#that is as much as he can make himself so

[uglygirltrying]

wolf-hybrid!simon x bunny-hybrid!reader | pt2 to this

he did show you. it was so much warmer, than in your burrow.

it was easy to feel safe and warm enough, in his big arms, to eventually fall asleep. even if he was the hunter, your natural predator, you were basking in a warm hole, filled with his musk. your head went mush and fuzzy, eyes fluttering shut.

the wolf grinned and chuckled above you. what a silly bunny. your legs twitched, as you slowly went under. so compliant, no arguing when he took you, and you so easily went limp in his arms.

oh, you were going to be so much fun when the spring comes. maybe you'd be even more submissive, or on the other hand, maybe you'd get snappy. that'd be fun, simon thought.

he can already imagine the little bunny in heat, constantly rubbing against him, begging for a litter. if he feels nice, he might even give you one. simon smirks at the thought. such a sweet thing you are.

simon felt reluctant to leave. what if you ran? well, he would surely find you, after breathing your scent in so much. but still, it would be a lot of trouble, to track you, and catch you again. he didn't want to go through all of that trouble. he didn't want you to run.

simon signed. he had to find food. some meat for himself, and maybe some bark for you. but he knew that you didn't have a strong enough reason to stay. a warm den? you surely could find another one around. a mate? not really, he basically just snatched you up, against your will. maybe if you fought more, he would feel guilty. but this, this felt like a love story. he found you, brought you home, and here you are, sleeping in his den.

he did have time to linger and think. he did hunt best in the dark after all. simon breathed out again. whatever, he thought. you could run. he'd catch you, and bring you back. whatever.

simon sat up, leaving the bunny girl to lay there. he crawled out of the den, and made his way to the surface. the sun is setting, the rays creating shadows of the surrounding birch trees. the snowfall has stopped. it's so quiet and calm. the snow is beautifully set and hard surfaced, glistening in the light.

the wolf stood up, and began his search for food.

you felt disoriented. where were you? this isn't your burrow. your eyes slowly opened, drowsy, and confused. with a croaky groan, it hit you. where you were. why, and how.

you sniffed the air. the smell is so much lighter now. with a confused expression, you looked around the den. you're alone. huh?

why? where is he? is he hiding behind the opening, waiting to spook you and punish you, when you try to leave?

he's gone. it's your chance now. you can go, leave, run back home, to your burrow. the den is colder without his body pressed against you. it's almost as cold as your burrow. oh. it's warmer here. even without him.

it almost feels shameful to even hesitate leaving. you should! but you can't. you can't get yourself to crawl out and run for your life. how would he feel, coming back, into a empty den? a nest. that feels like an bad word. it's not your nest, not even your den. you're just... there.

why can't you leave? it's his fault, of course, he must've done something to you... are you feverish, why won't you run? maybe you're sick... running would only make that worse. and there's a perfectly good bed just under you.

you sighed. how pitiful. you laid back down. how embarrassing. but it felt so good, to just lay. don't you have a backbone? it would feel better if... it would be warmer. maybe even safer. if he was there. but is he even your protector. is this den a trap, why isn't he here?

thinking felt overwhelming. or maybe it was just the topic. but it felt exhausting. you should just not think. just lay there, and hope for his return. pathetic.

simon's hands were full of bark. he already ate his meal. he didn't want to bring anything bloody into the den, it would surely disturb you. if you even were still there.

simon scoffed. it's useless to assume. he doesn't know anything about you. maybe you're waiting behind the opening, a rock in hand, waiting for him to stick his head in, so you can punish him, for taking you.

he sniffed the air. nobody else is around. at least not around the hole in the hill. the snow's surface was untouched, not counting his own footprints. maybe you were still there. hopefully you were asleep. sweet, and compliant. maybe you were awake, desperately waiting for him to come back and keep you warm.

he almost smirked at his own fantasies. how silly. you already have him dreaming. oh, he is hooked, simon chuckled.

with hands full of bark, just for you, simon stood above the entrance of his den. might as well barge in. and so he did. simon crawled into his den. and there you were. still asleep. in his nest. the wolf felt proud. he kept you around. here he was, bringing you food, while you just slept. that's how it's meant to be.

simon dropped the bark in a corner of the den. he almost rushed. he wanted to cuddle up next to you, hold you in his arms, keep you warm, and protect you. at light speed, he had crawled next to you.

even in your sleepy state, he had managed to startle you. you're eyes narrowed open.

"go back to sleep, bun..." he softly murmured to you. with a tired nod of your head, you closed your eyes, and fell back asleep.

it made simon chuckle. you will never have a reason to complain again. you're his now, after all. his.

either this is my magnum opus, or im delusional ;( heart banner by @roseschoices

taglist: @famouscattale @nappingmoon @distinguishedprincesstrash @tame-the-lion-writes @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,743 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts. 

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light. 

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there. 

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.” 

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you. 

Nightmare. 

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them. 

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you. 

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that. 

Maybe someone was, but not in reality. 

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures? 

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest. 

He’s crying. 

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing. 

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them. 

“It’s okay.” 

Kyle. 

His sweet Kyle. 

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team. 

What a failure he is. 

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing. 

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly. 

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half. 

How he’s missed this. 

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny. 

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds. 

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I full-heartedly agree.” 

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door. 

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.” 

John clears his throat. “How is she?” 

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair. 

“How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks. 

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks. 

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says. 

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.” 

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own. 

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier. 

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha. 

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can. 

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs. 

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take. 

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage. 

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about. 

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next. 

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can. 

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger. 

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again. 

But what comes next? 

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you? 

Could they leave you alone again? 

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs. 

They have time. 

He has to make sure you’re okay first. 

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them. 

You hate it. 

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything? 

They left you. 

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do. 

You’re not them. 

You don’t want to be like them. 

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first. 

Fuck them. 

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection. 

Or worse. 

You’d get picked up by someone else. 

Graves. Shepherd. 

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead. 

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass. 

You still haven’t spoken to them, though. 

You can hardly stand to look at them. 

Fuck them. 

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream. 

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything. 

You hate it. 

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them. 

It makes you want to scream. 

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again. 

Fuck them. 

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do. 

Fuck. Them. 

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore. 

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there. 

You were tortured there. 

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you. 

Dr. Keller cares. 

It’s her job to care. 

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive. 

She’s the only one you want to forgive. 

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world. 

You should have been their world. 

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first. 

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change. 

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first? 

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass. 

You thought you were dying the first time. 

You could only be so lucky. 

The bond. 

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t. 

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first. 

��Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain. 

Fuck yourself. 

Fuck your omega. 

Fuck your pack. 

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more. 

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass. 

Fuck them all. 

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side. 

Fuck. Them. All. 

You don’t want him here. 

He does it now, usually in the mornings. 

You hate it. 

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort. 

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain. 

You don’t want to. 

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it. 

The sea. 

They brought you to the sea. 

John remembered. He did it for you. 

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger. 

You hate it. 

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her. 

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you. 

You don’t want them. 

Fuck, you desperately need them. 

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t. 

You can’t reach out. 

You can’t take his hand. 

How desperately you want to. 

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch. 

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.” 

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie. 

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness. 

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore. 

You don’t feel like anything anymore. 

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever. 

That will certainly make things easier. 

But will it make things better? 

No. Probably not. 

It’ll make things worse. 

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now. 

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted. 

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing? 

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now. 

How badly it would destroy you. 

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close. 

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally. 

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing. 

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it. 

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.” 

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says. 

“She needs her alpha.” He argues. 

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.” 

“I can’t give her that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now. 

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it. 

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.” 

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost. 

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head. 

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again. 

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t. 

To the beach and back, then. 

She’s like an angel. 

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is. 

The Garrick beauty is genetic. 

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her. 

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.” 

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever. 

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?” 

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit. 

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do. 

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed. 

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks. 

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books? 

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure. 

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.” 

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you. 

You want to do it. 

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller. 

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe. 

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger. 

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more. 

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.” 

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now? 

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time. 

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.” 

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US. 

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.” 

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing. 

You’re smiling. 

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long. 

She’s funny too. 

Stinky men. 

They are that. 

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement. 

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller. 

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.” 

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile. 

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered. 

Oh. 

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered. 

Oh. 

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller. 

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her. 

That’s not possible. You know it’s not. 

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.” 

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.” 

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say. 

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter. 

Another smile tugs at your lips. 

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to. 

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be. 

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here. 

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable. 

You hate it. 

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.” 

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better. 

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.” 

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology. 

It shocks him to stillness and silence. 

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you? 

He never existed. 

He left you behind. 

He never cared. 

Anger begins to bubble within you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop. 

They’re all listening. 

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to. 

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you. 

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!” 

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too. 

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation? 

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump. 

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt. 

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it. 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly. 

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue. 

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels. 

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!” 

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all. 

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.” 

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” 

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it. 

The bond. 

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all. 

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary. 

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll. 

It was necessary, but at what cost? 

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress. 

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate. 

But how? 

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer. 

You need someone, and it can’t be her. 

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing. 

You need someone. 

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win. 

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can. 

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.  

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away. 

Just in case. 

One can never be too careful. 

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her. 

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe... 

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.  

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later. 

To be notified about new chapters, please follow HERE and turn on notifications

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi, could I get a swiss roll with a figgy duff and a side of champagne served by Max Verstappen?

Thank you in advance 🫶

bakery menu!!

want to submit an order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you and everything you wish to suggest! requests are still open, but updates won't be posted from sept 23rd-29th 2024 due to a vacation! but feel free to submit orders for when i return! for this lovely anon i hope you love this fic, i am very proud of how everything turned out! thank you again for ordering and have a great day! <3

swiss roll ("everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you.") + figgy duff ("if i buy it, will you stop pouting?") + champagne (sugar daddy au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy au, stuffed animal abuse, couch sex, jealousy, doggy style, daddy kink

max knew that he could have next to anything he wanted. his entire world was his oyster before thirty. his salary would make some gasp, but it simply made him grin. he pushed himself to his limits to get on top, and he wasn't stopping now.

but even the greats had their weaknesses. and for max that came in the form of soft eyes and softer lips with a deep likeness for hello kitty.

"is this one hello kitty? it looks like a rabbit?" max asked as he looked over at your phone screen to see what you were looking at. or rather in what ways were you going to use and abuse his credit card for the week.

in all fairness you could've abused his finances a lot harder and max would've been fine with it. he could retire from racing tomorrow and still spoil you till the sun burnt out. you still tried to find deals and coupons on things you wanted him to buy you. sometimes you still got hot in the face when you saw the total of a shopping cart.

you were raised in such a different world than him and max liked that. but, while he had a weak spot for your softness. you had a weak spot for stuffed animals. especially sanrio.

"no, no. they're not all hello kitty. this one is cinnamoroll, and he's a dog."

max looked at the screen a little closer, "looks like a rabbit to me."

you pointed at the screen, "no, no. look at his ears, those are dog ears." max nodded, still not totally convinced. who would draw a dog like that. but when you saw the price of the large stuffed animal, you pouted. and max noticed you were pouting.

he took the phone from you and when you tried to get your phone back. he placed his free hand on your forehead. he said, "if i buy it, will you stop pouting? i can afford it, treasure."

"but the import fees."

"they'll be paid." he added the stuffed animal to the cart. he didn't even look at the price in all fairness before he handed the phone back to you. you pouted further and max leaned in to kiss you on the lips, "enough of that. what else do you want?" then rubbed the top of your head with his large hand.

honestly, he knew very little about sanrio or hello kitty. he knew one time he kicked one of them off the bed in an attempt to get comfy after a long double header and you whined until he picked it up off the floor and apologized to the stuffed toy. but, anything for you, he supposed.

the plush toy along with some others arrived within a few weeks. max didn't really notice much of it until he caught you on the couch earlier that day with your arms wrapped around the stuffed toy. he hadn't realized how big it was, a little over a meter in size. it was soft with those long rabbit ears. but you were snuggled up with it watching television. you looked cute even with the t-shirt you wore slowly riding up over your stomach.

it made max stop in his tracked and divert from his path to the kitchen. you looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back. he said to you, "everything you hoped for?"

you nodded, "yeah, now i have something to cuddle when you're gone." your comment was innocent, but it stirred something in max. he got closer and you kept your gaze on him. you smiled a little bit when he leaned down to kiss you on the lips.

"oh? replacing me so soon?" he asked as he reached towards you and pushed your t-shirt a little higher. you hid your face a little further into the stuffed animals, "oh no, no, my love. don't hide from me." it was easy to get your shirt off of you.

he licked his lips while your breasts pressed against the stuffed animal. he knew he'd have you whining soon enough and it curled something in his gut at the sight of you. you were amazing. the perfect baby girl that max could ever have. while he was fine with you buying what you desired, he didn't want to be replaced with a stuffed toy.

because no stuffed toy could compare to your daddy.

"you better not replace me, my love. everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you. so there is no replacing me. i paid for these." he said as he pushed down your shorts and exposed the pretty panties underneath, "and i paid for your little friend." maybe max was a fool for being jealous over a stuffed animal, but your sudden attached to it made something curl in his brain.

you were soon naked and pressed against the stuffed animal. you looked over your shoulder at him and he pressed your face into the cinnamoroll plush, or whatever its name was. you whined, "daddy!"

"shh, shh. i need to make sure this rabbit knows who you belong to. or he's being sent back to wherever he came from."

you arched your back to pretty for him as you tried to argue, "it's a dog!"

he smacked your ass before he pulled away to get his t-shirt off. you behaved and kept your face pressed against the stuffed animal. he got out of his pants and underwear before he pressed his cock up against your ass. he said, "it could be a turtle for all i can. but, i need to make sure that you don't go running off with a stuffed toy while i'm away." he kissed the back of your neck as he rubbed himself up against you.

you whimpered and held onto the toy tighter, "daddy, please." then moaned when he sank his cock into you. it was true, he did pay for everything. you were there to look pretty and be the perfect girl for him.

"so pretty." he said, "i worry about you when i leave, you're so soft and could get into a lot of trouble." he groaned a little bit as he started to find his pace as he fucked you on the couch.

"i can be a good girl." you replied, you held onto the stuffed toy and drooled a little bit against it as max's cock hit up against some of your sweetest spots. your toes curled in your socks as he found his rhythm.

"i know. i know." he said, "but you should be cuddling me. not this toy. so i have to show it who's in charge." you couldn't help but giggle, but they were soon silenced when he pressed himself further against you and took you by the face and kissed you deeply on the lips.

his thrusts were fast, and it forced you further up against the couch. the kisses were hot and made you feel warm all over. your sweet noises even while you kissed made max run hot. he knew that only he could make you feel this good. he knew that he ruined you, and that you'd always yearn for his cock.

you drooled a little more when the kiss broke and your face found comfortable against the fur of the toy. you clung to it tightly for some kind of support but max had full control of the pace. you felt a little hazy in the brain as he continued to fuck you.

"i love you." you said softly.

"and i love you." he replied, "can't help but be a little jealous sometimes. anyone would be lucky to have you, but i have you all to myself. everything you own belongs to me, paid with my credit card. maybe i should make you wear my name at all times so nobody gets the wrong idea." his words were hot and flooded with brain with a heightened pleasure.

max continued to thrust against you. soon his pace became quicker and rougher. he pressed you further against the couch and the toy. he kissed you once more, it was rough against your lips as you came around his cock.

you clung to the stuffed animal as you tensed up. you panted through the kiss as you nails dug into the plush toy, only loosening your grip when you came down from your climax.

face pressed once more into the soft fur as max rocked himself against you, almost bouncing you on his cock. he pressed into you further before he finished inside of you. he shuddered as he finished. eventually he slowed down until a stop then pulled out. he panted heavily and used his t-shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

he admired your backside before he put you onto your back. he looked at the stuffed animal, the embroidered eyes looked at him and he smiled. he said to the toy, "she's mine."

you placed your hands on his face and said, "c'mon, max! he isn't going to replace you!"

"he won't when i'm finished with you." <3

[kunazz]

YUUJI ITADORI — virgin thoughts. aged up au.

“m’gonna cum- oh fuck-” yuuji groaned, his eyes watering desperately as his hands claw at your wrist, blunt nails leaving little marks in their wake as he tries, and fails, to push your hand away from his leaking pussy. he’s so wet, the loud squelching sound causing his ears to go red, a constant reminder of just how horny you can make him — it’s a bit embarrassing really.

yuuji has never had anyone finger him before, he’s barely even done it himself, only indulging in his carnal desires when he really needed it — when his pussy was practically screaming for his touch. however, despite that, he’s never had his fingers inside him before, only choosing to toy around with his clit because that’s what felt the best, but now he’s feeling your thick digits invade his tight hole, he can’t help but need more, until his body is wrecked from it all.

“please— [name], I can’t- fuck” yuuji blabbers on, his eyes rolling back as his thighs quiver, pussy clenching around your fingers. he’s close, he’s so fucking close and he’s sure you’re about to make him cum for the fifth time that night. five times he came already and your cock isn’t even inside him yet — you truly were something else.

however, just as he was about to finish, your fingers pull out, leaving yuuji’s hole to desperately clench around nothing, the sudden emptiness feeling less pleasant and more disheartening than anything — yuuji wanted to be stuffed full, stretched and filled until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“c’mon baby, can’t have you cumming this much without my cock hm?” you say, finally pulling down your shorts, allowing yuuji to see what was to come, to finally give him a taste of what he’s been missing.

to finally take his virginity.

all rights reserved © 2024 kunazz. please don’t steal any works I make and if you do want to make something based of my work, please give credits! all creds go to cafekitsune for the dividers.

[poisonf0rest]

The Best Dreams Come in Threes

♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier

♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.

♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers

♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.

art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz

Lonely star, who do you shine for?

The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole. 

Your desperation won’t bring your sun back. 

Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?

You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story. 

You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate. 

And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them. 

Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage. 

It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god. 

The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—

You wake up crying. 

A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you. 

Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning. 

But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace. 

The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.

“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.

Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.

His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.

A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.

Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"

“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”

Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.

You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.

You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.

He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”

Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow. 

You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips. 

His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”

“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.

Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast. 

You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel. 

Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.

Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.

You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.

You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.

"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.

His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.

Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!” 

The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt. 

"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between. 

God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane. 

“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Like he wouldn’t already.

But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly? 

Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers.  “I’m yours, Rafayel.”

And the fabric is ripped into pieces. 

Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.

He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.

It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer. 

“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.” 

You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand. 

He loved being used like this, so long as it was you. 

So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess. 

It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead. 

And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.

You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.

With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole. 

You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?" 

At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.

Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long. 

He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy. 

"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?" 

Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.

"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."

The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.

"No. Nope. That's not an answer."

"Raf–"

His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.

Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.

Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.

Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust. 

Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream. 

Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request. 

"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.

"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”

Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric. 

You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."

"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”

You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.

Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs. 

“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—

Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape. 

Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.

You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs. 

"You’re doing this without me?" 

Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.

"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean. 

Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."

You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.

“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"

The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.

Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."

Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.

"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."

He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment. 

Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.

Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.

"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"

You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough. 

"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"

“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”

“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”

“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.” 

They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body. 

You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher. 

“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss. 

“Shh, just take it."

You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body. 

“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”

Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again. 

You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss. 

But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace. 

Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers. 

Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.

"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.

"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”

"I don't take orders from you." 

Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh. 

"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”

The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."

“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.” 

He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.

"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”

It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down. 

A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.

And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.

"Deal.”

Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes. 

One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.

Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.

"So needy, little bunny."

"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."

Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again. 

Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears. 

Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.

“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock. 

The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body. 

Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there. 

"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."

You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.

With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind. 

 “This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”

But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart. 

It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.

You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.

"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.

You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat. 

Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win. 

The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.

Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved. 

The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust. 

And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock. 

"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"

Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.

"Shit."

"Ah, please-"

It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale. 

You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.

Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.

Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"

Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling." 

"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."

His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss. 

It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.

"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."

Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.

"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"

It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.

Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position,  and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.

"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."

The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.

"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure. 

Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.

The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.

Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing. 

You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.

Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.

And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust. 

Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum. 

"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"

Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit. 

Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."

He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.

It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.

You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.

"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."

Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.

"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"

There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."

"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”

And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure. 

Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded. 

Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.

The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.

It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.

Then, the world comes crashing back.

Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets. 

"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.

The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.

Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."

"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas. 

You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.

"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible. 

"You love it."

"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."

"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides. 

The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now. 

And the nightmares never return. 

[choslut]

˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ⌇ SWEET TALK. featuring choso.

↻ choso lives for one thing ; to make sure his precious girlfriend is never unsatisfied.

tags : cunniligus, dirty talk, body worship, male masturbation, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, mentions of face sitting, feral choso // wc. 0.7k

author's note : i lowkey wanna thank @toadtoru for sending in an ask about this before i even posted it, because i used some of those ideas to improve on this :3 in true homage to my username choso is a complete slut in this lolsies ;) one more to go and this event is finished, thanks for sticking around for THIS long i love everyone here >o<

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

if there’s one thing CHOSO firmly believes in, it’s that you aren’t just his girlfriend, but some supreme deity from heaven above. it sounds completely ridiculous, but he believes it more than anything, especially in moments like this. 

you just look so beautiful above him on the couch, thighs parted slightly and fingers caressing the sensitive mound in between your legs, head tipped back and lips parted in a silent ‘o’ as your toes curl into the carpet. angelic, he thinks, and he can’t wait to receive permission to touch you.

“choso…” your voice is smooth like butter yet sweet like caramel, and choso can feel his cock begin to press up against his slacks. “c’mere.”

yes. that’s all he needs before he’s eagerly crawling in between your legs to lap at your cunt, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs as he pulls them apart in earnest. “shit… missed me, did she?” his rambles are fueled by pure lust and delusion, and as he eats you out, choso begins to talk into your cunt. “missed her too… poor baby can’t go too long without her sweet boyfriend, huh…”

fingers tangle in his dark locks as you pull him closer, effectively muffling his ramblings by grinding your lower half on his tongue. the way he eats you out is feverish, his wet muscle alternating between your inflamed clit and pulsing hole interchangeably. and choso can’t help himself from getting fired up by your lewd display too, his own hips grinding down onto  the couch as he finds solace in between your legs. 

you, on the other hand, are positively reeling, legs twitching uncontrollably as choso continues to make a mess of your poor cunt. you wish you could return to him the same pleasure tenfold, but all you can do is sit and take it, helpless to his ministrations. “cho, cho, ‘s too much, baby, s-slow down…” 

begging is futile. choso is hypnotised, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head in an immediate reflection of your own reaction. “sorry baby, can’t, you taste s’good, don’t wanna…”

neither of you are in your right mind, but choso especially. when you cry out from orgasm for the first time, he barely takes note, his tongue on your clit never letting up as he brings two fingers to the entrance of your weeping cunt. the other hand previously on your thigh is now shoved into his boxers, and he’s fisting himself just as quickly as his fingers begin to plow your pussy. 

he’s killing you, but you love it. his brown eyes peek up in between your legs, and you just catch his expression, pupils dilated with lust as he watches you twitch above him. he mumbles something onto your clit before he’s licking and kissing it again, and you begin to think you might actually die. 

“c’mon, baby,” he groans, hips thrusting forward into his palm as he continues to eat. “c’mon baby, gimme another one– fuck, please, please…”

“choso, i can’t…” you truly believe that, given the way he’s already on his way to giving you another orgasm in the short span of five minutes. but he needs it so bad, needs you to cum for him so bad that he speeds up, thumb now joining his tongue to stimulate your clit in unison. “choso!”

“that’s it, baby, that’s it, oh, she’s close, isn’t she?” you can barely believe that he’s treating your pussy like its own person, but fuck is it turning you on. you hiccup pitiful whimpers as your thighs begin to tremble again, knees closing inwards and trapping choso’s head in between your legs.

if he were to die in this position, he wouldn’t mind. your release sprays his lips in repeated spurts, juices dribbling down his chin and some even dripping onto the flared head of his cock. it’s that which tips choso over the edge, and he’s spurting ropes onto the carpet, his own eyes finding the back of his head rapidly as his nose jerks against your clit.

“baby…” he stares down at the mess he’s made on the floor and then back at you, who’s laying spread eagle on the couch, chest rapidly rising and falling. “you gotta sit on my face next time.”

PREVIOUS : SURVIVAL ft. sniper mask NEXT : INKED ft. suguru geto

liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.

© choslut 2024 — do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission.

[tame-the-lion-writes]

Thinking about reader finally stumbling onto one of the dogs shifted into their human form. Maybe Soap raiding the cabinets in the kitchen for a late night snack? Reader obviously freaks tf out about a whole ass man in their house... but the rest of the force are still in their dog forms. Reader's confused why their once very protective dogs are completely okay with this strange man in their house, and why this man is claiming to be one of her dogs.

(Note that these answers are non-linear! I’ll be having fun with a few more asks/requests as if this hasn’t happened yet 😉)

All you wanted was some water to ease the dryness in your throat, but as soon as they noticed you picking up your phone from the bedside table, the dogs kept tugging at your clothes to hold you back—something they never did. You swatted them away without thinking much of it, though, too sleep-adled to think that maybe, just maybe, they were doing it for good reason.

And then you saw the man in your kitchen.

“Why are you naked.”

It wasn’t much of a question. More of a statement—or an exaggeration, really—because he wasn’t naked. He was just wearing sweatpants that hung low on his hips, exposing a deep V-line and a happy trail that would’ve had you drooling if not for the sheer strangeness of the circumstances. At first, you weren’t even sure if you should be afraid—because it was comedic, the way he locked eyes with you, halfway through chomping down on a spoonful of cereal from not even a bowl, but a mug.

He swallows hard, and that’s when you grab a knife—earning several barks from your dogs. At you. Not him.

“He’s literally the intruder here!” you argue back. “You bark at, like, every other guy? What about him?! He’s massive!”

“Aw, thank y—“

“That wasn’t a compliment!”

The man’s smile tightens as he slowly puts the mug and spoon down, and lifts his hands as if in surrender. 

“Easy, lass,” he continues, eyes darting between your face and the knife. “I’m a friend.”

“The fuck you are—“

“Look. Look.” He gestures back and forth between himself and the dogs, who stand in place between you two. “You’re missin’ a pup, aren’t ya? Foxhound that gets into everything? Soap? Thah’s me!”

‘Me?’ What the hell was this guy thinking? But sure enough—just as he said—Soap was missing from the group. It was just Price, Ghost, and Gaz—all tense like you. If not more so. Gaz offers a whine in negotiation, stepping forward to get you to back up a little further, away from the stranger. There’s a beg—no—an intelligent plea in the Labrador’s eyes that nearly makes you falter, unsure of reason or rhyme.

Unsure of yourself.

“That’s— that’s not possible,” you laugh nervously, reaching for the phone in your pocket. “Dogs don’t turn into people, or vice versa. Now get out of my house or I’m calling the poli—“

— “Wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

And now there’s a third fucking person. Standing in your kitchen. Right where Price used to be. And now the shock runs cold, adrenaline gone in place of confusion. And a quick skip through the stages of grief into acceptance.

“Well,” is all that gets out of your mouth. “Shit.”

The world spins, and everything goes black. You’re out like a light. All you see is ‘human-Price’ moving forward, then darkness, and the sensation of two arms catching you before you hit the floor.

The boys hang around until morning light after that, sitting in the living room in dead silence. At least until Gaz gives a final suggestion.

“… You think we can pass it off as a dream?”

_

Bonus Thoughts:

You do, in fact, wake up as if it were a dream. Because you’re back in bed per usual, and the house is in order, and the dogs are piled around you like nothing ever happened. You eye them all suspiciously, then slap yourself. Because what kind of weirdo imagines her pets as hot, tall, buff men? Pervert.

Meanwhile, the boys are just exchanging the quietest glances before you settle back in bed. Because for a good few seconds, they think they’ve been discovered.

Also Soap has suffered a collective *bap* from everyone because it’s what he deserves for threatening their free food supply.

[luveline]

Hotch request w Jack and new baby!!! Coming back from the hospital and reader is in bed with new baby and Jack while Aaron is in another part of the house (maybe making food in the kitchen) and reader starts crying because she’s in pain and jack is all concerned and sweet and goes to get Aaron??

thank you for requesting, sorry I messed up where everyone was! fem, 1.3k

“He’s gonna stab him!” 

You blink from the spot you’d been staring at, pain momentarily forgotten. “What! Where’d you learn that word?” you ask in surprise. 

Jack leans back against his big velvet pillow, blue with silver stars, looking as though he’s in the lap of luxury. “At school.” 

The cartoon mouse on the TV raises his fencing sword high in the air. 

“He’s not stabbing anyone, they’re fencing,” you say, reaching for his hand to hold. “Stabbing… that’s pretty scary. How did that make you feel?” 

“Well, I’m not gonna stab anyone,” Jack says. 

He’s confused that you’re making a fuss, just old enough to realise you’re poking around for his feelings. You worry lately that you aren’t paying him enough attention because of his new brother, and the word stab isn’t exactly age appropriate. 

But maybe that’s what the boys his age are talking about? You frown more, your hand slipping along his arm to curl behind him. You pull him toward you. “Come on, handsome. Cuddle me.” 

You’re too sore to move, so Jack has to come to you. He crawls across the couch until his arms can wrap around you and his cheek can rest against your chest. Stab is an apt word for the feeling in your stomach. Jack’s arm squeezes at you and the pain worsens, so you move it up your front and curl your arm around him. 

“Is it a bad word?” he asks. 

“No, it’s just like hit or slap, I guess. And I know you’re not gonna do any of that to anyone. You’re too gentle.” 

“Gentle is a good word.” 

“Yeah.” You kiss his forehead, a moment of self indulgence. You love your stepson, and he is oh so kissable. “Oh no, look at the mouse.” 

Charlie sleeps in his swing seat, the soft whirring of its constant motion almost as comforting as the sound of his soft breaths. You watch him for a while, Jack climbing up at your side to press his face to your neck, leg on your thigh, slowly pressing against the tenderness that is your abdomen. “Uh, Jack,” you breathe, trying to pick him up, “you’re gonna have to climb off of me, my tummy hurts too much.” 

“Sorry,” he says quickly, slipping off of you and onto the couch cushion. His foot kicks out as he rights himself, a jamming of his toes against the pain like a spike. 

You take a deep breath. Ouch. 

“It’s okay,” you say, groaning softly as the pain thrums, hand on your stomach as though your touch can make it stop, “just a tummy ache. I– I’m okay.” 

“You got little tears?” he says, his voice going wobbly. You try to blink away tears and end up with a straggler curving down the slope of your cheek. “I’ll go get dad!” 

“Jack, I’m okay,” you say. 

Too late. Jack scrambles from the couch and away from you, up the stairs to find his father. You’re not sure what Aaron’s up to, he’d only said, “I’ll be right back,” twenty minutes ago. You’d guessed laundry. 

You’re glad Jack’s run upstairs when you realise the pain isn’t going away. It’s not bad, not half as bad as your contractions had been, but the whole labour process has sapped you, and you feel weak as a willow branch in bad weather. You shift heavily onto one leg and cross them, uncross them when the pain spikes again, letting out a weird and breathless whine as it turns to a full blown cramp. 

Jack returns with Aaron in tow. His hair is dripping wet, soap suds on his neck and his shirt stuck to his chest. He’s rushed out of the shower to see you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he rounds the couch. “Jack told me you’re not feeling well.” 

You hold your arms out for a hug. He doesn’t falter, simply does as you want, his hair wringing wet and dripping onto your shoulder as he gathers you in his arms. 

You hold onto him like a lifeline. The cramp curls, and tightens, has you seizing up against him. 

“What is it?” he asks softly. “Stomach pains again?” 

The nurse said it’s your uterus shrinking. Whatever it is, it’s sudden agony. You shudder into Aaron’s shoulder until the pain pangs and fades, leaving your stomach a tense mess. It hurts to move, so you stay clinging to your husband and let him hover over you. 

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

You sniff. 

Aaron pulls away to take your face into his hands. He holds you with care, his thumbs under your jaw, index fingers running diagonally under each eye, tips at your brows. Just a stolen few seconds for him to check you over. No tears to be wiped away. 

“Still hurting?” 

You shake your head, eyebrows pulled down in a bad frown. 

“Okay. Alright. Motrin?” he asks. 

“No,” you whisper, “can you just stay here?” 

Jack says your name. 

You peek past Aaron’s body. “Jack, sorry.” 

“Are you okay now?” 

You grimace, “I’m gonna be fine, it just hurts sometimes and I didn’t have any medicine today. That’s all. Sorry, I scared you.” 

“You didn’t scare me,” he denies. 

You can’t help smiling, then. “Okay, I didn’t. Thanks for getting dad for me.” 

“He’s our hero,” Aaron says. He sits down beside you carefully, his voice quiet and his hand gentle as he holds your thigh. “I’m glad he did.” 

Jack climbs into his dad’s lap. Aaron wraps an arm around him, the other at your side, fingers tapping at you. 

You rub your forehead. Tip your head back and take a deep breath. 

“Jack,” you whisper, breathing out, “I’m sorry if I startled you. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 

“It wasn’t scary, I said that already.” 

“Oh, you did?” Aaron teases. 

“It was okay, I just don’t want you to hurt.” 

“Only baby pains,” you say. 

For a few minutes, you and your small family sit there in silence. Aaron works a hand behind your back to hug you, Jack snuggles into his chest, and Charlie stirs in his swing seat. The quiet calms him, and he goes back to his soft snoring seconds later. 

“I’m sorry about your shower,” you whisper. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about my baby,” Aaron whispers back, drawing circles into your lower back, “he didn’t mean to chew you up.” 

“Ugh, I know.” 

Jack raises his nose. “What? Chew? Do babies bite?” 

“It’s an expression, babe.” 

“Oh.” He looks at his baby brother with suspicion anyways. “He doesn’t even have teeth?” 

“Buddy, it’s just a joke,” Aaron says, laughing as Jack slips out of his lap to go and look at Charlie in the seat. 

“Maybe he did have teeth,” you say. 

Aaron ushers you toward him, rests his cheek on your forehead. “It’ll feel better soon. You need to rest, that’s all.” 

“Your hair is so wet.” 

“I was in the shower.” 

“Sorry…” 

“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t be.” 

You reach up to tousle his wet hair. “Miss showering with you.” 

“We showered last night.” 

“No, I stood there and you helped me wash my back, that’s not the same.” 

“Well, I enjoyed it.” 

“I bet you did.” 

Your fondness attracts many, many kisses, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You settle under the weight of him and watch Jack where he frowns at Charlie, big brown eyes squinted, waiting for a show of teeth that won’t happen. Aaron brings a hand to your tense stomach, waiting for you to lean back before he begins massaging the tensed muscle there with a slowness that borders unmoving. 

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he says. 

“You can go finish your shower.” 

“I was finished. M’gonna start pressing in, okay?” 

You wince as Aaron begins, but slowly, slowly, the tenseness from your cramp softens. It still hurts, but he makes it manageable. Jack delivered your rescuer, and your rescuer loves a soft touch.

[simpjaes]

Okay but literally drunk jake begging to eat you out and being all whiney about it because he just wants to taste you :((

wc: 412 warning: drunk pussy eating, weird uber driver lol

~ Seeing one of you is usually enough for him to want it, but now...seeing two of you?

You'd argue with him if he wasn't so cute like this, clammy hands clinging to you as he puckers cutely, like he's just joking, like he's not about to cum in his pants right here, right now, if you so much as let him smell between your legs.

The uber driver keeps staring through the rearview though, so you do your best to tame him, despite knowing the man up front can hear Jake too well.

"Please baby, he won't know-" Jake whines, pulling at your clothes, trying to clumsily get them off. "Just one lick?"

You shake your head at him with a fond smile, biting your lip at him because fuck, it's so so hard to tell him no. If the driver wasn't such a fucking creep perhaps you'd feel those glistening, alcohol flavored lips right where you need them.

"j-just a few more minutes." You try to push his kissing mouth away, and it works. His dazed eyes look at you in disappointment, but you know it won't last for too long. Truly, you won't have to feel so guilty if this fucking driver would at least go the speed limit. Eventually, you make it home. Kind of. You make it in the door, rather. Jake is so quick to tumble inside and pin you to the floor in a drunken hold. You could escape if you wanted to, but his dead weight is too much. Plus, you don't really want to. It's actually insanely arousing watching him like this, sniffing, licking, and biting against your shorts as if they're not there. Dampening them before you can do it yourself as he moans and groans about how annoying it is that your shorts hadn't just disappeared on command. You do him the favor of removing them, finally feeling that wet and sweet tongue lap away instantly with a sigh from the both of you. He's in his own little world down there, truly, as you look at him with near crossed eyes as he seemingly passionately makes out with your clit, only to dip down and fuck his tongue in. You do note the shoulder movement though, and can't help but cross your eyes more at the way he jerks himself off through it, devouring you whole, moaning at the taste, and seemingly getting everything he could ever want at this moment.

[heartmaddie]

cuddling with the haikyuu boys ! ushijima , suna , sakusa , hinata , oikawa

incl post timeskip and pre time skip , oikawa's one is a tadbit sad , gender neutral reader (except the last of ushijima headcannons where reader is pregnant but everything else is gn)

ushijima wakatoshi °˖➴જ⁀➴‎‎‎‎ ㅤㅤㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎chronic big spoon

⋆ he loves big spooning so much ; especially after finding looking at you face to face a little bit awkward when cuddling

⋆ in the early relationship stage he didn’t touch you often, so cuddling sort of opened that gateway for him

⋆ even then, he loves feeling your head against his chest while it beats embarrassingly fast against your ears

⋆ he’s not opposed to being the little spoon, but once he’s back from practice you’d likely be asleep by then, so it’s easiest to just slide into bed from the back like so.

⋆ before he realises that you like the feeling of being squished he’s probably a bit concerned that he’s holding you too tight

⋆ post time skip he doesn’t care as much and just squeezes you tightly until you tell him to stop

⋆ he’s the sweetest, he only started cuddling for you but then continued because he fell in love with the way he could bury his nose against you while palming at your soft skin.

⋆ if you do decide to have babies then he likes running his hands against your pregnant stomach and feeling the baby kick and squirm against his large, rough hands.

⋆˙⟡ —

ushijima doesn’t necessarily convey his affection through physical touch, he’d much rather tell you how he adored you straight to your face with no miscommunication, that was just how he functioned. but while your relationship developed overtime, he would start to notice how often you’d cling onto his arm, or during movie nights at his dorm you’d tuck yourself under his bicep, so he started to worry that he wasn’t providing for you enough in a physically affectionate manner.

the first night you stayed at his dorm was when tendou was at his family home for the weekend, so he decided to invite you over for the night. your laptop’s perched on his lap and you’re laying against his hard chest, the both of you eagerly watching your favourite movie. around the halfway point, ushijima takes note of the intimacy between the two characters, how their bodies would intertwine on the soft mattress, and he yearned to embrace you like that too.

his olive eyes flicker down to your figure, how through your blue light glasses, you’d watch the film with fascination in your eyes, you’ve watched this film hundreds of times so to ushijima this long-standing attachment was quite strange. he raked his thick fingers through your hair, gently running them through each strand before catching your attention, looking up at him curiously you ask him what’s up.

“oh, nothing,” the vibrations of his thick voice ripples through the air as he pulls you a bit closer, “i’ve never held someone like that before.” he gestures to the screen. 

you smile up at him, gently closing the laptop and carefully laying it on the ground, 

“okay, we can try now!” you say happily, sliding your arms around him and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, which he’d happily return.

soon enough, ushijima found his head nestled against your ear with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, your back pressed up against his chest as he held you tight. 

“i’m quite fond of this.” he murmurs in your ear, pressing his thin lips against the skin of your neck.

he shut his eyes tight, inhaling your sweet scent while he felt himself slowly drift off to sleep, finding it a little bit easier with you curled up in his arms.

suna rintaro °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤbear hugger

⋆ even in a non-cuddling sense, suna loves wrapping his arms around you and making you feel small in his embrace

⋆ even in the early relationship stage, he’d be pulling you into his arms and pressing kisses against your neck while you giggle

⋆ and he does it everywhere, he’s a big fan of pda.

⋆ when you’re cuddling, he likes laying right on top of you with his arms wrapped around your waist, your head buried in his neck while he rubs your neck

⋆ he’s so touchy its insatiable, he’d always have his arm around your waist ready to pull you into his arms

⋆ after a long day of work all he needs is to be wrapped up in your arms, squishing against your shoulders and breathing in the accords of his favourite perfume before he’s easily knocked out for hours.

⋆ sometimes it gets so bad that you literally can’t breathe so you have to roll him off your body and he’d pout about it for a couple of days

⋆ he likes laying his head on your chest too, so he can listen to your heartbeat as it lulls him to sleep

⋆˙⟡ —

suna felt all the stress upon his shoulders, head slouched down as he attempted to type the password into the apartment door before it opens gently before him and he perks up immediately at the sight of you in your pink flannel pajamas. you’re embraced by his sweaty body, and he’s pressing kisses against your neck as he uses his foot to kick the door shut, lifting you into his toned arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

“missed you so, so much.” he murmured between pecks, his voice muffled by the warm skin of your nape.

“go have a shower rinnie, you smell like sweat.” you huff, sitting up on the bed as you tried to push him off you, he pouts before pressing a soft kiss on your cheek, standing up to strip his shirt and walk into the bathroom. in your moments of solitude, you reach for the book on your nightstand and work through it, encapsulated in each page, not even realising when rintarou exits the bathroom. 

he gently takes the book out of your hands, placing the bookmark between the pages fold and leaving it on the nightstand, pressing another kiss to your lips as he slides into the bed. 

“i missed you soo much.” rintarou mutters as he lays next to you, pulling you into his warm arms as he snuggles into your neck, “lemme lie on you, pleasee.” he begs, and you look at him with a sidelong glance.

“just wait a bit, we can cuddle like that right before we go to sleep.” you hum, looking over at him and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, making him melt into the soft mattress with a dorky smile.

“i love you.” he’d murmur, pulling you tight against his chest and capturing your lips in a soft, chaste kiss. 

“i love you too.” your voice is muffled against his lips, but he still smiles against you, nuzzling his head against your cheek while your arms move to wrap around him tight.

suna takes this as initiative to lay right on top of you, your head nestled against his chest as his arms snake around your upper torso, squeezing you tight as he knocks the wind out of your chest. he lets a deep sigh of relief escape him, holding you close as he falls into deep tranquil.

sakusa kiyoomi °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤaddicted to your warmth

⋆ he hated the idea of sleeping in the same bed as you during your early relationship stage

⋆ but a couple months into your relationship he starts getting used to your warm body wrapped up in his sheets

⋆ soon enough he’s addicted to your warmth, always recaching out for you in bed so at least one part of your bodies are touching

⋆ at first it’s more that you’d sleep back to back, so he could still soak up your warmth without being entirely in your warms

⋆ but as your relationship progresses he starts getting used to the idea of placing his hand on your face while you sleep

⋆ he faces you while you sleep so he can watch you during the late hours of the night

⋆ sakusa values his sleep, but he definitely used to be an insomniac before you started dating

⋆ having your warmth next to him helped, it lulled him to sleep with ease.

⋆ he likes draping an arm over you in the winter, on good nights he’ll pull you into his arms and lean against your neck

⋆ in the summer he’ll stay away from you though, you overheat frequently and he prefers staying cold in bed.

⋆˙⟡ —

it’s so cold.

sakusa’s shivering on his side of the bed, the thick covers of this hotel bed not keeping him warm like the ones at home do. he pulls the sleeves of his flannel shirt down, trying to cover him whole as he looks outside, the snow gracefully falling to the ground as he contemplates his misery. he looks over at your sleeping body, dressed merely in his sweatshirt and pants as you slept soundly, clutching onto your pillow tight. he’s jealous, he wants to be able to sleep so calmly like that as well, but of course the cold weather had to bar him from that.

sakusa hesitantly shifts closer to your side of the bed, and he’s temporarily shocked by the warmth which radiated off your soft body, but he shouldn’t be surprised, you were always warm to the touch. a hint of guilt hits him when he notices you stirring awake, rubbing your eyes before they flicker open to look at him.

“is something wrong, kiyoomi?” you ask, the tiredness evident in your voice as you look up at him with soft, sleepy eyes. he shook his head, gently placing his hand on your cheek and gently caressing the smooth skin, smiling softly.

“can’t sleep, it’s cold.” he explains, shifting closer to you.

“wanna try this?” you sit up and wrap your arms around his waist, letting him have the time to pull out, but instead he melts into your embrace, holding you tight as you fall onto the bed from his weight.

“thank you.” he whispers against your neck, seemingly addicted at the way your soft body would wrap around his. sakusa would lay his ear against your pulsating heart, the steady rhythm calming himself as he soaked up all the warmth you’d offer him, occasionally pawing against your soft skin as he watched you fall asleep once again.

sakusa inhales your soft scent, and he realises that he’s never held you so intimately before. he wondered if you noticed that too, but it was likely naught. his dry fingers rubbed up and down your skin, feeling every bump and crevice before he himself fell into the deepest sleep he’s ever experienced.

hinata shoyo °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤlittle spoon :p

⋆ he likes being the little spoon because it makes him feel safe in your arms

⋆ he’s a very physically affectionate boy, so when you started dating he’d always want you clinging onto his arm

⋆ he thinks you smell really nice, so when you spoon him it always rubs off on him

⋆ it’s really grounding for him when you hold him 

⋆ when you were in brazil together and he started growing a bit more, it was difficult for you to hold him as such, which how you shifted into him laying on your chest with your arms draped around his neck

⋆ he thinks you’re heaven when you run your fingers through his hair.

⋆ sometimes if you’re sitting on the couch together hinata will casually lean against your lap as you scratch his head

⋆ when you’re not laying with him, he’ll clutch his pillows really tight and pretend that it’s you

⋆ he loves sleeping in your bed because it’s a lot softer than his futon

⋆ he’s such a loverboy - always wanting to cuddle and hold you in his arms

⋆ brazil hinata likes when you squish on his biceps………..

⋆ ok but when shoyo and natsu were a bit younger natsu would curl up near him and he felt like a very proud big brother

⋆˙⟡ —

hinata shoyo smells like the sunshine.

it didn’t matter how much bergamot scented soap he’d lather onto his skin twice a day, the smell of sea salt and sand were deeply engraved into his natural musk, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. you gently run your fingers down his arm, frowning of the remnants of the sand which would scrape at him during his time at the beach. 

“sho, what did i tell you about sunscreen?” you scold, voice quiet as you rub aloe vera gel on his tanned skin which glowed pink, dead skin rolling into little balls under your fingers and you groan in mild disgust.

“i always put it on at the start of the day, i swear!” he looks back at you, obviously in pain as his eyebrows knit together, “be gentle!” he whines, wincing as the soothing cream would sting his sensitive skin.

“this is the consequences of your actions.” you mutter in response, continuing to spread the cold gel across his shoulders and back, but you comply against your words, slowing your movements and massaging the aloe vera into his skin with care.

he groans and whines, but his hand reaches yours when you finish, and he’s gently pressing his lips against yours, gel from his nose rubbing off onto yours.

“i’m so tired.” he huffs, pulling an old shirt over his head, the fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably. “hold onto me for a bit.” you nod, shifting behind him and letting him curl his back into your chest, you take his hands and rub small circles on his palm. 

“you’re so good to me baby.” he hums, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing soft kisses against the skin. you smile against his nape, inhaling his spicy salty musk with your eyes closed, relaxed against the boys skin as you held him tight.

oikawa tooru °˖➴જ⁀➴ ㅤㅤㅤeager for your consolement

⋆ he’s also a very affectionate boy, even when you weren’t dating he’d ‘platonically’ pull you into his arms tight

⋆ so when you do confirm that you’re officially a couple, he’s more intimate in the ways that he’d hold you

⋆ his lips are glued onto your cheeks, he thinks those kisses are sweeter than the ones on your lips

⋆ when you cuddle, he’ll lay his head on your chest with his body off the side of yours

⋆ he likes feeling smaller in your embrace, even if he’s much larger

⋆ tooru likes looking up at you and telling you all about your day, letting you run your fingers through his thin strands of hair

⋆ he loves pda, because to him, you’re so gorgeous and he’s scared that someone will take you away

⋆ when you’re asleep and he’s on your chest, he likes reaching up and gently stringing your hair between his fingers

⋆ sometimes when he’s sad he likes curling up against your side as you console him

⋆ his love languages are a mix of everything, so when you’re the one being held, he’ll pull you close to his mouth so he can whisper how much you mean to him straight into your ear.

⋆ he also loves listening to music with you, so he’ll cuddle against your warmth while your record player spins in the background.

⋆ also films, he’s a big fan of watching all the films you love.

⋆˙⟡ —

he lets out sobs against the warmth of your chest, letting your arms gently cradle his head as you whisper affirmations into his ears.

“i’m so sorry.” he’d mutter repeatedly against your chest, “i’m so sorry i lost.” his tears wet the fabric of your shirt, you gently patted the expanse of his back, offering your physical affection as a means to calm him down.

"oh baby, you don't need to apologise" you hum, pressing your lips against his forehead and your nose brushes against his hair, temporarily stunning your senses with his sweet scent. but tooru felt weak, although, finding your words somewhat comforting as he’d look up at you, his eyes rimmed red and snot falling from his nose. you gently rub his cheek, pressing your lips against his scalp.

“but i lost? and i promised that i’d take everyone to nationals - and i didn’t.” his words were choked, spaced by sobs as he’d lay against your chest, your heart swelled with sorrow, chest tightening up as you witnessed tooru’s expression. even with his tear stained eyes and splotchy red face, he was more beautiful than you could’ve imagined.

“oh tooru,” you whisper against his skin, “everyone’s so proud of you regardless, if it wasn’t for your support, no one would’ve gotten here anyways.” you pull him closer to your upper body, burying your face into his hair as your fingers traced up and down his arm. “you’re a good player, and an even better captain. the sport is more than just winning, it’s like the relationships that blossom from it.” you try to explain, gently stroking his hair.

“you really think?” he asks hesitantly, letting himself be pulled closer as he shivers within your embrace.

“i know, baby, i know.”

against his red face and snotty nose, he lets out a small smile when he looks up at you, sitting up to wipe his nose with his sleeve.

“i really love you, yn.” he mutters, letting you embrace him as he cries, “i really think you’re the best thing thats ever happened to me.”

contradicting the situation, you let out a soft laugh, making him smile against the nape of your neck.

“i love you too, tooru.”

and with your arms wrapped around him tight, tooru knew that everything would be okay.

please like , reblog or follow if you enjoyed !!!

i think i mayhaps cooked with this one

sorry i was supposed to post this like yesterday night but i got distradcted playing dress to impress

maybe i wrote hinata in for one of my moots,,, mayhaps...

[strwberri-milk]

Oooh could you give reactions of the LaDS guys when MC rescues them?? I can imagine their stunned faces followed by intense worry for MC

Zayne didn't think that disaster would strike the hospital but here he is using his Evol to try and help patients and their families escape. Anybody who had an offensive Evol was part of this shoddily thrown together front lines, desperately trying to buy time until the authorities arrived.

He thinks he's about to be closed in as the roof comes down, doing his best to try and lessen the damage when he sees you come to the rescue. Somehow you manage to push him out of the way, rolling the two of you to safety as you get up to continue your path. He immediately grabs you by the wrist, wordlessly asking if you're okay. You offer him a quick nod before running off to continue, both of you understanding that time is of the essence.

When he finds you again later he's giving you a full physical, wanting to make sure that you're okay despite the accident. He can only rest once you're safe, holding you close.

If you sustained a life threatening injury he's there the entire time. He's making sure that you're okay, monitoring your progress as much as the doctors will allow him to. They don't want him getting in the way, knowing that he's especially emotional because it's you despite never having seen him like this before. He knows he shouldn't be interfering but honestly, he can't help it. He's worried and he's going to blame himself for the rest of his life if you don't get better.

Xavier lost his mind when he lost sight of you, trying his best to fight while also looking for you everywhere. When he finally sees you after you took out a Wanderer he pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly as he asks you if you're alright. He does his best to appraise your current condition, doing whatever he can to mitigate any pain you feel and trying to convince you to rest before things get worse.

The attack doesn't seem to be letting up at all and you know that the two of you have to split up to continue no matter how much he hates it. He decides fuck the orders and follows you anyway, knowing that he won't be able to focus if you're not there with him.

He hears the Wanderer too late - turning around and drawing his sword half a second later than he should when he hears your guns going off. The Wanderer immediately turns to you, giving him an opening to strike back. It's faster than either of you thought it was, the scream he hears from you shutting him down.

He's glad you saved him but not at the cost of your life and he wastes the creature, knowing his body will suffer the consequences from how powerful his attack was but that doesn't matter if it means it saved you. He immediately takes you to get help, refusing to leave your side until you're actually 100%. He promised himself he'd protect you and he's going to be even more protective of you from now on.

Rafayel didn't think that his studio would be ambushed like this but he was more than capable of handling it - or so he thought. He was close to burning down his whole studio if he needed to in order to escape the assailants, surprised when they suddenly start collapsing without him doing anything.

When you emerge with your weapon drawn he's happy to see you but immediately worries about how you got through the other people they said they brought with them. You were able to take them down thankfully but he's not convinced you're alright, securing his studio with you to ensure that the two of you have nothing else to worry about.

If you sustain a life threatening injury he's immediately calling for help but also takes care of you right then and there. He doesn't want to lose any time to waiting for medical staff to arrive or your fellow hunters - he knows how to take care of you and his fire Evol is thankfully good at cauterising wounds despite how awful he feels about you trying to be brave as he burns your skin. The scars that linger upset him deeply because to him, they represent a time he failed you but in spite of them he doesn't let it drag him down. He knows it'd just make you more upset to know that's how he feels so he just focuses on making sure his skills stay sharp enough to protect you.

Sylus doesn't normally get attacked when he goes out on a job but this was a first. He was a little underprepared, thinking he'd have a quiet evening but the fight wasn't too rough, thankfully. He turns, preparing to leave without realising that there was another figure hidden in the shadows, ready to strike him down when he hears someone fall behind him. You stand over their unconscious body, a little worse for wear but nothing some TLC couldn't solve.

Sylus insists on taking you home, knowing that while you look fine there was always a slight chance that something was being overlooked and he did not want to be negligent in your care. He doesn't like the fact that you got attacked most likely because of your association with him, telling you that you need to be more careful to avoid things like that happening.

When you do get attacked because of your connection with him he has no reservations killing the person who had the audacity to hurt you. He takes you back home, patching you up and making sure you're okay in the comfort of his house. You have round the clock care and you think that Sylus isn't too shaken about your near death experience until you realise his sleep is even lighter one night. He can't sleep properly and probably won't for a while. He'll always be even more alert, constantly having either Mephisto or himself on your trail to ensure that nothing like that happens again.

[hoshifighting]

I was reading your leaving after a fight reaction and o got an idea could you please do one where reader leaves and goes to a bar and gets drunk they get a call from the bar and it’s just fluff

seventeen reacting to you getting drunk after a fight WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and arguments, & fluff too.

seungcheol grabs his keys, his mind racing. he can’t let you drown in this. when he arrives at the bar, he spots you immediately. you’re laughing with a group, a glass in hand. “hey!” he snaps, but the bark in his tone quickly fades as you turn to him “what the hell are you doing? this isn’t fun. you need to come home.” he tries to keep his voice steady, but the concern leaks through. “why? so we can fight more?” you roll your eyes, but u look vulnerable still. “you think you’re perfect? you’re not!” “i never said that. im just taking care of you” he bites. your eyes soften, and relief washes over him as you touch his arm, guiding him toward the door.

jeonghan's phone buzzes, cutting through his thoughts. it’s the bar, and his stomach drops. “on my way,” he snaps, not bothering to hide the urgency in his voice. when he arrives you turn, a grin spreading across your face that makes his heart ache. “jeonghan! come join the party!” “this isn’t a party! you need to come home y/n.” he reaches for the glass in your hand, gently prying it away. “let’s go home and talk this out. please babygirl” you hesitate, the fire in your eyes dimming as you look at him, the fight leaving your body.

joshua dont hop into the car, he throws himself in!!! he asks the bar number if you're doing okay as he drives. “there you are,” he says, pushing through the crowd. you know joshua cares too much. he’s sweet like that, always wanting to shield you from everything, even yourself. you look down at the bar top, the wood grain swirling under your fingertips. “i just... needed a break.” “from me?” he asks, sadly. you bite your lip. joshua’s expression softens, and he reaches out, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “can we just talk about it? please?” u glance up, meeting his gaze, and it feels like home. “fine. but only if u promise to stop being so fucking cute when we fight.” he chuckles, relief flooding his features. “no promises, babe.”

junhui “where are you?” he texts after the call, worry oozing through the words. “out,” you reply tersely, taking another drink. “the bar? seriously?” “what if i am?” you shoot back, but inside, you know you’re pushing him away. “stay there. i’ll be there soon.” “don’t bother,” you type, but your heart sinks at the thought of him not showing up. a short while later, the door swings open, and there he is—his hair a little messy, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. he strides over, concern etched into his features. “what are you doing?” he asks, taking the seat next to you. “just enjoying my night,” you reply, a little too defensively. he raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “by drinking alone?” “i’m not alone; i have my drink,” you mutter, taking a long sip as if it could drown your frustration. he leans closer, his voice dropping to a gentle tone. “you know that’s not what i meant. you’re not okay. let me take care of you baby? hm?” you nod, feeling the walls you built starting to crumble. “fine, but if you keep looking at me like that, i might just forgive you too easily.”

hoshi wrinkled his nose the moment he smelled the strong drink you were drinking, he was clearly sweating like he was running a marathon to get to where you were. “you’re mad at me, but this isn’t how we solve things... you know you can tell me anything, right? even if it’s hard?” you take a deep breath, feeling the tension in your chest begin to ease. “i just hate fighting with you. it feels like we’re always stuck in this cycle.” “i hate it too,” he admits, reaching for your hand. “but running away doesn’t fix it. let’s talk.” “talk? like, actually talk?” you tease, a small smile creeping onto your face. “yeah, that thing where we don’t just yell at each other,” he says, grinning back. “i’m pretty good at it.” you can’t help but laugh, the sound lightening the mood.

wonwoo slides the helmet, and hops on his motorcycle, a few moments later, the door swings open, and there he is—hands in his pockets, that serious yet soft expression making your heart ache. he spots you and makes his way over, concern etched in his features. “you’re really here,” he says, his voice low. “didn’t think you’d come,” you reply, trying to sound indifferent, but you're soft. “and leave you alone like this? not a chance.” he sits beside you, his presence instantly calming. you glance at him, catching the way his brows furrow slightly. he squeezes your hand and kisses your neck softly “let's go home, hm? i'll give u a nice warm bath and we'll talk before going to bed, is that okay, sweetie?”

woozi strides over the bar, hair messy, body stiff, eyes worried, after the call, and you can see the scolding ready to spill from his lips. “i can’t believe you left without telling me. i was worried sick. you really just left? you could’ve told me!” “ listen jihoon, i didn’t want to fight anymore. it was too much.” he flinches, he didn't mean to snap at you, but he was really worried. “i get it,” he replies quietly, his voice gentler now. “but you know you can tell me when it gets too heavy, right?” you take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. “what do u say we talk about it over ice cream? my treat,” he suggests, a playful grin breaking through. “ice cream sounds perfect,” you reply, matching his smile. “you always know how to fix things.” “it’s a talent,” he jokes, and you can’t help but laugh, the heaviness of earlier fading into something sweet.

minghao asks the bartended to pass the phone to you, “i’m coming to get you,” minghao’s voice is steady, cutting through your haze. “you shouldn’t be there.” “i’m fine,” you snap, but even you can hear the slight slur in your words. he knows you better than that. “you’re not,” he replies. when minghao finally walks in, the door swings open, and the bell jingles, like a damn superhero coming to save the day. “hey,” he says softly, the frown on his face deepening as he takes in your state. “you look… rough.” “yeah, well, thanks for the observation,” you retort, but there’s no real bite in your words. he steps closer, the scent of him wrapping around you like a familiar hug. “i didn’t ask you to come.” “no, but you need me,” he counters, taking your hand, grounding you. his touch makes your cheeks flush, and you can’t help but lean into him, feeling the fight inside you melt away. “let’s talk, okay? i love you and I hate fighting with you.” you melt, and minghao smiles small.

mingyu in quesiton of minutes was there, tall and worried searching for you on the bar, the call made him stumble on his feet on his way there. “you really shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, but your heart races as he approaches, the worry etched on his face only making you want to lean into him. “and you shouldn’t be here alone. we both know you’ll feel worse if you stay out like this. just let me take care of you.” the softness in his tone makes your heart twist. “you don’t have to play the hero.” “but i want to,” he insists, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his. the warmth of his grip pulls you back from the edge of your frustration, reminding you of everything you love about him. “please?” you take a deep breath, the tension in your shoulders easing as you look into his eyes. “fine. let’s go home.” “thank you,” he whispers, pulling you into a hug that feels like coming home, before arriving in.

seokmin not even five minutes later appears on the bar, seokmin steps inside, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. relief floods his expression, and he rushes over, pulling you into his arms before you can say a word. “what the hell, you scared me,” he murmurs, hugging your back tightly. his warmth seeps into you, and you can’t help but melt a little. “you’re drunk.” his concern wraps around you like a blanket, and suddenly, the anger feels distant. “let’s get you out of here,” he whispers, still holding you close. “i don’t want you to feel like this.” “it’s just… everything’s a mess,” you admit, your voice cracking a bit. “we were fighting and—” “i know,” he interrupts softly, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “but we can talk about it later. right now, i just want to make sure you’re okay.” the sincerity in his gaze makes you want to cry, and you nod slowly. “okay.” he smiles gently, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “let’s go home, yeah?”

seungkwan the minutes tick by slowly, and every time the door swings open, your heart skips a beat. finally, you spot him striding in, “it’s… it’s not safe for you to be out like this,” he says. you pout. “i can take care of myself.” “you’re making this harder than it has to be,” he grumbles. as you slide off the bar stool, he’s already there, an arm around your waist, guiding you out. you laugh, the sound a bit shaky. “u should try being less of a pain in the ass, kwanniee” you tease, but it’s soft, a flicker of something sweet cutting through the tension. he smirks, finally breaking into a grin. “noted. now, let’s get you home before you say something else you’ll regret.”

vernon would keep his emotions bottled up, when he's almost purple in worry, would run to the bar fast, breathing properly only when he finally sees you. “i don’t need you to babysit me,” you sulk when you feel him taking you from the bar stool, “just… please? for once, let me be the responsible one,” he replies squeezing your waist. “oh, shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. “i was just having a good time.” “more like trying to forget about our fight,” he counters, crossing his arms, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “let’s get you home before you embarrass yourself further.”

chan before the bartender ended the call, was already on the way. the moment he reaches you, he slips an arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from the noise. “you okay?” he asks, searching your face with those steady eyes. you can see the maturity in his expression, the way he balances concern in his heart with the logic, “i will be,” you say, though you know it’s not entirely trrue. his presence calms the storm brewing inside you, and u lean into him. “you’re allowed to feel things,” he expresses, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “but next time, can we talk instead of shouting? i’d rather understand what you’re going through.” you nod, the way he watches over you even after an imense fight. “yeah, that sounds good babe...” he smiles with the full of love name.

[vrystalius]

Hey babess, i have quite the heartwarming request.

So imagine that wife reader is heavily and her water randomly breaks so ofc she gives birth with the help of shinobu(i love her so much) and other midwives ofc. So how would the hashias react during the late stages of pregnancy and birth??

Hear me outtt, what if preg reader was pregnant with twins(im a big family girl lol, i had to let that out). Stuff stuff

Hashira’s reactions during your pregnancy

You’re heavily pregnant. How will your husband react?

Note: I didn’t include the gender and names of the babies, so you can choose the genders and names yourself!

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

Includes: Food cravings, mood swings, sickness, talking to the baby, birth and a little bonus scenario in the end (different for every hashira)

Words: 5.1k, enjoy!

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Food cravings

What? You want to eat ohagi again? Sure it’s Sanemi’s favourite food, but you’ve insisted on eating ohagi for every day the past week. The baby needs some vegetables, fruits, vitamins and whatever else. Just anything but ohagi!

He couldn’t even watch when you proceeded to devour sweet potatoes with a chocolate sauce. The worst part is that Sanemi is the main chef of this household and was forced to cook all kinds of monstrosities for you during your pregnancy. But he never said a word about it and just silently judged you for even asking him to bake a whole fish just so you can covered it in sliced fruits and chocolate sauce.

“Are ya sure you’re not poisoning our baby? Are ya really, really sure?”

Sometimes, Sanemi’ll try to sneak in healthy foods into your diet like one would to with a toddler. He’d chop the vegetables as small as possible and try to feed them to you in bits by bits by incorporating them into your favourite foods. You weirdly enough never noticed how your ohagis began to taste like carrots more and more.

“What? No. I’m making them like always. I.. just used the same knife for both carrots and the beans of the ohagi… Whatcha looking at me like that for??”

Mood swings

It’s very confusing to Sanemi how you can be happily munching on your snacks in one moment and then began crying about a dog wandering the streets, thinking someone abandoned him. He’s putting up with it, though. He’d would take you into his arms and try to explain to you that no, that dog is not living on the street and that it belongs to the nice old lady that lives just down the street. He gets a little nervous every time you get emotional when standing in the nursery and inspect all the prepared toys and clothes. Why are you crying so hard? Do you not want a baby? Or are you just this excited to have one?

He doesn’t get your mood swings but’ll try his best to give you reassurance and support. Even though Sanemi’ll be a little awkward and just hover around you in fear of triggering another random emotion in you.

“Hey, darling… how about we move to the bedroom? The nursey is makin’ ya emotional. You’re gonna loose control over ya bladder and I’m gonna be forced to clean after ya. Again.”

But most of the time, Sanemi’ll get soft when you get emotional over the baby stuff like this. Sometimes, he’ll sneak into the nursery during the nights he can’t sleep and rumage all the baby’s things. Sanemi would look through all the neatly folded baby clothes Giyu send over and the toys Tengen’s wives made themselves for the baby. He can’t help but get a little teary-eyed himself, leaning against the crib and looking down at the soft mattress below. He just can’t want to have a little baby in there.

“Fuck, don’t sneak up on me like that! A-And ‘m not cryin’, I-I’m just checkin’ on the crib. Y’know, if it looks stable and shit. It gotta handle our fatass baby.”

Talking to the baby

Sanemi loves to lay his head against your stomach and just listen to the baby’s heart beat. His hand would gently caress your stomach while mumbling against your skin.

“Whatcha doing in there, hm? Why are you kicking your mommy? You’re hurting her, y’know.”

It’s a weird sight, seeing a strong man like him baby talking to your stomach while having his cheek pressed up against your belly. He’d take at least one hour in his day just to talk to your baby and tell it aaaalll about your and his day.

“Your mom threw up onto our new carpet and that’s your fault, you know that, right? I’m gonna kick your ass for it one day. Maybe when you become a shitbag in your teenage years.”

Sickness

“In both sickness and in health,” and Sanemi meant that wholeheartedly after speaking those words out loud during your wedding. Even if that means sitting beside you in the middle of the night, holding your hair and patting your back while you throw your guts up. He’s sleepy, he’s tired, but he won’t return to back without you. If Sanemi has to, he’ll cook up some tea or soup for you to calm your stomach. He’d even break Shinobu’s door down for some herbs or medicine if it means making you feel better and cuddling you back to sleep with no worries.

“You’re okay, I’m here. Don’t hold back.”

If you’re throwing up for a while, Sanemi might fall asleep in the hunched over position while holding your hair behind your head, his hand still firmly resting on your shoulder in quiet support. He jumps back awake when you throw up violently again.

“Ugh, you good? Told you seaweed n’ cherries don’t go together…”

Birth

Sanemi wanted to complete one last mission before retiring for good. He noticed how his muscles were starting to soften up and the callouses in his hands began to disappear. Just one last mission, then he’ll become a full-time dad! He promised you it’ll be for just three nights and that Shinobu will be looking out for you while he’s gone. You two can talk about preparations, body changes and whatever you two always talk about.

He was close to tracking this scum demon down when he received a message from his crow about you going into labour. Sanemi wanted to go on a mission one time, just one time! Can’t you hold the baby in or something until he comes home? He knows that he has to behead this demon before coming home. That thing already did enough harm and he didn’t want to retire on a bad note by ditching his final mission. So, Sanemi proceeded to chase the demon down while steaming in anger. He wanted to go on a mission just ONE last time, damnit!!

“COME BACK HERE YOU PIECE OF SHIT!! MY WIFE’S GIVIN’ BIRTH, WHILE I’M CHASING YOUR SORRY ASS!!”

Shinobu helped you through the whole process of giving birth. The contractions and labour lasted for almost half a day, and you managed to almost broke two of the three butterfly girl’s hand in an attempt to release some pain. You were supposed to hold Sanemi’s hand and almost break his bones while giving birth, not theirs! Shinobu kept reassuring you that Sanemi surely is already on his way! Surely. She had her soft smile on her face the whole time while you pushed and screamed through the pain, reassuring you and offering all kinds of ways to relieve pain during the whole process.

After Sanemi returned from his missions, he was staring at two babies in your arms. His eyes darted back in forth from the one to another. The baby on your left had beautiful white hair and was squirming around a lot, grabbing your robes and was seemingly already complaining about the lack of feeding you’re doing. The other baby had darker hair and was much calmer. It was asleep, resting against your chest.

His heart shattered in a million pieces after processing what just happened. In a good way, that is. He never commented on it, but Sanemi did notice that you were a little bigger for being pregnant with only one baby. He just brushed it off as being a bit bloated or the baby being really big, but never that it were two babies that were hogging all the food you were devouring. Sanemi was bawling his eyes out while holding both of his babies in his arms for the first time. They’re so tiny, so cute and chubby! How could anyone not love them? He was barely able to speak while trying to express how much he loves you and is so glad that you and the babies are fine. This is everything he had ever hoped for: a perfect wive, a family home and two kids. If only his other siblings were here to celebrate this moment with him. Perhaps he’ll allow Genya to visit every now and then.

“I-I- *hic* W-We need an-another- *hic* … the crib’s not b-big enough- f-for- *hic* gah, f-fuck!! *hic*

Bonus: A tight crib

You noticed how Sanemi insisted on putting the babies back to sleep every time they woke up during the night for anything. You usually fall back asleep and wake up in the mornings back in his arms, but tonight, you wanted to wait until he returns to bed to cuddle him. After the babies quieted down and your husband didn’t return, you dragged yourself out of bed and stepped into the nursery, only to find Sanemi laying inside the cramped crib, having the baby lay on one side and the other on the other. He was laying in an extremely uncomfortable position, with hid neck bend at an awkward angle and him laying in the crib with his legs dangling out over the edge. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, seeing your husband scarfing his own comfort for his babies.

“Nemi?…”

Your whispering made his eyes flutter open. His face contorting into a tired scowl.

“It’s the only way to put ‘em to sleep, not my fault they like me so much.”

Now, are the babies attached to their papa, or is Sanemi being very attached to them?

Kyojuro Rengoku

Food cravings

Whatever you’d like to eat, he’ll provide! Sometimes, if the combinations you come up with sound appetising enough, Kyojuro’ll even try some the foods alongside you! He will not judge you for craving weird foods during your pregnancies, but he is a little worried about your choices. You need to make sure that you eat enough nutrients for you and the baby! Kyojuro’ll try his best to cook up something nice for you, but he ends up buying take-out and feeding that to you instead. He’s scared he might burn something or accidentally poison you, so he’d rather leave food up to the chefs.

“I brought some tempura, some soup dumplings, ramen, udon noodles, mushed and baked sweet and regular potatoes. Oh! And some dessert… Mochi, dango and a slice of cake! Everything you ordered, my flame!”

Shinjuro, after finding out about your pregnancy, would offer to cook for you sometime. He used to make meals for Ruka while she was pregnant, so he thought he might make himself useful and help out. Kyojuro’s father actually vowed to stop with the drinking to make sure his grandkid doesn’t grow up around a drunk grandpa, so this is a first nice step for him. Besides, he feels guilty for being so terrible to Senjuro and Kyojuro.

His meals are surprisingly very well made and tasty. They soothe your nausea, lessen the swelling in the feet and help a lot with your headaches.

“Father, I never knew you could cook this good!” “Shut up and eat your plate.”

Mood swings

Kyojuro feels like he’s causing your mood swings sometimes. He feels guilty when you start crying over little things, like how your favourite tree is starting to change colours in the leaves, or just how much you missed your husband after him leaving for half an hour to get you dinner. He’s used to comforting Senjuro while the two grew up together, so he might know a thing about holding someone. Kyojuro would pull you closer and place lots of kisses on your head and top of your head, rubbing your shoulder with his warm hands. His warmth is very comforting to you, making you calm down a little.

“Are you feeling unwell? What made you so upset, love?”

He’ll try to cheer you up by talking about baby names. In his family, most of the names sound similar and end with an “juro”. Shinjuro, Senjuro, Kyojuro… how about Tojuro? Sounds nice, doesn’t it!? Or how about Kijuro? Or how about you combine your first letters with Juro? That sounds very fitting! And see, your tears are already gone!

“I’m not sure if we should think about girl’s names, my love! My family birthed sons for generations now! But we can write some down if you like, just in case.”

Sickness

Seeing you sick makes Kyojuro nervous, but he’ll stay beside you during your morning sicknesses and nausea. You kind of remind him of his mother, back when she was in the late stages of her sickness, that’s why he gets a little jumpy when you hunch over the toilet snd wretch your guts out. He’ll hold your hair and gently caress your back, silently hovering beside you.

To make sure you don’t have to get out of bed in the middle of the night to throw up, Kyojuro equipped your nightstand with a bowl you can throw up into anytime you felt nausea hitting you.

“I’ll make some tea for you once you get nauseous again, okay? My mother’s recipe.”

Talking to the baby

Kyojuro loves to talk to your stomach as if the baby is already out and able to talk back. He’d sit beside you in bed, gently caressing the side of your stomach while grinning brightly.

“What kind of hair will you have, hm? Like mine? Or like mom’s?”

Sometimes, he’ll try to convince the baby to let you sleep for once. If you can’t sleep, Kyojuro can’t sleep. He’d lay his head on your chest and sleepily mumble to the stomach while slowly rubbing your sides.

“You’re quite the active one, hm?.. mh.. How about we go to sleep together, okay? Be a good kid and give your mommy some rest…”

Birth

When your water first broke, Kyojuro thought the baby might’ve kicked your bladder or something, causing you to leak. But the horror on your face that followed soon after changed his mind in an instant. He sent out a crow to Shinobu, notifying her about your labour, but it might take a while until she arrives. In the meantime, your husband prepared all the things for a homebirth. You probably wont be able to reach the butterfly mansion in time to give birth there, but in the meantime, would you like water? Food? Sweets? A towel? Maybe not the last one because you’re able to hit him with that. You’re very angry about him impregnating you nine months ago while being in painful labour right now.

Shinobu surprisingly arrived very quickly and got right to work. Her soft voice and kind words as encouragement managed to calm you down as far as to not curse Kyojuro and all his ancestors out. Your anger directed at him actually helped you press the baby, so your husband happily sat there and held your hand while you were attempting to break it while redirecting your pain

Finally, after hours on hours of labour, Shinobu’s encouragement and Kyojuro’s hand turning blue from blood being cut off, you birthed two identical twins. Both had your husband’s flamboyant hair colour and prominent eyebrows. Your husband was trembling and crying after seeing them for the first time. His babies, his kids! And two of them?? In one go?? This couldn’t have gone any better. For around the next hour, while your babies were nursing on you, he kept thanking you for everything you ever did for him.

“I-I love you! I-I love y-you! Th-Thank you for marrying m-me, my fl-flame! Than-Thank you for giving me t-two babies! Thank y-you! T-Thank you!!”

Bonus: Tasty hair

Your babies are for some reason obsessed with your husband’s hair. Maybe it’s because of how bright his hair is or how nice it is to chew on it. You caught Kyojuro offering his baby his hair to hold and play around with, only for it to start pulling tightly on it. It hurts a little and he’s not quite sure how his baby got this strength out of nowhere, but he’s incredibly happy that his baby likes his hair so much!

But he also learned that the twins prefer their grandpa’s hair a little more over his. Shinjuro doesn’t appreciate it as much as Kyojuro is, though. He tolerates them pulling on his hair but doesn’t like it. At all. He’ll glare at his son until he finally takes his baby away from his damn hair! His scalp is already burning!

(But we all know that Shinjuro takes them back into his arms on purpose to tickle their stomachs and to let them pull on his hair as they please. They’re just too cute!)

“My flame, could you help me remove our child? This one seems particularly fascinated by the taste of my shampoo!”

Gyomei Himejima

Food cravings

Gyomei will not always give into your odd cravings. Instead, he’ll try to redirect your cravings to tastier things. He’s worried that you don’t get enough nourishment for the baby and for yourself, so Gyomei’ll try to feed you healthy foods instead of eating the creations you came up with. Why do you even thought about eating pieces of clay you picked up from right next to the waterfall? You’re lucky Genya caught you before you managed to take a bite.

To be completely honest, Gyomei is incredibly worried that you’re eating things you aren’t supposed to eat while he’s not watching/listening.

“Love, what are you chewing?”

His calm and deep voice makes you stop munching on the raw onion and immediately put it back down onto the counter of the kitchen.

Gyomei insists on cooking for you, even if he’s blind. He’s surprisingly good with cooking and always manages to slip vegetables into the meals in the tastiest way possible! You somehow never notice and just are incredibly happy that he takes some time out of his day just to cook meals for you! Sometimes, Genya joins in when you two eat and just chats with you about your husband’s training and his big brother. He’s also very curious about your pregnancy and how you’re coming along. That boy is just as excited about your baby as your husband is! Genya even gifted you one of his best bonsai trees to keep in the nursery!

“Miss Himejima, are you still hungry? You can have my plate if you like, I’m going to meet up with Tanjiro to eat later in the city together anyway.”

Mood swings

Gyomei understands that your hormones are going a little crazy during your pregnancy, but he still gets a little surprised when your mood changes so suddenly. You get emotional mostly over Genya and how hard he’s training to make up with his brother. You cry everytime when you see him train hard under Gyomei. Your husband finds it kind how much empathy you’re feeling for that boy, but the poor boy can’t really concentrate when a crying pregnant lady watching him train. So, your husband suggested you to not watch them train as much anymore and instead do something else. As compensation, Gyomei promises you to tell you everything he and Genya have been doing that day.

Sometimes, when you get angry out of nowhere, Gyomei’ll just let you throw your little tantrum while listening you silently. After you finished, he might suggest exorcising you as a joke to lighten your mood, but his serious tone and unmoving expression made him look like he’s serious. Wich makes you cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not going to exorcise you, I promise, my pearl. I would only do that in the extrem case.”

Sickness

Gyomei knows how to deal with sicknesses and nausea. Once you express feeling sick in any way, he’ll prepare a special herbal tea, open up all the windows for fresh air, feed you crackers and dry food, and of course, equip you with a bowl to vomit into just in case. He’ll sit with you in bed, your head laying on his thighs and his palm resting on your forehead, slowly petting your hair.

He’s mumbling quiet prayers for you and your baby, his deep and smooth voice calming your stomach slowly. Gyomei’d smile softly while having his eyes closed. You told him that his smile is always making you calm, so he’s trying to smile more often for you.

“How are you feeling? I can brew you another cup if you like, it’ll help you.”

Talking to the baby

Gyomei barely talks to the baby while you’re awake. He’ll sometimes lean down and mumble a couple of greetings and kind words before moving on with his day, but when you fall asleep at night, your husband likes to have one-on-one conversation with his child. He’d have his large palm resting on your belly, rubbing it up and down. Gyomei sometimes nuzzles into your sides and places a few kisses on the side before talking.

He’d be praying first, making sure that the baby is alright and’ll come healthy into the world. Then, he’d quietly talk about you. Your husband’ll talk about the things you like to do, about how emotional you get over Genya, how you pout everytime he leaves early in the mornings to train, how much he loves you and how you insisted on get even more toys, even though the toybox is already filled to the brim.

“We are both very excited to meet you… please be more kind to your mother until birth. Her bladder is not as strong during the pregnancy, so do not test it again.”

Birth

Gyomei was praying the whole time he was waiting outside the chambers of where you were currently yelling in pain. His eyes were closed in concentration and his palms rubbing together, his red pearly beads wrapped around his hands. He could hear every mumble of Shinobu to Aoi, every curse you’re throwing around and every bed creak after changing the position. Shinobu suggested that Gyomei should wait outside since he’s quite large and they need more space to move around you. You promised to him that you’ll be fine on your own. He has been crying and praying, crying and praying the whole time for you and the baby, until finally, everything got quiet. Your cries died down, but there wasn’t any signs of a baby crying either. Gyomei was silent, stopping his prayers for a moment.

Until finally, first one baby, then another started to cry out. Two? You were carrying two miracles in your stomach all this time? Shinobu permitted Gyomei back inside and allowed him to meet the babies for the first time. They felt so incredibly tiny in his arms, so so tiny and fragile… The babies are the most precious things, and he felt like the luckiest man in all of history, holding his babies in his arms. His voice was very shaky and more tears than usual were running down his face.

“My love. I thank you for all eternity for giving me this gift… thank you. I am incredibly grateful for everything you have ever done for me.”

Bonus: Who’s who?

Given that Gyomei’s blind, he has always relied on his senses to move through the world. But funnily to you, his senses fail to differentiate wich baby is who. Sometimes you catch your husband holding one of the babies, standing silently there, thinking about who exactly he’s holding right now.

“Need some help, dear?”

Your voice made him turn his head towards you, smiling slightly.

“Yes, I already fed one of our twins. I went to retrieve more milk and lost track of wich one I already fed.”

His voice sounded a little confused but also slightly amused. Stepping closer, you saw how the baby that was laying in the crib was uneasy and wiggling it’s legs around, while the one Gyomei was holding was calm and content. You figured that the squirmy one wasn’t fed yet and took the sleepy baby out of your husband’s arms, setting it back into the crib and taking out the other.

“Here, this one seems hungry, hm? Aren’t you?”

You sweet-talked the baby a little, tickling the little stomach, making it giggle and kick against your husband a little. Gyomei nodded quietly.

“Thank you. I have yet to figure out how to differentiate our twins properly.”

Giyu Tomioka

Food cravings

He’s a little confused out by your requests that keep getting weirder and weirder. Are you sure you want to eat that? If Giyu would eat that, he’d be throwing up. Oh wait, you actually are vomiting up regularly…

Giyu will give you everything you asked for, but hesitantly. Before placing the plate down, he’d eye you up and down, judging you heavily for what he’s about to dish you. His silent judging eyes are enough to second guess your life choices that made you ask your poor husband to cook mashed potatoes mixed in with strawberry yogurt and sakura mochi with fish filling. Perhaps you’ll take the miso soup instead.

Sometimes, he’ll get so worried he approached Shinobu by himself and asked if there’s any medication he can give to you to make you crave less weird things and eat more healthy. Sadly, there is nothing like that, so Giyu’ll eventually resolved to force feed you regular foods instead. He’ll sit you down and feed stir fried veggies, rice, eggs, soup, tea, dessert and whatnot. Anything else but the monstrosity you keep craving.

One time, he caught you mixing chocolate sauce and soup together in the middle of the night. Giyu was just standing in the doorframe, looking utterly defeated and distraught at your actions.

“I love you, but can you stop poisoning our baby? I want it coming out of you alive.”

Mood swings

Giyu feels like he’s the reason you feel upset so suddenly. Perhaps he should’ve cleaned the house more, or finally finish building that crib. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be so angry so randomly. He still is quite surprised how quickly your emotions can change from happy to sobbing about the cuteness of the teddybear Giyu brought home for the baby. It’s confusing.

He’ll try to comfort you the best he can, but your husband already struggled to comfort you when you’re not pregnant and had real reasons to cry about, so how is Giyu supposed to comfort you when you sob over the rice being undercooked?

He’ll just awkwardly pull you into a side-hug, rubbing your shoulders gently.

“Do you want chocolate? I heard people eat chocolate when sad. Or do you just want a hug?”

Sickness

You throwing up and being sick is making Giyu sick. While you throw up into the toilet, your husband would hold your hair back while leaning over the sink, trying not to vomit himself. After your morning sickness passes, he still remains crouched over the sink for a moment longer before preparing a ginger tea for the both of you. He’ll lay in bed for a while, cuddling the blanket while sipping on his tea. He looks like a wet, depressed cat, sipping on his tea with a straw while lying on his stomach like that. He mostly recovers after finishing his tea, but sometimes, he gets really sick. You’ll be forced to take care of your nauseous husband who is supposed to be taking care of you right now! How is he supposed to handle watching you birth your child? How can he slay demons but is not able to watch you throw up?

“Love… can you get me another cup of ginger tea? I’m getting sick again…”

Talking to the baby

Giyu didn’t start talking to your baby until you encouraged him to do so. You told him that talking to the baby creates a bond before it’s even born! So, he’ll slowly start conversations with your belly. He’s not sweet-talking to your stomach, but instead awkwardly holding a conversation with it as if he’s speaking to an adult. Giyu’d sit across you on the bed, his hands propped on his thighs, leaning forward slightly.

“So… how is it like inside the womb? When do you want to come out and meet your mom and dad?”

Birth

Giyu was very panicked when you went into labor. He send out a crow to Shinobu immediately and began assembling something similar to a throne made out of towels and blankets. He forced you to sit down and make yourself comfortable while he waiting on the porch to see when the butterfly hashira is coming. His grip was to tight on the fence of the engawa, he accidentally shattered the wood.

He tried to watch you giving birth, but once he saw the head slowly press out of you, he couldn’t anymore. Giyu held your hand in support and let you squeeze as hard as you want, but he was turned away your lower body, facing you instead. Once he heard the baby’s cries fill the room, he snapped his head around in an instant.

Your husband almost fainted when he saw another baby slowly squeeze out of you. Shinobu handed Giyu the first baby, wich was already wrapped in a towel, so she could direct her attention back to the second baby. His head felt dizzy while holding his baby, not able to comprehend that he’s about to be the father of two. He only build one crib, there’s no room for another. Is he even capable of raising two kids? What if they outnumber and team up on him once they grow up? Now he has twice the chance to fail at parenting and become a bad father!

But once your husband held both babies, all his worries washed away. It was like he was in some sort of trance, watching the babies just sleep and squirm around a little. Giyu didn’t even notice how he started crying until his tears fell onto one of his baby’s forehead and started crying.

“Ahh… uhm. How do you calm a baby down? Do you just rock it? Uhm. Help me, please-“

Bonus: How are you supposed to know what they want?

You watch your husband stress out over why the baby is crying for so many times already, and they’re only two weeks old. You caught him talking to your baby multiple times, just straight up asking what they want. He’s slowly starting to get desperate and you can see it.

“You want food?… No? You wanna be held? Maybe… play? Also no? What do you want then?”

Somehow, only you could understand when and what your babies want. Giyu watches in awe as you immediately figure out that the baby wants to be held and fed, and how quickly they calm down afterwards. You’re just magical, truly.

“How do you know? What do you know that I don’t?”

💠

Phew, this took a while to write! Hope you enjoyed this anon! I tried to incorporate the requested things in this ask from another post of mine, but I might’ve forgotten some. Anyways, my posts haven’t gotten much traction lately, so I hope this one’ll do a little better! I’m looking forward to reading all the reposts and comments you leave, I read every single one of them! Just know that they make me smile like an idiot <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Note: Over 200 Notes!! Tysm!! <33

— I’d like to credit my cat as a co-author and professional purrer.

[giannaln4]

I Missed You

lando norris x fem reader

summary: You missed seeing Lando being happy after a race, and you couldn't wait to tell him how proud you were.  (1.4k words)

warnings: fluff, stablished relationship, a bit of mclaren slander

a/n: when i tell you i loved this idea SO SO much. i’m not too sure i’m happy with how this turned out but i really hope you guys enjoy it 🩷 i apologise for posting this just before the race but it was a bit hard to get started for some reason 😭 anyway pls let me know what you think!!

check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

The weekend in Monza was one you were hoping to forget. The tension in the air reflected not only in the team but also in the comments people were making about it, having even sports commentators and content creators question McLaren’s entire strategy to keep their fighting position in the WCC and also have a shot at the WDC. 

Lando’s demeanour immediately after getting off the car was something you would never forget, though, even if you tried. It was pretty obvious for everyone, even if he tried his hardest to never say something bad about his team and his teammate. That team was his home anyway. He had been with McLaren even before his F1 career started, and even after weekends like this one, he would never doubt he wanted to achieve great things with them.

That is probably what made it harder for him. This year they were competing not only for points and podiums but for something bigger, and after knowing what he is capable of, ending up in that position absolutely crushed him, and you hated to see him debating with himself. 

Once the weekend was finally over and you were leaving Italy, you wanted to make him feel better, telling him how great he was and how proud you were. You even shot some comments at McLaren for everything that went down, but he didn’t want to hear it; he barely wanted to talk about it, so you just dropped it. You understood him anyway, so you had to leave everything behind and just be supportive of your boyfriend.

You were hoping this weekend would be different, better, everyone was, and there was a lot of talking in the team that they would make the right decisions to keep fighting now that they had the chance. This, of course, would only mean something until they actually proved it during the race. 

Lando was in a better mood coming into this weekend; he trusted his team and he was confident they were backing him up. That was until the qualifying came. A yellow flag being pulled out by mistake during Q1 caused him to lose the opportunity to even put up a fight, and he ended up being P17. It wasn’t even his fault, but you knew he was beating himself up for that result. 

“Lando,” you called him right after he came back to the garage to watch the rest of the qualifying. He looked at you with a disappointed smile. “It’s not your fault, baby.”

“I know.” He pulled you into a hug, not wanting you to worry about him too much. “There’s nothing I could have done. We just have to wait and see what we can do tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll do amazing,” you replied into his chest, rubbing small circles in his back to let him know you were there for him, no matter what. 

“We’ll see. The car felt okay, but it’s hard to overtake on this track. It’s quite a long straight.” He let out a nervous giggle as he pulled away; he didn’t sound as confident as you were hoping, but you knew he was right. “Some of it is just going to have to cross our fingers.”

There was no point in fighting him when he got like that, so you just nodded. “I’ll be crossing everything I have then.”

He went off with the rest of his team as you stayed back to watch the rest of the cars complete the qualifying. The air was starting to get tense again, and even though you knew everyone was nervous with Lando’s result, you weren’t sure if it was just your own feelings talking. But like Lando said, you were going to have to wait and see what the team could come up with, you were just hoping they would do the right thing.

Race day was finally here, and with Lewis starting from the pit lane due to a new power unit and Pierre being excluded due to fuel flow rate, Lando had been promoted to P15. Sure, it would have been better if Lando had the chance to fight for his starting position, but at least that was something. 

You could see he was still not completely confident in how the race would go, but you trusted enough for the both of you. 

Watching the race from the garage was something that always made you incredibly nervous, but especially in this position. But Lando managed to get to P12 by lap 2, and everyone was incredibly excited by his overtakes. 

As the race went on and he felt more confident with the car, he started to climb his way up to the top 10, trusting the team’s decisions with the strategy they were sticking to, and you were so glad everything was falling in place. 

The rest of the race still made you bite your nails at how nervous you were, but the bliss in the entire garage when he overtook someone was indescribable. He was driving the race of his life, and even the radios he exchanged with the team radiated that. As always, the last few laps were nervewracking, but the fact that he made it all the way to P6 and was even helping Oscar with his own race left everyone with a good taste. Not a complete terrible weekend after all. 

During the last lap, however, an unfortunate crash between Carlos and Checo pushed him to P4, meaning he gained 11 positions during the race; not that you ever doubted him, but seeing him end up there with the fastest lap after an absolute mess of the qualifying made you excited to see him. After confiming everyone was okay, you took the liberty to celebrate your boyfriend’s race.

Lando got out of the car and went to greet his team, cheers and smiles all over the place. Everyone was praising him for the incredible work he made, and his smile didn’t go away for a second the entire time. 

You knew you would still have to wait to congratulate him; he still had to do media before coming back to his room, where you were waiting for him, but seeing him so happy in the monitors made you grow impatient. 

It felt like it had been a while since you saw him so happy after a race.

After what felt like forever, you heard him come back to the garage. You stoop up from the small couch and opened the door, where you were greeded by your boyfriend. 

“Hey, you.” You said, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he replied, smile so big you could see his dimples.

“That was amazing, Lando. I knew you would do amazing, but I can’t even describe how proud I am.” 

He smiled even more at your words. He closed the distance between you when he took a few steps, wrapping you in his arms and kissing you deeply. You could even feel him smiling then, and that filled your heart.

“Thank you; it was a good day,” he said when he pulled away, looking down at you with loving eyes. “I think everything worked out.” You just nodded as you admired him.

“I missed you,” you whispered as you brushed a few curls that fell on his forehead.

“What do you mean? We’ve been together the last three weeks. You saw me just before the race." To say he was confused was an understatement, and you could see it in his face.

“I mean you, this. I missed seeing you so happy and smiley. Looks good on you.”

Lando was a bit embarrassed by your confession; he thought he did a better job at hiding how much the results affected him, at least to you. It was never his intention to be so down when he was with you, but man, was he endeared by your words. “I needed this,” was all he said, and you know he was right. And it wasn’t only him; you knew the team needed this as well.

“I know, and I know you hate to hear it, but I told you.”

He let out a laugh, not a nervous one this time. “Yes, you did,” he hugged you again, much tighter as he buried his face on the crook of your neck. “Thank you for being here and supporting me, even during my bad times.” He spoke with so much sincerity. 

“I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Your Specialty (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer sees his significant other comforting a child and it makes him wonder. A/N: Written for my best friend on her birthday. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Comfort Content Warning: Minor self-deprecation, implied difficult childhood, crying Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

Spencer loves you every day. There is never a doubt or a hesitation. With each glance, he finds something new to add to the ever-growing list of reasons why he is right to love you.

But there are some moments where even he, in his seemingly infinite wisdom, is unable to put into words the way he feels when it comes to you. In those moments, all he can do is silently soak in the unknowing.

It was a quiet moment, all things considered. There was no more bad guys to be caught, no more bloodshed to be had. Still, there were tears, as there usually were when you were around.

It wasn’t your fault. You just have a way about you that makes people feel… loved. Sometimes for the first time.

Spencer peers through his open office door to find you. You are on your knees, eyes locked with the young boy standing in front of you.

His small body shakes with incoherent sobs. He is held steady only by your gentle hands cupping his face. Despite the sight, you are smiling. A calm, subtle curve that holds him up in another way.

From where he is, Spencer can’t hear your words. But he can still feel the relief. He finds himself mirroring you both, with deep inhales fighting against the knot his throat. The air comes out warm and trembling.

In that moment, as he watches you comfort something small, he is a little boy again. He is the one lifting his arms in a silent request to be loved in a simple way.

And he can feel it. He feels your arms as they wrap around the little boy and lift him gently from the ground.

The feeling is almost too much, but he doesn’t look away. He watches and waits patiently for you to let the little boy go.

He waits for you to notice, to quickly come to him before your own trembling hands are noticed by the boy being carried away to what Spencer still hopes will be a happily ever after.

Spencer watches you the entire time. His own mind races, struggling still to find words to explain the feeling in his chest.

He’d almost gotten it when you interrupt the thought with a laugh.

“What is it?” you ask.

Any eloquence vanishes and is replaced with a stammer.

“You’re uh… you’re good at that,” he says. "Comforting kids."

Somehow, it sounds better than it did in his head.

Unbeknownst to the depths of the compliment, you glance over your shoulder to see the boy still watching you.

You recognize the same expression on your lover’s face.

“Kids are easy to love,” you answer.

He accepts your humility. He meets the modesty with his own typical self-deprecation.

“You should’ve seen me as a kid.”

Beneath the words, you hear the uncertainty. That stubborn, relentless fear that there is something rotten to be found in his heart.

You narrow your eyes as you inspect him. His shoulders square under your scrutiny. You look at him, carefully reviewing each wrinkle and freckle. You tilt your head to look at him in another way.

And you find nothing at all rotten.

“I would’ve liked that,” you tell him in earnest.

Emboldened, but still afraid, Spencer dares to take another step forward.

“What do you think you would’ve said?” he says like it’s a joke.

This time, your pause is a couple beats longer.

You look at the man in front of you and try to imagine him with teeth too big for a tiny frame. You imagine unruly curls and thick, crooked glasses perched over innocent eyes.

You look at the man you love and you see it. A small boy staring up at you in his oversized suit. Always trying to be both smaller and bigger than he was meant to be.

“I’d tell him,” you say, unsure of your own words, “that he’s strong and clever, and he shouldn’t have to try so hard to prove it to everyone.”

Spencer sucks in a breath that betrays his aloof demeanor. The words hit him like a swift blow to the stomach. But even with the pain, he hopes you’re not finished.

You’re not.

“I’d tell him that I know he’s trying his hardest, and sometimes things are bigger than us and…”

You bite your tongue to stop tears from welling. You breathe in sharply, reaching up to place both palms against his reddened cheeks. You laugh as they shift towards a goofy grin despite tears.

“I’d tell him that everything’s going to be okay,” you say confidently.

“Oh,” he chuckles; a sad but necessary sound.

"Yeah."

Gentle thumbs wipe each droplet that manages to spill from big golden brown eyes. The same as you had moments before, you catch what you can of his sadness and turn it to comforting warmth across his cheek.

Spencer bites his lip, looking down at your feet before daring to look at you again. Because when he does, he loses his breath and his sense once more.

“I, uh... I think he would’ve liked that,” he confesses.

“I know,” you whisper with a genuine remorse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Spencer accepts the apology but refuses to stay in the past any longer.

“But you’re here now,” he says quickly.

“Yeah, I am,” you laugh in return. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

But letting you go is the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, he pulls you closer until there is nothing but atoms between you. Strong arms embrace you and his clever words muffle against your hair.

“I wouldn’t even dare to try.”

Together, you settle into the silence. You share your warmth without restraint. Just two bodies swaying in a simple and symbiotic embrace. You enjoy the comfort, the company, the lack of need for words to describe it all.

And once you feel he’s had his fill, you sigh against his shirt.

“You know, I’m going to get through to that little boy eventually.”

Spencer halts his step as he starts to laugh.

“Is that a threat?” he asks.

Without moving from your place against him, you smile.

“Watch out, Dr. Reid,” you hum. “I’ve been told I’m good at this.”

Spencer accepts the warning with a smile.

“Yes," he chuckles. "Yes, you are.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[flwrstqr]

۟⠀｡♡ ENHYPEN REACTION TO YOUR BREAK UP SONG

(NOTES) ex!enha hyung line x singer!r && exes 2 lovers, requested 🐰 dani notes: oh my gosh. i kept giggling while writing this no joke. writing maknae line tmrw or the day after ㅠㅠ

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

heeseung's jaw drops when he hears your new song blast through his headphones, realizing it’s about him. the lyrics hit a little too close to home—those late-night fights, the messy breakup, his stupid smile you swore you were over. halfway through, there’s a line about missing him in ways you never admitted, and he pauses the track, his heart racing. “no way you actually wrote that,” he mutters, smirking. a few texts later, he’s standing at your door, eyes gleaming. “so... you miss me, huh?” he teases, leaning against the frame. you roll your eyes but can’t hide the grin. “shut up, i was just—” he cuts you off, stepping closer. “nah, i think you meant every word. but maybe we can talk about it over dinner?” you groan, but deep down, you’re already thinking about dessert.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

jay's sitting in his car when your new song starts playing on the radio, and the second he hears the opening verse, he knows it's about him. the lyrics hit hard—every fight, every stupid thing you both said—and then there’s that line about how he still makes your heart race. he scoffs, smirking to himself. "oh, so she’s still thinking about me?" he mumbles, turning up the volume. by the time the chorus hits, he’s grinning like an idiot, texting you before he can stop himself: 'nice song, you miss me?' five minutes later, he’s outside your door, sunglasses on. “you know, if you wanted me back, you could’ve just called,” he says, leaning in close. you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool, but he can see the smile tugging at your lips. "who says i want you back?" "the song does."

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

jake's scrolling through his phone when he sees everyone talking about your new song, so he clicks play, not expecting it to be about him. as soon as the first line drops, his eyes widen. the lyrics spill all the feelings you never said during the breakup—how you missed his laugh, how his hoodie still smelled like him. halfway through, he’s laughing in disbelief, shaking his head. “seriously? you’re still thinking about that?” he mumbles, but there’s a grin creeping up. he can’t help it. five minutes later, he’s at your house. when you open the door, he’s already leaning against it, smirking. “you know, you could’ve just told me you missed me,” he teases, giving you that signature playful look. “shut up, jake. it’s just a song.” he steps closer, smirk deepening. “uh-huh, sure. but do i still smell that good, or…?”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

sunghoon leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, as your new song fills the room. the lyrics cut deep, and his jaw tightens at certain lines—ones he knows are about him. "so that’s how you felt?" he asks, voice low, eyes never leaving yours. you glance at him, shrugging, but the tension is thick. "just a song, hoon." he chuckles, though there’s no humor in it. “sure, just a song… about us.” his gaze softens for a moment. “you still thinking about me that much?” you smirk, but it’s shaky. “maybe i never stopped.”