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ecstxsyy · 3 days ago

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NO WAY. | D. GRAYSON ❦

Dick wants to stretch you out.

18+ mdni!

dick grayson x fem!reader

warnings: seduction, p in v, unprotected sex, face fucking.

requests for v-day event are still open!

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

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IT WAS no secret that Dick Grayson was extremely flexible, he is a world-class acrobat after all. Dick’s flexibility and insane sex drive made your sex absolutely wild. Dick bent himself into odd positions to hit angles deep inside that no one else could ever hit, he’d completely ruined you for anyone else.

You did feel bad though. You felt bad that Dick was always the one bent up, but you never realized that he might want to do some of those things to you. It sounded silly, but Dick loved the idea of manhandling you into any crazy position he wanted to. Of course, Dick was too much of a gentleman to actually do it seeing as it was never something the two of you discussed.

That was until today of course, it was Valentine’s Day, and over the past few weeks, you had secretly worked with a trainer to help you work on your flexibility. To Dick, you wanted to make it look like you hadn’t gotten help at all, you just wanted him pressed behind you while you stretched.

Dick’s large hands ran over your hips as you pushed back into him to deepen the stretch as he instructed, the sight in front of him was marveling. You were face down ass up on a yoga mat, your arms stretched out in front of you as you rocked your hips a bit to push the stretch further.

To test the waters, you pushed your hips a bit further until you felt his halfie poke your ass. A smirk found its way to your lips, your stomach fluttering at the way Dick inhales sharply, trying his hardest to stay focused on what he was trying to teach you.

Once you realized your efforts to rile him up were futile, you decided to take it up a notch. With the next stretch, Dick had you stand and begin reaching down toward your toes. As you bent over, you made sure to press your ass into Dick’s crotch, making it look as innocent as possible. As soon as your back touched Dick, his hands moved to your ass to grab a handful of it.

“Baby,” Dick said in a warning tone, he wanted to make sure you got a proper stretch and didn't injure yourself. This made you want him even more, your hips pushing into his one last time.

Before you knew it, you were pinned to the ground, Dick looking down at you with his dark locks hanging in his eyes.

“Y’know if you wanted me right now, you could have just said so,” Dick chuckled, rubbing his erection against your aching heat. You whimpered and bucked your hips into him, trying to get as much friction as possible. This made Dick lift a hand to press your bottom half back to the floor,

“Whoa, not so fast. You need to learn some patience,” Dick teased.

“You and I both know there is no way that will ever happen,” you snorted, Dick simply rolled his eyes and kissed the underside of your jaw. His kisses were always feather-like, so soft and gentle.

What Dick loved more than kissing you, was littering your body full of hickeys. He loved the way it told everyone you were his, that you belonged to him and no one else. He never got jealous, just possessive. Dick sucked on the skin of your neck, red patches blooming beneath your skin that would soon be a deep shape of magenta and purple. You used to complain about them, saying that the two of you weren't high schoolers and it made you look bad, but Dick didn't care. He thought they looked sexy.

Your impatience began to set in and you tugged at the hem of Dick’s shirt, urging him to take it off. Dick obliged quickly, stripping the fabric from his torso before pulling yours off in suit. As soon as your chest was exposed, Dick began sucking hickeys onto your cleavage, he wanted to mark every part of you.

“Dick, please just fuck me,” you whined, usually you loved all the foreplay Dick would give you, but today you were too needy for that. Dick chuckled, sliding your leggings off. He was surprised to see you weren't wearing panties underneath, the sight nearly made him lightheaded.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Dick said in awe, rubbing your clit gently with his thumb. Honestly, Dick loved every part of you. To him, every bit of you was more beautiful than the Sistine Chapel.

Dick suddenly remembered your impatience and decided to not make you wait anymore, he slid his athletic shorts halfway down his thighs just enough to get his cock out and slapped it against your clit.

You wiggled your hips, trying to get even the slightest bit of stimulation from his heavy erection rubbing against your wet clit. Dick teased you for a bit longer before fully sheathing himself inside of you, the fullness he made you feel made your eyes roll back into your skull.

Dick was big, no matter how much you took him, you’d never get used to his size. His cock filled you up nicely, his tip leaving a slight bulge in your belly near your belly button. Dick’s jaw went slack at the sight, his hand finding its way to the small bump the press down. His actions pushed your g-spot into his tip, a flash of white shooting across your vision from pleasure. You were already a moaning mess and he hadn't even truly started yet.

His thrusts started slow and shallow, working his way into you. The more he thrusted, the more your pussy held him comfortably. You fit him like a glove, he swore you were made for him. His thrusts soon evened out, they were slow but firm. The way his hips slammed into you drove you crazy, the way his heavy ball slapped against your ass, begging for attention. You bent yourself to reach down a bit, scooping them up to massage them.

Dick’s breath caught in his throat, his hips stuttering before returning to their consistent pace.

“Well, I see someone got a little extra help,” Dick moaned out, reaching down to use his thumb to rub your clit softly.

“Maybe a little,” you giggled, choking back a moan to respond to him.

The more your hands worked his balls, the faster his pace became. You knew he was close, but Dick refused to cum before you did. He would depraved himself forever if it meant you always got to cum first, he loved making you feel good.

His pace was unrelenting, the sound of skin slapping together and moaning being the only noises coming from your in-home yoga studio. Thankfully, the two of you live alone otherwise you’d be doing some awkward walk of shames for a while.

Dick’s tip bullied into your cervix, the feeling of all of it becoming overstimulating very fast. You didn't think it could get any better until Dick grabbed both of your legs by the backs of your knees, pressing them both by each side of your head. This new angle sent you spiraling immediately, your orgasm hitting you like a train. You cried out loudly, chanting his name like it was the only word you knew.

Dick fucked you through your orgasm, letting you come down before slipping his cock out of you.

“Open wide,” said Dick smugly.

Your mouth fell open immediately, following his orders like they were hard-wired into your brain. Your orgasm making you his sweet obedient girl, ready to take any command he gives you. You sucked his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

You could feel every vein and muscle in his cock, he was painfully hard and you could tell how badly he wanted to cum. Your hand instinctively went to his balls, playing with them while you bobbed your head up and down. But, this wasn't enough for Dick. He grabbed the back of your head to hold you in place, thrusting his throbbing cock down your throat. You relaxed into his hold, hs length triggering your gag reflex every now and then.

With a few more thrusts, Dick was shooting his load down your throat in thick spurts. His cum was warm in your mouth and you wasted zero time swallowing it, sticking your tongue out to show Dick that you took all of it. He smiled and caressed your cheek,

“Such a good girl for me.”

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#i need him criminally bad #dick grayson #dick Grayson x fem!reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson smut #18+ mdni #smut #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #nightwing #nightwing smut #nightwing x fem!reader #nightwing x reader #nay nay writes dick grayson !#nay nay’s valentine’s day event !

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moonstruckme · 19 hours ago

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Hello! I find myself unable to stop thinking about fae Sirius, so here's another drabble about him as sort of a continuation to the first :)

cw: brief, vague allusion to sex

fae!Sirius x whimsical!reader ♡ 745 words

You’re scanning the earth for small, white flowers when there’s a rustle in the bushes nearby. You turn, expecting the orange streak of a fox vanishing into the brush or a bird taking flight, but you see nothing. The forest is quieter today, as it has been for you lately. Stiller. The sort of place with secrets.

You draw in a breath as arms snake around your middle, catching you in their snare.

“Hello, my little naïf,” says a familiar voice, smooth and lovely as the rock in your pocket. “What are you doing wandering about by yourself?”

You turn in Sirius’ arms. He grins down at you, and you press your smiles together in a gentle kiss hello as your own arms wind around his middle. He likes spending a lot of time pressed close together like this; you didn’t know you’d enjoy it so much until you did.

“I’m looking for chickweed,” you answer him.

Sirius’ eyebrows raise. Like most of him, they’re beautiful, finely shaped things; you reach up to trace your finger underneath one. Sirius very dignifiedly does not preen over it. “You’re not looking for me?”

You shake your head, though you both know it’s a lie. You’ve always enjoyed this particular forest, but you visit twice as often since you met him. You’re never not thinking about Sirius, finding things for him, wishing to see him. It’d be embarrassing if he weren’t the same.

“I was looking for you,” you confide to appease him.

He tuts softly, a smile curving one side of his mouth. Sirius loves when you’re plain about your feelings for him. He doesn't always return the courtesy, but that’s alright; you can tell that they’re there whether he does or not. He wouldn’t have given you his name otherwise.

“And what have you brought for me today, lovely thing?”

“Do I always need to bring you something?” you ask, teasing. “Am I not enough by myself? You never give me anything.”

Sirius’ eyes flicker with amusement, because this too is a lie. Sirius has given you many, many things. He’s taught you how to listen to the moods of the wind and shown you how to entice butterflies to rest in your palm and brought you unimaginable pleasure one long afternoon by the creek. Not least of all, he’s given you his devotion, proven in a thousand tiny ways.

You’re unable to conceal your smile as you reach into your pocket, pulling out the rock you picked up this morning. It’s oval, worn to perfect smoothness by the rushing waters of the river you found it near, and a grayish blue that reminds you of Sirius’ eyes (when they stay still for a while, that is).

Sirius takes the rock from you, studying it. He rubs his thumb across the top. “This is pretty.”

“It is,” you agree, basking in your own private pleasure. You think he’d still say the same thing even if he did know why you chose it for him, but you enjoy keeping this to yourself. Sirius’ eyes slide to yours like he can tell you’re keeping secrets, but he doesn’t push.

“Not,” he says, “as pretty as you, however.” His hold tightens without warning, drawing a surprised giggle from you as your bodies come flush together. “You’re more than enough of a gift.”

You hear the sincerity in his tone and repay it in kind, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I know.”

Sirius’ eyes squint the way they tend to do when you particularly delight him. Just before he calls you strange or silly or my lovely little oddity. He doesn’t say any of those things now; only, “You won’t find chickweed around here, you know.”

You frown. “If I knew, why would I be looking?”

Sirius heaves a great sigh and presses his lips to your temple before loosening his hold on you. He guides you away from your little patch of bushes by your hand, moving with otherworldly grace. “There’s chickweed by the meadow. We’ll find it for you there. Do you use it for something?”

You nod. “Pesto.”

His brow furrows.

“It’s food. I’ll bring some for you to try.” You give him a sweet look. “Thank you for showing me where to find it.”

A low hum. “What would you do without me?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I’ll never have to find out.”

“No,” he agrees, fingers winding between yours like vines, “you won’t.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days ago

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Taking Root 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Bucky and Leaf.

Summary: a neighbourly connection might be more than chance.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky cracks his neck as he approaches the large windows. He rubs his eyes as he snarls at the sunlight peering back at him. Steve always leaves the curtains open. Always gone before Bucky drags himself out of bed.

He tugs them shut but stays close. It's not noon yet. She'll be out shortly.

He's not much for television. He tried a few TV series, some movies recommended on that chat, but he just can't keep his mind from running. It's why he wakes up late. Most nights, he doesn't even sleep. This is what keeps him enthralled. There's not much plot, but the main character is fascinating.

He swigs from his mug as the city street chugs from down the alleyway between their apartments. Her balcony is slightly lower. The perfect vantage.

Pathetic. That's what he'd call himself if he wasn't him. All those guys on that discord Steve found are that very flavour. But he's not them. They're all weirdo virgins. He's had plenty of women. More than enough. She's just different. Like him.

As if beckoned by his awakening, she appears. Her railing is curtained with ivy, enough that she doesn't think of modesty. He doesn't mind. She comes out wearing a loose sweater that reads SWEET in large caps and a pair of her frilly panties. He likes those ones, they ride up when she bends over to pick up the watering can.

She goes about her usual routine. She checks the leaves, waters the soil, untangles the overgrown stems, and treats the plants with rot or infestations. The cluster of plants takes up most of the space. She's like a little chipmunk among them.

She finishes and takes the can inside. The sliding door gives a generous view of her place. Inside, she lingers at the window ledge and checks the row of cactuses. He admires her devotion to those plants. She'll haven't the big square planters soon. A few of the tomatoes growing up the posts look close to ripe.

He rubs the cleft of his chin and his stubble makes a bristly noise. He backs away at the unnerving idea. It's too much. Too soon.

Fuck that. He's not that weirdo Jensen. He's been tailing his married boss for three years. Now that's fucking desperate. Besides, they all made a pact, as lame as it was. They're going to make their moves. Either do something or get over it.

Right. Finish the coffee and get your ass together, Barnes. He rinses the mug then goes to make himself human again. Show, brush the teeth, untangle your hair, tie it back, no one will know the different, clothes. Alright. It won't be so bad to get out and it'll get Steve off his back about Vitamin D. Funny, the sunlight only makes him feel worse.

He heads off with a cap pulled down low and his hands in his pockets. There's a shop down the way, they have tables outside full of seeds and little pots. And a coffee shop right next door. He could use a second cup. Maybe a third.

He stops by the display of plants on the corner. There's a big red sign marked 'End of Season Clearance.' Better late than never.

The old woman who runs the shop offers him a shallow box to put his purchases in. Some pansies and violets. He doesn't know. The colours are nice, he guesses. She tells him to get a nice long bed for them and he should be able to have a nice bunch before the frost.

He gets his coffee, agitated as he balances his starters in one arm, then heads home. He gets back to the apartment and leaves the box on the table. He doesn't touch them as he paces around. He goes to the window. She reading in her chair, reclined, one leg bent, sweater rumpling to expose a bit of tummy. He narrows his eyes. He reaches for the binoculars nearby. Oh yeah. He shouldn't be so into it but he can see a little bit of hair sticking out the edge of her panties. It makes him chafe in his jeans.

He backs up as his stomach growls. Fine. He eats grilled cheese and canned tomato soup. He's still groggy. He goes to the window again. He stays there until she's gone. The censor will let him know if she comes back out.

Steve gets home. He's in a rush. His bag clatters off the bench as soon as he lets go of it. He huffs and picks it up, scurrying around. Bucky doesn't ask. He's on his way to that volunteer gig. They both know why he's in such a hurry.

"Have fun," Bucky calls out from the sofa.

"Oh, flowers?" Steve pauses as his soles scuff.

"What's it to ya, punk?"

"Nothing. You know I got allergies, right?" He sneezes as if to make the point.

"Sure I do. They're going on the balcony... tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Steve asks. "Why not-- achooo!"

"Cool off," Bucky warns. "I'll cover them up."

"Ugh, I don't got time," Steve mutters. "See ya. Oh, and you probably don't want the cat chewing on those n-n-neith-- achoo!"

"She's off terrorising the mice," Bucky snorts. "Get out of here, Rogers."

The night rolls by slowly. Hours spent with his eyes open. On the couch until his roommate gets back. Then his bed. Back to the living room. Steve gets up to get ready for work at the museum. Bucky puts Alpine on his chest and scratches her chin. Her box needs changing.

The sunlight softens between the curtains as he's left alone. He lets the cat out with him as he angles the box of flowers through the door. He got the big trays too and soil. He'll replant it like she did hers. Or try to. Steve keeps saying the place needs a bit of home to it. Goddamn it, Steve, shut up.

He puts the flowers on the iron table and sighs. He doesn't know where to start. The squeak of a hinge makes him tense. It's hers. He knows it without looking. She yawns and he trembles, fighting not to look down at her. He can hear her sipping from her porcelain mug. Is it the one with the lillies or the roses?

"Are those Blueberry Swirl Pansies? Those are so pretty."

He doesn't move at first. She's talking to him. He knows it. His chest feels like it's full. He pushes away from the rail and checks the little tag then faces her. He gives a small wave.

"That's what it says, yeah."

He leans against the railing and looks up at him, "I love flowers, if you can't tell." She giggles and it's music in his ears. The kind that sticks in his brain and he'll keep hearing over and over.

"No, I can't," he chuckles. "Wouldn't mind a few pointers. Kinda new at this."

"Well, I'd start by keeping the cat out of them," she points and he turns to find Alpine digging in a pot.

"Right," he mutters. "Thanks."

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #drabble #watchers anonymous #mcu #marvel #au #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #taking root

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mylovesstuffs · 2 days ago

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OT13 almost out their relationship because they're just that whipped

Request: SVT being so whipped for their partner they almost outed their relationship.

A/N: It's kinda like a “oh no, did I just say/do that?!” moments for me lmao. Also, I used, “They/Them” here but let's just say they used a gender specific pronoun which kinda led them to fuck up even more...Also it low-key gives seoksoo, verkwan and junhao ship vibes TT

Seungcheol – Slipping Up in an Interview

He’s always been careful, okay? But today his is brain is not cooperating. During an interview, the members are joking about ideal types when the host asks, “What’s something you find irresistible in a person?” Without thinking, Seungcheol blurts, “When they pout because they want my attention.” The members snap their heads toward him. Joshua is choking on his drink. Vernon whispers "bro..." under his breath. Seungcheol realizes his mistake immediately, his ears turning red. He forces a laugh, “I mean—uh, you know, in a general sense. Hypothetically. Right?” His nervous chuckle does nothing to save him.

Jeonghan – Too Obvious with Fanservice

Jeonghan thinks he’s a genius at keeping secrets, but in reality he’s just so obvious. He always tells the fans he loves them, but somehow, every time he says “I love you,” his gaze instinctively flickers toward you in the audience. And then—he winks. Winks. At you. In the middle of a concert. Minghao nudges him, “Dude.” Seungkwan is facepalming. The fans start speculating immediately, and Jeonghan just sips his water like he didn’t almost out himself in 4K.

Joshua – The Accidental Instagram Clue

Joshua, being the aesthetic king he is, posts a random normal picture of his coffee and watch, thinking nothing of it. But what he does not realize is that the reflection in the spoon shows someone sitting across from him—you. Within minutes, fans are zooming in, analyzing every pixel. “WHO IS THIS?!!” Trends worldwide. The members tease him in the group chat, sending screenshots. Joshua just sighs, running a hand through his hair, muttering, Man, I really played myself.

LET IDOLS DATE FOR GOD'S SAKE!

Jun – Forgetting to Hide His Affection

Jun is always affectionate, he doesn’t even realize when he’s being obvious. So, when he spots you struggling to carry something backstage, he automatically takes it from your hands, in front of staff and half the members. The moment he does, everyone stares. Hoshi gasps. Jun blinks, realizing what he’s done. “Ah... I mean, uh, I do this for everyone?” He’s lying and no one believes him.

Hoshi – Screaming Your Name...by Accident

His emotions can get the best of him. One day during soundcheck, he’s hyping up the members. “YAH, LET’S GO! SEUNGKWAN, NICE! MINGYU, POWERFUL! BABY, YOU’RE—” silence. The stadium freezes. The members turn slowly. “Hosh...” Hoshi goes silent. His soul leaves his body. Then, suddenly, he yells, “AHHHH, CARATS MY BABY!!” He starts running laps around the stage to avoid any eye contact.

Wonwoo – Too Many Inside Jokes

Wonwoo is subtle, but his inside jokes are not so much. One time, on a livestream, he casually laughs and says, “That reminds me of something my par—” he stops. The chat explodes. “Your what, Wonwoo?” His expression is stone-cold, but his ears are bright red. He quickly changes the topic, but the damage is done. The speculations begin. And his company starts doing overtime hours.

Woozi – Forgetting You’re Not a Member

Woozi keeps things private, but his muscle memory betrays him. One day, while walking to a schedule, he naturally reaches out to grab your hand... in public. Minghao, walking beside him, subtly smacks his arm, whispering, “Hyung, no.” Woozi yanks his hand back like he touched fire, clearing his throat. “I, uh, thought it was one of you.” Carats does NOT believe him.

Dokyeom – Too Excited to Hide It

Dokyeom wears his heart on his sleeve. During a live, a fan asks about his ideal type. “Ahhh, someone who has a cute laugh, loves music, and—oh! And they have this habit where they scrunch their nose when they’re—” he freezes. The members stare. Seungkwan says, “You mean… like Shua?” to keep things in control as much as possible but Kyeom malfunctions. He screeches and ends the live immediately and that makes things even more worse ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

Mingyu – Blurting It Out in Pure Panic

On a variety show, they’re playing a lie detector game. When asked if he has a crush, he confidently says “No.” BZZZT. Everyone erupts. Seungcheol, already enjoying this too much, asks, “So, who is it?” thinking he's comedian enough to make it funny but Mingyu in sheer panic, blurts your name. He outed himself. Pls—my man outed himself. The entire cast screams. Seungkwan falls off his chair. Mingyu is horrified. He buries his face in his hands, mumbling, Can I restart my life? He fr wants to restart his life.

Minghao – Slipping Up in Chinese

Minghao is careful...but his first language betrays him. In a Mandarin interview, he randomly mentions, “Oh, yeah, my baobei likes that too.” The moment the words leave his mouth, he stiffens. The interviewer raises an eyebrow. The members are staring especially Jun. He quickly clears his throat, “Ah, I meant—um—Carats. Our fans are all my baobei.” No one buys it. Not for a second.

Seungkwan – Talking About You Like It’s Normal

Seungkwan rants about you way too much without realizing it. In an live interview, he says, “Yeah, Y/N always says that—” stops. His eyes widen. He claps his hand over his mouth. The cast erupt with laughter. Seungkwan tries to run. He fails. Now, he has to spend the next five minutes convincing the camera, "No, no, no, you misheard! I meant my mom!"

Vernon – Forgetting the Camera is On

Vernon is way too comfortable on live. One time, he’s scrolling through his phone, half-paying attention, when he accidentally clicks on a message from you. It pops up for a split second. The chat explodes. The members who are also watching, start spamming his phone. He doesn’t even notice until Seungkwan texts, “END THE LIVE RIGHT NOW.” Cue Vernon panicking, fumbling with his phone, and mumbling, Oops, my bad.

Dino – Being Too Obvious About "Their Type"

Dino gets asked about his ideal type on a show. Trying to be subtle, he says, “Ah, someone funny, kind, and… um, someone who’s really supportive during my practice.” The members exchange looks. “So... like...?” The host asks since he's already too obvious and specific about certain someone. His brain shuts down when he realises. He stares at the camera like a deer in headlights. Then, he nervously laughs, “Hahaha... no, no, I mean, like… in general… not specific at all…” He fails miserably.

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soulofapatrick · 3 days ago

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Giving Into Temptations - Xaden Riorson x Female Reader

Summary: Part two of Don't Tempt Me

Warnings: Smut; P in v; cockwarming

Words: 4.6K

Notes: I just had to make part two and it's not proofread and written after a break so sorry for any mistakes/repetition

Y/N's POV

The sound of rushing water stops, leaving only the quiet crackle of tension in the air. I hear Xaden moving in the bathroom—quick, efficient movements, the sound of his hands adjusting the faucet, testing the water. For a few long moments, I sit there, feeling the heat of my own words still lingering between us, replaying the way his body tensed, the way his breath caught when I suggested he join me. I don’t regret saying it. Not even a little. But now, with the silence stretching between us, I wonder what’s running through his mind.

Footsteps approach, heavy and deliberate, and then Xaden steps back into the room. His expression is unreadable, his golden-flecked eyes shadowed with something I can’t quite name. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me from where he stands, as if deciding whether or not to speak. Then, with a sigh that sounds like he’s battling himself, he moves toward me, reaching out.

"Come on," he says, his voice lower than usual, raspier. "Water’s ready."

He extends his hand, waiting for me to take it. I hesitate—not because I don’t want to, but because something about this moment feels different. He’s always been imposing, always carried himself with that unwavering confidence, but right now, there's something softer in the way he looks at me. Something unguarded.

I slide my hand into his, and his fingers curl around mine, firm and warm. The contrast between his calloused palm and my own sends a shiver up my spine. He doesn't say anything about it—just helps me up, steadying me as my sore muscles protest. The ache in my body is undeniable, and I probably should have been listening to Vireth when he told me to stop, but the damage is done now.

Xaden doesn’t let go as he guides me toward the bathroom, his other hand finding my waist like he’s afraid I’ll collapse again. Maybe I will. Every step reminds me how exhausted I am, how much I’ve pushed myself beyond my limits.

The warmth from the bath curls into the air as we step inside, steam clinging to my skin. It smells faintly of the lavender oil he must have added to the water—something soothing, something that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, I don’t always have to fight so hard to prove I belong here.

I turn to look at him, expecting him to let go now that we’re here, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hands stay on me, lingering at my waist, fingers pressing slightly into the bare skin between my sports bra and the waistband of my underwear. His gaze drops to the bruises lining my ribs, his jaw tightening.

“You push yourself too damn hard,” he mutters, almost to himself, his voice a quiet accusation. His thumb ghosts over one of the deeper bruises, and I feel his restraint in the way he touches me—gentle, but simmering with frustration.

I don’t answer. What is there to say? He’s right, and we both know it. But I don’t regret it. I can’t afford to.

Xaden exhales sharply, shaking his head before finally—reluctantly—stepping back.

“Get in before the water gets cold,” he says, his tone gruff, but there’s an underlying softness there, something he doesn’t want me to hear.

I don’t move. Not yet. Instead, I tilt my head, watching him carefully. He meets my gaze, and for a moment, I swear I see the battle in his eyes—the war between every instinct telling him to leave, to put space between us, and the deep, undeniable pull that keeps him here, rooted to the spot.

My fingers find the hem of my sports bra, and I peel the damp fabric up over my ribs, my muscles protesting the movement. I know he’s still watching me—can feel the weight of his gaze like a brand against my skin—but I refuse to meet it. Instead, I focus on my breathing, slow and steady, as I pull the bra over my head and let it slip from my fingers onto the floor. The air against my bare skin is cool in contrast to the steam curling through the room, sending a ripple of heat down my spine that has nothing to do with the bath.

I take my time sliding my underwear down my legs, my fingers brushing against the bruises lining my hips, a reminder of how hard I pushed today. Of how hard I always push. I step out of them, standing completely bare under the dim bathroom light, knowing his gaze is still locked on me, burning.

Even without looking, I can picture the way his jaw must be clenched, how his fingers might be curled into fists at his sides as he fights every instinct screaming at him to move. To touch. To close the space between us.

I don’t give him the satisfaction of a glance. Instead, I turn, stepping carefully into the bath, the heat of the water licking up my calves, then my thighs, until I sink beneath its welcoming warmth with a quiet sigh. The tension in my muscles loosens almost immediately, and I let my head rest against the cool porcelain edge, closing my eyes for a brief moment.

I should feel self-conscious. Exposed. But I don’t. Not really. Not when his silence is thick with something else entirely—something raw, barely restrained, and entirely too tempting.

And still, I don’t look at him.

The silence stretches between us, thick with something unspoken, something charged. My body hums with awareness, my skin prickling under the heat of both the bath and his relentless gaze. I keep my eyes closed for a beat longer than necessary, as if that will somehow lessen the intensity of the moment. It doesn’t. It only makes the tension coil tighter, thick and suffocating.

Then, finally, he speaks.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

His voice is low, breathy, like the words have been torn from him against his will, and the sheer frustration laced in them is enough to make my eyes snap open.

I turn my head slowly, and—gods help me—he looks wrecked.

Xaden stands rigid, his broad shoulders stiff, every muscle wound so tight it’s a miracle he hasn’t shattered under the strain. His fists are clenched at his sides, veins pressing against the golden-toned skin of his forearms like he’s holding himself back with every ounce of control he possesses. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, and his lips—his lips—are slightly parted, like he’s just realised how parched he is and that I’m the only thing that could possibly quench him.

But it’s his eyes that do me in.

Those gold-flecked onyx irises burn, searing a path over every inch of exposed skin, dark and predatory, his pupils blown wide with something dangerously close to hunger.

And then, as my gaze drops lower, I see just how much I’ve affected him.

The evidence is straining against his jeans, a prominent, undeniably enticing outline pressing against the dark fabric. My mouth goes dry. Heat pools low in my stomach, winding tightly through my limbs, and suddenly, the bath feels entirely too small, the room too hot, the air too thick to breathe.

I should say something. Should break the moment, laugh it off, defuse the impossible tension crackling between us before it ignites into something I know we won’t be able to stop.

But I don’t.

Instead, I drag my gaze back up to his, meeting his with deliberate slowness, letting him see every thought running rampant through my mind.

I raise a single brow, the ghost of a smirk playing at my lips, and that’s all it takes.

Something snaps.

Xaden curses under his breath, something low and guttural, and then he’s moving. Fast.

His hands fly to the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric barely clears his arms before he’s tossing it to the side, forgotten. My breath catches at the sight of him—of the solid planes of muscle, the ink that stretches across his arms and chest, the way his skin is already flushed like he’s been fighting this battle for far too long.

His fingers go to the buttons of his jeans, fumbling in his haste, jaw clenching as he struggles with the damn things like they’re his mortal enemy.

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in my throat as he growls in frustration, finally forcing them open. But when he shoves the denim down his hips, he nearly trips over his own damn feet, his balance thrown as he kicks his shoes off at the same time.

A very undignified thud echoes through the bathroom as one shoe hits the wall.

And then—fuck.

Xaden looks up at me, half-dressed, breathless, and so fucking wrecked, and the sheer heat in his gaze burns through whatever amusement I had, replacing it with something molten.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, tension still coiling through his muscles, but there’s something else in his expression now. Something that makes my own breath stutter.

Like he’s already mine. Like he’s made peace with the fact that he’s about to break every rule he’s set for himself.

Xaden is back on his feet in seconds, the last shreds of his restraint gone. He practically rips his boxers down those thick, muscular thighs, the motion so desperate, so reckless, that the waistband almost gives out under the force.

And then—gods help me—my gaze drops.

My breath catches. My pulse stumbles.

I don’t mean to look. I don’t. But gravity itself seems to drag my gaze downward, past the hard ridges of his stomach, the sharp lines of his hip bones, to—

Oh.

A sharp inhale gets caught in my throat, my fingers clutching the porcelain edge of the bath like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. A slow, involuntary heat creeps up my neck, settling deep in my stomach as I try—try—to force my gaze back up. But it’s impossible.

Because fuck.

He’s big. Thick, heavy, fully erect, standing proud against his stomach. And the worst part? The moment my eyes betray me, lingering too long, a sound escapes me—a tiny, almost imperceptible hitch of breath. But it’s enough.

Xaden hears it.

I feel the shift in the air before I even meet his gaze again.

When I do, it’s devastating.

His eyes are burning, dark as molten gold, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling with a barely restrained tension that vibrates through every inch of his body. His lips part like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching me watch him, taking in every single reaction, every single thing I’m failing to hide.

And then—fuck him—his mouth curves. Just slightly. Just enough to make my pulse stumble.

He knows.

He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Exactly how wrecked I am.

And from that slow, wicked smirk pulling at his lips?

He’s savouring every fucking second of it.

Xaden steps forward, closing the small, agonising distance between us, and fuck. It’s right there.

My breath shudders as the heat of him seeps into the steam-heavy air, his presence overwhelming in a way that makes my pulse trip over itself. He’s so close now, towering over me, muscles taut with restraint, water-darkened strands of black hair falling across his forehead. But it’s not his face I’m struggling to focus on.

No.

It’s him. Right there. In front of my face.

And gods help me, I want to do something.

My fingers twitch against the porcelain edge of the bath, an ache settling deep in my core that has nothing to do with my exhaustion and everything to do with the way every primal, desperate part of me is screaming to reach out—to wrap my hands around him, my mouth—fuck—I don’t even care how.

As if sensing the exact second I start to spiral, Xaden exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers pressing against my shoulder. “Don’t,” he warns, voice low, tight, wrecked.

I drag my eyes up, catching the way his jaw flexes, how the veins in his forearms strain like he’s barely holding himself together.

And then, just to make absolutely sure I understand, his hand finds the curve of my neck, thumb grazing the hinge of my jaw as he leans in close enough that his breath is a ghost against my lips.

“Be a good girl and behave,” he murmurs.

Fucking bastard.

A slow, deliberate heat spreads from where his hand lingers, all the way down my spine, settling low in my stomach. My breath is shaky, uneven, but I force myself to hold his gaze, to not react—to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much those words affect me.

I fail. Miserably.

His smirk deepens, smug and knowing, before he nudges me forward in the water, shifting me just enough to slide in behind me.

The moment he sinks into the bath, a low groan escapes him, the sound vibrating through the space between us, sinking into my skin. Strong, calloused hands find my waist under the water, guiding me back until my spine meets the solid wall of his chest and my ass meets something very different.

And fuck.

The heat of him, the sheer size of him, makes my entire body lock up. Every muscle goes rigid as I try to convince myself this is fine, that I can handle this without combusting on the spot.

But then his lips brush my ear.

“Relax.” His voice is pure sin, rough with restraint. “I’ve got you.”

I don’t think relaxing is an option anymore.

Not when I can feel him, hot and hard against me, pressed so intimately that my breath catches in my throat. Not when his hands, large and calloused, find my waist beneath the water, his thumbs brushing slow, burning circles into my skin.

A shiver ripples through me, and I know he feels it because his grip tightens, fingers flexing like he’s fighting every instinct to pull me closer.

“Xaden—” My voice is barely a whisper, but before I can even process what I’m trying to say, his hands begin to move.

Slow. Deliberate.

He traces the curve of my sides, trailing the bruises with a careful touch, his palms mapping every ridge, every muscle, like he’s memorising me.

Like he wants to.

And it should be soothing—it would be soothing—if it weren’t for the fact that every shift of his hands sends a fresh wave of awareness through me, heat pooling low in my stomach, turning my bones to liquid.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath uneven. “This isn’t fair,” I manage, trying to ignore the way my entire body reacts to his touch.

Xaden hums, the sound deep, amused, dangerous. His breath is warm against the side of my neck as he leans in, his lips barely ghosting over my skin.

“Life’s not fair, violence,” he murmurs, his voice like smoke and embers, like temptation itself. His fingers tighten at my waist, pressing me just a fraction more against him, until there’s no mistaking exactly what I’m doing to him.

A quiet, wrecked sound escapes me before I can swallow it down.

And gods.

I don’t think I want to relax anymore.

Xaden’s hands remain steady on my waist, but there’s a subtle shift in his touch. His fingers begin to move, a slow, deliberate exploration of the skin beneath his hands. The warmth of his touch sends ripples of heat over me, and it’s as though I can feel every inch of his fingers against me, the way they trail over my skin, brushing lightly against my ribs before descending lower.

His touch is careful at first, like he’s testing, sensing the boundaries I haven’t yet laid out. The water between us becomes a barrier of heat and tension, and I can feel him getting closer, his breath mingling with mine, quiet and measured.

Then, with deliberate patience, his fingers shift down to my legs, gliding along the smooth skin of my thighs. My pulse quickens, and I struggle to keep my breathing steady, not knowing whether to lean into the touch or brace myself against it.

When his hand nudges my legs apart ever so slightly, it’s a gentle but insistent movement, a tease that has my heart pounding in my chest. It’s almost as if he’s savouring the slow build-up, the way he’s tracing every line of my body with his fingertips—each touch purposeful, each stroke drawing out more of the tension that I can’t escape.

Suddenly he’s lifting me a bit, one strong arm around my waist against. A soft sound of surprise leaving my lips when I feel the tip brushing against my soaking entrance, a soft question on his lips. I’m nodding before I realise it, gripping the arm around my waist and completely forgetting that this isn’t me. I don’t fuck for fun but Xaden sends every rule of mine out the window, especially when he’s slowly and carefully sinking me down until he’s fully sheafed inside me.

My head falls back onto Xaden’s shoulders he hands go back to exploring my body but all I can focus on is the delicious stretch of him, the tip feeling like it’s pressing against my cervix. No-one has stretched me this much and it’s almost too much to handle and Xaden can tell, the way the rough pads of his fingers run over where we’re connected. His lips brushing my neck, biting down and littering my skin with hickeys that I am in no way going to be able to cover up tomorrow.

I’m opening my mouth to speak but he silences me by circling my clit, a smirk pressing into my jaw as he continues to roll lazy circles over my clit, my walls fluttering around his girth filling me up. I can already tell I’m not going to last long with the mixture of stimulation and I’m gripping Xaden’s arm that is paying attention to that bundle of nerves as my thighs clench together. He’s moving his lips from my jaw to my ear, murmuring, “Come for me baby.”

Those words plus one more tight circle on my clit has my aching back arching, drawing Xaden even deeper than I thought possible and my walls are clamping down around him, feeling hi twitch inside me as waves of bliss roll over me. I can feel Xaden rocking his hips up ever so slightly and before I know what’s happening he’s sinking his teeth into my shoulder and his dick is throbbing, filling me up with rope after rope until I feel it dripping down into the water and he’s letting out a low groan of pleasure.

His breath is ragged against my ear, each inhale a sharp, uneven sound that mirrors the frantic rhythm of my own. His body is still pressed tightly against mine, and I can feel the heat of him seeping through the water, the warmth of his chest against my back as his arms tighten around me.

"Fuck..." he breathes, his voice strained, rough with the effort to regain control. It's low, almost a growl, but the vulnerability in it—how breathless he sounds—has my heart hammering in my chest. The intimacy of the moment makes my head spin, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck, needing the coolness of his skin to steady myself.

Every part of me feels alive, humming with the aftershocks of what we've shared. My lungs are still struggling to keep up, my chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. I close my eyes, trying to slow the frantic pace of my breathing, but with Xaden so close, the air feels thick, charged with a quiet tension that doesn't seem to want to fade.

His lips brush against my neck, a soft, breathless kiss that sends a shiver racing down my spine, and his hand, still resting on my hip, flexes slightly. "Take it slow," he murmurs, his voice low and raw, like he's trying to soothe me, but I know it’s just as much for himself.

I want to say something, to break the silence, but every word feels heavy, every sound trapped somewhere deep in my chest, caught between us like the air we share. His presence, the heat of him, the way he's holding me so close—it’s all too much, too overwhelming in the best way possible.

And as I try to regain my breath, the world outside seems to disappear, leaving only the two of us, tangled in the aftermath.

The warm water, the steady rhythm of Xaden’s breathing, and the weight of his body against mine have me feeling utterly relaxed, more than I’ve ever felt before. My muscles, still sore from training, are languid and loose, and I can feel myself beginning to drift, the world around me fading into a haze of warmth and comfort.

I try to fight it, to stay awake, but my eyelids are heavy, and the rhythmic pulse of the water, the sound of Xaden’s heartbeat, and his steady presence make it hard to keep my thoughts straight. Everything in me is exhausted—physically, emotionally. I feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, and it’s like a lullaby, pulling me deeper into sleep.

The gentle pressure of his hand on my hip only makes it worse, a soothing presence that makes me feel safe and cherished, like I could stay here forever. I let out a soft sigh, nestling further into him, too tired to do anything but let myself be held.

But then, I feel him shift, his hand nudging me gently as the cold begins to settle in, and I realise the water has started to cool. A part of me knows I should get up, but my body protests every movement, too spent to function properly. The weariness pulls at me, a fog I can’t shake.

"Come on," his voice is soft but insistent, the edge of concern threading through the words. "We need to get out before we both freeze."

I barely manage to lift my head from his chest, my eyes half-lidded as I try to push myself up, but the effort is too much. My body feels like lead, and the warmth of the bath is so comforting, I can’t seem to summon the energy to do anything but slump back into him with a soft groan of frustration.

I hear him curse softly under his breath, and before I can protest, his arms shift around me. In one smooth motion, he’s standing, lifting me with ease. I’m held against him, wrapped in his strong arms, and I’m so out of it, so weak from everything we’ve just shared, that I don’t even think to object. I rest my head against his chest again, too tired to fight it, and just let him carry me.

He moves with surprising grace, effortlessly holding me as though I weigh nothing at all. His body is warm, and I can feel the solid strength of him beneath me as he carries me out of the bath, stepping carefully through the bathroom and towards the bed. The movement causes a slight shiver to roll through me, but I barely register it, too lost in the warmth and comfort of his embrace.

The cold air that hits my skin as he pulls me from the bath is a shock, but it’s quickly replaced with the warmth of his hands as he gently helps me sit up. His touch is careful, almost reverent, as he grabs a towel and begins drying me off, his hands moving slowly over my skin, taking extra care around the sore muscles from training. The friction of the towel feels comforting against my damp skin, like he’s erasing the tension that’s settled in my body.

Every pass of the towel makes me feel lighter, his movements deliberate, yet tender. He’s so close, I can feel his breath against my skin, and I can’t help but be hyper-aware of every little sensation, every brush of his fingers. He finishes drying my legs and feet, then wraps the towel around my shoulders, pulling me into a standing position for just a moment. The dizziness that tries to creep up on me from being so relaxed is immediately washed away by the firm grip of his hands, steady and sure.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me for a moment, his gaze steady and warm, before picking out one of his oversized shirts from the pile of clothes he keeps by the door. It’s big enough to drown me, but he’s surprisingly gentle as he slides it over my head, the fabric billowing over my frame like a soft cloud. When the shirt falls to my knees, he gives a satisfied nod, his hand lingering on my arm for just a second before he guides me back to the bed.

I’m so exhausted, every inch of my body heavy with fatigue, that I barely manage to crawl into the bed, curling under the thick covers as Xaden moves to the side. But I can’t stop watching him, my eyes half-lidded as he dries himself off with a towel, the water dripping down his chest in rivulets. His muscles flex as he works, and I feel my breath catch in my throat as I take in every inch of him—his broad shoulders, the tautness of his abdomen, the way his hands move over his body with practiced ease.

He doesn’t seem to care about modesty, or maybe he simply doesn’t need to, because before I know it, he’s slipping into the bed behind me, his bare skin pressing against mine. I feel the heat of him, his presence a constant, undeniable force against my back. He doesn’t bother to pull on any clothes, his bare chest brushing against me as he settles in, his arm wrapping around me, pulling me close.

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, my body sinking into the warmth of him as I try to adjust to the feeling of being so close, so tangled in his presence. His heartbeat, steady and calm, thumps against my back as he presses his lips to my shoulder, a small, contented sound leaving him. It makes me shiver, not with cold, but with something else—something deeper, something I can’t quite define.

Xaden’s arm tightens around me, but his touch remains gentle, his warmth seeping into my skin as I finally relax into him, the exhaustion of the day and our shared moments taking its toll. I let myself breathe deeply, every inhale filling me with the scent of him—musky, warm, a hint of something like cedar and saltwater.

I close my eyes, but not before I catch one last glimpse of him, the outline of his face in the dim light, his expression soft but still holding that intensity I can’t shake. It’s enough to send a flutter through my chest, the lingering tension in my body finally dissipating as I let sleep claim me. His body behind me is a steady, reassuring presence, and in his arms, I feel like I’ve found a place I never want to leave.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@xadenswhore @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @Mariahoedt @marrass @universallyrascaldreamercookie

#fourth wing #fourth wing imagines #fourth wing boys #the empyrean #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing ridoc #fourth wing xaden #fourth wing x you #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson smut #xaden riorson imagine #violet and xaden #xaden riorson x you #xaden riorson x y/n #xaden riorson fluff #xaden riorson angst #iron flame #onyx storm

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leighsartworks216 · 3 days ago

Text

With Bated Breath

Sylus x gn!Reader

Sometimes I think about their fucked up childhoods and have to cry in a corner about it

Based on this post

Warnings: fluff, light angst, sickfic, fever, cuddling, references to homelessness and death

Word Count: 829

Main Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Sylus stirs awake, shifting where he lay on his stomach to watch what appears to be a blanket-monster approaching the bed. Quilts, furs, throws - gathered into one pile and now dropped to be on the unoccupied half of the bed. The person carrying them is gone before he can ask. He settles back into a comfortable position, stretched out like a cat in the sun, and quickly drifts off again.

He’s woken up again who-knows-how-long later. His heavy eyelids crack open to watch you, sitting on your knees on the bed with your back to him, shifting the pile of blankets and a series of pillows around as quietly as you can. With a cursory glance, he also notices the hoard of snacks, juice bottles and water bottles at the foot of the bed.

“What’re you doing, sweetie…?” he murmurs. His voice is low and raspy.

If you’re startled, you don’t show it as you look at him over your shoulder. “You’re sick.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “So you’ve decided to build a pillow fort while I sleep?”

You huff, feigning annoyance, but there’s something else beneath it. A softness at the edges, betraying genuine concern. It’s so hidden - shoved deep down beneath your usual façade of neutrality and disinterest. He can’t help wondering why.

You shift around the pillows some more, adjust a blanket here and there. It’s like watching a bird build a nest. When you’re finally satisfied with your handiwork, you open the blankets and sit back against the pillows, propped up against the headboard. You continue to hold the blankets open expectantly, nodding your head to your lap.

With nothing being explained to him at all, what more can he do besides follow what you want?

Grunting, he lifts himself up and crosses the distance, slipping under the blankets with you. Your lap acts as his pillow. You cover him with the blankets, tucking him in in a way completely foreign to him, carefully ensuring that he’s covered up to his neck and that no air can get in.

“You’re really doing all this just because I’m sick?”

You run your fingers through his hair. His back tenses, then relaxes, giving in to the sensation. It’s so easy to let go; hugging your waist, tucked in and warm, comfortable - he’s never been safer.

His hair is damp from sweat. His skin burns with fever. Goosebumps raise on his arms. You don’t seem deterred by any of it. You press your cool hands to his forehead and the back of his neck. Your fingers nimbly massage at his tense muscles. It’s hard to believe you’re capable of something so soft after the things he’s witnessed you do.

“I was worried,” you admit quietly.

He chuckles. It’s not as rich as usual, but it rumbles through him just the same; like thunder rolling over distant hills. “It’s just a cold, sweetie. I’ll be fine in a couple days.”

You’re silent. You scratch gently at the base of his scalp, drawing a sigh from the man. “Get some sleep.”

It’s an easy order to follow. You’ve managed to provide him all the comforts he could ever wish for. Admittedly, it’s a bit unusual for Sylus. He’s never been doted on like this. His whole life, he’s never really had someone to hold him or take care of him before. It seemed like such a weakness. Something left behind closed and locked doors, where no one can find him. He can see the appeal now.

In mere minutes, he’s dozing off. His breaths are even. The quiet rasp of each inhale and exhale fills the air. His mind teeters on the precipice of unconsciousness. Dreams and reality converge in a haze. The only thing that keeps him from slipping under is a voice, so soft and so unfamiliar it registers with the same level of danger as a high-level Wanderer sneaking up on him in the dark. Fortunately, his reflexes are slowed by his fever, because half a second later, he recognizes who’s speaking.

It’s you.

“Please don’t die…”

You whisper it into his hair with a light kiss, before it’s brushed away by your fingers. But you sound so… scared. Like a child. Like you’ve done this exact thing before - created a nest of blankets and a hoard of food and drinks, held someone in your arms… and they died.

You’d never admit it, if you did. That life is far behind, and you’d both promised that it will remain there. You’d never know his childhood and he’d never know yours. But he knows enough to guess.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t give away that he’s actually awake. Instead, under the pretense of stirring in his sleep, he holds you tighter, tucks himself closer, and stills with a sigh. He can only hope, as he finally falls into a world of dreams, that you do not anxiously wait with bated breath to make sure he makes it through.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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cthulhus-curse · 3 days ago

Text

Thinking about...mommy Wanda who has way too much fun with squirting dildos and has an intox kink. The harness around her waist accentuate her figure in the best way imaginable. You simply remain slack-jawed each time she waltzes around the room, urging you into to lay face down on the pillows with your ass up in the air for her to take.

Only minutes before, she had coaxed a handful of gummies into your mouth. "These are special treats. Won't you be a good pet and open your mouth for mommy?" You dumbly do as you're told, loving the taste of the sugary gummies on your tongue. You're not aware of the effect they will have on you, nor do you care. All you want is Wanda. "There you go, sweetheart. Good job."

And now she sits there on her knees, her faux cock only mere centimeters from your entrance that she already spent what felt like eons stretching out. The toy is slick with lubricant and a massive girthy. A small tube stretches out with white within it, as Wanda holds a syringe in her hands. "Shh, it's okay, baby. Be a good toy and take mommy's cock. I promise it'll feel so, so good."

Mommy doesn't lie, you know that well enough by now. You trust in her fully, but don't dare give it much though at her cock stretches apart your pussy folds, inching inside slowly. The lewd noises that fly in the air make your mouth water as your mind begins growing hazy. You hum as Wanda sneaks her free hand around, nimble fingers finding your clit before rubbing it languidly.

"Fuck, baby. Your pussy feels amazing. Just- ughm," Wanda moans, thrusting her hips back and forth. She is in awe at how her cock disappears inside you, each time gardening even more juices to leave it with a shiny coat. "That's it. It's like you were meant to take mommy dick."

She starts off slow, but quickly moves into fucking you roughly. The sound of your skins slapping together fills the room, booming across the four walls. You try to grip something, anything, but are far too sluggish to find it in you. Instead, you merely hum happily, being fucked out as your mommy gives you all you desire -- your arousal being ten times greater than ever.

When Wanda does eventually use the toy, she unloads most of it inside you. The spurting noises of your cunt being stuffed by the fake cum are loud. The both of you share heavy breaths as she stuffs you, still fucking her dick inside as drops of her seed ooze down your inner thighs. Eventually, Wanda pulls out, much to your dismay, only to release the remainder of her cum on your back in fast, rhythmic pumps.

"Oh baby, you look adorable like this," Wanda beams, rubbing the tip of her bulbous strap-on along your drenched folds. Her free hand draws lazy circles on your back, sloshing around the cloudy lubricant with amusement. "Such a good toy for mommy. My perfect, little cumdump."

#mommy wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff smut

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00valentina-writes00 · 3 days ago

Note

NSFW ALPHABET WITH ABBY I BEG OF YOU

♡♥︎ NSFW Alphabet - Abby Anderson ♥︎♡

A = Aftercare

Abby takes aftercare seriously. She’s wrapping you in her arms, kissing your forehead, rubbing slow circles on your back. If she was rough, she’s even softer after, whispering how good you were. She always makes sure you drink water and feels so fucking proud if you’re too blissed out to move.

B = Body Part

On you? Your thighs. She loves them wrapped around her head, squeezing her hips, trembling when she makes you come. On herself? Her arms. She knows you love gripping her biceps, clawing at them when she fucks you deep.

C = Cum

Abby loves making a mess. Watching you soaked and dripping, thighs shaking—that’s her reward. If she’s using a strap? She loves seeing your release coat it, watching it glisten under the light. If it’s her fingers? She’ll lick them clean, eyes locked on you.

D = Dirty Secret

She wants to see you tied up. Not anything too extreme, just your wrists bound, maybe a blindfold, completely at her mercy. The thought of you whimpering, begging, unable to touch her? It drives her crazy.

E = Experience

Abby knows what she’s doing. She’s had past partners, but you’re the one she really learned with. She listens, watches, memorizes every little reaction—so when she touches you, it’s always exactly what you need.

F = Favorite Position

Anything that lets her watch you fall apart. She loves holding you up against the wall, pressing you into the mattress, throwing your legs over her shoulders. But her favorite? You, on your stomach, ass up, while she fucks you deep. She loves seeing the way your back arches, how you push against her, how you moan into the pillow.

G = Goofy

Abby’s usually serious, focused, intense. But every now and then, if something funny happens—like your bodies not aligning right or you moaning at the wrong time? She’ll chuckle, shake her head, kiss your nose, and keep going.

H = Hair

She keeps it trimmed but not bare. She’s not super particular about it, and she knows you don’t care. It’s soft, well-kept, and she never gives it much thought.

I = Intimacy

Abby is passionate. Even when it’s rough, it’s not just about getting off. She wants you to feel it, to know how much she needs you. She’ll kiss your jaw, whisper against your lips, stare at you like you’re her entire world.

J = Jack Off

Abby doesn’t do it often. She has too much self-control, too much discipline. But if she’s been away from you too long, if she’s restless at night, she’ll let herself slip her hand between her legs, thinking about the way you moan for her.

K = Kink

She loves control. Pinning you down, holding you still, making you take everything she gives you. Also? Breeding. Even if it’s not physically possible, she loves the idea of pushing so deep inside you that it feels like she’s claiming you.

L = Location

She’s practical—prefers the bedroom where she can take her time. But if you drag her into the locker room after a workout? If you tug her into a dark corner, whispering how bad you need her? She’s not saying no.

M = Motivation

Seeing you work out. Watching you bite your lip. Hearing you whimper when she teases you. Seeing you completely wrecked, knowing she’s the reason why.

N = No

She won’t humiliate you. She’s dominant, not cruel. She also won’t do anything that hurts you in a way that isn’t pleasurable. If she sees even a flicker of discomfort? She’s stopping immediately.

O = Oral

Abby loves giving. She lives between your thighs, tongue deep inside you, hands gripping your hips to hold you down. She won’t stop until you’re a panting mess. Receiving? She loves it, but she’s shy about it. First time you went down on her, she was gripping the sheets, red-faced, biting her knuckles to keep quiet.

P = Pace

Hard. Deep. Unrelenting. She knows how to build you up slowly if she wants, but when she’s finally inside? She’s not stopping until she fucks you senseless.

Q = Quickie

She prefers taking her time, but if you get needy enough, whispering in her ear? She’ll push you against the nearest surface, hand already between your legs.

R = Risk

She’s open to trying new things as long as she trusts you. Just don’t suggest anything reckless Or dangerous.

S = Stamina

Insane stamina. She can keep going for as long as you can take it. After her first orgasm? She barely needs time to recover before she’s back between your legs.

T = Toys

Loves using a strap. She’ll pin your wrists down, fuck you slow at first, watching your every reaction. Also loves watching you ride her, gripping your hips, guiding you at her pace.

U = Unfair

Abby loves teasing you. She’ll drag her fingers between your legs, stroke your clit just enough to make you squirm—then pull away. If you get whiny? She’ll smirk, muttering, “Be patient.”

V = Volume

She’s not loud, but she’s vocal. Low, gravelly moans, heavy breathing, whispered praises in your ear. The first time she slipped up and moaned loud? She got so embarrassed.

W = Wild Card

She has a thing for marking you. She doesn’t even realize it at first, but her teeth always find your neck, her hands always leave bruises. The first time she saw you the next morning, covered in her marks? She couldn’t stop staring.

X = X-ray

Abby is thick everywhere. Her clit? Bigger than average, sensitive, throbbing when she’s turned on. Her breasts? Firm, strong, but soft in the right places. Her cunt? So warm, soaking wet whenever you touch her.

Y = Yearning

Her sex drive is high, but controlled. She can go without it, but if you start something? She’s finishing it. She’s always ready if you are.

Z = Zzzz

She usually stays awake a little longer, holding you, pressing kisses into your hair. But if it was rough, deep, exhausting? She’s asleep almost instantly, still wrapped around you.

#abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x you #abby x reader #abby imagines #abby headcanons #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #the last of us drabbles #the last of us headcanons #the last of us imagine #the last of us fic #the last of us

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woso-story · 2 days ago

Text

Safe In Her Arms

Alexia Putellas x Reader

The sun was shining through the curtains, golden rays warming the room, but you hardly noticed. You sat curled up on your couch, hugging a cushion close to your chest, staring at nothing in particular. The thoughts in your mind were overwhelming, waves of pain and fear washing over you, pulling you under no matter how much you tried to fight them.

The past wasn’t something you wanted to remember. Most days, you managed to keep it locked away, hidden deep where no one could find it—not even yourself. But today was different. The memories were insistent, creeping into your mind like shadows, making your chest feel impossibly heavy.

You didn’t hear the knock at the door. You didn’t hear the soft click of the spare key turning in the lock, or the familiar sound of her footsteps as she entered your apartment.

“Cariño?” Alexia’s voice broke through the silence, soft and full of concern. She closed the door behind her, placing her bag gently on the floor. Her hazel eyes scanned the room, landing on you, sitting motionless on the couch.

You didn’t respond.

She approached cautiously, sensing that something was wrong. Sitting beside you, she reached out and gently placed a hand on your arm.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”

Her touch startled you, and you flinched, pulling away as if you’d been burned. Your wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto hers, the panic and pain in them unmistakable.

Alexia’s brows furrowed, her heart aching at the sight of you like this. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with worry. “What happened?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. The weight of your emotions was too much, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. You turned away, unable to meet her gaze, and stood up abruptly, pacing the room with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself.

“She’s going to leave,” you mumbled under your breath, your voice shaky and filled with despair. “She’s going to realize I’m broken. That I can’t give her what she wants. She deserves better, so much better…”

Alexia’s eyes followed you as you paced back and forth, your words breaking her heart. She had never seen you like this before—so vulnerable, so overwhelmed. She stood, approaching you slowly, as if afraid that one wrong move might make you retreat even further.

“Amor, stop,” she said gently, stepping in front of you. Her voice was calm, but firm enough to get your attention. She placed her hands lightly on your shoulders, her touch steady but not overbearing. “Come sit with me. Please.”

You hesitated, but the sincerity in her eyes made it impossible to refuse. She guided you back to the couch, sitting close enough to be a comfort but giving you space to breathe. She disappeared briefly and returned with a glass of water and a box of tissues, placing them on the table in front of you.

“Take your time,” she said softly, her voice as steady as a rock. “I’m here.”

You stared down at the water in your hands, your thoughts racing. You wanted to tell her everything, but the fear was suffocating. What if she looked at you differently? What if this changed how she felt about you? What if she left?

But hiding it from her wasn’t an option anymore. She deserved the truth, and you couldn’t keep running from it. Taking a shaky breath, you began to speak.

“I haven’t told anyone this,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not my family, not my friends. No one.”

Alexia nodded, her expression open and patient, letting you know she was listening.

“In my early twenties, I was in a relationship,” you continued, your voice trembling. “At first, I thought she was perfect. She was charming, funny, everything I thought I wanted. But… she wasn’t. She was controlling, manipulative. She’d talk me down, make me feel worthless. And when words weren’t enough for her, she’d… she’d hit me.”

Alexia’s hand twitched, as if she wanted to reach out to you, but she stopped herself, letting you continue at your own pace.

“I stayed for two years,” you said, your voice breaking as the memories flooded back. “I was too scared to leave. She had her good moments, and I kept telling myself she’d change. But she didn’t. She only got worse. And then, one night, she came home drunk, and everything escalated. She left in a rage, and I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. I packed my things, and I left. I left her, I left Madrid… I left everything behind.”

Tears streamed down your face as you spoke, but Alexia didn’t interrupt. She simply listened, her hazel eyes filled with a mixture of pain and love.

“For years, I didn’t let anyone in,” you said, wiping at your tears. “I told myself I’d never let anyone hurt me like that again. And then… then I met you.”

You looked at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of judgment or rejection.

“You made it so easy to fall for you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re kind, and patient, and you make me feel safe in a way I haven’t felt in years. But I’m scared, Alexia. I’m scared that my past will ruin this. That I’ll ruin this. I don’t want to be scared of you. I know you’d never hurt me, but… my body, my mind… it doesn’t always listen. And I hate that. I hate that I can’t just be normal for you.”

When you finished, the silence was deafening. You looked down, too afraid to see her reaction.

“Mi amor,” Alexia said softly, breaking the silence. She reached out, pausing to make sure it was okay before gently taking your hand in hers. “Thank you for telling me. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been.”

Her thumb brushed over your knuckles, her touch warm and grounding. “This doesn’t change anything for me. I love you. All of you. Your strength, your vulnerability, everything that makes you who you are. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from fear.

“We’ll take things at your pace,” she continued. “There’s no rush, no expectations. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. And if something feels uncomfortable, you just tell me. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her other hand gently cupped your cheek, her thumb wiping away your tears. She leaned in, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your lips—a kiss that felt like a promise.

“You’re not broken,” she whispered, resting her forehead against yours. “You’re strong. So, so strong. And I’m so proud of you.”

For the first time in years, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter. You leaned into her touch, letting her warmth and love wash over you.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening talking. Alexia listened as you shared more about your past, your fears, and your hopes. She never interrupted, never judged—she simply listened, holding your hand the entire time.

By the time you finally fell asleep that night, wrapped in her arms, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

With Alexia, you knew you were safe. With her, you could heal.

She was your person. And together, you could overcome anything.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso community #woso #woso fics #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas

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buckets-and-trees · 1 day ago

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idk about you but i just KNOW that nomad steve talks you through it. in the most panty soaking gut wrenching way. he’s always tried to hold back a little, be respectful, not be too much, but once he becomes nomad he just stops giving a damn. and he’s so cocky with it too, knowing he can keep going, keep making you feel good. he gets you going and then it’s all “that’s it baby let go” “that’s riiiiight” “that feel good? yeah? ohh look at you” mocking your desperation when you start moaning and gasping GOD i need him.

Just Say When

Characters/Pairings: Nomad!Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 3.2k Summary: Saturday, February 10, 2018. A surprise in your apartment the weekend before Valentines.

Content/Warnings: "fluffy" angst; repeated hook ups; Nomad Steve is still soft!dark and a warning all his own; explicit smut (oral: male receiving, vaginal fingering, nipple play, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex/ejaculation); light dirty talk (there's talking, but it's not nasty dirty talk)

Author Notes: Eighth treat for the Valentine Storygrams.

Previous Part | Exiled Nomad Series

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You sighed as you closed the door behind you, dropping your keys on the small table in the entryway. The trip to UPS had taken longer than expected due to a line of people also shipping back their own Amazon returns. You were looking forward to a quiet evening at home, heating up something easy for dinner, and maybe catching up on that book you'd been meaning to finish.

As you shrugged off your coat, a sound made you freeze. The unmistakable hiss of running water hitting tile came from your bathroom. Your heart leapt into your throat, adrenaline surging through your veins. You lived alone. No one else had a key. There shouldn't be anyone in your apartment, let alone using your shower.

For a moment, you stood rooted to the spot, mind racing. Should you call the police? Grab a weapon? Run? But curiosity and a strange sense of anticipation overrode your fear. Cautiously, you made your way down the hallway.

The sound of water shut off the same moment you entered your room, and you hear very faint shuffling from the en suite bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and steam was billowing out. You hesitated for a moment before gently pushing it open.

The sight that greeted you made your breath catch in your throat. A very familiar, very masculine figure. His broad shoulders and muscular back were on full display as he stood wrapping one of your towels low around his hips.

For a moment, you simply stared, unable to believe your eyes. It had been a little over a month since you'd seen him unexpectedly in that nightclub in Aspen. How was he here, in your shower, as if he belonged?

Certainly sensing your presence, Steve turned, his eyes locking with yours. Without a word, he stepped closer.

"I hope you don't mind," he said, his voice low and husky. "I let myself in."

You stood frozen in the doorway, your mind reeling, pussy pulsing already.

You swallowed hard, your eyes roaming over Steve's damp, chiseled torso. Droplets of water clung to his skin, trailing tantalizing paths down his chest and abs. The towel hung dangerously low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination.

"How did you get in?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve's lips quirked into a small, almost sheepish smile. "I may have picked the lock. I needed to see you."

Your heart raced at his words. He needed to see you. Despite the shock of finding him in your apartment, a thrill of excitement coursed through you.

"Steve," you breathed, taking a hesitant step towards him. "What are you doing here?"

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his large hands coming to rest on your waist. The heat from his body radiated through your clothes, making you acutely aware of how close he was.

“This,” he answered your question by lowering his mouth to yours.

Steve's lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled you flush against his damp body. The towel was the only barrier between you, and you could feel the hard planes of his muscles through your clothes.

His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting you deeply as his hands roamed your body. One large palm cupped your ass, squeezing possessively as he ground his hips against yours. You could feel his arousal growing, pressing insistently against your stomach.

"I shouldn't keep coming here," Steve murmured against your lips between kisses. "But I need to have you."

You knew you should question this, but all rational thought fled your mind as Steve's lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your head fell back, giving Steve better access to your neck as he continued his sensual assault. His beard scraped deliciously against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your pulse point.

He walked you backwards out of the bathroom and further into your room.

Then Steve stepped back, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, desire pooling low in your belly.

"Undress for me," he commanded, his voice low and husky. "Slowly."

Your fingers trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of your shirt to lift it over your head. Steve's eyes followed every movement, darkening with lust as you revealed more skin. Once your torso was fully exposed, you glanced back at Steve and let the shirt fall to the floor.

Steve's hand moved to the towel at his waist. He pulled it away, letting it drop. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him fully naked, his impressive arousal on full display.

Steve's hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly as he watched you continue to undress. The sight of him touching himself sent fire through your veins.

“Keep going,” he insisted.

Next, you unzipped your jeans, shimmying them down your hips. Steve's breath audibly caught as you stepped out of it, leaving you in just your mis-matched bra and panties. At least they were good ones.

With deliberate slowness, you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. You held the cups in place for a moment before letting it fall away. Steve's eyes darkened as your breasts were revealed, his hand moving faster on his cock.

"Don’t stop," he breathed.

Your thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs. You stepped out of them, now fully naked before Steve's hungry gaze.

Steve studied your body for another moment, drinking in every curve and plane. "Come here," he growled.

You moved towards him, drawn like a magnet.

“Kneel,” he said.

You sank to your knees before Steve, your eyes level with his impressive erection. His hand was still wrapped around the base, and you watched a bead of precum form at the tip.

"Open your mouth," Steve commanded, his voice husky with desire.

You complied, parting your lips as Steve guided the head of his cock between them. The taste of him exploded on your tongue as he pushed deeper into your mouth. Your hands came to rest on his powerful thighs, steadying yourself as you took more of him.

"You're always so eager for me," he gloated.

You didn't care. It was true.

Then Steve's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you began to bob your head. "That's it," he groaned. "Take all of me."

You relaxed your throat, allowing him to slide deeper. Your tongue swirled around his shaft as you sucked, drawing a low moan from Steve. His hips began to rock, fucking your mouth with shallow thrusts as you worked him with your lips and tongue.

"Fuck," Steve groaned, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Your mouth feels so good."

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder as Steve's thrusts became more urgent. His cock hit the back of your throat with each movement, making your eyes water. But the sounds of pleasure falling from his lips spurred you on, eager to bring him to the edge.

Just as you felt Steve's muscles tensing, signaling his impending release, he suddenly pulled away. You looked up at him, confused and breathless.

"Not yet," Steve panted, his chest heaving. "I want to be inside you.”

Steve's eyes were dark as he reached down to help you to your feet. Without warning, he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bed. He dropped you down onto the mattress, his body covering yours quickly as he settled between your thighs.

His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth as his hands roamed the curves of your body. You arched into his touch, desperate for more contact. Steve's beard scratched deliciously against your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point.

"Steve," you whined as he lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling around a nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

His hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding your slick folds. You moaned as he stroked you, his fingers teasing your labia, circling your clit before dipping lower to tease your entrance. You mewled and arched into his touch, desperate for more friction.

"So wet for me already," Steve murmured against your skin, his voice low and husky. "Is this all for me?"

"Yes," you breathed, your hips rocking against his hand. "Only for you, Steve."

He groaned at your words, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as he slipped two thick fingers inside you.

And it was true. You had never been this way with any one else - not so quick to get physically involved, not uninhibited, willing to let him use your body, so ruin you with pleasure. You let him give and take without question.

You moaned into his mouth as he began to pump his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that perfect spot inside you. His thumb found your clit, circling it in tight, precise movements that had you trembling beneath him.

You knew you should stop. You knew this was dangerous, that you were setting yourself up for heartbreak. But as Steve continued working your body, you could only continue to succumb to your desperation for him, the thing that flickered in and out of your life.

"Steve, please," you whimpered, teetering on the edge of release. "I need you inside me."

Steve growled low in his throat, withdrawing his fingers. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough with desire.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The raw emotion you saw there – lust, possessiveness, and something deeper you couldn't quite name – took your breath away.

Steve pushed forward slowly, stretching you as he sank into your heat inch by glorious inch. You both groaned at the exquisite feeling of him filling you completely. When he was fully seated, he paused, giving you a moment to adjust to his size.

"You feel so good," Steve murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and perfect for me."

You whimpered in response, overwhelmed by the fullness and the intensity of having Steve so close, here with you.

Steve began to move, starting with slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping with each roll of his hips. His eyes never left yours as he gradually increased his pace, the intensity of his gaze making you feel utterly exposed and vulnerable.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, snapping his hips forcefully. "To be filled by my cock, stretched around me?"

"Yes," you moaned, your nails raking down his back. "God, yes, Steve."

The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and Steve's low grunts. He hooked one of your legs over his arm, changing the angle to hit even deeper inside you.

"Fuck," you cried out as he struck that perfect spot.

"You like that?" he panted, driving into you relentlessly. "You like how I fuck you?"

"Yes," you whimpered, your nails raking down his back. "God, yes!"

His rhythm became more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. The intensity of his thrusts had you clinging to him, pleasure building within you with each powerful stroke.

“Then fucking take what I give you,” he said.

Your mind lost everything except the feeling of Steve moving inside you, the sound of skin on skin, and the increasingly desperate noises falling from both your lips. Steve's rhythm became more frantic, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. The intensity of his thrusts had you clinging to him, nails digging into his back as pleasure built within you.

"Open your eyes," Steve demanded, his voice strained.

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze, not realizing you’d let them slip closed. The raw emotion you saw there – desire, possessiveness, and something deeper you couldn't quite name – took your breath away.

"I want to see you fall apart," he growled, never breaking eye contact as he continued to drive into you relentlessly. "I want to watch what only I can do to you."

One of his hands snaked between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with practiced precision. The dual sensations of his cock pounding into you and his fingers on your sensitive bud quickly pushed you towards the edge.

"Come for me," Steve commanded, his voice strained. "I want to feel you come around my cock."

His words and the relentless pressure on your clit sent you spiraling into ecstasy. You cried out Steve's name as your orgasm crashed over you, your inner walls clenching tightly around him. The intensity of your climax triggered Steve's own release. “Look so pretty when you fall apart,” he groaned, burying himself deep inside you as he came. “So pretty with my cock inside your cunt.”

For a moment, you both lay there, panting and trembling in the aftermath. Steve's weight pressed you into the mattress, but you relished the feeling of being surrounded by him.

When he finally lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "More than okay."

Steve rolled to the side, pulling you with him so you were curled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close as your breathing slowly returned to normal. For a few moments, you simply lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow.

But as the haze of pleasure began to fade, reality started to creep back in. Questions swirled in your mind - why was he here? How long would he stay this time? When would you see him again, if ever?

As if sensing your thoughts, Steve's arms tightened around you. "I should go," he murmured.

“You say should go, that you shouldn’t have come here, that you shouldn’t have sought me out at the night club, I’m so tired of should’s, Steve.”

“What are you saying?”

You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him. "I'm saying... I don't know what I'm saying. Parts of this are confusing, Steve. You show up out of nowhere, rock my world, and then disappear again. I never know when or if I'll see you next. It's exhilarating and amazing when you're here, and maybe that’s all this needs to be."

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. The conflict in Steve's eyes was clear. "You can’t mean that.”

“I’m an adult woman, Steve. I’ve built a life for myself. Let me know what I mean. If I make good or bad choices, they’re mine.”

Steve's jaw clenched as he considered your words. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "You deserve better than this. Better than stolen moments and uncertainty."

"Maybe," you conceded. "But right now, this is what I want."

Steve searched your face, his eyes intense. "You don't know what you're asking for. The danger I'm in, the life I lead now, it's no life for anyone else."

You sat up, pulling the sheet around you. "I'm not asking to join you on missions or be part of your team, Steve. I'm just asking for this to be fine and not a ‘shouldn’t’ anymore."

He sat up as well and ran a hand down your back. You looked over at him.

“That’s all I could give you.”

Your heart swelled painfully in your chest, but you ached for more. He set your bones on fire and made you feel so good. The logical part of your brain knew this was a dangerous path. But in this moment, with Steve's warmth beside you and the lingering afterglow of pleasure, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

"Then give me that," you said softly, meeting his gaze.

And how was this any worse than the fuckboys, the bad relationships that had crashed or stuttered out, or the periods of solitude and celibacy?

"Give me whatever you can," your voice was resolute.

Steve's eyes searched yours, a mix of longing and conflict swirling in their blue depths. For a moment, you thought he might refuse, might pull away and disappear into the night as suddenly as he had appeared. But then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

"Okay," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Relief flooded through you at Steve's agreement. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. Steve responded immediately, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss.

When you broke apart, Steve rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“I’m thirsty,” you said. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, I’m plenty thirsty,” he replied. “I’ll have some water, but I’ll also have something else when you come back,” he emphasized by slipping his hand between your legs to cup your pussy, curling one of his fingers into your folds, and you moaned.

You quickly but reluctantly pulled yourself away from Steve's touch, shivering as his finger slipped out of you. As you stood, you could feel the evidence of your escapades trickling down your thighs. You padded across the room, snagging Steve's discarded t-shirt from the floor and slipping it on. The soft cotton draped over your curves, the hem barely skimming the tops of your thighs.

The hardwood floor was cool beneath your bare feet as you padded down the hallway towards the kitchen. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of traffic from the street below.

You pulled two cups out of your cupboard, then opened the refrigerator to pull out your water pitcher. As you pulled the door open, the interior light illuminated the contents, and you did a double take.

There, on the middle shelf, sat a familiar white takeout container that definitely hadn't been there earlier. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the logo emblazoned on top - it was from Bella Notte, your favorite Italian restaurant in the city.

With trembling fingers, you reached for the container, already knowing what you'd find inside. As you lifted the lid, the rich aroma of coffee and cocoa wafted up, confirming your suspicions. It was their famous tiramisu, the very same dessert you and Steve had shared that night in September when he'd shown up unexpectedly at your door.

The sight of it brought a flood of memories rushing back.

You’d been fine when he left in September.

You’d been fine when he left the first time.

You would be fine when he left this time.

You would be.

This was fine.

next part: March 10, 2018

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

So this is it! This is the last encounter that brings us now to the original pieces of Nomad Steve March 10 and then March 21 (back when this was one random drable and one follow up).

And what now, you ask? There are four more parts I have planned out for them formally.

read more in the Exiled Nomad Series

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers x yn #female reader #curvy reader #aspen wrote something #exiled nomad series #aspen's valentine storygrams

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bbokicidal · 2 days ago

Note

AHHH JUST READ YOU F-BOY SKZ ASK AND IM ACTUALLY SO INTERESTED TI SEE WHAT YOU WOULD WRITE GISJDJDHDHDHD

Ahhh!!! What do you want???? (MDNI)

Fuckboy!Chris who you meet bc you're both on the soccer team; who you think is a sweetheart and really chill, nice guy only to find out he hooks up w/ three bad bitches a night at parties and you become one of his regulars T~T

Fuckboy!Minho who actually doesn't give a shit about you and only hooks up w/ you for sex (and it's bangin) until he has a falling out w/ a friend and confides in you on accident only to find out you're actually... kind of.. cool??

Fuckboy!Changbin who you meet at the gym, who initially seems really sweet and gentleman-like until he's pounding you in the locker room shower w/ a hand over your mouth so you don't get caught <333

Fuckboy!Hyunjin who you meet bc you're a model for his painting class, who tells you that this week's project is a nude model painting when in actuality he just wants to see you naked and have a relic of you in his own art style (and bc like., youre hot and hes tryna fuck)

Fuckboy!Jisung who takes you on one date before rearranging your insides in his (roommate's) car before you can even get home - then admits to ogling you every time you have class together, in your pretty low cut tops. blames u, says u do it on purpose to tease him. :c <3

Fuckboy!Felix who pours water all over himself during Rugby practice because he knows you're watching from the sidelines during your lil cheer practice <33 (then fucks you afterwards in the locker room while telling you how pretty you are.)

Fuckboy!Seungmin who is top of the class and doesn't play when it comes to his grades - who becomes your tutor and calls you a dumb slut when you get something wrong, only to take action when he realizes you like it when he degrades you. (he buries two fingers in you knuckle deep and tells you to keep working. if you fumble, he won't move. :( )

Fuckboy!Jeongin who keeps sticking his tongue out at you during class and making sexual hand gestures under the table just to tease you until you confront him about it in the hall. he thinks it's cute you're all whiny about how forward he is and how red you are when you're pissy, but you're a lot less bratty when he's got you bent over a desk in an empty classroom. <3

#skz imagine #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut

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wingedhallows · 3 days ago

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— PRIDE AND SELF-SABOTAGING —

♡ CHAPTER ONE ♡ — ₊˚⊹♡ PAIRING ; 1.5k words vi!basketball jockey x reader!ballerina — ₊˚⊹♡ SYNOPSIS There was something there—something unspoken, something undeniable. But in one careless moment, it all fell apart. Words were said, pride got in the way, and now she’s left with nothing but regret. She wants to fix it. She has to. Now, Vi is determined to fix what she broke. She’ll do anything—everything—to prove she didn’t mean it. But pride is a stubborn thing, and second chances don’t come easy. Can she turn the tide before it’s too late? Or has she already lost what she never had the courage to claim?

♡ navigation ♡

¸.*☆*.¸⁭ CHAPTER INDEX ¸.*☆*.¸⁭

— ₊˚⊹♡ TAG, YOU'RE IT

let me know below or send me a message and i'll add you to the taglist! :)

It’s nearly eight by the time you finally trudge into your dorm, limbs aching and feet screaming in protest. Ballet practice had dragged on forever, each repetition chipping away at your already dwindling energy. You barely have the strength to drop your gym bag by the door, let alone deal with anything else. Your bed is still a tangled mess from this morning—an inviting sight, whispering promises of rest.

The door swings open behind you before you even have a chance to collapse.

“There you are! I have the dress you’ve been eyeing.”

Margot’s voice is as bright as ever, cutting through your exhaustion like a knife. You let out a long sigh, already cursing your past self for ever agreeing to that damn frat party. The idea of squeezing into some overpriced, barely-there dress and subjecting yourself to a room full of sweaty, drunken people sounds about as appealing as running another hour of drills. Your unmade bed is calling your name, and yet—

“Don’t give me that face. You promised.” Margot flops onto your bed with a smug grin, completely unbothered by the mess. She places the sleek black dress beside your gym bag, fingers smoothing over the fabric like it’s some kind of sacred offering.

“Shut it.” You mutter, grabbing the dress with wary fingers, holding it up as if it might bite. Your brows knit together. “Why is it so damn short?”

Margot gasps, placing a hand over her heart like you’ve mortally offended her. “My love, my light—just put the damn dress on.” Her voice drips with amusement, and for a brief moment, you consider using the dress to strangle her.

Instead, you exhale through your nose, shaking your head. “Let me take a shower first, you gremlin.” With a sigh, you toss the dress back onto the bed and grab a fresh set of underwear.

Margot waves a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine. I’ll just watch Love Island in the meantime.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smirk that tugs at your lips. With that, you disappear into the bathroom, already savoring the thought of hot water washing away the exhaustion of the day.

Something tells you you’re going to need it—because whatever’s waiting for you at that party? It’s bound to be a disaster.

By the time you, Margot, and Flint arrive at the party, the night air has turned bitterly cold. The kind of cold that bites at your exposed skin and makes you question every life choice that led you here—especially the one where you let Margot convince you that a jacket was “so unnecessary.”

The house is alive with noise and movement. Music booms from inside, rattling the walls, and the wide-open door spills golden light onto the porch, where groups of people linger, red solo cups in hand, laughter and cigarette smoke curling into the night. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, seriously considering turning around and walking right back to the warmth of your dorm. But Margot’s grip on your wrist is vice-like, and you swear she’d dislocate your shoulder before letting you escape.

“I can already taste the cider,” Flint grins, brushing a strand of auburn hair from his face as he strides ahead, leading the three of you inside.

Margot wasn’t lying about the temperature—it’s suffocatingly hot. The air is thick with body heat, cheap cologne, and the unmistakable scent of spiked punch. The house itself is barebones, exactly what you’d expect from the basketball team’s party pad: a battered leather couch shoved against the back wall, a TV teetering precariously on an ancient stand, and an assortment of mismatched furniture that looks like it was either stolen or salvaged from the side of the road.

Margot wastes no time pulling you through the crowd, her greetings blending into the music as she waves at nearly everyone she passes. Flint does the same, flashing grins and tossing casual nods like he’s in his element. You, on the other hand, are starting to wonder just how much time these two spend with the basketball team.

Before you can even think about hunting down a drink—some liquid courage to make this night bearable—a muscular arm snakes around your shoulders. The scent of sharp cologne hits you before you even see her.

Abby.

“There’s my favorite ballerina,” she says, her voice rich with amusement as she presses a cold bottle of beer into your hand.

You offer a small smile, taking it without protest. You know how this goes—she’ll remember in about twenty minutes that you don’t actually like beer and take it back, but for now, it’s easier to just hold it.

“Come on, you gotta meet some people.” Abby doesn’t wait for a response before tugging you along, effortlessly sweeping Margot and Flint into her orbit as well.

She leads you toward the couch, where familiar faces come into view. Ellie—a close friend of Abby’s, someone you get along with well enough. Ekko—a mutual acquaintance, though the specifics blur in your mind. But then—

Your breath catches for just a second.

She’s there.

Perched on the couch like she owns the place, her signature confidence practically radiating from her posture. Legs spread wide, a silent declaration of presence, of dominance—like she has something to prove.

Violet.

Your throat tightens as Abby practically shoves you into an armchair, directly across from Vi. The room feels stifling now, thick with the scent of alcohol and weed, the air buzzing with laughter and conversation, but all of it fades into the background the moment Abby starts her introductions.

She gestures around with that smug grin of hers, name-dropping people you already know—Ellie, Dina—but then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she nods toward her.

“And that’s the star of the show, Violet, but don’t call her that.”

Your stomach clenches as your gaze flickers to Vi, and—oh.

She’s looking at you. Not just looking, devouring.

Lidded eyes, heavy from booze and whatever else is floating through this party, trace over you like she’s committing you to memory. And when her tongue flicks out to drag slowly across her lower lip, your breath stutters. Your pulse is a traitor, hammering wildly in your chest.

And Vi? Vi is trying so damn hard to play it cool.

Relax. Don’t be weird. Just—act normal.

She rakes a hand through her short pink hair, willing her heart to calm the fuck down, but—gods, you’re so fucking pretty.

“Nice to meet you,” Vi says, her voice low and smooth, the kind of rich, golden tone that makes something in your stomach twist.

Shit.

“Likewise.” Your own voice comes out softer than you’d like, barely above a breath. You internally curse yourself for sounding so meek.

A lazy grin pulls at Vi’s lips, and she looks away just long enough to take a slow sip from her cup—like she’s giving you a moment to catch your breath, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. And goddamn, does she.

"A pretty bird, mh?” Abby grins, her voice lilting with amusement, and your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hand. Suddenly, beer doesn’t seem so bad. You take a sip, hoping the alcohol will dull the way your heart is slamming against your ribs.

Vi lets out a low chuckle, slow and deliberate, and nods. “Pretty indeed.”

You swear you might combust on the spot.

“Interested?” Abby nudges Vi, her grin widening.

Vi scoffs, but her heart lurches violently in her chest. Fuck Abby. Fuck her teasing. And fuck the way you’re looking at her right now—like you’re actually waiting for her response, like the answer matters.

Her pride flares up. Her stupid, self-sabotaging brain jumps in before she can stop it. And before she can even think—

“Nope. Not my type.”

The words slip out, sharp and cold. The moment they leave her mouth, panic slams into her like a freight train.

What the fuck did she just say?

Your stomach drops. The sharp sting of humiliation settles deep in your chest, twisting tight like a blade.

She said it so easily. So carelessly. Like you weren’t sitting right there.

Vi swallows hard, but it’s too late to take it back. The damage is done.

And then she sees it—sees the way your eyes flicker away from hers, the way your fingers clench around the neck of the bottle like you’re grounding yourself against the sting.

Fuck.

She fucked up.

And judging by the way your expression hardens ever so slightly, the way you shut yourself off in an instant—Vi knows she might not get another chance to fix it.

The conversation grinds to a halt, the weight of Vi’s words settling over you like a lead blanket. Your stomach twists, heat creeping up your neck, burning with the kind of humiliation that makes your skin feel too tight. You force down another sip of beer, but it does nothing to drown out the sting, the way the rejection rings in your ears, sharp and merciless.

You flick your gaze to Margot—please. A silent, desperate plea to leave, to run, to just get the fuck out of here before the lump in your throat gives you away.

Fuck Abby. Fuck this party. And most of all—fuck Vi.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ TAGLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚

( @foralltheprettygirls ; @sawaagyapong ; @jivimatcha ; @majuia ; @uhmidkmuch ; @savedforlaterr ; @baylegend6 ; @elle-girlylesbian @dazevi )

#vi arcane #arcane #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi imagine #vi league of legends #vi arcane fluff #vi arcane imagine #vi angst #vi masterlist #vi arcane angst #vi arcane x reader #vi arcane fanfic #vi arcane x y/n #violet arcane #arcane vi #vi fanfic

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enyaliuswrites · 1 day ago

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➽ Senior!Caleb x fem!reader

Tags: College AU, reader doesn't have to be MC, fluff. From this request

Going on a camping trip with your friends has always been something you’ve saved in the back of your mind and now with your generous college professor organizing this trip you’ve mentally checked it off your mental bucket list.

However, laughing and sharing snacks with your friends near the back of the bus now feels unreal. Especially with a certain senior of yours, just a few seats behind yours, who you keep stealing glances at.

“Whatcha starin’ at?” your friend asked, turning around and seeing the lilac-eyed senior as she turned back with a grin, “Checking out Caleb? I mean who would’ve known Mr. A+ would take the same free elective as us. Totally get you, he’s an absolute feast for the eyes.”

“Shut up! I wasn't looking!” you hissed, cheeks burning as you glanced around, hoping no one else on the bus had heard her. Desperate to change the subject, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a deep voice cuts in instead.

Looking up at the source of the voice, you see a strikingly handsome male student, casually dressed, gripping the seat tightly as he balances himself on the moving bus.

“I was wondering if-”

“Hey! It’s dangerous standing here, let’s go back.” Caleb's voice cuts through, commanding and confident. He had appeared so suddenly that it made you flinch and garnered attention from the professor.

“Sit back down, boys. It’s dangerous.” the professor called out as Caleb gave a quick nod. With a firm grip on the student’s shoulder, he pulled him back with a force that left no room for argument.

“Sorry to bother you, girls.” Caleb added, flashing a smile that made your heart skip a beat as he dragged the student back to his seat.

Stunned, you turned to your friends, who were equally speechless, as you all began talking at once—some giggling, others blushing furiously.

As you and your friends struggled to put your tent together for the nth time that evening a very helpful senior just happened to be in the area (even though this was the designated girl’s tent area) and offered help. In just less than 10 minutes the giant tent was set up flawlessly and your friends rushed in to check what it looked like from the inside.

Turning around to thank Caleb you discovered that he had just vanished into thin air. As you spun on your heels, you finally spotted his tall figure walking away in the distance. Strange. Throughout all of today you must've seen him like a dozen times—of course that’s to be said, you WERE on a trip together, but something was just off with whenever he showed up.

When you were out of breath from hiking up the mountain, one of your classmates had offered his bottle of water after you had drunk all of yours. You weren't going to accept it, since he had already drank half of it, but Caleb magically appeared and handed you an unopened bottle of water before grabbing the poor guy’s wrist and disappeared into the group.

Or when the same guy on the bus had found a stick and was just about to give it to you. Caleb had also turned up from thin air and given you a studier hiking stick, before pulling the guy away behind some thick trees, leaving you to your friends' relentless teasing.

Or how about when-

“Hey! Helloo? I called your name like 20 times.” You’re met face to face with your friend as you instinctively yank your head back before taking a deep breath and shaking it off. You turn slightly on the sleeping bag, glancing up at the tent as you readjust your pillow.

“Sorry, Sorry. What were you saying?” You apologize as your friend shakes her head and sighs at you. Suddenly you heard a faint rustling noise outside. Flicking your head left and right you start to feel a little paranoid, “Bears?”

“There’s no bears here. Probably a bunny or even the wind. Calm down, the professor assured us that it’s safe.” Your friend’s reassurance calms the rapid thumping of your heart as she starts to rant about assignments and soon you both find yourselves drifting off to sleep.

Caleb was glad that your friend was an idiot. Well, not an idiot, but not nosy. His lips tugged into a smile as he heard your even soft breathing, the thin nylon being the only wall between you two. Caleb had always had trouble falling asleep, so when he heard shuffling and hushed snickers he almost immediately got up and out of his tent. And he was glad he did.

The three boys that had tried to sneak into your tent were now all battered up, lying on the grass. What a bunch of perverts. There was just no end to these creeps; from the nobody on the bus, the loser who tried to give you water that he had already drank from, the clown who tried to give you such a thin flimsy stick as a hiking stick, to these peeping toms.

“I’m sure you guys aren’t that dumb, so you should know what this means.” He squatted down, grabbing the beaten up boy’s chin, forcing him to look at Caleb's piercing lilac eyes. He nodded frantically, his body shaking as he could only see out of one eye, the other swollen and bruised.

Caleb stood back up, a sigh leaving his lips as he watched the boys chaotically dragged each other away as far as possible, tripping over each other in the process. You were so innocent, pure and kind. Caleb wouldn’t allow for anyone to taint that innocence or to even come near you, especially not low-lives like them. He would take care of you, even if he had to from a distance. Hopefully one day you’ll see how much he loves you.

A/N: Honestly this took be a lot longer than expected. I hope you guys like it!! Please give me more asks/submissions because my mind is blank and the combination of work and assignments are killing me. As always, stay delusional! (*´∀`*)

#enyaliuswrites #love and deepspace #lads x reader #love and deepspace x you #caleb fluff #caleb x reader #caleb x you #lads fluff #lads x you #l&ds #xia yizhou x reader #xia yizhou

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relia-robot-writes · 3 days ago

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I'll fuckin do it pal don't tempt me

---

"Number three reactor's going critical! Repeat, cascade event imminent! Clear the bay!"

"Eject, 43!"

"Negative, command." 43 wiped blood from her eyes as she watched the countdown on the monitor tick. "There's still time to get it under control, but I have to be here to do that." There was an awful crunching noise from her left leg, the mechanisms finally failing after the beating they'd taken. 43 howled in agony as the force-feedback sensors let her know just how bad it was. She stopped for a moment, hunched and panting at the controls, sweat and blood dripping off her chin. She spat, and adjusted her reactor dials to give herself another precious handful of moments. She dragged herself forward, through a haze of pain and half-heard shouting over the comms. The lip of the bay turned out to be too much, and she collapsed, a long, drawn-out process she felt every inch of. Darkness pulled at her vision, and she tried to blink it away, to will herself to get back up, keep the reactor stable. She heard the sounds of laser cutters, and then suddenly there were hands all over her, disconnecting the force feedback systems, smearing the blood and oil she was covered in, tearing her hands off the controls. She fought back, kicking and screaming, desperate to get back to the monitor, to keep the countdown from finishing just a moment longer-

It stopped. "REACTOR STABILIZED," read the screen. "TIME REMAINING BEFORE MELTDOWN" was paused at 0:03.

43 collapsed, allowed herself to be pulled away, made small again. After some amount of time which might have been seconds or could have been years, a hand reached down to pull her chin up.

"You look like hell, 43."

43 tried to stumble to her feet, to salute, but only managed to fall off the chair onto her knees. Behind her handler, the ground crew was spraying coolant foam at the reactor casing they'd pulled out of her. A crane had been enlisted to move her shattered leg so the bay door could close properly, and the ground crew was already cutting and pulling at the twisted mass of metal that had been her left arm. 43 blinked, hard, and rubbed her biological left arm, trying to restore feeling to it.

Her handler ran her fingers through 43's hair. "You've had a rough day," she cooed at her. "Let's get you patched up, and then you can get your reward."

43 shivered.

---

The med room was bright - far too bright, after the warm soft red lighting of the cockpit - but the checkup didn't take long. Some dermis sealant for the lacerations taken when the cockpit caved in on her, and every other wound was psychological. Her leg still dragged behind her, and she had to remind herself not to hobble.

Her handler met her at the exit, holding a package. "Hit the showers, 43. You've earned it. I got you something to wear," (43 looked down at her flight suit, stained with every kind of fluid and sliced half to ribbons) "so meet me in the larboard lounge when you're done."

43's heart skipped a beat as she accepted the package. Larboard lounge? That was only a two-person space, nicknamed "lover's lounge" by the crew. What did her hander want from her there?

The shower, at least, was a godsend. The waters ran black, then burnt red, and finally, eventually, white with suds. 43's hair was short by necessity, but it felt like it had been caked with thick mud. Warm water ran over her, relaxing tense muscles and reminding her that she was in this body, here, at least for now. The package turned out to contain a luxuriously soft towel and, of all things, a set of soft green cotton pajamas, with slippers. 43 slipped them on and threw her old flight suit straight into the waste recycler.

She made her way to Larboard lounge, unsure of what to do. Should she... unbutton her top? A little? Was her handler expecting her to... or would she... 43 was red in the face thinking about the possibilities. It had never happened to her, but, she'd heard stories of... fraternization. Did she want that? Did she have a choice? And why these pajamas?

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she went right past the lounge. A hand on her shoulder caught her. "Hey, 43, you missed!"

Visions of leather and lace boiled up in 43's head as she slowly turned to see her handler... in the standard base uniform. Her handler was pretty, she thought, looking at her face, barely blinking, barely breathing. What now?

"43? You okay?" Her handler gave her a concerned look. "I got something for you, but if you're not up to it..."

43 shook her head, trying to clear cobwebs, embarrassment, fatigue, and the echoes of flashing reactor alarms all at once. "No, Ma'am! I- I'm fine!"

Her handler gave her a look 43 couldn't decipher, her head still half-full of fog, but dropped it. "Here," she said, steering 43 into the lounge. "This will be good for you."

Inside, 43 expected to find - well, she wasn't certain. Whips and chains? A school desk? A simple cot? All wrong, it seemed. Instead, there was a small table, set for two, and a lavish spread - real strawberries, fried protein rations arranged delicately, an artfully twisted nest of long noodles in a sauce that smelled of garlic and herbs, and a few other things set aside under metal domes for later. 43's stomach growled, and she blinked. "Wha?"

Her handler pulled out a chair for her and placed her hand on her shoulder to help her sit down. "Tada! I've been saving this stuff for a special occasion."

43 was at a loss for words as her handler sat down across the table from her. She managed to recover her tongue, but could only think to say one thing: "Why?"

"Why not?"

"I- I failed the mission, is why not! I didn't secure the objective, I got shot up so bad it'll take weeks to refit me - it - whatever! I lost everything! I should be punished, not-" 43 stopped, a hot feeling buzzing behind her eyes.

Her handler got up, walked to her side, kneeled down, and took her hand. "You came back," she said, softly. "That's worth celebrating."

43 resisted for a moment, then broke down sobbing onto her handler's shoulder. Her handler held her for a long time.

Eventually, she pulled back, and her handler offered her a handkerchief. 43 blew her nose, and then looked at her handler again. "Oh, your uniform..."

She waved off the comment. "I've got others. Let's eat, before it gets cold."

43 took a bite, and it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.

#relia writes #eggbug writes #science fiction #mecha #handler out here like #im doing a great job and going to get a good grade in handling pilots

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