#neither of them can keep a straight face during it

[darlingandmreames]

After the Andes get married they hyphenate their last names to Wainwright-Cartwright and Cartwright-Wainwright, respectively. This makes Nicholas’ life a living hell, and it’s no secret that this was 100% something they considered when deciding how to approach the name situation

[livingformintyoongi]

yoongi fucking his girlfriend raw for the first time and her telling him to cum inside because she wants his babies

First time

a/n: as the request did not have many specifications I went straight to the point, hope you don't mind 😣. warnings: Breeding kink, a little bit soft, in fact there are not many warnings, it is quite soft. wc: 1.1k taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @zent9 @superbbananananana

"Shit" you moaned, squirming on your sheets as you felt Yoongi's fingers touch the exact spot that made the knot in your belly get tighter and tighter, although, come to think of it, it could also be due to Yoongi's tongue teasing your clit.

"I haven't done this in a long time" he whispered, straightening up as he pulled his fingers from inside you and licked them. During all that time he didn't take his eyes off you and your body. "Do you think you're lubed up enough to get my cock in?".

"Yes" you sighed, resting a hand on your chest in an attempt to calm your heartbeat. It wasn't very helpful, but at least you tried. You turned your head toward your nightstand, reaching your shaking arm toward the drawer to pull out a condom. You frowned as you felt Yoongi's hand stop you quickly, "What's wrong?" you turned to look at him, returning your arm to its place.

"It's just..." he scratched the back of his neck, grimacing with his mouth. His cheeks were barely tinged with a pastel pink color you'd seen once or twice when he felt too embarrassed, "could we, you know, do it without a condom? Only if you want to" he hastened to clarify, avoiding looking you in the eye.

"It's okay" you cupped his cheeks, caressing them gently, "we've been together for years, and I doubt that with one time anything will happen" you smiled at him as reassuringly as you could, hoping you could convey that feeling to him.

"God, I love you so much," he settled between your legs, moving down until he was face to face with you, "I don't think you can imagine how much I do," he kissed your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses running all the way from where he started to your bra.

"Then show me how much you love me" you whispered in his ear, hugging his neck and pulling him even closer to you. You shivered slightly as you felt his breath collide against your chest.

"Oh believe me, I will" he laughed softly, gently pushing the tip of his cock inside you. You both moaned before the skin to skin contact. It was your first time doing this, and although it felt strange, it was a sensation you definitely wouldn't regret feeling. "How is it possible that after all these years you're still so tight?" he growled over your collarbones, leaving a mark right in the center.

"Don't ask, just enjoy it" You tried to laugh, but were quickly interrupted by a lunge from Yoongi.

If there was one thing that characterized Yoongi in sex, it was that he would never start soft and gentle. He liked to go straight to his climax point, feel as much as possible in the shortest time and repeat it over and over again until he was satisfied. That was your Yoongi.

"Feels good" he murmured against your skin, pounding your pussy hard. A shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he heard you moan loudly the moment the tip of his cock hit your G-spot. He loved how you reacted every time he found that sensitive spot.

"Fuck" you brought your hands to his hair, pulling on it to keep yourself grounded. You let your head fall back, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lick, bite and mark your neck as he pleased. 

Yoongi moaned as he felt your walls clench around him tightly, clinging to your hips as if his life depended on it. It would probably leave marks, but he didn't care right now, neither you nor him.

"I love the feel of you squeezing my cock," he said as he closed his eyes and concentrated on increasing the speed of your onslaught. His hand gently caressed the marks he had left on your neck, causing a soft sigh to escape your lips.

"More" you moaned, moving your hands down from his hair to his shoulders, burying your deep red nails into his skin. 

"More?" he teased back, taking one of your legs and pulling it up his shoulder. You moaned loudly as you felt his cock go even deeper than it was before. "Shit, Y/N, you're so sensitive" he laughed, moving his hand down to your womanhood to take your clit between his fingers and play with it as he pleased.

You hunched your back to him, closing your eyes tightly. The knot in your stomach was becoming more and more unbearable and you weren't sure how much longer you could continue. "Yoonie" you whimpered between moans, looking up at him with misty eyes and dilated pupils.

"It's okay, it's okay, I've got you" he bent down a little, just enough to kiss your cheek, "do it as soon as you're ready."

You nodded awkwardly, starting to move your hips against his so you could get your long desired release. The moment you came your whole body trembled from the spasms, and you almost melted as you felt Yoongi embrace you as carefully as possible with the intention of regulating your body's movement. 

"That's it, fuck, you're squeezing me so good" Yoongi closed his eyes, concentrating on how good your tight, wet pussy felt. He was so immersed in the sensation that he almost forgot he wasn't wearing a condom. "Shit" he whispered, trying to get out of your pussy as quickly as possible. He moaned in surprise as he felt you imprison his hips with your legs. You still looked a little tired from your recent orgasm, but apparently you were determined not to let it out. "Honey, I'm going to come soon, I need-".

"Cum inside" you whispered, moving your hips against his, "I want you to come inside, I want to have your baby."

And that broke Yoongi for a few seconds. Only for a few seconds, because almost instantly he reacted and brought his mouth to yours in search of a desperate kiss. You gasped as you felt Yoongi's thrusts get deeper and stronger, and only moments later, you felt his cum spill inside you as you swallowed your boyfriend's moans with the kiss.

You both fell silent after finishing. You kept your eyes closed and your hand in his hair, he, for his part, had his head resting on your chest, caressing your waist with his fingertips. "Y/N?"

"Yes?" you whispered, giving a yawn. Fucking Yoongi always wore you out, even though he was the one doing most of it.

"We're going to need a lot more cum if you want a baby, you know that?" he chuckled above your ear, moving his hand down to your center, caressing your sensitive area.

You whimpered as you felt his intentions bump against your inner thigh, "We just finished."

"The night is still long" he nodded, kissing you passionately as he straightened back up on top of you.

He definitely wasn't going to let you sleep tonight.

Materlist.

[fluffylino]

Strawberry Cow ! Chan 🌸🍓🌸

he's not just any kind of hybrid...he's the first ever 'male' cow you've ever met. chan's a sweetheart, even more so when he's milked...

(i was suppozed to write this a year ago and finally here it is, enjoy lovelies <333)

reblogging > liking

part two

-contains mildly suggestive themes

Hybrids were pretty much accepted into this world of ours. they were treated like humans, with respect (most of the time) and accepted into society quite easily.

And somehow you found yourself accidently conversing with one particular male hybrid.

he was handsome.

so incredibly beautiful, it made you question if he was even real.

two horns on either side of his head and a pair of fluffy white ears twitched beneath them. it wasn't a white that hits the eye, it was a white that looked like freshly whipped cream. with soft fur that was slightly longer than usual.

you weren't quite sure what species he was. it was difficult to make out and honestly nervewracking to ask a hybrid that kind of question.

it was almost the same as asking a human if they were a person of colour, as if they were of ethnic descent.

he could be a gazelle? maybe a buck?

but his horns weren't so sleek and thin. they were neither black in colour.

instead his thicker horns were a complete contrast to his dark hair.

a bull, maybe? or did he dye his hair?

you were about to lose your mind.

"I'm actually a cow hybrid..." he let out so quietly, with a nervous smile. Damn, he was too beautiful for his own good.

"I've never seen a cow hybrid" you mutter without much thought.

instantly regretting your statement upon seeing his awkward stance.

"no no i meant i've never seen a cow hybrid as handsome as you" waving your hands dramatically to clear the tense air.

"as...handsome as..me?" he mumbles and you were sure your heart stopped beating.

"oh god it was wrong of me to assume what you are and how you'd prefer to be addressed-"

your voice dying down as you hear him laugh.

its such a soft laugh, it goes straight to your heart. neither mocking nor a loud one. soothing to the ears.

"i'm sorry if i'm so shaky...its been a long time since anyone has ever..complimented me..."

you sighed in relief, letting a smile creep up on your face. his cheeks dusted with a light shade of pink and you knew you looked as shy as him.

The small coffee joint was beginning to crowd and it seemed that neither of y'all liked crowded spaces.

the cow hybrid slowly stood up, straightening his posture and your eyes widened.

he was well built, a good height compared to yours and his muscles were defined enough to leave an imprint on the shirt he was wearing. loosely buttoned up and hanging low on his collar. Black really was his colour...

you mentioned his build, complimenting him to the point his ears were redder than ever. shy little giggles escaping his plush lips. gosh...

his lips made you want to kiss him senseless.

"could we..uhm...be friends or uh more...i mean-" he mumbles, stuttering so sweetly.

"of course, darling. but you never quite told me your name?" you coo.

"I'm chan or...you can..call me chris"

he smiled continously as you told him your name and how you come by here often.

his ear twitching excitedly when the two of y'all share phone numbers. promising to keep in touch in the days to come.

.

🌸

.

Chan was a lot different from your first meeting. considering the fact that nearly a month or more than a month had passed.

you happened to find out how much a hybrid like him had to go through. to you, he was an ordinary cow hybrid. but chan explained how the term 'ordinary' never existed in his vocabulary.

of course you knew he was a male but what did not strike you was the fact that he shouldve been called a bull.

Instead he was classified under cow, making him a proper cow hybrid.

Taking into consideration that he was also a male, made it difficult for him to lead his life as usual. bodily changes and phenomenon occurring during certain periods made the poor hybrid's life tougher.

Cases like him were rare, not exactly non existent.

.

.

His room was unimaginably aesthetic. changing colours that faded to pink and purple, sometimes gold.

one thing you realised was his love for the colour black. laughing when he opens his cupboard. it was a black hole in there with numerous clothes lined up.

making yourself comfortable on his bed, you noticed how on-edge he was. his behaviour much different, extra shy as he sheepishly sat beside you. your backs resting against the wooden headboard.

"why'd you call me here, channie?" you asked, smiling at the way his thin sleek tail swished around.

his eyes gaze at you with such pureness, you blurt out another statement.

"I mean, i'd spend my entire day or even week with you if you wanted! but i just got a bit worried because you called me here oit of the blue, baby"

reassuring him while patting his knee lovingly.

"I..I wanted to come c-clear about myself"

you nodded, urging him to go on. he pauses, looking at you for a few seconds. theres this nervousness in his energy and you scooch closer to him.

"I lactate...almost every four days, sometimes every two days depending on tge weather..." gazing at you sweetly.

"yes, im aware channie"

"you know about-" his eyes widen, surprise in his tone.

"of course I do, did you really think I wouldn't find ways to help you after you told me how hard your day to day life is"

you joked lightly.

"if i don't...milk myself every now and then, I feel full. like heavy.."

you squeeze his hand fondly, interlocking your fingers.

"do you do it manually? or do you use some kind of device?"

from his expression and body language, you could see him grow comfortable.

"manually...pumps are quite the price"

you gasp, wondering if you pried a little too deep. chan takes it as you being weirded out but you stop him before he starts overthinking.

"no no no sweerheart, i was just surprised that you did it manually for so many years"

"i've tried a pump once or twice...but i don't like the feeling...it made me feel like an object..." he pauses, cheeks turning pink as ever before he continues.

"whenever i...uhm my chest swells and gets really sensitive..."

well that was new info to you.

"like mine?" you let out, laughing as his ears twitch and he blinks furiously.

"w-what do you mean-"

"I meant like does your chest get to like my size? i'm pretty average but does yours get bigger?"

the strawberry cow hybrid blushed.

"it depends! on m-my mood and..uhm everything"

.

🍬

.

"Chris?! what's wrong?"

worry filling your mind. the hybrid looked distressed and out of his senses. sweating profusely.

"its n-nothing, I don't feel so good" he tried to reassure although it wasn't quite reassuring to you.

his fluffy ears were lopsided and his tail swished around desperately

you cupped his face gently. his reaction waw everything. nuzzling into your palm. it was obvious. it was happening.

"channie. baby look at me"

you urged, making him focus on you. and only you.

"do you want me to help you?"

"help...help with milking me? p-please?" his tone gentle and he uttered a small plea.

"just place your hand h-here and massage slowly"

his bigger hand held onto yours as he pressed your palm flat on his chest. he was right. his chest was swell and warmer than ever.

"do you mind, baby.."

obediently he held his shirt between his teeth. gnawing on the material. you let your hand run over his toned abdomen. feeling up his tense muscles.

"y-you're so fit, channie" he grunted softly.

his milk running down your fingers slowly. with every massage, more seeped out of his pretty nubs.

unconciously you stuck your tongue out, licking up the droplets that rolled down the expanse of his chest.

"ah don't let it g-go to waste p-please please"

begging you to drink more. his hands squeezing yours. whining so sweetly as you sucked his pumped up chest. his breathing quick and shaky.

god, you wanted to corrupt him...

.

.

.

.

.

.

fuck...part 2?

should i?!

this concept to me, is so hot!!!!!

i wrote a part two-

[bahablastplz]

Come Play: Chan x Reader

You and Chan are playing a dangerous game of who will break first... and it's not going to be you. CW: Teasing, spanking, choking, hair-pulling, dom! Chan, unprotected sex, rough sex, degradation (use of words like whore and slut), safe words mentioned WC: 2200

You aren’t sure how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. You and your boyfriend were playing a dangerous game, one that neither of you were willing to admit. 

You had only been dating for a few months, sure, but you found yourself overrun with desire just about every time you saw Chan. He, apparently, felt the same way, always pressing searing kisses to your lips and neck. It never went further than that–he wanted to go slow with you, take the time to explore your relationship and all that. 

Gazes became more intense and touches started to linger… then he started smacking your ass. Playfully, of course, whenever you walked by. He giggled at the way your cheeks would flush and the way you wouldn’t look at him. Whenever you decided to return the favor, however, he was faster. He would always catch your hand before you landed a smack onto his perfect ass, much to your dismay. 

You found the perfect opportunity during movie night. He was walking toward you on the couch, his arms full of blankets and various snacks, no way to defend himself… He must have seen the mischievous glint in your eye. “Don’t,” he warned you, but you were already winding up to send a loud, playful smack right to his behind. You erupted into a fit of giggles until you saw the look in his eyes, straight-up predatory. Your blood ran cold and before you knew it you were up and running toward your room, unable to stop your laughter. Chan dropped everything in his hands and ran after you, grabbing you by the waist and slinging you over his shoulder. Perfect, you thought, as you now had direct access to his ass that you playfully smacked a hundred times as he hauled you into your bedroom. What you weren’t expecting was for him to throw you on the bed and drag you over his lap. 

“Chan, what–” 

“You think you’re so funny,” he mocked. You squirmed in his lap, unsure of his intentions but he was quick to splay one large palm on your back, effectively keeping you in place. He grabbed the bottoms of your shorts, hiking them up until your bare ass was on display for him. 

“Wait, Chan, I didn’t mean to–” 

THWACK. 

He landed one very harsh hit straight to the flesh of your cheek causing you to cry out. Well… okay. Maybe you moaned. Loudly. 

He kneads the flesh, soothing it with deft fingers. You don’t have to look at him to see that he’s smirking. You’re just as surprised when he lands a twin smack to the same impacted area. The third one comes just as quickly and before you know it, he’s adjusting your shorts for you and pulling you to your feet. 

“Movie time?” he asked nonchalantly as if that did not just happen. You nod weakly, face scorching hot. If this was a game he was definitely winning. 

*** 

Day 1 of trying to rile up Chan and win… whatever this was. You are much more obvious with your touches, trailing a finger down his muscled chest and blinking at him innocently. The real kicker, however, is when you kneel right in front of him and pull back your hair. He leans back on the couch and spreads his legs, a dangerous look in his eyes before you abruptly stand up. 

“Found it!” you exclaim, holding your phone up for him to see. His jaw clenches, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as he smiles tightly. You felt smug and you weren’t afraid to show it, smiling back at him proudly. 

He makes it up to you later when he walks up behind you in the kitchen where you’re cooking dinner. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses up behind you impossibly close where you can feel his bulge pressing into you. You gasp, stilling as he pushes his hips against you; the friction is delicious and you can’t help the breathy sound that escapes your lips, wound up from the past few days. He reaches above you then, grabbing a pan from the cabinet before pulling apart and giving you a saccharine-sweet grin. “Found it,” he mocks. You roll your eyes at him and huff. You are not going to break first.

Over dinner, you moan unabashedly into your food. You’re obnoxious about it, closing your eyes and tilting your head back as you savor the food. Chan is stiff the whole meal, and it probably seals the deal when you reach over and grab his hand, pulling his fingers into your mouth as you suck the sauce from his fingertips. You make sure to let out a little groan around them, even going as far as to swirl your tongue around them and give him an intensely seductive look. 

He laughs nervously, his ears turning crimson. You had the upper hand. 

Next movie night, he pulls you close to his body, cradling you in his arms. His hands stroke up and down your arms, soothing you as you relax into him. You should’ve known it was a facade, however, when he reaches down to pull up your blanket and his thumb brushes over your nipple. He circles over it once, twice, before he finishes pulling the blanket up. “Oops,” he says. If you were relaxed before, you definitely aren’t now. 

The next day you find the most scandalous outfit you can pull from your closet. A thin tank top, no bra, and the shortest little skirt you own with a very pretty yet suggestive pair of panties. The second Chan sees you he tenses and you can already tell the outfit has the desired effect, but you decide to push it even further, dropping your wallet right in front of him and bending down to pick it up. You’re slow, deliberate, and you can feel his gaze on you. You give him a perfect view of your panties and you even wiggle your ass, taunting him. Then just as fast you pick up the dropped item as if nothing had happened. 

His hand stays on your thigh all night. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this act, every little touch making all of your nerves stand on end. He squeezes your thigh, rubbing circles against the flesh as his fingers trail up, up, up… He toys with the bottom of your panties, his fingers playing sensually with the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You barely breathe. 

God this game is progressing at an alarming rate… But you have an ace up your sleeve. 

Time for another movie night that is sure to go mostly unwatched, the tension palpable between you two. 

“Can we cuddle?” you ask. It’s innocent enough. He sees no wrong with your suggestion despite the way his brows furrow and he tries to read between the lines. And so he pulls you close to his chest and wraps an arm around your torso. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck as he presses play on the film… you didn’t even catch the name of it. 

Because it takes all of five minutes for you to wiggle your ass against his front, intentional about the way you brush against the bulge in his pants. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low. Your heart rate increases tenfold and you can’t help the giddy smile on your face. 

“Getting comfy,” you explain. You squirm even more and you feel his hand grasp even harder against your torso, trying to hold you in place. You can feel his length harden behind you and you grind against it, grind, grind, grind… 

“Fuck this,” he says abruptly, throwing the blanket off of you. He grabs your hair and drags you to the end of the couch, bending you over it. “Here I was, trying to be a gentleman… wanted to be nice and gentle for our first time… but you had to be a brat, play these mind games with me, yeah?” He grabs your shorts and panties and pulls them down your legs in one swift blow, leaving you exposed to him. 

“You started it,” you remind him. “Had to… bend me over and spank me like it was nothing.” 

“Was trying to show you what happens when you misbehave… Obviously you missed that memo.” He slides his fingers through your folds, not surprised to see you’re soaking wet. He reaches his hand around your front and pushes his fingers past your lips, making you taste yourself. He’s a little harsh, pushing his fingers back a little further than necessary. 

“You liked it,” you accuse. “You tried to one-up me every time.” He lands a harsh slap to your ass and you moan, burying your head into the couch. He grabs your neck, pulling you up until your back is pressed up against his chest. 

“I’ll make you regret it,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m not going to go easy on you, and when I pound into your tight little pussy you’ll wish we never played this game. Safeword is… uh, pineapple, yeah?” 

You nod at him and he lets go of your throat, allowing you to fall forward once again. You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt and the notable thunk of fabric hitting the floor. He pushes forward until his length is sliding against your core, his thick tip teasing your clit with each thrust. It feels incredible… the days and weeks of tension more than worth it for this outcome. 

His tip catches at your entrance and he begins to push in, slamming his hips into yours. He bottoms out immediately, easy thanks to your dripping arousal, and god you swear you can feel him in your guts. 

“Big,” you mumble. 

“You can take it,” he snaps. “Don’t try to back out now when you’ve been teasing me like a little slut all week.” You moan at that, clenching around him at his words. One large hand spreads across your lower back, pushing you further into the couch. He pulls out slowly and you can feel inch by agonizing inch of his length as he drags his cock along your walls before he slams back into you just as hard, causing you to cry out. 

Before you know it his hands are on your hips, bruising tight as he uses you for leverage to snap his cock relentlessly into your hips. The pace he sets is absolutely brutal and mind-numbing, and you can’t help the spew of cries and nonsense that falls past your lips. You beg him, though you’re not sure for what. Reprieve? No, you certainly didn’t want that. 

He uses your body for his pleasure. You’re not even sure your feet are touching the floor with the speed and strength that he pounds into you with. You’re blabbering and you’ve never felt so good, his length reaching parts of you that have never been touched before. Your clit rubs deliciously on the arm of the couch and the sensations are almost overstimulating but a new level of pleasure you didn’t know existed. 

You arch your back and try to turn your head to look at him but his eyes grow so dark your breath catches in your throat. You aren’t expecting for him to lift one leg up, pinning your head down to the couch with a socked foot as he resumes the brutal pace. 

SMACK. 

One hit to your ass has you clenching around him as you let out a noise that is straight-up pornagraphic. “That’s for licking my fingers and moaning like a whore.” 

SMACK.

“That’s for that slutty little outfit you wore.” His pace quickens, and how is that even possible? He’s already breaking records for how fast his hips are pistoning into yours. 

SMACK. 

This one is the hardest yet and he follows it by grabbing the sensitive flesh hard. “And this, this is for that little display on the couch. Grinding your hips into me like you’re so desperate for my cock.” 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight-train. You all but scream as you come undone around him, spasming and pulsing around his cock and yelling his name like it's a mantra. He fucks you right through it past the point of sensitivity and he’s quiet now, thrusting into you only a handful of times before he slows, pushing himself as deep into you as he can go and grinding into your sopping core as he releases. You feel every pulse and twitch of his cock before you’re flooded with his hot cum and god it feels like he’s spilling buckets inside of you, his orgasm seeming to last a full minute. 

When he pulls out of you you both release a content sigh before he picks you up and carries you to the shower. 

“Was I too rough?” he asks, suddenly shy as his ears go red. It’s cute, the way he can spew utter filth into your ears and fuck you like it’s your last day alive before turning into a blushing, sheepish mess. 

“No,” you reassure him. “In all honesty that’s the exact outcome I wanted.” He laughs at that, turning on the stream of water as he helps you to your feet, washing your body for you. 

“I promise next time… geez, that’s really not how I expected our first time to go, you minx!” he interrupts himself with a fit of giggles. “Next time I’ll really do it right.” He kisses your neck and you hum into him. 

“Does this mean I won the game?�� 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: yes i still plan on releasing that omegaverse fic but it's a long one and this inspiration hit me like a truck <3

masterlist

[tpwk-formula1]

Figure It Out - Landoscar***

SUB! Lando Norris X SWITCH! Oscar Piastri X SWITCH! Reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! I write for all drivers on the grid!

Summary: After Monza tension is at an all-time high in their shared apartment.

Authors Note: I've been writing for Kinktober and have been loving it so I decided to write a kinky little piece. The urge to post my Kinktober fics early is strong but I'm holding off. THIS IS NOT PROOF READ

TW - MxM action (Hand jobs and blow jobs), face sitting, slight masturbation, squirting, slight degrading

WC - 1500+

Y/N POV

"Just shut up, Lando," Oscar finally snaps at his complaining teammate turned boyfriend.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that," Lando replied back clearly still pissed off at the whole situation.

"Lando, on the track we are drivers. The whole point is to race each other that's exactly what I did," Oscar continues to defend his bold actions.

"I get that, and I don't even care about the fucking overtake but you could have done it during one of the straights not the first fucking chicane," Lando continues ranting allowing his voice to raise more as he continues talking.

"Both of you shut the fuck up," I finally snap making both of my lovers fall silent. It was rare for me to yell especially when it came to getting in between them when they were arguing about a race.

"Lando, I understand why it's frustrating, you're fighting for a championship while also defending against Charles and Oscar I understand being frustrated over your race result but both of you guys need to work together to make sure to secure constructors. To be completely unbiased here, Oscar the overtake was risky and luckily both of you guys are amazing drivers and were able to survive but Lando is right, it might have cost you guys too much time ruining the chances of a 1-2. However, Lando that does not excuse your actions either. Both of you guys love each other and you need to remember at the end of the day you got points and a double podium," I tell them softly to fend up to keep listening to them yell at each other.

"But babe," Lando started to complain before I sent him a quick glare making him shut up without finishing his statement.

"Both of you strip and go lay on our bed," I tell them both without even looking up at them going back to the book I was reading before they started arguing. When I don't hear movement I look up to find them both staring at confusion.

"Did I stutter?" I ask again a little more firm than before. Both of them shook their head before slowly making their wait to our room where I could hear them starting to strip down. Neither of them are talking but I know for a fact they're staring at each other. Mad or not they love each other and if anyone can turn them on it's each other.

With the layout of our apartment, I can hear every little sound they're making even if they're talking in hushed whispers.

"Lando, how long is she gonna leave us here?" I hear Oscar ask making me smile softly. I knew it was only a matter of time before their anger turned into sexual frustrations. Whether they will ever admit it or not after a bad race weekend especially one pitting them against each other the only way to fix it is to fuck it out of their systems. Sometimes it involved using my body and other times it was them using each other. Those were always the best ones to watch.

"Osc, please stop touching my thigh," I can hear Lando whimper which tells me right away who will be taking the lead tonight.

"Lando, we're sitting on the edge of the bed it isn't intentional, stop being petty," Oscar snaps back slightly, clearly just as frustrated as his boyfriend.

"I need, Y/N," Lando finally whispers out. Oscar doesn't say anything in reply which has me slightly confused until I can hear the tell-tale signs of Lando being touched in some way.

"Fuck," Lando gasps out before I suddenly hear them start to make out quite aggressively.

"Osc, please," Lando begs slightly making my pussy start to throb.

"You're gonna wait to cum until our pretty girlfriend decides to stop playing games with us," Oscar whispers to Lando making me smile. In that moment I made the decision to listen to Lando continue to whine and beg.

I stand up quietly before stripping down and sitting back on the couch with my legs spread wide open. I bring my fingers down to my pussy before I start teasing myself.

"What if she doesn't come in for a while," Lando asks Oscar making me smile cause we all know damn well I'd be in there as soon as I couldn't handle the teasing anymore.

"I bet you anything, she's sitting on that couch with her hand in her panties right now listening to you beg and whine like a little whore," Oscar tells Lando making both of us gasp at his harsh words.

In all honesty, it was rare for Oscar to be the dominant one between the two but it was always a favorite of mine cause he was just a different kind of cruel than when Lando is being the dominant one.

I can hear some movement before the sound of one of them spitting.

"Please Osc," Lando whines out again which tells me Oscar has to be the one on his knees teasing Lando. I can hear the sound of Oscar's wet hand moving up and down Lando's hard cock, which has him whing and gasping at the sensation.

I know how impatient Lando can get, so I decided to put him out of his misery by getting up and making my way to our room. When I get in there I can Lando's head thrown back while Oscar is taking him down his throat.

I make my way over to Lando where I grab his face before placing my still wet fingers into his mouth making him moan at the taste of my pussy.

"Look, she's come to save you. Maybe you'll finally be allowed to cum, but of course, you're gonna have to earn it first," Oscar teased Lando, making him whine around my fingers that were still in his mouth. When I pull them out I lean down and start making out with Lando. I can taste a hint of my juices which just makes me moan into his mouth.

"How are you already soaked," I hear Oscar ask clearly having seen just how turned on I was.

"You know I like when you take control Osc," I whisper once I pull away from the heated makeout session. It doesn't take me long to feel Oscar's fingers plunge right into my dripping pussy making me let out a gasp before moaning loudly against Lando's lip.

It's not long before Lando becomes a whimpering mess which tells me that not only is Oscar fingering me he's also giving Lando a handy.

"Fuck," I whine dragging out the word clearly overwhelmed with everything around me.

It's not even two minutes later that Lando is begging Oscar again.

"Please, Oscar. I'll be good. Please," Lando is begging as much as possible while also trying to keep kissing me.

"Our pretty little slut gets to cum first," Oscar tells Lando making me whine. This has Lando reaching down just enough to start playing with my clit trying to bring me over the edge faster.

"Oscar, please," I moan out once I feel my orgasm getting close to the edge.

"Cum for us," Oscar tells me making me instantly squirt all over both of the boys. Once my orgasm has concluded I hear Oscar tell Lando to cum which has Lando instantly tensing before releasing a high pitched whine before cumming all over Oscar's hand.

"Here," Oscar says while presenting me his cum covered hand which has me instantly licking all of Lando's cum off of it. Once it is clean enough for Oscar he climbs into bed pulling me with him to sit on his face.

"Get to work," Oscar tells Lando which has him shuffling around to get on his knees and start talking Oscar into his mouth.

Once Lando has settled into a good pace Oscar starts eating me out like it's his last meal on Earth. With one hand gripped on the headboard for stability before I tangle my fingers into Oscar's freshly cut hair. I know I'm pulling at it just right when I hear Oscar gasp at the slight pain I'm causing to his scalp.

"Fuck," Oscar moans out shortly after I hear Lando gag slightly on Oscar's cock. I can tell just from the sounds Lando's making he has all of Oscar's cock down his throat right now.

"Close," Oscar gasps out before instantly going back to focusing on my clit which also brings me closer to my second orgasm.

I hear Oscar groan out against my pussy signifying that he's cumming which has me tumbling over the edge with him.

Still slightly shaking I feel Lando lightly lift me off of Oscar before bringing me into his chest for a cuddle. Something that was always a part of our aftercare routine.

"How'd you know that would work," Oscar asks chuckling a little before placing a soft kiss on my lips preventing me from answering right away.

"We've been together for over a year. I know how you guys get," I reply back making both of the boys laugh a little.

Once everything has calmed down around us we all get up before getting into the shower together which inevitably resulted in a round 2.

[jiminrings]

four seven eight, phase 3 (3)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: jungkook wants to fight with, for, and beside you.

alternatively, nothing will ever be the same again, and you and jungkook couldn’t be any happier.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ fluff, angst, the moral dilemma of keeping someone (read: yoongi) who was almost ur first, last, and everything in ur life despite having another person (read: jungkook) to be exactly that, yearning, full circle moments, The Vagueness n different kind of angst now that 478's a family n not jus a couple anymore, redemption :) ]

notes: thank you for locking in!!!! the og 478 fic aka phase 1 was released two years ago n now we're here can u believe . hee-hee thank u for all the love you've given and continue to have for them!! TRUSTTT that this won't be the last you'll see of them :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

In a nightmare that Jungkook’s experiencing in real time, Hwayoung mistakes Yoongi as her dad.

Jungkook knows fully that there’s a knee-jerk reaction available for practically everything. He knows it well, because the impulse that occupies him kicks in during the most important events of his life.

Your husband’s impulse, which he often confuses for instinct, is too driven to the point that even for the briefest second, all that Jungkook could feel is himself. 

He tasted blood in the roof of his mouth when you left him the first time all those years ago. He had clenched his fists so hard, he almost drew blood over the realization that you had given up on him, even if it was for the time-being.

He felt his heartbeat in his eardrums when Hwayoung’s cries first pierced into the world (and straight to his ears), all to the point that the people surrounding you thought that he suddenly fell ill.

Jungkook could and should be able to feel himself right now; right now when his only child glazes past him and calls Yoongi as her dad, and right now when he hears his name called out for someone it doesn’t and should never belong to — except Jungkook can’t even feel his fingers.

He can’t taste blood in the roof of his mouth and he can’t feel his heartbeat in his eardrums. Jungkook can’t even claw himself out of a nightmare that’s built around him yet staged by his karma alone.

“That’s not appa, Hwayoung,” you cut into the thick air, your lips set in a straight line as it takes everything in you not to scoop up Jungkook into your arms because he looks like he’s about to collapse in shock. “Yoongi’s not your dad.”

Hwayoung understands, of course. She understands it like how she always does whenever her little mistakes get rectified. The concentrated pout on her face tells you that she’s listening, hearing you loud and clear as you reiterate a fact that she seems to have forgotten.

Jungkook genuinely tweaks within his own hold, the knot in his throat unbearable as he can’t even figure out how he’s standing beside you on his own to feet. He stands beside his wife and he stands before his daughter, yet he doesn’t even know if the weight he holds in between is enough for him to stay rooted.

Jungkook is as still as a rock while he watches you correct Hwayoung on the spot. He’s immoveable as he sees his daughter’s eyes flit to him in curiosity before finally coming to realization. He’s frozen, not by his own choosing, but because neither of his impulses nor instincts kick in.

Hwayoung nods easily, and Jungkook thinks that he’s about to lose his mind if it hadn’t already been muddled three seconds prior.

In a dream Jungkook doesn’t tell anyone, he’s not as easily interchangeable with Yoongi in the same way that Hwayoung thinks apples are pears sometimes, and that blue is somehow violet.

The mornings without Hwayoung have been too long for Jungkook.

They’ve been too long since her impromptu vacation from the both of you started, dragging out endlessly to the point that he had to ask you to hold his phone so he could withhold himself from hovering above Hwayoung by asking Yoongi for updates by the minute. Mornings were too bright; too normal to be spent by you and him without a playful toddler who tries to slip her finger in whenever someone yawns. 

Jungkook’s missed his mornings with Hwayoung in between the two of you.

He missed the mornings where it’s still dark out and he’s been asleep enough for long that he could make out Hwayoung twitching in the dark as she searches for a cold pillow, before later ending up next to your stomach or next to his head. 

He longed (read: still longs perpetually) for the mornings wherein he gets to sleep in and it’s you and Hwayoung who wake him up from dreams he’s always willing to part with, because he knows that he has something infinitely better to wake up to.

“Hiii, appa,” Hwayoung drawls out, hugging his leg as Jungkook automatically pats her head with a gentle hand, the smile on his face more or less forced as he chokes out a greeting. He gets snapped out of his trance immediately, even if he isn’t sure that the sight he woke up to this morning is even worth living alongside with.

“Hi, Young-ie,” he whispers, his eyes strikingly neutral even when Hwayoung grabs his hand and swings it around lightly.

Jungkook make the mistake of looking up and he doesn’t know which is worse; your husband, for once, can’t definitively tell if you looking at him empathically should placate him or unsettle him deep into his core.

What Jungkook can tell however, is that seeing Yoongi’s sly gaze on him with the ghost of a smirk on his lips plays into the rage that he can barely hold onto, if not for the little hand that’s already silently apologized to him.

Hwayoung may not know any better at the moment, but she knows well not to ask questions when Jungkook suddenly stands up out of nowhere when he’s just agreed to play on the floor with her two seconds ago, and she knows better not to stare when you immediately agree and not interrogate him at all.

“I’m gonna step out. Need to blow off steam because otherwise, I’ll take it out on him,” Jungkook whispers to your ear, hands grimly shoved into his pockets. “I know we both saw him do the same thing, Y/N,” he laughs humorlessly, clenching his jaw tightly before he leans down to speak again, enough for Yoongi to both see and hear just how angry he is. “Go put your friend on a leash.”

.

.

.

Yoongi likes to think that it’s spite that keeps him running.

The notion of doing things out of spite is not new at all to him; as a matter of fact, he actually thinks he’s the foundation of it.

Yoongi can’t keep track of the many times that it was spite that put food on the table and pushed him to his limits to arrive at the state that he’s in now. Yoongi yearns unlike no other to the point that it ails him because longing, without any bitterness in it at all, feels pointless.

Longing with only the ambition to surrender in the end is pointless; it doesn’t push Yoongi at all to be the best in anything. It doesn’t make him feel any better because without the regret in his stomach and the resentment in his chest, he wouldn’t be reminded of his dream. 

In a dream Yoongi wants to tell everyone, he doesn’t fall short to Jungkook.

It’s a ridiculous gag dream that feels like a poorly-made skit to him. Yoongi, with all his spite, can’t believe that he only comes second to the likes of Jungkook, who hadn’t worked as hard as he did nor attempted to fight tooth and nail to be even recognized (even under your light) in the first place.

In a well-rehearsed yet trite skit that appears in Yoongi’s mind whenever he goes to sleep after drinking a little too much or waking up with the sheets a little colder than usual, he doesn’t acknowledge Jungkook to be in the same orbit as him; in his dream that’s equivalent to Jungkook’s nightmare, you and Hwayoung are within arm’s reach.

It had been spite that made Yoongi smirk at Jungkook, right after the latter’s whole worldview shattered in front of him when Hwayoung mistook him for a stranger.

It’s everything but spite that makes Yoongi keep his head up high at you, refusing to bow even just a little out of shame. You’ve dragged him to the nearest empty room and while he would’ve teased you about it for any other context, he can’t seem to do it now when you look at him in disgust, even before he gets to open his mouth.

“What was that, Yoongi?!” you fume, standing by the door as you keep your voice hushed.

It’s almost poetic for Yoongi to see because even when you’re bound to curse him out, even when the both of you are at a turning point (or whatever is left of it to change before it perishes completely), you still put Hwayoung first above all else.

“What was what?” he smiles cheekily, even if it’s apparent that it’s just for show because if anything, it’s Yoongi who knows the most about his own fallacy.

“Don’t bullshit me.”

“I was playing around?” he offers weakly, shrugging his shoulders to make it seem that he doesn’t care at all about the anger you’ve reserved specifically for him; as if he’s not trying to buy time to prolong what could be the last time he’ll ever see you outside of work.

“That was nothing, Yoongi. What Hwayoung said meant nothing,” you grit, your fists balled to your sides as you try not to let your mind drift to the fact that you had confronted Yoongi first before comforting your own husband. “She’s a kid and she just got confused.”

There’s only silence between the two of you, and Yoongi wants to stay in it.

Yoongi wants to consume the dead air if it means that he won’t be backed into a corner and forced to take all the hits that Jungkook’s reality – which are his dreams— could throw to his face.

“You don’t have to tell me what I already know,” he murmurs lowly yet for some odd reason, Yoongi still refuses to bend his head.

The thing is, Yoongi doesn’t feel regret at all. Out of all the times he could ever feel it, he doesn’t feel it now, even when the supposed love of his life wants to banish him out forever.

“Then why do you look happy about it?” you seethe. “Why the hell did you look happy when Hwayoung called you her dad?”

“Because I was,” Yoongi smiles so tightly, his skin buckles under the pressure — come to think of it, his eyes almost feel like they’re stinging. “Do you want me to lie?”

“It would be better if you do,” you retort without even thinking, the tremble of your bottom lip only goading Yoongi further.

Yoongi stands before you, proud yet unwilling, as he serves as the largest and longest milestone of how far you’ve come in your career with his unrequited love for you as the barometer.

“Oh,” he reacts, his face falling before his throat tightens impossibly. Yoongi keeps nodding his head madly, the pricking of tears in his eyes making him frustrated even more. “Okay. Sure. Y-you know what, let me just lie andsay that I don’t constantly think about how it could’ve been me, o-or how I don’t usually hope that Jungkook completely fucks it up because I could show you that I’ll never do you wrong in the first place!”

“Friends don’t fucking do that, Yoongi!” you clench your teeth, the devastation on your face apparent yet never equivalent to that of Yoongi who’s already nearing his limit.

“I don’t want to be just your friend!” he whispers at you, because while he thinks about Hwayoung in the living room who’s just a few steps away, he also thinks of how scared he is to admit the fact to your face no matter how high he holds his head.

“I don’t think we can’t be friends either,” you sigh breathlessly, the finality to your tone making Yoongi freeze.

Finally, he lowers his head.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”

In an overdone skit that plays in Yoongi’s head, somebody pulls out a slate and yells for the scene to be over, because not only did the whole thing play out in just his head, it was also just a silly dream that a married man with a kid could only have.

In a well-rehearsed, trite, and critically acclaimed skit that Yoongi writes himself but could never act in, you never have to be put in a position wherein you have to put a pause to your friendship with Yoongi. 

The dependency and entanglement the both of you have with each other, no matter in what degree, only proves to be a double-edged sword that hurts you more than it could ever hurt him, and Yoongi knows he can’t ever live with that.

There needs to be distance between you and Yoongi, and he’s never hated that fact more than now, no matter how much he knows it’s needed.

Yoongi knows he’s an intruder.

He’s an intruder who frequently gets to see you at work, he’s an intruder who always gets to loathe Jungkook no matter from what angle, and he’s an intruder who occasionally gets to hold Hwayoung who isn’t his.

( ♡ ) 

The truth is, Jungkook didn’t even really think of having kids until you came along. It had been a long withstanding truth in himself, even with Sora before you, that the thought of having someone of his own flesh and blood was too heavy for him — too much.

Jungkook didn’t entertain the thought of having children until you came into his life and he had decided then and there that there’d never be too much of you for him. 

You weren’t too much for Jungkook when you were still a new couple and had asked him if he’d be open to marrying you one day, even if you were barely a year into your relationship (and your first one at that) that he was yet to have a full grasp of. 

You weren’t too much for him when you had talked his ear off when you were still a rookie, promising him sincerely that you’ll make it big and that soon enough, the both of you would live a comfortable life — provided that you were still in each other’s by that time.

You weren’t too much for the Jungkook of then, your wide-eyed boyfriend who’s a man of few words, and you’re not too much for the Jungkook of now, your husband who feels like he has far too many feelings.

The truth is, Jungkook didn’t even really think that his heart could exist outside of his chest until Hwayoung came along.

There’s this dull, agonizing pain that always squeezes on Jungkook’s chest like clockwork whenever he feels he’s letting his daughter down. There’s bitterness in failure and there’s failure, even when Hwayoung’s tiny hands don’t seek his when they’re walking side by side, or when she’s not as enthusiastic about her meals like how he had been when preparing them–

Or even when Hwayoung mistakes Yoongi for her dad.

“This shirt?” Hwayoung asks, interrupting his inner turmoil as she points to a shirt of his from high school. She has a whole drawer filled with yours and Jungkook’s old clothes for sleep shirts, the giddy smile on her face as she awaits for approval making Jungkook almost forget everything. (Read: almost)

“You can choose any shirt you want, Young-ie,” he answers, his eyes only half-lidded and just a whisper close to stinging with tears. The exhaustion in his voice is practically inseparable from the gutting feeling of his full-time work as a dad for a little more than two years, being mistaken for Yoongi’s part-time favor as a godfather for barely two weeks and then some.

Jungkook’s hands immediately twitch at his sides when Hwayoung walks towards him and stumbles for the slightest second, the brief hiccup on his heart reminding him that he’ll be attuned to her no matter what — even if his daughter mistakes him for a stranger.

He knows the shit that the elders say about letting children fall. He has the script memorized by now and he knows the annoyance that blooms in him routinely when he gets unsolicited advice. 

Jungkook knows it all, and he knows that eventually, Hwayoung would get hurt and he won’t be able to do anything about it. Just like how she can hurt him, someway and somehow along the line (maybe she’ll call Yoongi appa again), and how he won’t know what to do with himself should that time come.

Tonight isn’t the time.

“Help, appa.”

“Okay,” he obliges. “I’m here,” Jungkook utters, ironically refusing to call himself the title that he wants Hwayoung to keep only for him; not for Yoongi, not for your manager, and not for the men that constantly pine after you even when they know fully that Jungkook’s in the picture.

Your husband knows greed and he hates it, because it had been in the form of Yoongi briefly smirking when Hwayoung called him appa that time.

Jungkook knows greed and is well-acquainted, because his fist is scuffed and Yoongi’s number is blocked. 

He knows greed and whatever indomitable power that puts a brake to his rage right when it’s about to pour over, because he had punched the brick wall in the patio instead of Yoongi to blow off steam, and because he has the mind to not taunt Yoongi with a complete family picture right after you distanced yourself away from him.

“I’m sorry, Young-ie. Mama and I are sorry to put you through that, okay?” he murmurs to her ear like it’s only their little secret for them to hear, the unbridled wonder that lingers in his daughter’s eyes enough to placate him that everything’s okay between them tonight.

( ♡ ) 

To wake up in the same bed as Jungkook and Hwayoung after so long makes your heart swell.

Your heart swells, not just with pride, but with a feeling you can’t ever put a name to. You’re more than content enough to see Hwayoung cuddled up to Jungkook and the mess of their hair tangled in between, but even more, you’re filled with a strange yearning that you don’t want them to stay that way.

You want more of them in a way that you’re overwhelmed, just by thinking that they’re the closest you could ever have to feeling immortal in this life. Not everything is completely back into place like they once were, but oddly enough, neither you and Jungkook are actively trying to replicate the old times. 

“You sure you’ll do the groceries alone this time?” you ask Jungkook for the third time, also receiving his third consecutive playful eye roll as he packs Hwayoung’s bag for you.

“Yes, ma’am. Just go with the princess and look at playschools,” he hums, ruffling your daughter’s hair that you spent a good ten minutes on. “If I come with, I fear I’ll already cry just by thinking Young-ie’s growing up.”

“She is growing-…”

“Can’t hear you!” he hollers as he backs out from the driveway, the smile on his face incomparable because he woke up with the thought that you did.

Jungkook wants more of you and Hwayoung, not because he just wants to return your unspoken sentiment, but because he figures that no amount of time or space will ever be enough if it’s the both of you that hold it.

It’s nice to be back to a somewhat normal routine. With your work finished (and all that is left is for the publicity to ramp up) after having spent so much time on it, you immediately resign yourself to the fixed routine you’ve been dying to get back on.

You’ve almost forgotten just how chaotic a supposedly mundane breakfast could be for a family of three, seeing to it that Jungkook’s packed lunches had grown on you to the point that even having your own plate on the dining table felt weird.

You’ve almost forgotten just how liberating it felt to walk outside with Hwayoung (despite having to put on masks and caps on for animosity) without having to worry how much time you have left before shooting starts again, considering that your daughter doesn’t even regard you for the actress that you are.

Hwayoung pulls your hand and walks ahead of you, and you let her. She’s small and unyielding, even if she pulls you with the equivalent of a mini Jungkook’s strength.

Your daughter walks ahead of you and you don’t mind because you rarely ever get to see her in the sunlight wearing the dresses that Jungkook buys even if there aren’t any sales going on (you’re trying to get him to curb his shopping addiction), as opposed to her being bundled up in pajamas, sitting on your lap in your trailer under studio lights.

Hwayoung has the strength that only a child of yours and Jungkook’s could ever possess, because while you freeze in your tracks upon seeing a familiar face as soon as you open the glass doors to the playschool you were about to scope out, Hwayoung only looks at you and the woman in front with a smile.

“Y/N, is that you?”

“Sora,” you exhale, the surprise probably evident on your face because it takes a solid second for you to register her presence. “Hi.”

Sora’s even prettier in person (not that she was ever ugly in the first place) than the beauty she was on the picture you’ve seen of her and Jungkook, her genuine smile unmistakeable because she looks like light itself.

You get why Jungkook had fallen for her, and while there’s nothing about now to blame him for, you can’t understand either why Sora’s absolutely ecstatic to see her ex-boyfriend’s wife.

“She’s my daughter,” you belatedly add after finally moving on from being starstruck, putting a reassuring hand on Hwayoung’s back (who doesn’t need it anyway because she’s more at ease right now than you are) as you smile. “Say hi, baby.”

Sora gasps in awe, and while you appreciate her politeness in not assuming anything about Hwayoung before you introduced her yourself, the curious, baser part of you wonders if she thinks about you and what she could’ve been–

If Sora thinks about you as much as you do with her whenever she fights with her partner, or if she ever thinks about the lingering insecurity that comes with being a lover in general. 

“She’s an absolute sweetheart! She looks so much like you.”

“She does?” you beam, completely surprised at her words. You’re already surprised about Sora in general along with her unexpected enthusiasm, but you’re even more shocked at her sincere interest. “A lot of family and friends say that she looks like Jungkook more.”

“I mean they do say that soulmates will look alike at one point,” she shrugs playfully, head tilting as she waves to Hwayoung while you digest her words.

You didn’t think Jungkook’s past would be this kind no matter how much it had hurt you before.

You feel guilty for having expected a confrontation of some sort, the slight paranoia that had creeped on you before completely dissipating the longer that you look at Sora. She looks at ease and it’s contagious, the soft smile on her face extending up to her eyes when she sees your gaze lingering at the hand on her belly.

“Oh, yeah. I’m expecting,” she announces excitedly, cheerfully, as if you’re childhood friends and go to brunch every Sunday — as if you’re close enough for her to spread her joy with.

“Congrats, Sora,” you grin, extending your hand to gently hold her arm in celebration.

You had insisted again and again to yourself that Sora’s no one to you; that she’s a blip in Jungkook’s radar that lasted for years and came before you. You had let the idea of her consume you fully to the point that her kindness takes you aback.

You can’t blame Sora, and she can’t blame you either. Somewhere along Jungkook’s mosaic he’s made for himself, she lingers in there as a stray piece that fits no matter the pattern. It’s irrevocable and only natural for your husband to be an accumulation of everything and everyone he’s ever loved, and while you know that you and your daughter occupy most of it, you can’t ever erase Sora from existence.

You want to ask who’s the dad with the most inconspicuous tone you could ever possess. 

You want to ask her how she’s been and how things went with her partner during the last time that she and Jungkook had celebrated their anniversary as exes. 

You want to ask Sora about her cousin and maybe even joke about how chaos must probably run in her bloodline.

You want to ask Sora about hundreds of things and hold her accountable for the sleepless nights she’s costed you and your family, but you hold yourself back — not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because everything had already worked out in the end. Sora’s already in the past and you want her to stay there, even if you have the opportunity to get the answers you’ve only used to pray for.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N, I’m sorry. I know it’s a little too late to say it, but I really am,” she murmurs after some time of only you and her silently watching Hwayoung talk to another kid, the sincerity in her eyes evident even if she holds her head low before you.

The closure you could only ever ask for whenever your heart hurt the most, comes to you when you feel that you’re at your lightest.

( ♡ ) 

True to your word, you don’t let Jungkook attend your press conference.

There’s no point in denying that you do need Jungkook here with you, but there’s no denying either that needing him and wanting him to be here are two different things.

You’re oddly reminiscent of the time that you had been in this position, and even if the memory’s bittersweet, the rational and realistic part of your brain could only think that it’s reasonable to miss Jungkook despite barring him from here. This is your highest peak after all, and it’s only normal for you to be nervous.

It’s normal for you to be nervous despite telling the staff that you’re going to keep the wedding ring on your finger throughout the entire thing. It’s entirely reasonable for you to be jittery at the possibility of being asked about your family, no matter how far-fetched the queries could be from the actual movie at hand.

It’s only okay for you to feel that trepidation in your stomach even if everything in your life, at the moment, is at your favor.

The room’s quiet with only you and Jimin in it, and without the buffer of Hwayoung that laughs through everything that he says, the one-on-one that you have with your manager reminds you of the talk you had to have when the rumors about you and Yoongi broke out.

Jimin has more years and experiences under his belt now, but with the way he talks to you, it feels as if it’s neither of you are experienced; that the both of you are complete beginners who’d like to think that the only way to go is up, and that a tiny irregularity could instantly make everything you’ve built to collapse.

The talk about Eunsu has been a long time coming, and Jimin wants to let you know now when there’s nobody else — when you’re reminded that you have everything to both gain and lose.

“I’ve managed to put a lid on it for the meantime,” he clears his throat, looking at your reflection in the mirror as he puts on your microphone delicately. “I don’t know for how long though.”

Your gaze looks blank, almost unreadable to the untrained eye, yet Jimin knows that there’s a weight to it. Unlike all the brush-ins you’ve ever had with issues before, this is the first time that it had ever hit home and everything that ever mattered to you.

He could only imagine the weight of what it must feel like to be you; of how heavy it must be to be the one to take everything in stride.

“It’s okay, Jimin. Thank you,” you murmur, looking down on your lap as you try to fight the frown that comes with the realization that you’ve been used to having Hwayoung on it.

“Y/N,” he tuts, his tone stern yet familiar.

“Hmm?” you ask while you’re in a daze, letting yourself stare at a spot on the wall that could only hold your attention for so long. You can’t erase it as much as you can’t avoid this conversation with Jimin, and even more, you can’t avoid the eventual turbulence you’ll be subjecting your family to once everything goes public.

There’s an innate guilt that comes with being a wife and a mother, you figure. It’s your first time being both and with it comes the sense of doom; it’s not the morbid type of ruination, but rather, it’s the anxiousness that comes with knowing you don’t only have yourself to look after.

“What Eunsu did to Jungkook— to your family, even-…”

“I know,” you interrupt, nodding fervently to cut the conversation short, except Jimin doesn’t fold.

“I know you’re protecting them. I know you’re thinking about Hwayoung the most,” Jimin sighs. “But you wanting to protect them also means that you’re protecting Eunsu even if it isn’t your intention,” he murmurs, squeezing your shoulder gently. “The news coming out about her won’t be the worst thing in the world.”

The same two people that you’re protecting, one of them more innocent and clueless than the other yet just as loving, give you complacency amidst your unease.

( ♡ )

You always insisted on having a big bed.

Jungkook remembers your insistence on having a big bed when the two of you moved in together and slowly started furnishing your home before your wedding. Your preferences didn’t exactly clash his because while you mostly took care of the budget and he took care of the aesthetics, there would almost always be common ground. Almost.

Additionally, you also remember Jungkook’s gratefulness for your stubbornness towards having a big bed because realistically, he can’t ever picture himself lying down on a deluxe standard bed with a toddler between the two of you.

The maintenance for the third-biggest variation of a king-sized bed that you had pleaded him for (and even made a whole presentation about defending your case) with Hwayoung in the picture now is even more troublesome. The quest for bedsheets that are hypoallergenic, extremely soft and comfortable, have a neutral, classic, yet easily-maintainable design, and toddler-proof simultaneously seems to be never-ending.

Jungkook can’t sleep at all sometimes. Even when the airconditioning in the room is at a perfect temperature, his comforter is on his person and not on the other side of the bed by your doing, his daughter’s hair isn’t in his mouth, and his cat’s humongous built isn’t blocking his passage of air, there’s days wherein Jungkook can’t put himself to sleep.

In one way or another, it’s always the ache and worry that manifests in his chest for the next day. He keeps wondering about tomorrow’s meals and the probability of Hwayoung throwing a tantrum. He keeps wondering if there’s going to be a wild curveball that somebody will throw at you tomorrow, and how fast he can get to you should that happen.

Jungkook’s no stranger to sleepless nights. He’s used to analyzing one unfavorable context after another to scare himself into being awake so he can’t get nightmares when he eventually goes to sleep.

To wake your husband up just because you couldn’t sleep yourself is a menial task that you finally talk yourself into doing, the little shake that you give Jungkook on his shoulders enough to make him jolt awake.

“Kook, wake up.”

“What, what-…? What is it?” he darts up groggily, eyes barely adjusted to the dim light you’ve set the room to. Jungkook’s lost to why you even woke him up when Hwayoung’s out like a log, but he doesn’t question you on it — instead, he gently carries his daughter to occupy his warm spot on the bed, just so he could crawl his way to the middle to listen to you.

“Jungkook.”

“Hmm,” he hums again, sleepily propping himself up with a pillow as he tries to blink the sleep away from his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t even dare to take a peek at the alarm clock because all he knows is that you’re awake and you also want him to be, so he doesn’t complain.

Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.

Seven seconds. Hold it.

Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.

“Let’s fight,” you whisper, leaning your head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

Your husband could only rub his eyes tiredly, the yawn that escapes him making his entire body shake. “Huh? Right now?” he clarifies, the sleepy pout on his lips only highlighting how wide and docile his eyes are for you at the moment.

“Come on. Let’s fight,” you half-heartedly offer, bumping your head to his.

Your husband only stays silent, putting a hand up to your forehead to check for a fever. 

Jungkook only yawns once again, his sluggishness being infectious to the point that you suppress your own by burying your face to his neck.

“Can we like, fight in the morning or something?” he tries to compromise, fully serious about a half-baked joke you woke him up for.

Jungkook’s come a long way. He’s no longer your husband who didn’t want to fight you on things for the sake of self-preservation. He’s no longer the one who avoided confrontation in fear of setting you apart from him. He’s this now, so willing to go with your every whim that if you want to have a fight with him at two in the morning, he’ll rub the sleep out of his eyes and let you rest on his shoulder if ever you were being serious.

You kiss your husband on the lips, the love-drunk smile that he gives you afterward making you snort.

Your king-sized bed is a mess. Somewhere by the end of your foot, there’s Hwayoung’s pink crayon that she insists on holding to sleep. Somewhere by the tips of Jungkook’s hair, there’s Miso’s fur kept together with his daughter’s hair clip because she didn’t want to go to sleep without putting it on him.

Jungkook, your husband who’s clad in a shirt of yours with too many holes on it because of his daughter’s safety scissors and his cat’s claws, hugs you to his chest in silence.

You think about how you can’t tell when the news about Eunsu is going to release, while Jungkook sneakily tries to uncover your sock-covered foot with his own because he lost one of his socks while sleeping and wanted to be even.

You think about how the Academy nominees are going to be revealed in a week, while your husband says out loud his grocery list for the week while randomly staring off into space every ten seconds.

You think about Hwayoung attending playschool in a matter of months, while your husband internally plays rock, paper, scissors with himself as he waits for you to gather your thoughts.

You think about you and Jungkook and whatever comes with, for, and between you while he hugs you under the dim lights.

Four seconds. Breathe in through your nose.

Seven seconds. Hold it.

Eight seconds. Exhale through your mouth.

“What if it only gets brutal from here on out, Jungkook? What do I do?” you murmur, looking up at him.

“Who says it has to be brutal?” Jungkook laughs, his voice bouncing out into the space as if you’re in a newly-built house with barely any furniture. 

Jungkook’s laughter is still joyous and loud, because even if Jungkook’s heart is a newly-built house, his happiness still reverberates the more it settles into the ground and comes closer to its roots; closer to you.

“We’ll keep up.”

[dudethatsmyundeaduncle]

DP x DC AU

Danny's gonna adopt all the Halfas in Gotham whether he wants to or not, and it's gonna start with the little dead girl he found after crawling out of that portal in the league base.

Pt 2 here. My Au Art

...........................

There's a dead little girl sitting on the rug in front of Danny's coffee table curiously eating Cheetos.

Well, she's not all the way dead, only half, could even be a little less then that, Danny would know he's sort of the leading expert on being half dead.

Her skins blue, like comic book mystique blue, vibrant and impossible to miss. Shes got these big black eyes and a nasty split going straight through her upper lip to just under her right eye.

She's also missing her nose, it's just gone, no cartilage left over just the gaping nasal cavity like skulls have.

The little girl looks dead, she is dead, or she's at least as dead as Danny is which is almost exclusively in name only.

Her name is Curaré, Danny only knows it because it's been branded into the skin of the little girls neck, just under the curve of her bald skull.

Curaré is terribly thin, the little toddler sized T-shirt she has on hangs loose around her torso where baby fat should fill it out.

She's horrible to look at, a tiny nightmare, her corpse like coloring doing nothing to mitigate the appearance.

Curaré was neither a healthy nor normal little girl, there was no way Danny could have left that league facility without her.

Oh and she almost exclusively spoke in Spanish which made finding her dinner hard.

Not that Cheetos are really dinner, little kids need to eat more then that Danny was pretty sure, like 89% sure. Although they did have a lot of calories...

Danny tilts his head absently as he looks at her, the little demon being illuminated red and green by the glow of the TV. She's enraptured by the Scooby doo rerun Gotham's only spanish language channel is playing tonight.

As if she can feel his eyes she turns to him and tilts her head the same way.

Danny blinks at her, Curaré blinks back.

" Uh- " Danny starts, trying to remember anything from his Spanish elective from sophomore year. God, his teacher had been right he had needed to study more. " The Cheetos, you like them? They're uh...bueno? Oh! Son Buenos?"

He points his finger down at the snack sized bag in her grasp, her fingers are tiny , they must be so fragile, looking at the desperate grasp they have on the bag makes Danny's chest hurt. How could anyone be so small? Had Danny ever been that small?

Curaré blinks again, long and slow, processing Danny's words. She looks down at her Cheetos and back up at Danny then she carefully holds the bag out to him.

" Oh no that's ok they're for you kiddo" Danny insists.

Curaré shakes the bag at him, like enticing a stray cat with treats but he only shakes his head again.

She gives up after that, shrugging and turning back to her cartoons.

Inside her chest Danny can feel her ghost core vibrate placidly as Scooby and Shaggy run across the TV in a panic.

Danny's own core can't help but try to match it's frequency, a low contented humming echoes between them, safe it seems to say.

Curaré can't be older then 4, which means she was resurrected young and that she died even younger. Danny doesn't know how any of it happened, halfas aren't created easily, the amount of energy needed...

She's so small.

He hopes it was fast, whatever it was that did this to her, made her like him.

Danny also hopes that her injuries aren't permanent. Some ghosts keep the carnage of their corpses well into the after life but as a Halfa Curaré should heal, even if she got those injuries during her ressurction. For her sake it'll be much easier to find some sense of normalcy if she isn't always actively bleeding, even if the blood itself is just an ecto-echo of real blood.

Danny curls his knees up to his chest and hides his face for a moment just trying to breathe. He's too young to be taking care of a toddler, he's still six months away from turning 18 and hes got school on Monday. His eyes burn and his throat constricts as he tries to swallow.

No one else but Danny would know how to take care of Curaré, and she's got no family to try and stumble their way through it. Danny can't take her back to the league and he sure as hell isn't going to search for whoever put that brand on her neck.

Even if he dropped her off at the fire station Gotham only has one Meta focused orphanage, it's state run and all the kids in it have to wear little prison style jump suits. And the food sucks, Danny can personally vouch for that.

She doesn't have a home, she's just as out of place here in Gotham as Danny is. Danny really wishes, not for the first time, that he had an adult here. Like Jazz or hell even Mr. Fuckin Lancer.

Just anyone. Anyone who could tell Danny what to do about this. Who could help him out with the child he's suddenly acquired.

He wishes anyone else was here so it wouldn't just be him and Curaré. Two dead kids sitting on the floor of a studio apartment in the Bowery watching cartoons.

What a pair the two of them will make, oh God. Danny laughs as a few tears stain his jeans.

Curaré makes a curious little noise that has Danny forcing his head up. She's reached the inevitable end of her snack sized bag and she looks absolutely devastated. She turns to look at him, tilting the empty bag towards him as if to say ' can you believe this shit!'

Danny can't help but give her a watery smile, no more crying Fenton, and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

" Okay, one thing at a time." Danny tells himself. " You finished your Cheetos and now it's time for dinner, right? Stop me if I'm wrong."

Curaré just looks at him.

Danny's not worried, they're gonna have all the time in the world to teach her to appreciate humour and also English.

" I'm going to take that as a yes. " Danny hops up off the floor and goes to find his phone, nobody does dinner like the local Batburger.

Little foot steps follow him into the hallway, he'll have to get used to that sound he's going to be hearing it a lot.

Food first, everything would be better after they ate.

...............

For BG I imagine he's been living in Gotham for a few months and found Curaré while popping in and out of different portals in Gotham. (Who woulda guessed that some portal in Gotham leads right to the lazarus pit)

Note: if u wanna see cool art for this AU it's all in the Danny and the little dead girl au tag on my pg!

[nicohischierz]

outed: adelaide hughes au

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hisch you want to join the taglist let me know!!

trevor zegras

adelaide and matt had slept in seeing as neither of them had training or a game.

the thing that woke them up from their nap was when addy’s older brothers best friends voice rang through their apartment.

“addy, are you home?” trevor asked.

trevor knew no limits so he walked straight into the younger girls room ready to jump in her bed. however, he was greeted with a sleep adelaide on top of a sleeping matt rempe

the new york native screamed causing addy and matt to jump out of bed.

upon seeing trevor, adelaide moved away from matt and stood on the side. she slipped a sweater over her head and turned to her brothers friend

“z, what the fuck are you doing here?” addy asked. she threw a shirt at her boyfriend, who simply pulled it on without a word.

“what am i doing? i came here to spend time with my honorary sister and im met with the rangers number one fighter. im concerned addy,” trevor rambled.

matt couldn’t help the smile on his face. after all the stories he’d heard about your brothers, trevor seemed like a true friend.

adelaide’s eyes softened as she lunged at the boy for a hug. “i’m fine z. matty makes me happy, like really happy,”

trevor patted the younger girls head and glared at matt. “that’s all i want addy,”

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

cole caufield

adelaide was having her monthly catch-up with cole as she cooked dinner for her and matt.

however, half-way through cole had to answer some texts on the team group chat leaving the two in silence.

whilst adelaide was cooking, she failed to notice her boyfriends arrival. the tall canadian stood by the doorway, admiring his girlfriend.

“well don’t you look so pretty,” matt complimented

the taller boy stood behind adelaide and pressed kisses on her neck as she plated their food in front of the camera.

when adelaide looked up she was met with cole’s shocked face. matt looked at her girlfriends phone and stepped back a bit.

“shit. is this what z meant? he mentioned you were seeing someone but i thought you’d tell me!” cole ranted.

“and you. you may be taller than me but i will fight you. god damn addy now i owe trevor $100.” cole muttered before ending the call.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

william nylander and matthew knies

adelaide had been having a tough couple of weeks so she took some personal days and flew to toronto without telling anyone.

“adelaide?” willy asked as he saw the girl outside the practice arena.

he noticed her sunken eyes and the frail state her body was in. william immediately rushed to the girl and held her as she broke in his arms.

“come on älskling. you’re coming home with me,” willy asked matthew knies to help him, knowing that you two knew each other.

matthew helped put you in william’s car when your phone started ringing excessively. willy was tempted to ignore it but he didn’t know whether you’d told anyone of your whereabouts so he answered.

“ada!” matt rempe answered on the other side.

“this is william nylander, who are you?” he asked.

matthew urged his teammate to put the phone on speaker and that is what the blonde did.

“i’m matt. is adelaide there?”

“matt who?”

“matt rempe. look i just got back to our apartment and she isn’t here. i’ve called barzy and the martin’s but they haven’t seen her either”, matt rambled.

“she here. she’s in toronto,” willy answered.

“is she okay?” matt’s voice was timid, worried about his girlfriend.

“not really, but i’ll keep her with me for a bit,”

“can you hand her the phone please,”

william turned the phone off speaker and handed it to adelaide.

“matty,” she mumbled.

“hi ada, is willy going to make you feel better?” matt knew how close the two were during their time in toronto. he also knew that other than barzy and tito, willy was the only one who could get her out of a slump.

“willy’s the best. he always looks after me and kniesy’s here too. i miss you,” adelaide smiled at the two leaf players.

“i miss you too princess. get some rest and call me later, i love you,”

“i love you matty,” adelaide ended the call and was about to close her eyes.

“so you share an apartment with matt rempe.” kniesy stated.

adelaide hummed “i share an apartment with my boyfriend,”

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

brendan brisson

brendan and adelaide were in the latters room playing smash or pass whilst they waited for dinner.

brendan was scrolling through a girls list of hockey players on tiktok as they both shouted out their answers.

“eww i can’t believe people find my brothers attractive,” adelaide groaned seeing jack for the sixth time.

brendan laughed and continued scrolling until they landed on matt rempe.

“oh i’ve seen him on fyp, the girls really seem to like him,” brendan added.

adelaide let out a nervous laugh. “pass. he’s a ranger, i’d be hung,”

of course, the knights prospect read between the lines. “okay forget his team, smash or pass?” he asked.

“well pass, he’s not really my type i guess. i don’t know briss,” adelaide answered truthfully.

brendan scoffed. “i think you’d smash. actually i think you already have,” he accused the girl.

adelaide got off her bed and looked to her best friend. “w-w-what, you’re crazy brendan. why would i hook up with a ranger?”

“i don’t know addy but i think he’s the guy you’re soft launching. i mean when i showed you the picture you started blushing. whenever any of the guys brings your boyfriend up you just say he’s tall. also i saw the way he looked at you at the isles vs rangers game i went to,”

brendan gave his best friend a pointed look.

the girl caved fast confessing everything to brendan from the time she met matt to them living together.

“who else knows?” brendan asked.

“well cole, trevor, my team, kniesy, willy, our parents and braden schneider,” addy answered.

“how do cole and trevor know before me!!” brendan exclaimed.

“they caught us,” adelaide replied sheepishly.

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

mat barzal and the team

the islanders were out having drinks after their season and to celebrate adelaide's new sponsor.

of course, adelaide celebrated too much as she hung onto mat and slurred her words. her teammates found it amusing as she gave them all advice on their love lives.

"mat. i love you, i really do but i swear if you show up to training camp with a shaved head finding a girlfriend would be the least of your worries," she threatened.

the boys laughed as mat dropped the girl off on their goalie ilya sorokin. the girl then started counting in russian and muttering random curse words causing the others who understood to look at the girl in amusement.

"oh no, i have to factory reset her to english," mat groaned as adelaide began rambling on in different languages intertwining with her sentences.

adelaide then laid her head onto ilya's shoulder. "i miss matt," she mumbled in english. the poor goalie then pointed at his two teammates with the same name, making the girl excited.

"eww, that's not matt. i want to go home to matty," she whined.

matt martin carried the younger girl out the bar as she stumbled over her feet, mumbling about 'matt'. barzy was given her bag as he searched for a contact under that name.

just as he was about to hand the phone back to adelaide, she received a call from 'remmy 🐀'.

"ada, it's 2:30. you told me to call if I don't hear from you at this time," matt answered on the other end.

"are you matt?" barzy asked.

matt straightened up and prepared to head out the door. "yeah, I'm matt. umm is ada alright?"

"she's fine. i mean a little wasted but functioning,"

"i'll come pick her up. i've got her location, i should be there in ten minutes,"

barzy put adelaide's phone in her bag and hung it over his shoulder. "addy, matt's on his way," he told the younger girl, holding a bottle of water to her lips.

despite some having families and significant others, they all waited to ensure that adelaide got home safe even if that meant they walked across the city for her.

the sounds of matt's jeep alerted the crowd and the boy pulled up as close as possible before stepping out.

adelaide smiled at the sight of her boyfriend. she pushed away from her teammate and stumbled into matt's arm, the boy catching his girlfriend.

"matty, look this one and this one has the same name as you!" she exclaimed, pointing at the other two.

matt smiled at adelaide's teammates and fixed his grip around her waist. "come on ada, let's get you in the car and then I'll run you a bath when we get home,"

adelaide’s teammates looked at one another and then at how comfortable the girl was. “bye friends! i’m gonna miss you,” she shouted out the car door.

“is that?” one of the guys asked as they watched the couple drive away.

“yup,” barzy replied.

“with ..”

“we all pretend we don’t know until she tells us,” anders lee told the group before they split.

[stars1997]

Touchy

Luke Hughes x fem! Reader

Warnings: sub Luke, hand job, blow job, riding, Luke’s hand tied to the head board, threats of just leaving him tied to the bed, crybaby Luke, bratty Luke. (not edited)

Y/n and Luke went out for dinner. The whole time Luke wasn’t able to keep his hands to himself after being told so many times. Y/n lets it go until they get home. Luke thinks that he’s gotten away with it but little does he know he’s in for a long night.

_

Luke lets out a little huff as you bring his hand back up to the small of your back. For the past few minutes Luke has been trying to put his hand on your butt.

“Luke if you don’t keep your hand where it is I will cut them off.” You whisper to him. you were meeting his brothers out for dinner.

“But this dress just makes you look so good. If you had just agreed to let me bend, you over the kitchen counter I wouldn’t be acting like this.” Your eyes widen at his words. you slap him on his chest.

“You did not just say that! You better watch your hands and your words, or you will be in for a big treat when we get home.” You give him a slap on his butt and let out a laugh. “Now where the hell are your brothers?” He pulls you closer to his body with a laugh.

“I told you that they would be late. They are always late.” He gives you side a squeeze. Then pulls you so you’re standing in front of him. You smile up at him and he leans down to kiss you but before his lips could meet yours you were interrupted.

“Eeww guys, come on save the kissing for when your home.” Jacks voice is one that you could pick out of a line up if you were blindfolded. You turn on you heel and give him a big smile.

“Oh yeah we will be doing a lot of kissing when we get home.” Luke slaps your butt, and you give him a look. To remind him of the warning you gave him earlier.

_

Dinner went smoothly. The boys talked about the upcoming summer vacation at the lake house and the parties they are going to throw.

But during dinner Luke had trouble keeping his hand in one place. His hand would travel up your thigh. You didn’t acknowledge it and thought the best thing to do about the situation would be to take care of it when you get home.

Now you’re sitting in the passenger seat of the car and his hand is on your thigh again. The music playing was the only noise in the car. You’re about a few minutes from the apartment. you shift in the seat, so your body is turned towards him. your eyes locked on the side of his face. Your hand pushing his hair out of his eyes. He lets out a little hum at the feeling of your hand in his hair.

You lean over the center console and give him a kiss on his cheek. Leaning back a little you grab his chin firmly and bring your lips to his ear.

“When we get inside you will go straight to the bedroom and wait for me. Do not touch yourself and when I get into the room you will not touch me. You can do that, right?” His hand squeezed your thigh for a second, but you noticed it. Luke nods his head, and the speed of the car picks up a little bit.

_

When we walked into the apartment, he was quick to move. Taking his shoes off and leaving them in the middle of the floor before making his way over to the bedroom. You take your time putting away the leftover food in the fridge and taking off your heels. It took you a minute or two to do everything but for Luke it felt like ages.

When you entered the room, you saw Luke with his button up shirt undone and him fiddling with his belt. He turns around his hands still pulling at his belt as he locks eyes with you. You walk over to him and move his hands away, helping him pull his belt out of the loops.

Neither of you said a word as you took his shirt the rest of the way off and slid his pants down his legs. You push him back, so he falls back on the bed. You walk to the closet and grab one of his ties. When you walk back out his eyes never leave you as you walk back over to him.

“Hands above your head.” You point at him with the tie in your hand. You climb onto the bed and straddle his stomach. You tie his hands to the metal bars of the headboard.

“This is unfair. I want to touch you. I’m always able to touch you.” he pulls his hands trying to get them out of the tie.

“Not tonight. You have to keep your hands tied because you didn’t listen to me at dinner. So, this is your punishment. You keep your hands tied and I touch you.” he lets out a whine as your hands run up and down his chest.

You move down so you’re now straddling one of his thighs. Your hand running over his other thigh and over his bulge in his boxers. You moved the waist band down so the tip of his cock was now visible. You slid your thumb over it collecting the precum and spreading it around the head of his cock.

Pulling the rest of his boxers down before you took his cock in your hand. he let out a moan as you move your hand around him a few times before leaning down and spitting on his cock. You watch as the spit runs down to the base before you start to move your hand again.

You knew that because of the way Luke was acting earlier it would be easy to get him to cum. Which is proving to be true. His stomach tenses and he tries to pull his hands out of the restraints.

You move your hand faster and Luke’s head flings back into the pillows behind him. his mouth falls open as your thumb go back to rubbing his tip.

“I’m going to cum. Fuck. To quick, going to cum to quick.”  He wiggles his hips to try and get away from your hand. but it’s too late, he was already cuming. You keep moving your hand, using his cum a lubricant.

“Stop, it’s too much. Fuck.” He try’s moving away from you, but you hold his hips down.

“You have to stay still Luke, or I’ll leave you tied to the bed, and I’ll take care of myself.” He shakes his head no.

“That’s what I thought. Now be a good boy.  No matter how badly you want to cum, don’t.” He shakes his head yes and you move so your face is hovering over his cock.

You place both your hands on his hips as you drag your tongue from the base of his cock to the tip. His body shudders and he tries to thrust his hips up but your hands hold him down. You take the tip of his cock in your mouth sucking on it for a second before taking one of your hands off his hip to grip the base of his cock.

You start moving your mouth with your hand. before deciding to take his whole cock in your mouth. Your nose now touching him. He thrusts up making you gag on his length.

“Fuck yes. Oh god, fuck. I’m going to cum.” You take your mouth off him with a pop. A string of saliva still connecting you to his tip. He lets out a whine at the loss of contact.

“Please. This is unfair. I didn’t even do anything wrong.” You couldn’t tell if he was trying to egg you on or if he really thought that he didn’t do anything.

You grab his cock again and run your thumb over the top a few times. One of the things you love about Luke us that the head of his cock is so sensitive that if you really wanted to you could make him cum by just rubbing it.

“Didn’t do anything? You disobeyed me and didn’t listen when I told you to stop. I think that you deserve your punishment.” You spit on his cock and give him a few tugs before climbing over him and lining him up with your entrance.

You slide your underwear over to the side and sink down on his cock, your head tipping back at the pleasure. A moan leaves both of your mouths.

“Please let me touch you. I need to feel you, please.” He try’s tugging at the tie. But you don’t respond and just start rocking your hips.

You rock your hips for a bit before you start bouncing. You let out a loud moan. hands resting on his stomach and your nails digging into his skin. Your orgasm hitting you hard.

“I’m going to cum. Fuck. Yes, keep going please!” he thrust his hips up to meet your bouncing. It didn’t take long for him to cum.

“Fuck! Y/N!” His movements stop as he cums. You climb off him and untie his hands.

“You going to come shower with me handsome?” you climb of the bed taking your clothes off as you make your way to the connected bathroom. Luke was quick to follow.

[aviiarie]

found family with Giyuu and his tsuguko (platonic ofc). like, imagine eating together, or helping each other with little things (like brushing hair or sharpening swords for the other) or protecting each other in fights.

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ EVERY BREATH; EVERY HEARTBEAT — platonic giyuu & reader !

synopsis. moments with giyuu and his tsuguko. warnings. kny-typical violence. manga spoilers. notes. PLATONIC. reader uses water breathing. gn!reader. headcanons. found family. 1.1k words. i'm so sorry for how late this request is. i went with a headcanon format, i hope you enjoy <33

Giyuu had high expectations of them. He made that very clear from the beginning; if they were to be the next water hashira, they needed to be strong, capable. They needed to be able to match him in skill—and eventually, exceed him.

It's lucky for him that his tsuguko was a quick learner.

“Don't slouch,” Giyuu's face remains expressionless, but there was a slight pinch between his eyebrows that betrayed a barely hidden frown. “Keep your back straight, and your feet shoulder-width apart. If your weight isn't evenly distributed, you'll be knocked over as soon as you swing your sword.”

They quickly adjust their stance, gripping the hilt of their sword tightly. Their feet shift, one pointed forward and the other angled outward, with their body positioned in a slight crouch.

“Better.” Giyuu nod. “In an actual fight, you won't have time to focus on keeping your posture correct. You need to be able to rely on muscle memory, to fall into a fighting stance without even thinking about it.”

“How do I do that?” They ask, still frozen in where they stood. Their arm was beginning to ache from holding up their sword for so long, so they lower it to their side.

“You will learn.” He says simply. “Don't put down the sword just yet. We're not quite done.”

He's patient with his student, but is still as strict on them as he has to be. The last thing he wants is to go too soft on them, because he knows just how dangerous their profession is.

When they're out on missions together, he's very protective. Of course, he lets them fight—they're a capable Demon Slayer, after all—but the second he sees that they're starting to struggle, he steps in and kills the demon before they can blink.

It's just instinct. He'll hang back to let them prove their skills, but when they're hit with a particularly painful blow, his body moves on its own accord. He can't risk losing someone else, not to another demon.

Rather than going to the butterfly house for every injury, Giyuu is most often the one to help patch them up after fights. He isn't as skilled in medical treatment, but he has enough knowledge and is twice as gentle as Shinobu is, so he's their first choice.

While he's cleaning and bandaging their cuts and scrapes, he lets them squeeze his arm as tightly as they need to. He doesn't even complain when their nails dig into his skin.

Afterwards, he'll cook meal for them both—their favourite, if he's able to make it. they eat together, in a comfortable quiet. He's never been much for talk during meals, but he enjoys the company greatly.

For their first few meals together, neither said anything at all. But after a while, after they started to become more comfortable with each other, soon their silence started to be filled with something more.

“Why did you become a Demon Slayer?” The question makes Giyuu falter for a moment. His chopsticks, still raised to his lips, were slowly lowered away from his face.

“Why did I become a Demon Slayer?” He echos the question, making sure he heard them correctly. They nodded, and he sighed. “For no happy reasons.”

They're quiet for a moment, staring down at their food. “...I guess I can say the same.”

“It's quite a popular answer, among Slayers.” Giyuu says bluntly, returning to eating.

Maybe one day, he'll be able to properly explain the story to them without breaking his impassive facade, but even the slight memory is enough to force cracks into his blank expression. He focuses on the food in front of him, inhaling the rich smell and pushing away the clouding thoughts in his mind.

“What would you do if you weren't a Demon Slayer?” The second question almost makes him choke on his mouthful of food.

“Does it matter?” He swallows, staring at them blankly.

“No,” They shrug, not meeting his eye. “Just curious, I guess.”

Conversations were tentative at first, but he slowly opens up to them. They talk about their lives, before and after becoming Demon Slayers. Soon they move to trivial matters as well, favourite colours and favourite foods, random memories and amusing stories.

Then, it's the small moments between fighting and training. Giyuu helps them by sharpening their sword, and they help him with cleaning his after a mission. It all becomes a routine, and they fit into his life like they were always there, as if they've been a part of his family all along.

While he only intended to take on a tsuguko to train a successor, he ends up growing very fond of them. It becomes harder for him to send them out on missions, even they've grown strong enough to be able to fight on their own.

It's during the final battle that his sudden protectiveness towards them is tested, as he is forced to watch them almost die in the fight against Upper Moon Three.

For a moment, Giyuu's heart stops beating. He watches, paralyzed, as the demon—Upper Moon Three, the fourth strongest demon in the world—turns his attention towards his tsuguko. Their sword is raised in defense, lips parted to spit out the words that he taught them.

“Third Form—” The cry is cut off, as a fist is slammed into their stomach with enough force to tear through their skin and leave a mess of blood in its wake.

“Giyuu!” Their scream feels as heavy as the wounds weighing Giyuu down, but he doesn't stop; not even for a moment. He lunges forward, swinging his blade.

“Second Form, Water Wheel!” Giyuu yells, slashing the sword across the demon's shoulder and slicing his arm clean off. The attack distracts him long enough for [Name] to stumble back and away, pressing against the wound on their stomach to staunch the bleeding.

If there was any reason to keep fighting, even when weariness claws at his lungs and presses tightly against his chest, it was to stop the demons from taking anyone else. Tanjiro is ready beside him, and the grip on his sword is tight.

“Water Breathing, Tenth Form: Constant Flux!”

The aftermath is heavy on them both, but they aren't alone. Together, they begin to rebuild their lives in the wreckage of the Demon Slayer Corps, forging a new future for themselves. And no matter where that future takes them, Giyuu will be there to support them.

They aren't alone. No matter how many people who have been lost, they aren't alone, and as long as he is still alive, he will make sure they never will be.

Family is a difficult subject for Giyuu, but in them, that is exactly what he finds.

🏷️ taglist: @mollzaj, @mitsvriii, @an-angstyteen

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[nackrosor]

~Magic Hands~

𝓢𝓲𝓶𝓸𝓷 '𝓖𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽' 𝓡𝓲𝓵𝓮𝔂 𝔁 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓽!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

warnings/tags: smut, massage, hurt/comfort, female receiving, v. fingering, soft Ghost, romantic tension, the room is packed with your mates so you have to keep quiet hehe

synopsis: in the aftermath of a rough mission, you find yourself unable to fall asleep due to muscle aches. Your Lieutenant offers to help you release the tension by giving you a massage, which escalates rather quickly.

word count: 4,1k.

[a/n: finally writing for my man Ghost and I'm quite proud of how this first story turned out. Now I'm curious to know what you think of it! Also, this wasn't beta-read so if there's any typo/grammatical error, let me know. Alright, enjoyyyyy 🌶️✨💀]

"You can't sleep?" 

Ghost's deep hushed voice coming from somewhere behind you makes you turn in your bedroll. The room is nearly pitch black, with only a sliver of moonlight streaming in through the half-closed window, yet providing enough light to make your close surroundings visible. Therefore, when you turn around, you can see Ghost sitting on the floor a few feet away from you, his back to the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest and legs stretched straight in front of him. The thin dark gray t-shirt, paired with the intense chiaroscuro that imbues the room, highlights the outline of his massive biceps. Your eyes linger on his arms before they meet his, which twinkle slightly as they capture the moonshine.

"You neither?" 

He hums in response.

A weary sigh escapes you as you sprawl on your back, hand flying to the nape of your neck, where the muscles tug and burn. You feel like a wreck. You knew today’s operation would have been rough, even more than the last ones and you were prepared for it, you had trained so hard for months. You've risked your own skin multiple times during the offensive, although in the end you got away with only a scratch or two; nothing major. You were still high on adrenaline as you made it back to the base camp -a dilapidated temporary facility in the middle of a thick forest- and you were even rather impressed of yourself for having handled it all so well… until fatigue came crushing on you like a double-decker bus, almost knocking you to your knees and you felt the magnitude of the efforts made in all its gravity. You tried to mask it as you dined with your brothers in arms, a scarce sorry meal that didn’t even quench a third of your appetite, then instantly dragged your 200 pounds heavier than normal legs to the storage room adapted for sleeping and flopped down on your bed roll. You thought the ache would pass, that you only needed to lie down and let your limbs rest but it has already been three or four hours since then and you haven’t been able to close your eyes not even once.

"Everything aches so much. I might have strained a muscle or something. Possibly all of them." 

Ghost hums again in understanding. A moment of silence follows; silence only interrupted by the rhythmic snoring of your mates, laying in their bedrolls all around you in the tiny room.

"Come here." 

Your head snaps up. 

"Uh?" 

"You heard me. We need to do something about those sore muscles. Can't allow them to get in the way of the mission tomorrow." 

You look questioningly at him, eyes roaming over his masked face, as if expecting to be able to read his intentions. What can he do for you? The same as he can do for himself, which is pretty much nothing; he’ll give you a pat on the back and tell you to suck it up. If only there was a medic in the facility, you could have asked for an injection to ease the tension in your body but alas, you're on your own down here, equipped with no instant medication other than a pack of analgesics reserved for battle and a pain drug; but there's no way you'd take one on a night before a mission and risk waking up as a zombie in the morning. 

You’d have to wait for a proper medical treatment when you’re out of this hell, assuming you’re still in one piece by then.

“We don’t have all night, Sergeant.”

Ugh, using your title, of course. It can only mean the Lieutenant won’t accept a refusal from you. And who are you to refuse anyway? Just a lower soldier in pain; nothing special about you.

Even though you are still perplexed about his intentions, you scoot toward him, crawling silently so as to not wake up the others. Fortunately you don’t have to step on someone’s lying body to reach your superior.

He spreads his legs to give you room to get closer and you swallow the thrill that inflames your body at the sight of that big hunk of a man welcoming you in his lap. This is not the time to give in to such fantasies. Nor there will ever be. Hard truth.

Ghost’s fingers masterly find the waistband of your cargo trousers and tug at it to make you slide closer.

"Turn around." 

His commanding voice compels you to do as he says without question. There's no room for hesitation when he employs that tone; you must obey his directives, whether you're on the field on a mission or killing time at the HQ. Nobody can stand up to it, least of all you.

You’re barely able to suppress a gasp when you feel his huge hands take hold of your hips and settle you between his thighs, your back colliding with his firm chest. You can't, however, physically stop the shiver that runs down your spine as his palms climb up your sides, sliding upward over your back, causing you to bend slightly forward as he reaches your shoulders. There, he begins to knead your muscles carefully, knowing where to apply more pressure and where to let the tip of his fingers do most of the work.

You’re too stunned to speak. Never in a million years you would have guessed this is what he had in mind to do to help you. Ghost, your Lieutenant, has his hands on you, in a room full of fellow soldiers, in the middle of the night while you are on duty. What crazy-ass dream is this?

"Ghost-," you shudder, his hands working on a particularly sore spot, "a m-massage, seriously?" 

“What?”

“They only make things worse-”

While having Ghost do it is a whole new experience for you, you've received your fair share of massages, both throughout your years of training and after you became a special agent and they never seemed to work on you. They always left you in more pain than you were in before. You could have blamed it on the medic if only you hadn’t changed so many during the past years; they couldn't all have been incompetent, could they?

"You never got one from me, innit? They don't call me magic hands for nothing." 

You frown, throwing him a sideway glance over your shoulder. 

"Nobody calls you that." 

You hear him huff and your head is forced back to face straight by a firm nudge.

As strange and unexpected as it may seem, you must admit that his hands are truly doing Lord’s work against your shoulders, easing your tensed muscles and relieving some pain, so much so that you find yourself closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. 

"See? Just relax." 

His hands scoot lower, sliding down your back and sides, resting just above your bum. The warmth of his palms rubbing that sore area in circular motions sends more shivers up your spine. In his ascent back up, he pays attention to the tensed muscles of your arms, thumbs kneading deep into them and then finally, he goes back to your neck. Your breath catches at the feeling of his strong hands wrapping around it. His firm touch appears to arouse something primal within you. You can feel heat pooling in your core right away. 

"Fucking hell. Your neck is rock hard." 

He increases the pressure, rubbing the skin and working on the knots. His thumbs slide up and down your larynx, matching the movement of his other fingers on the nape. Your head bends backward on its own, landing on his chest. 

Ghost hums again, appreciatively. 

"You liking it?" 

"Y-yes, sir-"

His chest shakes softly against your back, a light rumble coming from his throat. 

"Good girl." 

You bite back a gasp. Those hushed words only add to the growing ache between your legs. The massage is clearly starting to turn you on and you feel… conflicted. You know you shouldn’t let his skillful touch, nor his raspy voice whispering so close to your ear or the warmth of his chest pressed against your back affect you so much. However, you are basically caged in his lap, how are you supposed to not let that cloud your judgment? To not allow your fantasies to run wild in your head? Yes, you’re strong, but… not that strong. You can’t possibly stop your body from reacting so naturally to all of these overwhelming sensations. Especially when you’re so touch-starved, and having Ghost being the one to indulge your craving doesn’t help in the slightest.

 " Mh, you're tensing up again." 

Ghost swiftly resumes working on your back, placing the palm of each hand on either side of your spine and working his way up, keeping his hands parallel to one another. When he reaches the top of your back, he fans his hands outwards across the shoulders, as if outlining the top of a heart. Using a kneading motion, he returns to the lower of your back to work the large muscles on either side of your spine then presses his fingertips firmly into your flesh before quickly releasing as he works his way up. The constant pressing and releasing sends your spine tingling and you fail to hold back a moan.    

“Yes. Don’t fight it.”

If only he knew what you were actually fighting against. How can the tension leave your body if his touch and his closeness and his voice are all working so hard together to make you tense up all the more?

You feel his hands close into fists and his knuckles start to rub gently but firmly across the tops of your shoulders and then glide down your biceps, the inner part of your arms, the side of your chest... 

Inadvertently, your body jerks at the new sensation, and his hand accidentally brushes up against your breast, fingers knocking into the slight bulge in your top caused by your aroused nipple. You stifle the moan that erupts from your throat by biting your bottom lip hard, your body stiffening instantaneously. 

Silence falls into the room, coating it in tension; your mates are not even snoring anymore. You don’t dare to move a muscle, you can barely keep your ragged breathing under control. 

Has he noticed? Does he realize what has just happened? It’s so dark in here and it all happened so quickly, he may have no idea what he has just touched, he may have not caught the lewd sound that came out of your mouth, either. Your body has tensed so much, however, that your reaction must have caught his attention. Any doubt goes out the window when you feel his hands retract and his body shift uncomfortably behind you. 

Well, fuck it . You just had to make it awkward, didn’t you? For both of you! How embarrassing. He will look at you and treat you differently from now on, you know it already. You're soldiers, for god’s sake! You're professionals! And he’s your superior! These things shouldn’t happen! They should stay out of work. And to think that you've managed to get this far, despite Ghost's strong magnetic pull on you since the first time you saw him... You’ve hidden your emotions so well for months. But unfortunately, no matter how hard you try and succeed at hiding it, you can’t really control your body and how it reacts to his presence, touch, or gaze. This was bound to happen sooner or later, as much as you prayed it wouldn’t. Besides, how could you have even imagined you would find yourself in such a crazy situation at one point? Working with him every day, getting very physical on the field and still keeping your emotions at bay was already enough to drive you insane. There was no way you could have handled this and came out victorious.

But perhaps you could still salvage this somehow, or at the very least escape the horrible truth-spilling conversation that awaits you. Yes, it is possible. You simply need to get the hell away from Ghost, crawl back to your bedroll, attempt to sleep it off, and put the burden aside to deal with it another day. Easier said than done.

Your hands fumble around you, hoping to meet the cold tiles of the floor -rather than those god-like legs stretched at either side of you- and you bend forward in an attempt to hoist yourself up. 

“A-alright, this has been nice-”

A steel-strong arm snakes around your middle and forcefully pulls you back. You gasp as your spine collides with his chest once more. 

Now that you're pressed up against him, even closer than you were before, you can feel his bulge against your lower back and your mouth goes dry.

"Ghost-", your voice comes out in a loud, unsteady squick and he instantly hushes you, tightening the grip around your waist. 

You feel his hot breath caress your ear even through the balaclava. “We’re not done here, yet.”

His hands start to travel up and down your body once again, bolder this time, skimming over areas he hasn't touched before. The hand wrapped around your middle slips under your tank top, fondling the smooth flesh at your side as it raises, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin, until it reaches the upper area of your stomach. There, his fingertips tease the lower curve of your breast from above the fabric of your sports bra. Your breath catches again but you don't dare to move. He holds his palm there for a long minute. 

Is he testing you? Is he messing with you? Is he silently asking for permission to move forward? The affirmative guttural sound that rewards you as you finally throw your morals out the window and boldly place your hand over his and tug it upwards, sweeps away any doubt. His big hand instantly covers your whole breast, groping it gently at first then squeezing it decisively. His other hand comes to match the motion as they both slide inside the cups and fondle your soft sensitive flesh before turning the focus onto your erect nipples, causing you to arch your back forward and shiver. 

“Is this-”, your voice catches in your throat as his fingers pinch your nipples hard, lips squeezing together to muffle a groan, “-why they call you magic hands ?” 

You feel a light chuckle rumble in his chest and against your back.

“You catch up real quick, Sergeant…”, he whispers in your ear in that gravelly voice that makes you squirm, “...but you don’t know the half of it.” And as if on cue, one of his hands sneaks out of your tank top and slides down your stomach, skimming over the inseam of your pants and resting on your crotch, causing a warmth to spread from deep within your stomach. Two fingers push against your core, suggestively and your heart races. Your breaths are ragged in anticipation. 

“Bet you’re desperate to find out, innit?”

You don’t even realize you’re nodding in response until you feel him huff a laugh through his nose, blowing cool air right next to your ear. 

"Curiosity killed the cat, didn't you hear?" 

His palm rubs against your crotch up and down a few times before giving it a firm squeeze. 

You suck in air through your teeth and your hand lands on his thigh at your side, fingers dipping in his firm muscle. 

" Please -" 

You're not sure what you're even begging him for, your mind dazed with desire, and all you can focus on is the heady sensation of having his warm palm rest so close to your aching cunt but still denying you the touch you desperately crave for. 

Ghost doesn't need you to say anything, he clearly knows what you're pleading for and he makes quick work of unzipping your pants before sliding his hand inside. His eager fingers meet your panties which are, unsurprisingly, already soaked; a small detail that he seems to appreciate greatly. He runs his digits over the wet patch on the fabric, eliciting a loud moan from you. 

An abrupt stirring sound freezes you and your head snaps up, heart jumping in your throat, while your eyes dart across the room expecting to meet the shocked expression of one of your brothers. The thought of having been spotted however doesn't seem to stop Ghost from pushing his fingers beneath the damp fabric of your undies. You don't have time to still the violent beating of your heart as he begins to circle his way through your folds, instantly drawing back your whole attention. A harsh whine crawls up your throat when the pad of his finger meets your clitoris and his free hand immediately moves to cover your mouth. His clad lips suddenly draw close to your ear, skin tingling at the contact. 

"You don't want to wake up the boys, do you, kitten?" 

You shake your head profusely and he hums softly. 

"Thought so."

You suppress the cries of pleasure that he provokes by rubbing his fingers up and down over your slit in a slow intoxicating way, your hips shaking with each swipe. He presses his forearm against your stomach to hold your body still, squeezing you closer to him as a result. 

You wince as you hear it; the wet sound of your desire seems to be the only noise in the otherwise silent room and it only grows louder when Ghost teases your entrance, rubbing his pads around it before easily pushing two fingers inside. You screw your eyes shut and throw your head back against his chest. As he thrusts inside you in a steady rhythm, he presses his palm on your most sensitive part, and drags his hand in a firm circle against it. The feeling is dizzying and it sends lightning jolting through you. 

Ghost's hand leaves your mouth to grab your inner thigh and push it over his adjacent knee, spreading your legs wide apart to gain better access to your core and thus shove his fingers deeper inside you. In fact, his next thrust perfectly hits that sacred spot buried deep between your walls and you grasp a fist of his t-shirt and pull it against your lips to muffle your whimpers, while your other hand tugs firmly at his tensed arm lying on your stomach.

You are close, so close. You can feel the heat in your gut begin to bubble and spread, scorching and hair-raising, to the rest of your quivering body. Ghost too seems to notice by the way you tuck into him and clutch at his arm as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded, your safe anchor. His fingers grab your chin and angle your head so that your eyes meet. 

His eyes… his big eyes. The only visible part of his face, the only part you are allowed to lay your gaze on and let it linger. And oh, how beautiful they are. Especially now, glinting with moonshine and looking down at you with a special twinkle which you can’t quite decipher but that makes your heart swell. 

You prompt yourself up in a daze, just enough to cup his cheek and pull him down to meet you in a quite unorthodox kiss. You press your lips desperately to his mask, just above his own and you feel them twitch at the contact, responding to the kiss only a moment later. 

You stay like that while his hand still works against you, faster and sloppier but hitting you perfectly with each push. You keep your lips glued to his as the coiling pleasure in your belly finally snaps, a heady wave of pleasure washes over you and makes your body jerk uncontrollably. Your cries are muffled by the fabric of his mask, even more so when his hand cups the back of your neck and presses you harder against him. He continues to slowly dip his fingers inside your fluttering walls then litter your small bundle of nerves with a few more soft teasing caresses all the while subsiding your spasms with his strong embrace. 

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your chest heaving hard, heart still racing and legs still shaking when his hand slips out of your pants and you pull back. You let your head rest on his chest as you take a deep long breath. Almost instantly a subdued ruffle of fabrics strikes your ear and you can feel a cool breath blowing on your neck before a pair of soft damp lips meet your boiling skin. You bite your lips at the shiver-inducing sensation; it feels like a vital secret shared in utmost confidence and you don’t dare break the touching moment until his lips retreat and the mask is safely put back on. Only then you chance a look up through a heavy-lidded gaze and you meet his beautiful eyes again, which in turn watch your reactions with a hazy, adoring gaze. All is forgotten; the packed room, the initial conflict you felt, the aching muscles… The only thing you can focus on is the tingling sensation abandoning your body, leaving the way to the heartening warmth of his embrace and gaze. 

“Ghost-”

“Simon.”

You gulp, nodding feebly as you reverently search his eyes. 

“Simon…” 

Saying his name feels strange but also… meaningful. Like uttering a magic word or being handed the sole key that unlocks the armored door that keeps the treasure safe; treasure so priceless and vulnerable that only a few trusted people are allowed to take a glimpse at it.

“I’m-” you fail to find the words, mind dazed and heart hammering in your chest, “that was…”

“Kitten got more than she bargained for.” 

You catch an amused hint in his voice and even if you can’t see it, you’re certain there is a smile tugging at his lips, for the corner of his eyes curl up slightly.

“I take it the massage didn't make things worse after all?”

"Well…", you shift in his embrace, turning to face him with a sheepish grin, "that was some effective massage, alright." 

You prompt yourself up and reading your intentions he closes his legs to let you settle on his lap, your knees resting on either side of his hips. His eyes never leave yours as you lean up, arms latching around his neck. 

"Nothing aches anymore thanks to you…", you grind your hips slowly down against his, relishing in the sound of his heavy breathing picking up, "...but maybe it's you now who is in need of a release ?" You bite your lip at the rousing feeling of his throbbing bulge rubbing against your still sensitive center, as well as at the rare thrilling satisfaction of seeing him crane his head slightly up to look at you. 

His hands descend on your hips, fingers almost painfully gripping the flesh, causing you to groan.

"I wouldn't mind it one bit kitten, believe me…", his lust-clouded eyes rake over your body. You see him swallow hard as he glances down where your hips meet and a long breath escapes his lips. His gaze then trails back up, savoring every inch of you, until it finally locks with yours once again. "But you should hit the sack now."

Disappointment shows plainly on your face.

"But-" 

"Besides, I'm on second watch tonight."

"T-That’s good! I can sneak out to keep you company. I'm not sleepy! Even less now than before. We can-" 

" Negative .” His tone is peremptory and it shuts you up at once. “And don’t fret. You’ll be asleep before your head hits the mat.”

" But -" 

His hands slide up your sides and squeeze your waist, pulling you down to sit on his thighs and hold you at eye level.

"We're taking a rain check, Sergeant."

The title again. His words are final, then. 

A huge sigh escapes you and you nod at last. Reluctantly, you climb out of his lap, his hands following your every movement to support you. Before you stand on your feet and turn around, you chance one last look at him. Your heart swells as you meet once more his big beautiful eyes which look at you so gently, so wistfully… you think you can catch the promise behind them.

"Don't you dare die tomorrow, Simon."

The corners of his eyes curl up again. 

"Surely not on your watch, Kitten."

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[inkspiredwriting]

Love, Hate, and Everything in Between

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Y/N and Five had the kind of relationship that was equal parts fiery arguments and undeniable chemistry. They bickered over everything, from the best way to handle temporal anomalies to whose turn it was to make coffee. But beneath the constant banter, there was a deep connection that neither of them could ignore.

One particularly intense day, after a mission that had gone sideways due to Five's impulsiveness and Y/N's stubbornness, they found themselves alone in the Umbrella Academy mansion. The argument that ensued was explosive, with both of them yelling and gesturing wildly.

"Why can't you ever just listen to me?" Y/N shouted, her face flushed with frustration.

"Because your plans are always overly complicated!" Five shot back, his eyes blazing.

They stood there, breathing heavily, the tension between them palpable. Then, without thinking, Five stepped forward and kissed her. It was as if all the anger and frustration melted away in that moment, replaced by an intense, undeniable passion.

What followed was an incredible night filled with laughter, whispered confessions, and the kind of intimacy that transcended their usual love-hate dynamic. For once, they let their guards down completely, and it was magical.

The next morning, however, brought a new challenge. Klaus, ever the nosy sibling, had noticed the change in the atmosphere. As Y/N and Five tried to navigate their way through breakfast without making eye contact, Klaus sauntered into the kitchen, a knowing smirk on his face.

"Well, well, well," Klaus drawled, leaning against the counter. "What do we have here? Did our favorite bickering duo finally decide to make up?"

Five rolled his eyes, desperately trying to keep a straight face. "Klaus, mind your own business."

Y/N, blushing furiously, tried to focus on her coffee. "Yeah, Klaus. Can't you find someone else to bother?"

Klaus chuckled, clearly enjoying their discomfort. "Oh, but this is so much more fun. You two were like a ticking time bomb, and I, for one, am thrilled to see it finally go off."

Throughout the day, Klaus continued to drop hints and make suggestive comments, much to the annoyance of Five and Y/N. During a meeting, he winked at them, causing Luther and Diego to exchange puzzled glances.

"What's with you today, Klaus?" Diego asked, narrowing his eyes.

Klaus grinned. "Oh, nothing. Just appreciating the beauty of love in unexpected places."

Five groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can we please focus on the task at hand?"

Y/N shot Klaus a warning look, but he just winked at her. "Oh, come on, Y/N. Lighten up. It's all in good fun."

As the day wore on, Five and Y/N found themselves constantly bumping into each other, their usual bickering now tinged with a new, playful energy. Despite Klaus's relentless teasing, they couldn't help but steal glances and share secret smiles.

Later that evening, after everyone had retired to their rooms, Five found Y/N on the rooftop, staring out at the city. He approached quietly, slipping his hand into hers.

"Sorry about Klaus," he said softly. "He's impossible."

Y/N laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "It's okay. He's actually kind of right. We were a ticking time bomb."

Five smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Yeah, but maybe that's not such a bad thing."

As they stood there together, wrapped in the warmth of the moment, they realized that their love-hate relationship had only made their bond stronger.

And if dealing with Klaus's teasing was the price they had to pay, it was a small one. Because for the first time, they knew that they were exactly where they were meant to be—side by side, ready to face whatever came next.

[flowerakatsuka]

finally got around to making a dynamic chart for kuroba & the sextuplets! they deserve a government stipend for dealing with these guys on a regular basis. ( further info about their dynamics under the cut! )

some of kuroba's relationships with the brothers changes over time so here's a bonus chart + explanations!

MORE INFO!

OSOMATSU : thanks to how the rest of the sextuplets first met kuroba, they initially perceived them as being extremely serious and intimidating. this eventually gets smoothed out after they have a meal together at hybrid oden, with osomatsu breaking the ice by making a joke and making kuroba crack up. the two enjoy hanging out and drinking together when they get the chance. they talk pretty casually with each other, especially when the subject of sex is involved. osomatsu finds it pretty amusing that kuroba can say some fairly raunchy shit with a completely straight face. once he finds out they're older than him, he starts calling them kuronii-chan ( or kuronii-sama when he's in trouble them. )

KARAMATSU : first of the sextuplets to meet & get close to kuroba. they " first met " when kuroba spots karamatsu sadly trudging through the rain and they invited him into their shop to dry off, he's been a frequent loiter ever since. kuroba doesn't really mind since they find him oddly endearing and enjoy getting to chat with him, ( that and there's something familiar about him that they can't really place. ) they also have a tendency to nonchalantly go along with his typical shtick. they're a comforting presence for karamatsu, with how kind and reassuring they are towards him. he's very glad that they were able to become friends. he's definitely not into them, though. it's normal to find your friends attractive and fantasize about a relationship with them, there's nothing else going on there.

CHOROMATSU : they're both pretty awkward around each other at first. choromatsu is aware that kuroba is a kind person, but still finds them kinda intimidating for various reasons ( mostly because they're objectively more put together and genuinely passionate than him. ) neither really knows how to talk to each other, typically defaulting to small talk that always falls flat.

ICHIMATSU : even after things were smoothed over with the other brothers, ichimatsu can't help but still feel anxious around kuroba. they feel horrible for scaring ichimatsu that badly the first time they met, but hasn't had much luck when trying to apologize about it. they don't want to make him uncomfortable so they keep their distance from him, despite wanting to get to know him better.

JYUSHIMATSU : definitely their other favorite brother besides karamatsu. there's a lot about jyushimatsu that reminds kuroba of their own little brother, keshiki, so they tend to dote on and be a bit more lenient with him. he thinks kuroba's neat and comes to visit them at work from time to time, trying to get them to come hang out with him. they try to play baseball with him occasionally, but they aren't athletic at all despite being relatively strong. their training sessions don't last very long because of that, much to jyushimatsu's disappointment.

TODOMATSU : kuroba finds todomatsu's cutesy act off-putting, which baffles him considering the fact they have no issue with karamatsu's goofy ass shtick. admittedly, he's kind of jealous of how they treat jyushimatsu, ( and later ichimatsu, ) and wants to get doted on, too. however, any attempts he makes at trying to appeal to kuroba usually ends with them giving him the cold shoulder. they definitely don't hate each other, though, it's more like siblings that have a tendency to get on each others nerves. ( they also have moments like this with keshiki so they do essentially regard him as a little brother. )

---

KARAMATSU : after spotting karamatsu during their high school reunion, kuroba finally realizes that he's actually the same person they had a crush on during their 2nd year and proceeds to have a major crisis over it. it doesn't help that karamatsu doesn't seem to remember them, even when it's revealed to him that they went to school together. kuroba's crush coming back with a vengeance complicates things further and starts to strain their relationship the more it weighs on them, all the while karamatsu's completely oblivious to anything being amiss. ( this gets resolved eventually, but i'll save talking about that in another post. )

CHOROMATSU : choromatsu mistakes kuroba as a fellow fan of nyaa-chan when he sees them making a special flower arrangement for her upcoming concert, but his excitement to meet a fellow fan is quickly undercut by them telling him that they were actually hired to make it and don't know much about her. even though he left the interaction embarrassed and disappointed, kuroba tries to use this new information to their advantage and find something to talk about. they come back to choromatsu after listen to nyaa-chan's music, finding it cute and fun, and tries to strike up a conversation about it... only to find out he doesn't really care about her music, now leaving them both disappointed. they do eventually find a topic they find interesting enough to chat about together : idol outfits. choromatsu is glad to have someone to talk about them with, but the way their conversations go sometimes does make kuroba raise an eyebrow, ( like him questioning why they wouldn't want to wear cute outfits like the ones they talk about, saying he'd wear them if he was a girl. )

ICHIMATSU : ichimatsu's impression of kuroba slowly starts to improve over time, especially after he witnesses them feeding a cat even after it tried eating the shop's plants. once kuroba finds out he likes cats, they starts sharing pictures of stray cats that come by the shop with him. eventually, they start calling him " ichinyan " now that he seems less skittish around them. they also try to help yanagida reconnect with ichimatsu, which he's a little less keen on.

[mochiwrites]

One of the hermits sits Grian down one day and tries to tell him Scar loves him, and Grian, just as faithful to the bit as he is to his husband, just keeps brushing them off.

But then they tell him everything Scar went through while Grian was missing, things they think Grian might not know or realize. How Scar would leave Hermitcraft for weeks on end to scour Highpixel and any other server they'd ever been to and come home exhausted and distraught. How Scar would beg Doc to build some universe-breaking contraption that could find anyone and get angry when told it wasn't possible. How Scar would cry for hours some days and be an emotionless husk the next.

So yes, they tell Grian, who is now in tears himself, Scar loves you. Just tell him how you feel.

Grian goes straight to Scar and apologizes for the 100th time for doing that to him, and Scar just holds him and tells him that none of that matters, that he's home and safe and that's all Scar needs.

“Scar loves you.”

Grian blinks as he stares at both Impulse and Bdubs, the pair looking at him with uncharacteristically serious expressions. This is… not what he expected when being asked to meet at Bdubs’ monolith. “Well yeah, of course he does.” They’re married. Of course he knows! Not that Impulse and Bdubs are aware of that part, at least. It’s been a very funny bit going between himself and Scar.

“No G,” Bdubs argues, making Grian’s brows furrow, “Scar loves you.”

He knows that.

Impulse glances at Bdubs before sighing quietly. “Scar never mentioned how he was when you went missing, did he?” His voice is soft as he asks, calm and friendly.

Slowly, Grian shakes his head. They had of course spoken at length about how hard it was on both sides — with Grian being pulled apart and molded into the perfect little Watcher, and Scar wondering every night if he’d ever see his husband again. But Scar never seemed to want to talk about it much outside of his nightmares. Those nights were always hard, when Scar would cling to Grian, shaking like a leaf as he feared Grian being taken from him again. That was painful enough, he never wanted to press for more.

Bdubs scoffs, “The guy was a total mess! An absolute wreck without you around!”

Impulse elbows him, muttering a quiet “dude.” He looks back to Grian. “Bdubs isn’t uh, exactly wrong in saying that. Scar really didn’t handle you being gone too well.”

Grian tenses as an uneasy feeling sits in his stomach. Of course he knew that it hadn’t been easy for Scar. He can only imagine how badly Scar handled it, something he has a feeling he won’t have to imagine for much longer. If the sympathetic look Impulse is giving him is anything to go by.

“He tried to keep a brave face for a while, I think that was to keep us from worrying too much. Not that it worked much,” Impulse confesses with a weak chuckle. “He’d leave Hermitcraft at least once or twice a month for days at a time, said he was going to Hypixel to search for you. And every time he’d come home looking more distraught and tired than the last. It was… really hard to watch him break himself down like that.” Impulse frowns, absentmindedly brushing off his pants leg.

Hearing that makes Grian’s heart hurt. ‘Oh Scar…’ He can picture it so clearly, his husband racing all over Hypixel, asking anyone and everyone if they knew about Grian or his whereabouts. Going at it for multiple days. Grian imagines him going back to their apartment, collapsing in their bed. He probably exhausted himself often, doing that. Had he been properly taking care of himself? No… probably not.

“And that’s not even touching the stuff with Doc, either!” Bdubs cuts in, earning Grian’s attention. “Do you know how many times during Hermitcraft meetings he’d beg Doc to make some world breaking machine to find you?!”

Impulse grimaces, “Doc would tell him no every time, and gosh, I’ve never seen him get so angry before.”

Neither has Grian.

His wings drop slightly, chest aching at the thought of how much pain Scar must’ve been in. And for so long…

“Cub and I caught him crying a lot,” Bdubs continues, just a tad softer as the air in the room shifts around. Both he and Impulse seem to pick up on Grian’s reaction, the response. “Sometimes he’d cry for hours, or stare obsessively at his communicator. And the next day it was like we were looking at some shell of him.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “He was flat out emotionless, G. I think I could count the number of times I saw him smile on one hand.”

No, that doesn’t sound right. Scar is a man who never stops smiling. He has a smile that’s capable of lighting up the whole room. It’s hard to picture him now without one. Because it’s Scar. Wonderfully bright and happy Scar. The man Grian loves more than anything in the world. For him to lose that…

Impulse reaches out, setting a hand on Grian’s shoulder. “But he brightened up the moment he saw you again, G. You’re Scar’s world, man. He loves you more than anything. So just… be honest with him. Tell him how you feel, yeah?”

Grian sucks in a rough breath, willing his vision to clear as he meets Impulse’s gaze.

————————————————

It doesn’t take Grian very long to find Scar afterward.

He spots his lovable man right in Main Street of Scarland, humming to himself as he constructs a trolley by some flowerbeds. He looks focused, very much in the zone of building as he rests out a color palette or two.

Grian doesn’t hesitate to interrupt him, dropping down beside him. “Scar,” he gets out, of course startling the man.

Scar jumps with the usual goofy yell of his, hard hat falling off his head and hitting the ground with a resounding thud. He looks over at Grian, shocked expression melting into one of fondness as they lock eyes. “Oh! Well if it isn’t the love of my li— oof!”

He’s cut off as Grian barrels right into him, arms wrapping tight around his torso as he buries his face into Scar’s neck. Scar stumbles backward as he rushes to hug Grian back, pressing him close. “Whoa there. Not that I’m upset about this, but what’s with the sudden hug, lovebird?”

“I’m sorry.” Grian pressed his face further against Scar, wrapped up in the familiar smell of spice and earthy tones. “I’m sorry I — I didn’t know how bad it was I—” he breaks off, squeezing his eyes shut, voice wet and shaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you about what?” Scar questions, his voice ever so soft as he moves to cards his fingers through his hair, picking up on his distress.

“How it was for you those years I was missing.” Grian wraps his wings around him on instinct, needing him close. He feels the way the other stiffens, going tense in his hold. “I’m so sorry, Scar.”

Scar shushes him, shaking his head as he presses a kiss against his hair. “You have nothing to apologize for, G,” he murmurs. “You’re here now and safe in my arms. That’s the only thing I care about.” And he means it. He and Grian could go through a thousand different trials, but none of them would matter, so long as Scar could hold him and keep him safe again. “You’re home. You’re here. That’s all I need, everything else is in the past.”

Grian’s breath shakes with a quiet and distressed noise, guilt flooding him. He mumbles a few more apologies; for leaving Scar, for not being there, for leaving him to struggle alone. “I love you so much,” he says, “I love you.”

Scar continues to hold him, kissing him all over. “I love you too, sunshine.”

[mandos-mind-trick]

Warm Me Up

Summary: A freak storm has you and Hunter seeking shelter in a cave. The desperation to get warm has some hidden feelings coming to light.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, fingering, confession of feelings, snow storms, almost freezing to death (not really but close), hypothermia, survival skills, cuddling for warmth, fucking to survive, cock warming (literally and figuratively), post Order 66, bit of an AU

A/N: I am once again bringing you Hunter and reader fucking to survive only under different circumstances. I have been in a Hunter mood lately so you are welcome.

Thank you @starrylothcat for the idea for this one.

MASTERLIST

It’s cold. 

The wind whips around you, finding every crack and crevice in your armor, numbing your skin. The storm had blown in out of nowhere, whipping big, wet snowflakes at you on a wind so strong it was hard to stand up straight. It’s a near whiteout, and even Hunter is struggling to break trail in front of you. 

He stops, turning to look at you a couple feet behind him, half to make sure you’re still following him. “There’s a cave up ahead.” He says, voice barely audible over the wind through the comms. 

Your fingers are going numb. You’d lost feeling in your feet not long after the storm started, already having been trekking through ankle deep snow. “Lead the way, Sarge.” You mumble, trying to convince your legs to start moving again. 

It’s slow moving for the few hundred yards until you see the mountainside jutting out in the blizzard. As you get closer, you can see the dark opening of the mouth of the cave like a monster waiting to devour you. You hope that’s not the case, but you suppose a monster’s mouth would be warmer than out here. 

You follow Hunter inside, the torch in his hand illuminating the small cavern. It’s not very wide, your shoulders would probably touch the walls if you stood side by side, but it’s deep enough to keep you from the howling wind outside. 

You’re shivering, teeth chattering as you stand in the dark cave. The storm was blocking your comms, preventing you from reaching the Marauder. This was supposed to be a quick mission, which was why you and Hunter had gone alone, leaving the others with the ship. Tech had assured you both the weather was going to be clear for the foreseeable future. 

You’re going to have words with him when you get back. 

“Kriff, it’s cold.” Hunter says, scanning the back of the cave before determining it clear. 

He turns back around, his torch illuminating your shivering figure. Neither of you had real cold weather gear, and Hunter’s armor was better protection against it than yours. 

“How are your toes?” He asks, stepping closer. 

“Numb.” You say, voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around your face. 

“And your fingers?” He asks. 

You lift your hands, fingers fumbling in an attempt to get your gloves off. He shines the torch on your exposed extremities as soon as they hit the floor, a curse crackling through his helmet. Your fingers are discolored and stiff, trembling as more shivers wrack your body. 

“We need to get warm.” He says, pulling you back towards the back of the cave. “We won’t last the night at this rate.” 

“H-How do we do that?” You stutter out between your chattering teeth. You were both ill prepared for this situation. 

“Take your clothes off.” 

You’re glad the cave is dark as the words leave Hunter’s mouth, the torch pointing at the wall as he removes his pack. You’re worried you may start steaming in embarrassment from the direct order. 

You’ve been harboring a crush on him for a while. It started during one of your first missions with them. Of course, you thought he was handsome when you first met him, but you didn’t start developing feelings until he saved your life. You were relatively new to combat, though fighting wasn’t anything new, and you had failed to see the explosive at your feet. Hunter had pulled you out of the way and shielded you with his body. 

He’d had his helmet on, but you couldn’t forget the way his hand felt on your arm, the way he looked hovering over you. You thought about it a lot. You still do. 

You had fallen in love with him after the war ended, and he had willingly gone toe-to-toe with Tarkin to keep you on the squad. Tarkin had wanted to reassign you, but Hunter had insisted you were part of Clone Force 99 and they wouldn’t be as efficient without you. 

You hadn’t dared act on it, though. He was technically your superior and you were not about to try pushing those boundaries. Plus, he’d never shown any interest in you in that way, and the last thing you wanted was to do was make things awkward. 

You also just haven’t had time. 

Between the Empire and deserting and being on the run and adjusting to having a literal child on board, you had little downtime for much else. You know Hunter’s stressed and has been feeling the effects of trying to keep everyone alive and deciding what to do next. 

The last thing you want to do is throw your feelings on him too. 

And now here he is, asking you to get naked in a cave with him. 

“What?” You stutter out, looking up at him, his face barely visible. He’s removed his helmet.

“Our clothes are wet. We can’t get warm wearing wet clothes. We’ll risk hypothermia, or worse.” He explains, his helmet hitting the ground with a thud. “Seeing as how we don’t know how long this storm will last and if we’ll be able to reach the Marauder by comm when it does end, getting warm is our priority.” 

His voice is so steady, so strong, reflecting every bit of the leader he is. 

This is moving much faster than you had expected. You’d thought maybe a nice dinner, or a walk on the beach, at least something before your clothes started coming off. Of course, survival was different. You would like to keep your toes if possible. 

Your numb fingers fumble to get your pack off as Hunter turns his back, digging through his pack. You’re glad for the darkness and the privacy as you tug at your own armor, fingers fumbling with clasps and straps as you slowly drop pieces onto the ground. 

You pause as Hunter turns slightly, putting something on the floor. The cave lights with a soft yellow glow of a heat lamp, a sigh of relief leaving your mouth. So you weren’t going to freeze completely. The walls of the cave glitter with frost, your breath visible in the air as you continue to strip out of your armor. 

You hesitate once your armor is off, staring at Hunter’s back. He’s making slow work of his armor, setting each piece in a pile next to his pack. You’ve watched them carefully stack their armor over and over. They always show it such reverence, though you suppose if it is your lifeline and one of your few belongings, you would treat it as such too. They always stack it in a way that would be quickest to get it back on and you can’t help but wonder if they practiced it. How fast can they get in and out of their armor if the need arose? 

You bend over your pack, fumbling through its contents before your fingers hit what you’re looking for. One of the spare GAR blankets that came in each survival kit the squad carried. Working separate from larger battalions meant you had to carry more supplies with you for situations like this one. 

You could cry as you pull the scratchy blanket from your pack. 

You would cry, except that it feels like all liquid is frozen in your body. 

You hesitate, eyeing Hunter’s back before you begin peeling your wet blacks off, goosebumps forming on your skin as it's exposed to the cold air in the cave. You fight off a shiver, shuffling closer to the heat lamp as you peel the rest off. You quickly wrap the blanket around your body, squatting down in front of the heat lamp. You can already feel the warmth from them on your exposed skin, toes starting to tingle. 

Your eyes move to Hunter, his back still turned to you. You swallow thickly as he tugs the top of his blacks over his head, revealing his back. Your eyes trail the tattoo on the right side until it disappears under his blacks. You’ve seen them all in various states of undress before. It was impossible in a confined space like the barracks or the Marauder. 

There had never been any insinuation, no lingering stares when you’d done a quick change. They were always so respectful, always so kind. 

You felt bad for ogling them sometimes. 

You quickly tuck your face in the blanket as Hunter tugs his pants down, praying you don’t start steaming. You want to look, you so badly want to look, but the last thing you need is to get caught being a creep. 

Hunter moves closer to you, spreading something on the ground behind you. You nearly jump as his hand touches your back, warm through the blanket against your cold skin. He’s squatting next to you, very close to you as you peek out from your blanket. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, those stupid big, brown eyes shining in the low light from the heat lamp. 

You stare at him for a moment before you nod. He pulls the blanket from the death grip you have around it, eyes never leaving yours as he opens it up, slipping his arms inside. His bare skin meets yours, turning you until your back is to his chest. He maneuvers you so easily so you’re laying on the blanket he had spread on the ground, curling his body around yours before draping your blanket across you both. 

He sighs as he settles into place, his hand trailing down your arm. His hand is calloused from years of hard training, rough against your frigid skin. “Kriff, you’re freezing.” He murmurs, pulling you tighter against his chest. 

Your breath hitches as his skin meets yours, cold but not nearly as frozen as yours. You can feel every ridge of muscle, every line, every divot of his body. You can feel all of him. You try not to think about it, try not to picture every fantasy you’ve had, every daydream of being in this very position with him. 

Instead you focus on your shivering, the chill slowly abating as your shared warmth cumulates under the blanket. You can feel the heat lamp on your face, slowly thawing your frozen cheeks. You can also feel Hunter’s breath fanning over the top of your head. 

You let your eyes drift closed, trying to avoid the thoughts racing through your head. You’re naked. Hunter’s naked. You’re very, very close. You’ve imagined this moment many, many times. Of course, it’s always under different circumstances. Normally in your fantasies, he’d hold you like this after you fucked, or on those short trips between missions when you try to get as much rest as possible. In the deeper fantasies you wake in his arms in your quiet home, the early morning light shining through the window. You’d grind against him, teasing him until he slipped inside you, making sweet love to you as you have all the time in the world, and no cares whatsoever. 

Heat begins to bloom in your belly. You know it’s not just from the warmth beginning to return to you. You desperately fight it, trying to ignore the pulsing between your legs and instead focus on the roaring of the wind outside the cave, the painful throbbing in your toes, the scratchiness of the blanket, anything. 

Hunter shifts just slightly behind you, letting out a long breath. Kriff, he can probably smell it. He could probably smell it before your body even started reacting. He knows. He knows. 

You shift slightly, ignoring the way your thighs slide a little too easily against each other. “Sorry.” You breathe, nervously tugging on the edge of the blanket. 

He hums, his fingers trailing down your front. He presses his palm against your belly, causing your breath to hitch. He shifts his legs and suddenly there’s something pressing against your ass. Something hard. “Nothing to apologize for, mesh’la.” He murmurs in your ear, his voice so low and deep you can feel it vibrating through your back. 

"Hunter?" You ask, staring at the heat lamp. 

He hums, pressing closer to you, his breath fanning your ear. 

Your breath catches in your throat, your exhale shaky. "I'm still cold. Could you warm me up a little more?"

His arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you firmly against him as his lips meet the skin of your neck. He kisses a line from your ear to the junction of your shoulder, the hand that had been planted on your stomach slowly sliding lower. It slips between your thighs, grabbing one and lifting it over his hip. Your hands cling to the arm wrapped around you as he slides his fingers down your inner thigh. Your body is shivering for a different reason now. 

You gasp quietly as his fingers trail over your wet slit, hips pushing into his hand. It’s so much better than your fantasies, those dexterous fingers flicking over your clit. 

“All this just for me?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and rough. 

“Yes,” You gasp, nails biting into his skin as he works you up. “Been thinking of this for a long time.” 

“I know.” He says, sinking a finger into you. “I could sense it. At first I could smell it. I always wondered what you were thinking about.” He slips a second finger into you. “Didn’t take long to figure it out.” He kisses the side of your head. “Your heart rate would jump. Sometimes I’d smell it while you were looking at me. I was flattered. A gorgeous woman like you thinking about me like that.” 

You wiggle in his arms, just enough so you can see his face. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

He pauses his movements, his fingers stilling inside you. “Didn’t want to complicate things. Then everything happened with the Empire and I just haven’t had the right moment.” 

“Fair.” You say, eyes dropping to his lips. “Not a whole lot of places to do things like this in the ship.” 

He grins. “No, especially not with the others there.” His thumb brushes over your clit, fingers starting to thrust into you once more. “I’m going to find us a safe place to stay.” He says, words broken by kisses as he trails them up your neck. “Build us a home with lots of privacy.” He kisses across your face to the corner of your lips. “So we can do this whenever we want.” 

You hum, backing away from his lips before he can kiss you. “Usually I require a date first, but I’ll make an exception.” 

“I’ll make it up to you.” He says, lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I promise.” 

You close the small distance between you, pressing your lips to his. He kisses you softly, lips slightly chapped from the cold. His fingers continue to move inside you, curling to find that spot that has your legs shaking. His thumb circles your clit, bringing you closer and closer to sweet release. 

You whine against his lips as you cum around his fingers, soaking his hand with your release. He pulls away from your lips, withdrawing his hand before he lifts his fingers, taking them into his mouth. You watch, slack-jawed as he sucks his fingers clean. 

“Fuck buying me dinner,” You say, rolling around to face him. “If you’re gonna act like that you can skip all those steps.” 

He laughs, rolling on top of you. It’s a mirror of the moment you first began to have feelings, when he’d saved your life. You suppose he also saved your life again in this situation. Perhaps he needs to save your life more often if it’s going to end with him on top of you. 

He lowers himself down, pressing his lips to yours once more. You kiss him hard, tangling a hand in his hair. You’ve always wanted to touch it, always wanted to run your fingers through it, pull on it to see if it makes him moan. You file that away for another day. 

He’s hard, pressed against your stomach. His hips rock against you, dragging his cock along your skin. You slide your hands down his back, grabbing a handful of his ass. You’ve always wanted to grab it, having spent way too much time memorizing the shape of his body. His broad shoulders and thin waist and round ass and thick thighs. 

He really is the perfect man. 

“Fuck,” He moans, pulling away from your lips to press himself up. 

He’s away just long enough to line his cock up, your legs parting even wider for him. You both moan as he sinks into you, your sensitive walls fluttering around the intrusion. You pull him back against you, securing him tightly to your chest. His lips find yours again, kissing and biting as he begins to move. 

His thrusts are slow, working you open for him. It feels better than you could ever imagine, better than your fantasies could come up with. You’re no longer cold, even your toes warmed by his body and his touch. The air in the cave even feels warm, the blizzard outside nothing compared to the fire ignited beneath your skin at Hunter’s touch. 

You move your hips as he picks up speed, your bodies moving fluidly together. You let go, moaning as loud as you can. You don’t care if you accidentally wake some beast deep in the mountains. You want the whole galaxy to know how good Hunter makes you feel. 

Hunter grunts and moans above you, snapping his hips into you. You cling onto him as you begin to feel the burning low in your stomach, the coil tightening more and more as you get closer and closer to the edge. 

“Cum for me.” Hunter growls, nipping at your lower lip. “Let me feel you.”

You cry out his name as you cum, back arching in pleasure. He’s not far behind you, his head falling back as he stutters to a stop, filling you with his cum. You let him fall on top of you, wrapping your arms around him. 

He lays there, both of you catching your breaths. He’s heavy, a solid weight, but you don’t complain. He’s warm, and he makes you feel safe. He kisses your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty skin. He groans, already starting to go hard inside you again. 

***

You wake to a bright light in your eyes. You squint, ducking your head down under the blanket. Hunter groans, shifting his arms around you. It’s quiet outside, far quieter than it had been last night. 

“Storms over.” Hunter rasps, not making any attempt to move. 

He’s still inside you, his softened cock tucked inside your pussy. You’d fallen asleep after the third round, the exhaustion finally taking over after you were thoroughly warmed. You don’t really want to get up. You don’t really want to move. You know the others have to be worried, after all you hadn’t been able to contact them after the storm blew in. You’re not even sure how far you are from the Marauder. 

It may be a bit selfish, but you wish you could stay here. Build yourselves a tiny home in this cave and never leave. Just the two of you, alone, like your fantasies had once consisted of. 

You know it’s not possible now. You couldn’t abandon the others like that, and you could never convince Hunter to abandon Omega, not that you would ever want to. You’ll just have to find a place to build a big enough house for all of you. 

“We should get up.” Hunter says, still not making any attempts to move. “The others will be worried.” 

You hum, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Five more minutes?” 

He chuckles, lifting your chin so he can kiss you. “I suppose five minutes won’t hurt anything.” 

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[squinch-depraved]

absolute NEED a blurb about cooper taking videos/pictures during or after the deed

(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) please and thank u

ya so

cooper who's obsessed with capturing footage and taking pictures of you while he defiles you

he invests in a polaroid camera shortly after you get together because he realizes you have no problem being immortalized in your whorish state

in fact, you quite enjoy it, if we're being honest

it starts with his phone, which he pulls out for the first time to take a photo of you after cumming all over your chest

he wants to remember the sight of you covered in his seed for the rest of his life

so of course he snaps a few pics, it's innocent enough at first (save for the insatiable look in his eyes) that you don't question him as he does so

but soon it devolves into him whipping his whatever camera is closest to him out whenever you look even remotely ruined

he keeps a stack of printed photos (both polaroids and ones he had to print himself) in his nightstand

shares digital versions of his favorite images with his friends, but only after making sure you're okay with it several times

soon he doesn't bother asking anymore and just sends the best ones directly to a specific group chat

his friends are obsessed with the photos too

and you're obsessed with the attention

but that's neither here nor there

he takes videos of the way your ass recoils when he fucks you from behind

the folders on his computer with your name on them are huge

dozens (eventually turning into hundreds) of videos of you in different positions, of you looking up at him as you suck him off, of you playing with yourself while you moan his name

he's such a creep about it, and he knows it, but he needs to preserve your beauty forever so he can admire you whenever he wants

it makes you feel so special, almost divine in nature, the way he worships you

and if you ever don't feel like being captured on film, he's more than happy to not get the camera out- he understands how lucky he is to have as many videos as he does in the first place

his favorite video he's ever recorded of you is one of the first ones he took

you were bent over the edge of the bed, he smacked your ass roughly, and grabbed one cheek in his hand, spreading your hole open just enough for his cum to spill out of you

it's maybe a five second clip, but he'll never get tired of watching it

his favorite polaroid is you splayed out under him on the bed, several loads of his cum covering your face and tits

his friends' favorite would have to be the one he sends them of a close up of your pussy against the mattress, wet stains from where he made you squirt visible under you

bonus points if you ever send him nudes or videos on your own- those go straight to their own folder because they get him going like nothing else does

he particularly loves when you send him clips of you moaning his name as you touch yourself

those he sends straight to his friends, as if reminding them that you're his and only his, but he doesn't mind letting them watch