#not fully prepped but theres still time

[wholesalesoftie]

my friend left his scarf at my house and i'm just wearing it cause it brings so much comfort fr. love my friends sm uni is actually healing me

[the-s1lly-corner]

Hi, may i request some headcanons for Toby, Ej and Ben with a S/O who is really clumsy and always has new bruises?

toby, ej, and ben x reader who is clumsy

my legs hurt i hate how they tense up when i get stressed out it hurts so much notes: reader is gn, ben is platonic as i do not feel comfortable writing romantic for him, heavy hcs for all of them naturally but esp ben cws: edit

toby

he has a little bit of a disconnect between pain and injuries- both for himself and other people. obviously for himself its because of his CIPA, and that leaks into how he perceives others. he knows it hurts for them but he doesnt fully understand to what degree

still, he does his best to sympathize with you when you get hurt- actually you guys likely come up with a system.. a scale to rank how painful it is.. not just for physical pain! i can easily see this being used as a general thing for you guys to rate an experience both lightheartedly and as a serious thing

gets you meds as well as an icepack for your bruises so youre not too sore- hopefully

keeps an eye on the coloring of your skin, headcanon that he keeps tabs of the look of how an injury looks to determine severity.. as well as generally having a curiosity

he doesnt outwardly judge you all that much for your clumsiness, he knows his tics have caused some accidents so hes not going to fault you for a lot of your accidents

eyeless jack

tries to find a reason for your clumsiness, or at least tries to clear it of "okay do you have something internally thats happening", and if you actually do he does what he need to accommodate you

makes sure you dont needlessly get put into a situation that can lead to you getting hurt, he doesnt babyproof his place or yours.. nor does he treat you like youre a kid, but he does make precautions

lightly scolds you for not being careful if youre careless and roll with it as you get hurt- he doesnt want you to get hurt even if its something small

knows some tricks to lessen bruises before they get too bad, as well as ways to relieve any pain and swelling

medical interest really coming in clutch!

he hears crashing sounds and he just preps himself for whats about to transpire

he loves you but he does try to help you manage your clumsiness

ben

he thinks its a little funny that youre constantly hurting yourself, as long as its not a major injury- he also thinks its a little... pathetic... its a little mean for him to think that but hey, hes a bit of an asshole so its to be expected

he cant do much most of the time on account of him not being physically there- stuck in your phone or computer or some other device. but he does try to verbally be there for you- there in spirit!

if hes connected to the internet and hes able he does try to find some solutions to either lessen your clumsiness or how to make your bruises fade faster

tries to see if theres a cause to your clumsiness but its mostly him bullshitting you

"it could be a tumor" "you little shit its not a tumor"/ref/hj

more of a "lets move on and forget about it" kind of person, which isnt terrible especially if you find yourself embarrassed by your clumsiness

[liveontelevision]

Imagine kissing Lucifer for the time. This man is so anxious and excited, he definitely prepared himself for this exact moment; standing in front of him, he's toying with his hair and yours, moving you to just the right spot, making sure it's exactly how he pictured it, dreamed of it. Also, might be to ease his mind that nothing could ruin it.

It'd probably be after some performance, show, movie, etc. that he also already looked into, so he would know what to expect and already have topics to discuss on the way back to your place. Despite all that prep, he's still rendered speechless at the sound of your laughter. To his own jokes. Jokes that he'd been sitting on until this now. He was saving them for you :)

Once the time rolls around, he looks around you, circling you and fibbing when you ask about his intentions. He'll give you no preparation, even with all that he's done for himself. I mean, with how perfect you are, he assumes that you'll be just as cool as he's attempting to be.

He places his hands on your shoulders and will take in a deep breath, only confusing you more. Still, with the patience of a saint, you stand and smile at him, hiding any anxieties you have in the moment. You look absolutely stunning, so he just has to take in another eye full before moving on.

Okay, this is it. He's ready.

He smashes his lips against yours. Contrary to his belief, you were, in fact, not prepared for that at all. He's muffling a startled yelp from you, his hands tightening on your shoulders. It's rough and awkward for a moment, theres a chance he might habe a small tremor in his hands. With a quick tap of his chest he's pulling away.

Shit, shit, shit-

Before he can panic anymore though, your hands are holding his incredibly hot cheeks. You don't kiss him yet, you run your thumb across his skin and let out a content sigh. It seems to calm him a little. Good. He places his own hand over yours, and when you step closer to him, you feel a light squeeze on your hand.

After another deep breath, and a shared laugh at the realization of the ridiculousness that just happened, he's ready to try again.

He wraps his arms around your waist with a delicate yet sure touch, making your stomach flip. He leans into you, only needing to stand on his toes a little, and finally reconnects his lips to yours. You're both smiling into each other.

And he'll proudly admit that it's even better than he imagined.

Once your lips are starting to part, an invitation for things to become more intimate, he's leaning in even more. You have to tip backwards for him to fully take you in until he's satisfied. Before it can become uncomfortable, one of his hands moves to your back to support you completely.

You can't see it, but he's definitely using that angelic magic of his to gain a bit of an upper hand. His feet are just barely above the ground, leaving him to hover a little, and allowing him to hold you tighter and closer than you were previously.

His breath is hot and heavy against your lips, forcing him to pull away on occasion, but surely not long enough for him to compose himself. Pulling away one more time with an almost dramatic gasp for air, you tap his chest before he could dive back in.

He looks as confused as he does absolutely infatuated. Red cheeked, glazed eyes that are barily open. You let out a little chuckle before reminding him,

"Breathe, Lucifer~"

-

OOPS just wanted to do a little "what if lucifer gets so excited to kiss you he forgets to breathe isn't that so silly" post my bad

[bigusbossus]

mmhmmgmhmgmh bbkaz sometime before sauna fight so they by some miracle havent seen eachothers cocks. they mostly just dry hump and make out but when they wanna finally fuck for the first time kaz makes a joke like "hehehaha whoever has the smallest penis has to bottom lol!!!" bc kaz actually has a decent sized cock and he feels like he might actually be bigger but then bb whips out his giant thick bitch breaker cock and its already bigger than kaz's and hes not even fully hard yet. kaz is like fuckfuckfuckfuck bc he doesnt even think its gonna fit inside himmm. bb finds it super amusing .. grabs kazs cock and starts comparing their sizes.. his cock makes kazs look sooo fucking small and its making kaz so embarrassed.. he compares the girths and the lengths and kaz is covering his super red face like "i-i get it boss..." and then bb pushes kaz down on the bed and asks him if hes ready to get fucked by a real man's cock 🤤🤤

Kaz has always thought that BB would be small. He cant wrap his head around a man being so disinterested in sex for any other reason than he has a tiny cock. When theyre making out and grinding he thinks its BB's crotch guard rubbing against his thigh. He never would've thought that man to be packing a monster in there. He'd look at it, eyes wide like hes witnessing a murder, swallowing the saliva he hasn't realized he's been collecting. Now he understands why BB dosnt fuck around so much, that thing could kill a guy and he's not about to be the next casualty.

He'd try to op out, "Haha.. Boss..um.. I dont think i can do this..." he'd be honest. But BB isnt taking that, " What? Intimidated? Come on Kaz, it wont bite :)" Kaz almost considers running out naked, he'll leave with his pride in ruins but atleast he'd have his life intact.

BB pushes their dicks together and the difference is comical, Kaz is unimpressive next to Bb, even at full hardness. BB would stroke their cocks together, And Kaz gets t witness with his very own two eyes how much bigger it can get, he feels his throat going dry, his cock leaking despite the circumstances. He'd truly be speechless. He dosnt stand a chance in the dick competition, he shouldnt have entered in the first place. BB would keep rubbing their dicks together, Its fun to see Kaz be so torn between melting into the pleasure and being terrified about whats to come (which is him btw, he cums prematurely and BB laughs at him for it, Kaz is just embarrassing himself even more)

Knowing he cant leave, theres only one way forward and thats to keep by his word. With sweat beading on his forehead, veins protruding like theyre about to pop, Kaz opens his legs up for BB and presents his criminally unprepared hole.

All the birds resting on mother base go flying that day, and everyone present thinks Miller is being tortured. His screams are so loud they reach the neighboring platforms. BB isnt a very patient man so of course he barely preps Kaz, He's strong enough to just force it in. Kaz is lucky he dosnt need stitches.

BB is so big that his dick pokes through from inside Kaz's belly and this is very hot to both of them :3 even though Kaz faints from the pain and also the "what the frick theres a huge thing inside me!?!?!?! " thing , he still ends up enjoying it alot.... even with the rectal bleeding (the price to pay for having sex with bb tbh)

also bb's cock is huge become one he was born that way and 2 the radiation made it bigger... like canonically

[bunnyboy-juice]

1, 7, 15, 19, 22, 26 !!!! srry if its a lot im curious :]

no apologies!!! this took a minute but was fun (:

Be over-stimulated or edged? for me: OVER STIMULATED FOR SURE!!!! both require a lot of trust for me but edging requires More because im more likely to cry from that | to others: i loooooooove edging others dont get me wrong but theres smthn so delicious about getting someone to the point where they are incoherent and wincing from cumming so much :3c but also these two go hand in hand for me really so its really like picking if im gonna peel a banana from the top or bottom yk?

Receive a voice memo or a nude from a mutual? Nudes by FAR! i actually get super overwhelmed by sounds - like not even related to sex - and mouth sounds in particular can be a really big squick for me (and have even triggered me before unfortunately) and for some reason i notice the mouth sounds more in nsfw VMs 😔😭

Receive or send a dirty message while at work? SENDING FOR SURE!!! like whether im at work sending nsfw messages to them or I'm at home sending them nsfw messages at work i love showing off 🥰 plus i get really easily spooked when im sent dirty texts in particular 😭 (photos not so much! but i still generally prefer a like "hey i was thinking of X/saw X and thought you'd be into it/had a thought about it you'd be into wanna hear" for anything To me yk?)

Boobs or butt? so first things first i am Primarily a fat stomach and thighs lover over literally everything else BUT of these two then butt bc i like to bite and boobs are generally more sensitive (and i have sharp teeth) - also boobs are nice (really nice :3) but butts are close to the hips and the tummy and the thighs and the inner thigh in particular and GRAAAAAAAAH yk

Receive or perform oral? oh perform for sure - i think legitimately only 2 or 3 people have ever gone down on me in my Life (i cant remember if one person did or tried to and i stopped them 🤔 so lets call it 2) and one is my wife and the other was just Yikes and i hated it - but while there's some context-dependent needs for it, as long as no one is trying to push on the back of my head performing oral is much more preferred (: (also i do like the sensation of oral sex i just know if im given a choice: 70% of the time i will pick going down on someone, 10% for someone going down on me, and 20% for full No Thank yous)

Moan or scream? moans (& groans) - i cant scream very well actually w/o pausing and prepping to do it (fun fact: i cant ride roller coasters bc of this, i also used to flat out never be able to scream it was not fun but i can at least a little now!!!) and they're also Loud from others and often feel so sharp on my ears its likely to make me at least go Yellow if not fully Red out /: (yelps and stuff are cute tho, its really like Screaming and Yelling are things i just cant do)

[great-or-terrible-beaste]

THE WIDE, CARNIVOROUS SKY & OTHER MONSTROUS GEOGRAPHIES - JOHN LANGAN

(currently unfinished, this will be updated as I continue the rest of the short stories in the book, but the ones ive read so far are listed below. i guess theres probably spoilers in here so disgres urself accordingly, tho i'll try to keep it vague)

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KIDS

Kids is a really interesting start to this book in a way I really loved. As a huge fan of that thing music albums do sometimes where they have a short little bit at the beginning as a way to prep you for the rest of the album, Kids does a similar thing here. Although in this case it's 3-ish pages about strange children eating a teacher, which in addition fo the writing being very good does really well in setting the stage for what's to come.

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HOW THE DAY RUNS DOWN

And what's to come certianly delivers. How the Day Runs Down is at it's core a zombie story. You wouldnt think that at first though given a number of things but the most important generally is the fact that the entire thing is written as a stage play. I was in general not so hot on this one at first, not for any particular reason but to be honest just for the sake of needing some time to get back into short story writing again. It really is a different mindset from most longer novels, especially the longer running trilogies etc i've been mostly reading recently. Switching from story to story so fast and with so little time to spend on each, it's jolting at times but it does still make for fun stories. It's just that sometimes you need a different perspective to remember that again.

In How the Day Runs Down's case, that came in the form of remembering the way that LITERALLY ANY OTHER ZOMBIE STORY HOLDS ITSELF. This story does, in a fraction of the time, something very interesting with the genre. This is put with the caveat that I haven't read/watched/played much zombie media and am fully open to points made about whether or not I should do that before being So harsh on other stories, but in How the Day Runs Down's defence. I have yet to hear about another zombie story that is set from the perspective of a being who's job it is to meet mortals after their deaths and guide them on to the next place, performing in and running a play that consists of everything that they have watched happen in the small area of the eastern US they preside over as well as discussing the implications of rebirth on the afterlife in very certian terms. On top of all this it's also just a really well written zombie story, even going so far as to actually give a reason why they dont call them zombies in the story. (they are reffered to as eaters mostly instead as it is "easier to not admit they're zombies") The story really loves to play in the areas of human nature in the face of it's own collapse at the hands of an unknown disease. None of the characters are really all that certian about themselves, the world around them, or how to act when confronted directly with zombies. It's a very emotionally well written take on it that I really enjoyed.

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TECHNICOLOUR

I have a bit less to say about this one. Mostly just because it's a pretty solidly fun story about a nonexistent book providing firstly new context to Edgar Allen Poe's "Masque of the Red Death", and then context to a ritual which will supposedly summon something unknowable into the world once again. It is written from the perspective of a university professor goving a lecture to a class which is a cool way of laying it out, but I didn't necissarily find anything more of much substance on first read. This, as a note seems to be a recurring thing to an extent with Langan's work. Not that it's necissarily a bad thing, but to a point the stories tend to be more about the expressed thing on the page than anything metaporical. I dont think that's a bad thing generally, my leanings towards preferring strong metaphorical undertones are personal for sure, but there are times I wish there was a bit more substance in the story. Regardless though, it is very well written.

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THE WIDE, CARNIVOROUS SKY

ive read this one but i Am falling asleep rn + i gotta think on it more

[thelast2stepstofreedom]

Plsss can u do a Sungmin (fantasy boys) fic where he is ur academic rival and ends up being roomates with u? And while your in the living room one day, you say something that absolutely pisses him off, causing him to drag you to his room and tie you up while he fucks you all while degrading you and just being a mean sadist in general? Omggg i love ur fics

Hong Sungmin. Top of your class and your absolute worst nightmare. You strive to be the best of the best, and yet Sungmin always takes it from you. You want the best score? He got it. Well. Today you’d be getting your dorm mate! Hopefully it��s someone nice who you can complain to from time to time.. Ah, fuck it. You open the door to meet the person who you will be stuck with for the remainder of the year, and see

…

Sungmin. Of course it’s Sungmin. You had a long day, and this is what you end it on? You sigh, ignoring him and Immediately heading to bed.

It’s been a few weeks, and you’ve almost learned how to tolerate Sungmin’s presence. You sat on the couch watching some trashy kdrama when the doorbell rings. “Can you get that? It’s the food” You ask Sungmin. He grits his teeth and goes to get the door. A few moments later, he comes back with the food. “Ok. Give it over” You say, now fully invested in your drama. You hear am exasperated laugh and look over to see why he wasn’t giving you the bag. “Hello? Are you deaf? I said give it” You repeat, more annoyed this time. He slams the bag down and snaps his head toward you. “You do not fucking talk to me like that.” You roll your eyes. “You’re not my dad, Sungmin. So shut up and give me my food.” At that, he snaps. “Well you’ll be calling me daddy soon enough” you hear him whisper almost inaudibly. He grabs your arm and drags you to his room, throwing you onto his bed. He goes to his desk to grab what looked to be rope, and you decided to bolt. You were almost at the door when you felt him kick you in the back of your leg, knocking you down. He was quick to tie you up. “I knew you would run, baby. That’s why I got the rope.” He said, dragging you back to the bed. “It’s time someone teaches you respect” You shake your head no, causing him to laugh. He slaps you roughly on the cheek. “I didn’t fucking ask. Stay still or this is going to get unpleasant.” He warned. You could feel yourself shaking as he prepped you. You were terrified, unable to escape from Sungmin’s hold. “ ‘M gonna fuck you now, and you’re going to take it like a good doll, mkay?” He states more than asks, before fully thrusting himself into you. You scream at the discomfort, making him scowl. He shoved your shirt into your mouth, slapping you so hard you expect it to leave a mark. “Stop being so loud, you wouldn’t want someone to hear how much of a slut you are for me hm?” He mocked, thrusts picking up in power. Despite the situation, your eyes rolled back into your head. “Wow. Fucking disgusting. You’re really getting off on this? I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, theres no way those grades came naturally right? You have to had slept with the teachers for them.” He whispered into you ear, laughing when he felt you clench around him. He bit at your neck, leaving deep bruises in the most obvious places. “ ‘M gonna cum soon. Think you’ve learned your lesson yet?” He giggled at your lack of response, he could tell he fucked you dumb. “Mm, I should just keep you like this, all tied up. You’d be my little fuck toy. But i bet you’d like that huh. You’re such a whore.” You could barely breathe, let alone respond. “Cumming” was the only warning you got before he came inside you. He pulled out, catching his breath. “Fuck, I knew you’d be a good lay. This was worth all the planning I did” He said, grabbing a towel and wiping himself clean. “ ‘M going out tonight, try not to get too cramped in the rope!” He laughed, slamming the door behind him, leaving you tied up and alone.

[clatoera]

Always Remember We’re Burned For Better Chapter 4: I’ve Loved You Three Summers Now Honey, I Want Them All.

Heeeeeey besties. 

This was supposed to be a fun, light weight, fluffy filler chapter as I have an exam this Friday and couldn’t give the tour the depth it deserved. All that to say I literally wrote 20 pages of fluff. This is sort of my niche in terms of long term fic writing. Most recently I was writing entire AUs in the terms of domestic vignettes of “slice of life” moments as someone called it. These don’t really further the plot. The goal was to give the idea of what their life could be if the plot stopped here. 

Masterpost with chapters 1-3

AO3 Link

The title comes from Lover (Taylor Swift). I also highly recommend Cruel Summer and Daylight. Theres also an All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before reference. Each small vignette is separated by a lyric that I thought of when writing. If Taylor Swift had to name this she would call it “The More Lover Chapter.” Thats what this is.  Every bold and italicized lyric is a change in scene. 

Okay, as usual, thank you to the besties. Especially to @ms1818 who i have to directly credit with the ‘on both knees’ part in the very end :)

All’s well that ends well to end up with you

The sun is not yet rising on the horizon when the District Two prep team, escort, and Enobaria herself burst through the door of Cato’s bedroom the morning after the games. Neither Cato nor Clove’s eyes are fully open when Clove is physically ripped out of the bed and her otherwise naked body is wrapped in a cotton towel.

“Thanks to your little display last night, you two have bought yourselves an exclusive interview with Caesar before we go home. Great job, you two.” Enobaria is clearly just as exhausted as they are, if the robe and cup of coffee in her hand are anything to go by. She rubs at her eyes and Clove takes in more of her appearance, from the messy ponytail with flyaway hairs around her face, to the slippers she had not yet changed out of. If Clove were to guess, Enobaria had been pulled out of bed just the same as she was, not too long ago.

Cato tries to flip on his stomach, tugging Clove’s pillow over his head to block out the light brought on by the ring lights provided by the prep team. It’s ripped off of him by Clove herself, moments before she is being forced into a chair with makeup being plastered on her at the same time they start to comb out any knots from her long hair.

He grumbles into the pillow still under his face, before flipping back to lay spine side down. “What did we do wrong, Enobaria?” Cato firmly bunches the sheets around his hips, before pushing himself up to lean against the headboard.. “We followed your rules.”

“Your whole little display of affection- lust, affection, possession I don’t give a fuck what we call it- made national headlines.” Enobaria steps back and Clove lunges towards the coffee in her hands, leaving the girl to lean back in the prep team’s chair with what can only be described as a glare. “Uh uh. Get your own, not my fault you were up all night.” She warns Clove, shooting them a look that clearly tells them that she knows they were up all night.

“Cato, can you…” Clove runs a hand over her face, earning a disapproving gasp from the makeup girl who had been trying so intentionally to make Clove look as if she hadn’t missed a night of sleep in her eighteen years of life. She knows from the look on his face, that no, he would not be getting up and walking around the apartment in the state of undress that they had finally fallen asleep in. “Oh, whatever.”

“Unbelievable.” Enobaria mumbles with a disapproving shake of her head. “Fucking unbelievable.”

“Pretend to be shocked Enobaria, stupid looks really good on you.” Clove snaps, tilting her head back as her team frantically takes concealer to her collarbones and neck. In her peripheral vision, she can see Cato staring with a smug little smile.

Fast forward two hours, and they are standing just off stage yet again, as Caesar begins rambling about his exclusive interview to another packed audience. How they gathered a full studio so early in the day and at such short notice is nothing short of annoying.

“I can’t believe we have to do this.” Cloves hissed through teeth that are clenched into a smile, digging her nails into his bicep where her hand is purposefully wrapped around.

“Not my fault you couldn’t keep your hands off of me after your interview.” Cato taunts with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face as he pinches her hip playfully. He tugs her closer by the long black tulle of her skirt.

“Give me a break, you’ve wanted this for years,” She huffs, pulling her other arm away from the stylist who is fiddling with golden bracelets on her free wrist. There was no ulterior motive with this morning’s outfit, at the very least. It was far simpler and yet nicer than anything she’d ever worn back home. A tight black dress that only covered her left shoulder, with fabric that really only fell to the middle of her thighs at most. There was a sheer black skirt that fell over the dress from her waist to the floor which would drag if not for the tall heels they once again put her in.

He was coordinated in all black, of course he was, this was too important of a moment to have them look anything less than flawless together. She believed that the all black look for the two of them, from his suit jacket to a dress that somehow was perfectly fitted to her, was chosen to highlight their intensity for both the games but also each other.  Of course when she asked why they chose this during the prep period, the answer was far less thought out. It’s just what they could do with the time they had.

“You’ve wanted it too, don’t act shy now. At least this will make telling everyone back home easier.” Cato reminds her, grabbing her by the chin and directing her to look up into his face. He takes in the look of her, golden crown of a victor incorporated delicately in the low curly gathering of her hair at the base of her neck. How they manage to make her look so girly and yet so unnervingly powerful he will never understand, but he also knows part of it is something uniquely Clove that he has loved for a long, long time.

She’s looking up at him in turn, a coy little smile on her face as she soaks in the reflection of herself in his own golden crown, before her eyes trail lower from his eyes to his lips, and she stops herself before raising to try to capture him. “What I would have given to see the look on those bitchy faces in the academy when they realized you’re not for them-”

“Jealous?”

“Why would I be?” Clove flashes him a wicked grin. “I’ve got what they all want.”  Be it victory. Be it him. Be it both.

They can hear Caesar announcing them, and the roaring applause that could only mean they are expected to enter.

“What do you say we give ‘em a good show?” He whispers in her ear, and she can hear the smile in his voice when he does.

“When do we do anything less?”

They step into the stage lights in perfect time, a perfect fluidity that could only be forged by years of moving in sync with one another. There's an edge to their smiles, something just the right side of unhinged that only the other could find home in.  Clove realizes with a sharp pull in her chest that this is the first time the world would ever see them side by side, but even more so they would be seen side by side with their hard earned show of victories on their heads.

Clove doesn’t hear whatever Caesar says when Cato pulls her firmly to his side. The audience is absolutely wild when she tucks her legs over his knee, when his thumb steadily drums along her hip.

There's a juxtaposition in here somewhere of  the brutality in which they won their games to the way they now publicly curl into each other. Or maybe this has the same tone of possession as when they made their final, respective kills. Doesn’t really matter now, does it?

“I think we all have a lot of questions here, for our lethal lovers, am I right?” Caesar pimps, before turning to look at the two of them. “Now I for one could not imagine a more stunning, terrifying duo, that’s for certain. Clove…there is clearly a long history here. When exactly did you two meet.”

She can tell you the day, the exact moment, actually.

“She’s just crazy! Don’t take it too personally.” Came the voice of some little annoying blonde girl, who helped her redheaded friend off the ground. “She’s got no friends so she takes it out on us.”

“I hope they pick her for the games soon, and just get rid of her.”

Clove’s not unused to the cruel remarks. At ten, she is the smallest in not only her class, but every class above her too.  The comments never bother her, though Enobaria has always told her that people are only jealous when you’re the best.

She’s sharpened the practice knife just enough for it to actually draw the blood when she holds it to an opponent, and as the instructors get her up and face her with her next she is surely glad for her forethought.

He’s much bigger than her already, probably a head taller. There’s a smug smile on his face that she wanted to physically carve off.

“Clove. Cato. Meet your competition.” The trainer says, placing them a few feet apart. “You’re the best tens. Make each other better. No serious injuries. And don’t kill each other, you’ve got-” He looks at his clipboard and nods with approval. “Six or Seven years. Plenty of time.”

While he walks away, the blonde kid looks down at her with a dismissive cross of his arms over his child-sized torso. “You’re the best girl we’ve got? Good for me, I guess, you’ll make my win all the easier.”

She doesn’t even dignify him with a response, just narrows her jade eyes and flicks her wrist in his direction.  

He ducks to the left just in time to avoid a knife embedded in his right shoulder (He’s right handed, she can tell from the way he crosses right over left), and escapes with only a graze to the skin of his shoulder.  She’s impressed, truthfully, with the way he anticipated and avoided the hit.

Besides, this is just the first of many scars she gives him.

Cato is fuming all the rage his little ten year old body can allow, and when he reaches for her neck Clove gracefully slips out of his way just late enough that his hand makes contact with the wall behind her with a satisfying crunch of his finger tips. Clove laughs as she watches him pull back his hand, flexing and extending his fingers to ward off the ache that built under the surface of his skin that she has somehow already weaseled her way under.

“Oh you’re a little psycho bitch.”

“That’s the best you can do? Psycho Bitch? really?” She asks sweetly, before her foot makes contact with the side of his left knee and brings him down. “I think you’re going to make this so easy for me. Not much inside that head, is there?”

As she tries to slip by, unimpressed by her opponent and his lack of creativity in his insults. She’s been called worse by her own grandmother, when she found her with the dead field mouse in her hand the previous summer.  

Cato grabs her by the ankle as she tries to walk off, yanking her sharply and causing her to fall right on top of him.

Clove shoves him away from her with both hands, wanting nothing more than to dig her heel into his jaw to prevent him from ever giving anyone else one of those annoying little grins of triumph.

“I can’t wait to kill you.” She nearly growls, pushing out of his grasp and forcing herself to her feet.

“Don’t worry, i’ll make it a good show when I take you out.” Cato promises in return, pushing himself to his feet with what little dignity he had left.

That isn’t for the world to know, though, no. That's part of the story that is intimately theirs, and theirs alone.  When Clove’s hands squeeze his, she knows he got the message.

I know, but some things are ours.

“Oh we were..what? 10? 11?” Clove cocks her head, and when he nods she knows that he knows the specifics as well as she does. “We were training. The best in our classes. It was about time they put us together, no one could keep up with either of us. They Paired us up, told us we were partners now, and that was that.”

“How right they were, Partners indeed you are.” Caesar touches his hand to his heart, and the expected awww in response. He directs the next towards Cato. “We heard when you met..but when did you know there was something more than training partners?”

“Well would you know we were supposed to go into the games together?” Cato reveals, and the way his hand tightens on her hip wordlessly tells her that they aren’t getting this story either. The gasp from the audience feeds the fire of his storytelling “I know, I know, I’m glad that didn’t work out either. Being the best has its perks. Why waste your best on one game when you can have two winners.”

This long, hard fought for story was theirs and theirs alone. He’d give them the minimum details, but they knew the truth would be buried deep, shared only between the two of them.

“It wasn’t allowed. You know, dating, any of that in the academy.” He leaves out how that was more strongly enforced after a certain fifteen year old Kentwell girl, eighteen years prior, who shifted the view of the academy to truly see the weakness that love and intimacy would bring.  “We were absolutely dedicated to training anyway. We were what…fifteen? But you know..things just happen.” And oh did they happen.

“Get off of me you…..you…god you stupid whore.” Clove shoves her hands firmly into his chest from her place under him, a hand to hand match gone wrong resulting in her pinned under him, his thighs bracketing either side of her hips. “Get off of me.”

“Oooooh that's a new one.” Cato teases, deftly gathering both her hands above her head in his left hand, effectively pinning both her wrists out of his way. “Thought you didn’t care what I did?”

“Or who.” Clove reminds, flexing her wrists hard in an attempt to free them, which only results in his grip tightening. “I don’t care but I don’t want you fucking up my training and my shot at the games because you’re whoring yourself out.”

It was after hours, of course. They’d never so openly bicker if the room had been full of their competition. They were a united front if nothing else. It was a privilege only given to a few candidates each class, and once they turned fifteen they were naturally the lucky two who were given the honor of full time access. Noone had a doubt the two of them would make good use of it, taking their training to the next level in only the way that Cato and Clove would.

Fifteen had changed a lot of things, beyond just their training.

They were just so familiar with each other, of course they noticed when things started to.. shift.

At least that's what they would have told you.

“Whoring myself out, that's what you’re calling it?”

“Oh I’m not the only one calling it that, that blonde bitch talks all about it in the locker room. Like you’re her fucking conquest and we should all be jealous that-”

And god if she could she would punch that look right off his face when the word comes out of her mouth, when he leans down far far too close to her face for her liking.

“I see, I see.” Cato whispers, just inches away from her ear, and he doesn’t miss the way her entire body tenses underneath him. “You are jealous, baby.”

“No i’m not-” Clove turns her face the other direction, facing the wall and not him. “Don’t call me that, i’m not your baby, either.”

“Sure you are.” Cato dismisses, mouth still hovering far too close to the skin of her neck for comfort.

“How would you feel if it were YOUR classmates talking about fucking me? You wouldn’t be to happy about how it affects your training-”

The way the hand that is not on her wrist tightens significantly on her hip causes her to whips her head over to look at him with that same snide smile on her face. “Oh are you jealous now? Of a made up scenario.”

“No.” He inhales, but he’s pulled back and is looking with a look she can only relate to a lion in the final moments before sinking its teeth into its prey. Clove is sick to realize she does not entirely dislike the feeling of being the prey in question. “Noone’s allowed to touch you, they know that.”

“What the fuck do you mean noone’s allowed? You don’t own me, you dickhead.” Clove’s angry now, and she tries her hardest to break free from under him, but by the combination of hands above her head and him holding her down by her hips she is completely stuck. “You’re just my training partner, you don’t get to decide shit about my life.”

“Just your training partner-” Cato actually laughs, head back laughing before he’s leaning down. She doesn’t even have time to tell him to wipe that stupid look off his face before he’s kissing her.

He’s actually fucking kissing her right on the training room floor. The hand on her waist has trailed up to hold her cheek, and he’s loosened his grasp on her wrist just enough that one of her hands sneaks free. When she laced her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, he is sure she’s going to try to break his neck. When instead, she pulls him closer to her, he finds himself smiling despite her biting his lower lip.

“I think we can all agree that we are very glad we did not have to see the two of you up against each other. Though it would have been an incredible fight, I’m sure!” Caesar responds, and Clove simply tightens the grip of her knees on Cato’s. While she may not have said it yet, she knows Enobaria was right all those years ago now. She'd thank her for separating their games later.

The interview passes the same way. Volleying answers back and forth between each other. Giving just enough to satiate the needs of the crowd, but never too much.

Yes we sort of got together at fifteen.

Yes we really got together at seventeen, when he came home from the games.

No, they had no doubt watching each other in the games, they’ve always been the best.

“Well, before I let you two go home-” The crowd makes a coherent sound of disappointment, which Caesar settles. “Now I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of these two, no need for disappointment!” He turns to face the two of them, practically one body from how close they have intertwined through the interview.  “What are you going to do now that you’re victors?”

Clove only looks at Cato with a raise of her eyebrows and her signature smirk, and when he mirrors her expression in return, she knows they have the same thing in mind.

Take me out, and Take Me Home, you’re my lover

Her head is on his lap as the train races home, his long fingers combing through the length of her soft hair. She had pulled the pins from her hair and its fans out on legs, where she had tried without success to nap for the last hour of their trip home. They didn’t even have the chance to change after the interview, when Enobaria and Brutus rushed them onto the train to get them out of the Capitol before any other opportunities to exploit their relationship arose.

“Just wear that for when you get home.” Enobaria suggested, before she and Brutus turned to retreat and leave them alone. They have earned their privacy together. Enobaria pauses and turns to suggest, or rather demand, “If you two are going to do anything, can you just pull the skirt up, don’t take the whole thing off, it’s way more work than it’s worth to re-lace the back.”

They hadn’t though. Clove tried to sleep on him to mentally prepare for what they’d face back home. Plenty of talk, disapproving looks from trainers, and endless scowls from girls who thought they had a chance at Cato. There would be her grandmother and maybe even his family, who was always far kinder to her than her own had been. While most would have seen this tiny girl as no match, Clove had pushed him to be a victor all on his own right. How could they want anything more?

They reach home in what feels like no time at all, as the brakes of the high speed train push them back on the couch. They are sitting at the tail end of the train, where he can look out at the districts passing behind them. “We’re almost there, look at this.”

It wasn’t Cato’s first time pulling into this station, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but he didn’t want her to miss the feeling of that first rush of your district fawning over you. “I remember pulling up last year. Brutus told me you never forget the faces. I don’t remember much of them, really,  I was just thinking that i’d have to hunt you down if you weren’t at the platform waiting.”

They peak over the back of the couch together, watching as the mountains disappear and their home envelops them. He takes her by the hand and leads her backwards to the center of the train where they’ll step out soon.

Enobaria and Brutus meet them in the center of the train, and they wear matching looks of pride as they look at their victors together. There is years worth of training, respect, and skill between the four of them. And now, there is endless pride, as well.

Brutus is the one who reaches down to straighten Clove’s little gold wreath around her head,  and even from him, pride for the girl is palpable in the air. “It was a little crooked.”

The train lurches to a stop and Cato’s hands are on the bare skin of her arms, rubbing up and down both to steady her and to comfort her in the last few moments of unknown.

Their escort is first, who introduces Clove as if the whole District hasn’t known her from her literal birth.

Clove is situated right behind the sliding door, Cato, Enobaria, and Brutus standing just a few steps behind her in a small semi circle. The doors fly open at just the right moment, and Clove steps forward and out onto the train platform. The three of them stay on the train behind her, if only for a few moments, to let her soak it in.

She understands what he meant, when he said you never forget the faces of the people in your district.

Clove soaks in the absolutely enraged scowls of the girls in her class, who look right past her and into the train at Cato. There's a few boys in her class, she notices, who had always looked at her with a certain fear that now translates to something she doesn’t care to analyze.

She catches her grandmother towards the front. She isn’t near old enough to be considered a grandparent, just around fifty years old. She had become Clove’s grandmother at thirty four, and full time caregiver at 37, and often blamed Clove for aging her prematurely. Looking at her now, looking all the more like Clove and her mother before her, anyone who didn’t already know would now know who she was. There is no love in her face, but there is certainly gratification. She would take the credit for Clove’s ruthlessness, for turning her into the victor that her mother had failed to be, for sure.  There's a different kind of smile on her face today, one Clove’s never seen. It is not the kind as when she would smack Clove across the face until she cried as a toddler, or the sick and twisted one from when she made Clove watch her mother die over and over every year on her birthday. That one is the same smile Clove wore in her games, as she carved into flesh over and over and over.

Clove thinks for a moment, maybe she got this blood lust from her. She can’t imagine it coming from her mom.

Today,  for the first time in her life, Clove sees the woman actually smile at her. It isn’t bright and bold like those of her mother, but it is a smile nonetheless. Yes, she was taking the credit for the woman Clove had become. She had raised a victor after all, it seems. Clove wants to scowl, to remind her that it was not thanks to her that she was standing up here victor behind her name..but it was. Instead Clove flashes that same menacing smile in return, directly at the woman who made her this way.

On the opposite side of the crowd she catches sight of a man, not even Enobaria’s height, around the same age of her mentors. She knows him, of course she does. He had shown up once a year for the first ten of her life, then never came again once she went to the academy to train. There’s a couple of little girls with him, maybe 11 or 12, whom Clove has never known the existence of until this moment. Turns out she technically had siblings, who knew. Clearly her father was not sending those two into the academy, no. He just made a bold- and stupid– choice to show up here, to try to claim part of her now that she had won and made the name for herself.  A lot of audacity for the man who had begged her mother not to have her, begged for her to not throw away their future.

He had never even had a chance to compete in the games, like the pathetic excuse of a man he was.  There was a reason she went in as a Kentwell girl, and not as whatever he even was.

Noone misses the eye roll she sends in his direction, and the message is beyond clear. This is not your victory, this is not your victor, this is not even your daughter to claim.

Clove is pulled out of her spite, when she feels a hand on each of hers. To her right is Enobaria, to her left is Cato, and when they raise her hands above her head, there is nothing but pride, adoration, and even love radiating from them.

These are the people who made her into the version of herself that could become a victor.

Enobaria must nod at him, because she drops Clove’s hand as he wraps both his arms around her. He twists her to face him, and before she can protest and realize what's happening, he’s bending her backwards as he catches her mouth with his own, hands firmly holding her up by her waist. She grabs his face with her hand in response, and can't help but smile against his lips when she hears the response from their very own District.

The first people who actually greet her off the platform is his family. The entirety of them with the same blonde hair and blue eyes, there was no mistaking the blood they all shared.

His mother is first, a tall woman half a foot taller than Clove, who hugs the girl like she is her own. “Oh we are so proud of you, Clove.” The woman squeezes her, and Clove finds herself wondering if her own mother would hug this way.  She whispers in Clove’s ear, surely her words are just between the two of them. “And we couldn’t ask for anyone better for Cato, either.”

His father, who looks alarmingly like Cato plus about twenty years, is next, fully picking her up in a hug. “We of course wanted you to win, but we didn’t know what this one was going to do if you didn’t.”

Cato looks down, a redness flushing from his neck to his ears at the commentary. Maybe he hadn’t been as good at hiding it as he thought.

Next though, oh next is maybe her favorite reunion of all.

Cato’s toddler sister tugs at the skirt of her dress, those same shining blue eyes she loves more than anything staring up at her with child-like innocence and wonder. Clove always wondered if Cato ever looked like that, all the good in the world in tiny blue eyes and soft blonde hair, before training got to him.

“Oh hello, Cora Jade,” Clove whispers, kneeling to her level. She’s nearly three, now, and Clove can remember the day she was born like it was yesterday.

It was pretty standard practice in two, to have children far enough apart that one would be done with training and hopefully a victor by the time the other would even be of school age. She didn’t experience it, obviously, but she remembers being fifteen years old when Cato brought her home with him after school to meet his new sister.

Clove was terrified to touch her, she was barely a week old, and Clove was good at nothing but harming. She’d never even seen a baby before her, and was literally throwing up that night when she realized her mother was holding her at that age.

He had been effortlessly good at it. Tiny little Cora who looked like a doll in his arms, and he wore this goofy, love struck smile that Clove secretly burned into the back of her mind to remember forever. Looking back she thinks that had been one of the first moments she had actually fallen a bit for him.

She had watched her grow up with Cato, and had learned so much about him, too. The big, brutal, short tempered boy at training was almost polar opposite to the one who carried around his little sister on his shoulders, who fell asleep reading her little books when they babysit her for his parents.

Clove had even gone to see her by herself for a few hours last year, during Cato’s games. It was one of the only promises he ever asked of her. Make sure Cora would know him, even if he hadn’t come back.

Clove surprisingly enjoyed it, and when the three year old throws her little arms around her neck now, she does not shy away from her.

“I miss-ed-ed you.” Comes from the little girl, as she buries her little face in the crook of Clove’s neck.  

“We missed you too.” Clove promises, not for a second caring about the blatant change in her demeanor from the girl the whole district had known and watched in the games. They had finally won, and life was far far too short.

She stands with Cora wrapped around her, and as she rubs the little girls back, she and Cato share a smile. His hands wrap around her shoulders, and he tickles his sister’s side to get her to giggle and look up at her actual brother.

“So now what do we do?” Cato teases her, as he pries his sister into his own arms.

“Mmm.” Clove hums as if she is considering, hands falling onto her hips. “Take me home.”

I want to teach you how forever feels

“You know you don’t have to be that precise, it’s just bacon.” Comes from behind her at the same moment she feels a hand wrap around her waist, when his chin comes to rest on her shoulder.

It catches her off guard and the knife in her hand flies to her side, aiming without even thinking for the bare upper body of whoever snuck up behind her. It may be months since the games, but there’s a paranoia that does not leave so quickly, Clove has found.

Her wrist is caught in his hand instinctively, and when he pressed his thumb between the tendons in her wrist the knife fell from her hand and to the kitchen floor.

“For fucks sake, Cato, you can’t sneak up on me like that!” Clove sighs, before leaning on her hands against the countertop to ground herself back into reality. She is in their home. She is safe. It’s just him. She’s just making breakfast. “I’m going to actually kill you one of these days, and I won’t even be trying to.”

“I think i’m pretty safe, I know your next move before you do.” He hums into her neck, his hands trailing up over her legs and sliding under the shirt-- his shirt may he point out– she decided was good enough to cook in that late summer morning. “Seriously though, you don’t need to cut that perfectly.”

“Some of us have skills we want to maintain.” Clove teases, as she leans her head back against his chest. “Noone wants to be trained or mentored by someone who lost all their own technique.” She teases, and yeah, maybe she is a bit neurotic in the way she slices exactly along the fat line of the meat in front of her with a new knife from the block. “We start after my tour, and I know I for one want to be training future winners.”

Cato grins into her neck, and firmly kisses down from her jawline to her collarbone, planning to lift her onto the counter the exact moment that they hear the front door open.  He groans into the side of her neck, both very used to this type of morning interruption. Clove stabs into the cutting board, when she twists her head over his shoulder to call out to their uninvited but not quite unwelcome guests.

“How the fuck do you get in here?”

“We all have the same locks. Not hard to get a key.” Comes the voice of her mentor, who settles herself right down at the kitchen table. Brutus is only a step behind, sitting next to Enobaria expectantly. “Glad to see you’re–” She takes in Cato’s bare chest and Clove’s bare legs, the two of them combined to make a single outfit worth of clothing  “–mostly dressed this morning.”

“You let yourself into our house, what do you expect?” Cato reminds, grabbing a handful of perfectly sliced strawberries before hopping up to sit on the counter top beside Clove.

She swats at his hand as it dips into the fruit bowl. “That’s for the pancakes-”

“Never thought i’d be listening to a little domestic dispute over pancakes.” Brutus remarks, already helping himself to making a fresh pot of coffee. “I’ll take chocolate chips in mine.”

“This isn’t a restaurant, Brutus.” Clove mumbles, but opens the cabinet above her head to get to the bag of  chocolate anyhow.

“We kept you two alive.” Enobaria reminds them, separating sugar into two coffee mugs besides Brutus. Notably, she is not caring to make any for Cato nor Clove. “You know. Trained you. Got you sponsors.  You can make us breakfast.” She holds out the mugs to Brutus, who fills both before they sit back at the island. “I think i’d like an eggwhite omelet. Spinach.”

“You can have pancakes. That's what I’m making.” Clove waves the knife over her work, before going back to meticulous chopping. “You know, Cato also got me sponsors and kept me alive, and he isn’t asking for special requests.”

“Okay mom, we’ll eat what you make us.” Brutus mocks her, voice teasingly high, which results in him and Enobaria laughing to themselves.

“I think you give Cato more than just breakfast requests, Clove.”

She rolls her eyes and finishes her prep work, Cato just chuckling next to her between bites of strawberry.

“Any other special requests? Do you need your pancakes cut into bite sized pieces so you don’t choke?”

“You offer Clove the same consideration?”

The knife that lands between Enobaria and Brutus’ heads is not meant to hit them.

This is our place, we make the call

It had just felt right, for her to end up in his house. Sure, she had been given the one directly beside him, across the street from Brutus, so that the four of them made up a corner of the village on their own. She had moved some of her things into her assigned home, but they quickly realized she was spending most days and nights next door with him anyway.

It was a natural progression, when his house became theirs, within months of returning as victors.

He finds her laying on the floor in the room directly next to theirs, staring at the ceiling on that exceedingly rainy afternoon.

“What are you doing?” Cato calls from the doorframe, where he is leaning against it but looking down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Trying to decide what to do with all the extra space in the houses.” She answers honestly, her arms contently crossed over her ribs as she stares up at the white ceiling. “I was thinking we could use this room for practice space, but we’ll end up with a knife through the wall.”

He comes to lay directly beside her, side by side and just staring up at the ceiling. “You could take up knitting as a hobby and use this for that.” Cato deserves the gentle smack with the back of her hand that lands on his chest. He brings that hand to his lips and kisses the back of her fingers gently. “Maybe crocheting”

“Yeah, and you can use this for when you take up Yoga for anger management.” Clove rolls her eyes, but leans her head on his upper arm anyway.

“We don’t need to figure it out right now. We can just save it.” Cato suggests, lifting his head up when he experiences a sense of wetness on his neck. He cranes his head to realize the window is wide open, and now littering the floor with rain. “Open window?”

“I always liked the sound of rain.”  She explains, turning on her side to face him. “Thunderstorms, really. But I liked the sound of rain. And the smell.”

Cato props himself up on his arm to face her, and an idea spreads across his face. “Let’s go outside then.”

“What? Why would we go outside when we can listen right here?”

He pulls her forward by her waist, pressing his forehead to hers. “Because we can.”

There was a time when neither of them were guaranteed more rainstorms, more sunshine, or homes with two much space for two people. Clove seems to understand that and nods, pushing herself to her feet.

He practically races her down the stairs, beat out by her only because she is so much more nimble than he is, and she can jump over the banister at the end of the stairs before he can.

Clove’s at the back door before he can even turn the corner, and she nearly yells when he lifts her up by her waist to get out there first. They stumble onto the back porch together, laughing loudly enough that surely their neighbors would be able to hear if their windows were open as well.

He sits on their top step, just out of the line of the direct rain, but close enough that they’d get misted by it.  

She settles beside him, his arm falling over her shoulders. She laces her fingers together with his, and her head comes to rest on his shoulder.

They sit in silence, enjoying the feeling of cool summer rain on their skin, on the smell of petrichor mixed with a summer haze.

In a few months they would be on her tour, and then not long after that they’d be responsible for mentoring. They’d have to get back to training, back to making sure there was pride being brought to District Two.

But for now they had this summer rain and a youth that let them enjoy it. Wasn’t this what they won for?

Maybe, if they were lucky, things could always be like this.

Thunder cracks in the distance, and Clove finds herself curling in closer to his arms.

“Cato?” Clove murmurs, a feeling she can only describe as contentment washing over her with the rain. “Tell me you love me.”

Cato tightens his arm around, turning his head to kiss her temple. “I love you, baby.”

“I know.” She sighs in response. It was not the first time and it was not the last, but Clove never quite forgets how lucky she is to hear them in her adult life. “I love you, too.”

All of you, all of me, Intertwined.

Clove’s a sucker for the moments after. The times where he holds her on top of him by her waist, her face in the crook of his neck as she catches her breath, feeling him trying to capture his own under her as well.

She can remember being so scared of it, when they were teenagers. Plenty of fear mongering from her grandmother and Enobaria both resulted in a girl who wasn’t afraid of much other than this.

Looking back she can understand their concern, but her own fear was completely unfounded.

He had been so understanding, never pushy or anything. She had been willing to do..other things..to makeup for the actual act of sex, things she had gotten very good at over the years may she add.

He went to the games, nearly died, and Clove decided life was just too short to be so scared of something that she quickly found out could be so great.

“What’re you thinking about?” Cato asks into her hair, his hand gently stroking at her lower back. “You stop breathing when you think sometimes.”

“This.” She answers honestly, giving him a playful raise of her eyebrow before she rolls her hips over his. Clove smirks as he groans under her, turning his head to the side.

“You’re literally going to kill me, Clove. We literally just-”

She cuts him off with her hand trailing between them, down the broad expanse of his chest. “Can’t keep up?” Clove taunts, a sickly sweet edge to her voice. “I expected better.”

Cato practically growls as he flips on top of her.

I used to think love would be burning red, but it's golden

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Clove squints in his general direction, tucking the edges of the sheet conveniently under her upper arms to hold it around her bare chest. She rolls onto her left side to face him, her right hand coming up to stroke her thumb over his face.

Cato’s expression could only be described as lovestruck. His thumb traced over her forehead, down to her cheek, down over the corner of her mouth, and trailed down beyond her throat. He realizes, as he memorizes her freckles, her evergreen eyes, the long expanse of her eyelashes, that he is staring the rest of his life in the face. The entirety of his future is in his hands, under his finger tips, giving him a look that is somehow both inquisitive and annoyed. He’s truly won, he realizes that at this moment, nearly five months after her games. He’s won The Hunger Games. He won her. He won the rest of his life, and if it were exactly like this, he would die happy.

Of course there are other things he wants. At nearly nineteen he’s still dumb enough to say it, that there's nothing he wants more than to marry her. He can still picture that white lace dress from his reaping day, and if he imagines hard enough, he can imagine in her something not too unlike it, holding his hands in front of their district. She’s a little too fiery for lace, but maybe she’d consider it just for him that day.

“Seriously, what's the look for, Cato?”

“I’m going to marry you.” Stumbles out before he can stop it, the dreamy tone in his voice washed away when he realizes what he actually said out loud. “I mean- some day.”

“Not when we’re teenagers.” Clove warns, but she curls her body up into his anyway. She tucks her head against his chest, letting her body melt into his embrace.  “And I believe you’d have to ask. Beg, really, You’re going to have to beg. On two knees.”

“Mmm…maybe around the 75th Games then.” He concedes, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, gently rubbing his hands over her bare upper arms. “We can take the attention to us, again, could be fun. Especially if Two doesn’t win next year. We can make it about us.”

Clove actually laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and right to the center of his heart where it tugs hard.

“Sure. We can revisit then. You aren’t stealing the show of my Victory tour from me, next month. But like I said, I’m making you beg.”  Clove’s voice is teasing, but there is no real edge to it. No sharpness. It’s not abnormal, really. They’d honestly be older than most people tended to get married in their district by that point, it was just a topic for later. Clove tilts back her head to look up at him, eyebrows scrunched together intently as she looks at him. “What’s next, you want a big yellow dog, too?”

He gives half a laugh as he cups her face in his hand once again. “No, I just want our kids to have these freckles.” He means it, Clove can tell from the deeply earnest tone in his voice. “At the very least, the freckles. I wouldn’t mind the eyes too.”

Clove rolls her eyes at him now, but she still gives him something between a smirk and a smile. “You think there's half a chance of that? Your whole family looks exactly the same, there's not a chance in hell that they aren’t gonna end up blonde and blue eyed with nothing from me.”

“One’ll be blonde, yeah. The girl’s gonna look like you though.” He says it so confidently she almost believes him, and she genuinely believes he can picture it. “They’ll have no choice but to be victors, too.”

“Well obviously, we aren’t raising losers.” Clove scoffs, but there's an understanding there. Trained or not, there was a better than average chance any of their kids would end up reaped. Especially, considering the long story of Clove and her mother. They loved a story, they loved drama. What better way to continue it than by throwing in the daughter of two victors, granddaughter of a tragic tribute girl. They had to be prepared for the inevitability of it. “That would be so embarrassing for us. Loser kids.” She tucks her face back into the hollow of this throat. “This conversation is also one for waaaay later, Cato. But yes. No losers here.”

Cato is grinning wide and excited at her, when his arm slips under her to flip her underneath him. He’s kissing down the center line of her body, starting at her chin and working downwards. Yes, Looking at him, you would think she has given him the entire world. Cato lifts his head when he reaches the bottom of her rib cage.

“I’ll also take the dog, if you’re offering.”

Clove shoves his head down and under the covers.

Can I go where you go, can we always be this close, for ever and ever

“Absolutely not, go home Cato.” Enobaria shakes her head, blocking the door of the train. “I’m not dealing with the two of you for two weeks. You can see her in 14 days, after tour is over.”

“That’s not going to work, Enobaria.” Brutus warns from behind her, heading to the back of the train car. “Just let him on, save us all the grief.”

“I’m coming.” Cato practically shoves past her, to end up with sharply manicured nails grasping at his throat, shoving him backwards off of the train.

“This isn’t your tour, you don’t get special tour privilege for fucking the victor.” Enobaria snaps, as if she had not been eating meals in his kitchen once a week for six months. “For the next two weeks, I’m her mentor for the last time. That includes making sure this is about her and not your little lover fest.”

“He’s coming.” Comes from behind him, from the girl neither even saw sneak up. “Like you said. It’s my tour. I want him there. Besides, you know they’ve already made him matching clothes, it would be a shame to put them to waste.” Clove steps on the train besides Enobaria, a wide, proud grin plastered on her face. She holds out her hand to him, inviting him with her. “Let’s go.”

I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard

[flockofdoves]

struggling a bit w ED relapse rn because after i went to the ER last week they prescribed me doxycline and metronidazole. both can cause nausea and other stomach issues and metronidazole makes everything taste a bit gross making eating less enjoyable and ive been on doxycycline before and still have never figured out how to deal with the facts that it both is 30% more effective if taken without food but destroys your stomach if you do so directions will like simultaneously say to take it with and without food on different parts of the packaging lol. and i have to take it at breakfast and dinner time. and if you have it within two hours before or after anything high in calcium it creates a chemical reaction that both makes it a lot less effective and that is digestionally painful. and in ED recovery whole milk (lots of calcium) has been a huge help for me in giving me an easy way to supplement with a calorie and fat dense food to make sure i eat enough even when i have low energy. and cereal or breakfast sandwiches involving cheese and mayo are some of my go to breakfasts because i need to reliably be able to eat enough to start my day without having to do much thinking or prep so that ill have enough energy to be able to do stuff like think about cooking for my later meals in the day.

and like replacing those with nondairy milks/cheeses even if those tend to be less calories would be fine as a solution during the next week if i just made sure to eat more but i went fucking insane in the supermarket today looking at every single nutrition label in the dairy substitute section and realizing even the ones that should have almost no calcium naturally are fortified with it to make it more like cows milk unless theyre fucking coffee creamer.

obviously the ideal solution to this is finding well thought out alternatives to my usual go tos while im full and have the energy to think about it (having a lot of fatigue as a side effect even when eating enough tho) and then after that i think im being reasonable to decide that for my specific circumstance making sure im eating enough is enough of a concern that it should outweigh any dietary restrictions when it comes down to my options in a moment and in the end might even specifically be more important to ensuring i heal from this properly (even if the resulting pain reminding me that the meds arent being absorbed properly makes this whole process feel a little pointless)

but god am i having such trouble with not just the ‘eh i dont really need to eat im not feeling it im not even too shakey yet’ part of my ed i still often fall back into but also the part of me that was so obsessive about what my food was made up of and what i should avoid and ‘oh might as well just not eat’ is having a fucking field day for the first time in a while bc theres an actual understandable and concrete Reason for a restriction but that still doesnt mean that me consciously making the decision in the moment that i just physically really need to eat and something with calcium is the only accessible option and then i start eating it and am still really hungry but then that restrictive part of me is like ‘noooo this is bad just stop eating’ is helpful at all. its just falling into the worst of both where im not eating enough And my meds arent fully effective lol.

anyway lmk if you have any low effort low calcium high calorie breakfast ideas. i know theres a lot out there but im just too wrapped up in everything to brainstorm effectively

[artistic-misf1t]

i just woke up? And died? oh my god? this might just be the best morning of my life right now? yre magically my favorite person here???? holy fuckin shit???????

LORD IM SPEECHLESS

UM

FIRST OF ALL- UR ART IS BREATHTAKING. ABSOLUTELY STUNNING. IM STUNNED.

YOU DRAW HER SO PRETTY I CANT BELIEVE SHES MINE.

SECOND. I LOVE YOUR HEADCANON. ABSOLUTELY. Does that mean theres a second incantation that simply ‘kills’ the crown or maybe puts it into a sort of sleep mode without directly prepping it for a new user? Or is the unlatching and then putting back on the head all Haro wouldve had to do? Is there another ritual that ACTIVATES the crown and until that activation takes place, the ‘x’ stays?

But then cant Haro reactivate his crown any time? What keeps fallen gods from reascending? I NEEEEED TO KNOW THE RULES HERE CUZ I LOVE THIS SO MUCH.

THIRD- HELP- I wasnt sure anyone here would actually be this curious about Coron’s lore this is actually AWESOME cuz i have some small facts abt her that ive been rly excited to spread around-

Ive been cooking bit by bit🤭

there are a few parts of her story that are still a bit blank ofc and im tryna figure em out but like-

IMPLORING YOU TO MAKE USE OF MY ASK BOX RN LMAO

ID LOOVE TO ANSWER ALL UR QUESTIONS

ESPECIALLY ABT HER CROWN. I LOVEEEE HER CROWN.

LASTLY

HER HUMAN ARMS. I NEVER FULLY SHOWED EM BUT U NOTICED THE LIL MARKS AND DID IT PERFECTLY.

BOTH HER DESIGNS ACTUALLY

THEYRE PERFECT AND ID ACTUALLY LIKE

LOOOOVE TO USE ONE AS MY PFP IF YOU DONT MIND 🏃🏾‍♀️

(TF U MEAN THIS ISNT UR BEST WORK 😭 WHAT DOES UR BEST WORK LOOK LIKE)

Hey missschhiiieeffffff @artistic-misf1t HERES MY GIFT TO UUUUUUU

Okay so first, apologies, this isnt my b e s t work, but I am proud of it! 2nd you might be wondering. Oh cool corn….what is this WELL!

I knew I wanted to draw Coron, but I was stumped on what exactly, then when you drew Totaroo and Arkmudo, I was inspired to FUCKING DRAW, hence came this idea based on a head cannon I have. So when a god relinquishes their crown they have to preform a ritual to pull the roots of the crown out of their system. Doing so turns the crowns to gooey stuff where is all pulls out of your system, then it reforms for a new god to take hold.

Given Coron only gave up godhood, after the crown had unlatched itself from her, she simply put it back on her head. The original spell was cast by Ferdir, the mad god. Who tried to physical rip the roots from his brain. Then when it kept failing, her cursed the crown to turn to goo.

ITS ONLY A HEADCANNON, IDK CORONS ACTUAL CANNON LORE (hand it over bbg I NEED TO KNOW HER CHARACTER LORE PRETTY PLEASE😭🙏👹)

Anywaaays, I drew Coron as both human and mantis cause IDK, I don’t want me to sleep dats why 🥹

[shorkbrian]

Infuriated

Prelude - ok.

Y’all are so horny for Levi Sir and I get it he’s hot lol. I am trying to get to everyone’s asks I promise!!! Also it’s up to you why Levi is mad lol

Prompts - 

Pairing - Levi Ackerman X Reader

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, choking, mentions of snuff, emotionally compromised Levi, overstim.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/2f2hbFjim051DVx0o8o4rU?si=5waL376sSRSqjN2j8G0Y8w

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

He comes home in a bad mood.

He shuts the door quietly, and it’s clear he’s beyond pissed. Past the point of yelling, of slamming the door and causing you to flinch with the indicator of his foul mood. It’s not you he’s mad at, but it might as well be. He finds himself wanting to break something, but not dishes or glass, just you. 

Wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze till your breath rattles in your chest.

Levi finds you in the living room, standing by the hallway with wide eyes, shrinking against the wall. You thought you could avoid getting his anger taken out on you if he didn’t catch you while you were lounging on the bed. Hoping the man wouldn’t strip you bare and crush your soul like he had so many times before.

He’s so enraged that he can’t even think of the event that provoked him to such a state in the first place.

“Come here.” He stops in his tracks when he sees you, hands flicking to his tie so he can unknot it, loosen it from his neck. It’s not often he gets this angry, warm and burning, filled with emotions that he doesn’t know how to process, doesn’t even really want to.

“Come here.” Levi repeats himself, eyes burning when you still don’t move, as you begin to shake. You’re afraid of him again, good.

You had gotten past that, at least to the point where you could hide your fear of the man. Tamp it down beneath submission and pleasure, because doing what he says meant getting fair treatment.

But you aren’t doing what he says. You’re cowering against the wall, and Levi’s furious. You’re meant to follow his every order, know what he wants you to do before he even has to say, and yet you’re ignoring him as if you had the luxury of making that decision.

His shoes click across the tile as he strides towards you, already unbuckling his pants with sharp movements. When he reaches you, your frightened eyes pleading, the rise and fall of your chest quickening. Levi bets if he checked, your pulse would be fluttering, fast, like a scared little bird.

Your head snaps to the side when his hand connects with it, the sharp sound echoing throughout his home. 

“Take off your pants.” Clothes are a luxury he’s been allowing, but this blatant disobedience when he’s already fuming will result in punishment. 

Trembling hands fly to your pants, and Levi almost wants to laugh at the expression in your face as you turn it back, cheek reddening immediately. You should’ve came when he called you.

He doesn’t bother to take his slacks off all the way, barely pushing them down to his thighs before taking his cock in hand. He’s not even hard, but he needs to fuck something, focus on a different emotion than the fury settled deep in his bones. The satisfaction of how easily you break under his hands, the pleasure of filling you, stretching you past your limit, the way you draw him in like that’s where he belongs, even though it’s obvious you want to be anywhere but with him.

The hand on his cock is too dry, too rough, but that doesn’t matter. Levi’s able to pump himself to hardness as you fumble with your pants, almost falling as you slip them off.

With a quick movement, he’s slamming you hard against the wall, breath punching out of you, head hitting the wall and dazing you.

Levi spits in his hand, takes it between your legs and rubs his saliva where it’s needed. There’s no way you’re wet, no way you’re ready to take him. But if there’s a little blood, there’ll be a little blood. Levi can clean it off your thighs later.

It hurts when he starts pushing inside, the head of his cock breaching your hole far too fast. The crushing realization that he isn’t going to actually prep you is evident across your face, obvious by the panicked little whine that falls from your lips.

“Shut up.” He can’t stop himself from snapping at you, irritated at the noise. 

He’s focused on filling you, the too-tight squeeze around his length and the overwhelming heat of your body where he’s pressed against you. At least you know better than to try and fight him, hands only clutching his shoulders, not trying to push him away, just trying to hold on.

What he would do if you struggled now, Levi doesn’t know. It’s possible he might break something important, push too hard, forget his own strength as he throttles the life out of you.

That reminds him.

The hand not guiding his cock into you rises to your throat, grasps the smooth column tightly, tight enough to feel the ridges of your esophagus, spongey and delicate. If he squeezes a bit harder, Levi wonders if it would collapse, crumbling beneath his fingers like tissue paper.

But your loss would make him inconsolable, so he reigns in his wrathful curiosity, his impulsive side that only sees the sun when he’s furious.

He's fully seated now, pressing deep into your sensitive walls. You’re shaking, trying to hold in your tears, your pitiful noises, your desire to beg him for mercy. There’s no slick feel, other than the slight ease from his saliva, so Levi knows you haven’t torn. 

That eases his mind a bit as he slowly retreats from your hole, intent on making this quicker than it should be. He needs to fuck, hard and fast and maybe just a bit painful. There’s no explainable reason as to why, and Levi isn’t interested in trying to analyze himself at the moment.

So he draws out, pushes back in immediately, doesn’t mind your choked, hiccuped gasp. You’ll adjust soon enough; even as he pushes back in, you’ve started to get wet, and there’s no stink of iron in the air, so it’s your body trying to make this easier for you.

Levi figures it’s good that at least one of you was actually concerned about that.

As the slide becomes easier and easier, his pace picks up accordingly, until he’s swinging his hips in a punishing rhythm. He can’t stop himself from giving a rough press onto your throat, relishing the way your body jerks, already breathless and panicked, now denied air and already missing it.

He’s getting close, which is surprising. Levi thought it might be difficult to reach release, reasoned that he was too focused on the rage filling his veins and weighing him down to lose himself in your body.

But he should’ve know, you always have an effect on him.

Your cunt starts clenching around him, and Levi’s head shoots up from where he’d been watching the steady hammering of his cock into you, glares at your face now.

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare.” His tone is clipped, and he’s mad all over again. He doesn’t even know why.

It’s not fair that you’re enjoying this while he’s still simmering, struggling to calm himself. It’s not like he doesn’t want you to find pleasure, but the least you could fucking do is have some decency for once and not cum before he does.

You clench your teeth, grimacing as you try to listen, do your best to obey. He’s trained you well.

But not well enough.

With a pitiful cry, you squeeze tight enough to make Levi groan as he refuses to stop moving his hips. Velvety walls spasm around his length with a vengeance, your nails digging into his shoulders as you lose yourself to the sensation.

Levi’s infuriated.

“You’re not allowed to cum.” He hisses, and your eyes are filled with sorrow, with regret and remorse, with emotions Levi has never bothered to learn the names of.

He slows down, slams into you hard enough that his tip kisses your cervix, makes you lurch in pain that lances through the afterthroes of your orgasm. 

Your throat is abandoned for now, his hand joining his other in painfully clutching your hips, fingers dimpling up your flesh, sinking into the pillowy skin so he can pull you down onto his cock the same moment he thrusts up.

It’s hurting now, your face contorting on each deep thrust. Levi doesn’t care, you were selfish enough to take your pleasure before him, when he so obviously was trying to soothe himself.

He’s starting to get a cramp from how hard and slow he’s driving up into you, but he’s crawling closer and closer, so he ignores the twinge for now.

And then he’s there, bursting from the inside out, uncaring of trying to avoid filling your womb with his seed.

It feels good, good enough to talk him down from the edge of hurting you, of destroying, of raging and bruising and damaging.

Levi’s left panting as he finishes, as his abs clench and unclench while he shoots his sticky finish into your tight hole. You’re still grabbing at his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut at the foreign sensation; Levi usually dons a condom, or at least pulls out. Rarely does he lose himself to do what he just did.

He’s calmer now, feels less like a pacing tiger that's been provoked and prodded until it attacks.

But he finds himself irritated at you, at your audacity.

The man knows he’s being irrational, and that he’s emotional right now, prone to lashing out and striking at anything that dares to defy him. You hadn’t done anything particularly wrong except exist in the same space as a thoroughly pissed-off Levi, and he recognizes that.

But he still wants to see you punished.

So you find yourself on the bed, stripped of your clothes. The only thing you’re wearing is a leather collar, attached to cuffs on your wrists by a thick metal ring. The contraption keeps your hands up by your face, unable to do anything but clench into little fists. It’s almost cute.

Theres a spreader bar cuffed to your ankles, and a vibrator in Levi’s hand. He had cleaned himself as soon as he pulled free of your warmth, not bothering to stop the cum that escaped from the unconscious clench of your hole.

Levi had taken a moment to change out of his work clothes, calm himself further and evaluate everything with a clearer mind. Now dressed in nothing but loose sweats, he felt more at ease, cooler both physically and mentally.

The vibe was flicked on, pressed to your mound at the same time Levi wiggled a finger inside of you, feeling his cum still warmed by your body. It was a weird sensation, but you were wet, and he was focused on the task at hand.

Making eye contact with you, Levi leveled you with a stern look.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

Four minutes later, when you crested the edge despite an obvious struggle against it, Levi clenched his jaw, removing the vibe and his finger from rubbing at your walls.

When your eyes opened, Levi met them with a glare.

“You aren’t allowed to cum.”

The vibe was flicked back on, a setting higher this time. Levi shoved two fingers inside of you, and you whimpered in distress. You’d beg if you knew it would sway him, but Levi had forced you enough times for you to know that he followed his own desires.

You were just supposed to lay there and take it.

[rreyie]

i am respectfully asking for a commander erwin and mike threesome that is so filthy i am embarrassed i’m reading it. u can throw in levi if ya want :).

ooh.... yummy

—————————————————————————

superiors

summary- a threesome with mike erwin and levi lol

warnings- HOLY SHIT THERES A LOT- anal, groping, vaginal, oral, panty sniffing, tasting yourself, degrading, mike coaching levi on how to facefuck, facefucking, unedited work

a/n- SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT! also, i’ve never really written pure filth so i’m sorry if this isn’t as dirty to your liking, but i tried to put in some... questionable material in there

“mike. shut the door.”

you were spread out on erwins desk like a whore. your hands were tied together by a small piece of fabric, while your own panties were shoved into your mouth. you could taste yourself on them, the bittersweet taste sharp on your tongue.

for the past few minutes or so, your superiors had been feeling and groping you relentlessly, touching every inch of your body until they managed to get you wet. and it didn’t even take a full five minutes to get you all hot and bothered. that’s what drove all three of them crazy.

your cream colored button up shirt was torn open, leaving your tits out on full display for them to admire. meanwhile, your pants were completely removed and on the floor somewhere. all of the men were in their boxers, minus erwin, who was wearing absolutely nothing. his cock size always frightened you, it looked to be about eleven inches, maybe twelve.

“now... where were we?” mike growled, peering over the desk. levi walked over too, jet black hair a mess. the three of them had a predatory gaze on you, as if you were the antalope and they were the lions. “has our princess been a good girl?”

“why don’t we find out?” erwin suggested. without saying anything else, he easily slid a thick finger into you, a muffled moan slipping from your mouth. you couldn’t help but feel your velvety walls contract against the finger, as he circled it around in an attempt to find your sweet spot.

“shit, look at how desperate she is”, erwin cooed. “don’t worry, dear y/n. we promise to make you feel all nice and good once we’re done prepping you.”

you could only imagine how you would handle all of them at once- you had done these sort of things with erwin and mike before, but levi was a new addition. the only reason he was added was because he had walked in on you three last time while erwin was balls deep inside of you and mike was on the other end facefucking you until your lips were swollen.

you couldn’t complain though. from just looking at his boxers, you could see a bulge- and it was no joke. perhaps he was 8 inches. you couldn’t help but wonder- how the fuck were you going to take all this?

erwin continued to explore you, placing a hand on your breast. he circled your nipple as it slowly began to pebble, the contact making it more sensitive than before.

“she’s ready. levi, why don’t you take her first? i’m sure she’s hungry for some cock, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” erwins azure eyes darted over to yours. you nodded, and mike removed the panties from your mouth. holding the soiled cloth to his nose, he sniffed it a bit, giving a hum of approval at the stench.

seeing levi’s figure hovering above you was... intimidating, to say the least. though his height wasn’t much, his silver orbs were unwelcoming and his raven hair hung around his face like a halo. despite all of this, a shade of pink was spread across his cheeks as he looked down at you. you were so vulnerable, so... helpless. maybe that was what turned you on.

taking a hand and shoving it in his blackish-grey boxers, he returned with his cock, fully erect with a bit of precum dripping down the side. a vein curved it’s way from the base to near the tip. his tip was somewhere between pink and red, a bit glossy.

“well? how am i supposed to do this?” levi asked, looking to erwin and mike for assistance. mike brushed his ashy hair out of the way, and stood next to levi.

“you’re telling me you’ve never done this before, huh?” mike chuckled. “that’s alright. guess you’ll need me to show you the ropes. tell the slut to lay her head back, first of all.”

your head dropped to the end of the table, shaking the desk. mike took a hold of your hands and slowly untied them, only to put them on your stomach where he re-tied them, making the fabric tighter around your wrists, making it so levi could get closer to your head.

“open up”, mike commanded you. you obliged almost instantly, opening up your mouth to provide levi an entrance. “now, don’t be shy to treat her as your own personal fuck toy- after all, that is what she’s here for.”

he steered his cock towards your mouth, a drop of precum landing on your tongue. it was pleasantly salty, lucky for you that levi had a good taste to him.

levi shoved himself into you, feeling his warm shaft throb around your lips and soft tissue of your mouth. he let out an audible gasp, and thrusted into you again. you gagged, your hands forming fists as he hit the back of your throat.

“that’s right. fuck her like the obedient slut she is”, mike growled.

just out of your sight, you saw erwin sitting in his leather desk chair fisting himself to the sight of you taking levi in with your mouth. a smirk formed across his face as he focused on your face, tears forming at your lashline as he hit the back of your throat again and again.

not long after, levi’s breathing became broken, panting as he came undone, his cock squirting his release into your mouth.

a growing ache began to form in your stomach, your pussy tingling at the thought of being used like this.

this was only the beginning- the appetizer, if you please.

“well done”, erwins voice boomed. “now just like the good girl you are, you’re gonna let us all have you, right?”

you nod your head sheepishly, as erwin sits you up, grabbing your waist and carries you over to the nearby sofa. mike was already silt there laying down, so you assumed he would have your back end.

“i’ll be nice and let you have her pussy this time, levi”, erwin said. “after all, this is your first time.”

levi nodded. “it’s appreciated, commander.”

as you were laid out on mike, you could already feel his cock in between your legs, brushing up against your womanhood. he was fully erect, throbbing a bit as his dick stood proudly against you.

“take this off”, erwin commanded. “it’s only getting in the way. your tits look prettier without that damn shirt, they’ll look even better once we’re all finished with you.”

levi is standing at the end of the couch, preparing himself by pumping his cock a few times, getting harder with each movement.

“look up to your commander”, mike said. doing so, you felt erwins dick pressed up to your lips, slightly wet from his previous activity.

something suddenly filled you up on the other end, followed by levi grabbing your ass. he was already touching your sweet spot, tip gently brushing against your cervix. you were about to let a moan out, but were quickly silenced by eriwins massive cock being shoved into your mouth. the vibrations made erwin go absolutely feral, prompting him to go further into you.

levi began to stretch you out, his cock gliding along your slick walls while mike aided his dick past the ring of muscle. you let out a yelp, but erwin pushed further into you to silence you.

“never told you that you could speak right now”, erwin growled. “right now it’s our turn to have fun with you.”

at this point, you couldn’t even muster the strength to speak, or courage. all three men were fucking your brains out, and reaching out curious hands to touch you in every single place. mikes hands firmly grasped your breasts, erwins hands were all tangled up in your hair and levi’s palms were on your ass, holding on as he pounded into you repeatedly.

mikes breathing became rough, slapping his hips into your ass as he plowed into your tight hole one last time. his mouth latched onto your shoulder, biting your supple flesh gently. you could feel his seed spurt into you, hot and warm.

levi came next, giving a breathy moan before pulling out and letting his seed spatter onto your stomach. and oh boy did he have a load. it was everywhere, your stomach, thighs, even a drop or two landed on your breasts.

soon your own climax came, making you spasm and writhe around mikes cock, that was still inside you. levi’s hand grazed your clit for a moment, and then rubbed it as you rode out your high.

you felt something wet come from you, and it wasn’t cum. erwin looked over to levi, both men smiling at whatever you were doing.

“oi, erwin”, levi called. “look at this, she squirted.” he held up a hand, now soaked in clear fluid. “what, did we pleasure you too well?”

before you got a chance to respond, erwin grunted, holding both of your warm cheeks and thrusted into your mouth one last time before unleashing his load into your mouth. your entire throat was painted white, and you choked on his sticky release.

you coughed a few times, and swallowed the rest of the cum that had came out of him. some landed on your face, some in your mouth.

now, you were a mess. you had cum and spit everywhere, white blotches littering your body. you were sat up back on the couch, mike moving from underneath you. levi ran to the bathroom and quickly dried himself off, passing the towel to the other two men to wipe off sweat and any other indications of what you were doing.

you could barely see, the pleasure still fogging your brain and vision. it was almost time for dinner, and people would think something was wrong if you all didn’t report to the mess hall.

as erwin fastened the rest of his shirt, he looked in your direction and gave a dark chuckle.

“what, need help getting dressed?” he laughed. the other two men laughed too at your inability to take care of yourself. it wasn’t like you could get up and walk, due to your legs feeling like jelly.

“j-just pass me my clothes...” you whisper, and yawn.

the men exchanged glances, and mike turned around to grab your pair of panties that sat on erwins desk. instead of giving them to you, he quickly stuffed them in his pocket.

“i’ll take this”, he said. “thank you for your donation.”

“hey, i need those!” you attempt to shout, but it came out as a quiet squeal. “give them back, mike.”

“too bad. guess the rest of the scouts will have to see what a cum slut you are”, erwin said, ushering the men out the door. “see you in five.”

so you crawled on your hands and knees to put on your clothes, fastening buckles and buttoning buttons. you felt the cum soak the bottom of your pants, seeping through the thin fabric of your pants.

for the rest of the night, you had to sit with your fellow officers in the mess hall with an ass full of cum. it was humiliating, but worth it.

[peterrparrkerr]

Pornstar au - read on ao3

*-*

Peter's nervously fiddling with his fingers as he walks onto set. Camera-men and directors and other crew members are hustling around, making last minute changes and adding to the low murmur of conversation.

His feet feel glued to the floor, the sudden raise in his blood pressure making his hands sweating.

"You Peter Parker?" A woman demands, standing in front of Peter and making him jump.

He looks up and gives a small nod, mouth dry and tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

"Get in the dressing room, you've got 15 minutes."

And then she was gone. Peter stares after her with wide eyes. He looks around, trying to find a dressing room.

This was a bad idea, this was such a bad idea. Peter should've just stuck to amature porn shot on his phone.

He's about to ask someone for directions when someone sets a hand on either of his shoulders and starts rushing him. Peter tries hard not to stumble, and he's nearly running ahead of the person.

"Fifteen minutes, be ready when there's a knock on the door."

Peter's thrown into a room. Hd straightens himself, and before he can even look around there are people rushing him to a seat.

Questions and comments are flying around him, and Peter can't focus. Someone is dabbing on concealer and someone else is demanding Peter change.

After a whirlwind of fifteen minutes, Peter's rushed back to the set. There seems to be even more people around.

Peter takes a small step back, ready to dip and just run out, but someone shouts, and someone's taking Peter's robe -leaving him in yellow swim trunks- and shoving him forward.

Peter's bare feet pad against the linoleum floor, and its like he's been shoved onto a stage fully naked in front of his high school.

"Two minutes!"

Peter is about to yell wait, when -oh, fuck, its Tony Stark. He's walking over, and he's looking at Peter.

"You look nervous," Tony smirks, looking relaxed in a pair of dark swim trunks and an open Hawaiian patterned shirt.

"Uh," Peter says dumbly. He glances around at the people in the room, then at the set they're in.

"It can be overwhelming," Tony said, all confident yet lax posturing as he stands in front of Peter, intimately close. "This is your first time filming?"

Peter swallows thickly, unsticking his tongue from his teeth.

"Ye-yeah, I mostly just, uh, usually there's not a film crew," he stammered.

Tony smirked, glancing over at the crowd, then steps a little closer. "Just pretend they're not there."

"Uh, that's gonna be hard," Peter confessed, wringing his fingers.

"Thirty seconds!"

Peter feels his heart rate spike. His eyes widen a little.

"Hey," Tony hums, smirk falling away. He grips Peter by the chin and tilts his head so Peter has nowhere to look but him. He swallows thickly, staring into Tony's dark eyes.

"Its just us, okay?" Tony said, their noses almost touching. "Its just like any other time you've filmed. Just you and your partner, right?"

"Ye-yeah," Peter nods, chin still held in Tony's grip. the older man smiles and squeezes.

"I've seen your work, Pete," he says, and Peter's eyes widen. Tony Stark -the Tony Stark- saw Peter's amature porn? What-

"You've got a lot of potential. Don't let your nerves get the best of you."

And with that, Peter's left alone at the end of the set while Tony walks to the door he's supposed to walk through at the beginning of the scene.

There's a countdown, and someone rushes over and sprays water over Peter's chest and hair, getting his curls damp and then shoving him into the middle of the set.

Peter doesn't stumble -thankfully. The countdown ends and the cameras -yeah, there's three- start rolling.

Peter picks up the towel on the wood chair in what was set up to be a mud room. He brings it to his chest and wipes himself dry.

The door opens, and Peter doesn't look up. He's read the script, he knows what happens.

Thankfully, this isn't a speaking porno. Theres no dialogue Peter needs to memorize -he doesn't think he'd be able to speak anyway without stuttering.

He feels a hand on his side and jolts -its not an act either. The hand snakes around to Peter's stomach and pulls him back.

Peter lets the towel fall to his bare feet. He can see the camera in front of him, just out of the corner of his eye.

He doesn't know where every camera is, so he tries to keep his eyes on things around the set, or closed.

Tony hums lowly against Peter's ear, mouthing at his jaw as his hand slides down, fingertips dipping below Peter's trunks.

Peter lets his head fall back a little, feeling himself growing hard. Its quiet except for Peter's slightly heavy breath, and Tony's gentle cooing.

Tony's other hand reaches over and turns Peter's head, forcing Peter to turn at his hips in order for the older man to kiss him.

Peter's seen Tony Stark's porn. Hes seen the way Tony kisses, but seeing it and actually kissing him, are completely different.

Tony's lips are pillow soft, surprisingly plump. Even with his goatee, he's soft. Peter can't help the small whimper that falls from his mouth, and Tony eats it right up, licking into his mouth.

Peter's breath hitches when Tony's hand finally brushes against his cock, tenting the yellow trunks.

"Hmm," Tony groaned, wrapping his fingers around Peter and squeezing. Peter can't help but raise onto his toes, hands grabbing onto Tony as the man sucks the breath from his mouth.

And then Peter is being pressed into the set wall, back to the cheap wood, and Tony's hand is stroking Peter under the trunks.

"O-oh," Peter gasps, head thunking against the wall. Tony ducks down, mouth latching onto Peter's throat as he continues stroking him.

"So responsive," Tony hummed against Peter's skin. He can feel the older smirking as he nips at Peter's collarbone.

"You're gonna be so fun to play with."

Peter moans up at the ceiling, rocking his hips up into Tony's grasp. He doesn't know what he's doing, but Peter's never felt a handjob quite like this one.

Tony's flicking his wrist at the top, brushing against his tip, squeezing -its incredible, and Peter is close to bursting.

"Cut!"

Peter's quickly brought back to the set and he blinks his eyes in surprise.

Tony pulls his head back and smirks down at Peter, pulling his hand back. Peter can't help but frowning a bit.

"Lets set up the next scene," the director calls.

"Dont worry, you get used to it," Tony smirks at Peter's frown. It makes his frown deepen.

Tony nods for Peter to follow him, and Peter's quick to fall into step with him.

Peter's usually not this quiet, but he doesn't know what to say. He feels like a newbie -which, technically, he is, to the professional side of porn.

"You've watched my videos?" Peter finds himself asking, and nearly slaps himself. Way to go, Parker.

Tony glances down at Peter and smiles, the two heading across the open warehouse to a bedroom set.

"Of course," he said. "Who do you think got you an interview?"

Peter's steps falter in shock. Tony's hand on his lower back, urging him forward.

"I had to see for myself just how cute you were in bed," Tony murmured against Peter's ear. All Peter could do was gape at him.

"You- I."

"Dont strain yourself, kid, we haven't even gotten to the good stuff," Tony grinned.

Peter doesn't really follow what happens next. He's still freaking out that Tony Stark had requested to work with him. That Tony Stark had seen Peter's amature porn filmed on his smart phone and wanted to meet him and work with him.

And its Peter's wet dream to work with Tony. And here he is, naked and rutting up against Tony's bare cock on the bed, whimpering and moaning.

He already prepped himself before he drove to the set, but Tony still works a couple fingers inside him -for the sake of the cameras.

Peter moans, rolling his hips, silently urging Tony to go deeper. The man obliges, sucking bruises into Peter's throat as he presses brutally into Peter's prostate.

The noises that fall from Peter's mouth are authentic. Theres no faking how good Tony makes him feel, stimulating him everywhere with experienced touches.

"You ready, kid?" Tony murmurs, so low in Peter's ears he knows the cameras and mics won't pick it up.

Peter answers by lifting his legs, hooking his ankles around Tony's back and urging him close.

Tony hums and pulls his fingers free, moving closer and lowering himself. Peter nods, hand moving down to grab at Tony's cock. He wants it in now.

He helps to guide Tony to where Peter wants him most, and groans long and loud as Tony slides in.

"Oh, God, you feel so good," Peter moans. "Please, fuck me."

Tony smirks above him and snaps his head forward. Peter gasps, lifting his legs higher, allowing Tony to drive in deeper.

It feels amazing. Peter's completely forgotten about the camera crew. He's lost in Tony and the roll of his hips that have Peter's toes curling and his back arching.

"Harder, please, harder," Peter begs, feeling the low building pleasure in his gut.

Tony's hips snap forward, pace quickening as the man holds himself over Peter.

It feels so good. Peter groans, letting out little punched-out sounds with every thrust forward.

"You like that?" Tony asked, grinding his hips down. "You like it rough?"

"Yes," Peter gasped, hands running over Tony's chest, gripping at his shoulders.

"Change positions," someone says lowly. Peter blinks, about to turn to see who, when Tony dives down and kisses him.

Peter kisses him back, and then the older is pulling out and lifting Peter into a sitting position by the back of his neck.

He allows Tony to move him hoe he sees fit, and whimpers when the man sinks back into him.

Peter's on his knees, back to Tony's chest. The older man has both arms around Peter, biting into his shoulder as he thrusts up into him. 

"Oh, fuck -ah!‐ just like that," he groans, head dropping back onto Tony's shoulder, one arm reaching back to grip at the hairs at the back of Tony's head.

He presses back into the older, turning his head into Tony's. Tony easily connects their lips, bruising teeth and sloppy tongues.

Peter's eyebrows screw up, his breath hitching, and he pulls away from Tony. "Wait-"

But its too late. Peter's orgasm hits him hard, surprising him. Tony stills deep inside of him, holding Peter in place as he cums against the white sheets, grip on Tony tight.

"Hmm," Tony hums once Peter's finished, holding him up, still buried inside. "That was gorgeous, kid."

Peter blushes, taking a deep breath.

"Alright, clean up, we've got the rest of the shot," the director calls. Peter frowned.

"Huh?"

Behind him, Tony chuckles, kissing at Peter's tender neck.

"You gotta try and hold off for as long as you can," he said as a few crew members add another white sheet in front of them, covering the spot of cum. "Give them enough footage to edit through."

"Oh, uh, sorry," Peter blushed.

"Dont be sorry, it was hot as fuck," Tony chuckled, still holding Peter to him.

"Someone get a fluffer in here," the director calls. Peter's blush deepens.

"Thats not needed," Tony calls, lifting his head from Peter's shoulder. "I've got it under control."

"What?" Peter glances over at the crew -which is terrifying. They're all looking at him.

Feeling slightly mortified, Peter turns his head forward, so he's got part of the set wall to stare at.

"Oh my God."

"Shh, kid, just relax. You're doing great," Tony said, moving one of his hands down to tickle at Peter's pubic hair.

"I don't know if I can get it up with everyone watching," Peter whispered, his hand still holding the back of Tony's head -almost like a lifeline.

"You did it before," Tony pointed out, wrapping slender fingers around Peter and beginning to tug on him gently.

"I-I was distracted before," Peter confessed. Tony gently rolls his hips forward, pressing into Peter before pulling out and repeating.

"Its just us," Tony reminded. "No one else." Peter feels himself getting hard again at Tony's words and his actions. He lets out a breath.

"There, you're doing great," Tony praised. "Just relax, let me take care of you."

Peter nods, dropping his head down on Tony's shoulder.

"I'm gonna give you a signal, when its time to cum," Tony continues, stroking Peter back to full hardness. "Dont cum until then, alright?"

"Okay," Peter nods. Tony kisses his shoulder and wraps his arm back around Peter's middle. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in.

Peter keens, body overstimulizated. And thats it, they're off again, and Peter's struggling to keep his noises to a minimum.

He doesn't want to be too loud and ruin the shots, but damn does Tony know what he's doing.

"Tony-" Peter gasped, cutting himself off a little too late. Could they use their names? "Oh- Oh! Ri-right there!"

Tony pulls back and slams into the same spot, making Peter wail. His grip on Tony tightens.

"On your elbows for me," Tony whispered, mouthing at the shell of Peter's ear. Peter barely hears him over his own panting, but the moment Tony's arms unwind from him, Peter leans forward, dropping to his hands, and then his elbows.

The new position has Tony railing right into his prostate. He grips the sheets in his hands and drops even further into the mattress, pushing his ass out further and allowing Tony to go even deeper.

What Peter doesn't expect is for Tony to slap him. He rocks forward at the sting in his left cheek and mewls, burying his face in the bedding.

He's been hit before during sex, but usually its bruising slaps -ones meant to paint Peter's skin a dark red.

This, this is different. It stings, but not in a painful way. It amplifies the already there pleasure in a way that has Peter begging him for more.

And Tony gives it to him. Its not a brutal pace, and he doesn't do it often, but every few thrusts, his hand swats down on Peter's ass. It feels good, so, so good.

Peter feels himself getting close to cumming, and he reaches a hand down, squeezing himself just under the mushroom head to stave it off.

Tony's thrusts get a little sharper, and he leans over Peter, kissing at Peter's shoulder blade, hands on either side of him.

"You wanna cum for me?" Tony asked lowly, thrusting unforgivingly. All Peter can do is nod and whimper.

He begins stroking himself in time with Tony's thrusts  until he's cumming with a shout, body trembling.

Tony has to wrap an arm around Peter to keep him from collapsing on the bed as he climaxes.

Tony groaned low, allowing Peter back down onto the bed once he's emptied himself.

Peter keeps his ass somewhat elevated as Tony thrusts into him, balls slapping against Peter's perineum.

Peter moans at how sensitive he becomes, but he stays somewhat still so Tony can finish.

He does seconds later, burying himself deep inside and painting Peter's inner walls with cum. Peter mewls at the feeling.

He thrusts a few more times, rough and biting before his grip on Peter's hips ease up, and he takes a breath.

Then he pulls out and Peter drops into the puddle of cum on the sheets. Tony follows soon after, dropping to the bed beside him and glancing over.

Peter can't help but smile, his mout hidden behind his arm. Tony grins.

"Damn, kid, you're so much better in person," he sighs. Peter blushes and hides a little more of his face in his arm.

"You are too," Peter managed. Tony's grin widens.

Around them, crew members are taking down the sets, messing with their tech and talking with the director about the final cuts.

Peter doesn't pay them any attention. At least not yet. He can't believe he's just filmed a porno with Tony Stark.

"Before you leave, I want your number," Tony then says, climbing out of the bed.

It takes Peter a second for his brain to process that, and then he's scrambling off after him, snatching the robe held out for him and quickly wrapping it around himself.

Tony's already walking towards the dressing rooms, pace casual as he ties the robe shut in front of him.

"Wait, you want my number?" Peter asked, finally catching up with him. Tony smirks down at him. 

"Definitely," he says. "You're way too good to work with just once."

Peter blushes at that, then gives a small nod. "I, I just have to shower."

Tony's eyes lower, a knowing look settling in his features before he nods. "I'll be waiting."

Peter's got cum drooling down the inside of his thigh as he rushes into the dressing room.

This could be a thing. Peter could do this. Make professional porn. Especially if his partners were anything like Tony Stark.

[dollar-store-sparklez]

@youkoartemis so! basically it started with the (much bigger and very different from canon looking) island getting skulked up by the feds. why? idk, prolly for lolz. i was in the pov of. my own oc, ig, and it started out like. a while after this had started i guess? some people had gotten skulked and it was very egg arc esc (dsmp egg arc i mean) so its me, charlie, and i think jaiden, and we're like, trying to get the fuck outta dodge before we get skulked. i was notably upset because i had JUST finished my house right? so we get the fuck outta dodge right, and this parts pretty fuzzy, but at some point we came across philza (who was skulked but like. not fully yet ig?) and he gave up the cryptic info that it spreads from outside. which. whatever that means sir!!! (he also gave me a hug, but thats besides the point) so we finally leave the main area and get super far away (its my understanding that we *were* being hunted by bbh and such but i dont remember that very well .i think there was a short confrontation before we escaped). theres a short timeskip and then we return to the main area for much needed supplies, we end up back at my house which we go inside and grab shit from, and i notice 2 things. 1) the fuckin feds have changed my house by putting shit in it. 2) they put more supplies in it? which was deeply sus to us so we left most of it in the end. they also put cameras in there so we left fast before someone showed up. at this point i woke up for a sec and then went back to sleep which resulted in a timeskip back to the treehouse where now instead of being in the pov of my own oc, im in the pov of. an egg. which, there are no other eggs in the dream bc theyre all gone in canon and all, but no, now im in the pov of a brand new egg names marshmallow. theres also been fucked up mutant mobs this whole time that are like. half skulked half hunger games esc mutts from the feds. they also all have cameras on him. so at this point its still me charlie and jaiden, but theres also a few other people there who we had apparently found and joined forces with, i think it was cellbit and roier, but honestly the egg i was in the pov of was NOT paying attention, they were busy fiddling with some armor and trying to think of a good hiding place bc the issue at hand was that we were like, 100% about to get found by some weird deer that for some ungodly reason had access to xray hacks. and the deer finding us was gonna result in the other skulked islanders showing up. big issue. so theyre all arguing and meanwhile in vibing watching this all through marshmallows pov until my brain suddenly goes 'WAIT. IDEA' and i, as the egg (still unconcious this is not a lucid dream at all) go 'wait guys i have an idea', LOG OUT OF THE SERVER smth that shouldnt be possible bc until this point it wasnt a game, download a hack client that isnt impact bc impact still isnt updated for 1.20, log back in, and speedrun setting up my keybinds and shit so i can flyhack. everyone else is like, last minute prepping for this presumably big fight, and then i woke up for real bc i had to piss. rip.

anyways this was kinda what marshmallow looked like,

they just have stickers. (tho in the dream most of them had peeled off or ripped)

gzones anyone wanna hear about my kinda insane qsmp dream (i have only watched like 3 qsmp streams tops)

[zhuhongs]

oh god i honestly could cry rn im just so tired of everything. like it rlly Is August and im sick of being brave (rant incoming)

okay so like first thing rlly is this fucking job. like god i... its about equal the amt of money i make there plus one day at m/rshalls versus if i worked at marshalls my normal amt. so like... ok. and then theres just the sheer amout of atuff i need to do to prep for that job that i just dont get compensated for and like i still do the same amt as the other teachers but get paid less and have less hours. like What... why. and then theres just. the stress of the job bc i need to learn how to teach all year long and keep up the energy and i just. i cant do it. i dint think I'll be happy doing it. like rlly i may give it a month and its Not The Job For Me.. like. I'm rlly convinced. i remember snth myanager way e said to me before i trained someone and he said "you need to make sure they get it from the start bc if theyre lost at the beginning, theyre gonna be lost the entire time up until they leave." and thats how i feel abt this job. theyve lost me since the first day of training. rlly. i feel lost. and im gonna communicate that. and then i have this whole deal with my car that makes me want to cry on the spot. like its 1.3k to fix my car. and i font really understand why at all. like ik ive neglected it and that theres issues with it. but idk how it amts to that much. according to the technician, my engine mounts are all broken so my engine is shaking when u start it which us a huge issue and could cause the engine to explode p much if i dont do anything. and im just. okay well i gotta fix it. but jesus christ do i want to cry. its an used car i got a horrible deal on and i. i dont know if its worth ut. its nit fully paid off even so i cant sell it or trade it in i think and i just. i dont know what to do. i have the money for it. thank god. but still thatd be around half of my bank account. and i just paid my tuition and we just moved so money is tight on my mom and my rent goes up and i start in person classes so ill be spending a ton in gas and im just freaked out. and taking this job is honestly like a slight cut in my salary bc its pays biweekly and its like fjfjdjdjshfhdjsjsjs. im just trying to make good decisions for the long term so i dont burn out and nothing looks like its a good investment and i just wanna cry and my mom doesnt want to help me or even talk abt it bc shes also miserable and overworked. and also gets mad at me for overthinking but i cant help it. i dont want to live like i used to live when i could barely make ends meet. it was miserable and i dont want to ve miserable. i thought wverything was starting to look up but no its not!!! its rlly not!! idk how im gonna end up saving to build back up my savings (bc i have a feeling that the way im living rn will be unsustainable and ill be broke soon bc of rent and car payments and school) or how im gonna find a satisfying job after i graduate and im gonna cry. im gonna fucking cry. i. literally crying. i dont know what i want to do. i dont rlly want to teach or do art. and i sure as hell dont want to stay in retail and i know i dont need to have it figured put rn. im 21 with a job, a car, and a BA in progress. im doing really well but all i have is me bc my family cant support me. they have to support themselves so i have to be doing well!! i cant live otherwise. i just want the right answers and i dont know. like do i stick it out here and gain experience? but for what?!! i dont want to stay in this field. i just. i dont kniw. i dont know. i just want to be happy and i probably never shouldve taken the job bc i know ill hate leaving once i start bc ill feel bad for the kids. but its not my fault but i. but i. god. I dont want to be brave. i want to have everything figured out.

[husbandograveyard]

oh wow! i had no idea you werent a native speaker until i checked your rules! for a head cannon how about law finding out his partner is pregnant? the angst of his past and fears he might pass on amber lead (even if he fully removed it, im sure thered be fear) is *chefs kiss*

Hi anon! Hecc I hope you’re still around after all this time because it has been a hot minute since you sent in the request! Thankyou for that compliment, I love it when my English is imposter-level of passing UwU (or is the Among us hype over?)! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little headcanon! 

Law and Pregnant reader HC - fears and worries 

2nd person. female reader. slight angst but mostly fluff.  cw: slight angst, pregnancy and mentions of disease 

Law is extremely observant. If you’re together with him, hiding something from him is practically useless. He notices subtle changes in behavior, knows you and your routines very well. He is just not one for actually pointing them out and confronting them, unless he thinks it might actually interfere with his plans, his crew, your health or the relationship you share. 

Law notices you’re pregnant even before you do. It’s subtle behavior changes, morning sickness and a bunch of other symptoms where you don’t necessarily connect the dots, until he takes you aside to confront you. 

The conversation is hard, neither of you expecting nor truly accepting it until the tests and a second opinion confirm it. There’s a lot of painful and awkward silences, the crew leaving you alone for a bit because they know no matter the outcome, it’s not something that was gonna be joyful news to start with. 

You’re pirates after all, chased after by fellow crews and the world government, with powerful enemies. There is no room for a baby, at least not if you want to ensure its safety. 

The decision is quickly made to keep it, but the planning of how exactly you’re going to do that is a way more difficult process. There are many options, and both you and Law spend loads of your free time thinking over the plans. It’s not necessarily healthy, but time is ticking and you need to be properly prepared, that’s the one thing you can agree on. 

It keeps the both of you up at night, fueling Law’s insomnia even more. And when he does sleep, he has regular nightmares. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but you feel terrible when you wake up to him tossing and turning, and even though you usually manage to calm him down by holding him close, you feel so bad, wishing there was more you could do. 

And then he speaks in his sleep, and you discover one of his greatest fears, be it rational or not, is that he might pass on the disease he carried as a child onto his own. His worries of not being able to protect the child, combined with the worries of not being a capable father, squished under the fear that he might have failed the child by simply helping conceive it. 

It takes you waking him up and pulling him out of his nightmares multiple times to even get the conversation about it started. You do research together to ensure that at the very least, that fear is one that he can leave behind eventually. 

You and the crew helpt to redirect his attention to more pressing matters at hand, such as the fact that you don’t really have a plan yet, but you’re starting to show already.

It takes a while, but eventually he is able to redirect all his worries and attention whenever he’s not doing anything pirate-related, to you and the child growing inside you. Being a planner, it does not take too long for you to be fully prepped and with several extra plans in case something goes wrong. 

It’s gonna be a rough one, but you both feel ready for this new adventure, even though the other ones are not quite over yet.