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mpregtales · 1 month ago

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Luke & Owen Part 4

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] ⬤ [Part 5]

One evening, after a quiet dinner at Owen’s dorm, Luke found himself cradling his belly absentmindedly, feeling the baby move beneath his hands. Owen, noticing the gesture, moved closer, his eyes soft with affection.

“Can I…?” Owen asked, his hand hovering near Luke’s belly.

Luke smiled and nodded, lifting his shirt to expose the smooth, stretched skin. “Go ahead.”

Owen’s hand rested gently on the curve of Luke’s belly, his fingers tracing the contours with a kind of reverence that sent shivers down Luke’s spine. This touch was unlike any he had ever experienced—it wasn’t clinical or casual. This was deeply intimate, filled with care and admiration. Owen wasn’t just acknowledging the pregnancy; he was connecting with Luke on a profound level, recognizing the vulnerability, strength, and beauty that came with his changing body.

“You’re amazing, Luke,” Owen whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Luke’s heart fluttered at Owen’s words, but there was something deeper stirring within him—something primal. His body, so full of life, ached with a tension that had been building for weeks. His hormones had reached a fever pitch, and as Owen’s hand moved gently across his belly, tracing the smooth, firm skin, Luke felt a need rising within him that he could no longer contain.

He leaned into Owen’s touch, kissing him again, more deeply this time, with a hunger that surprised even himself. The kiss ignited something between them, and Owen responded in kind, his hand moving with purpose as he caressed Luke’s belly, the connection between them growing stronger with each moment.

Owen's hand roamed lower, exploring the firm but softening expanse of Luke’s body. His touch was gentle but deliberate, and when his fingers trailed down to Luke's hips, Owen’s breath hitched slightly. Luke’s once-athletic frame had changed in ways that were impossible to ignore—his glutes had grown fuller, rounder, as the pregnancy progressed, creating a striking contrast between their muscular firmness and the soft curve they now held. The added weight made them bounce slightly with even the smallest movement, an undeniable testament to how much Luke’s body had transformed.

With both hands, Owen reached back to Luke’s mountainous cheeks, cupping them fully, one hand on each side. The sensation of Owen’s hands gripping the firm, muscled flesh sent a jolt of electricity through Luke’s entire body. His glutes, once firm and solid, had become round and bouncy, growing in size as his pregnancy progressed. Owen’s fingers pressed into the muscular mounds, appreciating both the firmness and the give in their new fullness.

The primal desire that had been building within Luke for weeks began to surface with full force. The way Owen held him, his hands reverently caressing every curve, every change, made Luke feel both cherished and desired in ways he hadn’t expected. The tenderness of the moment was almost overwhelming, but it wasn’t just tenderness—it was something raw, something powerful.

Owen slid his hands beneath the waistband of Luke’s gray sweatpants, his fingers pressing directly against the bare skin of Luke’s cheeks. Luke gasped softly as Owen’s hands found their way deeper, grabbing his backside more fully. The intimate contact sent a surge of heat through Luke’s entire body, his cheeks flexing involuntarily under Owen’s touch.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to melt away. Luke’s breath quickened as the sensations coursed through him, the intensity of it all nearly taking his breath away. He had always imagined this kind of connection with someone, but the reality of it, especially now, while his body was so profoundly changed, was more than he had ever anticipated. It was more than just physical—it was emotional, spiritual even.

Without thinking, Luke instinctively shifted his weight and rolled over onto all fours, his knees spreading wide on the bed, his back arching as he pushed his now-mountainous cheeks out toward Owen. The position made him feel vulnerable, exposed in a way he hadn’t felt before, but it also felt right—natural. He had cradled life within him, and now, he offered himself fully to the man who made him feel safe, adored, and wanted.

Owen’s gaze never left Luke as he took in the sight before him. Luke’s backside was full, round, and inviting, the muscle beneath the growing softness flexing subtly as he held himself in position. Owen’s hands returned to their place, this time with even more intensity, caressing and holding Luke’s cheeks with a mixture of admiration and desire. Luke felt his heart race, his body responding to the way Owen touched him, how his hands seemed to worship every curve, every inch of his body that had changed during this pregnancy.

There was no rush between them, no urgency. Instead, it was a moment of pure connection—a shared understanding that this was more than just physical attraction. Owen wasn’t just drawn to Luke’s body; he was drawn to Luke, to who he was, to the incredible strength he had shown throughout this entire journey.

Owen leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the small of Luke’s back, just above where his belly began to curve outward. Luke shuddered under the touch, feeling the tenderness and care in every movement Owen made. For the first time in weeks, Luke felt at peace with the changes his body had undergone, at peace with the way things were unfolding between them.

Luke could feel the weight of his body shifting as he remained on all fours, the roundness of his belly hanging beneath him, a reminder of the life growing inside. His heart raced with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. This was a new level of intimacy for him, one that went beyond the physical—it was emotional, a leap of trust that he had never taken with anyone before.

Slowly, he began to tug down the waistband of his gray sweatpants, the soft fabric sliding over the curve of his hips. As the material slipped lower, his ripe, full, rounded cheeks were exposed, their muscular firmness giving way to a subtle jiggle as the elastic band cleared the plump mounds. The sensation sent a shiver through Luke’s body, not just from the cool air that brushed against his bare skin but from the intensity of the moment.

Owen’s breath hitched. “God, Luke…,” he whispered, his voice thick with awe. He couldn’t take his eyes off the sight before him, completely overwhelmed by the raw beauty of Luke’s form—by the fullness of his body, the way his cheeks seemed to invite his touch. Without hesitation, he reached out, his hands caressing the smooth, firm skin of Luke’s backside. His fingers traced the curves reverently, marveling at the way Luke’s body had transformed, the pregnancy giving him an undeniable allure that only heightened Owen’s desire.

Luke let out a soft moan, the sound escaping his lips unbidden as Owen’s touch sent ripples of sensation through him. It wasn’t just the physical sensation that overwhelmed him—it was something deeper, something primal that stirred within. His hips, which had grown fuller and rounder over the months, tingled with a strange, unfamiliar energy, as if they were calling out for something, someone, to fulfill the desire that pulsed deep within him.

This was his first time being intimate in such a way with anyone, and the vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming. He had imagined what this might feel like, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality. The weight of his belly beneath him, the fullness of his body, and the primal longing that flared in his core made him feel raw, exposed in ways he hadn’t expected. Yet, at the same time, it felt right. So right.

Owen leaned in, his breath warm against Luke’s skin as he placed tender kisses along the small of Luke’s back, moving lower. Owen parted Luke’s massive cheeks with both hands revealing his moist, quivering hole. Owen was overcome by desire and buried his face between Luke’s cheeks, licking up the moisture there and tantalizingly prodding Luke’s hole as he squeezed the mounds of his cheeks. The sensation was unlike anything Luke had ever experienced, and he gasped softly, his body reacting instinctively to the intimacy, to the tenderness. Every touch, every kiss sent waves of warmth through him, making it hard to focus on anything but the feelings building within.

As Owen pulled back, he fumbled with his own waistband, his hands trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. He slid his pants down, his body responding to the overwhelming desire he felt for Luke, revealing his long hard ten incher pulsing with intensity. He paused, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself, the weight of what they were about to share sinking in.

“I want you,” Luke whispered, his voice filled with longing. The words surprised him, but they came from a place of deep desire—one that had been growing ever since he had first felt Owen’s touch.

Owen, his heart pounding in his chest, reached for the lube on the bedside table, his hands moving with care as he prepared them both. He coated his manhood generously and his fingers moved gently over Luke’s entrance, applying the cool gel with reverence. He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against Luke’s left cheek as he worked, letting the intimacy of the moment build. He could feel Luke’s body responding, the tension in his muscles giving way as Owen took his time, making sure Luke was comfortable, making sure everything felt right.

Then, with deliberate care, Owen positioned himself between Luke’s cheeks, his hands steadying Luke as he guided himself forward, his bulbous tip resting on Luke’s quivering entrance. As Luke pressed forward, the initial sensation was intense—Luke’s cheeks flexing as they adjusted to the head breaching him. Owen eased into him inch by inch, Luke’s breath caught in his throat as he felt the fullness, the sensation of being connected in such a profound way. It wasn’t just physical—it was an emotional release, a moment where everything seemed to fall away except the two of them. It seemed that the length of Owen’s manhood would never end until his firm muscular crotch was pressed firmly against his plump round cheeks, completing the union.

As Luke held himself steady, he was overcome with a feeling of deep satisfaction he had never experienced before and pressed himself back into Luke’s crotch deeper, jiggling his mounds as Owen let out a deep moan. Owen began to move his hips slowly, his thrusts a steady rhythm, mindful of Luke’s body and the way his cheeks bounced to each gentle thrust. Luke, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure and the closeness, began to move with him, their bodies finding a rhythm together. Each movement brought them closer, both physically and emotionally, deepening the bond that had been growing between them since the day they met.

The room was filled with the sounds of their breathing, of whispered words of affection and love. Owen’s hands never left Luke, one hand resting on his hip, the other sliding up to cradle Luke’s growing belly. The weight of it, the roundness beneath his palm, was a reminder of the incredible journey they were on together. It grounded them both in the moment, in the life they were building together, one step at a time.

The pressure began to build deep within them. Luke surrendered himself fully to Owen, allowing him to grab his cheeks and stroke his own hard and impressive manhood below, his belly rocking with each thrust. As Owen reached the peak of his desire, his movements became more urgent, the intensity of the moment overtaking him. Luke, lost in the sensations coursing through his body, arched his back, his cheeks flexing and bouncing with each thrust.

The warmth of Luke’s body against his own, the way their bodies moved in perfect harmony, and the sight of Luke’s ripe, plump, pregnancy-thickened bubble butt bouncing on him brought Owen to the edge. And then, with a final, deep thrust, Owen climaxed, his breath catching in his throat as he held Luke close, the warmth of their shared moment enveloping them both. Luke moaned softly, the sensation of Owen’s release filling him deeply inside, the weight of it a reminder of just how far they had come together.

Owen leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Luke’s cheek as they both caught their breath, their bodies still humming with the afterglow. Slowly, Owen pulled back, his hands never leaving Luke as he gently helped him roll onto his side. They lay there together, side by side, Owen’s hand still resting on Luke’s belly, cradling the life that was growing inside him.

“I love you, Luke,” Owen whispered, his voice filled with tenderness and certainty.

Luke, his heart full, turned to face Owen, his eyes shining with emotion. “I love you too,” he replied softly, the words carrying the weight of everything they had been through, of everything they had yet to experience.

In that moment, everything felt right. Luke knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, bound by love, by trust, and by the undeniable connection that had brought them here.

By the time Luke entered his eighth month of pregnancy, his body had transformed in ways that left him in awe—and, at times, in discomfort. His belly had expanded into a large, firm globe, stretching his skin to its limits, making every movement a challenge. His once firm and athletic glutes had softened and rounded, growing noticeably fuller and adding weight to his hips. The sway in his walk had become more pronounced, the fullness of his cheeks and the pressure from the baby creating a rhythm in his gait. Even the simplest tasks, like getting dressed, had become an ordeal. Pulling his jeans over his wider hips, feeling them hug his newly expanded curves, was a reminder of just how much his body had changed.

The pregnancy had also brought on more cravings—he’d never been one to indulge much, but now, Luke found himself reaching for foods he never thought he’d want. Owen teased him when he dipped pickles into ice cream, but there was something comforting about these strange combinations. His growing body demanded nourishment, and Luke was more than happy to oblige.

Despite the physical changes, college life went on. Luke tried to keep up with his classes, though he was finding it more difficult to navigate campus with the weight of his pregnancy. His friends were especially supportive. For Luke, though, Owen was more than a support system—he was becoming the person Luke could count on when everything else seemed to fall apart.

And things were falling apart. The family situation back home had deteriorated further, and Luke could feel the weight of it pressing down on him, even from a distance. His parents’ marriage, once held together by their shared hope of another child, was unraveling fast. Arguments became the norm, and the tension between his mom and dad was palpable. His mom, Julie, was trying to hold it together, still clinging to the dream of raising a baby, while his father, Mark, had become increasingly detached. Luke, always the peacemaker, had been caught in the middle for too long, and it was becoming clear that no child could fix what was broken between them.

Then came the appointment that changed everything. It was a routine check-up, one of many Luke had gone through during his pregnancy, but this time, the doctor had news. As the ultrasound wand glided over Luke’s massive belly, revealing the now-familiar image of the baby on the screen, the doctor smiled. “Would you like to know the gender?”

Luke glanced at Owen, who was sitting beside him, holding his hand. They both nodded.

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced, her tone warm and gentle.

A boy. Luke’s heart skipped a beat. He had always dreamed of having a little brother—someone to look after, to play with, to share experiences with. But now that dream was tangled with something far more complicated. He had also dreamed of having a son one day, a child he would raise with a partner he loved. And now, here he was, carrying a boy—a baby who was both his sibling and, in many ways, felt like his own.

The emotions hit him hard. Luke felt protective of the child growing inside him, but he also knew the reality of the situation. This wasn’t just his baby—it was his parents’. Or at least, it was supposed to be. The internal conflict raged inside him. He loved the baby, but how could he give him up now? Especially when his parents were barely holding it together.

He cradled his belly frequently, his hands instinctively finding their place along the firm, round surface as if grounding himself. As the baby kicked and rolled inside him, Luke felt a deep sense of connection, a protectiveness that surprised him. Yet this protectiveness came with its own set of complicated emotions. It was one thing to feel a bond with the child he was carrying, but it was another to know that the baby was, in fact, his brother. This created a strange, internal conflict—he couldn’t help but love the baby, but the knowledge that it wasn’t his own child twisted his feelings in uncomfortable ways.

As his body continued to change, so did his emotions. The pregnancy hormones surged through him, amplifying his feelings of attachment to the baby. There were moments when Luke found himself imagining a life where he kept the baby, where he and Owen raised him together. It felt right, in a way, to be this child’s protector. But every time he let his mind wander down that path, he was brought back to the reality that this baby was supposed to be his parents’. It wasn’t his to keep.

Luke, who had always felt like the glue that held his family together, now felt helpless as he watched them crumble. One evening, after Luke had returned from an emotional visit with his parents, he broke down in Owen’s arms.

“I don’t know what to do,” Luke confessed, tears streaming down his face as he cradled his now large belly. “I can’t believe I thought this would fix things for them. It’s not going to. And now… I love this baby. I want him. But how can I take him from them? And how can I leave him with them when I know what a mess everything is?”

Owen held him tightly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You didn’t know this would happen,” he said softly. “You were trying to help. You’ve always been the one to keep things together, but this isn’t your responsibility. It’s not your job to save their marriage.”

Luke nodded, wiping away the tears, but the guilt gnawed at him. He knew Owen was right—he shouldn’t have volunteered to be the surrogate. He had been so desperate to hold his family together, to give his mother what she wanted, that he hadn’t fully considered the emotional weight of what he was taking on. Now it was too late for an abortion, not that he could ever bring himself to do that. He loved this baby too much. But the idea of handing him over to his parents, knowing the state of their marriage, made Luke sick with worry.

“I don’t think I can do it,” Luke whispered, his voice trembling. “I can’t give him up. I can’t let him be subjected to what I went through as their kid. He deserves better.”

Owen cupped Luke’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes with a tenderness that made Luke’s heart swell. “Then don’t,” he said simply. “We’ll raise him. Together. I’ll be there every step of the way, Luke. You’re not in this alone.”

The words hit Luke like a wave, both relieving and terrifying him at the same time. He knew that Owen meant every word, but the reality of the situation was daunting. Still, the idea of raising this child with Owen, the man who had been his anchor throughout this chaotic time, filled Luke with a sense of hope he hadn’t felt in months.

The next day, Luke sat at his desk, staring at the blank email screen for what felt like hours. His body ached—his belly rumbled with kicks, his glutes and hips sore from the strain of carrying the baby. The weight was no longer just physical. He could feel the emotional burden pressing down on him as well. He had always been the one to fix things, to keep his family together, but now it felt like everything was falling apart, and he was helpless to stop it.

He rubbed a hand over his stretched belly, feeling the baby shift beneath his palm, a wave of warmth and protectiveness washing over him. Luke loved this child—more than he had anticipated. The idea of handing him over to his parents, knowing the state of their crumbling marriage, filled him with dread. He needed advice from someone who understood this journey, someone who had walked the path before.

With a deep breath, Luke began to type:

Hi Aaron,

I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to reach out to you because I could really use some advice—and I figured you would understand what I’m going through more than anyone else.

I know I mentioned before that my parents were considering surrogacy, and I ended up offering to carry their baby. Well, I’m pregnant. It still feels surreal, and I’m about eight months along now. It’s been a lot to process—more than I ever anticipated.

At first, I thought I could do this for them without getting too attached, but now… I don’t know anymore. I’ve grown really close to the baby, and with everything going on at home—my parents’ marriage falling apart—I’m feeling conflicted. I’m scared that if I hand the baby over, he won’t get the life he deserves.

Also, I’ve started seeing someone. His name is Owen, and he’s been incredible throughout all of this. He’s been my rock, and I’m beginning to wonder if we should raise the baby together. The thought of giving him up to my parents feels more impossible by the day.

I know you’ve been through some complicated family dynamics yourself, and I’d really appreciate any advice you can give me. I’m struggling to see what the right path is here, and I don’t want to make the wrong decision for the baby or myself.

I know your daughter’s planning on coming to my university for a campus visit soon, and I’d love to meet up with you if you have time. It’d be great to talk in person.

Thanks so much,

Luke

Luke hit "send" before he could second-guess himself. He leaned back in his chair, his hand absentmindedly caressing the swell of his belly. Now, all he could do was wait.

The response came quicker than expected:

Hi Luke,

First of all, congratulations on your pregnancy. I know it’s a complicated situation, but I want to start by acknowledging that what you’re doing—offering to carry a child for your parents—is incredibly selfless and brave. However, it’s also okay to feel conflicted, especially now that you’ve bonded with the baby.

I can understand the attachment you’re feeling. When I carried for my stepson, I also felt that closeness to the baby, and it can be emotionally intense, especially when you have unresolved family dynamics at play. The fact that your parents’ marriage is struggling complicates things even further, and it’s completely valid to worry about the kind of environment the baby would be entering.

It sounds like you and Owen have built something special together, and the idea of raising this baby with him isn’t far-fetched at all. Family takes many forms, as I’ve learned through my own experiences. The most important thing is that this child is loved, supported, and raised in a stable environment. If you feel that’s something you and Owen can provide, then that’s a discussion worth having.

I’ll be on campus next week with my daughter for her tour, and I’d be happy to meet up for coffee. I think it’d be helpful for you to talk through everything, and I’m happy to listen and offer any advice I can.

Take care, and I look forward to seeing you soon.

Aaron

The relief Luke felt was palpable. Aaron’s words had a way of cutting through the confusion and guilt, reminding him that there wasn’t a single path to family. There were options—real ones. And Aaron had lived through it all.

The following week, Luke found himself sitting at a small table outside a café on campus, nervously rubbing his belly. Owen sat next to him, offering a comforting smile. He hadn’t met Aaron yet, but Luke had told him everything about the advice Aaron had offered, and Owen had been eager to meet the man who had made such an impact on Luke’s journey.

When Aaron finally walked in, he smiled warmly, his presence immediately putting Luke at ease.

“Aaron,” Luke greeted, standing slowly, his belly jutting out in front of him. “Thank you for meeting us.”

He looked the same as Luke remembered from their earlier interactions—calm, confident, and wise beyond his years of experience. Beside him was his daughter, a young woman with a kind smile and an eagerness to explore the campus. After some brief introductions, Aaron’s daughter excused herself to start her tour, leaving the three of them alone.

Luke felt a wave of emotion hit him as Aaron sat down. It wasn’t just that he was seeking advice—he was looking for reassurance, for guidance, and perhaps most of all, for permission to let go of the expectations he had set for himself.

“You look great,” Aaron said warmly, glancing at Luke’s belly. “How are you feeling?”

Luke let out a small laugh. “Big,” he admitted, rubbing the curve of his stomach. “But okay, I guess. Physically, anyway. Emotionally… that’s a different story.”

Owen, ever the supportive presence, placed a hand on Luke’s back, gently rubbing in silent comfort.

“I read your email,” Aaron said, leaning forward slightly, his voice calm and understanding. “I know this has been a tough journey for you, and I want you to know that whatever decision you make, it’s okay. You’ve taken on so much for your family, but it’s also okay to think about yourself—about your needs, your life, and your future.”

Luke nodded, feeling the weight of Aaron’s words. “It’s hard because… I thought this would fix things for them. But now, I’m not so sure. And I’ve grown so attached to the baby.” He looked down at his belly, feeling the baby shift beneath his hand. “I love him, Aaron. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just… hand him over.”

Aaron listened carefully, his expression thoughtful. “When I carried for my stepson, I had similar thoughts. I wondered how I would let go, especially knowing that the baby would grow up in a situation that wasn’t typical. But the truth is, you’re not just handing him over. You’re giving him a chance at life, and you’re still a part of his life—whether that’s as a parent or as an uncle, or whatever role you choose to take.”

Owen chimed in, his voice steady. “I’ve told Luke I want to raise the baby with him. I’m here for whatever comes next.”

Aaron smiled, clearly impressed by the strength of their relationship. “That’s the foundation you need—love, support, and understanding. If you two feel that raising this child together is the best path, then that’s the decision you should make. Family doesn’t have to look one way. Love makes a family, not just biology.”

Luke felt the tension in his chest ease as he listened to Aaron’s words. This was what he needed—someone who had been through it, someone who understood the complexity of surrogacy and family dynamics.

“But how do I even begin to explain this to my parents?” Luke asked, his voice tinged with fear.

Aaron took a deep breath. “That part won’t be easy, but honesty is key. You’ll have to explain that you made this decision with the best intentions, but circumstances have changed. It’s about what’s best for the baby now, and you have to trust that they’ll understand that. It might take time, but they’ll come around. And you won’t be doing this alone—you have Owen, and you have me, if you ever need advice.”

He paused for a moment, looking between Luke and Owen, as if weighing his next words carefully.

“And listen,” Aaron continued, his voice soft but resolute. “I know how overwhelming this can feel, especially being in college and trying to balance everything. Lucas and I are nearing a big transition ourselves with our twins heading off to college, and we’ve got this big house… plenty of space. If you need somewhere to stay after the baby is born, somewhere stable while you figure things out, you’re more than welcome to move in with us for a while. We’ve been through this before, and we understand how complicated it can be. We could help take some of the pressure off.”

Luke blinked, surprised at the offer. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of moving in with someone like Aaron, someone who had been through the same kinds of unconventional pregnancies and family dynamics. The idea of having that support—of being surrounded by people who understood the weight of what he was going through—felt like a lifeline.

Owen squeezed Luke’s hand, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s… incredibly generous, Aaron. We really appreciate it.”

Aaron smiled warmly. “It’s not an easy road, but you don’t have to walk it alone. And if having a safe place, even just temporarily, can give you the stability you need while you’re adjusting to everything, I’d be more than happy to offer that. You and Owen are building something special here, and I’d hate for the weight of all these changes to make it harder than it has to be.”

Luke felt a knot of emotion tighten in his chest. The relief, the support, and the sense of belonging that Aaron was offering felt like a gift he hadn’t expected. It gave him a glimpse of what life could be like—a life where he and Owen didn’t have to struggle through this on their own, where they could find their footing together with the help of people who genuinely cared.

“I don’t know what to say,” Luke finally managed, his voice thick with gratitude. “Thank you, Aaron. That means more than you know.”

Aaron placed a reassuring hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You’ve got a community around you, Luke. Don’t ever forget that. And you’re not the first person to face these challenges. What matters most is that you and Owen make the decisions that feel right for you and the baby. Family isn’t just about biology—it’s about who shows up, who’s there for you, and how much love you can offer.”

Luke nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. He glanced at Owen, who was smiling softly at him, and suddenly the future didn’t seem so daunting. Yes, there were still hard conversations ahead—especially with his parents—but knowing that he and Owen had a solid support system, knowing that people like Aaron and Lucas were in their corner, made everything feel more possible.

“Thank you,” Luke repeated, his voice quiet but sincere. “We’ll think about it… and I’ll talk to my parents soon. But knowing that we have somewhere safe, that we have people we can lean on… it makes all the difference.”

Aaron smiled, giving Luke’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s what family does. And whenever you need us, we’ll be here.”

The conversation stretched on, filled with stories from Aaron’s own experiences—his unexpected pregnancies, the surrogacy for his stepson, and how David and eventually Lucas had been his rock through it all. Luke felt a renewed sense of clarity.

As they parted ways, Aaron hugged Luke gently, his hand resting briefly on Luke’s belly. “You’ve got this,” he said softly. “Trust yourself. You’re going to be a great parent.”

Luke smiled, tears threatening to spill over. “Thank you, Aaron. I really needed this.”

Owen and Luke watched Aaron walk away, his calm presence leaving behind a sense of peace. Luke took Owen’s hand, feeling the weight of the decision no longer crushing him. They could do this—together.

The breaking point came a few weeks later around his ninth month of pregnancy, when Luke returned home for a visit. His belly had dropped by then, the baby settling lower as his due date approached. The weight was a constant reminder of the life he was about to bring into the world. His glutes, now full and round, added to the strain on his lower back, and every step felt like a challenge. As he sat at the kitchen table, cradling his belly, he knew it was time to confront his parents.

The conversation started quietly, with Luke gently broaching the subject. But it wasn’t long before emotions boiled over. His mother, Julie, was on the verge of tears, her voice trembling as she spoke. “We thought... we thought this baby would help. We thought it could bring us back together.”

Luke felt a pang of guilt, but he knew the truth. “Mom, this baby can’t fix your marriage,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “You and Dad need to face the fact that things aren’t working. You can’t put that on me—or on him.”

His father, Mark, sat silently, his arms crossed, but the tension in his posture was clear. He wasn’t ready to hear this.

Owen, who had been sitting quietly beside Luke, finally spoke up. “Luke’s right. You two need to deal with your problems without putting this baby in the middle. He deserves better.”

Julie’s tears fell then, and Mark’s face hardened, but Luke pressed on. “I love him. I’ve been carrying him for nine months, and I can’t just give him up. He’s more than just a sibling to me. I’m going to raise him.”

Julie looked up, her eyes wide with shock. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Luke began, his voice filled with resolve, “that I’ll raise him. He’ll still be your son, and you’ll always be his real parents. But Owen and I will raise him and give him the life he deserves.”

There was silence in the room, the weight of Luke’s words hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Julie nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just want him to be loved.”

“He will be,” Owen said softly, his hand resting on Luke’s back, offering silent support.

Mark, still silent, gave a curt nod. “If that’s what you want, then... we’ll respect it.”

It was a bittersweet resolution, but Luke felt a sense of relief. The burden of holding his family together was no longer his to bear. He had made his choice, and now, all that was left was to bring this baby into the world.

As the ninth month of his pregnancy drew to a close, Luke’s body was at its limit. His belly, now massive, hung low, stretching the skin tight across its surface. His hips had widened even more, and his glutes—full, rounded mounds—jiggled with every step. The weight pressed down on him constantly, making even sitting a challenge. He often found himself cradling his belly, feeling the baby’s movements beneath his hands, a constant reminder of how close he was to meeting his brother.

Part 5

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bountydroid · 7 months ago

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Darlin' pt 6

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt 5 / pt 7 (SMUT)

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader (Romance)

Description: Cooper and Reader feel the effects of the radiation.

Notes: My tags are still goofy I don't know what is going on I am sorry. When I am writing the post your profile comes up and I click on it but then when I post it it doesn't work? Help? You guys may have to just keep an eye on my posts. :(

Cooper still hasn't told us where he is taking us yet. The sun seemed to get extra hot as the day went on. I knew the irradiation of the river was starting to hit me, just like it was the vaultie. We both had sunken, dark eyes and pale skin. Radiation sickness was starting to set in. Cooper made sure I stayed close to him, his eyes only leaving me to bark at the vaultie when she slowed.

"This damn sun," I whined.

Without saying a word, Cooper took off his hat and dropped it on my head. I smiled ear to ear, the idea of wearing his hat filling me with joy. "Thanks, Coop."

His footsteps stuttered at the nickname. Little did I know, it brought back a flood of memories that were long forgotten. "Just don't lose it, darlin'." He mumbled.

The show of affection filled me with a burst of energy, adding some pep to my step as we trekked along in the sand. Eventually, we happened upon a small, derelict town. The old homes were covered almost half up their sides with sand. The houses now were all the same tan color as the ground, a reminder of the harshness of the wastelands. We walked up to a building with "Westside Medical Clinic" written on a big sign out front. As soon as we stopped walking we heard it. The yelling.

"Roger! My name... is Roger!" A voice roared from inside the building.

The three of us exchanged looks before Cooper pushed the vaultie towards the door, making her go first. "Stay behind me, sugar." He said quietly to me.

We slowly continued into the building as the snarling grew closer. The vaultie hesitated, not wanting to get any closer to the danger inside. This caused Cooper to give her another harsh shove. The fear swirling in my stomach made me feel like I was going to throw up. I grabbed onto the back of Cooper's coat for purchase. We finally made our way into the room where the voice was coming from. A man, or a ghoul, was sitting in the sand, mumbling and snarling.

"Hey Rog," Cooper greets him.

"Hey. Hey." the man laughs, relieved to see his friend. "Fancy seeing you here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?"

"Yep," Cooper responds as he knelt in front of his friend.

You all stand there in silence for a bit, listening to Roger snarl and whip his head around.

"Oh, shit," Roger says between wails.

"How you feelin’?" Cooper asks quietly, already knowing the answer.

"Oh... you know," Roger replied. "It's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind. I see you got some smoothies of your own." He says as he looks over at the vaultie and me in the corner. "That one is cute with your hat on."

I give him a small smile as a blush warms my cheeks. "You like it? I'm thinking of keeping it." I say, trying to lighten the mood.

Roger lets out a gleeful laugh, "Oh, I hope she rubs off on you. Keep her around."

Cooper smiles in response, "Plan on it."

Roger cried out again, ripping the smiles off everyone's faces.

"You're turning," Cooper says reluctantly, he exchanges a worried look with you.

"Yeah maybe, maybe." Roger says on the verge of tears, "Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." Roger pleaded.

"I'm sorry Roger I am all out," Cooper says, looking sorrowful.

"That's okay. That's okay." Roger mumbles. "Though, um, you and your smooth-faced friends, you um... you might want to clear out before things get ugly."

Roger started to snarl again, he was growing louder and louder. It was horrible to watch. "Is this what will happen to Cooper?" I thought to myself.

"I did okay. 28 years since I first started showing," Roger said, before snarling again. "Oh, hell! Not as long as you are though." He pointed proudly at Cooper, "You've outlasted us all. How long since you first started wastelanding?"

"A long time," Cooper responds while shaking his head.

"That's a lot of vials," Roger said quietly.

"Well I've always been good at making money, Roger." Cooper exhales as he stands up. "Say, you remember how good food used to taste?"

"Yeah, BlamCo Mac and Cheese!" Roger says excitedly.

"Ice Cream and Apple Pie." Cooper countered.

"Hot damn! Apple Pie." Roger said, joy lighting up his face, even making the vaultie smile. "You know my mother used to-"

Before he could finish, Cooper shot Roger threw the head with no warning. I stumbled back in shock, tripping and falling on my butt and landing in the sand.

"Why did you do that?" The vaultie asked with tears in her eyes. "He was sick."

Cooper ignores her and starts making his way toward me while he holsters his gun. My eyes were glued to the man, lifeless on the ground.

"Darlin'." Cooper says pulling me from my thoughts and he crouches in front of me.

I look up at him with weeping eyes. "He...." I trailed off. I didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," I whispered as the tears started to fall down to my chest.

"Don't be sorry, darlin'. Can you do something for me?" He asked calmly.

"Yeah." I managed to respond between sniffles.

"Wait in the hallway." He replies, rubbing my shoulder reassuringly. I give him a confused look before he starts talking again, "I don't want you to see this."

Realization washes over me. "You gonna eat him?"

"Just - just wait in the hallway." He says as he pulls me up to my feet. "Okay?"

"Okay," I mumble as I slowly make my way out of the room. I lean up against the wall and close my eyes. It's only a minute before I hear the vaultie begging.

"Stop. Stop Stop." The vaultie pleaded, "Please, I know it's hard out here but you don't, you don't have, you don't have to resort to... to..."

"What'd you say your name was?" Cooper asks her.

"Lucy MacLean." The vaultie replies hesitantly.

"MacLean?" Cooper asks a hint of recognition in his voice. "Huh. Well, Lucy MacLean, it ain't all peaches and marmalade left up here, sweetheart. Sometimes a fella gotta eat another fella."

Even from the hallway, I could hear the squishing from whatever he was doing in there. I felt nausea settle into my stomach, whether from the radiation or what Cooper was doing in the other room, I didn't know.

"You know, my vault has endured hardship too," Lucy said, pushing back. In the great plague of '77, everyone had to quarantine, they couldn't work the farms together, people starved. My mother included. My dad dropped to 128 pounds, and he still refused to do anything like this."

Cooper let out a deep chuckle at her words.

"What? What's so funny?" She asked, her voice dripping with venom.

"Well, there's what people say they did and what they really did." Cooper said, his accusation heavy in the air. "I'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. I bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbor's ass on there."

"How do you live like this?" Lucy asks. "You obviously know it's wrong you sent her to the other room. So how do you do it? Why keep going?"

I open my eyes slowly at the mention of me. I didn't know if I could ever live like that, so Lucy's question piqued my interest as well. There was a heavy silence as I heard Cooper's footsteps making his way across the room.

"Well, one good question deserves another," Cooper responds, his voice was dark, sending a shiver down my spine. "Why the fuck am I doin' all the work? Now come on vaultie, ass jerky don't make itself."

This was a side of Cooper that I had not seen since the night we met. Ruthless. Cruel. It made me wonder was this who he really was. Or was the sweetness he has shown me his true self? It was probably a little bit of both. The silence in the building was deafening. It was a moment before I heard Lucy's soft footsteps in the sand.

"She is actually gonna do it." I thought to myself in horror, letting out a soft gasp.

Once they made their way out of the room, Lucy's hands were covered in blood and she had an empty expression on her face. She was clearly traumatized by what she had to do to Roger. Cooper didn't look at me as they made their way past. "Come on, darlin'."

It felt like forever since the incident with Roger, but it was hard to forget as his skin hung from Cooper's pack. The three of us hiked in silence, tension had returned to Cooper and me as neither of us knew what to say to the other. Cooper had started coughing some time ago. This filled me with dread, we needed to get him some Jet fast. Let alone, myself. I was getting sicker by the minute as I struggled with the poisoning from the river. My feet dragged in the sand behind Cooper as I struggled to keep up.

Cooper dipped his canteen into some water pooled in an old barrel. My chest filled with jealousy. I ran out of water some time ago and the lack of food and water was becoming painful. He made eye contact with Lucy as she watched him drink. This wasn't the first time he had teased her about her lack of water. Desperate for a sip, she fell to her knees in front of the water, scooping it into her mouth.

"Now you're gettin' it." Cooper mused as he watched her. "How does that golden rule jibe with what's goin' through your head right now?"

"What are you?" Lucy asked angrily.

"Oh I'm you, sweetie, just give it a little time." He responded.

"Because of the radiation poisoning?" I asked, my voice cracking from dehydration.

Cooper turned to me with a serious look on his face, "Not gonna happen to you darlin'."

I gave him a small nod before I squeaked out, "Okay." I trusted him completely.

As a coughing fit took over the ghoul, Lucy took her chance to make a run for it. I was torn between chasing after her and staying to comfort Cooper. Cooper started waving after her, signaling for me to chase her.

"Hey! Stop!" I yelled as I ran after her.

As we rounded the corner, she stopped to stare at the huge crater in the ground. I ran up next to her as I also marveled at the sight. I had never seen anything like that before. Suddenly, Cooper's lasso secured itself around Lucy's midsection as he pulled her down onto the ground.

"Where you think you're goin'? You ain't goin' nowhere." Cooper said as he stepped over her, leaning down to grab her face.

Lucy immediately responded by biting onto his finger and ripping it off with her teeth.

"Oh my god?!" I gasped out as I ran toward them. "Cooper."

He continued to keep his attention on Lucy. "There you are, you little killer." He said as he lifted her to her feet before grabbing ahold of her matching finger and cutting it off with his knife. "Now that right there is the closest thing to an honest exchange that we've had so far." He pocketed her finger before reaching down to pick up his own. "Here darlin'," He said as he handed me the rope that was tied to Lucy.

I hesitantly took it as I watched him rummage around in his pack for a small rag to wrap his finger in.

"You don't hurt, right?" I asked him.

"Don't feel a thing, sugar." He said smiling as he took the rope back from me.

This exchange seemed to have depleted Lucy's resolve completely as she quietly obeyed from there on out. It wasn't long after that that we reached an old building with the word SuperDuperMart written on it. It was surrounded by a broken-down fence and had some old cars in the front of the building. I was nervous, but Cooper's confidence calmed me as we approached the building.

"Transaction," Cooper said as he pressed on some sort of communication device. He threw his bag into the dirt next to him. He looked tired.

"Yes?" Someone responded.

"Two month's supply of vials. Exchange one female mint condition." He stated before looking over at Lucy's hand, "Near mint condition."

"Condition grading requires physical evaluation. Please send her in." The voice responded, there was something strange about the voice that I couldn't recognize. It almost didn't sound human.

The door to the building buzzes and slowly opens. Lucy watched it with concern evident in her eyes, "What's in there?" She asked.

"You're about to find out," Cooper replies as he cuts the rope that bound her wrists.

"You're selling me?" Lucy asks, a look of disbelief on her face.

Cooper pulls a gun from his hip and cocks it, "You got problems out here too, sweetheart. Best you try your luck behind that door. Go on." He says as he shoves her.

I watch on from behind Cooper as Lucy shuffles her way into the building, giving a nervous look back before she enters.

Once she enters, Cooper deflates. He was obviously putting on a show for her. Pretending he wasn't as sick as he really was. "Y/n?"

"Cooper?" I ask breathlessly.

Instead of responding, the ghoul collapsed.

"Cooper!" I yell out as I shake him. His eyes are open and he's still awake but for some reason, he was not able to move.

I pushed the button he was using to communicate with the man inside the building. "He can't wait he needs it now!" Only to get no response. "We will give you another person! A female near mint conditon." I say, describing myself.

Cooper whispered out, "No." I could barely hear him.

I crouch down next to him and place his hat next to him, "It's my turn to take care of you." I declared, giving him a sad smile.

I took his gun and tried to shoot the door to break it. I had never used a gun before, so it took me a minute or two to figure out. The glass, however, appeared to be bulletproof.

"Shit," I mumbled before placing the gun on the ground.

I then decided to try and pry the door open with no such luck. I run between the cars around us, searching for anything I can use to open the door. In one of them, I find a crowbar. "Yes!" I yell happily as I run back to the door. I wrestled with it for a while before I finally was able to get the crowbar inside, finally, I had some progress. I yelled out in frustration as I tried to open the door. It was the heaviest thing I have ever felt in my life. Moving it just an inch took more strength than I had, especially in my state.

After a couple minutes of struggling, I collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. I looked over at Cooper only to see he hadn't loved an inch. "Cooper?" I call out as I crawl towards him. I sit next to him and gently lift his head onto my lap, rolling him onto his back. "You'll be okay," I say quietly before looking up at the door. I was hoping that soon they would come out to give him the vials he was owed. The silence felt like it had been going on forever when there were suddenly gunshots coming from inside the building. I help Cooper a little closer, afraid and confused. I grabbed his gun again and held it close to my side.

"I've got you, Coop," I whispered to him.

The building then went silent again. There was a moment before Lucy strolled out the door, covered in blood.

"Lucy? What happened?" I gasp.

"They were going to harvest my fucking organs!" She yelled angrily as she sauntered over to us.

I shakily hold up my gun, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"He doesn't get these, he turns into one of those? That how it works?" She asked, holding up a couple vials.

I lower the gun and start begging. "Please, Lucy."

She crouches down next to him and contemplates for a moment before saying to Cooper, "I may end up looking like you... but I'll never be like you." Before getting up, she gently puts some vials in my hand. "Golden rule, motherfuckers."

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" I cry out happily as I start rummaging through Cooper's pockets searching for his inhaler. "I've got you, I've got you.." I kept repeating as I shakily put the vial in the inhaler and hold it up to his mouth. It takes a couple tries, but ultimately, he gets ahold of it and breathed in the contents. I make a happy squeak as he starts to move again.

He lets out a soft wheeze before saying 'Why the hell would you do that?"

"What?" I asked him confused.

"You were going to fucking sell yourself? For me?" He states angrily as he sits up to a sitting position.

"Well-" I start.

"Well, nothing. Never do that again." He shouts as he stands, pulling me up by my collar. The fear on my face softened him as he released my shirt with a sigh, "I ain't worth it, darlin'."

"You are to me," I say quietly. "You are never getting rid of me."

He lets out a small laugh as he smiles wearily, his resolve dimishing. "You are way too good for me, sugar."

"Well too bad, Cooper. You've got me." I say as kiss him on the cheek.

Just as I was pulling away he grabbed hold of my hip "Come here." He says as his lips crash into mine.

I let out a squeak in surprise before I started to return the kiss. It was sloppy and heated, filled with pent-up emotions. It was everything I wanted.

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#cooper howard #the ghoul fallout #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout tv series #fallout

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vicariousresearcher · 27 days ago

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part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Johnny whose just gotten out of a coma and has been put in rehabilitation. Who’s in and out of so many different specialists and exams and anything else the doctors can stick on him.

A miracle they say-the doctors, his mother, Price- and it is. But not by science. God knows if science wasn’t what dragged him out of his mind. No it was his angel. Pulling him out from the purgatory of the last two years and back into the realm of the living.

That’s why he requests to have you back as his nurse even though his in a different unit.

His family coos and says they’ll ask and his mother talks about the lovely fruit basket she gave to your unit as thanks for taking care of her son so well.

Nothing happens.

“She’s not orientated for this floor” is the excuse given.

He asks Price later that evening and the man just nods. Gruff voice saying that he’ll ‘figure something out’.

…..

You thought that since Johnny was very clearly a rehabilitation patient that your aid with him would be limited beyond transferring him to the new ward. After all, you were longterm care.

Yet somehow you find your shifts changed at the last minute. Out of your sleepy bubble into the bustling rehab unit. After doing poking around you’re told admin was making room for some student in long term care.

Unfortunately rent money is more important than trying to fish through lies.

…….

Johnny didn’t say anything when you came into his room to give meds. Just smiled and accepted them with trembling fingers.

You’d never say anything but it was unnerving seeing him awake. Moving and looking and talking. So long he laid a corpse. The heart monitor and ventilator as much of his body as his skin was.

Part of you had been dreading interacting with him since you were sure he had something to do with your unit transfer. With how he was acting it’s clear he barely even knew who you were.

Just another clingy family you guess.

……

“Come on. There you go. Breathe. Breathe.”

Even and controlled as you grip the belt around his ribs. His muscles burned from atrophy, every movement weighed and unsteady. Arms over your shoulders so you can transfer him to a wheel chair.

“Keep your weight on me. Don’t worry, I can take it, good good.”

Every praise was clinical. Practiced.

But God his head was swimming. You were so close and touching him and encouraging him and his heart was hammering in his chest in a way that made the monitors freak out and in turn you.

The feeling of your hands splayed across his ribs. So small he realizes.

Chewed nails on dainty hands. Shoulders so narrow compared to his chest. His face is level with the top of your head to allow him to smell that cheap, fruity shampoo.

You always seemed like a looming, otherworldly figure. Always having to bend down to help him. Always above. Ethereal and commanding.

Yet in reality you were so small. Like a bird. Hollow-boned and fragile. Easy to press his thumbs in till your skin split.

Even once he was settled into the wheelchair and another nurse started taking him to his appointment all he could think about was how perfectly you fit against him.

Like you were made to be there.

He motioned his fingers into a shaky cross, looking up to the tiled ceiling. Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit…

God truly had made an angel just for him.

…….

Just as you rounded the corner you sit down and get through your stacks of charting you make eye contact with Mrs. Mactavish. Face all ruddy and bundled up like she’d just came in from outside. The way her eyes lit up should’ve been your first sign something was up. Scratch that, the fact that Kyle was there right beside her should’ve been a warning sign.

She made bubbly small talk with you, asking about your shift, talking about her daughters, mentioning how she’s already planning her garden for when the snow melts.

“I’m sure Johnny will be excited to have his own this year. Since he’ll actually be home this spring.” Kyle cuts in, looking down at Mrs. Mactavish with eyes so soft they might as well have been toffee.

“Johnnys going home?” You blurt out without thinking, eyes narrowing in suspicion. Takes you a second to recover and say something that seemed less condescending.

“That's, urm, wonderful news. I’m glad he's progressed enough to continue the recovery process at home with you.”

The way she started looking nervous and glanced up to Kyle was less of a warning sign and more of an alarm.

“Oh, dear, I’d love to be able to take my boy home but it’s just not looking like it’ll work out that way.”

“I live in the countryside,” she explains, eyebrows knitting together. “And Johnny's sisters are already so busy with their littles......”

Every word seems to get her more tentative yet hopeful, looking at Kyle who puts his hand on her back. Soothing circles made with his palm. ‘You’re making the right choice’ is what you can practically hear being passed between them.

“Have…..have you ever considered doing at home care?”

…….

You’re in the parking lot leaning against your car bumming a smoke from your friend rambling about the whole situation. About how odd it all is, how invasive the family is, how those friends of his can seem friendly one minute and so fucking sketchy the next.

And of course there was the job offer sitting in your metaphorical mail box.

“And my fucking boyfriend, oh my god-“ you drag your hands over your face, smoke burning your nose when you exhaled too shallowly.

“Every time I talk about any of this he gets so weird. I literally can’t even bring up work without him being all pissy and snide bout asking about my ‘little boyfriend’. He’s got some complex. I think he thinks I’m like cheating on him with Johnny or something???”

You take a drag off the cigarette before passing it back to her, jamming your hands in your pockets. Tension radiating from your body language.

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth as you look back to the hospital doors. Just got off shift and you really don’t want to have to go home with this hanging over your head.

“I haven’t even mentioned the in house care position because that would just set him off.”

Your friend just laughs, letting you continue on with your rant because truly it seems like you just need some form of outlet before you get in your car and commit vehicular manslaughter.

Meanwhile Simon is parked a couple spots away, sat in his pickup with the window cracked down a couple inches. Already messaging Price about the little issue they need to take care of.

Anything for their boy.

#I know i said soap would be questionable but like honestly the whole team is #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #cod mw2 #i am doing everything possible to not give soap direct dialogue bc i know with the brain damage he would have a slur and stutter #and i d-dont know h-h-how to w-write t-that without it look like t-this

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thoughtsafterdark · 4 months ago

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Hospitals and Airports are the closest modernity can come to reaching the Divine

Have you noticed how some places seem immune to time and social conventions. Like airports, those monoliths of now. Harsh lights burning and souls criss-crossing, tongues melting together into a writhing throng of humanity, a steaming cesspit of consciousness. Steeped in camaraderie yet drenched in isolation. The electric blue arrivals sign glares with neon brightness at 3am, a beacon that signals the end of the road.

Here comes a family of 4 on their way home, crossing through automatic doors into the balmy drizzle of a British night, carrying their loot of straw hats and cheap pendants, tan lines and peeling red lobster skin. A girl no older than 5 limps after her parents and older brother. She lugs her bright pink unicorn behind her and hugs the hood of lilac pyjamas close, rubs the sleep out of her eyes whilst her mother shouts at her to hurry. Soon she’ll tuck herself into bed, in the attic of their ordinary red brick London row house, and she’ll watch the sun peak over the trees in the back garden for the first time in her life. It will become a core memory she will think fondly back on for years to come.

By the first class lounge they hurried past, a man in an impeccable suit (Sheep’s wool, the finest money can buy. The grey colour of the Thames on an early morning) paces back and forth restlessly, briefcase in hand, phone in another. Gold amber eyes like a hawk, close cropped black hair and neatly trimmed beard, square pocket matching the deep tan of his shoes (authentic leather). He is barking orders to someone in Arabic, closing deals, building empires. A bloodied napkin he used to stop a nosebleed earlier falls out of his pocket and winks up at the scaffolding exposed ceiling, high and arching like the dome of a cathedral. He’ll make the sale, then visit the airport bathroom again before hailing a cab to the closest 5 star. In the morning, the maid who took the job to send money to her ailing mother in the Philippines will find his cold stiff body and scream. She’ll call the police and be taken in for questioning. She never signed up for this.

At the hospital coffee shop – two streets and half a lifetime away - a 4th year med students sips on a cortado like her life depends on it. Caffeine surges through her veins, bracing her for the day ahead. Unbelievable how exhausting trying to take up as little space as possible can be. She hates the spiel, it’s the same every time. A new dawn, a new face, a new team. The introductions, the smiling, the grovelling, the headache. She’s 5ft flat with bright orange hair, aspirations for Neurosurgery and a bright pink notebook, so why would they take her seriously.

It’s 8:30, and she’s scheduled for 9am clinic, so she has time for a hurried breakfast today. (Eating any earlier makes her gag). Small mercies. The off-red stained scrubs she nicked from the theatre changing rooms cling to her like a second skin preparing to moult. She squirms in them, the comfort undeniable. They make her feel like she belongs. They make her feel like an imposter.

Her table – she comes here so often; she thinks of it as hers - sits right by large windows overlooking the main entrance and staircase. She sees it all from here, her quiet unassuming throne. The doctors and nurses, physios and pharmacists. Rushing rushing, running, stressing. Wishing, hoping, waiting, waiting, waiting. For the shift to end, for the time for bed. For this rotation to change, for the exam to pass. We’ll go on that holiday next month, next year. When money isn’t tight, when things are more settled. Before they know it they’ve wished their lives away.

Their patients understand, all too well and all too late. The same father with the IV drip and the metal stand comes down here every morning to see his daughters. They run up to him, he holds them close and beams. But his grip is getting weaker, smile is getting thinner. He doesn’t answer when they ask when he’s coming home. It’s funny what we can’t hear when we’re too busy wearing stethoscopes. Next month she (I) will be stationed on the Psych ward. We’ll have to do it all again, but maybe they’ll hear me this time. Maybe it’ll get easier.

Between them all and among them, if you squint and unfocus your eyes during one of those ungodly hours at the Starbacks across from Boots and WHSmith, leaning against a grey white pillar you might see him.

He is the spectre that haunts airport lounges and waiting rooms alike, the handsome stranger with the black snapback and the beats headphones and the khaki shorts. The one who lives out of a rucksack and wears a travel pillow like a crown. With the kind eyes and crows feet, and honey chestnut curls. He is that boy from your high school everyone liked, with a kind word for everyone; the one with a charmers smile and the charisma to bullshit his way through anything. The one who – when pressed for future plans, would laugh and shake his head, looking down bashfully. “I just want to travel for now, see where it takes me. I want to see the world”, he’d say, eyes twinkling with the possibilities. On someone else, the words would likely merit a telling off, they’d be seen as the paper thin excuse to fuck around and get high. But he seemed so genuine, and his teeth were such a dazzling shade of brilliant white when he smiled, even the strictest careers advisers couldn’t resist.

He lives in those moments, the liminal fabric between worlds that’s so hard to put your finger on. Blink and you’ll miss him in the old alleys of Rome, the spark of his cigarette lighter blending amongst the city lights.

You’ll find him among the most remote hiking trails of the Peloponnese, laughing with local shepherds and German tourists alike, sitting on jutting rocky cliffs and admiring the blue Mediterranean below. If you really pay attention, you’ll see his staff isn’t like the others. Something suspiciously like a pair of snake slithers up and down. You could swear you heard them whispering just now, but when you look again it’s just a wooden stick.

He is the patron of us wanderers and travellers, those of us with movement in our blood and restlessness in our hearts. The ones who beget the will of changing winds and shifting tides. The ones who can’t allow themselves to sit still, lest the dust settle and the coffee get cold. The mortifying ordeal of being seen and known. Or the ones that carry a hearth with them, in the bottom of a suitcase, in the heart of a trailer. The ones who move and weave through the Earth not because they are running but because they are coming home. He dances and jokes with the kids amongst campfires, always welcome, always a pleasure. And if he helps them pick the odd lock, swearing solemnly to secrecy, who are we to judge.

His bronze skin smells of cinnamon and nutmeg, vanilla and cedar and a thousand other spices. He reeks of incense and market stalls, moles and freckles tell the story of trading routes and old silk roads, of cotton shawls from Alexandria and silk from Pekking. His fingers and eyes twinkle with the good-natured mischief of petty thieves and sleight-of-hand magicians, tricksters and circus performers. He picks apples from behind ears, presents jewel necklaces to his lovers.

She sees him now, amongst the patients. He helps an old lady up the steps, pulls a balloon out of his back pocket to the delight of a sick child. She locks eyes with him and they nod at one another She has been seen now, and known. Perhaps she’ll find him again one day, if either stop running.

#creative writing #stream of consciousness #short story #poetry #liminal aesthetic #greek mythology #darkness #existential nihilism #mental health #meaning of life #thoughts #philosophy #boundaries #hermes #greek gods

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tosksuki · 4 months ago

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SWEETHEART

Pairing : Eren x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: p in v! , passing out in the middle of seggsy time, squirting, alot of cum, mating press, breeding, raw, crying , mention of animals, You and Eren work with animals, screaming (not arguing), kissing, m&f receiving head, breeding, cum eating, pet names( sweetheart ;) ,honey, baby), many badwords!!! NOT THOROUGHLY PROOF RED

WORDCOUNT: 4.5k😟😟😟

PLOT: You the owner of a bew clinic have been stressed but somewhere in the mix youve found interest in a new hire! Being that Sasha and Mikasa are your best friends, they give you a push… NOT THOROUGHLY PROOF RED

It was summer time while you were hanging out with Sasha and Mikasa doing nothing in particular. So you were dressed lowkey lazily. You've been working your ass off at your new clinic for straight weeks now, you really needed it! You had a really good amount of employees hired already and even they could notice the tired in your eyes. The three of you were walking downtown. It was night so it was all dimly lit. Sasha decided you three should order Mediterranean takeout and sit on the beach.

You were zoned out listening to the sounds of the water sloshing against the sand. Mikasa and Sasha were talking about who knows what. Mikasa suddenly shook you “hey you what’s wrong” she said, flicking your forehead. You scrunched your forehead “why the fuck!!!” “You’ve barely touched your food and your staring at the water” she said concerned. “Yeah she’s right, are you okay?” Sasha said while trying to sneak her fork into your food she almost got away with it too. “Your hungry ass” you said smiling slapping her hand away.

“Guys I'm fine , My headache went away so i can finally think.” You let out a breathy sigh. “But now its back because of you two” you grinned, pushing them both away giggling. “Awee we love you too pretty” Mikasa said lovingly. “You know you can talk to us about anything” sasha sayed putting on a fake man voice. they both squeezed you into a tight hug. “Welll…….there is this cute new hire but…..”you were trailing off about it being unprofessional or something who knows. Your two friends were staring at you like they've seen a ghost. “A BOYYYY?!?!” they both basically screamed out in unison faces 4 inches away from yours.

“Nevermind” you began stuffing your face with food , “this is actually so good oh my God” you said with your mouthful, movements quick hoping that they forget about what you just said. Mikasa grabbed your fork “first of all, chew?” Her face contorted with confusion as she stared at you annoyed. “Calm down , you just never talk about boys! After yk who…” Sasha said surprised .“It's okay”. You swore your brown skin was turning pink somehow.

You talked about him for a little bit and they somehow convinced you that you should talk to him the next time you go back to work. The rest of the night was spent with the three of you talking about everything and nothing at the same time. It was almost 3 in the morning by the time you left and you decided to just have a sleepover at your house. You don’t remember how you even made it into your bed but you did anyway! The two of them stayed for the next two days (already having clothes at yourss)until it was time for you to go to work.

You put just a little tad bit of effort into your appearance before going to work. You put on some light makeup and some cute lashes that bring out your eyes. You packed your lunch bag and work bag before heading out. You were kind of panicked unsure if you were even going to do it or not. Eren was quiet and attentive when he cared for animals. He was really smart so when he heard that you were looking for help with sorting out the finances for your clinic bills and what not,,he offered his hand. Now you two were in your office sorting through the papers in somewhat awkward silence.

Your mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Too nervous. “Ms, is something wrong?” Eren pushed up his glasses to get a better view of you. Honestly he thought you were one of the prettiest girls hes ever seen. His head turned slightly waiting for a response. “O-oh uhm uh I wa- uhm nevermind ihavetogotothebathroom” you muttered as you hurriedly pushed to the bathroom. “Ahhhh what the fuck” you put your hand over your face very clearly and reasonably embarrassed. “Excuse me Miss, are you alright?” It was Eren.

“Im fine but—-“ you fixed your composure and peeped your head halfway out the bathroom door. “Would you like to get dinnerwithmethisweekend?” You forced out hurriedly, not making any eye contact while he burned into your face. “Yeah! I mean yes, I have to get going, my shift is over.” He said, trying to hide his excitement. He's cuter than you thought. You grinned “okay Eren have a nice night”. The rest of the week consisted of the two of you stealing glances at each other smiling or just teasing. Schedule too busy to sit down and talk, you had the last of your meetings for a while with your business partners.

“Hey is it okay if I pick you up instead?”

“ yeah sure? How should I dress?”

“Casual is fine”

“Mk, ill be ready”

You were supposed to dress simple but you were so nervous you forgot what it meant and after scrolling through Pinterest, mismatching, and overthinking you finally found something casual and a little too much. “But! Why be underdressed when you can be overdressed” you said checking and spinning yourself around in the mirror. You did some light makeup and brushed out your lashes focusing on small details. You knew if you didn’t you would worry yourself till you canceled.

Ding

“Im here”

Now it's time to panic , you gave Fritz, your dog a few more pets before you left. Hand barely able to open the door. You glanced to spot erens car in front before you distracted yourself by digging through your purse. (How to avoid the awkward walk to the car irl though??????😞😞). Before you got to the car Eren slipped out to open the door for you. You almost fell when you saw him. He looked good in his scrubs but wow… Maybe its because you saw the tattoos that were usually kept hidden. You knew he had them from the small glimpses you were able to catch.

“Thank you Eren” you said as you slipped in putting on your seatbelt. “You’re welcome Miss…” he began but you cut him off, “uhuh-“ you shook your head “if we’re gonna be doing this then call me by my name” you quietly giggled. “Yes ma’ammmm” he said with a smile, his grill shining. “You look beautiful today yk?” Eyes focused on the road. “Thank you ‘Ren, you’re so sweet you look really good too” you said shyly. “I look good, ya hungry already?” He laughed when he heard your gasp saying how he was just kidding. The two of you talked about eachothers music taste, what school you went to, and a whole lot of nothing.

The two of you went to a new Mediterranean restaurant. It was going pretty good. You two shared alot of interest other than your job! He was surprised to see that you had some ink aswell. “How did you like your food?” He questioned. “Its so good i already feel full” you snorted. His eyebrow perked up “cmere” he said with a devilish grin,leaning over the table to whisper in your ear, “i can do you one better sweetheart.” He put his thumb on the side of your mouth wiping the left over sauce off your face. “Oh…” your breath hitched he plopped back down into his seat licking his thumb. “Mhmmm that is good” he said like nothing ever happened. Your expression was the complete opposite you squeezed your thighs and took a deep breath. “You sure are something else..” gaze lifting to look into his grey eyes. “I was only helping” he said, defending himself and shrugging with a funny pout as he met your eyes.

You were in the restaurant for almost 2 hours just talking. Your server came by for the time that they were closing down for the day. You giggled, “I guess we should be on our way then” talkin to ren. He took your hand walking you out the restaurant into the car. “I had alot of fun tonight” he said calmly, you agreed. “It’s been so long since Ive been on a date” you commented. “M’ glad you asked because I was too scared to” he mumbled scratching his neck with one hand steering. “Whaaaaaa” you shreiked. “Yeah Ive had my eyes on you since I applied but…..you’re so out of my league” you laughed “HAH yeah right.” You laughed out rolling your eyes. He smiled , it was so pretty though. You sighed, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. He pulled the car into your driveway. You began to undo your seatbelt and before you reached for the door handle he grabbed your wrist. Yanking it back towards him, your face filled with confusion. Tension was forming between the small space of your faces. “I meant what i said” he whispered eyes flicking back to your and your lips. “You’re the prettiest thing I've ever seen sweetheart” he reminded ,hand cupping your cheek rubbing his thumb comfortingly against your face.

The air around you was so thick and heavy now. You leaned into his touch eyes focusing on eachother, saying things you weren’t able to get out. You leaned in kissing him, his hand moving to the back of your neck pulling you in closer. He was kissing you like he was still hungry. He opened his mouth and you took it as an invite to explore his mouth even more. You softly bit his lip and sucked on his tongue just a little bit. “Fuck” he groaned and you whined almost cried as he pulled away a string of spit separating the two of you. He knew he had to stop and if he didn’t now he’d be on you till the morning. He didn’t want you to think he was just here for that.

Silence filled the car as you just practically eye fucked each other gaze snapping away from another when you heard fritz loud barking. “Bye Eren” you gave him a soft smile as you got out the car. “See you later sweetheart” he waved with a fat goofy grin taking over his face. He only pulled off when he saw you disappear behind the door. “Hi Fritz, mommy missed you soo much”. She jumped off the bed and onto you making you trip and almost fall. “Woah okay calm down” you warned “you’re too big for that”. She was a german shepherd afterall. She whimpered at your words, she's only 1! You threw your clothes off discarding them onto the floor and jumped into bed.

You immediately called Sasha and Mikasa , they were so excited for you. You mentioned the kiss and sasha nearly cried. “Please wear protection y/nnnnn” she begged. “Yeah, im not ready to be the rich auntie yet.” Mikasa added. Now they were going back and forth and you rolled your eyes at your best friends.

“Goodnight sweetheart”

“Good night Renny<3”

You kicked your feet giggling into the sheets. Embarrassing! “Fritz, i think you’re getting a new daddy” she barked and jumped into your bed to rest on your stomach.

Now its been 3 months since youve asked Eren on your first date. Its been great youve been seeing each other almost every weekend and when you can you try and go to lunch together when your breaks at work line up. Suspicions have been making their way through the clinic but nothing serious. Honestly you couldn’t have thought things would be going so well for you already! You’ve been getting new patients almost every other day, and you treated your first Capuchin monkey. It was funny because when he woke up the poor thing jumped on Erens head and wouldn’t let go till his owner came.

“GET IT OFF OF ME” Eren screamed comically running around the back. Everyone broke out in fits of laughter. “Calm down honey, hes not doing anything” you tried to reassure your boyfriend- well not officially but hopefully soon. It was working till the thing ripped off his glasses making him hit his head on the wall. “Now that one is your fault “ you giggled while taking him to the waiting room. The small thing jumped off his head into his owners arm. “I'm so sorry” the sweet lady mouthed before she left. You gave him a quick peck on his lips. “Better already” he said and if u squinted you could see a tail wagging behind him.

After work Eren dropped you off at your house telling you to be ready for tonight. You were excited , you always were. He was so sweet to you, never making you have to stress about dates, just getting you pretty outfits for you to wear. Eren was inherently rich, his father is the head director of a hospital and his mom works under him. So ontop of the money he already had working at the vet made his pockets heavy asl. He told you to wear something fancy so you put on something with a light sweater. Too bad summer is almost over today was a little chilly.

Ding dong

“Who is it?” You asked from the other room, fritz barking when she heard the bell. “Hey shush” you hushed the dog as you walked towards the door. “Take a guess sweetheart”. You unlocked it to reveal the 6’0 man. “For meeee? How nice” you said taking to flowers he bought for you. “Let me put these in a vase and ill be ready.” Fritz has grown fond of Eren, she gave him licks and would follow him around everywhere. It was more believable if you said he was her owner pfft. You placed the flowers into some warm water, you added the flower food and a small amount of sugar.

“Oh wait i forgot to tell you, pack like a sleepover bag, i want you to sleep at mines, if that’s okay?” Eren questioned as if you would say no. You aren’t crazy. “Of course, can we drop Fritz off at Sashas though? I don’t want her to be home alone so long.” You asked a slight tone of concern. Eren agreed , you packed your bag leaving out pjs figuring youd just wear his shirt. You dropped your dog off, sasha slapping a condom into your hand and slamming the door back before you could say anything. Come to think of it , you and Eren haven’t actually had sex yet. You wanted to be his girlfriend first or was it an excuse because you were too scared. You’ve had your make out sessions of course nothing much more besides you mindlessly grinding on his thigh.

The two of you were seated on the rooftop of a restaurant you can’t pronounce even if you tried. It was so romantic, the strung lights hanging around dimly lit the area. The waiter brought out your food. “Hey, remember on our first date, i had a bunch if sauce on my lip” you said grabbing your fork. “Mhm..i remember your outfit and everything pretty.” He said laughing , “you don’t even know how nervous I was, almost pissed myself”. “Makes two of us!” You cackled. He thought you were the most perfect thing hed ever know. You finished eating making your way back to Erens.

No matter how many times you drove by to see his house it was still a shocker. It was like a mansion kind of big, it was cute and comfy on the inside too. As the two of you entered the home he suddenly covered your eyes. “I have a surprise for you, keep them closed and follow me” he taunted and you nodded. “What are you up to boy” you slapped your hand over your eyes while you free one grabbed him. After walking up a flight of stairs and taking familiar turns you finally came to a stop. There was a brief silence when he opened the door to make sure everything was in place. “You can open them” he said, voice cracking, pouring with nerves.

The room was decorated with flower petals and gifts sprawled out on the bed. A sign in them middle asking if he could be your boyfriend. You didn’t really know what to do but stand in shock. He took a step closer opening a box with a ring in it. His hands were so shaky , “s-so?” He stuttered. “Are you joking….” You whispered not knowing what else to say.

His hand moved to cup your cheek, “im so serious” his eyes studying your teary ones , wiping a falling tear with his thumb. You grabbed his arm and pulled him in a skillful kiss. “Y-yea-hah” you lightly moaned as he deepened it, crushing your body with his to pull you an ample amount closer. He pushed you onto the bed moving all the gifts onto the floor not breaking the kiss, your lips following his. Hes climbing over you intertwining his fingers with yours “hhh-hold on mama” he gasped breathlessly breaking away from the kiss.

Your face twisted, eager you pressed your heat against his knee moving your hips to get some friction. He moved down to lick and suck marks into your neck pushing your shirt up, your skirt hiking up dangerously high. “You’re so nasty, no panties today?” he rasped giving you a fair smile when a sticky wet patch appeared on his leg. He pressed it more against you watching the scene play out like it was the greatest porn he’d ever seen. “M-m ore please” you complained , it wasn’t enough this time. Now you’re helping him remove his shirt yours follow after along with your bra.

His mouth found his way to your nipples, sucking and licking them. Rolling the buds inbetween his fingers , “nd im the nasty one?” you said biting your lip with a slick smirk. You ran your hands through his messy hair massaging his scalp. His tongue darted out before tracing a long lick down to your pussy. “Never said i wasn’t” he replied looking up at you n winking. “O-oh” your hips buckled as he placed his thumb onto your clit rubbing soft circles and you could’ve sworn he was spelling his name.

He watched intently before licking down to your dripping hole coming back and giving attention to your hardened bud. His finger stopped rubbing your inner thigh and poked and circled it around your tight entrance. “Eren…cmon” you begged eyes filling with tears. He scrunched your skirt up so he could get a view of your expression.

“Okay sweetheart” who was he to deny you of anything?

He sunk two fingers in curving them into your walls. You jaw opened drool creeping down the side of your mouth. “Taste so good “ he groaned , it sent extra vibrations down to your clit. You were fucking his face unable to control your movements. He started to move his fingers sloppily his mouth work becoming quicker too. “F-fUck ‘m gonna cum Ereh” you cried , “im s-oh closeree” you strained making eye contact. Then his fingers finally finally found that spot. He watched you dip your head further into the mattress back arching up. Your boyfriend fuckking himself, rutting his dick on the side of the bed. “Oh my God “ he growled “c-cum fa m-me mama.”

You helplessly planted your foot on his shoulder pushing it while your hand is tangled in his hair. “Rennie I can’t” You swallowed thickly as your attempt of trying to let him lighten up on you failed. Your stomach squeezing and the pressure became unbearable you let out a silent scream. It felt like your whole body was on fire. Moans flowed out of your mouth as you came , hips lifting off the bed and a sad attempt at running away. Erens mouth is still eating you through it. “Th-thank y-ou s’ muUc-h” you said. “Such good manners” he chuckled as he watched you twitch already looking lost. You think he pulled your soul out through your pussy.

You grabbed his hand before mindlessly putting the sticky fingers in your mouth. “Heyy i wanted that” he fake pouted. His wrist dug his fingers further through your throat making you choke, spit and bubbles dripping down his arm. “Nghhaahasha” you moaned , he pulled them out and you coughed as tears ran down your cheeks. “Dont talk with your mouth full!” he licked around the ring on your finger. You yanked him on the bed so he could lay down, you frantically pulled off his belt and his pants. His length threatened to poke out of his boxers. You were quick to pull those down and it slapped against his abdomen for a sec. It was so thick you gawked at it before rubbing your thumb over his slit.

“Ahhh so cute!” You said watching the pretty pink tip leak, he bit the back of his hand embarrassed to show how pink his face is. “You’re embarrassing…” he held back a strained groaned, “but you like it dont you hm?” you wiggled your ass in the air taunting him. Your mouth swirling the tip with your mouth then taking longer stipes down his shaft. Your soft hand jerked him slowly as you swallowed a little more with every bob of your head. Eren shuddered under you, hand tangling itself in your hair.

Lewd gags and spit pooling at the base of his dick dripping to his balls. “Ma-shit” his gritted “pretty ass mouth” hips rocking slightly up forcing its way further down your throat. You hallowed out your cheeks, “tha-thats it mama, just like that” his eyes were closed. He continued fucking your throat while you sucked and licked for all hes worth. “Ff-fuck me m’ gonna cum” he whined , now hes trying to run away from you. You sat on his legs and jerked him off while u sucked his balls. “Oh shit” abs tightening and he had to sit up before he went crazy. Vasts amount of cum shooting out his length. You giggled watching his eyes roll to the back of his head.

You came back to the tip sucking him dry, his hand squishing your cheeks so he could see your painted mouth “open up sweetheart” he asked . Of course you did his fingers toying with your tongue before kissing you. “Mhmmm” he groaned tasting your sweet mouth with his nut. “You satisfy my sweet tooth” he licked his teeth. When you pulled away you wouldn’t be wrong if you said you saw hearts in his eyes. “Hands and knees sweetheart” he said, tone more dominant and demanding now. His hands pushed your arch deeper , he lined himself up with your leaky entrance. Pushing past the ring slowly your arm reached out to grip the sheets. “I-is too b-big Renny” you babbled, drool pooling out your pretty soft lips. “Nuh-uh you ca-n take it” Eren reassured you, rubbing your back with his big hands slowly inching in deeper.

By now your arch is so far gone hes digging into your stomach. Giving you a few seconds of soft thrust before slamming into you rapidly. “i ca-cant do this n-no moreeee” you moaned sluggishly as your limbs gave out. “But we just started mama?” Eren gave you a pout , “are you sure you want to stop huh?” He knew the answer because you were still fucking him back the fat of your ass making loud clapping noise. You could feel the slick between your legs spreading around your thighs.

He grabbed the back of your neck pulling your back to his chest and you wailed at the sudden change of position. “I asked you a fucking question sweetheart” he whispered into your ear biting the skin “answer me” his voice filled with poison. “Ke-keep goi-goin keep going Eren” you cried , “don’t stop please” you were begging. Feeling the familiar sensation take over your body Erens rhythm never stops fucking you just right “Cum all over this dick sweetheart, its yours.” Just as he spoke, whatever holding you together snapped. “Yeah? all mine Ren?” You repeated and he reassured each time placing soft kisses onto your neck.

His hand reached infront of you and persistently rubbing it your back arched up off of him and your head fell back onto his shoulder. You were cumming, gushing alot your moans streaming out makin you shake violently. Clenching around him. “O-oh fuck mama” he groaned out “i knew this pretty pussy could take it” his brows furrowed as he pulled out tapping your clit with his thick cock. Cream pulling out of you, he softly put you on your back lifting one of your knees to your chest. “Just one more okay ma? I promise” he said with a sinful filled grin. “O-oh uh-fuck m-me fuck” you said weakly, “anythin fo-or you Er-eren”. He tilted his head wondering how he got so fucking lucky.

Your so obedient, your mind was blankinh as he slid it in with a deep thrust, “ohhh mY GOD” the two of you moaned in unison. You came again for the 3rd time as soon as his hips slapped with yours. Your hand immediately grabbed the arm keeping your leg in place. His thrust were becoming so sloppy and he aimed his hips just right thrusting upwards poking at your g spot over and over. Eren was moaning your name repeatedly like it was some kind of seance. He pushed your other knee to your chest hes got you trapped in full mating press now. You were wailing nails digging into his body and him repeatedly ramming into your sweet spot.

“M gonna cum, shit thi-this is the best pus-sy ever” , he moaned “whyd you keep it from me for so long SHIT!”. He realizes he been talking to himself, “woah, hey baby” hes cooing at you your body limp and unconscious, “get up pretty m’ almost finished” he kisses you gently waking you up your arms wrap around his neck to get some grounding. You have a lazy tired smile on your face stained with tears. “There she is” Eren gives a few more slams of his hips each time winding you before thick ropes of cum pour into you. You squirted all over his lower half, shocked as you never done it before. Some of Erens hair sticking to his sweaty forehead he watched as a mix of ur cum leaked out of you, some covering his dick.

He plunged a finger into your pussy tasting the mix he groaned out softly. “Lets get you to the bathroom hmm” he spoke so innocently and gentle you thought you were hallucinating. He pulled off your cum stained skirt and sat you so you could pee. He helped you shower, you were half sleeping the whole time. He carried you to his room and placed you gently under the covers ontop of him. Your hand on his chest softly snoring. He was soon after you placing his arm around your waist. “I love you “ he kissed your head.

Hello hello Hi guys, school is starting back soon so ill try to post when I can!! But ill try to get something out atleast once every week and with longer post like this most likely every 2 weeks or so.

But you guys see how y/n peed after doing the sex!!!??? Yeah u need to do that. Always be safe when involving any sexual interaction

#aot smut #aot x reader #lemon #aot #eren smut #smut #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren aot #eren jeager x reader #eren x you #eren x black fem!reader #eren x black y/n

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lovewireds · 5 months ago

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been meaning to post my designs for these little guys forever. insane splatoon rambling under cut to explain design choices and lore related things ... read my autism boy

btw this is a repost from our art side blog this was written and drawn like months ago <- minorly rewrote some things tho

thx splatoon users drfreeman & drcoolatta for fueling my splatvrai autism brainrot ... i hate u /J

GORDON

idk how to explain this but Theoretical Physicist is inkling coded . maybe its cuz splatoon species social hierarchy

Native ink color is Orange, but he has Dark Brown tentacle roots.

Uses custom weapons to attach in place of his prosthetic; It works best with Splatlings but can be adjusted to attach other weapons.

If the thing above didn't make it obvious, he's a Splatling main. He switches out depending on his mood though.

sighhhhh technically an Agent... stares at the ceiling...Main character...

His arm loss is like pretty much the same as in-canon but it's with the octarian army shrugs. don't ask me why he doesn't just regenerate it cuz hes a squid thats for me to know and you to find out. (get partially sanitized loser)

Born & Raised in Inkopolis pre-splashtags; He wasn't informed of the switch to Splashtags being expected when participating in most activities around Inkadia.

TOMMY

I forgot why i made him an inkling why did i do that. I think it was bc i didnt wanna make them all octolings but i was wrong srry we all make mistakes /hj I ALREADY REDREW HIM ONCE IM NTO DOING IT AGAINNN

Native ink color is orange-brown.

His hat has an eye guard for sensory reasons; He covers up as much of his skin as possible because he doesn't like the feeling of foreign ink on him.

He isn't a specific weapon main, he just uses any long-range weapon to minimize the possibility of getting ink on himself. If he has enough guarding, he prefers to use N-ZAP '89.

Makes his own gear for sensory reasons as well :) It's legal when ur dad's the G-Man.

Exclusively plays in Turf Wars, Anarchy Battles, etc with friends. He hates playing with people he doesn't know.

Born in Splatsville !! He feels like a Splatsville resident. His occupation is resident I cannot imagine him doing Anything

His dad is that creepy curtain in one of flounder heights windows /j

BENR(E)Y

Octoling bc I wanted him to be sanitized :) Other than the visual part of being sanitized, I thought him being clinically dead fits /hj also lore reasons below

Pre-sanitization, his native ink color was blue.

Great Turf War veteran; He didn't do anything in the war itself, he was just enlisted lol. He was primarily security for the Octarian Domes in the years after the war. Yes, that also means he is over 100 years old.

"Raised" (debatably) in Octo Canyon.

E-liter main (4-star Base + 5-star Scope) and avid squidbagger. He also uses any heavyweight weapons (dynamo, tenta, etc)

Absolutely hates working at Grizzco, he only does Turf Wars and Anarchy Battles. He only works at Grizzco during Big Runs. The type of guy that does X battles.

Professional Anarchy / Ranked / X Battler btw. That's literally 90% of what he does.

Got on Gordon's azz over him not having a Splashtag; i wonder what that parallels.

BUBBY

Genuinely don't have a lot to say about his design. He gives off Splatoon 2 Octoling vibes (showoff /hj) also i wanted to make his hair wispy like it should be.

Native ink color is a light blue-gray gradient.

The drawing doesn't give it credit but I swear those are glasses not goggles .. they're opaque-colored slanted oval glasses !! ^_^ u can interpret them as spiked or just eyelashes, both are right.

oh also the text under bubby says "Is Best" in some splatoon font we downloaded awhile ago . i think it was ripped from splatnet

Blaster main. I don't know how to explain this one but it feels right.

helps with the practical Map props (ie ink rails) and with some weapon gear manufacturing ^_^ tech guy

COOMER

Was going to make him an Octoling for the convenience of making his hair curly but i didn't want to make all of them octolings + i think his personality generally fits Inklings more.

Native ink color is an off white gradient.

Slosher main cuz he likes moving his arms. this makes sense to me. Also is a fan of Splatlings and other Shooters.

i felt ill trying to design coomer without making his eyes two lines with eyelids

War Veteran...Stole some octarian tech and got fucked up super limbs. Cyber Inkling stealing from octos !! [inkadia crowd goes wild] /j

anyways outside of the war™ he's a data researcher. just generally. he does shit with splatfests and eggstra work.

If you splashed him with ink he would stand unmoving. He would not shake it off.

DARNOLD

Ok i'll be honest the Octoling choice is primarily bc Octolings have the afro style & inklings have no textured hair styles (i didnt have the energy to design smth that could work) . His personality fits octoling too though :3

Native ink color is red-orange.

The fucked up guy that makes those drink effects people never use ( i use them ... )

He doesn't participate in Turf Wars or Anarchy Battles, but he works some gigs at Grizzco for extra cash every once in awhile !

the type of guy that goes after flyfish cuz no one else will . god bles !!!

not a lot to say about his design & his place in inkadia , it kinda speak for itself . he just wants to get by and make his drinks in peace . #autism ... he is pretty much exactly the same as his canon self

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afeelgoodblog · 1 year ago

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The Best News of Last Week

🦾 - High-Five for Bionic Hand

1. Houston-area school district announces free breakfast and lunch for students

Pasadena ISD students will be getting free breakfast and lunch for the 2023-24 school year, per an announcement on the district's social media pages.

The 2023-24 free lunch program is thanks to a Community Eligibility Provision grant the district applied for last year. The CEP, which is distributed by the Department of Agriculture, is specially geared toward providing free meals for low-income students.

2. Dolphin and her baby rescued after being trapped in pond for 2 years

youtube

A pair of dolphins that spent nearly two years stuck in a Louisiana pond system are back at sea thanks to the help of several agencies and volunteers.

According to the Audubon Nature Institute, wildlife observers believe the mother dolphin and her baby were pushed into the pond system near Grand Isle, Louisiana, during Hurricane Ida in late August 2021.

3. Studies show that putting solar panels over waterways could boost clean energy and conserve water. The first U.S. pilot project is getting underway in California.

Some 8,000 miles of federally owned canals snake across the United States, channeling water to replenish crops, fuel hydropower plants and supply drinking water to rural communities. In the future, these narrow waterways could serve an additional role: as hubs of solar energy generation.

4. Gene therapy eyedrops restored a boy's sight. Similar treatments could help millions

Antonio was born with dystrophic epidermolysis bullosa, a rare genetic condition that causes blisters all over his body and in his eyes. But his skin improved when he joined a clinical trial to test the world’s first topical gene therapy.

The same therapy was applied to his eyes. Antonio, who’s been legally blind for much of his 14 years, can see again.

5. Scientists develop game-changing vaccine against Lyme disease ticks!

A major step in battling Lyme disease and other dangerous tick-borne viruses may have been taken as researchers announced they have developed a vaccine against the ticks themselves.

Rather than combatting the effects of the bacteria or microbe that causes Lyme disease, the vaccine targets the microbiota of the tick, according to a paper published in the journal Microbiota on Monday.

6. HIV Transmission Virtually Eliminated in Inner Sydney, Australia

Sydney may be the first city in the world to end AIDS as a public health threat by 2030. Inner Sydney has reduced new HIV acquisitions by 88%, meaning it may be the first locality in the world to reach the UN target to end AIDS as a public health threat by 2030

7. New bionic hand allows amputees to control each finger with unprecedented accuracy

In a world first, surgeons and engineers have developed a new bionic hand that allows users with arm amputations to effortlessly control each finger as though it was their own body.

Successful testing of the bionic hand has already been conducted on a patient who lost his arm above the elbow.

----

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metranart · 5 months ago

Text

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 4)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

- 𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship, Under-Desk Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, breeding, obsessive behavior, horny sorcerers, idiots in love, being the willing pet of your senseis, best friend! Megumi, Jealous! Megumi, anal plug, Secret Relationship, Domestic Fluff, falling in love, Pregnancy Kink, Hurt/Comfort, smut, rough sex, shameless smut, creampie, explicit sexual consent, sexual tension, shameless flirting, scratching. -

"Did he finally declare his feelings to you?"

You were surprised when the words left his mouth. Your mind unable to processing what you had just heard.

"D-Did you know?"

Geto stared at you without a single doubt in him before nodding his head. You gaped at the blunt honesty of such a vile secret. He knew…those that mean that—

“Gojo also knew?”

The suffix that you use so endearingly to wrap their names was missing and Suguru feared for the resentful feeling that may be harvesting inside your young, vulnerable chest at the face of this hidden truth. His easy affirmative left you equally speechless even when you knew it was coming. “You knew.” You repeated in a dense, broken mutter.

“You need to try to understand the reason for some of our actions—"

“May I be of help, Suguru-san?"

Megumi entered the kitchen and the two of you separated so quickly that no one would have ever suspected that you were about to cum on his fingers less than five minutes ago.

“We're almost done, thank you very much, Megumi-kun.” Suguru said candidly to his beloved adopted son and glanced at you with the same candid smile. “(Y/N), helped me a lot—”

“—I feel so silly..."

Geto's heart raced but nothing shown in his features, remaining sweet and calm. Although inside felt desperate to explain to you what you were undoubtedly misinterpreting and giving more importance than it had.

"Silly?" Megumi repeated blankly, his eyebrows furrowing delicately.

You shook your head, your gaze glued to your feet and pouting lamely you showed him your hand. "I cut myself with the knife," you lied skillfully, and out of the corner of your eye you saw how your sensei's broad shoulders relaxed noticeably, ".... I’m so clumsy, how did I not realize it before?"

Megumi took your hand in his and began to analyze it with clinical attention, "I can't find the wound."

"I think it's very superficial, some wouldn't give it much importance..." Geto knew that those words were directed at him, with exclusive malice and devastating intention of sticking the splinter into his already lacerated conscience, "… but it still hurts."

Your pretty lips pursed in an attempt to stop the outburst of so many mixed feelings. Have you been just a casual adventure for the marriage? A bet to see who would conquer the foolish girl first, his son or them? A sick game for the married couple to bring some spark to their boring lives? To measure who was the bigger alpha among them? Who fucks you first—

You bit down a hiccup and Suguru felt his heart shatter as if it were made of glass and someone brutally throw it against the cold, unforgiving floor. Please little one, don't overthink... wait until we explain to you, it's not what you think... thought the sorcerer who reduced to observing with a heavy heart.

“—Tell me where it hurts, (Y/N)," Megumi became alert at the prospect that you could be suffering, "...easy there, everything is fine."

The young adult tried to console you, frustrated at not being able to find the wound -since it didn't lie on your skin- Megumi ran his fingers gently over your palm but nothing, you still looked miserable. His heart sank at the feeling of uselessness, and soon realized that if he wanted to show you that he could take care of you and protect you like a boyfriend would, he had to prove it first.

So, gathering all his courage, he yanked your hand closer and sweetly shy, muttered. "I'll make it better, love. Please don’t cry."

Suguru's eyes opened wide like full moons as he watched his son's lips pepper every inch of soft skin they could find, every finger and cuticle, the skin of your palm, the back of your hand, even your wrist, he varnished of sweet, caring kisses. He'll be so proud if weren't so nastily jealous.

The tear that had escaped your eye, rolled alone down your burning cheeks and the young adult, on a mission, leant closer to wipe it away with his useful and gentle lips. He was finally being useful to you. Once pleased with his quest, those beautiful blue eyes rested somewhat shyly on yours and he felt very proud that he no longer saw glimpses of pain.

A bright smile curved his lips rather handsomely and the blush kidnapping your face was way too brash to call yourself just his best friend.

“T-Thank you, Megumi.” The stammer won’t leave your voice.

“I promised you that I'll try hard.” He reminded you with a shy, yet sassy grin. And your unexpected bonding moment suddenly burst like a soap bubble.

“Dinner’s ready, hun?” Gojo’s sudden question startled everyone. The white-haired sorcerer attitude felt almost abrasive.

Neither Suguru, nor you, nor Megumi had noticed his presence and everything he witnessed, from kisses to the confession of a love conquest.... all of this, while he leant his weight on the door frame, one foot in front of the other casually, arms crossed tightly across his broad chest, drinking the scene ... it felt like putrid venom must feel going down his throat.

Suguru couldn't find his voice to answer, and Megumi took the opportunity to pull you by the hand and take you with him, spatting a placid. "We'll be in my room, let us know when dinner is ready."

They both climbed the stairs of the house, hand in hand, followed too closely by two pairs of attentive eyes, one exuding furious frustration and the other indecisive guilt. Once they heard the door shut close and were sure, were out of earshot….

“Thank God! you were here to see our son's smooch session and his crude, love confessions to our lover, Suguru—”

“Put a cork on it, Toru.” Geto hiss like a dangerous snake, leaning burdensomely on the kitchen counter. “I’m not sure, but I think I screwed up.”

Dinner was uneventful, if that could be said in such a tangled situation.

Neutral topics of conversation were touched and in most of them you kept quiet or short phrased, everyone walking on thin ice, except Megumi who stepped hard and without restrictions making his raw intentions towards you noticeable, an attitude not common in Megumi who was known for being taciturn, composed and shy.

This change in attitude was sudden but expected, causing both parents to stay on red alert since it seemed that his son was marking his territory, and someone only marks his territory when feels threatened... Did Megumi know something? Did he suspect? Had they been so careless? Had you said something while you were alone in his room to get back at them? —

“I had forgotten to tell you," Megumi began to say as he helped you pick up the plates from the table, "Director Yaga assigned us a special mission," both professors listened attentively, "so (Y/N) is going to sleep here so we don't waste time meeting tomorrow."

"A sleepover?" Gojo spit out.

"I didn't see you bring a suitcase with you, (Y/N). Do you need to borrow some clothes?" Suguru offered quickly, eager to squeeze any comment out of you.

"You would look adorable in one of my t-shirts." Gojo teased, hoping to tear a giggle out of you to zero response. Both ending up frowning, Megumi watching them expressionless, those blue eyes analyzing closely.

"She's using the cursed hidden pocket technique," Megumi suddenly explained, ignoring Gojo's comment, "she already has everything she needs." You smiled thinly at Megumi who retuned you a swift wink, "...I was just letting you know, without a doubt, tomorrow Nanami will explain the mission in detail."

“Maybe you can take five minutes to explain to us right now, Megumi." Geto insisted, playing the worried father.

Megumi pursed his lips and giving you an odd look, started to head to his room, halting to say from the stairs. "I'm going to give you the briefing, there you can find everything, I'm going upstairs to get it."

There was a brief silence before Megumi disappeared upstairs and you continued clearing the table as if nothing happened.

"Sooooooo, you're not going to talk to us anymore?" Gojo was the one who started the duel, not wanting to waste even a precious second of his overprotective adopted son's absence.

You remained quiet but attentive. Paying only the necessary attention to Gojo's movements, who got up from his chair and now surrounded you like a bee around a flower.

"Look at her Suguru,” he grabbed a lock of your hair to play, yet you swatted his hand away in all icy calm. The tall prodigy bite down a growl, “She's not talking to us while this morning couldn’t stop moaning our names, what is that called, baby?" Gojo asked his husband who shook his head disapprovingly from his sitting position, and without really waiting for the answer, added "double standard, that's what it's called." He pointed out and your frown gave him enough satisfaction to continue the one-sided conversation.

“By the way, how do you feel, (Y/N)?” Gojo asked suddenly in that same poisonous vibe, and an eyebrow rose on your forehead, this time you even looked at him gifting him your undivided attention, since he was awfully close to comfort. “-Is your pussy still sore from me stretching it so good this morning?”

Suguru almost choked on his gulp of water, and Satoru grin wickedly at how embarrassed you looked, taking it as far as to peck the tip of your nose, taking advantage of your astonishment to then borrow a hand to leisurely pat the back of his husband gently as he coughed.

"Be careful, Sugu, don't choke," chuckled out the prodigy of the Gojo Clan. "I know! (Y/N) teach him the technique you use to swallow our cocks without activating the gag reflex," your cheeks painted in such an intense crimson that for a moment you thought your nose was going to bleed. Your fists tightening harder with each crude comment, “oh, you…. my little, self-righteous, sword swallower."

“Satoru.” Suguru chided his husband, pulling him from the shirt to have him sitting by his side.

“I'm genuinely worried, Sugu,” the special grade sorcerer exclaimed letting his body drop into a comfy position on the couch, “I know we’ve trained her well but if she's going to receive Megumi tonight, she ought to be careful… that boy is awfully thick—”

“You are being childish, Satoru Gojo!” You raised your voice and quickly lower it down, emphasizing his name as if the mere mention of him was an insult.

“Am I being childish?" The prodigy spat, pointing an index finger at himself. "To be childish is to get angry without even having the complete information," Satoru exclaimed, and you turned your back to them, you didn’t want to hear him, but he wasn’t having it either.

What was your surprise when your storm out was cancel and you were lifted from the ground by two strong arms that wrapped around your waist. "Let go-..." you growled in annoyance and Satoru ignored you, almost dragging you to the couch like a spoiled child being unreasonable and shamelessly throwing you into the arms of his beloved husband, who gladly received you on his lap.

“Spoiled brat,” grunted the white haired holding your legs for you to stop kicking, “you got her babe?”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Suguru affirmed.

His strong arms wrapping around your ribs like a seat belt. With this confirmation, Satoru felt more comfortable kneeling in front of you and throwing your knees over his shoulders, holding your thighs spread with his strong hands to prevent you shutting your legs around his head.

"Listen, pup.” His voice sounded like a trusty adult again, no mock or sarcasm, and the mere tone made you steady, after all, he was a figure of authority to you, “...we didn't chase you because we knew our Megumi liked you."

Satoru revealed in all seriousness, a little outraged at the simple fact that this could be going through your mind, "...we genuinely like you and you genuinely like us," you felt Suguru deposit a kiss in your neck as a support of that statement and with a loving grin on his face, Satoru began to trail a sinful path of kisses up the inner skin of your thigh, "none of this was planned, it was organic….”

You frowned, closing your eyes stubbornly, refusing to believe them. “And if I remember correctly, you were the one who offered to suck me off first-"

"Because I didn't know you'd use me to ignite your boring marriage!" you blasted, glaring at his handsome, shocked face.

"Boring marriage?" You heard Suguru chuckle amused next to your ear.

Satoru laughed heartily and his man joined him, neither one in the least offended. "Do we seriously strike you as a boring marriage, (Y/N)?"

You pouted your lips like a like a scolded girl. You didn't really believe that, but you were too stubborn to accept it.

With a sensual smile back on his face, your sensei kept crawling up your thigh, rolling your skirt up to glimpse at your white panties, licking his lips at finding a patch of moisture greeting him. “Poor pup, you must be so uncomfortable, lemme be the gracious host and help-”

“Megumi might come down...-”

"-Then I’ll be quick...." his mouth curled into a shrewd grin.

COMING SOON PART 5....

⭕️ Find in my PATREON NSFW art from this chapter and more NSFW art of the story and lots of content from JJK, exclusive smut fanfiction and more interesting stuff. ;)

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nichirinpen · 9 months ago

Text

A Through Z With Nanami Kento

Nanami Kento x Reader

Can also be read here on AO3

Word Count: 14,402

Synopsis- Snippets of your life with Nanami Kento structured through words listed A-Z. Memories in pieces, a mix of Fluff, Smut and a little Angst.

Content Tags: AFAB reader descriptions, Smut, penis in vagina sex, vaginal penetration, Shibuya incident mentioned, cunnilingus

Aftercare

You had one too many to drink at the company party. The drinks had been free and you were sad so of course you overindulged. It had been a send off for your colleague, he was quitting to pursue a different career path. The man was your favorite colleague, even if he didn’t know it.

Nanami Kento, a man who you secretly crushed on in the time he worked for the corporation. 4 years was too short and you had wasted a majority of them just silently gawking at the man.

He was tall, blonde and quiet, everything you could want in a man. Of course he had no idea you existed. At least that's what you thought.

Until you were drunk, on his bed and begging him to go faster. Nanami Kento had surprised you in taking you back home. He had surprised you with a quiet drunken confession. And now he was surprising you with aftercare.

It wasn’t like the two of you had done anything more than intense vanilla sex. The pair of you were too drunk for anything past the breathless fumbling then fucking that had occurred. But the man had stamina, much more than you in your drunk state. Your core ached and you swear you could feel it all the way in your ribcage. Kento hadn’t held back when you had asked for him to go faster, the man happily obliging your cries for more.

“This might be cold.”

You shivered as he swiped the washcloth between your thighs, cleaning the mess he had left behind. Kento’s face was tinged red and you couldn’t decide if it was from the alcohol or if he was embarrassed. He was methodical, almost clinical as he cleaned you.

“Thank you.” The words were whispered, greeted by him nodding as he tossed the used cloth into a nearby hamper.

“Bathroom?” He stood, unbothered by his nakedness, one hand extended. Kento was built, the dull suits he wore hiding a god-like physique beneath. You paused, then nodded, taking it and allowing him to pull you to your feet. Your legs were like jello, trembling the moment you put your weight on them. Kento was quick to hook his arm about your waist, practically carrying you to the bathroom. After setting you on the toilet, he was quick to exit, allowing you privacy. It was surprising. A level of care you hadn’t really experienced before.

As you exited the bathroom he was quick to help you back to the bed. Your legs weren’t total jelly, but you still appreciated the gentle hand on your elbow. Flopping back on the bed, you let out a sigh. Despite still being drunk you knew the next step was the ‘walk of shame’ back to the train station. If they were even still running.

You looked up as Kento sat next to you on the bed, the man passing you your phone. It was as if he were psychic. It was late and at this rate, there was no way for you to make it to the train without running.

You jumped as his hands made their way back onto your skin. Kento’s large hands were warm and you made a noise of surprise as he began gently kneading at your right hip.

“I heard it pop.” He murmured gently, strands of blonde hair hiding his eyes. You flushed, letting out an embarrassed laugh. He had been drilling into you so relentlessly that you didn’t think he had heard.

“Thank you.” Your tone was soft as you allowed yourself to settle back on the bed. In truth both sides of your hips ached. Working in the office left little time for working out and sitting at a desk all day meant tight hips. Kento had stretched you in more ways than one. You had known he was tall, but you had no idea how built he was until you were under him.

“I have tea if you’d like it before sleeping. Might help prevent a hangover.” He looked up from where he sat, one warm hand pressed flat against the soft skin of your stomach. You raised an eyebrow in surprise, still feeling a bit hazy from the alcohol churning in your system.

“You want me to stay?”

Kento shifted slightly, one hand adjusting his glasses as he stared at you. He seemed uncertain, the emotion looking completely foreign on his face.

“I was rough and it’s late.” He paused, swiping a stand of hair from his face. “But I can call you a cab if you’d like.”

You shook your head, quietly murmuring you’d love to stay. It felt strange. You had lusted silently for the man for ages and now he was asking you to stay the night. It felt domestic in a way.

Kento brought you tea, and a freshly baked muffin. He insisted you eat it, noting that you had had more alcohol than food at the party. Sheepishly you accepted, moaning as blueberry and vanilla met your tongue. As you lay in bed he murmured about the bakery he frequented, how it was small but always had fresh items. You ate as carefully as you could, not wanting to spill crumbs everywhere. Despite him insisting you didn’t need to move, you had noted how clean his home was and didn’t want to make a mess.

Despite his normally stand-offish and quiet appearance, Kento was sweet. A lot sweeter than any lover you had before him. After tea and a snack, he crawled into bed with you, murmuring it was lucky neither of you had work the next day. You fell asleep in his arms, feeling warmer and safer than you had in ages.

Biting

You hadn’t ever thought of yourself as someone who liked biting. It had never come up with previous partners and Kento tended to not initiate new things in the bedroom without first sitting down and talking with you about it. Not that your sex life was planned out, far from it, but the man wanted you to feel safe. An appreciated gesture given you had been surprised in other relationships before, unpleasantly so.

Kento also made sure the conversations were lax. There was never any pressure for you to say yes. Nor did you ever feel like you couldn't bring up your own suggestions. He was always open to your ideas. It was just two adults conversing about their wants or needs.

So when he suddenly latched onto the back of your neck, teeth dully pressing into your flesh, you were surprised to say the least. He had you on your hands and knees, one hand gripping your hip with bruising force as he thrust into you. You nearly stopped the movement of your hips, the surprise hit you with such force. In part because he hadn’t ever mentioned it before and because it made you cum without warning.

You gasped as your orgasm hit you, arching against the man as he continued thrusting into your wet heat. His grip on your waist and neck kept you in place as you shuddered through the orgasm. Hips stuttering erratically, your walls fluttered about him, overstimulated as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your back was molded firmly to his chest, unable to move as his cock dragged back then slammed back to the hilt. Kento groaned against your skin, hips stuttering against yours as he quickly followed you, flooding you with his seed.

“Sorry.” He gasped, finally releasing your neck. You fell forward, gratefully curling against the pillows, ass still in the air. His cum dripped down your thighs and you shivered as the cool air of the room hit your still sensitive core.

“Sorry.” Kento sounded stressed, the man quickly cleaning your before gently helping you to your side. His brow was furrowed, fingers gently probing the red mark he had left. He looked distressed, eyes worriedly searching your face for any signs of discomfort. You offered him a sleepy smile, waving off his next attempt at an apology.

“That was nice.”

He seemed surprised at your response, hand frozen halfway to his face, his glasses dangling from his fingers. One eyebrow raised he sat still as you sat back up, stretching languidly. You moved closer, grabbing his glasses and setting them on the bedside table.

“You have time for another round right?”

The man blinked at you, then nodded, offering you a small smile before crawling back into bed with you.

Coffee

Nanami Kento was a man of habit. He woke up at the same time each morning, ate the same breakfast and had the same cup of coffee before leaving. Even on the weekends he followed the same schedule. You knew he did it for a sense of normalcy. All Kento had told you about his new job was that it was a teaching position and apparently his star pupil was also a bit of a delinquent. So the schedule was important and followed religiously.

Except when he slept at your apartment. You barely had a schedule. It was normal for you to snooze your alarm more than once. You often skipped breakfast and coffee was something you got on the way to work. The weekends were even more spontaneous. You woke up when you woke up. No alarm was set and you would often roll out of bed in the early afternoon. It was a schedule of sorts, but one you knew had your boyfriend on edge.

So you woke up as early as you could stand one Saturday morning. He had an odd weekend assignment and had fully intended on returning home after diner. But one thing led to another and the pair of you ended up tangled in the sheets, exhausted and satisfied.

Thankfully, even sleepy and mind hazy from sex, you had had the wherewithal to set an alarm.

It chirped, annoyingly happy as you slid from the warm tangle of sheets and Kento’s arm. He barely moved, the man apparently exhausted enough to keep sleeping.

6:40 am. A cursed time you thought tiredly as you shuffled to the kitchen. The sun was just starting to kiss the sky, orange spreading slowly across the remnants of night’s purple. You flicked on the kitchen light, knowing that even though it spread down the hall, it wouldn’t be enough to wake the man. Coffee was easy enough to make silently, the small pot never making much more than a little bubbling noise. Eggs were a different story. You winced as the metal pan let out a small scraping noise as you removed it from its spot in the cabinet.

“You’re lucky I love you.” The words were whispered as you tiptoed about the kitchen. You hadn’t told him of course. Love was a word you were almost afraid to bring up. It had only been a week since the two of you officially started dating, despite months of passionate sex. In truth you might’ve been happy with just being his fuck buddy. When you originally had brought up dating he had balked at it, unnaturally brushing off the topic. But with time he eventually was the one to bring it up, quietly admitting his job made relationships difficult but that with you, he wanted to at least try.

So you were dating but you were still nervous about admitting to him that you loved him. So instead you were content with small acts of love.

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen and you smiled as you heard Kento’s alarm go off. The man was quick to rise, dressing before he entered the kitchen.

“What's all this?” He genuinely looked surprised, hands pausing before finishing the knot on his tie. It was the same suit as he had on yesterday and you made a mental note to ask if he wanted to keep an extra one at your place. You were certain his students couldn’t care less, but you knew your boyfriend did.

“Breakfast.” You smiled, sliding the two fried eggs onto a plate. He took it quietly, sitting at your small kitchen table as you quickly poured a fresh cup of coffee. Black coffee and two fried eggs. It was an incredibly simple breakfast, one that indicated to you he was always pressed for time. He had mentioned it only once but you remembered.

“Thank you.” He shot you one of his rare smiles, sipping the steaming cup of coffee. You hummed in response, settling across from him with your very sweetened coffee in hand.

Dessert

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed. Propped up on your elbows, you stared up at Nanami. You were entirely naked, nipples erect and core already dripping wet. Kento was still mostly dressed, missing just his jacket and shoes. He looked serious, tie tossed over one shoulder and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. What was less serious was the can of whipped cream he held in one hand.

The man was uncertain on how to proceed. He wasn’t one for sweets, he had advised as such ages ago. And yet he had been the one to suggest bringing a can of whipped cream into the bedroom.

‘Something I had seen’ He had said. You assumed porn and had agreed wholeheartedly. It was something you had always wanted to try but the idea usually just bounced around in the back of your skull, half forgotten.

Kento shook the can, a look of pure concentration settling on his face as he began to spray a neat circle around your nipple. You inhaled sharply, the cold whipped cream sending goosebumps across your skin. Kento paused at the noise, then continued, cheeks flushing as he covered your other nipple as well. You bit back a laugh, the man looked vaguely concerned as he placed the can to one side.

“How do you feel?” He tugged off his tie, tossing it aside as he took in the already melting cream on your breasts.

“Like a dessert.” You couldn’t hold back the giggle, your laughter growing as the small mounds of whipped cream jiggled with each laugh. Kento smiled at that, a small huff of laughter escaping his lips.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. Anticipation built between the two of you until finally he leaned in.

As with everything, Nanami Kento was a careful man. You let out a low moan as his tongue lapped at one nipple, cutting a path through the light cream and flicking against your nipple. He leaned closer, warm breath against your skin as he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

You groaned, back arching off the bed slightly as his teeth scrapped against your skin. His hands were on your hips, pulling them up, pressing your dripping core against the front of his slacks. You gently canted your hips against his, the rough fabric sending a wave of pleasure coiling through your abdomen.

His hair was coming loose, strands tickling against your skin as he sucked your nipple. Kento pulled free with a pop, laving his tongue across your chest to the other breast. Whipped cream was smeared against his left cheek, the messy sight adding to the erotisism of his actions.

You could feel his erection straining against his slacks. The tent of fabric rubbing at your core as he rocked shallowly into you. The pants were certainly ruined, even without looking you knew he would have to throw them out. Your wet cunt was sliding against his erection easily, the grinding building the heat in your abdomen. It coiled, growing tight as you chased your release.

His grip tightened, pulling you closer as he ran his tongue across your nipple. You moaned, hips bucking wildly in his grip. Your clit scraped across the smooth button of his slacks, sending a burst of pleasure through your veins. Kento felt you shudder, moving your hips higher. He rolled his hips against yours, catching your clit again.

Teeth scraping against your nipple he ground against you, the tent of his erection catching against your entrance. You could feel the slickness of your own arousal sliding down the back of your thighs as you opened your legs wider, the need to be penetrated fueling your actions.

Kento groaned against your breast, lips latching onto your nipple. Warm saliva mixed with the melting whipped cream spread across your chest as he sucked. The man grunting with each thrust against you. You moaned as his erection slid across your clit, shuddering as you finally came. Hips canting into his you moaned, cunt fluttering around nothing.

“Good girl.” He breathed, finally pulling away from your nipples. Kento’s face was bright red, lips smeared with whipped cream.

You snorted, running a finger along his cheek before popping it in your mouth. It was sweet and tasted like Nanami’s kisses.

Eager

Nanami Kento was eager to eat pussy. It was something you honestly weren’t surprised to learn. While you hadn’t been with many men, you had come to realize a constant in your life. Quiet men ate pussy like they were starving. You weren’t sure if it was something that was just a fact of life or an effect you had on quiet men. Either way, you enjoyed it immensely.

What was a surprise was how and when he would initiate the act. Sometimes you were at home, sometimes in the car. It was like he would get hit by lightning, eager and quietly asking for you to spread your legs.

This time was different. Nanami Kento was rarely ruffled by life, always well dressed, hair in place. But when you were asked to the main lobby of your workplace, you found a version of your boyfriend that was almost feral. His jacket was sitting awkwardly on his shoulders, hair mussed and tie shoved into one pocket. If you didn’t know better you would assume he had been in a fight.

He had asked if you could take the rest of the day and you had nodded, concerned something was wrong. Something was, not that he would divulge. His work was something he outright refused to talk about when you asked. You had gotten your purse and quietly followed him onto the sunny street.

Down one street, then another. He had taken your hand so thankfully you didn’t get lost. But in your heels and at the pace he was walking, you found yourself stumbling more than once. Nanami was a man possessed. It was concerning but you were silent, knowing that eventually he would let you in, tell you what was troubling him.

And suddenly, you found yourself in a small lecture room. A map was taped over the chalkboard, a small tv on the lecture table. The room was empty, desks and chairs neatly lined up.

“Kento whats wrong?” You were slightly out of breath, taking stairs in heels was already difficult. Adding in your over 6 foot boyfriend practically dragging you up the stairs and you were surprised you hadn’t fallen.

“On the desk.” It was a command, his voice was husky, eyes hidden behind the colored lens of his glasses. You complied, confused as you watched him strip his jacket off. His side was injured, you realized. As if he had been sliced by a large knife. You gasped, moving to stand and froze as he barked for you to stay put.

Nanami Kento was a strict man, a quiet rule follower. But he had never been this commanding.

“Just please.” His tone softened, the man taking in the rigid set of your shoulders. “Please let me do this.”

You blinked as he kneeled before you, removing his glasses and handing them to you. Taking them gingerly, you searched his face, confused by the desperate look on his face.

“Just indulge me. Please.”

You gave him a nod, setting his glasses to the side and running your hand through his hair. He was sweating slightly and your gaze again drifted to the blood staining his side. Everything within you was screaming to insist he go to the hospital. But his hands were already on your knees, pushing your skirt up.

You lifted yourself slightly, the skirt bunching around your waist. Kento let out a small sigh, large fingers hooking around the waistband of your underwear and pulling.

You squeaked as the fabric simply tore. He had had no intention of sliding them off. No, Nanami Kento had wanted quick access to the trembling heat between your thighs.

His strong fingers dug into the fat of your thighs, holding your legs in place as he inhaled deeply. You flushed, swallowing thickly as you waited for him to make his move.

His nose nudged against your clit as he pressed his tongue flat against your folds. You let out a low sigh, hips canting forward in response as he moaned against your cunt. Nanami licked along your folds, tongue flicking at your clit.

Your fingers slid through his hair, pulling his face closer. His lips found your clit, sharply sucking the bundle of nerves. You moaned quietly, bucking against his face as he gently pulled at your clit.

The quiet classroom was filled with the low noises made by Nanami’s mouth. His tongue lapping through your folds like a man starving. Teasing his tongue around your entrance, he dragged the warm appendage upwards, circling your clit before returning his attention to your entrance.

His tongue pushed gently into your wet heat, the spongy walls easily stretching to accommodate him. Kento groaned as you tugged at his hair, the tip of his nose nudging your clit as his tongue delved deeper within you.

The heat in your stomach was building. Release was always quick when he ate you out. Nanami Kento was skilled with his mouth, the man’s determination drawing orgasm after orgasm from you with ease. Even now, your legs shook, breath stuttered in your chest. The walls of your cunt fluttered about his tongue and you moaned as he tugged your forward, your ass practically hanging off the desk as he fully sat you on his face.

It had to be uncomfortable, but Nanami showed nothing but eager enjoyment. With his hands, he gently rocked you against his face, setting an easy pace that had your clit hitting the tip of his nose dead on.

You fell back on your elbows, hands leaving his hair as you bucked against the warmth of his mouth. Chasing your end, you opened your thighs wider, quietly begging him to fuck you. Nanami ignored the request, pressing his tongue flat against your folds and licking upwards, eyes closed as he drank you in.

Low, husky moans of pleasure left his throat, gently vibrating against your flesh. Kento had once told you that the taste of your juices was like an aphrodisiac for him. The man couldn’t get enough. Each drag of his tongue was just as much for him as it was for you.

You grinded down upon his face, shuddering as his tongue swirled against your entrance, circling before flicking upwards again. His actions became more aggressive, the man licking and sucking at your clit with a sudden fever that had you cumming without warning.

You gasped as you came, legs snapping shut around Kento’s head. The man continued his actions, lapping at your cunt as you moaned and shuddered above him.

“Fuck.” His lips left you finally, face wet and cheeks flushed. Kento swiped his face clean, wincing as he stood.

“Shit! Kento, Your side!” You shook off the afterglow of your orgasm, shakily getting to your feet and tugging your skirt back into place. The man looked at the now larger patch of blood and sighed, nodding once in your direction.

“I have a colleague on the way.”

It was all he offered. No explanation for either the wound or the intense need he had. You settled in one of the free seats, shaking your head when he advised you could go home. He could keep his secret but you weren’t going to leave until help had arrived.

Fever

Some idiot had come to work sick. It had spread through the office like wildfire, making you question how much the people you worked with actually washed their hands. Half your department was out and here you were, head hazy as you squinted at the computer screen. Each word took two or three passes to read. Your eyes didn’t want to focus, the pounding in your head somehow also in your eyes.

A fever. Not enough to be sent home according to your boss. The man had of course told you this via email, merely peeking at you through the privacy blinds in his office.

Somehow he had missed this round of illness. Probably due to the fact that he was never in office. The man had more golf meetings then you had thought possible. No one liked golf that much. But apparently he did, the man practically skipping out of the office not 5 minutes after the email, golf bag in hand.

Normally you would be angry, the fire fueling your work and getting you through the day. But not today. Even blinking was getting to be too much. Each eyelid had to be at least 10 pounds. You found your head weaving slightly, the weight of your hair, your teeth, it was all too much. Letting out a sigh, you leaned forward, placing your head in your hands. It was only 1 pm, you had at least 4 more hours to get through. Your eyes slid shut, a small reprieve from the weight of everything.

“Shit.” You straightened, blinking the hazy fog from your mind. You had fallen asleep. Slumped awkwardly on your desk, forehead stuck to the keyboard. Peeling yourself free, you glanced at the clock.

5:15pm. You had slept past the end of day. Not that anyone had noticed, the few people left in the office were clearly doing as bad as you, sluggish typing away. Logging off, you stood, legs feeling like they were made of pipe cleaners.

Purse in hand you wobbled your way to the stairs and down to the first floor. It was three blocks to the train station. Then 15 minutes to your stop and 2 blocks home. Normally it was travel you enjoyed. End of the work day meant home, food and potentially Nanami. But today?

Today you prayed you could make it home without passing out.

On your pipe cleaner legs, you shakily made your way home. More than once you paused to just breathe, the pounding in your head making it hard to even just exist. You missed your normal train, but thankfully only had to wait an extra 6 minutes for the next one. The train was the easiest part, an older man catching onto the fact that you weren’t doing the best and offering you his seat.

Somehow, you made it to your apartment. You had the wherewithal to lock the door behind you and then you were on the kitchen floor. It was so cool, the tile like a kind hand against the heat radiating from your face. The urge to sleep over took you and shivering, you gave in.

When you awoke again, you were warm. Too warm. Struggling, you realized there was pressure all around you and you couldn’t move your arms. Panic swelled in your veins, overtaking the haze that still clung to you.

“Hey. It's me. It’s ok.” You relaxed as you recognized Nanami’s voice. He had apparently come over and moved you from the kitchen to your bed. Wrapped around you, the man had a book in his free hand, glasses balanced precariously on the end of his nose. It was sweet and you smiled lazily before stiffening.

“You’ll get sick.” You moaned, trying to squirm away from him. Nanami ignored your protests, tucking the blankets more firmly about you. It was hard to fight him. Your boyfriend’s quiet insistence that you sleep was easy enough to indulge. The man was too big and too warm, like the world's best pillow. You found yourself drifting asleep again, head tucked in the crook of his arm. Nanami was the perfect man. He smelled of fresh laundry and bread. As you gave into sleep, you felt his lips against your forehead.

A kiss? Perhaps, but more likely the man was checking your temperature. Nanami was responsible like that.

Gentle

He was always so gentle in everything dealing with you. It was as if he were afraid that you were going to break if he made a single misstep. It was aspects of life you didn’t even always think of, like when he would gently move you mid-sentence a little further from the street corner. Sometimes it annoyed you. Like when he would never let you walk past the opening of an alleyway, making any walk you took a strange tango of you on one side of him then the other. Or how he insisted you wait for him if it were past a certain time at night. No more late night trips to the convenience store, at least not alone.

But as annoying as it could get. He was gentle with you. Soft suggestions, lingering touches, a look that set your heart a flutter. The small odd habits of his were easy enough to ignore. In truth you hadn’t had a boyfriend before that was so gentle. It made you feel special in a way.

So you accepted the gentleness.

Nanami seemed to walk in a world full of harsh and hidden threats. It made you wonder sometimes. Sitting across from him on the rare dates you too made. There were moments between his gentleness where you could see the part of himself he kept hidden away. It was hard, lined with sharp edges and a sharper gaze. And then it would be gone, covered by the Nanami you knew. It didn’t scare you, whatever it was he was dealing with was clearly something larger than life. He had to be sharp to survive it.

“What has you so frustrated?”

You blinked as Nanami leaned forward, eyebrows furrowing as he took in your expression. You could feel the frown pulling your lips down and you let out a small sigh. He was soft again, his hand gently laying over yours on the table.

“Just thinking.” You offered up a smile. He seemed satisfied with that answer, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window again. All of Tokyo bustled by, the streets buzzing with life. You ignored it in favor of him, watching as the gentleness melted again for a second, the sharp look returning to his face.

You hoped whatever it was he was facing, it wouldn’t steal what remained of his gentle soul.

Hair

His hair was always parted exactly the same, perfectly in place. Each strand had a place to be and knew to neatly sit. Had you not seen his morning routine and the careful combing and light gel he used, you would have assumed the man had a psychic hold over his hair. No matter if he had work or not, his hair was always neatly done. You could ask him to run to the store quick late at night and without a doubt, he’d fix his hair.

Habit he had told you. Habit and wanting to still appear professional. Even though he wasn’t a salary man anymore, he still dressed like one. At a glance he blended in with the masses that shuffled through the streets of Tokyo.

His hair being let down was something reserved just for you. When he was sleeping, after a shower and of course during intercourse. You purposefully threaded your fingers through his hair every chance you got.

He had the odd habit of swiping it back in place, even when in the midst of eating you out. It never went back quite right after you had mused it. Golden strands would still hang in front of his flushed face.

“You can leave it down.” You had laughed one evening, breathless from the two rounds of sex you had. Kento raised an eyebrow, gently setting the glass of water he had retrieved on the night stand. On his way to the kitchen he had again slicked his hair back as best as he could.

“Leave what down?” He sat on the edge of the bed, sliding back under the covers. Despite having spent the last hour fucking your brains out he had already snatched his book from the bedside table.

“Your hair.” You laughed again, reaching up to ruffle his hair. Kento gave you a look, free hand already sneaking up to fix what you had undone. Even at his most vulnerable he was perfectly kempt.

Insatiable

You don’t know what had happened that night. All you knew was he came over to your place, stitches along one side and a dark look in his eyes.

“Can I come in?” For the first time ever you hesitated, worry chewing at your stomach as you took in his battered appearance. He looked tired and on the verge of passing out.

“I need to relieve some stress. If that’s alright with you?” He was polite as always, asking for consent before even inside your apartment. You nodded, stepping aside and letting him in.

Stress relief for Nanami Kento was apparently as many rounds of sex as you could withstand.

Despite having his side stitched and bruises, he was a man starved, ignoring pain as he tried to satiate his hunger.

The first round was fine as was the second. By the third your hips were sore and you weren’t sure you could cum again. And by the fourth you were a mess, his cum dripping from between your thighs, drool staining one cheek. Your face was pressed into the pillow, ass in the air as he drilled into you.

“One more.” Kento huffed, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your clit. You groaned, unable to tell him that you couldn’t, that it was all too much. You had already cum five times. Each one was more intense than the last and now just the sensation of his cock buried within you was too much.

You moaned as his hand left your hip, tangling in your hair and tugging you upright. It changed where his cock was hitting with each thrust.

“You can do it.” His warm breath was in your ear, hips snapping in a ruthless rhythm. You let out a small whimper, hips trying and failing to keep pace with him. He shifted his hand from your hair to your breast, tweaking the nipple roughly.

It was all too much. The tight heat in your belly just kept building with no end in sight. Your abdominal muscles felt weak, stomach clenching weakly as he let out a grunt. The sound sent a shudder through you and you moaned as he brought his fingers to your mouth, sliding them in. You bit lightly on the digits, legs shaking as you struggled to remain upright. He had you locked against his chest, balancing you on his thighs as he thrusted upwards.

Faintly you wondered if you should ask to stop, to check his wound because surely he had ripped some stitches. But your mind was too hazy, drool dripping from your lips as he finally made you cum.

You let out a low groan, cunt weakly fluttering about his cock.

“Good girl.” Nanami grunted, pulling his fingers from your mouth to pull your hips tightly against his. Somehow he still had energy. You fell forward, sighing against the pillow as he picked up the pace, slamming into you with low groans.

He was never very vocal in bed, normally you would get a low huff or moan. But this side of Nanami, the hungry beast who was fucking you like it was the last thing he’d ever get to do. He was very vocal.

Nanami finally came, letting out a low ‘fuck’ as he did so. You flopped onto one side, looking up at him through half closed eyes. His side seemed alright, red near the stitches but nothing seemed to be bleeding.

He was panting, sweat dripping down his chest as he stared down at you. Still kneeling, cum dripped from the tip of his still half hard cock. You noted that his thick patch of pubic hair was soaked from making you cum so many times.

One hand swiped through his hair, pushing the sweaty locks from his eyes. The heavy look that had been in his eyes had disappeared.

“Shower?” He was out of breath, hand going to the stitches on his side. You nodded and then laughed.

“I gotta wait till my legs work.” You laughed again at the expression that crossed his face. An odd mix of pride and apology.

“Bath then?”

You nodded at that, feeling as if your bones were made of jello as he picked you up and made his way to the bathroom. Despite how tired you felt, you let him fuck you again in the bath.

Jacket

You had fallen in love with him in your first week at the office. It was your first corporate job, and you had realized quickly that getting to the train and making it to the office on time required intense time management. On your 4th day, there was rain. You hadn’t bothered looking at the weather ahead of time. And like an idiot, you never bothered with an umbrella in your bag.

Your walk to the train had quickly turned into a run. The sudden rain pelted you, an icy torrent that had you shivering as you skidded onto the train. Your skirt was mostly fine, the black fabric was damp. But your shirt, a plain white blouse that you wore every day, was now see through.

It was a nightmare scenario and you felt frozen. People were staring, the train doors had already closed and you couldn’t stop shivering.

“Here.” A warm jacket was slid about your shoulders. You flinched, turning to see a vaguely familiar face. A tall man, blonde hair and silver glasses. His name was Ken? Or maybe Kensei?

He worked in your office, you had seen him on the same floor as you, often looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. You thankfully slide your arms into the jacket, buttoning the front as best you could. It made the shirt less noticeable and you thanked him quietly. He hadn’t said anything back, just nodded and adjusted his tie.

The rest of the day you found yourself wandering near his end of the department’s floor, hoping to find out what his name was. He was quiet and kept to himself. And it wasn’t until the next day that you found out his name.

“Oh you mean Nanami Kento?” Your colleague looked up from her computer screen. “Tall blonde right?”

You nodded, thanking her and quickly making your way over to his desk. He hadn’t noticed you at first, blinking up at you blearily when you finally mustered the courage to say his name.

“Your jacket, thank you.” You held the garment out to him, noting the dark bags under his eyes. The man took the jacket with a small nod, turning back to the screen before him.

As you walked back to your desk, you realized your cheeks were flushed and that you had a massive crush on Nanami Kento.

Kisses

Your first kiss had been sweet. Kento had leaned in, warm hand tilting your head up to catch your lips with his. It was a quick kiss, you were too nervous to press for anything more. The man had fucked you not 24 hours prior but on your first date you were a nervous schoolgirl again.

Your second kiss had been on the train. He had offered to pick you up after work, the plan was to go to his house for dinner. You were tired, almost too tired to stand for the short ride to his apartment. Kento had been standing in front of you, blocking the crowd that pressed in behind two of you. He had leaned in without warning, pressing his lips to yours. The action surprised you for a moment before you leaned in, hands grabbing the edges of his jacket to keep steady.

Your third kiss had been later that night. After dinner and spending some time reading, you had found yourself in his bed, clothing scattered about the floor and the man buried balls deep in your pussy. You had been the one to initiate the kiss, hands sliding over his shoulders as you pressed your lips against his. He had accepted eagerly, thrusting lazily into you as your lips slid against each other. His tongue had slid into your mouth, laving against the roof of your mouth as you moaned against his lips. Back arching, you licked his teeth, tongue running along his bottom lip. He kept you beneath him that night for hours, his lips finding yours with a polite hunger.

Lace

You wore nothing but lace. The scraps of fabric barely covered your skin. Your nipples pressed against the scratchy fabric and you resisted the urge to move. This was a surprise and you had assumed what you thought was the perfect pose. It wasn’t a special day, you had just felt like treating the man. He was always exhausted and even if all you got was quiet and warm words in response, you would be happy.

The only problem was, Kento was late. Your phone sat on the bedside table, silent. There was the urge to grab it to call him, but in the back of your mind, you were certain the second you moved, he would enter the room.

Time moved slowly and you cursed the man for being so with the times that he had no clock in the bedroom. You had expected it of the man, some clunky square clock that would blare it's alarm. But no, he used his phone like the rest of the world.

Without wanting to you found yourself flopping onto your back with a small huff. Your phone chimed confirming the worst. Nanami had to work overtime. You stared up at the ceiling, hoping he would be safe. Hoping that whatever he would fight would be weaker than him.

“Oh!” You had drifted off, despite being practically naked and on top of the blankets sleep had set in. But now you were awake, hazily clawing yourself from sleep as a wave of pleasure coiled in your gut.

Kento was between your thighs, tongue lapping at your wet folds. The crotchless lace underwear had been the right choice. You sleepy congratulated yourself on that, thighs opening wider to allow him more access.

Kento was naked, fresh from a shower, his glasses perched neatly on his nose. His cock hung heavy between his legs, dripping precum onto the bed. You shivered at the sight, bucking your hips against his face as he made another pass with his tongue.

“You got all dressed up for me. I couldn’t help myself.”

Nanami was a man of few words when it came to sex. A command here of there, the occasional praise. But for the most part he was as stoic with sex as he was with the rest of life.

Tonight something was different. Face buried in your cunt, one hand came up, roughly squeezing your breast. The lace scratched at your nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure straight to your cunt.

Kento groaned into your folds, his other hand sneaking between your thighs, a single finger gently sliding into your entrance. You bucked up against him, gasping as a second finger quickly joined, stretching your walls. Arousal slicked your thighs, dripping around his fingers and onto the mattress.

“Good girl.” He panted, his glasses were fogged, the heat of your core apparently enough to do so. You shivered at his praise, silently moaning as he lapped at your clit. His eye contact was intense, unblinking as he watched you squirm. The hand on your breast kept you in place, unable to escape the gentle thrusting of his fingers or the intent drag of his tongue against your clit.

Your legs shook, the pleasurable throbbing heat in your abdomen building.

“Not yet.” Nanami barked, lifting his head from your folds. His lips and cheeks smeared with your juices. You whined, hips still canting against his fingers as you tried and failed to chase the orgasm that had almost hit.

He sat up, fingers leaving your cunt as he swiped a hand across his face. Kento’s hair had fallen from his perfect part, the messy look adding to the odd fervor thrumming in his veins.

You shifted as he moved closer, letting your legs fall open further as he nestled between them. Nanami was warm, his thick cock standing upright, precum leaking down onto your clit as he steadied himself above you.

For a moment there was silence, Kento’s piercing gaze searching your face. The sharpness and exhaustion that lived in his face lifted for a moment and he offered you one of his rare brilliant smiles.

“I love you.”

You blinked, mind swimming from beneath the haze of arousal as you took in his words. It was a shock, it was exhilarating, you felt your heart in your throat.

“I love you too.”

Miss

After everything that had happened. After all you had been through. Nothing hurt more than the ache of missing him. You had barely made it out alive. Your body had been badly injured, Shoko unable to repair some of the damage, even with her amazing ability.

The joint aches, the burns, the nerve damage. None of it compared to the pain of losing Nanami.

The worst part was how missing him was woven into everything. The simple act of waking up was painful. The bed you had shared feeling so cold and empty.

Walking around the house he had bought, the house you had shared. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

The books that made you cry, their spines perfectly aligned, sitting on a desk that grew more dusty by the day. A shared closet full of suits and button ups that sat dark and closed. You had stopped wearing dresses and skirts, not wanting to glimpse the gray and blue that sat within.

Your heart ached whenever you showered, the bottles of shampoo and body wash sitting untouched, save for when you would dare open one and sniff it gently.

It was a pale imitation of the man who would wrap you in his arms. It didn’t carry the warmth he had.

You missed him so much that it physically hurt to be awake. Days were spent in bed, wrapped in one of his shirts until his scent wore off. Your eyes were puffy from crying, body growing weak from your neglect. And none of it mattered because he was gone.

Your rock, your tall blonde who always looked at you as if you were the most priceless jewel.

Shoko tried her best to tend to you. The tired brunette had lost her best friend, had seen her other best friend's dead body walking around, cursed. She was as broken as you were. And yet she persisted.

“It’ll always be there.” She let out a stream of smoke, looking out at the small backyard. You sat with her on the back patio, wrapped in a blanket. She had come over, offering up baked goods and a tired smile.

“It’s like a hole right in your soul. Heavier than anything in this world.” Shoko took another drag, glancing at you from the corner of her eye as she held onto the smoke for a moment.

“The trick is to not let it consume your entire being.”

You rubbed a hand across your cheek, staring out at the night sky.

“What if I want to?” The pain was throbbing, the void where he existed raw and agonizingly empty.

Shoko let out her lung full of smoke, shrugging slightly, “You’ll become cursed or maybe a curse yourself.”

You didn’t say anything, staring up at the night sky. Nanami wouldn’t want this for you. But he wasn’t here anymore.

You existed, in pain and missing him. And how you wished you didn’t.

Night time

Since you had moved into his house, night time had become more enjoyable. Nanami was lucky, his small and tidy house also having a small and tidy yard. It was quaint, a small chunk of earth that felt separate from the rest of the city.

It was better than the small balcony your apartment had come with. The rickety iron and crumbling concrete had meant you only felt safe putting a plant or two out there. For the most part you had ignored it, seeing it as only a means to have to listen to the sounds of the city and smell cigarette smoke.

“Outside again?”

Kento’s voice was low, husky with the remnants of sleep. He had been napping after a mission so you had come outside to bask under the stars.

“Some people would call it moon bathing.” You laughed, setting your book aside. Kento had bought you a nice wicker loveseat for the back patio and you were curled up on it, a heavy blanket wrapped about you.

Shifting, you made room as he sat beside you, the man tugging a corner of the blanket over himself. His hair was down, the blonde strands looking silver tinted in the dim light spilling from the house.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice was low, one arm wrapping around your waist as you snuggled against his chest.

“How the world doesn’t seem real from here.” You looked up at the twinkling stars, hardly believing you were still in the city. This home was untouched by the vicious anger and filth that churned in the city.

“It really doesn’t.” He hummed, resting his forehead against yours.

“Kinda feels like it's only us left.” You murmured, eyes sliding shut as Kento’s warmth soaked into your side. His smell, like clean laundry and warm bread, was lulling you to sleep.

Before you passed out, you heard his whisper of.

“I really wish it was.”

Overtime

You hated overtime. It was grueling, ate into your personal life and usually just fed into a never ending cycle of work that missed its deadline. Your manager was bad at time management, often coming to you an hour or two before the end of day with a project that just had to get done. It was never posed to you as optional. No, with your company overtime was expected and never rewarded.

Nanami Kento hated overtime just as much as you did. It wasn’t often that he had to, usually only on the odd trips his job sent him on. Those weeks you already had it in your mind that you wouldn’t see him so it never bothered you.

But your job? It always ate into your planned dates with Nanami. You would often find yourself messaging him, a scowl on your face. It made you feel like an asshole and like you had no life.

“So. We need this done before end of day.” The stack of paper was dumped unceremoniously on your desk. You somehow managed to keep a straight face, nodding once before turning back to your screen. Your boss would no doubt leave early, the man never felt the need to assist with any of the projects he so conveniently forgot about.

As soon as he left, you texted Nanami, sending along an apology for having to cancel yet another date night. He didn’t respond, the man never usually did when working. With a sign, you took the first file, grimacing as you began.

11:43 pm. That’s how long it took you. Just 17 minutes before the day ended and you managed somehow to get everything done. You were furious however, stalking to the train station to catch one of the last trains to your stop. This job was a never ending cycle of you and others cleaning up the mistakes of your superiors. You stewed the entire train ride home, fingers clenching your purse with a white knuckled grip.

To your surprise, the lights were on in your apartment. You climbed the flight of stairs to your landing and cautiously opened the door. A mixture of exhaustion and anger slightly clouding your mind.

The apartment smelled of warm miso soup and fresh bread. Kento shot you a small smile, gesturing at the spread of food he had set out on the kitchen table. Slice vegetables, miso soup, bread and thin cuts of perfectly cooked fish. All laid out in a way that only Kento would do.

“I hope you don’t mind. “ Polite as always. You laughed, throwing your arms around the tall man.

“Of course not!” Tossing your purse to one side, you sat down, digging in with a groan. You were starved, not realizing it till the first bite of bread practically melted on your tongue.

Kento had already eaten, the man sitting across from you with a book. It was peaceful, the stress of the day melting from you as you silently watched the man. He looked up, catching your eye and making you blush.

“I’ve been thinking.” He set the book aside, reaching out and snagging a slice of cucumber. You hummed, sipping the warm soup slowly as you waited for him to continue.

“About us moving in together.” Kento leaned back, popping the cucumber in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I make enough, I have a house. You wouldn’t need to do overtime ever again.”

You stared at him, spoon halfway to your mouth. Was he being serious? Your heart was in your throat, excitement flooding your veins. This was new to you. Only 9 months into the relationship, but you were ready. You had been since he told you about cursed spirits.

“I would love that.” You smiled, feeling a lightness in your heart. Nanami swept one hand through his hair, a gentle smile on his lips.

“I’ll start moving items to make space for you at home.”

You beamed at that, popping a slice of fish in your mouth. No more overtime, moving in with your tall boyfriend who should cook. You were incredibly lucky.

Pull

There was an odd pull to being around Nanami Kento. You weren’t sure what it was, but he had an air about him that made you want to get closer.

Maybe it was the safety in his height, how he was able to peer over crowds, guide you in such a way that you were never bumped into or stepped on.

Or perhaps it was his face. His sharp gaze and even sharper cheekbones. Being half European, he stood out in Japan, easy to find in a crowd. And his look was unique. Deep brown eyes and blond hair had a way of making him look softer in the right light. A balance against the sharpness of his other features.

Maybe it was his voice. Deep and steady, never wavering. He spoke with confidence, always taking the lead in situations, even if he didn’t intend to.

There was a pull to being around Nanami Kento. So when he vanished from the world, you felt it. A hole that would never close opened in your soul.

Quiet

You were quiet, more so than normal. There was always a nice calm between the two of you. Both of you appreciate spending time together silently doing your own things, be it reading or working on projects. But the past few days you had been abnormally quiet. Kento wasn’t used to mere nods and hmms of acknowledgement. You were distant, eyes darting to dark corners of rooms, teeth worrying at the nail of one thumb.

Finally, Nanami broke the quiet.

“What's wrong?”

You were both in bed, you curled on one side trying to sleep, Kento sitting up with a book. A glance up at his face told you he was deeply concerned. Kento’s face was always lined, a mix of exhaustion and whatever secret it was that he kept weighing on him. But this was different as if all the sharp lines of his face were pointed at you.

You chewed at your lip before sighing, looking away from his intense gaze. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to open up to him. Being open and honest was something you always felt you could be with him.

But the thing that had caused you to be so quiet in the past week just didn’t make sense. You felt insane and admitting it out loud was something you weren’t sure you could do.

“I’ve.” You began, shifting onto your back. It would be easier to tell the ceiling than your boyfriend.

“I’ve been seeing things.” It was barely a whisper. You felt your cheeks flush as you kept your eyes locked on the dull white of your bedroom ceiling. Beside you, Kento shifted, the warmth of his legs pressing against your side. He didn’t say anything for a moment, the quiet in the room stretching on unbearably long.

“What kind of things?” His question was soft, no judgment in his tone. It was as if he were asking you how your day was. You glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint of judgment. Of course he wasn’t judging you, far from it.

“Like.” You gestured vaguely, unsure how exactly to put what you saw into words.

“Creatures. Strange creatures.” It was a lame description, one you knew didn’t do it justice. What you were seeing were absolute nightmares. The second you left your apartment you were bombarded with fuzzy shapes that seemed to plague the city. And the ones that weren’t vague blobs were the worst. Demonic twisted forms. Like ideas not quite fully formulated. Escaped nightmares that cackled, whispered and yelled. Every street corner had them, they clung to people like odd backpacks and strange hats. No matter where you turned, you could find one within arms reach.

You had been ignoring them as best as you could. But it was really getting to you. The mental toll of trying to appear normal at work, while ignoring the things that clung to your coworkers and office equipment was too much. Whispers plagued you as you attempted to do your job, the odd creatures speaking their own language as they picked and stabbed at your colleagues. No one reacted. Not on the streets, not in the office. You alone were affected.

“They weren’t there a few days ago. But now.” You felt tears welling in your eyes, lip trembling. Admitting what you had seen finally brought the exhaustion and feelings you had been trying so hard to ignore crashing into you.

Kento pulled you against his chest, silently holding you as you sobbed. He was so warm and so normal, it added to your distress. Tears streaming down your face, all you could think of was how scared you were. How horrifying it was to leave your apartment anymore.

“I don’t know if I should see a psychiatrist or check myself into a clinic.” Your voice trembled as you spoke, breaking on certain words. Kento pressed a kiss against your forehead, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your side. He was quiet, much too quiet and you lay in his arms, waiting for him to confirm that you were in fact insane.

But he didn’t. Instead he shifted, clearing his throat as you finally made eye contact with him.

“I have something to tell you.”

Riding

“Kento.” You let out a breathy moan, hands planted on his chest as you grind your hips against his. The man had his large hands on his hips, trapping you against him as he thrust up into your wet heat. His cock hit differently in this position and you could barely keep yourself steady. Each thrust landing deep within you, the head of his cock dragging against your G-spot with surgical precision.

Sweat slid down your back and you shivered as your clit caught against his rough patch of pubic hair. Your abdomen muscles burned. Riding wasn’t something you had ever done often, but when Nanami had asked, you had happily obliged.

His hands slide from your hips, grasping the fat of your ass with a bruising force. The man’s face was flushed, eyes locked on your breasts as they bounced with each thrust. He was concentrating on you, hands guiding your hips as he watched your expressions. Kento wasn’t one to think of his pleasure first. The man made it his goal to have you cum first and any after were just a bonus.

You shuddered above him, arms feeling weak as you bounced against him. He slid his hands up your back, gently nudging you to lay down. You obliged, sore arms and abdomen feeling a sense of relief as you lay flat against the expanse of his chest. Your sweat slicked skin slid against together and you allowed yourself to relax, twining your arms around his neck.

“I’ve got you.” His voice was low and warm, breath tickling your ear as he grasped your hips again, thrusting upwards slowly. You allowed him to take control, quiet moans bubbling from your throat as he brought you closer to orgasm.

Not having to hold yourself up allowed you to concentrate more on the heat in your stomach, the building fire filling your veins. Your hips rocking against his, your clit rubbed against the rough hair at the base of his cock, quickly building the tight thread of pleasure within your stomach.

The hard planes of his chest pressed against your soft breasts, your nipples rubbing against his skin with each thrust.

You ground down on him, lips finding the skin of his throat. Licking and sucking under his jaw, you nibbled gently at the skin. Kento let out a low huff of air, hips canting up into yours, his pace quickening.

Placing kiss after kiss, you ran your tongue along the jumping vein in his neck. His heart was racing much like yours, a shiver running through him as you bit down gently.

The bedroom was silent save for the lewd wetness of your juices between the two of you. The occasional breathy moan slipped past your lips as you felt yourself growing closer to your end.

“Cum for me.” A command, his husky voice sending a shiver straight to your cunt as he thrust into you. “Now.”

Kenot’s commands were gentle, but enough to tip you over the edge. You came with a small cry, hips locking in place as your walls fluttered around his cock. He groaned in your ear as your walls milked him, the man spilling inside you soon after.

Sad

He was sad. One day a year Nanami Kento carried a cloud with him. He never made plans on that day, never told you where he went. You didn’t question it, accepting the silent and morose day for what it was.

Those days he kept his distance and you realized that he was stuck in the past. Replaying some event in his mind over and over again. As an outside observer, you felt as if he were punishing himself. He barely ate on that day, too lost in his head to care for his body.

It was on those days, late at night, that Kento would finally show a sliver of the grief within him. Wrapping around you in bed, his head nestled in your neck, Nanami Kento would cry. It was silent, his shoulder shaking as warm tears slid from his face onto your skin. You never gave indication that you were awake, staying as still as you could. A silent rock in his sea of agony.

Taste

He liked to taste you. Tongue lapping against your folds with the same eagerness each time. Kento loved giving but rarely ever asked to receive. You realized it 4 months into dating. The night before had been particularly passionate and as you looked back on it, you realized that with dating him you had become something of a pillow princess. Part of you felt a twist of shame, wondering if the stoic man was just too polite to ask.

But then you thought of how eager he was to just dive in. The man devoured you as soon as you hit the bed, not really giving you a chance to offer anything past your moans.

That morning you showered slowly, purposefully taking your time. Nanami had awoken before you, going to his study to work on whatever it was his job had him do. You had to be careful with your plan of attack. The man had a tendency to sweep you off your feet before you could think.

Stepping from the shower, you were quick to towel off, deciding to forgo clothing as you stalked to the office. It was a bit cold, your skin breaking out in goosebumps as you hurried down the hall.

Your stomach was tight with excitement, a warmth thrumming through your veins as you quietly slipped into the room. Nanami hadn’t noticed, a book in one hand, his other on the computer mouse. For a second you felt bad about interrupting his work, knowing that it was important to him. But you quickly shook it off, crossing to his desk and offering a smile.

The man let a noise of surprise, setting the book down as he took in your lack of clothing. You grinned at him, feeling butterflies of nervousness in your stomach.

Kento opened his mouth and you pressed a finger to his lips. If he spoke, he would have you on your back in his bed within seconds.

You crouched, fingers deftly untucking his shirt and undoing his buckle. Before he could react again, you had unzipped his paint, freeing his growing erection with ease.

“Can I taste you?” You asked, staring up at him through your still damp eyelashes. Kento visibly swallowed, sharp cheeks flushing a light pink. The man nodded, leaning back in his chair, legs opening wider to allow you to nestle between his thighs.

You gave his cock an experimental pump, feeling a little more than pleased at the fact that he was already fully hard. Swirling your tongue around the inside of your mouth, you allowed spit to pool before opening and gently placing your lips on the head of his cock.

Kento let out a small huff of hair, head tilting back slightly as he watched you through half lidded eyes. You ran your tongue over the head of his cock, teasing the slit at the tip. He tasted salty and clean. The scent of soap mixing with his natural musk.

You opened your mouth, sliding your lips and tongue along his length as you attempted to seat him fully in your mouth.

It was impossible of course, Kento’s cock was thick, normally stretching your pussy. In your mouth, you got about halfway down his length, jaw popping slightly as you reached your limit. You didn’t let that deter you, sliding your hand around the rest of his length. Gently, you began bobbing your head up and down, flattening your tongue along the underside of his cock.

Kento’s hand wound through your hair, a low moan escaping his lips as you set a quick pace.

He tasted salty, precum dripping into your mouth and adding to the lubrication as you pumped his cock.

The hand in your hair tightened as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking sharply. Kento’s hips moved slightly, bucking into your mouth. You shifted, allowing the saliva pooling in your mouth to spill out, lubricating his length. With the hand not wrapped firmly around his cock, you gently caressed his balls, squeezing experimentally. The man’s hips jumped at that action, his cock going deeper down your throat.

You almost gagged, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as your jaw began to ache.

“Can I set the pace?” Kento was out of breath, the hand not tangled in your hair, grasping his chair with a white knuckled grip. You hesitated, then let out a noise of agreement.

The idea of choking on his cock was unpleasant, you weren’t a fan of face fucking. But you trusted him to be kind.

The hand in your hair tightening its grip, gently nudging you forward. His hips bucked forward, and he moaned as he tapped the back of your throat. You shuddered, fingers digging into his thighs as he began gently but firmly fucking your mouth.

You watched his face through your damp eyelashes, taking in his heavy lidded eyes and parted lips. He was panting as he thrust into your mouth, the prickly hair at the base of his cock tickling your nose with each thrust.

Kento was close. His tells, the swelling of his chest, the tightening of his grasp, the way his nose scrunched. They were all converging.

Kento came with a low grunt, thrusting into your mouth and letting his seed spill in. He tasted salty, the thick cum dripping out of the corner of your mouth as he gently pulled free. His spent cock lay limp against his pants as he leaned forward, gently grasping your chin.

“Was I too rough?”

You shook your head, swallowing his cum and opening your mouth, showing him it was all gone. Kento’s pupils dilated and you shrieked as he scooped you up, making his way to the bedroom.

Under

The world had fallen under the realm of reality. It was the only thing that made sense. It had fallen from the bright sunny spot it always existed in and flipped. Now the dark underbelly that roiled in the shadows was loose, running rampant on the streets.

You hadn’t meant to be in Shibuya on one of the busiest nights. Yuji had mentioned in passing a horror movie he liked and you had gotten it in your head to put together a gift for the three students that Kento worked with. All of them looked so tired all the time, more tired than kids their age should.

So like an idiot, you went out. The allure of a Halloween discount for horror movies had compelled you. And now, like thousands of other idiots, you were trapped. It made no sense an invisible barrier separated you from the outside world. All of Shibuya seemed trapped as if pulled from the very earth itself.

“They’re asking for some Gojo guy.”

You whipped your head around, trying and failing to find the speaker. Did they mean Satoru Gojo? Surely not.

You looked back at the barrier, running your hand along the invisible wall. Could curses do something like this? You cursed yourself, thinking back on how you had shrugged off Nanami, telling him that your lack of fighting ability meant that there was no real reason to learn more about cursed spirits you could see.

So so stupid.

The barrier shifted to your right and the man who had been standing there stumbled back, gawking at the person emerging from the other side. It was Gojo. His eyes were covered and his mouth set in a thin line. You shivered, feeling oddly cold as he fully stepped into the barrier, glancing about.

He noticed you, hooking one finger around the blindfold he wore and pulling it to expose one eye. His iris was the most brilliant blue you had ever seen and it filled you with dread. He didn’t say anything, quickly jumping and literally walking over the crowd, in search of something you couldn’t see.

You fell to your knees, shopping bag sitting defeated next to you. The look had told you everything in just a second. There was no coming out of this. There was no happy ending for anyone in Shibuya.

You sat there at the barrier for as long as you could, praying that Gojo would fix it, that Nanami would somehow find a way to help you escape. But then the screaming started and you began to run.

You could see them now, the large spirits that had evaded you for so long. They were hungry and violent. And you couldn’t fight them. You ran, breathless and legs burning for as long as you could.

And then the ground shifted and you were falling. Under the city where even worse beings lurked.

As you fell, you faintly wondered if Nanami was safe.

Vibe

“The vibe is off.” Yuji sighed. You hummed in agreement, tilting your head slightly as you took in the store before you. To your right, Kento shot the pair of you a look. A mixture of exasperation and confusion.

Somehow, the ever punctual and always perfectly scheduled Nanami Kento had forgotten a weekend training with his student. You had been almost to the train station when his phone had gone off. By the time you were on the train, he was mid conversation with the student, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as you spoke. When it ended, you knew what he was going to say. Cancel the date and attend to his work. So before he could you had cut him off and offered to tag along. Nanami hadn’t like that, but his quiet protests had been silenced when you tilted your head to the right. There was a barely visible blob, one hazy hand sneaking closer to your own.

The train was always full of cursed spirits. Now that you knew what they were, it was somehow easier to ignore them. It didn’t stop the disgusting little creatures from trying to touch you.

Nanami had relented, his promise of teaching you to get rid of smaller ones had yet to be fulfilled.

“Regardless of the vibe this is the perfect learning opportunity.” Nanami huffed, arms crossed as he stared down his pupil. The boy shrugged, motioning around the room before looking at you.

“Want the big guy?”

You took in the empty store, its many broken shelves and mannequins. It was in utter disarray, the condemned sign on the front door making you wonder if it was due to the cursed spirits or the very large mold spots that seemed to be everywhere.

“What big guy?” You asked, taking in the dusty store again. Little curses crawled here and there, their odd voices ringing out in the nearly silent store. They were watching your group warily, tensed as if awaiting an attack. But nothing you would consider big.

“Ah.” Yuji turned to Nanami, a look of pure concern on his face, “Nanamin, isn’t it a little mean to bring your girlfriend here if she can’t see all the spirits?”

You inhaled at that, shooting your own look at Nanami. While he had explained the existence of what you could see and how jujutsu sorcery worked, he had failed to mention there were curses you couldn’t see.

A similar revelation seemed to be working its way through his mind and you watched as his cheeks went slightly pink. The poor man was no doubt mortified.

Later, after Yuji had fought what to you was a patch of air and the store had been cleaned of the spirits you could see, Nanami did admit quietly that the vibe was indeed off.

Wake

There was a moment some days when you woke up before Kento did. On those days you would quietly turn in bed, nestling closer to him. When he was asleep, Nanami Kento was finally peaceful. The sharp lines and weight that plagued him melted and you could see the quiet reserved man in his entirety.

In the summer, the first rays of light would leak through your blinds, streaming across your bed. They would hit his hair, turning the strands of blonde golden. In the sunlight he looked like he was sculpted from marble. A picture of perfection, wrapped in your blankets as if he were a piece of porcelain.

Nanami usually woke shortly after the sun did, even before his alarm. In the warm sun, his eyes were a gentle brown, small shards of gold and hazel twining together to create a beautiful sun kissed color.

He was always surprised to see you staring, a light flush spreading across his cheeks. Mornings with Kento normally had little spoken between the two of you. Instead it was quiet kisses and soft touches before the alarm pulled you both from the softness of the morning.

Xenial

“This is a nightmare.” You huffed under your breath. Nothing was turning out right. The food looked barely edible and you were pretty sure the alcohol you had bought was just the worst choice. Nanami had, for some reason, wanted to introduce you to his students and a few colleagues. Like an idiot you had offered to host a dinner.

At the time it had seemed like a good idea. Your place was always tidy and you had a game system the kids could use. Nanami had been hesitant at first, lips pressing in a thin line as he considered it. He had relented, seeing how excited you were to cook for his friends.

But now, you were regretting it.

“Can I help?” Yuji stood in your kitchen doorway, rocking on his heels as he took in the haphazard mess you had laid out across the counter. You swiped a stray lock of hair from your face, straightening as you pushed the pan of chicken into the oven.

“It’s ok! I know you guys were having fun.”

Yuji informed you that he was in fact not having fun. The white haired professor, Gojo was apparently hogging the system, trying to ‘Kick everyone’s ass’ at Tekken. You decided to let Yuji help you. The boy seemed happy to be put to work. He told you stories of working with Nanami, the difficulties of learning to be a sorcerer. You listened quietly, smiling at how much he seemed to look up to Kento.

Together you got dinner cooked and served. Your apartment was small so dinner was eaten in the living room. For once, you urge to keep things working in your favor. You dragged your kotatsu table from your storage closet, fluffing the blanket as you set it out.

The night went well. You learned that Gojo was incredibly loud and enjoyed teasing everyone. The other professor Shoko was quiet, eating slowly as she took in the conversation around her. Nanami was a good mix of the two, talking with his students as they loudly joked.

You liked Nobara and Megumi. Together with Yuji they created an interesting trio. Perfectly balanced in a way.

The food was quickly eaten, Gojo asking for seconds and then thirds. The man could really put food away, loudly proclaiming that Nanami should hurry up and marry you so the team could have more of your cooking. The night was a success despite your earlier worries.

“I think everyone had fun.” You were tackling the mountain of dishes, elbows deep in sudsy water. Nanami stood at your side, drying each dish as you passed it over. He seemed more relaxed than normal, the stiff lines of his shoulders gone.

“My mother would call you a xenial person.”

You blinked at that, Kento never talked about his family. It was a topic he avoided more than jujutsu sorcery. You didn’t comment on it, instead smiling and bumping him with your hip.

“Next time make sure I buy double the food.” You laughed as you passed him another dish, “Gojo eats enough for 4 people.”

Nanami rolled his eyes at that, a small smile gracing his lips. “He’s a thorn in my side.”

He paused, placing the glass he had in one hand down gently. Kento seemed to be considering his words carefully. You watched from the corner of your eyes, slowly washing the last glass.

“He’s important. As annoying as he is, without him, the world would fall.”

His lips were pressed into a thin line, the man staring at his hands as he thought.

Something was going on, you had seen it weighing on not just him but the kids as well. There were more curses around the city and they were more clear than they had ever been. But Kento wasn’t ready to tell you what was happening yet.

“Just tell me when and they can all come over.” You smiled at him, handing the last glass to the man. Kento smiled at that, offering you a small thank you.

Yelp

“SHIT!” You let out a strangled yelp, dodging the hooked arm that swiped at you. Kento had been trying to teach you to dissolve cursed spirits and so far you were having no luck. You had cursed energy, at least he said you did. But you couldn’t figure out how to channel it.

There were wisps that would gather and then just as quickly dissipate.

The curse let out a strangle snarl, the spines on its back shaking oddly. You again tried to channel the cursed energy, feeling the weak whisps at your fingertip. Flicking your hand forward, you focused, trying to imagine the curse just disappearing.

You let out another shriek, ducking behind your boyfriend as the small curse lunged forward. Kento clearly had a good grip on his abilities, backhanding the creature out of existence.

You relaxed, fingers still wrapped around his arm as you glanced about to see if there were more of the creatures around. The dingy alleyway was too dark for your liking and you pressed closer to Kento as a rustling noise echoed down the dirty concrete walls.

You stared at your fingertips with a grimace, as if they were alone in the blame for the failure. Kento patted your shoulder gently, offering you a thin smile.

“Not everyone with sight can fight them.”

You sighed at that, vowing to do your best to just ignore the annoying beings. Following Kento back into civilization, you threaded your fingers through his, shooting him a wide smile as he led you towards the train station.

“Good thing my boyfriend is one of the most powerful sorcerers in Japan.”

He mumbled a correction at that, flushing as you shook a finger at him, insisting he take the praise.

Zest

Nanami Kento liked bread, pastries that weren’t too sweet. He had mentioned it in passing one night, clearly not expecting anything to come of it. The knowledge stuck with you however. You were deeply curious. What kind of pastry was his favorite? Was there any bread he disliked?

Of course it was a week in which you didn’t get to see him. Between your own work and his, there was just no time. It was a tad depressing, until you were hit with the idea of baking for him.

It wasn’t something you had much practice in. Far from it given how much time your job ate up. But you were determined to do something nice for your boyfriend.

“How the hell do I zest a lemon?” You stared down at your phone, trying and failing to flick off the flour that was stuck to it. The recipe card gave you no indication, merely insisting you needed the zest of 1 lemon for the lemon curd.

Lemon Blackberry shortcakes had sounded easy enough when you had first glanced at the recipe. The items were easy to find. But zest a lemon?

“Everything alright?”

You jumped at the sound of Nanami’s voice, whipping around in surprise. He was back early. Looking more tired than you had ever seen him. His shirt was dirty and torn in places, the accompanying tie was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes.” You set down the lemon, swiping the flour from the front of your apron. “I don’t know how to zest a lemon.”

He smiled at that, tossing his jacket on the kitchen table. “I do.”

To your surprise he knew quite a lot about baking. Within minutes you found yourself sitting at the kitchen table, his torn work shirt on your lap watching him bake. It was the most domestic thing either of you had done so far.

“We’ve been dating for five months?” You asked, trying to count backwards in your head. Nanami hummed, turning as he whisked the lemon cream, “Four months and 28 days.”

You smiled at that, leaning your chin on one hand as you raked your gaze over his muscles. He didn’t seem to mind, concentrating on the task at hand.

“Do you ever think about the future? About where we might be?” You hadn’t ever really talked about it. Just a few weeks ago you had learned about the existence of curses. It was surface level and you knew that there was more to the situation. A part of you had been wondering if there was a future with the man. You enjoyed his quiet and serious nature.

“I do.” Nanami set the bowl aside, adjusting his glasses. His expression was unreadable, eyes locked on to you. He seemed to be considering his words carefully as if hesitant to verbalize his thoughts.

“Kuantan.” His tone was soft, “A house near the beach. Long walks and reading in the sun.”

Nanami turned back to the pastries, continuing his earlier action. “Maybe a child. If you’re amenable to it.”

You smiled at that. “Kuantan Malaysia huh?” Living outside of Japan wasn’t something you had considered. But the beach sounded nice, warm and peaceful. You glanced down at the torn shirt in your lap, running a finger along the loose threads. Did he think of his future when fighting the curses you couldn’t see?

“I think I’d like that.” You smiled at him. “We can go there when you retire.”

Nanami smiled at you over his shoulder, giving you a nod. The unspoken reality sat between the two of you. There was only one way to retire as a jujutsu sorcerer.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami x reader #kento nanami #nanami x you #nanami smut

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marifilue · 14 days ago

Text

Part 5: Losing Ground

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader - Slow burn, no use of y/n.

Summary: You're an X-Men member with regenerative healing ability and skilled marksman. On a routine mission with the team things take a drastic turn when a mutant-inhibitor collar is forced onto you, leaving you vulnerable, unable to heal. With no quick fix in sight, Logan becomes your reluctant anchor, helping you get through each day as you fight to survive, unexpected bond with Logan begins to grow, one that becomes far stronger than either of you could imagine.

Warnings: Explicit language, Violence, Blood

WC: 7,2k

<- Part 4

A piercing, sterile light blurred above as you slowly blinked your eyes open, the muffled sound of voices filtering through the haze of your mind. Groggily, you raised a hand to shield yourself from the brightness, every muscle heavy and weak. Your throat was parched, lips dry and chapped, you swallow your saliva, wincing at the faint soreness that pulsed through your body.

Jean’s face soon appeared above you, her gaze gentle but assessing. "How are you feeling?” she asked, her tone soft yet concerned.

“Thirsty, actually,” you murmured, voice raspy. Feeling the dehydration, when is the last time you drink water, you pushed yourself and tried to sit since the headache from laying too long start taking it's toll. You noticed the IV in your hand. The sight of needle strapped trough your skin made your stomach twist uncomfortably, and you instinctively tried to tug your arm away.

“You’ve been out for about nine hours,” Jean explained, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder to steady you. “It’s seven in the morning now.”

Before you could respond, Hank’s voice caught your attention from across the room. “The collar,” he said with a slight frown, eyeing it with a mixture of fascination and concern. “It has a far more advanced protection mechanism than the ones I’ve dealt with before.”

He approached, adjusting his glasses as he examined it carefully. “I’ll need more time to determine how to disable it safely, without risking harm to you… or anyone nearby. Be careful not to accidently made skin contact with it, for now.”

A small grumble from your stomach made Jean chuckle softly, her gaze shifting back to you. You looked up at her, gesturing toward the IV with a faint grimace. “Can you take this out? I think I could really use a real food.”

Just then, the medbay door swung open, and Logan strode in, wearing a brown flannel tugged into his jeans with huge belt clasping around. You wonder how long did he spent Infront of the mirror with that hairstyle every morning, his usual gruff expression softening slightly as he took in the sight of you awake. Jean smiled, nodding at him. “Logan, could you bring her some breakfast?”

Before he could reply, you interjected quickly, “Can I eat in the kitchen instead? I…uh I don’t really want to eat in here.” Your gaze fell to the sterile surfaces, the clinical smell thick in the air, a sharp reminder of past memories you'd rather forget.

Jean glanced at Hank, who gave a brief nod of approval. “Alright,” he said, understanding in his gaze. “But take it slow.” With that reassurance, Jean turned back to you, gently taking hold of your arm.

“Let me take the IV out before you go,” she said, her tone calm and steady. You watched as she reached for a small gauze pad, her movements precise and careful. She placed it gently against your skin, then pulled the IV needle out in one smooth motion, pressing the gauze over the tiny puncture to stop any bleeding. “There we go,” she murmured, applying a bit of tape to hold the gauze in place. “All set.” You exhaled, feeling a small wave of relief as the IV was finally out.

Logan moved to help you, extending an arm, but you waved him off, determined to make it on your own. Despite the slight limp, you pushed yourself forward, refusing his support even as he trailed close behind, his expression a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. As always, you couldn’t help but meet his silent offer of help with a stubborn sense of independence.

“Good morning to you too, varmint,” Logan greeted with his gruff voice, the new nickname slipping off his tongue with a smirk. You shot him a look, eyebrows furrowed. “What did you just call me?”

“Varmint,” he replied with a casual shrug. You narrowed your eyes, clearly puzzled. “What the hell is that?” You said, clearly having a hard time taking a step by step, but refuse to visibly show the struggle.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t know what a varmint is? You sure you’re a marksman?” You rolled your eyes, correcting him with a quick retort. “Markswoman, this is the twentieth century.”

The teasing banter, even first thing in the morning, was so typical of you two, and Logan couldn’t help but enjoy it. But beneath the back-and-forth, he noticed every wince and shift of discomfort in your steps. Watching you push forward despite the obvious pain stirred a mix of pride and concern in him. He knew better than to offer again, yet every step you took, each moment you hid a grimace, tugged at him, wishing he could do more if only you’d let him.

All he could do now was stay close, ready in case you faltered, even as he watched you struggle with that damn stubborn streak he’d come to admire, and maybe even care for, a little too much.

Despite the high walls you kept around yourself, you couldn’t help but think about last night, the way Logan had stayed by your side, squeezing your arm gently as Jean stitched you up, how comforting and reassuring it was from him. You still hadn’t properly thanked him, but you’d get to that later. A flicker of appreciation settled deep down, where you rarely let anything get through. His story lingered, too, a shadow of a memory you couldn’t quite shake, making you wonder just how many other stories he had tucked away, left untold from fragments of a life lived through wars and loss.

Trying to shake off the thought, you refocused and glanced over at him. “What is a varmint, anyway?” you asked, as you stepped into the kitchen. You opened the fridge, feeling his presence behind you as he leaned against the counter. Logan’s eyes glinted with that trademark mischievous look. “I’ll let you figure it out. Where’s the fun in just tellin’ you?”

You gave him an unamused look, already making a mental note to Google it later. Turning back to the fridge, you grabbed a potato and a carton of eggs, shoving them directly into Logan’s hands. “Chop chop, mutton chops, you’re cooking. Mashed potatoes and scrambled egg.” you said, closing the fridge door with a smirk and easing into a chair, chugging a glass of water to freshen up your throat, relieved to take some of the weight off as the pain from walking flared again.

Logan chuckled, eyeing the ingredients in his hands. He shook his head, but there was a faint smile playing on his face. The comfort of the moment settled around you, and for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to relax, even if just a little.

Logan set the eggs and potatoes on the counter, rolling up his sleeves with the look of someone gearing up for a challenge. He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. “So…mashed potatoes and scrambled eggs, huh? Easy enough.”

You leaned back. “Just make sure to wash the potato first before you start peeling.” He paused, giving you a look as if to say Really? but followed through, rinsing the potato under the tap before he started peeling it with a bit more force than necessary. The way he handled it was almost comically rough, chunks of potato skin flying in every direction. You held back a laugh, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“What?” he muttered, glancing over. “Nothin,” you said, still holding back a smile. “Just…careful not to take off half the potato with the skin.”

He grunted, focusing intently on the task, but when it came time to mash the potato, he just dumped the chunks into a bowl and started mashing with a fork. Before he could pour in a carton of milk into the pan which he almost do, you warned him, quickly gesturing toward the pan. “Wait! Butter first. You don’t want to dry out the potato.”

Logan shot you an exasperated look but stopped, grabbing the butter and slapping a hunk of it into the pan a bit clumsily. He went to pour in the milk, but you cleared your throat again, eyes widening as he looked over. “What now?”

“Butter…then the milk. It mixes smoother that way,” you explained, the amusement in your voice barely contained. Logan gave a small, amused shake of his head, muttering something under his breath. “I knew you’d be a backseat chef.”

“Only because I’d like to avoid a disaster,” you replied, raising an eyebrow as he half-glared at you with a smirk. He continued to stumble his way through the basics, cracking eggs with more shell fragments than you’d ever seen and stirring the scrambled eggs a little too vigorously, sending bits of yolk flying. All the while, you couldn’t stop yourself from correcting him, feeling oddly comfortable as you did. Logan was an absolute disaster in the kitchen, and seeing him out of his element like this was almost endearing.

Eventually, he managed to get the eggs and potatoes onto plates, and he set one down in front of you, leaning against the counter with a triumphant grin. “Not bad, huh?” he said, crossing his arms.

You eyed the slightly burnt edges of the eggs and lumpy potatoes, your amusement evident. “Not bad, exactly,” you teased, taking a bite and managing to hide a grimace. “It's closer to inedible than it is to edible, kinda.” Logan chuckled, his eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh, you think you could do better?”

“Definitely,” you replied, a spark of challenge in your gaze. The banter, the little corrections, his quiet grumbling, it all felt natural, easy. And as you ate, you caught him watching you, a warmth in his gaze that softened his rough edges. It was a strange moment, one you hadn’t expected, but the quiet rhythm of it felt like something you could get used to, even if you’d never admit it.

After a few bites you decided to fill your glass with some orange juice from the fridge. Pushing yourself out of the chair a bit too quickly, a sudden, sharp pain shot through your side, freezing you in place. You tried to brush it off, but Logan was already watching, his eyes narrowing as he took in your discomfort.

“Just sit down,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Whaddya want to drink?" You sighed in frustration, muttering a few choice words under your breath as you lowered yourself back into the chair. “Orange juice,” you grumbled, arm clutching your side.

Logan poured the juice for you, setting the glass down beside your plate with a smug smirk. “Happy?” You gave him a reluctant nod, still annoyed but appreciating his help, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

As you both back to sit quietly eating, a thought lingered at the back of your mind. Eventually, you cleared your throat, looking down at your plate. “Thank you…for last night,” you said, hoping to keep the gratitude brief and to the point.

But Logan wouldn’t let it slide that easily. He let out a low chuckle, and you glanced up, eyebrows knitting in confusion. “What?” you asked, not sure what he found so funny. He grinned, his tone teasing. “You almost sound like every woman in a bar after spendin' a night with me.”

You rolled your eyes, regretting the thank you instantly. “Ew, gross. You know what? I take it back. I forgive you.” Logan looked genuinely amused and a little puzzled. “Forgive me? For what?”

“For crossing my personal space and boundaries,” you replied with mock indignation. “You carried me without my consent.” Logan chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “Oh, you sure you don't want to sue me as well while you're in it?”

You gave him a wicked smile. “I’m considering it.” He shook his head, laughing, but beneath the banter, there was a hint of something softer, a rare moment of mutual understanding that neither of you needed to put into words. For now, the teasing would do just fine.

As you took another sip of juice, Hank and Professor Xavier entered the kitchen, their faces set with a hint of urgency. Hank’s eyes settled on you, then shifted to the collar around your neck. “I’ll need to run some additional tests on that collar of yours,” he explained. “It’s… more complex than I’d hoped. I want to apply a temporary layer that could block any accidental shocks, but for safety… well, I could use some assistance.”

His gaze landed on Logan, who arched an eyebrow, clearly not thrilled but not surprised either. “What?, you need me to play your guinea pig?” Logan drawled, voice a low rumble.

“Something like that,” Hank replied, a faint smile betraying his own unease. “Your healing factor can handle the worst of the shocks if the layer doesn’t hold up as expected."

With that, the four of you made your way to the medbay, footsteps echoing through the quiet hallways. Each step weighed heavily on you, soreness from the last night beginning to catch up. But as you glanced at Logan walking beside you, you felt a small surge of determination to keep up.

Once in the medbay, the sterile room filled with the faint hum of medical equipment, he could sense the quiet tension emanating from you. A subtle pulse beat in your throat, the sound of your heart quickening with each step though he knew you had no idea he could hear it.

Standing beside where you were sitting, he noticed how your breathing grew shallower. Despite the casual front you put on, Logan could tell his proximity unsettled you. When Hank gestured him forward, Logan drew closer, reaching out to help him adjust the protective device. His fingers brushed your shoulder as he steadied it, and your pulse sped up a quick staccato beat that only he could hear.

Logan couldn’t help but smirk slightly, feeling an odd amusement. He’d never been one for delicate feelings, but this was different. There was something about the vulnerability hidden behind your resolve that tugged at him.

“Relax,” he muttered under his breath, catching your gaze as his hand lingered on your shoulder. “This’ll be over before you know it.”

When Hank initiated the first low-voltage test, a shock traveled through the collar, and Logan took the brunt of it with a grimace, his skin tingling painfully. He heard you murmur an apology, voice slightly shaky, your expression a blend of guilt and concern. “Don’t worry, varmint,” he reassured, his tone gruff but soft. “Ya ain’t gon’ kill me.”

You bit your lip, and he caught the faintest quiver in your heartbeat again as he held your gaze, refusing to let you look away. Something raw lingered in the air between you both, neither of you could fully name. But he didn’t move back, didn’t break eye contact, letting you see that he was there, steady, no matter what.

The final layer was applied, and Hank sighed in relief. “All done. It’s stable now, and we shouldn’t have to worry about accidental contact.”

Logan's fingers brushed the collar one last time as he stepped back, catching one more pulse of your heartbeat a little steadier this time. He’d heard enough to know he affected you, even if you’d never admit it.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, though exhaustion settled into your limbs as the relief took its toll. The professor must have noticed, because he gave a slight nod. “You’re free to go,” he said gently. “Hank will monitor the collar’s function from here. Take some time for yourself.”

You nodded, already feeling the pull of sleep as you rose. Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering, but you brushed it off, determined to handle this last stretch alone. The stairs were a different story. Every step seemed to taunt you, the soreness sharpening with each push. By the second flight, your leg trembled slightly, but you gritted your teeth and continued, refusing to let the pain win. Finally, you reached the top, pausing to catch your breath.

As you approached your room, a faint shadow fell across the hallway, and you knew he’d followed. Logan lingered at the corner, watching with his arms crossed, that usual mix of exasperation and silent pride in his eyes. You almost said something, but he turned away before you could muster the words, leaving you with just enough strength to stumble into your room.

As you stepped into your room, the familiar, untouched stillness washed over you. The place was just as you’d left it before the mission, a strange reminder of all the events since. On your bed lay your cracked rifle, a heavy, silent witness to your day. You sighed, moving it carefully, feeling the weight irritate the still-tender stitches on your side. Gently, you slid it back into its case, then pushed the rifle bag under your bed, its worn fabric catching faintly on the frame.

The bathroom offered a quiet reprieve as you cleaned yourself up, the cool water refreshing against your skin. You changed into a comfortable T-shirt and shorts, savoring the soft, loose fabric after the tension of the day. With a sigh, you sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over to pull your laptop closer. Curiosity had been tugging at you since Logan tossed that new nickname at you: “Varmint.” The way he’d said it, half-smirked as he helped you, made it clear there was more behind it.

You typed in the word and read the definition that popped up:

Varmint:

noun, informal, dialect

• a troublesome wild animal.

• a troublesome and mischievous person, especially a child.

The words sank in, and you muttered a soft curse under your breath, though a smile pulled at the corners of your mouth. That asshole. You couldn’t help but picture the look in his eyes when he’d said it, that mix of teasing and something almost affectionate. He probably thought it was a perfect fit.

Still smiling, you closed the laptop and lay back on the bed, exhaustion pressing down on you like a weight. The stitches, the collar, and the strain of the day blurred into one heavy ache, and as your head hit the pillow, the last thought in your mind was of Logan’s voice and that infuriating nickname. The quiet drifted around you as sleep pulled you down, the sky still bright outside as afternoon slowly faded into evening.

•••••••

Dust rises around you, stinging your eyes, blurring the world into a smudged haze of gunfire and shadows. The heat is unrelenting, baking down on your skin as the weight of the rifle digs into your hands. The sound of boots pounding against cracked ground, the shouts of soldiers, and the relentless thud of explosions make everything feel surreal. It's a landscape of Iran-Iraq chaos battlefield in the 80s.

Ivan's voice cuts through, clear and steady with his Russian accent. "Right flank, cover me!" His words are as familiar as your own heartbeat, grounding you in the nightmare. You turn, catching a glimpse of him. Young, so damn young, but his eyes have that determined look, that same fire he's always had since you met him at twenty one. He'd idolized you, looked up to you with a quiet, steadfast admiration. You'd taught him everything, every trick and tactic you knew. He had become your closest friend, almost something more.

But suddenly, that determination in his eyes falters. You see his lips form words, calling your name, right before a shot rings out. The echo of it slices through the noise, louder than anything else. In slow motion, you watch him stumble, that flash of surprise on his face as his body collapses, his rifle slipping from his fingers. There's blood on his temple, spreading, blooming against his pale skin like ink soaking into paper.

"No...no, no, Ivan!" you scream, scrambling forward, your hands shaking as you reach him, ignoring the chaos around you. You press your hands to his wound, feeling the warm, sticky blood seep through your fingers, knowing it's useless. "Stay with me, please," you beg, feeling your voice break, but his eyes have already gone blank, staring past you.

"I'm so sorry," you mutter, your voice strangled. You'd promised him- promised that when you both made it back, you'd show him New York. He'd laugh, light-heartedly mocking the idea of skyscrapers and traffic, but you knew he'd been looking forward to it. And now he'll never see it. You'll never see him again.

The scene shifts violently, flickering to his childhood stories of Montana, a place he once said was like no other. He'd wanted you to see it, too, promising you a tour of his small town, the mountains, the rivers. Now, it all fades, slipping from your grasp as you scream his name again and again, but it's just you alone in the dust, Ivan's blood staining your hands.

The scream still echoes as you jolt awake, drenched in cold sweat, Ivan's name a raw ache in your throat. After the long hours you drifted into a fitful sleep, only to wake up around two in the morning, feeling groggy and disoriented. The collar pressed against your neck, an uncomfortable reminder that even in your own body, you weren’t free. Frustrated, you shifted, trying to find a position where the collar wouldn’t dig into your skin. It was no use. Resigned, you pushed yourself out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom.

The mirror reflected a pale, worn face back at you. You traced your fingers over the bandages where bullet wounds were still healing, noticing the edges of the injuries, raw and irritated. Changing into a warmer sweater to stave off the night's chill, you thought about grabbing a snack.

But as you made your way toward the stairs, a muffled noise caught your attention. You paused, listening. It was coming from Logan’s room. The sounds were low and garbled, but you could tell he was muttering, though the words were too distorted to make out. You hesitated, then shook your head. Probably none of my business, you thought, forcing yourself down the stairs.

After finding a bowl of blueberries and drink a glass of water, you turned to climb the stairs, heading back to your room, only to hear the sounds from Logan’s room again, louder this time. You stopped, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your chest. His voice sounded tortured, as though he were reliving something terrible. Without really thinking, you moved toward his door. You stood there, unsure, your hand hovering over the handle. Finally, you pressed down. The door clicked open.

In the darkness, you could make out Logan, tangled in his sheets, eyes shut tight but muttering as if in pain. You placed the blueberries on his nightstand and flicked on the light, he's wearing a white tank top with jeans, what kind of psychopath sleep in jeans? You extend your arm reaching out, lightly shake his shoulder, calling his name. He jolted awake with a sharp gasp, his claws springing out instinctively. You barely managed to jump back, waist stumbled at his nightstand roughly, avoiding the glint of metal, your reflexes saving you but the sudden movement sent a sharp, searing pain through your side.

Logan looked horrified, retracting his claws immediately with his heavy breath. “Shit. I didn’t mean.. are you okay?” He asked voice slightly trembled.

You took a shaky breath, clutching your side. “Fuck...M' fine. But you were yelling. I thought…” You smirked slightly, hiding your discomfort.

“I swear I thought you had someone in here, keeping the entire floor up ‘til two in the morning.” You told him with hitched breath.

He almost cracked a smile, though a flash of something haunted lingered in his eyes. "Not exactly."

Feeling another throb in your side, you sank onto the edge of his bed, letting yourself sit for a moment. He scoot over to give you more personal space next to him, you picked up the bowl of blueberries, offering it to him with a shrug.

“Blueberries?” Logan accepted, and you both sat in a quiet, unexpected moment of ease, passing the bowl back and forth, the silence a balm for both your wounds. It’s rare to see his hair not styled in the way he always wears it, almost resembling cat ears. You’ve always wondered if that was intentional, but you could never be sure. Now, though, you can see how thick his dark brown hair truly is, with a slight touch of untidiness. A rare sight.

Both of you sat against the headboard of the bed, the room dimly lit, the quiet hum of the night filling the space. You felt the sting in your side with every slight movement but tried to ignore it, distracting yourself with the blueberries as you popped one into your mouth. You weren't exactly sure what to say to Logan. Should you ask if he's okay? The thought felt ridiculous, considering the two of you hardly knew how to talk about such things. It was easier to just let the silence hang. But it was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, and you needed to break it somehow.

“So,” you began, forcing casualness into your tone, “The PTSD from a hundred and twenty years in the military really got you good, huh?”

Logan glanced over at you, the faintest amusement flickering in his eyes. “What does twenty do to a person anyway?” He raised a brow, a little playful edge creeping into his voice.

You shrugged nonchalantly, popping another blueberry into your mouth. “Same thing. Probably why we’re both here at two, eating blueberries.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and rough, as if it hadn’t been used in too long. There was a comfort in that, his laughter, even if it was bitter at the edges. You got him in a way few could, the way he handled pain, how he tucked it away under layers of sarcasm and distance. You weren’t sure if he even knew how much you could read him, how the small moments the way he carried himself, the flicker in his eyes told a whole story.

“That’s a hell of a breakfast,” he muttered, shaking his head with a grin that softened the edges of his usual guarded demeanor.

“Breakfast, midnight snack, same thing,” you shot back, a smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back against the headboard, clutching your side again in an attempt to ease the pain.

A long pause followed. You caught him watching you out of the corner of his eye, like he was trying to figure something out. It didn’t bother you, though. After all, you’d both been through things most people couldn’t even begin to imagine. And you understood that, understood him better than anyone else.

Logan glanced down at the bowl, then back at you. “Guess we just keep eating until we’re tired of it, huh?” he said with a half smile. You smiled, feeling a little lighter. “Sounds about right.”

The air in the room grew still for a moment, the light dim and the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging between you both. Logan's voice broke the silence, softer now, tinged with something he didn't quite want to admit.

"I could've killed you, y'know," he said, trying to sound casual selling his nonchalant face, but there was a slight edge to his voice that made it clear he was anything but nonchalant. His eyes flicked to yours, searching, a trace of concern buried in his usual guarded expression.

You met his gaze without flinching. "You didn’t," you said simply, your tone light, but you knew what he was getting at. His worry was clear, even though he was trying to mask it, you broke the eye contact now staring down at the bowl.

"You might've just opened my stitches again, which, I think, is worse." Logan's gaze hardened as he caught the scent of fresh blood. He pushed himself up from the bed, voice firm. “Wait here.”

You blinked, confused, watching as he stalked to his bathroom. He rummaged around for a moment before reappearing, his expression annoyed. Apparently, he hadn’t found what he was looking for. “Just wait,” he said again, sharper this time. “I’ll be right back.”

Left alone in his room, you found yourself glancing around. The room was sparse but lived-in: unfolded clothes thrown over a chair, a cigarette-filled ashtray on his nightstand, and a couple of empty beer bottles lining the windowsill. You smirked a bit at that, wondering how Charles hadn’t whipped his ass for sneaking those in.

Before you could delve deeper into the small details of his space, Logan stepped back in, a med kit in hand. He shot you a look that bordered on impatience and determination. Your eyebrows shot up as he set the kit down. “What do you think you’re doing with that?”

“Well,” he said flatly, “you’re bleeding all over my bed, and I’m not in the mood to be blamed for murder.”

You scoffed, moving to stand, still clutching your side as the pain spiked. The blood had already soaked through the fabric of your cream-colored Brooklyn sweater, stain spreading visibly. “No, I’m not letting you do that. Do you even know how to stitch?” You took a couple of steps toward the door, ready to brush him off and leave.

But Logan stepped in front of you, effectively blocking the doorway with his full frame. His expression was one of deadpan defiance. “Told you, I’ve lived too many lives. I know a thing or two. Now, sit down.”

You scowled, the pain now pulsing sharply with every movement, but his unyielding presence made it clear he wasn’t giving you much of a choice. “No, I’ll be fine,” you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction. Logan’s eyebrow quirked as he tilted his head, unconvinced, not budging an inch from the doorway. You tried to nudge him aside, but he didn’t even flinch. The effort triggered fresh pain from your wound, and you cursed under your breath, feeling the sting intensify.

“Just sit down,” he said with a faint irritation. “I even brought painkillers this time.” His comment was a jab at the last time you’d been stitched up, without any anesthesia, which had been a special kind of hell.

Reluctantly, you made your way back to the chair he’d hastily cleared of laundry, watching as he shoved the empty bottles in the windowsill aside to make room for the medical kit. With a quiet sigh of resignation, you sank down, your movements stiff and strained. You set the blueberries on the windowsill beside you, grimacing but knowing you didn’t have much of a choice now.

Logan handed you a small pill from the kit, his expression giving nothing away. You tossed it back but quickly realized you’d need water. Without missing a beat, he grabbed a sealed bottle of beer from his nightstand and held it out to you.

You looked at him, half-exasperated. “How’d you manage to sneak this in? Charles is gonna be furious.”

Logan smirked, giving you a quick, deadpan shrug. “Oh, it’s my weekly pay for teachin” he replied, clearly amused with himself.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you twisted off the cap. “Right. Because Charles would pay you in beer.” With no other choices you sip the beer anyway, sending the pill down your system.

Ignoring your jab, Logan prepared a syringe, carefully transferring a regional anesthetic from a vial. He seemed steady, his brow knit in concentration, but there was a faint tremor in his hands that told you he didn’t do this often at least, not like this. Still, he looked confident enough to keep you from second-guessing.

You took a breath and lifted the hem of your sweater, the chilly night air prickling your exposed skin as you braced for what was to come. Logan knelt beside you, his face softened by the dim light, he wiped down your skin with alcohol wipes to sterilize the area before injected the anesthetic carefully around your wound, aiming to block the nerves around your stomach.

The sensation was more disorienting than painful, and you clenched your jaw, trying to focus on anything else but the sharp reminder of how vulnerable this all felt. The pain had been long absent, a dull ache you’d forgotten, but tonight it was sharp and real, gnawing at the edges of your patience.

Logan retreated to the windowsill, waiting the anesthesia to function giving it at least ten minutes. He take a swig from the beer you’d just opened, his gaze flicking back to you as you reached for another blueberry. You caught him watching you, the hint of concern masked beneath his usual guarded stare.

“You don’t seem to do this often,” you said, popping the blueberry into your mouth, trying to sound casual.

He glanced at the bottle in his hand and shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ve got enough experience.”

You offered a small, skeptical smile, sliding your hand under the collar around your neck, scratching at the itch that had settled there. It was an irritating reminder of everything this collar had taken from you. Your power, your freedom, and, in a twisted way, even the luxury of forgetting what it felt like to be so breakable.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your hand at your neck, but he didn’t say anything, just took another swig of his beer. For once, the silence between you both felt almost...safe. He wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t push, and you knew that even if he did, he’d understand more than most.

As the two of you waited for the anesthetic to kick in, Logan walked over to his nightstand, rummaging through a drawer until he found a cigar. Meanwhile, you felt the trickle of blood from your re-opened stitches and reached for some gauze, pressing it against the torn wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Four ugly, circular scars, a nasty reminders of where bullets had torn through you. Only one suture held, while the other three had unraveled under the strain. You sighed, wondering how long you could keep dealing with this before you could stepped in this damn collar.

Logan sit in the edge of his bed, lighting his cigar with a flick of his lighter, his eyes on you as you dabbed at your side. Frustration is written all over your face as he observed your attempt to manage the bleeding on your own. He sigh and walk towards you again, placed the cigar on the windowsill and pushed the window open, letting the smoky tendrils drift out into the night air, you despised that smell so much.

Finally, he grabbed the med kit and knelt beside you, extending his hand toward the gauze in a silent offer to take over. You didn't hesitated this time, willingly to let go when his rough fingers brushed against yours as you handed over the gauze. Your left hand still held the fabric of your sweater up, and your right arm rested on the edge of the chair, giving him room to work.

Logan’s face was set in concentration as he wiped the blood from your side, tearing open another alcohol wipe and cleaning the area around your wounds. He was careful, his touch firm yet unexpectedly gentle. After ensuring the area was sterile, he picked up a small pair of scissors and nudged it against your skin. “Feel anythin'?” he asked, his voice a little softer, making sure the anesthesia had taken full effect.

You shook your head. “No, it’s numb.”

Logan's brows drew together as he worked, his expression locked in that rare, focused intensity you’d come to recognize, and even find comfort in. The dim light from the windowsill cast shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the slight crease between his brows. You’d traced those lines in your mind a hundred times by now, memorized every edge, every angle. But tonight, as he worked with that raw focus, his face took on a different weight, a heaviness you could almost feel through the precision of his movements.

He held the metal scissors between his fingers, his hands steady, despite the faint flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Gently, he pull the teared suture trough your skin, putting all the old stitches down before guided the needle through your skin, pulling it through with a practiced care that made each puncture bearable. You could feel the slightest tug as he drew the suture tight, securing it with a small knot, his gaze unwavering, as if each stitch were a piece of armor he was layering over your vulnerability.

You tried to focus on his hands instead of the needle. He didn’t look up, not even once, and you wondered what was going through his mind as he stitched each small wound, patching you up like it was a matter of necessity, not choice. You felt his grip tighten a little as he threaded the next stitch, a silent determination in the press of his fingers.

Logan’s mind, however, was far from calm. Beneath his outward resolve, there was a nagging unease, an urge to make sure he didn’t cause you any more pain than you’d already endured. The sight of the torn stitches, the fresh blood trickling down your side, sent a quiet rage through him, one he was careful to keep hidden. He’d seen plenty of wounds in his time, but with you, each drop of blood felt personal, like a failure he hadn’t planned for. He pushed the thought aside, though, focusing instead on keeping each stitch even, precise. He couldn't afford to let his own frustration cloud the task at hand.

You studied him in silence, feeling the coolness of the anesthetic but still sensing the pressure as the needle punctured your skin again and again. Each pull of the thread was a reminder of how close he was, yet how distant he could seem. His breathing was even, steady, but every so often, you saw a muscle twitch in his jaw, a reminder of the strain he kept hidden. The Logan before you wasn’t the snarling fighter or the distant figure, he was here, in this quiet, steady moment, each movement deliberate, each pull of the suture a silent promise.

Another stitch slid through, and he adjusted his angle, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that left a faint warmth where his touch lingered. You felt yourself tense, not from pain, but from the awareness of his closeness, the weight of his hand pressed against your side. He glanced up briefly, catching your eye, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. He held it for just a second, before focusing back on the task, his jaw tightening as he continued to work.

In the silence, you found yourself grateful for this quiet, for the way he grounded you, even with the thick smoke from the forgotten cigar drifting through the air. Despite his own guarded nature, Logan’s presence carried a steady calm that dulled the ache, that let you release the fear of being so vulnerable in front of someone who’d seen it all, and maybe even felt it all.

Though he’d never say it. He could see the way you trusted him, even as your body flinched from each stitch. The way you held yourself still, giving him your silent approval, it did something to him, stirred something that he knew he couldn’t afford to dwell on. He finished the final suture, tying it off with a slight flick of his wrist, but he didn’t let go immediately. His hand rested against your skin for just a moment, almost like he was hesitant to break the connection, before he finally pulled back, a slight softness lingering in his gaze.

With the stitches complete, Logan finally sat back, his hand lingering near yours for just a moment before he pulled away completely.

As Logan returned the medical kit to the windowsill, your blood is staining all over his hands, he picked up his forgotten cigar, pressing it back between his lips, exhaling a thin trail of smoke. You sat quietly, should you even tell him to wash those blood stain? He doesn't seem to care.

Inspecting the new stitches one last time before pulling down your sweater. They were tight, clean, a reminder of his steady hands, though they left a faint, uncomfortable prickling sensation beneath the fabric. Logan perched by the windowsill, the soft glow from the moonlight outside casting a warm shadow across his face, lending a quiet stillness to the room.

Standing carefully, you felt the weight of lingering awkwardness. There was no reason to stay, no reason to let yourself get tangled up in his space any longer than necessary.

All of this, this wound, this time spent at his mercy, could’ve been avoided if you’d just ignored the sounds coming from his room earlier. A part of you wished you’d done just that, stayed in your own corner, kept your focus inward. But here you were. You picked up the half-empty bowl of blueberries, eyes drifting to him briefly.

“Thanks,” you muttered softly, not looking back as you turned toward the door.

Logan gave a small nod, his voice low, almost resigned. “You should rest.”

“I know,” you replied quietly, before stepping out. Closing his door behind leaving him and the thick, smoky air. Crossing the short distance to your room, you closed your door gently and set the bowl on your nightstand, then melted into the bed, the weight of exhaustion pulling you down. The collar pressed uncomfortably against your neck, a constant reminder that rest would be scarce tonight. You sighed, eyes tracing the ceiling as your body tried to settle, though the tight ache of tension lingered.

Meanwhile, Logan stood by the window, his gaze lost in the night sky as he took another drag of the cigar. The smoke drifted outward, mingling with the faint scent of antiseptic and the lingering trace of vanilla. Your presence hung thick in the room, an echo of moments both fleeting and unexpected. He found himself staring at his bloody hands, then the medical kit, its open lid and scattered supplies a strange, quiet reminder of you—your resilience, your stubborn refusal to back down.

A feeling twisted inside him, raw and unfamiliar. Something about you had begun to grow in his mind, a constant, persistent thought that clung to him no matter how much he tried to shake it off. It didn’t make sense, you two had only met two weeks ago, yet he could already recall the details of your presence in a way that both frustrated and intrigued him. The vanilla scent was etched into his senses, something that lingered even after you’d left, the scent of your soap, shampoo—probably even your perfume, he figured. Vanilla, sweet and subtle, weaving through the air as stubbornly as you.

He couldn’t deny it anymore, you were driving him crazy. Every instinct told him to let it go, to put some distance between the two of you. But your determined, relentless spirit was wearing at him, chipping away at walls he’d thought were firmly in place. He closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. Whatever was growing inside him, you were a part of it, a force that tugged at his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to push you away.

With a final drag of his cigar, he stared out at the moonlight, each one sharp and unwavering against the night. And as the smoke drifted into the cool air, he realized that maybe, just maybe you had already rooted yourself somewhere deeper than he wanted to admit.

Part 6 ->

#logan howlett #x men #logan howlet x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x reader #xmen fanfiction

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russellsppttemplates · 9 months ago

Note

Oscar loving on his girl after she’s done 4 long shifts in a row like super fluffy and cute

Note: this is a sneak peak of the plot I ended up choosing for Oscar, thank you anon who suggested it!

"I barely resemble a human", you said over the phone as you walked back to the house, Oscar on your earbuds as he wanted to keep you company on your way to his place since he had a meeting that finished as you were five minutes away. Even though he wanted to walk up to meet you, you reassured him you would be fine walking the distance left to his apartment.

"It's a good thing I have a nice bath ready for you then", he smiled over the phone, "I also have some skincare bits the lady in Boots said were good, and then a body oil that smells really nice, so hopefully you'll feel a little more human after them", he said.

Taking four long shifts at the physiotherapy studio and clinic wasn't your usual routine, but when the opportunity rose with the possibility of having free weekends and a few days off to spare, you thought about the race weekends you'd like to fly out to see Oscar race and it seemed a good compromise to make. Sure, you felt exhausted, but it would all work out and come together in the end. Oscar knew that much so he always tried his best to be supportive and soothe you as much as he could.

"That's sounds great - I'm at the door already", you said as he rang you in, opting to take the elevator up and knock on his door.

He opened the door in his comfy clothes, "hey, sweets", he smiled, pulling you closer to him so he could kiss your lips, humming when you deepened it, "I love you, but the bath is calling for me", you mumbled against his lips as you let your backpack fall on the floor.

"Can I undress you?", Oscar questioned, doing so when you verbally consented before be helped you into the water, "you don't want to get in?", you asked, "I'm staying here", he said as he sat next to the bath, "Good, thank you, handsome", you smiled as you let your body relax, muscles soothing and unwinding after the past busy days.

"And do you remember that case I told you about the skater? We were so worried about her hip but so far she's done such amazing progress surgery might even be off the table now!", you sighed, "I love this job so so so much, but it's so tiring sometimes".

Helping you out of the bathtub, Oscar wrapped the towell around you, grabbing the bottle of body oil so he could rub the product onto your skin, "the lady said it works best when the skin is still damp", he said as he rubbed the product, "do you want me to do your back?", he asked and you nodded, walking to the bedroom so you could lie on his bed, tummy down as he worked on your shoulders, "going this way, I might steal your job someday", he chuckled, "going to cover your shifts so you don't have to work as hard to be able to come see me", he mumbled, "i love you, sweets, I'm so grateful for all you do for us", he kissed your skin, going from the nape of your neck to your jaw.

"I'm going to get your pyjamas from the dryer", he muttered, giving you time to put on fresh underwear and sort out your hair in the towell, "they're nice and warm, like you like them".

Humming in satisfaction at the feeling of the warm fabric on your skin, you got dressed and followed him to the living room, "I thought we could eat here since it's comfier", he said, gesturing you to sit down as he got the plates from the kitchen.

"Thank you for this, baby", you said, kissing his lips again, "this is wondeful", you took the fork and grabbed a little bit of everything in your plate, "wait until you see the pie I have for dessert then", he nudged as your eyes beamed and a little squeal left your lips.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

#oscar piastri blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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kerubimcrepin · 2 months ago

Text

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 12

I will be honest: if Joris started seriously using this thing he would simply get scared like "WHAT IF I AM GOING TO DIE ON ACCIDENT AND NOT NOTICE DOING TOO MUCH". Also, his pride wouldn't allow him to overindulge.

What I'm getting at, is that his usage of this thing is literally the most in-character, funniest thing that he could have possibly done.

Yes. It's the demons again. I don't actually have anything to add. He looked pretty.

>touch eldritch artifact that feeds on life energy to make people powerful >use it to enhance your nonexistent magical huppermage abilities that were killed both by lack of education and the fact you have a weird fucking dragonized body to summon a tresstump magic wand from a different country >stop using eldritch artifact in any way Literally nobody does it like him. I can just hear him praying that nobody notices or thinks he's weird. But I do. I do.

...If he didn't have The Stump on his mind, he probably wouldn't have stepped anywhere close to this thing.

I thought about how many times Joris has probably had to read out war speeches, to be able to pull something this good sounding out with no preparation, and got a bit sick in the head.

There is nobody better to read out a speech like this, I think. I don't have any thoughts because I am now clinically insane.

At this point, they have discussed the plan for infiltrating the Necro world.

And I keep thinking about the fact that, Just like everyone in this place, Joris has a family to return to and protect (<- taking poison damage actively) and that Joris, like everyone else, is distinctly aware that if they die — not only will their loved ones be sad, they'll also be dead as well.

I really like this little moment of "I really hope you know what you're doing (I don't know what we're doing, and I'm scared)" and the way his voice sounds worried...

I can read complex emotional motivations into ANY Joris dialogue. Just watch me. The worms inside my brain guide me.

The little nod as their plan commences...

If Joris + Sword = Atchan behaviour, then Joris + his stupid log = Kerubim behaviour... From his full-front and full-back pirouettes, to the way he holds positions himself.

As I've said, while it might not be Ankama's intention even now, Joris's fighting style has always resembled Kerubim and Atcham a lot. Which would fit, considering they were probably the ones to actually teach him to fight. (However, by now, I'd be sad if it wasn't their intention...)

Though in the original movie scripts, I'm pretty sure it was Kerubim was the one who actually gave him the log and taught him to use it... So, maybe my jokes about Joris's style in the first seasons are actually pretty-on point and Joris's fighting style has always been based off his?

Whatever the fuck is going on with Joris and Kerubim's bond is at this point, like, written in the fabric of the universe. It's a big comfort to know that the one and only reason I began liking Joris as a character (that reason being his relationship with Kerubim) has always existed in some way

...Ankama please make Kerubim teaching Joris to use the log as a weapon canon already! For years, even before researching movie history, my headcanon has been "Kerubim asked Joris what weapon he'd like to learn to use first — expecting the answer to be something like "a staff" or "a wand" due to Joris's lineage... and Joris responded with "yours :) blunt damage to the bones yippie" which was unexpected but pleasant."

I'm fucking crazy you know. Yugo took Joris's hit... The way Joris softly says "Yugo! :(". The way he immediately rushes at Toross... Friendship is so real and poignant.

Joris "I can't show people they're getting under my skin or that I'm uncomfortable bc that's a sign of weakness" Jurgen saying this is just. you know that he's just fucked. that he's stressed out. and maybe scared of dying. if he was feeling normal, he would not fucking say this.

He probably means this in a "you're not even the 1238423th person that I outlived and defeated to try and get at me like this" but it comes across as "I'm so tired of it".

He's always been disrespected. No matter how hard he tries or how hard he works, everyone just treats him like a child, calls him a little guy at best, a midget at worst — even if he is a politican, even if he is 600 years old. Every person that doesn't know him tutoyers him. Even his family sometimes treats him like a child — albeit for different reasons.

He has 20 mental illnesses, and half of them would be solved by indiscriminately shooting anyone who calls him "petit" or "nabot" or "garçon" with a gun.

[walks into the sea]

On the first watch-through, I genuinely cheered and clapped. Ya!!

Kill him Joris. Kill him and be reborn as a lotus flower.

#ro liveblogs dofus #krosmoz #dofus #wakfu #wak4 #joris jurgen #kerubim crepin

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freesia-writes · 7 months ago

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Pets4Vets: Jesse (3/4)

Word Count: 4.5k - Jesse x Fem Reader - chapter 1 ~~ chapter 2 Master List + FANART BY @arcsimper5!! :D

“Well isn’t that adorable,” Kix chuckled, picking up the impossibly fluffy little animal from the plush bed it had been curled in. It looked at him with large eyes, tiny paws tucked beneath its chin, and the medic’s face softened. “Okay, that’s adorable.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Jesse corrected, gesturing helplessly. “A bogling? I mean… what is this?” he touched one of its legs, bare of fur and covered in leathery skin.

“It’s your new little friend,” Kix grinned, patting it fondly before handing it to Jesse, who held it awkwardly out in front of him. “Come on,” his brother goaded. “We both know you want to cuddle it.”

“It’s a her,” Jesse murmured, unaware of the knowing look from Kix at his side. “They named her Pookie but that kinda makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little bit.”

Kix laughed, “I mean, what are you gonna call her? Mortar Tank?”

“Fair enough,” Jesse said, tucking the bogling into her bed.

“That clinic girl picked the perfect little Pookie for you.” It was a warm tease, but Jesse’s face drooped a little. “What?” Kix asked.

“She piled me off on some coworker.”

“Why?” Kix tilted his head.

“She couldn’t bear to look at me after I saw her at 79s. She was pretty drunk. We danced for a bit. Then I walked her home.”

“And?”

“And that’s it. I mean, she asked me to come up, but… I don’t know.”

“She did?”

“Yeah.”

“And… you didn’t?”

“No.”

“...Why?”

Jesse sighed. It was a question he’d asked himself a few times since then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share, but he hadn’t ever really kept anything from Kix. If anyone would empathize or have good insight, it was him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, running a hand over the tattoo on his face. “It just didn’t feel right. I mean, she was totally wasted.” He considered further, then continued. “And I just didn’t want it to happen that way.”

“But you want it to happen?” Kix needled. “Well, I guess she has a pulse and a brainwave, so of course you want it to–” Jesse smacked him, and he blocked a few more blows before retreating into the kitchen. “Alright, alright. So you’ve got some standards.”

“Di’kut,” Jesse muttered, grinning fondly as he picked up the bogling’s bed. “Pookie and I are going to bed.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“Join the club.”

* * *

Blaster fire. Clankers all around. Rex’s voice yelling over the comms. Orders and changes. Clones falling all around.

Utter chaos.

They were getting swarmed. Separatist tanks were lining up in the distance, deafening booms shaking him to the core. He saw Kix run past him toward a brother whose leg was bent the wrong way. Artillery shells began to hit, sending dirt and bodies flying. An impending blast loomed above them, its shadow growing as it fell toward the medic. Jesse opened his mouth to yell, but he couldn’t make a sound. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything, and it was about to hit–

He sat up with a gasp, chest heaving below the sheen of sweat that covered his entire body. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins and nausea was slowly replacing the alarm that had jolted him awake. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Jesse rubbed his face in his hands, one last shuddering breath his best attempt to calm himself.

A small movement by his foot startled him, sending another wave of panic through his exhausted body. It was the bogling, staring up at him with her large, curious eyes. He sighed, laying down on his side and pulling his legs onto the bed. Pookie jumped up beside him, nuzzling between his arms and stomach until she’d made a perfect space for herself, then after circling a few times, she curled up against him. She radiated warmth and calm, and his pounding heart slowed a bit. Resistant at first, he slowly lowered an arm around her, pulling her a little closer. She took a slow, deep breath and let out a content sigh.

He slept peacefully the rest of the night.

* * *

“If no one is signed up for Acclimation Support this afternoon, I can go home early, right?” you asked, leaning over the receptionist’s desk with a hopeful look.

“Yes… but it looks like you’ve got one.”

“Just one? Can we reschedule it for next week’s? Make it Tosak’s problem?”

“You can’t pile everything off on him, you know,” she grinned. You’d shared about your fumble with Jesse, and she’d been as amused then as she had when she told you that he’d been sent home with Pookie. That was a hilarious mental image you'd spent a little time indulging in.

“Fine. Maybe it’ll be quick with just one on one.”

“Hey,” she said, growing somewhat serious now. “Remember why you signed up for this. I know you’d love to just clean kennels and hang out with us all day, but you’re making a significant impact in these troopers’ lives. After all they’ve done for us… they deserve our best.”

“I know,” you said softly, nodding twice before looking back up at her. “Even though you’re just saying that because you got railed by one last night.”

She burst out laughing, palming her forehead then shaking a finger at you. “Why do I tell you everything? That’s not fair!”

“Completely fair!” you returned, giggling uncontrollably. “Besides, you were just giving your best, right?”

“Get out of here,” she snickered, jerking her head toward the door. With a saucy little salute, you headed back to the yard. It was divided into a few different sections, one of which was a small fenced area used for meet and greets as well as the weekly classes that each staff member took turns leading. In addition to pairing troopers with an ideal service animal, the shelter also provided–

“Acclimation Support?” a voice asked behind you, and you looked up to see no one other than…

“Jesse?”

“Hi,” he said, uncharacteristically sheepish. You took it all in – his broad shoulders and muscular arms, both of which framed a tiny creature that could not have been more stark of a contrast. Perhaps his demeanor was affected by the fact that he was cradling a bogling named Pookie, but either way, you couldn’t hide your smile.

“Well hi cutie,” you cooed, stepping forward to pat her furry head. She’d been a favorite during her time at the shelter.

“I already said hi,” Jesse interjected, earning a snort from you.

“Good one,” you stepped back, crossing your arms over your datapad. “I can’t imagine you need help with this perfect little angel… So don’t tell me you came back to ask for something bigger.”

“No,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with the other hand. “I’m just thrilled with Pookie here.” The way he said her name was equal parts fond and mocking, a balance you were surprised he could strike.

“So how can we support you then?” you said, adopting your best customer service voice.

“I… uh… I was trying to read stuff on the holonet… and I asked my roommate but he’s useless…” The change in his behavior took you off guard, and you tilted your head curiously as he continued. “She doesn’t seem to like her bed a whole lot. And I’ve done all the stuff you said. And I got some… extra toys…” You could swear you saw a hint of blush on his angled cheeks, and you had to press your lips together to hold back a large grin. “She eats good and all, I just… I wanted to be sure she’s happy.”

“Well that’s… kind of you,” you murmured, softening by the second at the absolute vulnerability and care you were seeing. You cleared your throat, trying to focus. “Well, where does she sleep?”

“With me,” he admitted, quietly as though confessing a crime. “But I’m afraid I’ll crush her or something, and the instructions said to make sure the pet stays in its bed, so… is there a certain smell or toy I should put in there?”

You smiled, eyes shifting from Pookie to him. You’d heard about the various ways PTSD manifested as well as the options for it to be soothed. Your coworker’s words rang in your ears, and you were feeling disproportionately warm at how quickly he had let his guard down. Maybe he was trying to make you feel better for your own foolishness.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, a touch of defensiveness in his voice.

“No, sorry, no look,” you corrected quickly. “I was just thinking.”

“Do you always smile like that when you’re thinking?” His eyes searched your own, a slight smirk on his own handsome face. Handsome… Damn, he was handsome, in this new light especially. You wished you could remember more from whatever had gone down at 79s when you saw him.

“Only when I’m thinking warm and fuzzy thoughts,” you ventured, blushing a tiny bit yourself. Were you actually flirting with him?

“About Pookie or about me?” He wagged his eyebrows, and despite his return to the confident swagger he liked to put on, something about it was different now that you'd seen a small glimpse of a bigger heart beneath it.

“About this precious, sweet little thing,” you purred, stroking her silky back again then touching his arm. It felt familiar. That surprised you. “Oh, and about Pookie too.”

“Ha, I see what you did there,” he grinned. “So you get all hot and heavy with me once and you think you can just toy with me however you want?” You opened your mouth to reply, but he continued. “Because you can,” Now it was your turn to laugh, and you shook your head, stepping back to try to get your bearings.

“Alright alright, enough playing around,” you said sternly, but he was having none of it. “As for your request, I think Pookie is happy as a clam. I’m not seeing any signs of stress, and I think she’s sleeping with you because you need– because she likes it. She likes you.”

“What do I need?” he asked, genuinely curious and slightly apprehensive.

“Nothing, I fumble my words sometimes.”

He took a step closer, tilting his head and regarding you with a bit of a smolder that made your knees weak. What was happening to you? “I don’t think that was a fumble,” he pressed.

You looked up at him, giving a little sigh and figuring you might as well share. “A lot of these animals are here because they are particularly good at sensing emotional distress. So, if she’s a little extra clingy with you, especially at night, I would imagine it’s because you’re… not feeling great.”

His eyes dropped, scanning the ground around you as though trying to decide just how honest to be. Your guess was dead-on.

“Do you have nightmares?” you asked, even softer now. “A lot of vets do,” you added quickly. “It’s not really something that you can control or prevent."

His chest puffed a little, and you noticed that Pookie sat up in his arms a bit, reaching for his neck where she nuzzled in, making her tiny little sound. The trooper deflated in front of your eyes.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”

You couldn’t resist. You touched him again, a light brush of your fingertips against his forearm. “And does she help with those?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Good,” you smiled. “That’s what she's there for.”

He let out a little sigh, then lifted his chin, trying to assume his usual demeanor again. “Well, alright. Thanks for… everything. And, uh…” he ran a hand over his head. “If you’re ever looking for some fun again… 79s is usually the place to find it. If you want to… let me know… if you go.”

You grinned, heart flipping in your chest. “Maybe I will,” you said coyly, and the spark in his eyes was all the reward you needed.

* * *

Your fingers hovered over your comm, hesitant to press “send”. You were anxious beyond belief, then angry at yourself for being anxious, which only made it worse. It wasn’t a big deal. You were just going out with friends and figured you’d drop him a line in case he was going out too. Not a date or anything. Without thinking any further, and to spare yourself any further misery, you tapped the button, putting the comm on the table nearby as fast as you could as though that would make it all better.

Then you waited.

You insisted upon only water as you and a couple friends made your way to the bar. They laughed and agreed, having watched your antics when you’d gone a bit overboard the last time. A rough hangover was no stranger to them either, and ultimately, everyone just wanted to have fun. You were trying not to keep your eye on the front door, but you couldn't help it. Every time it whooshed open, your eyes darted over to see who it was. After a little while of stranger after stranger coming in, you gave up hope, shoulders slumping in the booth you’d taken with your friends, who had added a few troopers to your group. Jesse hadn’t responded to your message anyway. Perhaps you’d been too forward, although that seemed right up his alley. So maybe he just wasn’t that into you.

You returned to the bar for another glass of water, where a light touch on your back made you stiffen and turn quickly. There he was, looking more dapper than you’d yet seen him. Instead of the usual t-shirt or henley, he had a button-up over his jeans, the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows. Delicious. You didn’t realize how thirsty you were until you laid eyes on his forearms. And it wasn’t the kind of thirst that water would quench.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to be heard over the music. Holy Hutt-spawn, he smelled amazing. You felt a little dizzy despite having had nothing but water. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“What?” you exclaimed, clapping your mouth shut when you realized it had dropped open far too quickly. “I was… Where were you?”

“Got a table upstairs,” he gestured to the balcony, where a couple of clones were watching the two of you with zero effort to conceal it. “I thought I was keeping an eye out but apparently I’m not the best lookout. Although Fives wouldn’t shut up so I was unfairly distracted… Anyway… You, uh, with anyone?”

“Just some friends who are…” You turned to check. Yup. Both of them were now elbows deep in clone. Well, tongue deep, more accurately. Surprisingly, it stirred something in you. A bit of a fire in your core…

“Quite busy,” Jesse finished, turning back to you with a grin. “Not a bad way to spend their time, eh?” His sharp eyebrows arched suggestively, and you allowed a laugh. “Although… I could think of a few better ways to spend it…”

You gave him a sardonic look, which he immediately responded to with that expression of angelic innocence that had charmed you before.

“What!” he defended, picking up a few drinks from the bar without taking his eyes from you. “I meant in deep, intellectually stimulating conversation! What were you thinking, pervert?”

Now you were fully spluttering, a mix of indignation and giggles at the sheer ridiculousness. He tilted his head to invite you to follow him, a satisfied smile brightening his eyes. With one last glance back to your friends, one of whom was nearly horizontal on the booth seat, you continued up the stairs, trying not to look at the way his jeans hugged his legs… and failing.

“It’s about time!” a clone yelled from the table as Jesse appeared with a few beers. “Save your schmoozin til you’re done being a delivery boy!”

“Watch it, or your delivery is gonna end up all over your head,” Jesse returned, passing the other mugs around the booth, which was filled to the brim with troopers. He slid the last beer toward his ornery friend, then turned back to you. “I’m not going to try to stuff you in here with all of them. Want to find a table somewhere?”

“I don’t want to make you leave your friends,” you admitted, appreciating his considerate offer.

“Oh, you want to meet them right away, eh? Are you going to introduce me to your parents next?” He soothed your shock by slipping a playful arm around your shoulders, and you had no issue with it whatsoever.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you chided, giving him your best attempt at a flirty look.

“I would never,” he nodded somberly. “So look…” He pointed around the table. “Pretty boy with the luscious locks there is Tup. Don’t ask about the teardrop tattoo unless you want some emo sob story. The sharp-faced grump beside him is Dogma. Don’t ask him anything at all. Next you’ve got Echo and Fives. They’re a hoot. If you’re ever looking for a threesome… er, foursome... ech, nevermind. Next is Hardcase, who you’ve heard from already, and this dashing young man right here is Kix, who stinks up the apartment we’re so lucky to share.”

“Excuse me,” Kix interjected after a huge roll of the eyes. “Between the two of us, you’re gonna put that on me? With your gym crap everywhere?”

“I have never smelled bad a day in my life,” Jesse insisted, tucking you a little closer against his side and sending a wave of tingles down your spine. You had to agree… he smelled amazing.

“No, but everything you own smells like you washed it in cologne,” Kix clarified, grinning and holding up his mug in cheers before taking a swig.

“Bah. Don’t listen to him,” Jesse laughed, looking at you. “Do you think I smell?”

“Yes,” you answered, completely straight-faced. A flicker of insecurity was quickly replaced by confident affront, and he eyed you incredulously, earning a giggle as you continued. “You smell fantastic.”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed, touching your chin with a few curled fingers so briefly that it left you wanting more. “So… let’s get a table.”

“Sit here,” the one called Echo offered, standing up behind the one you assumed to be Fives, considering the tattoo on his forehead. “We’re going downstairs. Fives got his eye on some Twi’leks.”

“I’ll have more than that on them in a few minutes!”

“Alright… Anyway, have fun with Jesse,” Echo nodded, clearing out of the way.

Jesse climbed into the booth, scooting both Tup and Dogma over as he pushed his way in, ensuring a bit of space for you beside him. You perched on the end, doing your best to look graceful, but you were fairly certain you looked like some sort of awkward bird.

“Ah, you’re half-cheekin it there, aren’t you…” Jesse muttered, pleased as you laughed at the phrase. “I mean… I’ve got a much more comfortable seat if you’re interested…” He patted his thigh, and you’d be damned if it weren’t the most appealing seat in the bar. Everything was going so well… Should you? “Don’t be shy,” he goaded, turning on that smolder that had a disproportionate effect on you. “We both know you’re not the demure little angel you’re pretending to be right now.”

“I am not pretending!” you exclaimed. “Can’t a girl be normal without being accused of–”

“Normal is boring,” Jesse interjected, pulling you up onto his thigh in one smooth movement. Holy kriff, he was strong. “There, is that so bad?”

You couldn’t resist. You nestled into him a bit more, making yourself comfortable as you rested an arm atop his shoulders. Whether it was your imagination or just wishful thinking, you could swear you noticed his eyes widen for a second, a look of surprise and delight ghosting across his face before dissolving into the smug grin he wore so often.

“Not bad at all,” you purred against his ear. His tiny involuntary shiver made you wonder what else you could do to make him come undone… But then again, you weren’t entirely sure how you’d like it to go down; he seemed the type that could make you see stars in eight different ways. You’d have to–

“Right? Did I get that right?” Jesse asked. Kark. He’d been talking and you’d entirely missed it, and now five pairs of brown eyes were on you, waiting for a response.

“Um,” you paused, cheeks reddening without your permission. “Sorry, what?”

He laughed, shaking his head fondly. “I said your main job was to match the animals with owners, but you sometimes do classes and training on the side.”

Wow, he had indeed been listening to the few details you’d shared. You smiled at him, then tried to look breezy as you nodded at the others. “What he said!”

“So if that’s your main job, is it just your hobby to be flirting with troopers on the side?” Hardcase again.

“No, I mean... He started it,” you snickered, tilting your head toward Jesse, who sniffed and shrugged.

“What can I say… They just can’t resist me.”

“It seems they’ve been doing a pretty good job–”

“Stow it, Dogma.”

You laughed, enjoying a bit of wandering conversation with the others before falling silent to simply watch. The dynamics between them were wildly entertaining, and you found yourself settling into comfort quite easily. It was a habit of yours to mentally pair anyone you met with animals from the shelter, and you had to resist the urge to interrogate each one to confirm your suspicions.

Eventually, the chatter died down, the weight of the late hour resting heavily across everyone despite the relentless thumping of the music downstairs. The loud volume was starting to feel more oppressive than enjoyable, but you didn’t want your time with Jesse to end. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to want it to end either. His arm had slipped around your waist at some point, holding you snugly against him from your seat on his leg, and you’d rested your head on his shoulder without a thought. It wasn’t til he turned to speak, his nose nearly bopping your own, that you sat up, realizing just how much you’d curled yourself around him.

“Sorry, I’m probably crushing you,” you stammered, starting to climb off of him. He dropped his arm, watching you rise to your feet, then pushed his way out of the booth to follow suit.

“First of all, I’d like to see you try.” A grin. “Second of all… You hungry?”

“Maker, yes,” you sighed. “But I’m also exhausted.”

“I gotcha,” he assured, reaching for your hand, which you were more than happy to give. “A couple quick ronto wraps then off to bed.”

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled.

“I know,” he winked.

* * *

You woke up feeling supremely happy, ecstatic that the night had gone so well with him. You’d enjoyed some conversation as the two of you walked to the food carts and continued it as he accompanied you home. Both of you had hesitated on the doorstep, you feeling unsure about inviting him up and him seeming to be formulating some kind of question. But neither was ready to speak up, so with some mumbled thanks and flirty sentiments, you’d parted ways.

You had it bad for this guy.

The next week found him at your work a couple more times, coming in under the guise of more questions about Pookie or referral procedures for his brothers who could use a service animal as well. You were delighted that he was going out of his way to see you, and the tenderness he’d revealed for both his pet and his fellow troopers was beyond precious.

Then he asked you out. On a proper date, he said, but if it ended up being not so proper, he’d allow it. So you’d gotten dolled up a bit and agreed to meet him at a corner, where he appeared with a speeder bike. Twenty thrilling minutes later, after tearing through the mess of Coruscant traffic while holding onto his waist for dear life, you found yourself on top of an abandoned building, watching the mystifying array of twinkling lights in every color blink at you from across the horizon.

Jesse stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You reached up a hand, resting it on his forearm, and tilted your head against his bicep. There was a funny rhythm the two of you had fallen into – he would be cocky and boastful, you’d call him out, he’d reveal more of his soft side, you’d swoon at it, then the process would repeat. But beneath it all was some sort of effortless admiration and connection, and you couldn’t believe you’d gotten so lucky.

“This is really pretty,” you murmured, content to lean against his warm body to fight off the chill of the night.

“Sure is,” he agreed, nuzzling his head against your cheek.

“I like you a lot,” you sighed. Your guard was down. You weren’t in the mood for games or teasing. He seemed softer than usual too, and you shuffled around to face him fully, still snuggled against his front. His eyebrows lifted a bit at your sudden closeness, and you tucked your arms around his waist. “Like… really like you,” you repeated.

He smirked at first, but it quickly melted into a broad smile of genuine joy that made your heart swell in your chest. His eyes cast about for a second, as though searching for the right answer, and the mix of insecurity and delight pushed you over the edge.

You squeezed a hand up between your two bodies and cupped his cheek, tucking your fingers behind his ear. Then without hesitation, you pulled his face to yours, pressing a tender kiss to his lips that was your best attempt to convey everything you felt. He inhaled sharply through his nose, tensing for a split second before his arms were around you firmly, face tilted as his lips melted into yours. Your head was spinning, thrilled at the softness of his mouth and the pounding of his heart against your own. It seemed to last forever, and when you finally separated for a breath of air, you opened your eyes to the sweetest sight yet. His own eyes were still closed, mouth curved in a small, dreamy smile. You stroked the side of his cheek, and he slowly opened his eyes, looking as blissful as you’d ever seen him.

“This is the best,” he whispered, and you chuckled at his shameless delight. He stroked a hand up the middle of your shoulders, curving it around the back of your neck and nestling his fingers into your hair. “I think we need to try that again though… just… something like…”

And then he was kissing you again. Again and again and again.

Best. Night. Ever.

Chapter 4 will be over on @spicy-clones because it's pure smut. ;)

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badbatchsprincess · 8 months ago

Text

Heated ~ pt. 3

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

Warnings: Some suggestive themes regarding heat cycles and general awkwardness. Also Layla is a playful omega causing trouble for the boys.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

A sweet scent filled your nose, drawing you slowly from your slumber. Reaching out with your hand, you were met with the softest sheets you’ve felt in a long time. A silky hand lightly traced along your cheek and combed back your hairline in a soothing manner. You leaned into the touch, finally starting to come back to consciousness.

“Hey, pretty girl,” a saccharine female voice lulled you back.

You groaned, feeling the aches returning to your body as your eyes fluttered.

With a slow blink, you winced at how bright the lights were, longing to return to the comforting darkness behind your eyes.

“Her vitals are coming back,” the voice said, moving to brush your hair away from your face. “You can get the General now.”

You finally started to adjust to the white lights. Looking around, you took in the stark hospital room, along with the massive window of stars to your left. Sitting on the stool next to you was a face you didn’t expect to see outside the field.

“Layla?” you croaked, feeling how hoarse your voice had become.

“Hey,” she gave you a sweet smile, never leaving your side.

“Where…?” you tried sitting up, but she gently kept you lying down with a small, manicured hand. “W-where am I?”

You recognized the room as a Republic vessel. This certainly wasn’t the Marauder.

“You’re on General Skywalker’s Venator,” she informed you.

You scrunched your nose in confusion. “H-how?”

“Your squad brought you here,” she kept combing your scalp with her nails. “You had a pretty bad accident.”

You stared at her, struggling to piece together the events that led you here. How had you ended up back on Skywalker's ship? Wasn't he on Coruscant for repairs?

"Why are you here? You never leave the clinic," you noted, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I wouldn't have, but I was with the boys when they received the call," Layla explained, with a sweet smile. "They thought I should come and be with you. And there was no way my boss was turning down a directive from General Skywalker."

You sighed, still grappling with confusion. Where was your squad? Was the 501st here? Your mind raced with questions until Layla offered you a glass of ice-cold water, which you eagerly accepted.

You looked down at your hands, seeing the deep purple bruises on your left wrist along with the scraps and cuts. Suddenly, you started to remember what happened. The wild look in Hunter’s eyes as he manhandled you around the ship. The way he threw you like a rag doll, trying to tear the implant out of you. You gasped and went to touch your shoulder where he had cut you.

Layla watched you with concern. "It's okay. We patched you up. The sniper did a decent job, but you passed out when they brought you on board."

"What?" you looked at her, recalling Crosshair's unexpected assistance and protection.

You remembered his uncharacteristic behavior, both his hostility and his unexpected care. It was a jarring contrast to his usual demeanor.

“Strange Alpha,” she smiled. “He snarled at us when we tried to get you to the medical wing. He only agreed to let you go when he realized omegas would be treating you. I thought he was going to take Kix’s head off. He carried you all the way up here.”

You looked at her with shock in your eyes. Crosshair? He doesn’t give a crap about anyone… Especially not you…

“If you knew him, you’d be shocked hearing that,” you tried to laugh, but your throat was killing you. She laughed.

Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps signaled the arrival of General Skywalker. With a kind smile, he greeted Layla before turning his attention to you, offering a warm embrace that elicited a wince from your still-aching body. You didn’t miss the way Layla’s cheeks flushed pink in his presence.

"Explain yourself," he teased, though his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you were tired of taking beatings, which is why you left us."

You chuckled weakly, feeling a pang of guilt at his playful reproach. You knew he and the others were likely unsettled by your departure. They didn’t like their pack mates straying too far.

"If I had known this was in store, I would have stayed," you joked, gesturing to your bruises. "Your hair has gotten long," you noted, observing its length.

An amused smirk played across his lips.

"Can someone tell me what happened?" you asked, still bewildered. "How did I end up here? Where's my unit? Is Hunter okay?"

Anakin hesitated, exchanging a glance with Layla before responding. "Sergeant Hunter? He's alive," he assured you, explaining the situation as best he could.

“He’s alive?” you asked confirming. “I-I had, I had to…” you remembered pulling the trigger. The sound his blaster made and the look on his face when he realized what you did. The monitors next to your head started beeping faster with your anxious heart rate.

“He’s alive,” Anakin said trying to calm you. “They had to run some tests on him to make sure the chemical compounds were out of his system. I-I didn’t know exactly what happened until your pilot informed me. He said the Sergeant was exposed to drugs that caused him to attack you…”

“He brutalized her,” Layla growled, looking you over. You were covered head to toe in bruises. Layla had cried when she saw the cut he had made, tearing out your implant, then the bruises. When she had peeled Crosshair’s shirt from you, she had sobbed seeing the bruises littering your entire form.

You lowered your eyes to the sheets, starting to feel like you were going to cry again.

“He didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t in his right mind,” you whispered, feeling guilty for shooting him.

Anakin sighed and placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to console you.

“You did what you had to do, Tiny,” Anakin reminded you. “He’s a soldier. He understands that.”

Layla huffed. Omegas understood alphas can be cruel. That’s just the universe we live in. But it was eating up your friend to see the damage you withstood.

“We are working with the survivor. She’s trying to help us understand what happened to your Sergeant. But until then…” he stood up and walked to the door, “You have a lot of very anxious pack members waiting to see you.”

He opened the door, and not a moment later, two blurs of white and blue came barreling into the room.

“Tiny!” Fives and Jesse flung themselves on top of you. Anakin left with a smile, leaving you to be dog-piled by his men.

“Ugh!” you barked on impact. Jesse snuggled into your side while Fives curled up on your feet. Just like pups. You winced as their armor collided with the fresh bruises.

“Tiny, I thought you died!” Jesse wailed, clinging onto your side.

“I’m okay,” you petted his head.

“I’ll get some more bacta for those bruises,” Layla giggled and stood up, leaving the boys to rub up on you with their comforting scents.

“I was worried,” Fives squeezed your ankle. “We had just gotten to the hangar when we got the distress call.”

“How did you get here?” you asked.

“We met you halfway. The cruiser was en route for Naboo. Crait was one system over, so we just met in the middle. You had us all types of worried, even the General.”

“Are you hungry?” Layla asked suddenly.

You nodded. You couldn’t even remember the last time you ate. She left the room, presumably to get something from the mess.

“What happened out there?” Fives asked.

“Hunter got hit with something and went crazy. I had to shoot him,” you felt the tears coming back.

“Aw,” Jesse hugged you, “It’s okay, Tiny.”

“It doesn’t feel okay,” you whimpered, letting the tears fall. “He’s my Sergeant. I didn’t know what else to do. I was so worried I had killed him.”

Jesse just hugged you. They all knew about your aversion to guns. You spent your days patching up the aftermath; you never wanted to participate in the violence.

“Where’s Kix?” you asked, rubbing your eyes.

“He’s treating your Sergeant,” Fives chirped.

“And the others?”

“Who? The 99’s?”

“Yeah. They’re pacing a hole in the hangar bay floor,” Jesse chuckled.

“You should have just stayed back on base, Tiny,” Fives nudged you. “Could’ve been curled up with the Commander right now.”

You screeched and slapped him, “I almost died, and you’re making jokes?” Your grin gave you away. It totally wasn’t the racing heart monitor beeping aggressively in the background.

The three of you laughed. It felt so good to have them with you; it made the constant body aches more tolerable. You missed your pack more than anything. You hadn’t ever fully recovered after Ahsoka leaving. None of you did. It felt like a massive hole every time you saw the boys. That’s why you had to go too. You had to get away for a bit. You saw the heartbreak in their eyes, but you knew it’s what you needed. But this, this was starting to make you feel like you belonged again, even without the rowdy togruta that made you all smile.

Layla returned with a steaming platter of whatever food they had in the mess. She settled back down next to you, setting it in your lap.

“Mmm,” you groaned, smelling the braised Shaak roast. You grabbed the spork and dug in. Jesse leaned over, snagging a piece of the meat and slurped it down. Layla scolded him, trying to protect your meal from their grabby hands.

You just giggled and listened to their stories about their most recent trip down to Naboo’s surface with intrigue while you finished off your food. You could have licked the plate and would have if there weren’t people watching.

While you were sipping the last of the blue milk, Layla took your tray from you and set it down on the nightstand. “The Sergeant has been medically cleared. I just wanted to let you know.”

You looked up at her, “Can I go see him?”

The three just looked at you a little uneasy.

“Are you sure?” Layla asked, clearly concerned for your mental well-being. The man did just brutally attack you not even 24 standard hours ago.

You nodded. You were sure. The guilt was eating you alive.

“Okay,” she nodded and helped you stand up. She helped you slip into a pair of loose white sweatpants and tied them around your hips. The boys turned away when she helped peel the gown off of you. You winced, raising your hands over your head, feeling every muscle burn and ache. She gently wrapped a fresh set of bindings over your breasts and lowered a loose white T-shirt, some of the physical therapy patients used in treatment. The material was soft and stretchy. You liked it. It was so much better than the cotton surgical gown.

“You can look,” you said to the boys, and they got up to help with your walk down to the hangar bay. Layla insisted you at least put on a pair of socks against the freezing floor while Fives wrapped your arm around his and Jesse supported your waist as the four of you made a slow journey down to the hangar bay. You practically let them carry you, quickly realizing you should have asked for a high dose pain killer. Hunter really had done a number on you.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?” Layla asked one last time.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you nodded, “I just need to make sure he’s okay with my own eyes.”

Layla nodded and held the lift door open while you and the boys shuffled out into the hangar bay. Over to the left, you saw the Marauder parked next to a row of assault transports and drop ships.

“Woah,” Layla said, shocked at the sheer size of the military ships. You had forgotten she’s never been aboard a Venator before.

“Impressive, huh?” Fives laughed at her wide eyes.

They stopped when you made it around the corner. Over next to the Marauder was your unit sitting on some ammunition crates talking with the scientist from Crait, Rex, and General Skywalker. You stood there holding onto Fives when Tech noticed you. He perked up, getting Hunter’s attention. The Sergeant whipped his head around, staring at you. The first thing you noticed was the many layers of bandages wrapped around his middle and his shredded top. You could have thrown up seeing what you did to him. He still wore his lower armor, but his top was barely holding on by a few threads.

“Pip!” Wrecker yelled, getting everyone else’s attention.

You let go of Fives and slowly made your way over to the Sergeant. He stood there and lowered his gaze, unable to look you in the eyes. Your heart broke. You could see the guilt eating him up. Skywalker watched the Sergeant carefully in case anything changed suddenly; he wasn’t entirely sure how you were going to react. When you were close enough to him, you broke out into a jog, unable to bear it any longer. Letting out a low whine, you threw yourself at him, wrapping yourself into his chest.

He was shocked, standing there unsure what to do. He had expected you to tell Skywalker to execute him on the spot. Slowly, he lowered his arms and embraced you gently, still afraid to touch you. He didn’t want to hurt you again, no matter how warm your embrace was.

He smelled your tears before he saw them, and his heart shattered.

“I’m sorry,” you cried, pressing yourself further into his chest. You were desperate for his forgiveness; he could smell it all over you. But once again, he was shocked.

“Why are you sorry, Pip?” he looked down at you. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Crosshair grunted from behind them.

“I-I thought I killed you,” you sighed, feeling guilty for hurting him.

He let you go despite your protests and kneeled down in front of you. "I’m the one who is sorry, adi’ka," he said earnestly, now seeing all the damage he caused: bruises in the shape of his hands on your neck and arms. The smell emanating from him made you cry even more, and he felt terrible, the poor alpha. You knelt down with him and pressed yourself into him again, trying to comfort him. "Look what I did to you," his voice choked with emotion.

He was so upset and horrified. "You should hate me right now," he said.

"It wasn’t you, Sarge," you croaked out, trying to coax him into embracing you again. "And I hurt you. I could have— I-I—" You stuttered, looking at the side you put a bullet through, biting your lip until it bled. He let go of any restraint and wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into his neck.

"I’m so sorry, adi’ka," he whispered, petting down your hair and holding you close.

The others watched the interaction in silence. Even the scientist, who was just getting to know these people, observed with curiosity, trying to understand your dynamic with these defective alpha clones.

"But next time," he pulled back, making you look him in the eyes, "you put that bullet in my head, or any alpha that ever hurts you. Do you understand?"

You just looked up at him, chewing on your lip, and gave him a little nod. He wiped your tears with his thumb and pulled you back into him. "You’re lucky, pip. It’s hard to stop an alpha like that. You’re a very strong omega."

You sat there shaking and bonding back with your sergeant, giving him the same comfort you needed. The others slowly returned to their conversation, but you two remained on the floor, sitting near one another. You kept yourself wrapped around his arm while he petted your damaged wrist, trying to soothe away the bruises.

"What possessed your team to go to Crait?" Skywalker questioned the scientist. She adjusted the thermal blanket around herself, appearing cleaner than before. She must have been able to shower and run a comb through her hair. It was a stark difference from when Wrecker had brought her on board the Marauder.

"We were informed that separatist forces were opening mining operations on Crait. We were instructed to figure out what they were looking for," she said. "When we realized the dangers of the compounds, it was already too late. My only speculation was that they figured out that the spice from Crait was different and it could affect your designations so drastically."

"What happened to your team?" Rex asked.

"I had a team of omegas," she said, looking at you. "They died from extreme heat symptoms. Their systems just gave out."

"And that explains what happened to Hunter?" Tech asked, noting everything down on his datapad.

"I believe so," she said, looking to the sergeant who protectively surrounded you. "It has all the normal symptoms of a spice high, but for the designations, it seems to elicit a different response. Omegas go into an incurable heat, and alphas become… something else."

You shivered, making Hunter tighten his hold.

"Why are the separatists collecting this spice?" Crosshair’s silvery voice cut in.

"I don’t have any confirmation on my theory, but—" She looked around at everyone present. "You have an entire army of Alphas. I can only imagine what would happen when they’re exposed on the battlefields… You’d all go mad."

"Thousands of rutting alphas in close proximity," Rex sighed. "They’d turn on one another."

She nodded.

General Skywalker immediately left to make a call with the council to report the findings. Hunter stood up, pulling you up with him before lifting you and setting you on one of the ammo crates. His alpha instincts were itching, desperate to care for you. He grabbed a spare blanket from under Tech and wrapped it around you before tucking you into a little cocoon.

Tech and the others watched in amusement, seeing their leader fuss about how wrapped up you were in the wool fabric.

You just smiled and let him get it out of his system, knowing he couldn’t help it. You both went through such a trauma. It was all part of the reconciliation ritual between an alpha and omega. You got a little emotional, realizing he may even view you as a pack member with how he’s acting. You’d make sure to ask him later on.

Then Layla dumped a metaphorical ice bucket on the two of you. "There’s something else I have to tell you, Y/N," she said, stepping forward, careful not to get in Hunter’s way.

"Hmm?" you asked, starting to feel a little giddy with all the attention.

"I-I…" Her face betrayed her soft-spoken nurse voice. She looked anxious. "I wasn’t able to give you a replacement implant… neither of you."

Hunter stopped what he was doing and looked at the medic.

She continued nervously, "We tested your hormones and found alpha pheromones in your bloodstream. It’s sending you into a breakout heat. We can’t give you another implant until you do."

Hunter suddenly lifted his hands from you and stepped back, realizing what he was doing. The two of you didn’t have effective suppressants and were acting like a bonding pair. It was your scent driving him to do all of this. He flashed back to him licking at your wounds on the ship. He could shoot himself at this very moment; the guilt was setting in again.

He looked at the medic. "What does that mean?"

You were a little annoyed he wasn’t touching you anymore, but you looked to your friend. "I have to have a heat?" You could cry.

She nodded, still keeping her distance from the alpha, not wanting to be perceived as a threat. "I was going to wait a bit and hope you’d have more time, but you’re both displaying traits that have me a little concerned."

"Well then we’ll have to keep them separate," Fives pointed out.

Hunter made a low growl.

Layla made a face as Hunter proved her point. Rex just crossed his arms and walked forward. "We can’t have an omega in heat on this ship. We have suppressors for a reason. She’ll force everyone into a rut, and then it would be a disaster around here.”

Layla also didn’t like the idea of being trapped on a ship full of horny alphas.

“So then what do we do?” Wrecker asked.

Hunter moved to get closer to you again, but Crosshair tutted, flipping the firepuncher to stun. The sergeant stopped and looked at his brother challengingly.

“You take her down to Naboo,” Crosshair said, keeping his weapon trained on his brother. “Leave her at a heat center and put Hunter back on his suppressors.”

You whined, not liking that idea either.

“Absolutely not,” Hunter and the other 501st boys objected.

“You don’t have a choice,” Crosshair drawled. “She’s slipping quickly, and there’s no other solution. I can smell her through the suppressants.”

“Crosshair would be correct,” Tech agreed. “I see there are five locations just in Theed. And while I acknowledge that heat centers are not ideal places, there is no one here equipped to assist Y/N without mating with her. Which we also know is not an option.”

You gulped when they all looked at you. Suddenly, you were starting to feel warm, knowing Crosshair was correct. You realized you didn’t have much time.

“I’ll take her,” Layla offered, knowing Hunter would put up the least resistance with her.

“You need a pilot,” Echo stood up. “I’ll come with. We’ll keep an eye on her,” he said to Hunter, trying to convince him to stand down.

Hunter’s scent was getting stronger by the second, and they knew you wouldn’t budge without his direct consent.

“Vod,” Crosshair urged.

Hunter looked at you with soft eyes. “Is that what you want, adi’ka?”

You tightened the blanket around yourself. “They’re right. I don’t have a choice,” your voice was meek.

He knew you were scared; he could hear your heart fluttering and your anxiety filled his nose.

He begrudgingly stepped to the side, allowing you to slide off the crate and limp over to Layla. She gave a quick goodbye before helping you over to one of the smaller transports. Rex gave the clearance while the other boys ran to fetch your clothes and shoes.

Crosshair kept his rifle aimed at Hunter while he fought all of his instincts to board the transport with you.

“It’s better this way,” Crosshair offered his consolation.

Hunter was devastated watching the transport leave the hangar bay and make a direct line to Theed.

“Alright, buddy, open up,” Wrecker tossed the bottle of suppressors at Hunter, who caught it and groaned before popping two in his mouth with a growl.

The heat center was nicer than you imagined. Everything in Naboo was actually so beautiful. You haven’t even been but you’d heard stories from some of the troopers. The whole planet was stunning, but the care put into all of their buildings was hypnotizing.

You stared up at the art inside the dome ceiling while Layla and Echo checked you into the system. A protocol droid waddled up to you taking your small amount of belongings before walking you to your designated suite. You waved to Layla and Echo before disappearing down the stone hallway. Everything was starting to get foggy in your mind. You couldn’t even remember what Layla had said to you before she left.

You were a little nervous. You had two years of suppressants to work off. You knew this was going to be a grueling week.

“Here you go Mistress Y/N” The 3PO- Protocol droid opened the door for you, “This will be your home for the week.”

You stepped inside smelling the sterile cleaning supplies inside the lush room. There was an area with a holoscreen, a small living room, a kitchen, bedroom, and full bath. This was way better than any place on Coruscant. You looked around getting familiar with the space.

“Food will be delivered three times a day, but the door will remain locked until you’ve been cleared. It’s a safety precaution for the other guests.” The droid rattled on setting your things down on the dresser top.

“There will be round the clock medical care if needed. If you need anything please let us know.” It finished its routine before scuttling back to the door and closing it behind it. You heard the locks slide into place and settled in.

It didn’t take long at all for the warmth to shoot up through your body again. You changed back into the comfier therapy clothes you had in the hangar bay before settling onto the couch to turn on the holonet. You preened at the smell of Hunter still lingering on your clothes. You had rubbed up against him leaving his smokey scent all over the soft fabric. You picked up the front of your shirt and brought it to your nose inhaling the scent.

Shit. You didn’t remember it feeling like this. The warmth became scalding forcing you up onto your feet. You made a beeline for the bathroom turning on the fresher to cold. You stripped out of your clothes and stepped into the glass shower letting the cold water drench you.

You sighed feeling the relief. That was then the slick started to produce between your legs. You whined trying to wash it away. When you were satisfied with being somewhat clean. You shut the water off and grabbed a towel wrapping it around yourself.

A wave of cramps hit you making you yelp and double over.

“Kriff.” You shouted feeling like you’d been hit by a bantha. What the hell did you sign up for.

Crawling over to the bed you brought the clothing with you feeling the urge to start forming a nest. The cramping began to ebb the more you leaned into instinct. You rearranged the pillows to surround you along with the comforter and sheets. You placed the scented clothing right up against your nose obsessively breathing it in like oxygen.

You groaned feeling more cramps churning your insides. You reached down between your legs feeling the wetness spreading everywhere. You ran your fingers through your folds before settling on your clit. Desperate for some relief you began circling the nerves making yourself twitch. Your orgasm came quickly but it barely took the edge off. You were craving more. You needed to be filled and stretched. You craved a rough fucking. You tried again but once again it didn’t do much. You wailed and tossed and turned praying for relief. You really had wished you stayed with the Commander or let the Venator to fall into madness because right now you needed an Alpha. A big, strong, powerful alpha.

You wanted the Sargent…

~~~

When Layla came to collect you eight days later, she said you looked like a drowned rat.

The cleaning droids had come and gone, leaving the place sterile once again. They had washed your clothes, repaired your uniform, and shined your boots, leaving them outside the bedroom in a neat pile.

You felt yourself come back to yourself on the sixth day, but you weren’t totally back to normal. The box of toys left for your convenience had been thoroughly dirtied, along with all of the soft fabrics in your nest. You had even shredded the clothing scented by Hunter on one particularly bad night. The droids had pried the ripped-up fabric out of your pathetic grip and disposed of it, insisting it was a safety hazard, whatever that meant. On the seventh day, a medical droid determined you were out of the thick of it. The droid had also informed you that your bruises had healed entirely.

You were starving and dehydrated. The droids had left food, but you didn’t care one bit during the week. You couldn’t snap out of the frenzy long enough to eat anything anyway. Usually, an alpha has to command you to eat, and without that, you were lost to the madness of the heat.

Layla had helped brush your hair after your final bath. You had scrubbed down in scent-neutralizing soaps before slipping into the repaired Republic uniform. She put your hair in a simple braid, trying to keep the knots out. You munched down on the lunch served to you and happily drank the water, making your friend happy. You popped two bacta pills for the soreness and called it a mission complete.

When it was officially time to go, you thanked the droids before stepping outside with Layla.

“I’m almost scared to ask,” she sighed, interlocking your arms.

“It was horrible,” you shook your head, “Like the place was nice, but it’s been so long I almost forgot.”

She hummed, “That’s why you gotta find a hot alpha.”

“Well, I almost had one, but everyone tore us apart,” you nudged her playfully.

She gasped, “You’re a little-”

“What?” you laughed, “You said it first.”

“He looked like he was going to bend you over that container before I said something,” she pinched you and you squealed.

“Maker help us,” you smiled, noticing Echo waiting awkwardly in the lobby.

“I wonder what he’s like,” she whispered before Echo could hear. You just gave her a playful look. You had a feeling Hunter was a more dominant Alpha. He was a sergeant, after all. But especially since you’ve been on the receiving end of his full strength, you know he could manhandle you like you weighed nothing.

“I had a whole week to think about it,” you thought about how you had run your voice hoarse crying out for your sergeant. The omega in you had nearly snapped from him not being present. The scent on your clothes acted as a cruel torture.

“Hi Tiny,” Echo smiled sweetly. You skipped forward and hugged him.

“Miss me Echo?” you beamed.

“Always Tiny,” he ruffled your head, “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you laughed awkwardly, “Do I smell?”

“No, you’re all clear,” he took your shoulders in his grip and led you out of the building towards the waiting transport.

“Yay,” you were excited to get back to the Venator. You were hoping Anakin would let your unit stay until you received a new mission. You missed having so much personal space.

The ride back to the Venator was short from the surface of Naboo. Echo pulled into the hangar bay and set the transport down softly. You suddenly got a little nervous to face your unit. Not saying what you went through this past week was shameful by any means, it was just a bit awkward that they knew what had just happened. They knew way too much.

“I want to get your new implant in if that’s alright with you, Y/N,” Layla said, stepping off the ship with you. You nodded and opted to follow her out of the hangar bay and into the medical wing.

“I’m heading back to Coruscant now that I know you’re okay. Fives and the boys said that General Kenobi was supposed to be arriving soon with his unit. I just wanted to let you know. I think I’m heading out tonight after dinner.”

“Aw, okay,” you sighed, wishing you had some more time with your friend, “How was living on a Venator for a week?” you nudged her.

She smiled, “I don’t know how you think straight with so many hot alphas running around.” The troopers posted at the doorways perked up.

“It was weird at first, but most of them are alright,” you smiled, “Especially Rex’s boys. They’re very sweet.”

“Sweet?” her tone shifted to something sultry, “I wanna ride that captain.”

Multiple troopers walking by whipped their heads around to stare at your friend as you passed. You turned red and ducked your head laughing.

“Layla!” you chastised.

She just smirked, “I got a thing for blondes.”

“Oh my god.”

“…and authority.”

“Layla!” you screeched, turning down towards the medical wing.

“Have you seen the way he holds that gun?” she bit her lip, “Ugh, being an omega around all these soldiers is really difficult.”

“I’m going to throw you into a cold shower,” you pleaded for her to stop.

She loved making you loosen up and gossip with her. You had seen her during your trainee days and knew she was a little wild omega. The way she had those alphas in the club wrapped around her manicured finger always kept you entertained.

“I saw him out of the armor,” she mused, “Right after training. Mmm. I almost fell to my-.”

You rounded the corner to the medical exam room, finding said Captain and his boys waiting in the lobby, helmets in hand. They all turned to face the two of you, making you stop in your tracks and snap your mouth shut.

“Oh, hi Captain,” Layla’s voice was saccharine as she gave him a little wave and a once-over.

You giggled, walking forward through the crowd stifling both of your laughs.

“Layla,” he gave her a proper nod, “Tiny, you’re back?”

You panicked, “Yes, sir,” it came out more flustered than you had wished.

Rex raised a brow.

The boys watched you two disappear behind the divider curtains. You turned to her and silently made a funny face at her which she returned, “Yes, sir?” she mimicked silently before grabbing her injector kit.

“What was that all about?” Kix asked, looking up from his datapad.

You didn’t miss the way some of the boys tried to silently laugh at the very awkward interaction.

“Nothing, Kix,” you smirked.

Layla bit her lip, “Up,” she patted the table.

You jumped up, moving your collar out of the way. She sterilized the injection site before placing the mechanism up to your skin. As Layla finished administering the implant, she couldn't resist adding a playful jab.

"Try to keep this one inside you this time," she quipped, her tone laden with mischief.

Kix, caught off guard, choked on his own breath, nearly dropping his datapad in surprise. His eyes widened as he struggled to compose himself, realizing the unintended innuendo.

Tiny yelped at Layla's crude joke, a mix of embarrassment and amusement coloring her cheeks. She shot a quick glance at Kix, who was now sporting a flustered expression, his cheeks flushed..

More snickering erupted from behind the privacy curtain, where the other troopers couldn't contain their amusement at the exchange.

"I'll try my best," Tiny replied, her voice tinged with laughter, trying to diffuse the tension. But the mischievous glint in Layla's eyes hinted that she was far from finished.

Before Kix could recover from his embarrassment, Layla leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You know, Kix, I've heard suppressant injections can be quite stimulating."

Kix's eyes widened even further, if that were possible, as he struggled to find a response, his mind clearly racing to keep up with Layla's playfulness. She bent over giving him a good look up her uniform skirt when she grabbed the bin of implant cartridges.

Tiny, trying to contain her laughter, shot Layla a warning look, silently pleading for her to stop before things got even more awkward. But Layla, clearly enjoying herself, wasn't about to let up.

"Just be careful not to get too excited," Layla added with a mischievous grin, before finally pushing Tiny out of the exam room.

As they emerged from behind the curtains, Tiny couldn't help but blush furiously, knowing that the entire 501st garrison had likely overheard the entire exchange. But Layla seemed unfazed, her playful demeanor still intact as she greeted the troopers with a sly smile.

The sight of Kix, still visibly flustered, only added to the amusement of the moment, as the troopers exchanged knowing glances and suppressed giggles. Just as you passed through the curtains, she gave you a sharp slap on the ass and a wink before turning back to her injector. Your cheeks burned hot pink as most of the 501st garrison looked at you with varying smirks.

You gasped and covered your mouth, refusing to look Rex or anyone in the eye before scurrying out of the lobby. You could feel everyone’s eyes glaring into the back of your head. I’m going to kill Layla.

“Alright, who’s here for a replacement?” you heard Layla’s teasing voice behind you. Then a symphony of troopers were suddenly vying for her attention, just begging to go first.

With a sigh, you’d had your fun, you realized you needed to show face with at least one member of your unit so they knew you were still alive.

Even though you had absolutely no clue where they could be. If it was up to Wrecker, they’d be in the mess. If it was Tech, they’d be in the engine room, probably causing curiosity-based chaos. Crosshair would be in the armory, and Hunter? He’d probably be in the barracks somewhere. You decided you weren’t in the mood for guessing and just pulled out your com device, “Hey, is anyone there?” you asked.

You waited a few seconds before Wrecker answered, “Pip is that you? Are you back?” he sounded happy.

“Yeah, Wrek, where are you guys?”

“We're in the barracks,” Tech replied.

“Okay, I’m coming,” you turned around, walking in the other direction.

The walk to the barracks was short. A couple of nice troopers pointed you in the right direction, and before you realized, you were there. The massive blast door was hard to miss. The door slid open, revealing your unit lying around in various bunks. Tech sat, legs crossed, leaning against the headboard of a lower bunk, messing with the electronics of his helmet, while Crosshair took the top. He was tossing and catching what looked like a silver ball into the air while swinging his long leg off the side in front of Tech’s face. Wrecker was in the center of the room, chowing down on a ration bar, while Hunter and Echo sat facing one another in the middle of a conversation.

“Pip!” Wrecker put down his ration bar and ran over to you. “Hi, Wrek, ahh!” you screamed as the big guy wrapped his behemoth arms around you and lifted you off the ground like a little tooka cat.

“Wrecker, put her down,” Hunter chastised.

“Ugh, fine,” he settled you back down gently before stepping back and grinning down at you, “I missed Pip. The pack wasn’t the same without you.” Your heart fluttered at the thought that he saw you as pack.

“I missed you too, Wrecker,” you smiled.

“How was the heat center?” Tech asked, looking up from his tools.

You shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed, but you had to clear the bantha in the room. You knew they had to be curious. “Ehh,” you bit your lip tilting you palm side to side, “It was far better than any place on Coruscant but nothing I’d like to repeat anytime soon.”

“It had good reviews on the holonet,” Tech replied.

You giggled. Of course, he studied the reviews.

“You look thin,” Crosshair pointed out, displeased, “Did they even feed you?”

“Thanks, Cross,” your mood soured, feeling a little self-conscious, “And yes, they gave me food.”

He snarked and went back to tossing his toy around in the air.

“I’m shocked the GAR didn’t send you guys on a mission somewhere while I was gone,” you said, realizing how bored they appeared. Had they really been here the whole time?

“Command heard about what happened. I think they felt bad and decided to give us a small break until you got back,” Hunter said sympathetically, standing up from his bunk.

You just nodded. He looked at you strangely. You were hoping he didn’t still feel guilty.

“And,” he shifted to one side, looking uncomfortable, “They want to know if you desire a unit transfer after everything that’s happened…” he looked deflated.

Wrecker whined from behind you clearly upset with that possibility. You looked at him and the others, realizing how sad they looked at Hunters news.

“A transfer?” you clarified.

Hunter nodded his head.

“They want to know if you don’t feel comfortable,” Echo said calmly.

You just stood there a little in shock.

“We’d understand if that was the case, Y/N,” Hunter said, trying to be the good sergeant. You gave it a moment of thought before turning to look at Wrecker, who looked dejected.

“No.”

“No?” Hunter repeated, sounding relieved.

“No,” you crossed your arms, “I’m not leaving… Do you want me to leave?”

Hunter shifted a little, “I don’t want you making a decision based on our feelings. We’ll be okay if that’s what you want.”

“You’re my pa-…you’re my squad,” you stood your ground, feeling a little insecure. You didn’t miss the way Crosshair stopped for a moment at your slip up. Did they not want to work with you now? Did you and Hunter mess up the dynamic? You couldn’t smell it, but you were certain Hunter could pick up on your stress.

“Pip is staying!” Wrecker was jovial. He was pumping his fists in the air like a little kid.

“I’m relieved to hear you are still wanting to work with us, Y/N,” Tech looked at you.

Echo got up and gave you a hug, “I was worried I was going to be losing my favorite stakeout buddy.”

You hugged him back, “I’m not going anywhere as long as you’ll all have me.”

They just smiled and started to settle back in.

“So what do we do now?” Crosshair asked. Clearly, none of them have ever been trapped on a Venator for long periods of time with nothing to do.

“We wait for orders,” Hunter said, sitting back on his bunk.

You slipped off your boots and curled up on the bunk next to theirs. You had a week of sleep to catch up on, and frankly, you were just excited to have a proper mattress to sleep on and you could move on from this horribly awkward situation.

You were positive the missions would come rolling in soon. You guys were the best after all.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

I loved writing the Layla scenes so much. I'm hoping now that we have a baseline for the story I'll finally be bale to start working on Y/N's relationship with the bad batch.

To join the tag list comment down below!

@substantial-exposure

#abo #badbatch #abobadbatch #polybadbatch #clonewars #rex #hunter #tech #wrecker #crosshair #echo #anakin #smut #omega #heat #starwars

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fatallyfalling · 1 year ago

Text

Bitter Water 0.03 ~ ♆

“ Let the 67th Annual Hunger Games begin, “

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, etc

{{ word count }} 4.5 k

{{ prompt }} The tribute Parade comes and goes as training begins and the next two weeks all but fly past. Then after an intrusive interview the day of the Games arrives.

{{ a/n }} Super quick “highlights” up ahead !! This chapter jumps around a bit and is much faster paced than normal but i swear it makes sense in the long run I just didn’t want to bore you all with regurgitated details to be revealed later on. enjoy!!

You didn’t see Finnick again.

Not even after arriving in the Capital on the train platform. A small piece of you had started to regret your outburst, but a bigger part was too stubborn to admit that. Besides, the likelihood of you seeing the boy again was slim. Thatcher was right in saying you’d be “whisked away” because everything moved incredibly fast from then on.

Your transport to the Tribute Center was quick and efficient. You were barely able to settle before a prep team all but kidnapped you and whisked you away once more to the Remake Center to prepare for the parade and opening ceremonies of the Games.

The prep team’s techniques were invasive, to say the least. Almost every inch of your skin was examined, prodded at, scrubbed, washed, plucked, waxed, moisturized, and polished when they finished the lengthy cleaning process. Even The dried blood under your fingernails had been picked away. As more time passed, the more you really did start to feel like some kind of show animal or “prize-winning salmon” leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

Managing a weak thanks as you’re handed a flimsy gown to cover up with, your prep team gives a nod before leaving. That too-clean feeling from the train ride sends pinpricks up your spine again as you sit up to slide the gown on and peer around the sleek room. It’s wide open and similar to some kind of medical bay, although much more modern than the small clinics back in District 4. Peacekeepers line the outside wall along slanted windows. There are many smothered voices behind plastic, vinyl curtains used to separate the small prep rooms down the open corridor. It’s safe to assume you’re surrounded by the other Tributes.

A stylist introduces herself to you as Hyacinth, briefly explaining the vision behind the luxurious garment as it’s pulled from a protective sleeve on the hanger in her hands. Every set of Tributes was given costumes to match their District’s core industry to wear throughout the parade. District 4’s costumes, obviously, represented their many fisheries. The garment was difficult to distinguish from any other fishing net made on your ports back home, but as the stylist began to wrap the intricate material around your exposed skin it began to look more like a costume.

You were right about the ensemble being mostly netting. Thankfully, you were provided a bodysuit that had been airbrushed to match your complexion and painted details to resemble gills across the sides of your ribs. Large iridescent blue-green fish scales had been woven in and across the netting on your chest as if splattered there, crawling up your collarbones and wrapping around your shoulders. More scales were placed down your arms towards your fingertips, and the same process was applied to your legs with a sticky substance. The bottom of the netted costume had more scales adorning the hemming, their colors changing under the lights. You were left barefoot, which you felt was a bit dangerous, but you were too focused on their intricate handiwork to object to. Your hair was left in its natural texture, although Hyacinth laid a few pieces just how she wanted them. Ear cuffs made to resemble fins wrap around the shell of your ears. Your makeup was painted on in colors to match the color-shifting scales, and your fingernails and toes were painted an ocean blue.

“You look absolutely stunning Darling,”

Hyacinth had stepped back to admire her finished product, and you couldn’t help the insecurity churning your insides. A bathing suit revealed more than a netted outfit, but you couldn’t help feeling completely exposed. “I-It is very beautiful. Thank you,” You try not to stumble on your words as you do a small twirl in the mirror. Hyacinth’s smile spreads, and she gives a giddy clap of her hands, largely appreciating the flattery.

“Wonderful Darling!! Now, come, come, we must get you downstairs. Your chariot awaits!”

You’re ushered away from the small prep room and quickly transported from the Remake Center to an open-air stadium for the Tribute Parade. Upon entering a large open hall connected to the stadium floor, you notice the twelve shiny mental chariots pulled by beautiful inky Clydesdales. The horse’s mane and tails are freshly groomed, and their coats shine in the stadium lights. You can’t help thinking what magnificent creatures they are as you approach. The other Tributes around you are resigned to themselves, talking only to their stylists or one another. Your district partner and their stylist are already beside your chariot as well. You offer a small hello but wander over to the beautiful inky-colored creatures attached to the chariot.

One of the Clydesdales gives a soft whinny as you gently reach out to stroke its mane. You’d only seen horses less than a handful of times but had always admired the strong creatures. The remaining minutes you have before the opening ceremonies begin are spent stroking the horse’s strong neck and muzzle while whispering sweet nothings to the creatures.

Once an announcement is made that the ceremony is about to begin, you give the horses a sweet smile in farewell before stepping up onto the chariot beside your District Partner. You hadn’t noticed the odd look they’d given you, but their eyes quickly averted upon you meeting their stare. That familiar anxious knot twists your insides as the gleaming chariot lurches forward to follow the procession. Your knuckles turn white from how stiff your grip on the front of the chariot is.

The parade runs smoothly, though you find the loud cheers and hollers of the hundreds of thousands gathered to watch the event extremely overwhelming. Bitterness sets in your jaw as you remember they only care about the entertainment your death will provide. Your promise echoes through your mind as you take your eyes from the grandstands to look ahead toward the President of Panem, Coriolanus Snow.

You will not die.

Training begins in the morning, bright and early. There’s officially less than two weeks before the Games. All twenty-four tributes are transported to the Training center from their quarters and dressed in nearly identical uniforms consisting of black athletic long sleeves and pants with sleek black combat boots. Burnt orange accents run up the side seams and across the shoulders of their uniforms. The only distinction between Tributes is their district number embroidered on their backs in the same burnt orange as the accents on their clothes.

You scan the large training area as everyone spreads out to show off their personal strengths. Shifting your weight between your feet, you try to focus on your brief discussion with mags over breakfast. The goal of the training is to be observed by potential sponsors who can send aid in the arena. The more sponsors you get, the better your odds of potentially surviving. Your goal wasn’t to gain as many sponsors as possible by showing off but instead focusing on honing your skills to survive without the extra gifts. With a deep inhale, you make your way to a tall rope course that stretches the expanse of the upper levels of the hall and get to work.

The first few days spent in the Training Center, you work on getting through the ropes course, then getting through the course with weights, then doing both things while being as light-footed and silent as possible. You try to distance yourself from the other tributes, especially the growing pack of careers. Your best bet is to blend in and remain invisible to keep others off your back. Tensions increase after the first week, and a fight inevitably breaks out between the careers. Two female tributes are arguing for power within the alliance, ending in the pack dividing in two. You can only hope the grudges they now carry become their downfall in the arena as you resume your knife-throwing practice.

You’re not the best, but you manage to at least hit the target a few times. By the end of the next day, you’re hitting the target, although nowhere near the center or any crucial extremities on the human cutout. It would be enough to slow an opponent but nothing lethal at long range. You tried to push away the bile that threatened to rise in your throat whenever you remembered the high possibility of actually facing another human being with these knives. You hoped it wouldn’t come down to that, but your rationale knew better. The claim you spat in that bronze-haired boy’s face rang in your ears.

“I’d rather choose death than a life with blood on my hands.”

You scrape by with a score of six during the private Tribute Showcase, nimbly traversing the ropes course with a heavy weight on your back with barely a sound. Your goal of staying under the radar had worked.

Tonight, Hyacinth was fawning over another luxurious garment designed for your impending live audience interview with the ever-charismatic and flamboyant Caesar Flickerman. The stylist monologues her vision while zipping the back of the ensemble. Your costume tonight was made to represent the sea itself, a deep aquamarine bodysuit covered in various droplet crystals hugging your form, and a makeshift cape of the same deep color fades into layers of progressively lighter sea greens and blues, mimicking the sea foam of rolling waves on the coast. The many layers of the waterfall cape move in a satisfying cascade down your back to the floor, trailing behind you.

You’re given slim boots to match the bodysuit, and your hair is pinned up to showcase your bare back and the excessive cape. Ear cuffs nearly identical to the ones you wore during the parade wrap around your ears, and your makeup is honed more to accentuate your natural features than cover them. The polish on your fingernails is a muted sea green that causes a twist in your chest. The color reminds you too much of a certain bronze-haired boy.

Regret flashes through you again.

“Alright, Darling, shoulders back. Head high, you’ll be a spectacle no one will look away from,” Hyacinth coos as she brushes the fabric across your shoulders and adjusts finishing minute details. You offer a small smile with a sweet thanks before she loops your arm in hers and leads you toward the wings backstage. You really weren’t fond of the many cameras or prying eyes that awaited beyond your shadowy safe haven out of view, but you didn’t have a choice but to smile and play the part.

The male Tribute of District 3 is wrapping up their brief interview, and that anxious knot contorts harshly inside your chest. Soon, the interviewer and interviewee stand, shake hands, and the Tribute exits stage left.

“Now, Our next Tribute hails from the northern end of our beloved District 4,”

Caesar chirps through his introduction, and a nudge from behind urges you forward at the call of your name. You startle forward but manage to keep a sureness in your steps. The bright flashing lights and mechanical snaps of cameras form an overstimulating cacophony between the roar of the Capital citizens. The host of tonight’s event is adorned in sparkling silver, from the top of his slicked-back hair down to piercing eye contacts and a monochromatic tux that you could’ve sworn was closer to chrome from the gleaming shine.

You offer a wavering smile as you approach the host. Caesar Flickerman motions you to the seat beside him as he descends to the eggshell-colored swivel chair. You take your seat, adjusting the cascading cape to flow over the arm of the chair to remain because of the audience. A chorus of “ooo’s” and “ahhh’s” reverberates through the auditorium, and you can’t help the burning flush at the tips of your ears. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, my Dear,” Caesar compliments through a picture-perfect smile. You nod in thanks as he dives right into the questions.

“So, how has Capital life been treating you?”

“Uhm, it’s been very.. different, to say the least,” You stumble a bit through your response, but Caesar simply nods and leans out to the crowd with that picture-perfect smile and a laugh. “Well, what’s the most?” and a chorus of hoots and laughter rises from the audience again. Your faux smile falters, and your hands wring together in your lap anxiously. “It’s just more..extravagant than back home, is all. More colorful.” You reply shakily. The host nods in encouragement before moving on to the next question.

“Well, a little birdie whispered that a certain Sweetheart of the Capital arrived with you on the Tribute’s train. Our beloved Finnick Odair, one might say. Correct me if I’m wrong, but is there possibly a star-crossed lovers situation on our hands?”

Your blood runs cold as the phrase leaves Flickerman’s lips. He’s leaned forward, clearly on the edge of his seat, with the microphone pointed towards you, and the auditorium falls deathly silent. Your throat feels tight as all you do is stare in pure disbelief. “W-What?” You choke out, bewilderment on your face as your ears flush red from a burning embarrassment in your chest. The audience scoffs in disappointment at your response, and your confusion grows.

Caesar’s expression shifts as his smile falters, his eyes all but telling you to answer or make something up so he can move on. You stutter in reply while firmly shaking your head from side to side,

“No, no! It’s nothing like that at all. Honestly, I find him more irritating than anything. Besides, I’d never fall for a stuck-up Peacock like Finnick Odair in a thousand years!”

Your embarrassment turns into anger at the question as the audience groans in further disappointment, a few “Boos” echoing through the rafters above. However, much to your dismay, a few conspiring whispers slip through under all the noise that signifies your words weren’t taken as truth. This makes your blood simmer as Caesar barks a laugh, slapping a tanned hand on his silver knee.

“Ah hah! Well, that’s a mighty claim my dear, but I’m not so sure you’re well believed seeing that blush on your cheeks!”

Your jaw sets as you sit through two more equally ludicrous questions about your life before you exit the stage and return to your living quarters for the night. Upon returning to the Tribute Center and changing out of your ocean blue costume with the help of Hyacinth and her team, you immediately sink into the heavenly warmth of the large tub in your private washroom. However, not before receiving a thorough chew out from Thatcher over your once again “unprofessional behavior” when answering Caesar’s questions and for apparently “disrespecting” the Capital’s Darling.

Gently, you scrub yourself clean but remain in the comforting heat and steamy air till the water is frigid, trying to soak in the pleasuring warmth as long as possible while enjoying the brief privacy the washroom allows. Eventually, you drain the tub and towel yourself off, slipping into soft, lightweight bottoms, similar to the ones Finnick had thrown at you on the train, and an oversized short-sleeved tunic.

Finnick.

Unwanted pinpricks of regret stab your chest again, and a crease forms between your brows as the remembrance of the bronze-haired victor brings the interview questions surging back to the front of your mind. You grip your toothbrush tighter as you try to push away the embarrassment from earlier tonight. You didn’t know or understand how a rumor like that could even be an inkling in someone’s mind. You didn’t even see the boy at the station platform, and what business was it of a bunch of old snobby Capital Elites to reach after the love lives of children picked to slaughter one another in less than a day? Your stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.

Once you finished preparing for sleep, you pad your way over to your bed and find a comfortable seating position before flipping through a few of the ‘sleep aids’ with a small metal remote. The floor-to-ceiling windows in your luxurious, Capital-provided, bedroom flashed between different sceneries till you landed on one of the waves crashing on a foggy shore. The muddy sand of the beach drifted under the lull of the tide. Occasionally, seagulls cawed from the clouds above.

You knew you should be doing something with your last night of so-called ‘freedom’ before the Games begin tomorrow, but all you can do is stare at the waves. You wonder how your siblings and father are faring like you have every night since your departure from District 4. You could only hope they were learning to adapt with you being gone. Trying not to spiral over your fate, you drag your hands down your face to scrub at your eyes with a heavy sigh and thick swallow.

“I can do this…”

You mutter the mantra to yourself as you internally review the strategies Mags had made you memorize. There weren’t any clues given as to what the arena entailed. Rumors had been overheard in the Training Center, but the Gamemakers never repeated an arena. There could be anything in that dome of death tomorrow. The waves continue to crash on the screen, the whistle of a breeze blowing through the tall pines just beyond the beach that helps keep you grounded.

You could do this. You had to. Your father’s only word in farewell echos like many others.

“Survive,”

The morning comes too soon. You didn’t touch much of your breakfast even though you know you need as much energy as possible. Mags gives a pointed look your way, and you begrudgingly force a few bites down. Afterward, Mags, Hyacinth, and you are escorted by peacekeepers to a flight hanger near the Tribute Center. You receive an almost bone-crushing hug from your mentor that you graciously return with equal vigor.

“Thank you, for everything”

You murmur into the older woman’s hair. You feel her tears dampen the tunic covering your shoulder. Forcing yourself to pull away and wipe the tears from the elderly woman’s face as she signs her care for you. You offer a sweet smile and other thanks before a Peacekeeper takes your arm and leads you onto a hovercraft. Hyacinth follows, and you're pushed into a seat.

“Your arm,” The Peacekeeper orders while reaching out their hand. You hesitantly reach out, and they quickly place a device with an abnormally large needle into your arm. You grimace at the sting as a trigger is tugged, and a small glowing object appears beneath your skin. Your arm is dropped, and you place two fingers lightly over the slight bump caused by the device. “Don’t touch that. It’s your tracker.” The peacekeeper remarks, and you startle, returning your hands to your lap. The flight is long, but you don’t doze off as adrenaline pumps through your core. Tucking stray flyaways behind your ears, you look across to Hyacinth, who offers a solemn smile. The hovercraft eventually lands, a group of Peacekeepers in stark white uniforms meet you, and you’re quickly led to a small room.

The room is bare bones with only a rack containing your uniform for the Games, a small desk, and an overhead lamp. Two peacekeepers stand guard outside the door, and Hyacinth helps prepare you one last time. The uniform doesn’t give much away about what to expect of the arena besides its colors. Consisting of dark brown hiking boots, slim-fitted pants with multiple pockets in burnt umber, a warm brown skin-tight tank top, and a lightweight khaki-colored windbreaker. The possibility of a dry, warm climate arose in your mind as you examined the materials of your uniform. Hyacinth gave you a sad smile as she fixed the hood of your jacket.

“Good luck my Darling, it’s been my pleasure to know you.”

The stylist’s smile is sad, tears brim her eyes, and you can’t help feeling emotional. This was it. She would be the last person you saw before the Games began. You wrap your arms around the tall woman in a hug, surprising the stylist, but she gently accepts and returns the gesture. You give her your thanks before an announcement comes through a speaker somewhere in the room that the countdown is about to begin. With a thick swallow, you step towards the glass elevator indicated to ale you up into the arena. You hesitate, a shaky inhale entering your nose before gingerly stepping onto the panel. The glass door wraps around with a slick “shink” and your whirl to face your stylist. But she’s already left the room, probably unable to watch another one of her tributes enter the thunderstorm of the Hunger Games arena.

You don’t blame her.

A moment passes before the platform you’re standing on begins to rise, and your gaze turns skyward. The light is bright, causing your sensitive eyes to squint. You take note that you’re at least in an outdoor setting. The air that kisses your skin is dry and warm as your platform fully breaches the earth into the arena. Your head swivels as you take in the surroundings as a bright yellow countdown has begun in the sky above via hologram.

The arena of the 67th games was a ravine.

Half the tributes are spread on your side of the steep, open-mouthed drop, the other twelve across the wide mouth on a parallel cliff. There are trees behind, but there are no weapons because they’re all in the center across a woven net. The footholds are wide. If you’re not careful, you’ll trip and either plummet to the rushing water miles below or succumb to a Tribute’s attacks. Weapons and supplies are placed on a tarp in the center of the woven bridge. The Cornucopia. Maybe things would be over sooner than you thought.

The countdown is halfway.

Wetting your lips, you take a glance down and fight the urge to vomit, hearing someone else already do so over the side of their podium at the descent less than a foot from the cliff edge. Layers of cliffs jut out in makeshift ladders and walkways with alcoves to possibly hide in, but you quickly realize the only source of fresh water will be the rushing river at the bottom of the ravine. Glancing back up, you quickly try to stop the blanking panic in your mind as you try to recall everything Mags had taught you. Your best bet was to run. You can use your jacket as cover and get to the bottom to hide while everyone is too busy risking the crawl to the weapons. There was bound to be edible plant life at the bottom, or worse, you hunt for something better on the way down.

Ten seconds left.

Nine,

Eight,

Seven,

Six,

Five,

Four,

Three,

Two,

One,

“Let the 67th annual Hunger Games, begin.”

A bell sounds, and all hell breaks loose. No one yells, only the fierce grunts as Tributes race for the Cornucopia. You don’t see your District Partner, but you don’t stay static long enough to see the carnage that ensues as you bolt in the opposite direction. Two other Tributes bolt after you but veer straight into the trees beyond. Your heart feels like it’ll burst from your chest as you sprint down the edge till you find a slope to take you down. Falling to a slide, you slip down to another cliff as the first canon booms.

twenty three left.

Two more canons burst through the arena as you continue your rocky descent. Children are screaming above you, and you hurl what little substance is in your stomach as a body falls in front of you with a sickening crunch. The blood splatters across your skin, and you bite back your terrified scream. You have to keep moving.

Another canon.

Twenty left.

You dare take a glance behind and luckily manage to escape unnoticed. But you don’t hold hope on that factor as loud snaps reverberate down the canyon. Someone was cutting the net to the Cornucopia. There’s more screaming as you nimbly jump from the rocky slab you stood upon down to a jutting-out cliff, narrowly avoiding a fall to your demise. A pained scream catches in your throat through gritted teeth as your shoulder makes contact and you roll across the red earth. A dampness coats your tongue with a metallic taste of copper. Blood.

Forcing yourself to stand, your knees nearly fall out from under you, but you remain upright as you take another running jump to an even lower rock platform. By now, someone shouts above the screaming, “Go that way!” and you force yourself to move faster. You don’t have time to see what the voice originating the order meant. All you know is you have to get away. You land chest first on the edge of the cliff, and the wind is knocked from your chest. Blood splatters on the gravel, projected from the cough of air escaping your lungs. It’s an effort to pull yourself back up over the edge, slipping on sliding feet for a foothold on the rock wall, but you manage. There’s the crunch of boots above, and your terror amplifies tenfold as a spear shoots past you down to the depths. “S-Shit..” you gurgle on blood as you take off running once more, choking down small gasps of air that never seem to reach your lungs.

You can’t stop.

Another canon goes off and you hear another body fall to the depths, following another grotesque crunch of bone and muscle on rock.

Nineteen left.

A metallic clatter fills the expansive cavern of the ravine, and you spare a fleeting glance above just as the netting of the Cornucopia plummets. Metal cases, weapons, backpacks, and other supplies become entangled in the tarp they had rested upon as debris falls. Cases shatter and clang on the many cliffs. You do your best to evade the sharp debris but aren’t fast enough as a blade slices across the back of your left leg. You’re brought to your knees by the searing pain but again force yourself up, barely remembering to grab the small blade and continue your descent. White hot pain shoots ribbons through your entire leg, but you keep moving, albeit slower than before. Two more canons.

Seventeen Tributes left.

Seven children already dead.

You could only hope your canon wouldn’t fire anytime soon.

Another canon, sixteen left.

You will not die.

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy @thehairington86 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @whens-naptime @violettbae @the-lonely-abyss @secretsicanthideanymore

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