#fragile remedy

[jenyifer]

Hum I realized I haven’t shared any of my book recs on here. I know I should watch new bl. I plan on finding something in June.

Since I got broken up I’ve been reading lgbt books. My ex gf had been showing me things about being lgbt that I had never imagined before and without her I still wanted to learn to experience different stories. So I used my love of fantasy and sci-fi and started listening and reading as much as I could. I don’t really care for overly spicy things but I like when the characters are realistic adults. So keep that in mind with this list.

1. The House in the Cerulean Sea 10/10 Fantasy great characters and mc growth. Found family always gets me. The ending was perfect. I’ve listened to it 15 times and forced my parents and uncle to read it. I’m excited for book 2.

2. The Darkness Outside of Us. 10/10 Sci-fi Space. This book made me feel so much. Surprised me. Had me gasping for air in my cube to the point people had to ask if I was okay. Had me running to the car to cry as I listened to the last part. Go in blind and enjoy the space and gay of it all.

3. Dark Rise 10/10 Classic Fantasy It is incredibly rare any book surprises me. Most of the time I can guess the plot a mile away. Dark Rise hit me over the head a couple times had me crying. But it was so epic and adventurous reminded of the feeling I had reading David Eddings as a child. (Not that lgbt as I would have liked but… it was there I assume book 2 a lot more)

4. Iron Widow 10/10 Sci-fi Mechs Fantasy Post Apocalypse I adore a mechs and history. It was extremely exciting. I adore the main couple even though main girl is actually mentally unstable but you love her anyways.

5. The Extraordinaries 9/10 Superhero. The main character is lovably stupid aside from his ADHD which I can relate on. I loved the lesbian side couple. The story was fun felt like it was written for the early college me who loved superheroes.

5. Adam Binder Series White Trash Warlock 9/10. Urban Fantasy. It gives me flash backs to Harry Dresden and Iron Druid but not in the obvious way just in vibe. I love main characters being country. I’m from Mississippi not Oklahoma but I can relate to being a gay in a small town moving to a big city. I love the main couple. The mystery magic system was interesting. I wish it had a bit more romance actually. Just because I love the main couple and side characters a lot and want happiness. I wish I could get more people to read this one it’s wonderful a lot better than a lot of urban str8 fantasy I’ve read and it was my main category for years. The mystery element was decent. I need to start book 3.

6. Ocean’s Echo 8.5/10 sci-fi mystery the main characters are… so wonderful. They are extreme but I love them so much. I’ll protect them to the end of days. I have this book over it’s… I guess in the same universe book Winter’s Orbit because I think the mystery suspense is more intense in Ocean’s echo also much more spacey sci-fi. Romance is also arranged marriage but is VERY different from winters orbit. I wish… I wish this book wasn’t associated with the other because it gets unfairly compared because the narrator is the same etc but Ocean’s Echo is great in its own right and is definitely not a copy

7. Winter’s Orbit 8.5/10 MYSTERY sci-fi edging on fantasy. Arranged marriage. Slow burn. These characters are also 10/10 I love them. I have experienced an abusive relationship before and appreciated seeing a character with the scars a similar past. Often if a character is portrayed as in an abusive relationship they focus on the event but it effects Everything in your world. Even now I have these scars after 8 years. I loved the mystery it was the main focus which I liked. The romance felt natural.

8. Fragile Remedy 8/10 one of the first books I read it made me cry and was a good single dystopian gem. Had a real… divergent hunger games kind of vibe to the world from what I remember.

9. Lightning struck heart 7/10 classic fantasy this is what I said on my insta at the time “It is an extremely comedic fantasy adventure with wizards, unicorns, knights, and dragons. Right up my alley! However the ending was disappointing. I'll listen to the next book in the series and hope it improves. Just found character arch unbelievable in last chapters.”

10. A wish upon a star by tj klune ^follow up books I read like 4 of them 5/10 I did stop listening to it this is what I said on my insta “Well I continued listening the tales of verania series and made it to the original end of the series. I'd say if you want a gay fantasy comedy without too much thinking Listen to the audio. Narrator is the biggest part of why I didn't quit. Idk if I'll read the other books though it is very friendship is magic smooth brain ideas I've read”

Unable to finish (been desperately trying to find a lesbian story and finding nothing)

Girl, Serpent, Thorn 4/10 my review from insta “Unable to finish it. The world is interesting. The first 3rd seemed promising but after major conflict the writing goes way down. But the MC doesn't grow. The f/f is so shallow it made me roll my.eyes until I had to stop listening. Wanted the bad guy to win and kill everyone”

The Midnight Girls. So intensely annoying and childish. I couldn’t do it I think I made it to chapter 3 but it was a struggle.

In the ravenous dark. I got to one third of the audio book and had to stop. The universe was okay but main girl was very annoying. Was kind of hoping her and the ghost would be together not… not the weird bullshit that was going on. Idk what the end of the book was going to be but it was not for me.

I’ll post another with my current to read list. I’m really going through them now because I have to drive two hours a day to and from work. Give me your suggestions though please thank you.

[virgil-630]

It's my birthday today🎉

so I thought I'd put together a bunch of my favorite pieces from this year

I will be very happy if you reblog this post or order commission from me, and I will have something to buy my pills and go to the doctors for

[furansupanchimera]

THIS LOOKS SO COOLLLL I yearn for more Fragile Remedy content, literally one of the best books I've read all year frfr TO ANYONE WHO'S READING THIS AND HASN'T READ IT YET U SHOULD GRGRGR >: (

color sketch i did of Alden💜💜 My favorite character in Fragile Remedy. This book is so gooood 💜😫💜

[anyoneoranythingbesidesyou]

Doesn't he look so handsome on her shoulder.

Death Stranding Puppet that looks like Ilkka Villi but is based on Fatih Akin

[arolesbianism]

I have been playing beastieball and first of all very good game second of all smth smth Olivia Broussard

[mars-ipan]

i’m hungry but god i do not want to move rn

[abyssyby]

to be devoured, to be held

— a storm brews in your head as you grapple with the longing to take up a little more space in sylus’s life— would he mind?

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: something i conjured up @ 2am thinking about spending time with sylus fresh-relationship, when things are still a little fragile & a little unsure. struggling w this myself, to all who do— you are allowed to take up space. you are enough. fueled by the singular image of sylus chasing fingers with kisses. also!!! the free 5 star henckskd i canT WAIT 😫. enjoy! ❀-urs

sylus x reader | angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, self-conscious reader, overthinker sylus, longing, smoochie kisses, face masks!

Sylus is visibly busy. He doesn’t move much when he works, resembling more a statue really— one carved with passion and love, if you were to gush. 

Were it not for the rapid flickering of his eyes and the tack-tack-tack of his fingers on his keyboard, you’d wonder if he was even breathing. 

Your gaze lingers on the thin-framed glasses you gifted him, now perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t need them, you’d think regeneration would grant him immunity against mere blue-light, but he wears them anyway. A silent gratitude, a heart-fluttering token of you in all his endeavors. Your fingers itch to push them up just that little bit. 

But he’s busy. 

You linger by the door of his office. Meticulous as you take in the set of his jaw, the slight pout of his lips, the subtle crease in his brow and his soft, disheveled hair. You swallow down the burn to run your fingers through the cloud-like tufts and smooth them away from his forehead. 

He’s busy. 

“Sweetie.” You stiffen, pulled from the haze by low, thundering endearment. His eyes never leave the screen, his fingers never cease typing. But you know he’s got every intention of luring you in like a siren. 

“Mm?” you reply, clearing you throat. How you can make a simple hum so utterly pathetic, you’ve no idea. Your face heats, your scalp prickles. Your gut churns at how little of him it takes to undo you.

But he only smiles, just the slightest bit. Eyes require strain to capture its split-second existence. “Need something?”

Your eyes widen. Oh, the last thing you want is for him to think you’re insensitive and entitled enough to distract him. “No— no! I’m okay.” 

His brow raises. The clacking beneath his fingers is silenced. Once shifting eyes now focused on you. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “Yes. I’ll go.” 

You’re turning away before he catches a glimpse of the tingles you feel beneath your skin. You shouldn’t disturb him. He had come home late last night. Slipped into bed to hold you for an hour at most before you felt him drift away once more. Back into his office. To his very important schedule. 

The lump in your throat is remedied by a big gulp of water but the irritation for your self-pity is a fire you cannot easily douse. 

You should be grateful that he accepted you into his home for the holidays. Overjoyed that he’d become more comfortable with your intimate (albeit shy) advances like fingers caressing his own, and lips brushing on any exposed speckle of flesh of his you see. He always indulges you with a shudder and a controlled breath. 

Looks at you like you’d wronged him, like he’s piously holding back unforgivable sin should he touch you back. 

And yet, your chest aches at the lack of attention. You grind your teeth. Dramatically and truthfully, you’re starved, thirsty, and craving for his regard. But how greedy would you be to demand that of him.

Digging your nails in your palms, you relent. He has enough on his plate. He invited you in despite his work schedule. Because you insisted, asked, wanted. And now you must adjust. Be mindful. Behave.

The skin of your cheeks is agitated, you’re sure, when you run your fingers down your face. In hopes to silence a groan. Annoying. Can’t help but be. You’re annoyed— with him, with his work, with yourself for being annoyed. 

Not knowing that as soon as you fled from the threshold, Sylus was quick to stand and follow after you. Had it not been for the shrieking of his infernal phone, you’d be eating your words and thriving in your greed for him by now. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

In three hours, you’ve successfully explored the base in efforts of distracting yourself or making yourself useful— hit the underground gym, sketched the pristine dragon statue down the hall on a piece of sticky note, made an ice cream sandwich, taken a shower and applied your skincare. 

And he— he’d been standing from his desk every few minutes to look for you. But deals were falling through, there are new programs to be coded and all his men were apparently incompetent today. 

He caught glimpses of you— your hair disappearing around corners, your humming as you doodled and made snacks, your silhouette through fogged glass. But something always pulled him away— another problem, another issue, something infuriatingly needing his attention. 

And if he were just so terrible, he’d throw the entirety of Onychinus away just to join you in the shower. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

The clay mask is tightening on your face when you exit the kitchen. Just beginning to crust at the edges, but goopy still. You might have mixed it wrong. The cucumbers you cut out rest on your cheeks for now, until you no longer need to navigate your way through the winding halls from the kitchen back to Sylus’s bedroom. 

A groan escapes your throat as you throw yourself into his plush mattress and silk sheets— knocking the breath out of you at the impact. Gravity pulls your spine down, pops each vertebra into place in a glorious melody of release. Then, you flip the cucumbers over your eyes and draw out a long, loud exhale.

Ten minutes, your app said, orange little happy face promising the silence of your thoughts. Ten minutes of focusing on your breath and your fingers and your toes and your skin. Ten minutes of listening to the sound of a ticking clock you otherwise would never have noticed. Of resisting the urge to twitch a muscle. Of constantly reminding yourself to unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders. Ten minutes of—

“A salad.” 

The bed dips on your side and your breathing— that you’ve been working so hard on— ceases. You feel his hot fingers on your arm, trailing, trickling down to your wrist and over your open palms. Drawing shapes. Making a home. “How appetizing.” 

You don’t need to remove your cucumbers to know the look he has on his face. Cocky, teasing and deep with that unspoken desire. “Got a moment away?” 

He hums. Fed up, he made one final call and warned his partners that if they did anything to disrupt his time with you again, heads would roll— or something along those lines. His phone rests ominously silent in his office. 

Yearning for him all day and finally having him, you are overwhelmed— his touch burns you, and you slip your wrist from his grasp without thinking.

He tries hard not to let that affect him. He is thankful for your lack of vision right now, because the scowl he gives you borderlines on homicidal. 

There is a cant to your tone— one you could not quite be rid of from your initial irritation despite it slowly fizzling away in his presence. One he bristles at. 

“You’ve had a lot on your plate.” you simply state, a supposed expression of sympathy. I feel bad for your workload, I’m sorry I cannot do anything to lighten it. 

But your lips had twitched, pressed into a firm line. This reads like criticism to him— You’d ignored me all day and now, now take this distance as consequence. He swallows. “I have.” 

You rise from your position. He’d laugh if he didn’t feel liquid dread swirling in his stomach now. You pulled away— you don’t want to be touched. Your tone— you don’t want to hear his excuses. He’d scorned you, and now knows not what to do with his lungs or limbs.

“Hungry?” you ask, a cucumber slipping down your eye to your cheek, finally revealing his perplexed gaze and— oh, no. He’s upset. Your mind connects it to your initial worries: of wanting too much, of clinging and pulling him away from the important things. And now he’s here, not there. Had he picked up on your discomfort? Were you so overbearing that he felt the need to check on you? You avert your gaze. 

“I— I made ice cream sandwiches.” because being useful right now seems like the best route. Offering him something he can take and consume for his benefit— that will soften the blow somehow. Make you worth his time. 

And he broods, swallowed in his own clouding thoughts, and follows you to the kitchen. “Alright.” 

The sandwich is a scoop of cookie dough squished between two graham crackers. You put a little mint leaf on top to make it look cute (Keiran commended this detail as Luke choked on it). 

You place it on a plate and serve it to Sylus quietly. 

He barely looks at it. No, he’s too busy, busy, busy with you. What you’re thinking; what you’re feeling. What you think— what you feel for him. “Sweetie—“ 

“It’s cookie dough.” you blurt to fill the deafening silence. Unintentionally loud, drowning out his gentle coaxing. “If— if you want vanilla, there’s vanilla. And, sorry, I don’t know if you like chocolate, but we have some. There’s strawberry too.” 

Sylus furrows his brows. Were you so upset that you didn’t want a word out of him? “Okay.” 

“Enjoy,” you say.

He frowns. “I will.” 

And as he eats, his gaze never leaves you. You in that ridiculous clay mask with cucumbers on your cheeks. In his shirt and your hair in a mangled twist. Your beautiful, divine self— upset with him.

Was it how he failed to approach you throughout the day? Was it something more specific? Something he said? The way he probed for your needs? How he didn’t look at you when you stood by his door? How he didn’t reach for you when you passed his office several times more?

He’d thought you’d wanted space. That you’d appreciate a day without his coddling and clinging, after being so ecstatic about you spending the holidays with him. He asked if you needed something, didn’t he? Asked and, inside, desperately wanted you to say ‘yes, you.’ But now… now?

“It’s delicious.” he finally comments. Shamelessly pushing, testing this boundary you seemed to have put before him. Ever so carefully. Not wanting to make it feel worse that it already does. He must show you how he appreciates you being here. 

“Oh?” 

“I’d like another.”

“Mm.” 

Shit. Has he miscalculated? “I mean… share one with me?” 

Your eyes widen. “Ah.” 

“Or, or not.” He’s fumbling. Tripping and falling over himself but who cares. He can’t take the bile rising up his throat with the way you look at him. Brows scrunched. Hesitant. Wary. It’s sending him into a spiral. “Just… sit with me, please.” 

The hoarseness of his voice is enough to make you soften. Something in you clicks, and your anxiety makes way for his. Work must have been a lot, you think. And he doesn’t deserve your insecurities getting the best of you when he needs you. 

You do as he asks once you take a strawberry sandwich out of the freezer and settle with your own fork. 

“The twins told me you liked strawberry best.” you start, voice now calmer than it was before. Returning like the gradual seeping in of the tide. Sylus— oh, Sylus revels in it quietly. “But I remember you snuck spoonfuls of my cookie dough from my fridge when you were at my place.” 

The acid neutralizes. “Oh?”

“And I thought,” he watches you take a bite, how your plump and shiny lips close around the fork. “What if that was another one of your cover ups? You are particular, yes, but never polarizing. 

“We had this whole debate on whether or not you’d like the strawberry more than the cookie. Luke was very adamant about you only having one favorite.” you cut another piece of the sandwich and bring it up to his lips. An offering. A truce. An understanding. “But if you’ve influenced me to be anything— it’s to be greedy.” 

He takes a bite from your fork. Curling his lips and dragging it over where yours had just been. He is zeroed in on your face, reading every tick, every twitch. And ultimately searching for any absolution. 

He catches your wrist, prays you don’t pull away, and removes the fork from your fingers in favor of his face. He presses his hard edges into the softness of your palm and closes his eyes at the contact. “Tell me what I did so I never do it again.” he breathes.

You frown, blindsided by this reaction— he’s… worried? Anguished and anxious because he thought he was at fault for something? “What?” 

He opens his mouth to explain again but you drag your thumb over his lower lip. He is compelled to silence. “I’m not upset with you.” 

He’s breathless. Clinging to your warmth. “Then what—“

 His lingering stare, almost a scowl, so focused on the micro expressions he cannot read. His sudden distance: a courtesy. It clicks— his upset really just… dejection.

Oh. 

He thinks you were punishing him. 

The thought slams into you, hollow and sickening. So afraid of asking for too much, of being too much— that you never realized how it projected onto him. What it looked like from outside the eye of the hurricane. How it would have made him believe… How could you have let him think—? 

The weight of it presses down, suffocates you harder than the insecurity ever did. You would never— never. But you share this, this inability to comprehend how utterly forgiving and needing the other is. 

So wrapped up in pondering a space you don’t deserve, you’d done this. That space, now, he is mourning. Begging you to fill again, as he drowns in desperation to fix a mistake he never made. 

“I thought I was being a burden.” you mutter, searching his eyes for confirmation that never arrives. “That I was lingering around you too much, hovering and you’d had enough—“

His brows furrow bringing an intensity in his eyes that worsens the caving in your chest.  He exhales then, more than air— everything that has choked and squeezed him inside.

“No. Never.” he cuts you off quickly, too overwhelmed by fear and sorrow and relief to even be the least bit composed. Oh, he was so relieved. His lips chase and kiss the tips of your fingers like a man starved. He mutters, low and clear against your skin, “Could never have enough of you, beloved.” 

You melt into his touch as he circles his arms around your waist and finally pulls you against his warm body. His breath tickles your neck as he presses his face into your shoulder, inhaling the scent of body wash, shampoo and you. “I am yours for the rest of the week.”

“No, stop that.” you argue, but your tone does not reflect. It dissolves, melts away. “Sylus, I’m not asking…”

“Neither am I.” he states, sturdy vibrations traveling from his lips down your spine. “I need to make you greedier. Be greedier for me.”

Your lips press together in a shy smile and you feather them over his pulse point. You seize control of your fingers. At last, you get to push his glasses up his nose, press on the fat of his jutted lip, ease the crumple of his brow and run your fingers through his soft, unkempt hair— just before you kiss him. Consume him. Devour him.

Sylus corrodes at the edges, unmoored at the feel of your lips on his. He presses, holding you to him, needing to be closer, closer, closer. To taste. To feel. To have. 

Putting your each wretched thought of unworthiness to shame. Silenced. Dust.

When you pull away, your eyes take a while to adjust, still giddy and tingling from the static in the air. He lingers, nuzzling into your skin, nose skimming reverently along your cheek. Once your vision returns you let out a genuine giggle. 

He swoons at the sound. Half lidded eyes and lips curved into a stupid smirk, asks, “What?” 

Your laugh escalates into a shriek as he dips to kiss you again and again. “Stop!” 

He’s grinning. The epitome of sunlight. “Why?”

You’re in tears at his appearance— light green smears of clay over his lips and cheeks, a stray cucumber hanging off his jaw. Shaky fingers go to right him, wipe away the remnants of a passionate kiss. Meanwhile, he turns to nip at your wrist and kiss your palm, and you think fondly: it is impossible to clean him up here. He is impossible.

“Come on.” you say instead, dragging him by his fingers which he meticulously intertwines with yours.

He follows, wordlessly, obediently. More than overjoyed to be led to— it does’t matter. He would be led anywhere as long as it were you. He savors how he can press on the soft skin on your palm, how he can so easily stop you in your tracks to kiss you soundly. All because he can. He can and he will. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Not long after, you’re wriggling in his iron grasp, tickled by the movement of his digits on the dips of your waist. You hiss, “Hold still!”

“I’m not the one squirming here, sweetie.” he chuckles, breathy and deep. His hand slides up the curve of your back and up the length of your arm, drawing one up over your head to pin you to the wall. “My little bird, trying to get away? Won’t you check your work?”

“You’re doing this on purpose.” you say pointedly, a fond grin on your gracious lips he cannot help but devour. You stop him in his tracks as he leans down, “We just got you cleaned up!” 

“I can clean up again.” he insists, leans again. To his displeasure, you turn your head to dodge him.

“Let me kiss you.” he whispers, begging with no sense of subtlety. Laid bare and open. With only the thought of tasting you. He nods to the jar in your hand. “Before you put that on me.” 

You click your tongue, but inside your belly swoops at his open expression. Head fuzzy with affection. “You said you couldn’t wait.”

“Your touch is enough to intoxicate and persuade. I am yours all week..” he purrs. He hopes you allow him a kiss— the sudden need make his ears pink. “Sweetie?” 

“One.” you relent, and he is quick to accept. Pressing his lips to yours lightly, to your surprise, as he swallows your gasp in delightful satisfaction. 

He pulls away clean, none of your replenished mask on his face. Then he drops his hands to cage your thighs on the sink you sit on. His eyes glint playfully as he inspects your flustered state, “Done playing around? I can’t wait.” 

You scowl at him— like he didn’t just beg you to… you sigh in kind exasperation and get to work.

To say he was putty in your hands was an understatement. Sylus has always been sensitive, that is a fact, but at every touch of your fingers on the bridge of his nose, the brush of the pads of your thumbs under his eyes, the scrape of your nails just under his jaw make him lose a shuddering breath. The devotion trickles down your spine like rain. 

When you place the cucumbers on his cheeks, he smiles, earth-shattering and gorgeous. Such a powerful man in a matcha-green clay mask. “There.” 

“Now we match.” he says so tenderly it aches. Every valve gives way.

For the rest of the afternoon, you are both in clay masks. Cucumbers over your eyes; happily wrapped around each other in bed like the greedy scum you are. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ more sylus thoughts ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

thank you for reading!

[yandere-daydreams]

exhibit #2 - shark week

an installment of the freak shit march gallery showcase.

pairing: yandere!cullens x reader (twilight).

length: 1.4k.

warnings: non/con, afab!reader, dehumanization, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of medical malpractice, blood, slight initialization, and generalized twilight.

After moving in with the Cullens, your monthly cycles start to follow a similar routine.

‘Moving in’ meaning, of course, accidentally signing your rights to autonomy away to your doctor while you were so loaded up on sedatives the he hand to cup your hand in his just to make you hold the pen, and ‘period’ referring to, of course, the week or so you spent bleeding out in a house full of half-starved vampires. Carlisle claimed that it was dead blood and held little to no nutritional value for their kind, citing his children’s ability to attend the local community college without gutting an eighth of the students every month as evidence that your menstrual cycle wouldn’t cause an unwanted stir. When you reminded him that humans craved plenty of things that weren’t good for them, like chocolate and liquor and dubiously ethical affairs with their unnaturally cold general practitioners, he only hummed and asked what kind of products you preferred.

Esme usually noticed first. Sometimes, she’d catch it before you did, show up to your bedroom door with a warm compress and a tray of comfort food with only a kind smile by way of explanation, and you’d notice the pin-pricks of red dotting your sheets later on. Carlisle would usually be at work by then, so she’d spend her morning fussing over you, holding her hand to your forehead and forcing home-remedies past your lips until you manage to make her believe that one of her bitter teas had cured you wholesale. There’s a thin line between how she treats you when you’re sick and how she treats you on your period. One was a monthly ordeal, the other a hyper-rare occurrence in their meticulously sterile home, but both rendered you faint and encumbered, more receptive to her mothering. She liked it when you needed her. You guessed the reason why didn’t really matter.

(You used to assume that, if you were ever unfortunate enough to meet her, Esme would hate you. She’d see you as a homewrecker, as competition, or failing that, as a nuisance disrupting her otherwise idyllic domestic bliss. But, she’d never been that hostile, treating you more similarly to one of her adoptive children than her husband’s kidnapped mistress. It probably helped that her relationship with Carlisle was built more on a mutual affinity for make-believe than anything as fragile as love or passion. He was playing doctor, and she was playing dolls. He’d taken an interest in you for the former pastime, before gifting you to his wife for the latter.)

Eventually, you’d insist that you’d gotten enough bedrest and needed fresh air. That was when Alice would find you – waiting just outside of your bedroom door, her smile wide and your outfit for that day slung over her arm. As a rule, you did your best to avoid Mr. and Mrs. Wrong Side of the Mason Dixon Line, but she was one of the more forceful Cullens, prone to stepping on your heels and holding your preferred hideaways hostage until you relented to whatever form of dress-up she planned out for you. Normally, she’d be satisfied with doing your hair, testing out make-up swatches on someone with a skin tone darker than ivory, making you try on outfits that never seemed to repeat. On your period, though, she was a little clingier.

“Edward wrote from Belgium,” she’d say, absentmindedly curling her fingers inside of you. Most rooms in the Cullen house didn’t have a bed, so she would settle for the floor – letting you lean against an antique loveseat, skirt pooled around your waist and three crimson-stained digits buried in your cunt. “He’s so old-fashioned. Bella just calls, but no, he doesn’t want Nessie around too many screens. As if the poor thing won’t be fourteen this fall. Oh, and Jasper’s coming home tomorrow. He's already sick of Portland.”

Jasper wasn’t allowed within two hundred miles of Forks when you were on your period. Not after the tampon incident.

If you were loud enough, and you almost always were loud enough, Rosalie would come to your rescue. That was why she was your favorite.

Your time with her was largely spent outside, where it was a little more difficult to be tempted by the blood coursing through your veins. You’d sit on a riverbed with a book in your lap while she kept a measured distance, breaking the silence only to remind you to eat or drink or stretch your legs – little human inconveniences the others liked to forget about. Emmett, meanwhile, would take a more active approach to babysitting, pestering you to skip rocks or trying to make you laugh. Occasionally, he wouldn’t make it to your little picnics, and inevitably, you’d find a pair of your panties missing from your dresser the next day. Eventually, they’d turn up mixed in Rosalie’s collection – always nearly torn to shreds. You tried not to hold it against him. At least he had the decency to disregard your personhood behind your back.

You liked Emmett, but you liked Rosalie more. She was the only one who’d raised her voice to Carlisle the night he brought you home, the only one to continually acknowledge the issue of expecting a lamb to live among its butchers. It was nice – having someone willing to advocate for you. Or, to be able to believe that someone might, at least.

Once, you’d even asked her if she’d be willing to let you escape. Not even help, really, just leave a set of car keys where you could find them, or tell you where Carlisle’s security cameras were hidden, or refuse to cooperate while the rest of her family hunted you for sport. She’d taken minutes to answer. Time seemed to be an overabundant resource to eternal creatures. They were prone to letting it slip by in quantities that often made you, a being with fewer days to spare, feel sick.

“If I thought your life was in danger.”

Your life, of course, referring to your humanity. You doubted she’d have so much sympathy for you once you’d been reduced to yet another walking statue.

“It might not be something they plan.” And then, pulling your knees into your chest, “I’m really scared, Ro.”

She hadn’t said anything. When your attention turned back to your book, she asked you to read aloud.

Later on, Carlisle would come home. He’d spare a quick greeting for the rest of his coven, find whatever pantry or cupboard you’d attempted to hide yourself away in, and guide you back to your bedroom.

Intimacy wasn’t uncommon with him, but penetration was saved solely for your period. He was always slow, always gentle, but when you were bleeding, it was nearly agonizing – his hips grinding lazily into yours, his hands curled around your oak headboard, his unblinking eyes never breaking away from yours. No mind was paid to the unmarred white of Esme’s sheets. He’d watch lovingly as pink-tinged arousal dripped down your thighs, murmur sweet nothings as you cried and whined and whimpered for him to stop, that it hurt, that it wasn’t safe. If he felt like talking, he might list off the medical benefits of period sex – pain relief, stress reduction, heightened libido – or promise to be more careful next time, to have more patience in the future. Most nights, though, it was just your desperation, his adoration, and the dull sound of marble against flesh.

He didn’t need to sleep, but you weren’t so resilient. No matter how many times you came, he’d only let you go when your eyes grew too heavy to hold open, when your sobbed protests died down into little, sniffling complaints, when you finally went limp underneath his rigid form. He would sigh as he pulled out, not sparing any words of comfort before taking you into his arms. There’d be a bath, always so impossibly lukewarm, and then some humiliatingly frilly nightgown – more fitting for a toddler from his era than and adult from yours. If you were lucky, you’d still have the energy to insist on wearing a pad to sleep. If you didn’t, then Carlisle would get his way, and you’d be drenched in your own blood by the next morning.

Without fail, Esme would be perched on the edge of your bed by the time Carlisle finished. They’d both tuck you in – a pair of children putting their toy away after playtime – and you would fall asleep to the vile sounds of Esme lapping your blood off her husband’s cock.

[celesthysaturn]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝕬𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖆 𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌

Yandere Apollo x Human Female darling

Note: kidnapping, manipulation (soft),Gaslighting, Yandere content

Revised and Rewritten

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In this scenario, Apollo's sweetheart was kidnapped and held in his golden temple, until one day she finally decided to try and escape. However, to her misfortune, it was a very bad time to try to escape through the paths of the Olympian forest infested with supernatural dangers and weather, causing her to get lost and injured by obstacles. Soon, after hours of recovering and walking on new paths, Darling was too weak and bruised to continue deciding to accept death or a miracle would happen, but she didn't know that Apollo had already followed her tracks and was patiently waiting for his darling to become completely vulnerable before springing into action, his greatest yandere side flashing through the gloomy atmosphere seconds before Darling lost consciousness.

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• He'd love to take care of his sweetheart, even more so in such a physically and mentally vulnerable state that forcing darling to depend totally on him to survive would make him a little excited. Not that he likes to see his beloved muse sighing in pain and discomfort, of course not, it hurts his heart. However, this moment will bring out his best yanderes tendencies.

• It's the perfect time to use his best skills, even though he is the god of many gifts. He will have the best chance to express his deep love and affection for his sweetheart because of her vulnerability, as she is too delirious and weak to resist his care, and also to show this naive human how foolish it is to try to depend on herself.

"God, you're such a delicate being, and yet you're daring, too daring not to recognize your fragility in the midst of danger out there, let me take care of you to show you where your safe haven really is."

• Being the god of medicine, he will use his divine knowledge of healing to treat wounds, calm fever and relieve uncomfortable pain in an extremely careful and attentive way, as if it were a moment of intimacy and genuine affection with his beloved, using his best home remedies with the help of his servant muses in the preparation and supervision of his darling so that she doesn't have to move for any unnecessary reason try to run away while they are busy.

• It is so pleasurable for him to massage your small (compared to his) and sore body, paying attention to its plump/slender parts, taking care of the swollen areas, using fragrant natural oils to rub hands from them in such a careful but intense way, being able to feel every part of the tender/thin and sensual skin of his darling that only he is worthy.

• Meanwhile, he's whispering sweet declarations of love, but with a more possessive and discreetly manipulative flavor.

"My little Sunflower, you are too pure and innocent to live in the arid world outside my temple of pure and vivacious gold, a graceful flower that is not worthy of having its beauty and purity worn away by perverse and savage places and beings that so It begs for attention. Therefore, your special soul must be watered and nourished by a great and enlightened star of the day like me..."

• There's no way Apollo can stop manipulating her lovingly, it's almost inevitable for him due to his emotional and sexual dependence on his darling, even more so after finally feeling blessed to find his true love, his soul mate after so many frustrated loves in the past. Such a beautiful, admired, talented and intelligent god was hopeless at having lasting and genuine happiness in love, and now that his darling's desire to escape has caused her to be swooned over in a forest ruled by mystical and unknown creatures that live in the world of the Olympian gods, his heart could no longer take another unhappy ending.

• To make matters worse, the possibility of another god finding her, with the intention of hurting her, kidnapping her or even raping her and taking her away from him and even stealing her most precious new being (which heaven forbid Zeus should know about Apollo's beloved) makes him overflow with fury, increasing his desire to take revenge for all the love tragedies he has suffered during his merciless life. He won't allow his beloved to escape from his unbalanced love in need of reciprocity.

"My effervescent heart, like the star king that reigns over the day, would not allow my beloved, my better half, to distance itself invisibly like the minute winds of the icy east, would you agree to savor my eternal suffering as I sit on my golden throne like gold pure of ivory after I achieved my happiness debt in the form of an insignificant human of divine purpose after experiencing such arduous destinies of love?"

• Gaslighting is inevitable with his subtly desperate speeches of reciprocal love and burning sexual desire for his untouchable lover, now that her physical and mental state will not allow her to reject him for the time being, and consequently it will be even more difficult after she gets better and Apollo's words and touches will echo in her mind as soon as she sees him being softer and more understanding, rather than rigid, with her, even though he is visibly upset by what she has done, causing feelings of guilt in his innocent human even though she has not regretted wanting to run away.

• With Apollo being obsessive, he will deeply admire his darling during the moment she is sound asleep after drinking the relaxing sweet tea they and their servants have made to completely calm her down, and this may last until the sky threatens to lighten, but not before he takes her temperature and feel your heartbeat with your warm hands .

• It is simply magnificent to appreciate the light of the silver moon of Olympus that symbolically honors its sister, the goddess of the moon, sensually highlighting the curves of her beloved's semi -kind body under the soft silk comforter that rests on the bed of the luxurious healer room of her sanctuary. Now that his heavenly lyre is as peaceful as the shy serene on the rise, he can finally rest mentally and give him a passionate kiss on the forehead before going to his cameras and sorting one of his slender servants to stay in the room to provide security there, and necessary servitude all night.

• During the stays of care made by the muses who live in the temple of the admired sun god, serving, flattering and aesthetically representing the divine beauty of art and music, there would be no shortage of genuine dedication to caring for and providing comfort to Apollo's darling, in search of praise and approval from their master. However, over time, the god's obsession spontaneously influences his muses and priestesses , making them want to investigate more about the pure and unique beauty of the young mortal/imortal.

•Finally, the desired human will have beautiful women discreetly idolizing her, which can be confusing for her.

• As Apollo's darling returns to her normal, healthier state, after treatments with herbs and nutritious food, Apollo will reinforce a brief sermon about the dangers of the world now and the wise decision to depend on him to be protected and loved in a passive and romantic way, as he believes that his emotionally charged words of despair in a paternal and loving way that day were enough to maintain his desire in his darling's fragile conscience.

• It is clear that he would become more vigilant in his honey, and to try to prevent her from having time to plan other escapes or more reasons to leave, he would make sure to keep her occupied with common hobbies in the temple, such as music, painting, writing, dancing and a little medicine so that Apollo can also watch his darling presenting her new skills in a private performance in the future. Apollo's muses will love being able to teach the golden god's much-desired darling.

"Now that you have learned your lesson, please, my beloved, submit to me, and you will never have a reason to leave my arms again."

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Finally this is my first writing for Yandere Greek mythology, which made me happy to finally finish it and post it there after so much waiting. Stay tuned for more yandere writings for Greek gods and feel free to make suggestions

𝕰𝖓𝖏𝖔𝖞𝖘 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 🧁

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[giorno-plays-piano]

The Fragile

Pairing: fae!Bob Reynolds x reader

Warnings: yandere, implied stalking, kidnapping, slight allusion to noncon.

Words: 1.4k

Summary: On a quest to save a child of a dear friend, you must traverse the treacherous Sentry Forest to get the elderberries for her potion. If its Lord finds you, you will not make it out alive.

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Staring at the old elderberry by the Bhriotáis pond, you clench the fabric of your apron nervously as if you expect the bush to grow hands and seize you. Not that it would be strange in the middle of the Sentry Forest. Villagers say even shadows have the power to crucify people here.

You hear not a sound in the stillness of a thicket, and your hands tremble when you make a quiet step forward, anyway. If you've made it that far, maybe you can hold on a little longer. Maybe you'll make it out of the forest with what you've come here for.

The air is so still it feels like the wind hasn't touched the Sentry Forest in decades, your lungs heavy and heart beating slow. There's a reason not a bird sits on the branch of a tree next to the elderberry, but you forbid yourself from thinking of it. What can you do? You are already here, looking for the remedy to save the child of your friend. If you can't help her, no one can. If you must pay with your life trying, then it's always been your Fate to rest here along with many others who seeked to enter fairy forest.

They are old, The Sentry and his abode. Some say he was there when the forest was young, the others claim he made the forest himself. No one has ever seen him: like with most courtly fae, surviving an encounter with the Sentry would be a miracle. Even more so since he is not a benevolent fae at all.

Although you've heard an old midwife saying the Sentry was once the guardian of the little folk and all those who lived in his forest, it seems a little far-fetched. Most fae abandoned these lands. Even the brownies in the village homes avoid talking about it, fearful of the mighty Lord who might hear them. It was nothing short of alarming when the hob who settled in your friend's house revealed only the elderberry from the Sentry Forest will save her child from The Irish Agues - along with her if she hurried.

Everyone knew what The Irish Agues meant. In a few days, half the village would be infected. 

And thus, here you were, on your hopeless journey to recover the berries for your childhood friend, risking your life but, perhaps, saving many. If the agues break, not many children will survive this year. Not with the winter you had.

But the elderberry is so close you can almost touch it. You've met not a soul on your way, much less a fae or the Sentry himself. Surely, if he wanted you dead, he'd already slaughter you? Maybe, if you were quiet and humble enough, you'd make it out.

Still, the moment you touch the elderberry you know you're not alone: a feeble man sits atop a tree just above the bush, looking at you with his too-bright eyes, swinging his legs like a child. His smile is wide, but his expression is wary.

"What will you give me for the berries?" He asks, blonde head tilted to the side. Despite the fact you clearly broke a rule by coming for what's his, he's more amused than terrifying.

For a second, you forget how to breathe, drawn to the bright eyes of the creature so strange and still so human. Who is he? Given the way he looks, he can't be a common fae with their strange, twisted little bodies, but he sure does not look like the mighty Sentry. Perhaps he is the spirit of the elderberry itself. Not that it matters: you are helpless in front of any fae like any other mortal from the village.

And you have nothing to give him in exchange for the berries.

"Anything," you promise quickly, blood rushing to your head as you freeze in place. It was stupid to say that, but you need to get the berries. Whatever the cost. 

The fae seems even more amused than before, his hand supporting his chin. Looking over you, he smiles again and shakes his head, waves of shiny hair all fanned out, like a mermaid.

"Anything?" he repeats, seemingly pleased. "Why, it is a big tribute, but it would be unkind to take advantage of you this way. Think again."

Blinking in a stupor, you suddenly think the fae you met might not be a malevolent one. When would little folk allow a human to take back their word? Not even brownies go that far, and they are easily known to be the kindest to mortals.

Maybe, just maybe, you will make it out of the Forest alive?..

Hurriedly thinking what you could give as a payment to the owner of the elderberry, you drop your eyes to your hands, and then you see a silver ring your mother had left you. It's nothing pretty, really, just a ring your mother was gifted by your father once at the fair, but silver is well-liked by the fairy folk, and you don't think twice when you hand it to the man.

"This is a keepsake from my late mother," you whisper, eyes round as you watch the fae above you looking at you with interest. "I can give you a ring for the berries, my Lord."

Something changes in his gaze when his eyes follow the ring in the palm of your hand, and for a second, you think he'll strike you down for such an unworthy offering. Why would a fae of the Sentry Forest want a ring of a mortal? Surely, the mastery of the little folk allows him to choose between the most exquisite pieces of jewelry, nothing like these trinkets you beggars wear. And yet, the stranger is quiet until he grins so broadly it brightens the thicket around you, his eyes laughing as he exclaims, "So be it, then! I will take it if you place it on my finger yourself."

Heat rushing to your face, you barely remember how you slide your ring on one of his long, slender fingers. He doesn't hurry you to gather the berries, but you are as quick as you can, afraid he will turn back on you due to his fickle fae nature. Soon, with your little basket full, you bow to the creature and ask him to allow you to leave, and he laughs even louder, saying you needn't be afraid. When you raise your head, you are back on the meadow in front of the Sentry Forest.

Your friend is fussing over her baby in the crib when you enter her house, hands trembling but holding the basket close to your chest, not a single berry lost on your way. The brownie by the hearth nods in approval when you drop them into the cauldron, and you collapse in a chair as your friend cries, hands on her mouth as if she's afraid to speak. You've done the unimaginable. You came from the Sentry Forest alive and brought the elderberries for her daughter.

The rest of the evening passes in a hurry, too, with the brownie reading spells in a language you do not understand above the cauldron and your friend stirring the potion until it's finally ready. When her daughter takes a few sips, you can already see the unhealthy red slowly leaving her cherub face, her expression soon again content the way it always is when she falls asleep. 

You've done it. The disease has retreated, and you can be on your way home, too. No more scary travels to the Forest, no more dangerous fae waiting for your demise. 

It seems surreal to think you truly made it out alive. It already feels like a dream, like it had never truly happened.

But when you come back home, there is a stranger waiting for you at the table. He wears black from head to toe, and his eyes glow, dancing in the dark. Despite the dim light coming from the hearth, he is shrouded in shadows, all that is visible is the outline of his form. There is a silver ring on the fourth finger of his left hand.

"Wife," he says as you freeze again, his voice oddly familiar. "I've come to take you home."

When your friend enters your house tomorrow morning with food and wine to thank you for your impossible feat, she finds nothing but a small overturned basket lying next to an empty furnace.

[authorddreamz]

More Than Words Left Between Us -Deshon Dreamz

Yes, I'm a writer, but this is my very first fanfic! I just love Annie down and I want to write about HER. What comes with Annie...SMOKE.

This is a Wunmi stan account.

Smoke x Annie #OneShot

Warnings: Child Loss, Smut, Explicits, Adult 18+, Fan Fic, Errors

Annie's shop Scene Modern Day Revision

Smoke returns to visit his daughter and Annie but Annie had a visitor(a man).

If you asked to be tagged, I don't know how 😂😂 I'm new to Tumblr!

This song was on a loop as I wrote this!

WC: 2.6K

More Than Words Left Between Us

Smoke X Annie #Sinners

Warning: Smut, Cursing, mentions of miscarriage

The gravel beneath his tires caused his truck to rock slightly as he slowly pulled onto the property. His heart raced in anticipation and…fear. He'd been beaten by the most undefeated concept to ever exist. Time. He wondered if too much of it had passed, preventing the remedy for his pain from becoming a reality.

He needed her.

She was the only balm he knew.

Fear crippled him as he slowly allowed his truck to come to a rolling stop. His feet felt cemented to the floor of his truck as he took in a calming breath. His hand moved to the handle of the door, stalling as he attempted to mentally go over the words he would say to her.

His lips lacked communication; there was no way they would properly relay the inner dialogue of his heart. The door of the truck felt weighed. He struggled, his body too emotionally fragile to complete the task he carried out with ease multiple times a day. His eyes lifted to the rebuilt structure sitting solo in the middle of the wooded area. Anyone in their right mind would be cautious of the area, staying away. Smoke on the other hand, felt at home.

Chicago had done a number on him, both mentally and physically. The weight in his shoulders caused tension in his back, the crisp air of the night slapped him viciously as he climbed from the truck. His frame felt stoic, robotic even. He moved with the stature of a man pained by years of separation from his love.

On top of the many emotions he felt regarding his love, grief was also an invisible anchor. His body moved on autopilot as he walked over to the small gravesite nestled in the back of the house. He clutched the white daisy’s in his right hand, as he came to a stop.

A small headstone, so prematurely manufactured for his child loss too soon. His heart grew heavier as he kneeled, using his hand to sweep away the dust and leaves that had fallen, obstructing the name of his daughter.

“Papa’s here.” He muttered, tears brimming around his eyes as he continued to silently mourn. “Papa’s here.” He tried again, more determined this time.

He stayed in his squatted position for a moment longer, placing the flowers on top of the tombstone before he stood, exhaling as he did so. His face was set in a stoned expression as he reached into his pocket, looking back at his truck before he hit the lock button.

His hand stilled in the air, brows touching as his eyes landed on a white Hemi truck sitting not too far away from where he parked.

Has that been there? He questioned internally. “The fuck?” He groaned out loud before his feet automatically began marching towards the front of the house. Before he could lift his hand to knock, the door was snatched open.

Just like the first time he laid eyes on her, the beauty she possessed rendered him speechless. His breath caught in his throat as Annie stood before him, looking like something his brain had imagined. Her smooth dark skin glistened under the Mississippi moon as she stepped out of the house, forcing him backwards. Her eyes held onto his for a moment before she spoke.

“What…Smoke?”

He blinked. “Who’s truck is that?”

Her face shifted. Annie struggled with the fact that he was standing in front of her. So long he'd been a figment of her imagination. She felt her heart trip in her chest; refreshed love and old wombs reopening at the sight of him. So many unspoken words between them and he was asking about a truck? “You've been gone seven years and that's your first statement to me??” Her nostrils flared, doe eyes somehow rounded twice their size.

Immediately, he had to acknowledge just how good time had been for her. She was stunning, always stunning. Tall, thicker than day old grits and as fiery as any woman had the right to be. Smoke felt like not a day had passed between them.

She was and still is…his one true love.

Smoke found himself trying to recover. “Well, how ya been?”

Annie crossed her arms over her chest protectively, feeling her defenses slowly be disarmed by his handsome ruggedness. Elijah "Smoke” Moore was the love of her life, the father of her loss child and in so many ways, her reason for being. “I won't complain. Ain't gone help none.” She exhaled slowly. “Are you here alone?”

Smoke nodded. “Yeah! Stack in town handling business.” He answered, giving the whereabouts of his twin brother.

“Well, whatchu come back fo?”

Smoke fidgeted with his hat, instantly feeling unsettled under Annie’s almost telepathic gaze. “Opening up a club close to downtown, wanting you with me tonight.”

“A club.” Annie’s chin dropped. “That sounds like a Stack idea.”

“Just tryna go legit.”

“Y'all couldn't open this club in Chicago? Last I heard y'all were northern men.”

“Nah. We done in Chicago.”

“Chicago done with y'all?”

Smoke squinted. “What you asking?”

“What you running from now, Smoke?”

Smoke was a trained warrior, tested in battle fields that claimed the lives of the strongest of men. Yet, in front of her, he was merely a man. One incapable of getting a lie past her. He knew she would see through any lie he told, so he ignored her question, posing one of his own. “You gone tell me who’s truck that is?”

“That'll be my truck.” A man he wasn't familiar with came from around the side of the house, limbs and twigs from an oversized tree that hung over the side of the house, tucked under his arms. His smile didn't quite reach the level needed to be friendly as he dropped the twigs in a stack with others. Smoke immediately frowned, silently looking between the man and Annie. “It ain't for sale, if that's whatchu askin’.”

“Oh no.” Annie groaned under her breath before stepping down off the porch.

Smoke’s head tilted slightly, eyes hard. “Look like I'm here to buy a truck, mothafucka?”

Annie placed her body in front of Smoke, turning to her company. “Jason, this is Elijah…my ex.”

“Ex?” Smoke repeated, eyes cast down before they shot to her. “Since the fuck when?”

Annie turned to him. “Since you left and decided to stay away.”

Smoke glared at her; his anger not exactly directed at her. “Yeah well, we back now so you can tell ya lil boyfriend he can wrap this shit up. I no longer need a stand in; the original is back.”

“Stand in?” Jason questioned with a low chuckle.

“You heard me.” Smoke muttered, his dark features set in an intense scowl. “I ain't gone say that shit again. Ya times up.”

Jason’s eyes hit Annie, silently asking her what she wanted him to do. “Can I call you later?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed before they went back to Smoke. His eyes remained on Smoke as he answered. “You sure can.”

“What exactly would you be calling him to talk about?" Smoke questioned, his eyes hard on Annie.

“Seems like that’s something we gone discover when that call happens, now doesn’t it.” Jason's smirk grew at the pure rage in Smoke's expression.

Smoke’s patience was nonexistent. He also didn’t take kindly to disrespect.

As Jason continued to smirk at him, Smoke reached behind him, producing a .45 and pointing at Jason who immediately froze in place. Smoke enjoyed the expression of fear covering his face before he lowered the gun, shooting him in his foot.

Jason immediately screamed, falling to the ground. “Mothafucka, you shot me!”

“Next one going between ya eyes.” Smoke groaned, unfazed. “Now get up, go to that ugly ass truck and don’t come back this way no mo.”

“Elijah!” Annie screeched.

Smoke continued to mug Jason as he cried on the ground, holding his foot. “Gone tell him the truth, baby. Let him know you won't be calling.”

“Are you insane?!”

“Tell him!” He urged through clenched teeth. “Go head.”

Annie didn't speak, instead she continued to glare at Smoke before she turned to walk back into the house.

“Act like you know who I am and move accordingly.” Smoke kept his gun trained on Larry who was finally able to get to his feet and began hobbling away. “Come back here and you die.” He lowered the gun, kissing his teeth. He mugged him one last time before following Annie into the house.

Annie was livid. This was a level of audacity only Smoke could have. As she walked deeper into her home, she could feel him following her. She was torn, now she didn't know what she wanted to address first; him being back after leaving her for all those years or him running Jason off when he had no right to do so.

“I've been telling you to let me cut that tree down for years, Annie.” Smoke removed his hat, placing it on the island in her kitchen before he continued through the living room, into her bedroom where she stood, visibly upset. He steps slowed, eyes softening at once at her expression. Pissing her off was the last thing he wanted to do. “Wouldn't have no issue with twigs then.”

“You come in here talking about a tree when you just shot him?”

Smoke looked to the side, eyes low. “Ya boyfriend gone live.”

“The fucking nerve of you.” Annie couldn’t contain her anger; she wanted to hit him.

“About the tree.” Smoke changed the subject, wanting to move on. “How long you been having him come pick up the twigs?”

Annie’s head fell to the side slightly. “You expect me to let them pile up waiting on you?”

“It's folks you can call to have them removed, having some random…”

“He ain't random!” Annie snapped. “He been round here for years.” Her brow lifted stubbornly, ready for whatever verbal tussle Smoke wanted to have. She didn't care. Her pain wouldn't allow her to spare his feelings.

“Years?” His voice was low, dripped in a southern drawl only the Delta of Mississippi could provide. All those years away, and it hadn't faded at all. “Whatcha mean by years?”

“You would know if you were here.” Annie walked around her bed, getting into his face. “Years.” She dragged, emphasizing the s. “Them twigs ain't the only thing he's been tending to neither, Smoke.”

“You fuckin’ him?” Smoke felt like his chest would explode. Fresh heat spread through his body, starting at the soles of his feet. The thought of someone else touching her made him nauseous. “Annie…”

"Why would it matter to you who...I...fuck?" She dragged. "Huh?"

Smoke felt immediate regret for not killing ole boy. "You know he's as good as dead, right?"

"Oh, that's rich." She snapped. "Should I get my blade ready for the trail of bitches I'm sure you left in Chicago?"

Smoke's nostrils flared again. Anger consumed him again. "Annie, did you fuck..."

“Never sex.” She replied, wanting to exaggerate the truth but not wanting to put Jason in any more danger. They'd never been intimate. “The furthest we've gone is a drunk kiss we shared one of the nights I spent crying on his shoulder about you.”

Smoke’s trained expression didn't change, though hearing about her pain made him feel weak. “Look…”

Tears rimmed her eyes as she stepped back from him. The sight made Smoke’s heart skip a beat, his words tripping to an abrupt stop as he looked at her. He stood there, suspended in time like Annie felt she'd been all these years.

“I've spent 7 whole years processing by myself. I've had to grieve our child alone. I've had to grieve the love we shared, not knowing if I would ever feel it again. I've spent every single day praying for you and Stack. Now you right back in front of me, perfectly whole and asking me about a man who could never replace you in my heart.” She shook her head as the first tear slipped. She swiftly wiped it away, disappointed in herself for even allowing it to fall. “You're a fool, Elijah Moore.”

Smoke, never the talker, continued looking at her. “I am a fool.”

Annie looked up at him. “Why are you here?”

Smoke stepped into her, thankful she didn't step back. “I'm man enough to say it.”

“Then say it.” She urged.

Smoke continued to stare down at her, holding her eyes. “I was a coward, Annie. I ran. I left you and I ran to Chicago to avoid the pain of losing our child. I was wrong for leaving you here to deal with that alone. I also shouldn’t make you feel bad about whatever you did to cope.” He stepped closer to her, grabbing her face. “I want you to understand that I know what I did wrong and I’m here because I want to fix it. I…I need to fix it Annie because I love you…and I’ve missed you.”

Annie stood there, unsure of what to say to him. Her heart felt split between defense and dropping all guards to him. Mentally, she was scared of what would happen if she exposed herself to him too soon. So, she allowed her heart and brain time to settle their dispute while her body yielded to him.

She would check back in with her emotions later. Right now, she craved him in a way she never craved another man. She closed the distance between them, looking up at him as his hard eyes remained on her. Without reserve, she reached up to grab the back of his head, pulling his lips to hers. Smoke felt his world rock of it’s axis as his lips touched hers. Years of pain evaporated from him as he reached, grabbing her to pull her into his chest. He groaned as her tongue slipped into his mouth, creating complete silence in his overactive brain. He reached down, grabbing as much of her ass his hands would allow before lifting her into his arms. Annie yelped, scared momentarily that Smoke would drop her. She was a lot more than skin and bones, but that wasn’t something Smoke didn’t know. She exhaled into his mouth as he effortlessly maneuvered her onto the bed, forcing her back. He climbed on top of her, returning his mouth to hers. His eager hands reached for the nightgown she wore, ripping it in his pursuit to get it off her body. Annie’s pants grew wilder as his hands found their way to her breast as they spill from her gown. Smoke moved with the precision of a starving man as he cupped her breast, sending his tongue over her large mahogany nipples. Smoke lifted, removing his vest from his body before going for his shirt. Annie began to assist him, feeling she couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough. Once he was down to his slacks, he moved back between her legs, settling between them as his hand reached between her legs. Once he felt her clit, then dipped his fingers lower, he was met with her wetness. He exhaled, feeling overwhelmed by the discovery.

“You get this wet for him, Annie?”

She shook her head, feeling anxious. “No.”

Smoke continued to slide his fingers over her clit, making her wetter before he removed his fingers from her, slipping them into his mouth. Annie watched through hooded eyes as he licked each finger slowly. When he was done, he kissed her again, grabbing his dick to place it at her entrance. Slowly, he returned home. Smoke was flooded with instant pleasure as Annie gripped his arms, keeping him close to her. He lifted her legs, pushing them back as he went deeper into her, wanting to relay every word his mouth failed to speak. She was his. Forever and always. No amount of time or space would ever change that. Annie felt consumed with raw pleasure only Smoke could summon within her. The feel of his dick stretching her was the most beautiful mixture of pleasure and pain and she accepted him. As flawed and tormented as he was, she accepted him.

The End.

Thank you for reading!

[snipersfucker]

An apology, but we all want to read how they are inside and possibly the Autobots lose control when what they have been imagining for so long happens (like Mirage / Bee / or Optimus) you made us addicted to you writing

there are special little places where yall can get help with your addiction!! im not the remedy!! (i bite the walls every single time i get a compliment) ALSO lets just pretend bees vocal cords werent ripped out to the point he couldn't moan like a slut :) dubcon:/

Bee was desperate.

The way your hips swayed when you walked, the way the soft tone of your voice echoed in the insides of his helm, the way you'd wrap your fragile fingers around his steering wheel and squeeze it ever so slightly in a playful manner—he needed you.

And one day, after spending countless nights on imagining you stretched out on his throbbing spike, your tits bouncing with every slap of his hips against your bare ass, he finally got the honour of actually seeing you underneath him, not just picturing it in his mind.

Bee was desperate for you, but he was also shy. Which meant that you had to initiate all the talks, all the touches, and all the kisses. However, when he finally understood that he had you exactly where he wanted you, and when he heard you vocalise your desire for him, he just couldn't stop himself.

The soft exchange of pecks on each others' lips turned into a heated make-out session, his glossa quickly asking for permission to slip into your mouth just so he could get a proper taste for the first time. His metal body began overheating as soon as he felt your body straddling his lap, your legs on both side of his hips. Your bold move made him only crave more of your touch, him barely able to restrain himself from just having his way with you, manhandling you until you'd beg for him to stop absolutely ruining you for the pleasure of you both.

And he wanted to continue making a mess with his lips on yours, especially when you were making so many sweet noises just for him... But he had to take things further, feeling like his spark might just explode if he didn't.

So he pulled away slowly, making eye contact with you for just a mere second, only to see the needy expression on your face, which gave him a silent permission to jump right into what he'd planned to do. His lips quickly found their place on the side of your neck, his servos landing on your hips, subconsciously pushing your core into his abdomen to create more friction between you.

He began licking, kissing, nibbling, and sucking the skin gently into his intake to create pretty bruises on your neck which would show anyone that you belonged to him.

Your breaths were getting heavier, much more chaotic, them hitching in your throat every time he paid special attention to a particularly sensitive spot. Your needy whimpers were mixing with the sound of his vents trying to stop him from overheating, his reaction to you making you want more of him than you already had.

And you didn't know you already had him whole. He was yours.

"Bee, please..." you whined, your eyes closed shut, hands on both of his shoulders with a strong grip which he didn't mind at all.

Your words made him transform the area under his abdomen, now a hard spike on full display, its length slapping against your stomach with every intense throb. He didn't stop taking care of your neck for even a second, every whimper and groan of desperation being muffled by your skin as he continuously planted wet kisses all the way down from your jaw to your collarbone.

He was growing impatient.

His spike touching you was sending constant pleasurable electric shocks down his bipedalism cord, his spark nearly exploding when you grinded against it with your clothed core.

The grip of his digits on your hips tightened, and you'd probably have endless bruises on your sweet, soft skin tomorrow, and this thought should've made him feel at least a tad bad but he adored knowing that he left something while doing such sinful things with you.

When you moved and brushed against his length again, he groaned in impatience, pulling away just to lift the hem of your loose shirt with his digit to signal to you that he needed it off. You made eye contact with him as you got rid of the piece of clothing on your upper half. But it wasn't enough for him—he had to have you naked against him, every inch of your warm, human skin against his hot, metal one.

Before his digit moved to the waistline of your pants, you were already unbuttoning and unzipping them, getting out of his lap just to be able to take them off fully alongside with your panties, them ending up somewhere on the floor, probably next to your shirt.

His optics immediately shot to your cunt, the temptation to put his spike inside you overwhelming his body. He didn't even wait patiently for you to get back onto his lap on your own, as soon as he stopped devouring the sight of you in front of him in just a bra, he immediately pulled you towards him with both servos on your hips again, placing you on his lap, exactly where you belonged at that moment.

Now your bare core was brushing against his spike, and he couldn't refrain himself from letting a couple of desperate noises roll off him glossa. You decided to undress fully for him, taking your bra off and tossing it onto the pile of long forgotten clothes. His optics could barely take in the view before his lips found themselves on your tits, his intake giving attention to both, switching from teasing, licking and kissing the left one to doing exactly the same to the right one. Your hardened nipples made it possible for him to gently bite them, making you buckle your hips and moan his name shamelessly, your own noises not allowing you to hear your thoughts, as if there was anything else on your mind other than how good Bee's glossa felt when it curled up on your nipple, it getting sucked into his intake.

The remains of self-control he could find within himself were slipping through his digits, the force of his touches increasing with every passing second. At the same time, he was also getting more and more intense reactions from you, your body craving more as it pressed against his.

Bee groaned, impatience getting the better of him, as he wrapped his arm around your fragile, human body, lifting you up with your chest still to his.

He moved fast like a starving man, placing you gently on the hard floor of the garage, its coldness radiating to your body, adding a completely new sensation. You arched your back, exposing your chest even more to him, hoping he'd put his mouth on your already swollen and sensitive nipples, but he seemed to have other plans when, without a heads-up, he grabbed the back of both your thighs, and lifted up your hips so that now the only body parts of yours making contact with the cement underneath you were your upper back and your head.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as you bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at the absolutely sinful sight of Bee kneeling down and hovering over you, spreading your legs and holding them pressed to your chest for better access to your dripping cunt.

You felt the tip of his spike teasing your hole which has been clenching over nothing for the past couple of minutes, finally about to get what it needed the most. And then, with one swift motion, Bee slid into you, the wet sound of his length entering your core echoed against the walls of your head.

A loud moan escaped the depths of your throat, lips parted, eyes closed themselves shut before you could even stop them, wanting to watch as the robot began trying to bottom out inside your warm cunt, but unfortunately his spike was too big for you to take for now.

It felt good. The pain from being so suddenly stretched out around him mixed with the pleasure from his spike hitting all the sweet spots inside you with the very first thrust of his hips.

Bee felt as if he no longer had control over his own body, the feeling of you wrapped around him, your warm cunt so inviting to just ruin it without second thoughts. And he could find absolutely no strength within himself to stop the almost animalistic desire to make you his in every meaning of this word.

His optics were trained on your face for mere seconds before his gaze shifted to the place where your bodies connected, your cunt covered in your own slick, the hole visibly stretched out to take his spike, even if it was only a half of his full length.

The idea of pushing the entire thing in only made him groan, the images of the bulge in your lower stomach he'd create flashing in front of his optics.

He threw his head back when he felt you clench around him, the sensation too much to handle.

You knew he was about to begin pounding into you as if it was the only thing he was made to do, the expression on his face and the look he was giving you the entire time confirming it.

"Bee..." you whined his name, not being fully aware what that sweet tone of your voice was doing to him.

So he just positioned himself better, pressing your thighs harder to your chest, taking almost the entire length of his spike out of your begging cunt, only to slam into you and put even more of him inside you.

You couldn't even control the noises escaping you anymore, your head thrown back because of the overwhelming pleasure.

Bee has had enough of waiting, the memory of him sitting in the corner of this garage, his spike in his servo as he kept fisting himself, overloading onto the hard floor multiple times just to get some relief after having to watch you walk around in your damned little dresses, your hips innocently swaying, your tits deliciously bouncing with every step.

Before you could register it, the robot was destroying your needy cunt with aggressive pounding, feeling as if he able to put more and more inches inside you with every slam of his hips against your ass.

His speed and the way he could hit all the best spots, even though the tip of his spike was kissing your cervix, made you constantly moan out loud, as if the walls of the garage were soundproof.

He kept making noises as well, although his were much deeper, more frustrated, as if he was chasing something he was so closed to catch but right before getting it, it'd just slip away from him.

He thought of this moment for a long time, the pink transfluid painting his servos on many occasions as he was imagining you in this exact position underneath him, squirming in pleasure.

But then, he came up with an even better idea, his body immediately following through, without even analysing it. He stopped mercilessly pounding into you just to manhandle you on your stomach, lifting your backside by your hips, spreading your legs to allow him to penetrate your needy cunt even more deeply. He positioned himself over you, his spike yet again pressing against your core for just a second before finally entering you once more. He didn't even waste time on preparing you to take him, just like the first time he pushed his length inside your pussy.

Now he had the opportunity to properly grope and slap your ass as much as he pleased, his hips constantly hitting it with every hard thrust he'd make. Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being so perfectly stuffed by his spike making you shudder, moan and squirm beneath him.

His movements were rapid and chaotic, but he never slowed down, only increasing his speed, making mental notes of the noises you were making while he was fucking you so good.

"Bee, 't hurts..." you whimpered weakly in-between your loud, slutty moans, him taking it as an encouragement to continue ruining your cunt which was now clenching around him more than ever before. His one servo went to the back of your head tilted to the side, his digits gently stroking your hair as if it was supposed to help ease the pain mixing with pleasure, while the other one was still on your hip, pulling your body towards him at the same time he was pushing at it, making your skins hit each other with even more force.

You told him it hurt you but he couldn't stop.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to overloading, the warmth of your cunt getting sweetly unbearable as his movements became more sloppy, yet still as hard as before.

"Fuck." Curses kept spilling from your sinful mouth, feeling his thick spike throb inside you, indicating that he was probably about to finish.

The discomfort and pain of his metal hips hitting your much softer backside were slowly becoming less and less noticeable as complete pleasure washed over you, making you a wet, moaning mess underneath him.

With his two servos on your hips, he increased the speed of his movements once more, chasing the so desired release.

"Bee, please..." you whined again, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your hardened nipples brushing against the rough floor, "Overload in me..."

Your words were enough to tip him over the edge. With only a few more harsh slams into your tight cunt, he felt himself spurting his thick transfluid into your cervix, multiple groans and whimpers leaving his intake as he did so. He kept fucking the pink liquid into your cunt, not wanting a single drop to escape.

You could still feel his hard, metal hips hitting your ass, all until you clenched around him so tightly, he swore he could overload again just from that sensation alone. You came all over his thick spike, moaning loudly, your body shaking with indescribable pleasure from both his rough pounding as well as the knowledge that his transfluid was deep inside you.

Bee didn't pull out instantly, his thrusts decreasing in speed and force with every passing second, trying to ride out the remains of his and yours overloads.

You were panting and the robot was most definitely overheating, his metal body much hotter in touch than ever before, now his chassis pressed against your back as he began planting gentle kisses to your hair, his vents not being able to catch up.

After a long time that didn't feel long enough for him, he decided to pull away and take his spike out of your core filled with his transfluid, practically begging him to just fuck it again. But now, that his lust for you was somehow taken care of, he could regain the control over his body, and allow you to rest after getting absolutely ruined by him.

You rolled over onto your back yourself, clenching your thighs together when you felt his pink juices flooding out of you, wanting to keep them there for as long as possible. He smiled at your attempts to keep him inside you, the desire growing in his optics once again.

Bee gently wrapped his servos around your bare, exhausted body, lifting you up to place you down on the sofa he was previously occupying with you in his lap. As soon as you felt the plush against the skin of your back, you pulled the robot in your direction with your hands on both sides of his helm, making him bend his body so that you could kiss him passionately for the last time that night, knowing that he was most likely about to leave you to take care of his Autobot duties. He obliged without complaining, ready to slide into you again right then and there. And how disappointed he was when you pulled away with a soft smile, exhaustion finally catching up to you...

The corner of his slips curled up as he looked around in search for something to put on you. An abandoned blanket sitting on a wooden chair since he could remember would do. Before you could even notice he left you alone on the sofa, he was back, covering you from the neck down quickly but still making sure your whole body was under the soft fabric.

"Prime needs you?" you asked in a weak tone, your voice now only confirming how tired you actually were.

Prime needed him but he needed you.

Bee only nodded, to which you responded softly, "I'll stay here." And before he could even give you any sort of a physical confirmation that he got that, you already closed your eyes with a content expression written all over your face.

He smirked to himself, the sweet feeling of finally achieving his goal washing over him, him practically having been able to live in his dreams for a moment. His smile only widened when he came to a realisation...

He finally managed to mark you as his.

don't know if i made it he-lost-control enough but i tried and that's what counts in my books. also, i made it an oneshot but if you wanted separate hcs for these characters ill be more than willing to write it

[secretlyazombi3]

leon kennedy x gn reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count:  654 ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ SFW, 2nd person, hurt/comfort, no specific leon, pure fluff, tw : mention of vomiting

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: leon takes care of you while you’re sick (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ a/n: very short little oneshot - i wrote this bc im sick rn ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა . not proof read .

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“You look like hell.” Leon said as he approached you in the dark bedroom, the curtains drawn close to prevent any light from leaking in and irritating the pounding in your skull any further. 

“I feel like hell.” you mumbled in response, curling up underneath the piles of blankets you had thrown onto the bed earlier. Your voice was hoarse and scratchy from your sore throat. 

Leon sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at you with a soft expression. He gently reached out his hand and placed it against your cheek. “You’re burning up, baby.” Leon said quietly. He stayed sitting there, observing you quietly with a concerned expression, gently playing with your hair. It was soothing, you leaned into Leon’s touch. “I’ll call off work tomorrow, I wanna stay here and take care of you.” Leon stated. 

“No, don’t call off just for me, I’ll be fine.” you replied. 

“I’m not asking if I should, I’m telling you that I am going to.” 

You didn’t say anything in response. Deep down, you wanted him to stay with you, you just felt guilty making him use up his own sick days just so he could care for you. 

But you knew how stubborn Leon could be, especially about something like this. He was always worried about you, always wanting to take care of you before he ever took care of himself. He was stubborn, but selfless. He already felt guilty leaving you today when you were sick, he wanted to make up for it. 

“Just… keep resting here. I’ll take care of you.” Leon promised you, his voice soft and quiet, before leaving the room. 

Your eyes fluttered open not much later. You weren’t even trying to fall asleep, you just kept falling asleep throughout the day. Your body needed the rest. 

You heard some shuffling in the dark room and noticed Leon holding a tray as he approached you. “I just made you some soup.” Leon said quietly. 

He placed down the tray on your bedside table as he turned on the lamp. “Is that too bright for you?” he asked, not wanting to agitate your headache any further. 

You shook your head as Leon gently handed you the bowl of soup he made you. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” 

You looked down at the bowl of soup, not entirely sure if you could stomach it. Plus, your appetite had totally been killed, especially after throwing up this morning. 

“You need to eat something, love. Just a few bites, okay?” Leon added. 

You hesitantly took a few spoon fulls of the soup. It tasted great, you were grateful that Leon was an expert at cooking. You glanced over at Leon, noticing that he was smiling a bit seeing you eat. He liked taking care of you like this. 

Once you brought your attention back to eating, Leon gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. He was still touchy, despite you being sick. He wasn’t really worried; he had a strong immune system after years of fighting bioweapons. 

“I’m going to make a quick trip to the store, I’ll get you some medicine, just try to eat as much as you can, okay?” Leon told you, his voice softer than anything you’ve ever heard before. Now that you were sick, he was treating you like you were the most fragile flower that he needed to take care of. 

Leon returned, not much later, with a bag of groceries. He bought you some medicine that would remedy most of your symptoms - headaches, sore throat, nausea... 

Leon rested in bed next to you, holding you close to his chest, yet still gentle, as if he were scared, he was going to break you if he hugged you any tighter. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Just keep resting, I love you...” Leon whispered to you, keeping you protected in his arms.

[sillyuin]

I'm all yours

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, very domestic fluff.

Pairing: Mingyu x gn!reader.

Warnings: Reader is ill, barely proofread, Mingyu husband material.

- Yuin's note: I forgot I'm self-aware and wrote the most delulu and self-indulgent thing I'd ever write. An ode to my fellow carats who are also getting through sickness.

You didn’t hear the door open, the cheerful voice of Mingyu was the only thing perceptible beyond the pain you were feeling, and even thought it supposed to make you happy, it was difficult to smile. It was much easier to rest your head on his shoulder, wrap your arms around his waist with the little strength you could have, and brush your lips against his neck with a gentle kiss.

“I'm here,” Mingyu responded by hugging you gently, your body trembled slightly and felt cold to the touch. “How was your day?”

“Bad…” you whispered, your voice breaking. “It’s been… the worst…”

The words got stuck in your throat and your mind went blank; the physical pain was so strong it prevented you from speaking. You felt helpless—why was it so hard to just say that your ear hurt? Or was that really all that was bothering you?

Your trembling hands clung to Mingyu's sweater in a hug so tight it almost hurt, while you hid your face in his chest to keep him from seeing your eyes fill with tears. But what started as a weak sob soon turned into an intense wail, impossible to ignore.

“Hey, y/n,” Mingyu patted your back to try to get your attention, but the more he tried to soothe you, the more futile it became.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered between sobs. “… I’ve felt so … alone.”

Mingyu patiently led you to the sofa, where you both sat down. Seeing you cry so inconsolably broke his heart; hearing your trembling, fragile voice expressing all sorts of sad things… It seemed so unfair that only you were going through it.

However, watching you catch your breath little by little was quite comforting.

You told him how your day had gone while he held one of your hands and gently stroked your cheek with the other. Physically, you felt terrible, but the contact of his skin against yours made everything a little more bearable, as if the pain were not that important…

“My neck hurts all over,” you indicated where it hurt with your finger, and he frowned, as if he somehow understood what you were describing. “I don’t think the medicine is helping…”

“This is the second time this year…” Mingyu sighed, frustrated. “Maybe you should change your treatment.”

“Again?” you complained. More than stressed, you were starting to feel depressed. “I’ve lost count of how many pills I’ve taken…”

The truth was he didn’t quite know what to say; he was worried, his mind a jumble of questions. All he could do was hugging you and that was all you needed in that moment.

You had spent the day alone while he was out at work, feeling upset and very sad, but it was better to take the moment to forget a little about all the negative thoughts attacking your mind.

Mingyu seemed to be the only remedy at that moment, and you clung tenaciously to that.

“Tomorrow we’ll talk to the doctor,” Mingyu pulled away a little and patted your hair. “For now, I'm all yours. Tell me what you want and I'll do it.”

You lowered your gaze shyly, wondering whether to say what was on your mind, but you felt encouraged by hearing Mingyu’s laughter. He knew you so well; there was nothing you could hide from him.

“What do you want for dinner?” His face was only a few centimeters from yours, and you started to feel a bit shyer.

“Pizza…?” you lifted your face slightly, giving him puppy eyes.

“Weren’t you on a diet?” Mingyu raised an eyebrow, but your pouty face was more convincing than him. “Alright, but only this time.”

About twenty minutes later the doorbell rang, announcing the delivery. You both sat down at the dining table and ate together while he told you about his day at work, chatting and laughing as if you hadn’t seen each other in ages.

Having Mingyu by your side was one of the best things that had ever happened to you because no matter how terrible the day had been or how sad it was to be ill; you could always have his company and comfort at the end of the day, and that made even the bad things worth it.

After dinner, you both sat on the living room couch to watch a movie, a warm blanket covering you as you searched for something to watch. Suddenly, he stopped what he was doing to focus all his attention on you.

“y/n, how do you feel now?” he tilted his head slightly while smiling.

“Better,” you replied, a little livelier.

“If you’re okay, I’m okay,” he turned his gaze back to the TV screen, holding the remote as he started scrolling through the channels. “Let me know if there’s anything you want to watch.”

“Actually…” You took the remote and turned off the TV. A surprised Mingyu was ready to object and defend himself, but he froze when he felt your head resting in the nook of his neck, one of your legs wrapped around his. “… I just want to hear you.”

“Shall I tell you about when I almost set the kitchen on fire because I was drunk?” Mingyu said casually, his hand resting on your waist.

“I was there, remember?” It sounded more like a tragicomedy than anything else. “The worst ramen you ever made.”

You both laughed softly; you were exhausted, and the night grew heavier while the dim light from a nearby lamp made everything feel more intimate, cozier.

“I love your voice,” you said lazily, your body nearly collapsing on top of him. “Sing for me, Gyu.”

In the silence of the living room, under the warm blanket, you finally managed to rest peacefully without thinking about the pain that tormented you. In the distance, you could hear his voice, tired yet charming at the same time, as you closed your eyes, feeling the warm beats of his heart against yours.

[allgoodnamesrgoneee]

Taking care of Jude after his shoulder surgery and trying to comfort him from the idea of not playing for 2 - 3 months, he is out of mood but you know how to cheer him up (maybe a bj)😉

Remedy

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Jude is sulking because of his injury and you have the perfect remedy to cheer him up.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 3.1k

Warnings! NSFW! FLUFF, slight domestic fluff, pouty Jude, he's hurting🥺 SMUT (18+), oral sex (m receiving),

He's quiet.

Has been since you came back from the hospital. The silence that now wraps around him is different from the comfortable, familiar quiet you used to share. It's thick, heavy, and it feels like a dark cloud is following you around.

He doesn't talk much. You're not sure if he even wants to. Every time you try to bring up something about the surgery or football, he just shakes his head and change the subject. You're starting to get worried; this isn't like him. You've seen him upset before, but he was never like this.

The doctor had said he'd be fine after some rest. That it was normal to feel this way after the surgery, especially given the length of his recovery time. Two to three months out of the game was going to be tough for anyone, let alone someone as dedicated as Jude.

You knew that this was going to be hard for him, but you were ready to support him. If that meant taking care of him and doing all the things he hated, then you were happy to do it.

You knew it wasn't just about the surgery, or the recovery time. It was everything else. Being away from his teammates, away from the game, it was hard for him. He felt useless. Inactive.

The only thing that brought him a little joy was you. He always smiled when you were around, and you were always happy to see him. Even if he was still in pain, even if he wasn't talking much. You could see it in his eyes. He was happy to see you.

And right now, he needed you more than ever.

The room is dimly lit when you walk in, casting a soft, amber glow over the furniture. The faint hum of the air conditioning mingles with whatever show he's watching on the TV.

Jude lies in bed, his left shoulder heavily bandaged and propped up with pillows. His face is still pained, but he's not using the morphine anymore. He's trying to tough it out, and it makes your heart ache to see him like that.

You sit down on the edge of the bed near him, smoothing the blankets with your hand. The sheets are crinkled, the bed is a mess, and you think about making it for him, but you know he doesn't want you to fuss. So, instead, you just smooth the blankets down, running your fingertips lightly over the fabric.

His eyes flicker over to you, his mouth curving into a small smile. “Hey,” he says, his voice raspy from lack of use.

You smile back, leaning over him. “Hey,” you say, pressing your lips softly against his forehead. He closes his eyes at the touch, a sigh escaping from between his lips.

“Do you want anything?” you ask, running your palm down his arm. “Painkillers? A glass of water?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I'm fine.” He smiles weakly at you and you nod.

“Are you watching anything interesting?” you ask, gesturing to the TV. The show is some sports documentary, something you're sure he's seen a thousand times before. But it brings him comfort so you hold back from making any comments.

He shakes his head again, reaching up to run his fingers over your cheek. “Just background noise,” he says. “I missed you,” he murmurs, pulling you close.

You settle next to him, the warmth of his body a welcome contrast to the coolness of the room. His touch is gentle, almost fragile, as though he's afraid to press too hard. Afraid of being hurt. You wrap your arm around him carefully, mindful of the bandaged shoulder.

You smile, running your hand down his side. “I missed you too,” you say.

He hums, turning his head to press a soft peck to your lips. The first kiss he's given you all day. “I'm sorry,” he whispers as he pulls away, his hand sliding up under your shirt.

You look up at him, confused. “What for?”

He sighs, his brow furrowing slightly. “For being a dick.”

You frown, shaking your head. “You weren't a dick,” you say.

He rolls his eyes, giving you a look. “Don't lie to me.”

You shake your head again. “I'm not lying,” you say, cupping his jaw in your palm. “I know you're upset, and you're not handling it well, but you weren't a dick.” He looks away, his shoulders hunching forward slightly.

He lets out a deep breath, like he’s been holding it in for too long. “It’s just,” he starts, but the words seem to get stuck somewhere between his heart and his mouth. He lets out a heavy sigh, his good hand clenching into a fist. "I just… I hate feeling useless. Watching the team from the sidelines, not being able to play… it's killing me."

You nod, understanding more than he realizes. “I know,” you say softly. “And you're not useless. You're healing. But you’re going to get through this. You’re the strongest person I know.”

He looks at you, his eyes tired but appreciative. “I don’t feel strong,” he admits. “I'm scared” his eyes look distant. “I feel like I’m losing everything that made me who I am.”

The honesty in his voice hits you like a wave, and you take his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not alone,” you tell him, your voice steady. “You’ve got me, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get through this together.”

He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. You can see the worry in his gaze, the fear and the uncertainty. It breaks your heart to see him like that.

You give him a soft smile and press your lips to his once more. This time, he meets you halfway, his mouth opening to let you in. He sighs into your mouth, his arm wrapping tight around your waist as he deepens the kiss.

His kisses are slow and tender, careful not to touch your lips too hard. You let him lead, letting him control the pace as you kiss.

You press closer to him, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. His hands roam freely down your back, squeezing your ass and pulling you into him.

He breaks away from you, his breath hot against your face. “I missed kissing you,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours. You laugh, and he smiles. It’s the first real smile he’s given you today.

“I missed kissing you too,” you say.

The room is quiet once more, but this time it feels different. The air is lighter, the atmosphere changed. The cloud that had been following you around has vanished, and in its place, there’s a sense of relief. Of calm.

Jude’s fingers trace light patterns on your back, a touch that is both tender and tentative. His breath, warm and uneven, mingles with yours as you stay close. You can feel the faint tremor in his hold, a reminder of the pain he's so desperately trying to mask.

He’s trying to be strong, to fight through this.

You wish you could take all his pain away. You think for a moment, searching for a way to lift his spirits. An idea forms in your mind, and you smirk. You know just what he needs to cheer him up.

The doctor strictly forbade sex for the sake of Jude's quick recovery. But he never said anything about Oral sex. You internally cackle at your own deviousness.

You break away from him, leaning back to give him a sly smile. He doesn't see you, eyes still trained on the TV in front of him.

You smirk, letting your gaze wander down his body, letting your eyes linger on his crotch. You can just barely see the outline of his cock in his grey sweatpants. He's soft, not aroused, but that's okay. You can change that.

You lean up on your elbow, propping yourself up so you can get a better view. He shifts next to you, his eyes flicking to you. His mouth opens to say something, but he catches sight of the hungry look in your eyes and closes it again.

He smiles, raising his eyebrows. “You’re staring,” he says, his tone amused.

You nod, not ashamed. “I am.”

His smile grows, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “What are you thinking about?” he asks.

You smirk, letting your gaze travel further down his body. “About sucking your cock,” you say, watching as his expression changes from amused to surprised, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline.

He swallows hard, his eyes dropping back to your mouth. “I didn’t…” he starts, trailing off when he catches the look in your eyes. You smirk, biting your lip, and he trails off once more.

He looks up at you, his face still surprised, but there’s something else there now too. Desire.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want me to?” you ask, watching as he shifts next to you, adjusting his position in the bed.

He licks his lips, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard, trying to act nonchalant. “I mean,” he starts, “if you want to.”

You grin, leaning over to press your lips to his once more. This time, you kiss him harder, more urgently. He groans into your mouth, his good arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. You're careful of his shoulder, mindful of the bandage.

He lets you lead, following where you take him. Your hands slide up under his shirt, your fingers tracing over his abs. He's lean, his muscles defined from hours spent working out. He shivers beneath your touch, his cock hardening in his pants.

You pull away from him, giving him a heated look as you straddle him. You lean up, running your tongue over his bottom lip before biting it gently. He groans, his hips jerking up into yours.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to watch the trajectory of your hand.

You chuckle, leaning back to run your palm over his cock. He lets out another low groan at the touch, his eyes closing as he throws his head back. “That feels so good,” he says.

You hum, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his pants. He shifts beneath you, his cock twitching in response. You lean over him, running your lips down his neck. “Do you want my mouth around your cock?” you ask.

He gasps at the question, his eyes flying open. “Jesus,” he says, his voice hoarse. He nods, his head bobbing up and down. “Fuck yeah, I do.”

You grin, leaning down to press a kiss to his neck. “Good,” you say.

His hands slide up under your shirt, running over your back. “Take your clothes off,” he says, his voice still hoarse. “I want to see you.” You smirk, leaning up to pull your shirt over your head.

He groans, running his hand up over your breast. “Fuck,” he says, squeezing your nipple between his fingers. “You’re beautiful.”

You smile, leaning back to take off your pants. “I’m going to take my clothes off,” you say, sliding the fabric down your thighs. “But then, you have to take your pants off.” He nods, his hand slipping down your stomach as you slide off the bed.

He shifts next to you, his eyes following your body as you move. You kick your pants off and stand up, your fingers hooking into his waistband as you lean over him. “Your turn,” you say, pulling his sweats down.

He lifts his hips for you, wincing slightly as you tug the fabric over his cock. The skin sensitive from the lack of use in the past few weeks. “Sorry,” you say, trying not to hurt him.

He shakes his head, smiling. “I’m fine,” he says.

You hum, leaning over to press your lips to his thigh. He shudders beneath you, his hand sliding up to rest on your head. “Please, baby! Don't tease.” he says, his voice a low whine.

His cock is hard, standing straight up from his body. The head is a deep, angry red, his veins visible under the skin. A drop of precum glistens on the tip, and you can't help but lean closer, your tongue darting out to lick it away.

He moans at the touch, his hips jerking upwards. You smirk, running your tongue around the head before licking down his shaft. He groans again, his head falling back onto the pillows.

You lean down further, licking the sensitive spot underneath the head. His hips jerk up again, his thighs clenching around you. He groans, his hand tightening in your hair. “Fuck, that feels good.”

You hum, licking him once more. You want him to feel good, to take his mind off the pain and the surgery. You want him to focus on the pleasure.

Your fingers trail down his shaft, curling around him to hold him in place. Your tongue moves faster, flicking against the tip of him before licking down to his balls. They’re heavy and swollen, hanging loose under him. He groans when you touch them, his hips twitching with each brush of your lips.

You tease him for a minute, licking and sucking at his balls before moving back to the head. You swirl your tongue around it, sucking the head into your mouth. He groans again, his hips rocking into your mouth.

You take him deeper, sucking harder as you bob your head on him. His hips jerking upwards as he groans. His hand tightens in your hair, holding your head in place. “Fuck sweetheart. Take me deeper, be a good girl,” he gasps, his cock twitching in your mouth.

You hum around him, sucking harder as you move your head faster. He groans again, his thighs shaking under you. “You're so good at this baby. Don’t stop, please,” he says.

You don't plan to, sucking him deeper into your mouth. Your lips slide down his shaft until they meet his trimmed pubes at his base. The dark hairs dust your nose, tickling it. Your mouth is stretched around him, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat.

You swallow, your throat closing around him. He gasps, good hand coming to cover his face, the pleasure too much for him. His shoulder starts to ache behind his jerky movements but he doesn't care. He wants more. “Fuck, that feels good,” he says, his hips rocking up into you.

You pull back, your mouth popping free of him. His cock is shiny, slick with your spit. “Gonna make you cum down my throat,” you say, looking up at him. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide as he looks down at you.

"Yeah?" he whispers, his voice a low growl. "Go ahead then. Take me all the way in that pretty little mouth. Gag on it." His words send shivers down your spine, your own body growing hot in response to his. You're soaked, your pussy dripping wet and aching to be filled.

You lean down, sucking him back into your mouth. His head falls back, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You gag on him, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Tears fill your eyes as he fucks into you, using your mouth as he likes. He’s rough, his hips slamming upwards to meet you as you bob your head on him.

You gag again, drool soaking his cock as you choke on him dripping down his thighs. It's messy, wet. Just the way he likes it He groans, his cock twitching in your mouth. “Oh shit, baby, I’m close,” he says.

You suck him deeper, your tongue working overtime as he fucks into your mouth. He’s getting closer, his movements growing more erratic as he teases the edge. You can feel the pleasure building in him, the muscles in his thighs tensing under you.

He’s so close now, his cock twitching in your mouth as he gasps. “Baby,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m about to come.” He moans again, his hips jerking up to meet you.

You swallow around him, taking him deep. He cums down your throat, his cock jerking in your mouth. His hips slam upwards, filling your mouth with his seed. You swallow it down, taking it all as he comes.

When he's done, you pull back, gasping for breath. He relaxes back on the bed, his head falling back on the pillows. His chest is heaving, and a light sheen of sweat is covering his skin.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice breathless. “That was so good.” His cock is softening now, tip red, pulsing and glistening with spit.

He sighs again, his eyes opening to look down at you. “Thanks baby,” he says, his voice low and soft. “That was amazing.”

You smile, crawling up his body to rest your head on his chest. “Welcome,” you say, kissing his skin. “I’m sorry again, about your shoulder. It's going to suck not being able to play.”

He hums, his good arm coming to wrap around you. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your head is a soothing. His breath, steady and deep, caresses your cheek, and you can feel the faint pulse of his heartbeat as you nestle in closer.

“I’ll be alright,” he says. “I just need some time.” His fingers run through your hair, his touch comforting. You lean into him, your body relaxing. You’re comfortable here, wrapped in his arms.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, looking up at him. His eyes are closed, his chest still rising and falling in a slow rhythm. “Jude?”

He opens his eyes, looking down at you. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I could eat.”

You smile, crawling off the bed. “I’ll go make some lunch,” you say, bending down to pick your pants up off the floor. His hand slides up the back of your thigh as you stand. You shiver, your body responding to the touch.

You straighten, pulling your pants on, still shirtless. “Don't even think about it,” you say, laughing watching his eyes glued to your chest. “Your shoulder needs to heal.”

He sighs, flopping back onto the bed. “Fine,” he says, grumbling.

You laugh again, pulling your shirt on. “Be good,” you say, walking over to kiss him. “I’ll bring your food up.”

He nods sulking, but smiles. “Love you,” he says, his voice soft and low.

You smile, leaning down to kiss him again. “Love you too,” you say. You walk out of the room, him watching your ass sway with each step. He’s smiling when you leave, the pain and frustration forgotten.

For now, at least, he’s happy. And that's all that matters.

-Bianca🌻