This Is Hallarious...

── SUCKER FOR YOU ۶ৎ     ⠀

★ FEATURING: sakusa kiyoomi ʚɞ

★ WARNINGS: nsfw content. timeskip haikyuu. oral (fem!receiving). fingering. pet names (sweetheart, baby girl), light degradation (slut). hair pulling. english isn't my first language. masterlist !!

the way kiyoomi craves you is madly. he could spend hours buring his face between your thighs, squeezing the flesh of them while his tongue plays with your hole and sucks your clit. his dark eyes are locked with his when he sucks his fingers, mouth covered with your fluids, and a string of split connects his lips and his fingers before he puts them inside you. "such a tight cunt. be a good slut and get used to it" his husky voice sends vibrations to your clit while he licks it just as a lollipop. your warm walls squeeze his fingers and yours lock with his black curls, pulling him closer to you — if that's even possible.

kiyoomi groans and he sucks your clit harder, adding a third finger inside you. a loud moan escapes your mouth and his digits fuck you harshly, you feel almost full and he barely started with you. your eyes roll back to your skull when he licks your pussy as his grip on your thigh tightens, you can't even form a proper sentence. "o-omi! me. coming. now" you mumble, biting your lower lip. rosy cheeks get even more flustered when he looks up at you and smacks your thigh, burying his fingers deeper.

"lemme taste you, sweetheart. lemme taste my pretty girl" he grunts, a primal urge as he rubs his bulge against the mattress. he needs you, but sakusa cares more about making you feel good. with a few thrust more, you feel your climax arriving and you pull his hair even more. free hand gripping the sheets when he swallows every single drop of your glory like he's a starving man in a dessert. "that's it, now you're going to take me like the good girl you are, right sweetheart? do you want me to fuck this pretty cunt?"

thinking about a second part, comment w your opinion (and if you want to be tagged if I actually do a 2d part) <3 reblogs are appreciated.

press start! — cursed bird app (8/22)

after spending almost a whole year on academic probation, you’re finally allowed to start your position as a manager for the nekoma boys volleyball team. you’re determined to stay focused on your team and academics, but things get a bit difficult when a certain middle blocker makes his way into your life

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a/n: ty all sm for all the lovely messages in my inbox, but i just wanted to let everyone know that i wont be posting taglist asks just for times’ sake 😭 if you send an ask for the taglist from now on you’ll be added i may just not respond, and if you arent tagged in two parts after sending the ask then just lmk cuz tumblr couldve eaten it as well!!

dark and mean Rick X whiny reader, s5 beard era??? (Ugh loveee😩) maybe reader annoyed him so he fucks her attitude away<3

NO BACK TALK ♡

pairing: rick grimes x bratty!fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), p in v, brat taming, age gap (20s, late 30s), daddy kink

a/n: brat tamer rick you know that's my shit 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 thank you for the request <33

"What was it? What were you saying back there?" Rick's raspy voice huffs against your ear.

A shiver goes down your spine as his hot breath lands on your skin. Sharp contrast to the cool night air all around. Your body is already shaky enough from his hips' brutal thrusts against your ass.

He has you pinned against the back wall of the church, split open on his cock. This spot is close enough to the safety of the group while providing the privacy he needs to have his way with you. Your cheek squishes against the wood, a small stream of drool trickling South on your chin.

"N-nothing," you whimper, "Was just trying to tell you- ah! Just wanted to tell you..."

Your voice trails off as the sentiment of your point becomes less important than the bliss Rick's length is battering into you. Soft moans drift from your lips as your mouth hangs open. He tuts and shakes his head, pressing more of his weight into you and rutting against your backside with more force.

"You're still tryin' to talk back?" he asks, "Still think you had a reason to give me all that attitude?"

"I said I was sorry," you whine, bottom lip jutting out on instinct.

This is the game you play with Rick. You're sure by now everyone else is sick of being unwilling bystanders to it, but you can never get enough. Ever since you met the older man, the two of you mixed together like a stray match in a keg of gunpowder.

He tries his hardest to lead this group. You know that's true. But life fucking sucks in the apocalypse. It's not your fault if you get a little fed up with things sometimes.

You take it out on him cause it's easy. You disagree with his plans without coming up with any of your own. You complain about assignments you're given. You whine about the lack of supplies and direction. You roll your eyes and sigh during minor disagreements while nearly throwing a fit for larger ones.

For the first six months he knew you, it drove him fucking crazy. He went to sleep at night dreading waking up because he knew he'd have to deal with you the next day. At one point, he was convinced that he'd die of high blood pressure before any walker got the chance to kill him.

But then he figured out the secret to dealing with you. It wasn't too long before the prison fell that he learned this little trick. The two of you were the only ones awake, and you had another huge fight about some inconsequential bullshit. He was supremely frustrated. You weren't showing any signs of conceding that you were being ridiculous either.

It's like a blur in his memory now, the way he pinned you against the hard brick wall. He tore open the tiny shorts you had on. And that was when he learned. Your pretty little pussy was like your control center. He just had to hit the right buttons to bring you back to normal.

Now when you act up, he gives you the chance to fix it. You'll say something in that pitchy tone of voice and pout at him, and he'll raise a brow. He'll ask you to repeat yourself. If you continue the challenge, he still tries to be civil and talk you down. But once you push too far, you end up with a firm hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the rest of the group.

That's what happened tonight.

He scoffs at your assertion that you'd apologized. "You said sorry when you realized you were in trouble," he grumbles.

His fingers dig into your waist, feeling the soft skin left exposed by your t-shirt that's riding up. Your toes curl inside your sneakers while your fingernails scrape against the chipping paint of the church's paneling.

"I still meant it," you insist.

"If you're so sorry, tell me why I have to teach you this same fuckin' lesson over and over again," he growls.

"I dunno... cause you didn't do it good enough the first time?" you offer.

He gives your hip a smack for that and shoves you harder against the wall with a forearm across your back. You can feel the cool silver of his watch on your shoulder blade. Your tits are just as smooshed as your cheek is now. You whine in response, your feet floundering against the dirt below, but he keeps fucking into you hard.

"Cute. Keep talking back like that and see where it gets you," he says.

"I was just joking, daddy," you respond with a little sniffle for maximum impact.

"Oh, I'm daddy now?" he mocks. Neither of your attempts at sympathy seem to have struck a chord. "I'm daddy when you want me to be nice to you, but not any other time. Do I have that right?"

"Nuh uh..."

"Yeah. You won't listen to me. Won't do anything I ask without givin' me hell. But the second you get tired of taking it like a big girl, I'm your daddy," he taunts.

You squeak as he yanks your hips against his pelvis particularly hard. His tip rams right into that sweet, spongy spot inside you. It knocks the breath from your lungs. Your knees start to buckle beneath you.

He watches as you really begin to slip. With a sigh, he pulls his cock out of your dripping hole. You whine about that too, of course, but you don't have time to complain before he flips you around and hooks his hands behind your knees. He folds you in half against the wall and slides right back into the slick heat of your cunt. His hips rock against you like they never stopped.

"Look at you. You think you have any right to question me when you can't even stand up on your own? When y'need daddy to do everything for you," he mutters.

You mewl and arch your back, but he keeps you exactly where he wants you. His shaft slams into you over and over, chasing the feeling of your walls clamping down on it. You can't fight back against what he's saying cause any semblance of cohesive argument has been fucked right out of you.

"Did-didn't mean it," you choke out.

"Then say sorry like you mean it," he breathes.

He pumps into you harder and deeper, making it difficult for you to answer. But you try your best because you're getting close, and after you cum, it'll be damn near impossible.

"I- I'm sorry, daddy. Didn't mean to make you mad. I'll try to be good and listen," you say before a whine cracks your voice and causes your head to drop forward.

He nudges your face up with his nose before rewarding you with a kiss. "That's my girl," he mumbles, "Gonna listen for me. Accept that you don't know what's best, hm? That you need me to take care of you and make the decisions?"

You nod with your quivering lip and glossy eyes.

That gets a little smirk on his lips, and he kisses your pout once more. His hand snakes around to thumb at your clit. The rapid fire swipes are all you need to topple over the edge and let go. You tense up and cover your own mouth, muffling your cries with your palm.

"There you go. Let it out," he grunts.

He grits his teeth, holding on long enough to fuck you through your high. As soon as you start to come down though, he pulls out and spills his seed onto the dirt beneath you.

His body shudders against yours, another set of harsh breaths blowing against your neck. You lean your head against his. The sweat that dampens his scalp smears on your cheek.

The both of you hold the position for a few moments longer before beginning to untangle. He sets you back on the ground, keeping his hands on your waist until he's sure you're stable. You pull your discarded shorts back on and adjust your shirt while he zips himself up.

When you're put together again, he grabs your wrist like he'd done earlier but with a more gentle touch. He pulls you flush against his body and encircles you with his arms, keeping you pressed to his chest. His hand rubs up and down your back in soothing strokes.

"My baby. All tuckered out and settled down for me now, yeah?" he whispers.

You nod, your eyes already feeling droopy with the calm that comes after release. His embrace is so warm it lulls you further into this docile, dreamy state.

Rick rolls his eyes again, but there's not as much irritation this time. A good fuck mellows him out just like it does you. Plus, in moments like these, he can admit to himself that he has a small soft spot for his little brat.

He sways back and forth with you for a few moments, planting occasional kisses on the top of your head.

"You gonna behave when we go back inside?" he murmurs.

"Yeah," you answer softly.

"That's my girl," he says, patting your ass before turning you loose. He lets you walk back around to the entrance first. While he has a great time putting you back in line, these trysts aren't really something he wants the whole group being hyper aware of. It's after a few minutes have gone by that he heads in himself, ready to mix back in with everyone else as if nothing had happened.

hey!! loved reading your fives and rex fics!! could i possibly maybe request a captain rex x reader where the reader is a jedi and she's ina. similar situation to the one ahsoka was in during the final season (order 66 scene)? eek ilysm

where trust falls apart

Rex x F!Reader / Jedi!Reader

word count: 4.6k

description: the end of the war is near, but when the clones turn on you, you come to understand that your hardship has only just begun

warnings/tags: angst! hurt/comfort, order 66, rex under the influence of the inhibitor chip, canon-typical violence, mention of the conspiracy arc, friends to lovers fluff at the end :)

a/n: hi anon ! thank you so much <3 I haven't written anything about order 66 yet so thanks for requesting, I hope this is the kind of thing you were looking for !

masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3

Looking out on the stars, you couldn’t help but muse on how the past few years, the years of your life that you had given to the war, were coming to a close.

There was something in the air, a feeling of calm, stillness, that felt oddly like being lulled into a false sense of security. The end of the war was nearing, everyone could feel it. Count Dooku had been defeated, General Kenobi had engaged General Grievous on Utapau, and you yourself had just come from Mandalore, having assisted in the capture of Darth Maul. There was a finality about the jump to hyperspace, as if leaving all grievances in the past, finally having prevailed against any and all adversaries.

Despite the relief you thought you might feel, there was something uncomfortable nagging at you from the back of your mind. You had thanked the clones alongside you for their part in the war, and then had retreated to a small room towards the back of the ship, with a window to the galaxy where you could just be alone with the stars.

It was emptiness that you felt, and you couldn’t figure out why. You should be happy, with the war ending, and hopefully being able to step down from your role as a General and become a keeper of the peace once again. However, the loneliness nagged at you nonetheless.

There was a knock at the door, and you pulled your eyes from the swirling blues of hyperspace to call for the person to enter. When the door zipped open, you were pleased to be met by the figure of the Captain of the 501st.

“General” he addressed you with a respectful nod of his head, though his expression betrayed something hesitant.

“Captain” you replied, “is everything alright?”

“Fine, sir” he confirmed, though didn’t elaborate as he stood in the doorway, gripping his helmet at his side.

”Did you need me for anything?” you asked, a little confused by his demeanour.

“No General, I just came to—” he paused, looking to the floor before he found your eyes again, “may I come in?”

You smiled, your questioning gaze softening at the timidity of the otherwise brave soldier, “of course”

Rex was a complication that you never saw coming.

With you not having your own battalion, you were placed wherever most support was needed, and in many of those instances, you had been deployed alongside the 501st. When you first met Rex, you had been struck by how easily confident he was, how collected he seemed in the face of a war that promised no end, and a General that sought to break his composure with every crazy new tactic he could think of.

As time passed, and you got to know Rex better, you became so effortlessly enamoured by him. He was charming and easy to get along with, if a little awkward at times, but that only endeared you to him more. You had spent many a campaign fighting at his side, and the feeling was always exhilarating. Your movements were harmonious with his in a especially instinctual way, working together as one unit without the need to tell him what to do. You understood each other, in a certain way.

Before you could think to pull yourself back, you realised your feelings towards him had reached the depths that no jedi should be indulging in. You tried to act as if it didn’t affect you, as if he didn’t affect you, but with every lingering look, every benevolent smile and awkward wave, you were failing miserably.

It was somewhat clear to you that Rex might feel the same way. He was always given away by the blush that spread across his cheeks whenever you thanked him or complimented his tactical skills, and as much as you felt you shouldn’t, sometimes you did so just to get that adorable reaction.

Rex was a restrained man. You knew that he’d never compromise your position as a jedi and as a General, and part of you was thankful for that, but there was also a part of you that wished upon every star that he would one day lose his composure and take what he so clearly wanted from you.

Now, as he closed the door behind him without taking his eyes from you, you took a moment to make another of those wishes.

“Are you okay General?” he asked, his voice cautious, as if he didn’t want to overstep.

“Yeah” you smiled softly, “just needed to get away for a moment”

Rex hesitated before he replied, “would you like me to leave?”

You chuckled slightly, “no, I’m glad you’re here”

The familiar blush spread across his cheeks as he shifted on his feet, forcing his gaze down to look at the floor.

“What did you come for?” you asked.

“Oh” the word fell from his lips as if he’d been caught, “I was just coming to check on you”

You couldn’t stop the way your heart fluttered, “why?”

Rex faltered, his eyes glued to his boots as he spoke quietly, “you know I care about you General, I—” he gulped, “I could tell that you weren’t feeling great after getting back to the ship, and I don’t want to impose but I couldn’t—”

“Rex” you placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping his rambling and making his head snap up to look at you with wide eyes, “thank you”

Rex didn’t speak, but the way his breath hitched, cheeks darkening further as his eyes dragged across your features, told you it had more of an effect on him than he’d let on. You shouldn’t test his patience, really, but watching him squirm like this was something that you relished in. You took your hand away from him, and he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath.

“I’ve just been thinking a lot, about the war coming to an end” you confessed, turning back around the look out of the window.

Rex came to stand beside you, “what about it?”

You sighed, an action that gave away your fatigue, “I’m just not sure what comes next, it’s… troubling”

Rex nodded, “I understand”

His voice was quiet, and you turned to look at him. His amber eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your insides constrict. You’d seen the look before, but never in such close quarters, and the earnestness of it was startling.

“I’ll miss working with you, General” he said quietly, and the way his eyebrows pinched slightly as he spoke told you that his words meant more than he was saying.

You turned your body, resting the side of your head against the glass as you looked up at him, “so will I”

For a moment, neither one of you moved, too wrapped up in each other’s gazes to find a reason to look away. It was thrilling, holding his attention in this way, and before you could restrain yourself, you were speaking again.

“I’ll miss you a lot, Rex”

Rex sighed slightly, his shoulders sagging as he shifted closer to you. His gaze turned sorrowful, and his nervousness was obvious in the way his fingers fidgeted with the edge of his helmet.

“General, I need to tell you something” he whispered, and your heart lurched.

You took a step towards him so that your boots nearly touched his, and for once he didn’t look like he was going to move away. You pried his helmet from his twitching fingers and placed it on the windowsill, and his hands fell to his sides.

“What is it, Captain?” you asked in reply.

He looked nervous to speak, his mouth opening and then promptly closing when he couldn’t form the words. You hoped that the way you were looking up at him would give him the confidence to say what was on his mind, but you were pleasantly surprised when instead, he opted to lift a hand and sweep some of your hair behind your ear, then rest his palm against your cheek. His touch was painfully gentle, as if he was still trying to keep you at arm’s length, but it made your breath catch in your throat nonetheless.

”General, I—”

His gentle tone was interrupted by the shrill beeping of a comm device, and for a moment, he let it ring out, swiping his thumb across your cheek.

“Just give me a moment to see what this is about” he murmured, and then moved away to the other side of the room to receive the comm call.

Your blood felt hot, Rex’s touch still searing into your skin and sending tingles all throughout your body. You couldn’t believe that he’d actually crossed the line, and the anticipatory thrill that ran through you made you breathless.

You turned to admire him for a moment, and saw him clip the comm back onto his belt, and then slowly take a blaster from its holster. A cold feeling gripped you, a sharp pain piercing your mind and making your head ache. Rex wasn’t turning around, and you saw the way his hand trembled as he held his blaster tightly.

“Rex? What is it?” you asked worriedly, taking a few steps towards him.

“Get…” his voice was low, dangerous, and you froze, “get out”

You took another step but his voice was insistent.

”Run”

“Rex, what—?” you reached out to him, gently touching his arm, but you realised the error of your ways immediately.

He grabbed your wrist before you had barely touched him, and twisted your arm behind you at a painful angle, drawing a yelp from your throat. Your hand flung to your belt on instinct, calling your lightsaber to you, but Rex got his hand to your other wrist before you could get your fingers around it. The sound of the metal weapon clattering to the floor rang out in the quiet of the small room, and Rex pushed you into the wall, your cheek taking the full force of his strength. You groaned, feeling your face throbbing with pain as you heard Rex kick away your lightsaber.

You had barely had time to process what was happening, and it seemed so preposterous that you weren’t fully convinced that it was. Perhaps this was some sick daydream that you were having. That thought was knocked from you at the feeling of Rex pressing you into the wall, his palm against the back of your head.

“Stay put and be quiet” he spoke, and his voice was cold and harsh, two things you had never associated with him.

“Rex—”

“I said quiet” he growled in your ear, his breath tickling your neck and making you shudder.

You’d never been afraid of Rex, there was no reason to be after all. Though with the feeling of something shifting the tide against you, and knowing exactly the kind of things that Rex was capable of, a visceral fear gripped you body. You couldn't move, and luckily that's all he was asking for right now.

You felt the barrel of a blaster dig into the back of your head, earning another pained noise. You quickly felt hot tears springing from your eyes, threatening to fall down your cheeks.

“Rex what's going on? Why are you doing this?” you voice betrayed every inch of fear that held you captive. You sounded small, a quivering mess that tripped over words.

Before Rex could reply, if he even would have, a voice crackled through his comm, “Captain, sir, we can't find the target, have you got eyes on her?”

It was Jesse’s voice, and an unbidden whimper escaped your lips, earning a knee to the back and another grunt of pain from you. You couldn't understand why your men would turn on you in this way, and especially Rex.

The sensation that invaded your mind in the next moments was the most horrifying feeling that had ever seized you. You heard the cries through the force, their agony creating a wave of pain, a fever that wracked your body, making everything ache. You were brought to your knees by it, your chest constricting and feeling like you couldn't get enough air into your lungs.

“I'm dealing with it” Rex said simply, and pushed his blaster into your head once more, bringing you back to the present moment.

You could feel the way his hand shook, and you couldn't help but think that he should have shot you by now. You tilted your head back slowly, looking up at him as he towered above you with a steely expression that didn't suit him one bit.

“Rex, please” you whispered the desperate plea, and you could see the way his eyes shone, a watery layer of tears covering their surface despite the otherwise fierce look.

Without making any sudden movements, you gradually turned around and stood up. His blaster was now pressing into your forehead, but upon closer inspection you realised that he didn't even have his finger on the trigger. You slowly lifted your hands up, placing them over his, and trying to inject some calm into him, a soothing gesture through the force. All you could feel bouncing back at you was something cold and unfeeling, something bleak that didn't feel anything like he usually did.

Beneath it all there was a small flicker of light, which felt like it was trying to escape with every last bit of energy it had. It felt like Rex was being held captive in his own body, and the notion shook you to your core.

“Rex, it's okay” you tried to soothe, but he just pressed you back more, your head hitting into the wall and bringing a new discomfort.

He was close, watching tears slip out of your eyes from mere inches away, but the only thing he did was finally put his finger to the trigger. You squeezed your eyes shut, knowing what you had to do to get out of this situation.

“I'm so sorry Rex” you whispered, before mustering all the strength within you to push him back and send him careening into the wall opposite.

His head hit the durasteel with a sickening thud, carving a dent where it found its mark, and you cringed, hoping it hadn't done any serious damage to him. He was still conscious, barely, groaning at the injury and holding the back of his head in his hand. You took your chance and summoned your lightsaber, scurrying from the room and heading straight to the hangar with haste.

It had been months, or you thought so at least. You stopped counting the days when you realised that it didn't really matter. It was in the past, that was all that was important.

You were a different person now, at least in the mind of those around you. You went by a different name, and it seemed fitting for how you felt like a shell of the person you used to be. You'd found work on some outer rim planet that you'd never knew existed until you almost crashed into its surface. It was far enough away from the core worlds that it was doubtful that anyone would recognise you, but you still tried not to make a show of yourself. It was easy work, fixing up speeders and other hunks of junk that people brought in. It was pretty mindless work, but you had always been good with your hands, and the pay wasn't awful.

Unfortunately, the mindlessness of it gave you plenty of time to think. It had been months, but you were still confused.

Rex was probably your closest friend, someone you had trusted with your life, but that trust had been proven futile the moment he put a blaster to your head. You knew that something had to have been seriously wrong to do such a thing. Even if he suddenly decided your friendship was worthless, he was a good man. He couldn't do such a thing in his right mind. The cold sensation that gripped you when you touched his hand still haunted your dreams, but you were not closer to figuring it out.

It was late, rain was pouring down outside the garage and providing a calming backdrop to your tinkering, and you were slid underneath a speeder, humming something to keep your mind focused with your hands buried in tangled wires. You felt someone approaching before their footsteps reached your ears, and an irritated sigh left your lips. You remembered turning the sign on the door to show you were finished for the day. Apparently this person had taken it upon themself to investigate anyway.

“We’re closed” you said in a flat voice, not enough energy to inject any warmth into your voice.

The person didn't reply, and you could feel them standing there still, unmoving. With another ennervated noise leaving your lips, you slid out from underneath the speeder to give them a piece of your mind, but your words died on your lips when you saw the person looking down at you.

You instantly pulled the blaster from the holster at your hip, and his hands shot up in surrender.

“Please don't shoot, I'm not going to hurt you”

You didn't know what to, or say. You had imagined what you might say if you came upon Rex again, you couldn't help it, but all of your previous thoughts were spilling from your head at the sight of him actually standing there. You stood up, keeping your blaster pointed at him, ready to run if need be. Of course you'd never shoot him, and he probably knew that, but it was still a protective measure you weren't going to neglect.

“How did you find me?” you asked, trying to keep your voice strong.

“Please put the blaster d—” Rex's please was cut off by you doubling down, stepping forwards with your finger on the trigger.

“I asked you a question” you remarked.

“I— Senator Organa told me where I could find you” he said carefully.

Your frown was deep and betrayed your mistrust before you spoke, “you're lying”

“I'm no—”

“Why would he tell you?” you pushed your blaster into his forehead, trying your best to be intimidating, but he just looked calm, his eyes piercing you as they had before he turned on you, a reverence in his gaze that gave you pause.

It made your heart stutter, but you couldn't give in so easily. He didn't pull away, he didn't do anything but watch you for a moment, and you could feel yourself giving in.

“Because I asked” he replied softly, bringing his hands up and placing them over yours.

You only realised then that you were shaking, with the steadiness and warmth of Rex engulfing your hands. You could feel none of the cold and harsh feeling that reached for your mind the last time you had touched him, only the warmth of his usual presence through the force. Strong and glowing, unyieldingly positive and steadfast, just comforting.

You felt Rex take the blaster from you and throw it away, holding your trembling hands in his and enrapturing you with his steady gaze.

“You don't need to be afraid of me” his voice was soothing and gentle.

“I don't understand” you whispered, your voice trembling, though no longer in fear.

Rex tentatively pulled you forward and wrapped his arms around you, and you took the bait instantly. You buried your face in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, enveloping yourself in his warmth, his comfort.

“I'm so sorry General” he said softly, sounding utterly apologetic, “you're safe, I can explain everything”

It did feel safe, being in his arms, but you still couldn't so easily shake what had happened the last time you saw him.

“Why did you—” it was hard to say, hard to admit, “you were going to kill me”

His arms tightened around you, “I couldn't control it General, I—” he sighed and rested his chin on the top of your head, “I have a lot of explaining to do”

A small laugh escaped you even though you knew it wasn't a joke. Perhaps it was just that the situation seemed so ridiculous.

“You think?” you pulled back to look up at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.

Rex's hand found its place on your cheek as he smiled back, and you leaned into it, about to close your eyes until you noticed a thin scar on the side of his head.

“What's this?” you reached up and traced your finger along it.

Rex huffed a little, “the explanation”

You frowned up at him, not taking his meaning at all.

“I— it’s a lot, it's hard to—”

You stepped out of his embrace to gesture behind you, “why don't you come and sit down in my room”

Rex looked to the door you were pointing to across the room, hesitant for a moment before he met your gaze again with a small smile, “yeah, that sounds good”

After showing him into the small room, Rex took a seat on the old sofa that clung to the wall, while you went about making a batch of caf. You were suddenly struck by how different things were. You weren't entirely sure what was going on in the larger galaxy, having run away from it all, but what you knew was that whoever Rex was to you now, was something completely different. He was no longer a soldier under your command, you no longer his General. Something about it sent a thrill through you, but you tried to supress thinking about that until he'd explained himself.

You offered him the cup of caf, and grabbed your own, taking a seat beside him and bringing your knees to your chest. Rex looked despondently down onto his cup, swirling it gently before taking a sip. You saw his shoulders relax as he breathed out, his eyelids fluttering closed for a moment. You realised then just how tired and run down he looked, and you became more nervous for him to disclose what had happened to him.

He began by telling you about what happened to Fives, what he uncovered and what went down in the warehouse where he died. He told you how he held him in his arms when he took his last breath, how nobody believed him and he had to go on knowing about the chip in his head without the knowledge of what it really meant.

You remembered seeing Rex soon after it had all gone down, and thinking that he seemed changed, as if he was trying to hold it together for the sake of his men. You knew it had affected him more than he was letting on, you just hadn't known why.

He told you that after you'd run away from him when his chip activated, he'd gone looking for you and instead ran into Ahsoka, and how she had helped him remove it before their hard-won escape.

“I'm so sorry General” He looked over to you for the first time since he began speaking, and you could see the tears in the corners of his eyes, “I tried to control it, but…”

He stopped speaking, his face contorting in a frown as he tried to quell his emotions.

“I would never have— you know that I'd never—”

“Rex” you stopped him with hand over his when you could see his emotions getting the better of him, “I know. I knew something was wrong, that it wasn't you. I could feel it”

His brows pinched slightly as he let out a deep breath, relief flooding his expression. He sat back, slumping against the back of the sofa and resting his head on the wall as he closed his eyes. He looked so tired and overwhelmed, and your heart ached for him.

“So… all of the jedi, they're—” you stopped short of the painful word, but Rex understood.

He opened his eyes and nodded, “aside from Ahsoka... yes. as far as I know”

You tightened your arms around your shins and let out a long breath, resting your head on your knees and looking down. You had expected as much. The loss you felt though the force was crippling, there could be no other explanation for such an agonizing feeling.

“I'm so sorry” Rex said quietly and your eyes flicked back to him. He looked so remorseful, as if he was carrying to whole weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

“It's not your fault, Rex” you shook your head, “you're a victim of this as much as I am”

“I know, but—” his eyes softened, “I know how much being a jedi meant to you, I'm just sorry that things turned out this way”

You nodded, a sad smile lifting your lips, “me too”

A silence stretched out between you, neither one of you deigning to speak again for a moment as the gravity of the situation overtook you. Though, there was something still playing on your mind, something you needed to know.

“Rex… when you—” you chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, wondering if you should bring it up, “before everything happened, you said you had something to tell me”

“Oh” his eyes widened for a moment, and you could see a blush grow on his cheeks, “I did say that, yeah”

You waited a moment, but when he didn't say anything else you raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“Ah, it's nothing” he spoke with a nervous chuckle, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away.

“Nothing?” you asked, tipping your head to the side, an almost teasing look in your eyes and a smirk crossing your lips.

He huffed slightly, his cheeks darkening further, “you shouldn't look at me like that, General”

Your heart pounded in your chest at his low and somewhat sultry tone, but it only spurred you on, “why not?”

“Because… you're my superior”

“No I'm not” you challenged.

You were no longer bound by the titles that once held you from each other, and you watched with a somewhat triumphant expression as you saw that realisation set into his face.

“No… you're not” he said slowly, quietly, as if testing the words to see how true they felt.

With an unhurried pace, but not hesitation, Rex reached out took your ankles, drawing your legs away from your chest and draping one one of them over his lap as he shifted towards you. He placed himself between your legs, taking your face in his hand and taking a moment to cast his gaze across your features.

“What are you waiting for?” you asked, your voice breathless.

Rex's lips quirked up slightly, in a coy manner that you'd never seen from him.

“My orders” he whispered, his breath fanning over your lips.

You bit into your lip as a surprised chuckle left you. You'd never known Rex act like this, but you weren't going to pass up the opportunity to take advantage of it.

“Kiss me, Captain”

“Of course, General”

His lips captured yours with a celerity, much less reserved an action that you’d come to expect from him. His hands snaked around your waist, his grip on you tightening as your met the intensity of his kiss with ardour, pulling him in by his neck.

His lips started exploring past the bounds of your lips, trailing kisses along the underside of your jaw and throat, his teeth dragging along your collarbone. You could scarcely believe it was happening, and your fingers pinched the skin of your wrist to make sure. You felt Rex huff a laugh against your skin before he pulled back from you, which only made you shudder.

“Did you just pinch yourself?” he asked in a breathy chuckle.

“Shut up” you laughed in reply, an embarrassed blush scorching your ears as you pulled his lips back onto yours.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak

The Safe House

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader / Hunter x Medic!Reader

Words: 12,466

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fluff, friends/squadmates to lovers, idiots to lovers actually, mutual pining, some very minor wound care, consent is sexy and so is communication, smut, oral (m and f receiving), coming untouched, dirty talk, scent kink maybe

Summary: After a mission goes sideways, you and Hunter are left stranded for the night. Lucky for you, you know of a safe house nearby. Unlucky for you, there's only one bed.

A/N: I can't even pretend to feel shame about this. Hunter loves to eat and that's it, that's the fic.

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“Well, shit.”

Your hand falls from the doorknob, staring into the cabin with a look of horror on your face. It’s smaller than you remembered. A kitchenette, a fireplace, a dusty armchair, and a single bed. The walls are wood-paneled, a few worn posters hanging on them. The door to the bathroom is open, and you can see the shower stall, but not much else. 

When you and Hunter were left stranded on this planet, you hadn’t worried. There was a safe house here, after all, one from your days before you became the squad’s medic. Hunter was in no shape to help you out, and with the Marauder making an emergency landing on the other side of the planet… well, it was safer to split up. This safe house had been the closest one, so you did the smart thing. You went there.

Except, this is not the safe house you remembered.

You remember it being big. Not huge, but certainly large enough for a couple people to crash in until rescue came. Certainly not a tiny, one room shack with one bed. You don't even know if that bed is big enough for both you and Hunter.

Hunter props his arm up on the doorframe, peering in over your shoulder, but he doesn't have much to add to your statement. He looks into the room, then back down at you. He doesn’t say anything, which only makes the situation more uncomfortable. You know you have to go in, but…

You don’t move, even though Hunter is standing behind you, blocking your way out. The two of you have been out here for several minutes now in the cold, just staring at the one tiny bed inside the cabin. There was no couch, or cot, or anything else. Just the single bed. Your mind was already racing with possibilities, most of them not so great.

Your cheeks are starting to hurt from clenching your jaw, and you finally break the silence.

"We're adults,” you state, firmly.

"We are,” Hunter says. He sounds uncertain, so you turn around to look at him.

"And we're both capable of sharing a bed. There's plenty of room,” you continue, nodding, as if confirming your words to yourself.

Hunter nods along, too, but the two of you just stand there, unmoving.

Finally, Hunter speaks up. "You... want to go in, or...?"

He lets his words trail off, and you know what he's getting at. You're the one holding us up.

"I'm going, I'm going!" you snap as you look back into the cabin, but you're still not moving.

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure."

"Because you haven't actually gone inside yet."

You whirl around and glare up at Hunter, but you can't find the words to respond, and your face is flushed. It's the cold, you tell yourself, refusing to admit that you're blushing. It's not the situation you're in, and it's not the idea of having to share a bed with Hunter, of all people.

It's the cold.

He smiles, and you almost slap him, but his words stop you.

"I don't mind sharing a bed with you."

It's an honest admission, and the sincerity in his words takes you off guard.

"Really?" you ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice.

"Really." 

Hunter's eyes meet yours and you're suddenly very aware of how close the two of you are standing. His breath ghosts across your cheeks, a cloud of mist from the cold. You feel warmth bloom in your chest. 

"If you're okay with it,” he adds. He's watching you closely now, waiting to see what your reaction is. He's giving you an out, and you're grateful for it. But the way his eyes are locked onto yours, the way his lips are pulled into a half smile, the way he seems to be holding his breath...

You shake your head, breaking the moment.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm fine. Let's go in," you blurt out, and step inside, leaving Hunter to shut the door behind the two of you.

Once inside, you kick off your boots and set your bag down. You glance around, taking in the familiar room. The fireplace, the bed, the old armchair. Everything was just as you remembered it. Mostly.

You turn back to look at Hunter. He’s checking the firewood box, and he gives you a thumbs up, confirming there was enough to last the night. You let out a breath and smile at him, and he smiles back.

Then he turns to the bed.

And you're reminded of the situation you're in.

“You should sit down,” you say, gesturing towards the bed. “I need to take a look at that gash on your head."

He nods and does as he's told, sitting on the edge of the bed, and you sit beside him, careful to keep some distance between the two of you.

You take his chin in your hand and turn his head, getting a better look at the cut above his eye. It’s not that bad, thankfully. Bacta should heal it, and he wouldn't need any stitches, but the blood has dried and crusted around the wound. It's not going to be fun to clean.

“I should have done this earlier,” you mutter to yourself, your eyes scanning his face. You tilt his head from side to side, looking for any other signs of damage, but the rest of his face is free of cuts and bruises. Just a bit dirty, but nothing a little water won’t fix.

"It's fine," Hunter says quietly. There's no irritation in his voice, no indication that he's bothered by you fussing over him. In fact, he seems content to sit still while you finish examining him. He's not squirming away or trying to talk you out of doing this. If anything, he seems at ease.

 "I think you had more important things to do. Like keeping me conscious,” he continues. You pause and look down at him, and his dark eyes are fixed on you. You can't read his expression, but the corner of his mouth is curled up in a soft smile. It's an encouraging look, and you take a breath before continuing.

"I still shouldn't have forgotten.” You let go of him and stand to pull out an alcohol wipe from your bag. “I can't believe I didn't think about that, we've been walking for so long... Why didn't you tell me? Were you trying to be cool and pretend it didn't hurt or something?”

He scoffs and shakes his head. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Hunter," you chastise as you move to stand in front of him. His legs widen on instinct, making room for you between them, and you step closer until your thighs are nearly brushing his. "Don't be a martyr. It's not going to help anyone."

"Okay, okay," he holds his hands up, a teasing grin spreading across his face. "You got me. I wanted to show off for you."

"You already showed off,” you say, but you're smiling too. “You nearly concussed yourself in the process, so you've done enough impressing for the day."

You're not sure why you're being so playful with him, especially given the circumstances. You've never had a problem joking around with him before, but now, alone in this tiny cabin, it feels different. There's an undercurrent of something, and you're not sure what it is.

He doesn't respond to you, but he's still smiling. He tilts his head back a bit, giving you better access to the wound, and you take the hint. You rip open the wipe, and gently brush his hair away from the cut, and the smile fades. When you lean in closer to him, inspecting the wound, his hand brushes your hip. It's an innocent touch, the barest of contact before he pulls away, and you're sure it's an accident, but it still makes your breath hitch.

"Is it bad?" he asks, his voice quieter than it was a few seconds ago.

"No, no. It's just a cut. I think the swelling is starting to go down,” you say, your hand still in his hair. Your fingers are combing through his locks, smoothing the messy strands away from his forehead that his bandana normally keeps in place. Your thumb traces the curve of his temple, and he leans into your touch. It's an intimate gesture, but it feels right, and when you look down at him, his eyes are closed.

"That's good," he murmurs. His breath ghosts over your skin, the heat of it making goosebumps erupt along your arm.

"I'm gonna clean it, okay?"

Hunter nods, and the movement jostles you. His face is dangerously close to the juncture between your neck and shoulder, and the tip of his nose touches your skin. The urge to shiver is strong, but you ignore it. This isn't the time or the place to be thinking about things like this. You have a job to do, and Hunter needs your help.

"Hold still," you say, and he hums an affirmative. You take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand. “This will sting.”

"I've had worse,” he says, but the breathlessness of his voice has you questioning his words.

"Yeah, yeah." 

You're careful with him as you clean the wound, gently swiping the cloth over his skin. Hunter’s nose scrunches up, and his eyes squeeze shut, and you can't help the smile that appears on your face. It’s cute, but you keep that thought to yourself.

"You're doing great."

He chuckles. "Thanks."

You work in silence for a few minutes. You can feel his eyes on you as you work, but he doesn't say anything, and neither do you. You're too focused on your task, but your mind keeps wandering back to how close you are, closer than you've ever been. 

You're hyper aware of every little thing. The way the cold air of the cabin is starting to warm up from the fire, the way the bed creaks every time you shift your weight. How Hunter is watching your every move, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress, and your body is leaning into his.

The closeness is unfamiliar and overwhelming, and it makes you want to squirm. Or maybe run.

But instead, you stand stock still, and try not to think about the warmth emanating from him. He's so much bigger than you, his whole body a solid, firm wall against you, and it's a comforting feeling. He's safe. It's okay to lean into him, you reason. It's okay. It's fine. It's normal.

You're doing a favor for a friend. A friend who used to be your commanding officer, but now he's not really that anymore, and things are changing between the two of you. Your feelings, especially, are changing. You're not sure when it happened, or how it did, but they're changing.

You pull away abruptly and toss the used wipe into the trash, turning away from him.

“That should be fine," you say, and your voice is higher than it was before. You clear your throat, and grab the bacta spray.

"Thanks," he says, and you turn back to face him, avoiding his eyes. You can feel the heat rise to your face, and you clear your throat, focusing on the cut above his eye. You take out the bacta spray and pump the nozzle a few times, the familiar hissing noise filling the air.

"Alright, this'll just take a minute. Let me know if it's too cold."

"It's fine."

You nearly roll your eyes. Of course it's fine. It's Hunter. Nothing ever bothers him. He's perfect.

You can’t remember a single time where he’s ever complained about something, so you believe him. You don’t expect him to react any differently now. 

You certainly don’t expect him to gasp the moment the spray hits his skin, his hands finding your hips and holding onto you. He’s tense, fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. He's not pushing you away, though, and his hands stay where they are, his thumbs rubbing circles into your hips.

"You good?" You stop spraying, and move to pull away, but he shakes his head.

"I'm alright. Keep going."

You swallow and do as he asks. He keeps his grip on your hips, loosening his hold every now and then, but the pain doesn't seem to bother him as much. After a minute, the bacta has sealed the cut, leaving behind a small pink scar. You put the spray away, and run your thumb along the mark, the skin smooth beneath your touch.

Hunter sighs, the sound low and content, his eyes fluttering closed. He leans into your hand, and you can't help the warmth that blooms in your chest.

"Better?" you ask, your voice soft.

"Yeah."

You continue to stroke his skin, and his grip tightens. You're not sure what to do next. Do you pull away? Do you ask him to move his hands? Do you stay here and enjoy this moment for as long as you can? 

Hunter’s eyes are still closed, and his head tilts toward your palm. Your heart is pounding, and you’re positive that he can hear it. He probably thinks you're an idiot. Here he is, injured, and you're practically swooning over him.

You should pull away. You should get up. You should make the distance between the two of you a little wider. But you're still standing in front of him, one hand on his face, the other resting on his shoulder. His are still holding onto your hips, and he hasn't moved them.

Hunter opens his eyes, and you’re struck by how dark they are, how they catch the light of the fire and glow amber. The shadows dance along his jawline, emphasizing the darkness of his tattoo. His lips are slightly parted, his gaze locked onto yours, and the tension is palpable. You don’t dare move. Not an inch. You wait for him to say something, anything.

He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. His brows furrow together, and his lips pull into a thin line.

The moment is shattered when the wind picks up outside, rattling the window.

You pull your hands away, and Hunter lets go of you so fast it’s as if you burned him. He clears his throat and stands, walking past you to check the window, and you watch him go. You take a deep breath and will yourself not to blush, turning away from him to pack up the rest of the med kit.

"I should, uh. I should probably get cleaned up,” Hunter says from across the room.

"Oh. Yeah, of course."

You busy yourself with the contents of your bag to avoid looking in his direction, and he disappears into the bathroom, the door shutting behind him.

You let out a shaky breath, and run a hand over your face. What the hell was that? You were being so ridiculous. Hunter was your friend, and nothing more. The fact that you were both alone together was making you act strangely, and you knew it.

He's probably uncomfortable. He's probably in there trying to figure out a way to politely tell you that you're acting weird and he's not interested in you like that. He's just being nice. That's all it is.

The thought makes you nauseous, and you try to push it out of your mind as you strip off your armor and pants, and then the suit you wear underneath. You're left in only your sports bra and compression shorts, and you shiver. It was freezing, and you weren't looking forward to sleeping without proper pajamas, or even a shirt.

There's not much you can do it about it now, though. It wasn't like you had packed your bag for an overnight stay. You were much more concerned about having the necessary supplies to keep the boys and Omega alive than having a change of clothes. You're kicking yourself for it now, though.

You rifle through your bag to find your toiletries and brush your teeth at the kitchen sink. You don't think about Hunter, or how good he smelled, or how warm his hands were, or the feeling of his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, or—

Stop it.

You splash some water onto your face and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

After a few minutes, you've managed to get yourself under control. You grab the blankets and pillow, and you spread them out over the bed. The sheets are worn and old but clean, and the blankets are thick, and you hope they'll be enough to keep the two of you warm. Hunter runs as hot as a furnace, anyway. You'll be fine.

You've finished laying out the blankets when the bathroom door opens. Hunter steps out, a cloud of steam following him, and he stops immediately, eyes wide. He's wearing the bottom half of his blacks, but his torso is bare, a towel slung over his shoulders. Water drips from his hair, and the few droplets the towel doesn’t catch run down his neck and chest, disappearing into the waistband of his blacks.

You force yourself to look away, and you're suddenly very interested in the blanket. You pick at a loose thread while your heart thuds loudly in your chest. He doesn't say anything. Neither do you. 

When you glance up, his eyes are still fixed on you, and then he blinks, seemingly snapping out of whatever thoughts were running through his head. Hunter gives you a small smile, the corner of his mouth lifting up, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks almost... sad. But the look disappears just as quickly as it came.

"Bathroom's free," he says, and there's a strain in his voice, as if he's trying to sound casual, and failing.

You nod. “Thanks.”

He walks over to the fire and adds a few logs, stoking the flames. They crackle and spit, and the smokey smell fills the cabin. You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom as quick as possible and shut the door behind you. You lock it for good measure and lean against the wall, taking a few deep breaths.

Your eyes fall shut, and you try to center yourself. You're exhausted. This entire mission has been a disaster, both of you are barely dressed, and the two of you are sharing a bed. You just want to sleep, but your nerves are shot.

You strip out of your clothes and take a quick shower, letting the hot water relax your muscles. It does the job, but the feeling is short-lived, and the second you turn the water off, the stress returns.

You dry yourself off, and slip on the same shorts and bra you'd been wearing. There's not much else you can do, and you're too tired to care about it anymore. You're just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. It's one night. It's not the end of the world.

The mirror is fogged over, so you swipe your hand across the glass, revealing your reflection. You're not thrilled with the person looking back at you, and you scowl at your face. A few bruises and scrapes decorate your skin, and a thin, red line sits just below your ribs. You can't remember getting it, but it's nothing serious.

You comb through your wet hair, and after a few minutes, it's as good as it's going to get.

"Alright," you mutter, nodding to yourself with a sigh. "You can do this."

You open the door and walk into the bedroom. Hunter is sitting on the edge of the bed, his bandana in his hands. His hair is still drying, curling around his ears and the nape of his neck, and he hasn't put his shirt back on. He looks up at you and offers a weak smile, his fingers running along the faded material.

You return the smile, but it's not genuine. Your stomach is in knots, and your heart is racing, and the butterflies are back. You can't remember the last time you were this nervous.

You stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure what to do or say. You're both clearly not okay with this, and you hate it. You hate the tension that's settled over the two of you, the discomfort, the uncertainty. You should say something.

Hunter seems to come to the same conclusion, because he clears his throat and speaks up.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice low. He's studying you carefully, and you know he can hear the way your heartbeat has sped up at the question. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine," you answer a little too quickly. At his raised brow, you sigh. "I'm just... This is really weird, isn't it?”

"A bit," he admits, and the two of you chuckle awkwardly. He shifts his weight and looks down, his shoulders tense. “I can take the chair, if that would make you more comfortable."

You shake your head. "No, no, it's not that. It's just..." You trail off, unsure of what to say. You're embarrassed by the way your body is reacting, how it seems like the tiniest thing has you worked up, and Hunter doesn't need to know that.

"I can't ask you to do that. I'll take the chair."

Hunter stares at you, and his brows knit together. Your face flushes, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze.

"You’re not sleeping on the chair," he says firmly. He's using his sergeant voice, and his tone leaves no room for argument.

You frown. “Is that an order?”

He shakes his head, and his face falls. The stern look in his eyes softens, and he looks almost hurt. "Of course not. I just... I want to make sure you're comfortable.”

You're not sure how to respond. He's always been protective of you, just as he’s always been protective of everyone on the squad, and it makes sense that he'd be worried about your well-being. But this feels different.

He's still frowning, and you know he's upset with himself, as if he's done something wrong. It's a far cry from the way he'd teased you outside the cabin earlier, and his mood shift throws you for a loop. You don’t know what's happening, but the thought of upsetting him, or disappointing him, is not something you're willing to deal with.

You take a breath and force yourself to look him in the eye, and you take a guess. "Hunter, I'm not... I'm not scared of you, if that's what you're thinking."

The way his body sags at your words confirms your suspicions. "You’re not?"

"Of course not," you say, shaking your head. "I trust you. Completely. But... I'm still nervous, and I'm not sure why, and I'm sorry, I—"

"Hey," Hunter interrupts, and he stands. He closes the distance between the two of you in a single stride, and you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. His face is serious, and you hold your breath as he places his hands on your shoulders. "It's okay."

"It is?" you ask, surprised by the gentleness in his voice.

He nods, his expression softening. "Yeah."

"I don't want things to be awkward between us, but I'm... I'm having a hard time being normal,” you confess. Your mouth twists into a grimace, and you huff, shaking your head. "This is dumb. I'm sorry. It's just a stupid bed. We can share it, it's not a big deal.”

Hunter sighs, and the sound makes you flinch. You've disappointed him. Of course you have. He's probably mad at you for being so dramatic. For making a big deal out of nothing. Why couldn't you just suck it up and get over it?

"This is my fault," he says, and his words are so quiet, you're not sure you heard him correctly. You tilt your head, and he looks away, dropping his hands from your shoulders.

"What?"

"It's my fault."

He takes a step back, putting some distance between the two of you, and you want nothing more than to reach out and close the gap again. You stay where you are, though, watching him.

"Hunter, I already told you, it's not that I'm scared, I'm just—"

"Not the bed thing." He shifts awkwardly and avoids looking at you, instead staring out the window. "Well, not entirely.”

You don't understand. "Then what is it?"

He's silent for a few moments, and the only sound is the wind outside. The fire has started to die down, the embers glowing brightly in the dim room. You can see his hands clench and unclench at his sides, and his jaw is set, as if he's trying to work something out.

He's nervous. It's such a strange sight, and one you've never seen on him before. Hunter doesn't get nervous. Hunter doesn't avoid people. Hunter is cool and calm and collected.

You've never seen him like this before, and you can’t stop yourself from trying to comfort him. You take a step forward and place a hand on his arm, and he stills. His eyes dart over to your face, and you can feel his gaze linger on the spot where your hand is touching his bare skin.

"Hunter," you say, softly, trying not to spook him. "Please. Tell me."

He sighs. "It's a lot. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Of course I do," you answer, and you take a step closer to him. You're standing toe to toe, and your free hand finds his other arm, so you're holding onto him.

You have no idea what's gotten into you, and the boldness of your actions should have you running for the hills, but there's something about the way his dark eyes are looking at you that makes you feel safe. It's the same feeling you get when he's in charge of a mission, or when he's fighting at your side. He's protecting you, and you have no reason to doubt him.

"Whatever it is, I want to know."

Hunter sighs again, and his eyes drop from yours. He's hesitating, and you can't help but wonder what could be bothering him. He's been acting strange ever since the two of you crashed on this planet, but now that you think about it, it started long before that. Ever since Saleucami, maybe. Maybe even earlier.

But then his gaze finds yours again, and he looks so vulnerable, your thoughts scatter.

"It's not... I shouldn't. Not while we're stranded like this, it's not fair to you. I don't want you to feel like you have to deal with this on top of everything else. If it was a different time, a different place, then maybe, but—"

You squeeze his arms, and he stops talking. "Hunter."

His breath catches in his throat, and you can see the way his throat bobs as he swallows, the way his brows knit together. His eyes are dark, and there's a tension in the air, one that has been building since the moment you entered the cabin.

"Tell me," you say, and your words are barely a whisper.

"I should have told you a long time ago. But I never had the chance, and it's not fair of me to tell you now, when things are complicated, but..."

"But what?"

"But I care about you."

"Hunter," you start, your grip tightening on his arms, "of course I know you care about me, you've always looked out for me —"

"No, no," he says, shaking his head. "I mean, I do care about you. A lot. But that's not what I meant."

He pauses, and his hands slide up to your wrists, and he gently removes your hands from his arms. You think he's going to push you away, but he doesn't. He holds onto you, his fingers wrapping around your forearms.

"Hunter?"

"I've... I've had feelings for you. For a while."

Your mouth goes dry, and all the air rushes out of your lungs. He's holding onto you as if he's afraid you'll run away, and in all honesty, it's a very real possibility.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." He says it like a confession, his voice hoarse and pained, and it makes your heart ache.

You shake your head. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm just... I'm confused."

"I was trying to keep them in check, but it's hard when we're together, and I can't seem to stop myself,” he says. “I didn't want to make things awkward for you, so I was trying to keep some distance. It was working, but then this whole mess happened, and I'm not sure how to keep doing this."

"Oh," is all you manage to say, and it's barely a whisper.

Hunter drops your hands and turns away, running a hand over his face. You can tell he's embarrassed, and the sight breaks your heart. You've never seen him so upset before, and it's killing you.

"It's not a big deal, I'll get over it, but it's been... difficult."

You're at a loss for words, but you know what he's talking about. It's been hard on you, too. You've wanted to reach out to him, to close the distance, but you've always held yourself back.

"Hunter."

He doesn't turn, so you step closer, and he freezes. You don't touch him, though, not yet.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He doesn't answer at first, and you're not sure he's going to. He takes a shaky breath, and turns his head, but he doesn't look at you.

"I didn't think you felt the same way,” he says. “You’ve never shown any interest, and I didn't want to force something onto you that you didn't want. I just thought I'd make it easier for you. Make the rejection less painful."

Your mouth drops open. "I haven't — what?"

"But now," he continues, ignoring your interruption. "I'm not sure I can keep going. It's been hell, and I know it's selfish, and I'm sorry."

"Wait," you say, and he finally looks at you. You can see the hurt in his eyes, the pain that's been building for who knows how long, and it shatters you. "You've really thought I didn't want you? This whole time?"

"I... Yeah?"

"Hunter," you breathe.

"It's not important."

"Yes, it is."

"You don't need to lie to make me feel better,” he says. "I know how things are."

"Hunter, I've been acting weird because I was worried that you would be able to hear my heartbeat, or sense how nervous I am, or smell the way my body reacts when I'm near you," you say in a rush. "That's why I was freaking out."

He frowns. "Because you don't like me?"

"No, because I do!"

The two of you stare at each other, neither saying a word. The fire crackles loudly in the silence between you, and you can feel the heat rise to your cheeks. You can't believe you've said it out loud, but it feels right, and when Hunter's lips part in surprise, you know you can't take it back.

"You do?"

You stare back in utter disbelief. How could he not know?

"Of course I do," you say. "I thought you knew."

He shakes his head, and takes another step forward.

"I didn't... I thought... You were keeping your distance, and I just assumed..." Hunter trails off, staring at you in bewilderment. He takes a step closer, and you tilt your head back, looking up at him. His eyes are wide, and his gaze roams over your face, as if he's seeing you for the first time. "Really?"

Your lips twitch, and you’re unable to stop the laugh that escapes you. You’re not sure if it’s the absurdity of the situation, or the shock of learning that Hunter had feelings for you, too, or if it was simply the tension that had been building since the moment the two of you had walked into the cabin, but the next thing you know, you're doubled over, laughing harder than you had in months. Your sides hurt and your vision is blurry and you can't catch your breath, and a minute later, Hunter joins in.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, wiping a tear from your eye. "I'm not laughing at you, I promise. It's just... it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

"A bit," he says, his chest shaking with laughter. His shoulders relax, and his face is split into a grin, and he looks so happy, your heart feels like it's going to burst.

“We really need to work on our communication skills," you say, and Hunter snorts.

"I think we'll be alright,” he says with a shrug. “We'll figure it out."

"Yeah," you agree. "I think so, too."

He's still smiling, and it’s infectious. The butterflies in your stomach have come alive, and your body is tingling, but for once, you don't worry about how he might be reacting to your nerves. There's nothing to hide. Nothing to be nervous about. Hunter likes you, too. He's liked you this whole time, and the thought makes your head spin.

"We should probably go to bed," you say, and it comes out a little breathless. You're still staring at him, and he's staring back. His smile falls, but he doesn't look away.

"Probably," he agrees.

The two of you stand there, staring at each other.

"It's been a long day," he adds, and you nod.

"Yeah."

Hunter’s gaze flickers down to your lips, then back to your eyes. His chest rises and falls, and you can see the muscles shift under his skin. He licks his lips, and swallows, his throat bobbing.

"Right," you say and take a step closer to him.

"Yeah," Hunter echoes, his voice soft. His hands find your waist, and the feeling of his calloused palms against your skin makes you shiver.

"Do you... Do you want to share the bed?" you ask, your hands finding their way up to his chest. He's so close, you can feel the warmth emanating from him, and your body leans into him, your chest flush against his.

"If you're okay with it," he murmurs.

"I'm okay with it," you whisper, and the words hang between you, heavy with intent.

You're not sure who moves first, but one second, Hunter is holding onto you, his hands tightening around your waist, and the next, his lips are pressed against yours, and the kiss steals the breath from your lungs.

You're not surprised at the hunger in his movements, but it still makes your head spin. His mouth is hot and eager, and he kisses you as if his life depends on it. Your fingers curl around the hair at the nape of his neck, and his arms wrap around your back, pulling you closer. The hard planes of his body press against yours, and you can't help the whimper that leaves you when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass. He squeezes, and you pull away, gasping.

“Too much?” he asks, and the way his voice rasps in your ear makes a shudder run through you.

"Not enough," you breathe, and the way his hands grip your hips tightly tells you he feels the same.

He kisses you again, and the passion between you has ignited into a desperate, frantic heat. He bites down on your bottom lip, and when you groan, his tongue darts out, slipping past your lips. The way he explores your mouth, his tongue curling around yours, makes your knees weak, and you're grateful for the solid wall of his chest, keeping you upright.

Hunter tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and you melt into him. Your hands trail along his jawline, the rough stubble scratching your skin, and you sigh. He kisses you hungrily, and you try to give him as much as you can, hoping he knows how much you care about him, how much you've wanted this, and for how long.

You don't know how much time has passed, but the two of you are still kissing, and your legs are starting to grow tired. Hunter seems to sense this, and his hands slide down to your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin. He lifts you up, and you gasp, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"That's better," he murmurs into your neck, and your fingers tangle into his hair as he starts kissing along your jaw. His lips find your throat, and he sucks the skin into his mouth, biting down softly.

"Hunter," you whimper, your head falling back. He nips at your neck, and your body rolls against him. Your core brushes against the firmness of his abdomen, and you gasp.

"Shit," he breathes.

"Sorry," you say, your face burning with embarrassment.

"Don't apologize," he growls. His fingers dig into your thighs, and he sounds as if the sound alone was enough to unravel him. You shiver at the thought. "I just... Fuck. I wasn't expecting you to react like that."

"You're a little distracting," you admit, and the grin on his face makes your stomach flip.

"Am I?"

"Don't act like you don't know," you scold him, tugging his hair, and he groans. His eyes darken, and the noise that escapes him goes straight to your core. You swallow, trying to regain some composure, but it's impossible. It’s even harder when he turns and walks over to the bed, laying you down on the mattress, his body hovering above yours.

"I'm glad it's not just me," he says. His hair falls into his eyes, and you brush it aside, letting your hand rest on his cheek.

“Definitely not just you," you whisper, and the way his eyes light up is worth the confession.

"Yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

He captures your lips again, and you hum again in appreciation. His hands move over the curves of your body, his fingers sliding over your hips, his palms gripping the flesh of your thighs. His touch is searing, and the heat of it makes your skin tingle.

Your own hands explore his chest, the muscle rippling under your touch, his skin soft and warm. You drag your nails down his abdomen, and his body rolls into yours, his hardness pressing into the apex of your thighs. Your back arches, and the groan that escapes him makes your blood boil. You need more, need him to touch you, need him to keep kissing you, and you try to tell him as much. But every time you try to speak, his lips are there, swallowing your words.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbles, his words slurring together, and it's not the most coherent thing you've ever heard, but the compliment makes your heart flutter, anyway. You kiss him harder, and he grunts in appreciation, his hands gripping your thighs.

You're not sure how much time passes, and the two of you are only spurred on by the noises the other makes. When you nip at his neck, he growls. When he squeezes your hips, you moan. He's driving you mad, and it's obvious that he's having the same problem.

You're panting, your chest rising and falling rapidly, and Hunter breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. He's breathing just as hard as you are, and he's shaking slightly, his eyes screwed shut. You place a hand on his shoulder, and his muscles tense under your touch.

"Are you okay?"

"Just give me a second," he says, and his voice is strained.

"What's wrong?"

He doesn't answer at first, and the silence stretches between the two of you.

"Hunter?"

"It's just... Fuck, I've been waiting for this for a while," he admits, and you can't stop the giggle that escapes you. He lifts his head and stares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "You're laughing?"

"I'm not laughing at you," you assure him, and he lets you pull his head back down. You kiss his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, and then his lips, and his mouth opens for you, his tongue swirling with yours. "It's just... I didn't know you wanted this."

"How could I not want this?" he asks. His mouth drops down to your neck, and his teeth scrape over the soft skin, his tongue licking a line up to your jaw. "You're incredible."

"You're incredible," you counter, and you can feel his grin against your neck.

"No, I'm serious," he says, and he stops kissing you. He lifts his head, and you frown. "You're beautiful, and smart, and kind, and you make me feel so many things. How could I not want this? I'd be stupid not to want you."

You swallow, and the emotions that wash over you threaten to overwhelm you. Hunter is looking at you with such affection, it's as if the feeling itself is enough to shatter him. He's never been very good with words, but his actions always spoke louder than any speech he could ever make.

"Hunter, I—"

"I'm sorry," he says. "I know I should have said something sooner. I'm not sure what I was thinking, honestly. I was worried about how it would affect the team. But now... Now that I've said it, and now that we're stranded here, and now that we've done this, and I've gotten a taste of you..."

"What do you mean?"

"I won't be able to go back."

Your stomach flutters.

"You want to be with me?" you ask. Your words are tentative, and your tone is careful, but there's a spark of hope, deep inside your heart, one that has been building ever since you first met Hunter. One that has been there for months, and maybe even longer.

"I do," he says. "And if we were anywhere else, I'd take you out for dinner or whatever the hell else you'd want. We could take our time, go as slow as you need, I don't care, but—“

"Hunter, yes. I want this."

He pauses.

"Yes?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

"You don't have to say that just because we're stranded. If you don't want to, it's okay."

"Hunter, please," you plead. "I've wanted this for so long, I can't... Please."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," you say, nodding vigorously. Your legs tighten around his waist, and his hands slide up to your ribs, his thumbs rubbing circles along the underside of your breasts. You bite your lip and look up at him. "I want this. I want you."

Hunter lets out a shaky breath. "Thank the maker."

You giggle, and his eyes fall to your mouth. He kisses you again, his tongue pushing past your lips, and you lose yourself in him.

Your fingers comb through his hair, and his body presses down on top of yours. It's different than before. The passion is still there, the hunger and desperation are still present, but there's a tenderness behind his actions, one that wasn't there earlier. His lips are soft and gentle, and his hands roam over your body with a reverence you weren't expecting. You can feel the love in his touch, the affection he has for you, and it's enough to make your chest tighten.

The two of you trade languid kisses, his lips dragging against yours. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, and his weight is heavy on top of you, but it's a comfort. He's surrounding you, his body flush against yours, and your hearts are beating in sync. His length is pressed against you, his hips slowly rocking against your center, and each movement is sending a rush of heat through your core.

You can feel how wet you are, and you know Hunter can smell your arousal. It should be embarrassing, but when he growls against your mouth, you know that's not the case. You roll your hips into him, and his fingers dig into your sides. He's holding himself back, trying not to scare you, and the thought alone makes your heart swell.

"Hunter, please," you beg.

"What do you want?"

"Touch me."

His lips find your neck, and he presses a soft kiss there.

"How?"

"Just —" You groan when his hips roll into yours. "Anywhere. Everywhere."

He chuckles, and his breath is hot against your skin. "Where do you want me to touch you?"

You know what he's doing, and the realization makes you smile. He wants to hear you say it.

"You're mean," you mumble, and Hunter snorts. He bites the sensitive spot where your shoulder meets your neck, and your back arches, pushing your chest into his.

"I'm trying to be nice," he says, his voice rough, and he sucks the skin into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the area.

"Fuck, Hunter," you gasp, your nails scraping over his scalp. He groans, and his hands trail down your body, his fingers dipping under the waistband of your shorts.

"Tell me what you want," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your mind is racing, trying to come up with something, anything, but Hunter is relentless. His lips drag over your skin, and his tongue licks a stripe up your neck, and you can't think, not when his mouth is on you like this.

"Your hands," you breathe, and his fingers inch closer to your center. "Please, Hunter."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Fuck, yes."

"You want me to use my hands, mesh’la?"

"Please."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

Hunter sits up, pulling his hips away from yours. You whine in protest, but he's not gone long, because his fingers are slipping under the waistband of your shorts, and he's sliding them off along with your underwear.

You raise your hips to help him, and once they're gone, his hands find your bra. It takes some effort from the both of you to slide it up over your head, and you're not sure where it ends up, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when he’s looking at you like that.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes roaming over your naked form. His voice is low, and the way he's staring at you makes a shudder run through you. You feel exposed, and you should feel self-conscious, but the awe in his expression makes it impossible. He's gazing at you with an openness and admiration you've never seen before, and it's making it difficult to breathe.

"You're wearing too much," you say, your tone soft.

"Can't argue with that," he replies, and he leans back. He stands, and you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as he pulls his blacks down and off. You stare at him, unable to tear your eyes away.

He's beautiful. His broad shoulders are well defined, and his chest is solid and strong, the muscle rippling under his skin. There's a scattering of hair along his torso, and a trail that starts at his navel, and disappears beneath the waistband of his briefs. You’ve seen him without a shirt before, and it was hard enough then. But now that he's standing here, in front of you, you can't stop yourself from drinking in the sight of him. You bite your lip, your eyes trailing over his tattoo, and you hear Hunter groan.

"You keep doing that, and this is going to be over before it even starts."

"Sorry," you say, but you don't sound very apologetic.

"You're not."

"You're right, I'm not," you say, and the smile that lights up his face is so endearing, you have to force yourself to stay where you are and not reach out for him.

He steps closer to the bed, his eyes glued to your naked form. The way he's staring at you makes a fire burn in your stomach, and your breath catches in your throat when his hands slide over your thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh. His eyes find yours, and you can see the way his jaw is clenched, his teeth grinding together.

"Can I?"

"Yeah," you breathe, and the next thing you know, Hunter's hands are gripping the backs of your knees, and he's yanking your legs apart.

You yelp in surprise, and the noise dies in your throat, turning into a moan when he lowers his mouth to your dripping center.

"Oh, fuck."

"Kriff," Hunter mumbles, and the vibration of his voice against you makes your head fall back. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to catch your breath, but it's impossible, because Hunter's mouth is moving against you, his tongue dragging up your slit.

Your fingers find his hair, and he groans. His mouth is hot and eager, his movements hungry and desperate. He's licking and sucking and nipping at the most intimate parts of you, his tongue slipping past your folds. You can hear the noises he's making, the way his lips and tongue are smacking against you, the sounds he's pulling from your mouth, and it's driving you mad.

Hunter slides his hands under your ass, his palms grabbing handfuls of flesh. He pulls you into him, his face pressed into your center, and you let out a long, low moan, your fingers tugging at his hair.

"Up," he grunts, his mouth still working against you, and it takes you a second to realize what he's asking for. When you raise your hips, his hands move underneath you, and then he's lifting you up.

"What — oh, fuck."

His hands are gripping the tops of your thighs, and he's pulling you onto his face, his mouth opening and closing, his tongue darting out, pressing into your dripping cunt.

You let out a high pitched whine, your legs squeezing around his head, and you can feel him smile against you. He hums in approval, and the vibrations make you squirm. Your fingers twist into his hair, and you start rocking your hips, moving against his mouth.

"Fuck, Hunter."

He groans, and the noise sends a rush of heat through you. He sounds like he's enjoying this as much as you are, and the thought makes you shiver. His tongue swirls around your clit, and when his lips close over the swollen nub, his teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh, your head falls back. You're not sure what you're saying, the words coming out in a rush, a jumbled mess, but Hunter is eating it up.

"That's it," he breathes, and his tongue licks a stripe along your slit. He dips it into you, and a moan rips itself from your throat. He does it again, his tongue curling inside you, his lips closing around your folds, sucking the taste of you into his mouth.

"Please," you gasp, your voice hoarse. Your thighs are shaking, and your heart is racing, and you can't think, not when Hunter is between your legs like this. He's devouring you, his tongue moving against you frantically, as if the only thing that matters is getting you off.

"So good," he mumbles, and his words are slurred. "Taste so good."

"Hunter," you beg, tugging at his hair. The action makes him growl, and he doubles his efforts. He's sucking and licking and biting and kissing every inch of you, his tongue moving against you frantically. Each movement nudges his nose against your clit, and the stimulation has you falling apart.

"Hunter," you whimper. "I'm gonna—"

"Come on, sweetheart," he mumbles. His eyes are closed, and his cheeks are flushed, and his lips are red and slick with your arousal. He's a mess, and the sight makes your head spin. "Let go. I want to taste you."

He wraps his lips around your clit, his teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh, and you can't stop it. The fire in your belly explodes, and the tightness snaps, and your orgasm rushes through you, hot and white, a wave of heat that burns in your blood. Your thighs clamp down around Hunter's head, your toes curling, your back arching, and his name is ripped from your throat. You're dimly aware of your hands pulling his hair, and the noises that are leaving his mouth, but you can't focus on anything, not when he's making you feel this way.

Your muscles finally relax, and you're left trembling, your chest heaving. Hunter slows down, but his tongue doesn't stop, and the gentle strokes are too much for you to handle. You whine, trying to move away from him, but he keeps going, licking and sucking at the skin. You squirm, your body overly sensitive, and the movement is making you dizzy.

"Too much," you gasp, and finally, Hunter stops. He lifts his head, his hair falling into his eyes, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He stares at you, his eyes glazed over, and his gaze is enough to make you shiver. He looks absolutely wrecked.

"You taste incredible," he murmurs, and the compliment makes your core throb. He licks his lips, and his eyes flutter closed. You watch him, unable to look away.

"C'mere," you say, and he nods, crawling up the bed. His chest is flushed, and his abs flex with each movement, the muscle rippling. There's a sheen of sweat covering his skin, and his breathing is shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He lays on top of you, his body heavy, and the weight is a comfort. Your legs wrap around his waist, and his face buries itself into your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"You okay?" he asks, his words slurring together, and his arms wrap around your back. You nod, and a moment later, you feel him kiss your neck.

"Never been better," you sigh, your head falling back. He smiles against your skin, and his lips find your shoulder, the soft skin of your collarbone, and then the sensitive spot on your neck.

"That was... Wow," you mumble.

"Good wow, or bad wow?" he asks, his tone playful, and his voice is rough.

"Good wow. Really good wow."

Hunter chuckles, and the sound sends a thrill through you. He pulls back and grins at you, his teeth flashing in the darkness. “I aim to please."

"Mission accomplished," you murmur, and you press your lips to his. He responds eagerly, his mouth moving against yours, his tongue licking into you. You can taste yourself on him, and the thought makes you shiver. He kisses you deeply, his tongue moving slowly, as if he's savoring the taste of you.

"You're incredible," he breathes.

"I could say the same about you," you say, your hand trailing along his jawline. "I think you deserve a commendation for that performance. Maybe a medal, or something."

Hunter laughs, and his head dips back down to your neck. He kisses the skin softly, his lips barely brushing against you, and the action makes a shudder run through you. You're still trying to catch your breath, and your heart is beating wildly in your chest. You can't remember the last time you've felt like this, but it's definitely not a feeling you're ready to give up.

"Let me take care of you," you whisper, and his movements slow.

"I'm okay."

"I want to."

"Sweetheart, it's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Hunter."

"Really, it's okay," he insists.

"Do you not want me to touch you?" you ask, and the thought makes your stomach clench.

"It's not that," he says.

"Then what is it?"

He doesn't answer, and you tilt his head up, forcing him to look at you. His face is still flushed, and the longer you look at him, the more his cheeks turn pink.

"I, uh, finished. When you came," he says, and his voice is almost a whisper.

Your mouth drops open.

"Oh," you say, and he's looking anywhere but at you. You can feel his cock twitch against your leg, and his shoulders are tense, and you realize that the reason he's so nervous is because he's embarrassed.

"Hunter," you say, and he doesn't look at you.

"I'm sorry, I just — I couldn't help it. You were... Kriff, you're beautiful, and the sounds you were making, and the way you were grinding against my mouth, and when you came, I could smell you, and it was too much."

You bite back a smile.

"That's so hot," you whisper, and the way his body shudders against yours tells you he heard you.

"It is?"

"Of course," you say. You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, and he practically melts against you. You can't stop yourself from smiling, and you try to hide it by kissing his cheek. This whole time, you'd been so focused on your own pleasure, and the fact that he was enjoying it, too, was enough to make you giddy. "That's incredibly hot."

"Really?"

"Really," you confirm. "Are you kidding? It's not every day someone tells me they got off on going down on me. I should probably write it down. Maybe take a holo, for posterity's sake."

Hunter snorts, and his head drops to your shoulder. He nuzzles the soft skin, his stubble tickling your neck, and he sighs. "I can't believe you."

"I can't believe you."

He chuckles, and his hips roll against yours. He's still hard, and when you rock into him, a groan escapes him. You're not sure if he's realized he's doing it, or if he's even aware of the fact that he's pressing his cock against you, his hips moving slowly, but he's dragging his length along your center, and the feeling of it is making your mind foggy.

"You still feel really good," you murmur, and the compliment makes him shiver. His fingers dig into your hips, his nails digging into the soft skin, and his lips find the spot on your neck where his scent is the strongest. He kisses the area, his mouth open, his tongue hot against you, and when he bites down, your legs squeeze around his waist.

"Hunter," you breathe, and he bites down harder. Your body arches into his, and you can feel his lips spread into a smile against your neck.

"Still so responsive," he murmurs, and his voice rumbles in your ear. You can't stop the whimper that leaves you, and your head falls back, your fingers sliding through his hair.

"Only for you," you tell him, and his hands move to your ass. He pulls your hips into his, his grip tight, and the action causes his clothed length to drag along your dripping center.

"Kriff," Hunter mutters, and his fingers curl into the soft flesh. He rocks his hips into yours, and a long, low moan slips past your lips. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Because of you," you mumble.

His mouth finds your jaw, and he peppers kisses along the soft skin, his hips never stopping their movements. Each roll has the tip of his length pressing into your clit, and each touch makes a small whine escape your lips. You can feel his teeth scraping along your jaw, and then his mouth is covering yours, his tongue licking into you, his teeth catching your bottom lip. He bites down, and a moan tumbles from your throat.

"Fuck, I want you," he mumbles against your mouth, his voice ragged. He's panting, his breathing shallow, and he sounds just as desperate as you feel.

"You can have me," you tell him, and the words seem to snap the last bit of his restraint.

Hunter's fingers dig into your hips, his grip almost bruising, and his lips crash into yours, his mouth open and eager. You kiss him back just as hard, and the two of you are frantic, as if the other one will disappear if you stop.

You reach down, your hands trailing along his torso. You trace the lines of his abs, and his muscles clench under your touch. You trail lower, your fingers dipping into the V of his pelvis, and then your hand is slipping under the waistband of his briefs.

"Fuck," he groans when you wrap your hand around his length. His hips jerk, and his mouth opens, and his breath comes out in a hiss. "Oh, kriff."

"Is this okay?"

"Yeah, it's — yes, fuck," he chokes, and you can't help but smile and tighten your hand. He's slick and warm, and he's leaking all over you. It's hard to gauge his size with only your hand, but you've been feeling him for a while now, and judging by the length and the girth, you're confident in saying he's well endowed. Your body clenches at the thought.

"You're so hard," you murmur, and the way his cock pulses in your palm tells you he likes hearing that.

"You make it difficult not to be," he grunts, his hips bucking, and the movement pushes his length further into your hand. You swipe your thumb over his tip, and his whole body twitches, a low whine escaping him.

"Can I suck your cock?" you ask, and Hunter groans, his head tipping back. His hips snap into your hand, his cock sliding through your fist, and he looks as if he's in pain. You don't think he's even listening to you. "Hunter, can I?"

"Yes, yeah, please," he gasps, his voice cracking.

You bite your lip to keep yourself from grinning, and you push at his chest, trying to get him to roll over. He doesn't seem to realize what you're doing, and it takes a few tries before he's finally getting the hint. He flops onto his back, his head resting on the pillow, and he looks up at you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed.

"Mesh'la," he breathes, and you lean forward, capturing his lips in a quick, searing kiss. You break away before he can respond, and you slide down the bed, hooking your fingers into his briefs and pulling them off. He lifts his hips to help you, and once his cock is free, he lets out a sigh.

You look at him, and your breath catches in your throat.

His body is beautiful, his tan skin glowing in the low light, and his length is thick and heavy, resting against his hip. It's the most erotic thing you've ever seen, and you can't tear your eyes away from him. He's hard and twitching, and the sight is enough to make your mouth water.

You crawl between his legs, and his breath hitches when your hand wraps around his length. You can see him swallowing, and his hands are gripping the sheets. He's watching you, his eyes glazed over and dark, and he's holding his breath, his chest unmoving.

"Breathe," you murmur, and he sucks in a breath. It's shaky, and the sound is loud in the silence of the room, but he's listening. You give him a reassuring smile, and his lips quirk.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time," you admit, and his eyes widen.

"Really?"

"Mmhmm. Is that weird?"

"No," he says, and his voice is strained. "Not weird. I've been thinking about it, too."

You bite your lip, and you stroke his length, your hand twisting around the shaft. A bead of precum leaks from his tip, and Hunter groans, his hips rising off the bed. Your tongue darts out to lick at the fluid, and he makes a strangled noise before his hand finds the back of your head. His fingers thread through your hair, and he pulls you up.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just... I have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Do you trust me?"

You don't hesitate. "Yes."

"Okay," he says. "Turn around."

"Turn around?"

"Yeah. So you're facing the other way. And then you can sit on my face."

Your jaw drops, and a rush of heat spreads through your body. You know Hunter can see it on you, and his grin is wolfish.

"You did say you wanted to suck my cock," he points out. "I'm just helping."

You let out a laugh, and you can feel your cheeks heating. You nod, and the next thing you know, you're being picked up by the hips and spun around. You let out a yelp, surprised by his strength, but you let him position you as he sees fit. You're on your hands and knees above him, and you can feel his fingers digging into your hips.

"Comfortable?" he asks, and you can feel him breathing. His voice is coming from right behind you, and you nod.

"Yeah."

He places his hands on your hips and guides you down until you're hovering above his mouth. Your breathing is ragged and your pulse is racing, and you can't bring yourself to look down at him. The anticipation is overwhelming, and it's taking all of your self control not to squirm.

Hunter doesn't give you much time to adjust, and the next thing you know, his mouth is on you. You moan, and your head drops, your forehead resting on his pelvis. Your tongue drags over the base of his length, and you hear him groan.

You're not sure how you're going to focus on him, because Hunter's tongue is moving against you, his hands guiding your hips, pulling you down onto his mouth. You can feel his teeth and his lips and his tongue, and his stubble is scratching at the sensitive skin, and it's driving you crazy.

You drag your tongue along his length, and he moans against you. It's enough to encourage you, and you open your mouth, wrapping your lips around his tip. He lets out a shaky sigh, his hips lifting slightly, and the taste of him fills your mouth. You suck him in, taking him as far as you can, and when he hits the back of your throat, a long, low groan echoes through the room.

"Fuck," he breathes.

You can feel his hips shaking, and you know it's taking every ounce of his willpower not to thrust into your mouth. Instead, he pushes his tongue into you, and his thumbs are rubbing circles into your hips.

It takes some work, but the two of you manage to establish a rhythm. He licks and sucks and nips at you while you bob your head up and down his shaft, taking him as far into your mouth as possible. What you can't reach with your mouth, you wrap your hand around, twisting and pumping him. Each movement of your hand is met with a growl from below, and each swipe of his tongue has you moaning around his cock.

"F-fuck, Hunter," you mumble, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and you swallow around him. The action makes him twitch, and a moan tumbles from his mouth, vibrating against your cunt.

"You're incredible," he groans. "You take me so well."

You whine, and you're not sure how much longer you can do this. You're already sensitive from the first round, and Hunter is relentless. His mouth and his tongue are everywhere, and the stimulation is making your mind foggy.

"So good," he murmurs, and his hand slides down, his fingers dipping inside you. You can't hold back the moan that spills from you, and the vibrations make Hunter hiss. He adds a second finger, curling and twisting them, his pace faster and more frantic. His mouth closes over your clit, and his tongue swirls around the swollen bud, his lips sucking it into his mouth.

You moan, and his hips buck. The sudden movement makes him slide further down your throat, and you gag, tears filling your eyes.

"Fuck," he groans. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"M'fine," you slur, your mouth still around his cock, and you suck him harder, your tongue moving over his shaft. Hunter's fingers dig into your hips, his nails biting into the flesh, and his teeth are scraping along your cunt, his tongue moving in time with the movements of his hand.

You can feel the tightness building in your stomach, the familiar feeling of the coil snapping, and you're close, so close. Hunter can sense it, too, because his pace is relentless. He's working you furiously, his tongue moving at a feverish pace, and the way he's licking and sucking at you is enough to make you scream.

You let his cock fall from your mouth, and you press your face into his pelvis, his length rubbing against your cheek.

"Hunter, I'm gonna—"

"Let go, sweetheart," he rasps. "Let go. Come on my face."

The words alone are enough to push you over the edge, and a moment later, you're seeing stars. You let out a sob as your orgasm consumes you, and your legs are trembling, your muscles tightening. A rush of heat washes over you, and Hunter pulls his fingers away to wrap his arm around your waist, holding you steady as you come apart.

He doesn't stop, his tongue moving furiously against you, his mouth open and eager. Through the tears blurring your eyes, you see his cock pulsing, the tip red and swollen, and his thighs are shaking. You know he's close, and you want him to finish with you, so you take his length back into your mouth, sucking and licking him.

Hunter groans, and his tongue works frantically, his hips lifting off the bed. His grip on your waist is bruising, and he's moaning against you, his tongue lapping at your folds, and then he's coming undone, his cock pulsing and spurting hot and sticky into your mouth.

You swallow, and the act alone is enough to send another shudder through him. He's panting against you, his hips jerking, and his breathing is harsh, his chest heaving.

"Kriff," he mutters, his lips dragging against the soft skin of your thighs. "That was — wow."

You smile, and you place a kiss on the head of his length, licking the stray droplet of cum off his slit. Hunter whimpers, his hips lifting, and the sound is so soft and quiet, you can barely hear it.

"Fuck," he groans, and he's still twitching. You give him one last, long lick, and he hisses, his hands squeezing your hips. You sit up and turn around, straddling his hips, and when you see his face, a laugh bubbles up in your chest.

"You look like a mess," you say, and his eyes widen.

"I've just had the life sucked out of me. Give me a break."

"That was so good," you say, and you bend down to kiss him. His lips part, and his tongue finds yours, licking into you. He moans at the taste of himself on your lips, and his hands move to the small of your back. The two of you stay like that for a while, trading lazy kisses and soft touches, enjoying each other's presence. Eventually, Hunter breaks away, his nose brushing against yours.

"We should get some sleep," he says, and he sounds reluctant. "It's been a long day, and the others could be back anytime."

"Oh," you say, and your heart sinks. You'd forgotten the others would be returning in the morning, and that meant the night would be over. Hunter is right; the two of you needed rest. You weren't ready for it to end, though.

"We can talk about it in the morning," he says, his tone gentle, and his hand moves to stroke your hair.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," you say.

Hunter turns and places you on the bed, and you lie back and watch as he stands and pads naked first to your bag, then the bathroom. When he comes back, he's got a damp cloth, and he kneels on the bed next to you. You expect him to hand it to you so you can clean yourself up, but instead, he uses it to gently wipe you down. The action is so tender and intimate, it makes your heart ache.

"There," he says, a few moments later. He tosses the cloth towards the bathroom, and then he's back, pulling the covers over the both of you.

He turns on his side and pulls you into him, and you let him. You rest your head on his chest, and his arms wrap around your waist. He lets out a sigh, and his nose buries itself in your hair.

"This is nice," you mumble.

"Yeah, it is," Hunter agrees, and the two of you lapse into silence. You can feel your eyes growing heavy, and the steady rise and fall of his chest is comforting. His hand is moving up and down your spine, his fingers tracing patterns along the soft skin, and each touch is lulling you to sleep.

You're drifting, the sounds of the fire and Hunter's breathing fading away, when the sound of your datapad beeping brings you back. You roll over and grab it from the bedside table, squinting at the display.

"It's Tech," you say, and Hunter grunts, his eyes fluttering open. 

I can't reach Hunter. Are you two okay?

You type a quick reply. We're fine. Just fell asleep.

I need to talk to him. Please wake him up.

"He needs to talk to you," you say, and you can hear Hunter grumbling. He opens one eye, and his lip curls.

"Can't it wait?"

"Apparently not," you say, and Hunter groans.

"Fine," he says, and he snatches the datapad from your hand, his fingers flying across the keypad. A moment later, his mouth quirks up into a grin, and he holds out the screen so you can read the message.

The repairs to the engine are taking longer than I anticipated, Tech had written. I estimate we will be ready to leave in about 18 hours. I apologize for the inconvenience. Will try to keep you apprised of the situation.

Underneath it was Hunter's message. Take all the time you need. We're not going anywhere.

Your mouth drops open, and Hunter's smile is growing wider. You read the message again and grin. 

"We have 18 hours?" you ask, and you're unable to contain the excitement in your voice.

Hunter nods and sets the datapad back on the nightstand. You can't see his face clearly in the dark, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. "Guess so."

You let out a giggle and throw yourself at him, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. He lets out a huff of surprise, but his hands come to rest on your hips, and he squeezes them gently.

"Well then. Let's not waste them."

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SWEET DREAM

< osamu miya x reader >

Summary: Being a manager for the Inazarki volleyball club wasn't easy, especially dealing with their chaos. They had made great friends because of it and had caught some attention as well, especially from Miya Osamu. For him, having a crush on the manager isn't ideal but it wasn't anything that he can control. The worst thing about it, watching your crush already be in a relationship with your teammate.

Genre: friends to lovers, angst, drama, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, teasing, suggestive themes.

Tags: open

CHAPTER NINE

<chapter eight || materlist || chapter ten>

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▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

< taglist > @sproutytoad @grimespial @saturns-satellites

great expectations - 8, date night!

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a/n: two written parts! also sorry this took so long I got really into the all for the game books again :/

You really wished you hadn't worn a watch.

You knew it was considered rude to check your watch over and over again while on a date. You knew it, and yet you still cringed each time you felt your subconscious twist your wrist so that the face was pointed towards yourself.

It was hard not to flinch when you realized it had only been two minutes since the last time who checked the time.

Ushijima, for his part, at least pretended to either not notice or not care about your unintentional slight. You felt guilty, but you couldn't stop the creeping feeling of just wanting to be home.

You'd never tell Kuroo that he was right. You were pretty certain that he was.

It wasn't like there was anything wrong with Ushijima. He was incredibly kind and thoughtful. Romantic, too, if the bouquet of roses he had brought you at the start of the evening had any say in the matter.

But you were incredibly bored.

Dinner was over, and Ushijima was halfway through his question about dessert when he stopped and shifted gears. The sudden change in pace of conversation, coupled with the way he leaned forward slightly, like you were co-conspirators, caught your attention.

"Excuse me if I'm wrong, but you're not feeling this, are you?"

"Sorry," You winced, face flushing in guilt. It was one thing to not enjoy a perfectly fine date, but it was another thing for your date to realize you had mentally checked out.

"Don't be." Ushijima dismissed, and you really couldn't help but believe him. "Would you like if we got the check and I drove you home?"

"If you wouldn't mind,"

The only emotion stronger than your guilt was your dread about seeing your housemates so soon after your failed date, but at least you could mope in your own bed.

If you didn't love your teammates as much as you did, or cared about your role as captain so deeply, you would've long been snug in your bed.

Instead, you're on a mission on campus when you should be commiserating your failed date with Kiyoko while forcing Tsukki to fetch snacks and send Hinata on mindless tasks to keep him out of your business.

You love Shoyo. He's got too big of a mouth, and you've learned the hard way too many times.

One of your teammates had texted you in a panic, saying she left her gym bag—and her wallet—in the campus weight room reserved for student athletes. Since it's so late, the whole building is already locked up. You would have told her just to get it in the morning, but she countered by saying she's leaving town early for a family event you've known about for weeks.

And she knows you have a key to the building, curtesy of how much your coach trusts you.

So with heavy footsteps, you take the familiar path towards the weight room. There are a few other student athlete-only areas in the building. Changing rooms, a few conference rooms for the occasional meeting, and a film review room.

Your face twists in confusion as you pass the film room on your way to the destination, because the lights are on. The janitor should have been long gone, and you assume that he just forgot to flip the switch on his way out.

You slip inside to turn the lights off and nearly jump out of your skin when somebody makes a noise of complaint at the sudden darkness the room in plunged in.

It takes five whole seconds for your mind and racing heart to catch up to the scene in front of you—Tooru Oikawa, perched on the chair closest to the screen, frowning over his shoulder at your interruption.

Except, he's not frowning for long.

His body moves before yours understand that you're not being attacked by a stranger hiding in the film room, and he jumps to his feet. He takes only a few steps towards then stalls out, and you're grateful for you, because you're so not ready to confront the mess you created with him that you think if he does try and get closer, you'll bolt.

"Hey, uh," He starts then stops, one hand scratching at the back of his neck as he searches for whatever words he wanted to say. "I've been trying to talk to you."

You know, you'd say. Kuroo told you that Bokuto told him—a round about way of finding your information, you know—that Oikawa thinks you've blocked him because you haven't responded to a single one of his messages.

You haven't blocked him. And you read every single one of his messages, but you felt so awful about what you assumed about him that you haven't been able to respond.

"Yeah, I've been busy." You lie. Besides your usual practices and classes, your schedule has been wide open. Kageyama put a pause on tutoring while everyone preps for the season and you're not spending every day hanging out with Oikawa anymore.

From the look on his face, you know he doesn't believe you. Your feet are still cemented to the ground, so you can't run off, but you do let yourself look at the ground that's slipping out from underneath you.

"Listen, that girl I was with? She's in my Econ lecture and I was only talking to her because Astumu has—had?—this massive thing for her." He's careful with his tone, you've spent enough time around him, but you can hear the edge of desperation you're trying so hard to not look at.

"I believe you." Your own words are even, measured. Honest, if a little underwhelming. You believed him from the moment you read his texts, and you know you're overreacting.

"Then why haven't you texted me back?" He sounds a little lost, and you hate that you're the cause of his frown.

"Because I jumped to conclusions and felt like shit." You explain. Your fingers are wringing the hem of your sweatshirt and it's an effort to even look at him, but you owe Oikawa that much. You assumed the worst and you made the decision to cut and run. "Can we just leave it, for now?"

You know better than to outright banish the conversation, but you're so far from prepared to talk about your shit coping strategies with Oikawa.

"Alright," He sighs, rather reluctantly agreeing. You don't care, because at least he's agreed. You offer a tight-lipped smile in return, and Oikawa's strained expression meets yours too easily. "Did you have fun tonight?"

Your stomach drops. Somehow, you'd forgotten about the fact that Oikawa follows you on Instagram. In a bid to further convince yourself that you were interested in Ushijima, you'd posted tidbits of your night online, though nothing that would hint to the identity of the man you were with.

Oikawa had seen the posts, and somehow you manage to feel even worse.

"Not really," You owe him a bit of honesty for your shitty posts. In return, you're greeted by the sight of his lips curving upwards for a second or two before he got ahold of his expression.

"Not to sound like a self absorbed dick, but I'm glad."

"I know." You snort. And you're not mad at him for his comment, because as stupid as it sounds, you find it endearing.

"Can I walk you home?" Oikawa's quick to fill the lapse in conversation. "It's pretty late and I don't want you by yourself."

"Tsukki was at the library still, so he's on his way to meet me here and we're walking back together." You explain with another tight lipped smile, squeezing your hands in time so that your nails carve crescent moons into your palms.

"Okay." It's a heartbreaking sound, the quiet acceptance of his rejection. You hate it, because no matter how many times you rejected him before, he never sounded so dejected.

"Hey, Oikawa?" You pretend not to notice the way his frown etches deeper at your use of his last name instead of his first. "Thanks for offering, at least."

"Anytime," He's quick to respond, and you know he means it. "Whatever you need."

You know he means that, too.

It makes it harder to walk away. You still manage.

extras!

yn tried and failed to gaslight herself into think she liked ushijima

hinata felt really vindicated when yn admitted she though Ushijima was boring.

there was ten minutes of radio silence between when oikawa saw yn's stories and when he responded in the gc. iwaizumi, atsumu, and osamu made second gc in that time and were devising plans to track down oikawa and make sure he wasn't doing anything stupid (like crashing her date)

after seeing yn on campus, oikawa texted tsukki and told him to text when they made it back safely. out of respect for his captain tsukki did and didn't tell yn about it

yn is really good at self sabotaging

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@loveyislost @vi0let-writes @jayathelostdragon @snoowply @ladycaramelswirl @dayanahq @loverryxx @x3nafix @rantsbytk @blue-moonies

press start! — what is this feeling (14/22)

after spending almost a whole year on academic probation, you’re finally allowed to start your position as a manager for the nekoma boys volleyball team. you’re determined to stay focused on your team and academics, but things get a bit difficult when a certain middle blocker makes his way into your life

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venus ; chapter four ; reserved

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she walked into the gym, shoes squeaking as the jackels and alders warm up, the fluorescent lights burning her eyes, she hasnt been in this gym for months. she walked up the stairs to the bleachers, looking for her reserved seat as atsumu had called her the day before and told her that there would be one for her and what seat it would be. the seats were filled, she was thinking of how lucky she was that there was a reserved seat.. almost. she got to the row and counted down the seats, there was a girl sitting in her seat. her eyebrows furrowed, walking over to the seat. "hey, im sorry i think you're sitting in my seat, its reserved." the girl looked up, smacking her gum, "um, yeah it was reserved but the cute setter said i could sit here!" yns eye sqinted. "um what?" she asked, "i think i said it pretty clearly but good try! or did my words not pierce through that big head of yours?" she said all with a smile on her face. "no you said it pretty clearly, i say what because the setter down there is my boyfriend, and the seat you're sitting in is the one he reserved for me." her arms crossing and the fake smile on her face dropping. "yeah sure whatever you say maam! can you move out of my way now im trying to watch!" "the game hasnt even started yet!" yn exclaimed before walking off. she took back down the stairs and exited the building. of course atsumu would do some shit like this. why wouldnt he? she decided to not report back to the group chat for this one, it just gives the three of them more reason to hate atsumu. and she did not want another scolding.

she sat cross-legged in atsumu's apartment. just waiting. what she was going to do when he got there, she didnt know. probably yell, a lot, and he would yell back. its an endless cycle. she knew it. she just couldnt quit him. locks jiggled before the door opened. chants from bokuto was heard "HOO HOO HOO WHAT THE HELL IS AN AL-" stopping dead in his tracks, "what is it bo?" hinata peeked over bokuto's shoulder, making eye contact with yn. "oooooo your in troubleeee" is all that was heard from hinata before him and bokuto scurried off to their rooms. sakusa also followed after the two boys, leading atsumu into the apartment. "hey, i was looking for you after!" "oh you were looking for me after? i assume in the seat that you 'reserved' for me." she airquoted the word reserved. "yeah! and some other girl was in the seat." "no shit sherlock! because you told her to sit there! you're memory cannot be that short term!" yn stood up, getting in atsumu's face. "ohhhhh yeah i did do that." she just stood there starstruck, jaw dropped "i, i cant do this right now." she walked away, and out of the house. tears welling in her eyes, and falling all before she walked out the door frame.

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SWEET DREAM

< osamu miya x reader >

Summary: Being a manager for the Inazarki volleyball club wasn't easy, especially dealing with their chaos. They had made great friends because of it and had caught some attention as well, especially from Miya Osamu. For him, having a crush on the manager isn't ideal but it wasn't anything that he can control. The worst thing about it, watching your crush already be in a relationship with your teammate.

Genre: friends to lovers, angst, drama, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, teasing, suggestive themes.

Tags: open

CHAPTER TEN

<chapter nine || materlist || chapter eleven>

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

< taglist > @sproutytoad @grimespial @saturns-satellites @meekydeeks