#difficult to face the fact that I can’t just sleep through all of this like I gotta be responsible and shit. I am. screaming. i feel like on

[of-many-fandomss]

Drinks and Jackets

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando comes home drunk and doesn’t recognize you, and you can’t help but swoon at the devotion your boyfriend has for you

warnings: drinking, slight cursing

word count: 0.9k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

A long sigh left Lando’s lips as he pushed his bedroom door open, stumbling slightly in his steps as he did so, needing to cling onto the door frame for support so he didn’t go flying face first into the carpeted floor of his bedroom.

After inhaling a deep breath from his nose- the man's eyebrows furrowed in concentration- he pushed off of the frame and attempted to shrug his jacket off of his shoulders. Which only ended in him banging into the wall next to his bed with a small, “Ow,”.

“Lan?” A soft voice rang through the darkness of the room after the thud was emitted.

Norris jumped at least a foot into the air with a small, high pitched squeal of surprise, whipping around with wide eyes just in time to see a figure turn on the lamp beside the bed.

You were tiredly rubbing at your eyes, pushed up on one elbow as you looked at him from across the room, imminently taking note of his wide eyes and tousled hair. Not to mention the fact that he only had one arm through the sleeve of his jacket.

Slight amusement crept onto your features when you realized you had startled him, though a hint of guilt kept you from openly laughing as you gently asked, “Are you alright?” Sleep lacing your tone.

The wide eyes of Lando didn’t shrink. In fact, they only seemed to widen as he looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads right before his very eyes, “Who are you?” He hissed, panic and confusion seizing his tone.

At his words, all of the exhaust suddenly disappeared from your body and you finally pushed yourself to fully be sitting up, now wide awake and alert, “What-”

You didn’t even get to finish voicing your bewilderment before Lando- literally- stumbled over his own feet to reach the opposite side of the bed you were sitting on, “That’s my girlfriend's spot!” He exclaimed, eyes still wide as he stared at you.

Your eyebrows drew downwards, “I know, it-”

“Listen, I’m warning you lady, you need to get out of here before she gets back.” He was nodding along to his own words. While he clearly thought he was looking very serious- and maybe even threatening- it was difficult to even consider him whilst he looked hilarious. Clearly drunk and jacket half hanging off of him.

And just like that, the mumsnet flickered back inside of you and a slow grin slowly lifted the corners of your lips, “Is that so?” You asked, playing along when you realized just how drunk he was.

Lando nodded again, “Yeah, and she could kick your ass.” He said it so matter of factly with his chin raised, clear pride laying in his words, even as wasted as he currently was.

Unable to hold it back anymore, you let the first chuckle slip out of your lips as you pushed yourself to your knees and made your way over to the other side of the bed until you were in front of him at eye level.

You reached out and hooked your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side as you gazed at him lovingly, “And what if I wanted to kiss you right now?” You teased.

Just as the brunette man's eyes widened in a panic and he looked as though he was going to move to swat you away, he froze, blinking once. Twice. Three times at you.

“Love?” He looked like a little, lost puppy dog when he tilted his head to the side, the first bit of recognition flaring through his eyes when he finally realized that it was you in front of him, not some random girl sleeping in his bed.

“You had fun with Carlos and Danny, I take it.” You joked, subconsciously toying with his curls.

“Oh, love, I missed you so much.” Lando gushed suddenly, face automatically becoming alight and housing a lovesick expression.

A laugh escaped your lips as the man wrapped his arms around your center and brought you both flying down onto the mattress before holding you close, his eyes already shutting as he let out a hum of content.

You chuckled, watching as he snuggled closer to you, inhaling the scent of your hair with his eyes still squeezed shut.

Gently, you maneuvered the two of you so that his head was resting against your chest and you were the one cradling him. He let you do so without an ounce of argument, the soft smile still sitting on his lips as he held you close.

Despite the fact that his jacket was still only half off of him and he was yet to change out of his clothes that he was in to go out, you knew from past experience that there was nothing on earth that could pull Lando off of you at that moment. Even to get fully ready for bed.

So, instead, you held him close, running your fingers through his hair after flicking off of the lamp light and waited for your boy to fall asleep.

“I love you,” The words were mumbled against your old sleep shirt with the man himself being halfway to sleep.

“I love you too, Lan.” You dipped your head to place a lingering kiss on the man's forehead, “So much.”

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ mad with need ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you want him so bad that you feel like you’re going crazy so he indulges you┊3.0k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊x wade wilson too, age gap, dirty fantasies from a horny reader (who is actually insecure about herself), size difference, no prep we’re dying like nicepool, riding & unprotected piv, breeding/creampie, a bit rushed i need this out my wips

➤ author's note: okay so this is actually the very first logan fic i started, but i have no idea why it took me so long to finish it? it’s a bit all over the place, but i hope some people enjoy anyway!

has he realized you were there and simply testing your self-control, or is he just being so effortlessly sexy again that you aren’t sure if you’re in love or jealous? was there any other reason for him to be laid out on the beat-up couch like something to feast on when he was simply holding a bottle of liquor in one hand to sip on and flipping through the channels of a barely-working box television with a remote in the other? why else would he be so delectable around a known pervert(s, wade is just as bad as you are, just more focused on the possible destruction of his home rather than the pansexual panic between you and logan plaguing him) if not to tempt you?

you’re constantly fawning over the sight of him and letting out dreamy sighs which have become more common lately than you would like to admit, swearing that you could gaze upon him for every second of the day and not tire of it. they say “god gives his most difficult battles to his strongest soldiers”, yet the battle assigned to you is restraining yourself from pouncing on him at the very moment and begging to suck his cock. you know that you’re horny most hours of the day and also kinda a brazen whore, but the way he makes you wet in record time should be worthy of a gold olympic medal.

every time his lips wrap around the rim of the glass bottle, you can’t help but imagine them somewhere else. the image of his handsome face between your legs and scruffy facial hair coated in your slick while he ravishes you haunts your mind whenever you try to sleep, yet the phantom sensation of his tongue on you while his nose stimulates your clit helps you rest in the end. you bet that he would be great at eating pussy too, with his sharp tongue and arrogant attitude— god. 

he’s also so jacked that even when he’s resting, his muscles still seem to bulge with prominent veins like a nurse’s wet dream and it has you downright drooling. now that the sleeves of his suit were gone, you could see how beefy his arms were, and seeing any inch of his skin had you acting up like a victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time. he could probably crush your skull like an egg if you ever found yourself head-locked in them (you’ve seen him do it to wade out of irritation, and you’ve never been so jealous).

and not to mention how peggable his shapely ass is, there’s really no limit to all the things you want to try with him if you were given the chance—

“are you finished staring?” his gruff voice brought you back to reality, refocusing your vision as he made a slight gesture to his body with one of his rare smirks, “like what you see?” it’s a rhetorical question, he knows how good he looks despite his age and you have already made your attraction towards him well-established. 

you don’t need to say anything, he can tell what you’re thinking as clearly as day, so you don’t bother making any dirty remarks like usual and just walk out the room. you paced around the house for a minute or two to calm yourself down until you eventually ran into wade. “oh my god,” you cupped your face with your hands, eyes becoming big and round as if you were going to cry, “i want him so bad, i feel like i’m gonna lose my mind if i don’t fuck him!”

“well, why haven’t you? i know for a fact that my presence isn’t enough to stop you from climbing him like a tree, so spill it!”

“uhhhh,” you pointed your fingers together to exaggerate self-consciousness, “what if… what if he doesn’t like me and just sees me as some annoying, excessively horny kid?”

“can you believe this bitch?” he scoffed, looking at the invisible audience that was always watching before grabbing your shoulders and violently shaking you, “listen here missy, he definitely likes you— i have yet to see that man smile at anything else that isn’t your face and comments that rival jjk twitter fans in vulgarity! why are you suddenly getting cold feet now when you’re such a player? you’re suddenly screaming, crying, and throwing up over peanut whom you’ve been hitting on non-stop since we found him?!”

“i don’t know! it’s different, he’s my hero, and— i know it’s hard for you to believe, but he’s not even half the asshole my previous flings were. besides, he so fucking hot—”

“yeah, but he’s also so fucking old— his dick is probably all shriveled up—” the sound of the said man clearing his throat made him jump out of his skin, slowly turning his head to look at the older man before giggling nervously and waving his hands around in some form of awkward greeting. even if he can regenerate and wounds are more like papercuts, the last thing he wanted was to get stabbed in the balls by his adamantium claws again for making such a comment. “ahaha, how much did you hear…?”

“enough,” he grunted, turning his attention to you, “and you’re coming with me.”

“huh—?” there was hardly a moment for you to properly react before he suddenly bent down to grab you by the waist and toss you over his shoulder, “you’re not even gonna ask me to dinner first?!” you must have looked like a fish out of the water with how your mouth was agape with surprise, and you heard him genuinely chuckle in amusement. both from the fact that you didn’t see this coming after all you’ve been saying to him as well as the fact that he could pick you up and throw you around like you weighed nothing.

“well, you didn’t exactly greet me with a ‘hello’ before shamelessly undressing me with your eyes when we first met, now did you?” you couldn’t see if he was smiling or not considering that you were upside-down. the current angle only gave you a close-up view of his perfect ass (not that you were complaining, you need to know his squat routine), unsure if the heat on your face was from the embarrassment of him calling you out or simply from the blood rushing to your head.

“what about me? are you lovebirds really going to leave me all by myself, lonely and yearning for the companionship of another while you two fuck like rabbits?”

“ahh, go fuck yourself.” the grin on his face dissipated the moment he opened his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to ruin his mood as he carried you away to the closest bedroom available, quickly flinging you on the bed without a bother to be careful when handling you since he knew that you could and have taken worse as deadpool’s sidekick. “why are you so nervous? think i don’t want you as much as you want me?”

“wait, actually?” your usually confident facade of the overly forward flirt was faltering more and more by the second.

“you’re so busy ogling my body that you haven’t even noticed the way i look at you, huh?” it’s obvious logan was an absolute beast of a man, but when he cages you with his arms between his bulky frame and the mattress, you feel like a little field mouse against a lion. the way your pupils dilate as you look up at him with adorned excitement has him so fucking feral, heat stirring in his stomach and blood rushing to his cock. he traced over your outfit, admiring how the skin-tight leather hugged your curved. “wearing such a slutty little things that leaves nothing to the imagination, and you expected me not to think about pinning you down and fucking you until you pass out?”

you shivered at his words, arousal pooling in your underwear and warmth spreading throughout your body under your skin. this cheeky son of a bitch can smell it too, the sweet smell of desire, sensing how needy you are for his touch and how your pussy is just begging for his attention. 

as much as he wanted to rip your clothing off and pound into you like there was no tomorrow, he wanted to take his time to properly treasure the cute sidekick who has been reminding him how it feels to be a man again, young and unafraid to pursue the woman of his dreams and treat her right the way that countless of others failed to do. (you’re going to laugh hysterically at him later on down the line when you hear him say that, never thinking you could be the object of anyone’s affection past a one-night stand, but the look in his eyes makes you realize he’s telling the truth and you’ll get all flustered over it.) 

you can taste the alcohol from earlier when he kisses you and moan into it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, all teeth, tongue, and animalistic want. he ran a hand down your torso to reach the zipper of your suit, undoing it in one swift motion, exposing your bare chest to his eager eyes.

“no bra?”

“i don’t need it when the suit— ah!” 

he cut you off, not caring about the intricacies of how the costume supported everything when he would only get distracted, moving his lips to take one of your perk nipples in his mouth and sucking like it was going to give him milk or something while pinching the other one in between his fingers. he’s like a kid on christmas playing with his new toy: palming at your breasts, cupping and squishing them together, and realizing that his large hands could practically cover them entirely.

“fuckk, you’re so pretty, doll,” he drawled, letting go of your teat with a ‘pop’ and kissing your neck before making you gasp by sinking his teeth into your skin. you gasped at the sudden sensation, deep enough to leave a lasting indent but not deep enough to draw blood, as he soothed the fresh wound by licking it with his tongue. everyone was going to know that you were his, especially that motherfucker he knows is listening in on the other side of the door with his cock in his hands.

 “logan…” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper.

“what is it, princess?” it was a nickname he has used plenty of times, yet it felt completely different in such a sexually charged situation, so much more intimate in a way that you feel your heart racing even faster than before and a rush of energy within. 

“need you…” you murmured.

“come on, a little louder, you need to use your words.” 

“fucking hell,” you covered your face with your hands, trying to ignore the way your cheeks burned, “i need you, logan! i’m gonna go crazy if you don’t fuck me right now!”

“hm, is that so?” he had been resting on his side up until now, laying on his back and lifting you up with both hands under your arms. you found yourself sitting pretty in his lap, straddling him, legs on either side of his waist. “why don’t you work for it then? work for what you wanted so badly this entire time?”

you inhaled sharply, looking down at this fine specimen of a mutant under you made of pure muscle and adamantium with a noticeable tent in his pants, a cocky grin gracing his features daring you to continue. only a fool wouldn’t take up his challenge. biting the inside of your mouth, you began to fully strip yourself of all clothing, kicking it off to the side to be forgotten and showing off your beautiful bare body that logan has been dreaming about since the moment he met you. “take your clothes off too,” you huffed, “it’s not fair for me to be the only one naked.”

he hummed in agreement, taking off the upper half of his yellow and blue-detailed suit, revealing his rippling abs and pecs— age has yet to make a dent in his physique, he doesn’t even look real. he’s not going to remove the bottom half though, both because you’re already on top of him and because you still need to “work for it.” 

experimentally, you rolled your hips on his bulge, feeling a twinge of amusement when he visibly had to clench his jaw to prevent a moan from slipping out. he’s just as pent-up as you are, no matter how hard he’s trying to hide it right now. you fiddled with the metal of his zipper for a moment before pulling it down, motions fidgety with nerves yet still determined to see this through. 

your eyes widen at the sight of his fully erect cock, noting instantly that he’s bigger than any other guy you’ve been with, yet still feeling your mouth water at the size and the vein trailing its underbelly. “is it even going to fit?” you manage to breathe out, reaching out to run a finger over the leaking tip and hearing him hiss.

“only one way to find out, but i think you can take it.” 

placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you put his theory to the test and raised your body to sink yourself onto him, whimpering at the pleasurable stretch when you manage to make it past the tip. you’re so fucking soaked from your own thoughts and the few minutes of foreplay earlier that you didn’t even need his fingers to prep you, just using your slick as a form of natural lube and feeling him slip into you inch by inch.

“that’s it, doll, just like that,” he praised, the words going right to your head, really enjoying the show of you struggling to take all of him.

“mmhh, lo—” his name came out in a more whiny voice than expected with your eyes rolling back and nails raking into his skin. your thighs were aching with the constant repetitive motion of working yourself up and down his cock, taking one step back for two steps forward, more than halfway there yet unsure if you could handle it all when you felt so impossibly full already.

“shhh, i know, i know, sweetheart— just take your time, i’m not going anywhere.” his words are so sweet despite being a complete asshole by laying back and letting you do all the hard work, hands behind his head and everything while watching his cock slowly disappearing between your folds.

you look at him through glossy half-lidded eyes, brain turned to absolute mush, not even realizing that you had finally taken him to the base and was comfortably nestled on his cock. it took a few moments to adjust to his girth, breathing heavily with the swelling feeling of satisfaction developing within you. you have barely even started, and yet it was already so much better than anything else— he was so much better than anyone else. 

“you okay?” he waits for you to blink to process his words before nodding slightly, letting out a soft ‘yeah’ before your eyes went wide when he suddenly grabbed your waist and positioned you under him once again. you didn’t notice because you went dumb with dick (to put it bluntly), but he had been restraining himself from flipping you over to be on top or trying to buck his hips into you before you were ready. 

he then started thrusting into you at a relentless pace, your hands flying up to his biceps and clinging on for dear life to find purchase. there was no frame to go with this mattress you were resting on, but you were sure it would be banging against the wall until it broke if it was there. your eyes were screwed shut with your head thrown back into the pillow, letting out pathetic pitched moans along with stutters of his name as the orgasm in your stomach builds.

“aah, lo-logan!”

“don’t worry, i got you,” he lazily circled your clit with his thumb, feeling you clench even more tightly at the action, “just let yourself go, relax— cum for me, doll.”

you cried out as your climax washed over you, gushing all over his cock and the pants of his suit that neither of you bothered to take off earlier. it’s a shame that you ruined his clothing so soon when he just got this costume, but honestly, he likes it a lot better when the yellow is stained with the evidence of how good he made you feel.

the way your walls spasmed around him made him quickly follow suit, shooting ribbons of his seed into you and painting your insides white. perhaps he would have been able to hold on for a bit longer when he was younger, but he can’t find himself caring in the least when you were looking up at him like he was everything right now.

he leaned down to kiss you, slowly pulling out of you, being careful not to rest on top of you and crush you under his weight, generally being uncharacteristically sweet towards you in stark comparison to how he was rocking your world like you were the last two souls on earth just a minute ago.

“so… do you like me?” it was the tone he grew accustomed to when you and wade were teasing him, feeling you wrap your arms around him with a sigh and snuggling into his chest.

“yeah… i like you a lot more than you think…”

[gudfornuthin]

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Season 4!Five Hargreeves x fem!reader

! Spoilers ahead !

Summary: six years of travelling to different timelines, and Five isn’t sure how much longer he can go on for. Until he stumbles upon a greenhouse, full of strawberries. And you.

Word count: 4212

A/N: so season 4 was a… thing that happened. This story is basically my own idea of how things should’ve gone in ep 5. Instead of the weird Lila/Five situation, it’s just Five, and his chance of living a normal life with someone new. Hope you all enjoy, and feedback is appreciated :)

Number Five was never one to back down from a challenge. Having been through a series of different apocalyptic events, transporting to a timeline where he spent 40 years alone, and dealing with a misfit group consisting of his exhausting siblings, Five was up for anything. But the current situation he was dealing with? For the first time in his life, he was at breaking point.

After another wasted day spending hour after hour searching for any clues or information on how to get back to the correct timeline, Five returns to the subway, entering one of the compartments and slumping down in the first chair he sees. He rubs his eyes and lets out a visceral sigh, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a small pack of dried fruits. He rips it open and devours every last piece. He can’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. He was becoming more desperate, rummaging through trash cans and foraging in bushes, hoping anything he picks isn’t poisonous.

The compartment jolts and begins to move, making its way to the next timeline. Five wipes his hands on his already dirty pants, standing up and walking slowly to the door. He wonders whether his apocalypse counterpart will be waiting for him this time.

After several minutes, and Five almost falling over from his lack of sleep, he finally arrives, the doors opening. He steps out, immediately making his way up the stairs. No time to waste. He cautiously pokes his head out, looking around for any signs of, well, himself. Before he can move out more, something wizzes past his head. A bullet. He ducks, as more shots are fired directly at him.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Five mumbles, as he finally takes notices of the other him in the distance.

He sticks up his middle finger, and no soon after closes his fists, blinking as quick as he possibly could.

The Five with a gun disappears along with the destroyed world around him. Five drops his arms to his sides, turning around and admiring the new environment. Luscious, greenery surrounds him, with an array of different flowers sprouting from the ground beneath him. A small pond with fish glimmers in the sunshine, lily pads floating on top. He continues turning, finding himself standing next to a tall greenhouse. The glass was slightly foggy, making it difficult to see what’s inside. Five leans in closer, squinting as if that would help. He can barely make out what appears to be pots of fruit and vegetables, some fully sprouted and others not yet ripe. His stomach rumbles, the feeling of hunger consuming him.

A rustle sounds from behind him. He turns quickly, coming face to face with a pair of shears. Five jumps back slightly. He then spots the person wielding said ‘weapon’. A young woman, probably early twenties, wearing a light yellow dress and a pair of brown sandals. Five can’t help but admire her beauty, if it wasn’t for the fact she had a face like fury and didn’t seem afraid of cutting him in half.

“Can I help you?” Her words are kind, but her harsh tone says otherwise.

Five can’t exactly tell this young woman the truth. Showing up randomly in her back yard, covered in grime, gawking at her crops through the window. He raises his hands up in the air, trying to convey that he meant no harm.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his throat sore having not spoken to anyone in quite some time. “I don’t really know how I got here.” That’s not exactly true. “I’ve been travelling for a few days now.” Try six years. “And I could really do with a hot shower and something to eat.”

The woman doesn’t say anything, just staring, with the shears still held out in front of her.

Five puts his arms down, shrugging in defeat. “I’ll just go. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” He looks down. “Or step all over your rose garden.” He gingerly moves away from the destroyed flowers.

He turns and begins to walk away, hoping to find an exit as quick as possible. Blinking in front of this woman probably wouldn’t help his cause. A warm hand grabs hold of his wrist, forcing him to stop and look back. She has the shears loosely hanging by her side, as her eyes pierce into Five’s. She seems hesitant, words forming in her mind. At last, she speaks again.

“You’re telling the truth?”

Five nods incessantly, feeling like a child.

“And if I let you in and make you something to eat, you won’t try and kill me?”

Five holds back a laugh, knowing she’s being deadly serious. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The woman waits a beat, then huffs. “Come on, I was just about to start dinner.”

She moves past Five, walking into three greenhouse. He takes this as a sign to follow after her.

***

The young woman allows Five to use her shower, and he’s thankful for the change of clothes she provides for him too. The home is small and cosy, playing into the stereotypical cottage core of living. The lighting is soft, and the smell of pumpkin seems to waft through into every room. It’s calming, it’s peaceful, it’s something that makes Five feel on edge. He isn’t used to the domestic life, away from the terror and destruction, trying to save the world over and over. He knows he can’t stay here long, but he won’t miss the opportunity of a proper cooked meal.

After putting on the change of clothes, Five makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen, a small buffet waiting for him. He finds it hard not to drool, the potatoes and fresh pie, along with the fruit and vegetables he’d spotted earlier. It looks incredible. He takes a seat, as the woman places down a final plate of tomatoes, sitting down opposite Five.

They dish out the food, filling their plates as high as they can, especially Five. He tries not to look like a slob in front of the pretty girl, but finds it hard not to drop some things down his top. She doesn’t seem to notice, or pretends not to.

The woman takes a sip of her drink, clearing her throat. “So,” her soft voice makes Five look up from his plate. “Do you have a name or is that one of the many mysteries of the man shovelling food down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in several years?”

The woman isn’t afraid of being upfront. Five admires that. Although, it’s not surprising considering he’s a complete stranger she’s trusted in her home. He puts down his knife and fork, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth.

“No, I have a name. It’s Fi-,” he catches himself, unsure if his ‘name’ would just create more confusion, and unwanted questions. “Jerome. Just, Jerome.”

The woman squints her eyes, but doesn’t push further, seeming to move past his stumble. “Okay. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jerome.”

Five shrugs, not knowing what else to say.

“My names Y/N.”

Five nods. “Okay. We’re closer already.”

“Don’t push it,” Y/N says, a small smile gracing her face. Five can’t help but pull the same expression.

***

After a hearty dinner, and some obvious awkward silences, Five insists on helping Y/N do the washing up. The sun was beginning to set, and Five knows he’ll have to leave soon, but something stops him from doing so. He doesn’t want to admit it, but this was the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The fear or worry of something bad happening wasn’t there, and as he stands close to the woman he had barely met 2 hours ago, he realises what he’d been missing in his 60 something years. A place to live, with a person who makes him feel safe.

“Jerome,” the voice breaks through his thoughts, as Five almost forgets the name he’d given to this woman. “I feel like we’ve skirted around the topic enough. Is there any reason you were in the state you were in, taking refuge behind my greenhouse?”

Five places down the plate he was cleaning, turning to face her fully. Her expression is calm, and her voice shows no sign of interrogation. It’s a first for Five, as he’s become accustomed to people prodding him for information only for their own benefit. No one’s ever shown true interest in him.

He shrugs. “It’s been a tough couple of years. More than that I guess.” Fives eyes glaze over. “I haven’t seen my family in a long time, and I don’t know if I ever will. And if I do, I’m terrified of the state that I’ll find them in.”

Y/N stops what she’s doing, also turning to look at Five, a look of worry taking over her face. He knows he’s said more than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. He’s not good at sharing his feelings, and when he does, he’s scared of what will happen once the flood gates are opened. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to close them.

“What d’you mean? Are they in some kind of trouble?” She asks, a slight shake in her voice. “Are you in trouble?”

Five shakes his head, not wanting to stress out this poor woman who’s been nothing but doting to him. “No! No, I just,” he sighs, knowing he’s really put his foot in it. “I just care about them, a lot. Too much. And I don’t even want to think about not seeing them again.”

A soft hand brushes against Five’s cheek, as he glances at Y/N wiping a tear away from his face. He didn’t even realise he’d started crying. He sniffles, moving away and rubbing at his eyes, fearing how red they may look. He sucks in a deep breath, calming his beating heart. Whether it’s from talking about his family, or the touch from the woman next to him, he isn’t sure. But he fears he’s overstayed his welcome.

Five moves away from the kitchen counter. “I guess I should probably go. Don’t wanna miss my train.” Although he knows they’ll always be one there waiting for him.

He heads for the door, remembering to go upstairs and collect his dirty clothes before he leaves. Footsteps are heard from behind him.

“Uh,” Five swivels back around, as Y/N hesitates over her words. “This may seem kinda forward, and a dangerous move on my part, but, I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing you were out there in the middle of the night, traveling by yourself.”

Five holds his breath, not wanting to jump the gun, but already anticipating the next sentence out of her mouth.

“I have extra pillows, and blankets.” Y/N shrugs. “It’s not the most comfortable couch but I’d say it’s more comfortable than the chairs on the train.”

Neither of them speak for a while. Five ponders her offer over and over, wondering if this is something he wants to decline. He needs to get back to his family. He needs to get back to help them. But so far, every option has been a bust. He’s not sure how much longer he can go on for. It could be the apocalypse all over again. Stuck for 40 years, traveling none stop, unsure if he’ll ever see his loved ones again. Could a good nights sleep really be such a bad thing?

He thinks the risk is worth it. “As long as it’s not too much trouble for you.”

***

That one good nights sleep turned into three months, staying at Y/N’s home, crashing on her couch. It didn’t stop Five from going out, back to the subway, trying to find the possible solution to his six year problem. But the more time he spent with the woman, the less time he wanted to spend away from her. They grew closer, making meals together, gardening together, watching silly romcoms together. While Y/N taught Five how to bake, Five taught her how to fight. A young woman living by herself? It didn’t hurt knowing some basic defence skills.

Five didn’t want to admit it, but his family hadn’t crossed his mind as often as it usually did before he met Y/N. He’d become soft, wanting to be around her all the time, not wanting to visit the subway as often as he should be. He’s lucky enough to call her a friend. He hopes she calls him that too.

***

It’s late, and Y/N is sat on the couch, crocheting a few pairs of gloves and a long overdue jumper. People used to make fun of her for it, calling her an old lady, but she finds it soothing. And making your own clothes is a big bonus too. Five, or Jerome as she knew him, had been out most of the day. She never questioned what he was up to, only that he returned safe, ready for whatever she’d cooked up for him during the day. She wasn’t completely naive in thinking ‘Jerome’ has involved himself in shady business. But unless he plans on telling her, then she won’t bother pushing him on the matter.

A bang echos from the back of the house, specifically inside the geeenhouse. It makes Y/N jump up from her seated position, quickly rushing out to the source of the noise. It can only be one person, or that’s what she hopes. Either way, she grabs for her shears before entering the warm glass room.

“Jerome?” She whispers, watching her step, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the windows.

A muffled groaning reaches her ears, as Y/N blindly moves her hands over the walls, trying to find the light switch. She finally does, and flicks it on. A sharp gasp comes out of her mouth, as the brightness finally reveals her new friend curled in a ball on the floor, rolling in pain.

“Shit.”

She quickly makes her way over to him, delicately wrapping her arms around his waist and slowly helping him off the floor. He stumbles, knocking into a few pots, almost making them fall off the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the word slurring under his breath.

“Don’t apologise,” she says, making sure he’s steady on his feet. “Let’s just get you inside and onto the couch.”

They make their way through into the living room, Five dropping haphazardly onto the soft cushions, while Y/N finally gets a proper look at him. His clothes are ripped, the once pristine suit (one she bought for him as a gift) now in tatters. His hair is sticking up in all different directions, and he’s clutching to his side like his life depends on it. She reaches for his arm, prying it away to reveal an array of bullet wounds, still bleeding.

“You should see the other guy,” Five jokes, tilting his head back and trying to forget about the burning pain running across his body. Funnily enough, if Y/N saw the other guy, he’d look exactly like him, considering this all happened due to an unfortunate run in with apocalypse Five.

Y/N stares at him with wide eyes. “Really? Look, I don’t bother asking where you go or what you’re up to when you leave this house, but I think now’s the time you tell me the truth.”

Five moves his head back down, looking her in the eyes. She’s terrified. And he hates that. He breathes in deep, taking her hand in his.

“If you can help me patch this shit up,” he briefly motions to his wounds, “then I’ll tell you who I really am.”

So that’s what they do. Y/N retrieves the first aid kit from her bathroom, while Five opens up about his life before he met her, and how he’s not from this timeline. He isn’t sure if she’s believing what he says, as she remains quiet the entire time, only occasionally looking up at him and quickly returning to removing the bullets lodged in his side. But she listens. And allows him to pour his heart out to her.

“The past six years were torture. Somehow worse than the forty I spent in the apocalypse.” Five turns his head and stares at the woman next to him, as she finishes up her work. “But these last few months with you. I could finally be normal. I could live a life most guys would kill to have. And I’m so sorry I lied to you this long.”

They fall into silence, the pair somehow closer together than they were a few minutes ago. Both emotionally, and physically. Y/N moves her hand and takes his, squeezing tightly. Five’s heartbeat picks up speed, only now noticing their close proximity.

“So your real name is ‘Five’?” He nods at her words. She nods back. “Hmm. It suits you a lot better than Jerome.”

They both laugh half heartedly, as they stare deeply into each other’s eyes. She moves her hand up to his hair, moving it out of his face, trying to calm it down slightly.

She carries on talking. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through.” Five rolls his eyes. She doesn’t even know the half of it. “But if I can be the person to keep you grounded, for however long you’re here for, then I’m happy to do just that.”

Five smiles, glancing quickly at her lips.

She does the same. “And I hope you’re here for a long time.”

They both lean in, softly pressing their lips against each other’s. Five cups her face, deepening the kiss as Y/N rests her arms atop his shoulders. They move in sync, careful not to cause any more damage to Five’s wounds, as she somehow moves closer, one of her legs wrapping itself around his waist.

They don’t stop, clothes discarded, bodies intertwined, as their growing tension is finally broken. Five isn’t sure if he’ll ever get back to his timeline, but for now, he’s happy to call this place home.

***

Another four months, and still no sign of a way back. Although, Five can’t deny he hasn’t been trying as hard as usual. The peace and tranquillity has consumed him whole, falling into a proper routine with the woman he…

Is it love? Could he truly fall for someone like this? Someone who isn’t involved in the shit show he’s grown accustomed to? Someone who wants that quiet life, watering flowers and baking pies, with him? Maybe it’s what he needs.

Five stands in the greenhouse, picking some fresh strawberries, and trying a few to see if they were ripe. He’s already found the perfect recipe to use them in. Something he knows she’ll love.

As if reading his thoughts, a pair of arms slip around his waist. Y/N rests her chin on his shoulder, peaking over to see the basket full of fresh fruit. She picks one up, moving away and popping it in her mouth. Five turns and looks at her, smiling wide.

“They taste perfect,” she says.

Five takes her wrists, pulling her towards him and kissing her lightly. “So do you.”

She laughs, holding him close and breathing him in. “The cheesy lines don’t work on me, bub.”

“I think they do.” He mumbles, bringing her in for another kiss, sliding his hands up and down her back.

They stay like this for a while, holding each other in the warm glass room. The sun starts to set, as Five looks out and realises what time it is.

“Damn.”

She looks at him, confusion on her face. “What’s up?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing, I just need to do a double check of the subway before dinner.”

Y/N tries not to show her anxiousness, but some of it seeps through. After Five explained to her what the subway is and why he goes there every day, she’s terrified at the thought of him leaving and never coming back. But she knows he wouldn’t do that to her. Not without saying goodbye.

She steps back. “Right. Promise you’ll be safe?”

He kisses her on the cheek. “I promise.”

***

Five spends some time looking around the platform in the subway, checking the lights, checking the maps, even poking his head into the tunnels to see if anything has changed. But nothing. It all remains the same. No sign of his past life waiting for him. Was that such a bad thing?

Holding a small flashlight, he shines it up and down, left and right, hoping his eyes will catch something new. A sudden pop from above startles him, the grip he had on the flashlight loosening. It falls and rolls onto the tracks. Five looks up, noticing one of the bulbs now flickering. He huffs, moving to the edge of the platform and jumping down. He retrieves the flashlight, hitting it a few times to try and get it to work again. It comes to life, flashing in front of him. That’s when he spots something.

“That’s new.”

Five walks over, grabbing the mystery object and holding it up. It’s a plain notepad. He flips it open, scanning over the messy handwriting inside. His messy handwriting. He can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, as he figures out what it all means.

“This is it.” Tears form in his eyes. “This is my way back home.”

He’s shocked. He’s elated. He’s emotionally drained. This is his chance to rejoin his timeline. To see his family after so long. To fix the mess they’ve created. But all he can think about in this moment is Y/N. How the hell is he supposed to break the news to her?

***

After another hour spent pondering this new found information, Five slowly makes his way back home. His home. Where the life he’d built was waiting for him.

He enters the house and walks into the kitchen, where Y/N stands by the stove, boiling something sweet and caramelly. Five just stares at her; humming a random tune, wiping her messy hands on the apron he bought for her when her old one accidentally caught fire. That was the most stress he’d felt since coming here. And if that was the only stress he had to deal with, he’d take it every single day.

She finally turns and spots him, smiling wide. “Oh hey! I was worried for a sec, you were taking longer than expected.”

She moves closer to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He holds her, not wanting to let go. Y/N can tell something isn’t right.

She leans back. “You okay?”

Five doesn’t reply, only holding the notepad out for her to take. She does so, flipping through the pages just like he did, her expression perplexed.

“I don’t understand-”

“It’s the way back to my timeline.”

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open, as her words fall short. Five can swear he hears her heartbeat speed up, as her breathing becomes erratic. Five isn’t sure what to do, waiting for an explosion of emotions to rain down on him. But nothing comes. Neither of them do or say anything.

Five chooses to break the silence. “I don’t wanna lose you. I can’t. I don’t think I could live the way I used to live. Not after living this life with you.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a sob. “You have to go.”

Five furrows his brow, hoping he heard her wrong. He tilts her head up to stare into her eyes, seeing the tears forming.

“No,” he whispers. “You’ve become the most important thing in my life. The thought of never seeing you again, I can’t do that.”

A tear falls down her cheek, as Five reaches out to wipe it away.

“I’d love nothing more than to stay in this little bubble we’ve created,” she replies, finding it hard to keep her voice steady. “But your family, your timeline, all those people? They need you more than I do. And I know deep down, you can’t bear the thought of letting them die, knowing you could’ve helped.”

Five wants to ask her to come with him. Become apart of his family. He knows she’d get on with them all. And they’d all love her, possibly more than they love him. But he knows it’s cruel to ask her to leave her life behind. The house, the garden, the home that she’s worked so hard on. And the thought of throwing her into the thick of it all. Putting her at danger? No chance.

He pulls her into his embrace, kissing her hard. They hold each other tight, their lips bruising as neither of them can stop the tears from falling.

Y/N is the first to pull away. “If you ever get the chance to come back to this timeline, you know where to find me.”

Five smiles, not wanting to let her go. He kisses her once more. “In the greenhouse, tasting just as sweet as the strawberries.”

[i2sunric]

HOLD YOUR BREATH (s.jy)

pairing: detective!jake x reader (f)

summary: not having seen your husband’s face in two days, you decide to bring him dinner and check up on him— sleep deprived and stressed, he can’t help but get a taste of you.

warnings: 1960s au. mentions of murder, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), pussy eating, pussy drunk jake (r we even surprised), semi-public sex, choking, p in v, jake is a detective, jake wears glasses, sex on desk, dirty talking, pet names (baby, love, darling), wall sex, breeding kink, cream pie, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 3.7k

published: 11th June 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts s @shawnyle (oneshot) @kirinaa08 @immelissaaa @skzenhalove @anittamaxwynnn @honeybunnee @cherlv

a/n: based on this ask from anon! sorry if it took me a while to prepare it, hope you like it tho <3 please LIKE & REBLOG!

Being a detective in the 60s wasn’t easy at all. With all the danger occurring and newly killers all walking around, trying to take lives as if they were useless, you couldn’t help but bite your nails as you waited for Jake at home.

But being a detective’s wife was even more difficult. The constant dread fuelling your heart until it was too heavy to carry.

One late Friday night, you were sitting by the kitchen table all alone. The warm June air hitting your skin since you left your window open, watching as the sun was beginning to set.

You had already deep cleaned the whole apartment, probably not even a single crumb of dust was left.

Then, you rearranged the books on the shelves.

In the morning, alphabetically and in the afternoon from the oldest to the newest. Ridiculous.

Utterly bored, you had even painted your nails of a weird shade of green that matched your favourite blouse-skirt set.

You weren’t even being dramatic, given the fact that your only company hadn’t shown his face at home for two days.

Date a detective, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

It was everything but fun or entertaining, since you spent most of the time alone, due to his crazy schedules.

But you loved Sim Jake too dearly to even consider confronting him about it.

You heard a few stories about old ladies’ nieces at the hair salon you worked who got forced into marriage and you were so glad it hadn’t happened to you.

Because you knew it, bet your heart on it that Jake would always choose you first.

You glanced at the clock that ticked half past seven and like the perfect wife you were, you began to wonder if Jake was even taking care of himself. Had he eaten enough? Had he even eaten at all?

So, rolling up your sleeves, you cooked a delicious meal to bring him to his workplace. Inside the small lunch box was some warm miso soup and vegetables for his big, sexy brain.

Repressing the shiver that ran through your spine when you stepped out of your house and immediately spotted a ‘Missing Person’ sign, you started walking down the familiar road. You just thanked the sun was still high enough to bring some natural source of light.

You reached his office when it was dark already, having walked almost one hour away. Cursing the heels you forced yourself to wear even as your feet screamed for help, you knocked on the door.

The new detective Jake introduced you at a dinner showed up, bright smile and innocence plastered on his face “Hello! Miss Sim.”

You smiled back “Good evening, Mister Kim.” Sunoo stepped aside from the door “Looking for Detective Sim?”

You hummed as you took in the sight of the very dark hallway “Third door on the left, is that right?”

Sunoo nodded happily, “You remembered.” He then placed one hand on the side of his mouth to whisper “But I warn you, he’s not in the brightest mood.”

Oh goodness. “Thank you for the information.” You said as you walked away, to the door that led to your husband’s office.

Softly knocking on the door, you waited for his response, and when his grumpy “What?” From the other side, you decided to open the door.

And there your husband was, his hair sticking to every direction while his glasses almost fell down his nose bridge.

Jake was playing billiards, leaning against the table as he desperately tried to get in the ball. A simple task that seemed not to work for him, since he looked so distressed.

A cigar balanced between his upper and bottom lip, its smoke lingering in the air.

When his chocolate brown eyes finally settled on your figure, they softened in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“Y/N.” Jake breathed out, placing down the pool stick on the table and walking towards you as you closed the door “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you dinner.” You raised the lunch box in your hand, smiling “Figured you might need it.”

His brows knitted, a frown appearing on his face “You walked here all alone?” He glanced at the clock that ticked nine already “It’s dangerous, baby.” Don’t let yourself be fooled by the sweet nickname, his tone was low and rather pissed.

Being in contact with crime most of his day, Jake grew very protective of you, and directly imposed that you wouldn’t go out without him — or any male friend — after six pm.

You shook your head and let out a small sigh “I’m here, aren’t I?” You said as you walked towards his desk to place down the lunch box.

“Besides, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You tilted your head, resting your back on the table “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Christ, Y/N.” He walked toward you right away, closing the space you had put “I missed you like crazy.”

He dropped his head low and sighed tiredly “But there has been another murder and we can’t figure out who the culprit is. I’m in deep-sea here.”

You gently cupped his cheek in your small palm and rubbed your thumb “Maybe you should take a break?” You suggested “Working too hard fries your brain.”

Jake nodded “Maybe I should.” He murmured and looked behind his shoulders “Wand to play pool?”

You grimaced “You know I can’t play that game.” His lips twitched into a smile wrapping a strong arm around your waist. "I could teach you." He told you, lowering his head and brushing his lips against your ear.

You placed your hands with your newly polished nails on his clothed chest, right under his shoulders "I'm afraid I'm a lost case at this game, even for the greatest detective in town."

Jake chuckled lowly and tilted his head to press his lips against your own, sliding a hand downward to grip your thigh. He parted his lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth and tilting you backwards in between his body and the desk.

Jake took the opportunity to grip your thigh and spread it apart, too eager to even care about having a make out session first. He slipped his hand under your skirt and groaned when he felt your folds right under his fingers.

"Goodness, you didn't seem to be wearing anything." Jake mumbled against your lips before trailing his own down your jawline and to your neck.

His fingers pressed against your core and he groaned lowly, sliding his fingers across your entrance.

You let out a quiet gasp at the feeling and let out a small chuckle before his fingers delved deeper inside of you, moving in and out of your wetness while kissing across your jawline.

"You seem quite needy already, love." He mumbled with his gravelly voice. You grasped the back of his head and rested your forehead on his, your eyes never leaving his.

He kissed the tip of your nose, such a gentle gesture in contrast to the filthy thing he was doing to your body, the sound of your slickness pooling down your thighs and on his wrist filled the room— until it was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Cursing under his breath for not having locked the door when you first came in, and not having foreshadowed his fingers deep inside you, he pressed a finger on his lips to shush you. “Who is it?” He then asked.

“Detective Sim?” Someone’s voice came from the other side “The captain wants to speak with you, sir.”

He was about to turn the doorknob when Jake said “Busy at the moment.”

The other detective stepped back from the door but didn’t walk away. “It’s important.” He said bluntly.

You thought that at those words, Jake would leave you there on the table and go doing his job, instead he curled his finger inside of you, making you press a hand on your mouth to middle a moan.

“You can tell me from there.” The detective began speaking and Jake looked down at you, his eyes darkened as he continued to move his fingers in a circular motion inside of you. "Keep quiet, mh?" He whispered to you, his tone smug.

You let out a shaky breath and grasped his forearm, doing your best to not let out any noise.

He let out a low chuckle, curling his fingers again to draw a moan from you. "Shh, you have to be quiet." He whispered and the detective continued to speak.

Not like you could focus on what he was saying with the way his fingers worked you closer to the edge.

“About the murder cases we were working on…” The detective said, “I have an update.”

Jake tilted his head at the mention of the case and kept his fingers moving inside you. "And what is the update?" He called out, not letting up his movements at all.

You couldn’t take it anymore and tried to remove his wrist, "Detective Park found a similarity with the other two murders, seems like the culprit puts a small signature."

Jake ignored your piss-poor attempt to stop him as he continued to talk to the detective with a nonchalant tone.

"What sort of signature?" He questioned, a smirk on his lips while he continued his movements with a particular curling of his fingers.

Your legs shook as he kept hitting your sweet spot “He cuts the ring finger's nail of all the victims." The detective informed him.

Upon hearing the information Jake's eyes widened slightly before moving his sight back down to you. His fingers continued their ministrations, drawing more tremors from your body though his mind was working at the new information revealed to him.

Not hearing any reaction from the inside, Jake’s colleague added “Detective park said to find him when you aren't... busy?” He cleared his throat and for a second you thought he guessed what was happening “I'll tell him you'll talk to him later?"

Your husband hummed lowly as he thought back to the information, continuing to work his fingers in and out of you as if it helped him think. "Yes, I will come talk to him after." He told the detective with a steady voice, his eyes taking in your expression while his gaze darkened.

With the dismissal, the person’s steps went away until they completely disappeared. Jake smirked and moved his fingers faster, curling on your g-spot.

He lowered his head, pressing his lips against the side of your neck and up to your earlobe. "Just a little more, love." He whispered in your ear.

You moaned shakily, now finally able to let it out. You wrapped one arm around his neck to steady yourself as the other rested behind you.

You clenched around his two digits, the knot in your stomach tightening.

Jake let out a soft growl in your ear, his fingers curling against your sweet spot. "Not yet, wait." He demanded.

“W-what?” You frowned, unable to stop the euphoria creeping in “Why?”

Jake smirked against your ear "I'm not done with you yet, love." he mumbled huskily before taking your lobe in his mouth and sucking on it.

His fingers worked you until another moan nearly escaped your lips and he took that opportunity to capture them in his own "Quiet, you don't want anyone to hear you being a noisy little thing, do you?"

You shook your head as you threw it back, your hair dangling in the air and eyes squeezing. You bucked your hips to meet his hand, his palm rubbing against your clit.

Jake titled his head at the sight, looking ever so gorgeous. He added a third digit inside of you, but it stretched you so good to the point of pain. You couldn’t help but whimper out loud.

Jake chuckled at your reaction and his tongue delved between your lips when you whined, muffling your sounds. "Shh, you're being too loud, baby." He bit your bottom lip.

You clenched around his digits, walls taking them in “T-too much.” You murmured.

He hummed lowly and slowed his pace slightly, bringing one arm to grip your waist again. "You can handle it, can't you, baby?" Hequestioned as his fingers began to curl against your sensitive spot to ease your discomfort.

At the feeling, so full and good, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head “T-there.” You moaned helplessly “Keep going.”

“Be quiet for me.” He demeaned and curled his fingers at a speed you weren’t even sure was possible.

You looked down at where your bodies collided and couldn’t help but let out a moan, your slickness was pooling down his wrist onto the floor, making a whole mess.

Jake followed your gaze and smirked at the sight, “You like this? Mh?”

You nodded “Yes, Jake.” Your eyes were half lidded as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten “Like it. So good.”

Jake titled your chin up to meet his dark eyes and raised a brow, your walls sucking his digits in “Are you close, baby?”

Like the expert of your body that he was, he knew all the signs to pick up. “Yes— I’m so—“ You couldn’t even finish your sentence, that one particular curl on the spongy wall made your body shake in release.

Jake’s arms wrapped around you, holding your body against his as you quaked, “Good girl." He mumbled in your ear, his fingers continuing their work until you came down from your high.

He pressed a soft kiss to your jawline, his fingers slowly pulling out of and he smirked as they came out slick with your release. "You were so good for me, darling." he mumbled against your ear.

He pulled his fingers to his mouth and sucked them, he hummed “Love the taste of you.”

Jake gently gave your arm a light squeeze before moving you to the side. You watched him through puzzled eyes until you saw him pushing on the floor all of his files.

“Baby?” You asked and he only replied with a smile. He pressed his lips against your neck, sucking and biting on the soft flesh while he moved his hands to the back of your thighs.

“Now..." He mumbled as his hands gripped your thighs, lifting you up.

You widened your eyes when you noticed how he placed you on the desk and rested your thighs on his shoulders, kneeling in front of you “There we go.”

“J-jake?” You asked, looking down at him. He winked at you “Just relax." He mumbled softly as his lips began to trail across your thighs.

Your body twitched at the feeling, his featherlight kisses sending waves of pleasure.

Jake trailed his lips up until they were close to your core, his breath fanning against your sensitive skin.

“Wait.” You tried to stop him by pressing one hand on his hair. “You haven’t been touched yet.”

He chuckled again, looking back up at you from his position in between your legs. "Don’t worry about me, love. This is about you." He whispered, blowing on your pussy.

You rolled your eyes back and Jake took the opportunity to swipe his tongue slowly on your core, tasting your juices and your previous cum.

“Oh, Lord.” You moaned out, grasping his hair into your hand, knuckles almost white.

He hummed as the taste of you hit his tongue, drawing a low groan from him.

Your breath grew heavy, slowly guiding his head to lick in the spots you were the most sensitive.

“You taste wonderful, love.” He whispered, sucking on your clit.

You unconsciously bucked your hips, not in control of your body anymore as it succumbed to the pleasure.

Jake chuckled and pressed a hand on your hip, pinning it down to keep you from moving while his tongue continued circles against your sensitive spot. "Stay still for me, darling." He mumbled, continuing his movements.

You arched your back and grasped his hair and he could tell that you were already close to the edge.

So, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue in your entrance, making you moan out as the warm and spongy feeling made your whole mind black out.

His eyes never left your expression as he watched you closely. He was enjoying making you squirm, moaning out his name.

And just like thunder crashing, your body shuddered while you squirted right on Jake’s face.

You widened your eyes, unable to stop the overwhelming feeling of pleasure as you basically screamed-moaned. At that point, you were sure even people on the streets knew what you two were up to.

However, Jake seemed very content with it. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his suit. “Pussy so good, makes my day better.” Your liquid was dripping down his glasses and jaw.

“I made a mess.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows “And?” Jake raised a brow, pulling your chin in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue “I love your messes.”

“I want to help you.” You stated, palming his angry hard-on “You already made me cum twice.”

“We don’t have protections.” He murmured, kissing your lips once, then twice “I don’t want inconveniences to happen.”

The thought of him breeding you made your mind fill with primal urges, but you tried to negotiate “You can pull out.”

Jake shook his head, resting it on your shoulder “I don’t have self control when it comes to you.” He kissed your clothed shoulder.

“A blow?” You questioned, caressing the little hair he had behind his head. Jake chuckled again, “I’m too rough and I don’t want to ruin your cute attire.”

His gaze travelled down to your hand that helped you hold yourself up and smiled “You put nail polish on? It suits you.”

How he managed to make your heart flutter after literally having you shake, you weren’t sure. Maybe he had a talent.

“I wanted to be pretty for you.” You chuckled, “Can’t ruin your reputation.”

No matter how much Jake tried to talk you out of sex in his office, the way he was slowly rutting his hips on your inner thigh gave him away.

He occasionally let out small hums in between his words, and you knew damn well he must be feeling so pained.

So, you slowly climbed down the desk and looked at him. He showed you a nice smile, oblivious to the contorted plants you had in mind. His lips dropped into a frown at the same moment your skirt dropped to your ankles.

“Y/N?” He asked, raising a brow as you began to unbutton your blouse, showing your silk bra.

If Jake had one weakness apart from eating you out, then it was your boobs. He loved them, worshipped them day and night.

His eyes darkened at such sight, walking towards you right away and pushing you against the wall.

“You drive me insane.” He whispered, unzipping his pants and letting them drop to the floor “You fuck my head.”

You watched him with excitement bubbling your stomach, he gripped your bare thigh and raised your leg until it was around his waist.

You looked down at his hard cock, pressing against your stomach “Watch me stretch this pussy out.” He said as he aligned himself with your entrance and thrusted inside of you.

You were so wet and sensitive, your skin burning against his. Jake gripped your ass so tight it would surely leave a mark by the next day, he rutted his hips inside of you at a fast speed.

“I don’t think I’ll last long.” He warned, “I feel you much better without a condom.”

You clenched around his length as his admission, making him groan. He pulled you into a heated kiss as he kept moving his hips, desperately chasing the relief he longed for.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, grip on your skin painful “Fuck, you were made for me.”

With one skilled hand, he undid your bra and palmed your breasts, his tip hitting your cervix, making you moan.

Jake lowered his head onto your chest and began sucking on your nipple, circling his tongue around it “Ah, Yes!” You chanted out.

Without missing a beat, Jake changed tit and did the same thing to the other.

“So deep.” You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the familiar feeling of euphoria reached you for the third time “So good.”

“Yes baby,” He grunted, one hand sneaking up to wrap around your neck “You’re so good for me, so good.”

The sudden loss of air made you clench around him, your walls hugging his cock, sucking him in.

“Fuck— Stop clenching like that.” He huffed, squeezing his eyes just like you did “I’m already so close.”

“I don’t want you to pull out.” You placed one hand on his cheeks, brown eyes boring into yours “What?”

“I want you to cum inside of me.” A rather deep thrust “Your babies, I want them, I don’t care.”

“Oh goodness.” Jake grunted, his hips moving almost manically “You’ll be the death of me.”

You pulled him into a kiss which wasn’t exactly one, you two were just moaning and breathing into each other’s mouths.

“Are you sure, love?” He asked, drops of sweat coating his forehead, his bangs sticking to it “We can’t undo this.”

“I’m so sure.” You moaned out “Cum inside of me.”

At those words, Jake shot his load deep inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

You whimpered, grasping his forearm when the orgasm hit you as well, making you clench around him.

He held you against the wall, both of you trying to catch your breaths.

You smiled and removed one bang from his eye, caressing his cheek with your thumb “This was the craziest shit I’ve ever done.”

You slowly rocked your hips, needing to feel him more, needing his cum to stay inside of you.

Jake groaned and rested his forehead on yours “Damn baby, if this is how it’ll end up every time you visit, I hope you do it more often.”

[gojoest]

satoru sleeps three hours a day. or at least, he used to. before you came into his life, that is.

now he wakes up an hour earlier to take his morning dose of you. keeping his eyes closed when next to you seems like a sin, a waste of his precious time he could otherwise spend just searing your beauty into the depths of his consciousness until he knows by heart every little pore on your body.

being sleep deprived he’s used to, but being you deprived might lead to his actual demise, he thinks — so he cannot risk that by any means. because if he were to die, another man would lay his eyes on you, another man would want to make you his.

unacceptable, he thinks. the audacity? the preposterousness? — he curses internally, angry at a man who doesn’t exist.

i can’t even go in peace, huh? what troublesome woman you are — he thinks to himself. a soft smile creeping in on his lips as his eyes sink in the sight of you rubbing your cheek on the pillow, slowly arching your back and stretching before you even open your eyes.

“i know you’re staring at me”, you say, voice quiet and still loaded with sleep.

“and what if i am — can’t i look at my woman?”

you chuckle halfway through your yawn. you like the way he calls you his woman. it’s not romantic at all, yet it makes your heart flutter. maybe because he sounds so manly. maybe you like being owned by him like that.

“sure you can — but i am sorry your woman is such a mess in the mornings, must be a disastrous sight to witness each and every day”

“no — my woman is always beautiful”, he pouts, “and even cute when she drools on my chest or on the pillow in her sleep — although i’d rather she did it on my chest”

you slap him softly on the arm. “now that’s quite embarrassing”, you sigh.

“it’s quite beautiful, if you ask me”

“i didn’t”, you shoot and he snorts. “i meant it’s quite embarrassing that you’d be jealous of a mere pillow”

“when the topic is you i become quite irrational, you see — i don’t want you drooling anywhere else but on me”

“or else what? you’ll confiscate my pillow and make me sleep on your chest?”

“that’s not a bad idea, you know”, he grins, face leaning closer, reaching for a kiss, a drop of that sweet wetness beyond your lips that he’s been dying to get a hold of since the second he woke up.

but,

you dodge — you cover your mouth with both of your hands, and you avoid the kiss. “i need to wash up first”

“but i want to kiss my woman”

“you’ll kiss her once she freshens up”, you muffle into your palms.

“okay” — he’s used to you being difficult like this. you’ve swallowed each other’s slick and cum countless of times, yet here you are worrying over morning breath.

he sighs.

“okay”, he repeats as he slides his body down the bed, and only stops once his face is on the level of your lower half. peeling the warm covers off your body, he glances up at you — eyes half mischievous, half nonchalant, perfectly conveying the fact that you brought this upon yourself.

“that’s not the only place i can kiss”

[lottiies]

RESTORING NATURAL BEAUTY

ᡣ𐭩 Pure fluff!! Leon takes your makeup off for you

WC: 700+

NOTE: this is completely self indulgent because i do in fact love doing a full face of makeup it’s so fun (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) um lowkey think the tags are pretty dead right now but it’s okay idm

MASTERLIST

Putting makeup on is always fun, but laziness sets in whenever the time to wash it all off arrives. You wish you could cover your ears and sing ‘la la la, I can’t hear you’ to the knowledge that sleeping with a full face was in fact harmful to your skin. But you couldn’t. The world is becoming more and more advanced but they still haven’t been able to create products that you can sleep with? What a joke.

You’re cuddling with Leon, smushing yourself against his chest, your dolled up face threatening to smudge foundation and powder all over his shirt.

“I’m so tired, Leon. I wanna go to sleep.”

“And what’s stopping you?”

“This.” You say in a grumpy tone, lifting your face and looking up at him through your false lashes.

“Ah. Don’t pout, I’ll take it off for you.” He smiled fondly at you, holding you as he stood up from the bed. Leon was well aware you didn’t want to get up, so he easily scooped you into his strong arms, carrying you over to the bathroom and setting you down on the closed lid of the toilet. You didn’t even have to move an inch or ask him to do anything. What a man.

Leon hadn’t known much about makeup removal prior to dating you, but he was pretty much an expert now. Micellar water, cleanser, face wash, and then tons of kisses to your face was the solution. He was smart, a quick learner, he was sure he even knew how to apply your makeup just the way you liked it at this point just by observing you. His hands were steady, they had to be in order for him to have a good aim when the world was in peril…surely doing your makeup wouldn’t be too difficult, right?

He washed his hands thoroughly then pat them before going over to you, the scent of soap lingered on his skin.

“Close your eyes, princess.” Once you did, he carefully took your falsies off. He always felt a bit uneasy at this step, what if he hurt you or accidentally pulled your actual lashes off? He’d never hear the end of it.

He put some micellar water onto a cotton pad. One of his hands held onto your jaw oh so gently, making you tilt your head back a bit. He couldn’t resist, leaning down momentarily to steal a kiss from your pouty lips, you were always so sulky when you were tired. But his sweet gesture made you smile.

“There’s my girl, you’re so pretty when you smile.”

“So I’m not pretty when I’m not smiling?”

“You’re cute when you’re sulking and pretty when you smile.”

“What about when I’m mad?”

“Adorable. Like…” He tried to come up with an example. “When a kitten tries to scratch at you but it’s too cute to do any damage.”

Silence followed, you couldn’t make a comeback so you just changed the topic instead. Typical.

“Would you ever let me do your eyeliner?” You asked, relishing the way he tilted your face side to side to ensure he was running the cotton pad over all areas of your face.

“Mm…” He hummed in thought, purposely taking a long time to answer. “Yeah, I would. Why? You wanna make me look all pretty like you?”

“You’re already really pretty, silly. I’ve always told you that you’d totally rock the eyeliner look.”

He would. Eye makeup would look amazing on him. Or maybe having that cute cupid’s bow of his be more pronounced with some lip liner. You secretly hoped he would never ask you to put foundation on him though, maybe you were being a bit hypocritical but you internally couldn’t help it! Leon was crafted with so many dreamy details. You were blessed enough to have the chance to see them up close and adore them. The faint set of wrinkles between his brows from the stress of his job that made him furrow his eyebrows all the time, all the little acne scars and skin imperfections he held. You’d be devastated if he hid them all. But the most he has asked is for you to use concealer on his eye-bags.

“Maybe tomorrow then, if you’re up for it?”

“Okay! Um, I might mess up a bit though…my hand gets all shaky.”

“That’s what this micellar water is for, isn’t it?”

He rubbed off all your makeup, admiring all your natural features that shone through. Leon had always been attracted to your talent of applying makeup, having watched you switch styles and improve over time. He always liked sitting with you as you did your makeup, you always acted like you were doing some type of YouTube tutorial and he found it so fucking cute. Like, he would smooch you over and over if he wouldn’t be putting your routine into jeopardy. The surge of affection that rushed through him when he laid eyes on your bare face was indescribable.

Gorgeous. Cute. Pretty. Beautiful. All of the above, he wished there was a word that combined all of those into one.

[uolarieclosed]

━━━ 𑁤 close to you thought …

you couldn’t sleep. not because you stayed up too late the night before or because you had an early class. it was because of your roommate.

park sunghoon.

it was simple really, you were falling in love with him. you would’ve never believed yourself standing in the dark kitchen listening to the hum of the tea kettle as it boiled your water; your mind full of the blonde headed boy who slept behind his closed door.

he was always making advances towards you. asking you to be his girlfriend or to go out on a date with him, but he always said it with a shit eating grin on his face—it was difficult to think he was being serious and wasn’t playing you for an idiot.

months before he was just a roommate, you’d see him every morning and every night passing by.

now, he was the only boy clouding your entire existence and it was something you couldn’t say you enjoyed—at least, not yet.

“what are you doing?” his voice pulled you out of your daze, your teeth lifting themselves out of your lips.

“oh, i’m just making some tea.” you pointed to the kettle. “did i wake you?”

he shook his head, rubbing his eye with a slight smile. sunghoon was in fact not asleep. he was staring at his ceiling thinking about you and how he wanted you all to himself.

“you can’t sleep?” sunghoon questioned while approaching closer.

“not really.” you shook your head this time, reaching over to take the boiling water off the heat.

you needed to distract yourself.

“i don’t think black tea will help with that,” sunghoon chuckled lowly while standing behind you. the warmth from his body cascaded off of him like strong essence, coating your entire body in a plain state of turmoil.

“it’s the only tea we have.” timidly, you turn your head to the side, catching sight of sunghoon’s smirk. he pressed his chest against your back, a hand reaching over to play with the ends of your hair.

he was having fun, he loved seeing you cower under his gaze. a tingling sensation coursed through his veins, almost energizing him.

“i think i can help you,” sunghoon’s palm runs down your back before he spins you around, both hands gripping your waist.

he smells intoxicating like he was ready for this moment, ready for you to fall under the trap.

“how?” a part of you wondered what he had up his sleeve, and another part of you felt like challenging him. sunghoon was always at the hand of the flirtatious remarks, wanting to see you so flustered.

sunghoon leaned in closer, nose brushing yours so gently that it felt like a dream. his lips looking so inviting and soft. he was teasing you, hoping you’d be the first to make a move.

but, you couldn’t do that.

“i should get to bed. it’s late.” you whisper, your words ghosting his own empty lips.

and sunghoon watches you step away from him, leaving the water on the counter to grow cold like sunghoon’s hands; the feeling of your body against his was something he needed again.

© 2024 uolarie

[welcometowhore-rrorville]

𝒦𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝓃 𝐵𝑒𝒹

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair 

Word Count: 1.5k 

Warnings: nsfw, mdni, smutty headcanons, virginity mention, dirty talk, rough sex, just general nasty things

Michael Myers

Let’s be honest—this man was a virgin before you showed up

He was in a mental institution from a young age—not exactly the best place to fuck

Still, that certainly didn’t stop him

He picked up on what to do fast—it’s not all that difficult

Still, he definitely focused on himself

Whether or not you came was not his problem

You have to take matters into your own hands when it comes to that, using your fingers to work at your clit

Most of the time your body is jostled around to much to do so

He’s not gentle

Whatsoever

Things will be broken

The bed?

A bone?

Who knows

You have so so many marks

Bruises

Cuts

You always look like you fell through a wood chipper 

It’s not like you could reason with him, though

“Hey, can you, I don’t know, be gentle for once and not fuck me against a countertop?”

Yea, that would go over well

He gets. . . better. . . eventually

Still mostly selfish

But may rub against your clit as he’s pounding into you

By accident?

Unclear

Expect to walk with a permanent limp

RIP

Definitely into knife-play

So many shredded clothes

C’mon, what’d you expect?

The mask stays on during sex

Obviously

If he’s super comfortable he might pull it up enough to bite you

But don’t expect to catch a glimpse of his face

After-care? What’s that?

You clean yourself up 99% of the time

The only time he’s ever done anything was when you passed out during sex and woke up in your bed

Other than that, you don’t expect him to provide any cuddles 

He doesn’t even sleep in the same bed at night

Jason Voorhees

Tries his best to be so so so gentle with you

Also a virgin before you showed up

Not many people were lining up to fuck an undead monster haunting a summer camp

He’s. . . big. . . everywhere

It takes a while before you’re even able to take him properly

It’s not that you were unprepared, but at the slightest flinch of your face Jason would pause and refuse to touch you again for hours

You made sure to explain that you were fine and that you weren’t made of glass

But he was still petrified of hurting you

Still, when he finally calms enough to fully fuck you one night, you’re seeing stars

He’s slow and cautious, but eventually something lights a fire within him

Rubs his masked face into your neck apologetically as he rams into you

When you’re walking funny the next day he carries you everywhere

You don’t blame him for getting carried away sometimes, and even enjoy a little roughness more-often-than-not

He tries his best with after-care but is pretty clueless as what to do with you

When you’re exhausted and curled in on yourself he thinks he’s permanently hurt you

You tell him gently to run you a bath

Will attach himself to your hip and snuggle you until one of you is forced to get up

Nestles his masked nose against any marks he may have caused, letting out a low whimper

You run your hand down his back

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”

Tries to make your pleasure his number one priority

Will listen intently as you bashfully explain what you want and like

Does as told

He’s a little rough, massive fingers toying with your clit hard enough to have you wincing

But eventually he gets the hang of it

Refuses to cum until you have

Even when you’re giving him head, he always has to be touching you in some way, getting you off just as much as your getting him off

Sometimes he can’t help himself and cums before you, only to let out a low whine of disappointment, like he was ashamed of himself

You’re never far behind, anyways

One of the most selfless lovers you’ve ever had

The fact he doesn't speak doesn't even cross your mind

He gets his points across fine with his actions and occasional low rumbles 

And you were never much for dirty talk, anyway 

Bo Sinclair

He’s a wild-card 

Some days he’s feeling generous enough to nestle his head between your legs, other days he’s got you gagging on his dick until can’t breathe

You’re unsure of what impacts his attitude, every night getting ready to expect something different

You supposed he had a lot of things happen in life, you couldn’t blame him for being a little hot-and-cold about things

Regardless of what’s happening, he’s got a lot to say about it

If he’s not growling in your ear, teasing you with dirty words as he rams into you, then he’s moaning loudly against your lips or neck

You don’t think he’s ever quiet for more than a few seconds

What he says varies, too

Some days it’s nothing but praise

“Whatta good girl you are. C’mon, sweetheart. You can do it. Almost there—there it is, darlin’. Don’t you look like a beauty chokin’ on my cock?” 

“That’s it, beautiful. Keep sayin’ my name. Feel good, huh? Don’t close those pretty lips of yours. I wanna hear ya when I fuck ya.” 

Other days he’s grabbing your ass harshly, scolding you for muffling your moans against his neck

“The fuck you think you’re doin’? You’re nothin’ but a whore, don’t try ‘nd be bashful now.”

“What a slut. Look how wet you are for me. Gettin’ off on the thought of me fuckin’ you, bitch?”

It’s enough to give you whiplash

Still, you can’t complain that it’s boring

And it’s not like you don’t get your own enjoyment out of it

Whether or not he lingers after he fucks you depends on nothing in particular

Sometimes he’ll pull you close and press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling praises in your ear as he caresses your body

Other times he’ll put his boxers back on and rest against the door frame, just staring at you as you clean yourself up

He never leaves without making sure you’re alright, though

No matter how rough he was with you he gently traces over your body, making sure nothing hurt to bad

Then he’s back to his cocky self, trying to pretend he didn’t just treat you like a princess

There’s always marks littering your neck and shoulders

The sight of them is enough to let any tourists know to fuck off

You tried to cover them once with a high collared shirt but it only ended with more hickies and bite marks, this time high enough on your neck that even a turtle neck couldn’t hide them

He’s possessive, always having an arm or hand around you when talking to strangers that come by

He’ll, even around his own brothers he’s like that

He’s always smacking your ass or planting a kiss to your lips, leaving you to yelp in surprise

This man has a breeding kink

That’s just the facts

The thing is, the idea of having a kid makes him gag

He’s not a fan of the little gremlins

But something about you—thighs wrapped around his hips as he cums into you—the fullness of your cunt—the slight bulge of your belly—always gets him going

Maybe it’s the distant idea of raising a half-normal family for once

For now, you stay on birth control

Vincent Sinclair

He’s extremely introverted and self-conscious

You have to be the one to initiate most things

Even then he’s unsure of himself

He’s afraid he’ll scare you somehow

The first time you two are intimate it’s simply soft touches, your lips trailing over his skin as your hands stroke at his dick

It’s not sex

It’s too soft for that

You hated to use the word love-making, but you supposed that’s what it was

After his confidence is built up enough to take control, he catches on fast

He has a niche for precise finger-work, given his work as a sculptor, and has you cumming on his hands more times than you can count

He keeps his mask on 99% of the time

You don’t force him to do otherwise

It’s his comfort object

As long as he’s happy, you’re happy

Still, there are times where he pulls it off, only to hide himself between your legs

The first time he ate you out, he insisted upon a blanket draped over your bottom half, but he’s past that now, knelt down in front of you, fingers clutched against your thighs as he pushes his tongue further inside of you

You make sure to praise him every time he makes you feel good—wanting him to know it was him getting you off

It definitely helped his self-esteem

He’s still distant when others are around, but you’ve gotten to the point where you can sit in his lap and play with his hair while Bo lounges on the couch

Bo still gives you two playful taunts, but he’s just happy his brother found someone

Though he really needs to invest in some ear-muffs if you keep up with the moaning at god-knows-how-late-at-night

*cough* waxplay *cough*

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt III. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut

word count: 9.9k

summary: the naughtiest of times bring about the greatest of healing.

pinterest board: vapor

warnings: punishment, spanking, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), a little bit of ass play, cum eating, raw sex, multiple orgasms, sex toy included, praise kink, jk smokes:), jk also reveals a past pain:(

note: nawt my best work, but i guess it's alright:( here it is, my loves—the very end to the steam series. i enjoyed indulging myself in this world and i'd like to thank all of you for allowing me to do that. thank you so much for all the love and support. i do all of this for you:) wink wink. this is pure smut and nothing else, and i hope you like this at least a little bit. i love you all so much, pwease give me your feedback, thank you. <3

Jungkook thought brushing his teeth with you in the morning while you wore his boxers and stole one of his white, ribbed tank tops was heaven enough. That was until he couldn’t lay his sleepy gaze off of you when you sat on his balcony with a cigarette between your two fingers and a cup of strong coffee in the other two and your thumb. 

Still can’t. 

He’s never been a morning person. To him, all mornings resembled some kind of hell that you suffer through until afternoon rolls around until you finally awaken. But seeing you like this, delighted, with two of your pleasures… he might become an early bird. Wake up each morning with joy just to see yours. Just to watch you be at complete peace, puffing out the smoke out into the sun-breathed air. 

The weather is a stark contrast to yesterday’s funeral of clouds. Not one is in sight, sun rays envelop the heavens in a golden light that spills through your hair—half done in a messy knot of some sort at the back of your head while wisps of shorter strands frame your face and your neck. He’s given you his spirally hair tie that he wore in his pre-military days. Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he told you how long he let his hair grow because he knew shaving his head was inevitable and it served as some kind of strange preparation for him. You brushed your fingers through his hair, then, unbelief painting your face in cutesy colors. As if you tried to feel the long-gone memory of his long tufts of hair that curled at the ends. He was so touched by it—maybe it’s one of the reasons why he can’t stop looking at you now.

It’s dawning on him that you love him. That you’re his. It wasn’t a dream, after all. 

And you’re such a stark image of effortless beauty—even with your puffy eyelids and mouth, with your healthily flushed cheeks. How can he not look at you… he fears if he does, you’ll disappear into the thin air. He can’t afford that, not when he went through so much pain to get to this point. 

This is his reality now. It’s difficult to get used to. He’d never thought he’d get this lucky. Perhaps, heaven does care about him, wants to see him after all, because it blessed him with you, blessed him with freedom that he can indulge in hand in hand with you. 

Jungkook feels an inkling to find a church and kneel at the altar. Thank God for what he’s done for him. Call his dad and tell him that he found Him.

The thought of how happy he’d be fills him with vigor redolent of the last of the summer creeping in. There’s so much of it that Jungkook finds it hard to breathe, his lungs taut with all this joy and love that he feels. 

It seems as though this time he will, in fact, live his life happily. Get rid of his alcoholic habits, drink from the fountain of you instead—make that a brand new habit. Keep his paints. Keep the memory of your features and your sleep-tousled hair engraved deeply in his brain so he can transfer it onto his sketchbook. Eternalize you for generations to come. Clutch those papers tight to his chest when God does take him to heaven once his time comes. 

Happiness. How did he deserve such a thing? 

He sighs, watches you suck the last of your cigarette. The sunlight radiates you with a glow too grand for his eyes to take in and as you breathe out the swirls of smoke, he has to look elsewhere. Your full breasts pebble against his tank top, too stretched out for your small form, and it douses him with liquid tendrils of desire for you. All due to the fact you’re wearing his clothes, that you’re bare underneath them, that your nakedness brought about so much pleasure for him last night—due to the very memory that you didn’t wear your underwear for him because they would get in his way. Fuck, his cock tightens under his joggers, the ones that match those you wore to bed. He hasn’t eaten yet and he thinks you’re the perfect choice of breakfast for the day. 

You put out your cigarette in the ashtray he found for you in the cabinet, left behind by the tenants that lived here before him, and a soft smile curls your slumber-kissed mouth. Your irises flick across the width of his chest, across his crossed forearms and biceps and your smile deepens. You cradle your cup of coffee in both of your hands, slouching in your chair. He’ll never tire of the way it feels to be looked at by you. The tendrils of desire thicken in him, flowing rapidly in his bloodstream. 

“What do you wanna eat for breakfast?” you ask, and there’s something dangerous about your eyes now, mingling with the light and joy, dimming it little by little. He likes it so much, likes your question all the more, that he props his elbows on his knees and hooks his fingers around the back of yours, thumbs fondling the round bones. 

The way his boxers don’t even cover the apex of your thighs, having ridden up so high—he stifles the hiss rising in his throat. They suit you so much he might let you keep them. That is, after he ruins them. 

“You,” he murmurs, smirking, and you grin at him so luminously that the speed of his bloodstream slows down. Suddenly, the movement of your hand as you set your cup down is in slow motion—your fingernails provoking him by lightly scratching down his forearms, too. You study his tattoos as you do it, your gaze darkening fully. 

You root them at the place, where he’s holding you. Palms flat against the back of his hands. Lean closer to him until you nudge your nose against his. The close proximity will always mess him up, no matter what. He feels himself bespangled by your light, by your celestiality, bringing in the heat until it’s all he knows. 

You. 

“What if I want to eat you first?” you whisper, head angling to kiss him on his jawline. Oh, he’s already done for; body charged with electricity all over. Your mouth closes over that bone so, so slowly, your tongue licking over that place in the same tempo, causing the hair on his body to stand up to attention. 

“Eat what?” He laughs through his nose and you take after him—your giggles a warm rumble that sends tingles down his back, even though all his body longs to do is whimper for you. He knows what you meant, but he simply wants to hear you say it. The memory of the way you rubbed your face in such a private part of him, not just once—but twice, floods his brain and he’s so hard for you that it’s unbearable. 

If he doesn’t get his release any time soon, he might combust. 

He’d much rather it happens in your mouth. Like it did in the dressing room last night. Oh, fuck. Those winged fuckers are going at it again in his stomach, bringing about his madness for you. 

“Your nose first, then your dick.” 

It’s now that he lets out that sound—he can’t help it, can’t hold it back. Might need that cigarette of yours, even though he only smokes casually. This is what you do to him. 

And you like that sound. You like it so much that you rise to your feet, only to straddle him. And, leaning back, he pushes you towards him until you’re flush against his body. To make you feel how aroused he is for you, your little pussy sitting against his imprint. At the feeling of it through such a thin barrier, you press your hum over his nose, kissing the ball of it with a sweet, soft giggle. His madness evolves into a frustration again and he wonders at the whole concept of it. Now that he has you all to himself, his sexual need for you tends to be on such a raging base, full of yearning, full of frenzy. So intense, so thunderous, so deafening. The world might break apart, fall upon every head with its destruction, if that need remains unfulfilled. 

It’s spine-chilling. Absolutely petrifying. And irrevocably thrilling with all its bolts of power. 

He kneads your bum with both of his hands, unraveling that melodramatic concept of his titillation for you with the strength he uses to squeeze your flesh with. Jungkook goes as far as to lift you onto your knees, raise the fabric of his boxers to reveal your skin and, holding it taut in his fist, he wetly kisses the red imprint of his hand that he left behind. 

And his need flutters with something still yet forbidden. 

Yours does, too. And it’s you who voices it out, setting it free like a bird that has been caged for centuries. It touches him, immensely—a deep sea of feelings resurfacing in him, sloshing to and fro, threatening to spill over. 

“Spank me.” 

Lust and love. A peculiar concoction of it that doesn’t exist in the realm of words. He feels it, feels it with every breath he takes. 

“I should, right?” he rasps, dragging his fingernails down your carmine bum, sneaking his fingers around the squishy bottom of the flesh. He might drench his joggers—he didn’t wear his boxers to sleep; you’re wearing them for him. “For wanting to bite my nose off.” He clicks his tongue, squeezing, other hand wraps around your waist, holding you still. “I should spank you until it hurts. Until you cry.” 

The most gentle of a moan spouts out of your mouth and he twitches, his need growing—all because you want it as much as he does.

Jungkook lifts his hand in a promise he’s about to do it and you shiver in anticipation. 

“Please,” is all you say, but he’s not going to give it to you. He places his hand back in a soft manner, lifting it again to tease you and you wiggle your butt, his boxers still tucked halfway in between, the flesh rippling and he groans. A sight to die for. “I deserve it. Please, do it. I want it.” 

He sighs, a wet spot forming in the place of the joggers where his tip is, and he can’t see anything. Can’t see shit when he lifts you up and takes you inside. Can’t see anything but you and the surface of his kitchen island, which he sets you down on, spreading your legs. 

Confused by the swift motion, you rise to your elbows, but he pushes you right back down—holding your hips in the air, just like he did last night. You will see what he’s about to do to you, nonetheless. No need for you to strain your arms. 

And when he closes his mouth over your clothed pussy, you roll your eyes back, moaning his name so loudly that it echoes throughout the kitchen, rooting around his dripping length. And his arousal for you is so overwhelming, so sensitive that one thrust of his hips against the fabric of his joggers brings him such pleasure coursing through his body that he might as well come like this. 

Jungkook rids you of his boxers in a blink of an eye, throwing them somewhere out of his sight. No need for them, either. 

Burying his nose in your clit as he licks your slit and plunges his tongue inside, he narrows his eyes at you as yet another wave of pleasure comes down upon him. This time from having you for breakfast, at last. You mewl so sweetly that it drives him to thrust his hips again and he groans, groans so deeply for you. Needs you to know what you’re doing to him. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he breathes out, lightly dragging the tip of his tongue across your clit before he swallows, hissing at the delight of your taste. You moan, trembling, barely able to take it. Fuck one day, he’s about to die now. “And you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a fucking boy. Is that what you want?” 

Jungkook flicks your bud, fleetingly, just to make your sounds shudder in the sudden intensity. You clench your small fists in the air, your tremor so terribly visible and rigorous, and with your breath hitching in your throat, he sucks that delicious part of you into his mouth. 

You stammer, badly enough that he begins to feel a sliver of pity for you, not enough for him to stop. He’s ravaging your little princess parts so hard that it takes a few tries for you to get the words out in a steady flow and he doesn’t help you. Doesn’t ease up for you, at all. Flicking, sucking, licking you up all over, rolling his tongue—he simply doesn’t stop, does it so fast that you lose yourself in it, submitting to it with all your being. 

And along with your submission come out your words. 

In perfect fashion.

“No, I want to suck you off.” 

And along with those your orgasm, too. 

Jungkook watches you take it, eyes lidded heavily, take all the pleasure he gives to you as it unfolds throughout your quivering body that he holds tightly in his grasp so you wouldn’t fall over. He sucks your clit until his mouth goes numb, opening it to drink you, not letting a drop of your nectar go to waste. You struggle to reciprocate the eye contact and he finds it so endearing that he wants to make you come all over again. 

Setting you down, he caresses your wet little pussy with his thumb, palm spread wide across his tank top clothing your tummy. And while you try to catch your breath, he sends rays of his affection down to her the more he looks at her. He loves her so much that he bends down and kisses her. Over and over. Kisses the hickey he left on your left fold, the one below your hip bone as well. And then, he glances at you. Flushed and glowing, a personification of light. A girl most satisfied. So beautiful.

You sit up and the feeling of the coldness of the marble against your sensitive seashell makes you let out a whine, biting your lip briefly before you enclose it around his. You moan into the kiss and Jungkook knows why. He deepens it, hands drifting down your full breasts, your stiffened nipples. The touch makes you hum and grind your pussy against the island, opening your mouth. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, playing with you, beckoning out your mouth-watering little whines. And when his fingers reach the hem of his tank top, he takes it off of you—your breasts bouncing, the wet spot in his joggers enlarging. 

In this position, you’re forehead to forehead. And this time, he doesn’t want to kiss you. No, he wants to talk. 

“You taste good, don’t you?” Jungkook husks, an allusion to the way you moaned into the kiss, fists on either side of your outstretched thighs. You bite your lip and furrow your brows, a hand sneaking around his neck. Such horny expression, scraping his madness raw. He’s greedy for more; wants to bleed for you. “Tell me. Tell me how good you taste.” 

You sink your teeth so hard into your bottom lip at his words that you whimper once you let go, the pillow so reddened, so cute. The wrinkle between your brows deepens and you grind your hips again. Oh, he’ll put his hand there, on your still needy pussy, as soon as you answer him. 

And you do—and his whole bloodstream lines with a river of flames.

“I taste so good,” you whine and he rewards you for your goodness, for that heat. Places his fingers flat underneath your clit, palm up. You immediately roll your hips forward and whisk your eyes back. That sensitive you are, after such an intense orgasm. He swears. Takes it as a sign to rub your bud and, pushing them back with one hand, he gathers your slick and smears it upon it, making it all the more pleasurable for you. Gusts of breaths emit out of your mouth, intertwining with the squeaky sounds of your juices and Jungkook almost drools, aching to eat you out all over again. The feeling of your parted lips, your slipperiness, the softness of your swollen bud—he grows desperate for it. 

But he wants you to come like this, too.

“Ride my fingers,” he whispers, just for you to hear and not the angels surrounding him, whose favor he gained. “Come on. Grind your pussy on them, sweetheart.” 

You mewl and you listen, straightening your spine. Use his shoulders for stability as you swing your hips back and forth. The silkiness of your flesh, the wetness that makes this a smooth ride for you—he moans, sucking in his breath each time. And then you become so terribly whiny, eyes squeezed tight, that he can’t help but to strum your clit as fast as he can. Your shudders begin again, your breasts rippling and he just thinks they’re asking for his tongue. 

A flick of the muscle on your nipple. You cry out, arching your back, halting the movement of your pelvis and he takes over. Takes merely a minute to make you come all over his hand and scream out his name. 

And then… then he grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you in—almost nose to nose. A gesture to make you listen. To make you pay attention to the words he wants to say to you. 

“This is what you deserve,” he purrs, speaking of the former mention of punishment, studying the way your eyes grow bigger than they already are. “To come again and again for me—and what’s more, I’m not finished with you yet. That wasn’t your last orgasm.” 

You mewl and it seems that it’s all that you’re capable of uttering, the clitoral orgasm stealing all of your vocabulary. 

Or at least he thought so. 

“But I want you to spank me,” you say, your voice a satiny softness. “I want it so bad that I’ll do anything for it.” 

Jungkook doesn’t know what’s more stimulating—whether the beauty of your strength or the sinfulness of your craving. The flames in him reach higher highs, burning his skin in a way that unfussily forces him to give you what you want; give in to you, surely and wholly.  

“Is that so?” 

You nod, leaning over and closing your mouth over the side of his neck, sucking the skin, making his eyes roll back. And when you begin to focus on his ear, your fingers sinking in his hair, he truly just might submit to that specific craving of yours, even though he wanted to save it for the cabin. 

He might just give you a taste of it now. 

It looks like you’re ready for it, but if he finds that your healing is incomplete, he’ll take care of you, undo the wrongness, distract your thoughts and fold your emotions into a cocoon of his love. 

Pulling you away from him, he lifts you off the island and bends you over it. You giggle in triumph and the dulcet sound falters once he brushes your hair back and, pressing his length against your bare bum, he reciprocates the same treatment you gave to him. He doesn’t destroy your neck more than he already has—he barely has any space left to scatter it with hickeys and he doesn’t wish to cause you discomfort. No, he mouths your ear and kisses the very unmarked skin beneath it, nibbling it ever so gently. 

It’s only when you circle your hips against him that he rips that gentleness away and bites, making you groan out. 

“So that’s what my sweetheart wants,” he breathes, hands drifting to the crooks of those hips, right where your thighs begin, cooling the flames he spat onto that sensitive spot of yours. “Pain.” 

The collision of his palm against your cheek is what steals your breath and you whimper in elation. 

“Oh, fuck yes.” 

He does it again, a bit harder this time, just to hear those delectable words, just to make sure you’re comfortable, rubbing your skin to soothe the sting. And when you pinch your nipples and moan, he gets on his fucking knees for you. Such a good girl; a strong angel.

At your ever persisting service. Eternal. 

Spreading you apart, he catches your dripping slick with his tongue and pushes it back inside, thumbing your other tiny hole—pulling away momentarily to spit on it, smearing the lubrication there before circling it. Jungkook hears the soft thud of your head slumping against the kitchen island and you take it, take his abuse so well that he rewards you by flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit. Over and over until there’s another thing he hears. 

He hears your phone ring. 

His stomach drops. He knows full well who’s calling. And you prove his deduction right. 

“It’s Yoongi,” you sigh, a bit of vexation evident in your voice, and Jungkook buries his face in your pussy, humming into her, purposefully. “Vi-video calling me yet ah-a-again. Oh, fuck.” 

Pleased, he laughs. “Let it ring.” Doesn’t give two shits that he’s calling, but is a little annoyed that he keeps bothering you. 

It doesn’t lessen his fire, though. 

“But.” He withdraws to let you talk. Doesn’t take his eyes off of the glistening of your flesh. “If I tell him off and if he sees what you’re doing to me, he’ll stop calling me.” 

His fire thickens, thrilling tendrils absorbing it. Very well. “Such a smart girl. Go for it, then.” He punctuates his sentence with a curt spank and you jump, rising onto your tippy toes as you curl your back, moans echoing. He caresses your legs all over, mouth latching over your slightly reddened cheek. Thinks it’s a perfect place for another hickey. And as he sucks the supple skin, he sinks a finger inside your heat, your walls welcoming him in. 

You answer the phone with a moan. “I’m busy.” 

You’ve placed your hand to the edge of the island, so Jungkook has a perfect view of what’s currently happening. You’ve hidden your squished breasts behind your forearm—like you did the first time he’d laid his eyes on you via Yoongi’s phone. How the tables have turned is so mind-boggling to him that it drives him to twirl circles on your other tiny hole, eating your ass with such verve that you can’t contain your sounds, especially not when he begins to caress your sweet little spot with his curling fingers. 

Your legs begin to shake. 

Yoongi calls you by your name. “What the fuck is this?” 

“W-what does it look like?” you retort, grinning, looking back at Jungkook, catching his glance. He sends you rays of his love, eyes crinkling, the tip of his tongue finally penetrating inside. “I’m getting my ass eaten and you’re—” You suck a breath in, trying your hardest to remain calm and not succumb to the pleasure. Jungkook worsens it for you; he syncs his finger and his tongue, fucking you in one fast rhythm in both holes at the same time, and your stammer returns. “You-you’re disturbin’ me, oh fuck.” You pant, heavily, letting go of your phone and scratching your nails down the surface, trying to grab onto something, anything. Jungkook hums, endearingly, and catches both of wrists in his hand at the small of your back. Seeing you bound like this, bound in pleasure mainly, while on the phone with your ex-boyfriend almost makes him come in his fucking pants. “I don’t want to fucking come looking at your face. I’m not on your timeline, stop calling me.” 

Oh, Jungkook wouldn’t even let you—and the reason why he intensified your pleasure was to spite your ex-boyfriend. It seems as though it worked because Yoongi remains silent, at loss for words in most probability, and you consider your job done, tugging up your arm. 

“Let me hang up,” you whisper to him and Jungkook loosens his fingers for you, the sound of the call ending etching a smirk on his face. 

He straightens his form and, turning you around, he pins you against the island, his smirk only widening. The love, the proudness he carries in his heart for you, the freedom that oozes out of his every pore—he uses it to kiss you, tenderly. Fights hard to stifle his grin, to mold his lips into yours, but to no avail. You mirror his expression of joy, looking up at him, both of your wrists back in his hold behind your back. 

“You took your spanks so well, enjoyed them,” he murmurs his praise, his other hand clasping around your binding. “Didn’t even think once about the past. And to top it all off, you basically told your ex-boyfriend to fuck off. Moaned your lungs out. I’m in awe,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave lower, meaning every word. “I’m in awe of you. What a good girl you are. The best.”

The glint in your irises bursts and spreads all around, your eyes becoming two lighthouses that gain a new instinct to bring him home, whatever form that might spur into. You blush for him, taken aback by his praise, and your lashes flutter so prettily that he grows weak in the knees. His reactions are constant, never-changing when it comes to you and he finds so much beauty in them, in you that he feels as though it’s golden sand in his fingers and all he longs to do is finish his job like you did. You rouse the inspiration in him—you always have.

And listening to his body, he stumbles back into his former position. On his knees for you, at your ever fucking eternal service. And he makes you come with his fingers stuffed in your heat and his tongue flicking your clit until your knees give out as well and he has to take you then and there. Against the window on the other side, your pleasured body embraced, almost, by the golden aura that spills from the sunlight. And he opens it out, stretches it, with every word that trickles out of his mouth and into yours with every swift stroke. A bunch of rays of ‘You’re mine’, ‘My pretty, tight pussy’ and ‘Good girl, take it all, it’s all yours’ permeate your skin, lighting you up from beneath and when you come around his cock, your light doesn’t fade into his and leave you barren. No, it melts, a conscious, ever-flowing stream, into him and soaks him up. It’s still one singular light, but in two bodies. 

And the two loads he filled you up with caused weariness to drop so heftily on you that he bathed you in the tub. Scrubbed you clean. Washed your hair. Made you smell like him. Was extra careful when touching the hickeys he left behind on your body, the other unmarked parts of you handled with similar care. 

He didn’t even forget about your candle. Borrowed them your shared light and you kissed him quite sweetly for it. 

Even when he dressed you in his clothes. A pair of old baggy jeans that don’t fit him anymore and the same white tank top, a clean one, fragrant with the wholeness of summer he will perpetually connect with you. You pecked him so cutely when he tapped your waist, signaling that you’re all done. He knows it was the deepest thank you that you could’ve ever expressed to him. And he hugged you, hugged you so tight that you merged into him, bunching your wet hair in his fist. 

It didn’t dry up until he parked by the cabin. Having curled into winsome waves, he couldn’t stop touching them when he lead you towards the front door and, most peculiarly, it ached when he had to let go in order to unlock the door. 

His clinginess to you constringes the longer he spends time in your presence and because you’ve graced him with such freedom, he doesn’t mind. Not one bit. You show no signs of being irritated by it and it causes him to think that, perhaps, when God made you, He put some mechanism in you that needs it. Just like he planted those roots of clinginess in him—for no one else but you to receive, to carry, to take care of. 

It’s what he thinks about when he makes you lunch while you smoke on the balcony, having finished with the fresh drinks you made for yourself and him. Elderberry with lemon and ice, with funky, colorful straws once again left behind by the past tenants, ready on the dining table. This time you will actually sit down to eat and Jungkook won’t get kissed on the face by the strong knuckles of his once-close friend. 

An emotion stirs within him as he flips the meat on the small indoor grill. Tears prick in his waterline because despite the fact he enjoyed spiting him, he still wonders how he’s handling this. Mourns the loss. Probably will for some time. There’s a certain freshness to it that won’t let go of him. 

Those liquid feelings almost dissipate when you wrap your arms around him from behind and kiss his spine. He’s not matching you that much—is wearing the only clean laundry he had. A white oversized tee, a zipper hoodie of the same color with jeans. But he feels the love you press onto his back as if your lips touch his bare skin, singing the two layers through and through. 

Jungkook reckons you’re saving him as you’re lingering there with your face buried between his shoulder blades. Saving him from spilling. 

“I can’t wait to visit the pond once we’re finished with our food,” you murmur and Jungkook hums in response, placing the rest of the meat onto a plate. 

“It’s done, we can eat now,” he croaks out, his voice touched by the residue of his emotions and you rub his belly with your hands. He smiles, fondly, at the gesture. You just keep on saving him.

“Do you think the water is cold?” 

Considering the rain that would not leave for days, the water is anything but suitable for swimming. And when he turns around, he meets your mischief, playfully toying with your features. A curled smirk, lifted brows, light flickering in your eyes, reflected in your lashes. He might let you dip your toe in. Just one. 

Only because you depict such distinct beauty and he can’t resist it. Can’t resist you, even if he tried his hardest. 

“Too cold,” he says, however. Just as playfully. “Freezing.” 

Helping him with the plates, you sit down to eat and before you dig in, you thank him once again in the form of a peck. Oh, he might spill, ultimately. In a much different way. Melt into liquid love for you—a putty at your disposal. He’s never come across someone as sweet as you. 

“My sweetheart, enjoy your food.” 

A sliver of comfortable silence hangs in the air as you finish your food and once he downs the drink you made for him, a different type of hunger itches in his throat. 

A hunger for a cigarette. 

He watches you as you take his plate and bring it into the kitchen, never forgetting to at least graze one part of your body as you depart away from him, his clinginess a full blown, ceaseless stream and when you come back to him and take his hand, he remains seated. Looks up at you. Is probably giving you a nasty set of puppy eyes, he can’t tell. Doesn’t really care. Interlocks his fingers with yours and brings your knee in between his. Just because. 

“You know what I want right now?” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, and you smile down at him all excitedly. “A cigarette.” 

You squeal and he didn’t expect such sound to come out of you, such display of joy at such mindless thing. You quiver, taking his other hand and pulling him to his feet. Grab your pack and lighter and drag him out to the balcony. 

And with a cigarette of your own hanging from your lips, you sink the butt of the spare one between his, your lighter ready in your hand, flicking it to life. Then, a sudden gust of wind blows your hair in front of your face in a grand, sublime way, the clouds shrouding the sunlight, a layer of grayness dispersing across the atmosphere. Jungkook is mesmerized, completely, strands of your hair tickling your cheeks as you focus on lighting his cigarette, such serious expression coating you. 

He almost forgets to suck on the cigarette when you cup the lighter, protecting the flame from the breath of the autumn slinking in. How can someone be so beautiful, so caring? He could’ve lighted up his hunger himself, but no—you wanted to do it. 

And because of that, he steals your cigarette and grabs your cheek in one hand, careful not to break it. Taking a delightful drag, he opens your mouth and puffs it inside. Watches you swallow it down, your eyes narrowed in a foreign pleasure, and to reward you, he kisses you deeply. But at the taste of his hunger on your tongue, the kiss grows tempestuous. He devours your mouth, makes it puffy all over again, and something else grows hard in tandem. 

Something in his pants. 

And the way you kiss him back—he has to physically pull himself away from you in order not to take you right here, in order not to bend you over this railing and bury himself so deeply inside you that all the animals in the forest scurry away at the sound of your squeaks. Much, much different ones. 

His body tingles, looking at you panting, longs to kiss you again—bring that notion into reality. It’s not merely you who’s become aroused because one swift glance over your body clad in his clothes reveals that you have, too. Your stiffened nipples protrude through his tank top and he has to hold onto that railing and take a deep drag of his cigarette in order to stick to his composure like his life depends on it. 

Perhaps, it truly does. 

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he comments, mirroring your former actions—placing the cigarette between your lips that willingly open for him, lighting it up. “It’s crazy. I can’t spend one minute in your presence without wanting to fuck you brainless. What are you doing to me, huh?” 

You blush, but he didn’t mean it as a compliment. Thinks he should change his ways and call you beautiful more often, so you learn what a true compliment is, despite the fact how hard he finds it. His lungs constrict, choking the life out of him that you gave him—an unfond memory clouding his sight.

A blond set of hair swishing past. A roll of eyes as he threw that compliment in her way. The dismissal that still lives in him.   

“You sure it’s me?” you retort, angling your head to the side, two fingers widening slightly as you suck on your cigarette. You tossed the memory away and cuddled his headspace. “Maybe you have a problem.” 

Oh, he remembers this feistiness of yours. Missed it, dearly. Makes his cock needy. Even more prominently so now—now that you clothed him in healing. 

“True, one taste of you and I’ve become a nymphomaniac,” he says with a mighty, peculiar easiness. Clicks his tongue. “I guess I should go to therapy.” 

Your blush deepens and you hide your laughter behind your busy palm. Jungkook shakes his head, not believing something like that could flush your face like this with such rosy, radiant color. He pulls you towards himself, squeezes your bum. Takes a drag, loving the burn in his throat. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, fondling the sweet color of your cheek with his thumb. The smoke from his cigarette curls around your wavy hair. “Do you even know how beautiful you are?” 

It’s you who shakes your head and you place your palm flat on his chest. A gasp leaves your mouth when he spanks you for your disagreement. Then, your mouth ends tip. 

Jungkook laughs, softly. “Run. And if I catch you, I spank you again. On your bare bum this time.” 

He pushes you and you squeal, turning on your heel and heading for the stairs down that lead to the pond. He could run after you to make you happy—it doesn’t matter he’s wearing his home slides. He’s danced with them, even barefooted, so this is no big deal for him. But he wants to give you the thrill of the chase, so, flicking his cigarette into the ashtray, right next to yours, he slides his hands into his front pockets and waits until you’re halfway there at the pond. Then, then, he slowly makes his way down. 

You’ve stopped, however. Half turned, you watch him as he chases you down Michael Myers style. And when he’s at arms-length distance away from you, you begin to run away and this time your feet acknowledge themselves with the wood of the dock that floats above the surface of the still water. There’s nowhere for you to go and he fears you’ll jump into the water. Or, maybe you just want to get spanked that badly. 

He’s about to find out. 

Gray shadows envelop you, choking out your squeals again when you see Jungkook running after you and you edge dangerously close to the end, bum leaning against the ladder going down. 

He lifts his palm, signaling you to stop right there. 

And you surprise him. You kick your feet into momentum and as you run and collide into him, you throw him into the water. 

The iciness of the water stings and his breath lodges in his throat, submerged. Paralyzation takes a hold of him, but not enough for his body to emerge to the surface. He rubs his eyes as he inhales deeply, shaking off the water from his hair like a dog, his eyesight slowly unblurring and he sees you laughing. The trees bend at the sound, sighing along and the wind, once again, stills. 

You even have the nature wrapped around your finger, not just him. And he can’t be mad at you, not when your girlish giggles spark up a joy in his heaving chest, ridding him of the coldness he feels. 

But that doesn’t mean he won’t punish you for it. 

You asked for it. 

He swims to the dock and pulls himself up. The ease he did it with, his wet clothes that cling to his body and accentuate his muscles, it causes your dulcet laughter to falter, little by little and you back away from him. 

That aches a tiny bit. He relaxes his face, in case that’s what drove you to do that and he unzips his hoodie, throwing it at your feet. His T-shirt comes next and you swallow, dryly, your eyes drifting along his pecs and abdominal muscles. 

You hiss at the cold sensation of his knuckles against the fine sliver of skin of your stomach, the dip between the hem of his tank and his jeans as he unbuttons them and harshly tugs them down. You let him, placing your hands on his shoulders once he kneels and lifts both of your feet, folding the denim and flinging it onto the pile of his sopping hoodie. Your socks and his boxers follow along, leaving behind only his tank top. 

Bunching it in his fist, he tightens his mouth in a narrow line and pulls you in. More to cover you from the cold than to soak you and he raises his palm until it levels with your shoulder blade before he spanks you. The slapping noise vibrates through the canopy of the trees and he likes to think the weeping willow in his peripheral vision trembled at the reverberations. 

“That’s for me catching you.” 

Another spank. On the other cheek. Just as hard. 

“That’s for the way you pushed me into the water.” You don’t make a sound, only tiny little breaths spill out of your mouth as your big eyes ogle his dripping face. Taking it so well that his cock, achefully, hardens even more. “All this fucking forest all around and you decided to get on here, on this dock. Push me in.” A spank. “In the freezing.” Another one. “Fucking water.” Another. 

You moan, swaying on your feet and he straightens you, grabs your wrist and wraps it around the nape of his neck. 

“And this.” Jungkook licks his fingers, sneaks them between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing it rapidly. “This is for the way you enjoy it. Enjoy being spanked. Being punished. Enjoy being a bad little sweetheart.” 

You moan, a wrinkle between your brows, and your legs begin to quiver, your orgasm fast approaching. And the fire in him, created by your playfulness and his own words, he becomes it. Like you’re the personification of light, he’s the flames that keep it warm. An oxymoron most profound, most perfect, unseen by the world. 

He rips your orgasm away. Spanks you. Kneads your ass. You whine so terribly that it beckons his pity. Enough for him to creep his thigh in between yours, grasp your hips and make you ride it. 

“You wanted me wet, so get off on it,” he orders, unlatching his hands, taking off the tank top and fisting your hair, trusting you to hump him well enough on your own. “I know you like it cold, so grind that pussy on my thigh. And don’t stop until you come.”

It’s fast, the way you move your hips and bring yourself to the absorption of your climax. You look at him the whole way through and Jungkook nods with his bottom lip between his teeth, encouraging you to ride out the wave. 

“Good girl, coming so fast. Get on your knees.” 

He takes off his even more drenched pants. You wait for him with an open mouth and he senses the welcoming embrace of death. 

When he plunges his length into that salivating hole, it’s his fire that he feeds you. Despite the coldness, pearls of sweat adorn your forehead and Jungkook grips your hair and fucks your mouth, not letting you be in control, uttering his guttural moans lowly. 

“That’s what you get, my love.” 

You swallow around him in response and his life flashes before his eyes. Pictures of you, pictures of this cabin dressed in all of the seasons and he halts his thrusts. Pushes your head, instead. Back and forth until he can’t fucking take it anymore. 

Your spit trickles down onto the wood. Tears line your vision. Hard, shiny cock in your face. He tells you what he thinks of the sight. 

“So beautiful. Look at how hard and wet you made it. You deserved every inch down in that pretty throat of yours.” 

It’s a start. Still has a demon on his own to conquer, one that sits around somewhere deep in his chest, where a string of his past relationship makes dents in his lungs. One that he doesn’t want to admit he still has. One that he’s learned to forget about. 

But he is changing his ways. For you. 

You moan and scratch your nails down his thighs, the fire forming into an animal in you. A feral, little thing that knows what it needs. And he’s going to give it to you, mind already working on the forgetting. 

“I love your cock. It’s all mine.” You mouth it, glide your puffy lips upon its length and despite the pleasure he gets from it, he pushes you away. 

Straddles your hips. Turns you onto your tummy. Knows the personal cock time was too brief for you, but he can’t risk having his orgasm like this. 

“Yes, my love, all yours. And I’m gonna fuck that brain out of your head with it.” 

You mewl. “Yes, please.” 

In contrary to your words, you try to crawl away when he sinks himself inside, your nails making pretty music on the wood. He brings you right back to him. Presses you down flat with his hand on your back. All while still inside of you. You sputter out your moans and, licking his thumb, he circles your other hole, making them grow in volume. 

“No, sweetheart. Don’t run from it. You can take it. Believe in yourself the way I believe in you.” 

The strokes he gives you are hard, engraving your rose tattoos made of hickeys onto the dock and he realizes that’s exactly what he wants. He desires to have everything he owns smell like you, look like you and carry remnants, memories and keepsakes of you for generations to come. And so he fucks you not only harder, but faster. 

Thinks your back is awfully bare and missing the rest of the marks. 

Jungkook bites onto the skin above your shoulder blade and you catch him off guard. 

“Jungkook, I’m gonna come like this.” 

He hums, fondly. How quickly your walls have gotten used to accommodating him. “Not yet, my love.” 

Swiveling you, he hooks your knees onto his shoulders, sinking back into you this way—sinking back home. 

And it begins to rain. 

Jungkook hears the touch of the droplets upon the surface of the pond first before the same ones pelt down his back. And the briskness that affects him, the conjunction of an autumn kissed by the last of summer—it drives him to crush his lips onto yours with such vigor that he hopes the autumn, at the sight of it, will be here to stay, in all its wholeness. No more triggers of the past seasons. Newness, only. Singularity. 

He doesn’t carry you away from the rain. No, he hides you with his own body. Takes every hit from the ruthless downpour for every lash across your heart, for every scar etched for all eternity on its flesh. Hands cradling your head, the broadness of his back a cover for the top half of your body and you keep him there with your hands gripping his hair, holding on for dear life. It stimulates him enough to fuck you just as hard, imprinting the lines of the wood onto your back. 

Not so bare anymore. 

You could never be an empty canvas. Not with him. 

Not when you care for him in the midst of the pleasure. 

“Jungkook, ah, you’re go-gonna catch a cold.” 

He kisses you for it, terribly touched. “But it feels so good.” A languid stroke, the squelching of your pussy; he rolls his eyes back, sucking in a breath. “Come for me and I’ll get you inside.” 

He picks up the pace, seizing your pleasure. But then you start moving your hips up and down and he feels you fill up every dent in his heart with each movement, each moan, each squeeze of your walls. And when you make yourself come on his cock, he considers himself strong enough to tell you all about it later. 

Carrying you inside while hiding your head from the rain in the crook of his neck, he takes you up to his room and sets you down like the princess you are underneath the ivory canopy above his bed. Senses your irises digging little pursed pecks into his back as he rummages in his dresser, fishing out a pink bottle of lube and a dildo. Smaller than his length, but almost the same as his girth. Skin-like. With balls attached. 

He’s smirking as he swivels, joy evident on his face. He’s eager to watch you ride it and your two lighthouses for eyes divulge to him just as how excited you are yourself. 

You spread your feet for him once he’s an inch away from you, smiling from ear to ear. “Fuck me with it,” you purr, wrapping your legs around his torso. 

Even the most solemn man in the world wouldn’t be able to not grin at this moment. Too bad he wouldn’t let him near you. His heart pounds, aches to say no to you, but he simply wants to watch you ride it. 

“No, sweetheart. I want to watch.” 

You frown. “But you haven’t cummed yet.” 

He caresses your small pout and you kiss his thumb. His smile widens. “That’s okay.” He might be throbbing, but watching you bounce on a silicone dick will bring him a great deal of pleasure, nonetheless. 

“Then, touch yourself for me.” 

He hums, his heart lodged in his throat. The turning of tables must be in the script to this movie that he considers his life shared with you. And he likes it more than he’s able to comprehend amidst his intense arousal. 

“You have to ride it well, then.” 

You suck on his thumb momentarily, a smirk quirking your lips. “I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you will.” 

Pecking you shortly, he squirts a ton of lube on the dildo and all around your princess parts, rubbing your clit to tease you. The gasp you let out causes him to laugh softly in endearment and then…

Then, he leaves you to it. 

Sitting back in his rocking chair, he fists his cock, the leftover lube making a squeaky sound on his skin. You get on your knees, line yourself up and Jungkook tugs down his foreskin for you, allowing you to see the drops of his male essence oozing out. It turns you on to the point that you moan and bite your lip, sinking down on the toy and he’s breathless. 

“Fuck, it’s not as big as you,” you whine, sitting down on it, fully, maintaining eye contact with him. His heart thuds in harsh staccatos. “I barely feel anything.” 

A sly remark about your ex-boyfriend’s length is on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. Doesn’t want to ruin the moment. He’s not a constant presence. Not anymore. So why bring him back? 

And what’s more, you’re lying. Because when you begin to bounce, tentatively, your eyes whisk back and you pinch your nipples, the squelching sound of your pretty little pussy driving him to fuck his fist just once. He knows if he keeps going, he might miss the whole experience, plagued by the shadow of his pleasure. He palms his balls instead, his cock protruding from the crook between his fingers and his thumb. Still wet from you. 

“Harder,” he commands, squeezing his balls when you listen and he hisses, fights with all his strength not to flutter his eyes closed like his body is begging him to. He can’t miss this. It’s too good to miss. He bites down on his lip. 

“Jerk off that cock, please,” you plead, your breasts bouncing and he bites down harder, the fire in him burning off his skin. “It doesn’t feel as good when you don’t.” 

He swears and begins to move his hand, gliding up and down, pressure hard. “Are you imagining it’s me?” 

“Yes, oh my God. I’m riding you and it feels so fucking good, Jungkook.” 

He moans, focusing on his sensitive head. Tips his chin up. Doesn’t break the eye contact. “Good girl. You’re doing so well.” 

The praise gets to you and your fingers sneak to your clit, rubbing fast little circles—and just like that he nears to the edge. Whimpering for you, he fucks his cock harder. Hot flashes surround your flushed face and you mimic his sounds. 

That’s his very fucking undoing. 

Getting on his feet, he paints your breasts and tummy white and you begin to shudder, his orgasm coaxing yours. You pinch your little hard nubs—and it’s almost like you’re milking him dry, spurts after spurts making new tattoos on your torso, white roses to mingle with your red and purplish ones. 

And his woozy brain can’t help but to look forward to see them fade to yellow. 

He kisses you so hard that he doesn’t feel you breathe and when he pulls away, he collects his cum and feeds it to you. Can’t have it go to waste when he knows what he’s planning for you. 

“That was so good,” he whispers, sealing such an intimate moment with another ravenous kiss. 

He doesn’t let you respond—he pins you back. Ass up, face down. Squirts lube all over that deliciousness and when he glances over at the ruined dildo, he whistles. Pearls after pearls of your girlish essence trickle down the length and he shows it to you. Hard all over again. 

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises and your eyes widen in that familiar way he likes, mouth parting, blush deepening. “Stick out your tongue.” You listen, so fucking well, and he plunges the silicone tip inside your mouth, circling it around that willing muscle. “That’s it, lick it up, sweetheart.” 

You look up at him as you do it, making smacking sounds, so terribly fucked out. Jungkook has to grip your hair in order to hold on to the last of his composure, and when you begin to suck on it—he can’t take it anymore. 

He fucks you with it. Fucks you into the mattress. Punishing you for the things you do to him, for the fire that grows hotter and hotter in his veins. And he loves you, dearly, with the entirety of his being, that his fingers cannot physically stay away from your little sopping clit. 

Neither can they when you come and gush out your arousal. Neither can they when he switches the dildo with his cock, raises you in the air and fucks you so hard, whispering little praises and sweet little nothings—“I’m getting you used to taking it from behind, my love. You’re doing so good. You’re so beautiful. So damn pretty.”—that you and he both, completely and wholly, fall apart when you come together. 

He loves you dearly enough that he can’t stop falling apart even in the shower. 

He tells you of the demon living in his chest. 

“When we’re together, I feel you healing me. I feel you giving me chances to live on with my life, do the things I’m scared of or wary of. Like today, when you didn’t believe me when I’d told you you were beautiful. I felt that fear I had in me for years, but saying it to you made it seem like nothing. There used to be a girl I was in love with. Whenever I would tell her things like this, she’d scrunch up her nose. It wasn’t enough for her. Her pride was too big for my words. I kept giving and giving and it was never enough. But when I give to you, you take it and you live with it and I can see it on you. I can see you wear it proudly. I can even see it now. And it’s so beautiful. So healing.” 

You kissed his scars. Kissed his hands. His neck. Washed him clean. Hugged him under the hot downpour of the shower. Reminded him of the way he healed you. Told him all the small details he never knew—and it only proved his words, tightened his love for you. 

He knows from this moment on that you will be the mother of his children. He’s not letting you go. Not until the day he dies. 

And the first shower he shared with you… Jungkook sketched it down that very night as you and him sipped on wine, listening to music. And he brimmed with the longing to bring it onto a canvas. Splatter it with colors. Purples and reds, with tiny hints of yellow that are about to appear on your body. 

And he will. Hang it up in this very cabin. The eternal keepsake of the movie that his life has become. 

It has been several months of living this cinematic life with you. Weekends spent at the cabin, the weekdays spent separately, save for the regular dates. Dinners, trips, sight-seeing. A slow life filled with brand new art supplies, a pile of sketchbooks adorning the walls of his bedrooms. Both at his own apartment and the cabin. And another adornment has come to live with you and him, one of life-long permanency. 

He sealed your exclusive relationship with a matching tattoo. 

“Sweet” lines your left rib whereas “Heart” lines his—right above the mole you’ve come to love so much. Red ink, an illusion to your red roses, the dress you’ve worn for him on several occasions. Visiting him out of the blue in the middle of the week with black lingerie underneath and a trench coat to cover you up. Mindlessly at the cabin one weekend when drinking wine, smoking together on the balcony, listening to the whispers of the willow tree. And once on the last warm day of autumn, during which he paid you back for the way you had pushed him into the water of the pond. Just like he’d done the first time, he tossed you in, joining you right after, fucking you in the dress. He had eternalized it that very night, sitting by an easel. Paintings of you, some of both you and him, hang on the walls of the cabin. In the living room, in the bedroom. Everywhere one looks, one finds the scenes of your movie—and it brings him joy unlike any other. 

Yoongi… he hadn’t called you since that fateful day. You’d made the arrangements to see him after a month or so. Found out he was seeing a therapist. 

Quite literally. 

He’s banging his male therapist.

The information enveloped you in a dimmed glow. You were shocked, first and foremost, because you had no idea Yoongi liked men. Jungkook did, so it wasn’t a surprise to him—what was more of a groundbreaking surprise to him was the fact you didn’t know. That he never cared to tell you. 

And he never pushed it aside. As a matter of fact, he told him off about it the first time he saw him after everything. 

Yoongi cared very little because he considered the chapter finished. A similar light swathed him tautly, one he’d never seen on him, and Jungkook agreed. The chapter is finished. No need to get all hot again. 

Yoongi forgave him. Found love. Found healing. But he didn’t maintain his relations with you. Neither did he with Jungkook.

And while it hurt for a little while, Jungkook figured that maybe it was meant to be like this all along. 

He and you. A singularity. 

The nonexistent gap between the word sweetheart. 

No third party. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[inkdrinkerworld]

hiiii I really love your autistic!reader fics :] I was wondering if you could please do one where r just has an absolutely horrible sensory day, nothing bad happens but just they didn’t sleep and woke up super overstimulated and still had to go through a busy day to the point where they go nonverbal, have a meltdown and need to lock themself away in their room in the dark/quiet for like a day. and then once they feel better and come over, remus (or dealer!remus my beloved) talks about it and comforts them <3 this is super specific lol it just happened to me and my roommates did not notice or care so I’d love to hear what you think remus would do <333

I love all your fics so so dearly thank you for being you and for all your hard work !!!!

I’m sorry they didn’t care! Sending you this Remus fic to make up for it

You’re not sure when this ‘off’ feeling had settled into your body, but now that it has it seems impossible to shake.

You’d woken up and just knew that something was wrong. Something intrinsic to you was off and possibly twisted up and tangled in ways that made it difficult for you to articulate what it was.

Your phone’s alarm was too loud, you could feel the sheets scratching your thighs and you couldn’t take a breath deeper than four seconds long if you tried.

Then you’d gotten into work and gotten even more overstimulated so by the end of your day you’d felt this building nausea swirling all up your throat from your stomach.

You can also feel a migraine coming on and it worsens the nausea.

You might be sick on the train ride home. You were in fact sick on the train ride home- thank god you keep a spare shirt in your bag.

When you got in, Remus wasn’t there- probably still at the dispensary. Which as bad as it sounds was the best option.

You smell like sick, you’re cold sweating, and you can’t stop your tears from falling down your face.

It’s horrible. You feel like you’ve been run over and like your body is fighting you with every step you take.

You’re grateful Remus doesn’t see you like this.

Your shower is hot, to the point of steam curling around you but you didn’t feel a thing.

You’re hardly awake for more than ten minutes, slipping into a pair of underwear and getting under your heavy covers and falling asleep.

“Dovey, hi.” You wake up to Remus stroking your back, his nails blunt and fingers warm as they trail up and down your back.

You shake his hand off, your head throbbing as you turn to look at him.

The nap didn’t help the migraine.

Remus takes a moment to look at your face, eyes assessing as he stares. “Was it a quiet kind of day?” You squeeze his hand and Remus coos.

He lowers his tone, voice smooth and soft like velvet. “I put your clothes in the wash, and I can get you your notepad.”

You shake your head, sitting up a bit and opening your arms to Remus. Your arms drop when you spot his sweater - maybe he’s just come in from work.

He understands immediately, “I’ve showered already, so I’m not in outside clothes.” He assures you before his arms close around you.

Remus is warm in a way you don’t understand. His body constantly furnace-like, and it helps to ground you.

“I had a bad day.” You croak, throat tight as you speak.

“You don’t have to force yourself, dove.”

You shake your head, “I want to tell you,” Remus nods, kissing your neck as you steady yourself. “I woke up feeling really bad, like I couldn’t get anything my body had to do right but I went into work anyway thinking it’d just go away. It didn’t. Then I threw up on the train home and cried and then threw up again, and then came home, showered and slept.”

Remus coos, “I’m sorry today was so awful, sweet girl. Will you be able to take tomorrow off? I’m home all day and we could make a ‘recovery from overstimulation,’ day of it.”

You could cry. You’ve the sweetest boyfriend and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t realize.

“Are you sure?” You gnaw on your lip as Remus pulls back, a tender smile on his face.

“Perks of being your own boss, baby. I set the days. Want me to call your boss?”

You nod, “Please? And we can watch a movie when you’re done?” You’re already shuffling down under the covers as Remus reaches for your phone.

“Course dovey, put on Atlantis and I’ll go get some water and salted crackers.”

As bad as your day had started, it feels lighter now that Remus is here.

[churinzie]

Much Needed Rest. .

SYNOPSIS: wouldn't it be lovely to just finally get the rest you were so deprived of?

CHARACTERS: dan heng x reader　╱　established relationship

A/N: mwah i conjured this up at 11pm cuz i keep seeing my boy sleeping in every single bit of fanart god bless

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

It was an almost cultural shock when Dan Heng had stepped foot off of the Express as soon as Pom Pom had announced that they were making a stop at the Xianzhou Luofu. You initially had no idea why your boyfriend  was acting so weary and suddenly seemed a bit more cautious than usual. But now, after learning everything, you can’t say that you were surprised.

It made sense that someone would be anxious about returning to their home after initially being banished there due to their past life.

Once you were actually aware of what Dan Heng had been through, you simply felt nothing but sympathy and remorse. It was definitely horrible to have been constantly referred to and compared to his past when he wasn’t that same person anymore. You couldn’t imagine how stressful it might’ve been for Dan Heng and..

Wait, has he even slept properly?

Dan Heng hadn’t slept not once when he returned to the Express. In his new form, appearing to be as irritated and bothered as ever. Which definitely sent alarm bells ringing inside your body as soon as you took a peek at his simmering teal eyes that seemingly glowed a lot brighter than usual as he spoke to Mr. Yang. You just assumed that his eyes were in fact glowing. Taking a closer look, you realized that there was the slightest hint of dark circles appearing underneath your boyfriend’s eyes. No one else seemed to notice it though. Was it just you being a bit too observant? You didn’t know but what you did know was that Dan Heng seemed to just be a bit drowsy. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, you could sense it from a mile away.

However, just how in the world were you supposed to get a vidyadhara in bed? A vidyadhara that barely slept in the first place much less?

It was a difficult mission but you knew that it had to be done eventually so why not start now as soon as everyone else was asleep as well? It couldn’t hurt to try. Unfortunately, Dan Heng wasn’t too on board with the way that you kept intensely staring at his face as if you were scrutinizing him in a way throughout the entire day of him coming back to the Express. He couldn’t exactly help it when on the Luofu, the first thing that people did once they gave him a good look was to either be scared of him or try to kill him.

So, it was very understandable why he was a bit weary but he couldn’t be too irritated. He was dating you after all. He knew better than anyone that you had no malicious intent towards him. But what he really didn’t expect was for you to appear on the other side of the Archive’s closed door in the middle of the night. Dan Heng had mentally decided that he’d only appear in this form at night just so nothing would feel suppressed and so he could, unfortunately, get used to it.

A knock, followed by another one, and then a few others soon followed before he mentally facepalmed. He found the relentless sounds a bit tedious in the dead of the night. “Enter,” Dan Heng had soon said, watching the door open to reveal your half awake form on the other side. He should’ve known that it was you and not March after all. March probably would’ve had a way more annoying announcement of her presence.

No matter how annoyed he probably (most likely) seemed, he enjoyed the visit and couldn’t hide just how softer and quieter his tone had gotten.

“Did you need something?” It was nothing but a soft murmur that had left from his lips as soon as the door had closed behind you.

“A certain someone looked a bit too tired as soon as he returned,” You said, albeit slightly accusatory, as one of your hands came up as a half hearted attempt at rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Rooming with March was quite the adventurous idea to say the least. She wasn’t a light sleeper by any means but she snores. Heavily.

The accusation only earned a blank look from your boyfriend that soon became a look of something unidentifiable as one of his eyebrows lifted once he fully took in the words. Dan Heng was trying his hardest not to fall into the trap (that honestly sounded amazing in his mind) but he couldn’t help how exhausted his body felt. He turned his back towards you as his skilled hands turned through pages of a book that he was definitely not reading anymore. He had an even better distraction now. “Is that why you were staring me down throughout the entire day? Which was a bit. . concerning from my perspective by the way.”

“Precisely. You need actual sleep instead of just these small power naps.” You shot back almost immediately as Dan Heng swiftly glanced over his shoulder towards you silently for a moment, his longer hair moving in sync with the head turn.

“I feel as though you have an ulterior motive with this.” He accused this time around. But, you knew that he wasn’t upset by any means. If anything, this was just his way of playing along. However your eyes kept staring slightly at the dark circles under your boyfriend’s eyes.

“And so what if I do? I see nothing wrong with rooming with you instead of March for the night. Besides,” You trailed off as you took a couple steps closer towards Dan Heng, his gaze unwavering but still appeared to be softer the closer you had gotten. Now, your tired eyes can finally take a good look at him. You more so became a bit close towards his back so you could be face to face.

“Just who are you to deny me anything without you eventually giving in?” You finished saying but this time in a quieter tone. That earned a slight chuckle and smile to emit from him.

“I suppose I have no choice but to indulge, do I?” He said, only in amusement this time. However the more he spoke, he definitely had a more of a drowsy tone than earlier when he spoke. All of this distracting was actually making his system realize just how much sleep he wanted— no, needed is the better word to use.

You only nodded and slowly slipped the book out of Dan Heng’s hands, closing it and putting it down on a nearby desk before taking one of his hands and practically dragging him towards the bed. It was big enough, surely it could fit both of you. Meanwhile, Dan Heng was still reeling about how he basically agreed to something as intimate as this. He had never done something even remotely close to this before you came into his life so it made just a small hint of blush appear on his otherwise stoic face.

The idea of cuddling in the beautiful night sky— or well, space felt a bit too romantic for him but if it made you happy then Dan Heng wouldn’t fully disagree with it. He would be okay with it. So when you had laid down first, he didn’t hesitate to accompany you right beside you. Dan Heng couldn’t deny how odd and awkward this was a first. You took the lead and eventually sought him out and brought him closer and into your arms, which you tell that surprised him heavily from how his breath hitched in your ear. Both of your legs tangling themselves with Dan Hen’s legs. It was awkward at first but, after a bit of shifting around, a comfortable position and spot was found for the both of you.

“Tense,” You noted out loud. He practically side eyed you with a half hearted attempt of relaxing his tense body and soon genuinely sinking into your embrace and returning it. Dan Heng buried his face into your chest and wrapped his arms around your lower half tightly just so you wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t dare let you leave when he had just become comfortable. It would crush him. “This better?” He muttered quietly. To which you responded with a small nod and a happy hum.

You could feel the earlier drowsiness overtaking your body and, without thinking much, one of your hands came up to the top of Dan Heng’s head. Your fingers slowly carding through the longer black hair, deliberately avoiding his horns to not cause any discomfort. This repeated motion felt as if you were petting him a sense and, unfortunately, Dan Heng loved it. He huffed quietly as he, unfortunately, felt himself leaning into the touch. He had never been like this before so this was definitely a new one for him but he couldn’t help the way that a content noise emitted from him.

The noise that followed soon after was nothing short of a quiet and embarrassed purr.

“Did you just—”

“Let’s not talk about it.” He immediately interrupted and you didn’t even have to completely look at him to know that he was definitely embarrassed and wouldn’t be looking at you any time soon to save his pride. You just dismissively shook your head but otherwise continued to seemingly pet your boyfriend. You could feel his body relaxing even further in your hold and that just made you even more drowsy. You yawned quietly which alerted Dan Heng that you were in the same boat as him. He subconsciously snuggled a bit closer and all of a sudden you felt a weird long and scaly thing wrapping around your waist.

One glance down and you realized that weird sensation that you were feeling was due to the teal and slightly translucent dragon tail that was connected to Dan Heng. You didn’t mind it though but it did spook you at first since it had happened with no warning. Besides, you were too tired to object to it even if you truly wanted to. You just closed your eyes and eventually, your movements came to a halt as your body practically went lax and your breathing had evened out. You were asleep while Dan Heng was still slightly awake. He noticed it immediately and took a small glance towards your sleeping face, ultimately deciding to be a bit brave for this small gesture, and leaned in to press the tiniest but softest kiss upon your forehead. It was as if he was silently saying “Goodnight.” since he hadn’t had the chance to before you fell into dreamland.

After doing that, Dan Heng felt a bit more comfortable with trying to fall asleep now. His head was still filled with an onslaught of swarming thoughts and anxieties but maybe, just maybe, he could put his worries aside for now and just allow himself this one time chance of freedom. He felt relieved when he finally fell asleep.

Dan Heng would have to definitely thank you for your constant insistence. He really needed it. And, most importantly, he needed you.

thank you for reading <3 have a good day, reblogs & comments are much appreciated !

© churinzie 2024. ノ all rights reserved

[kanencrow]

The Father who Stepped up - Shauna Shipman | One Shot

Summary: When Shauna gives birth to her baby boy, she finds herself designating you as 'the father who stepped up' after she experiences first-hand how nurturing you are to something so innocent and defenseless. It helps her simultaneously come to terms with the fact that she's a mother, and it also allows her to realize that she's actually kind of into you, too.

Warnings: Swearing, Suggestive Themes, Descriptions of Cannibalism, Talks of Jackie’s Death.

A/N: All characters are 18+ by default, and the reader is gender neutral (no pronouns were used). I'm tempted to do a part two that consists of more domestic stuff amongst you and Shauna because I don't think I added as much I could've in this one shot, but I'm not sure if anyone would want that, so let me know in my inbox!

Word Count: 10000+

It’s like clockwork for Shauna.

She wakes up every single night, at a time where the sun is completely gone, and the room she’s been cooped up in after giving birth is pitch black. Even the illumination of the moon doesn’t peek through the window, and so it only makes it more difficult for her to function when the almost habitual crying of her son sounds off the moment she preemptively wakes up. It’s gotten to a point where her body naturally rouses a few minutes before the baby starts to fuss – like it just knows that her time for sleep is going to get interrupted. It only makes her all the more frustrated and sad, because she values her rest, and she feels that no one wants to take the time to help her care for him.

Shauna’s sleep deprived and grumpy, even as she gathers her aching body and slowly gets up from the bed she’s practically been rotting on for the past few days. Bearing a child with a body that was weak from malnutrition and lack of water was far worse than any traumatic thing she had gone through in the past. So she can’t help the way she groans and whines while she walks over to the makeshift crib you and Van had put together using sticks, leaves, and rocks. It was a nice gift from the two of you, since it gave her a place to put the baby, just so there wasn’t that worry of rolling on top of him while she slept in bed. 

And sure, it made her have to get up more than she wanted, but the thought of losing her son because she wasn’t careful was something that didn’t sit right in her chest. She’d been meaning to thank you and Van for the thoughtfulness, but both of you had been so busy with chores around the cabin – and she could barely walk as is – so it just made the entire task all the more difficult. But with the way neither one of you looked expectant in receiving that form of appreciation, there was a part of her that didn’t find herself rushing in trying to convey how she felt towards the gesture. 

Using it was thanks in itself, right?

She expected the baby to start crying the moment she made it to said crib, but all she got as she rested her hands at the edge of the makeshift bed was complete and utter radio silence. She couldn’t ignore the way her heart jumps to her throat, a rush of anxiety coursing through her like a lightning bolt as the thought of him being dead enters her mind, and when she reaches down into the cradle – only to feel nothing but the blanket she laid out for him – it only forces her worry to skyrocket. Maybe she’s dreaming again, having some sort of nightmare about her boy dying, but she can feel the blanket – the soft fleece against her fingertips, so she knows she’s not asleep.

So, of course, that makes Shauna wonder. Where the fuck is her baby? 

There’s that flash of an image that courses through her mind – a reminder of one of the night terrors she had in regards to her baby boy just a couple days ago. How she heard his screams and his cries, only to find him being used as everyone’s form of satiation. She remembers their blood smeared faces and red teeth as they chewed and chewed and chewed–

“Shauna?” 

It’s like a bullet shoots through her back the moment she hears the softness of your voice fill the otherwise silent air of the cabin. It’s muffled at first, like she’s stuck in a bubble, but then her brain fully snaps out of the weird stupor she found herself in – the one full of fear and anxiety and distrust – and that’s when she suddenly recognizes the incoherent coo of her baby. You took him, she thinks to herself, and there’s a subtle emotion of anger and discontent towards that fact, but she also knows you – even if you haven’t talked to her nearly as much as the others have. Though even then, she knows that you wouldn’t do any of what her mind previously conjured up through dreams and intrusive thoughts. 

That’s all it is. Her mind. Playing tricks on her.

Because you’re kind, you’re careful – gentle – and, even if she didn’t think so when she first woke up, you’re sure as hell one of the only people who’s put in a valiant effort in trying to help her. Both throughout her pregnancy, and even now. Unlike Lottie, who acted like the biological father and insisted that her own child was some sort of incoming prophet, that he was going to change everything. But then you just stuck around, acting as some sort of safety net for her when she needed someone or something to fall back on. Because after losing Jackie, everything felt broken, like a train had gone off the rails and there was no way of pushing it back on track. 

But then you wiggled your way in, through soft words and empathetic or sympathetic glances, and she found herself letting you step through the tiny door of her heart. Because even though the thought of anyone seeing her as weak or incapable of taking care of herself made her want to recoil and die, she couldn’t deny that she needed it, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted you of all people to help her. And maybe that didn’t entirely sit well in her stomach for a good while – or even now, for that matter. That feeling of distrust towards everyone weighed her down, but you were insistent – in a good way, and so she found herself slowly getting over her own fear for the sake of eventually letting you in.

So she should have known you had taken him.

She forgot. 

She could only blame that on her fatigue. 

By the time Shauna turned around to look at you, the baby emitted a quiet coo, as his tiny hands reached up and grabbed at your fingers that you blindly wiggled down at him with your free limb. You were cradling him with your left arm, his head propped up by your bicep as he kicked his feet in the form of a stretch, but you were far more focused on the brunette before you, who looked completely distracted. It was hard to see her, but with the moon having peeked out from behind the trees it was once hiding behind, there was a slight glow on her face, which allowed you to take in the way she stood frozen in her stance and just… stared at you and her kid. 

The little baby in your arms was none the wiser, clearly in his element and content with using your fingers as his own personal form of entertainment. It helped you focus entirely on Shauna, though, when you tilted your head to the side slightly and spoke up, letting your voice break through the long-standing silence that almost suffocated the air. “You okay?” It was a simple question, but it held meaning, an intention, with the way your tone portrayed a genuineness to it. You were curious – maybe concerned, she wasn’t sure, but when you stepped forward slightly, trying to act as a form of comfort, it helped her confirm the fact that you weren’t putting on a facade, just to make her feel like she mattered. 

You actually do think she matters. 

She realized that, even with how slow her mind was being. 

“I was looking for him,” Shauna managed to utter. The response was sudden, and it almost made you flinch with how she didn’t really try to whisper amongst the two of you. But you weren’t offended, or mad for that matter. Just surprised, if not a little endeared by her lack of thoughtfulness. Because you know she’s tired, and you know that if she was wide awake, she probably would have actually put in an effort in keeping her voice down for the sake of not waking anyone up, or rousing the boy in your arms into a state of panic. But luckily, he’s clueless, stuck in his own little world that consisted of him holding your fingers like they were joysticks to an atari. 

“He’s right here,” you quietly assured, after a moment, as you settled your palm against his tiny belly and allowed him to lift your fingers up and down. He was so small, only about a week old, but for such a young little guy, he had been pretty responsive. “I noticed that you haven’t been getting any sleep ever since he came into the world,” you added on, shrugging your shoulders subtly, while Shauna shifted her eyes away from your own to stare down at the baby boy, who struggled to stay awake, as you bounced him slightly in your arms. His eyelids fluttered, and his stubby legs stretched out to hang off either side of your forearm, while you let out the softest huff you could muster, and continued. “I couldn’t sleep tonight, so I wanted to help.” 

Shauna hears your words, and she quickly takes them to heart, which causes her brow to furrow in thought, before she lifts her brown eyes away from her son to look up at you instead. “You didn’t have to do that,” she told you, as though she were almost scolding you. But you could only shrug her off with a shake of your head, knowing that she was just saying that to make herself seem stronger. Which – she was strong – but she also didn’t have to be. 

Not for this, at least. 

“I wanted to,” you quietly mumbled, as you stepped closer to her and sent her a small smile through the darkness of the room. You weren’t even sure if she could see the expression on your face, but you didn’t seem to find it in you to care, when you maneuvered past her and lowered the already sleeping child back into the crib. It forced Shauna to turn her body and watch you, and as you cradled his head and guided it to rest on the little bump underneath the blanket you were laying him onto, it caused her stomach to unintentionally flutter.

She wasn’t surprised that you were so delicate with the boy. Still, it managed to push her into a state of awe, as you slipped your hands out from underneath his body and stood back up to your full height. Through the darkness, she could see the way you stared down at him, admiring the way he peacefully spread out across the blanket, like a little starfish. And his fingers curling into fists were enough to convey to you that he had fully fallen asleep. It meant that your work in helping Shauna rest was done, and as you nodded to yourself and stepped back from the crib to silently make your leave, the brunette ended up reaching out and grabbing a hold of your wrist. 

It was surprising to her that you were thinking of leaving without saying anything, but after spending so many months with you in the wilderness, she guessed that she couldn’t be shocked. You’ve always been quiet, always kept to yourself and spoke to others only when they would speak to you. But that was a while back. Now you seemed a little more outgoing, but there was still a subtle shyness to you. Especially with the way you tensed slightly at her touch, and slowly turned around to look at her, as though you thought you were in trouble. However, you weren’t, and you seemed to recognize that when her fingers tightened slightly to squeeze your joint.

“Thank you,” Shauna stated, “really.”

You replied back with a simple nod and a sheepish smile. And that was when she let go of your wrist and allowed you to take a few steps towards the door and exit the room. And even then, you were as quiet as a mouse and mindful of the resting boy in the crib, and she couldn’t help but feel a certain type of way about you in turn.

It was a good feeling, though.

—————————————————————————

It was the crackling of the fireplace that acted as a form of ambiance to your mind, as you reclined along the window-side seat and stared out through the pane of glass. Your legs remained stretched out in front of you, socked feet moving mindlessly back and forth, while the incoherent murmurs of your teammates sounded off throughout the rest of the cabin, accompanying the resonation of wood crackling under intense heat. Snow fell from outside, coating the ground in even more of the white powder that had been nothing but unforgiving for the past two months, and you couldn’t help but wish for spring to come soon because of it.

There was a feeling that settled inside of your chest – intuition – that told you it was going to eventually melt away. Considering how often the sun had come out as of recent, it made sense. But for now, it was still cold, and you were more than happy to stay inside and admire the outer world from the comfort of the building you’ve been living in. Especially after spending the majority of the day doing chores, chopping wood that you took from the meat shed or shoveling the porch with the intention of keeping you and everyone else from being snowed in. Again. 

Your cheeks felt frozen by the time you stepped back inside of the cabin, but at least the fireplace was roaring with life, and at least Misty was there to give you a hot cup of water. She always made sure to do her part, and whether it was by helping or speaking up to give some sort of logical statement towards a certain idea or discussion, you appreciated her… quirks and all. And, sure, you would have definitely preferred hot chocolate or tea when she did gift you the treat, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and so you found yourself feeling thankful either way. 

“My god, can you just stop squirming, please?” 

Mari’s voice managed to break out amongst the rest of the softer sounds that echoed throughout the cabin, and just from the frustration in her voice, you could tell that she was the one who had been tasked with taking care of the baby. Even after months of him being alive, Shauna still hadn’t named him, and a part of you was convinced she never would, with how her features always shifted into an expression of melancholy and deep, intense thought whenever she scrutinized the face of her child. You could understand that she was still trying to come to terms with the fact that she was a mom, and although you kept a respectful distance – not wanting to push anything or cross a boundary, you did want to help.

You had, in ways that consisted of making sure he didn’t keep her up at night with his crying. You were more than willing to deprive yourself of sleep for the sake of Shauna having her beauty rest, and it wasn’t like the little dude disliked you or anything. He always seemed happy to be in your arms when you paid him a late night visit and moved out of the brunette’s room to go and sit by the window bench. That spot always gave you front row seats to the moon and the way it shined through to act as his personal nightlight, and you cherished the moment, all while you slowly rocked him back to sleep with his head against your chest. But that was really the extent of your aid, other than feeding him or keeping an eye on him when no one else could. 

But you did find yourself curious as to what Mari was doing. Especially with the way she huffed and puffed about the baby boy and his desire to wiggle like that of a worm. The thought of him giving her a hard time made you sneakily smirk to yourself as you swung your legs off the bench, and the moment you turned your body to look towards the kitchen, you stood up to your full height, all while your eyes caught sight of the girl trying to put a – poorly made – knitted hat on his head. You weren’t sure who made it, but it certainly didn’t look like something someone would wear. And if they did… they sure as hell wouldn’t be able to make it look good. 

Even if it was on someone as cute as Shauna’s son.

He was sitting on the table, and with the way he let out a little whine and grumpily swung his arms up and down, you could tell that he didn't want the hat on his head. But Mari was incessant, muttering something about how it’ll keep him warm, and you could only roll your eyes, as you walked towards the kitchen and scrutinized the scene with an intention of saving the little boy from the girl’s control. Which seemed to go as well as it could, when she eventually lifted her focus away from him and looked at you instead, noticing your presence the moment the floor creaked beneath your feet. It didn’t take her long to let out a huff, before she picked up the baby by his waist and held him out to you as though he was some sort of toy. 

“Here, take him,” Mari grumbled, “I can’t deal with it anymore.” Her patience was practically nonexistent, which wasn’t something you were ignorant to. You remembered the time where she almost strangled Travis because he wouldn’t stop complaining the first week you and everyone else crash-landed in the middle of the forest, so it wasn’t surprising that she was experiencing it in the current moment. Granted, you couldn’t necessarily blame her, but maybe she wasn’t the best person to rely on when it came to babysitting Shauna’s kid. 

So, you were swift in reaching up and pulling the boy into the comfort of your arms, before you settled him onto your hip, and when he immediately rested his head onto your shoulder and tightened his fingers to ball up the fabric of your Wiskayok Yellowjackets hoodie, you felt your heart swell in your chest, discreetly relishing in the way he seemed so comfortable with you. Mari even seemed to don an expression of surprise herself – with a mixture of jealousy – too, when her eyes glanced down to look at the boy, who made a point to direct his attention somewhere else, as though he was holding a grudge against the girl in front of you. 

Like mother, like son, you think.

It was kind of an amusing sight, and you found yourself huffing lightheartedly, as you cradled his butt with your limbs and spoke up. “I don’t think that hat fits him, by the way.” You gave her a teasing look, only to glance down at the child in your hold for the sake of making sure he was okay. And he was, with the way his eyes were now closed, all while he breathed contently against your collarbone and continued to grip the fabric of your hoodie like a lifeline. 

“He was just being difficult,” Mari mumbled, seemingly ignoring your statement and deeming it as incorrect, while she folded her arms over her chest and moved her eyes down to look at the boy, too. “It would’ve fit if he just stopped moving.” 

You found yourself humming at her words, but the sound was entirely mindless, “Whatever you say.” It wasn’t long before you turned your head away from her and took a moment to glance around the vicinity of the cramped cabin. There was an intent in the action, and when you didn’t find who you were subconsciously looking for, you allowed your eyes to fall back onto Mari, while you sent her a look of wonder. “Do you know where Shauna is?”

“Why?” Mari uttered, a certain glint of… something you couldn’t entirely decrypt suddenly forming in her brown eyes, but when the corner of her lip curled up into a smirk, it gave you the slightest inkling that she was finding your question comical. “Miss her?” And you came out to be correct, which made you immediately scoff at her question, and it only caused that small smile to break out into a grin on her cheeks, “What? Don’t act like you haven’t been trying to worm your way into her heart,” she said, “you’re almost worse than Lottie. With her whole ‘our baby’ thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just trying to help her out,” you stated, as you bashfully lowered your eyes, pretending to be occupied with the baby in your arms, who continued to rest comfortably within them. “It’s not easy being a single mom, and I don’t think Lottie’s whole ‘your baby is the key to make the wilderness happy’ bit is really helpful, either,” you added on, as heat rose to your cheeks at the distant thought of being perceived as some sort of lap dog for Shauna. And, granted, your valiant effort to defend her definitely didn’t help your case, but you couldn’t help it, considering the fact that Lottie had been a little… off ever since the baby boy was born. 

You weren’t unaware of the way she would just stare at you whenever you carried Shauna’s son. It was hard to understand if she was jealous of the sight, or if she had something on her mind and simply didn’t know how to address it. But maybe you were also overthinking it, and honestly, you couldn’t – and didn’t necessarily want to – bring yourself to think about it in the current moment, which caused you to quietly clear your throat, before you stepped back and gently hoisted the boy in your arms up to rest more comfortably on your hip. “Where’s Shauna?” you questioned again.

“I don’t know.” Mari shrugged, “Not here, clearly.”

Always the smartass, you thought to yourself, before you rolled your eyes and let out a heavy breath. It wasn’t long before you turned around and walked away from Mari, successfully deeming her as the most unhelpful person in the group, and you ultimately decided to search for Shauna on your own. The only place you could think she would be was the single bedroom within the cabin, and so you found yourself padding in that direction unconsciously, which caused the boy in your arms to tighten his grip on your hoodie, due to your movement. You weren’t even sure if she was going to be in there, but it was the only idea you had when it came to where she might have been, and so you went with the idea, secretly hoping you’d come out to be right. 

The murmurs of the rest of the group ended up disappearing by the time you eventually turned the corner and made it to the door, and when you noticed it slightly ajar, you didn't think anything of it, as you pressed on and pushed it open. It creaked, signifying its age, and you winced, as you glanced down at the baby in your arms, hoping that the high-pitch resonation didn’t stir him from his slumber. You were thankful, though, when all you received in return was a tiny grunt from him that portrayed his unconscious state, and it quelled the worry of possibly waking him up. His features were still relaxed, stuck deep in dreamland while he slightly drooled on your hoodie, and with a small smile at the sight, you lifted your head up to look forward.

You immediately froze in your place when your eyes fell onto Shauna.

The last thing you expected to see was her back, which was covered in nothing but the strap of her charcoal-colored bra and showing off her pallid skin-tone that was complimented by the few freckles that adorned it. They scattered across the expanse of her flesh like stars in the sky, and your pupils naturally flickered back and forth to admire each one. It felt like you had been punched in the gut, with the way your breath silently hitched in your throat, and a weight of something you couldn’t describe settled within your stomach. It wasn’t a negative feeling by any means, but you couldn’t deny the way you felt like some sort of pervert for having waltzed in without so much as knocking. 

You found yourself regretting your actions, though there was no way for you to rewind time or pretend like you had never stepped into the room to begin with. Especially when Shauna seemingly sensed your presence, as though she had some sort of sixth sense, and slowly turned her head to glance over her shoulder, peering at you with a form of curiosity in her brown eyes. You stood there, all the while, probably looking like an idiot, with the way you stared at her with a wide gaze and held her child in your arms stiffly. But you couldn’t find it in you to consciously assess how odd you might have come across. All you could do was stutter out some sort of apology, as you parted your lips and felt your stomach leap to your throat. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to just – uh…” 

Your voice trailed, and there was a certain air to Shauna’s demeanor that kept you from continuing, when you saw the ghost of an endeared smile fall onto her lips, before she turned back around and reached down to grab an old black band t-shirt that was tattered and had clearly seen better days. You remained idle in your spot, standing in front of the door as though you were a deer stuck in a pair of headlights, and as you dumbly watched the brunette pull the top over her head and allow it to fall down to cover her torso, there was a subtle feeling of disappointment that filled your chest. 

But you attempted to ignore it, while you swallowed and waited for her to reply. 

“Knocking exists, you know,” she uttered quietly, as she slowly turned around to completely face you, and lowered herself to sit down on the bed she had originally grabbed her shirt from. There was a subtle tone of lightheartedness in her voice, but you still felt embarrassment fill your body, as she gave you a tired, teasing look with her brown eyes and tilted her head to the side slightly. She clearly wasn’t offended by your intrusion, much to your own surprise, and that was when you found the ability to move your legs again, when you took a short step forward and bowed your head apologetically. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, “I should’ve…” 

Shauna shook her head and shrugged, “It’s fine.” 

You decided to keep your lips tightly wound after her response, pressing them together tightly, and you treaded carefully as you sluggishly walked further into the room. Your legs kicked out slightly as you moved, and your eyes flickered around to take in the vicinity that you had found yourself in far more than you probably should have. Ever the conversationalists, neither one of you knew what to say next. Should you have said, ‘hey, here’s your baby,’ as though you were some pizza delivery person? That probably wouldn’t have been a good idea, considering he wasn’t food. But you didn’t know what else to do, except sit down beside her and silently hand her the child…

But even then, that didn’t feel right.

“Is he sleeping?” 

Shauna’s question broke through your muddled thoughts, and you found yourself immediately letting out a quiet breath of relief in turn, which was something you hoped she didn’t hear. When your eyes moved away from a random wall inside the room to meet her brown ones again, it didn’t seem like she picked up on the sound you made, when she simply stared at you with a certain type of earnestness that left you feeling warm inside. Her unwavering gaze after she inquired was enough to create a ball inside of your throat, and you found yourself trying to force it down with a swallow, as you slowly looked back down at the boy in your arms and nodded. 

“Yeah,” you affirmed, “he is.” Your verbal confirmation was the last thing you said, before you eventually made it close to her bed and sat down beside her. The mattress barely dipped with how firm and old it was, but you could still see the way she faintly jostled from the added weight, out of the corner of your eye. You found yourself focusing entirely on her son, though, when you gently maneuvered him in your arms and cradled him like he was a week old again. He was still light, easy to hold without feeling as though your limbs were about to fall off, but his hair had grown in, and it was blond. 

A dirty blond. 

His eyes were brown, though, and his nose looked like it was going to develop into a shape like Shauna’s, the older he got. That cute, slightly imperfect bridge that you always admired whenever you caught sight of the brunette’s side profile. His round face and little lips looked just like hers as well, and you found yourself fascinated and almost amused at how he barely looked like Jeff. Even with the blond hair that hadn’t fully grown in yet and made the little boy look like an old man who was balding. It was surreal, in a way. How the girl beside you had managed to create such a beautiful soul through an ongoing situation that left all of you feeling hopeless and dreadful. 

“I’m sorry.” 

It was the words of Shauna again that tugged you out of your daydream. You found yourself blinking a few times, and when you slowly pulled your eyes away from her son to gaze at her, she was already staring at you, looking into your irises with her brown ones that the baby in your arms carried, too. You had to stop yourself from admiring other parts of her face for the sake of conveying to her that you were listening, and when you mindlessly creased your brow in confusion towards her apology, she took that as her chance to continue, as she scooted closer to you and flickered her focus down towards the child you were holding. 

“I haven’t really been present,” she explained, clarifying herself, with a tone that conveyed shame, “for him.” You glanced down at her mouth for a split second, taking in the way that they were chapped and had dried-up blood on them, which you realized must have been from her anxiously nipping at her lips. Not only that, but it was also the winter, so you weren’t surprised, but even with the sight that didn’t necessarily look pleasant, you still found your stomach fluttering, before you shifted your attention back up to meet her gaze once again. 

You inevitably shook your head, finding your voice, “It’s okay,” you whispered, “I know things have been… hard, for you.” It was difficult to know what to say to help her feel better, but you put in a valiant effort to tread lightly, which seemed to work in your favor, when she slowly deflated and decided to lean closer to you and lower her head against your shoulder. The heavy sigh she let out shortly after was enough to convey that she’d been needing some form of comfort, and although you tensed slightly, you let her have it, as you continued and glanced down at the baby in your arms. “It’s not easy having a kid and then being expected to take care of it after everything that’s happened.”

“I did it to myself,” Shauna mumbled, as she pressed her thigh against yours and mindlessly plucked at the fabric of her t-shirt, “I shouldn’t have meddled with my best friend's love life.” Even with being trapped in the wilderness, there was still a certain air of intelligence in the way she spoke, and you couldn’t help the way the corner of your lip curled up, as you slowly nodded your head in response to her statement. “Now I’m paying for it.” Her tone was dry, ultimately, and you weren't sure if it was because of the fact that she didn’t have it in her to be sad about what happened, or if she was simply angry at herself now, for what she did. 

“At least he doesn’t look like Jeff,” you replied quietly, trying to lighten the mood in your own way, which caused Shauna to scoff dryly, as she pressed her cheek deeper into your shoulder and stared down at the sleeping boy in your arms. “Clearly your genes are stronger.” 

The conversation lulled slightly, but you weren’t surprised, when Shauna silently reached her hand out and wiped her thumb over the corner of her baby’s mouth. Dried spit, you realized, was what she was trying to make disappear, and it reminded you of the little stain you had on your hoodie from his drool, which created an emotion of amusement that fluttered through your chest as you watched her gently tend to her kid. It wasn’t a common occurrence. It was like she was scared to touch him, or hold him, or even be in a room alone with him. But at the same time, she was equally protective. She had mixed feelings, obviously, and you had a feeling as to why that was.

And you didn’t want to bring it up.

But it was nice to see her attentiveness, even if it was something that was short-lived, when she inevitably pulled her hand back from his face, and let it fall onto her lap. “I haven’t even named him,” she suddenly stated, and when you turned your head slightly to look down at her, she pulled her cheek away from your shoulder and sat back up to stare down at the floor between her legs. “I don’t even know how to be a mom,” she added on, and you frowned faintly, before you slowly stood up to your full height and ambled over to the boys’ crib, letting her words drift off into the air, while you settled him against the makeshift bed you and Van created for him, and tucked him under a shirt that acted as a blanket for his small body.

“No one does at first,” you eventually replied, pulling your hands away from him, before you stepped back from the crib and turned around to look at Shauna, who bounced her knee up and down anxiously, not meeting your gaze. “No one gives you a rule book on how to be a parent, Shauna,” you reminded her, “it’s not easy… but that’s why we’re here–” 

“You.” 

Shauna’s mumble cut you off, and you paused to scrutinize her, “What?” 

“You’re here,” she said, as she slowly lifted her head up to meet your eyes, “not them.” Your features faintly flinched in surprise, and when you shifted in your stance and shoved your hands into the pockets of your pajama pants that were just as tattered as all your other clothes, she continued. “You’ve been the only one who’s, like… actually helped me ever since I had him,” she explained, “I mean, other than Van, who helped make the crib with you, you’ve been here to take care of him, while I’ve just…” her voice trailed off, and she shrugged her shoulders, clearly at a loss for what else to say. 

“You’ve got other stuff to deal with,” you uttered, trying to defend her from herself. 

But Shauna shook her head, while you slowly trailed back towards the bed and watched her intently. “Like wallowing and resenting my own child who hasn’t done anything to deserve it?” You let out a deep breath when you turned around and lowered yourself to sit down beside her, and as your brow creased into a look of thought, she felt her eyes sting with unshed tears. “I’ve been the worst mom – you’re more of a parent than I am–” 

“Shauna, stop,” you stated, shaking your head, before you looked at her and watched the way she pulled her face out of her hands and sighed shakily, “you’re not a bad mom,” you told her, “I mean… it’s normal to feel like shit after giving birth,” you added on, with the intention of making her feel less guilty, “postpartum depression is a thing, and you’re probably dealing with that on top of… y’know.” Shauna’s brow furrowed at your words, and when she shifted her brown eyes to meet yours, you could tell she was confused by how you knew that, which caused you to quickly clarify, as you shrugged. “I paid attention in health class.”

“Of course you did,” Shauna laughed out, her voice thick with emotion, as she shook her head and smiled sadly at your words. You chuckled quietly in response to her reaction, feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest towards the fact that you made her giggle, but when she sniffled and glanced down to stare at a certain spot on your face, you felt your heart leap to your throat. “How come we never really talked… before all of this?” she questioned suddenly, as her pupils fluttered back up to meet your gaze, not allowing you the chance to truly dwell on the subtle action, “We were on the same team, yet we barely ever spoke to each other.” 

“Was kinda intimidated by you, actually,” you mumbled sheepishly, which caused her to give you an expression of disbelief, clearly unable to understand what might have been so scary about her. And it caused you to shrug your shoulders, as you shyly turned your head away and stared down at your lap, suddenly feeling small. Like you were exposed entirely. “I don’t know… I always wanted to talk to you, but I just… couldn’t?” You pursed your lips and pressed your palms together, and when you intertwined your fingers, you felt your cheeks heat up as you breathed in deeply and confessed through an exhale, “Guess I was just too scared to talk to a girl that I thought was pretty.” 

At your words, Shauna could only stare at you, her brown eyes focusing on the defined features of your side profile and the way you clenched your jaw tightly out of nervousness, as you stared contemplatively at the floor. Your nostrils flared with a breath, and her heart thudded against her ribcage once that only signified the way your words made her feel. It was a random beat at first, but then it happened again, and again, and again. It cemented her feelings – the way you had secretly made her feel over the span of two months hitting her like an unforgiving truck, and it caused her to swallow thickly, as she broke her focus away from your face and gazed down at your hands instead. 

She wasn’t sure what to say, and it was obvious that the silence that ensued wasn’t one that made either one of you feel comfortable. You shifted awkwardly in your spot, your face feeling flush, while Shauna lost herself in her own mind and continued to stare down at your interwoven fingers. It felt as though you were sixteen again, dealing with your first crush and experiencing mental gymnastics when it came to how you were going to confess that you liked the person you had eyes for. And granted, you were older now, but after spending… however many months in the wilderness, it felt like your social skills had vanished, and you were left ignorant again. 

As well as a fool that had no grasp on how to say, ‘I like you’ to a cute girl.

It felt like hours had passed – when in actuality it was a minute, before you eventually cleared your throat awkwardly and lifted your chin to allow your eyes to shift away from the floor and towards Shauna’s instead. Your lips parted, as if to try and say something – or to defend yourself for what you had already stated – but nothing came out. And while the brunette seemed to find herself frozen in the way she continued to gaze down at your tense hands, you studied her expression, noticing how her features were taut with contemplation and something deeper, but indecipherable.

“I’m sorry.” 

You suddenly apologized, without thinking, and when your voice – soft throughout the air – broke through the clouded thoughts of Shauna’s mind, that was when she blinked and jolted back into reality. Her brown eyes snapped up to your face, feeling them sting with unshed tears, and your brow furrowed to express your genuine guilt for making her feel uncomfortable. But she wasn’t uncomfortable. She was just… shocked. And confused. Because she had always been used to being second best, or stuck in the shadow of someone who was deemed as far more important than she ever could be. But even when Jackie was alive and she was actively experiencing the woes of being ‘the sidekick’ and ‘just the best friend,’ you still noticed her.

Still saw her as Shauna Shipman. 

Not Jackie’s best friend.

And it made her angry that you waited so fucking long to say something. 

To give her any sort of idea that you liked her.

Maybe it was the postpartum hormones that made Shauna swell with a mixture of frustration and sadness, or maybe it was just her, and it had nothing to do with the after effects of her giving birth. Either way, you saw a tear slip from the corner of her brown eye, and she could feel the salty droplet and the way it streaked down her cheek in an almost poetically depressing way. It only caused your breath to hitch in your throat, the guilt in your chest increasing drastically, and when you tried to reach your hand up to wipe away the stain, she grabbed your wrist, halting your movement, just as your fingers grazed over the skin of her face. 

“Shit, I’m sorry–” 

Ever the apologist, Shauna cut you off before you could complete your sentence, when she pushed your wrist down to pin it against your lap and suddenly leaned forward to press her lips against your own. The action was done with a swiftness that left your mind reeling and your body tensing as your body leaned back slightly, but when she unconsciously squeezed your joint that she held onto like a lifeline, you snapped out of your shock. The roughness of her mouth – chapped and dry – against your own, wasn’t unwanted. Especially not when you had been wanting to kiss her for the past year and a half. So it only made sense to relax into it, when you breathed out through your nose and allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

You promptly followed her lead, creating a game that consisted of her pushing and you pulling, as your lips parted to slot together like a perfect puzzle piece. Her grip tightened on your joint all the more, and although her fingernails lightly dug into your skin, it wasn’t enough to get you to move away from her. If anything, it urged you closer to her, when you reached up with your free hand and cupped her cheek. Your mouths moved together, quiet sounds of them smacking together intermixing with the soft breaths that the two of you let out, and before you could even realize what was happening, you were being pushed back against the firm mattress, which allowed her to pin your wrist she grasped above your head, while your other palm fell away from her face to rest against your stomach. 

Shauna pulled her lips away from you in that same moment, and when you let out a quiet pant and fluttered your eyes open, she was already looking down at you with a certain emotion in her brown irises. You weren’t sure what it meant, but with how hazy your mind felt, and with how quick your heart thumped inside of your chest, you couldn’t bring yourself to grow concerned. Especially not with the way she loomed over you, and allowed her fingers to finally loosen around your wrist. Your focus shifted in turn, to watch her as she slid them up and over your palm, before they curled between your own and eventually intertwined in a way that felt like a perfect fit.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” you mumbled, after a moment, as your eyes shifted back to meet the brunette’s. But Shauna could only shake her head dismissively, not wanting to talk about feelings, before she leaned down and pressed her lips against yours once again. 

You immediately reciprocated that time, no longer hesitant to succumb to the concept of loving her, and when you happily hummed against her mouth, she felt her stomach flip, as a weight of tension slipped off of her shoulders.

Just like water. 

—————————————————————————

There was something oddly therapeutic about the sounds of a baby giggling. The belly laughs that were infectious and left anyone who heard them grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. That may or may not have been you in the current moment, as you watched as Shauna blew raspberries into her boys’ belly from where he laid on her bed. His arms and legs swung back and forth to signify just how ticklish her actions had made him, and you felt your heart swell with affection towards the two, while you watched her pull herself up to look down at him with an expression on her face that conveyed nothing but admiration and love towards the child. 

She named him Jackson.

Because although she had her own personal qualms about Jackie, the thought of forgetting her like a distant memory wasn’t something Shauna could ever fathom, and you couldn’t blame her for it. You remembered having the conversation with her, shortly after you and her started dating, and you were all for it, because you knew how much she loved her best friend, even if the last time they spoke didn’t end on the best terms. She saw it as a form of an apology, in her own way. And although you didn’t fully understand – not nearly as well as she did – you went along with it, because it was her choice in the end, and there was no way in hell you were going to control what she did. 

Besides, Jackson was a cute name. 

It fit him. 

You snapped back into reality when a little fist smacked against your cheek, and you were quick to jolt back slightly, as you blinked and looked down at Jackson, who clearly wasn’t aware of what he had just done. He was far too focused on Shauna tickling his sides teasingly, and when he let out a high-pitch squeal as she picked him up, you chuckled softly, before your eyes flickered up to look at your girlfriend, who seemed a lot happier than two months ago, when you shared your first kiss with her. There was a certain glow to her. One that radiated from under all the dirt and grime that seemed to stain her face, even after washing it with water at the lake just an hour ago, and it made you happy in turn. 

She would never fully heal, you knew that. None of you would, realistically… once you all got out of this mess. But at least she was searching for the good in things now, trying to actively find optimism, rather than the pessimism she had been so used to embodying. And you were well aware that she would always be Shauna. The girl who didn’t get as excited over the things that you or other people would. Or the girl who found far more enjoyment in staying in and reading a book, rather than going out and mingling with people at a party she didn’t truly want to attend. Hell, even now, stuck in the wilderness, she acted like a ghost who occasionally payed the rest of the cabin a visit.  

But it wasn’t a bad thing. 

It would never be a bad thing.

“Hey. Earth to Y/n?” 

You blinked back into reality the moment Shauna’s voice broke through the fog of your mind, and you quickly realized that your eyes had fallen back down without you knowing, which ended in you intensely staring at the spot Jackson had once been laying. All that sat there now was a vacant spot, and it left the brunette feeling slightly worried. Especially with the way your gaze sat unwavering, simply focused down at the sheets, as though they were the most interesting thing in the world to you. It was obvious enough to you that she had put her son down to rest for the remainder of the day, and as you let out a quiet exhale through your nose and flickered your eyes up to meet your girlfriend’s, you rolled over onto your back and raised your brow in silent questioning.

“Hm?” You attempted to play off your daydream with a lackadaisical demeanor, but when Shauna scrunched her features up in both perplexity and concern, you knew you had failed miserably. Her brown eyes practically bored into yours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to avert your gaze, as you watched her move and sit back down on the mattress, before she clasped her hands together, so that they could rest comfortably in her lap, and gave you a certain look. 

“What do you mean, ‘hm’?” she teased lightly with a smirk, as she shook her head in amusement towards your poor ability to play off your bout of distraction. She crossed her legs over the other in that same moment, and when you shrugged your shoulders and sluggishly pushed yourself up into a sitting position, she tilted her head to the side and sent you an expression that conveyed nothing but genuine curiosity. “What were you doing?” she asked, while you stared at her silently, like someone who had been caught doing something they shouldn’t have.

“Just thinkin’,” you admitted, giving her another shrug, as the corners of your lips quirked up faintly. Shauna only rolled her eyes at your simple statement, and when you let out a quiet huff in response, she used your reaction as proof that you were okay.  

Though, even then, your vague explanation gave her the excuse to scoot closer to you, and you found yourself mindlessly leaning into her, as she reached her hand up to cup your cheek. “About what?” She gently rubbed the pad of her calloused thumb over the skin that sat underneath your eye, the touch almost featherlight in the way it felt against you. And you pressed into the feeling, almost melting against the warmth of her palm that cradled the side of your face, which caused her to smile softly in turn, finding satisfaction in how comfortable you were to her affection.

“You,” you eventually replied, before you raised a hand up and curled your fingers around her wrist, “and Jackson.” You gently held the joint in your grasp and turned your head slightly to press your lips against the heel of her palm, “Thinking about how so much has changed. In a good way.” You tugged it away from your face to bring that part of her body down into your lap, and she felt her heart warm, the moment you moved your thumb across the lines that decorated her limb. “I’m happy that you’re both here… that I’m with the two of you,” you mumbled, your voice coming out as a quiet whisper, as you lowered your chin to gaze down at what you were doing. 

Your introspective thoughts about Shauna and Jackson weren’t uncommon, and she knew that, considering the fact that you often found yourself daydreaming when it came to her and her son. How you would stare, and stare, and stare, until she’d eventually notice and snap you out of it with a question. Hell, sometimes your mind buzzed so much to the point where you would wake up in the middle of the night and head outside to sit on the porch. And then you would just… think, about her, or Jackson, or about your teammates that also resided in the cabin. And it was all while you listened to the randomly occurring sounds of owls hooting, or birds flapping their wings and rustling the leaves that they hid within.

“You always have a habit of becoming sappy after we put Jackson to bed,” Shauna uttered suddenly, as she glanced down at your fingers, and watched the way they continued to trace over the lines of her palm. “You know that, right?” You simply shrugged your shoulders, feeling the corner of your lip curve up into a soft, innocent smirk that was entirely mindless, and it caused a quiet huff of endearment to slip from the brunette, before she scooted closer to you – her knee pressing against your thigh – and used her free hand to pinch your chin with her index and thumb, as she slowly tugged your focus up to meet her own once again. 

“I can’t help it,” you replied softly, the moment you met her gaze, smiling a little brighter. The brunette flickered her brown eyes between your own, clearly stuck in a bout of admiration towards the way the color of your irises fit the different contours and features of your face perfectly, and your only form of defense consisted of you shrugging – again – as you pressed your lips together tightly. “It’s not my fault you’re you and he’s him.” It was clear she didn’t know what you meant by those words, with the way her brow faintly creased in reaction to your statement, but she couldn’t bring herself to question you.

She found your form of affection too endearing to try and deconstruct it.

With Shauna still pinching the bottom of your chin, you remained frozen in your spot, staring at her intently and with a certain glint of softness shining in your eyes. “You’re a dork,” she found herself pointing out, and you immediately brightened in reply, when she let out a loving chuckle and tugged you forward slightly, just so she could press her mouth to your own. Her sound of amusement died down the moment the tip of your nose brushed against her own, and when she tipped her head up slightly to graze her lips over your own, her eyelids fluttering, that was when you pushed in and kissed her, making the connection.

There wasn’t a feeling of anxiety or nervousness that filled your chest, as your hand slowly came up to cradle the side of her neck. It wasn’t like the first time you kissed her. Wasn’t a moment full of uncertain movement and uncoordinated positions that left the two of you huffing out embarrassed laughs and flushing with heat. There was intent and fluidity that went into it now, but even if you and her still acted like you had never shared a peck before, you still would have enjoyed the moment either way. But maybe you were also appreciative of the fact that you didn’t feel like you were going to explode anymore, just from feeling her against you.

With the way you were positioned on the bed, it wasn’t difficult for Shauna to shift onto her knees and use one of her hands to press it against your hip bone. Her other limb cradled your face tenderly, her touch possessive but equally gentle, and the moment your back fell against the mattress, and your head was suddenly cradled by the pillow, that was when her lips fell away from you. With a panting breath, your eyes fluttered open and stared up at her to see her own brown irises gazing down at you already, but before you could say anything to her, she was already leaning down – disappearing from your line of vision – to peck the side of your neck.

There was intention in the action, and it made you flush with heat, as she nestled herself between your legs and pressed her palms against your hips to keep herself from falling on top of you. Your eyelids fluttered when you felt the heat of her breath against the skin of your jaw, and as she kissed the line of it, just underneath your ear, your voice broke through the silence, as your head lulled to the side to stare towards the door of the room, which was already closed and providing the two of you with privacy. “What if someone comes in?” you questioned weakly, your voice lacking its usual confidence, as Shauna moved her hand down slightly and slipped her fingers underneath your shirt. 

“Everyone’s outside enjoying the sun,” she mumbled against your flesh, while you tensed up and let out a shaky breath as she smoothed her fingers up your stomach. You ultimately moved past the possibility of anyone barging into the room, even if her words didn’t fully convince you, but when her nails lightly tickled your skin, you couldn’t stop the quiet giggle that slipped from your lips, as your hand shot down to grab her forearm. 

Shauna let out a huff at your action, and you weren’t sure if it was out of annoyance or amusement. But when she nipped at your earlobe with her teeth and curled her fingers to continue lightly grazing her nails over the skin of your belly, you could tell she was simply trying to spur you on in the way you originally reacted. And it seemed to work in her favor, when you tightened your grip on her forearm and let out a quiet grunt that did nothing but convey your displeasure and sensitivity towards her teasing. 

“Shauna,” you groaned quietly, pushing at her limb.

But she didn’t budge, and she only moved her hand to hold your side instead, as she leaned back slightly to gaze down at you, her dilated pupils locking with yours. “What?” she asked, though you knew the question was entirely rhetorical, when you noticed the ghost of a smirk form on her lips, “I’m not doing anything.” Her faux innocence made you roll your eyes, and she chuckled in turn, finding your attitude comical to her, before she hunkered down to kiss the bone of your cheek, as her hand that lingered on your waist suddenly smoothed lower to tease at the waistband of your shorts. 

Her movements still managed to make you squirm, the action ticklish to you, though you also couldn’t deny the way it made your heart speed up, while she watched your expression intently. She searched for any sort of visible response from you, as she hooked her fingers over the elastic, and with the way your eyes flitted to meet her brown ones, it was easy to see the way your features shifted into a look of subtle surprise, the moment you felt the featherlight touch of her fingers graze over the band of your underwear. 

“I’ll go slow–” 

“Guys! Guys!” 

At the sudden voice, which erupted throughout the cabin like an annoying alarm, Shauna’s hand jolted out of your pants as though she had been burned with fire, while you sucked in a sharp breath and snapped your focus towards the door. It opened just as your girlfriend leaned back on her heels with an almost frustrated huff slipping from her lips, and while you propped yourself up onto your elbows, you saw the figure of Van peek through the gap they had created. 

Their eyes were as wide as saucers, and their expression was the brightest you had ever seen since you all became trapped in the wilderness. It made your brow furrow in turn, while the brunette stared at them with an unimpressed expression on her features, clearly unhappy towards the fact that the moment had been ruined between you and her. “What, Van?” 

You snorted quietly at Shauna’s perturbed response, and Van completely ignored it, when they grinned widely and frantically glanced between the two of you with a glint of excitement in their blue eyes. “Nat waved down a fucking helicopter.” Their words were enough to make your face scrunch up in confusion, almost not believing them, and when you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and narrowed your eyes at the goalkeeper, they didn’t even give you the chance to ask what they meant, when they answered the question for you.

“They found us, guys,” Van stated, clarifying themself, “we can finally get out of here.”

This took me way too long to finish.

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Three

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, ptsd/ flashbacks, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, jealousy, scenting, fingering, recollection of non-con trauma (for the plot), alcohol consumption/drunk character, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 6.3k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Sorry this one took a while, been a hell of a week. It's got a lot of angst, so prep yourselves guysss. Ends with smut, ofc. I hope you guys enjoy 🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

<- Previous Next ->

“Y/n. For the love of Christ, you better tell me that the storm held ya up last night.” Jakes voice rings in your ear, waking you up.

Oh shit.

You look to your left to see the first rays of sunlight shining on Ralak’s sleeping, naked body, chest heaving slowly from his unfaltering breaths. Perched on his side, his face sits in his palm, as if he’s fallen asleep partially sitting up. Two fingers still nestled inside you, his facial muscles are slightly tensed, like he’s ready wake up any minute and tend to your every need, just like he’s been doing all night long. 

“Get your ass home. Now.” Jakes irate voice brings you back to reality.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

What were you going to tell Jake? That the storm did keep you up? He’d never believe that. Not for a second. Either way, if you didn’t go now, this man would skin the love of your life. Unmated, in his bed, all before your second iknimaya? He’d try, at least.

“Sst-ah.” you let out a shaky breath, grimacing as you pull his fingers out of you. They’re covered in your cum, so much so that a thick string of slick connects you to his fingers when you pull your pelvis away. You scramble to your feet, wiping yourself up with the already damp cloth next to his bed.

I’ll be back, my love. You think, looking over at him one last time before rushing out of his marui.

On your way to the cave, you try to assess your state. It’s hard to tell, given the fact that your heart is pounding at a speed only an ikran could attain. Anxiety streams through your veins, but otherwise, you feel fairly normal. Maybe a little bit like you did after your first iknimaya, when you passed your dream hunt and had one too many glow worms. But nothing unmanageable.

Guess it’s over.

Finally arriving at the cave, frantic eyes search the body of water for your loincloth. It’s floating at the far end of the lake, so you dive in. As you’re swimming, you catch a whiff of your own scent, mixed with Ralak’s. You bring your arm to your nose and take a deep breath. “Fuck.” you curse under your breath, submerging your entire body in the water, trying to bathe his scent off you.

You knew you scented each other, but you didn’t know that it would linger this long. You scrub your body, paying extra attention to your chest and neck. Time is going faster than you can move. But it’s like the more you scrub, the more you rub it into your skin – into your essence.

“Forget this.” you huff, grabbing your loincloth and swimming back to sand. You wring it out, slip inside and tie the knot hastily. One last look back on his marui pod, and you’re gone like the wind – quick and silent.

The trek back home is nerve-wracking, you feel so uneasy that you could feel something in your throat. A lump. You swallow repeatedly, trying to get rid of it, but it grows a little bigger for every step you take. By the time you’re at your marui door, you feel like you can’t breathe.

Neteyam smells you first, wreaking of a male na’vi, nose scrunching at the odour. He huffs a harsh breath through his nostrils, attempting to rid the lingering scent from of his lungs. He examines your condition – clammy skin with little colour left in it. Eyes trailing up to your face, he could see the fear written all over it, along with something else. Something like –

“Jesus, what the hell were you thinking?!” Jake hisses through clenched teeth.

“D-dad. I-I can explain.” you stutter, throat so tight you can barely speak.

Jake pulls his head back, eyelids blinking furiously. It’s as if the scent quite literally hit him, square in the jaw. With his suspicions confirmed, his lips stretch into a thin line, his go to expression of disapproval. The type that makes your ears lay flat against your skull, and bottom lip jut out.

“I can smell him on you.” Jake brushes past you. “Stay with your brother.”

“Dad, please.” your voice is strained, fighting against the lump in your throat. “Where are you going?”

He stops dead in his tracks, back still turned to you, a hand flying up to his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “To Tonowari, kid. Tsireya will teach you from now on.” He heaves a heavy sigh and walks away.

The anxiety quickly morphs into anger, bubbling in your veins and sizzling your skin. Your short fuse blows. How could he take this away from you? You weren’t a ‘kid’ anymore. You had passed your iknimaya back home, and you’re on the brink of passing it here, too. Despite that, he always treats you like this, like the late bloomer you are. He didn’t even care to know what really happened.

“Not a fucking kid!” you shout after him, only for him to shake his head and continue walking.

“Sis.” Neteyam mutters, gently guiding you into the marui pod by your arm.

You shrug him off, storming past him to dive into your bed, burying your face into your pillow – damp from last night’s tears. It only becomes wetter as your fresh tears stream down your face. You couldn’t help it, you cried whenever you felt overwhelmed with anything. Sadness. Happiness. Anger. Frustration.

The sound of your privacy curtain being drawn back snaps your head up from your pillow. It’s Neteyam, standing over you with a face of concern, a bowl of steamed fish in one hand and a cup of water in the other. He sighs quietly, crouching down to come eye to eye with you. “You were in heat, weren’t you?” He states, already knowing the answer. “You should eat and drink something.” He places the bowl and cup on the floor next to you.

You sit up, supporting your torso with your arms behind your back. Neteyam. The older, caring bother, always looking out for everyone but himself. Of course, he would be the one to care enough to find out what you’ve been through the past day. “Yup. Late bloomer finally got her heat.” you speak of yourself harshly, taking the cup of water and chugging it.

“You smell gross.” he chuckles breathily, nudging the bowl of fish closer to you.

“Thanks, big brother. Appreciate it.” you giggle between cries, nudging it back to him. “Not hungry.”

His arms rest on his knees, braids swaying in his face as he looks behind him before dropping his head. “Agh.” he lifts his head, staring at you for a few seconds, as if he were contemplating something. “You should not have done that. Not before your iknimaya.”

“I didn’t! Nothing... like that happened, Tey. Ralak isn’t like that.” your head hangs low as you utter the words. “He’s... a gentle giant.”

Neteyam scoffs, straightening his spine. “Gentle giant? He looks like he eats na’vi for breakfast.”

“Hey –” you sniffle, glaring up at him, “I like him, Tey. A lot. He’s good for me.”

Neteyam’s features soften. As if hearing your words plucked a string of sympathy in his heart. As much as he wants to help you, he can’t. Not with a direct order from his father. He shakes his head, eyes closed, and brows furrowed.

That’s his way of saying, ‘Sorry. Can’t’.

You sigh, bringing your knees to your chest to hide your face. You can smell Ralak’s scent now that your nose is near your thighs. It fills your lungs with every breath you take. His pheromones. His aphrodisiac. His arousal. He left it all on you, rubbed into your skin so deep it seems to have altered your own scent.

Is this what scenting does?  

Soon you’re breathing heavily, trying to savour what left you have of him – of last night. It makes you heavy in the head, like all the strength has left your body. You feel your face warm up, the heat spreading to the tips of your ears. You’re tired. Defeated.

“Neteyam! Neteyam!” Lo’ak’s faint voice sounds frantic.

You hear Neteyam shuffling to his feet to go and check what his brother is on about. “Stay here, got it?”

“Mhm.” you hum, too tired to even lift your head.

The sound of Lo’ak yanking back your privacy curtain makes you jump out of your skin, nearly knocking over the bowl of steamed fish. You stare up at him wide eyed, to see him motioning over to the door of your marui. Your brows kiss in confusion, unsure of what’s going on.

“Heard you were in... hea-a situation. Just gonna borrow big bro for a second, cool?” he raises his brows, nudging his head towards the door in an emphasized manner.

A smile pulls at your lips once you realize what he’s doing for you. You wipe your puffy eyes with the back of your hand and shuffle to your feet. “I owe you, Lo’.”

Ralak’s POV

Ralak rouses to an empty bed. He sits up quickly, scanning his marui for any sign of you. Nothing. The only thing that remains is your potent scent flooding the room. The only proof that you were ever here. “Oh, y/n.” he groans, head slumping into his hands.

You were gone. Gone like you were never here to begin with. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he tried not to assume the worst. But what if – what if it was the worst? To be used and discarded like an object. All over again. Surely, there’s no way that you would do this to him, not after opening-up to you like that. Not after last night. Not after the words you uttered to one another before going to sleep –

‘I love you’.

But why does it feel the same? The same as that day. The day he was in a marui pod like this one, young, bare skinned and short haired, kneeling before his own karyu. His chest tightens, the walls of his throat closing in on one another. He can feel it creeping up his spine. The flashbacks. The tremors. The nausea. Rushing to his feet, he makes his way over to the shelf well-stocked with bottles of ‘fermented fruit’ – pxir [beer; alcohol].

A poison to many, but an antidote to him.

Dust had settled on the bottles since the last day he reached for them. The day you became his tanhì. That’s why he had never brought you up here, he never wanted you to see the truth. The way he copes with his emotions – bottling them up and then chugging it down when they became just too much.

The bottle opens with a pop, strong, bitter scent wafting up his nose, replacing the scent of you in his lungs. He takes a quick swig, baring his teeth from the sting of it trickling down his throat. “Ahh.” He sighs a breath of relief, feeling the alcohol already taking effect, loosening his chest, and clearing his throat.  

Yet he can still feel the shiver of his spine, and the churn of his stomach.

“Shit.” he curses, taking another swig. Cursing himself for trusting another after he made the vow to never trust again. Another swig. For facing the part of him that he’s denied since he came into adulthood. Another swig. For letting someone in. Another swig. For allowing himself to love you.

Alas, a clear mind and body – rid of the memories of his past.

He readies himself for his bath, something he often did to relax. Just like he did last time you left him.

----

Time is of the essence. With no idea of when Jake will be back, you move quickly. You weave through the webbing of the mangrove roots, ducking and dodging those that jut out. You take a short cut, bouncing over the netting of a cluster of marui pods on the way to Ralak’s.

Eyes guardedly stuck to your feet, you bump into Ka’ani, the man who replaced Ralak’s role as fisherman – faceplanting into his bare chest. Arms instinctively wrapping around you, he holds you close until you regain your balance. Admittedly, he’s a little too close for comfort, his face nestled in the crown of your head. You hear quick, nasally breaths, muffled by your hair.

Is he... sniffing me right now?

You shove him off you, probably a little too rough to be considered friendly, and take a few steps back. “Sorry, Ka’ani.” you mutter, gingerly walking around him.

“No problem, at all.” he smirks, raising his hands and making space for you to leave.   

With a quick shake of your head, you continue making your way to Ralak. The closer you get, the more a giddy smile spreads across your face. Though you were the bearer of bad news, you can’t ignore the flutters in your stomach. The same flutters you had when you first laid eyes on him – the day Eywa herself told you he’s the one.

Your mate.

Your legs move faster, as fast as they can go, until the sand slackens your steps. Silky, fine sand – always the first thing to let you know that you’ve arrived. You can’t help the excitement bubbling from your tummy and up your throat. “Ralak!” you blurt out, eager to find your love.

A tall figure in the distance catches your eye, it looks as if he were going into the cave. You wave your hands above your head, shouting his name as you lope towards him. “Ralak!”

The figure stops, turning around to acknowledge your calls. He stands still for a minute, before walking towards you with a stagger in his step. Tail perking up instantaneously, your hand flies to your bare hip, searching for your medicine pouch. You’re running on the tips of your toes again, concern and worry replacing the flutters low in your belly.

“Wha-t is it?” you shout, voice wavering as you close the distance between your bodies.

You crash into him with a smack, making the typically sturdy giant wobble. Now your ears art alert, perturbed by his odd behaviour. Gently pushing you away, his large hands grip your upper arms, fingertips touching once another. Blue, hazed orbs peer down at you, extra glossy and lidded.

“Are you sick? Wounded?” you question, resisting his gentle pushes to search his body. 

Nostrils flickering above his pursed lips, he leans into your neck. He pulls back with a huff, blowing hot air through his nose, onto your face. Your eyelashes flutter, face of concern quickly morphing into one of confusion.

Everyone is sniffing me today.

Head snapping to the left, his eyes search the webs of the mangrove roots off in the distance. A guttural growl rumbles deep in Ralak’s chest, thinned lips curling over his canines, flashing them before your eyes. You watch in awe as his brows lower, knotting together to turn his eyes beady. Ears flat against his skull, the scent of another na’vi scrunches his nose.

That’s a new look.

“Ralak.” your voice is breathy and small – laced with fright.

His growl grows louder, coming from the pit of his stomach, deep and powerful. Lengthy fingers tightening around your arms, he spins you around and tucks you behind him in one swift move. His name slips off your tongue once more, quick, and unsure. He has one hand perched on the dip of your waist, holding you close behind this towering frame.

“Come out.” he growls gruffly, straightening his spine to present at his full height.

The two words double-knot your stomach, sending you wiggling into the sink of his back, face peeking through the crack of his arm and side. Your eyes flicker from side to side, looking for whatever – whoever he’s talking to. Meanwhile, your fingers grip the band on his loincloth, the only thing available on his body to hold.

Silence.

“Or I make you.” He rasps the warning through his four, pointed fangs.

Perhaps if Ralak wasn’t here the knots in your belly would have tightened by now, to the point where you would feel queasy. But the hiss fizzling from the back of his throat puts your nerves at ease – your body sensing its safety in his presence.

Out comes a brawny, wide na’vi, from behind the large, thick roots of the mangroves. His hands are splayed out, representing something of caution. No – surrender. He approaches Ralak slowly. Warily.

“Sorry, brother. I did not know she was yours.” Ka’ani says impishly.

Jaw snapping open, his hiss comes out full force. It’s loud and thick, almost grating. Much like a roar. Though you knew it wasn’t for you, it shook you up, tugging at the string in your grip as your body jolts forward into his.

“She belongs to no one.” His top lip twitches as he spits the vile words, stinging your heart in the process. Am I not his? What about last night? You think, tightening your grip on the band of his loincloth.

“It looks as if she belongs to you, Tak.” Ka’ani leans to the left, chin jutting out as he tries to catch a glimpse of you. “Look at her, holding on to your –”

“Lewng! [shame]. Tracking her scent.” Ralak hisses, turning his body to hide you from his predatory eyes. “Leave.”

“Ah. Come on now, brot-” He spreads his arms wide, walking around Ralak towards you.

Ralak takes a step forward on his last word, nearly coming chest to chest with the shorter na’vi. A moment of silence passes between the two, as Ralak stares him down with vengeance in his eyes. A hand flies up to his hip, gripping the knife sheathed in its casing. “Now.”

Ka’ani straightens his back, eyes flickering between Ralak and yours that peek from behind him. His hands retract, hovering either side of his head as he retreats. Ralak maintains his position, with a hand keeping you tucked away whilst the other rests on his hip. Once Ka’ani’s figure is no longer visible, Ralak sighs, and turns his heel to make his way back to his much-needed bath.

“Thanks...” you huff, walking close behind him.

“You women and your heats.” he mutters as he walks faster, ripping his loincloth out of your grip.

“Ex-cuse me?” your words bounce as you try to keep up with him. “You have no –”

“Do you understand what would have happened had I not been here? Do not be so reckless.” He tsks, as his feet come to a halt, balling his hands into fists.

“Reckless? All I did was walk here!” you shout, almost bumping into him again.

“Because you left to begin with.” he whispers through clenched teeth.

“What?” the question is breathy, hands perching on your knees to rest.

He turns around quickly, prompting you to stand at full height. Breathing heavily, he presses his warm body against yours, chin tucked into his chest to peer down at you. Instinctively, you perch on the tips of your toes, eyes lidded in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, he brings your wrists up to his nose, heated lips pressing against your supple skin.

“He scented you.” he mumbles quickly, lips pulling into a thin line before letting go and backing away.  

“Why? How? I only bumped into him.” you walk towards him, watching him turn his heel again. “Hey –” you reach out for his arm to pull him back around.

First you leave him this morning, then come back scented by another na’vi. He shrugs you off, hands now fiddling with the knot above the base of his tail as he nears the entrance of the cave. The knot of his loincloth comes undone, heavy, sheathed hunting knife silently making impact with the sand.

“Because he wants everything that’s mine.”

So, I am his. You think, one corner of your mouth curling upwards into a smirk.

“Oh, Ralak.” You stand at the cave’s opening, waiting in silence for a response.

He continues to keep his back turned to you, dips of his clenched glutes on full display. Despite last night, seeing him naked still makes you shy, cheeks turning red and hot from the blood that rushes to them. You watch him hastily put his hair in a sloppy bun as he submerges himself in the water.

“I need to speak with you about this morning” you mumble, eyes locked onto the ripple of his back muscles.

“No need. I understand.” he answers lowly, shimmying over to the bottle of fermented fruit propped on a rock in the cave.

“Understand what? It’s about –”

“You made a mistake. It was your heat. It is fine.” he mutters quickly, taking a swig at the last word.

A mistake? My heat?

The realization hits you, hard. You’d been so out of it, so delirious from your heat you hadn’t given a second thought about his confession. His trauma that he confided in you, in this very cave. It’s like stones in your heart – no, boulders. Weighing it down so heavily that it feels like there’s a pulse in your stomach.

How could you be so cruel? So thoughtless? So insensitive? To not even wake him and utter the words to his face. To allow him to wake up to an empty bed after letting down his walls and being so vulnerable to you. To be so caught up in your own head you couldn’t even bat an eye at the man who helped you through your first heat.

“Oh. Oh, Lak. No. No, it’s nothing like that.” you sputter out a trembling voice, sliding into the water to rush over to him. You rest your hand on his upper back, taking in the warmth of his skin. He feels feverish – hot to the touch.

What is he drinking?

You rub his back gently, bioluminescent freckles dancing from your caresses. Yet, he’s rigid. Cold. Distant. He’s not the Ralak you know, swaying side to side as he brings the lip of the bottle to his mouth.

“Stop, my love.” you coo, sliding your hand up his raised arm as you walk around him.  Pulling the bottle away from his lips, you cautiously place the pxir on a nearby ledge. “Ralak.” you whisper, staring up at him with worried eyes.

The sound of his name falling from your lips tilts his head back ever so slightly, like it pained him to even look at you. Curly, loose stands of hair frame his face, accentuating his angular features. He attempts to fix his mask of indifference to his face, but you can see through it. You see the anguish glossed over his lidded, inebriated eyes.

Ocean blue eyes.  

tw: flashback

His mind is elsewhere, dissociating back to the day of the incident. The night of his iknimaya celebration, where his own karyu cornered him in his family marui, engulfing him with her pheromones. Manipulating him with her heat to take care of her. To touch her.

He can hear the waves crashing into the shore, the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof of the marui, the roll of the thunder – her whispers in his ear, ‘I’ve been waiting too long for this. You are officially a man now. Make your karyu feel better, right here...’.

The smell of her pheromones is suffocating, more potent than any fermented fruit he’s ever had. It frightened him, feeling like he had no self-control. No way to stop his movements, no matter how much he screamed at his body to move, run – anything.

It is what made him vow to never lose control of himself. His composure.

He can feel the heaviness of his body. The lethargy. The way his lungs refused to fill, no matter how hard he tried to breathe. When he woke, he was alone, sitting in the corner in a pool of his own sweat, curled in on himself. His karyu left, to never return. Leaving nothing but the lingering smell of her heated scent behind. 

tw: end of flashback

“My karyu” you hum softly, placing his hand on your chest.

When you first called him that, he almost grimaced. But as time passed, you made the word bearable. You gave it a new meaning, a new feeling. Eventually filling him with eagerness to hear it fall from your flushed lips. In tones of excitement, frustration... pleasure.

You hold his thumb, and give it a squeeze, trying to bring him back from wherever he is. Your heart weighed even heavier, seeing him drift away and detach when he’s right in front of you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Feel me. Feel my heartbeat. Focus on it and come back to me.”

The words echo in his skull, reverberating between the thick bone. He can hear you, feel you. With each thump of your heart, the heaviness of his body lifts, the scent of her fades, the pitter-patter of the storm subdues until nothing, but that thump can be heard. His eyes finally flicker down to yours, ears and brows twitching at the pulse of your heart.

Only a bottle could do that for him. Bring him back. Yet, you did it with the mere sound of your heart.

“I’m sorry, Lak. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was so thoughtless. I’m sorry... that happened to you.” the words are shaky, flowing over your quivering bottom lip. “I would never. Ever. Ever. Ever –” you blubber, shaking your head, “Ever, do that to you. I-I had to leave because of my father. He’s punishing me. Forbidding me from seeing you. Having Tsireya teach me instead. I should have woken you.”

Another arm snakes around his waist, bringing him in closer to you. You slump your head into his chest, letting the tears flow and stain his skin. “I don’t regret a thing. I meant everything I said. I-I see you, Ralak” you sputter, breath hitching from the crying.

“Tanhì” he croaks, kissing the crown of your head as he wraps his arms around you to hold you closer.   

“I love you” The three words are said in unison as you cling onto one another.

Alcohol still coursing through his veins, Ralak’s heavy body slumps into you, slowly shifting you both against the cave wall. He presses your back against the rocky surface, unwrapping his arms from your waist to support his body weight with a hand on the wall. He leans in, brushing his cheek against yours.

“I will miss you.” he whispers huskily next to the shell of your ear.

“I’ll miss you, too.” you whisper back, head pulling back to meet his gaze.

Your eyes lock for a moment, an undeniable tension now budding in the air and making your breaths quicken. He inches even closer, lips brushing against yours as you exchange the same hot breath until you’re light in the head.

He kisses you roughly – sloppily.

Tongue slipping into your mouth, you get a taste of what he’s been drinking all day. It’s a little sweet, with undertones of various fruits native to the reef people. But once the sweetness wears off, the bitter aftertaste makes your brows gather. He pulls away, revealing heavy-lidded eyes with thin blue rings for irises, flickering side to side as they stare into yours.

Chests heaving in synchrony, you both struggle to catch your breath. Hands cupping each other’s face, your lips crash into one another again, body language hungry and desperate for each other’s touch. Ralak shoves his knee between your legs, providing you with the friction your body has been begging for. Your body moves on its own, humping at his thigh as best you can in the water.

“I-I want... you.” The desperate words part your bruised, flushed lips, hand sliding up his back to caress his kuru [queue].

He shakes his head, brows gathering tightly. “Not now. Not here. We do it the right way.”

“Then...” you pant, voice laced with desperation as your hands make their way to his hips, dainty fingers wrapping around his hardened girth, “...give me something else.”

Breath turning raggedy, he struggles to maintain his composure. The influence of the alcohol surging through his body proves it to be an even more difficult task. He takes a deep breath, withdrawing his knee from your legs to spin you around in one quick motion. Ralak tries his best to be gentle with you, shoving you into the wall to press his aching cock against you.

A soft moan parts your lips; thin, fuzzy tail wrapping around his thigh in attempts to bring you closer. Eywa, did that push him closer to the edge. Your tail had been one of his favourite things about you from the day you first locked eyes, so slender and delicate. Nothing like his. It not only fascinated him. It aroused him.

It makes him push into you even harder, tip of his cock throbbing against your lower back. He craves to be even closer to you – to be inside you. To rut into you until your voice becomes so hoarse from screaming his name. Over and over. Again, and again. Fingers hurriedly fiddling with the knot of your loincloth, he pants a few greedy, rough kisses along your upper back.

“Oh! Ralak, I-I think –” you moan lowly, his touches throwing you into a daze.

“What?” he huffs, fingers coming to a halt in fear that he’s being too rough with you.

“I think I’m still in heat.” you lie, or maybe it wasn’t a lie. You feel so woozy in the head that you’re not even sure what’s going on anymore. All that sits at the forefront of your mind is him claiming you as his.

“Is that so?” he lets out a breath of relief, a chuckle if you will.

“Yes. Can you help me?” you pant, trembling voice feigned with innocence.

“Ah. Let me check, little one.” He buries his face into the nape of your neck, pulling back with a loud sigh through his nose. A growl rumbles in his chest and up his throat. “I can still smell him.” The scent of another so deep into your skin makes him want to mark you. To sink his lengthy canines into your neck for the smell to seep out, only to be replaced by his.

“Then fix it.” you breathe, head dipping forward to open yourself up to him.

“Oh?” he smiles open mouthed, brushing his pointed fangs against your silken skin, making your back arch on instinct. Submitting to him and his touch. Open mouth lingering over your neck, his jaw closes to graze his teeth against you. He sucks lightly on your skin, puckered lips pulling off with a pop.

Of course, he’d make you wait for that too. He was only ‘helping’ you, right now.  

He kicks your feet apart, spreading your legs for him to settle in closer behind you. A string of your slick connects your thighs together, breaking apart when he rubs his cock against your bare cunt. He begins rubbing his face into the back of your neck, scenting you as his.

“Mine. Yes?” he growls, thrusting himself against your slippery slit.   

“Yes.” You spread your legs further apart, standing on the tips of your toes to provide him with better access. “Please.” You let out a pathetic mewl.

He grunts in frustration. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you, stretching your pussy out with his huge cock. And with those little, sweet pleas, it’s almost too hard to resist. But he does. He pulls away, gaze snapping down to the rope of wetness connecting your most intimate parts together.

Cocking a brow, his hand comes between your sticky pelvises, fingers coiling around the string of slick before they glide over your pussy and spread your folds. Your wetness drips down his digits, pooling in the palm of his hand. “So wet. Maybe you are in heat.” he mumbles, pressing his lips against your back, peppering kisses down the curve of your shoulder.  

Ralak fondles with your puffy clit, rubbing tight circles into it with his slickened fingertips. Your hips squirm around from the white-hot pleasure tightening your core. It’s just not enough. Perhaps it’s just residual heat, but you feel so, so empty. A yearning deep in your womb, to be filled and stretched. Your hips buck forward, slipping his fingertips to prod at your entrance, before pushing back on him to try and sink them inside you.

Needy body language riling up the giant behind you, his harsh kisses move their way up to your ear. “Say it, tanhì.” he groans lowly, positioning his finger at your tight hole.

“I n-need you inside of me!” you cry desperately, shoving yourself back into him.

“You listen so well, paysyul.” he exhales a hot breath into the shell of your ear, sinking his thick finger inside you, twisting his wrist so that he can curl it right into your sweet spot.

“Oh, shit.” you moan breathily, cheek pressed firmly against the rocky wall.

“That is why you learn so quickly.” He fingers you roughly, expertly working out a squelch with each curl of his digit.

The feeling is like heat, shooting down your spine and pooling in your pelvis. It makes your hips spasm, chasing the fiery sensation in hopes to put it out. His finger brings relieve, satiating the itch as your sweet spot swells from pure bliss. He knows exactly where to touch, and how to touch.

Yet, it still isn’t enough.

“More! ‘ts not enough!” you cry, writhing underneath him.

He finds your little cries amusing, letting a chuckle evade his lips. How could something so small act so mighty? He slides another digit in, feeling your tight pussy walls stretch to accommodate him. He hears the little whimper bubbling up your throat, letting him know you need a moment to adjust.

“Taking my fingers so well, hm?” he praises you with a shaky voice, planting a gentle kiss behind your ear.

“Mmmn! Please!” Another plea falls from your lips, a plea for him to move – to make you cum. He sets a relentless pace, stimulating the sensitive spot in your gummy, hot walls, working lengthy moans and mewls from you.

With the way he’s fingerfucking you, it feels as if your nerves are on fire. The coil tightly wound in your core ready to snap any second now. Your brows pinch together in fervour, mouth falling open to allow heavy, hot breaths to escape.

“Close! So close! Gonna! Gonna –” Your words catch in your throat, leaving you breathless and tense around his fingers.

“Make yourself cum.” he orders gruffly, stopping all movement once he feels you tighten around his digits.

You gasp, hips moving on their own to chase the orgasm he just took away from you. “No, no. You know I can’t. Please.” you sputter, pushing against the wall to ride his fingers.

“You can. And you will.” he growls, bending his fingers as encouragement.

You quickly accept your fate, holding on tightly to whatever pleasurable feeling remains and running with it. You push back on him, squirming around as you try to make yourself cum. Closing your eyes, you tune into your body, feeling what feels good and where. But the position that you’re in makes it even harder to do it yourself.

“Just fuck me!” you cry desperately, frustration so pent up you couldn’t help the outburst.

“Language.” he hisses, shoving his fingers so deep inside you that your slick coats his knuckles.

“Fuck! Please.” you beg, reaching behind you to grab his wrist.

“No.” he smirks, looking down at how your cunt sucks in his digits, listening to your pleading and begging.

He just wants to hear a little more. To hear how badly you want him. He loves the way you squirm around, sputtering nonsense from being so fucked out by just his fingers. He loves the little noises your pussy makes for him and can’t wait to hear how they’ll sound once his cock is stuffed inside you.

“Ralak. Please. Please make me cum!” you cry, using his wrist as leverage to fuck back into him.

He slides his hand down your stomach, fingers playing with your swollen, neglected clit. He’s pumping his digits in and out of your dripping cunt, feeling your slick dribble down his hand. It doesn’t take long for you to near your climax, pussy walls clamping down around his fingers.

“Let go. Cum for me.” he groans, swollen tip of his cock oozing beads of precum onto your lower back.

“Oh, fuckfuckfuck!” you let out a hoarse cry, entire body shuddering underneath him “Cumming! Cumming!”

“That’s my girl.” he hums proudly, scissoring his fingers open to stretch you out.  

You let out a high-pitched whimper, hint of pain making your eyes water. Then a wave of ecstasy ripples through you, leaving your legs trembling beneath you. He snakes his arm around your waist, holding you up while you ride out of your high, sprinkling your shoulder with kisses.

Once you come down from your high, you lean back into him, resting your head against his chest. Huffing and puffing, you try to catch your breath as you turn around to cup his swollen balls. “My turn to make you feel good.”

To your surprise, he rests a hand on your arm, pulling it away from him. He looks down at you through blown pupils, arousal plastered all over his face. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples, wet strands of curled hair stuck to his cheeks, he sighs the words. “Not today, tanhi. I must get you back, now.”

[luvelve]

boyfriend!wonwoo who wakes up at the slightest sound or movement and he can’t help it or do anything about it even if he so badly wants to. the first few weeks of living together was difficult to say the least. you’d wake up in the middle of the night to pee or to have a glass of water and you’d find wonwoo sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to come back. guilt would wash over you knowing he has to get up early in the morning and every other morning.

you feel like the worst person in the world having to interrupt his slumber, but he tells you its okay. you once even offered to sleep in separate rooms so wonwoo can have 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. but of course, he turned the offer down. sometimes he’d act like he wasn’t woken up from your movement because he knows you still feel guilty.

you’re many months into sharing a bedroom and you’ve kinda gotten used to your light sleeper of a roommate. it’d help when wonwoo came home absolutely exhausted, he’d sleep like a baby and couldn’t be disturbed by anything.

it’s way past 3am on a gloomy tuesday morning when you feel your blanket shift and cold wind hit your lower body. you look over your shoulder to wonwoo’s side and you see him getting up and putting his glasses on. he’s quietly heading towards the door when you let out a mumble.

“i’m sorry my love, i didn’t mean to wake you.” he finds your face under the moonlight that shines through the window.

“where are you going?” you use whatever strength you have to sit yourself up on the bed.

“i was just going to get some uh… water.”

liar. the glass of water you put on his bedside table before lying down has barely been touched. and the fact that he put his glasses on isn’t helping his lie either. it takes you a few seconds but you also notice that his hair hasn’t been messed up from sleep.

“have you been up all night?” you shoot him a head tilt, slowly getting up from your bed to make your way towards him. you can tell the mental gymnastics he’s doing in his head to try and convince you to get back to bed. at this point, wonwoo knows you’ve got him and there’s no point in lying anymore.

“yes… but its okay, really. y-you can go back to bed.” he tells you softly, putting his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. even at this hour, when wonwoo hasn’t had a second of sleep, he’s still able to be this selfless.

you stand just a few inches away from him, head tilted up to look him in his tired and droopy eyes while he looks down at you, doing the same thing. it’s silent and the only thing that can be heard is the faint sounds of the city. you take a small step to close the gap between the two of you as you wrap your arms around his waist. your head is resting on his chest and you feel it rise and fall.

“we’ve talked about this before. you always stay up with me, even when i never ask you to. waiting for me to get back from the kitchen or the bathroom. and it’s unfair to you… but i hope you know that i’d do the same for you.” you close your eyes, head still resting on his chest, internally blaming yourself for not being as light a sleeper as your boyfriend.

he smiles and returns your hug, wrapping his arms around your body and resting his chin on the top of your head. “i know, my love. i’m sorry.” another trait of your wonwoo’s, being sorry for something that’s not even his fault.

“just wake my sleepy ass up next time, okay?” he lets out a laugh and you feel it rumble in his chest. you lift your head up to look at him once again as he nods. his smile is big enough that the corners of his eyes crease.

“jeon wonwoo, i wanna hear you say it.” your voice is soft yet a bit playful. you tug at his white shirt as your lips unconsciously form into a slight pout.

“yes, maam.”

a/n: as usual, this is very self indulgent. but also, i feel like this is something that wonwoo would actually do :(( aaand i still can’t seem to finish this wonwoo fic that’s been in my drafts for over 3 weeks so pls enjoy this for now <3

[hyperballart]

pls we need what happens after patrick finds repressed art's porn history pls pls pls 🙏🙏🙏

prev.

they definitely don’t want to bring it up out of guilt from both sides. patrick wants art to be selfish for once, for him to take what he wants from him and let go, but that’s a wish that would be hard to come by. art is in a different headspace — he finds it difficult to sleep next to patrick for the first time in the years since they’ve started pushing their beds together (they always said they were too small but won’t admit that it’s because they like staying close.) he’s paranoid of acting on all the wet dreams he’s been having, waking up with a gasp and grinding his cock with the mattress until he runs to the bathroom and waits for it to go down.

it seems as if their overthinking paired up and cruelly manifested the present; where patrick is rudely forced awake at an ungodly hour by some rustling. he is used to art kicking the blankets off in his sleep and he’s about to pull the duvet over himself with a huff when he suddenly realizes he is actually warm — too warm, in fact. it’s then when he registers the whining, an incoherent chant coming from the body that is directly pressed behind his own.

he doesn’t move. art is asleep, but he grinds into patrick from behind, fully hard and almost piercing through his boxers. they’re not cuddlers so patrick is confused even more when he feels the tightening grip art’s arms holding him. he really is at a loss of knowing what to do, the moment his brain computed that his best friend was using him to get off from a wet dream his mind fogged and cock twitched in interest.

a particular push of art’s hips has him moaning subconsciously, he quickly shuts his mouth, but when art suddenly groans out a patrick, nnghh a louder sound escapes him. that is what jolts the blonde awake. it takes him about 30 seconds of silence to understand the scene and figure out that patrick was conscious to know as well. his face is burning and he flops on his back while he tries to say something, “oh my fucking god, i don’t know what— it’s not what it looked like,” and he can hear patrick stifle a laugh.

“are you good?” patrick sounds a lot more calm than what the situation calls for, as if he’s not leaking through his underwear. art shoots him a look even though the darkness of the bedroom conceals his expression, “sorry, lately i’ve been a little off. i haven’t really — um — you know, gotten off in a while or whatever,” he’s scrambling, “i was just having a dream, i guess — and um, you were there and i don’t know.”

patrick opens his mouth without thinking, “why are you making this weird, man, i don’t mind.” a beat of silence.

“what?”

“what i’m saying is, you’re my best friend. i’m doing you a solid,” he tries to rationalize without sounding desperate, “you just need a warm body s’all, you can keep going — it’s not like we’re technically touching each other.”

after a bit of dubious back and forth, art hesitantly brushes up against patrick’s ass and let’s out a long sigh. patrick feels him holding back and he puts a stop to it quickly, “it’s okay artie, do what feels good.”

and so, he does. the tent in his boxers is so hard and warm against patrick, he makes shallow grinds and keens when the brunet subtly arches his back to push back. “f—fuck patrick, i can’t stop , ah—“

“don’t fucking stop art, i know it feels good—hmm,” art’s hands grip the sheets to keep them from grasping at patrick. he takes a peek over his shoulder and sees his friend’s bare chest; dusted by hair and filled out with muscle. his eyes trail lower and he sees the way his stomach is sucking in deep breaths of his restrained arousal, but then he looks lower and spots that he is also very hard — the sight pushes him to a hard thrust and a whine.

the fact that he has been wanting this for a long time (even if unknowingly) makes it so much hotter. the fantasy of seeing the cocky boy he’s shared clothes and cigarettes with struggling to act unaffected — eyes shut and lip held between teeth — is quickly sending him to his end.

“patrick — i think i’m gonna —“ art can’t stop himself from letting go of the duvet and grasping on to patrick’s hips instead and making him fuck back on his cock through the fabric. “oh shit, i’m there — i’m almost there, just let me use you a little more—“

patrick himself is on the verge of coming untouched, being used activates a slutty part of himself, “c’mon keep fucking me like you mean it — ah — that’s right.” he slips in something that can be misunderstood by the boy behind him in his state of ecstasy, but will still take his breath away: “cum in me, art. i want you to.”

art squeals out a pitiful sound, almost like a sob, before he spills out against patrick. his cum is bleeding through both of their boxers and none of them seem to be alarmed by this. he leaves bruises on patricks hips while he rides out his high and melts into the mattress with his mouth panting behind his neck.

when he’s coming down and gaining consciousness he mutters three words before falling back to sleep, i’m not gay.

patrick wants to bring up his search history, but he’ll save it for another day.

[poppadom0912]

Is it too late?

Warnings: Mentions of periods, hospitals, surgery, pain and illness

Summary: When your older brother is a fancy surgeon, being sick is the last thing you want.  

Requested by @1chicago5021

A/N: I'm still alive people. I had a sudden burst of inspiration and thought I'd finally get all these requests done before the next round of exams. I am in a lesson right now so I can’t do the usual aesthetic collage I always do. This was sent quite a while ago but I actually had so much fun writing this so thank you! I hope this lives up to your standards <3

*****

Two weeks ago now, your body randomly started not working the way you wanted it to, but you put all the blame on your period whose cramps hadn't been very forthcoming.

The painkillers were a coming in at a constant stream, hot water bottles never having the chance to go room temperature.

Your never-ending migraines and 24/7 cramps were a constant, so you expected to feel relief once you were back to normal. But that never came because this week started and somehow, you felt even worse.

When you woke up this morning to your throat feeling weird, you knew something was wrong when you drank water and the feeling didn’t go away.  

Despite that, you went to school anyways, bidding your brother goodbye when he dropped you off, completely unaware of your wellbeing. But you couldn’t blame the guy, he was stressed enough over work as it is, you didn’t need to add to his already overflowing workload.  

You only felt worse as the day progressed. It was only spring, nearing summer, but your body temperature wouldn’t stop fluctuating. One minute you were shivering and asking to borrow your friend's hoodie but the next you were sweating like you had just finished a marathon and was trying to get rid of as many layers as possible.  

The cramps were immense. The worst you ever had and to consider you just got off your period, you weren’t a stranger to post period cramps, but this was on another level. You hadn’t been in this much pain ever even while on your reds. None of the pain killers your friends kindly provided for you alleviated the pain. Death would feel ever so sweet right about now.  

You knew you were seriously sick when you were on the verge of collapsing at lunch. Your friends all shouted in alarm when you faltered on your feet in the cafeteria. You ignored their efforts and attempts to get you to the nurse's office. There wasn’t long left of the school day, there wasn’t any point in leaving with barely two hours left.  

As soon as you got home, you fell face first into bed. As soon as your head hit the pillow and you pulled the covers over your body with however much strength remained in your arms that got heavier as the day went on.  

You were in a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your dreams were non-existent. You weren’t too sure what time it was, but you felt someone shaking you, going from gentle to a hand tightly holding your shoulder, a muffled voice inaudible as you came in and out of your slumber.  

Their gestures were painful, but you didn’t have it in you to tell the intruder as you struggled to even muster a groan. Your eyes fluttered, face digging even deeper into the pillow as if to suffocate yourself. That was all the indication the person needed to shake you harder, adamant to wake you up.  

With a blocked nose, breathing out through your mouth proved itself to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. And stuffing your face into your pillow might not have been the best idea taking that into consideration.

Their voice sounded way too far away, as though they weren’t in the room with you. One second they were roughly holding you, the next, all pressure ceased but the pain didn’t.

Before you could even register what they were doing now, your eyes heavy with sleep dropped once more as you were enveloped into darkness again.

*****

Over the past two weeks, Connor had noticed your depleting energy but when the mood swings came along with your hot water bottles, he didn’t think any much more of the matter.

But then you showed no signs of improvements and at first, he could hardly notice. You hid it quite well at first but as the week progressed, it was apparent to him you were getting sick, and you were too stubborn to admit that to your surgeon brother.

Nonetheless, things didn’t look too bad that staying home was necessary. You were managing quite well, going to school the entire week without complaints, so he found no reason to intervene into something he knew would end up in an argument that would result in you holding a grudge and not talking to him for a few days.

He dropped you off and drove to work expecting nothing. You smiled at him when you left the car, and nothing seemed physically wrong when you picked up the pace to meet your friends.

His twelve-hour shift seemed to never end. When he had a moment to himself, he messaged you as he waited for his coffee, staring at his message that sat alone with no replies for hours. School has finished, you were sure to be home now, so why weren’t you answering?

He didn’t think much of it till he was meant to go home at twelve. He was all ready standing at his locker but then Maggie called his name and he saw several ambulances piling up outside.

As amazing as he was, his attention couldn’t be in two places at once and unfortunately for you, car crashes had more significance in this situation. But as soon as this was all over, you’d be his number one priority once more.

It was all over six hours later when he came out of the second surgery he had to take lead in.

Stepping out of the surgery theatre, he thanked all his co-workers and was dashing away to collect his things, not wanting to be here any longer. Having time to finally check his phone again, his concern skyrocketed when you still hadn’t replied to his messages.

Waving off the few staff remaining in the emergency department, Connor wasted no time in driving off. His adrenaline had yet to die down from the rush of a packed-out emergency room and doing several successful surgeries. Adding to this was his building concern for you. Maybe you were just sleeping, and your phone was on charge. Maybe it was on silent, and you didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was stolen, and you couldn’t contact him-

Connor sighed as he parked the car. Wasting no time, his body still thrumming from the surgery high, he walked into the building and took the stairs instead, taking large strides as he skipped every two.

The house was drop dead silent when he opened the door which you hadn’t locked from the inside like you usually would. That and the completely pitch-black apartment was the first things that put him on edge.

He locked the door behind him, walking in further and inspecting the living room and kitchen that didn’t look lived in. Everything was in its same place as he left it in this morning. Closing the blinds in the living room, he walked towards your bedroom, your door slightly ajar which had never been the case since you started living with him. You always shouted at him whenever he left the door even a slither open, you always needed complete darkness to sleep. The tiniest bit of light always hindering your sleeping ability.

Pushing the door open, Connor poked his head inside first to survey the room. He finally let himself relax at the sight of you lying in bed, your figure completely drowning in your duvet. The weird lump in your sheets being the only reason he could identify you.

He felt himself relax, his body physically deflating now that he had eyes on you, knowing for sure that nothing was wrong.

For some reason, your curtains were still open which they never were since you were young, always complaining, once again, that you needed complete darkness to be able to sleep. Closing your curtains, he found your phone on your bedside desk, and it was littered with notifications from not only him but all of your friends too. All of them were asking in variations if you were okay, if you felt better, did you get home safe and how you were feeling.

They were all sent at three in the afternoon. It was now two in the morning.

Concerned at the topic of the messages, Connor came over to the side of the bed you were laying on and placed his hand on your forehead, his eyes widening immediately. He felt himself warming up just from how hot you were.

Sitting down on the space by your knees, Connor shook you gently, trying to rouse you from your apparent very deep sleep but the only movement you made was from what he was doing.

“Y/N? Hey, wake up. Can you get up for me really quick?”

The adrenaline that was just dying down was picking up again along with his heart rate, why weren’t you waking up?

He shook you once again but this time, he was more rough, his worry meaning he gripped your shoulder tightly and shook you with a force that he’d never use on you before as his baby sister.

This time he tried calling you name while he tried getting you up. Lifting the duvet off your body, not only were you shivering but you were sweating a very unusual amount.

Swallowing harshly, Connor tried one more time, calling your name and roughly shaking you. “Come one, I need to you wake up Y/N.”

“Y/N. Y/N get up.”

But you just wouldn’t budge.

Deciding that enough was enough, he scooped you into his arms and it must’ve been the sudden movement that caused you to let out a small whimper in what was clearly pain. It was small but it was the most he’d gotten from you since he got home and that was better than nothing.

Foregoing his jacket, Connor made sure to slip your cardigan over your torso, so you weren’t going to die from the cold outside. He quickly slipped into his own shoes and left the building not a moment later.

*****

No one had been expecting Connor to be back at work so soon, not even him. It was a few minutes to three and the ED was relatively calm taking into account the big accident not too long ago, but Connor was grateful.

Getting out the car, Connor looked into the ED and called for the first person he saw.

“April! Get me a gurney!”

Said nurse was caught completely off guard, jumping from where she stood at the nurse's desk with Will not too standing behind her. He too clearly was confused but Connor had no time to dwell on them.

Not checking if she was listening, Connor rounded the car and picked you back into his arms, your head resting on his bicep and your legs on the inside of his elbow. Slamming the door shut, Connor strode into the emergency department and luckily for him, April and Will were more than ready to help.

“All the gurneys are used up from before, but we’ve got a free bed.” April said, leading the surgeon into an empty treatment room where Will was lowering the bedside rails.

“Talk to me Connor.” Will said, understanding there was no time for formalities when he saw it was you Connor was carrying.

“No clue what happened but she’s as hot as anything, she’s shivering and sweating at the same time and will not wake up for anything.” Connor started, gently laying you down and standing back to let Will and April do their jobs. He was itching to help but physically had to move further away from you so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Pretty sure she’s been sick and in pain for a while now, but she never said anything.” He continued, looking at all the numbers on the machines that were popping up as they were connected to your body. “When I asked last week, she just kept saying it was her period cramps.”

As April hooked you up onto an IV drip, Will started palpating your body in search for any particular place of pain. And when he came to a particular area in your lower abdomen and you cried out, the three of them looked at each other knowingly.

“Kieran should still be on shift.” Connor said, remembering the surgeon he left behind that was in charge and available.

Will nodded in confirmation, “Let’s move.”

*****

Waking up felt different to all the times before. Your levels of disorientation and haziness and confusion were on another level.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the lack of pain. You couldn’t feel not even a pinch in your stomach, maybe it was weird to say but it felt liberating to not be in debilitating pain.

“Oh, thank goodness your awake.” Connor looked dead on his feet in the doorway of the room but the immense relief painting his face was like no other.

You made him feel and look like that- Shit, what happened, what did you do?

Before you could say anything, Connor beat you to it. “How are you feeling? In any pain?”

As he questioned you, a poured you a cup of water, holding it so all you had to do was drink and not need to exert energy that he knew from experience, you didn’t have.

Once again, before you could ask, he answered for you. “It was appendicitis. Your period cramps were in fact your appendix and last night it burst.”

“But it’s all good. We got you into surgery and your appendix is gone as should your pain.”

“Wow.” You said shakily, your voice so quiet from the lack of use.

“Please don’t do that next time.” Connor said, sitting on the empty seat by the bed, taking your hand into his. “Please tell me when you're in pain and when you feel sick. You matter to me; all your small or big problems are mine too. I don’t care how trivial they are.”

Silence followed as he set the glass aside. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo.”

And to say you felt guilty was an understatement.

“Claire’s pissed.” You both winced at the thought of your sister finding out. “She’s going to visit when she’s finished with work. I told her your healthy and out of surgery but she’s still pissed.”

“M’Sorry.” You apologised, voice hoarse and lips chapped. “I didn’t want-“

“Y/N.” Connors face made it look like he was in pain from your admission he cut off. “You’re never a bother to me okay? Me being a doctor is a good thing, use it to your advantage.”

You nodded, confirming to change next time if there was another time. Fingers crossed there isn’t.

“How hard was it to not do the surgery?” You smiled, squeezing his hand and poking his bicep. He was still in his scrubs from his shift last night.

Connor rolled his eyes and groaned. Such a sight made you laugh.