#finally managed to get around to this lol

[adeptustemptations]

How do you think caleb or any of the others lads guys would react to their wife lactating? 👀 do you think that they'd be down to try it? I love your writing!! 💗💗

Honey, is that...? 🍼

(wc. 2.1k) How would the LADS boys react when they spot you, their wife, lactating?

featuring: rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader, zayne x reader, xavier x reader (all separate) warnings: mild smut, mdni.

a/n: first request down! i definitely think all of the boys would be down to try it LOL. i had so much fun writing this. hope you guys enjoy! c:

🧜 RAFAYEL:

At first, you think Rafayel’s being moody because of something work related. Probably just something about him not getting inspiration for his next piece.

He's quiet during dinner, pushing his food around with the fork, glancing at you between bites but saying nothing. Then he sighs. Dramatically. Like you’ve just told him the love of his life is marrying someone else.

“Do you need the tub prepared?” you ask, gently patting the baby's mouth with a cloth as your baby drifts off to sleep, full and milk-drunk in your arms.

He shrugs. “No.”

Another sigh. Even more dramatic this time.

You narrow your eyes. “Okay, what’s wrong with you?”

Silence.

You put the baby down in the bassinet, tiptoeing back to the couch where he’s brooding like a man personally victimized by your child. You sit beside him and poke his thigh.

“Rafayel. Talk.”

He doesn’t answer at first. Just shifts in his seat dramatically, like you should already know why he’s in a mood.

You raise a brow. “Raf?”

“…Why does he get to taste it?” he finally mutters.

You blink. “What?”

Rafayel lifts his gaze, eyes narrowed. “Your milk. The baby gets all of it. Meanwhile, I, your husband, don’t even get to try?”

You stare at him, baffled, amused, a little turned on by how offended he looks.

He shifts closer suddenly, tone softening like he’s trying to guilt you.

 “You used to let me suck on them all the time,” he mumbles, voice pitiful. “Now I get nothing.”

“Rafayel Qi,” you say, laughing despite yourself. “You’re jealous of your own child?”

“He doesn’t even appreciate it,” Rafayel huffs dramatically. “He’s just... drinking. No compliments. No praise. No loving gaze. No eye contact.” He places a hand over his heart. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

“You want to flirt with my boobs while I’m nursing?”

He nods solemnly. “And after.”

You blink. “Raf.”

“No, no, go ahead. Ignore me. That’s fine.” He gestures grandly, flopping back on the couch like a neglected kid in a drama. 

“I mean, I get it,” Rafayel huffs, gesturing vaguely toward the baby now blissfully passed out at the bassinet. “He needs it. It’s nourishment. Bonding. Blah blah. But like, what about me? A stranger in my own marriage.”

You roll your eyes. “Then ask.”

He freezes. Turns to you slowly.

“…Seriously?”

You nod. “If you’re that curious, then fine. Go ahead.”

Wasting no moment, he immediately latches onto you, and his reaction is instant. His eyes roll back. A full-body shudder.

He suckles on your nipple with the eagerness of a thirsty man who had just found water after days of being dehydrated. When a bit of milk manages to escape from the side? He immediately laps it up, wasting no drop.

He pulls back, breathless. Dazed. “...Fuck."

Then he smirks.

“Alright. New plan. Let’s have six more kids.”

You shove him off the couch.

🐦‍⬛ SYLUS:

Everyone in the N109 Zone knows that Sylus doesn’t kneel.

He doesn’t plead.

He doesn’t repeat himself.

He doesn’t need to.

He gives orders, and people obey. His name alone strikes fear into civilians and corrupt officials alike. He's the kind of man who takes what he wants, and everyone bends at his will.

But you?

You’re the one thing he never commands.

Because with you, he never wants to.

And right now? He’s at your feet.

Literally.

It starts when you’re in the privacy of your home, in a soft robe, curled on the couch with your baby fast asleep in the bassinet. You’re drowsy and glowing, eyes heavy from the feeding, your robe slipping just slightly to reveal a glistening patch where you’ve started to leak again.

Sylus was reading some documents, possibly just about a new batch of weapons shipped to one of his armories. All that boring stuff. When he looks at you, his eyes immediately zero to your chest.

He freezes.

The documents clattered to the ground. 

You glance at him, confused. “Sylus?”

But he’s already closing the space between you. You see it, the desire in his eyes as he kneels before you, palms on your thighs, breath hot and uneven.

“Please.”

His voice is hoarse. Ragged. Barely a whisper.

You blink. “Huh?”

“I need to taste you, sweetie.” He says it like it physically hurts to admit, jaw clenched. 

“Can I try? Please?”

Your breath hitches. “Sylus—”

“I never beg,” he murmurs, leaning forward, brushing his lips against the skin of your breast. “But I’ll get on my knees for this. For you.”

He doesn’t ask again.

Just lowers his mouth to your breast and licks. The moment the white liquid hits his tongue, everything changes.

His lips part in stunned disbelief. Then, he groans, deep and guttural, like you just unlocked something feral in him.

“You taste sweet,” he rasps. He’s already latching on you again, open-mouthed, greedy. 

“Fuck. You taste better than anything.”

You gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he begins to devour you. There’s nothing classy about the way he sucks at you–it’s messy, hungry, possessive. Like he’s waited his whole life for this and didn’t even know it.

You try to say something, to make a joke; “You’re worse than the baby.”

But Sylus growls into your skin, low and dark: “I’ll give you another one. I’ll fill you up again, if that’s what it takes to keep you like this.”

Your breath stutters. “Sylus—”

“No one else gets this. No one else gets to taste you like this.” He presses his palm to your womb. “You hear me? Only me.”

And you believe him. Because when Sylus Qin finds something he likes?

He gets it.

🍎 CALEB:

It starts with the panties.

Caleb thinks he’s subtle about it. Volunteering to do your laundry in the pretense that he 'just wants to help', setting aside a pair that smells like you, worn, soft, intimate. The design doesn't matter too, the one with lace? Spectacular. The cotton ones he bought with the apple patterns? Give him 14 of them right now. He tells himself it’s harmless, just something to keep close when you're gone on long shifts or too tired to stay up with him after work from the Hunter's Association.

When you've caught him in the act, all he does is raise an eyebrow, as if you're the one being strange.

“What?” he says, with that deadpan tone of his, nose still pressed into the fabric. “You smell nice.”

You should be flustered, but you’ve been married to this man long enough to know how weirdly intense he can be. It's part of the Caleb experience. When you tried scolding him because some of your pairs have gone missing, all he does is shoot you his signature puppy-eyed look.

But then after giving birth to your baby, everything changes. Your underwear drawer's surprisingly complete, and none of the pairs have gone missing. You'd think that maybe Caleb had just become too busy tending to the baby to even focus on his needs.

But what you don't notice is how his touches linger longer during nighttime cuddles, especially around your chest, or the way he glances at your shirt when it dampens just a little.

It happens when you’re fresh out of the shower. You're drying your hair, not noticing at first that the front of your shirt is damp. A few minutes later, you glance down and–

Oh.

You’re leaking.

“Caleb?" you call out, not thinking much of it, “I think I’m lactating again. I forgot to pump.”

You don’t expect a reaction. You expect him to say something like, ‘Want me to grab the pump?’

What you don’t expect is for Caleb to freeze in the doorway, eyes locked on the wet patch spreading across the fabric.

“...Again?” he says quietly.

You blink at him. “Yeah? That’s usually how it works.”

His eyes narrow, his jaw clenches, and before you can respond, he’s across the room, pushing your shirt up to your chest with eagerness, hunger glinting in those beautiful purple eyes.

“Let me taste.”

Your brain short circuits. “Wha–Caleb–?”

But he’s already there, lips closing around your nipple, hand firmly planted at your waist like he owns you.

And when he moans? You swear it’s the dirtiest sound he’s ever made.

He drinks like he’s been deprived. Like this was what he needed all along, and nothing else compares. Not the panties. Not your bath soap. Not even the taste of your skin.

No–this. This is divine. This is yours.

Later, when you're sprawled on the bed, dazed and breathless, he kisses your stomach and murmurs softly:

"Maybe we should have another baby. Just so you don't run out."

You laugh. “You're a freak.”

“I’m serious.”

He looks up at you, utterly sincere, eyes dark with something that’s not quite lust–it’s obsession, devotion, need.

And you know then: he’s addicted.

Not just to you.

But to every part of you.

☃️ ZAYNE:

You already knew Zayne had a problem with sweets.

The bakery receipts stuffed in his lab coat. The way he always “accidentally” wanders into the dessert section at the grocery store. The time he got bribed by Dr. Greyson with macarons.

But this?

You hadn’t seen coming.

It starts innocently enough; he’s helping you undress after a long day, brushing his fingers along the curve of your side as he unclasps your bra. You’re a few weeks postpartum, still sore and soft in all the ways he loves. He’s kneeling in front of you, peppering lazy kisses along your stomach when he notices the damp spot on your breast.

"Hmm?" He hums, brows furrowing. He leans in closer.

"You're leaking."

You sigh. “Yeah. I forgot to pump again. I’ll go get–”

“No,” Zayne cuts in, already cupping your breast in his hand. “Let me.”

“Zayne–!”

But he’s already latched on before you can finish, mouth closing around you like it’s second nature.

The first taste hits him like a drug.

His eyes widen.

Then flutter shut.

He moans. Actually moans. Like he just took a bite out of the best dessert of his life.

“Dearest,” he breathes when he finally pulls back, his lips still wet. “Why didn’t you tell me it tastes like this?”

You blink, a little dazed. “Like… what?”

He licks his lips. “Sweet. Warm...”

Then his gaze flicks up, dark and hungry. “Better than any dessert I've ever tasted.”

Your face flushes. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, already nudging you backward onto the bed, crawling over you with sinful intent. “But you married me.”

And just like that, he’s latched on again, slow, thorough, absolutely obsessed. Like he’s savoring every drop. Like you’re his final meal, and he’s a man who’s starved.

When he finally pulls away, lips wet and pupils blown wide, he looks like he’s come undone.

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he mutters:

“…I think I need to adjust my meal plan.”

You raise a brow. “You’re joking.”

He shakes his head, dead serious. “You’re my new dessert. Effective immediately.”

⭐ XAVIER:

It’s still dark out when Xavier stirs beside you.

He wakes like he always does. Quiet, warm, arms automatically reaching for your sleeping form. He pulls you close, breath brushing on your neck, his hand splaying across your waist under the covers.

That’s when he notices it.

A damp spot on your shirt. Right over your chest. You’re on your side, curled towards him, unaware.

He blinks once. Then twice. Brain still foggy from sleep.

But then he leans closer, nose brushing against the fabric, breathing in the scent that’s distinctly you. Warm and milky. Sweet.

Something stirs in him. Not lust, something gentler. Deeper.

An ache in his chest he can’t explain. Like he wants to be closer, somehow. Like he needs to feel it. Taste it.

He shifts beneath the blankets, carefully nudging the neckline of your shirt down. He presses a kiss just above your nipple, reverent, before wrapping his lips softly around it.

You stir, eyelids fluttering. “...Xavi?” you murmur, voice gravelly with sleep.

“Mm,” he hums against your skin, mouth still lazily suckling. “Just helping.”

You blink blearily at him. “That’s… not how the pump works.”

“Don’t care,” he whispers. “Tastes better this way.”

You huff a soft laugh, too tired to scold him, too warm to care. “You’re unbelievable.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark hair tousled, eyes still heavy lidded. 

“It’s comforting,” he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’re comforting.”

And with that, he tucks himself back into your arms, head resting on your chest, one hand lazily cupping your breast. You feel the occasional soft suckle as he drifts off again, slow and rhythmic, like a baby himself.

You close your eyes.

The room is quiet. The baby’s still asleep. And for now... just for now, there’s no need to move.

You both fall back into sleep, tangled together, Warm, safe, and full.

—

[MASTERLIST]

[quarterlifekitty]

Okay but slight angst for Nik's kitty is after the first time Simon mounts her, she does not trust Nik anymore, the second she hears footsteps she's hiding, she rejects anything with Simon's scent cause he scared her by being so intense.

She's Nik's soft little kitten and she's never been treated rough like that before and then having her owner hold her and hold the base of her tail made her upset with nik, he knows she hates it!

She straight up will not let Nik touch her, hides under the bed and yowls whenever he does manage to get her. She refuses to touch her soft kitty bed that smells like Simon now and even sleeps under a bed in the guest room instead.

She'll calm down eventually obviously but her owner never did anything she didn't like before so she obviously blames Simon and John (especially John, he's on kitten's shit list) for making her Nik be a meanie to her.

When she doesn't get pregnant with kits the first time and Kitten overhears plans to bring Simon back over she has a fit. "He's big and mean and he made you be mean to me too!"

Sorry for this ramble, I love the horniness of the kitten au but the potential for angst is also delicious because imagine being a pampered kitten who's owner made sure to never make you uncomfortable or do things you don't like.

only for this strange man and his tom cat that has the aura of a man ready to kill to show up at your home and then you're made to accept getting bred while your owner who's never been mean to you holds you and your tail in a way he knows you don't like, like how could you be mean to your princess Nik?

Ofc eventually she would accept Simon again but she's really resistant immediately after and feels so betrayed. Lol

I loooooooove this idea. Stab him in the heart why don’t you?

Nikolai is so gutted when you hide under the bed and won’t let him near— you don’t even bite his hand, you just distance yourself! There are plates with your favorite treats all over the house, your favorite toys, he pulls all of your blankets fresh from the dryer so they’re warm and soft.

And no, it didn’t take the first time, must have been all of the stress— so Nik tells John that they have to take it slow, and Simon is to be leashed and on his best behavior. After some sharp tugging from John, Simon finally gets the idea that he has to be a bit more subtle… it takes a week or two of these little “dates” before you even come out from under the bed and sniff carefully around Simon while he stands stock still, trying not to spook you. Eventually, you let him groom you a little, and very cautiously let him into your bed for afternoon naps (and he has to hide how pissed he is that your blankets don’t smell like him anymore).

After a few months of agonizingly slow courtship, your heat just starting to tickle at your lower belly, you tug on Nik’s arm as John starts getting ready to leave, telling him quietly that you want Simon to stay.

“Are you sure, milaya? Your heat will probably start tomorrow… and I won’t be able to keep him away.”

You shyly nod before darting off to bed, your little bell collar tinkling as you rush away and start kneading your blankets.

But of course, if you just won’t forgive Simon so easily, John happens to have just started fostering 2 more hybrids that might be a little sweeter to you….

[cherrycranes]

Dream Girl 3 (Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Fem!Reader Summary: Your boyfriend Neil becomes your co-star when you film something really special with him... Word count: 3,208 Contents: (Minors DNI). Reader is a camgirl. Fluff & smut, filming, unprotected sex. Author's notes: Happy birthday to me lol. Here's the final part of the dreamgirl series! Hope you enjoy. Here's part 1 and part 2. Co-written with the wonderful @fuckiingloser. XOXO

Neil, with his beautiful baby blue eyes glimmering like a child’s on Christmas morning, took your hand and helped you out of his car, leading you up the steps of his lovely suburban house like a total gentleman who didn’t just fuck you on his office desk half an hour ago.

“After you…” He said courteously, opening the front door for you and making you chuckle.

His house, homey and comfortable, with movie posters and memorabilia everywhere, welcomed you like it had been expecting you all along, like you were the missing part of it.

“So… what do you think?” Neil guided you through the first floor, giving you a slight smile of satisfaction at the way you looked around.

“It’s definitely very you…” You chuckled, and he joined you.

“That’s a good thing? I hope?” He asked, crossing his fingers so adorably you couldn't help but say yes.

Despite how cute and sweet the moment you shared was, you both looked quite tired, not unexpected, as it was 11 pm and the last few hours had been… Intense.

“We could stay up if you want… watch a movie on the couch?” He offered. “Or we could go right to bed, whatever you want…” 

He truly made your heart melt, so caring and always making sure you were comfortable.

“I’m pretty tired from earlier…you really put in work…” You joked with a little smirk, and Neil nodded in cheeky agreement.

“Me too… My room’s upstairs.” And with that, he held your hand just as gently as before and led you up the stairs to see his typical, but rather clean, boy room, decorated with movie posters and a big, comfy bed in the middle. From his drawer, he pulled out a big, old Led Zepellin t-shirt for you.

“You can wear this to sleep… one of my favorite shirts…” he smiled charmingly, so kind yet somehow it never failed to surprise you. He then pointed to his bathroom door on the left. “Feel free to use the bathroom too, there should be some new toothbrushes under the sink, pick one out and it can be yours…” Butterflies filled your stomach. 

“You’re quite the host, Mr Lewis…” You joked softly, making him smile.

“I just want to make sure you’re comfortable…” He assured you, giving you some space to settle comfortably for the night. In the bathroom, you shed off your tank top and skirt, replacing them with his big band t-shirt that just barely managed to cover your little thong. You picked the promised brand-new purple toothbrush from the drawer and brushed your teeth, then washed your makeup off, a little nervous to let him see you so unfiltered and natural for the first time. But today had a lot of firsts, and all of them had been good so far…

When you finally came out of the bathroom, Neil was already in a simple white t-shirt and plaid boxers, sitting on the bed watching an old movie. When he turned to look at you, his baby blue eyes widened, putting him in a mindless trance for a moment before he could gather his wits and smile sweetly and genuinely at you. 

“God, you are stunning.” He muttered in awe, and your heart fluttered. You climbed into bed and sat next to him.

“Neil, I don’t even have makeup on…” You whispered, self-consciousness taking over after only being seen in your best. Neil reached up to touch your cheek. You truly didn’t know what he saw. 

“Shh… every part of you is beautiful, makeup or not…” He whispered, both his voice and touch so gentle with you. So good it was hard to get used to.

Instead of using your words, you leaned in and gave him a soft, thankful kiss, not only for being so sweet and lovely, but for the impact it was having on you. After a second, you got under the covers with him, safe in this oddly comfortable cocoon that felt like home despite this being the first day you met in person.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered softly after a while, breaking the peaceful night silence of the suburbs.

“Of course…” Neil whispered back, his baby blue eyes curious, his brain silently racked as he wondered what you could possibly have to tell him. 

You swallowed a little, finding your words.

“I-I never offered a private call to anyone else…” You started nervously, almost like you were confessing a sin and not something this sweet. “Only you… was hoping you’d do it so I could have a reason to talk to you and see you privately…” You rambled on, finally revealing your secret.

You watched as the anxiety left his face and was replaced by a sweet smile curling up. 

“Really?” He asked in somewhat disbelief. This entire thing started because you had initiated it… You wanted to meet him first. 

You nodded shyly.

“You just seemed kind… sweet. Just wanted a reason to see you… Talk to you one on one…”. Neil's smile grew even bigger.

His response was to lean in and give you another gentle, perfect kiss that said more than words ever could. 

Maybe he was perfect…. Maybe you were perfect for each other after all…

──── ୨୧ ────

Six months had passed after that fateful night you took a chance and met him in person, and so much had changed since. You and Neil were now dating, both incredibly smitten and in love, spending all your time together at his place, yours, or Gumshoe. 

Neil truly was the picture-perfect boyfriend, showing up at your door with a bag of Chinese food whenever you had a bad day, binge-watching old black and white TV shows all night, having constant dates at the movies, art museums, restaurants… And whenever you let him, he’d spend hours between your legs ravishing you… Overall, you did it all. He was the kindest, cutest, goofiest guy you had ever known, and he was yours.

As for your work, it was an adjustment for him at first, of course, but he understood. Like the stars in the adult film section of Gumshoe, it was just your job. Eventually, he started to help you out, editing your videos and lightening your workload.

The men who purchased your content only got you in 10-minute videos through the screen. Neil got you all the time in real life, authentically. Your mind, body, and spirit were all his at all times, and that was all that mattered.

It was a rainy Sunday night, and you and Neil were already snug in his warm bed after spending the entire weekend together. The TV flashed over you as you made out, your favorite thing to do.

Your tongues swirled together in the slow, passionate makeout session as Casablanca played in the background, completely ignored by now. His big hands roamed your body, and you rolled around his bed together. He gripped your hips and pulled you closer before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You moaned into his mouth when he ground his hard-on against you, making him groan too. His hands released your hips and slid under the band of your underwear, gripping your ass cheeks greedily as you melted into each other. 

“You make me so fucking hard…” He groaned into your lips in between kisses, bringing a smile to your face. Although it was obvious, you still loved hearing it… Neil always made you feel like the sexiest, most beautiful girl in the world. 

He rolled you over, pinning you onto his bed, kisses moving from your lips down to your neck with reverence, then tracing all the way over to your ear.

“What if… We made a little movie tonight?” He whispered into your ear, and your eyes shot wide open. You had suggested this a few months ago, still in the throes of a particularly hot round of sex after a date night and a bottle of wine. The idea thrilled you; a real homemade tape with no crazy edits, no cheesy music, just his cock and you recorded from his point of view.

But, despite all the things you had done in your prolific camgirl career, you had never filmed with a partner. It was all about you and you alone, and doing something like this would be a first for both you and Neil. But at the time, he wasn’t ready. Not completely refusing, but not being the most confident either, so you understood and moved on, thinking that maybe being part of your content just wasn’t for him… Until now.

“You're serious?” You asked him honestly, looking deep into his eyes in search of certainty and conviction.

“I’ve been thinking about it…” He admitted. “I think it sounds so hot… Let everyone see how good I fuck my girl…” Your pussy fluttered at his words. He did fuck you good, and he knew it.

His newfound confidence in the moment was shocking yet so sexy. Usually, he was a pretty quiet, reserved guy for the most part. Something you had been helping him work on for the last few months. And finally seemed to be bearing its fruits.

“I’m down if you are…” Your eyes were as wide as your smile. Any nerves you could have in that moment were squashed by the excitement and lust this confident Neil made you feel.

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you. His tongue slid over your bottom lip in a hot kiss before breaking it to reach for his phone and get off the bed. He took you with him to the edge, standing between your parted legs and unceremoniously taking your lace panties off and tossing them away. Then, he pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing free, already leaking precum at the sight of you.

With one hand on his cock and the other on his phone, Neil opened the camera app, the light flashing between you briefly. You bit your lip, focused on his pink tip as he rubbed it between your folds, coating them in arousal.

You looked up into the camera, smiling for it. No nerves could get to you in this moment; you were a natural. It was just you and your boyfriend.

“You want my cock baby?” He purred confidently from behind the camera, his voice low with arousal. You smiled, biting your lip a little. Seeing him easily step up to the challenge and slip into the role like a pro made the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“Yes, please…”You looked up into the camera, giving him your best eyes, pleading so sweetly you almost wouldn’t think you were begging to be fucked. Almost. Neil smiled in satisfaction at your sexy submission before moving his hips forward, the leaking tip sliding between your folds. His hand found your soft thigh and then pushed it even farther apart from its twin.

Your mouth fell open, letting out a loud, breathy moan. His long cock slid in until it bottomed out and filled you up. He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering shut, forgetting for a moment what you were doing, too caught up in the hot tightness of your little cunt and the pretty sounds of your moans.

“Fuck me-you love it, baby?“ He breathed out, hips starting to move back and forth. The flash of the camera picked up the glisten of your slick coating his cock with every thrust. You nodded frantically, trying to remember how to respond as he picked up speed. His free hand moved from your thigh to pull your shirt over your bouncing tits, giving the camera a perfect point of view.

“Love your big cock-” You panted, brain turning into mush already. He pistoned his hips even harder than before, the sounds of his balls slapping your ass filled the room and got picked up by the phone’s mic. Maneuvering it, he took a close shot of his cock spearing in and out of you.

“This pussy takes me so good- so fucking tight n’ hot…” He almost growled, pulling the camera back to see your whole frame; tits bouncing rhytmically, whimpers falling from your lips as he fucked you stupid, so much so, you were not even putting on a show for the audience like usual. Neil was just that good.

Your cunt squelched around his cock deliciously, the familiar tingle of a looming orgasm making you close your eyes in utter pleasure. Moaning like a slut, you arched your back, lifting off his bed with your toes curling.

“Tell me how good it feels, pretty girl…C’mon, you can do it…” He encouraged you behind the camera, his free thumb finding your clit and keeping up with the delirious pace that slapped into you. 

“I-i-i love it…” You stuttered, your overstimulated brain struggling to speak. 

Neil panted with a smile, watching in amazement through the phone screen and alternating with the sight of you. This had been much easier and far better than what you always imagined. You were both born for this.

“Flip over, baby.” He commanded, voice so rough with need it took you by surprise. He took his thumb off your sensitive clit, nearly making you whine and cry from the missing stimulation. This was not part of the plan, completely improvised by his inner film director, but you trusted his vision… And you were too fucked-out to care.

Neil pulled out his hard cock coated in your slick. It bobbed with need, just waiting to sink back into your tight cunt. You flipped over obediently, face down, ass up, back arched for him and the camera. He groaned at the sight of your tight little asshole and pink puffy folds from the back.

He zoomed in for a moment, giving the future audience a perfect view of his index and middle fingers spreading your pussy open, before pushing his hips forward to sink into you again, moaning in unison as you connected.

“Jesus Christ, this pussy is so good- I swear it was made to be wrapped around my cock…” he groaned and you moaned loudly. Doggy was your preferred way to fuck, his long cock would always hit you deep and poke your g-spot over and over. And even before you started to move, it just felt so damn good he couldn’t stop cursing. Who could have ever thought sweet Neil Lewis could say such sexy, dirty things? 

He started his thrusts slowly at first, before gaining speed. One hand gripping your hip viciously as he pounded into you, his full balls slapping against your clit. Your mind was so hazy with pleasure, no full coherent sentences could fall from your mouth now.

“S-so deep..” That was all you could manage before his big hand came down to spank your asscheek hard, leaving a handprint in its wake. You cried out, your cunt tightening around him, pain turning into pure pleasure.

From the camera’s point of view, your pussy swallowed his cock again and again, soaking it.

“m’gonna come…” You whimpered loudly, the burn of your orgasm in the pit of your stomach growing faster and faster…

“C’mon baby… give it to me… come on my cock…” He encouraged, going into overdrive- That’s when suddenly, you were right at the edge, babbling nonsense with your cheek smashed against the bedsheets. His pelvis slapped against your ass, urging you to give in. He gave you another sharp smack to the asscheek, making you whimper.

“Fff-uck…” You nearly screamed, writhing in pleasure. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and refused to let you go. Every nerve ending of your body tingled as your tight cunt pulsed, finally creaming around his cock.

Neil whined loudly, feeling you let go around him. Your walls clenched tightly, trying to milk his orgasm out of him with desperation.

“Good girl-such a good fuckin’ girl…” He muttered under his breath. You were giving it all to him; moaning, whimpering, panting. He couldn’t help but come too. 

“Coming…” He barely choked out, pulling out and wrapping a hand around himself. He pumped his slick-coated cock, hot ropes of cum covered your sore asscheeks and marked you for the camera to see.

Webs of his semen dripped down on your soft rear, reaching your asshole and puffy pussy as he squeezed every drop from his tired cock. It was the hottest sight he had ever seen in his fucking life… And of course, he had to capture every second for posterity. 

“You look so pretty covered in my come, baby…” Neil praised you sweetly, making you giggle. You wiggled your ass for the camera a little, before he panned to your face against his sheets.

“Thank you…” You purred sensually, smirking a little and giving the tape one last perfect shot before he hit the stop button.

Dropping his phone onto the bed, he collapsed down next to you, completely out of breath. His chest heaved, looking up at his ceiling while you both recovered your energy and the air in your lungs.

After a minute or two, he reached over to grab a t-shirt on the edge of the bed and cleaned you up gently. He wiped most of his release off you rather lovingly, before tossing the now dirty rag into the hamper by the door.

Then, he pulled you closer to lie on his chest. You wrapped an arm around his stomach and stayed there, enjoying each other’s warmth.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asked with concern etched upon his pretty face, almost making you laugh from how sweet he was. You just had the time of your life, and he was worried about his spanks being too much.

“No baby, not at all, you were so good… Better than good…” You smiled, looking into his pretty blue eyes. Neil immediately returned to his sweet self, a stark contrast to the man who, just a few minutes ago, was telling you how good you felt on his cock.

You laid there in comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again. 

“It was fun… We should do that more often…” He suggested with a cheeky, blushing smile, and you nodded right away. “Even if it’s just for our personal collection…”. You raised a playful eyebrow at that.

“You did say when we first met you’d always dreamed of being a director…” You teased him, making him laugh.

“That’s very true, baby...” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you even closer to pepper a few soft kisses across your cheeks and to your lips.

Neil was everything you ever wanted in a man, but never seemed to find, until the call that started everything so many months ago now. It had been a whirlwind since then… And look at you now. You went from perfect strangers, to client and camgirl, to partners, and now, you were co-stars too.

“All of my dreams have come true, I guess...” He whispered, brushing a hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear gently before leaning in to speak into it, his hot breath tickling your ear… “All thanks to my dream girl..”

Pinterest moodboard by @fuckiingloser

[slut4sugu]

aged!up characters — mdni! (containing: soft smut, sweet kiri, implied reader's first time."

a/n: lowkey half on break and half not, just been thinking about this with kiri for a min lol

"you okay baby?" Kiri asked from above you, his voice wavering slightly as he bottomed out inside of you. His big calloused hands gripping your waist as if he were holding back. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to relax and get used to the stretch of his ridiculously big dick.

You had always fantasized about your first time being with him, but you didnt fantasize about getting split into two on his dick. Biting down on your lip you nodded, "Mhm, m'fine just wait a minute." Letting out a breath, you opened your eyes to see Ejirou now leaning closer over your half naked form splayed out so pretty on his mattress.

You’d have blushed on instinct—cheeks hot and eyes darting away—if he wasn’t already buried so deeply inside you, body pressed to yours like he was made to fit. But even now, even with your nerves frayed and fizzled in the best possible way, you couldn’t help but drink him in.

Ejirou's skin was lightly tanned from his hero work, Faint scars and calloused lines kissed his chest and abs. A soft sheen of sweat highlighting the sculpt of muscle that flexed subtly with each breath. His fiery red hair, down tonight and tousled from your fingers, framed his face like a halo.

You still didn't know how you managed to attract a himbo like ejirou kirishima.

Catching the way your gaze lingered, he flushed. A pretty pink tint decorating his skin as a soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, low and affectionate. “You’re lookin’ at me like I hung the stars, baby,” he murmured, brushing your cheek with the back of his knuckles. His voice was warm—teasing, but slightly shaky, like your admiration knocked the wind out of him.

You smiled up at him, your fingers trailing gently over one of the pale scars on his side. “You kinda did,” you whispered, voice breathless but sure. His ruby eyes softened, almost impossibly so, as if your words carved a permanent mark into his heart. Closing the distance between you two further, he pressed his forehead gently to yours—close enough for your breaths to mingle.

"I love you so much." He breathed out, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek softly. Your heart fluttering in your chest at his tenderness, the smile on your lips growing as you nuzzled your face into his palm. Pressing a kiss to the inside of it as you giggled, "I love you too Eji." Your eyes flickered up to his, playful mischief swirling in your sparkling brown eyes.

Ejirou huffed a soft chuckle through his nose, leaning down to kiss your temple, then your nose, then finally brushing his lips against yours. “You sure you’re not hurtin anywhere pretty?” he murmured again, voice rumbling low against your mouth, his body still perfectly still inside you, letting you take your time.

You nodded, pressing your forehead to his. “Yeah 'promise. I'm uhm okay Eji, you can move now if you're ready." You mumbled shyly, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Letting out an airy chuckle Eji kissed your cheek sweetly, his voice laced with honey, "Your so cute babe, I'll be gentle, I promise."

His forehead rested against yours, as he rolled his hips into yours. Kiri's breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between your moans and gasps. You could feel him trembling just slightly, as he breathed. "you feel s'good baby fuck! mm so happy you let me do this for you."

"wasn't just for me eji ah,—wanted mmfh, wanted to make you happy too." you whimpered, threading your fingers through his thick red hair, tugging him even closer as he buried his face into your neck. The sudden twitch of his cock against your velvety walls made you giggle.

His laugh joined yours, muffled against your neck as he pressed a kiss just below your ear. “Shit, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice cracking slightly with affection and pleasure. “You’re gonna kill me if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Your giggle turned breathy as his hips rocked a little deeper, hitting that sweet little gummy spot that made your toes curl. Ejirou kissed his way down your neck as you moaned out his name. Clawing at his back as you whined. His hands never straying too far, as one cupped your cheek and the other rubbing lazy circles along your waist, grounding you through the building intensity.

"You always make' me feel like I'm fuckin dreamin’,” he murmured into your skin, teasingly nibbling the spot that made you shiver. “So perfect—so damn perfect for me.” You whimpered at the sweet praise, your hips bucking up instinctively to meet the slow grind of his.

You felt him smile against your throat, pressing a lingering kiss there before pulling back just enough to look into your glossy eyes—his own shining with something deeper than lust. “Love you, y’know that?” he whispered, brushing your hair gently away from your damp forehead. “More than anything.”

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms and whispered warmth, you felt it too—safe, adored, and entirely his.

[bfwooin]

How would each of Sabbath crew member introduce their gf to their crew?

if i ain't with you, i don't wanna be.

content. established rs, wooin's just a menace to everyone lol

a/n. havent done hcs in a long timee. hope u like this anon! i locked in and wrote this on my flight.

꩜ vinny.

— honestly, i think he wouldn’t want to introduce you to the likes of the sabbath crew.

— he’s scared that they might take you away from him, despite your loyalty for him.

— but somehow, wooin found out about vinny’s little secret; you.

— wooin may or may not have peeked at vinny’s lockscreen that showed a photostrip of you and vinny together, kissing and acting all lovey-dovey.

— so of course, he needs to find out who the girl is that has vinny so whipped.

— wooin pesters him to bring you to one of their training sessions, and he agrees because he could no longer stand wooin’s annoying rambles.

— you’re now by vinny’s side, clinging onto his arm like a stray as you look at the three intimidating men whom you don’t know the names of before you.

— vinny sighs frustratedly, holding you close by your waist.

— “yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”

— you shyly wave, and vinny immediately turns you away from their gaze as the two of you ditch his training for a date instead.

꩜ joker.

— another victim of wooin’s bugging i fear.

— both him and hyuk gossip about the girl joker sees frequently after his training ends, which is you.

— you always stand by the side, leaning against the concrete wall as you wait for your boyfriend to approach you.

— you’re familiar with wooin due to the many times joker has shit-talked and conplained about him to you.

— so, when you suddenly see the entire crew approach you and joker, cornering the both of you, you know damn well whose suggestion it is to do so.

— joker looks at them with a scowl, glaring at wooin most of the time.

— funny, because he looked at you with such loving eyes seconds ago.

— he grabs your hand from behind, shielding you from the others while him and wooin go back and forth on how he should introduce you to the crew.

— your boyfriend finally relents because all he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and lie in your arms.

— “my girlfriend. bye.”

— he declares monotonously and leaves the three of them behind, pulling you away with him.

— you laugh at his antics on the way home, and he takes it with a subtle blush across his face.

꩜ wooin.

— fucking prick, he’ll show you off like a trophy.

— he’ll boast about you to the rest of the crew, and they’re all sick and tired of the same “my baby’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

— he loves talking about you. and if he’s all talk, he must show it, right?

— he drags you out of the house, not taking your laziness for an answer as he drives you, in his obnoxious car, to his club to meet the crew.

— you walk into the establishment with him, eyes of men and women gawking at the sight of the both of you.

— he has his arm around your waist, possessive and proud.

— he wastes no time and guides you to the table where the three men are seated, and boy does he give you a grand entrance.

— “everyone, say hi to my girlfriend.”

— it’s an order, not a choice.

— he even raises your arm and twirls you around, earning a stifled laughter from hyuk as he couldn’t believe the idiocracy he’s witnessing.

— you’ve managed to make wooin so fucking smitten for you, it’s almost admirable.

— “don’t think about buying any drinks for her, yeah? only i get to do that.”

— warnings after warnings for the boys came out of his mouth as he pulls you close, marking his territory even further.

— you sit down with him, and the three men don’t dare to look your way, earning a triumphant smirk across his lips.

꩜ hyuk.

— it all started when wooin asked him whether he had a girlfriend, or was seeing anyone at the moment

— obviously, he didn’t expect hyuk to say yes.

— he was nonchalant about it as well,

— “mhm, i have a girlfriend, why?”

— wooin was stoked for his best bud, and playfully asked him to invite you over for one of their races.

— another thing wooin expected hyuk to disagree on.

— but your boyfriend said sure to his invitation for you, and now you’re in the sabbath crew’s locker room with hyuk standing behind you.

— he has his hands on your shoulders, his presence towering over your figure.

— “meet my girlfriend,”

— you smile awkwardly and give a small wave, and wooin approaches you with a smirk.

— vinny and joker nod at you in acknowledgement.

— but before wooin could get too close, hyuk pulls you behind him, stepping in between you and wooin.

— possessive indeed, because hyuk has been obsessed with you ever since he locked eyes with you.

— he couldn’t afford to let you get swept away by wooin.

— but you too are as in love as him, tugging the back of his shirt in harmless possession.

— you wish you could see the subtle smirk on hyuk’s face when he realised what you were doing.

[burning-academia-if]

How would the Ros react if every time they were about to have their first kiss with the MC, they just kept getting interrupted by something, sitcom style?

This feels like part 2 to the Headmaster ask lmaO

Rook: If it was one of those things were it happened multiple times no matter what he did, I think he'd just take it as a sign alksdjfalj "Like no, universe, you're right, this was a bad idea." I think he'd give up, and the second he did, he'd instead find myself doing the sitcom situation of like, tripping over an uneven piece of sidewalk, crashing into you, and somehow as the two of you tumble to the ground your lips meet. Because of course that's how that would happen

Beck: I think he wouldn't really be phased the first time. Like, sometimes things happen, but I think he'd get exasperated and slightly suspicious if it keeps happening. I also think he'd like, test his theory at first too? Like there comes a point where he's like "Huh, this can't be coincidence." He does end up just rolling with the punches the whole time, until finally, he gets the chance to kiss you like he's been dying to

Rhea: Depending on the situation, I think she manages to play it cool at first, and even if it was other people interrupting the moment, she'd play it off. But the more things keep happening the more frustrated she gets until she finally breaks and the next thing you know she is pulling through a door and into an empty room or something to dramatic kiss you like, "I've been trying to do this all day, and I can't wait a second longer-" before realizing what she did, burning bright red and apologizing profusely lol

Zoe: They are but a bundle of nerves and embarrassment masquerading as a living, breathing person. What do you MEAN they keep getting interrupted whenever they finally work up the nerve to kiss you (or let you kiss them). What do you mean they've been caught red handed in a failed attempt at it by another human being. I can imagine them accidentally letting it slip to their siblings, too, and their brother just relentlessly making fun of them and their negative rizz or something just to add insult to injury

Lars: My man does not care about interruptions LMAO unless you're like, dragged away from him or something he is ignoring everything and everyone else around the two of you. Nothing matters, no matter how ridiculous or distracting it is. He is getting that kiss

???: You know, I feel like this would play out like a standard episode, where the whole episode is spent with the two characters trying to kiss and always failing, only for them to Just Manage it in the end. It would be both frustrating and semi-funny to them because they want it to be romantic, but of course the universe is saying no to that. At least it's in absurd ways instead of how they thought it might have gone. They wish it could have gone the way they planned, but in the end, they're glad to have kissed you at all

[aastroopheel]

Plz do another Cook one you write him so well!!

I'd love to see an enemies to lovers kind of thing where reader hates him after they had hooked up at a party a year prior and Cook ghosted her immediately after. She ends up with an arsehole boyfriend that ends up abusing her at a party and Cook walks into the bathroom (in his usual party state, pissed drunk and all) and he finds her crying in the bathroom and sees whats done to her. He tries to act like he doesn't care much for her but deep down he feels protective of her. (And he probably would bash the bf lmao 🙈💗)

Thanks sm!!

Hey babes! Sorry for the wait I had exams to take care of lol (RELEASE ME) (i am finally free so HERE YOU GO)

GOOD PARTIES AND HARD WORDS

You two were definitely NOT on good terms. Actually, there were no terms between you two. He fucked you in some random bathroom at one of the many parties you attended and then…he left, like nothing, like it didn’t even happened. 

It was one night. One of those parties: bodies pressed tight, music so loud it made your ribs vibrate, and Cook, wild-eyed and charming in the way that made girls throw themselves at him like it meant something.

You weren’t that girl. Or at least, you told yourself that. But he caught your eye that night, really looked at you, not like everyone else did. Not like a game. Not like a conquest. It felt real, raw, messy. However, later you found out he was just high and horny. 

“That was mad, thanks!” and he left you there, panties still undone and your heart still going crazy, your reflection in the bathroom mirror  laughing at you.

You didn’t forget though. It wasn’t your first time, thank god, but you did have a crush on him and he just…he was Cook, what were you expecting?

Since then, your paths cross more than you’d like, mutual friends, shared parties, college events. Every time he walks in, your stomach knots. And he? He still acts like the same arrogant, messy boy. But every so often, he watches you  when he thinks you’re not looking. Like he wants to say something. Like he regrets it. 

He jokes about screwing girls that are his friends when you’re near. No one gets it, they think he’s talking about Effy or even Panda but you know, of course you do.

You took a long drag from your cigarette, the end glowing like the rage bubbling in your chest. The rooftop was cold, but not enough to numb what was clawing its way out of you.

“God, Cook is such a twat.”

Katie snorted. “What’d he do now?”

“What hasn’t he done?” you shot back, gesturing vaguely toward the group of teens sitting behind them where his laugh—loud, obnoxious, way too confident—filled the air. “Honestly, it’s impressive. Like, Olympic-level assholery.”

“You used to like him.”

You raised a brow. “Correction: I liked the idea of him. Briefly. Very briefly. Until he reminded me he’s emotionally unavailable with the maturity level of a feral cat.”

The red headed grinned. “So you’re totally over it?”

You laughed. “Oh, 100 percent. I’ve transcended. I'm on a whole new spiritual plane where Cook doesn’t exist, except when he opens his mouth and reminds me why birth control should be handed out with his name on it.” There was a pause. Then you added, more casually: “But really… imagine shagging someone and then pretending they don’t exist the next day. Like, bold of him to assume I’d be begging for round two.”

The straight twin gave you a look.

“What?” you said, shrugging. “I’m fine. I’m great. I just hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and hope he trips over his own ego someday. That’s all.” You crossed your arms and looked out toward where he was, loud as ever, like nothing could touch him.

And you told yourself again: You don’t care.

“Oi.”

You flinched before you even turned around, that voice had a way of cutting through any noise, somehow always managing to sound like it belonged and didn’t at the same time.

Cook stood a few feet behind you, bottle of something cheap in hand, expression unreadable. His usual swagger was there, chin tilted, eyes heavy-lidded, like he didn’t care. But his jaw was clenched.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Eavesdropping now?”

“Didn’t have to.” He took a sip. “You were basically narrating it to the whole roof.”

Katie suddenly found the sky fascinating and backed away with a mutter, “Gonna go find Effy…”

Now it was just you and him. Again.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said coolly. “It wasn’t about you. It was just… inspired by you.”

He chuckled once, dark and low. “Right. Just casual slander.”

You rolled your eyes again. It seems it was a natural reaction to his presence. “If it was slander, it wouldn’t be true.”

He stepped closer, not close enough to touch, but close enough that you could smell the smoke and whiskey on him. “You’re still pissed.”

“Nope,” you lied, arms crossed. “I’ve evolved, remember? Leveled up. Transcended.”

“You called me a twat,” he reminded you, like that somehow proved he cared.

“You are a twat,” you said, voice calm. “One who thinks ghosting someone after sleeping with them is just part of the Cook Experience™.”

He winced, just a flicker, but you saw it. “I thought—” He paused. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

You scoffed. “Wow. Did you rehearse that apology or is it just naturally that pathetic?”

That one hit. You watched it land. 

He looked away for a second, back toward the group, then at you again — a little quieter now. “Look, I’m not good at the whole... aftermath bit. I mess shit up, alright? You’re not the only one I’ve ghosted.”

“Oh, cool,” you snapped. “So it wasn’t personal? Just part of your routine? Great. Really makes me feel special.” You turned to walk off, adrenaline buzzing, but his voice caught you.

“It was personal.”

You froze.

He didn’t move, didn’t step closer — just stood there with his stupid messy hair and his cracked voice and the look of someone who actually gave a shit but didn’t know how to say it.

And that made you even angrier.

You laughed under your breath. “Too little, too late, Cook. Go back to your little crowd. Be loud. Be funny. Be forgettable.”

And with that, you walked away.

You weren’t supposed to be there. You’d told Katie at least five times that you were “definitely staying in tonight”, which was code for lying in bed with cold tea and ignoring texts. But then she showed up at your door with eyeliner, cheap wine, and that look that meant you weren’t winning the argument.

So now you were here, in someone’s too-warm kitchen with music pulsing through the walls and the overwhelming smell of weed and deodorant wafting in from the hallway.

You stood with your back to the fridge, one hand wrapped around a drink you didn’t really want, the other tugging absently at your sleeve. You were zoning out, not at anyone in particular, just… out, when someone bumped your arm.

“Shit- sorry,” came the voice, not aggressive, just surprised. You blinked, pulled yourself back to earth, and turned your head. He wasn’t familiar. Which was rare at these things.

Tall. Dark hair curling just slightly at the ends. A hoodie thrown over what might have once been a school uniform shirt. There was something soft about him, even in the dim kitchen light. The kind of guy who didn’t lean too close, who kept his hands visible like he was careful about taking up space.

He glanced at your cup. “Didn’t spill it, did I?”

You looked down. “Still intact.”

He grinned. “Then I’ve officially done better than last time I tried to pour myself a drink here.”

You gave a quiet laugh, despite yourself. He stuck his hand out. “Matt.”

You hesitated just long enough for him to notice, then shook it. Your name left your lips before you had time to overthink it.

“Nice to meet you, mystery fridge girl,” he said.

You snorted. “Terrible nickname.”

“I know. I panicked. I’m working on it.” There was a pause, but not the awkward kind. More like an exhale. You realized, distantly, that it had been a while since someone new made you feel… not on edge.

He didn’t ask what school you went to. He didn’t scan the room for someone hotter mid-conversation. He didn’t ask to go to a more private room. He asked about your hobbies, your friends, what drink was of your liking, the name of your pet and he even asked for your phone number!

“Alright, you better expect a call from me soon” he told you after his friend came to take him away from you and ‘your fridge’ as he called it. You smiled and he waved goodbye to you until he couldn’t see any more.

The first time Matt kissed you, it was raining.

You didn’t realize how starved you were for simple kindness until it came in the shape of someone like him.

Not the dramatic, rom-com kind, just a fine mist, the kind that made your hair stick to your forehead and your clothes dampen in patches. You were walking home after a late-night convenience store run, a plastic bag swinging between you, filled with biscuits and some terrible energy drink he swore by.

He stopped under the awning of a closed-off bakery and looked at you like it was obvious.

You tilted your head. “What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just… you look like someone I don’t want to stop looking at.”

And then he kissed you. Soft, unsure at first, like he was giving you a chance to back out. You didn’t. It wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t adrenaline. It was warm.

And warm was what you needed.

He was warm every time after that. He never grabbed. Always asked. He noticed things, when you were too quiet, when you picked at your nails, when you looked at your phone and sighed like the weight of everything was sitting in your chest.

“You overthink too much,” he said one night, tracing circles on your thigh as you lay in his bed, your head tucked under his chin. “You can just be… with me.”

And maybe it was cliché. Maybe he’d said that before to someone else.

But that night, you let yourself believe it.

It started small.

The first time was when you wore that sheer black top to a party.

 You’d barely made it past the front door before Matt appeared at your side, his hand gentle on your arm, his voice light but firm.

“You going out dressed like that?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, not sweetly, not cruelly. Just… tightly. “Just thought we talked about that one. It’s a bit much, yeah?”

You looked down at yourself. It was nothing you hadn’t worn before. Nothing you hadn’t felt confident in. But suddenly, your skin prickled. You tugged your jacket tighter.

He kissed your cheek. “Didn’t mean to upset you. Just saying. You're better than needing to show off like that.”

You nodded. Even smiled.

He loved you. He just didn’t want other people to look.

The second time, it was about Cook.

Of course it was.

It was after another party, one where Cook had barely even spoken to you. Just nodded across the room, that cocky half-smirk on his lips, like he knew something you didn’t.

You hadn’t even acknowledged him.

But Matt saw.

And the second you stepped outside, his hand found yours — too tight.

“Still into that dickhead?” he asked.

You yanked your hand back, shocked. “What?”

“Cook,” he said, like the name tasted bitter. “You looked at him.”

“I didn’t-” You paused. “Matt, seriously?”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t snap. He just sighed. “I just don’t want to be a joke to you.”

You stared at him. “You’re not.”

He nodded. Kissed your forehead. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

And you didn’t say anything after that.

But you stopped going to parties if you knew Cook would be there.

Just in case.

You still remembered how he could be soft.

Like when he rubbed your back while you cried after failing that exam. Or when he biked twenty minutes to your house because you texted, I just don’t want to be alone right now, and he was there before you’d even closed your phone.

It made the cold moments harder to hold against him. Because he could be warm. He was good. Most of the time.

And when he wasn’t…well, maybe you just said the wrong thing. Or looked at the wrong person. Or wore the wrong shirt. Or stayed quiet when he needed you loud. He didn’t hurt you. He just… made you feel like you could hurt him, if you weren’t careful. And that made you careful. All the time.

The vibration of your phone cuts through the quiet. You glance at the screen. It’s a message from Katie.

Party tonight at Nate’s. You’re coming, yeah?

You hesitate. You’re curled on the couch, legs tucked under you, your phone clutched tight. From the kitchen, Matt is rummaging through drawers, swearing under his breath about something insignificant, again.

Dunno. Might be staying in.

Katie replies in under ten seconds.

Babe. Don’t do this again.You haven’t been out in weeks.

Before you can type a reply, your screen lights up: Incoming call from Katie.

You answer in a whisper. “Hey.”

Her voice is all brightness at the surface, but there’s an edge underneath.  “Please don’t tell me Matt’s got you locked down again.”

“It’s not like that,” you say automatically. Too fast.

“Mmm,” she says. “Sure.” There’s a beat of silence. You pick at a loose thread on your hoodie sleeve.

“He just… doesn’t love parties. Says they’re full of idiots. And I went to the last one without him and he-” You stop. You’ve said too much.

Katie doesn’t miss a thing. “And he what?”

“Nothing. It was stupid.”

“Is he watching you right now?”

“No,” you sigh. From the kitchen, a cabinet slams. You flinch. “I just don’t want to fight tonight,” you add, softer now.

Katie’s voice softens too but it still cuts.  “You wouldn’t need to fight if you were with someone who actually respected you.” Silence. The heavy, guilty kind. “Look,” she says, gentler now, “you don’t have to drink. Or dance. Or even talk to anyone. Just come. Be around people who love you. Remember who you are.”

You swallow hard. Your eyes sting unexpectedly. “I don’t know if he’ll let me,” you whisper — and immediately hate yourself for the wording.  Let me.

Katie doesn’t say anything at first. But when she does, her voice is quiet, heavy. “That’s not love, babe. That’s a cage.” You can’t speak. You just sit there, staring at the floor. “I’ll send you the address,” she says. “I’ll be waiting outside. One hour.”

The call ends.

You stare at your screen. The text with the party info buzzes in seconds later. Your thumb hovers above it. The kitchen has gone silent. You hear Matt’s footsteps getting closer.

You lock the phone, shove it under a pillow, and paste on a smile. He walks in from the kitchen, two beers in hand. That familiar grin on his face, all charm, all ease,  but you can already feel it: the weight of his gaze scanning you like a spotlight.

“Who were you talking to?” he asks casually, settling beside you.

Your throat tightens. “Katie.”

He hums like the name itself is a warning.

“What’d she want?”

“Party invite,” you say, eyes flicking toward the muted TV.

He hands you a bottle, pops open his own with a hiss. “You told her no, right?” It’s not a question. Not really.

“Yeah,” you lie. “Of course.”

He leans in, kisses your temple, and murmurs, “Good girl.” The conversation’s over. But your heartbeat doesn’t calm. Not even close.

Later, he’s passed out next to you, one arm thrown across your ribs like a lock. His breath is heavy with beer. His weight anchors you to the bed. You lie there staring at the ceiling, chest tight, jaw locked. Then, carefully, you slide out from under his arm like you’re escaping something dangerous. Because you are.

He mumbles something. Your heart skips. But he rolls over and starts snoring.

You dress in silence. A loose t-shirt. Jeans. A flick of eyeliner, not too much. Just enough to feel a little more like yourself.

You check your phone.

Outside. I’ve got shots and zero judgment. —Katie

A small, shaky smile tugs at your mouth. You slip out the front door without a sound.

Nate’s place is alive when you arrive. Lights glowing behind the windows, music pulsing through the floor. The kind of night that swallows you whole.

Katie finds you in seconds. Arms wide. Grinning. “There you are,” she breathes, pulling you into a hug that squeezes the tension from your bones. “You look like shit. In a cute way.”

You laugh. And it feels strange  but good. Like remembering an old language.

The night unfolds around you like something you almost forgot existed. Drinks are pressed into your hand. Compliments. Faces you recognize. People who don’t ask you to apologize for existing.

You dance. You smile. You breathe. And for a little while,  maybe longer, you forget Matt even exists.

Until you see him.

He’s there, leaning against the hallway wall near the stairs. Arms crossed. Gaze fixed on you like you were never really out of his sight.

He doesn’t look angry. That’s worse. He looks calm.

“Hey,” he says, as if you just bumped into each other at the grocery store.

Your smile vanishes. “What are you doing here?”

He pushes off the wall, all smoothness. “Funny. Was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Your pulse spikes. You turn to leave.

But he’s already at your side, fingers looping around your wrist — not bruising, not rough. Just… firm. Too firm.

“We need to talk.”

“Not here,” you whisper, eyes darting around. No one’s looking. No one sees or at least that’s what you think. 

There’s a pair of blue eyes on you. Always.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. The bathroom door creaks open. He pulls you in. Clicks the lock. The sound is deafening.

“What the hell, Matt?”

“You lied to me,” he says. Still calm. Still smiling. “You looked me in the face and said you weren’t going. And yet…”

“I just wanted to go out,” you say, breath shallow. “You were asleep.”

He laughs. But it’s empty. “I’m asleep for one hour and suddenly you’re off playing single. Dressed like that. Grinding on strangers.”

“I wasn’t- Matt, I didn’t do anything” You say as if you were defending yourself to the cops.

He steps closer. The air changes.

“You think I’m stupid?”

“No, I- please, I’m not-” your words choke you, his gaze is drowning you.

“You’re making me look like a fucking mug in front of everyone,” he hisses, heat rising in his voice now. “You want them thinking you’re available? You want someone else to take you home?”

“I never said that,” you plead, your voice cracking. “You’re twisting it-”

He takes another step. Your back hits the sink. Nowhere to go.

“You lied,” he growls. “You lied to me. And you let her poison your head. Katie’s been whispering shit for weeks.”

“Stop,” you whisper. You push at his chest but he doesn’t budge.

“You were mine,” he says. Voice trembling now, like he’s the one breaking. “And you threw it all away for one night.”

Then he lifts a hand, you flinch but the slap hits you anyway. You gasp as you touch your –now read and stinging— cheek. Your eyes burn. Your breath turns shallow. Panic coils in your chest.

He stares down at you, he is furious, jealous. You beg him but soon his hands are on you, he kisses you roughly as if he was apologising but for you he was just making it worse. You move your head away from his and he grabs it to kiss you again. He bites your lip so you open your mouth and he can get his tongue inside of it. 

“Stop it” he almost growls in your mouth. “Stop fucking crying!” he shouts and you sob, your hands clinging on his jumper. He looks at them and then at you and he sees a crying mess with her lip bleeding and her left cheek red and swollen. He sighs and steps back to give you some space. “Listen, I’m going to get a beer and then we’ll leave. You hear me?” You say nothing “I’ll take that as a yes. Fix your face before coming down, I don’t need any more attention to you” 

The door slams shut behind him, and the bathroom feels too small, too quiet. You slide to the cold tile floor, arms over your head, hands trembling.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper to yourself, the words heavy with salt and shame. Because how the fuck didn’t you see this coming? How many excuses had you made for him? How many times had you lied to your friends, to yourself,  pretending it wasn’t this bad?

Your cheek still stings. Your lip’s throbbing now, the metallic taste of blood sticking to your teeth. You breathe in too fast and it hitches, comes out as a sob.

A knock, no, more like a bang, hits the door a minute later. Then a twist of the handle. You freeze.

“Bathroom’s in use!” you shout from outside, annoyed. Another rattle. Then the sound of the lock being picked.

Your heart spikes — what if it’s Matt again?

But when the door swings open, it’s not him.

It’s Cook.

Half-drunk, eyes red, jacket hanging off one shoulder like it always is. A bottle in one hand. He stumbles slightly, then catches himself. His mouth opens with a cocky line already forming. 

Then he sees you. Everything changes. He goes still. Completely still.

His gaze drops to your face. The cheek. The blood on your lip. Your puffy eyes. The bottle in his hand lowers slowly. “What the fuck,” he mutters, voice suddenly raw.

You flinch. Try to wipe your face. Look away. “Get out,” you whisper. “I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

“You think I give a fuck what you want right now?” he snaps, not cruel, not angry, but furious in a different way. Furious for you. “What the hell happened?”

You shake your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

His eyes darken. “It was him, wasn’t it?” You don’t answer. But that’s answer enough. Cook’s jaw tightens. His fists ball. He looks like he might tear the walls down with his bare hands.

You close your eyes. “Please. Just… don’t. I can’t handle you being a dick on top of everything else.”

“I’m not gonna be a dick,” he says, and his voice has dropped again. This time softer. Wounded, almost. “Not to you. Not right now.” A long pause. Then, quieter: “I didn’t know he was like that.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, bitter. “Neither did I.”

Cook crouches slowly in front of you. Not touching. Not even reaching. Just… there.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

You laugh. Or maybe sob. It’s a broken sound either way. “Bit late for that, Cook.”

He looks at you then, really looks. And suddenly there’s nothing reckless in his eyes. No party-boy shine. Just something fierce. Protective.

“I didn’t mean to leave you like that,” he says. “That night. After the party. I should’ve called you. Texted. Anything.” You don’t say anything. You can’t trust yourself to. “Let me help now,” he says. “Please.”

That word hits harder than anything else: please. He’s still crouched in front of you, waiting. No rush. No pressure. Just there. Like he’s not moving unless you say so.

“Help me how?” you ask him, he is staring at you with dizzy eyes and a scowl on his face. “You’re not- you are too wasted to do something for me” 

He shakes his head, disagreeing with your words. “I can do what I’m best at” You look at him with a brow raised. “I can ruin his night” He has that devilish expression on his face as he moves his feet closer to yours, touching the front of your shoes with his dirty ones. You look there and then back at his face and somehow he does look like he means it. Like he wants to help you. “I’ll call Katie for you and then I’ll do my part of the plan” 

“What plan?” You watch him get up.

“I already told you” He rolls his eyes, steading himself on the wall. “I’m fucking ruining that motherfucker night” His words don’t really uh…form? or at least for you because he just mumbles them before getting out of the bathroom. 

Cook slams the bathroom door behind him, jaw tight, breath ragged. His fists are still shaking. He can feel your broken voice still echoing in his ears, feel the heat off your cheek like it’s burning into him instead.

That prick put his hands on you.

He charges down the stairs, pushing past a couple making out on the landing, past music and bodies and noise, all of it blurred, all of it background now.

He needs to find Katie.

It doesn’t take long. She’s near the kitchen, laughing at something some guy just said, drink in hand. But as soon as she sees Cook storming toward her, that laugh dies instantly.

“Where is he?” Cook growls.

“Where’s who?” Katie frowns, eyes scanning him.

“Matt.”

Her expression shifts. Sharp. Focused. “Why?”

Cook doesn’t answer right away, just runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to keep himself from exploding. Then he steps closer, so only she can hear.

“He hit her.”

Katie goes completely still. “What?” she says, voice quiet, deadly.

“In the bathroom,” Cook mutters, glancing back over his shoulder. “I found her on the fuckin’ floor, Katie. Cryin’. Cheek red, lip split. Said he slapped her. Tried- tried to force himself on her. She told him to stop and he didn’t listen.”

Katie’s jaw clenches so tight her teeth grind. The plastic cup in her hand cracks a little under the pressure of her grip. “Where is she now?” she says, already moving.

“Still in the bathroom. Locked it behind me. Didn’t want anyone to see her like that.”

Katie’s eyes flicker with something dangerous. Protective. Almost maternal. “I’ll go to her.” Cook nods once, and steps back.Then she grabs his arm. “And you?”

His voice is low, lethal. “Gonna find that cunt.”

Katie doesn’t try to stop him. She just looks at him, something fierce behind her eyes. “Don’t hold back.”

“I won’t.”

And with that, they part ways. Katie disappearing back up the stairs like a bullet, and Cook storming through the crowd, fists already clenching, gaze burning like a lit fuse, ready to find Matt. 

The door rattles gently. Your head jerks up.

“It’s me,” Katie’s voice says, soft through the wood. “It’s just me. Open up, babe.”

You hesitate. The idea of anyone seeing you like this, puffy eyes, trembling hands, lip bloodied, it feels unbearable.

But it’s Katie, your best friend. And you can’t hold this alone anymore.

You reach up, unlock the door. She pushes in carefully, slowly, like she’s afraid you’ll break if she moves too fast. Her eyes find your face, her breath catches. A hand flies to her mouth.

“Oh, my god…”

You look down. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Katie’s already on her knees beside you, wrapping her arms around you without hesitation. “No. Don’t. Don’t shrink like that. This isn’t on you.” You sob into her shoulder, and she holds tighter. “Cook told me,” she whispers. “He’s going after him.”

You lift your head, heart skipping. “No, no- he’ll- Matt’s gonna lose it, he-”

“Good,” Katie says, fierce. “Let him.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, hands framing your face so gently it makes your chest ache. “Listen to me. You’re not alone anymore. You hear me? You’re not.”

Cook’s heart is still thudding from the bathroom. He doesn’t care who sees him now. He barrels through the crowd, eyes locked on one thing: Matt.

Matt’s still by the kitchen, casually chatting like nothing happened. Drink in one hand, leaning back against the counter like he owns the place.

Cook wants to take a shot and then shoot that stupid cunt. But he won’t, he knows you wouldn’t want to see him in jail..again. He pushes past two people and grabs Matt’s shirt with both hands, slamming him hard against the cabinets. Bottles clatter. A girl nearby screams.

“The fuck did you just do?” Cook spits, nose inches from Matt’s.

Matt stumbles, confused, caught off guard. “What are you-?”

Cook doesn’t wait. He swings. The punch lands hard, right across Matt’s cheekbone. The same place he had slapped you. He crashes sideways into the counter, groaning. Beer spills, glass shatters. The music dips for a second, just long enough for people to realize something’s happening.

Matt tries to recover, shaking it off, but Cook’s already in his face again.

“You laid your fuckin’ hands on her?”

Matt coughs, tries to shove Cook off. “You don’t know what she-”

Cook shoves him again, harder this time. “She was crying on the floor! You think that makes you a man, yeah?”

Matt swings this time, a clumsy, panicked jab. It grazes Cook’s jaw, barely. But Cook sees red now. He lunges, grabs Matt’s hoodie, drives him back against the fridge.

“Touch her again and I’ll put you in the ground,” Cook hisses through gritted teeth Now people are really watching. Someone yells for Nate.

A pair of arms grab Cook from behind, pulling him off. “That’s enough, mate!”

Cook resists, trying to break free. “Let me go!” Matt slumps against the fridge, panting, face red and lip busted. He wipes his mouth, eyes darting nervously.

“She lied to me,” he mumbles. “She fucking… she fucking used me!”

Cook’s voice is deadly calm now. “Are you victimizing yourself right now?” Matt opens his mouth, but Cook just shakes his head. “Nah. Don’t. You’ve said enough.”

Cook yanks himself free from the arms holding him and turns toward the stairs, toward you  jaw tight, knuckles raw. Someone mutters, “Jesus, what the fuck happened?”

But Cook doesn’t look back.

“I’ll be right behind that door, oaky?” Katie smiles softly at you before she walks by Cook. “Behave yourself” Cook winks at her and closes the door softly .It’s quieter up here, away from the chaos of the party. Just the muffled thump of bass through the walls, far away now.

You sit down on the edge of the bed slowly. Not because you want to, but because your legs feel like they’re giving out. The ache in your cheek is sharp now. Your lip stings every time you move your mouth.

Cook stands near the door. Still. Like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to come any closer. You don’t look at him. You stare down at your hands, knotted together in your lap.

“I know you don’t like violence but he deserved it,” he says finally. His voice is quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

You swallow, barely nodding. “I know.”

He runs a hand down his face, rough. “Listen, what he did….” That makes you look up. He catches it, shakes his head. “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Silence.

“I thought you didn’t care about me anymore,” you say. It comes out smaller than you mean it to.

He huffs, almost a laugh but there's no humour in it. “Yeah, well. Thought ignoring you would make it easier.” He shrugs, still not moving. “Didn’t.”

You meet his eyes.

There’s something new there. Still wild. Still restless. But softer, somehow. Guilt around the edges.

He finally steps forward, slow like he’s walking up to a ledge. He crouches in front of you, hands on his knees, but doesn’t touch you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, low. “About before. That night. After.”

You nod, just a little, but it’s too much. You look away quickly. “I don’t know why I let it happen,” you whisper, voice tight. “Matt. All of it. I thought he loved me.”

Cook is quiet for a long moment.

“You’re not stupid, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says. “He’s just good at acting like a decent person until he’s not.”

Your throat clenches. “He told me no one else would want me. Not really.”

He exhales hard. “Then he’s a bigger fucking idiot than I thought.”

You manage a shaky breath.

“I would’ve wanted you,” he says, softer now. “I mean. I did. I do. Just didn’t know how to be… enough, I guess.”

You finally look at him. His face is all sharp edges and shadows. But his eyes, they’re open now. Unhidden.

He stands slowly, offering you a hand.

You hesitate.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he adds. “Just… let me get you out of here.”

You take his hand.

“Didn’t know you were this nice” you joked.

It’s warm. Solid. The first safe thing you’ve felt in weeks.

“It’s probably the vodka in me” He says back to you with his usual smirk.

He doesn’t let go.

I think this is the longest i've ever written lol.

Let me know what you think!!!

Bye bye queen

[sos-gone-deeper]

I Could Be A Good Mother (Travis Martinez x Reader) (Part 4 - Final Part)

Part 3

Winter is gone, and spring brings new beginnings, new people, and new memories in the wilderness. Post rescue, you and Travis adapt to your new life together.

Notes:

- More talk of childbirth in this chapter

- Takes place during season 3? or maybe a little bit before it, and also a larger time jump towards the end.

- I've said it once but this isn't accurate to the plot at all lol

- I didn't name the baby because I literally did not know what to choose lmao

-------------------------------------

Winter was harsh. There was no denying it. After what had become of Jackie, everyone worried for the day that the cold got to them. Especially when the cabin burned down.

But winter finally left, and when it did it left you with a new purpose. A new purpose that only came after tireless pushing, angrily yelling at Mari who was joking too much for your liking, and squeezing Travis' hand until you were sure you'd broken it. You'd nearly done the same as Shauna did and passed out. You didn't let yourself slip away until you heard the baby cry, and even then you were afraid that in this scenario, passing out could lead to you dying.

So there you laid on the floor of yours and Travis' makeshift hut, feeling the worst you ever had but also somehow the best. Javi was waiting outside somewhere, and you'd only let a few of the girls come in. While Misty tended to you, you tried to stay awake by listening to the girls talk to your baby in an effort to soothe it. Travis was holding the baby, but his eyes weren't leaving you.

"It's a girl." Misty said. "She looks like you."

She was beautiful. You remember that being your first thought when Travis put the baby in your arms. And she really did look like you, just so much more tiny. You were so in love.

And so was Travis. All the restless nights and blood that had been shed melted away, and for a moment it was just him, you, and the baby, not a care in the world.

Everyone loved her, especially Javi. He got over his whole 'I wish it was a boy' mindset the second he held her. He carried her all over, showing her the people, the surroundings. Van and Tai would help by taking turns holding her on the nights where it felt impossible to calm her down. Akilah would hold her bunnies up to the baby, smiling at the giggles that escaped as her tiny hands grabbed at the bunny's ears.

Travis was obviously the most in love, other than you. It was hard for you to connect this Travis back to the grumpy Travis that was always sitting in the bleachers, either watching with a grimace or studying the ground, the Travis that claimed to hate the Yellowjackets. He was constantly asking if you were okay, if you needed him to take her. He carried her everywhere in the sling he had made from some old clothes, patting the top of her head every now and then. He'd splash with her in the lake as you washed clothes nearby, watching and laughing. And on the off chance that he wasn't completely engulfed by her, he would be clinging to you, kissing all over your face, following you as you did chores, practically stuck to you.

You were really starting to enjoy yourself out there. Sure, it was dirty still, and you were still hungry and desperately waiting for rescue, but you were starting to enjoy life again. Being postpartum meant you couldn't do much heavy lifting, and you couldn't stray far from your baby, so you helped Akliah with the animals. It felt nice to have something to keep you busy. You really started to appreciate the little moments of the life you were starting to build: midday naps in the hammock where all 3 of you managed to sleep at once (a rare occurrence), Javi playing with her the best he could while you and Travis tried to get stuff done around camp, watching her laugh as Lottie gently baptized her. Lottie insisted, much to your dismay. "I don't want the wilderness freak dipping my baby in the lake." You'd said to Natalie at dinner after Lottie brought the idea up.

One night, after a particularly good day, Travis was holding the baby while you worked on stitching a hole in a blanket. The sun was starting to set, and you two were the only ones currently around the campfire.

"I want to get away from this." Travis said out of nowhere.

"Me too." You said, still working at the blanket.

"She deserves a real home in the real world. You deserve that."

"Well so do you." You were quick to say. You turned to face him, and tried not to melt over the way his big arms were so gently holding your tiny daughter.

"Well, when we get rescued, what do you want? I mean, where do you want to live? What kind of house?" Travis asked.

"I don't care how big it is, just enough room for the three of us. I want a dog- no, two dogs. And a farm with lots of animals. And I want to be close to home." You knew these things were probably unrealistic to want. Neither of you had finished high school, and your return to the real world was surely gonna be a lot harder than anticipated. But in the moment, you just let yourself think about what you really wanted.

Travis decided that night that he would make it happen. And he did.

The following years were strange, to say the least. Cameras following you everywhere you went. Trying to relearn how to fit in with society while also learning how to be parents. A lot of the Yellowjackets lost touch. Lottie was in the hospital, Nat was in rehab, Shauna got married (You and Travis attending, of course), and the rest of the girls were out there, somewhere, struggling. But you never forgot them, never forgot the pain you all went through together.

The stormy weather was done and over with, and you realized that sitting on the porch one night. The sunset was painting the sky purple and pink, and Travis was in the chicken coop, pulling a baby chick up into the pocket of his overalls. Your daughter was waiting patiently next to you on the porch swing, her legs kicking back and forth. Javi and Travis' mom had left at the same time your parents did, thanking you for the Friday night dinners at your house that they hold so dear.

"Hold your hands out." Travis said, sitting on the other side of her. The chick spilled out of his pocket and into his hands, helping your gentle toddler hold it.

You spent a lot of time admiring your family, especially in moments like this. Travis was glowing, strong from finally having a balanced diet again, and you could see his personality being lit up again the longer you were away from the wilderness. And your daughter, who was growing up faster than you had anticipated, was the light of everyone's life, always reminding you that there was good in the bad.

You were so used to being just content that you often were worried this wasn't real, and you'd wake up in that cabin, afraid and sullen.

But this was real. And both you and Travis were perfectly okay with this. Just the three of you, in this big house with a farm, filled with constant laughter and love.

That night, after the whole farm was asleep in their pens and barns, Travis came inside to find the downstairs empty, but the nursery lit up with the dim nightlight. You were pacing back and forth in your daughter's room, patting her back and singing Landslide by Fleetwood Mac. The song brought Travis back to that fall night, watching you sing to Javi. He stood in the doorway, smiling gently, watching as you gently laid the girl in her crib.

Travis often found himself thinking that his first dream about you was some sort of prophecy, and in a way, maybe it was. The house. The baby girl. Everything had come true, in some way.

You nudged him out of the doorframe, quietly shutting the door behind you.

"I always liked hearing you sing that song." Travis said, taking your hand in his. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, catching on the wedding band you wore. It wasn't the biggest diamond, Jeff had pointed out at his and Shauna's wedding, but Travis knew you never cared about those material things.

"Oh, believe me, I know." You said, kissing him.

--------------------------------------------------------

Yay final part! So sorry for how long it took me to write this my life got super hectic and I also hit writers block lol. I also don't rlly know how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you guys enjoy!!

[hinamie]

i lied actually i'm not in the mood to finish this anymore orz

[grxmincvdescxnce]

contrary to how some may assume, given it rarely strayed from her side, the knight's massive broadsword was nowhere in view. in fact, rather unusually, veyn's weapon of choice remained hidden away during the entirety of her excursion into town — and explanation as to why would not be revealed until she happened across the blacksmith, thankful that her journey into the throng of selphia's plaza remained one without incident, thus far, and perhaps even fruitful.

"i find myself in need of a favor, old friend." leonore displays something of a rueful expression at her approach of the stand following the last customer who seemed to try his patience a fair bit, aware her 'favors' ( however rare ) often asked a fair amount of those she involved. still, the happy accident of finding them here, of all days, almost fills her with a sense of preemptive relief. "any chance you may be able to give a girl a hand?" a partially shattered yet evidently intricate, barely intact sliver of metal, tiny enough to fit in the palm of her bandaged hands, is brandished next. it’s pulled from the depths of her worn cloak and placed gently against the counter — a miniaturized version of the very broadsword often at her backside, free of its usual coverings. 

any familiarity marc has with the weapon would undoubtedly be from past occasions where they’ve crossed paths, as it was never a piece marc had his masterful hand in. the state of it indicates an unfortunate bout of bad luck despite the enchantments her sword naturally held. this was nothing new for someone like her, however, as bad luck seemed to trail her wherever she next turned.

"i’m told the miniaturization will fade in a few hours, but the damage .." the knight had risked a fair bit in making this call to scour the city, and hoped her judgment paid off with some form of direction to one who could, in fact, assist if not her old acquaintance. leonore found herself coming up short on options while on the road, however, now believing her favored blacksmith and his wonderful talents were a last resort. "anything you require for repairs or recommendations, i'll provide." somehow. of course, this latter part, specifically regarding ‘recommendations’, is mentioned a bit cheekily. the former executioner was quite certain there was no one better than marcus. and they both knew it.

status: open @cagliostrostart | locations: cagliostro plaza

Everything’s in a tizzy with everyone being the source of it. Trips to and from Orre Town were arduous as is. So to have such a blockade of Selphians lose their everloving marbles at the break of dawn was, well, really fucking shitty. The gossiping he could deal with. But the sudden fear mongering and general lack of awareness concerning space? Yeah, today's outing is bound to be a long one.

By the time Marc’s set up shop on the outskirts of the plaza, he’s already exhausted with the stupid questions. Don’t get him wrong, it’s great that business is booming ( the lesser weapons are already swept up within an hour ), but he swears each request gets more and more stupid. Thus, when yet another body blocks the sunlight under their humbly crafted tent, he’s the first to give a sour greeting.

“Daggers are all out, karambits a close second, don’t care for your theories ‘cause I’m not runnin’ a guess who’s gonna get picked Bingo night, only requests I’ll be taking are legit and good ones— got it? Got it. Feel free to peruse and shit.”

[hayconrisa]

finals are kicking my ass so ive been away BUT exciting news i convinced my design prof (the goat miranda) to let me do my final motion graphics project on unwind. so. unwind tv show title sequence coming soon who cheered

[kindahoping4forever]

LIGHTER - Galantis x David Guetta x 5SOS

Via Galantis on IG

Pre-save link

[alsaurus-loves-dean]

.

[raiiny-bay]

the final evolution

[alongtidesoflight]

.

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than file names

You're more amazing than Deific Artorius

[wordpress-blaze-15182341]

Map Says Yes, Politics Say No: How Geopolitics Hijacked Your Holiday Plans

Welcome onboard! You're flying Flight Number 2025. We’ll be cruising at 41,000 feet, navigating through plenty of global conflicts, cautiously sidestepping airspace bans, avoiding military drones, dodging diplomacy, and graciously praying that on today’s briefing, our flight map will not appear far much similar to that of a war game.

Remember the time when aviation meant connection? Yea, that time... Shucks! When routes were drawn in graceful arcs between beautiful cultures and magnificent continents?

Uh-huh...

Well you need to wake up!

It’s currently a maze out there of closed corridors and spontaneous political detours. Every conflict on the ground seems to punch a direct vertical or horizontal hole in the sky. A missile strike in Ukraine means rerouting over who knows where. Scandinavia maybe? A drone attack in the Red Sea adds hours to a normally shorter Gulf-bound flight. Additionally, somewhere across the globe, flight crews are getting called in early to combat passengers' miss connections. Think about the repercussions that has on the price of fuel!

No... Scratch that! Another air traffic controller may be having a mental breakdown, quietly crying in the break room.

Take the Middle East for one. A flight to Tel Aviv presently isn’t just about weather patterns, but about navigating geopolitical minefields. Yemen? No words. Syria? Ukraine? Iran? Numbers seem to be going up lately. And, while airlines market these changes as “operational adjustments,” what they really mean is: please don’t ask how close that detour was to a restricted zone because I kid you not. We are trying our best.

Meanwhile, aircraft leasing has turned into its own international 'todo sobre' soap opera. After the Russia sanctions hit, Moscow shrugged and kept hundreds of Western jets like a kid refusing to return borrowed toys. That one move spooked the entire aircraft leasing industry. Contracts got tighter, premiums skyrocketed, and everyone begun asking difficult questions such as, “What if this happens to my holiday destination? Should I really leave my family behind? What if I get stuck? How long is this going to take?”

Lest we forget, it isn't just the machinery that’s only under pressure. Think of those flying the machines. Pilots, the crew, check-in staff, other technical personnel that you meet along your journey and those behind the scenes. Literally anyone who had to smile while navigating unstable skies are feeling it too. Flying over conflict-adjacent zones only adds a new flavour of tension and trauma.

Not quite calm now aren't we?

This is a mental toll that rarely makes the usual headlines. Briefings have now suddenly included crisis contingencies. Not forgetting the quiet glances during approach into high-risk airports. Lets face it. Some pilots and cabin crew are intentionally delaying calls to family and friends because they don’t want to say where they just flew. Airlines might mention resilience in their press releases, but hardly speak about crew fatigue dressed up as impeccable professionalism.

Now it’s practically a no-go zone if you’re from a Western airline. Why you ask? The Arctic; a region once praised as the future of shortcuts for transpolar routes. However due to the airspace stand-off with Russia, lets just say... Nah! Instead, lets continue burning more and more fuel, taxing more and more money.

And while we are at it, how about we pretend that the longest way around is equally just as great.

Now, bring the attention back to the most important places you'd pass by before going on that holiday you've planned for for months or even years. Airports.

Even those places aren’t what they used to be anymore. Consider them geopolitical stages. While some are symbols of national pride, others signify national trauma. While one is shut down by drones, another inadvertently become military bases. Just-Like-That. Hence, security searching lines and surveillance become longer and tighter. Think of the impact this has on freedom of movement.

Less-Less-A little less free.

Even so, aviation, just like humans have this resilience to adapt to any situation because there will always be a need to travel, and pilots will always fly. Cabin crew will always be there. Why? Because, airports eventually end up reopening. But, is it really adapting or absorbing to the current stakes? And what are we really absorbing? Geopolitics, risk, trauma, stress... Normalcy at cruising altitudes with a broadened smile and a blinking seatbelt sign to warn you to take your seat, because we are passing an area of the proverbial turbulence.

Therefore, the next time your flight is delayed, or rerouted, or even canceled without warning, don’t just assume it was probably a lack of available crew or a technical glitch. It may very well have been a decision from above.

Government maybe? Who knows? Its no longer just turbulence. It’s the new normal. And no, there’s no safety card for that.

So, read and update yourself before you make any travel plans.

Till next time...

Source: Map Says Yes, Politics Say No: How Geopolitics Hijacked Your Holiday Plans