignment on your own since you needed to start somewhere. Even though you understood they were only worried for you, it was an important and dangerous decision from the very beginning. That was already known to you when Butcher accepted you into his team. It wasn't different at all from the first time you abducted Translucent; you knew the risks.

When you informed them that there would be neither Homelander nor Soldier Boy and that you were the finest shooter, they all at last consented to let you complete the job. It would be incredibly simple because you have never missed a shot before. But just in case something goes wrong—which you prayed it wouldn't—Kimiko will also be coming with you.

“Okay, now that you two listen to me. They're all going to show up, so your plan is to conceal and shoot Ninja Cunt when the opportunity presents itself. You only get one chance, and I have no doubt that you won't miss it. From here, all of us will be listening to you.” As you straightened your clothes and inhaled deeply, Butcher gave you a shoulder pat. “Are you still sure you want to do that?”

You quickly replied, “Of course,” and inserted the tube into your gun. “Kimiko will accompany me in any case. With her, I know I'm safe.”

Kimiko smiled broadly and gave you a thumbs up.

With Kimiko's assistance, you were able to ascend the house and reach a spot from where you could view the guests well. The third floor was the best place to avoid drawing attention to yourself. You also needed to know that you needed to keep your heart rate under control and be perfectly silent.

You spoke with Kimiko over the phone when you noticed that Black Noir and The Deep had joined the party and that politicians had shown up at the residence.

“We need to be quick.”

Kimiko gestured for you to point toward Black Noir's back, but before you could do so, you noticed Soldier Boy coming inside.

Your eyes grew wide, and you looked at Kimiko while covering your mouth to avoid making a sound. She was also afraid. You knew that you had to shoot Noir in order to see the virus's full force, even though Soldier Boy's entrance was unexpected. You weren't entirely sure about that, though, so you could even be able to shoot Soldier Boy.

You stayed as far away as you could and observed everyone conversing from the third floor while aiming for Noir. Your heart was beginning to race, and your hands were drenched in sweat. You prayed that no one would see you. You weren't built for this, maybe. Fuck.

Feeling uncertain about whether to shoot Noir or Soldier Boy, you continued to aim for Noir in accordance with the plan. It would have been a waste of time if it hadn't killed Soldier Boy.

You muttered, “Oh, god,” and then cursed yourself for speaking. At least everyone appeared to be quite busy, and there were much too many servants.

You sighed and put the gun into your jacket as Noir slipped out of sight. It was completely out of the blue for Soldier Boy to show up, yet you felt bad about ruining the mission. You turned to talk to Kimiko, but she was nowhere to be seen. Oh no.

What the hell was happening?

Ben gulped the moment he heard your small sound. Assuming he wasn't daydreaming or anything, he recognized your voice. He fucking knew it was you, even though he didn't know how. Perhaps you were looking for him and at last managed to get back to him.

Ben broke off his conversation with the dull politician and hurried to the third floor. The house had numerous rooms, but he concentrated on your heartbeat and breathing, which helped him find the correct door with ease. He was becoming overly excited about the possibility of you two getting back together.

His eyes instantly softened as he noticed you standing in front of the window, appearing perplexed. Ben closed the door behind him and came toward you without thinking, taking quick steps. He took you in his large, powerful arms and began to kiss you frantically.

“Fucking finally,” he whispered between his kisses. “It's so hard to find you, baby,” he said, taking you in his arms and swiftly setting you down on the table. It wasn't until he saw your face that he understood how much he had been missing you.

When Soldier Boy continued kissing you, you were so taken aback and terrified that you were unable to move to defend yourself. When he kept saying how much he missed you, you felt perplexed, and your head began to hurt so badly. But you didn't do anything to avoid upsetting him or anything.

Even if you didn't smell like anybody else, the last time he smelled your neck and hair, your scent was delicate and tender. But now, it was rather bitter and sad. Ben was confused, but he reasoned that it had to be because you had been apart for a while and were deeply missing one another. It was not a significant matter.

Fearing that he may harm you or something, you kissed him back. Then, as his hands were going to come into contact with your gun, you kissed him once more, even harder, pressing your hands on the armor on his chest. He moaned into your mouth, and you were close to crying because you had no idea what was going on, but all you could do was play his game, whatever it was. He had hands all over your body.

Ben pulled back, smiling as he looked at your swollen, red lips and kissed your forehead after hearing your heartbeat race. You didn't tell him that you missed him too, so his pride was a little damaged.

“It's been so long. Didn't you miss me?” Ben asked softly.

You had to get back to Butcher as quickly as you could. Why would Kimiko even abandon you alone in this place?

You nodded at Soldier Boy as your mind whirled with ideas. Perhaps Butcher could explain what was happening to you, but first you had to protect yourself from Soldier Boy.

Leaning his chin to meet your eyes, he said, “Hey, youre trembling, baby. You are safe with me here, so you don't need to be afraid.”

You said, “I don't know,” unsure of what to say. “I need to go,” you murmured, unsure of his reaction.

You freeze, seeing the darkness in his gaze.

“Where?” he asked harshly.

Ben felt confused and irritated to see you acting so distant and afraid of him. It was possible that anything occurred during his absence or that the reason you were acting this way was due to Vought and other ongoing issues.

As soon as you remembered what had transpired between him and Butcher, you closed your mouth and peered around the room. When you got the chance, you should have walked out of the house.

He imprisoned you on the table and said, “To Butcher and others?” in an annoyed tone, leaving you with nowhere to go. “No fucking way.”

You tried your luck again and whispered, “I don't want to stay here.”

Ben sighed and made an effort to ignore your stubbornness about going back to Butcher and the others while trying to contain his rage. He had hoped he was more important to you, but he knew you cared deeply about them.

“Baby,” Ben whispered, trying not to frighten you away while he gently touched your cheek and met your tearful eyes. “I know things didn't go as we hoped, but we can talk it out, don't you think?”

You tried to move free of his grip, but he didn't even move.

“I refuse to let you go. Not when you came to me like that,” he remarked. “You're coming with me.”

The mission failed, and you were in the hands of a monster.

Next Chapter

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

Taglist: @smexydilflover @deebris @coolrobloxkid28 @endrfairy @libby99hb @raynamorono23 @cwutesygrl @ladysparkles78 @seokjinluvb0t @deangirl96 @whendiditendalthoughenjoyment @mostlymarvelgirl @dilfsandmartinis @deans-spinster-witch @mayafatimakhan @riah1606 @unleashthelion @cnmcgee @ahoytothestorm @hells-dragon @bitchykittenconnoisseur @peachhiz @ilovecooperhoward @anundyingfidelity

312 notes · View notes

lowkeyrobin · 11 months ago

Text

MINHO ; just like the rain

summary ; youre the rain to minhos storm clouds

warnings ; language, talk about mental health and self hate, mentions of death

track ; rain, sleep token

word count ; 874

masterlist

Minho was fairly reserved and didn't talk to many when he had the opportunity to. He'd lost friends, his memories, his life, coming to the Glade. He lost everything and for what, to run around a giant maze for the rest of his life? He was trapped in a cycle of sleep, eat, run, map, eat, and sleep, and he had been for years now. He felt worthless, and hated himself deep down. Thomas and Newt knew but didn't know how to help over his shrugging off of the situation. They decided if he needed to talk, he would if he wanted to or if he was ready.

But, upon your arrival, he found some sort of comfort in you. Your calm and friendly demeanor just had him spill himself one night at another Greenie bonfire. You listened to him talk for hours and gave him a whole motivational speech and reassured him he'd be alright.

And now, he could finally say that the viscous cycle of overworking and hating himself was over, and it had been since the first time you smiled at him.

You were the rain to his storm clouds.

Just like the rain, you cast the dust -his self hatred- into nothing. You washed the salt in his wounds from his hands.

You had your hooks in him, drawing him closer and closer each and everyday. He could see you in his dreams and in his fate, yet still deny the persistent questions from Newt and Thomas, and even Fry and Winston.

He went out of his way after spending hours in the map room just to talk to you and hear all about your day. Even the sound of your voice comforted him and sent a shiver, almost a tingling sensation, up his spine and into his brain.

He jogs to your side, wondering what you're up to at this hour at night. You snuck out in the middle of the night, wanting to feel the cold, wet rain against your skin for a bit. It wasn't pouring but it wasn't lightly sprinkling either, a fair amount of water soaking you.

His feet almost fall beneath him due to the mud under the grass, making him lightly gasp as he reaches out to you, now turning around as you heard him.

"Y/n!" He gasps, recalculating his footing to not fall.

You quickly reach your arm out for him and catch him at the forearm. You steadily help him back on his feet with a smile and chuckle while his face heats up from embarrassment.

"You good?" You ask, wiping away any stray rain around your eyes before it seeped in, not wanting to try and be bothered by it in the moment.

He nods, looking away for a moment. "What're you doing out here?"

You shrug, loosely hanging onto his wrist, not noticing, although he does. "Enjoying the rain"

"Why?"

"...It's nice, I guess. Makes me feel like there's hope outside the Glade"

He nods, seeing and feeling you drop his wrist. He slings an arm around your shoulder, a usual act of affection between you two.

You hear the rain pitter and patter against the Homestead as the force of the little raindrops increases. However, it’s soothing. You feel like you can stand here with Minho forever. He provided an odd comfort, even when silent, as just knowing he’s there beside you could rid you of any worries or fears.

"Are you not cold?" He asks, feeling goosebumps rise along his arms and legs.

You shake your head no with a shrug, "Why, are you?" You tease with a smile.

"No, no, no. Definitely not." He defensively speaks, playing into the joke as he retracts his arm from your shoulders and crosses them. His sassy personality was showing through even in the middle of the night. "I'm never cold, ever"

"I'd be really concerned if you were never cold, Minho. Maybe we should send a note down with the box asking about it" You speak, playing around with him. "Maybe we should stop hanging out. What if it's a contagious disease?"

"No, no, I mean, just get cold! Just like, not around you," He shrugs, taking back his last words.

"Oh?" You question, your lips curling into a smirk. "Around me?"

"I, uhm-"

"Hm?"

Before you can process what he's doing, Minho swiftly moves his hands to your jawline and smashes your lips together. You swear you hear a lightning strike as he does so, and rest your hands on his shoulders, not denying this new act of affection. You could get used to this.

You're the first to pull away, shocked and confused.

"Minho?"

He's silent, face burned up as he can't look at you.

"Min-"

"Don't talk about it"

You take a moment to think before patting him on the shoulder, turning back towards the Homestead.

"I'm going back to bed. Enjoy the rain"

He nods, crossing his arms again as he looks out towards the Deadheads again. He hears you slowly trudge off across the Glade, the squishing of the mud and wet grass below you drowning out as you walk further and further away.

"Damnit"

"Language!"

"How the hell did you just hear me?!"

#lowkeyrobin #tmr minho x reader #minho x reader #tmr minho #minho tmr #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner x reader #maze runner x gn reader #maze runner x reader #maze runner oneshot #the maze runner #maze runner #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader

615 notes · View notes

enchanted-moura · 6 months ago

Text

Pick a Dior Serum - How to find more inner peace?

Pile 1 - Plump Filler

Despair, poverty, sadness and hardship may have been something you've been experiencing for some time. You are only going to get out of this situation. The answer to a healing and slowly rebuilding is to tap into your magical side! Stop thinking that this reality is the only or even the one that has all the power, it is not. Sometimes our blockages and pain and come from such a deep internal place that all we can do is go to the root. Before you start casting spells of curiosity and enchantment, research spiritual work for healing, rebuilding self & coming out of dark situations. Painful situations and thoughts have to be replaced with beautiful and abundant ones. Have a look through this page for plenty of ways to add abundance to your life🛍️

Pile 2 - Glow Booster

You may have many fake friends and sneaky allies who may be disrupting your dazzling gorgeous lucky and abundant energy. You are my unique pile, intriguing, and alluring and that draws both beneficial and toxic people like moths to a flame. You have to be cautious of who you keep around you and why. What do you let influence you? What do you let have the final say in your life? Why are randoms more important to you than you? Check out my salt cleansing bath to get rid of all that energetic heaviness off your aura once you commit to getting rid of the junk! You can do this cleansing shower or bath surrounded by candles and listening to serene music, letting the stress wash away 🛁🎶

Pile 3 - Matte Maximizer

You are a sensual being! You are in a position where you are highly desired, coveted and wanted. You just have to believe it and start each and everyday with the notion that you are the most beautiful being ever! You shine the brightest,your vibrant energy is infectious and makes everyone around you feel like they're part of your fabulous, glittering world. So be sure to let yourself shine and paint the world with your unique glitz and glam! 💖

Pile 4 - Lift Sculptor

You may be at a crossroads in your love life juggling options, choices and love styles and preferences. This may be causing unnecessary stress so its time to make a decision. Love and Lust and Desire are all related so if you do not want something bad enough, you simply do not desire it and you cannot force chemistry, desire or even love. Tap into your inner Erotic Goddess and ask her what she desires from her relationships right now. Did she want to explore rotation dating? She looking for a sugar daddy? She wants to commit to a long term relationship? Is she ready for Marriage. Let go of the moralistic judgement and just feel. reflect, dream big, and sprinkle a little more clear love in your life. 🌌💖

Pile 5 - Redness Soother

My money pile, my investor barbies and future millionaires are listening to this. In the same way other piles may stress about friends and love, I feel that your financial life is causing a headache and great distress. You're glamorous af, your ideal closets are stocked with the latest bikinis, lace tops, chic skirts and couture, you desire for your home to have floating crystal chandeliers & fluffy plush carpets. You can have it all but you have to be cautious of your spending habits as well as certain career choices. Are you in the most optimal field for your financial well-being but also mental health? Are you happy in your line of work? Do you have any concrete tangible plans for your prosperity or just pipe dreams. Journal about this and see what you feel 💎👠

More pick a cards available on patreon - https://www.patreon.com/missCordoba 💗

#pick a card #pac #tarot readings #oracle

164 notes · View notes

staylovesmiley · 3 months ago

Text

Going Dumb~ Chapter 10

ᯓᡣ𐭩Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 Notes; This is an ABO!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᯓᡣ𐭩Warnings; abo!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

Chaos, that’s what it felt like at that given moment.

The morning had started early with your alarm going off way before that of the members. You dressed simply, going out to get the boys all their usual cafe orders before returning and waking each of them yourself leaving their respective orders behind as you moved from room to room. Once everyone was up and ready you all moved to the suite booked for the members to get ready in.

Camera were everywhere, stylists and makeup artists working on each of the boys diligently so that everything would look perfect for their met gala debut. You were left rushing around checking on the members as they sat in the makeup artists chairs or as the stylists were dressing them and putting on the finishing touches to their suits.

It wasn’t until everyone was dressed and hair and makeup complete, posing in the small set up the photographer had made in the room that you felt yourself calm down even slightly. Though you all wore scent blockers for the event, thus preventing any of you from scenting each other, you still could feel the calming sensation the pack brought you just by being in close proximity to them.

You were in complete awe of them as they were being posed by the photographer, looking like naturals causing you to think that if someone were to tell you there were models and not idols, you would believe them with no questions.

As the camera man finished up and there was a moment of calm before they had to leave for the gala, you saw a certain beta with his gaze cast out the window and his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Minnie?” You spoke softly, making your way over and placing a hand on his shoulder careful not to startle him out of his thoughts. “Hm? Oh- hey Bunny…”

His eyes still held that far away look though he gave you a faint smile. “What’s wrong, puppy?” You said, voice soft as you gave his shoulder a little squeeze before moving to take his hands into your own.

Your fingers smoothed over his knuckles slowly, coaxing him into relaxing his hands so you could intertwine his fingers with your own.

“Just nervous I guess…what if I trip? What if I do something stupid? Last time I went to one of these things I became a meme-“ There was a slight whine to his tone at the last point he made causing you to giggle at the mental imagery. “Im sure everything will be fine, Minnie. You aren’t alone this time, we are all here with you.”

Thankfully your words seemed to bring him some comfort, the beta pulling you closer by your joined hands to wrap you into a warm embrace. “That does make me feel a little better- thank you.” You let out another string of giggles as you tried to pull back from his arms. “Careful! I don’t wanna ruin your suit before we even leave-“ Seungmin scoffed, but reluctantly let go. “You aren’t going to ruin it with a hug.” He said under his breath as you carefully smoothed out the front of his suit with the palms of your hands.

It wasn’t much later before you were all being ushered outside and into the vans that would take them to the event. Originally you had planned to ride with the staff in a smaller car following the members to the venue but the pack disagreed, Chan quickly pulling you into the large vehicle and into the seat beside him. “Chan I-“ the leader simply gave you a cheesy, dimpled smile before gently pealing the edges of your scent blockers up. “Just for the ride there?”

Watching him carefully pull away his own blockers, you could smell how anxious he was. The alpha was normally not one to ask for such comfort on his own so the fact he was being so forward about wanting to scent you let you know just how on edge he really was before the blocker had even been removed. “Yeah that’s fine, Channie…” Your words seemed to trail off as the older snuggled into your side, his muscular frame melting into your much softer one as his nose gently rubbed against the skin of your neck and behind your ear.

The ride was short, and the sounds of the crowds outside filled the van as you slowly pulled yourself away from the leader as he let out a soft sound of disapproval. “We’re here, Chan- gotta put our blockers back on before we go out, yeah?” With a sigh, Chan nodded and carefully reapplied the both of your blockers before sitting up and addressing everyone. “Alright kids, this is a big evening for us.” He started off, looking over each of the members as he spoke. “I need everyone to be on their best behavior, please.” He chuckled at the last part of his sentence, failing in trying to be stern as the boys let out a chorus of agreements.

The pack slowly rose and started to head for the door of the bus, Minho stopping in front of you with a sad pout on his face. “I wish you could walk the carpet with us…it’s so unfair.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the alpha before giving him a look of reassurance. “I’ll be okay, Min. Besides- I’ll be right inside when you guys get there waiting for you.”

This seemed to cheer him up slightly as he gave a short nod, fighting a smile as he made his way to the door behind Changbin and Felix. You yourself waited until they had all exited before the bus took you a little ways down and to where the other managers and assistants would be entering the venue.

It was a bit nerve wracking to be at such a large event without one of the kids at your side. You were quick to find their managers, tapping one on the back hesitantly only to be met with a bright smile once they turned around. “There you are, Bunny! We were waiting for you before heading in.” You beamed, thankful that they had thought of you before following the small group inside.

The entrance for management teams happened to be right behind the rows upon rows of paparazzi desperately trying to get a shot of each celebrity as they made their way down the luxurious staircase that was so iconic to the met. The floral arrangements lining the carpet were breathtaking, and any glimpse you caught through the sea of bodies caused your eyes to widen at just how all out the event coordinators had gone for the decorations.

With so many people making their way inside, the line was backed up enough that you had time to see as the boys entered. Your eyes must have lit up as you saw them because their managers behind you began to mutter silent teases to you about how smitten you seemed with the pack. “Oh hush- it’s not anything like that…they are just- I’m so proud of them.” You mumbled the last part, shaking your head as if to take yourself out of the trance the members had seemed to lock you in.

As you were about to start moving forward was when you heard it. The photographers had been shouting non stop to every person who passed them, stopping momentarily for the cameras to snap away while they posed elegantly in the masterpieces they wore for the event. When it was the boys, however, the energy seemed to shift and the paparazzi seemed to get agitated with how stoic they were. Derogatory comments flooded your ears and caused your stomach to drop, head whipping in the direction of the loudest photographer as he continued to badger your pack.

With each passive aggressive comment, every jab at their supposed lack of expression, it stung like a slap to the face and caused anger to boil inside you. “I need to get to them.” You said, urgency in your voice as you turned to try and push your way through the crowd of management teams for different celebs in attendance. “Woah woah- let’s take a deep breath, yeah?” One of the boys managers, a beta who had been working with them since predebut, gently took hold of your wrist before pulling you back towards them. “There isn’t any reason to rush inside now. They have to walk the whole staircase and do interviews at the top before they even get inside. We have time.” You looked at the older male, worry evident in your eyes that only turned to bitter distain as you heard one of the camera men utter some nasty comment about how to say something in Korean.

“Let it go, Bunny.” The beta gave you a soft, pleasing look that caused you to deflate a bit. “Okay…let’s just- can we try and get away from them at least? I don’t wanna hear anymore of this…” the manager sighed, nodding as he motioned to the other two managers to try and see if there was any way to get further away from the line of paparazzi.

Once you finally made it into the actual event you were on alert, eyes scanning the crowds quickly for glimpses of your pack. Without being able to smell their scents due to the blockers you all wore it left you with a sense of unease and urgency. It wasn’t until your eyes spotted Felix in his white suit that you began to relax even a little. “Lix!” You shouted as quietly as you could as to not cause too much of a scene while still attempting to get the blonde’s attention.

Thankfully he had heard you, head turning until the two of you locked eyes. “Bunny! There you are- we were just talking about a game plan for how to find you.” He spoke, voice low and comforting as he approached you in only a few strides before enveloping you in a tight embrace. “It wasn’t too much trouble getting in, yeah?” His brown doe eyes looked down at you, a soft smile playing at his lips as he pulled back to look you over. “I’m okay- how was it walking up all those stairs?” You tried to tease a little, attempting to sound light hearted and not bring up the demeaning comments made towards them earlier.

The alpha shrugged, scoffing a bit as he teased back. “No biggie for me, but I think I heard Minho’s knees clicking the whole way up.” At the mention of his name the older alpha slinked his way up behind Felix and tried to make himself look intimidating though at the sound of your laughter he immediately softened. “So glad I can amuse you.” He said with a pout, coming up to pull you close to his side. “As compensation I am claiming you as my official date for this evening.” At his proclamation the other seven men’s attention fell fully on the two of you. “Like hell-“

Seungmin started to argue but was quickly silenced by a stern look from their leader. “Not tonight, please. He’s just Messing with you.” Chan said as he motioned for the nine of you and their three managers to head further inside to find their table. “They can think that all they want, but I was serious.” Minho huffed, a small smirk playing at his lips and turning the corners of his mouth up like a smug cat. “And what if I decline?” You teased, poking his side lightly though you allowed him to lead you inside. “I would be devastated, but would respect your wishes.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the pout he then wore, looking around quickly to make sure there were no cameras before giving his cheek a quick kiss. “Then I accept.”

A blush crept up his neck and to his cheeks, coughing into the back of his elbow to try and play off his flushed state as he lead you to the groups table. Seungmin made a face seeing you at Minho’s side but kept whatever thoughts he had on the matter to himself as he allowed Felix to hand him a drink of whatever the alpha had been pouring for everyone. “Should I be sitting here with you guys? Shouldn’t I be with the rest of the staff at their table?” You looked over to Chan, worried that you might get them in trouble by being there.

The leader shook his head, smiling as he took a swig of his own drink. “You’re part of our pack, I think it would be strange if you weren’t with us.” His words seemed to calm your nerves as you relaxed into your seat. “If anyone says anything about it they can take it up with us.” Minho said with a smirk as he too sipped at the drink in his hands before motioning for Felix to pour one for you.

The rest of the evening was spent drinking and talking with the members, enjoying the performances and pushing the negative thoughts from earlier away. Everything was going smoothly until it was time to head back to the hotel.

Even though you had to walk with the managers back through the staff exit, Minho stuck by your side as he protested that as your date it was his duty to make sure you made it out safely. “You really didn’t have to come with- it’s not like I’d be walking alone.” You laughed, your laced fingers swinging between the two of you slowly. As you got closer to the exit you heard the familiar sound of camera shutters going off causing you to flinch and turn in the direction it came from.

“Well what do you know the statues can emote after all! Is this your girl, Mr Stray Kids?” Came the teasing sound of the paparazzi as the continued to snap pictures of you and Minho. You were quick to drop his hand looking to him to see him clenching his jaw as he looked towards the managers for help. “Hey come on why don’t you give us a kiss, yeah? With feeling!” Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes as the managers approached the photographer to try and get him to stop. When the two of you didn’t react to his words the man pressed on. “Oh sorry do you not speak English?” He then laughed and continued to ignore the managers attempting to block the shots he took.

A growl rumbled low in Minho’s chest as he tried to continue walking towards the exit with you in tow. The photographer kept pushing, somehow getting past the managers and grabbing ahold of Minho’s shoulder to try and pull him back.

In an instant you whipped around, your fist connecting with the man’s face before you could even process what you were doing. Minho’s face was pure shock as the photographer held his face. “What the fuck bitch- what, pretty boy can’t protect himself? Needs his bitch to fight his fights for him?” At the insult to the alpha added fuel to the fire burning behind your eyes you pounced, punching the paparazzi in the face repeatedly. You were seeing red as your fist continually made contact with his jaw. At one point the force of the contact caused bloodied spit to splatter across your face before you lifted your hand and left a rather large scratch down the left side of his face from his temple to the lower part of his cheek. It wasn’t until suddenly you were being lifted off of him and drug back to the exit did you seem to snap back to reality.

As you looked up you saw the man holding his bloody nose with bruises already appearing on his jaw and cheek. Minho was following in front of you with an unreadable expression as one of the managers pulled you out of the building and to the car.

The ride was silent, Minho typing away on his phone furiously as a full ache settled in your knuckles. “Min-“ you said just above a whisper, not daring to look up from your lap. “Later, Bunny.” He said, voice tight as he continued typing.

Once at the hotel, Minho got out and lead you up to Chan’s room. The closer you got the closer you felt your chest tighten and a sense of dread wash over you. You knew you had fucked up, that you should have ignored the man and continued on but you couldn’t take hearing him insult someone you cared for like that.

After Minho gave a few short knocks to the door it swung open to reveal Chan’s stern and disapproving gaze. Deep brown eyes peered over the second oldest Alpha’s shoulder and seemed to bore into your soul before he stepped aside to allow you both access into the room.

Once inside the room you made your way to the center where a small sofa, an armchair, and coffee table were situated to make a somewhat cozy space in the relatively barren hotel room. On the couch sat Changbin and Hyunjin with Han curled up in the arm chair with his knees pulled up to his chest and round boba eyes full of concern staring you down.

Minho and Chan shared a few hushed words by the door before the younger of the two came to sit beside Hyunjin and the leader made his way over to you, arms crossing over his broad chest as his tongue poked the inside of his cheek with annoyance clear on his face. “I just wanna know what the actual fuck was going through your head to make you think that beating up a photographer, in public mind you, was okay.” The venom in his voice stung almost as bad at the bruises already forming on your knuckles. “I-“ you started, the words dying in your throat as his chin tilted up slightly with his gaze cast down on you expectantly. “I wasn’t thinking…”

The alpha scoffed, head turning to the side before he turned back to staring you down. “Thats exactly what I thought. Do you realize how reckless you were? Every action you make reflects back onto us whether you mean for it to or not. And the fact that Minho was with you makes it even worse.” You shook your head, feeling the need to defend your actions. “You weren’t there, Chan. The things he was saying- I couldn’t just stand there and take it.”

Chan’s jaw clenched visibly as he shot a glare at you. “That’s why you walk away! All you had to do was ignore him and walk away.” His voice rose, a growl laced in his tone as his eyes practically glowed with anger. “You had the choice to leave and you chose wrong.” The malice that dripped from his tone caused you to flinch, though you didn’t back down. “He was insulting Minho, and that wasn’t the first time either! I heard what he and the others were saying when you guys were walking in, Chan! It was disgusting and he deserved every bit of what he got.” Shooting a glare back at the alpha as you felt the anger from what had happened earlier bubbling back up inside you.

As the two of you stared each other down, you with fists clenched at your sides and he with his arms still crossed the room fell silent for a moment and it seemed like everyone was holding their breath. Slowly, Chan stepped closer to you, brows furrowed to show his anger though he didn’t speak til you were no more than a foot apart from each other. “I am your leader now just as much as I am theirs. If you aren’t going to listen to me on matters as important as this than maybe-“ Minho stood up, sensing what was coming and not liking it one bit. “Hyung.” He said in warning, stepping towards the two of you but you took a step closer to Chan before he could stop you. “Maybe what?” You asked, anger still laced in your voice though your body already began to shake with the fear of what he might say.

“Maybe I made a mistake letting you join the pack.”

Before the words even finished leaving his mouth he regretted them, the flash of pain across your face enough to make him feel sick to his stomach. “Chan!” Minho shouted, Changbin now also out of his seat as he was quick to place a hand gently on your shoulder. Tears welled in your eyes and a lump formed in your throat that you struggled to swallow down. “What?” You spoke softly, voice quiet and strained as a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Bunny, you don’t understand how serious this is.” Chan said, voice still stern though he seemed to have lost all heat behind his words as he saw how shaken you were. “You- you think I was a mistake?” You stuttered, body shaking uncontrollably as you began to sob.

You felt as if the room was closing in around you and your chest was caving in as you struggled to catch your breath between choked cries. “Bunny-“ Han spoke up finally, moving to your other side to pull you into his arms but you shook him off. “Don’t touch me!” You all but screamed, starting to hyperventilate as the alphas words rung in your ears like an alarm. “Please, Bunny- Chan didn’t mean it-“ Hyunjin tried to reason with you, now standing as well with a look of panic on his features. “Yes he did! He did- this isn’t the first time he said it either! I don’t belong here I don’t belong with any of you- you don’t want me.” You sobbed, arms wrapping around your torso as you struggled to calm yourself.

The five alphas watched with wide eyes, unsure what to do until suddenly there was a knock at the door. “Hyung’s is everything okay? Lix said he heard screaming and-“ Jeongin pushed the door to the adjoining room and peeked his head around the corner to see what all the commotion was, oblivious to anything that had gone on both as you had been leaving the met as well as what had transpired in the leaders room thus far. “We’re fine, innie. Sorry if we woke you up.” Came your suddenly calm voice causing the older men to whip their heads back to you. Though there were still traces of tears on your face no emotion could be found there. You looked at the youngest with a soft, reassuring smile though no light was behind your eyes. Han gave Minho a worried glance as you made your way to Jeongin to give his head a pat.

The maknae stared in shock as he took in your appearance, with tear stained cheeks and a spattering of blood still evident on your face from your earlier fight with the paparazzi. “Um, okay- I’ll uh…I’ll walk you back to your room, yeah?” His words were just above a whisper as he took your hand and pulled you into his room. He spared a glance behind him towards his hyung’s before gently closing the door behind him with you safely in his room.

Once you were stood outside the door to your own room, Jeongin looked hesitant to leave you. “You sure you don’t want me to come in with you, noona?” He said softly, looking over your appearance carefully as you shook your head at him. “I’ll be okay, innie. Goodnight.” You swiped the keycard and pushed the door open, the soft click of it closing in place after you were safely inside echoing in your mind with the silence of the empty room. You stood there with your forehead pressed against the cool metal of the door for a moment as the events of the night reeled in your mind. “Bunny-“ Seungmin sounded almost frantic as he knocked at the door, the vibrations against your head causing you to pull away so fast it made your head spin.

Reluctantly you pulled the door open to a panicked beta, his scent now filling your senses fromhis freshly showered form with water still dripping from the ends of his hair to land on the soft fabric of his sleep shirt. “Minnie?” Your voice was soft, fragile as he pushed his way into the room and closed the door behind him. “I heard what happened, are you okay?” His eyes scanned your body as he took your hands into his own. “Aish- come on.” He said once he saw the bloodied state of your knuckles and the blood still spattered faintly across your face. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The beta was gentle as he ran you a bath and left you to clean up, waiting until you returned to the room to carefully bandage your hands. As you stood between his legs where he sat on the edge of the bed, focus on the task at hand, you felt as fresh tears began to slide down your cheeks. “I’m sorry Minnie…” you whispered, not trusting your voice to speak any louder. “Stop that. You don’t need to apologize for standing up for us. I’m sorry you were put in that position.” He huffed, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles that seemed to break the dam holding back your tears as you broke down in his arms.

Seungmin held you close to his chest, your body curled against him as it shook with your cries. The beta simply rubbed your back in soothing circles as he allowed you to get out all of the sadness you were feeling. “P-Please don’t leave me-“ you managed to choke out, breaking his heart at the desperation and vulnerability in your voice. “Never.” He said firmly, causing another sob to wrack your frame as he held you tighter to him. That was how you drifted into sleep, held in the singers arms as he repositioned the two of you under the comforter and sheets, making sure to always have at least one arm holding you to him as he did so. His anger towards his elders could be dealt with at a later date, for now all that mattered was you and keeping you close and making you feel secure with him even while you didn’t know where you stood with the others.

author’s note: I wanna apologize once more for being so absent lately. I’ve had a lot going on both in my personal life and with the state of this country I just didn’t feel up to writing much of anything but I am finally back!! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter even if it is a bit angsty- as always I look forward to your feedback~ also please if you have the chance go check out my partner’s story addicted to you it is so good and deserves more hype!!

taglist; (pink users I wasnt able to tag) @coastinglove @skzswife @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @doitforbangchan @chartrucewhore @sebastianswhore13 @finnydraws @bahablastplz @0325tiny @motheraiya55 @confusedabouteverythings @hellevator-143 @ihrtlix @h0rnyp0t @katsukis1wife @emmxxsworld @tenshimara @im-sinking-in-mud @n1nme4r @nightcat101

112 notes · View notes

cyripticchronicler · 3 months ago

Text

The Things Unseen - Part 2

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Words were powerful and Remus knew it well. After weeks of sending meaningful poems to each other, you're finally ready to talk to the man who’s saved you in person.

TW: Reader has bad mental health, kissing, Remus also having bad mental health

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post, I got back into my Sims phase. Luckily, Happy Feet got me out of my writing slump (Yippiee). Thank you @amatoanima and @mayuwolfstar for asking to be tagged. Your support means a lot <3

Part One

Masterlist

You had been pacing so much that you were scared you were going to burn a hole in the worn carpet. “I shouldn’t do this. This is so dumb,” Your hands shake at your side as you fiddle with the parchment in your hand.

Lily, who's been watching you with an amused eye as you freak out, stands up from her spot on your bed and rests her hands on your shoulders, successfully preventing you from moving. You had told her everything; the letters, your not-so-little crush on Remus and how he’d been helping you. After a momentary shock, she helped you write the letter you’re going to give him.

Said letter now rests in your hand, scrunched tightly in your fist and you debate whether or not you should rip it up. You don't; you want him to know that you know - you want to form a connection with the man who has helped you in so many ways.

I see the lines between the lines,

The words you wove, so well-disguised.

A gentle hand, a softer heart—

How long have you been cast as “part”?

Your words have lingered, light and near,

Yet now they’re clear—I know you’re here.

You leave these notes in shadowed halls,

Your voice a whisper, your steps a call.

So meet me where the willow bends,

By moon’s first light, when evening ends.

Let masks fall off, let secrets end,

And let me greet the poet, friend.

“Don’t stress, it’ll all be okay,” Lily mutters, taking the parchment from your hands and tucking it into a random book on your nightstand. “If he’s been sending you these notes then it’s obvious he wants to talk to you! Just give it a go.” You stare at her for a moment and chew your lip in contemplation.

She pressures you with another look and you roll your eyes, yanking the book from her grip and hurrying downstairs to go to the library.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁.

The library bustles with students, despite it being the weekend. The room is thick with tension, the upcoming OWL making everyone stressed.

You hope Remus is here; you can’t imagine him being anywhere else because he only visits Hogsmeade when with friends. James is with Lily and Sirius is in detention, leaving Remus alone and hopefully in the library.

You scan the well-lit room, eyes narrowing as they land on the man you’ve been looking for. He sits at a table in the corner, head down and shoulders hunched while he works.

His hand furiously scribbles in a notepad while he reads from the textbook beside it- seemingly doing schoolwork. Your stomach twists anxiously, creating a sickening dizziness that travels up your throat.

You begin to shake your arms out beside you in an attempt to rid yourself of your nerves, but after receiving a cruel, judging look from a random person walking by, you fist your hands together and wrap your arms around your stomach.

With your nails scratching at any skin they can reach, your feet move and create slow, shaking steps toward Remus. He’s clueless-too caught up in school work to notice your shaking body getting closer.

It’s only when you reach the table, thighs hitting the rounded edge, do you speak. “Hey.” Your voice is a desperate whisper and is too quiet to snap Remus out of his working headspace as he shows no acknowledgement of you standing there.

You take a deep breath and speak louder. “Hey.” You cringe at the loudness of your voice, having talked too loud and captured the attention of the students at the next table.

Remus finally looks up from his book, his calm eyes and posture turning into one of panic as he recognises it's you. The way he sputters and the red flames on his cheeks is adorable and you can’t help but melt, shoulders slumping slightly.

After seconds of awkward silence and Remus opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he finally pauses and takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. “Hi,” he finally mutters, voice breathless.

It’s flattering, how much you seem to affect him. He’s never acted like this around you before- yet again, you’ve never randomly visited him before. However, you decide to blame his shortness of breath on a potential panic attack due to him not understanding the work he was doing. Sure. That seems probable.

Smiling through your awkwardness, your shaking hand slowly reaches into the bag slung on your shoulder and pulls out a worn book. His shimmering, caramel eyes track the book that’s clasped tightly in your grip. You're too scared to give it to him. Too scared to see what happens next because what’s been happening has been good. So good.

He gulps- a nervous tic that you don’t miss. His nervousness gives you enough courage to finally speak again. “I-,” you shake your head, hair falling in front of your face and shielding your pink cheeks, “I want you to have this. The, uh, note is on the first page and in case you don’t understand what I’m trying to say-not that I’m calling you dumb or anything, you’re literally smarter than me-“ you swear lightly under your breath, annoyed at your rambling. You carelessly drop the book on the table and rub a hand down your face.

“I’m inviting you to hang out with me. By the weeping willow-“

“When evening ends. After dinner?” Too preoccupied with trying to get out of the embarrassing hole you dug yourself, you failed to notice Remus pick up the book and read the note. You nod quietly.

He now sits there with a goofy sort of smile and a lighter pink to his cheeks. He seems calmer, and more relaxed. You don’t know if you should be scared or not; you can barely handle a shy Remus, how will you deal with a confident one?

“I’ll be there. Of course, I will.” He smiles brightly, glowing with glee. “Don’t feel like you need to hang out with me because I wrote you poems- I purely wrote them to cheer you up. I had no expectations for what would come out of it, besides your happiness.”

“I want to get to know you better, Remus. You’ve helped me a lot more than you could have ever possibly imagined. Let me thank you and maybe learn more about your shadows and scars.”

You find confidence in the sparkle that shimmers in his warm eyes and use it to throw a wink his way before hurrying to the door. You pray you don’t trip over your own two feet because, if the goosebumps appearing on your back are any indication, you get the feeling Remus is watching you leave.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁.

Is it embarrassing to admit that you rushed through dinner? And by rushed you mean, you gave your tongue third-degree burns from how hot the food was and choked from the amount of food you were shoving down your throat.

The only reason why you slowed down was because Remus was watching you from further down the table all night. Every time you tried to sneak a peek at him, he was already looking at you. And every time it caused you to blush fiercely and seek out your drink because your mouth suddenly got dry.

He’s never had such an effect on you before. Sure, you couldn’t look him in the eye or hold a long conversation with him, but now you’re so unbelievably infatuated with him and the way he cares for you without being asked to. He knows your deepest secrets and your vulnerabilities, and it scares you.

Standing up from your spot at the long, wooden table, the hall still rings with the loud voices of students, but you want nothing more than to leave. You don’t bother waiting for dessert, even if the cupcakes look scrumptious. Instead, you begin to head towards the whomping willow. It's earlier than you and Remus planned but you’re prepared to wait.

Rabbits frolic through fields and the hiding sun paints you a warm, orange glow as you walk, eyes trained on everything and anything. The school grounds are quiet due to dinner still being on, though you spot some stragglers on your way.

You let the short walk calm you down. The chill air sends goosebumps down your arms yet you welcome the feeling as you're feeling dangerously hot. By the time your eyes land on the twirly roots of the tree, your heart rate has slowed down and you’re able to pull more air into your lungs.

Making sure you don’t get too close to the murderous tree, you take a seat on the ground and draw your legs up to your chest. Silence envelopes you, not even the crickets keeping you company tonight.

Your surroundings don’t stay silent for long as the sound of leaves shuffling fills the stillness not five minutes later. You hurry to stand up, unsure if the intruder is Remus since it’s earlier than you specified.

You quite literally jump when you realise it is Remus, his scarred figure emerging from behind a tree. He chuckles at the scared look on your face, his voice of honey reaching your ears. “Sorry if I scared you. And if I showed up too early,” he walks over to you before plopping himself down on the ground in front of you, careful not to drop the cupcakes in his hands.

You follow his lead and sit across from him, legs crisscrossed with your knees gently touching his. “It’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to be here this early.” He tilts his head and smiles, brown eyes a shade of gold in the fading sunlight. “I saw you leave the hall early and I wanted to see you as soon as possible so I left early, too.” Unaware of the blush that coats your cheeks, he gently places a cupcake in your hand. “You also missed dessert-which was insane, might I add, so I brought you your favourite.”

“Thank you, Remus. You didn’t have to.” His eyes are genuine and kind, staring right back into yours. “But I wanted to.” To hide the squeal that’s begging to break out of your throat, you take a bite of the cupcake in your hand, trying to not devour it like you would if you were alone.

He takes a bite of his own cupcake, humming in enthusiasm. For a couple of seconds, it’s just silence as you both eat your cupcakes. Due to the silence, your mind races, your eyebrows furrowing when a question pops into your head. His eyebrows lift in question at your furrowed brows and you finish your cupcake before answering.

“How did you know cupcakes were my favourite?” Gone was the confident Remus you were eating cupcakes with, replaced with a more bashful one. He shyly licks the icing off of his finger before scratching his eyebrow and avoiding your eyes.

“I-uh-“ he takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “I’ve always been…interested in you? You’re quiet, always there for others and seemingly always happy. You have this way of captivating others, including me, and I just wanted to learn everything I could about you. In other words, I’ve been charmed with you for years now.” By the end of his speech, his words are a mere whisper and you wouldn’t have heard them if everything else weren’t so quiet.

He takes your silence, born from shock at the thought he liked you back, as one to be worried about and panics, forcing himself to look into your eyes and scoot away in case he makes you uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I know I’m creepy and a loser-“

“You scare the shit out of me,” you state honestly. His eyes flash with pain, laced with apology and he opens his mouth again -presumably to apologise-but you interrupt him before he can.

“You scare me because you know me so well,” he looks up, eyes still wary but now filled with hope, “when you gave me that first poem I was distancing myself from everyone. I was skipping classes because I was so tired. I missed out on dinner and breakfast because I had no appetite. And I thought I was okay, just stressed.” You fidget with a hair tie on your wrist, twisting and pulling. “You know me better than I know myself and it’s so scary.”

He pulls your hand away from your wrist and clasps it into his own. His grip is warm and gentle, loose enough to give you enough room to pull it away, but tight enough for you to feel the ridges of his scars in your palm.

“You scare me, too.” He states honestly, pulling at your hand so you finally look up at him. His jaw is clenched, a stray hair falling in front of his eye. He looks so handsome.

“Yeah?”

“Merlin yes,” he scoffs a laugh, “you have so much power over me. I would fall to my knees in front of you if you asked. I want to tell you about my past, and how I got these scars. I want to tell you my problems and my dreams. I want to open up to you, more than I have anyone else. And that scares me.”

You’re left breathless, heart in your throat as you try to battle away tears. “I want you to open up to me.” You mutter that first thing that comes to mind, unsure of what to say but wanting to say something.

He smiles sadly, “I’m not sure you’d like me much if I told you everything, though.” You shake your head immediately and tighten your grip on his hand. “There’s nothing you could say to me that would make me like you less.”

He nods his head at your words and lays down on his back. Before you could even blink, he’s pulling you down with him, your head resting on his chest and listening to his heart. By now the sun is gone, replaced by thousands of glittering stars that shimmer in your eyes.

“There’s this man, Fenir Greyback, and when I was four…” you cling to every word he says, knowing that whatever he says to you won’t change what you thought about him.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁.

Remus’ voice is raw from hours of speaking once he’s finished pouring his heart out. He holds his breath, ready for you to stand up and walk away at any moment.

He feels you pull away from him and has to bite back a pained cry. He knew you’d leave. That the truth would disgust you. Push you away-

The feeling of your warm and gentle lips on his has his thoughts racing away. A gentle palm moves to cup your cheek, calloused thumb stroking the soft skin ever so gently. Your quiet groan has him deepening the kiss, tongue mixing with yours.

You pull away ever so slightly, resting your forehead on his and opening your eyes. “I told you. I could never like you less.” His throat bobs with a mix of emotions. “Well then I guess we have each other now, don’t we?”

You smile. “I guess we do. Thank you.”

“What for, love?” You can feel his smile against your heated cheek as he rubs the side of his nose against your cheekbone lovingly. “For giving me those poems. They helped. A lot.”

“I guess that means I have to keep writing them for you, huh?”

“I’d like nothing more. I’ll make sure to write back.” You kiss him again, ready to get lost in his warm lips and kind hands. He’s yours and you are his.

#remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin angst to fluff #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin hurt/comfort #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fics

77 notes · View notes