Hi, I’m Berry🫐

26 / writer for over a decade / music connoisseur | they/them

[concretecultist]

Kingdom Come

summary: you ask Noah, your Dom best friend, for a big favor.

pairing: sub!fem!reader x dom!noah

word count: 7.4k

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

warnings: 18+!! BDSM, restraints, slapping/impact play, light degradation, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, p in v, oral (f receiving), subspace

A/N: this was purely self indulgent. please reblog and comment if you enjoyed 🥰

~Berry🫐

Life was kicking your ass. Harder than normal and the weight of the world was getting harder the bear.

Your job sucked, your body ached all the time and the one guy who you thought was going to be it for you, ended up ghosting you. All of it was a slap in the face and it was even worse when your landlord calls you to let you know the water would be off for a couple weeks due to maintenance issues. You guess you could tolerate it since he’s reducing rent during the time that the water will be off.

So, once you find out this information, you’re calling your best friend to see if you can crash there for a while. He had no problem with it. He no longer had roommates and often found himself missing having someone around.

So when you arrived and got yourself situated after a steamy shower to wash the day off, you find yourself sitting beside Noah with a question burning a hole in your tongue.

“I know this idea is out there but,” you choke on the words and realize how ridiculous this sounds.

“What?,” he keeps clicking away at his controller as he played his game, not taking his eyes off the screen. When you don’t answer, he takes a peak over at you and can see you biting your lip so hard it looks like it’ll bleed.

“Stop doing that,” he paused his game and used his thumb to gently pull your lip down from between the grip of your teeth, “What’s going on. It’s just me, Y/N,”

You look to him, twiddling your thumbs and decide it’s all or nothing, if he says no you guys can just forget you ever said anything.

“I need to turn my brain off,” you blurt out.

“Okay?,” he shrugs as if there was nothing to it, “I can have Folio bring some weed by,”

“No, I-,” you throw your face in your hands, cheeks burning as you think about it, “You are in the…. the BDSM scene and I want you to help me turn my brain off,”

His mouth drops in an ‘o’ shape as it clicks what exactly you mean. His hesitation has you feeling so silly. You should have just showered, went home and rubbed one out.

“Sugar, I’m not exactly sure you know what you’re asking for,”

You were his little sugar cube. Too sweet to know exactly what his life entailed behind the scenes. You never really seemed interested in it before. But little did he know, you were just nervous to show it.

He could be mean at the request of his subs during sessions and you were requesting it now but you were his best friend and he didn’t want to cross that line unless you were 110% sure.

“N-no, no I do,”

He’s briefly talked about his sessions enough for it to cause a burning of desire in your gut. You’ve never been in the scene but with the way things are going lately, you just need to be taken care of, to be manhandled and you’d rather do that with someone you trust.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you mumble, humiliated now that you’d expect your hot, dom, best friend to do that for and to you, “I just made a fool of myself,”

The silence that he was giving after your initial ask was gnawing at your emotions, you just wanted to disappear right now.

“Sugar, it would be an honor but if we do this, there’s no going back because I’m going to want you forever,” his words spilled like the smoothest whiskey on the market. Sure, now this sounds like a typical cliche of friends to lovers but what’s wrong with that? Sometimes things like this are meant to become something more. Maybe that’s why long term relationship never worked for either of you… because you two were it for each other?

“Please,” your voice cracks with need. You had showered while he stayed on the couch playing a video game and yet your body is still tense.

“Follow me,” he stands tall before you, extending a hand in which you take easily. You could already feel some tension relieving from simply holding his hand.

He kept his pace slow, easy for you to keep up with as one of his steps equaled three of yours.

He had a spare bedroom that no one was allowed in, not even you and you guys had been friends for almost a decade now. So when he reached above the door to grab the key, you snatched your hand from his and took a giant step back.

“I can’t go in there,”

“Right, without my consent,” he peaked over his shoulder, “But you have that now and then some,”

You looked at him with wary eyes and he dropped his shoulders with a knowing sigh.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” his hands made their way onto your shoulders to deliver a comforting squeeze, “This is the way,”

One of his hands is gently cradling your cheek now and it’s so soothing that you can’t help but lean into it and he notices the way your eyes flutter.

He already knows you’re going to be so good for him tonight.

Noah leans his forehead down to yours and your lips are only a few centimeters a part.

“You trust me… don’t you, Sugar?,”

Immediately weak in the knees, noticing he’s already entering into his persona. You nod feverishly against him.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,”

A gentle peck on your lips has you leaning in for more when he pulls away.

“Take your hands off the wheel and let me drive,” is all he says before turning his back to you to unlock the door.

Time seemed to slow down when he pushed it open, a part of you wanted to close your eyes, still feeling nervous about seeing a space he deemed so private that he kept it locked up. Your hand is in his once more with him pulling you through the threshold as he flicks the light on.

Red fluorescent lights filling your vision.

It smells so good in here and you wonder how, considering what possibly goes down based simply off of what’s in here.

The bed frame looks like one luxurious bird cage, bolted to the floor and a sheer canopy draping over it. There’s bars hanging from the ceiling with cuffs hanging from them.

Open cupboards of different items like floggers, paddles then another filled with masks and gags, one full of toys. There’s a full fridge in here with a clear door and you can see different replenishing beverages and snacks.

This is his sex dungeon

“Something like that,” he spoke aloud.

Realizing your thoughts weren’t kept in your head you avert your gaze to the ground.

“I don’t use it much other than personal uses, any time I have a scene with someone I meet them at theirs. I’ve just been keeping this a secret until I found the one worthy to be in here,”

Your eyes widen as you raise your head to meet his.

“M-me?!,” poking yourself in the chest, “I… you mean me?!,”

His shoulders tremble in soft laughter, shaking his head at your disbelief.

“This entire time, I’ve just been wanting to bring you here but you never expressed any interest in the scene,” he played with your fingers in his grasp, something he always found comfort in doing.

“I didn’t know if you’d take me seriously. I’m not exactly… what comes to mind when someone says they want a submissive,”

“You’re exactly what comes to mind,” he brings you to a plush crimson couch, covered in velvet material. When your ass meets the cushions, he’s reaching to a table beside you to light a candle, bringing it over with him as he lowers himself into his knees before you.

“I’m going to go over a few house rules while I get you relaxed okay?,”

You offer a simple nod and he smirks,

“Rule number one- I always need a verbal answer. I don’t want to leave anything to the imagination and possibly misread body language, got it?,”

Swallowing thickly you nod once more, “I understand,”

“Good girl,” his hands make their way onto your calves, kneading the tight muscles, causing an involuntary moan in which you try to subdue.

“Number two, don’t be shy,” he says plainly, “I know this is new but you know me and I’m here to keep you safe so don’t shy away from me. Be as vocal and as emotional as you need to be,”

“I understand,” you answer once more. Your eyes watch his hands, curious when he picks up the candle, the flame flickering in his eyes.

“Three. Trust that I will never hurt you outside of what you ask for,” he tips the candle and a quiet gasp leaves your lips, quickly turning into a moan when the wax drips onto your tired legs, Noah instantly setting the candle down and massaging it into your skin.

“Pheromone massage candles,” he answered your unasked question.

“Four. I usually go by King during these scenes but since this is new for you I don’t want you to feel detached from me so call me Noah until you feel comfortable, okay?,”

“Y-yes,” your eyes cross slightly while his thumbs work into the sore soles of your feet. This was helping so much and just from this simple interaction, your core is buzzing already.

“Five. If you need to stop or directions are not okay or unclear- speak up. I’m going to need you to pick a safeword for me,”

You squirm on the couch, becoming putty in his hands as they move from your feet to your calves and now your thighs.

“Kingdom,” you answer with ease, if he goes by King might as well make it coordinate right?

“Good one,” he plants a kiss by your knee, “Rule six, no negative self talk or thoughts. I may degrade you but I will always follow it up with praise. You are loved and cared about, you understand me?,”

“I understand,” you nod.

“Seven. Have fun and let go. We are here together so remember I will always catch you,”

With his last rule he spreads your thighs, squeezing them to get a reaction out of you.

“Do you have any rules for me?,” eyes dark yet caring in the red glow.

“Don’t hold back,” an embarrassing whimper escapes, “I know I’m a rookie but I can take it and I know you’ll take care of me just…,”

Your hands grab his, holding them tight so he knows how bad you need this.

“Just don’t hold back. I need it, I know I’m safe so I just need you to hurt me, I need you to help me turn my brain off and surrender myself to you,”

Your words from earlier echoed in Noah’s head and he thought they were a crock of shit.

I’m not exactly what comes to mind when someone says they want a submissive

Bullshit. You were perfect.

He wipes his hands on a towel that he kept on the table with the candle, setting it and the candle back in their original spot when he was finished.

His hands are now sheltering your face because he can see your mind is still running a million miles a minute.

“What do you need from me right now?,”

You were embarrassed to say it.

“What were rules 2 and 7, Sugar?,” his voice pulled you from your own thoughts.

“To not be shy and to let go,”

He nodded in understanding, “So why are you breaking my rules and overthinking?,”

God, he was so good at this. The twinge of disappointment in his tone had your heart aching, you wanted to be good.

“Can.. c-can you smack me?,” your voice was barely a whisper and you knew he wouldn’t let that slide.

“Speak up, baby. Closed mouths don’t get fed,” his thumbs were rubbing such comforting circles on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but oblige.

“I need you to smack me,” it wasn’t a plea, it was a declaration.

Noah just reads your face. Studying your expression to see if there’s any doubt, any hesitation. He stands you up and then he leans in to kiss you with a sort of need that you’ve never been kissed with before. You two are breathing heavily in between and you can barely keep up. Your hands tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, just wanting him to consume you.

He pulls away but before you can protest, you feel the searing heat of his open palm meeting your cheek. A gasp of surprise comes from you and yet again you’re left with no time to react when he does it again.

“Fuck,” you mewl, “More,”

He answers your demand with a little more power behind this one, the pain feeling so good you almost fall to your knees but luckily, he held you upright.

“Turn it off,” he says through clenched teeth, smacking you once more. If you were naked you know for a fact you’d be dripping down your legs, “Turn it off, Sugar. I see you trying,”

Hand on your neck, he’s pushing you backward and each step is another slap until he pins you to the wall, you can feel your eyes burn as the tears of desire being to rise.

You need this so bad.

“I said. Turn,” a harder slap, “It. Off!!,” with one more smack, you’re practically howling at how exceptional it felt, eyes closed as you welcome the sting that lingered on your flesh, feeling the heat running down to your neck and up to your temples.

Your head feels like you’re in limbo and when you open your eyes, he can see the change in yours and you can see the change in his.

You’re both in your designated positions. He has his hands on the wheel now. Your brain was off and the part of you that needed to be taken care of has entered the chat, the stressed version was locked away in a dark cell of your mind and would stay there until it was time to let her out.

“There she goes,” his hand soothed your cheek and you were liquid in his hands

“Thank you,” doe eyes shining up at him, he feels so proud of himself.

“Oh baby, it’s my pleasure,” he cooed, “Can you be good and undress for me?,”

“Can you help?,” your body was feeling fuzzy, like you had a few shots and were floating now. You felt like if you tried to undress yourself you’d topple over.

“Of course,” he felt gratified to be asked.

One article of clothing at a time until you were bare in front of him, pinned against the crimson paint on the wall.

“How are we doing? You okay?,” a kiss planted to your neck, his large hands running up and down your body had you sighing in content.

“On cloud nine,” you answer dreamily. You were in a daze, this room felt like your own amusement park now.

A room you once weren’t allowed in because this is his sanctuary. How many others were close to being brought here? How many others did he put in a hypnotic state?

“Put her away,” his gruff voice echoed in your ears, “She doesn’t get to come back. Lock it away,”

He could tell through your body language that you were starting to overthink again.

“Do we need to stop?,”

“No,” rearing back to look him in his eyes so he can see how bad you truly need and want this, “No. It’s turned off,”

“That’s what I need to hear,”

He brings you back over to the couch you were on a few minutes ago but this time he’s sitting on the cushion and he’s positioning you over his lap.

“Think you can handle a few spanks?,”

“Uh huh!,” excitement coursing through your veins, body jolting when you feel his lips press against the supple flesh that he was soon about to tenderize.

But first, he had to feel you. He has to feel your wetness coat his fingers. So his fingers trace figures on the back of your thighs and you’re jutting your ass up to get him to touch you, he delivers a light smack as a warning.

“Patience,” is all he speaks. Slowly but surely, his middle finger swipes your clit and lightly presses into your entrance.

He pulls a long drawn out moan from you when he fully pushes his finger inside. A quiet growl emits from his chest and your toes are curling.

“Noah pleeeeaaase,” you grip his calves, eyes rolling at his slow movement of removing his finger and reinserting it.

“What do you need, Sugar?,” you could hear the smile in his tone. The way he was speaking to you and touching you just made the anxiety melt away.

“Wanna feel your fingers. Always wanted to feel your fingers,” you couldn’t help but be unapologetically honest. For years you’ve watched his hands and how he talks with them, how he uses them to hold multiple things at once, how he sucks on them when he gets ice cream or ranch on them.

But until now you’ve always buried your desires deep.

“Oh yeah?,” without a warning, he’s stretching you open and you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, spreading your legs as open as possible so you’re not falling off his lap.

“You feel so good, Sugar,” he affirms, “So wet for me, so fucking warm,”

His fingers were reaching so deep it was intoxicating, never having experienced anyone with fingers as long as his has you going cross eyed.

“Thank you, Noah!!!,” your walls pulsing around his middle and ring fingers while his free hand soothed your ass cheeks before taking a big strike against them, the sound of his palm meeting your flesh bouncing off the walls.

“You’re so welcome, baby,” he picks up the pace of his fingers and he can feel the way you’re trying to get friction on your clit.

“Nuh uh,” he spanks you once more, “Be good, take what I give you,”

“Please,” singing a beautiful tune, you just want to let go for him, you want to crumble in his lap, you want him to feel what he does to you.

“Please what?,” another strike on your ass and another curl of his fingers inside you.

“W-wanna cum for you,”

“Is that right?,” there’s that teasing tone again, it makes you feel small but it only tightens the coil in your core. He moves his fingers with expertise inside of you and you think you’re about to orgasm strictly off of penetration which is rare for you. You almost always need clitoral stimulation.

“Please. Please. Wanna be good for you, wanna let go for you,”

You two have only just begun and you’re already a mess. You can hear the squelching, you can hear your heart thumping in your ears, you’re trembling.

You’re a fucking mess in his grasp.

“I think we should make your first one easy enough to earn,” he observed, positioning his knee right under your pelvis, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his fingers stroked the deepest depths of you.

“C‘mon, Sugar. Give it to me. Let it out,”

Your nails are digging into his calf and you’re drooling, rocking back into him but he didn’t mind this time, he’s enjoys seeing how desperate you are to cum, not just for yourself but for him.

You want to offer all you can to him. All of your emotions, all of your whimpers and cries, your mind, body and spirit.

“I’m gonna… can I cum, Noah? Please”

He gives a hum of approval and he can feel it, he watched your body swell with a deep breath and watched it deflate as you let out the most beautiful, guttural moan he’s ever heard.

His fingers halt their movements inside of you and he makes sure to rub your back to bring you back down.

“You’re okay,” a soft murmur leaves his lips while he slowly removes his fingers from your soaked hole, sitting you up and repositioning you in his lap so you’re straddling him.

“Be good and open for me,”

You follow his directions and bask in the glory of his fingers pressing down on your tongue, making you taste yourself. You collect your flavor but before you can close your mouth and swallow it down, he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

Your eyes instantly roll in the back of your head, relishing the taste of his mouth sharing the taste of you.

“Need you,” you pull away, hands cupping his face as if he’s made of glass, “Always needed you,”

His gaze softens for a moment, letting you know that ‘regular’ Noah hears you, that it’s not just his persona hearing those words.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he purred, “You have me, Sugar. Just as I have you,”

With ease, he lifts you up and walks with you to the cupboards.

“Pick a toy, a gag and a restraint and come to the bed when you’ve made your decision,” a kiss is given to your temple and he walks away, leaving you to make your choices without any pressure. He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and makes his way to the bed.

He has so many trinkets to choose from. He just stock piled all of this stuff until he found the one? He really is a stickler for this kind of thing.

After some careful self-deliberation, you grabbed your chosen items and made your way over to him. Noah sat patiently within the doorway of the cage-like bed.

“I chose these,” you offer them to him and he gave an intrigued ‘hmph’

A rose, a silicone bar gag and wrist-to-thigh cuffs.

“Good choices, baby” standing up and kissing your forehead, he moves out of the way so you can see the bed. Silk red sheets, chains hanging from the bars, and the sheer canopy keeping secrets in with just a glimpse of what was to come.

“Climb up,” he pats your ass and you do just that, at a leisure pace so he can get a good view of you from behind. When you sit flat, you see him entering and closing the door behind him.

This feels much more intimate than just any ole bedroom. The lighting, the enclosed space, all of it made you feel closer to Noah.

“Before we start, take a drink for me,”

“But I’m okay,”

“Did I ask that?,” he tilts his head, eyes squinting as if to tell you ‘watch it.’

“I’m sorry,”

He cracks open the bottle and holds it to your lips, giving you a knowing look as if to say ‘I told you so’ when you drink down half the bottle.

When you’re finish he sets it to the side and hovers over you until you’re laying back on your elbows, eyes not leaving his.

“How are we doing? You still okay?,”

“I’m perfect, Noah,” a tender smirk made its way into your face, “I know I’m safe,” you assure.

“Are you okay? I know this kind of thing takes time, just don’t want you to feel pressured,” you inquire.

“There you go overthinking,” he kisses your neck, “For you, it’s easy to turn on. You never took notice to how I always took control? No matter what we did?,”

He’s got a point. Any time you two went out grocery shopping because you were anxious and didn’t want to go alone, he hooked his arm with yours, took your list and did all the shopping. Any time you two went out to the movies, he’s picking your snacks and drinks and doing all the talking. A hand on the small of your back each time you two were out, always helping you zip up your dresses or fastening your necklaces.

It was subtle, but it was always there.

“I was made for you. I was made to take care of you,” he continues his trail of kisses, planting them wherever he pleases, “And you let me. Which means you were always mine,”

A relaxed sigh is released at his words. He’s right and you know it.

“So, knowing this. I’m more than okay and am filled with joy of knowing that I get to break you and put you back together again, over and over,”

Bucking your hips up wasn’t a good idea, considering he pinned them down and got your restraints ready.

“I need this. Noah, please I need you” a shameful cry bounces off the bars of the enclosure you found yourself in.

“I know,” he growled, fastening your hands into the cuffs and attaching the other bands to each thigh. With your hands tied to your thighs now, you wouldn’t be able to touch him.

“You need me to wreck you. To hurt you so that the stressors of your everyday light aren’t plaguing your brain for once,”

He squeezes your cheeks so your lips are parted and lifts your head up to move your hair out of the way so he can tighten the gag.

You looked so beautiful like this.

“I’m here to give you just that,” he grabs the rose, “I don’t care how many orgasms it takes. I’m going to reduce you to nothing and fill you back up with worth again. I will end you and resuscitate you over and over again until you’ve had enough. Is that understood?,”

“Yeth,” you slur around the gag.

“Good,” on his knees, between your legs, he turns the rose on and the low hum fills the space, he leans forward to spit on your nipples before placing the opening of the toy over your harden buds, your back swiftly arching off the bed with a moan around the silicone.

He’s at this for a while, just teasing your nipples, biting at your jawline, groaning in your ear until you’re leaking onto the silk sheets.

You’re begging around the gag but he just teasingly looks at you as if he can’t understand you. But he knows. He knows where you need him.

“It’s a lot, are you sure you can handle it on your clit?,” he smirks so devilishly it’s almost scary. But the twinge of fear makes you ache.

“Mmhmm mmhm!,” already drooling around the bar, you nod feverishly, just wanting to feel something, no, needing to feel something.

You get what you desire when he sits back up on his heels to spread your legs even wider to get a perfect view of your swollen clit, glistening as your arousal is painted all over your core.

When he finally attaches the toy to your clit, your toes are curling, your eyes are rolling and your back is arching.

Maybe you weren’t ready for this, maybe you should have gotten a wand or something.

“Relax,” he says simply, using his own legs to pin yours down.

“Breathe, Sugar. Just breathe. Look at me,” he sees the way your eyes are swimming with tears and it brings him satisfaction, especially when your chest is trembling from him keeping the buzzing toy on your sensitive bundle.

“It’s a lot, I know but I wouldn’t give you more than you could handle,”

He slowly inhaled with you, guiding you to calm you down but it was just too much, so much that you’re already cumming and groaning behind the gag which causes Noah to darkly chuckle.

But he keeps it there. He keeps the rose there and you’re convulsing under him when he sinks his fingers into your messy core.

“That was pathetic,” he looked into your eyes, “And you didn’t even ask,”

He got so much amusement out of your whimpers, how the hell were you supposed to ask with a gag in your mouth?! But maybe that’s the point? It’s a set up for him to milk you as a form of torture.

It was sadistic but, you were the masochist after all.

“You’re so creamy,” he said in a daze, absolutely obsessed with the way you’re painting his fingers, your walls pulsing around his appendages as if they’re trying to draw them in and keep them there.

“Noaaaaaaahh!!,” your cries muffled, your face so wet from the tears and the spit but Noah finds it beautiful, if he could, he’d paint how you looked right now and frame it, get it tattooed even.

“You can do it. You asked for this, remember?” His eyes rolled at the feeling of his fingers deep inside, drenched in your offering, his tattoos glistening, catching his eye in the ruby lighting. He just wanted to be bottomed out in you already.

You’re calling for him from around the gag, breasts shaking as you’re overcome with yet another blinding climax. Your nails dig into your thighs, just wanting to dig them into Noah’s instead and pull him toward you. You wanted him, you craved him.

“Sshhhh. You’re okay, Sugar. You’re doing so well for me,” he picked himself up off your legs and grabbed a rag to wipe the spit that dribbled down your chin, “I’m gonna turn you over, need you to give me one more before you have me. One more and we can take the cuffs and gag off okay?,”

Sitting you up, his hand supporting the back of your head as he checks over you, making sure you’re okay.

“Do you need anything? A break, water?,” he breaks character for a moment

With a verbal “Nuh uh” behind the bar, you let him position you like a Barbie, letting him move your legs, manually arching your back and propping a pillow under your head so you were comfy and could breathe.

You feel him leave open mouthed kisses on your ass, biting the pillowy skin just to hear you hum in delight.

“Can’t wait to give you what you want,” Noah positions himself under you so he can stare right up at your leaking heat, no matter the angle, it was a mesmerizing sight to see, “But first, I just need to taste you.”

He exasperated in desperation before using his hands to grab your ass, bringing you down and lifting his head to feast.

Your fists are clenching in your restraint and your moans are flowing from your chest like a river. His tongue worked your overstimulated clit, suckling and licking. He ate as if you were the finest delicacy, trying to savor but also consuming you with greed.

Your body just responded to him without a fight, you were his puppet and he pulled the strings but you happily danced for him, giving him what he wanted. Yet again you feel his fingers push into you, you’d never get enough of his fingers, he knew how to use them and he knew how to use you. You were a howling mess against the pillow when you feel your next orgasm approaching. How did he expect you to stay up like this? Your legs felt like jelly and you were falling a part.

“You can do it, baby. I feel it. You’re almost there,” he murmured against your pussy, “One more and you can have what you want but you gotta show me you want it,”

Oh God did you want it, and bad! Your head felt fuzzy, your body was playing tug of war, fighting between it being too much versus you wanting it.

You gave in. Pussy pulsing, chest burning from hyperventilating and muscles aching. Despite it all, you’re cumming for him again, giving into your deep craving to just be his doll.

“You’re such a good fucking girl,” he cheers, drinking you in. He pulls himself away to position you on your back, quickly working to remove your restraints and gag.

“Sit up for me, Sugar,”

Your head lulling to the side, both of you giggling about it. He has you drink some more water and cleans your face with the towel again.

“I’m ready,” it was a simple whisper, “Show me what I’ve been missing. Please, King,”

The title takes Noah by surprise. He thought it would take a few sessions to get you fully under his spell but, you truly were for him. You were ready to bow to him, to fulfill every quest he bestowed upon you.

It kind of pulled at his heart strings. Whenever he was out in the scene he only cared about showing the subs a good time, a time for him and them to release and never see each other again. But this, this was euphoria.

“Lie down for me,” he hums, taking off his lounge wear and boxers so he’s bare just like you are.

He was a beautiful man to begin with but to see him like this in all his glory? It had you feeling like royalty. Others got to see him, yes, but you… only you get to see him.

He makes sure you’re comfortable before he inches forward, the tip nudging your clit and he grabbed your hands when you flinched away at the contact, lacing his fingers between yours.

“Don’t run away from me,” his lips were so plump, glistening with his spit and you just know they still taste like you.

“Call it before I ruin you,” he gave you one more chance.

“Do it” it wasn’t a teasing phrase. You wanted it. You have yearned long enough and now your wish is his command. His pins your clasped hand to the bed and takes your free hand, guiding it to his cock.

“Take it,” he ordered.

He was a perfect mix of girth and length, a mouth water red tip that shines with precum, two prominent veins, yeah- he was going to destroy you.

You couldn’t help but stroke him, watching the way his mouth hung open and his eyes closed gently, this is the face of a King all right. Scooting closer to him, not wanting to leave any space, you slapped his tip against your own clit, the breath of both of you hitching in tandem. The noises that emitted from between the two of you, while you rubbing him against your entrance, were sinful.

“Show me what you’ve been wanting. Show me how bad you need me,” he growls, hiking both of your legs around his waist.

You guide him into you slowly, the eyes of both of you going wide, rejoicing in the way he fit in you like a missing puzzle piece, filling you up to make you whole.

“Fuck!,” choking on your own spit, the heels of your feet pulled him in so he could bottom out. You needed to catch your breath because you know once he gets started, you’ll lose it again. He drew in a shaky breath, bewitched by how good you feel.

“Give it to me,” you squeeze his hand, “Make me yours. I want to be yours. Ple- Oooooh fuck!!,”

His hips drew back and snapped into you, cutting you off as the pleasure drowns you. He kept the stacattoed pace, just taking in your expressions.

But then he saw the way you looked at him, it was a look of complete surrender, a look that says “I love you, I trust you”

It was a look to tell him to let go.

So, he used his free hand to take your thigh and press it back so your knee was almost touching your chest. This wasn’t Noah, the King was here and he was going to show you exactly why he was given that title.

You’re pinned beneath him from all angles and it’s overwhelming. His chain dangling in your face with each thrust, his voice smooth like suede as he talks you through it.

“Just like that, pretty girl. Take what I give you,”

Your moans slipped out like a hot knife to butter, he was fucking you through the mattress, bodies tangled and noises echoing through the room, he was making you melt.

“S-so fucking good!!,” the tears were spilling from your eyes and he just kissed them away without missing a beat.

“I know, Sugar,” he bows his head into your neck to leave a trail of bites, sinking his teeth into your dewy skin, your cries of surprise being music to his ears. You welcomed the pain of his biting, he had beautiful teeth and you always wondered what it would feel like for him to bite you. You don’t care if any marks are left. You’re his, he can leave marks for you to brandish all he wants.

“I’m so proud of you,” he grunted into your ear, “Coming to me all vulnerable, wanting me to take care of you and now you’re taking it like the good little slut you always wanted to be,”

“Please!,” your free hand tangles in his hair, your other makes crescent shaped dents in the back of his hand that held yours, “Please, fuck! Don’t stop!,”

Noah lifts his head to see the spaced out look in your eyes, half lidded and dick drunk. He never thought he’d see you like this.

“Please what? Use your words,” he pulls back from you to watch the look of despair on your face when he slows down.

Your words are caught in your throat, finding it hard to make a coherent sentence.

“Please, what, Sugar? Don’t make me ask again” He lets your leg go to grab the bar of the caged bed above your head, preparing to pick up his pace when you admit what you need.

“W-wanna cum around your cock,” it was a strong wail, one of pure carnal desire.

“You need it that bad?,” he teases.

“King, please. I need it so bad!!,”

The wind is knocked out of you as he sets his pace, rolling his hips, the tip of his cock rubbing against every sensitive spot within you, causing you both to be vocal. A harmony unmatched. His whimpers fueling you to make it to the finish line. He wasn’t ashamed of the noises he made, especially because he saw how they impacted you.

He let go of your hand and smacked you just like he did earlier, eyes rolling once again as the heat only adds to the pleasure.

“More, please, please, please!!,”

“Such a dirty fucking slut. Getting off to her King slapping her around like a rag doll,” he smacked you again, earning another loud cry from you, he could feel just how much you love it, he can feel it when you clench around him each time his hand meets your cheek.

“Yes, yes,” your eyes never left his, not shying away.

“You like it when it hurts?,” another slap delivered, “You like it when it hurts knowing I’ll make it all better?,”

“Fuck!,” the tears just keep spilling but he knows they’re tears of release, of pleasure, they’re tears for him. Another offering to the King.

“I’m gonna make it all better, Sugar. Just keep being good and taking it, okay?,”

“Y-yes,”

He grabs your cheeks, squishing them together again so his tongue can slide in your mouth effortlessly. Teeth clashing, spit being swapped, the energy between you two was potent, a potion that you’d keep coming back for, drinking it down without being asked.

“I wanna cum for you,” biting his bottom lip, you pull back with a fucked out smirk on your face, “I wanna make a mess. I wanna show you that I’m worthy,”

“I already know that you are, baby,” his thumb tracing small circles onto your clit, his other releasing the bar and coming to wrap around your neck, “I know you’re my pretty little slut who will do anything to stay in my good graces,”

When his hand began to squeeze at your neck you were done for. Your moans came out in tremors, you were clutching onto him in anywhere you can. You groan at the loss of contact on your clit until his thumb is replaced with the same toy he wrecked you with earlier.

“You’re gonna take this toy from me. You’re going to be a good girl for your King and make yourself cum on my cock. You hear me?,” his voice was dangerously low now, letting you know there was no negotiation.

With a shaking hand you snake your hand between the two of you, grabbing the bulbous toy from him and holding it against yourself despite your body telling you to pull away.

“You’re doing great, baby,” he assures, a soft kiss placed on your lips, “Just focus on me. I’m right here,”

He was so close now. One hand on your throat and the other holding the back of your head, pressing your foreheads together.

“My King,” you gasp, chest heaving as you feel yourself ready to fall off the edge.

“I’m gonna catch you. I’m always going to catch you, baby,”

Your eyes stared deeply into his and you just sobbed, needing this more than anything and you just cried. Getting fucked within an inch of your life so good you’re crying was not something you expected to happen considering your past endeavors with men who only cared about getting their own rocks off.

“I know. I know,” he’s still driving his hips deep into you and you’re circling the toy lightly on your swollen, cum soaked bud, you were almost there.

“Give it to me, Sugar. Give me what you owe me,”

And that was all she wrote.

With one deep gasp to fill your lungs he delivers a strong thrust, your fingers trembling around the toy so hard you accidentally turned it up to the next level and you were done for.

You practically screamed as Noah siphoned your orgasm out of you. You were shuddering beneath him as he kept thrusting, still talking you through it.

“You’re okay. You did so good for me, I’m right here. Fuck!”

With one last searing kiss, Noah is stilling his movements, emptying himself inside of you, both of you practically giving each other mouth to mouth CPR as you try to catch your breath. His head has fallen in the crook of your neck and your eyes are fighting to stay open.

“You can come back down now. Come back to me,” he mutters.

You slowly regain all your senses back. Taking in your surroundings and what just happened. As everything hits you, your cries echo in the room.

“Hey,” Noah is quick to sit both of you up and set you in his lap, “What’s going on in that head of yours?,”

Swallowing your cries and wiping your eyes you search for him, eyes connecting, the same beautiful brown eyes you could point out in any crowd.

“Thank you,” is all you say, “I needed that. More than you know,”

He smiles in relief, worried that the scene had somehow upset you.

“We got to get you cleaned up. We’ve got some aftercare to do and some things to talk about,”

Once both of you were all bathed, Noah took the time to moisturize your skin, apply soothing lotion to your ass and even being gentle in doing your skincare routine for you.

Once he has you curled up in his bed, he went to go clean the other room and brought back some snacks and water with electrolyte packets.

He takes it upon himself to feed you all while affirming how good you were. That you’re loved and cared for, not wanting to leave any room for doubt to sneak in.

“You okay to talk?,” he questions.

You sit up against the headboard, worried about what this talk can pertain to.

“I see the cogs turning, relax,” he soothes, “If you want this like I want this we need to talk,”

“I want this,” you answer definitively. He can’t help but laugh at your excitement.

“I know it’s a little too late to say that I don’t want to rush into things but, I’d like to rewind a bit and start at square one,”

“And that is?,”

“A date,” he answers simply. Sure you’ve gone on friend dates all the time but this is different, this is serious, “I want to build it from the ground up. I know we’ve been friends for ages and have built trust but this is different and I want to build a stronger foundation because I want this to work,”

You take in his words, listening as he goes over his requests and needs for the relationship. You gave him your own list of demands and found yourselves giddy at the fact that yes, you two are a living cliche.

But who cares?

It was you and Noah against the world now.

Til Kingdom Come.

This idea was burning in my head for ages and I had to write it!!

Please be sure to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, thank you for your support!! 🥹

~Berry 🫐

tags: @lma1986 @thisbicc @theroyaldixon @whatitsdecending

[concretecultist]

fuuuuuuuck i think i need to lock in and start writing for bad omens again 😭

[concretecultist]

🍓💌 (˶˘ ³˘(´͈ ᵕ `͈˶) ~𝓶𝔀𝓪𝓱 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚢!~ ❤️🌹

mwaaaaaaaah happy valentine’s day ilyilyily🩵

[concretecultist]

Crimson Devotion

summary: the one where only you can quench Cameron’s thirst

pairing: vampire!cameron cade x black!witch!reader

word count: 7.2k

warnings: 18+, smut with plot, blood kink, blood drinking/sharing, p in v, oral sex, biting, Isaiah is a good guy in this, vulgar language

a/n: i figured i tortured you lot enough with blissful anguish so here’s so steamy erotic smut to make up for it!!

———

Cameron showed up on the front door drenched in blood. He’s never looked so intimidating but his expression read fear.

You yanked him inside, not wanting your neighbors to see him and start asking questions.

“I don’t know what’s happening. I fed like normal but I’m still so fucking hungry.”

You don’t say a word until you’ve got him in your bathroom, but before you can speak, he’s answering the main question.

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

You had more faith in him than that, and he knows you do but he also understands that accidents happen. He’s not like other vampires, he doesn’t fall into greed. He drinks enough to quiet the hunger and goes about his business.

“But baby, it won’t go away!”

His eyes turned black and if this were anyone else it might have scared you. Except you and Cameron have been dating for years. You knew what he was from the moment you met him and while dating a vampire as a witch wasn’t necessarily forbidden within your coven, it wasn’t quite praised either.

Yet fate wouldn’t keep you away from each other. You made him a daylight ring so he could experience the warmth of the sun without repercussions and he gave you a vial of his blood hidden in the shape of a heart on a necklace to keep you safe from other vampires.

Not that you needed it, but it kept you feeling close to him when he wasn’t near and you’d never take it off.

You started the shower for him and pulled out a towel and a wash cloth, setting them on the counter before turning back to him.

“Have you talked to Isaiah? This has been going on for weeks, Cam. You’re gonna drive yourself insane.”

Isaiah was Cameron’s Sire, the one who changed him. Cameron almost died after being attacked and Isaiah saved him.

“I’m too scared to. What if he thinks I’m weak?” He sighed deeply while he got undressed, his chest glistened with red steaks and his lips stained crimson. Fangs still protruding, another sign that he still isn’t full.

If the circumstances didn’t call for your serious attention right now, you’d let him know just how mouthwatering he looks right now.

“You survived the transition, Cam. That alone is a sign of strength. Just call him after your shower, okay?”

A deep swallow bobs his Adam’s apple as he nods quickly.

You blow him a kiss and his red lips frame his gorgeous teeth in a smile when he catches it and holds it to his heart.

You leave him to clean himself up while you light candles and burn incense in your room. Cameron loves the smell despite many of his fellow blood drinkers scowling at the aroma.

He says it feels like it’s cleansing his soul and well, that’s what you use them for. It resets the energy of the room and with him coming back from feeding, it’s fair to say that now is the perfect time to burn some.

After cracking the window just a bit, you crawl in bed and read over your grimoire, as the elders always say, “there’s always time to study.”

Your mind was so preoccupied that you didn’t notice Cameron had already finished showering and talked to Isaiah on the phone. When you do notice him, he still doesn’t seem to be at peace.

With Cameron still seeming disgruntled, you set your grimoire down and give him your full attention.

“How’d it go?” Turning to him and grabbing his hands to hold, his hazel eyes just scanned over your face as the words brewed in his mind. He’s not sure how to answer truthfully without scaring you off.

“I can’t lose you.” He mutters. Not many things instilled fear in Cameron. In fact, since turning, he never really cared about feeling the emotions that come with the human experience because, well, he was no longer human.

But then he met you and he felt everything.

Love, lust, happiness, fear, jealousy, calmness and a plethora more.

Your brows knit together at his words, a small smirk of confusion twitching on your lips as you shake your head.

“If the coven can’t even keep us apart then nothing will-“

“This might.” He breathes deeply, his hands squeezing yours, anxious that you might pull away.

“Nothing will. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

Much like vampires, your coven is full of elders who are hundreds of years old but don’t look a day over 50. The magic and the culture that runs through your veins is so deep that you and your family are practically immortal in the same sense that vampires are.

“Talk to me, Cameron. You’re worrying me.” Your eyes flicker back and forth, trying to read his mind but in a moment like this he’s locked you out.

He’s never locked you out.

“I thought I could hold it off a lot longer than I did,” small, quick breaths emitted from him as if he’s in pain. As he speaks you can see his fangs are still out, they’re usually back to normal by now.

“Hold wh-“

“When…” he shook his head, not even wanting to say the words, he’s fine with being a vampire but he draws the line at what he has to do right now.

Your eyes squint, trying to gauge where this conversation is going. Dread fills the red rivers that flow through your body, alarm bells going off.

Does he… does he have to break up with you? Is there something about you that is harming him in some way?

“When a vampire meets their mate there’s this process called the Sanguine Communion.”

“O-okay?” Eyes wide with a lack of understanding. It’s a ritual you’ve heard of before but never dove into it as it has more to do with vampires than witches.

“It’s a uh…,” he smacks his lips to gain moisture back, finding that he feels anxious right now, a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages. It’s causing his mouth to go dry.

“Essentially it’s like a wedding. The vampire and their mate have to marry and to… consummate their vow to each other the vampire has to… drink… from their …mate.”

Cameron takes your silence as a segue to keep going.

“When that time comes, it’s like we go into heat. We lust for our mate in a way that we never felt before. It’s a strong burn, almost like I want to crawl in your skin.”

He speaks carefully, not wanting to put you off because he knows how insane this sounds. He’s well aware that he’s a vampire and you’re a witch but this? This is what sounds insane to him.

“Then it’s like your smell is a drug. Fuck, I even bought a bottle of your perfume to keep in my car so I can just smell you when you’re not around.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest and your expression is getting harder for him to read. Despite you becoming unreadable, he can’t help but continue being frank with you.

“Then the hunger,” he gulps so loud you can hear it, “Baby, believe me. I tried to stay away so I wasn’t overwhelmed with the sweet smell of you. I tried to feed on others to satiate this hunger but nothing is working and I don’t know what to do.”

The small tremors of his hands are felt in your own as he holds them tight. He is being plagued with a nagging discomfort, more so now that you know the truth.

“I’m fucking famished but I’d rather starve than hurt you.”

His shoulders shake in a ragged breath.

He takes your silence as you being disgusted with him but really you’re just processing everything he just said. It’s a lot of information to take in, way more than having to study protection herbs and what their temperature is and what workings they’d be good for.

“Please say something?”

Your eyes are blinking quickly as a feeling stirs in your stomach, an eruption of butterflies flying around in there when Cameron sets the truth free.

“Cam, that…” you give a small huff as you try to find the words. “That… that’s so-,”

“Disgusting… you think it’s-“

“So romantic!”

“I knew you’d think it was vile. I’m sorry, I can lea- wait… what did you just say?”

His face is scrunched up, completely thrown off by what you’ve said.

“I think it’s romantic!” You sit up a little more, scooting closer to him and lower your voice, “I mean cmon… being yearned for so bad you want to crawl in my skin? So bad that you can’t help but smell me wherever you go? So bad that you’re literally hungry for me? That’s sexy, erotic… romantic.”

Without his cheeks being able to turn red, you can see him blushing. He tries to speak but nothing he says can convey the shock he’s in right now.

“I told you that you’re stuck with me.” Your nose touching his, a playful grin on your face when you give a soft peck on his lips.

“And I think it’s a beautiful thing that the universe deems us soulmates.”

“Good because I don’t want anyone else.” He peers at you through heavy eyelids, taking in your smell with how close you are.

“Then we should call up your Sire, yeah?”

-

Of course Elsie was the one to plan the whole thing. She said you two deserved perfection and nothing less would do.

The elders within your coven weren’t the happiest to hear about the Tethering, as they call it. But they were also aware that if this wasn’t meant to happen this way, the ancestors would have intervened long ago.

Elsie has you in a silk white dress, nothing too flashy, nothing bulky and annoying either. It was a nice simple dress with a deep v neck. It hugged your curves in all the right places, you felt like a princess.

“Does it hurt?” You ask Elsie while she plays with your veil.

“Only for a moment.” She answers truthfully. Elsie actually isn’t a vampire nor a witch or werewolf, she’s just a mere mortal who found herself entangled in this world of supernatural beings.

“Were you scared?” You look up to her and she gives you a small smile before sitting down beside you to take your hand in hers.

“I was fucking terrified, Y/N.” Another blunt answer but you’d rather this than a lie, “But Isaiah made sure I was safe and comfortable. The fear and the pain pale in comparison to how beautiful the Sanguine Communion actually is. It’s the binding of your beings. A stronger symbol of your connection than any ole ring.”

She wiggles her fingers and her diamond ring dances in the light of her vanity room. Her words bring comfort and your shoulders relax.

You always knew deep down you’d want to marry Cameron, you just didn’t think it’d come with all of this.

“You’re such a beautiful bride and Cameron is beyond lucky.”

You turn to look at yourself in the vanity mirror, feeling more beautiful than ever. It’s hard to hide the smile that grows on your face when you notice the silver necklace, decorating your cleavage.

His blood. You never took it off, saying it was a vow of your devotion to him but now comes the real vows.

“Let’s get you married!!”

You fed off her excitement and jumped up and down with her.

You can’t believe you’re getting married!

Your entire life was about believing in the impossible but this moment right here? It takes the cake.

You heard the ancient organ playing down the hall, a sign that it’s time. Your stomach housed butterflies once again when Elsie opened the door for you.

It wasn’t like many people were here, just your coven and Cameron’s but it felt like the whole world was watching.

It felt like so many people had their eyes on you. That is, until you look up and see Cameron in a wine red suit at the altar with Isaiah.

Your eyes well at how breathtaking he looks. You’d never get tired of looking at him. This man is going to be your husband.

His own breath catches in his throat at the sight of you. He feels the threat of tears, a sensation he hasn’t felt since turning.

“Let it out,” Isaiah whispers to him, “I cried too when I saw Elsie walking down to me”

Not that Cameron needed his permission, but it eased his worries to know he could be emotional right now.

He feels the salty drops on his cheeks with each step you take. Your arm is hooked with Elsie’s as she brought you to him. She kisses your cheek after placing your hand in Cameron’s and goes to sit in the front row.

“Oh no, you’re crying” sniffling, trying to hide your own tears when you wipe his cheeks.

“You just look so fucking beautiful.” His eyes scan your body, taking his time to soak in the view.

“I could say the same about you.”

You two are gawking at each other and Isaiah takes that as a moment to begin the ceremony.

“Friends, family, and those who have traveled through the veil of night to be here, We are gathered not just to witness a contract of life, but a covenant of eternity. Tonight, we are here to witness something beautiful. A moment where fate is undeniable and cannot be ignored.”

He looks out to the crowd and then to Elsie, smiling as this feels nostalgic for them.

“It is not very often we get to unite two souls in this fashion. Sometimes, it can take centuries for a vampire to find their mate. But fate didn’t wait when it came to Cameron and Y/N. Today, we celebrate a bond that doesn't just promise 'until death do us part,' but rather, a devotion that thrives beyond it."

Tingles cover your body due to Isaiah's words. You can’t tear your eyes away from Cameron, you squeeze his hands tightly knowing that you’ll never have to let go. Because even if the end of the world comes, your love will continue on into another timeline.

“For us vampires, a 'mate' is not merely a companion. It is the anchor to one’s soul. To find the person who shares your hunger for life, your stillness in the dark, and your vision for the future is a rare alignment of the stars. Together, you are two halves of a singular, undying flame."

You already hear sniffles throughout the congregation, fueling your own.

“Before we proceed to the declaration of intent. Let’s give the floor to Cameron and Y/N to give their vows.”

Cameron looks as if he’s going to faint. This man declares his love for you every single day. He shows it when words fail. But this is different to him. He knows that he could just say “I love you, Y/N” and you’d be happy.

But this is the catalyst for eternity for you two.

“I thought I knew the limits of the night until I met you,” he begins, clearing his throat to keep his voice from cracking, “You are the first light that hasn’t blinded me. You are the peace I never thought I’d find in the silence.”

You hear “awwwwws” peppered throughout the pews. Your heart is pounding at his words, so beautiful and elegant, just when you think he finds the perfect way to tell you he loves you, he tops it.

“The Tethering, The Sanguine Communion or the Crimson Devotion… whatever they call it, I give my all to you. I promise to be your shield against the world, even if you can stand your own ground.”

You see a tear fall from his eyes, feeling it in your own hands. It urges your own to spill over the edge.

“I promise to be your companion in the dark and your constant in this ever changing world. Though my heart may not beat as yours does, it belongs to you entirely. It has belonged to you from the moment I met you and will continue to in every other life after this one.”

You place your hand on his check, watching as he leans into it.

“I love you so much.” he whispers, turning to kiss your palm.

“Y/N.” Isaiah nods to you.

You look to your coven and it calms your nerves to see that none of them seem disgusted with this union. It’s out of the norm but they’re coming around, finally.

“I’ve looked at love before and I never really got it. But I thank the universe for telling me to go into work at the apothecary that day or else I wouldn’t have met you. Before gazing into your eyes, love felt like a pipe dream but now I’m here and I’m lost in it.”

Since meeting Cameron, you’ve kept a journal of vows, planning what to say but at this moment, none of that matters. Nothing in that journal felt right. So in your mind you throw the journal away and just speak from the heart.

“Everywhere you are is where I want to go. Meeting you felt like you had a magnet holding on my soul and when you’re not around I still feel the pull.”

You hear Elsie mutter “oh my heart” and you try not to giggle, wanting to stay focused.

“If we end up in different bodies in every timeline, I’d still recognize you when you’re next to me,”

You couldn’t give fuck all about your make up, just grateful you opted for waterproof mascara.

“I vow to share in your hunger and your joy. I promise to protect you with a ferocity that knows no bounds. I vow to cherish you with a tenderness that time cannot erode,” this time he’s the one to reach up and pat your cheeks dry with the pad of his middle finger.

“I give you my hand, my heart and my eternity. I promise to love you through every sunset and sunrise. To be your strength when you are weary and your sanctuary when the world is too loud. I’m blessed that it is you who is my mate, my life and my forever.”

Cameron just wants to kiss you already. He wants to say I do, kiss you, skip out on the reception and take you home to consummate your union.

Isaiah holds the wedding bands in his hands. Cameron’s was a simple silver band with a red stripe, filled with your blood. Yours was a gorgeous diamond ring with red gems surrounding it, those were made from Cameron’s.

It’s all thanks to Elsie. She put a rush on these and they were perfect.

“These rings are circles, a shape with no beginning and no end. Let them be a reminder that while the world around you may age and wither, the love you exchange today remains crystalline and constant."

Isaiah hands Cameron your ring, looking at him with a proud smile.

“Cameron.”

Cam looks to him and stands straight, sniffling and swallowing his tears.

“Do you, Cameron, take Y/N, to be your eternal mate? Do you promise to walk beside her through the shadows and the stars, to protect her in the waking world, and to love her with a devotion that outlasts the rising sun?"

“I do. I do. Fuck, I really do.” He couldn’t contain his smile, as he slid your ring on your finger. You bounce in excitement, it’s fucking jaw dropping.

“Y/N.” Isaiah smiles as he hands you Cameron’s band.

“And do you, Y/N, take Cameron to be your eternal mate? Do you promise to be the pulse in the silence, to share in his visions, and to offer your heart as his permanent home, as long as the night shall last?"

“I really fucking do.” Your laughter filled the room as you slid Cameron’s ring on, the congregation joining in your enthusiasm.

“By the power invested in me, by the power of the ancient vows and the love that binds you, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Cameron pulls you close before dipping you to give you the most passionate kiss he can muster.

Cheers fill your ears and you see so many of your coven sisters wiping their tears away. Even your elders were wearing smiles on their faces.

A lot of them devote their lives to the craft, opting to bring daughters into the world for the sake of building a strong coven. But marriage? That wasn’t ever on their mind but they understand your generation’s desire for love.

When you all transitioned over to the reception, gasps left everyone as soon as they entered the room. Elsie really has a knack for setting up big events.

You and Cameron shared your first dance, toasts were made, the cake was cut and shared. Everything about today has been perfect.

You’re hoping tonight will be perfect too. Ya know, with the whole Sanguine Communion and all.

“You’re going to be fine,” you look to your left to see Elsie standing beside you.

You look out on the dance floor to see Cam mingling with your sisters and his coven brothers, sharing laughs and stories.

“I just… I just want this to be perfect,”

“It’s going to be perfect because you two are mates. It can’t get any more perfect than that.”

You swirl the red wine in your chalice, the beverage foreshadowing what’s to come.

“How… h-how did you two do it? Did he just bite you and that was it?”

Elsie chuckles, shaking her head.

“He bit me right before I orgasmed.”

You choke on your wine, almost getting some on your dress but she finds it comical.

“What?!” You pull her closer and she just pats your cheek.

“I’m serious. The pain mixes with the pleasure and then the sight of your blood on his lips is so erotic you’ll want him to keep doing it.”

Your eyes are as big as saucers, trying to wrap your mind around everything she just said.

“It’s intimate. It’s sexy and it’s comforting. It’s like a trust fall. Trust him.”

Before you can think of a reply, Cameron’s voice cuts through the ringing in your ears.

“What are you two whispering about?” When he smiles you can see his fangs getting sharper.

He’s getting hungry but he’s trying to hide it.

You guess you two better get out of there soon.

“Just telling your wife how fucking gorgeous she looks tonight!” She elbows your side, getting a bashful grin out of you.

“Tell me about it.” his eyes flash with desire and you know it’s best to end the party here.

“Please, enjoy the rest of the party for us. My husband and I have some newly wed business to take care of.”

“I’ll say!” Isaiah comes up, pulling Elsie close to him with a kiss to her temple, “It takes me back to our wedding night.”

Cameron takes your hand in his, the both of you quietly bidding your farewells but Isaiah stops him for a quick second.

“Remember what I told you.” You heard him whisper.

“Yeah.” Cameron nods quickly, “I got it.”

You look over back to Elsie and see she’s tapping her head as if to say “remember” before thrusting into the air.

You have to tear your eyes away or else you’ll laugh at her.

“Ready, baby?”

“More than ready.” You bite your lip, your core tightening at the thought of you and Cameron having sex for the first time as husband and wife.

“Thank you two for everything. I seriously can’t thank you enough for putting this together all in a week.” Cameron hugs Isaiah and Elsie and you follow suit before officially parting ways.

The ride back home is a comfortable silence. The tension in the air is palpable, you could almost taste it.

When you two get home he even carries you over the threshold and spins you around, setting your feet on the ground with a gentle kiss.

“Care for a glass of red?” You take his hand, pulling him to the bedroom.

“Are you the glass of red?” He teases, shutting the door behind him.

“Maybe.” You shrug playfully, helping him take his suit jacket off and tie off, unbuttoning his shirt so it sits open. Your mouth watering at the sight of him.

You turn your back to him peeking over your shoulder, “Unzip me?”

His hands travel from your hips up to your waist and to your shoulders. He kisses your neck and is instantly under the spell of your scent. His fingers trot down your arms to hold your hands.

“Actually,” a kiss to your bare shoulder, “Let’s leave it on, yeah?”

Cameron’s voice had gotten deeper as he tried to control himself. He just wants a taste of you so bad.

“Oh?” Your finger tips press against your lips to hide your smirk.

“Isaiah says it adds to the experience. Makes it more intimate, more enticing.”

He turns you back around, hands cupping your face when he brings his lips to meet yours. Your taste is delicious to him. Your tongue dances with his, your hands quickly unbuckle his belt to pull his pants down. He kicks his socks off and you’re trapped beneath him on the bed in seconds.

Your hands roam his chest while he bunches up your dress around your hips to dip his fingers under your panties to feel your wet folds.

“I need you so fucking bad, baby.” He whines while slipping his fingers deep inside your soaking walls, taking a deep breath to calm himself when you clench around his appendages.

“Fuck, Cam,” your back arches slightly off the bed, peering up at him to see his eyes had gone dark.

He’s hypnotized by your wetness coating his fingers. He’s thrusting into your palm when it comes to touch him through his boxers.

“Don’t stop,” you mewl, small breaths getting caught in your throat. Your core tightened with each thrust of his fingers.

“Fuckin hell.” He huffs, pulling your leg onto his shoulder to kiss and nip at your calf. His middle and ring finger continue their motions. Your slick is coating his wedding ring and his mouth hangs open as his craving for you grows.

He’s so overwhelmed by the feeling of you that he could cry right now. He’s not even buried inside of you yet and he’s already losing his mind.

His fingers make vigorous ‘come here’ motions, coaxing your first orgasm to the surface.

“Yes, yes, right there. Right… there. Oh fuuuuuuu-”

His mouth hovers over yours, breathing in your gasps as if he’s siphoning your life force.

When you’re left panting, he can’t help but taste you, moaning as if he’s never tasted you before.

“You taste so much sweeter as my wife.” He’s a breathless, whimpering mess. He knows he gets to taste you soon. It’s right there. His body is burning from the thirst. But he knows he has to take his time no matter how bad he wants to just dive in and drink from you.

“Come here.” You pull him in to lick the taste of yourself off his lips, flipping him over on his back to kiss him with the intensity you both crave.

Your hand reaches down into his boxers and he lets his moans be free, refusing to cage them behind clenched teeth. But he stops you for a moment, needing to position himself up against the headboard.

Your breasts are spilling from your dress now and he’s quick to latch onto a nipple. Kneading the other one with his hand, pinching the hardening bud just to hear you gasp at the twinge of pain.

With your hand still wrapped around his dick, you position the head right against your entrance and slowly sit down.

“Oh shit,” he huffs, trying to keep his head upright.

The air in the room felt heavy, charged with a kind of static that precedes a storm. The coolness of Cameron’s skin was a stark contrast to your own radiating heat.

Every touch, every moan, every look was deliberate. A slow burn that pushed you both to the edge of losing your wits.

Your hips roll against him, your clit brushing against his pelvis. You shudder under his gaze, his strong hands holding your waist so you don’t topple over.

“Oh my God,” he was taken aback by your beauty. He cried at the altar but the view right now was another tear jerker. Your gorgeous, brown breasts spilling over the white silk. The necklace he gifted you bouncing between your cleavage while you ride him with all your might. Sweat beading on your hairline, eyes clenched shut with your mouth hung open. Your hair framing your face, the curls of your silk press falling.

It’s like you’re out of a movie.

Cameron can feel his own orgasm impending. Usually it’s easier to hold himself together but he can hear it. The frantic, rhythmic thrum of your pulse against your jugular.

To him, it wasn't just a sound; it was a beckoning. He watched the way your breath hitched, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you began to reach the precipice of your own undoing.

“Cameron,” a plea wrapped in a gasp, “Feed from me. I’m ready.”

His own hips thrust up into you, his grip bruising on your hips while he chases his own climax.

He tries to hold off but it’s so loud.

“Fuck, Y/N. You’re gonna make me… fuck, baby I’m so fucking hungry!” He presses his head against the headboard, doing what he can to relish in this feeling before he bites down and devours.

“I’m here,” you huff breathlessly, staring into his dark eyes, his plump lips framing his exposed fangs, “Take a bite. I am a g-gift to you, an offering in your name. Please, baby? Won’t you take a.. t-take a bite?”

He’s losing it. Between the sound of your pleas, the bounding of your pulse and the squelching between your legs- he’s buzzing.

Just as the first wave of release began to crash over you, he dipped his head into your neck, his nose brushing against the flushed flesh.

You smell so fucking delectable.

He opens his mouth and you feel the tips of his teeth.

“Oh God. I’m gonna fucking cum,”

The sting was sharp but fleeting, instantly replaced by a drowning surge of euphoria. As he drank, the rhythm of your pleasure synchronized with the pull of his hunger.

The world narrowed down to the heat of your skin, the copper tang on his tongue, and the shuddering, breathless vibration of your body finally giving in to the weight of it all.

“F-fuck!!!” You’re cumming on him while he drinks from you. His hands are all over the place, needing to pull you close and closer.

He pulls away with a large gasp, needing a moment to breathe. Your sweet crimson coats his taste buds and he’s never been more satisfied.

But he wants more.

When he sees the blood dripping onto your dress, he fucks up into you with a vicious pace. His dick was throbbing deep inside of you, your arousal dripping down his length. You lean your head on his shoulder, unable to make any noises while he thrusts deeper into you.

Skin slapping, your slick spattering on his thighs, it was almost too much for either of you. He picked your dress up to just watch. He’s mesmerized at the sight of you coating him. Painting his thick length with your cream.

Your clit was swollen, peeking from between your plump lips. Cameron’s moans were obscene, you were making a mess on him and it just seemed to make his hankering for you grow stronger.

“You’re fucking paintin that dick, baby. Holy shit,” he clenches his jaw, eyes rolling at the visual before him, “Don’t stop, ride my dick. It’s yours, baby. It’s yours forever. It feels better now that I’m your husband, don’t it?”

You lean back, eyes are stuck in your head, his words are so lewd and it makes your pussy even messier.

“Yeeeeeessss!” Your nails dick into his thighs, he’s getting so deep, he might as well be in your stomach.

“Keep dripping that cum on my dick, baby. Cum on your husband’s dick. You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

“Oh, fuck, Cam!!” Your legs were burning from trying to keep yourself going. You have to keep telling yourself in your mind to keep going. It feels too fucking good to stop.

“Can I … can I have more, baby?” He begged, licking his lips to savor the taste, “Just need another taste- God dammit.”

You expose the other side of your neck to him and this time when he bites down, you let out a moan that is so animalistic it almost scared you.

You hold his head to your neck, your other is between your legs rubbing fast circles around your clit. You can hear him gulping, his finger tips digging into your flesh.

He knows he should stop and you know you should stop him. But the orgasm that hits you comes down like a tsunami. Your body is convulsing against his and he has to pull back to make sure you’re okay.

Your eyelids are heavy while you take in the view of him. His eyes black and glazed over while your crimson devotion paints his lips.

Elsie was right.

The sight is erotic.

Your lips are on his in a flash. Your spit mixing with the taste of your own blood on his lips. It’s definitely different but you’re not able to stop yourself.

You wish you could bite him just the same.

As if he read your mind, he bites his wrist and his blood bubbles to the surface and he holds it up for you.

Your mouth waters at the sight of it. You take his hand in your grasp and press your lips to the small wound he made.

Cameron’s breath is taken away and his hips falter as you drink from him. You drink as if you’re the one starving, it seeps from the corners of your lips and drips from your chin. Cameron pulls his wrist away to lick the red streak from your chin, collecting it on his tongue to pull you in for yet another fiery kiss.

You saw everything. Drinking from Cameron gave you a glimpse of inside his mind. The love he has for you overwhelms you to the point you break out in a sob. His dick reaches deep, hitting all the spots that cause you to shiver in his arms.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

“I’m right here, baby. You’re okay, you’re safe.” he huffs, lips wrapping around your brown areola to clean a lone red droplet off your hardened bud.

Cameron pushes you back so you’re lying flat on the bad. His pace increases and it’s dizzying.

“Take more.” You demand, “Take more of me, I need it.”

Your hands are on the side of his face, your eyes are hazy as they try to take in the view of your life essence staining his lips and chin.

“Take what you need, I’m right here.”

“Baby.” His breath shudders, getting close to your neck again.

The circles you’re rubbing on your clit become erratic. With Cameron’s essence on your tongue you feel like you’re on fire. You see what he meant by burning for you so bad he wants to crawl on your skin.

“I’m so fucking close.” He hums pathetically, hips stuttering the closer he got, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

His lips hover over your neck, not wanting to bite just yet.

“I’m gonna cum. Oh, Cam. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so close!” You’re trying your best to hold it off but he’s digging so deep, hitting every nerve that’s nestled inside. His breath is hot on your neck, your free hand bringing his wrist back to your lips to drink from him.

Wanting to taste him when you cum again.

“Oh, Y/N.. baby, I-“

He cuts himself off by burying his fangs into your neck once more. When your blood coats his tongue just as his coats yours, you two are in sync. Red rivers connect while he grinds his hips deep as he spills inside and you coat his length with your own orgasm.

The room begins to spin from how hard the wave crashed down on you. Cameron pulls away, panting and staring at the bite marks on your neck.

You look up to see his canines are back to normal. His hunger finally sated.

“You okay?” He is in awe at how ethereal you look. Your hair is all over the place, your gorgeous dress stained red and your pupils blown in desire.

“I’m so fucking good.”

You both share a small laugh, meeting each other half way to share one more kiss.

“I can’t believe you’re my wife now.” He whispers when he takes your hand to stare at the ring.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband.” You speak in a dazed tone.

Cameron kisses you once more before he slowly pulls out of you to get you two cleaned up.

He starts the shower and leads you into the bathroom, standing behind you as you two make eye contact in the mirror.

“Isaiah was right, it’s much more titillating with you in your dress.” He whispers in your ear.

“And Elsie was right. It was way hotter biting me during sex.”

Despite Cameron wanting to stare at you some more. He unzips your dress and lets it fall to the floor.

“Hop in, I’m gonna change the sheets.”

You throw a shower cap on, removing your panties and proceeding to open the shower door and step under the hot stream. The water runs off of you and is tinged red as it goes down the drain.

Cameron is back as quickly as he left. Coming in to wrap his arms around you, letting the water envelop you two, bringing serenity to the room.

“You okay?” He mutters in your ear.

“I’m great” a tranquil sigh escapes you when you lean your head back on his shoulder.

“Good. Because I’m kind of hungry for something else.”

Before you can even question him, he’s lifting you up and setting you on the ledge that’s in the large shower.

He spreads your legs and you’re still messy between them. His fingers slip in with ease, his eyes not leaving yours.

You brace yourself on the two walls surrounding you. Your breathing being taken away as his eyes go dark in the midst of the shower steam.

His head dips down to lick your clit, teasing yet toe curling.

“Cam, don’t tease. Please?” Your hand runs through his wet hair, trying to pull him in.

His lips wrap around your clit and your legs open wider for him. He hums at the taste of you, sending shivers down your spine. Your heels dig into his shoulder blades, knowing you won’t last long.

He’s making out with your pussy, fingering you deep.

“You’re such a good eater, baby.” you praise him and that just eggs him on even more.

His tongue is licking all over your lips, kissing and nipping at your thighs and his fingers speed up. He can feel it, he can feel that you’re about to cum again and it’s driving him up a wall.

“Cum for me, baby. I wanna feel it again. I wanna feel what I do to you. I want that pretty pussy to cum for me.”

“Oh shit, Cam. Just like that, just like that!”

Your head presses against the shower tile, slightly rocking your hips to meet the thrust of Cameron’s fingers.

His lips are back your clit and that’s what you needed. Your third orgasm crashes just as strong as the first two did.

“Give it to me.” he growls, fingering your cum out of you and smirking at how spent you look. One more overstimulating lick to your clit has you closing your legs on him.

You’re panting like you ran a marathon, seeing stars in the shower steam.

“Let’s get cleaned up. For real this time.” He laughs and peppers kisses all over you.

You two wash each other, sharing kisses here and there and just holding each other under the hot stream. When it turns cold is when he calls it a night and gets you both ready for bed.

He made sure to give you snacks and made sure you drank to replenish what you’ve lost during the communion.

The storm had passed, leaving a heavy, tranquil silence in its wake. Cameron pulled you close as you two spooned. He remained anchored to you, his forehead resting against the crook of your neck as the supernatural hum of the connection settled into your bones.

In the aftermath of the communion, the world always felt different. Sharper, yet softer.

Cameron lifted his head, his eyes back to their natural deep slate. With a tenderness that belied his nature, he pressed a thumb to the small wounds. Under his touch, the skin of your wounds began to knit back together.

He wasn't just healing you; he was worshiping you. He pulled the heavy velvet duvet up around your shoulders, shielding you from the sudden chill that often followed the rush of a feeding.

As Cameron settled behind you, pulling you back against his chest, the tether took hold. It was more than just physical proximity, it was a sensory overlap.

You could feel the borrowed warmth of your own blood circulating through his veins, making him feel more alive than he had even before he was turned.

Though his chest is practically hollow, it feels as if you two are sharing a rhythm. No words needed to be spoken. The tight embrace he kept you wrapped in said more than words ever could.

It was a sense of profound safety for you, and a grounding, primal peace for him.

"You're glowing," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against your spine.

You turned in his arms, your eyes heavy and dark with the lingering effects of the euphoria.

The bite hadn't just taken; it had given. You felt a strange, borrowed strength flowing through your body, a gift of his essence exchanged for yours.

"I can feel you," you whispered, touching his cheek. "Not just your skin. I can feel you."

Cameron closed his eyes, leaning into your palm, just as he did at the altar. In this state, the hunger was gone, replaced by a soul. A deep quiet that only you could provide.

He wasn't a creature of the night in this moment. He wasn’t some blood hungry monster that the fairytales and myths made him and his people out to be.

He was your mate, your light at the end of the tunnel. He was your shelter and your anchor.

He was simply yours.

And you are his.

——————

if you’ve made it this far, thank you so so much for your support and attention! it means more than you will ever know!

as always, if you enjoyed please be sure to like, comment and reblog! it helps a ton!

much love,

~Berry🫐

[concretecultist]

Blissful Anguish

summary: the one where you live in a timeline where hanahaki disease exists and you’re its next victim.

word count: 7.2k

pairing: surgical resident!cameron cade x surgical resident!black!reader

warnings: very plot filled but it’s worth it, ANGST! (who’s surprised?), predetermined last name for the sake of the story, coughing up blood, lots of mentions of blood, a lot of surgical/medical talk, unrequited love, mentions of death (no one dies)

a/n: i try to ignore the desire to write angst but the demons want angst so who am i to fight them?

Hanahaki Disease: a disease characterized by the growth of flowers in the chest as a result of unrequited love.

————

It wasn’t supposed to happen to you.

You’re a surgical resident and work alongside your Attending on cases of Hanahaki as that is your chosen specialty.

Your thesis is based on this disease, using your own studies and personal experiences in the field as cited material.

You’ve seen what it can do to people.

Peonies, they appear as results of divorce.

Daisies, these appear due to the loss of an innocent heart. Many young people come in after having their heart broken by someone they thought was their true love.

Bleeding hearts, truly a sad one to witness. They result from the death of a partner.

Rafflesia. These are the most terrifying cases to date. You’ve only experienced three cases but each one has seared terrible images in your brain.

Rafflesia flowers create gaping holes in the patient’s head, creating a foul odor, often caused by inescapable feelings. Where the patient goes through the surgery to remove the roots of their original flower of suffering- but the feelings they have are so deep-seated that they linger, even when you remove every single seed.

All in all, Hanahaki is a beautifully tragic disease. Most times it resolves. Other times, surgery is required and all is well.

But there’s that small percentage, that small portion within the spectrum- where they refuse to tell the person they love, where they refuse the surgery causing them to die.

It’s a sweet sorrow.

Dying in pain for the one you love.

How poetic.

But it doesn’t feel so poetic when there is a burn within your chest, causing an itch in your throat so intense you can’t breathe. You ignore it, assuming it’s just allergies.

It’s that time of year anyway.

Except the tickle doesn’t subside. In fact, it worsens when you’re at work and around your counterpart, Cameron.

He’s a fan favorite, so favored that his face is on billboards. The patients love him and the interns giggle around him like school girls.

You two were the only ones who made it this far within your graduating class that started here at Bloom Memorial Hospital.

The best hospital in the nation when it comes to treating Hanahaki, though there are other specialties here.

However, only you and Cameron could stick out the taxing hours and the gruesome scenes that were put in front of you each day.

This fact resulted in you two being each other’s person. Cameron’s specialty was Cardio, so you two happened to work together quite a bit as your official specialty is Thoracic.

Thus, putting you two in the same OR most of the time.

“Forceps, please, Dr. Cade” your blood covered glove sits in the air, waiting for the tool to be placed in your hand.

“Forceps” he confirms, gently placing them in your grasp, “Are we good over there, Dr. Thorne?”

“Dr. Cade, might I remind you it’s Hawthorne,” your eyebrows raise as you glance over to see him grinning behind his mask, “But a rose thorn nicked some of the tissue on the patient’s left lung. I just gotta tuck some of this excess tissue aaaaand-“

You sing behind your mask, maneuvering the Bovie device to seal the area that was affected. Cameron sees your smile behind your mask and knows it’s another successful surgery.

“Good job, Doctors” Dr. Yelena Predeaux, your Attending, nods to the both of you, “Close Mr. Sterling up and we’ll get him to recovery.”

You and Cameron work in tandem to close up the patient’s chest and soon you two are scrubbing out.

“You know, Hawthorne is still a flower,” Cameron looks over to you with a shit eating grin.

“Yeah but you call me Thorne to be funny-“

“I call you that because you’ll be the only thorn I like in my side”

You glare over at him as if his pun wasn’t funny, it’s hard to hide smiles from this man.

“Oh C’mooooon,” he dries his hands off and follows close behind you, the both of you snatching off your scrub caps, “You’re literally the only resident who is making your entire career about the study of Hanahaki. It’s morbid.”

“Our jobs are morbid, Cameron. We were just elbow deep in a man’s chest, surrounded by bloody rose petals and stems,”

You looked up at him and he just shrugged, acting as if there was something he wanted to say.

“It just scares me,”

“Why?”

“Because how can loving someone become so… horrific?”

“There is beauty in tragedy. We live in a world where something so… extraordinary happens-,”

“Yeah, see? You’re nuts. Extraordinary is not the word I would use.”

A hearty laugh is shared between you two before parting ways.

“I’ll see you in the cafeteria?” He calls after you

“Be there or be square!” You holler over your shoulder, glancing at him with a soft smile to see it returned.

When you’re out of sight, you make your way into a utility closet, shutting it behind you and taking a deep breath before the coughing fit comes. There is an ache in your chest as you hunch over, it starts out dry before your throat begins to sting due to the cough becoming productive.

Before your hand can catch it, you’re coughing up bloody phlegm. What you see mixed in makes your stomach drop. It’s been a dry cough for weeks, what is on display before you isn’t supposed to be there.

“No,” your eyes wide, breathing erratic, “No, no, no!! Cmon!”

Your hands tremble at the sight of seeds and bloodied yellow carnation petals.

The flower of rejection.

You’ve worked on a few cases with yellow carnations.

It was fatal each time.

Once the yellow petals ended up in the emesis basin, it wasn’t long before the patient died. It wasn’t long before you had to call the next of kin to let them know the heavy circumstances.

You thought you’d been able to fight it. You definitely weren’t expecting this flower out of all of them.

These feelings you have for your counterpart were unexpected. You were so immersed in your career, you didn’t think you had time for love.

Your head was always in textbooks and this hospital was your life.

Love was the least of your worries.

Except when your face was buried deep in your laptop, Cameron’s smiling face was always waiting behind it with a hot cup of tea.

Whenever you stayed past the time your rounds were over, he would be by the door with your coat, even if it meant waiting a couple hours.

He chose to wait for you instead of going home to rest.

Cam pushed you to be a better surgeon. He would ask you questions that challenged your brain.

He’d pack you lunch because he knows that, one, you wake up last minute and never make anything for yourself and two, just because you sit with him in the cafeteria doesn’t guarantee that you’re gonna eat.

Fuck.

Of course you love him.

But the past couple weeks were spent with you trying to train yourself to believe you didn’t. You ignored the signs of Pollination. Last week, signs of Budding happened but now you’re in Full Bloom.

You did everything you could to slow down the growth.

Yet the coughing fits persisted.

And today they finally produced something more.

You clean up your mess and run to your Attending’s office.

“Y/N! I take it Mr. Sterling is stable?” She looks over the frames of her glasses, flashing those dashing pearly whites of hers.

“I coughed up yellow carnations,” you didn’t have time to waste.

Dr. Predeaux stared at you as she processed what you just said. When reality hit, it felt like she got punched in the chest. You were her pupil, how did this happen?

“Yellow carnations are big fucking deal!”

“I know!” You have to keep calm, strong emotions can worsen the coughing fits. “I can ask Dr. Smith in neuro. Maybe he can rewire my hippocampus to reduce strong feelings associated with people-,”

“We’re not gonna make you a fucking zombie, Y/N” she rolled her eyes playfully, “But- I can take some x-rays and blood work to create a patient file. I can make this an educational case and have Cameron on it. If there’s anyone to trust it’s him. He’s the best cardiothoracic resident this hospital has seen in a long time.”

“He won’t do it if he knows it’s me,” you’re pacing, you’ve got to think fast.

“We’ve done plenty of cases where the patient’s identity is protected. This would just be another one.”

You go to speak and that itch arises in your throat, except it’s not just a little itch anymore. It’s a full on rash, you had to hurry and take a seat due to your wheezing. It sounds like you have pneumonia from the deep crackling in your cough.

Dr. Predeaux is quick to place her trash can in front of you. There’s blood droplets falling from your lips, your esophagus is irritated and burning. It feels like your throat is closing up and tears well in your eyes.

One final cough has you gagging from the thick matter that fell from your mouth and into the can.

The pistil peeks out from the middle of the flower, staring back up at you, covered in crimson.

“Oh my God.” Predeaux gawks, “Y/N… we’ve got to get on this. Time is not on our side. How long has this been happening-“

“A few weeks… maybe two months? But only today have I coughed up floral matter.”

Your Attending is fuming inside. How were you able to hide this for so long?

“By my calculations I only have about a week… and a half, if I’m lucky.”

You know you should be scared. You know you should be crying, screaming, freaking out. Something. But you’ve implanted yourself into this disease, now it’s implanted itself into you just the same.

You were oddly calm as Dr. Predeaux explained everything to Cameron.

You sat in between them with your chest x-rays in front of you, the roots were weaving between your ribs, wrapping around aching bones. The petals were full of life as they drained yours.

“Why aren’t you scrubbing in on this again?” Cameron’s fingers dug into his eyes, trying to ease the burning from staring at this file for so long, “I don’t know nearly as much about Hanahaki disease as you do. I mainly perform surgeries on heart attack or transplant patients,”

Your hand reaches over to rub his shoulder and your shoulders jerk in an attempt to keep a cough buried.

“Cam, you’ve worked on enough cases with me to know what you’re doing. It breaks my heart to not be able to do this surgery- but you know if the circumstances didn’t call for my absence, I would be there,”

“Plus, you won’t be alone,” Yelena chimes, “Y/N is going to leave you all her notes on this case and cases before for cross referencing. So you can familiarize yourself with this patient’s condition. I’ll be with you as well.”

“And why is this case listed as Jane Doe? Y/N is personable with each patient so she handles it with grace. How can I do that if I haven’t even met patient Doe?”

He was on edge. This would be the first Hanahaki surgery he’s done without you by his side, his favorite Thorne.

Cameron can do coronary artery bypass grafts with his eyes closed. He could perform a heart valve replacement with his hands tied behind his back. He can even walk anyone through an aortic aneurysm repair from memory.

But performing a Botanical Ablation by himself? It’s uncharted territory and without you he feels lost. You’re his compass.

“Cam. You are an exceptional surgeon,” you assured him, “If there is anyone we can trust… if there’s anyone this patient can trust… it’s you.”

“But it’s yellow carnations,” he whimpered, hands shaking as he stared at the images, “If I miss even a single seed… patient Doe dies. I need you in there with me.”

“I will be,” you curl your lips inward to keep your chin from trembling. You’ve seen patients die, you’ve seen this disease consume people but even in those moments you didn’t feel as much fear as you do now.

Seeing Cameron panic was unfamiliar and it scares you. He was always so self-reliant.

“You will study my case notes so hard you’ll hear my voice in your head and you’ll be begging for it to stop by the time you’re done.”

His laughter causes a smirk to spread on your face.

“You’ve got this, Cameron. Give yourself some credit.”

-

The next couple of days were grueling. Cameron heard your voice in his sleep, he heard it while he studied, he heard it in the shower, in the gym… in the OR.

Dr. Predeaux put Cameron through a series of simulations and with each one, he was only a step away from succeeding, but his patient would code.

He forgot a seed here. A stem got lodged there. The petals were everywhere, blocking his vision and he couldn’t find the roots.

His simulated patient died in every situation.

“God dammit!”

A loud clank of the endoscope hitting the metal tray from him throwing it down echoes in the room.

“Take… your. time.” You say from the corner of the room, masked and scrubbed in. Other team members just stood there, waiting for the next step.

Predeaux took this seriously. In order for Cameron to understand the stakes, this had to be handled like a real surgery.

“There’s too many fucking petals!” His head fell into his hands, blood painting his gloves and scrub cap, “This isn’t my fucking specialty- this should be your surgery, not mine!”

“Cameron!” Your voice bounced off the sterile walls, “Pull yourself together! Your patient is counting on you!”

“This is too much, Y/N! I’m not cut out for this shit!”

“And yet it’s you with a fucking scalpel in your grasp!” You clap your hands to snap him out of it, “It is you, Dr. Cade, whose face is plastered on billboards as a symbol of success for this hospital.”

You know it’s not fair for you to put all this pressure on him. But at least he won’t know it’s you because then it would make this entire situation 10 times worse.

“It is you, Dr. Cade, who has survived your internship, who has a year left in his residency, who is the best fucking cardio thoracic surgeon this hospital has seen in years and you’re not even a Fellow yet!”

Everyone’s eyes are wide, shocked that you’ve snapped like this. You’re known to keep your cool so this is foreign for the team.

“So get your head straight and save your patient!” Your eyes bore into his soul and his eyes project humiliation. But that’s something you’ll have to worry about later, “Bring in the next mannequin!”

You turn your back to Cameron and walk back over to stand beside Yelena.

“You should be in there helping him,” you mutter.

“I will be when the time comes but he’s got to get well rounded, Y/N. Working outside of what you know is what separates a good surgeon from a great surgeon.”

Cameron exits the OR to go through the process of scrubbing down and back in.

When he enters the room, his techs robe and glove him up and you see his shoulders relax in a deep breath.

“Cmon, Cameron. You got this.” You heard him whisper to himself.

His team wheels in new trays of tools and gauze. The anesthesiologist acts as if they are administering the meds to put the patient under.

Everything is done to a tee.

He steps up to the operating table and looks down at the training mannequin, whose chest is filled with yellow carnations in the exact positions yours are within your own ribcage.

You bite the inside of your cheek, becoming antsy. This has to work. He’s got to make this work.

He rolls his neck, a small crack emitting from his bones. He looks over his shoulder to see you in the corner, your fingers digging into your arms while they’re crossed over your chest.

He stands up straight and looks at the tech to his left.

“Scalpel.”

Cameron took his time, finally understanding that this was an art form, like the Prima Ballerina dancing across the stage.

“Clamps.” His hands moved skillfully within the chest cavity. There were countless seeds in the emesis basin. There was fake blood all over his gown and it glimmered in the light each time he turned to check the “patient’s” vitals.

Cameron thought he was done when he used the dressing forceps to soak up some of the blood. His tech had the suture needle ready before he stopped her.

“Wait,” he shakes his head, “There… there’s something…”

He uses the endoscope to go into the bronchial tubes.

Sprouts.

This is what he’s been missing this entire time.

How did he miss this when he’s been studying the images? Was he just going through the motions?

“What is the best course of action, Dr. Cade?” Yelena asks from the corner.

Cameron stutters, eyes blinking and squeezing shut as he tries to remember your highlighted material.

“Patient Doe won’t be able to talk right away but I have to go behind with the Bovie after removing the sprouts. It seals off the site to eliminate cross pollination.”

“Proceed.”

All you can hear for the next hour is the whirring of the Bovie and the clanking of other tools on the tray. Cameron and his techs are muttering to each other.

Cameron looks at the monitor of the mannequin and it flashes from red to green- meaning all of the floral matter has been removed.

“Let’s close her up.” He tried to keep his excitement to a minimum, he still had to close the patient and get them to “recovery”.

Once the last steps are complete, Cameron storms past you and out of the OR. You follow close behind him, calling his name.

He takes off his robe and gloves in one fell swoop.

“Cameron, would you fucking stop?!”

Your arm reaches out to him, yanking him to a stop as hard as you could, you weren’t expecting him to turn around so quick, causing him to bump into you and take your breath away.

“What you’re doing isn’t fair!” He’s looming over you, jaw clenched tight and his nostrils flared. Livid isn’t even the word, “You’re putting this patient’s life on me-“

“Every fucking patient we have is put on us!”

“Except at least I know what I’m getting into when a patient comes in needing an ablation to correct Afib o-or a trans myocardial laser revascularization-“

You pull him into an on-call room and shut the door behind you, people were staring and clearly this conversation would need some privacy.

“You think I want to miss this surgery?!” Your eyes well with tears and it catches Cameron’s eye. He could count on one hand how many times he’s seen you cry.

“These surgeries are my life. The mysteries of this disease are my passion! So I’m sorry that I recommended you to Dr. Predeaux to perform this surgery!”

“I didn’t ask for you to!” He throws his arms in the air and turns his back to you for a moment, “I’m fine with my speciality!”

“No, Cameron! You’re fine with being complacent!” You slam your hand on the wall next to you, feeling that fire in your chest but you have to swallow it right now.

“You play it safe because God forbid something comes as a challenge to you instead of being handed to you on a silver fucking platter!”

Cameron’s expression falls, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes in the daggers that are your words.

“And you’re selfish!” He gets close, you can feel the heat radiating off his body, “You go into these surgeries as if lives aren’t at risk!”

“I take risks because I care about my patients! If something can be done, I will exhaust all options. Sorry I don’t do the bare minimum and get to keep the silver spoon in my mouth.”

“You know I’ve worked hard to get where the fuck I am-“

“Oh. Did you?” A humorous chuckle shakes your shoulders as you stare at him in disbelief, “Because last time I checked it wasn’t my mommy’s money that put me through the nation’s top university for surgeons! You know nothing about debt, you know nothing about struggle-“

“You know that’s bullshit!” His shouts over you, “I didn’t come out of the womb with a fucking M.D attached to my name, Y/N. I’ve earned my fucking spot here.”

“So prove it!” Your hands are out, pointing at the door, “Don’t settle with being a good surgeon. Stop falling for complacency, stop hiding and show them why it’s YOUR face everyone sees on the highways and on their tvs!”

“Don’t take your obsession with this disease and put it on me because you can’t be there! It’s not a passion, Y/N! It’s some macabre infatuation!” Spit flies from his mouth as he hurls insults.

“Oh fuck you, Cameron!”

“No, Dr. Thorne- fuck you! I’ll do this surgery, I’ll do right by my patient like I always do but after that? I’m done!”

The air is sucked out of the room at his final words. You two are left breathing heavily, just standing there and staring at each other. Thousands of words left unsaid.

You feel the tears fall over the edge and flex your jaw, quickly wiping away the salty droplets. A deep breath results in a concerning wheeze and you know you have to get out of there.

“Best of luck to you, Dr. Cade.”

“Wait, Y/N-“

But you’re already gone. You speed walk down the hall, taking the elevator to the basement where the hot vents are.

Once the door slams behind you, you double over in pain as you wretch, lucky that the vents are loud as they whirl.

Petals upon petals sit at your feet, teardrops falling into the pile that sits before you. You build enough strength within your chest to let out a hoarse scream.

How is it fair that you’ve focused your career on saving the lives of people who suffer from this disease and yet it’s come to haunt you? As if you sold your soul to it and it’s time to pay up?

You fall to your knees, sobs mixing with your hacking. Maybe you should go out like some patients choose to.

Let the flowers consume you. Let your emotions stay pure and die knowing that outside of this disease, Cameron was the only other thing in this world that you love.

It’s harrowing to know that just in two days time, there will be a surgical drape over your face with your chest wide open. Yellow carnations, stems and roots deep within your chest as if your body is a garden.

The fear sets in now. Now that Cameron is upset with you, the panic demands to be felt and all you can do is curl into a ball on the basement floor.

When the day arrives, you hadn’t seen or heard from Cameron since you two fell out. You’re pacing your hospital room, ready to back out of this surgery and just surrender to these petals.

Yelena wasn’t having that though. She came in to talk some sense into you.

“You’re gonna be okay. No one is dying today.”

She stares at you with a motherly look, standing with two techs, whom she had sign NDAs, ready to take you into the OR.

“We’ll drape your face on the way there. Well prep you, put you under and you’ll be out before you know it. Whatever you and Cameron argued about the other day will be put behind you. You’re in good hands.”

On Cameron’s end he was pacing in an on-call room, ready for the page that his OR was ready.

Maybe he should put his ego to the side?

He does.

He calls you and is praying you pick up.

But you don’t.

“Hi! You’ve reached Dr. Hawthorne! I’m sure this comes as a surprise since I always answer my phone. But leave your message and I promise to get back to you!”

He hears the beep and his words rush out like a broken water pipe.

“Y/N, listen. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I freaked out the way I did, I know you were just trying to push me to be great and I was insulted instead of being receptive. I don’t want to be done. I’m so fucking sorry. We’re Thorne and Cade. Please wish me luck. I’ve never needed your words of encouragement more than now. I’ll call you when I’m out.”

As soon as he finished and hung up, his name was called over the intercom to OR 3.

He stared at your name on his screen, hearing your voice in his head, words that you’ve always said before going in the OR together.

“It’s a great day for lives to be saved, even greater if you’re the one doing the saving!”

He can do this. If you believe in him then that’s more than enough.

So, he makes his way to OR 3. He ties his scrub cap, the one you gifted him ages ago.

Hydrangeas. The flower of pure, heartfelt emotion. He’s carrying you in that OR with him, he’s got this.

Taking the scrub brush, he wets it with water and coats his arms with the CHG wash, scrubbing under his nails and in between his fingers. When he’s done he takes one final deep breath, looking through the glass to see patient Doe lying on the table.

It’s a great day for lives to be saved. Even greater because he’ll be the one doing the saving.

When he enters through the automatic doors, his techs quickly robe, glove and mask him.

He steps up to the table and sees Dr. Predeaux on the other side.

“Dr. Cade.” She gives a short nod, “Are you ready?”

Cameron doesn’t answer. He just looks down at the patient, gazing at the drape over her face.

Then he looks to the tech on his left.

“Scalpel.”

Dr. Predeaux smirks behind her mask, confident in Cameron’s ability to succeed.

“Sternal retractor.”

He works in silence. Not wanting any unnecessary distractions. He keeps his eyes on the vitals and everything is clear.

Dr. Predeaux is there as extra hands and to take over in case patient Doe codes.

But Cameron is precise. He feels as if your hands are the one guiding him.

“Don’t forget to check behind the ribs for embedded roots” he hears your voice in his head.

“Petals first. Then stems. Then roots, sprouts are last.” He just kept repeating in his head.

He doesn’t look up at the clock. Not wanting to know how long he has been in here.

7 hours so far.

But he’s in the bronchial tubes now. Which means the end is in sight. His hands are in a dance with Dr. Predeaux’s. She’s holding the endoscope and he’s using the bronchoscope to remove the sprouts, going behind with the Bovie.

He’s sweating. He’s exhausted. But there’s only two left.

He’s gonna save another life today.

Once the last sprout is removed, Cameron uses the Botanical Thoracic Scanner to detect if there is any floral matter left.

His heart pounds as the whirring fills the room.

He waits with his hands suspended in the air, refusing to put them down in case he has to dive back in.

But the screen turns green and suddenly he can breathe again. Tears fill his eyes when the Flora Unit percentage comes up as 0.

“Congratulations, Dr. Cade.”

“Y/N should be here for this,” he sighs behind his mask, inhaling to calm his nerves and close up patient Doe.

“She’s going to be so proud and I’m sure she can’t wait to hear all about it.”

He’s careful as he fixes up the patient for closing. Once complete, he is finally free.

9 hours. 9 punishing hours he had his hands in someone’s chest. In any other cardio thoracic case it wouldn’t bother him.

But this does.

And that’s why he’s leaning over the scrub sink, feeling like he ran a marathon with a gun to his head.

He looks through the glass to see his techs wheeling patient Doe to her recovery room.

Except something catches his eyes.

“You did great in there, Cameron.” Dr. Predeaux enters the scrubbing areas after removing her gown, gloves and mask.

She’s speaking to him but Cameron can’t hear her.

As the techs begin wheeling his patient out, a small gust from their movement lifts the drape just a little. Just enough for him to see a birth mark that resembles a clover behind patient Doe’s left ear.

No one has that birthmark… except for one person.

He could draw that birthmark from memory. He’s spent years of clinicals whispering into the ear where that birthmark lives. Countless times he’s called the owner of that birthmark his lucky charm.

He just spent 9 hours terrified of accidentally killing this patient. He’s spent the past few weeks of his life wishing his best friend could be in there to be his voice of reason.

But you were in that OR all along.

You…

You are patient Doe.

“Cameron?” Yelena can see something switch in him- like a bomb getting ready to go off.

“You fucking lied to me.” His voice is calm but it’s not comforting. It’s eerie and chilling.

“You groomed me for weeks, preparing me to tackle this surgery and it was Y/N this entire fucking time?!”

He bangs in the metal sink and Yelena jumps at the sudden sound.

“That doesn’t matter-,”

“It doesn’t?! I just dug around in my best friend’s fucking chest! I could have killed her!”

“But you didn’t!,” she shouts over him, “You think you were the only one scared?!”

Yelena has been boiling ever since you came to her about your condition. Now she has no reason to keep it under wraps.

“You two aren’t just my residents, you two aren’t just my mentees- I raised you both to become the surgeons you are today, I see you two as my baby ducks following behind me. You’re my kids. I was terrified, Cameron!,”

“So why didn’t you just fucking tell me?!”

“Because look at you!” She motions her hands over his body, “Look at how you’re reacting! You really think if you knew it was her you’d have been able to pull yourself together long enough to save her life?!”

“That’s selfish! That’s deceptive! That’s dangerous!”

“I did what I had to do to ensure her life was saved! That’s the least fucking selfish thing I could do!”

“Do you not understand how fucked this is?”

“Oh I’m well aware! But if the shoe was on the other foot, I would do the same for you. Now, if you’d like- you can sit with her. Other than that I won’t explain my method of teaching to you.”

Cameron really has no other words to say. His world feels like it’s crumbling around him.

Everything is moving too fast yet so slow. He knows his feet are carrying him to your room but he doesn’t remember how he got here. He doesn’t remember getting on the elevator and pushing the button to get to this floor.

He doesn’t remember sliding the glass door open to get in- he just knows he’s here.

Your lips are dry from the anesthesia equipment so he snags a packet of petroleum jelly from the cabinet with a cotton swab to gently apply it.

He doesn’t notice the sun go down or when it comes back up. He doesn’t notice the nurses coming in to make sure all is well.

“Wake up, Thorne. Please” his leg is shaking as if he’s had numerous energy drinks. He hasn’t slept nor eaten. He’s surviving off the fumes of pure emotional distress. He just wants to talk to you. He wants to ask why you didn’t trust him enough to tell the truth.

It was another day he sat by you before Yelena came to tell him to go home. He felt so discombobulated right now. He's traumatized and he’s expected to just swallow it and go about his day.

As soon as he showered he went right back to the hospital to see you were awake, speaking softly to your nurses. He waited until they were done to rush into your room.

Your eyes light up at the sight of him and you go to speak but he is quick to stop you.

“You’re supposed to be resting your voice which is the perfect time for me to talk and you just listen.”

You’re a little groggy but you just nod slowly.

“I know you trust me, I know you believe in me but lying to me and leaving me in the dark about your condition was fucked up. I could have helped, I could have talked to the person who was behind the flowers I mean cmon, Y/N… yellow carnations?”

You’re frowning as he rants away, disoriented by his words. Everything is still hazy.

“I was not ready. I mean, I did the surgery but I was not ready for something like that and that’s not fair!”

You slowly sit up in bed while he just stands at the foot, chest heaving and eyes wide. His eyes are so sad, shining like glass as he thinks about the “what ifs” of him failing.

His hands grip the bar at the end of the bed so hard you think he just might break it.

“But all in all, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry. I took all my fear and frustration out on you while you were dealing with this in silence. I’ll never forgive myself.”

A silence fills the room as you two take each other in. You’re hooked up to so many wires, he hates the sight.

Your heart aches for him. He is pleading with you and you can’t do… anything.

“I’m sorry…” your voice is hoarse, as if you smoke 7 packs a day but you are fully aware of the surgery you survived.

“Who… who are you?” Your brows furrow and Cameron steps back. He’s not aware of any neurological deficits that could come with a Botanical ablation.

He comes near and takes his pen with a flashlight to shine into your eyes.

“Pupils react normally,” he says to himself, “Y/N, it’s me. Cameron.”

“I… I don’t know anyone by that name. I’m s-sorry.”

“This isn’t funny, Y/N.”

But the glimmer in your eyes is proof enough that you’re not joking. There’s an absence, deep in your irises that signifies you’re serious.

You don’t know who he is.

“I’ll be right back!” He runs to the elevator to get to Yelena’s office. He doesn’t bother knocking, he couldn’t give fuck all about his manners right now.

Something is wrong.

“Why doesn’t she remember me?” Cameron bellows, “She’s just asked who I was!”

“She… s-she did what?” Predeaux looks to Cameron, bewildered at his frantic state.

“She’s awake! I went in there to talk to her but she asked me who I was and said she doesn’t know anyone named Cameron. What the hell happened in that OR?! What did I do?!”

Yelena stands up slowly. Cameron has been through enough but something is wrong. You should remember him. The only time a patient, who has undergone the removal of Hanahaki, forgets someone after their surgery is when…

“It was you…” she whispers, “No.. no no, fuck!”

“I’m not speaking to you as my mentor but as my friend, what the fuck is going on? The main person I care about doesn’t remember me. That’s not normal-“

“It’s normal for patients recovering from Hanahaki,” she swallows with a short nod, biting her lip so hard she tastes the iron sewing its way between her teeth.

“She’s never mentioned amnesia!,” fear and confusion was all that ran through Cameron’s veins. Nothing is making sense. He did everything right.

“It’s normal in patients recovering from a Hanahaki to not remember the person who caused the flowers…”

Everything is still yet it feels as if all the walls are closing in. Air isn’t reaching his lungs like it should, like they’re in space without astronaut suits.

“What?” Cameron swallowed thickly, shaking his head like an etch-a-sketch, as if the motion would make everything clearer “Lena, what the hell does that mean?!”

“It…” she sighs, falling to her chair in defeat, “It means you’re the one she loved, Cameron.”

His shoulders shook in laughter but this was far funny, this had to be some sick joke. You and Yelena have to be playing a prank on him.

“Y/N didn’t love anything besides the study of this disease.”

“Yeah well she’s good a keeping secrets apparently,” Yelena throws her head in her hands and sighs heavily, “The body’s way of protecting the patient from a possible relapse is amnesia. If the patient forgets the person they loved the flowers won’t come back.”

“She didn’t love me… not like that?”

“She asked who you were, Cameron.” The doctor shakes her head, face reading sympathy, “That’s the only explanation. That is the only neurological deficit that comes out of the Hanahaki removal.”

It’s like one thing after the other for him. He can’t catch a fucking break. His body feels sore, never really letting himself decompress after the surgery and now this? He feels like he’s crashing.

“So she… so she just doesn’t know who I am? She just doesn’t remember all the shit we’ve been through. How the fuck am I supposed to be okay with the fact that my best friend loved me so much that…,”

His voice cracks as the tears well, this situation is fucked. The world they live in is fucked. How did this end up being his reality?

“Th-that flowers grew in her fucking lungs and she almost died because of it?! Sh-she could have talked to me!”

Yelena’s breath shudders as she tries to subdue her own tears.

“For the first time in my life, Cameron… I don’t have words of encouragement. I swear on my life, I did not know you were the one she loved or I would have done something different- I would have said something!”

Cameron whips around and his fist meets a framed picture of a flower field that is hung up in Yelena’s office. His screams fill the space and she can’t do anything but sit there and cry silently.

“Stupid… fucking… flowers!”

Yelena doesn’t care about all the shit he’s breaking. It’s a small price to pay for the anguish he’s currently feeling.

“She should have told me, Yelena!”

“I know.”

She’s quick to move so she can comfort him. But she knows nothing she does will ever ease his pain. Yet she tries anyway, when she steps forward he falls in her arms and weeps into her shoulder.

“I know, Cameron.”

She spent hours consoling him and by the time he made it to the locker room he felt lifeless.

When he opened his locker to grab his home bag, he noticed something that wasn’t there before.

A white envelope with his name on it… in your handwriting.

As if his life couldn’t get any harder right now.

His hands shake as he reaches for it. He’s never wanted to vomit harder than he does now when he sees your penmanship all over the page.

Dear Cameron,

I’m sure that by the time you’re reading this, the truth has come out.

The garden in my lungs is finally in full bloom and you may call me crazy for this but, it’s a blissful anguish. It is a representation of how beautiful yet painful love can truly be.

Every time I think of you, I feel the familiar, jagged stems scraping against my throat. I cough, and instead of breath, I find soft petals of yellow carnations stained with the iron taste of my own affliction.

It’s a cruel irony, isn’t it? That the love I grew for you, so quiet and unwatered, found a way to flourish anyway, even if it’s currently choking the life out of me.

I have spent my entire career trying to understand this disease and even now, with fear set in my bones, I crave to know more. Despite it coming to claim me.

As if there is an insurmountable debt that I owe and it’s come to collect.

I’ve spent months trying to ignore this floral haze. Trying to convince myself that I don’t feel this way about you.

When I helped other patients, I used to think there was something noble in dying for an apparition, something that was really never there. As if there was dignity in dying in the name of unrequited love.

But I’ve run out of air and I’m fucking scared.

There’s many names for it; Botanical ablation, pulmonary floral extraction, radical florotomy, whatever you want to call it; They speak of it as if they are simply weeding a flowerbed, but we both know the truth. To remove the flowers, they have to pull up the roots.

And because your name is carved into every seed, it means I must remove you.

By this time tomorrow, the scalpel will have done its work. The petals will be gone. The ache in my chest will finally fall silent. But the cost is the one thing I swore I’d never give up: you.

I am terrified of the person I will be when I wake up.

Forgetting you is forgetting a piece of myself and the terror of that reality strikes me.

I will wake up with clear lungs but a hollow heart. I will look at your face and see a stranger. I’ll see the curve of your smile or the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking, and it won't feel like a symphony anymore.

It won't feel like anything at all.

I have to let it be a void.

I am choosing to breathe, but in doing so, I am choosing to lose the only version of "us" that ever truly existed. The version of us that was only ever meant to be just friends.

The version of us where we stayed up in the university library all night with flash cards to help each other study. The version of us where we first put on our white coats and were able to call each other Doctor. The version of us where you ran to me to tell me you passed yet another exam.

Those versions gave me a glimpse of us. A glimpse of what could be but that’s all this life gifted me.

A glimpse of what could be… but never will be.

You may think I’m selfish for this and a part of me agrees.

Forgive me for choosing the oxygen. Forgive me for my deception. Forgive me for the version of me that will awaken and won’t recognize your freckles or your laugh or the sound of your shoes squeaking on the hospital floors when you’re in a rush to save a life.

I hope you find a love that lets you breathe.

It’s a great day for loves to be saved, but it’s a greater sadness that you had to be the one to save mine at such a heavy fee.

Maybe in some other timeline, we will find ourselves standing in a field of flowers without the pain but all the glory.

I’m hoping so.

If there is anything I loved more than my studies, it was you.

I love you, Cameron Cade.

Goodbye, for the first and final time.

Forever,

Your favorite Thorne in your side.

——————

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for your support and attention! it means more than you will ever know!

If you enjoyed, please make sure to like, comment and reblog! it helps a ton!🩵

As always, much love!

~Berry🫐

[concretecultist]

Blissful Anguish

summary: the one where you live in a timeline where hanahaki disease exists and you’re its next victim.

word count: 7.2k

pairing: surgical resident!cameron cade x surgical resident!black!reader

warnings: very plot filled but it’s worth it, ANGST! (who’s surprised?), predetermined last name for the sake of the story, coughing up blood, lots of mentions of blood, a lot of surgical/medical talk, unrequited love, mentions of death (no one dies)

a/n: i try to ignore the desire to write angst but the demons want angst so who am i to fight them?

Hanahaki Disease: a disease characterized by the growth of flowers in the chest as a result of unrequited love.

————

It wasn’t supposed to happen to you.

You’re a surgical resident and work alongside your Attending on cases of Hanahaki as that is your chosen specialty.

Your thesis is based on this disease, using your own studies and personal experiences in the field as cited material.

You’ve seen what it can do to people.

Peonies, they appear as results of divorce.

Daisies, these appear due to the loss of an innocent heart. Many young people come in after having their heart broken by someone they thought was their true love.

Bleeding hearts, truly a sad one to witness. They result from the death of a partner.

Rafflesia. These are the most terrifying cases to date. You’ve only experienced three cases but each one has seared terrible images in your brain.

Rafflesia flowers create gaping holes in the patient’s head, creating a foul odor, often caused by inescapable feelings. Where the patient goes through the surgery to remove the roots of their original flower of suffering- but the feelings they have are so deep-seated that they linger, even when you remove every single seed.

All in all, Hanahaki is a beautifully tragic disease. Most times it resolves. Other times, surgery is required and all is well.

But there’s that small percentage, that small portion within the spectrum- where they refuse to tell the person they love, where they refuse the surgery causing them to die.

It’s a sweet sorrow.

Dying in pain for the one you love.

How poetic.

But it doesn’t feel so poetic when there is a burn within your chest, causing an itch in your throat so intense you can’t breathe. You ignore it, assuming it’s just allergies.

It’s that time of year anyway.

Except the tickle doesn’t subside. In fact, it worsens when you’re at work and around your counterpart, Cameron.

He’s a fan favorite, so favored that his face is on billboards. The patients love him and the interns giggle around him like school girls.

You two were the only ones who made it this far within your graduating class that started here at Bloom Memorial Hospital.

The best hospital in the nation when it comes to treating Hanahaki, though there are other specialties here.

However, only you and Cameron could stick out the taxing hours and the gruesome scenes that were put in front of you each day.

This fact resulted in you two being each other’s person. Cameron’s specialty was Cardio, so you two happened to work together quite a bit as your official specialty is Thoracic.

Thus, putting you two in the same OR most of the time.

“Forceps, please, Dr. Cade” your blood covered glove sits in the air, waiting for the tool to be placed in your hand.

“Forceps” he confirms, gently placing them in your grasp, “Are we good over there, Dr. Thorne?”

“Dr. Cade, might I remind you it’s Hawthorne,” your eyebrows raise as you glance over to see him grinning behind his mask, “But a rose thorn nicked some of the tissue on the patient’s left lung. I just gotta tuck some of this excess tissue aaaaand-“

You sing behind your mask, maneuvering the Bovie device to seal the area that was affected. Cameron sees your smile behind your mask and knows it’s another successful surgery.

“Good job, Doctors” Dr. Yelena Predeaux, your Attending, nods to the both of you, “Close Mr. Sterling up and we’ll get him to recovery.”

You and Cameron work in tandem to close up the patient’s chest and soon you two are scrubbing out.

“You know, Hawthorne is still a flower,” Cameron looks over to you with a shit eating grin.

“Yeah but you call me Thorne to be funny-“

“I call you that because you’ll be the only thorn I like in my side”

You glare over at him as if his pun wasn’t funny, it’s hard to hide smiles from this man.

“Oh C’mooooon,” he dries his hands off and follows close behind you, the both of you snatching off your scrub caps, “You’re literally the only resident who is making your entire career about the study of Hanahaki. It’s morbid.”

“Our jobs are morbid, Cameron. We were just elbow deep in a man’s chest, surrounded by bloody rose petals and stems,”

You looked up at him and he just shrugged, acting as if there was something he wanted to say.

“It just scares me,”

“Why?”

“Because how can loving someone become so… horrific?”

“There is beauty in tragedy. We live in a world where something so… extraordinary happens-,”

“Yeah, see? You’re nuts. Extraordinary is not the word I would use.”

A hearty laugh is shared between you two before parting ways.

“I’ll see you in the cafeteria?” He calls after you

“Be there or be square!” You holler over your shoulder, glancing at him with a soft smile to see it returned.

When you’re out of sight, you make your way into a utility closet, shutting it behind you and taking a deep breath before the coughing fit comes. There is an ache in your chest as you hunch over, it starts out dry before your throat begins to sting due to the cough becoming productive.

Before your hand can catch it, you’re coughing up bloody phlegm. What you see mixed in makes your stomach drop. It’s been a dry cough for weeks, what is on display before you isn’t supposed to be there.

“No,” your eyes wide, breathing erratic, “No, no, no!! Cmon!”

Your hands tremble at the sight of seeds and bloodied yellow carnation petals.

The flower of rejection.

You’ve worked on a few cases with yellow carnations.

It was fatal each time.

Once the yellow petals ended up in the emesis basin, it wasn’t long before the patient died. It wasn’t long before you had to call the next of kin to let them know the heavy circumstances.

You thought you’d been able to fight it. You definitely weren’t expecting this flower out of all of them.

These feelings you have for your counterpart were unexpected. You were so immersed in your career, you didn’t think you had time for love.

Your head was always in textbooks and this hospital was your life.

Love was the least of your worries.

Except when your face was buried deep in your laptop, Cameron’s smiling face was always waiting behind it with a hot cup of tea.

Whenever you stayed past the time your rounds were over, he would be by the door with your coat, even if it meant waiting a couple hours.

He chose to wait for you instead of going home to rest.

Cam pushed you to be a better surgeon. He would ask you questions that challenged your brain.

He’d pack you lunch because he knows that, one, you wake up last minute and never make anything for yourself and two, just because you sit with him in the cafeteria doesn’t guarantee that you’re gonna eat.

Fuck.

Of course you love him.

But the past couple weeks were spent with you trying to train yourself to believe you didn’t. You ignored the signs of Pollination. Last week, signs of Budding happened but now you’re in Full Bloom.

You did everything you could to slow down the growth.

Yet the coughing fits persisted.

And today they finally produced something more.

You clean up your mess and run to your Attending’s office.

“Y/N! I take it Mr. Sterling is stable?” She looks over the frames of her glasses, flashing those dashing pearly whites of hers.

“I coughed up yellow carnations,” you didn’t have time to waste.

Dr. Predeaux stared at you as she processed what you just said. When reality hit, it felt like she got punched in the chest. You were her pupil, how did this happen?

“Yellow carnations are big fucking deal!”

“I know!” You have to keep calm, strong emotions can worsen the coughing fits. “I can ask Dr. Smith in neuro. Maybe he can rewire my hippocampus to reduce strong feelings associated with people-,”

“We’re not gonna make you a fucking zombie, Y/N” she rolled her eyes playfully, “But- I can take some x-rays and blood work to create a patient file. I can make this an educational case and have Cameron on it. If there’s anyone to trust it’s him. He’s the best cardiothoracic resident this hospital has seen in a long time.”

“He won’t do it if he knows it’s me,” you’re pacing, you’ve got to think fast.

“We’ve done plenty of cases where the patient’s identity is protected. This would just be another one.”

You go to speak and that itch arises in your throat, except it’s not just a little itch anymore. It’s a full on rash, you had to hurry and take a seat due to your wheezing. It sounds like you have pneumonia from the deep crackling in your cough.

Dr. Predeaux is quick to place her trash can in front of you. There’s blood droplets falling from your lips, your esophagus is irritated and burning. It feels like your throat is closing up and tears well in your eyes.

One final cough has you gagging from the thick matter that fell from your mouth and into the can.

The pistil peeks out from the middle of the flower, staring back up at you, covered in crimson.

“Oh my God.” Predeaux gawks, “Y/N… we’ve got to get on this. Time is not on our side. How long has this been happening-“

“A few weeks… maybe two months? But only today have I coughed up floral matter.”

Your Attending is fuming inside. How were you able to hide this for so long?

“By my calculations I only have about a week… and a half, if I’m lucky.”

You know you should be scared. You know you should be crying, screaming, freaking out. Something. But you’ve implanted yourself into this disease, now it’s implanted itself into you just the same.

You were oddly calm as Dr. Predeaux explained everything to Cameron.

You sat in between them with your chest x-rays in front of you, the roots were weaving between your ribs, wrapping around aching bones. The petals were full of life as they drained yours.

“Why aren’t you scrubbing in on this again?” Cameron’s fingers dug into his eyes, trying to ease the burning from staring at this file for so long, “I don’t know nearly as much about Hanahaki disease as you do. I mainly perform surgeries on heart attack or transplant patients,”

Your hand reaches over to rub his shoulder and your shoulders jerk in an attempt to keep a cough buried.

“Cam, you’ve worked on enough cases with me to know what you’re doing. It breaks my heart to not be able to do this surgery- but you know if the circumstances didn’t call for my absence, I would be there,”

“Plus, you won’t be alone,” Yelena chimes, “Y/N is going to leave you all her notes on this case and cases before for cross referencing. So you can familiarize yourself with this patient’s condition. I’ll be with you as well.”

“And why is this case listed as Jane Doe? Y/N is personable with each patient so she handles it with grace. How can I do that if I haven’t even met patient Doe?”

He was on edge. This would be the first Hanahaki surgery he’s done without you by his side, his favorite Thorne.

Cameron can do coronary artery bypass grafts with his eyes closed. He could perform a heart valve replacement with his hands tied behind his back. He can even walk anyone through an aortic aneurysm repair from memory.

But performing a Botanical Ablation by himself? It’s uncharted territory and without you he feels lost. You’re his compass.

“Cam. You are an exceptional surgeon,” you assured him, “If there is anyone we can trust… if there’s anyone this patient can trust… it’s you.”

“But it’s yellow carnations,” he whimpered, hands shaking as he stared at the images, “If I miss even a single seed… patient Doe dies. I need you in there with me.”

“I will be,” you curl your lips inward to keep your chin from trembling. You’ve seen patients die, you’ve seen this disease consume people but even in those moments you didn’t feel as much fear as you do now.

Seeing Cameron panic was unfamiliar and it scares you. He was always so self-reliant.

“You will study my case notes so hard you’ll hear my voice in your head and you’ll be begging for it to stop by the time you’re done.”

His laughter causes a smirk to spread on your face.

“You’ve got this, Cameron. Give yourself some credit.”

-

The next couple of days were grueling. Cameron heard your voice in his sleep, he heard it while he studied, he heard it in the shower, in the gym… in the OR.

Dr. Predeaux put Cameron through a series of simulations and with each one, he was only a step away from succeeding, but his patient would code.

He forgot a seed here. A stem got lodged there. The petals were everywhere, blocking his vision and he couldn’t find the roots.

His simulated patient died in every situation.

“God dammit!”

A loud clank of the endoscope hitting the metal tray from him throwing it down echoes in the room.

“Take… your. time.” You say from the corner of the room, masked and scrubbed in. Other team members just stood there, waiting for the next step.

Predeaux took this seriously. In order for Cameron to understand the stakes, this had to be handled like a real surgery.

“There’s too many fucking petals!” His head fell into his hands, blood painting his gloves and scrub cap, “This isn’t my fucking specialty- this should be your surgery, not mine!”

“Cameron!” Your voice bounced off the sterile walls, “Pull yourself together! Your patient is counting on you!”

“This is too much, Y/N! I’m not cut out for this shit!”

“And yet it’s you with a fucking scalpel in your grasp!” You clap your hands to snap him out of it, “It is you, Dr. Cade, whose face is plastered on billboards as a symbol of success for this hospital.”

You know it’s not fair for you to put all this pressure on him. But at least he won’t know it’s you because then it would make this entire situation 10 times worse.

“It is you, Dr. Cade, who has survived your internship, who has a year left in his residency, who is the best fucking cardio thoracic surgeon this hospital has seen in years and you’re not even a Fellow yet!”

Everyone’s eyes are wide, shocked that you’ve snapped like this. You’re known to keep your cool so this is foreign for the team.

“So get your head straight and save your patient!” Your eyes bore into his soul and his eyes project humiliation. But that’s something you’ll have to worry about later, “Bring in the next mannequin!”

You turn your back to Cameron and walk back over to stand beside Yelena.

“You should be in there helping him,” you mutter.

“I will be when the time comes but he’s got to get well rounded, Y/N. Working outside of what you know is what separates a good surgeon from a great surgeon.”

Cameron exits the OR to go through the process of scrubbing down and back in.

When he enters the room, his techs robe and glove him up and you see his shoulders relax in a deep breath.

“Cmon, Cameron. You got this.” You heard him whisper to himself.

His team wheels in new trays of tools and gauze. The anesthesiologist acts as if they are administering the meds to put the patient under.

Everything is done to a tee.

He steps up to the operating table and looks down at the training mannequin, whose chest is filled with yellow carnations in the exact positions yours are within your own ribcage.

You bite the inside of your cheek, becoming antsy. This has to work. He’s got to make this work.

He rolls his neck, a small crack emitting from his bones. He looks over his shoulder to see you in the corner, your fingers digging into your arms while they’re crossed over your chest.

He stands up straight and looks at the tech to his left.

“Scalpel.”

Cameron took his time, finally understanding that this was an art form, like the Prima Ballerina dancing across the stage.

“Clamps.” His hands moved skillfully within the chest cavity. There were countless seeds in the emesis basin. There was fake blood all over his gown and it glimmered in the light each time he turned to check the “patient’s” vitals.

Cameron thought he was done when he used the dressing forceps to soak up some of the blood. His tech had the suture needle ready before he stopped her.

“Wait,” he shakes his head, “There… there’s something…”

He uses the endoscope to go into the bronchial tubes.

Sprouts.

This is what he’s been missing this entire time.

How did he miss this when he’s been studying the images? Was he just going through the motions?

“What is the best course of action, Dr. Cade?” Yelena asks from the corner.

Cameron stutters, eyes blinking and squeezing shut as he tries to remember your highlighted material.

“Patient Doe won’t be able to talk right away but I have to go behind with the Bovie after removing the sprouts. It seals off the site to eliminate cross pollination.”

“Proceed.”

All you can hear for the next hour is the whirring of the Bovie and the clanking of other tools on the tray. Cameron and his techs are muttering to each other.

Cameron looks at the monitor of the mannequin and it flashes from red to green- meaning all of the floral matter has been removed.

“Let’s close her up.” He tried to keep his excitement to a minimum, he still had to close the patient and get them to “recovery”.

Once the last steps are complete, Cameron storms past you and out of the OR. You follow close behind him, calling his name.

He takes off his robe and gloves in one fell swoop.

“Cameron, would you fucking stop?!”

Your arm reaches out to him, yanking him to a stop as hard as you could, you weren’t expecting him to turn around so quick, causing him to bump into you and take your breath away.

“What you’re doing isn’t fair!” He’s looming over you, jaw clenched tight and his nostrils flared. Livid isn’t even the word, “You’re putting this patient’s life on me-“

“Every fucking patient we have is put on us!”

“Except at least I know what I’m getting into when a patient comes in needing an ablation to correct Afib o-or a trans myocardial laser revascularization-“

You pull him into an on-call room and shut the door behind you, people were staring and clearly this conversation would need some privacy.

“You think I want to miss this surgery?!” Your eyes well with tears and it catches Cameron’s eye. He could count on one hand how many times he’s seen you cry.

“These surgeries are my life. The mysteries of this disease are my passion! So I’m sorry that I recommended you to Dr. Predeaux to perform this surgery!”

“I didn’t ask for you to!” He throws his arms in the air and turns his back to you for a moment, “I’m fine with my speciality!”

“No, Cameron! You’re fine with being complacent!” You slam your hand on the wall next to you, feeling that fire in your chest but you have to swallow it right now.

“You play it safe because God forbid something comes as a challenge to you instead of being handed to you on a silver fucking platter!”

Cameron’s expression falls, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes in the daggers that are your words.

“And you’re selfish!” He gets close, you can feel the heat radiating off his body, “You go into these surgeries as if lives aren’t at risk!”

“I take risks because I care about my patients! If something can be done, I will exhaust all options. Sorry I don’t do the bare minimum and get to keep the silver spoon in my mouth.”

“You know I’ve worked hard to get where the fuck I am-“

“Oh. Did you?” A humorous chuckle shakes your shoulders as you stare at him in disbelief, “Because last time I checked it wasn’t my mommy’s money that put me through the nation’s top university for surgeons! You know nothing about debt, you know nothing about struggle-“

“You know that’s bullshit!” His shouts over you, “I didn’t come out of the womb with a fucking M.D attached to my name, Y/N. I’ve earned my fucking spot here.”

“So prove it!” Your hands are out, pointing at the door, “Don’t settle with being a good surgeon. Stop falling for complacency, stop hiding and show them why it’s YOUR face everyone sees on the highways and on their tvs!”

“Don’t take your obsession with this disease and put it on me because you can’t be there! It’s not a passion, Y/N! It’s some macabre infatuation!” Spit flies from his mouth as he hurls insults.

“Oh fuck you, Cameron!”

“No, Dr. Thorne- fuck you! I’ll do this surgery, I’ll do right by my patient like I always do but after that? I’m done!”

The air is sucked out of the room at his final words. You two are left breathing heavily, just standing there and staring at each other. Thousands of words left unsaid.

You feel the tears fall over the edge and flex your jaw, quickly wiping away the salty droplets. A deep breath results in a concerning wheeze and you know you have to get out of there.

“Best of luck to you, Dr. Cade.”

“Wait, Y/N-“

But you’re already gone. You speed walk down the hall, taking the elevator to the basement where the hot vents are.

Once the door slams behind you, you double over in pain as you wretch, lucky that the vents are loud as they whirl.

Petals upon petals sit at your feet, teardrops falling into the pile that sits before you. You build enough strength within your chest to let out a hoarse scream.

How is it fair that you’ve focused your career on saving the lives of people who suffer from this disease and yet it’s come to haunt you? As if you sold your soul to it and it’s time to pay up?

You fall to your knees, sobs mixing with your hacking. Maybe you should go out like some patients choose to.

Let the flowers consume you. Let your emotions stay pure and die knowing that outside of this disease, Cameron was the only other thing in this world that you love.

It’s harrowing to know that just in two days time, there will be a surgical drape over your face with your chest wide open. Yellow carnations, stems and roots deep within your chest as if your body is a garden.

The fear sets in now. Now that Cameron is upset with you, the panic demands to be felt and all you can do is curl into a ball on the basement floor.

When the day arrives, you hadn’t seen or heard from Cameron since you two fell out. You’re pacing your hospital room, ready to back out of this surgery and just surrender to these petals.

Yelena wasn’t having that though. She came in to talk some sense into you.

“You’re gonna be okay. No one is dying today.”

She stares at you with a motherly look, standing with two techs, whom she had sign NDAs, ready to take you into the OR.

“We’ll drape your face on the way there. Well prep you, put you under and you’ll be out before you know it. Whatever you and Cameron argued about the other day will be put behind you. You’re in good hands.”

On Cameron’s end he was pacing in an on-call room, ready for the page that his OR was ready.

Maybe he should put his ego to the side?

He does.

He calls you and is praying you pick up.

But you don’t.

“Hi! You’ve reached Dr. Hawthorne! I’m sure this comes as a surprise since I always answer my phone. But leave your message and I promise to get back to you!”

He hears the beep and his words rush out like a broken water pipe.

“Y/N, listen. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I freaked out the way I did, I know you were just trying to push me to be great and I was insulted instead of being receptive. I don’t want to be done. I’m so fucking sorry. We’re Thorne and Cade. Please wish me luck. I’ve never needed your words of encouragement more than now. I’ll call you when I’m out.”

As soon as he finished and hung up, his name was called over the intercom to OR 3.

He stared at your name on his screen, hearing your voice in his head, words that you’ve always said before going in the OR together.

“It’s a great day for lives to be saved, even greater if you’re the one doing the saving!”

He can do this. If you believe in him then that’s more than enough.

So, he makes his way to OR 3. He ties his scrub cap, the one you gifted him ages ago.

Hydrangeas. The flower of pure, heartfelt emotion. He’s carrying you in that OR with him, he’s got this.

Taking the scrub brush, he wets it with water and coats his arms with the CHG wash, scrubbing under his nails and in between his fingers. When he’s done he takes one final deep breath, looking through the glass to see patient Doe lying on the table.

It’s a great day for lives to be saved. Even greater because he’ll be the one doing the saving.

When he enters through the automatic doors, his techs quickly robe, glove and mask him.

He steps up to the table and sees Dr. Predeaux on the other side.

“Dr. Cade.” She gives a short nod, “Are you ready?”

Cameron doesn’t answer. He just looks down at the patient, gazing at the drape over her face.

Then he looks to the tech on his left.

“Scalpel.”

Dr. Predeaux smirks behind her mask, confident in Cameron’s ability to succeed.

“Sternal retractor.”

He works in silence. Not wanting any unnecessary distractions. He keeps his eyes on the vitals and everything is clear.

Dr. Predeaux is there as extra hands and to take over in case patient Doe codes.

But Cameron is precise. He feels as if your hands are the one guiding him.

“Don’t forget to check behind the ribs for embedded roots” he hears your voice in his head.

“Petals first. Then stems. Then roots, sprouts are last.” He just kept repeating in his head.

He doesn’t look up at the clock. Not wanting to know how long he has been in here.

7 hours so far.

But he’s in the bronchial tubes now. Which means the end is in sight. His hands are in a dance with Dr. Predeaux’s. She’s holding the endoscope and he’s using the bronchoscope to remove the sprouts, going behind with the Bovie.

He’s sweating. He’s exhausted. But there’s only two left.

He’s gonna save another life today.

Once the last sprout is removed, Cameron uses the Botanical Thoracic Scanner to detect if there is any floral matter left.

His heart pounds as the whirring fills the room.

He waits with his hands suspended in the air, refusing to put them down in case he has to dive back in.

But the screen turns green and suddenly he can breathe again. Tears fill his eyes when the Flora Unit percentage comes up as 0.

“Congratulations, Dr. Cade.”

“Y/N should be here for this,” he sighs behind his mask, inhaling to calm his nerves and close up patient Doe.

“She’s going to be so proud and I’m sure she can’t wait to hear all about it.”

He’s careful as he fixes up the patient for closing. Once complete, he is finally free.

9 hours. 9 punishing hours he had his hands in someone’s chest. In any other cardio thoracic case it wouldn’t bother him.

But this does.

And that’s why he’s leaning over the scrub sink, feeling like he ran a marathon with a gun to his head.

He looks through the glass to see his techs wheeling patient Doe to her recovery room.

Except something catches his eyes.

“You did great in there, Cameron.” Dr. Predeaux enters the scrubbing areas after removing her gown, gloves and mask.

She’s speaking to him but Cameron can’t hear her.

As the techs begin wheeling his patient out, a small gust from their movement lifts the drape just a little. Just enough for him to see a birth mark that resembles a clover behind patient Doe’s left ear.

No one has that birthmark… except for one person.

He could draw that birthmark from memory. He’s spent years of clinicals whispering into the ear where that birthmark lives. Countless times he’s called the owner of that birthmark his lucky charm.

He just spent 9 hours terrified of accidentally killing this patient. He’s spent the past few weeks of his life wishing his best friend could be in there to be his voice of reason.

But you were in that OR all along.

You…

You are patient Doe.

“Cameron?” Yelena can see something switch in him- like a bomb getting ready to go off.

“You fucking lied to me.” His voice is calm but it’s not comforting. It’s eerie and chilling.

“You groomed me for weeks, preparing me to tackle this surgery and it was Y/N this entire fucking time?!”

He bangs in the metal sink and Yelena jumps at the sudden sound.

“That doesn’t matter-,”

“It doesn’t?! I just dug around in my best friend’s fucking chest! I could have killed her!”

“But you didn’t!,” she shouts over him, “You think you were the only one scared?!”

Yelena has been boiling ever since you came to her about your condition. Now she has no reason to keep it under wraps.

“You two aren’t just my residents, you two aren’t just my mentees- I raised you both to become the surgeons you are today, I see you two as my baby ducks following behind me. You’re my kids. I was terrified, Cameron!,”

“So why didn’t you just fucking tell me?!”

“Because look at you!” She motions her hands over his body, “Look at how you’re reacting! You really think if you knew it was her you’d have been able to pull yourself together long enough to save her life?!”

“That’s selfish! That’s deceptive! That’s dangerous!”

“I did what I had to do to ensure her life was saved! That’s the least fucking selfish thing I could do!”

“Do you not understand how fucked this is?”

“Oh I’m well aware! But if the shoe was on the other foot, I would do the same for you. Now, if you’d like- you can sit with her. Other than that I won’t explain my method of teaching to you.”

Cameron really has no other words to say. His world feels like it’s crumbling around him.

Everything is moving too fast yet so slow. He knows his feet are carrying him to your room but he doesn’t remember how he got here. He doesn’t remember getting on the elevator and pushing the button to get to this floor.

He doesn’t remember sliding the glass door open to get in- he just knows he’s here.

Your lips are dry from the anesthesia equipment so he snags a packet of petroleum jelly from the cabinet with a cotton swab to gently apply it.

He doesn’t notice the sun go down or when it comes back up. He doesn’t notice the nurses coming in to make sure all is well.

“Wake up, Thorne. Please” his leg is shaking as if he’s had numerous energy drinks. He hasn’t slept nor eaten. He’s surviving off the fumes of pure emotional distress. He just wants to talk to you. He wants to ask why you didn’t trust him enough to tell the truth.

It was another day he sat by you before Yelena came to tell him to go home. He felt so discombobulated right now. He's traumatized and he’s expected to just swallow it and go about his day.

As soon as he showered he went right back to the hospital to see you were awake, speaking softly to your nurses. He waited until they were done to rush into your room.

Your eyes light up at the sight of him and you go to speak but he is quick to stop you.

“You’re supposed to be resting your voice which is the perfect time for me to talk and you just listen.”

You’re a little groggy but you just nod slowly.

“I know you trust me, I know you believe in me but lying to me and leaving me in the dark about your condition was fucked up. I could have helped, I could have talked to the person who was behind the flowers I mean cmon, Y/N… yellow carnations?”

You’re frowning as he rants away, disoriented by his words. Everything is still hazy.

“I was not ready. I mean, I did the surgery but I was not ready for something like that and that’s not fair!”

You slowly sit up in bed while he just stands at the foot, chest heaving and eyes wide. His eyes are so sad, shining like glass as he thinks about the “what ifs” of him failing.

His hands grip the bar at the end of the bed so hard you think he just might break it.

“But all in all, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry. I took all my fear and frustration out on you while you were dealing with this in silence. I’ll never forgive myself.”

A silence fills the room as you two take each other in. You’re hooked up to so many wires, he hates the sight.

Your heart aches for him. He is pleading with you and you can’t do… anything.

“I’m sorry…” your voice is hoarse, as if you smoke 7 packs a day but you are fully aware of the surgery you survived.

“Who… who are you?” Your brows furrow and Cameron steps back. He’s not aware of any neurological deficits that could come with a Botanical ablation.

He comes near and takes his pen with a flashlight to shine into your eyes.

“Pupils react normally,” he says to himself, “Y/N, it’s me. Cameron.”

“I… I don’t know anyone by that name. I’m s-sorry.”

“This isn’t funny, Y/N.”

But the glimmer in your eyes is proof enough that you’re not joking. There’s an absence, deep in your irises that signifies you’re serious.

You don’t know who he is.

“I’ll be right back!” He runs to the elevator to get to Yelena’s office. He doesn’t bother knocking, he couldn’t give fuck all about his manners right now.

Something is wrong.

“Why doesn’t she remember me?” Cameron bellows, “She’s just asked who I was!”

“She… s-she did what?” Predeaux looks to Cameron, bewildered at his frantic state.

“She’s awake! I went in there to talk to her but she asked me who I was and said she doesn’t know anyone named Cameron. What the hell happened in that OR?! What did I do?!”

Yelena stands up slowly. Cameron has been through enough but something is wrong. You should remember him. The only time a patient, who has undergone the removal of Hanahaki, forgets someone after their surgery is when…

“It was you…” she whispers, “No.. no no, fuck!”

“I’m not speaking to you as my mentor but as my friend, what the fuck is going on? The main person I care about doesn’t remember me. That’s not normal-“

“It’s normal for patients recovering from Hanahaki,” she swallows with a short nod, biting her lip so hard she tastes the iron sewing its way between her teeth.

“She’s never mentioned amnesia!,” fear and confusion was all that ran through Cameron’s veins. Nothing is making sense. He did everything right.

“It’s normal in patients recovering from a Hanahaki to not remember the person who caused the flowers…”

Everything is still yet it feels as if all the walls are closing in. Air isn’t reaching his lungs like it should, like they’re in space without astronaut suits.

“What?” Cameron swallowed thickly, shaking his head like an etch-a-sketch, as if the motion would make everything clearer “Lena, what the hell does that mean?!”

“It…” she sighs, falling to her chair in defeat, “It means you’re the one she loved, Cameron.”

His shoulders shook in laughter but this was far funny, this had to be some sick joke. You and Yelena have to be playing a prank on him.

“Y/N didn’t love anything besides the study of this disease.”

“Yeah well she’s good a keeping secrets apparently,” Yelena throws her head in her hands and sighs heavily, “The body’s way of protecting the patient from a possible relapse is amnesia. If the patient forgets the person they loved the flowers won’t come back.”

“She didn’t love me… not like that?”

“She asked who you were, Cameron.” The doctor shakes her head, face reading sympathy, “That’s the only explanation. That is the only neurological deficit that comes out of the Hanahaki removal.”

It’s like one thing after the other for him. He can’t catch a fucking break. His body feels sore, never really letting himself decompress after the surgery and now this? He feels like he’s crashing.

“So she… so she just doesn’t know who I am? She just doesn’t remember all the shit we’ve been through. How the fuck am I supposed to be okay with the fact that my best friend loved me so much that…,”

His voice cracks as the tears well, this situation is fucked. The world they live in is fucked. How did this end up being his reality?

“Th-that flowers grew in her fucking lungs and she almost died because of it?! Sh-she could have talked to me!”

Yelena’s breath shudders as she tries to subdue her own tears.

“For the first time in my life, Cameron… I don’t have words of encouragement. I swear on my life, I did not know you were the one she loved or I would have done something different- I would have said something!”

Cameron whips around and his fist meets a framed picture of a flower field that is hung up in Yelena’s office. His screams fill the space and she can’t do anything but sit there and cry silently.

“Stupid… fucking… flowers!”

Yelena doesn’t care about all the shit he’s breaking. It’s a small price to pay for the anguish he’s currently feeling.

“She should have told me, Yelena!”

“I know.”

She’s quick to move so she can comfort him. But she knows nothing she does will ever ease his pain. Yet she tries anyway, when she steps forward he falls in her arms and weeps into her shoulder.

“I know, Cameron.”

She spent hours consoling him and by the time he made it to the locker room he felt lifeless.

When he opened his locker to grab his home bag, he noticed something that wasn’t there before.

A white envelope with his name on it… in your handwriting.

As if his life couldn’t get any harder right now.

His hands shake as he reaches for it. He’s never wanted to vomit harder than he does now when he sees your penmanship all over the page.

Dear Cameron,

I’m sure that by the time you’re reading this, the truth has come out.

The garden in my lungs is finally in full bloom and you may call me crazy for this but, it’s a blissful anguish. It is a representation of how beautiful yet painful love can truly be.

Every time I think of you, I feel the familiar, jagged stems scraping against my throat. I cough, and instead of breath, I find soft petals of yellow carnations stained with the iron taste of my own affliction.

It’s a cruel irony, isn’t it? That the love I grew for you, so quiet and unwatered, found a way to flourish anyway, even if it’s currently choking the life out of me.

I have spent my entire career trying to understand this disease and even now, with fear set in my bones, I crave to know more. Despite it coming to claim me.

As if there is an insurmountable debt that I owe and it’s come to collect.

I’ve spent months trying to ignore this floral haze. Trying to convince myself that I don’t feel this way about you.

When I helped other patients, I used to think there was something noble in dying for an apparition, something that was really never there. As if there was dignity in dying in the name of unrequited love.

But I’ve run out of air and I’m fucking scared.

There’s many names for it; Botanical ablation, pulmonary floral extraction, radical florotomy, whatever you want to call it; They speak of it as if they are simply weeding a flowerbed, but we both know the truth. To remove the flowers, they have to pull up the roots.

And because your name is carved into every seed, it means I must remove you.

By this time tomorrow, the scalpel will have done its work. The petals will be gone. The ache in my chest will finally fall silent. But the cost is the one thing I swore I’d never give up: you.

I am terrified of the person I will be when I wake up.

Forgetting you is forgetting a piece of myself and the terror of that reality strikes me.

I will wake up with clear lungs but a hollow heart. I will look at your face and see a stranger. I’ll see the curve of your smile or the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking, and it won't feel like a symphony anymore.

It won't feel like anything at all.

I have to let it be a void.

I am choosing to breathe, but in doing so, I am choosing to lose the only version of "us" that ever truly existed. The version of us that was only ever meant to be just friends.

The version of us where we stayed up in the university library all night with flash cards to help each other study. The version of us where we first put on our white coats and were able to call each other Doctor. The version of us where you ran to me to tell me you passed yet another exam.

Those versions gave me a glimpse of us. A glimpse of what could be but that’s all this life gifted me.

A glimpse of what could be… but never will be.

You may think I’m selfish for this and a part of me agrees.

Forgive me for choosing the oxygen. Forgive me for my deception. Forgive me for the version of me that will awaken and won’t recognize your freckles or your laugh or the sound of your shoes squeaking on the hospital floors when you’re in a rush to save a life.

I hope you find a love that lets you breathe.

It’s a great day for loves to be saved, but it’s a greater sadness that you had to be the one to save mine at such a heavy fee.

Maybe in some other timeline, we will find ourselves standing in a field of flowers without the pain but all the glory.

I’m hoping so.

If there is anything I loved more than my studies, it was you.

I love you, Cameron Cade.

Goodbye, for the first and final time.

Forever,

Your favorite Thorne in your side.

——————

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for your support and attention! it means more than you will ever know!

If you enjoyed, please make sure to like, comment and reblog! it helps a ton!🩵

As always, much love!

~Berry🫐

[stillinnav]

when i’m looking for gut-wrenching angst but all i can find is gut-wrenching smut (comment some good angstyyyy recs plzzz)

[pagesandpasses]

craving some angst & some toxicness too🙈

(maybe it starts off good like smut and fluff and then boom 💥 something happens obviously and shit guess south with a “happy” ending or not and get it in a sequel post)

[concretecultist]

oh do i have the page for you! 🤭🩵

(shameless promo for all your cameron cade angst needs)

[concretecultist]

Blissful Anguish

summary: the one where you live in a timeline where hanahaki disease exists and you’re its next victim.

word count: 7.2k

pairing: surgical resident!cameron cade x surgical resident!black!reader

warnings: very plot filled but it’s worth it, ANGST! (who’s surprised?), predetermined last name for the sake of the story, coughing up blood, lots of mentions of blood, a lot of surgical/medical talk, unrequited love, mentions of death (no one dies)

a/n: i try to ignore the desire to write angst but the demons want angst so who am i to fight them?

Hanahaki Disease: a disease characterized by the growth of flowers in the chest as a result of unrequited love.

————

It wasn’t supposed to happen to you.

You’re a surgical resident and work alongside your Attending on cases of Hanahaki as that is your chosen specialty.

Your thesis is based on this disease, using your own studies and personal experiences in the field as cited material.

You’ve seen what it can do to people.

Peonies, they appear as results of divorce.

Daisies, these appear due to the loss of an innocent heart. Many young people come in after having their heart broken by someone they thought was their true love.

Bleeding hearts, truly a sad one to witness. They result from the death of a partner.

Rafflesia. These are the most terrifying cases to date. You’ve only experienced three cases but each one has seared terrible images in your brain.

Rafflesia flowers create gaping holes in the patient’s head, creating a foul odor, often caused by inescapable feelings. Where the patient goes through the surgery to remove the roots of their original flower of suffering- but the feelings they have are so deep-seated that they linger, even when you remove every single seed.

All in all, Hanahaki is a beautifully tragic disease. Most times it resolves. Other times, surgery is required and all is well.

But there’s that small percentage, that small portion within the spectrum- where they refuse to tell the person they love, where they refuse the surgery causing them to die.

It’s a sweet sorrow.

Dying in pain for the one you love.

How poetic.

But it doesn’t feel so poetic when there is a burn within your chest, causing an itch in your throat so intense you can’t breathe. You ignore it, assuming it’s just allergies.

It’s that time of year anyway.

Except the tickle doesn’t subside. In fact, it worsens when you’re at work and around your counterpart, Cameron.

He’s a fan favorite, so favored that his face is on billboards. The patients love him and the interns giggle around him like school girls.

You two were the only ones who made it this far within your graduating class that started here at Bloom Memorial Hospital.

The best hospital in the nation when it comes to treating Hanahaki, though there are other specialties here.

However, only you and Cameron could stick out the taxing hours and the gruesome scenes that were put in front of you each day.

This fact resulted in you two being each other’s person. Cameron’s specialty was Cardio, so you two happened to work together quite a bit as your official specialty is Thoracic.

Thus, putting you two in the same OR most of the time.

“Forceps, please, Dr. Cade” your blood covered glove sits in the air, waiting for the tool to be placed in your hand.

“Forceps” he confirms, gently placing them in your grasp, “Are we good over there, Dr. Thorne?”

“Dr. Cade, might I remind you it’s Hawthorne,” your eyebrows raise as you glance over to see him grinning behind his mask, “But a rose thorn nicked some of the tissue on the patient’s left lung. I just gotta tuck some of this excess tissue aaaaand-“

You sing behind your mask, maneuvering the Bovie device to seal the area that was affected. Cameron sees your smile behind your mask and knows it’s another successful surgery.

“Good job, Doctors” Dr. Yelena Predeaux, your Attending, nods to the both of you, “Close Mr. Sterling up and we’ll get him to recovery.”

You and Cameron work in tandem to close up the patient’s chest and soon you two are scrubbing out.

“You know, Hawthorne is still a flower,” Cameron looks over to you with a shit eating grin.

“Yeah but you call me Thorne to be funny-“

“I call you that because you’ll be the only thorn I like in my side”

You glare over at him as if his pun wasn’t funny, it’s hard to hide smiles from this man.

“Oh C’mooooon,” he dries his hands off and follows close behind you, the both of you snatching off your scrub caps, “You’re literally the only resident who is making your entire career about the study of Hanahaki. It’s morbid.”

“Our jobs are morbid, Cameron. We were just elbow deep in a man’s chest, surrounded by bloody rose petals and stems,”

You looked up at him and he just shrugged, acting as if there was something he wanted to say.

“It just scares me,”

“Why?”

“Because how can loving someone become so… horrific?”

“There is beauty in tragedy. We live in a world where something so… extraordinary happens-,”

“Yeah, see? You’re nuts. Extraordinary is not the word I would use.”

A hearty laugh is shared between you two before parting ways.

“I’ll see you in the cafeteria?” He calls after you

“Be there or be square!” You holler over your shoulder, glancing at him with a soft smile to see it returned.

When you’re out of sight, you make your way into a utility closet, shutting it behind you and taking a deep breath before the coughing fit comes. There is an ache in your chest as you hunch over, it starts out dry before your throat begins to sting due to the cough becoming productive.

Before your hand can catch it, you’re coughing up bloody phlegm. What you see mixed in makes your stomach drop. It’s been a dry cough for weeks, what is on display before you isn’t supposed to be there.

“No,” your eyes wide, breathing erratic, “No, no, no!! Cmon!”

Your hands tremble at the sight of seeds and bloodied yellow carnation petals.

The flower of rejection.

You’ve worked on a few cases with yellow carnations.

It was fatal each time.

Once the yellow petals ended up in the emesis basin, it wasn’t long before the patient died. It wasn’t long before you had to call the next of kin to let them know the heavy circumstances.

You thought you’d been able to fight it. You definitely weren’t expecting this flower out of all of them.

These feelings you have for your counterpart were unexpected. You were so immersed in your career, you didn’t think you had time for love.

Your head was always in textbooks and this hospital was your life.

Love was the least of your worries.

Except when your face was buried deep in your laptop, Cameron’s smiling face was always waiting behind it with a hot cup of tea.

Whenever you stayed past the time your rounds were over, he would be by the door with your coat, even if it meant waiting a couple hours.

He chose to wait for you instead of going home to rest.

Cam pushed you to be a better surgeon. He would ask you questions that challenged your brain.

He’d pack you lunch because he knows that, one, you wake up last minute and never make anything for yourself and two, just because you sit with him in the cafeteria doesn’t guarantee that you’re gonna eat.

Fuck.

Of course you love him.

But the past couple weeks were spent with you trying to train yourself to believe you didn’t. You ignored the signs of Pollination. Last week, signs of Budding happened but now you’re in Full Bloom.

You did everything you could to slow down the growth.

Yet the coughing fits persisted.

And today they finally produced something more.

You clean up your mess and run to your Attending’s office.

“Y/N! I take it Mr. Sterling is stable?” She looks over the frames of her glasses, flashing those dashing pearly whites of hers.

“I coughed up yellow carnations,” you didn’t have time to waste.

Dr. Predeaux stared at you as she processed what you just said. When reality hit, it felt like she got punched in the chest. You were her pupil, how did this happen?

“Yellow carnations are big fucking deal!”

“I know!” You have to keep calm, strong emotions can worsen the coughing fits. “I can ask Dr. Smith in neuro. Maybe he can rewire my hippocampus to reduce strong feelings associated with people-,”

“We’re not gonna make you a fucking zombie, Y/N” she rolled her eyes playfully, “But- I can take some x-rays and blood work to create a patient file. I can make this an educational case and have Cameron on it. If there’s anyone to trust it’s him. He’s the best cardiothoracic resident this hospital has seen in a long time.”

“He won’t do it if he knows it’s me,” you’re pacing, you’ve got to think fast.

“We’ve done plenty of cases where the patient’s identity is protected. This would just be another one.”

You go to speak and that itch arises in your throat, except it’s not just a little itch anymore. It’s a full on rash, you had to hurry and take a seat due to your wheezing. It sounds like you have pneumonia from the deep crackling in your cough.

Dr. Predeaux is quick to place her trash can in front of you. There’s blood droplets falling from your lips, your esophagus is irritated and burning. It feels like your throat is closing up and tears well in your eyes.

One final cough has you gagging from the thick matter that fell from your mouth and into the can.

The pistil peeks out from the middle of the flower, staring back up at you, covered in crimson.

“Oh my God.” Predeaux gawks, “Y/N… we’ve got to get on this. Time is not on our side. How long has this been happening-“

“A few weeks… maybe two months? But only today have I coughed up floral matter.”

Your Attending is fuming inside. How were you able to hide this for so long?

“By my calculations I only have about a week… and a half, if I’m lucky.”

You know you should be scared. You know you should be crying, screaming, freaking out. Something. But you’ve implanted yourself into this disease, now it’s implanted itself into you just the same.

You were oddly calm as Dr. Predeaux explained everything to Cameron.

You sat in between them with your chest x-rays in front of you, the roots were weaving between your ribs, wrapping around aching bones. The petals were full of life as they drained yours.

“Why aren’t you scrubbing in on this again?” Cameron’s fingers dug into his eyes, trying to ease the burning from staring at this file for so long, “I don’t know nearly as much about Hanahaki disease as you do. I mainly perform surgeries on heart attack or transplant patients,”

Your hand reaches over to rub his shoulder and your shoulders jerk in an attempt to keep a cough buried.

“Cam, you’ve worked on enough cases with me to know what you’re doing. It breaks my heart to not be able to do this surgery- but you know if the circumstances didn’t call for my absence, I would be there,”

“Plus, you won’t be alone,” Yelena chimes, “Y/N is going to leave you all her notes on this case and cases before for cross referencing. So you can familiarize yourself with this patient’s condition. I’ll be with you as well.”

“And why is this case listed as Jane Doe? Y/N is personable with each patient so she handles it with grace. How can I do that if I haven’t even met patient Doe?”

He was on edge. This would be the first Hanahaki surgery he’s done without you by his side, his favorite Thorne.

Cameron can do coronary artery bypass grafts with his eyes closed. He could perform a heart valve replacement with his hands tied behind his back. He can even walk anyone through an aortic aneurysm repair from memory.

But performing a Botanical Ablation by himself? It’s uncharted territory and without you he feels lost. You’re his compass.

“Cam. You are an exceptional surgeon,” you assured him, “If there is anyone we can trust… if there’s anyone this patient can trust… it’s you.”

“But it’s yellow carnations,” he whimpered, hands shaking as he stared at the images, “If I miss even a single seed… patient Doe dies. I need you in there with me.”

“I will be,” you curl your lips inward to keep your chin from trembling. You’ve seen patients die, you’ve seen this disease consume people but even in those moments you didn’t feel as much fear as you do now.

Seeing Cameron panic was unfamiliar and it scares you. He was always so self-reliant.

“You will study my case notes so hard you’ll hear my voice in your head and you’ll be begging for it to stop by the time you’re done.”

His laughter causes a smirk to spread on your face.

“You’ve got this, Cameron. Give yourself some credit.”

-

The next couple of days were grueling. Cameron heard your voice in his sleep, he heard it while he studied, he heard it in the shower, in the gym… in the OR.

Dr. Predeaux put Cameron through a series of simulations and with each one, he was only a step away from succeeding, but his patient would code.

He forgot a seed here. A stem got lodged there. The petals were everywhere, blocking his vision and he couldn’t find the roots.

His simulated patient died in every situation.

“God dammit!”

A loud clank of the endoscope hitting the metal tray from him throwing it down echoes in the room.

“Take… your. time.” You say from the corner of the room, masked and scrubbed in. Other team members just stood there, waiting for the next step.

Predeaux took this seriously. In order for Cameron to understand the stakes, this had to be handled like a real surgery.

“There’s too many fucking petals!” His head fell into his hands, blood painting his gloves and scrub cap, “This isn’t my fucking specialty- this should be your surgery, not mine!”

“Cameron!” Your voice bounced off the sterile walls, “Pull yourself together! Your patient is counting on you!”

“This is too much, Y/N! I’m not cut out for this shit!”

“And yet it’s you with a fucking scalpel in your grasp!” You clap your hands to snap him out of it, “It is you, Dr. Cade, whose face is plastered on billboards as a symbol of success for this hospital.”

You know it’s not fair for you to put all this pressure on him. But at least he won’t know it’s you because then it would make this entire situation 10 times worse.

“It is you, Dr. Cade, who has survived your internship, who has a year left in his residency, who is the best fucking cardio thoracic surgeon this hospital has seen in years and you’re not even a Fellow yet!”

Everyone’s eyes are wide, shocked that you’ve snapped like this. You’re known to keep your cool so this is foreign for the team.

“So get your head straight and save your patient!” Your eyes bore into his soul and his eyes project humiliation. But that’s something you’ll have to worry about later, “Bring in the next mannequin!”

You turn your back to Cameron and walk back over to stand beside Yelena.

“You should be in there helping him,” you mutter.

“I will be when the time comes but he’s got to get well rounded, Y/N. Working outside of what you know is what separates a good surgeon from a great surgeon.”

Cameron exits the OR to go through the process of scrubbing down and back in.

When he enters the room, his techs robe and glove him up and you see his shoulders relax in a deep breath.

“Cmon, Cameron. You got this.” You heard him whisper to himself.

His team wheels in new trays of tools and gauze. The anesthesiologist acts as if they are administering the meds to put the patient under.

Everything is done to a tee.

He steps up to the operating table and looks down at the training mannequin, whose chest is filled with yellow carnations in the exact positions yours are within your own ribcage.

You bite the inside of your cheek, becoming antsy. This has to work. He’s got to make this work.

He rolls his neck, a small crack emitting from his bones. He looks over his shoulder to see you in the corner, your fingers digging into your arms while they’re crossed over your chest.

He stands up straight and looks at the tech to his left.

“Scalpel.”

Cameron took his time, finally understanding that this was an art form, like the Prima Ballerina dancing across the stage.

“Clamps.” His hands moved skillfully within the chest cavity. There were countless seeds in the emesis basin. There was fake blood all over his gown and it glimmered in the light each time he turned to check the “patient’s” vitals.

Cameron thought he was done when he used the dressing forceps to soak up some of the blood. His tech had the suture needle ready before he stopped her.

“Wait,” he shakes his head, “There… there’s something…”

He uses the endoscope to go into the bronchial tubes.

Sprouts.

This is what he’s been missing this entire time.

How did he miss this when he’s been studying the images? Was he just going through the motions?

“What is the best course of action, Dr. Cade?” Yelena asks from the corner.

Cameron stutters, eyes blinking and squeezing shut as he tries to remember your highlighted material.

“Patient Doe won’t be able to talk right away but I have to go behind with the Bovie after removing the sprouts. It seals off the site to eliminate cross pollination.”

“Proceed.”

All you can hear for the next hour is the whirring of the Bovie and the clanking of other tools on the tray. Cameron and his techs are muttering to each other.

Cameron looks at the monitor of the mannequin and it flashes from red to green- meaning all of the floral matter has been removed.

“Let’s close her up.” He tried to keep his excitement to a minimum, he still had to close the patient and get them to “recovery”.

Once the last steps are complete, Cameron storms past you and out of the OR. You follow close behind him, calling his name.

He takes off his robe and gloves in one fell swoop.

“Cameron, would you fucking stop?!”

Your arm reaches out to him, yanking him to a stop as hard as you could, you weren’t expecting him to turn around so quick, causing him to bump into you and take your breath away.

“What you’re doing isn’t fair!” He’s looming over you, jaw clenched tight and his nostrils flared. Livid isn’t even the word, “You’re putting this patient’s life on me-“

“Every fucking patient we have is put on us!”

“Except at least I know what I’m getting into when a patient comes in needing an ablation to correct Afib o-or a trans myocardial laser revascularization-“

You pull him into an on-call room and shut the door behind you, people were staring and clearly this conversation would need some privacy.

“You think I want to miss this surgery?!” Your eyes well with tears and it catches Cameron’s eye. He could count on one hand how many times he’s seen you cry.

“These surgeries are my life. The mysteries of this disease are my passion! So I’m sorry that I recommended you to Dr. Predeaux to perform this surgery!”

“I didn’t ask for you to!” He throws his arms in the air and turns his back to you for a moment, “I’m fine with my speciality!”

“No, Cameron! You’re fine with being complacent!” You slam your hand on the wall next to you, feeling that fire in your chest but you have to swallow it right now.

“You play it safe because God forbid something comes as a challenge to you instead of being handed to you on a silver fucking platter!”

Cameron’s expression falls, Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes in the daggers that are your words.

“And you’re selfish!” He gets close, you can feel the heat radiating off his body, “You go into these surgeries as if lives aren’t at risk!”

“I take risks because I care about my patients! If something can be done, I will exhaust all options. Sorry I don’t do the bare minimum and get to keep the silver spoon in my mouth.”

“You know I’ve worked hard to get where the fuck I am-“

“Oh. Did you?” A humorous chuckle shakes your shoulders as you stare at him in disbelief, “Because last time I checked it wasn’t my mommy’s money that put me through the nation’s top university for surgeons! You know nothing about debt, you know nothing about struggle-“

“You know that’s bullshit!” His shouts over you, “I didn’t come out of the womb with a fucking M.D attached to my name, Y/N. I’ve earned my fucking spot here.”

“So prove it!” Your hands are out, pointing at the door, “Don’t settle with being a good surgeon. Stop falling for complacency, stop hiding and show them why it’s YOUR face everyone sees on the highways and on their tvs!”

“Don’t take your obsession with this disease and put it on me because you can’t be there! It’s not a passion, Y/N! It’s some macabre infatuation!” Spit flies from his mouth as he hurls insults.

“Oh fuck you, Cameron!”

“No, Dr. Thorne- fuck you! I’ll do this surgery, I’ll do right by my patient like I always do but after that? I’m done!”

The air is sucked out of the room at his final words. You two are left breathing heavily, just standing there and staring at each other. Thousands of words left unsaid.

You feel the tears fall over the edge and flex your jaw, quickly wiping away the salty droplets. A deep breath results in a concerning wheeze and you know you have to get out of there.

“Best of luck to you, Dr. Cade.”

“Wait, Y/N-“

But you’re already gone. You speed walk down the hall, taking the elevator to the basement where the hot vents are.

Once the door slams behind you, you double over in pain as you wretch, lucky that the vents are loud as they whirl.

Petals upon petals sit at your feet, teardrops falling into the pile that sits before you. You build enough strength within your chest to let out a hoarse scream.

How is it fair that you’ve focused your career on saving the lives of people who suffer from this disease and yet it’s come to haunt you? As if you sold your soul to it and it’s time to pay up?

You fall to your knees, sobs mixing with your hacking. Maybe you should go out like some patients choose to.

Let the flowers consume you. Let your emotions stay pure and die knowing that outside of this disease, Cameron was the only other thing in this world that you love.

It’s harrowing to know that just in two days time, there will be a surgical drape over your face with your chest wide open. Yellow carnations, stems and roots deep within your chest as if your body is a garden.

The fear sets in now. Now that Cameron is upset with you, the panic demands to be felt and all you can do is curl into a ball on the basement floor.

When the day arrives, you hadn’t seen or heard from Cameron since you two fell out. You’re pacing your hospital room, ready to back out of this surgery and just surrender to these petals.

Yelena wasn’t having that though. She came in to talk some sense into you.

“You’re gonna be okay. No one is dying today.”

She stares at you with a motherly look, standing with two techs, whom she had sign NDAs, ready to take you into the OR.

“We’ll drape your face on the way there. Well prep you, put you under and you’ll be out before you know it. Whatever you and Cameron argued about the other day will be put behind you. You’re in good hands.”

On Cameron’s end he was pacing in an on-call room, ready for the page that his OR was ready.

Maybe he should put his ego to the side?

He does.

He calls you and is praying you pick up.

But you don’t.

“Hi! You’ve reached Dr. Hawthorne! I’m sure this comes as a surprise since I always answer my phone. But leave your message and I promise to get back to you!”

He hears the beep and his words rush out like a broken water pipe.

“Y/N, listen. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I freaked out the way I did, I know you were just trying to push me to be great and I was insulted instead of being receptive. I don’t want to be done. I’m so fucking sorry. We’re Thorne and Cade. Please wish me luck. I’ve never needed your words of encouragement more than now. I’ll call you when I’m out.”

As soon as he finished and hung up, his name was called over the intercom to OR 3.

He stared at your name on his screen, hearing your voice in his head, words that you’ve always said before going in the OR together.

“It’s a great day for lives to be saved, even greater if you’re the one doing the saving!”

He can do this. If you believe in him then that’s more than enough.

So, he makes his way to OR 3. He ties his scrub cap, the one you gifted him ages ago.

Hydrangeas. The flower of pure, heartfelt emotion. He’s carrying you in that OR with him, he’s got this.

Taking the scrub brush, he wets it with water and coats his arms with the CHG wash, scrubbing under his nails and in between his fingers. When he’s done he takes one final deep breath, looking through the glass to see patient Doe lying on the table.

It’s a great day for lives to be saved. Even greater because he’ll be the one doing the saving.

When he enters through the automatic doors, his techs quickly robe, glove and mask him.

He steps up to the table and sees Dr. Predeaux on the other side.

“Dr. Cade.” She gives a short nod, “Are you ready?”

Cameron doesn’t answer. He just looks down at the patient, gazing at the drape over her face.

Then he looks to the tech on his left.

“Scalpel.”

Dr. Predeaux smirks behind her mask, confident in Cameron’s ability to succeed.

“Sternal retractor.”

He works in silence. Not wanting any unnecessary distractions. He keeps his eyes on the vitals and everything is clear.

Dr. Predeaux is there as extra hands and to take over in case patient Doe codes.

But Cameron is precise. He feels as if your hands are the one guiding him.

“Don’t forget to check behind the ribs for embedded roots” he hears your voice in his head.

“Petals first. Then stems. Then roots, sprouts are last.” He just kept repeating in his head.

He doesn’t look up at the clock. Not wanting to know how long he has been in here.

7 hours so far.

But he’s in the bronchial tubes now. Which means the end is in sight. His hands are in a dance with Dr. Predeaux’s. She’s holding the endoscope and he’s using the bronchoscope to remove the sprouts, going behind with the Bovie.

He’s sweating. He’s exhausted. But there’s only two left.

He’s gonna save another life today.

Once the last sprout is removed, Cameron uses the Botanical Thoracic Scanner to detect if there is any floral matter left.

His heart pounds as the whirring fills the room.

He waits with his hands suspended in the air, refusing to put them down in case he has to dive back in.

But the screen turns green and suddenly he can breathe again. Tears fill his eyes when the Flora Unit percentage comes up as 0.

“Congratulations, Dr. Cade.”

“Y/N should be here for this,” he sighs behind his mask, inhaling to calm his nerves and close up patient Doe.

“She’s going to be so proud and I’m sure she can’t wait to hear all about it.”

He’s careful as he fixes up the patient for closing. Once complete, he is finally free.

9 hours. 9 punishing hours he had his hands in someone’s chest. In any other cardio thoracic case it wouldn’t bother him.

But this does.

And that’s why he’s leaning over the scrub sink, feeling like he ran a marathon with a gun to his head.

He looks through the glass to see his techs wheeling patient Doe to her recovery room.

Except something catches his eyes.

“You did great in there, Cameron.” Dr. Predeaux enters the scrubbing areas after removing her gown, gloves and mask.

She’s speaking to him but Cameron can’t hear her.

As the techs begin wheeling his patient out, a small gust from their movement lifts the drape just a little. Just enough for him to see a birth mark that resembles a clover behind patient Doe’s left ear.

No one has that birthmark… except for one person.

He could draw that birthmark from memory. He’s spent years of clinicals whispering into the ear where that birthmark lives. Countless times he’s called the owner of that birthmark his lucky charm.

He just spent 9 hours terrified of accidentally killing this patient. He’s spent the past few weeks of his life wishing his best friend could be in there to be his voice of reason.

But you were in that OR all along.

You…

You are patient Doe.

“Cameron?” Yelena can see something switch in him- like a bomb getting ready to go off.

“You fucking lied to me.” His voice is calm but it’s not comforting. It’s eerie and chilling.

“You groomed me for weeks, preparing me to tackle this surgery and it was Y/N this entire fucking time?!”

He bangs in the metal sink and Yelena jumps at the sudden sound.

“That doesn’t matter-,”

“It doesn’t?! I just dug around in my best friend’s fucking chest! I could have killed her!”

“But you didn’t!,” she shouts over him, “You think you were the only one scared?!”

Yelena has been boiling ever since you came to her about your condition. Now she has no reason to keep it under wraps.

“You two aren’t just my residents, you two aren’t just my mentees- I raised you both to become the surgeons you are today, I see you two as my baby ducks following behind me. You’re my kids. I was terrified, Cameron!,”

“So why didn’t you just fucking tell me?!”

“Because look at you!” She motions her hands over his body, “Look at how you’re reacting! You really think if you knew it was her you’d have been able to pull yourself together long enough to save her life?!”

“That’s selfish! That’s deceptive! That’s dangerous!”

“I did what I had to do to ensure her life was saved! That’s the least fucking selfish thing I could do!”

“Do you not understand how fucked this is?”

“Oh I’m well aware! But if the shoe was on the other foot, I would do the same for you. Now, if you’d like- you can sit with her. Other than that I won’t explain my method of teaching to you.”

Cameron really has no other words to say. His world feels like it’s crumbling around him.

Everything is moving too fast yet so slow. He knows his feet are carrying him to your room but he doesn’t remember how he got here. He doesn’t remember getting on the elevator and pushing the button to get to this floor.

He doesn’t remember sliding the glass door open to get in- he just knows he’s here.

Your lips are dry from the anesthesia equipment so he snags a packet of petroleum jelly from the cabinet with a cotton swab to gently apply it.

He doesn’t notice the sun go down or when it comes back up. He doesn’t notice the nurses coming in to make sure all is well.

“Wake up, Thorne. Please” his leg is shaking as if he’s had numerous energy drinks. He hasn’t slept nor eaten. He’s surviving off the fumes of pure emotional distress. He just wants to talk to you. He wants to ask why you didn’t trust him enough to tell the truth.

It was another day he sat by you before Yelena came to tell him to go home. He felt so discombobulated right now. He's traumatized and he’s expected to just swallow it and go about his day.

As soon as he showered he went right back to the hospital to see you were awake, speaking softly to your nurses. He waited until they were done to rush into your room.

Your eyes light up at the sight of him and you go to speak but he is quick to stop you.

“You’re supposed to be resting your voice which is the perfect time for me to talk and you just listen.”

You’re a little groggy but you just nod slowly.

“I know you trust me, I know you believe in me but lying to me and leaving me in the dark about your condition was fucked up. I could have helped, I could have talked to the person who was behind the flowers I mean cmon, Y/N… yellow carnations?”

You’re frowning as he rants away, disoriented by his words. Everything is still hazy.

“I was not ready. I mean, I did the surgery but I was not ready for something like that and that’s not fair!”

You slowly sit up in bed while he just stands at the foot, chest heaving and eyes wide. His eyes are so sad, shining like glass as he thinks about the “what ifs” of him failing.

His hands grip the bar at the end of the bed so hard you think he just might break it.

“But all in all, Y/N. I’m so fucking sorry. I took all my fear and frustration out on you while you were dealing with this in silence. I’ll never forgive myself.”

A silence fills the room as you two take each other in. You’re hooked up to so many wires, he hates the sight.

Your heart aches for him. He is pleading with you and you can’t do… anything.

“I’m sorry…” your voice is hoarse, as if you smoke 7 packs a day but you are fully aware of the surgery you survived.

“Who… who are you?” Your brows furrow and Cameron steps back. He’s not aware of any neurological deficits that could come with a Botanical ablation.

He comes near and takes his pen with a flashlight to shine into your eyes.

“Pupils react normally,” he says to himself, “Y/N, it’s me. Cameron.”

“I… I don’t know anyone by that name. I’m s-sorry.”

“This isn’t funny, Y/N.”

But the glimmer in your eyes is proof enough that you’re not joking. There’s an absence, deep in your irises that signifies you’re serious.

You don’t know who he is.

“I’ll be right back!” He runs to the elevator to get to Yelena’s office. He doesn’t bother knocking, he couldn’t give fuck all about his manners right now.

Something is wrong.

“Why doesn’t she remember me?” Cameron bellows, “She’s just asked who I was!”

“She… s-she did what?” Predeaux looks to Cameron, bewildered at his frantic state.

“She’s awake! I went in there to talk to her but she asked me who I was and said she doesn’t know anyone named Cameron. What the hell happened in that OR?! What did I do?!”

Yelena stands up slowly. Cameron has been through enough but something is wrong. You should remember him. The only time a patient, who has undergone the removal of Hanahaki, forgets someone after their surgery is when…

“It was you…” she whispers, “No.. no no, fuck!”

“I’m not speaking to you as my mentor but as my friend, what the fuck is going on? The main person I care about doesn’t remember me. That’s not normal-“

“It’s normal for patients recovering from Hanahaki,” she swallows with a short nod, biting her lip so hard she tastes the iron sewing its way between her teeth.

“She’s never mentioned amnesia!,” fear and confusion was all that ran through Cameron’s veins. Nothing is making sense. He did everything right.

“It’s normal in patients recovering from a Hanahaki to not remember the person who caused the flowers…”

Everything is still yet it feels as if all the walls are closing in. Air isn’t reaching his lungs like it should, like they’re in space without astronaut suits.

“What?” Cameron swallowed thickly, shaking his head like an etch-a-sketch, as if the motion would make everything clearer “Lena, what the hell does that mean?!”

“It…” she sighs, falling to her chair in defeat, “It means you’re the one she loved, Cameron.”

His shoulders shook in laughter but this was far funny, this had to be some sick joke. You and Yelena have to be playing a prank on him.

“Y/N didn’t love anything besides the study of this disease.”

“Yeah well she’s good a keeping secrets apparently,” Yelena throws her head in her hands and sighs heavily, “The body’s way of protecting the patient from a possible relapse is amnesia. If the patient forgets the person they loved the flowers won’t come back.”

“She didn’t love me… not like that?”

“She asked who you were, Cameron.” The doctor shakes her head, face reading sympathy, “That’s the only explanation. That is the only neurological deficit that comes out of the Hanahaki removal.”

It’s like one thing after the other for him. He can’t catch a fucking break. His body feels sore, never really letting himself decompress after the surgery and now this? He feels like he’s crashing.

“So she… so she just doesn’t know who I am? She just doesn’t remember all the shit we’ve been through. How the fuck am I supposed to be okay with the fact that my best friend loved me so much that…,”

His voice cracks as the tears well, this situation is fucked. The world they live in is fucked. How did this end up being his reality?

“Th-that flowers grew in her fucking lungs and she almost died because of it?! Sh-she could have talked to me!”

Yelena’s breath shudders as she tries to subdue her own tears.

“For the first time in my life, Cameron… I don’t have words of encouragement. I swear on my life, I did not know you were the one she loved or I would have done something different- I would have said something!”

Cameron whips around and his fist meets a framed picture of a flower field that is hung up in Yelena’s office. His screams fill the space and she can’t do anything but sit there and cry silently.

“Stupid… fucking… flowers!”

Yelena doesn’t care about all the shit he’s breaking. It’s a small price to pay for the anguish he’s currently feeling.

“She should have told me, Yelena!”

“I know.”

She’s quick to move so she can comfort him. But she knows nothing she does will ever ease his pain. Yet she tries anyway, when she steps forward he falls in her arms and weeps into her shoulder.

“I know, Cameron.”

She spent hours consoling him and by the time he made it to the locker room he felt lifeless.

When he opened his locker to grab his home bag, he noticed something that wasn’t there before.

A white envelope with his name on it… in your handwriting.

As if his life couldn’t get any harder right now.

His hands shake as he reaches for it. He’s never wanted to vomit harder than he does now when he sees your penmanship all over the page.

Dear Cameron,

I’m sure that by the time you’re reading this, the truth has come out.

The garden in my lungs is finally in full bloom and you may call me crazy for this but, it’s a blissful anguish. It is a representation of how beautiful yet painful love can truly be.

Every time I think of you, I feel the familiar, jagged stems scraping against my throat. I cough, and instead of breath, I find soft petals of yellow carnations stained with the iron taste of my own affliction.

It’s a cruel irony, isn’t it? That the love I grew for you, so quiet and unwatered, found a way to flourish anyway, even if it’s currently choking the life out of me.

I have spent my entire career trying to understand this disease and even now, with fear set in my bones, I crave to know more. Despite it coming to claim me.

As if there is an insurmountable debt that I owe and it’s come to collect.

I’ve spent months trying to ignore this floral haze. Trying to convince myself that I don’t feel this way about you.

When I helped other patients, I used to think there was something noble in dying for an apparition, something that was really never there. As if there was dignity in dying in the name of unrequited love.

But I’ve run out of air and I’m fucking scared.

There’s many names for it; Botanical ablation, pulmonary floral extraction, radical florotomy, whatever you want to call it; They speak of it as if they are simply weeding a flowerbed, but we both know the truth. To remove the flowers, they have to pull up the roots.

And because your name is carved into every seed, it means I must remove you.

By this time tomorrow, the scalpel will have done its work. The petals will be gone. The ache in my chest will finally fall silent. But the cost is the one thing I swore I’d never give up: you.

I am terrified of the person I will be when I wake up.

Forgetting you is forgetting a piece of myself and the terror of that reality strikes me.

I will wake up with clear lungs but a hollow heart. I will look at your face and see a stranger. I’ll see the curve of your smile or the way you tilt your head when you’re thinking, and it won't feel like a symphony anymore.

It won't feel like anything at all.

I have to let it be a void.

I am choosing to breathe, but in doing so, I am choosing to lose the only version of "us" that ever truly existed. The version of us that was only ever meant to be just friends.

The version of us where we stayed up in the university library all night with flash cards to help each other study. The version of us where we first put on our white coats and were able to call each other Doctor. The version of us where you ran to me to tell me you passed yet another exam.

Those versions gave me a glimpse of us. A glimpse of what could be but that’s all this life gifted me.

A glimpse of what could be… but never will be.

You may think I’m selfish for this and a part of me agrees.

Forgive me for choosing the oxygen. Forgive me for my deception. Forgive me for the version of me that will awaken and won’t recognize your freckles or your laugh or the sound of your shoes squeaking on the hospital floors when you’re in a rush to save a life.

I hope you find a love that lets you breathe.

It’s a great day for loves to be saved, but it’s a greater sadness that you had to be the one to save mine at such a heavy fee.

Maybe in some other timeline, we will find ourselves standing in a field of flowers without the pain but all the glory.

I’m hoping so.

If there is anything I loved more than my studies, it was you.

I love you, Cameron Cade.

Goodbye, for the first and final time.

Forever,

Your favorite Thorne in your side.

——————

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for your support and attention! it means more than you will ever know!

If you enjoyed, please make sure to like, comment and reblog! it helps a ton!🩵

As always, much love!

~Berry🫐

[concretecultist]

Bunny

summary: the one where cameron shows you how you deserve to be treated.

word count: ~9k (oops?)

pairing: dom!cameron cade x black!sub!reader

warnings: 18+!!! kind of a slow burn, subdrop, d/s dynamics, subspace, angst, smut, weed smoking, friends to lovers, hints to reader being plus size, dacryphilia, degradation, aftercare, vulgarity, smacking/impact play, oral sex (both receiving)

a/n: i was going through subdrop while writing this and just needed some comfort so enjoy!

—————

An abyss.

That’s what this felt like.

A chasm so deep that when you looked up, you could see stars in the sky in the middle of the day.

You were suspended in thick matter, like glue. This made it hard to get out.

“Aftercare isn’t real”

The words repeat in your head like a mantra.

But it is real. There’s just something about guys wanting to play the dominant role and forgetting how vital aftercare is at the end of a scene.

The sex was good, but the dopamine crash wasn’t worth it.

You trust a guy enough to play but once they feel they’ve scored, the entire dominant act ends. They get their fix and suddenly they’re a different person. Cold and short before they leave you there to clean yourself up.

No reassurance. No soothing.

Just… nothing.

The names they used to degrade you feel like scarlet letters on your chest, everlasting brandings that others can see.

Your phone rang for the 7th time in the past hour but you can’t move your arm just an inch over to grab it, lift it and hit the green button, let alone have an entire conversation.

Your screen goes black once again and it feels like a weight off your already exhausted shoulders. Except it lights up again and it feels like an elephant sitting on your chest.

You lie on your side and stare at the wall ahead, not even taking the fraction of a second to see it was your best friend calling.

Cameron Cade, the famous football player who also dabbles in the BDSM scene. You two met at a club, both of you just getting a feel for the scene and finding comfort in each other as newbies.

But Cameron was a natural at this. He earned his stripes and many desired to get him as theirs but they never got past a few play sessions with him.

Cameron has had many good times with subs. You hear whispers in the clubs about just how good he is but you? You can only hope to find a Dom as good as him.

“Bunny! I know you see me calling you what the hell is go-,”

Cameron’s voice startled you but you were so stuck that you couldn’t even flinch, the only thing your body could do to acknowledge the shock is make your stomach flip, making you nauseous.

“Bun?” You see his figure step into your room but you can’t move.

When he crouched down on the other side of the bed to face you, his eyes met yours. You can’t process the emotions in his, but he certainly can in yours.

“Please don’t tell me-,”

“It’s happening again,” you confirm without him explicitly saying it.

“Bun, I told you. These guys out here aren’t-”

“Real” you finish for him again, “They aren’t real Doms.”

This has happened more than Cameron would like to acknowledge. He takes his role seriously and it pisses him off that people claim this title just to hurt people in the end.

“How long have you been like this?”

“Don’t know.” your throat is dry, causing your voice to crack. Time isn’t a thing to you right now.

“Bunny-“

“Don’t call me that right now,” suddenly your voice is hard as stone.

Bunny.

Cameron always called you that, even when you two were nothing but a pair of rookies under the red lights of the club sipping cranberry juice through cocktail straws.

It kind of just stuck and it became your sub persona. You figured using the name he coined for you would make you feel closer to him, even when the gold chains that dangled in your face weren’t his.

“C’mon, we’re going for a drive.” It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration to let you know you didn’t have an option.

Your eyes met his, he noticed just how hollow yours were, it made his stomach ache.

He’s tired of people fucking around with his Bunny. He’d watch for your enemies and those who hurt you, to let them know they contend with him.

“Help me?” Your voice is shot and tired. You didn’t have to ask, you knew Cameron would pull the mountain of blankets back and help you up.

You’re lifted with ease (he always took pride in how much he could bench) and carried to the bathroom where he sits you on the counter. He grabs your mouth wash off the counter, filling up the little cup and holding it to your lips.

The gesture is so sweet and you’re not sure if he’s aware of just how much you crave this from him all the time.

When you’re done swishing, your back bends to spit it down the drain. Next, he hands you your tooth brush, bristles dressed in toothpaste. While you brush your teeth, he wets a cotton pad with a cleansing toner to carefully swipe across your face.

Then it’s your bonnet he takes off with care, moisturizing your scalp and hair to give it some life before covering it with a shower cap.

When you’re done he turns the shower on for you, steam immediately filling the room.

“Take all the time you need, I’ll be right out here then we can get going, yeah?”

He pulls you in for a tight embrace, his cologne flooding your nose. It’s a scent of comfort, a smell that relaxes your nervous system because wherever this smell is, it means Cameron is near.

You take your time in the shower. Letting the hot water disintegrate your fears and worries. When you emerge from the bathroom, Cameron is sitting on the edge of your bed with your comfort clothes laid out.

Baggy sweatpants, an oversized burgundy hoodie with his number on it and some fuzzy socks.

He gives you your privacy to go sit in the living room, continuing to wait.

Before you know it, you’re in his passenger seat, cruising the back roads of town until he pulls into a field. Cameron digs in the glove compartment for the blunts he rolled just before he came over.

He pushes his seat back, reclining slightly to get comfortable and you follow suit.

It doesn’t take long for the car to fill up with smoke. Tinashe playing in the background as you exhale.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He does a quick French inhale before passing the blunt back to you.

You don’t answer right away, inhaling the smoke into your lungs, holding it there until you can’t anymore.

“He said aftercare isn’t real” another inhale as you sink into your seat passing it back to Cameron, muttering a small “I’m done” to signal that you’ve reached a spot where you’re comfortably high.

“What a fucking cuck,” Cameron spits. He can’t count how many times on both his hands and feet the number of fake doms he’s had to call out for shit like this.

Pushing subs to their limits just to leave them to their own devices when the scene is over. It makes him sick. He’s stood up for subs who were strangers, subs he’s played with in the past, new or seasoned- he didn’t play that shit.

The scene is a safe space for so many, a getaway from the real world and it fills him with rage to know people are infiltrating something he respects down to his marrow. Weaseling their way in just to get a quick fuck from people who are entrusting their play partner with their mind, body and soul.

He’s furious to know it’s happening to his Bunny.

It’s been years since you two have met, growing alongside each other. Talking, learning and bonding.

Your bond reaches a level so deep that many think he is yours and you’re his.

If only.

“Can I be truthful?” You glance over at him, that sinking feeling coming back to your stomach.

“You can always be 110 with me, you know that.” His hand rests on your thigh, he’s trying to be helpful but the act sends goosebumps across your body.

“Promise me that no matter what I say… no matter what I tell you, that you’re gonna stick around.”

He chuckles, eyes low and brows scrunching together. His smile is so goofy when he’s high, it usually calms you down but this was serious.

“Girl, what? You can’t get rid of me that ea-“

“Cameron, promise me. Please.”

The atmosphere changes. Suddenly it seems as if you’re sitting in dead silence, like the r&b isn’t bleeding from the speakers.

“I..? Yeah. Yeah I promise.” He stuttered but he wasn’t lying. Cameron says it all the time, you can’t get rid of him.

But that’s the problem.

That sentiment is exactly why you’re here.

You see the blunt is still lit between his fingers. You snatch it from his grasp and take one more big inhale to give yourself the courage, trying to coax your anxiety to calm down for once.

His forehead is scrunched in a frown, slowly taking the blunt back from you, taking one more hit himself.

“Talk to me.” Worry lying beneath his tone.

You open your mouth many times to speak but nothing comes out. The two sides of your mind playing tug of war. The words want to come out, they need to come out but there is a tight lasso reeling them back in.

“It’s okay,” he encourages.

“I… Isaidyourname.” The words come out too fast and jumbled together for Cameron’s high state to comprehend.

“What?” His eyes scan your face, trying to make sense of it all.

“During my last scene I…,” The cotton mouth makes this so much harder, “I said your name.”

Cameron stared at you, giving many blinks until a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Is that why the fucker didn’t perform aftercare?”

“I’m not sure why he didn’t, I just… he just didn’t.”

Cam is quick to put the blunt out, cracking the window just a tad to clear the smoke, figuratively and literally. You bit your lip so hard you started to taste the metallic crimson on your tongue.

“Stop doing that,” Cameron reached over to gently pull your lip from between your teeth, “You hurt yourself when you do that.”

See? This is exactly why you cried his name that night.

He is a natural and makes it so easy for you to slip.

“Do you want to talk about why you said my name or do you want to leave it at that?”

His voice was so soft and his eyes didn’t shy away from yours.

“Ever since the day I met you, Cam.” You shake your head and look out your window as the tears start to flow, hiccuping due to your lungs needing air, “I have tried to replicate that feeling over and over again. I tried to make it tangible but…”

“No one can make you feel the way I do,” His index finger and thumb grip your chin to gently turn your face back to him, "C'mon Bunny, don’t cry.”

“It’s embarrassing!” Your tears stuck to your eyelashes, making it difficult to see, “God, you’re my best friend and-,”

“I make you feel safe.”

You two had a habit of finishing each other’s sentences. How cliche, but that’s just how you two were from the beginning.

“So fucking safe,” you started to snivel and Cam’s heart broke with every drop of a tear, “Every mutter of your name from other subs at the parties… it fills me with so much envy and rage and I feel so selfish for wishing it was me. I’ve always wanted it to be me.”

Cameron doesn’t speak, he’s always like a sponge in moments like this. Soaking in your words to understand instead of responding just to speak.

“This isn’t the subdrop speaking, I mean, it is but this has been building overtime and after saying your name I just couldn’t hold it in anymore and I can’t lose you-“

“You’re never gonna lose me,”

He couldn’t tell if your eyes were red from smoking beyond your limits or from crying but he didn’t like it.

“You’re always going to be my Bunny.”

It was in that moment you really looked and relaxed in his warm gaze. Just his tone alone lets you know that he had skin in this game.

My Bunny… he said my Bunny.

Claiming you for himself.

“I think you knew deep down that you always had me wrapped around your finger,” The pad of his thumb swipes a tear away, “I was at your every beck and call. I just never wanted to assume your feelings. So I stood by and I took care of you in ways that you allowed me to, not wanting to overstep.”

Cameron’s own eyes watered at the way your face was contorted in pain. Your eyes were so puffy and he loathed to see you this way.

“Had I spoken up sooner you wouldn’t be feeling like this,”

“This isn’t on you, Cam. Not even close! I fell in bed with those men but they’re the ones to blame! They’re the ones… who are preying on people like me to get a quick nut and not following through with their role. Don’t you blame yourself.”

“But I watched as you dropped. I could have stopped it,”

“I could have stopped it,” you correct him, “But you know me, glutton for punishment I guess.”

“Well not anymore.” He reached over to hold your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“I’m gonna open the sunroof so we can sit here, relax and just look at the stars. Then we’re gonna take you home, run you a bubble bath, turn on some Bob’s Burgers and just… be in each other’s company.”

You started to feel the elephant lift off your chest, a weight you’d been carrying for quite some time.

The two of you recline your seats while the sun roof opens, revealing the twinkling orbs in the midnight sky.

“The stars remind me of your freckles,” you whisper, turning to look at him. He is such a beautiful man, eyes captivating and his smile always felt like home, “They’re like little kisses from angels before you were sent down here.”

He blushed. He’s fucking blushing.

“You flatter me”

“Cameron Cade you have always been beautiful to me. Before I knew you as the football star or the well respected Dom in the city’s BDSM scene,”

He chuckles lightly at your words, trying to not blush even harder.

“You were always just… Cameron, to me. Cam, the bright eyed and bushy tailed newbie like me. From the moment I looked in your eyes under those red club lights, I knew… I knew you were meant to be in my life.”

“Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?” His eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes again, “I thank God everyday that I met you.”

Your eyes stung once more, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill, a wide grin growing on your face, “Now who is flattering who?”

As the night progressed, Cameron kept his word. He ran you home, prepared a bubble bath, ordered your favorite take out and had Bob’s burgers ready when you were done.

Days went by and Cameron didn’t press the subject of you saying his name. Despite you mentioning how you wanted him in ways that otherwise were forbidden, he didn’t overstep and continued to take care of you in ways that you needed.

However, on your end, you were burning to talk about it. The topic was burning on your tongue and in moments where he was close, you just wanted to pull him in and have his lips on yours.

Each day that he left to fulfill his football star obligations, he would come back to make sure you were well and taken care of.

Today, he returned and his cologne was profound, in a good way of course. It usually lingers and you’re fine but today you just needed him near, it’s different.

“We can talk about it if you want,” his head turns to you while he hangs his jacket the hook he designated as his.

“What do you m-,”

“You’re gnawing away at your lip again,” he comes to sit close to you, his thumb meeting the skin just below your bottom lip to ease it from the vicious grip of your teeth.

“What are we doing?” The golden question finally being asked.

“What do you want to do?” He retorts

“No, I asked you first!” A playful push to his chest has that glinting smile appearing on his face before he settles.

He clenches his jaw as he ponders over his thoughts, trying to figure out the best way he wants to say this.

“I want more. But if you want to erase everything we talked about the other night that works too. My main priority is meeting your needs in the way you see fit.”

“You have to make your needs a priority too,”

“My needs and wants are your needs and wants” He said it as if it was plain as day, “You need to be taken care of? I need to be the one to do it. You need to talk about something to get it off your chest? I want to be the one you unload it all on. You need a hug? I want to be the one to wrap you in a warm embrace,”

His eyes didn’t leave yours for even a second, it’s sort of intimidating. But you suppose that’s what makes him so magnetic.

“Or-,” he shrugged, “if you just want a friend, I’ll be there. I just need to know.”

You know what you wanted. You’d been keeping it locked up for years, so why is it so hard to just say it? Why did it feel so exposing?

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He flashes that dizzying smile.

“I don’t want anyone else to experience you.”

Flat out. Just like that. It was blunt and there was no other way around it.

“I don’t like who I am when I’m envious of other people muttering your name. I don’t like who I am when I expose myself to men who can’t even hold a light to you. I’ve loved having you as my best friend but I just need more and that may make me selfish but I-,”

The smell of Cameron is closer than you’ve ever experienced and it’s only because his lips are on yours now. His hand is on your jaw to pull you closer and the rapid pace of his breathing is a sign of just how bad he’s been wanting to do this.

How bad he’s been needing this.

“Cam-“ you needed to catch your breath but you needed more of him so that took precedence. You were grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, your tongue dancing with his, he tastes so good it’s inebriating.

“Please” he sounded so pretty when he whimpered, “Just come here, Bunny. Just.. please”

He pulled you forward to sit in his lap and his hands are grabbing at your waist. All Cameron ever wanted was to have you like this and be able to kiss on you.

He wove his hands in your hair to lightly pull at your roots, exposing your neck so he could get a lay of the land before his attack.

His teeth nip at the skin of your neck and you can’t help the moan that escapes.

“There goes my Bunny”

Your eyes rolled at the drop in his voice, the dominant side of him was taking control and he could tell just by the way you were melting into him that you were ready to submit.

“Cam-“ a pathetic plea when his hands grip your ass in an attempt to get you even closer.

“Yes, Baby?” He pulls your face away, and he is in awe at how fucking sexy you look. Lips glistening, eyelids heavy with a slack jaw.

He’s unaware of just how ravishing he looks right now. Lips red and swollen, nostrils flared as he tried to calm himself down and you can see the fire in his eyes.

He can see an eye of a storm in the sky of your mind, your eyes brimming with tears as the hurricane winds blow you each and every way.

“I need you.” your chin trembles and your hands squeeze his wrists.

“Not right now, baby”

His rejection guts you and he can see you panicking.

“No, no. Breathe with me. Relax.” His voice is stern but the touch of his thumbs on your cheeks is tender.

“I just mean we need more time to build this. My job is to deliver but it’s also my job to be thorough. I may know you but I need to know you, Bunny.”

Cameron brings your face forward, kissing your forehead to subdue you.

“You trust me, right?” His forehead presses to yours and can feel the motion of you nodding with fervor.

“I trust you. More than you will ever know”

“Then trust that I know what I’m doing,” his hands rub circles on your back to ground you.

“Okay,” your eyes squeeze tight, wanting to let him guide you.

Of course the impatient side of you was hard to control during this time. However, you know going slow is the best option for longevity.

But time seemed to drag.

Weeks.

Cameron meant it when he said he was thorough.

He wanted to know everything that made you cringe and everything that made you tick.

What made you swoon and what made you sick.

Of course in turn, you learned a lot about him and while time seemed to move excruciatingly slow, it was a time filled with knowledge and growth.

And patience.

Boy, did this teach you patience. Each time you were boiling over, Cameron decreased the heat to make you simmer down.

It was a push and pull. He’d pull you closer, making you think it was time just to push you away and keep you waiting with anticipation.

You loved it though. You were the type of sub to like the chase.

To be honest, Cameron wasn’t even doing anything inherently sexual. It was his natural dominance that had your core twisting, that had you yearning.

Like opening the car door for you, grabbing something off the top shelf, massaging your calves during movie nights.

And he was a damn good cook.

Your mind got hazy every time he’d ask you to taste test something he made. The way his hand cradled your chin when he spoon fed you the sauces he created had you ready to pounce on him.

It really was the little things that made you crave Cameron more and more everyday.

Like the late night dances in your living room where you were in nothing but your panties and one of his shirts while he just sported a pair of sweats that hung low on his hips.

And like the days he’d pick out a perfume for you that coincided with the energy your outfit was giving that day.

The foundation was coming along quite nicely, but the restless brat within you just wanted to be underneath him at his mercy.

The make out sessions continue though. Just sitting in his lap, trying to imprint the taste of him on your tongue.

“Cam, I think I’m ready.”

You couldn’t hide it anymore. This was the ultimate symbol of devotion and you have been ripping at the seams to give yourself to him.

With his forehead pressed to yours, he gives a deep chuckle that goes straight to your pussy.

“You think?” His grip on your hips gets tighter as he moves you over his hardening dick. Your eyelids get heavy, thrill filling your body.

“If you have some idea that you can handle this you better be sure. I don’t do ‘I think’,”

His right hand is quick to grab your neck, fixing your gaze so he’s looking into your eyes.

“So try again. You think you’re ready for me?”

“N-no. I know. I know I’m ready”

“Mmmm, you don’t seem too sure, baby. I don’t believe you.” He goes to remove you from his lap but your thighs tighten around his, planting you in place.

“Please. I’ll show you. Please let me show you,”

You were all about acts of service.

“You gon’ put on a show for me?”

“Yes, I wanna make you proud,” your hips buck against the hump that his dick created in his sweatpants, relishing in the stimulation.

“Shade of pink?” He breaks character to check on you, making sure you’re actually good. Using shades of pink as your safe word system.

“Bubblegum.”

Bubblegum being great! keep going!

Fuchsia being slow down / need a minute.

Magenta being full stop.

“Good girl,” His lips cover yours in a kiss that sends you in a tizzy, “Show me why you’re my Bunny.”

You’re quick to slip out of his lap and kneel on the plush carpet in front of him, your hands on his knee caps.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” A heavy breath falls from him and the worship has you leaning against his thigh to hide your eyes.

“No, noooo” he sings, picking your head up, “You don’t get to hide from me anymore. Understand?”

“Yes” A quick nod from you doesn’t satisfy him.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.” The whine in your voice lets Cameron know you’re teetering the edge of subspace.

“You’re so good for me, baby” he leans back and your mouth salivates at just how fine this man is. Like he was etched from marble and put up in the most prestige museums.

“Now tell me what you want. Don’t hold back.”

A groan rumbles in your chest, thinking about how vulgar your desires are when it comes to him. You’ve never said any of this shit out loud.

“I want you to fuck my throat.”

He chuckles and your cheeks heat up, feeling embarrassed.

“I know that’s not it. I know just how much of a slut you want to be for me. I know you’ve got more in you than that.”

“I want to feel fear set in when my lungs need air but your dick is stuffing my mouth. I want my tears to mix with my spit while you slap it on my face. I know you care about me, but is it too much to ask for you to act like you don’t?”

“Fuck.” His breath shudders at the concept of ruining you. He’s always wanted to make love to you but there is something that started to awaken within him the more you talked about how bad you needed him to fuck you within an inch of your life.

His fingers fall beneath the band on his sweatpants to pull them down and finally release his hardened length.

Watching the way your eyes crossed sent shivers down his spine. Sure he’s been fawned over by other playmates but this was different.

This is where he wants to be. It’s where he always wanted to be.

He felt loved here and desired in a way that makes his heart skip a beat instead of making it feel like a there’s a black hole in his chest.

“Oh you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You gonna make me proud and show me?,”

You didn’t answer and it was the only time Cameron would accept silence as an answer. Your hand immediately wraps around his leaking dick, squeezing just to see what reaction it would cause.

“You wanna play games?” Cameron bucked his hips, trying to keep his eyes straight but his head lolled slightly to the side.

“Just doing what you would call… learning what makes you tick.”

You leaned forward to lick the bead of precum that threatened to go to waste.

A moan of relief is shared upon you two.

You finally get to taste him and he finally gets to bask in that sensation.

You cover his dick with your mouth, the part of you that aims to please is feeding off of his heavy breathing.

“Oh God, Bunny!” His voice trembles while he looks down at you, swallowing as much of him as you could. He can feel how bad you’ve been wanting this with the way you’re getting sloppy. You’re savoring this as if you’ll never get to experience it again.

You’re making up for lost time and you’re doing everything you can to show him you’re worthy.

“Fuck.” you pull your mouth off him, leaning against his inner thigh while you stroke him with your hands. The sound is erotic, your hand quickly twisting and stroking your spit down his dick.

Your eyes meet his and he smirks when he sees the tears.

“You treat me so fucking good,” he wipes away a tear, “But I need more, baby. Do you think you could give me more?,”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then move your hands.” He demanded, voice deep and leaving no room for negotiation, “Either in your lap or behind your back but you don’t get to touch me anymore.”

You whine quietly. Losing the ability to touch him for even a fraction of a second was like taking away your ability to breathe. You sadly place them in your lap and wait for further instruction.

“If you do good I just might give you what you want.”

“Please,” you huff, “Please, Sir. I’ll be good, let me prove it.”

Cameron chuckles while sitting up. His hands grab the sides of your face before licking your pouting lips and kissing you with pure ferocity.

“Shade?”

“Bubblegum.”

“Good,” he inhales sharply, “Because play time is over.”

You could practically see the switch in his eyes.

He’s here.

So is she.

“Now open your fucking mouth and show me why you’re my. fucking. Bunny.”

His fingers grip your roots tight, bringing your mouth back down on his dick. His body vibrates with a groan that comes from deep within. His hips buck up and his eyes meet yours.

He can’t get over how beautiful you look like this, eyes burning with desire for him and you just couldn’t get enough.

“You’ve always wanted to be my little slut, haven’t you, baby?”

His pace picks up when you hum an answer around his length. Your saliva painting his dick and he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

You’re addicted to him. He feels so full and heavy in your mouth, the sounds he’s making are so pretty. His jaw hangs and sweat beads on his forehead. The lack of air in your lungs was quite exhilarating actually.

All your body knew was Cameron.

Cameron is all you see. The way his stomach tightened each time you gagged on him. The way he bit his lip to try and ground himself so he doesn’t bust too quick.

Cameron is all you hear. The way he moans your name is so tantalizing. His breath hitches when your tongue swipes against his balls each time you go down.

Cameron is all you smell. The scent of his cologne is mixing with his sweat and it smells so delicious. Like an aphrodisiac, a pheromone that was sending you into heat.

Cameron is all you taste. His precum was just a tad salty and it was satiating the appetite you had for him. The flavor of his enthusiasm was filling your stomach.

Cameron is all you feel. His fingers massaging your scalp as a way to ease you. His dick filled your mouth and it was all you ever wanted. To feel him like this. To feel his body twitch for you, fighting all the alarm bells within him that say to slow down or he’ll cum just like this.

Cameron is all encompassing. Like the universe spreading far and wide. He became all you knew and more.

He yanks your head off, a large gasp coming from you as you catch your breath. Shortly after, your cries fill the room. You’re fully under for him now.

“Pleeaaaaase!,” a sob wracks your body and in the blink of an eye you’re straddling his lap and he’s rocking you.

He’s soothing you, speaking sweet nothings while his hand slips past the waistband of your shorts.

He hisses once he feels just how wet you are.

So fucking messy.

“You like being good for me? You finally got what you’ve been aching for, huh?” He’s teasing in the midst of your tears and his taunting laughter sends shivers down your spine but makes your pussy clench around his fingers.

“Yes, Sir. I love it. I’ll always be your good Bunny!”

He used one hand to grip your cheeks, to keep your face forward while he finger fucks you right in his lap. Your hands hold his shoulders tight so you don’t topple over.

“Tell me you’re mine,” his eyes roll at the pulsing of your core

“I’m yours, Sir,”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours!”

He knew he was pulling you to the edge already.

“Say it again. Slower this time. I want to hear every fucking syllable.”

“Sir, please! I’m… I’m gonna-“

“You’re not gonna do shit unless you do what I say, Bunny. C’mon don’t be a bad girl now,”

Your noses were touching and you didn’t dare to look away from him.

“I’m.. I’m fucking yours!,” your chest was heaving, “All of me… is yours. My mind..”

Your head tried to loll to the side but Cameron wasn’t having it.

“Focus on me.” He muttered.

“My mind… my body and my soul. I am yours,” you started to grind against his fingers to help you over the edge.

“And you?,” your eyes half lidded and drool decorates your bottom lip, “You, Sir… are mine just the same.”

“Fuck,” his fingers moved faster, dipping in and out of you to rub your slick clit, giving it some attention too, “Show me.”

His lips are on yours again. The clashing of your teeth, the strings of spit and lip biting was too much in the best way possible. All of it was taking you there. Filling your bodies with a drunkenness that not even the finest liquor can bring forth.

“Mark me. Show me I’m yours. Cum for me, baby. Cmon, I know you can do it. I know just how bad you need it. Just show me. Please, baby? I need it. I need you to show m-“

He was going on a tangent. It was fulfilling to know he burns for you in the same way.

“Hhhhhhnnnn- fuuuuck!!,” you do your best to keep your gaze on him as you cum on his fingers but your eyes crossed and your body curled into him. Every nerve ending was firing off and Cameron could feel it.

“That’s my girl,”

You were trembling in his grasp while his hand ran up and down your back.

“Just breathe. You did fucking good for me. Just like I knew you would,”

“I’ll always be good for you, Sir.” your eyes were glazed over and you kept scooting closer as if you and him weren’t already chest to chest.

“Before we go on, what shade are you, baby? I need to make sure you’re good.”

“I…,” you hesitated.

“Be honest.” He implored, eyes not leaving yours so you don’t even think about lying.

“Fuchsia, but I just need some water.” A small poke of your bottom lip sends him into action.

“Go to the bedroom and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Wanna stay with youuuuu,” you latched onto him and it filled his stomach with butterflies.

“C’mon, Bun. I won’t be long. I’ll be there before you know it”

A heart fluttering peck is placed upon your lips and he taps your ass so you get going.

The journey to your room took 30 seconds but waiting for him felt like an eternity. When he appears he has your insulated water bottle, filled with ice and your favorite flavor packet.

“Drink for me,” he kneels in front of you, hold the straw to your mouth and didn’t pull away until you told him you were good and he sets it on the nightstand.

“Bubblegum,” you nodded, reassuring that you’re ready to continue.

His calloused fingers rub up and down your thighs, just needing to feel you.

“Relax,” he instructs, “Let me take care of you.”

Cameron removes your top to expose your breasts and his mouth instantly waters. He kisses all over your chest causing your head to fall back. A sigh of relief is sent into the air.

You were self conscious about the size of your breasts and the pudge of your stomach but Cameron allowed no territory to go without attention.

Then you felt his lips wrap around your nipples. Flicking his tongue, tugging with his teeth, hollowing his cheeks to suck on the hardening buds as he switched back and forth.

“Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are?” He whimpered, like he can’t believe he is in this position.

He’s not sure how the idiots before could fumble you but he is ever so thankful that they did.

Or else he wouldn’t be here in this moment.

He urges you to lie back so he can remove your night shorts and you swear you hear him gasp at the sight of your swollen lips, glistening with the cum he coaxed out of you on the couch.

“Fucking hell, Bunny,” his arms wrap around your thighs pulling you closer to the edge of the bed to kiss and nip at the inside of your legs.

“Feed it to me,” his voice low and stern, “I’m starving for you, Bunny. Feed me that pretty pussy, baby.”

You pull your pillows to rest them under your shoulders and head to give you a good view of him.

Your hand trembles while you reach to hold the back of his head and lift your hips up to rub your slick lips against his. He licks it off slowly, groaning at the taste of you.

He never thought he’d be here, tasting you, touching you, pleasing you.

But fuck, was he grateful.

“More,” he pleads. Who are you to deny him?

His mouth is open when you bring your hips up for him to kiss and lick. You relax your legs and his mouth is following close behind.

“That feels so fucking good,” you stare up at the ceiling, too nervous to look at him because if you look, you’ll come undone and lose it.

He was so tentative, like he was making out with your pussy. He suckled on your clit and you felt his fingers push into you once again.

“Yes!,” your back arches when you feel his fingers curl, “Fuck, baby. Right there, yes!”

You spread your legs wider and kept one hand on the back of his head while the other moved to pull and tug at your hardened nipple.

You’d never had head this good. Either guys were too selfish and never offered or they just didn’t know what the fuck they were doing, forcing you to fake an orgasm so they’d just stop.

But this? This felt too fucking good to rush.

His tongue swirled around your lips before diving into your leaking pussy, slurping on your arousal to quench his thirst.

“You taste so fucking good, Bunny. What the fuck.”

He was in awe.

“It’s all for you, Sir. All for you.”

It was almost shameful with how close you were but you couldn’t hold it anymore. It’s been years of rubbing your own clit and fucking yourself to the thought of him. You put off your orgasm for as long as you could but he knew you were almost there.

So he fingered you harder and sucked your clit just right.

“Oh God!!,” your hips rise off the bed and you push his head closer to your core to ride it out. A blistering heat wave takes over your body, you’re seeing stars and just calling for him over and over like a broken record

“God dammit,” he pulled back after licking you up all you had to give, just to see you shake in overstimulation. Smiling at the way you were breathing so hard.

“C’mere,” you mewl breathlessly. Pulling him up onto the bed, your hands framing his face to pull him in for a kiss, you both hum at the taste of you on each other’s lips.

“I’m ready,” you whimper, legs still spread wide beneath him, “I’m ready for you, Sir. I’m ready to give myself to you. Make me yours.”

He sits back on his heels to pull his shirt off, his sweats and boxers long gone and his dick seemed even harder now than before.

“You ready for me to show you how a real man takes care of his girl?” His slaps his dick against your clit making your body jolt at the contact.

“Are you ready for me to show you..,” he huffs, shaking his head with a smirk, “Just how good I can ruin you?”

“I’m ready, Sir. Please, I can take it. I can take it, I ca- Ooooooh FUCK!-“

Cameron filled you to the hilt, cutting you off and taking your breath away. His girth was delicious and his length hit spots you didn’t know could be hit.

“Are you gonna be able to take it like the slut you always wanted to be for me?” His arms frame your face and you grab onto his forearms, “I wanna ruin you so bad, Bunny. I wanna hurt you the way you need me to and make it all better. Can I do that? Will you let me do that?”

“Yes!,” you buck your hips up but he pins them down, “Please! I can take it. Let me show you. I can show you!”

“Yeah?,” he kisses your lips delicately before a sinister look makes itself a home in his eyes, “Bite the pillow if you need it. I won’t be holding back.”

Cameron was a man of his word. His grip on your hips was tight as he rolled his hips into you, building a strong pace.

His gold chains dangle in your face like you’ve dreamt of for so long, swinging back and forth like a hypnotizing pendulum.

You felt him in your stomach and he was vicious. Your wetness was spattering all over his pelvis and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Where am I? Tell me, baby. Tell me where you feel me,”

“You’re soooo deeeeep!” His strokes were tear jerking and pushed every moan out. You tried to cover your mouth but he took your hand away and pinned it next to your head.

“On second thought-“ he snapped his hips, “Let me hear you.”

With his other hand, he smacks you and you call out for him. Craving more. Your body was on fire, all the sensations had you in a frenzy.

You were addicted to mixing pain and pleasure. You were his and Cameron always delivered.

“I’m gonna fucking cum already-“

“Not until I say so,” he retorts, “Just relax and take this dick, Bunny. It’s all yours now. Savor it.”

“Fuck!” You weren’t sure if you could, he was stirring you up inside and the noises of your skin slapping and wetness filled the room.

Cameron was a vocal man too. He was whimpering your name, trying to keep his composure but he was failing. He needed to let you know how good you made him feel.

Cameron was having a hard time, trying to keep his shit together. You were so fucking messy and wrapped around him like a glove. Nothing he ever imagined compared to the reality of this. Nothing compared to how fucking good you feel in real time.

“God damn, Bunny. This pussy is so good to me. She’s swallowing me right up.” He says through clenched teeth.

Your toes were curling so hard you felt they’d cramp up.

“I can’t hold it, Sir. Please, can I cum?”

“No.” He smacked you once more and your pussy pulsed around him even harder. The way he rolled his hips had him feeling every ridge within you and it was driving him insane.

You cried for him. You fucking loved being able to cry for him. You were trying to tell your body not to cum yet but his strokes were too good. With each drag of his dick against your walls you were brought closer to your climax.

His lips ghosted over yours and his stare into your eyes was serious.

“I will fuck you up if you cum without my permission, Bunny. You don’t wanna disobey me do you?”

“But I caaaaaan’t. It’s right…,” you hiccup when he hits that special spot that’s buried deep within you and you almost went against his wishes right then, “It’s right… there… and I can’t!”

“Awwwww,” he cooed, brushing a tear off your cheek, “That’s too fucking bad, isn’t it?”

His hand presses against your pelvis and you try you run away from his hands and his dick but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t you fucking run from me.” he pulls you back and it feels like he’s even deeper, like you could feel him in your chest.

“Baby- please!,” your legs were shaking around him and your pussy just kept clenching and it was driving him up the fucking wall.

“You’re such a pretty slut when you beg. You wanna cum? Go ahead. Make me proud, Bunny. Don’t let me down.”

“Fuuuu- oh God, oh God- C..CAMERON!”

You came so loudly that he could feel your cries reverberate inside his own body. He was slapping your clit to draw out your orgasm until you clenched your legs tight.

“Oh my fucking God,”

Cameron leans back on his heels again and pulls you into his lap once again, continuing his strokes.

“You’re done when I say we’re done. I know that pussy wants more, I can feel her. I can hear her- do you hear her, Bunny?”

Cameron’s hand clamps on your mouth to quiet your whimpers so you could hear just how gushy your pussy was for him.

“I’ve got your fucking cum dripping down my balls, Bunny. You should be proud of the slut you’ve become for me.” The sounds that your bodies made between your legs has you ready to hide your face from how obscene it is.

“I know you've been wanting it, baby. To go fucking brain dead for my dick. Look at you. You look so fucking pathetic. Just look at you going dumb for the way I dig in that pussy. You like being my pathetic little slut, huh?

“No, I love it!” Your nails are digging and scraping down his chest, Cameron was getting overwhelmed. Your skin was hot against his and you were clenching so fucking tight that he was struggling to hold back his own impending climax.

“I fucking love it, Sir. I fucking love it. It’s your pussy, baby. You’re fucking me so good.”

His own head fell back, eyes closing shut tightly as you began to take over all of his senses this time.

Cameron could see all of you. The way your breast bounce with every thrust, the way your eyes fill with tears each time you look at him or he hits that sweet spot deep in your core. He can see your true self. Elated with the fact you’re trusting him enough to be vulnerable like this.

Cameron could hear you. The way you mumbled incoherent phrases as subspace took over your mind, letting your body just float in the pool of pleasure you were suspended in.

Cameron could smell you. He smells your gourmand perfume and your sweat smells so sweet. Your shampoo was his favorite aroma, because it wrapped him in a warm blanket of peace. Having you this close brought him comfort that this is where he’s supposed to be.

Cameron could taste you, your pussy juice still on his tongue and lips and when he kisses you, he can taste your mint mouthwash. You need to please is palpable and it tastes like victory.

Cameron could feel you all over him. You were creating a sticky mess between his legs and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He bites his lip at the feeling of your nipples rubbing against his chest and your pulse pounding for him beneath the hand he had on your throat.

You surrounded him like air. You were always there and he would always need you so he could breathe, to survive this world. You were his everything and he wouldn’t give this up for anything nor anyone.

It filled Cameron with pride to know that he's the one to make you fall apart. He was in seventh heaven knowing he gets to put the pieces back together when you two are done.

“You wanna cum again, don’t you? You wanna paint my dick some more?”

His hand squeezed the sides of your throat, making you dizzy but the harder it was to breathe right now, the closer your orgasm became.

“Yesyesyesyesyes!” You chanted, seeing his blissed out expression from behind your heavy eyelids.

“Bunny, baby… I’m gonna cum,”

“Fill me up… please? I deserve it. I’ve earned it. Please!”

Cam squeezes tighter and yet you still crave more. Despite his tight grip on the sides of your neck, your body melts into him.

This was the epitome of submission to him. He could deprive you of something as vital as air and you’d still meld into his grip because you trust him so deeply.

You know he wouldn’t hurt you.

But if it’s like this? The pain is welcome and it’s the catalyst for your surrender to him.

“Oh my fucking-,” he drops you flat on the mattress and his fingers weave between yours as he drives his hips hard and deeper into you.

The finish line in sight for the both of you.

He’s moving so fast that he slipped out and your gasp was big enough to suck the air out of the room.

“Give it back!,” you were full on sobbing now, “Please. Sir, give it back. Give it back, give it-“

“I’m right here, baby.” He reassures, slipping back inside and your body jerks, “Just breathe, Bunny. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your nails are digging into the back of his hands the closer you get.

“Yes, yes, yes-,” you look up into his eyes and you chin trembles, “Oh God, I fucking love you.”

“Oh, I love you so much more, baby.”

Sure it’s been said before. But this time it was different.

Before, it was said as friends who hoped the other could read between the lines.

Now it’s said as two people who are growing alongside each other in a contrasting way this time. Two people who no longer have to hope for the other to pick up the hints because it’s blatant.

Just as he finished saying that, he’s spilling inside of you and it takes you over the edge, pulling him down for a kiss to hush your sobs.

“Fuck!,” his body felt like jelly as he tried to keep himself up from crushing you.

His eyes are shut tight but they open just as quick as he hears little sniffles.

“Hey. You’re okay. I got you, Bun. Just breathe with me, okay?”

His hands frame your face once more and you latch onto his wrists, to ground yourself.

“You did so fucking good, you know that? You made me so fucking proud”

“P-promise?,”

Cameron could tell it wasn’t just the subspace taking over and asking for reassurance. It was the sub that had been denied aftercare time after time. It was Y/N who feared that she’d never be good enough for anyone.

Most important of all, it was his Bunny that longed for him in silence for years because he was too much of a wimp to make the move.

“I promise. I’m here and I’m not leaving,”

Cameron gave you acetaminophen to get ahead of any post coital soreness that’ll be sure to show up in the morning and made you finish your entire bottle of ice water.

After he cleaned you up, he made sure that you peed while he turned the shower on, grabbing the towels and washcloths as the water heats up.

He turned on your favorite r&b music to relax your mind while you two showered together. He had to make sure you’re coming down safely. Letting you know that you don’t have to fear being abandoned again.

Cameron made sure to reinforce the fact that the degrading things he says during sex are purely sexual and he’d never think that of you outside of play.

He held you in his embrace under the hot stream and sang to you, giving you little kisses on your cheeks and shoulders.

“I know I’ve said it a million times but you really are beautiful.”

You tried to hide the smile that was growing but it can’t be contained. Not when he’s here, like this, so close.

After he dried you off and helped lotion you up, it was your turn to take care of him. Massaging lotion onto his back and peppering kisses on his neck and singing to him now, even if you didn’t sound as good as he did.

“How are you holding up?” The two of you lie in bed, legs tangled and finding solace in each other’s arms.

“I’m free from the cell I’ve quietly sat in for years waiting for you to find me,” your eyes look from his lips to his eyes and they’re so gentle now. So soft and kind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.” the back of his index finger brushes your cheek and he loves to see the smile growing on your face.

“Don’t be. I had the key the entire time.”

“It seems we both did,” he moves to kiss you once again and he smiles bashfully as if this is the first time he’s kissing you. As if he didn’t just fuck you six ways from Sunday, “I’ll never get tired of being able to do that.”

“I won’t either,” your fingers gently touch your lips like, rejoicing in this all being real.

It’s mind boggling that you’re here now.

But it’s freeing.

You are free from the abyss.

From the void that swallowed you whole every time you were done with someone who wasn’t genuine.

This feeling in your chest, it’s tranquil. Like feeling the grass beneath your feet as you prance around without bounds.

You were his and he was finally yours.

It felt good to not just be Bunny to him.

Because now?

Now you were exclusive.

He can sleep at night knowing that you’re more than just Bunny.

Because you’re his Bunny.

And that will never change.

——————

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for your support and attention!!

if you enjoyed, please make sure to like, reblog and comment! it helps a ton!

as always, much love!

~Berry 🫐

[concretecultist]

Hello

Omfg just read 2 of your fics, I've already commented on them individually, but i just wanted to say.....I LOVE YOUR DIRTY DIRTY MIND!!! Your writing is fucking INCREDIBLE. Sorry for the swearing, but the comment needed the extra emphasis. THANK YOU for sharing your writing with us. I will eat up ANYTHING you write FYI lolol please add me to ANY/ALL TAGLISTS if that is something you do!! Also do u have a masterlist or A03? AGAIN thank you for sharing your writing and completely blowing my mind. You are appreciated

lmaoooo you’re so sweet, thank you for your support, it means more than you’ll ever know!

im thinking about possibly doing taglists but im not sure yet! a full masterlist is coming soon though!

once again, thank you so so much! more coming soon 🥰🩵

[concretecultist]

Bunny

summary: the one where cameron shows you how you deserve to be treated.

word count: ~9k (oops?)

pairing: dom!cameron cade x black!sub!reader

warnings: 18+!!! kind of a slow burn, subdrop, d/s dynamics, subspace, angst, smut, weed smoking, friends to lovers, hints to reader being plus size, dacryphilia, degradation, aftercare, vulgarity, smacking/impact play, oral sex (both receiving)

a/n: i was going through subdrop while writing this and just needed some comfort so enjoy!

—————

An abyss.

That’s what this felt like.

A chasm so deep that when you looked up, you could see stars in the sky in the middle of the day.

You were suspended in thick matter, like glue. This made it hard to get out.

“Aftercare isn’t real”

The words repeat in your head like a mantra.

But it is real. There’s just something about guys wanting to play the dominant role and forgetting how vital aftercare is at the end of a scene.

The sex was good, but the dopamine crash wasn’t worth it.

You trust a guy enough to play but once they feel they’ve scored, the entire dominant act ends. They get their fix and suddenly they’re a different person. Cold and short before they leave you there to clean yourself up.

No reassurance. No soothing.

Just… nothing.

The names they used to degrade you feel like scarlet letters on your chest, everlasting brandings that others can see.

Your phone rang for the 7th time in the past hour but you can’t move your arm just an inch over to grab it, lift it and hit the green button, let alone have an entire conversation.

Your screen goes black once again and it feels like a weight off your already exhausted shoulders. Except it lights up again and it feels like an elephant sitting on your chest.

You lie on your side and stare at the wall ahead, not even taking the fraction of a second to see it was your best friend calling.

Cameron Cade, the famous football player who also dabbles in the BDSM scene. You two met at a club, both of you just getting a feel for the scene and finding comfort in each other as newbies.

But Cameron was a natural at this. He earned his stripes and many desired to get him as theirs but they never got past a few play sessions with him.

Cameron has had many good times with subs. You hear whispers in the clubs about just how good he is but you? You can only hope to find a Dom as good as him.

“Bunny! I know you see me calling you what the hell is go-,”

Cameron’s voice startled you but you were so stuck that you couldn’t even flinch, the only thing your body could do to acknowledge the shock is make your stomach flip, making you nauseous.

“Bun?” You see his figure step into your room but you can’t move.

When he crouched down on the other side of the bed to face you, his eyes met yours. You can’t process the emotions in his, but he certainly can in yours.

“Please don’t tell me-,”

“It’s happening again,” you confirm without him explicitly saying it.

“Bun, I told you. These guys out here aren’t-”

“Real” you finish for him again, “They aren’t real Doms.”

This has happened more than Cameron would like to acknowledge. He takes his role seriously and it pisses him off that people claim this title just to hurt people in the end.

“How long have you been like this?”

“Don’t know.” your throat is dry, causing your voice to crack. Time isn’t a thing to you right now.

“Bunny-“

“Don’t call me that right now,” suddenly your voice is hard as stone.

Bunny.

Cameron always called you that, even when you two were nothing but a pair of rookies under the red lights of the club sipping cranberry juice through cocktail straws.

It kind of just stuck and it became your sub persona. You figured using the name he coined for you would make you feel closer to him, even when the gold chains that dangled in your face weren’t his.

“C’mon, we’re going for a drive.” It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration to let you know you didn’t have an option.

Your eyes met his, he noticed just how hollow yours were, it made his stomach ache.

He’s tired of people fucking around with his Bunny. He’d watch for your enemies and those who hurt you, to let them know they contend with him.

“Help me?” Your voice is shot and tired. You didn’t have to ask, you knew Cameron would pull the mountain of blankets back and help you up.

You’re lifted with ease (he always took pride in how much he could bench) and carried to the bathroom where he sits you on the counter. He grabs your mouth wash off the counter, filling up the little cup and holding it to your lips.

The gesture is so sweet and you’re not sure if he’s aware of just how much you crave this from him all the time.

When you’re done swishing, your back bends to spit it down the drain. Next, he hands you your tooth brush, bristles dressed in toothpaste. While you brush your teeth, he wets a cotton pad with a cleansing toner to carefully swipe across your face.

Then it’s your bonnet he takes off with care, moisturizing your scalp and hair to give it some life before covering it with a shower cap.

When you’re done he turns the shower on for you, steam immediately filling the room.

“Take all the time you need, I’ll be right out here then we can get going, yeah?”

He pulls you in for a tight embrace, his cologne flooding your nose. It’s a scent of comfort, a smell that relaxes your nervous system because wherever this smell is, it means Cameron is near.

You take your time in the shower. Letting the hot water disintegrate your fears and worries. When you emerge from the bathroom, Cameron is sitting on the edge of your bed with your comfort clothes laid out.

Baggy sweatpants, an oversized burgundy hoodie with his number on it and some fuzzy socks.

He gives you your privacy to go sit in the living room, continuing to wait.

Before you know it, you’re in his passenger seat, cruising the back roads of town until he pulls into a field. Cameron digs in the glove compartment for the blunts he rolled just before he came over.

He pushes his seat back, reclining slightly to get comfortable and you follow suit.

It doesn’t take long for the car to fill up with smoke. Tinashe playing in the background as you exhale.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He does a quick French inhale before passing the blunt back to you.

You don’t answer right away, inhaling the smoke into your lungs, holding it there until you can’t anymore.

“He said aftercare isn’t real” another inhale as you sink into your seat passing it back to Cameron, muttering a small “I’m done” to signal that you’ve reached a spot where you’re comfortably high.

“What a fucking cuck,” Cameron spits. He can’t count how many times on both his hands and feet the number of fake doms he’s had to call out for shit like this.

Pushing subs to their limits just to leave them to their own devices when the scene is over. It makes him sick. He’s stood up for subs who were strangers, subs he’s played with in the past, new or seasoned- he didn’t play that shit.

The scene is a safe space for so many, a getaway from the real world and it fills him with rage to know people are infiltrating something he respects down to his marrow. Weaseling their way in just to get a quick fuck from people who are entrusting their play partner with their mind, body and soul.

He’s furious to know it’s happening to his Bunny.

It’s been years since you two have met, growing alongside each other. Talking, learning and bonding.

Your bond reaches a level so deep that many think he is yours and you’re his.

If only.

“Can I be truthful?” You glance over at him, that sinking feeling coming back to your stomach.

“You can always be 110 with me, you know that.” His hand rests on your thigh, he’s trying to be helpful but the act sends goosebumps across your body.

“Promise me that no matter what I say… no matter what I tell you, that you’re gonna stick around.”

He chuckles, eyes low and brows scrunching together. His smile is so goofy when he’s high, it usually calms you down but this was serious.

“Girl, what? You can’t get rid of me that ea-“

“Cameron, promise me. Please.”

The atmosphere changes. Suddenly it seems as if you’re sitting in dead silence, like the r&b isn’t bleeding from the speakers.

“I..? Yeah. Yeah I promise.” He stuttered but he wasn’t lying. Cameron says it all the time, you can’t get rid of him.

But that’s the problem.

That sentiment is exactly why you’re here.

You see the blunt is still lit between his fingers. You snatch it from his grasp and take one more big inhale to give yourself the courage, trying to coax your anxiety to calm down for once.

His forehead is scrunched in a frown, slowly taking the blunt back from you, taking one more hit himself.

“Talk to me.” Worry lying beneath his tone.

You open your mouth many times to speak but nothing comes out. The two sides of your mind playing tug of war. The words want to come out, they need to come out but there is a tight lasso reeling them back in.

“It’s okay,” he encourages.

“I… Isaidyourname.” The words come out too fast and jumbled together for Cameron’s high state to comprehend.

“What?” His eyes scan your face, trying to make sense of it all.

“During my last scene I…,” The cotton mouth makes this so much harder, “I said your name.”

Cameron stared at you, giving many blinks until a lightbulb went off in his head.

“Is that why the fucker didn’t perform aftercare?”

“I’m not sure why he didn’t, I just… he just didn’t.”

Cam is quick to put the blunt out, cracking the window just a tad to clear the smoke, figuratively and literally. You bit your lip so hard you started to taste the metallic crimson on your tongue.

“Stop doing that,” Cameron reached over to gently pull your lip from between your teeth, “You hurt yourself when you do that.”

See? This is exactly why you cried his name that night.

He is a natural and makes it so easy for you to slip.

“Do you want to talk about why you said my name or do you want to leave it at that?”

His voice was so soft and his eyes didn’t shy away from yours.

“Ever since the day I met you, Cam.” You shake your head and look out your window as the tears start to flow, hiccuping due to your lungs needing air, “I have tried to replicate that feeling over and over again. I tried to make it tangible but…”

“No one can make you feel the way I do,” His index finger and thumb grip your chin to gently turn your face back to him, "C'mon Bunny, don’t cry.”

“It’s embarrassing!” Your tears stuck to your eyelashes, making it difficult to see, “God, you’re my best friend and-,”

“I make you feel safe.”

You two had a habit of finishing each other’s sentences. How cliche, but that’s just how you two were from the beginning.

“So fucking safe,” you started to snivel and Cam’s heart broke with every drop of a tear, “Every mutter of your name from other subs at the parties… it fills me with so much envy and rage and I feel so selfish for wishing it was me. I’ve always wanted it to be me.”

Cameron doesn’t speak, he’s always like a sponge in moments like this. Soaking in your words to understand instead of responding just to speak.

“This isn’t the subdrop speaking, I mean, it is but this has been building overtime and after saying your name I just couldn’t hold it in anymore and I can’t lose you-“

“You’re never gonna lose me,”

He couldn’t tell if your eyes were red from smoking beyond your limits or from crying but he didn’t like it.

“You’re always going to be my Bunny.”

It was in that moment you really looked and relaxed in his warm gaze. Just his tone alone lets you know that he had skin in this game.

My Bunny… he said my Bunny.

Claiming you for himself.

“I think you knew deep down that you always had me wrapped around your finger,” The pad of his thumb swipes a tear away, “I was at your every beck and call. I just never wanted to assume your feelings. So I stood by and I took care of you in ways that you allowed me to, not wanting to overstep.”

Cameron’s own eyes watered at the way your face was contorted in pain. Your eyes were so puffy and he loathed to see you this way.

“Had I spoken up sooner you wouldn’t be feeling like this,”

“This isn’t on you, Cam. Not even close! I fell in bed with those men but they’re the ones to blame! They’re the ones… who are preying on people like me to get a quick nut and not following through with their role. Don’t you blame yourself.”

“But I watched as you dropped. I could have stopped it,”

“I could have stopped it,” you correct him, “But you know me, glutton for punishment I guess.”

“Well not anymore.” He reached over to hold your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“I’m gonna open the sunroof so we can sit here, relax and just look at the stars. Then we’re gonna take you home, run you a bubble bath, turn on some Bob’s Burgers and just… be in each other’s company.”

You started to feel the elephant lift off your chest, a weight you’d been carrying for quite some time.

The two of you recline your seats while the sun roof opens, revealing the twinkling orbs in the midnight sky.

“The stars remind me of your freckles,” you whisper, turning to look at him. He is such a beautiful man, eyes captivating and his smile always felt like home, “They’re like little kisses from angels before you were sent down here.”

He blushed. He’s fucking blushing.

“You flatter me”

“Cameron Cade you have always been beautiful to me. Before I knew you as the football star or the well respected Dom in the city’s BDSM scene,”

He chuckles lightly at your words, trying to not blush even harder.

“You were always just… Cameron, to me. Cam, the bright eyed and bushy tailed newbie like me. From the moment I looked in your eyes under those red club lights, I knew… I knew you were meant to be in my life.”

“Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?” His eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes again, “I thank God everyday that I met you.”

Your eyes stung once more, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill, a wide grin growing on your face, “Now who is flattering who?”

As the night progressed, Cameron kept his word. He ran you home, prepared a bubble bath, ordered your favorite take out and had Bob’s burgers ready when you were done.

Days went by and Cameron didn’t press the subject of you saying his name. Despite you mentioning how you wanted him in ways that otherwise were forbidden, he didn’t overstep and continued to take care of you in ways that you needed.

However, on your end, you were burning to talk about it. The topic was burning on your tongue and in moments where he was close, you just wanted to pull him in and have his lips on yours.

Each day that he left to fulfill his football star obligations, he would come back to make sure you were well and taken care of.

Today, he returned and his cologne was profound, in a good way of course. It usually lingers and you’re fine but today you just needed him near, it’s different.

“We can talk about it if you want,” his head turns to you while he hangs his jacket the hook he designated as his.

“What do you m-,”

“You’re gnawing away at your lip again,” he comes to sit close to you, his thumb meeting the skin just below your bottom lip to ease it from the vicious grip of your teeth.

“What are we doing?” The golden question finally being asked.

“What do you want to do?” He retorts

“No, I asked you first!” A playful push to his chest has that glinting smile appearing on his face before he settles.

He clenches his jaw as he ponders over his thoughts, trying to figure out the best way he wants to say this.

“I want more. But if you want to erase everything we talked about the other night that works too. My main priority is meeting your needs in the way you see fit.”

“You have to make your needs a priority too,”

“My needs and wants are your needs and wants” He said it as if it was plain as day, “You need to be taken care of? I need to be the one to do it. You need to talk about something to get it off your chest? I want to be the one you unload it all on. You need a hug? I want to be the one to wrap you in a warm embrace,”

His eyes didn’t leave yours for even a second, it’s sort of intimidating. But you suppose that’s what makes him so magnetic.

“Or-,” he shrugged, “if you just want a friend, I’ll be there. I just need to know.”

You know what you wanted. You’d been keeping it locked up for years, so why is it so hard to just say it? Why did it feel so exposing?

“Don’t get shy on me now.” He flashes that dizzying smile.

“I don’t want anyone else to experience you.”

Flat out. Just like that. It was blunt and there was no other way around it.

“I don’t like who I am when I’m envious of other people muttering your name. I don’t like who I am when I expose myself to men who can’t even hold a light to you. I’ve loved having you as my best friend but I just need more and that may make me selfish but I-,”

The smell of Cameron is closer than you’ve ever experienced and it’s only because his lips are on yours now. His hand is on your jaw to pull you closer and the rapid pace of his breathing is a sign of just how bad he’s been wanting to do this.

How bad he’s been needing this.

“Cam-“ you needed to catch your breath but you needed more of him so that took precedence. You were grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, your tongue dancing with his, he tastes so good it’s inebriating.

“Please” he sounded so pretty when he whimpered, “Just come here, Bunny. Just.. please”

He pulled you forward to sit in his lap and his hands are grabbing at your waist. All Cameron ever wanted was to have you like this and be able to kiss on you.

He wove his hands in your hair to lightly pull at your roots, exposing your neck so he could get a lay of the land before his attack.

His teeth nip at the skin of your neck and you can’t help the moan that escapes.

“There goes my Bunny”

Your eyes rolled at the drop in his voice, the dominant side of him was taking control and he could tell just by the way you were melting into him that you were ready to submit.

“Cam-“ a pathetic plea when his hands grip your ass in an attempt to get you even closer.

“Yes, Baby?” He pulls your face away, and he is in awe at how fucking sexy you look. Lips glistening, eyelids heavy with a slack jaw.

He’s unaware of just how ravishing he looks right now. Lips red and swollen, nostrils flared as he tried to calm himself down and you can see the fire in his eyes.

He can see an eye of a storm in the sky of your mind, your eyes brimming with tears as the hurricane winds blow you each and every way.

“I need you.” your chin trembles and your hands squeeze his wrists.

“Not right now, baby”

His rejection guts you and he can see you panicking.

“No, no. Breathe with me. Relax.” His voice is stern but the touch of his thumbs on your cheeks is tender.

“I just mean we need more time to build this. My job is to deliver but it’s also my job to be thorough. I may know you but I need to know you, Bunny.”

Cameron brings your face forward, kissing your forehead to subdue you.

“You trust me, right?” His forehead presses to yours and can feel the motion of you nodding with fervor.

“I trust you. More than you will ever know”

“Then trust that I know what I’m doing,” his hands rub circles on your back to ground you.

“Okay,” your eyes squeeze tight, wanting to let him guide you.

Of course the impatient side of you was hard to control during this time. However, you know going slow is the best option for longevity.

But time seemed to drag.

Weeks.

Cameron meant it when he said he was thorough.

He wanted to know everything that made you cringe and everything that made you tick.

What made you swoon and what made you sick.

Of course in turn, you learned a lot about him and while time seemed to move excruciatingly slow, it was a time filled with knowledge and growth.

And patience.

Boy, did this teach you patience. Each time you were boiling over, Cameron decreased the heat to make you simmer down.

It was a push and pull. He’d pull you closer, making you think it was time just to push you away and keep you waiting with anticipation.

You loved it though. You were the type of sub to like the chase.

To be honest, Cameron wasn’t even doing anything inherently sexual. It was his natural dominance that had your core twisting, that had you yearning.

Like opening the car door for you, grabbing something off the top shelf, massaging your calves during movie nights.

And he was a damn good cook.

Your mind got hazy every time he’d ask you to taste test something he made. The way his hand cradled your chin when he spoon fed you the sauces he created had you ready to pounce on him.

It really was the little things that made you crave Cameron more and more everyday.

Like the late night dances in your living room where you were in nothing but your panties and one of his shirts while he just sported a pair of sweats that hung low on his hips.

And like the days he’d pick out a perfume for you that coincided with the energy your outfit was giving that day.

The foundation was coming along quite nicely, but the restless brat within you just wanted to be underneath him at his mercy.

The make out sessions continue though. Just sitting in his lap, trying to imprint the taste of him on your tongue.

“Cam, I think I’m ready.”

You couldn’t hide it anymore. This was the ultimate symbol of devotion and you have been ripping at the seams to give yourself to him.

With his forehead pressed to yours, he gives a deep chuckle that goes straight to your pussy.

“You think?” His grip on your hips gets tighter as he moves you over his hardening dick. Your eyelids get heavy, thrill filling your body.

“If you have some idea that you can handle this you better be sure. I don’t do ‘I think’,”

His right hand is quick to grab your neck, fixing your gaze so he’s looking into your eyes.

“So try again. You think you’re ready for me?”

“N-no. I know. I know I’m ready”

“Mmmm, you don’t seem too sure, baby. I don’t believe you.” He goes to remove you from his lap but your thighs tighten around his, planting you in place.

“Please. I’ll show you. Please let me show you,”

You were all about acts of service.

“You gon’ put on a show for me?”

“Yes, I wanna make you proud,” your hips buck against the hump that his dick created in his sweatpants, relishing in the stimulation.

“Shade of pink?” He breaks character to check on you, making sure you’re actually good. Using shades of pink as your safe word system.

“Bubblegum.”

Bubblegum being great! keep going!

Fuchsia being slow down / need a minute.

Magenta being full stop.

“Good girl,” His lips cover yours in a kiss that sends you in a tizzy, “Show me why you’re my Bunny.”

You’re quick to slip out of his lap and kneel on the plush carpet in front of him, your hands on his knee caps.

“You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” A heavy breath falls from him and the worship has you leaning against his thigh to hide your eyes.

“No, noooo” he sings, picking your head up, “You don’t get to hide from me anymore. Understand?”

“Yes” A quick nod from you doesn’t satisfy him.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.” The whine in your voice lets Cameron know you’re teetering the edge of subspace.

“You’re so good for me, baby” he leans back and your mouth salivates at just how fine this man is. Like he was etched from marble and put up in the most prestige museums.

“Now tell me what you want. Don’t hold back.”

A groan rumbles in your chest, thinking about how vulgar your desires are when it comes to him. You’ve never said any of this shit out loud.

“I want you to fuck my throat.”

He chuckles and your cheeks heat up, feeling embarrassed.

“I know that’s not it. I know just how much of a slut you want to be for me. I know you’ve got more in you than that.”

“I want to feel fear set in when my lungs need air but your dick is stuffing my mouth. I want my tears to mix with my spit while you slap it on my face. I know you care about me, but is it too much to ask for you to act like you don’t?”

“Fuck.” His breath shudders at the concept of ruining you. He’s always wanted to make love to you but there is something that started to awaken within him the more you talked about how bad you needed him to fuck you within an inch of your life.

His fingers fall beneath the band on his sweatpants to pull them down and finally release his hardened length.

Watching the way your eyes crossed sent shivers down his spine. Sure he’s been fawned over by other playmates but this was different.

This is where he wants to be. It’s where he always wanted to be.

He felt loved here and desired in a way that makes his heart skip a beat instead of making it feel like a there’s a black hole in his chest.

“Oh you’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You gonna make me proud and show me?,”

You didn’t answer and it was the only time Cameron would accept silence as an answer. Your hand immediately wraps around his leaking dick, squeezing just to see what reaction it would cause.

“You wanna play games?” Cameron bucked his hips, trying to keep his eyes straight but his head lolled slightly to the side.

“Just doing what you would call… learning what makes you tick.”

You leaned forward to lick the bead of precum that threatened to go to waste.

A moan of relief is shared upon you two.

You finally get to taste him and he finally gets to bask in that sensation.

You cover his dick with your mouth, the part of you that aims to please is feeding off of his heavy breathing.

“Oh God, Bunny!” His voice trembles while he looks down at you, swallowing as much of him as you could. He can feel how bad you’ve been wanting this with the way you’re getting sloppy. You’re savoring this as if you’ll never get to experience it again.

You’re making up for lost time and you’re doing everything you can to show him you’re worthy.

“Fuck.” you pull your mouth off him, leaning against his inner thigh while you stroke him with your hands. The sound is erotic, your hand quickly twisting and stroking your spit down his dick.

Your eyes meet his and he smirks when he sees the tears.

“You treat me so fucking good,” he wipes away a tear, “But I need more, baby. Do you think you could give me more?,”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then move your hands.” He demanded, voice deep and leaving no room for negotiation, “Either in your lap or behind your back but you don’t get to touch me anymore.”

You whine quietly. Losing the ability to touch him for even a fraction of a second was like taking away your ability to breathe. You sadly place them in your lap and wait for further instruction.

“If you do good I just might give you what you want.”

“Please,” you huff, “Please, Sir. I’ll be good, let me prove it.”

Cameron chuckles while sitting up. His hands grab the sides of your face before licking your pouting lips and kissing you with pure ferocity.

“Shade?”

“Bubblegum.”

“Good,” he inhales sharply, “Because play time is over.”

You could practically see the switch in his eyes.

He’s here.

So is she.

“Now open your fucking mouth and show me why you’re my. fucking. Bunny.”

His fingers grip your roots tight, bringing your mouth back down on his dick. His body vibrates with a groan that comes from deep within. His hips buck up and his eyes meet yours.

He can’t get over how beautiful you look like this, eyes burning with desire for him and you just couldn’t get enough.

“You’ve always wanted to be my little slut, haven’t you, baby?”

His pace picks up when you hum an answer around his length. Your saliva painting his dick and he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

You’re addicted to him. He feels so full and heavy in your mouth, the sounds he’s making are so pretty. His jaw hangs and sweat beads on his forehead. The lack of air in your lungs was quite exhilarating actually.

All your body knew was Cameron.

Cameron is all you see. The way his stomach tightened each time you gagged on him. The way he bit his lip to try and ground himself so he doesn’t bust too quick.

Cameron is all you hear. The way he moans your name is so tantalizing. His breath hitches when your tongue swipes against his balls each time you go down.

Cameron is all you smell. The scent of his cologne is mixing with his sweat and it smells so delicious. Like an aphrodisiac, a pheromone that was sending you into heat.

Cameron is all you taste. His precum was just a tad salty and it was satiating the appetite you had for him. The flavor of his enthusiasm was filling your stomach.

Cameron is all you feel. His fingers massaging your scalp as a way to ease you. His dick filled your mouth and it was all you ever wanted. To feel him like this. To feel his body twitch for you, fighting all the alarm bells within him that say to slow down or he’ll cum just like this.

Cameron is all encompassing. Like the universe spreading far and wide. He became all you knew and more.

He yanks your head off, a large gasp coming from you as you catch your breath. Shortly after, your cries fill the room. You’re fully under for him now.

“Pleeaaaaase!,” a sob wracks your body and in the blink of an eye you’re straddling his lap and he’s rocking you.

He’s soothing you, speaking sweet nothings while his hand slips past the waistband of your shorts.

He hisses once he feels just how wet you are.

So fucking messy.

“You like being good for me? You finally got what you’ve been aching for, huh?” He’s teasing in the midst of your tears and his taunting laughter sends shivers down your spine but makes your pussy clench around his fingers.

“Yes, Sir. I love it. I’ll always be your good Bunny!”

He used one hand to grip your cheeks, to keep your face forward while he finger fucks you right in his lap. Your hands hold his shoulders tight so you don’t topple over.

“Tell me you’re mine,” his eyes roll at the pulsing of your core

“I’m yours, Sir,”

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours!”

He knew he was pulling you to the edge already.

“Say it again. Slower this time. I want to hear every fucking syllable.”

“Sir, please! I’m… I’m gonna-“

“You’re not gonna do shit unless you do what I say, Bunny. C’mon don’t be a bad girl now,”

Your noses were touching and you didn’t dare to look away from him.

“I’m.. I’m fucking yours!,” your chest was heaving, “All of me… is yours. My mind..”

Your head tried to loll to the side but Cameron wasn’t having it.

“Focus on me.” He muttered.

“My mind… my body and my soul. I am yours,” you started to grind against his fingers to help you over the edge.

“And you?,” your eyes half lidded and drool decorates your bottom lip, “You, Sir… are mine just the same.”

“Fuck,” his fingers moved faster, dipping in and out of you to rub your slick clit, giving it some attention too, “Show me.”

His lips are on yours again. The clashing of your teeth, the strings of spit and lip biting was too much in the best way possible. All of it was taking you there. Filling your bodies with a drunkenness that not even the finest liquor can bring forth.

“Mark me. Show me I’m yours. Cum for me, baby. Cmon, I know you can do it. I know just how bad you need it. Just show me. Please, baby? I need it. I need you to show m-“

He was going on a tangent. It was fulfilling to know he burns for you in the same way.

“Hhhhhhnnnn- fuuuuck!!,” you do your best to keep your gaze on him as you cum on his fingers but your eyes crossed and your body curled into him. Every nerve ending was firing off and Cameron could feel it.

“That’s my girl,”

You were trembling in his grasp while his hand ran up and down your back.

“Just breathe. You did fucking good for me. Just like I knew you would,”

“I’ll always be good for you, Sir.” your eyes were glazed over and you kept scooting closer as if you and him weren’t already chest to chest.

“Before we go on, what shade are you, baby? I need to make sure you’re good.”

“I…,” you hesitated.

“Be honest.” He implored, eyes not leaving yours so you don’t even think about lying.

“Fuchsia, but I just need some water.” A small poke of your bottom lip sends him into action.

“Go to the bedroom and I’ll be right there, okay?”

“Wanna stay with youuuuu,” you latched onto him and it filled his stomach with butterflies.

“C’mon, Bun. I won’t be long. I’ll be there before you know it”

A heart fluttering peck is placed upon your lips and he taps your ass so you get going.

The journey to your room took 30 seconds but waiting for him felt like an eternity. When he appears he has your insulated water bottle, filled with ice and your favorite flavor packet.

“Drink for me,” he kneels in front of you, hold the straw to your mouth and didn’t pull away until you told him you were good and he sets it on the nightstand.

“Bubblegum,” you nodded, reassuring that you’re ready to continue.

His calloused fingers rub up and down your thighs, just needing to feel you.

“Relax,” he instructs, “Let me take care of you.”

Cameron removes your top to expose your breasts and his mouth instantly waters. He kisses all over your chest causing your head to fall back. A sigh of relief is sent into the air.

You were self conscious about the size of your breasts and the pudge of your stomach but Cameron allowed no territory to go without attention.

Then you felt his lips wrap around your nipples. Flicking his tongue, tugging with his teeth, hollowing his cheeks to suck on the hardening buds as he switched back and forth.

“Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are?” He whimpered, like he can’t believe he is in this position.

He’s not sure how the idiots before could fumble you but he is ever so thankful that they did.

Or else he wouldn’t be here in this moment.

He urges you to lie back so he can remove your night shorts and you swear you hear him gasp at the sight of your swollen lips, glistening with the cum he coaxed out of you on the couch.

“Fucking hell, Bunny,” his arms wrap around your thighs pulling you closer to the edge of the bed to kiss and nip at the inside of your legs.

“Feed it to me,” his voice low and stern, “I’m starving for you, Bunny. Feed me that pretty pussy, baby.”

You pull your pillows to rest them under your shoulders and head to give you a good view of him.

Your hand trembles while you reach to hold the back of his head and lift your hips up to rub your slick lips against his. He licks it off slowly, groaning at the taste of you.

He never thought he’d be here, tasting you, touching you, pleasing you.

But fuck, was he grateful.

“More,” he pleads. Who are you to deny him?

His mouth is open when you bring your hips up for him to kiss and lick. You relax your legs and his mouth is following close behind.

“That feels so fucking good,” you stare up at the ceiling, too nervous to look at him because if you look, you’ll come undone and lose it.

He was so tentative, like he was making out with your pussy. He suckled on your clit and you felt his fingers push into you once again.

“Yes!,” your back arches when you feel his fingers curl, “Fuck, baby. Right there, yes!”

You spread your legs wider and kept one hand on the back of his head while the other moved to pull and tug at your hardened nipple.

You’d never had head this good. Either guys were too selfish and never offered or they just didn’t know what the fuck they were doing, forcing you to fake an orgasm so they’d just stop.

But this? This felt too fucking good to rush.

His tongue swirled around your lips before diving into your leaking pussy, slurping on your arousal to quench his thirst.

“You taste so fucking good, Bunny. What the fuck.”

He was in awe.

“It’s all for you, Sir. All for you.”

It was almost shameful with how close you were but you couldn’t hold it anymore. It’s been years of rubbing your own clit and fucking yourself to the thought of him. You put off your orgasm for as long as you could but he knew you were almost there.

So he fingered you harder and sucked your clit just right.

“Oh God!!,” your hips rise off the bed and you push his head closer to your core to ride it out. A blistering heat wave takes over your body, you’re seeing stars and just calling for him over and over like a broken record

“God dammit,” he pulled back after licking you up all you had to give, just to see you shake in overstimulation. Smiling at the way you were breathing so hard.

“C’mere,” you mewl breathlessly. Pulling him up onto the bed, your hands framing his face to pull him in for a kiss, you both hum at the taste of you on each other’s lips.

“I’m ready,” you whimper, legs still spread wide beneath him, “I’m ready for you, Sir. I’m ready to give myself to you. Make me yours.”

He sits back on his heels to pull his shirt off, his sweats and boxers long gone and his dick seemed even harder now than before.

“You ready for me to show you how a real man takes care of his girl?” His slaps his dick against your clit making your body jolt at the contact.

“Are you ready for me to show you..,” he huffs, shaking his head with a smirk, “Just how good I can ruin you?”

“I’m ready, Sir. Please, I can take it. I can take it, I ca- Ooooooh FUCK!-“

Cameron filled you to the hilt, cutting you off and taking your breath away. His girth was delicious and his length hit spots you didn’t know could be hit.

“Are you gonna be able to take it like the slut you always wanted to be for me?” His arms frame your face and you grab onto his forearms, “I wanna ruin you so bad, Bunny. I wanna hurt you the way you need me to and make it all better. Can I do that? Will you let me do that?”

“Yes!,” you buck your hips up but he pins them down, “Please! I can take it. Let me show you. I can show you!”

“Yeah?,” he kisses your lips delicately before a sinister look makes itself a home in his eyes, “Bite the pillow if you need it. I won’t be holding back.”

Cameron was a man of his word. His grip on your hips was tight as he rolled his hips into you, building a strong pace.

His gold chains dangle in your face like you’ve dreamt of for so long, swinging back and forth like a hypnotizing pendulum.

You felt him in your stomach and he was vicious. Your wetness was spattering all over his pelvis and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Where am I? Tell me, baby. Tell me where you feel me,”

“You’re soooo deeeeep!” His strokes were tear jerking and pushed every moan out. You tried to cover your mouth but he took your hand away and pinned it next to your head.

“On second thought-“ he snapped his hips, “Let me hear you.”

With his other hand, he smacks you and you call out for him. Craving more. Your body was on fire, all the sensations had you in a frenzy.

You were addicted to mixing pain and pleasure. You were his and Cameron always delivered.

“I’m gonna fucking cum already-“

“Not until I say so,” he retorts, “Just relax and take this dick, Bunny. It’s all yours now. Savor it.”

“Fuck!” You weren’t sure if you could, he was stirring you up inside and the noises of your skin slapping and wetness filled the room.

Cameron was a vocal man too. He was whimpering your name, trying to keep his composure but he was failing. He needed to let you know how good you made him feel.

Cameron was having a hard time, trying to keep his shit together. You were so fucking messy and wrapped around him like a glove. Nothing he ever imagined compared to the reality of this. Nothing compared to how fucking good you feel in real time.

“God damn, Bunny. This pussy is so good to me. She’s swallowing me right up.” He says through clenched teeth.

Your toes were curling so hard you felt they’d cramp up.

“I can’t hold it, Sir. Please, can I cum?”

“No.” He smacked you once more and your pussy pulsed around him even harder. The way he rolled his hips had him feeling every ridge within you and it was driving him insane.

You cried for him. You fucking loved being able to cry for him. You were trying to tell your body not to cum yet but his strokes were too good. With each drag of his dick against your walls you were brought closer to your climax.

His lips ghosted over yours and his stare into your eyes was serious.

“I will fuck you up if you cum without my permission, Bunny. You don’t wanna disobey me do you?”

“But I caaaaaan’t. It’s right…,” you hiccup when he hits that special spot that’s buried deep within you and you almost went against his wishes right then, “It’s right… there… and I can’t!”

“Awwwww,” he cooed, brushing a tear off your cheek, “That’s too fucking bad, isn’t it?”

His hand presses against your pelvis and you try you run away from his hands and his dick but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t you fucking run from me.” he pulls you back and it feels like he’s even deeper, like you could feel him in your chest.

“Baby- please!,” your legs were shaking around him and your pussy just kept clenching and it was driving him up the fucking wall.

“You’re such a pretty slut when you beg. You wanna cum? Go ahead. Make me proud, Bunny. Don’t let me down.”

“Fuuuu- oh God, oh God- C..CAMERON!”

You came so loudly that he could feel your cries reverberate inside his own body. He was slapping your clit to draw out your orgasm until you clenched your legs tight.

“Oh my fucking God,”

Cameron leans back on his heels again and pulls you into his lap once again, continuing his strokes.

“You’re done when I say we’re done. I know that pussy wants more, I can feel her. I can hear her- do you hear her, Bunny?”

Cameron’s hand clamps on your mouth to quiet your whimpers so you could hear just how gushy your pussy was for him.

“I’ve got your fucking cum dripping down my balls, Bunny. You should be proud of the slut you’ve become for me.” The sounds that your bodies made between your legs has you ready to hide your face from how obscene it is.

“I know you've been wanting it, baby. To go fucking brain dead for my dick. Look at you. You look so fucking pathetic. Just look at you going dumb for the way I dig in that pussy. You like being my pathetic little slut, huh?

“No, I love it!” Your nails are digging and scraping down his chest, Cameron was getting overwhelmed. Your skin was hot against his and you were clenching so fucking tight that he was struggling to hold back his own impending climax.

“I fucking love it, Sir. I fucking love it. It’s your pussy, baby. You’re fucking me so good.”

His own head fell back, eyes closing shut tightly as you began to take over all of his senses this time.

Cameron could see all of you. The way your breast bounce with every thrust, the way your eyes fill with tears each time you look at him or he hits that sweet spot deep in your core. He can see your true self. Elated with the fact you’re trusting him enough to be vulnerable like this.

Cameron could hear you. The way you mumbled incoherent phrases as subspace took over your mind, letting your body just float in the pool of pleasure you were suspended in.

Cameron could smell you. He smells your gourmand perfume and your sweat smells so sweet. Your shampoo was his favorite aroma, because it wrapped him in a warm blanket of peace. Having you this close brought him comfort that this is where he’s supposed to be.

Cameron could taste you, your pussy juice still on his tongue and lips and when he kisses you, he can taste your mint mouthwash. You need to please is palpable and it tastes like victory.

Cameron could feel you all over him. You were creating a sticky mess between his legs and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He bites his lip at the feeling of your nipples rubbing against his chest and your pulse pounding for him beneath the hand he had on your throat.

You surrounded him like air. You were always there and he would always need you so he could breathe, to survive this world. You were his everything and he wouldn’t give this up for anything nor anyone.

It filled Cameron with pride to know that he's the one to make you fall apart. He was in seventh heaven knowing he gets to put the pieces back together when you two are done.

“You wanna cum again, don’t you? You wanna paint my dick some more?”

His hand squeezed the sides of your throat, making you dizzy but the harder it was to breathe right now, the closer your orgasm became.

“Yesyesyesyesyes!” You chanted, seeing his blissed out expression from behind your heavy eyelids.

“Bunny, baby… I’m gonna cum,”

“Fill me up… please? I deserve it. I’ve earned it. Please!”

Cam squeezes tighter and yet you still crave more. Despite his tight grip on the sides of your neck, your body melts into him.

This was the epitome of submission to him. He could deprive you of something as vital as air and you’d still meld into his grip because you trust him so deeply.

You know he wouldn’t hurt you.

But if it’s like this? The pain is welcome and it’s the catalyst for your surrender to him.

“Oh my fucking-,” he drops you flat on the mattress and his fingers weave between yours as he drives his hips hard and deeper into you.

The finish line in sight for the both of you.

He’s moving so fast that he slipped out and your gasp was big enough to suck the air out of the room.

“Give it back!,” you were full on sobbing now, “Please. Sir, give it back. Give it back, give it-“

“I’m right here, baby.” He reassures, slipping back inside and your body jerks, “Just breathe, Bunny. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your nails are digging into the back of his hands the closer you get.

“Yes, yes, yes-,” you look up into his eyes and you chin trembles, “Oh God, I fucking love you.”

“Oh, I love you so much more, baby.”

Sure it’s been said before. But this time it was different.

Before, it was said as friends who hoped the other could read between the lines.

Now it’s said as two people who are growing alongside each other in a contrasting way this time. Two people who no longer have to hope for the other to pick up the hints because it’s blatant.

Just as he finished saying that, he’s spilling inside of you and it takes you over the edge, pulling him down for a kiss to hush your sobs.

“Fuck!,” his body felt like jelly as he tried to keep himself up from crushing you.

His eyes are shut tight but they open just as quick as he hears little sniffles.

“Hey. You’re okay. I got you, Bun. Just breathe with me, okay?”

His hands frame your face once more and you latch onto his wrists, to ground yourself.

“You did so fucking good, you know that? You made me so fucking proud”

“P-promise?,”

Cameron could tell it wasn’t just the subspace taking over and asking for reassurance. It was the sub that had been denied aftercare time after time. It was Y/N who feared that she’d never be good enough for anyone.

Most important of all, it was his Bunny that longed for him in silence for years because he was too much of a wimp to make the move.

“I promise. I’m here and I’m not leaving,”

Cameron gave you acetaminophen to get ahead of any post coital soreness that’ll be sure to show up in the morning and made you finish your entire bottle of ice water.

After he cleaned you up, he made sure that you peed while he turned the shower on, grabbing the towels and washcloths as the water heats up.

He turned on your favorite r&b music to relax your mind while you two showered together. He had to make sure you’re coming down safely. Letting you know that you don’t have to fear being abandoned again.

Cameron made sure to reinforce the fact that the degrading things he says during sex are purely sexual and he’d never think that of you outside of play.

He held you in his embrace under the hot stream and sang to you, giving you little kisses on your cheeks and shoulders.

“I know I’ve said it a million times but you really are beautiful.”

You tried to hide the smile that was growing but it can’t be contained. Not when he’s here, like this, so close.

After he dried you off and helped lotion you up, it was your turn to take care of him. Massaging lotion onto his back and peppering kisses on his neck and singing to him now, even if you didn’t sound as good as he did.

“How are you holding up?” The two of you lie in bed, legs tangled and finding solace in each other’s arms.

“I’m free from the cell I’ve quietly sat in for years waiting for you to find me,” your eyes look from his lips to his eyes and they’re so gentle now. So soft and kind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.” the back of his index finger brushes your cheek and he loves to see the smile growing on your face.

“Don’t be. I had the key the entire time.”

“It seems we both did,” he moves to kiss you once again and he smiles bashfully as if this is the first time he’s kissing you. As if he didn’t just fuck you six ways from Sunday, “I’ll never get tired of being able to do that.”

“I won’t either,” your fingers gently touch your lips like, rejoicing in this all being real.

It’s mind boggling that you’re here now.

But it’s freeing.

You are free from the abyss.

From the void that swallowed you whole every time you were done with someone who wasn’t genuine.

This feeling in your chest, it’s tranquil. Like feeling the grass beneath your feet as you prance around without bounds.

You were his and he was finally yours.

It felt good to not just be Bunny to him.

Because now?

Now you were exclusive.

He can sleep at night knowing that you’re more than just Bunny.

Because you’re his Bunny.

And that will never change.

——————

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for your support and attention!!

if you enjoyed, please make sure to like, reblog and comment! it helps a ton!

as always, much love!

~Berry 🫐

[concretecultist]

do you still write for noah? i loved your fics from him!

to be honest i fell off when it comes to bad omens and i was experience terrible writer’s block for them for some reason which is why i found a new muse.

however!

i do still have some WIPs for him and they WILL be seeing the light of day! i just have to give myself some grace with them tbh but i haven’t completely abandoned them!

im sorry it’s taking me so long 😭🩵

[concretecultist]

your cameron cade fics are amazingggg omg the storylines and your writing are so good! i hope you continue to be inspired to write for him bc i’m eating it UPPPP

thank you so so much, you have no idea how much this means to me🥹 im working on something currently and can’t wait to share it with you all!!🩵

[concretecultist]

Flutter

summary: the one where you and cameron become parents and you have to ease his worries

word count: ~3.8k

pairing: cameron cade x black!reader

warnings: little angsty, feelings of inadequacy, tons of reassurance, sad!cameron, hints of toxic masculinity, fluff

a/n: vulnerable!cameron cade is one of my favorite tropes

————

Cameron was having trouble.

He doesn’t understand how you make this look so easy. You wake up in the middle of the night without so much as a complaint, you deal with the sore breasts without batting an eye, you don’t freak out when Amelia spits up on you or when she poops up her back. You don’t panic when she has gas cramps and cries for an hour.

You take it like a champ.

For once in his life, Cameron feels like a complete and utter loser. A failure.

Today you went to your parents’ house so they could see Amelia. She’s two months old and Cameron feels like she already hates him. However, with you, she’s instantly at ease. He doesn’t know what his problem is.

He didn’t move from his spot in bed all day. He just stared up at the ceiling with tears dripping down the sides of his face.

“Fuck!” He shouted in anger. Cameron is so frustrated with himself, he thought he could tackle anything but he can’t even tackle the growing pains of being a parent.

Cam bit down tightly, trying to keep his shouts of annoyance to a minimum, he can’t help but beat himself up right now. The heels of his hands are pushing deep into his eye sockets, he just wants to stop crying.

He’s like this all the time now.

When he’s headed to practice, he cries. When he’s in the shower while you take care of your baby, he cries. Before jaw dropping photo shoots for a brand deal, he cries.

He’s been through two and a half bottles of eye drops already.

“Baaaaaabe,” you sing, peaking in the room, “We’re hoooome!”

Your voice sends a jolt through his body, startling him. He immediately breathes in a deep sigh and does his best to dry his cheeks.

“Heeeey,” he tries to sound enthusiastic, he really is glad you two are home, his day feels empty when you both aren’t around. But even then, he worries because the second something happens with Amelia, he’s reminded he can’t reduce the stress that’s put on you.

“How was Flutter today?” He sits up, avoiding your eyes.

He coined the nickname for her the second you told him you were pregnant. You’re not sure why he calls her that, you find it adorable but he keeps the origin story a secret.

“She was good, dad had her smiling and squealing all day. Mom recorded herself reading kids stories and it put her right to sleep on the way home!”

Cameron tries to engage but his mind just isn’t here right now. He didn’t expect you to be home so early, but one look at the clock lets him know his perception of time is way off. It’s 8pm, and he didn't realize that much time had gone by.

“Are you feeling okay?” You kick your shoes off and throw on some night time clothes to lounge before completely winding down for the night.

There’s a few beats and you realize he wasn’t paying attention.

“Cameron Cade!”

His eyes snap to you but he realizes that’s a mistake.

In the dim light of his bedside lamp, you notice his red eyes.

“Cameron?” Your voice immediately fell to just above a whisper, “A-are you… are you crying?”

“Nah, just woke up,” he wanted to seem nonchalant, but he was exhausted, he didn’t have the energy to try harder.

“You’re my husband. I’m not dumb,”

“Babe.. please. I don’t want to talk about it.” You can hear the lump in his throat as he tries to get rid of it to keep his voice steady.

“Once again,” you suggest “You’re my husband and I’m not dumb. It takes a lot to get you to this point. Talk to me,”

You watch him hesitate, opening his mouth to speak yet nothing comes out. Small puffs exit, eyes blinking and filling up with tears again.

“I don’t think I’m meant to be a father.”

Wait. He didn’t mean to word it that way. He didn’t mean it the way you took it.

Fuck!

Your face falls and fear dresses your features like a mask.

Cameron can see it in real time, like one of your nightmares came true. He hates the way you quickly stand up to get away from him and he chokes on his cries for the umpteenth time today.

“I didn’t mean it like tha-“

“Then how the fuck did you mean it, Cameron? Because to me, it sounds like you’re telling me you regret having Amelia-“

“N-no!,” he insisted, “I..- I love Flutter! I just-“

“Is that why you’ve been so disconnected?” You countered, anxiety rushing through your bloodstream, you started to tremble, “You fucking waited this long to tell me you don’t think you’re meant to be a fucking father!?”

Cameron was panicking now. He didn’t mean it like that. He can’t even pull himself together to format his words properly.

“That’s not what I meant!” He lowered his voice, remembering Amelia was asleep, but it was too late.

Amelia’s cries ring through the baby monitor and Cameron’s stomach drops. You stormed out of the room but you’re back just as fast, this time with your daughter in your arms.

“Prove it!” You hold Amelia in your arms, extending her to Cameron and you’re nauseated at the way he recoiled, “If that’s not what you meant then hold her.”

“I can’t,” his hands began shaking and he began to breathe more rapidly.

“Hold her, Cameron,” you snapped.

“Y/N, please,” his voice was so small, creaking and weak.

“Why?,” you frown, keeping your voice level to not upset your daughter even more. Your own tears coming to the surface. This is such a terrible feeling, you feel stupid. You’ve had nightmares of this. The reoccurring one being based off this insecurity of yours, where you had Amelia but Cameron Cade the football star decided fatherhood wasn’t for him.

You can’t believe it’s fucking happening.

“Because I’m a terrible dad!,” he expressed, “God, no! I’m not regretting you or her but baby… I’m scared!,”

You pull Amelia close to your chest when his words rush out, you go to speak but Cameron isn’t done.

“She’s only two months and she hates me!,” in his hysteria, he holds his hands to his chest, animating his words in hopes it helps to get his point across, “I hold her, she cries. I feed her, she cries, she opens her eyes to look at me, she cries!”

His tears were falling fast. He felt suffocated by defeat. Like he was buried alive in a cheap coffin and the dirt above was sneaking through the cracks.

His demise was imminent.

“I can’t even get up in the middle of the night and feed my baby so my wife can sleep! I love her, more than I can put into words but I’m fucking up, Y/N. I don’t know how to not fuck this up. I feel like if I try… if I try I’ll just fuck up so bad and you’ll see what a fucking deadbeat I am!”

You’re trying to process everything, his cheeks were as red as bonfire embers, glassy eyes like fine china. Your fear turned into sympathy.

You’ve never seen Cameron so upset, so out of character. But you finally see him. Five o’clock shadow, navy blue hoodie on with the hood up and bags under his eye.

“I can’t expect you to do all the work. I can’t be that type of dad. I haven’t been fair I’m just so fucking scared, Y/N.”

You’re holding Amelia closely, rocking her back to sleep as he rants, his back leaning against the headboard as he waits for a reply.

He doesn’t get one.

Amelia is put back to sleep in no time. This makes his chest hurt even more. He can’t even rock his baby to sleep.

You leave to put her back in the nursery and Cameron feels like he’s going to be sick. He can’t seem to do anything right.

When you come back, you stand in the doorway just staring at Cameron. Eyes running over him to see just how down he is. He's picking at his cuticles, a habit he broke after you two started dating.

For it to start back up again is a warning sign of just how deep this goes for him.

He feels your eyes on him so he looks over to you and the tears burn once again.

Cameron goes to apologize but he can’t even begin before you’re almost running to his side of the bed and pulling him in for a hug.

He’s in shock, in shock that you’re still here. He didn't expect you to stay. He thought that when you left to put Amelia back that you were actually getting her ready to up and leave.

But you’re still here.

Your hands rub his back and the back of his head.

“You’ve done all the hard work and I can’t even hold my baby without making her cry. What kind of dad does that make me?” a sob wracked his body. Feeling so ashamed, so pathetic, “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Cam, nothing is wrong with you” you pull back to hold his face, his cheeks are so wet they’re sticky.

“I haven’t even been a dad to my daughter. I have left my wife to countless sleepless nights because I was a coward!”

Cam was hiccuping, you’d never seen him so distraught like this, it was scaring you. Cam wasn’t a crier really, you could count on one hand how many times you’ve seen him cry during your 6 years together. To see him like this? It’s a lot.

“I need to do better,” he swallowed hard, “I want her to love me how she loves you”

“She does love you!” You insisted.

“She hates me.” He exclaimed, “It’s like I scare her, like I’m the big bad wolf.”

You take in his words, he’s been holding this in. He’s like a shaken bottle of soda, exploding the second the release happens.

“I’m new to this too,” you tried to comfort, “there are days where she does nothing but cry and I feel like I’m a shit mom because I don’t know what my baby needs from me.”

Cameron goes to speak but you continue with your reassurance.

“There have been times where I feel like I’m an idiot. I’ve cried because she spit up and/or pooped on me. I have cried because I didn’t produce enough milk due to a blocked duct. Yet during all of that, you were there.”

His sobs were soft shudders of breath now, eyelashes sticking together like spikes framing his red eyes.

Some days his eyes looked brown, like whiskey swirling in a glass. Like an ancient amber gemstone that held memories of all of its lives before this one.

Other days they could look blue, like a heavy sea rocking a fragile ship. Like raw sapphire heirlooms.

Today? Today, his irises were like the hushed scent of evergreens in the fog. He’s never looked so lost.

“You bring me wipes when she spits up, you’ve changed her diaper when she pooped on me and I freaked out. You googled all the blocked duct remedies and helped calm me down when I was worried I didn’t feed her enough”

“But I need to do more. I-… I am not giving my all out of fear and that’s not fair.”

“It’s not,” you nod, “But now I know why you’ve been so removed and I can extend some grace.”

“I want to be a man. A father… and I haven’t felt like either one of those since she’s been here.”

“Cam, this is new for us both. This takes time. We could read all the parenting books and attend all the classes yet we could still do something wrong.”

“You make it look so easy.” he seems so fragile.

“It’s far from easy,” you say honestly, “This is the hardest thing I have ever done but it’s worth it because I have a cute baby girl with the love of my life,”

Cameron searches your eyes for any hint of dishonesty. When he finds none, he sighs deeply, a breath to relax for once.

“I call her Flutter because,” his voice cracked, hands searching for yours to hold and comfort himself, “Because when you told me you were pregnant I got this fluttering feeling in my chest, like butterflies. I got that feeling when I told people ‘My wife is pregnant!’,”

That day brought you two so much joy. It was one of the few times you’ve witnessed him cry. It was hard to keep it a secret in the first trimester, but the second you gave him the green light, he rushed to get you in the car so you two could tell his mom and your parents.

It’s like night and day now. You didn’t realize how much terror festered inside of him since she’s been born.

“I got that feeling when we found out she was just the size of a lime and heard her heartbeat. It happened when we cut into the cake and saw we were having a girl a-and when we agreed to name her Amelia.”

“After the eunica amelia butterfly species” you mutter, a small smile making its way onto your face.

“Every time we won a game, I won it for you and for her and our family. Every brand deal was for you two so I could provide for you but I’m not. I’m not providing in the way that’s most important right now.”

“You have got to give yourself more credit,” you press your forehead his, your hands holding his to relieve the tight fist he had them in.

“I don’t know how to make it right,” he whispers, “she’s depending on me to make it right.”

“And you will” your voice soft now, “I’m sorry I freaked out on you, I should have been more understanding.”

“I didn’t exactly phrase it the best.” A smile makes its way onto Cameron’s face, the first one he’s sported in a while.

The night moved forward with more honesty and suggestions to make this transition smoother. A game plan so both of you can make sure you’re putting your best foot forward as parents.

Once Cam calmed down enough to sleep, he’s woken up by Amelia’s cries. At first he freezes, fright filling his body like it usually does.

But he’s got to do this.

He’s got to be the dad Amelia deserves.

Sliding out of your arms without difficulty, he tiptoes to the pink nursery. Amelia whimpers, staring up at her nervous dad. As if she can sense his trepidation, her wails grow louder and Cameron is quick to pick her up.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, you’re okay,” the words are supposed to be for her but he knows he’s saying it to himself as well. He can do this, “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

He’s pacing, crying along with her. At this point, he’s changed her diaper, he thawed a brick of breast milk, fed and burped her but she’s still crying.

He hates himself for it. His daughter is weeping and he can’t figure out how to stop it.

“Take your shirt off,” your tired voice fills the room. When he looks at you, you see his eyes are watery yet again and you croon.

“Here, sit down” guiding him to the rocking chair, “Take your shirt off.”

You hold Amelia while he listens to your instructions, she’s still fussy and Cameron’s stomach is in knots.

“Relax” you hand Amelia back him, “Don’t tense up like that.”

“Babe, she’s gonna cry,” his breathing was quick while staring down at his daughter who is very upset.

“That’s why you have to relax,” you whisper, “She’s still the same Flutter that was the size of a lime. The same Flutter who you spoke to everyday in my belly. Nothing has changed. She’s still our little Fluttershy.”

Cameron’s eyes search your face. This is so much different. She’s not growing in your belly anymore, she’s here and he just seems to piss her off every time he’s around.

“Just hold her to your chest and talk to her. You’re gonna feel silly at first but she likes it. I’ll be right in our room.”

“Please don’t leave” his eyes going wide, you hated the way his chin trembled.

“Cam, you got this. Give yourself time for our daughter to get to know you. To feel your love for her. You’ll be fine.”

You kiss his cheek and crack the door behind you. When you get to your room you curl into bed with the baby monitor propped up beside you in bed, just to listen and watch for them.

Amelia cries louder and you can hear Cameron freaking out.

“No, no please. I’m sorry, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He’s rocking in the chair and notices how she quiets down a bit. He takes a deep breath and holds it in fear of disrupting her.

Wiping her tears, your words echo in his mind.

Talk to her.

“H-hi,” Cameron’s voice came through the speaker, “I’m Cameron, well... Your dad. I’m your dad.”

You hear Amelia babble beneath her cries a little bit but nothing to send you back in there.

“You’re our little miracle,” he continued, “They tried to tell us that your mama couldn’t have a bundle of joy but here you are.”

You can hear Cameron sniffling in between his words, his voice low but trembling.

“I think that’s why I’m so scared,”

He doesn’t seem so tense now. That’s a big step for him.

“I’m sorry I don’t always know what I’m doing,”

Amelia’s cries have dissipated, Cam is caressing her cheek now. He is in awe that she’s settling down. The warmth of his skin causes her to curl into him even more.

“I love you more than you will ever know. I just don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want you to grow up to hate me. That would kill me.”

It’s quiet for a bit, only his sniffles can be heard beneath her sleepy noises. You feel your own eyes welling with tears. Cameron was there for everything, he never let you go through the highs and lows of pregnancy and motherhood alone.

So it hurts to know he kept all this to himself.

“You and your mama are my greatest blessings” his voice cracking, you can hear the vulnerability engraving itself into his tone, “I never want to make you cry the way I have been. Your mama is a natural at this and I just feel like I’m making things worse.”

You knew Cameron was nervous before Amelia arrived, what you didn’t know was just how bad the anxiety dwelled within him. Making itself a home inside his mind.

“I feel like an imposter. Which makes me feel so silly, I’m not the one that had to carry you. I feel like I don’t deserve to feel like this because… I’m supposed to be strong, I’m supposed to be the man.”

At these words, you get back up out of bed and make your way into the nursery.

“You are strong,” you kneel down and prop your arms up on his leg, “There is nothing stronger than a man being vulnerable and admitting the lows he’s feeling.”

“You went through everything though-“

“Cam, it was a breeze because of who my husband is and how he took care of me and our baby.”

You rub his legs, soothing the anxious shaking. This view is beautiful, he’s holding Amelia so close and she’s falling asleep. She’s at peace with him.

“It’s okay to be scared. It’s normal. But that’s when we look fear in the eyes and use it to push us to be the best role models we can be.”

His eyes flicker from you to her and a single tear falls on her baby blanket.

“We have to let go of perfectionism,” your eyes meet his to get him to understand, “We just have to make sure to try our best and know that our best will be enough.”

“My best will be enough,” he repeated.

“Your best will always be enough.”

When Cameron looked down at Amelia, his eyes glinted at how relaxed she was. Relaxed enough to fall asleep in his arms. It’s the first time in a while.

“She fell asleep!” Whisper yelling in awe. He looked so overjoyed, like a kid on Christmas morning waking up to find all the gifts they wanted, “Babe, she’s actually sleeping!”

“I told you.” Nudging him playfully, “you have to remember she’s new to this world too. It’s an adjustment period for us all. Patience, with not only her, but yourself, is the key.”

Amelia makes little peaceful noises in her sleep and Cameron can’t help but smile brightly at how close she is to him right now. Looking at her now he realizes just how much of a perfect mix she is of you and him.

She has your chubby cheeks and his cupid’s bow. She has his nose and your eyebrows. His freckles, except they’re a little darker to stand out against her deeper skin tone. But most important of all, she has the love of both of you intertwined into her being.

With this thought in his mind, he knows for sure that he is going to be a great dad. He will accept nothing less and won’t raise her to accept anything less either.

Every time he looks at her he gets that light feeling in his chest, this feeling will never go away. He finds solace in that fact. That every time he looks at her, that any time he thought of his Amelia; that the little burst in his chest is there because he loves her and will always put his best foot forward.

“I’ll never let you down,” he whispers while holding her little hand in between his index finger and thumb “And I vow to always be there, to always protect you”

Your eyes fall upon this view, your own butterflies filling your stomach. It brings tears to your own eyes, you know it took Cameron some time to be this vulnerable.

He’s going to be okay. Amelia is going to be okay. This right here, is proof that you all will always be okay.

“She’ll always be our little Flutter.”

🦋🦋🦋

_______

If you made it this far, thank you for your attention and support!

If you enjoyed, please make sure to like, comment and/or reblog- it helps a ton!

much love,

~Berry🫐

[concretecultist]

HER

summary: the one where Cameron catches you in his jersey on laundry day.

pairing: cameron Cade x black!reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, slight dacryphilia, some light degradation, some choking, some slapping, this is a lil vulgar tbh so beware!

a/n: okay i figured i tortured you all enough with angst (for now) so enjoy!

“Kiki boots and I’m 5 foot 7. I’m a giant in the club fee fi fo fum like, high femme dom looking for a sub, I’m a show girl take it all off in the flood lights!”

Laundry basket on your hip and music blasting while you do your Saturday cleaning. Cameron was out with the team for lunch so you dance around your house in your panties and an oversized shirt.

“You spit, I swig. Big gulp bitch, hop, skip, flip jump on the dick like!”

You can never clean without listening to music but some would say that’s why it takes you all day. ‘Some’ being Cameron.

Who doesn’t love a good dance break though?

“We click, he’s bricked. Hand on the stick, I’m strict you don’t cum til I do!”

Once you make it to your room you dump all the basket’s contents on the bed, making two different piles; one for your clothes and one for Cameron’s.

Your hips swing to the beat of the music, singing along to the lyrics to distract you from how tedious laundry is. You finish putting everything away when you spot Cam’s jersey at the bottom of the basket. No matter how many times you wash it, it always smells like him.

The idea to rip off your own oversized shirt and throw his jersey on was too strong to ignore. Being left in only your panties, you’re quick to slip on the burgundy polyester. You feel so close to him when it falls over your shoulders, ending mid thigh.

Skipping over to the mirror, you check yourself out, loving the color on your skin tone.

“Ready, set, hut!” You begin running around the room as if you’re on a football field. “Cade intercepts the pass! How far will she go? Oh she rushes past the other team! She’s almost there aaaaaaand touchdown!!!”

“And the crowd goes wiiiiild, raaaaaaaah,” you’re laughing to yourself at your antics, you jump off the bed and lean in front of the mirror, slapping your hand on your chest like Cameron does when the team wins.

“I’m Her!!! I’m HER!”

“What are you doing?”

The deep voice causes you to scream, turning to see your husband leaning against the doorframe. Your stomach drops at his exploring eyes, this is his lucky jersey, you technically weren’t supposed to wear it.

“Shit!,” hand clutched to your chest, trying to think of an explanation, but no explanation will make up for the fact you’re wearing his lucky jersey, “Cam, I-“

“You always look sexy with my number on,” he slowly stalks into the room, he stops when he’s a few inches from you, “But I told you not to wear this,”

His fingers trail up your arms to feel the fabric of the sleeves in between his fingers.

“I’m sorry, I- I didn’t think you’d be home so early. I just-”

“So you thought it’d be okay to put on my jersey?” He tried to hide a smirk, this lets you know he’s not as mad as you thought he’d be.

However, you rush to take it off but his hands stop you.

“Nah, leave it on” his voice dripping with arousal.

“Oh?” Eyebrows rising with surprise.

“You wanna wear it so bad, wear it while I fuck you,”

Your stomach is doing flips, you clench around nothing while his hands run under the jersey to feel your supple skin.

“I’m sorry, Cam. I was just-“

“It’s a little too late for sorry, don’t you think?” His hands are on your ass, lifting you up to throw you down on the bed, “I think you’re gonna look real sexy wearing my jersey while I dig you out”

So vulgar. So obscene. You love him this way.

Cam is usually one for sensual intimacy, every now and then he’ll get crude.

He’s quick to undress but he is sure to take his time with you. The agonizingly unhurried pace of his fingers that trail up your legs has you boiling over the edge.

“Please, Cam? Ple-“

“Shut up,” his eyes snapping from your legs to your desperate eyes, “You don’t get to make any demands right now, you take what I give you, how I give it to you. That understood?”

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, nodding with a hum. His arms are caged around your head in an instant when he leans down to feel your lips on his. The kiss is intense, his right hand coming to grip your jaw so your head stays still. His tongue tastes like sweet mint, his skin smelling like Dior Sauvage, his grip on you is so strong. All of him surrounds your being, letting you know he calls the shots.

Your hips roll up to feel his dick, whining into the kiss when his tip nudges your clit, sending shocks through your body.

“You want this dick so bad, don’t you, baby?”

“So bad,” so pathetic and needy, your hands grip his waist, fingernails digging into his flesh to show just how bad you yearn for him.

You feel his hand weave between your legs, moving your panties to the side to feel how wet you are for him. Your eyes roll at the sight of his jaw falling open with a groan.

“Can’t believe this pussy is all mine,” his lips against your cheek, breathy moans escape his throat while he spreads your wetness over your clit, trying to keep his cool when he feels the swollen bud under his fingertips.

“It’s yours, baby. Please.”

Your eyes are glazed while his fingers foxtrot on your skin, causing your body to buzz in their wake.

Cameron seemed as if he was trying to hold back. Like there was a beast beneath the sheep’s wool, something caged that was ready to be unleashed.

“I can take it,” your words catch his attention, before he can even reply you’re affirming his thoughts, “Whatever you want to do… I can take it.”

A dark glint takes over his eyes, like the foliage of weeping willows blowing in a hurricane.

Untamed.

Yet Cameron’s hand is quick to come up to your neck, his nose nudging your cheek, his breathing deep. His hand just rests there, he still hasn’t let go.

“Cam… I trust you,” words smooth like honey, “Whatever you have… give it to me.”

His jaw tenses as a guttural moan rumbles in his chest. You feel his fingers dip into your dripping heat and his other hand tightens, squeezing at the sides of your neck, pushing a moan out of you.

“Yes” eyes rolling with each dip of his fingers going deeper, “Fuck yes”

His fingers are coated, he’s moaning from the sight of your slick glistening on his appendages. The feeling of your walls pulsing has him whimpering. He can never get enough.

“Gimme what I want,” he demands, “You gonna give it to me?”

“Mhm!” You can’t form actual words, just little pitiful noises, signaling to Cameron that he’s got you where he needs you.

A short sting radiates throughout your cheek, it takes your breath away realizing he slapped you, it feels so good, so liberating somehow.

“You like that?,” another slap is given before he grips your cheeks in his one hand, “I can feel that pussy gripping my fingers. You really like that shit, huh?”

“Yeeesss! Yes!” The threat of tears prick your eyes once the euphoria begins to blanket your body. The squelching is lewd, you’ve gotten so much wetter just from the slight pain he bestowed upon your cheeks.

“Please,” it comes out as a feeble little squeak, reminiscent of a church mouse. “Please let me cum, Cam”

His fingers speed up and suddenly you’re no longer looking at him, you’re looking at the back of your eyelids. He takes over your senses and it becomes too much. His cologne overwhelms your olfactory nerve, his breath on your skin is warm yet sends shivers everywhere and his hands… his hands are responsible for sending you over the edge, cumming for him.

You start to cry. His energy is immense. He is everything and everywhere all at once.

“That’s my fucking girl,” he hisses at the sensation of your walls fluttering, not wanting to remove them. He does though, needing to taste you, it’s a form of life force for him. Like a vampire drinking from their willing thrall.

“Whatchu crying for? It’s a little too early for that, no? We ain’t even get to the good part yet”

Your ankles lock around his waist, pulling him closer. His boxers are long gone but your panties are still on and he scrunches the jersey over your breasts. He loves you like this, no make up, in one of his shirts and a simple pair of panties.

Cameron loves to see you all dolled up and in lingerie but nothing beats this view.

“You gon’ show me why you’re Her?,” his dick is in his hand and he’s teasing you, running the swollen head against your clit, smiling at the sight of you writhing beneath him.

“Yes,” eyes rolling at his foreplay, “Baby, please! I’ll show you, I’ll show y- fuuuuuuck!”

He takes your words away by filling you all the way to the hilt, taking a second to ground himself because if he doesn’t, he’ll bust sooner than he wants to.

“Take this dick and show me who the fuck you are”

His hand is back on your throat and he has your left knee pinned to your chest.

“Oh my fucking God!,” you wanted to look down, to watch the way you paint him with your cum but he wasn’t budging.

“Only you can take me like this,” his jaw fell slack, eyes fluttering when you clench around him, “Only you can make me feel like this. Is that why you’re her, baby? Because you’re such a good slut for me?”

His name gets caught behind clenched teeth. He’s hitting that special spot within you, digging deep for this pretty noises you make, for those pretty tears that fall down your cheeks when he just gives it to you that good.

“Th-that’s why I’m her!” A sob rips through your body when Cam bunches up his jersey in his fist, using it as leverage to piston his hips.

“Why, baby? C’mon talk to me.”

You can’t though. You can’t think, his tight grip on the jersey has your back arching off the bed. You’re drowning and you can’t catch your breath.

Cameron stops his motions, breathing heavy with sweat beading on his forehead. He looks like expensive art, you can’t believe he’s yours.

“Give it back!,” your hand snakes between you two to grab his dick but he smacks it away, “Please! Please, give it back!”

“Tell me. Why. You’re.. Her,” slapping your clit with a sinister grin, “Tell me and I’ll give it back.”

“Because I’m your slut. I’m her because I take it so well, please! Cameron, please, I’ll prove it just give it to me, give it back, give it b-,”

Your rant is cut short when his hand presses down on your pelvis as he pushes deep inside once more. Vicious, deep thrusts fucking each breath out of you.

“Cam!” A shrill cry escapes you, your glassy eyes look at him and he’s smiling.

“There she goes,” he gives another small slap to your cheeks, groaning at your walls clenching, like they’re locking him in. Like they don’t want him to leave.

“I’m Her,” your statement snuck past tightened teeth, “Only I can take your dick like this. That’s why I’m Her.”

Cameron was close, your voice alone could take him there and hearing you speak like this has him ready to spill. Your pussy is so wet and warm, he could stay here forever.

“Feel me right there?” His hand presses down yet again. The stimulation from the outside was invigorating, you were almost there, “Only I can get this fucking deep. Only I can get my dick painted like this. Give it to me, Y/N”

Your toes curled tight, your hand clasped around his wrist while his hand still held the jersey firm in his grasp.

“C’mon baby. Don’t disappoint me. Give me what you fucking owe me.”

“Ffffuuuuuuuuuu-,” your drawn out cry is lodged, not able to break free due to your orgasm taking over all your senses.

It was a blissful release, like your lungs finally getting air after being submerged under water for so long.

“That’s my fucking girl.” He kept fucking you though, his thumb swiped a tear away, pulling it to his mouth to taste your offering, “So fucking pretty when you cry for this dick,”

“Cum in me,” your legs pull him in deeper, refusing to let go, “I need it, please”

Who is Cameron to deny you when you’re so fucking gorgeous as you beg?

Your name falling off his lips is your favorite song. You’ll never get tired of that sound, so needy and breathless, he’s spent and it’s all because of you.

“You okay?” His eyes soften when he comes down, hands smoothing over your face, “I didn’t take it too far did I?”

“I’m great, Cam” a soft peck on his lips soothes his nerves, “I told you I can take it. I know you wouldn’t hurt me outside of my limits.”

His body relaxes at your words, he loves losing himself in the exhilaration with you but he always worries when you’re done until you reassure him.

He never gives you more than you can handle.

The aftercare is your favorite part when it’s all over. The shared shower, the cuddles and long conversations that make you glad you’re his wife.

“I’m sorry I wore your lucky jersey. I really was just fooling around”

“I think you made it 10x more lucky” he offers a delicate chuckle, “Now all I’ll think about is how beautiful you look in it, how pretty you looked taking my di-“

“Mr. Cade” you slap his chest playfully.

“Don’t get shy on me now!,”

You hide your face in his neck and sigh.

“I really am Her, huh?”

Cameron releases a content sigh, pulling you close and kissing your forehead. This would never get old. He’d never get tired of the moments like this.

“You really are, baby. And you’re all mine” ___________

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for your attention and support!

if you enjoyed, please be sure to reblog, like and/or comment!! it helps a bunch!!

much love,

~Berry 🫐

[concretecultist]

Sharks

summary: the one where cameron proves he’s not like the others

word count: 2.9k

pairing: cameron cade x black!reader

warnings: angst (what’s new?), trust issues, happy ending, vulnerable!cameron, this is really just poetry, it’s not too dialogue heavy but i hope yall enjoy anyway🩵

a/n: i’m boiling over with ideas, angst is my specialty so enjoy! i also know that sharks aren’t technically attracted to human blood but for the sake of the story I’m sticking with the metaphors!

——————

~ telling a man what you’ve been through in the past, to then realize you’re bleeding in front of a shark ~

—

Cameron was at the height of his career when he met you. It’s weird how fate works sometimes, you never expected the football prodigy to chase after you the way he is.

Seems too good to be true.

It was only supposed to be sex, no strings. A sort catharsis. But these things never work out the way one expects.

“I don’t think I wanna do this anymore” your chest was burning, trying to catch your breath after rounds with Cameron.

You felt his eyes on you but you refuse to meet them, finding the patterns in the ceiling of his bedroom much more interesting.

“What?” He sits up, leaning on his arm, moving his head in hopes to get you to look at him.

But you can’t. Because if you do?

You’ll stay.

And you can’t keep doing this to yourself.

“This isn’t healthy for me.” you did everything you could to keep your voice strong but there was a hint of sorrow that sat underneath your exhale.

You served your heart on a platter tonight. Cameron was always open with you, maybe a little more open than one typically is with their casual hookup.

He egged you on, insisting you be open. So, you spill every tiny detail that built the story of your relationship tragedies.

It was in that moment, of being honest with Cam, that you realized you were concealing feelings. Feelings that you specifically told yourself not to have.

Yet still, You held your beating heart in your hands for him, saying-

‘Here, have it. Take good care of it’

But how silly of you.

You’ve seen all the tabloids, you’ve seen all the tiktoks and tweets about him with other women. According to him though, it’s not what it seems and he swears you’re the only woman he’s been with since you two started this arrangement 6 months ago.

What really hurts is that he’s seen publicly with these women but you? No, you’re just here to be warm blood pumping in the sea that is his sheets, when the camera flashes are no where to be found.

That’s all you’ll ever be it seems.

That’s what happened with Derek.

and Reece.

And Elijah.

Mark…

And now Cameron. The series of events happened the same every time. They treat you nice, they get you to open up and then when you do, they’re suddenly uninterested and ‘aren’t ready for a relationship’- but sure, we can keep fooling around… behind closed doors and no eyes around.

You want to get ahead while you can.

You’re done being cut and thrown in a pit of hungry sharks.

So you left him there, thinking that would be the end of it.

But then you would come to your desk at work to find flowers and edible arrangements. Random deliveries of lunch would arrive along with cards decorated with handwritten haikus.

You’d wake up to multiple texts from him asking when you’re free so you two can talk. He’s begging to come over or have you come over for dinner and a movie. This was all just a ploy to get you back under him.

It hurts. It hurts like hell, actually.

It hurts to lose someone who braided themselves into your daily routine. No one to send pic mail to throughout the day, no one to listen to you moan about how much you hate your job. You’d even facetime and have lunch together.

You didn’t want to lose it. But you had to. You had to or else he would have taken it from you and you fear that this would be the final time your heart gets broken before you give up completely.

Today was long and tiresome. Even though much didn’t go wrong, per se, you just felt an overwhelming sadness bloom over you like a bloodstain. You were ready to get wine drunk on your couch and cry to soap operas.

Your plan to dissociate from the world around you falls apart quickly when you pull up to see Cameron sitting on your porch. He spotted you, you can’t just pull back out and leave. Well, you could but you’re sure he wouldn’t leave and… this is your home.

There was a sensation in your chest that made each expansion of your lungs feel like they were filling up with fluid, drowning you from the inside. Each step toward your front door felt like a gun to your head. Your feet feel like they’re stuck in hardening concrete as climb the steps to face him.

He stands to greet you. Sheepish in his mannerisms, he knew you didn’t want to see him, but he can’t go on like this.

“Hey” a soft puff leaves him, his gorgeous eyes beating down on you. You haven’t seen him in weeks at this point.

You forgot how tall he is and how good he smells. You almost forgot the constellations that formed out of his freckles.

Except you could never forget how good you felt when he was around. Even with your stomach churning, seeing him felt like feeling the warm sun on your face after a desolate winter.

Like chugging cold water in the middle of the night.

Like dancing in the rain or winning your favorite game.

It felt like your soul knew no bounds, exploring the wonders of the universe.

That scared you.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice was meek, it seemed hard to find it right now.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts” hands stuffed his pockets, sort of curling into himself to shield from your reaction of his presence.

“I called off our agreement” your eyes were distant, somewhere far, deep. He wanted nothing more than to pull you out. Your eyes always felt like home when he looked into them. He hadn’t felt at home since you left him in his bed that night.

“Yeah, the sex. That doesn’t mean you ghost me, Y/N.”

Cameron was disappointed, he knew he deserved more than the cold shoulder. You knew better too. Just because the sex stopped doesn’t mean he wanted to stop seeing you altogether.

“I’m not like these other dudes out here, I like having you around and you just drop me. That’s not fair.”

Fair.

You’re not familiar with that. A lot of things weren’t fair for you.

“I can’t do this right now,” is all you mutter, turning to unlock your door. You didn’t want to have this conversation right now, there was a cheap bottle of wine with your name on it.

You left the door open though, a part of you wanting him to follow you and he did.

“Then when can we do this, Y/N? Because you’re just writing me off without so much as a chance. One text. One call. That’s all it would have taken!”

Cameron situated himself to be close to you, he wasn’t going another day without closure. He never did you like this, so he doesn’t appreciate that it’s happening to him.

“I’m out of chances, Cameron!” You throw your coat and purse on the couch, whipping around to look up at him, “What do you even need a chance for?”

“To prove to you I’m not some fucking monster out to get you,”

“I don’t know that!” voice raspy as you snap back.

“Well you should!”

He would think it was that easy. Except it’s not so simple. It never is.

“You are the realest thing in this superficial world that I live in and I feel like I have done everything right to prove that.”

“You don’t get it!” You try to walk past him to get to your kitchen but his hand is quick to grab your arm. He pulls you into him, eyes reflecting like wet sea glass.

“Get what?!”

He just couldn’t reason with you.

“Me, you,” you motion between the two of you, “Us, whatever the fuck this is, it won’t work!”

“Why? Because you say it won’t?”

“Because it never does!” Snatching your arm out of his grip to create some distance. Your chest rising and falling rapidly while the tension comes to a boiling point.

“C’mon, Y/N. I know you better than that you’re no fucking quitter,” his voice was taut, bitterness bleeding into his tone.

Maybe that’s your problem. You never know when to call it quits and when you do, it’s too late. The damage is done and you’re left with a gaping hole in your chest, tears painting your cheeks and you smile while saying ‘I’m fine’

“You… know.. nothing about me” teeth clenched, trying to keep your voice from shivering. You had to sound strong, you had to be strong.

“I know everything about you!”

No one knows everything about you. Hell, sometimes you don’t even feel like you know everything about yourself.

“I know your favorite color down to the fucking hex code. I know you prefer tea over coffee and your favorite flavor is earl grey crème, but it has to be the brand with the teddy bear. Fuck, what is it?” Fingers snapping as he tries to remember

“It’s the, the- celestial seasonings!”

“That’s easy” you cross your arms, refusing to break your character.

“You like purified water over spring water because spring water tastes like rain water that had pennies soaking in it.”

Okay that one is a little more specific but you’re not completely convinced.

“You sleep with your blanket wrapped around your head like a hood because when you were a kid you watched an episode on discovery channel about bugs getting into people’s ears while they sleep.”

You go to speak but he raises his hand as if to say ‘hold that thought’

“You have a phobia of butterflies because of that one SpongeBob episode. You’ll say a word or a phrase over and over until you can say it in the way that feels right in your mouth. You chew ungodly amounts of gum and you always carry two different packs with you, a flavor to freshen your breath and another pack which you call a ‘fun flavor’,”

The walls you were building started to crack, spreading like a greenstick fracture. There’s no way he stored all this information about you. There’s no way he paid that much attention to you when you two were together.

“You hate dry lips so you have a lip balm and a gloss in your car. Three in your purse, two in the bathroom, one right there on the coffee table, two in the junk drawer in your kitchen and five in your bedroom; two on your bedside table, one on your dresser, one on your vanity and one you keep in the cubby above your headboard,”

Cameron is breathless as he spits out these facts. He knows people don’t peg him as one to pay attention but that’s his thing. He studies the people he cares about.

“I could go on if you want but I think you get the hint”

He looks so hopeful. If he has to get on his knees and grovel, he will. He’s never felt like this before and he didn’t want to give this up. The stolen glances, the soft touches, the small kisses after sex that he knew he wasn’t supposed to give but couldn’t help himself.

He wanted that all the time.

“I know why you cut me out. I just didn’t expect the cold shoulder altogether. Would it be so bad if we gave this a real shot? Start over?”

“I don’t know how to love in moderation” the confession ripped through your chest like a rabid beast, so sharp it hurt Cameron’s ears.

Everything was in extremes for you. Love, anger, sadness, anxiety, joy- they were never modest. You can’t keep doing this to yourself just to look like a fool in the end.

“I know,” he insisted. You couldn’t argue with him on this, he could probably fill a book with the things he knows about you, “Baby, I know.”

The pet name doesn’t get past you. It felt good to hear it, but you were scared to lean into it. The part of you that craves self sabotage can’t help but take over your body like a parasite.

“But the other girls-“

“There are no other girls” hands massaging his temples.

“Cameron, I see a new picture almost every night. I-.. I see tiktok dissertations about who they could possibly be to you. Just the other day you said in an interview that you were ‘spoken for’, how the hell am I supposed to rush into your arms and think shit is sweet?,”

“I was talking about you!” His voice booms like a bear roaring, it had your breath shuddering.

Stopping in your tracks, your words failed you. Your knees felt like they were jelly, you couldn’t trust them to keep yourself up right, you had to sit down.

Time, it felt like it was moving while you stood still. The sound of the birds chirping and cars speeding by seemed to muffle.

“W-What?” Your eyes were searching his face, his expression blurred. You can’t speak, you try to say more but they just come out in little huffs.

Cameron despised the way you cried. Your sniffles made his heart ache. Teardrops fell off your lashes like morning dew on leaves. He hated this picture.

“When I said you were the only one I was with I meant that shit,” he began, words rushing out beyond his control, “The girls you’ve been seeing me with? One is my new stylist, one is my publicist and the other is my event coordinator and let me tell you, if they were to hit anyone, it would be you because I’m not their type.”

A soft laughter rumbles in your chest, a nice break in the pressure that filled the room. You weren’t a part of Cameron’s world of fame, glory and silver spoons. You were on the outside looking in, so how the hell were you supposed to know who these women were?

“You were… you were talking about me in that interview?” Your brows furrow faintly, trying to wrap your mind around his words. They didn’t seem right, you’re not sure if you’re misunderstanding.

“I’m sorry if you felt I was trying to hide you,” Cameron takes a few steps forth, kneeling in front of you to grab your hands in his. Life feels better when he touches you.

“You made the rules. You said no strings and it was hard. You make it so easy to fall for you. I want to take you out and post about you all the time. It was real hard for me to not run up and kiss you when you sat on the 50 yard line and I got us our winning touchdown,”

You search deep in his eyes. They were darker now, like rain clouds passing over shadowed moss. A storm brewed within him because of all of this. The storm was passing though. With him finally letting it out, the clouds lingered in worry but the storm was passing.

“I-,” wet eyelashes fluttering, your throat tightening around the words that you’d been burying, but they were alive and well, they were crawling out of the grave you dug for them.

“I always… wanted you, Cameron” your shoulders fall in relief now, “I just didn’t think I’d fit into your lifestyle.”

“I don’t care about the lifestyle. That doesn’t matter to me. What matters is what is here right now,”

The thing is, Cameron did everything right. When he said he would do something, he did. When he said he was going to be there, he was. He always kept his word. He never let you down.

So why? Why is it so hard to accept him now?

“You don’t have to believe my words but just take a chance on me and let me show you.”

You’d never been met with such patience and understanding. Your hard exterior only seemed as thin as an eggshell now, chipping away, disintegrating into fine dust.

“Let me stop the bleeding and save you from the sharks”

A strong gasp echoes in the room. He’s your lifeboat. You feel his hands on you and your eyes are shut but you can feel him. His embrace feels like a life jacket tightening around your chest, you’re being pulled out the treacherous water.

You’re wheezing, grabbing for him as he saves you. You hear his voice trying to calm you but you need to feel this. You need to feel this weight wearing down on you so you can find the strength to lift it.

All the hurt you’ve experienced prior was flashing before your eyes, like sharks chomping trying to get you, trying to pull you back in.

Tumultuous.

Cameron was a tourniquet. He was the life jacket. He was the lifeboat.

However, the water wanted you. The water wanted you to stay so the sharks could drag you to the bottom.

Cameron wouldn’t let that happen.

You were safe.

No more exhaustion from trying to swim away, no more fighting for your life. You can see the shore ahead. You’re safe.

When you came back into your body, Cameron was still there. In the midst of raw emotion, he was still here. He wasn’t run off by your expulsion of boisterous cries.

“I’m not going, anywhere”

———————

Thank you for staying if you’ve made it this far!!!

If you enjoyed please leave a like, comment and/or reblog!!!

much love,

~Berry🫐

[concretecultist]

in the light of our christmas tree

summary: the one where you’re not a big fan of Christmas but Cameron changes that

pairing: cameron cade x black!autistic!reader

warnings: 18+!! it’s hard for me to write a story without angst so there’s just a smidge lmao, reader is on the spectrum so social cues go over her head sometimes, smut, not so fun memories of not so fun childhood.

a/n: more self indulgent thoughts! mostly wrote this due to not getting diagnosed until i became an adult and im in a world where society doesn’t facilitate softness for black women, so enjoy🩵

word count: 3.9k (added more when updating so it’s probably just a lil more than that!

————

It’s everywhere. Christmas is fucking everywhere! There are decorations at every turn, bells jingling and the music… the fucking music!

You thought you could get away from it at home for just a day. But alas, to your disappointment, Cameron is singing along to the 12 days of Christmas while baking cookies. You don’t know why it surprises you every time, 3 years together is enough to know how domestic he gets around this time.

“Hey, baby!” Wiping his hands on his extremely festive apron, “Why do you look like you smell something bad?”

On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, four calling birds, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree

“Are my ears bleeding?” A scowl is painted on your face while the jolly music plays, “Because I feel like my ears are bleeding.”

“You’re such a grinch!” He teases, coming around the counter to give you your daily ‘hello’ kiss.

“I just don’t understand why it’s everywhere” groaning while his arms are wrapped around you, “It’s like Santa took a merry shit all over the place I can’t escape it!”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic” he pats your butt, pulling away to go back around the island and finish his cookies, “C’mon! You mean to tell me you’ve always hated building gingerbread houses? Helping your mom bake cookies for Santa, doing stockings on Christmas Eve and leaving the tv on so the marathon for ‘A Christmas Story’ played all day?”

It was always apparent that Cam had a good home life growing up, always being supported in his decisions, his parents always instilling the idea that he is worth something in this world. However, on your side of the street, it wasn’t always snow angels and Christmas sweaters. After 3 years, still, you’ve never opened up to Cameron on why you hate Christmas.

“I never built a gingerbread house, my mom never really liked me enough to bake cookies with me to leave them out for Santa and my dad was always hogging the tv with a beer in his hand. I didn’t know what Christmas was until grade school”

“You’re kidding?,” his hands are covered in flour and his face was in a grimace of confusion, “Babe, you’re kidding, right?”

A soft chuckle from him to alleviate the uncomfortable energy that now filled the air. The Christmas music no longer seemed jolly, the lights that hung on the ceiling weren’t so bright anymore.

“Eeeeeeh, I dunno. I always thought it was weird to leave a plate of cookies out for a random ass white man who breaks into houses. Sounds like a felony to me and like helloooo? Stranger danger!”

Your effort at comedic relief didn’t really relieve much of anything for Cameron. All this time together and you’ve never mentioned this before. 3 years of saying your family was vacationing in another country for the holidays because they “hate the cold” when really, you just don’t have any contact with them.

“You never got presents?”

“Nope,” kicking your shoes off to put on the rack

“No tracking Santa on the North Pole tracker before you go to bed on Christmas Eve?”

“Nah,” you shrug as if it was nothing and really, to you, it wasn’t a big deal.

But this news really had Cameron feeling a way. He always bit his tongue about your family not coming around for holidays and birthdays or to celebrate your accomplishments but now? Knowing what they deprived you of? He was ready to talk some shit.

“No matching Christmas jammies?”

“None” you cut your hand through the air to match your words. You see the cogs turning in his head.

“So your parents never spoke in pig Latin to avoid you knowing what you got for Christmas?”

“Neveeeeer” you sing. His mind is boggled at you acting like this is okay.

“No Christmas lists?”

“Nay!”

“No stockings on the mantle? No helping with decorating the Christmas tree? No presents to open?!”

“Zilch!” You sit on the stool in front of the island and steal a pinch of his famous cookie dough. You know something is up when he didn’t tap your hand away like he usually does.

“What the fuck,” he murmured, “Ayo, what the fuck!?”

The second time was a little loud for your liking but you know he’s trying to process all of this.

“It’s hard to miss something when you never had it,” your shoulders bounce in a quick shrug. Every year you begged Cameron not to get you anything because you’ve never known different. You know the concept of Christmas of course, so you’d always get him something. For him, his way around it is giving you your gifts the day after Christmas so they “technically aren’t Christmas presents”

Now he knows why.

Your parents robbed you of every experience and he was unknowingly rubbing it all in your face.

“Don’t look so freaked out!”

“Babe, you never had a Christmas! A real Christmas and you’re not bothered by it? That’s why you hate it so much!”

“Nah, the music really does ruin it all, the retail store radios never play anything for Halloween why the hell does Christmas get it all-“

“Y/N, be serious”

“I am!” Sliding off your seat, you make your way around the island and pull him in by the pockets of his apron, “I’m telling you… I am fine with my feelings toward Christmas. Don’t make such a stink about it.”

You may be ‘fine’ but he wasn’t. He wasn’t fine at all.

“Plus,” you boop his nose, before turning away to wash the day off-

“The whole flying reindeer thing is stupid. Them reindeer did fine without Rudolf all those years and suddenly he’s the messiah? Bullshiiiiiit”

Cameron had to make a plan. He had to make up for all these years of pure joy being hidden from you. He baked his cookies but with a pout. He didn’t feel so holly jolly now. The sprinkles didn’t sparkle like they usually do. The aroma of sugar and spice filling the air didn’t hit the same.

He had to make this right.

He had to make a big stink about it!

So, Cameron did what he does best.

Make a game plan.

Cameron felt so sneaky, like James Bond type shit. He snuck out of your arms early in the morning to run to the store. He filled the cart with cheesy Christmas movies, stockings, markers, gingerbread house kits, the whole nine yards.

This was serious to him.

He knew you like the back of his hand. He knows you won’t wake up for at least another hour so he had time to set everything up.

The desire to be cute and domestic overtook him as he laid down a table cloth and paper Christmas plates, putting all the gingerbread kit items on them. He made the piping bags, setting them on each side of your respective trays.

In the living room, he made a fort of Christmas blankets and set stockings on the table for you to decorate.

And last but not least.

The matching jammies.

Cameron feels so proud of the work he’s done. He hopes it’s enough to make you like Christmas, he hopes it’s enough to have a happier perspective of the holiday.

The smell of Cameron’s delicious blueberry waffles wakes you up like a sleeper agent. You give yourself a moment to get a good stretch in before preparing for the day ahead. In your mind, there isn’t much on the itinerary.

This plan of doing nothing is quickly scrapped when you walk in the bathroom and see a pair of Christmas pajamas that are covered in gingerbread people, along with a note.

~Won’t you bake the world a better place and match with me?~

“This fucking dude” it’s a soft laughter that leaves your throat. A part of you wants to act like you hate the idea of putting them on, but the soft pink of the pajamas makes you feel cute. They’re comfy and the bottoms have pockets!

What more could you ask for?

You’re quick to wash the sleep off your face and brush your teeth to get rid of the morning breath, now you’re ready for breakfast.

You skip steps, ready to eat your beloved waffles. Much to your surprise, it wasn’t just breakfast. You thought the Christmas jammies were one and done.

But the arrangements in the kitchen say otherwise.

Cameron brought the guest room tv out to the kitchen and has gingerbread house materials all over the table.

“I’m no architect,” hands on your hips, you frown but deep down you feel your heart palpitating with delight.

“Good morning to you too, Miss Scrooge,”

“Nah that’s the motherfucker that sees ghosts. I want no parts! The grinch is fine!”

“Oh hush,” with plates in his hands, he comes over to give you a kiss on your lips, then your forehead.

The tv screen is lit up with the title screen to Elf, the soft music playing along.

“The point isn’t to make some breathtaking piece of art, it’s to make memories!”

He’s nervous, you notice the way his hands run down his legs after he sets your plates down. Despite you telling him not to make this a big deal, he wanted to. He had to prove that someone cared about your lasting experiences in this life.

“I told you not to make a big stink ab-“

“I can’t let you continue to go on with not experiencing what any of the Christmas cheer is really about” he’s quick to cut you off, Cameron always wants you to feel included.

“You never should’ve gone all that time without experiencing the magical feeling of seeing presents under the tree or seeing the cookies you set out for Santa half eaten and the milk all gone-,”

“Still think that’s weird, think about how many cookies he eats? Like holy shit!-”

“Y/N,” he calls for you and his expression is telling you to give it all a chance, to step outside of your distaste for Christmas, which really was just a way for you to fill the void of never getting a real one.

“Okay! Okay,” your hands are up, “I surrender, but I still think it’s wrong that he has all these lil elves working overtime. Like damn do they even get a lunch break?!”

“Girl, sit down!” It’s a boisterous laughter that rings within his chest. Your face is warm, noticing how cute he looks in his matching pajamas.

It doesn’t take long for you to get the hang of building a gingerbread house. Cameron loved to see the little frown of your eyebrows, concentrating so you can carefully put the gumdrops on the roof. You were so in the zone you didn’t even notice him taking pictures.

“The icing is for the house, goofy,” you playfully kick him under the table, he straight up slathered it on a piece of the house and ate it.

“Try it!” He insists, “That’s the best part about making gingerbread houses!”

You’re skeptical.

“But will I have enough for the front door on my house? If I have even a dollop, that dollop could be the key to making sure I have a complete front door. I can’t have a broken front door, Cam, it’s too cold for that!”

“Babe, relax. There is more than enough icing” he insured.

You squint your eyes at him but he doesn’t budge.

With your finger out, you place a little bit of icing on the pad of your index finger and give it a taste.

“Hmm!,”

“Right?” His eyes are wide, encouraging the behavior.

Okay… maybe this is fun.

There were moments in time where the movie held your attention. Cameron loved to see the look of disgust on your face when Buddy slapped maple syrup and candy on his spaghetti.

“Oh that’s foul”

Cameron smirked as you spoke under your breath, commenting on the movie as if the characters could hear you.

“Ta-daaaaaa!” You jumped out of your seat and pointed to your house, “You were right! I even had enough to add sprinkle shutters to the windows!”

Cam’s heart was already full. It was almost Christmas and he got to spend it with you but this time, it’s with you actually engaging in the Christmas spirit.

He was even surprised when you smiled wide at the idea of decorating your own stocking. There were little fairy lights in the fort, a wide opening for you to sit on plush pillows at the table.

Cameron had to get pictures of this too. You were so specific that you ran in the kitchen to the junk drawer and found the ruler that was buried in there.

You took this quite seriously. Even if you had to be precise, you were still partaking in all the joy.

He got you a pink stocking and he had a blue one.

“We’re like stitch and angel” you commented, “Can I have that blanket, please?”

Pointing to the pink gingerbread blanket by his side in the fort. It didn’t take long for Cameron to find out that the pink gingerbread theme was becoming your own.

He’s a big fan of blue and nutcrackers.

You’re finally finding your niche.

“Do we have hot chocolate?” Asking quietly, not taking your eyes off the screen, this time it was Home Alone that held your attention.

“You don’t like hot chocolate” a frown set deep on his face, you always gagged at the idea.

“I never… I never really had it” looking to him, a small frown as you admit your truth, “I just said that because I thought if I hated everything associated with Christmas it would make it easier,”

Cameron’s stomach drops at your candor. Due to the learned behavior, you were purposely stripping yourself to avoid having to face the reality you grew up in.

“Want marshmallows?”

“No, they remind me of packing peanuts”

“How do you know what-,”

“I get curious” hiding the grin on your face, “Whipped cream and candy cane bits would work though?”

“Coming right up!”

This was a craft to Cameron. Perfect whipped cream spiral and the right amount of candy cane dust had him feeling like Picasso. It had to be perfect. You deserve nothing less.

He supposes he did a good job picking the pink gingerbread house mug.

Cameron’s heart skips a beat every time he heard you slurp the warm drink, your shoulders coming up to meet your ears in a happy little dance to celebrate the coziness.

“You got a little something on your-,” he motions to his nose, finding it so cute that you were oblivious.

Crossing your eyes you look down, “Oh!”

With a wide smile on your face you wipe it off.

Cam wishes he could stay like this forever. Before, when he asked to watch Christmas movies you’d glare at the screen the entire time. But now, now that he knows what it was really about, his approach is different. He wishes he’d known since the beginning.

He wishes you didn’t harbor all that alone.

It was Christmas Eve now and you were even wearing an ugly Christmas sweater.

“And a partridge in a pair treeee”

“Are…,” Cameron holds a hand to his chest, “Are you singing Christmas music?”

You look like a dear caught in headlights.

“What!? NO!” A quick side eye to your phone lets Cam know where the music is coming from, “I- .. I hate Christmas music!”

It wasn’t convincing anymore. You’re living in the spirit now, Cam even took you on a ride around the neighborhood to see all the houses that go all out on their decorations.

He also happens to recall you saying that you have to “beat their asses with better decorations than theirs next year”

You were already looking forward to next year!

After baking cookies together, putting them on a plate and sharing them along with a glass of milk, you felt fulfilled, this wasn’t so bad after all.

“Can I give you your stocking now?” You bounced in your seat. You were never excited before, but gift shopping this year was more intentional than before.

“Hold on I want to give you yours first!” He rushed to the mantle to pull yours off the hook and handed it to you, he looked nervous, scared, worried?

“Don’t look so tense,” you nudge him to relieve his anxiety and he just gave a small chuckle.

“Go ahead,” he urged.

Your hand reaches the bottom of the stocking and there is a small box. He knew you weren’t super big on gifts so you didn’t question it. You didn’t question the size of the gift until you opened it.

To find a gorgeous ring.

With a large gem in your favorite color.

You froze. The words got stuck. You’re sure it’s just a ring he thought you’d like because it was your favorite color, right?

“I know people always say not to propose on holidays and such but, I knew building gingerbread houses and drinking hot chocolate couldn’t be enough to erase all those bitter memories,”

“Cam. What are y-“

“I always knew I wanted to marry you,” he says over you, “I never knew what the ‘perfect time’ to propose was but the day you told me you never had a Christmas worth remembering, never had a Christmas of joy, of wonder, of magic. I wanted this to overshadow all those sour years. I wanted you to have a Christmas worth loving,”

“Are you… are you asking me to marry you?”

It was obvious, but you had to make sure.

“If I was?”

Your eyes filled with tears and his hopeful expression falls some. Now he’s worried he made it all worse.

Before he can get a word out to ask if you were okay you’re flinging yourself on him, pulling him in a tight embrace.

“I don’t need a partridge in a pear tree. Just you, that’s all I’ll ever need”

He can feel the tears falling on his neck but he can’t help but laugh at your words. You would be the one to quote a Christmas song, one that you supposedly weren’t singing.

You pull away and you’re wearing the biggest smile he’s ever seen, especially around this time of year.

“I would love to be your Mrs. Claus” whispering against his lips but you pull back a little and you’re in your thoughts, “Actually, no, I’ll be Martha May Whovier, she’s a bad bitch”

Cameron throws his head back in laughter, you’ve become as cheesy as he is now and he wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

You can’t stop staring at your hand after he puts the ring on.

“It shines so bright,” you mutter in awe, “Move over Rudolph, I’m coming for ya job!”

He loves how cheesy you are, he loves you more than he can put into words. He loves you beyond the ring on your finger.

With the mistletoe hanging above your heads, Cameron took the opportunity to stop all your Christmas puns and plant his lips on yours.

The heat from the fireplace keeps you two warm, he loves how you look in the light of the Christmas tree.

Blue and icy white lights shining on your skin like you’re a precious gem. The energy is so steamy you don’t even notice your discarded clothes thrown haphazardly around the room, the two of you lie naked on the blankets of the fort. The fire crackling, mimicking the smacking of your lips, matching the intensity of the kiss you two share.

Cameron’s fingers dive into your soaking heat, a moan trapped in your throat, eyes rolling, walls throbbing around his fingers. You look up to see his eyes, the blaze of the flames matching how potent his love and desire for you is.

Your hand grazes his cheek, holding his eyes there, not embarrassed of the little whimpers that left your lips.

“You’re… y-you’re gonna make me cum” the declaration was soft, airy.

“Please” he needed it, he thrived on it.

The sound of his fingers fucking into you was growing. It was messy, you were so, so wet for him. It never fails.

A call of his name and an erratic pulsing around his fingers lets him know he took you there. This wasn’t just his girlfriend cumming on his fingers.

It was his fiancée, who would soon be his wife.

That made him feral.

The gentle push his length filling you to the hilt had you grasping for the blankets under you. It was always too much, but in the best way. Your slick had his dick glistening in the light of the Christmas tree and the crackling fire.

“You always feel so fucking good,” his lips attach to one of your nipples, tugging the bud between his teeth, your back arching into him even more.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, trying to get him deeper. Each thrust knocks the wind out of you and the rolling of his hips is the perfect angle for his pelvis to brush against your clit with every motion.

You take your hands, framing them around his face and pulling him in so his forehead is flush against yours, the pad of your thumbs grazing his lips, little cries leaving your own.

His eyes never leave yours and you do your best to keep them from crossing in pure ecstasy.

“So fucking good,” your moans are set free after suppressing them, you don’t care how loud you are now. It feels so different now. It always felt good, but now? Now that he’s your fiancé, a light has been lit and it can’t be extinguished.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t… fucking… stop”

He’s swallowing your moans, siphoning your pleasure to fuel his own. His beautiful eyes can’t seem to tear themselves away from your expression and it makes this all so much more tantalizing.

He places his hand on your pelvis, adding pressure, using his thumb to circle your clit.

Another sloppy kiss where you bite his lip during a particularly hard thrust and he moans in your mouth. His groans coming from deep within his chest.

Your energy encompasses his, melding into one.

“I’m gonna cum for you, Cam. Don’t stop, baby, please”

“Cum for me, pretty” he leans back, his free hand coming to hold the back of your head in a position that forces you to watch as he digs into you. The sheen of sweat glints in the light of the tree and this view alone sends you over the edge.

“Oh… my fucking.. G- fuck, baby!”

Your moans are shrill, pathetic, but he likes them that way. He likes fucking you until you can’t help but spill the little noises of overstimulation.

“Cum in me,”

Your plea causes his hips to falter. His eyes scan over your face, your hand snaking down to rub your clit, you’re sure you can offer him another one.

“I wanna feel you, baby. Please,”

“Oh fuck,” his jaw his slack, looking down at your cum painting his length. The thought of filling you up, it made his head buzz. You were always safe before, but the way you begged was so dreamy.

Who is he to deny a Christmas wish?

“Fill me up. Please, please, please,”

“Ffffuuuuuuu-,” he falls forward, hips bucking erratically, he clenches his jaw, grunting through gritted teeth but you soothe it, wanting to hear him, “Fuck, fuuuuck. Oh my fucking God, I love you,”

You can’t help but cum one more time. With Cam spilling inside, the mess you two made had him slipping in and out even easier and you were spent.

A soft moan of his name leaves your lips and you two just hold each other, panting. You had so much fun and you feel so elated. Cam always made sure that it was know he loved you.

But you didn’t know love could feel like… this.

Like the wind kissing your scalp in a summer day, or the heat from hot chocolate coating your lips. Like caged birds finally set free.

This is love and this is the Christmas joy so many people boast about.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, his face buried in your neck, kissing your pulse to calm himself down.

“Merry Christmas” a quick peck on his cheek prior to you calling back flat against the cozy pillows.

The air is still but it’s comfortable.

This is peace.

But in your post orgasm state, your mind can’t help but wonder-

“If Santa eats all those cookies then how the hell is he getting in and out of chimneys? Because I know I get bloated as fu-,”

“Babe…”

“Cameron, it’s a valid question!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you made it this far, thank you for your attention!

I hope you enjoyed and if you did please leave a like, a comment or a reblog!!

your support means so much!

much love,

~Berry🫐