#How To Increase Your Height

[bookdoctorconsultationonline]

How To Increase Height After The Age Of 21 For Male & Female at Livlong

Want to know how to increase height after 21? Many people are dissatisfied with their height and worry if they can do something about it. Learn how to increase height naturally by reading this blog.

[lorillee]

forced to be a yakuza crime lord born to be my pookie princess

[mifunebooty]

How come mega fucking legend Wuthering Heights has a 3 star something rating on goodreads but this Violeta book i got from the library has a 4 star rating?

[shencomix]

How to Be The Dominant Male in Any Situation

Let's say you walk into a party.

You are wet and pathetic. Not only are you a worm, but even among worms you are the runt of the litter.

There's a way to fix that. Even you can be the alpha male in every situation you're in. Here's how:

Alpha Male Rule 1: Stand Tall or Very Short

In some things in nature, like rats and giraffes, the biggest creature in is leader.

However, in other things in nature, like the mafia, which has large goons but a small boss, the smallest creature is the leader.

You need to lean into whichever option is closest to you. If you are almost short, try wearing a big suit like a mob boss would wear to also make yourself wider like a mob boss. If are you almost tall, like I am, trying wearing these bad boys:

Now, I know what you're thinking: "High heels?? But isn't that for women???" Women have been hiding them from us men because they are afraid of how powerful we would be with them. But, why do women alone get to augment so much about themselves?? Look at all the eyeliner and mascara they need to even begin to mimic the power and seductiveness of our male eyelashes:

So, let's take a look at how we're doing now having applied just this one piece of advice:

It's a whole new situation. Let's move onto rule 2:

Alpha Male Rule 2: Always Get What You Want But Never Ask For It

I notice the man next to me has cookies. I would like one. Not only that, but there's also a woman next to me, watching. Asking another man for a cookie is extremely un-alpha behavior, so here's how you go about this situation:

1) Point out that someone else has something that you want

2) Cry until they give it to you

If everything has gone according the plan, you now have a cookie, and the woman is thinking something like this:

Let's move onto the last rule.

Alpha Male Rule 3: Always Up the Ante

Whatever you want to do or say, do or say it at least 3 times as hard as a regular person. When your coffee is $3, you should give $9 to show how wealthy you are. When you say "I'll be back in 5 minutes" you should actually be back in 15 minutes -- but really, you should say "I'll be back in 15 minutes" and be back in 45 minutes.

You should also start every task at step 3 rather than step 1. So, a normal (read: beta) guy might tell a girl "I think you're pretty" and then later ask "will you be my girlfriend?' But you should just say this:

99% of women will say yes, but if she needs further convincing, it can be helpful to offer her a small present, like a trinket or snack.

Congratulations. You have now learned how to be the most dominant male in any situation. Here are a few more tips for the road:

Claim to be descended from an ancient king or emperor. You can make a map or your lineage and fold it up to carry it in your pocket, so that you may unfold it whenever it needs to be presented.

If a woman takes a genuine interest in you, do the full body blush animation rising from bottom to top like you're a cup filling up, then run away, leaving behind a small cloud and a few speed lines. The idea that woman can actually like you is a lie perpetuated by Big Women.

If you want to further increase your height, try wearing bunny ears.

[fit-fabulously]

[jeansdoll]

sylus’ rough hands grip your hips tight, thrusting into you teasingly slow as he has you bent over the fancy bathroom’s countertop, hiking up your delicate black dress just above the mound of your ass.

you bite down on your bottom lip hard, attempting to keep in any sound that threatens to slip through — avoiding suspicions from any buyer who happens to walk past the room.

your face flushes, only hearing his low, heavy breaths and the lewd sound of your wet cunt sucking him in completely, turning you on even more.

you didn't want people to know how well sylus was stretching you out, he’s practically moulding your pussy to the shape of him. but it feels so good. and unlike you, he’s revelling in your efforts to try to stay quiet.

the movement of his hips rolling into yours pick up the pace, and with a smirk plastered across his face, sylus watches your eyes screw shut through the mirror in front of you. god, you look so pretty like this.

your lip leaves its trapped position between your teeth, mouth involuntarily falling open as his cock slides deeper and deeper into your warm pussy, hands hastily trying to grip at something on the cold marble beneath you for stability.

your walls clench around him, his cock kissing that spot within you that had your vision blurring. pleasure increasing with every single thrust.

“hah.. fuck, sy-“

without hesitation, sylus is quick to cover your mouth. although he loved seeing you struggle, no one else deserved to hear your pretty moans.

effortlessly, he lifts you up, pressing your back against his front, maintaining the toe-curling rhythm. you’re forced to watch your vulnerable, fucked out state in the reflection, while catching a glimpse of sylus’ half-lidded red eyes staring right back at you.

“keep the noise down, sweetie.”

he leans down to your height, face next to yours, lips merely a few inches away from your ear as you feel his breath fanning against your skin.

“wouldn't want anyone to hear us now, would you?”

꩜ masterlist !

[riddlesrose]

kissin him stupid

w/ the housewardens

in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.

(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)

note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long

part two!

if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair. 

you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.

you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now. 

riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.” 

“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm. 

“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?

you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force. 

“i just had this ironed!” you frown. 

“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face. 

“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself. 

you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly. 

“where did this riddle come from? i like him.” 

“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.

“do it again!”

leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm. 

on your couch.

using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend. 

you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.

leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…

and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant. 

“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)

leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.

he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.

your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin. 

you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side. 

leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to. 

azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time. 

this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.

azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips. 

you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes. 

“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger. 

before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released. 

azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!) 

“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)

“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction. 

his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead. 

kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head. 

“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden. 

you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)

you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.

“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.

while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.

“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?

you look at him bewildered, “what?” 

“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him. 

when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.

vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most. 

you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out. 

you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him. 

“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly. 

“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you. 

vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin. 

he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails. 

“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality. 

“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.

idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.

you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop. 

the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.

you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-

the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine. 

“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter. 

the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses. 

hilarious, isn’t it?

malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining. 

you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind. 

“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath. 

the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do. 

you cup his cheek, “malleus?” 

he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.” 

“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?” 

“yes.” 

“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face. 

a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. “was i not suppose to tell the truth?” 

“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.” 

“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips. 

“now, let me resume my art.”

malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.

this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)

masterlist

[dreadwedge]

One thing most people don't realize about Gazebos is how bloodthirsty they used to be until the 1930s or so. It used to be that in order to appease your average small town gazebo you had to feed it 4-5 marching bands a year, or roughly 2 dozen barbershop groups. Noawadays? Throw it a steely dan cover act every 6 months, maybe a bridal party every few years if you're actively trying to court its favor, and you're pretty much in the clear. And the crazy thing is nobody knows why they calmed down, or that their appetite for flesh won't return to its 19th century heights one day. It's actually an increasingly popular theory among modern Gazebo researchers that we're at the tail end of a period of dormancy and it's only a matter of time until they start howling for blood again. And if/when that does happen there's the question of whether our modern zeeb-keepers are really ready for the task of booking enough sacrificial acts to meet that increased demand. Guild policy has gotten lax in the century since the heyday of Dark Pavillionism and a lot of local keepers refuse to even look at newer research that threatens to upset their status quo. Kind of scary to think about

[gojosoups]

cw: smut, drink thief gojo, spitting, spit kink, unprotected sex, creampies, f!reader, all characters are 18+, MDNI, slightly proofread

gojo satoru is the type of boyfriend to take your drink from your hand when you least expect it, lift it over your head and out of your reach, and drink through the same straw like the menace he is.

and whenever you make a snarky comment and call him gross for ruining your drink, he reminds you how he spat in your mouth last night, or perhaps you need a memory refresher.

"'toruuu," you whine, getting on your tippy toes to grab your drink from your ridiculously tall boyfriend.

cursing your boyfriend's genes for his tall height, you cross your arms over your chest, watching helplessly as he takes a big long sip through your straw. your expression is sour as you glare daggers at him, and your boyfriend is none the wiser, as a goofy grin decorates his (stupidly handsome) face.

humming in approval, he takes a few more sips like the greedy big back he is before giving you your drink back.

"ugh, gross satoru," you say, looking at the lip gloss residue coating your straw, pushing the drink away.

"babe, i literally spat in your mouth just last night, and you think this is gross?" he smirks, leaning down and cornering you against the counter.

a pink hue coating your cheeks as he leaves you standing speechless, your mouth open wide in shock at his audacity.

“careful,” he says, thumb running over your glossy bottom lip, “or you’ll catch a fly.” you roll your eyes at him, resisting the urge to bite down on his thumb.

"you're insufferable," you scoff, the drink long gone as he grabs you by the hips. hands trailing down to the curve of your ass, before stopping at the back of your thighs. you squeal as he lifts you onto the marble counter, spreading your thighs and nestling himself in between them.

on instinct, your arms make their way to his shoulders, wrapping around his neck as he leans down, minty breath fanning your face and lips inches away from yours.

"I'm what?" he asks with a cheeky grin, ocean-blue eyes glowing intimidatingly as he looks down at you.

your breath hitches as his hands run up and down the expanse of your thighs, all thoughts leaving your pretty little head as you look up at him.

"shut up," you say, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

groaning at the sweet taste of your lips, satoru's hands make their way to your jaw. you gasp, panting for air as your boyfriend pulls your head back, "come on, open up pretty girl," you whine, his fingers gripping your cheeks, squishing them together to open your mouth.

gathering saliva in his mouth, he spits in your mouth, pulling out a moan from you. swallowing obediently, you feel him working fast at underdressing you, tearing your clothes off your body, and leaving you bare on the cold kitchen counter.

you whine in protest, fisting his t-shirt and helping him undress. your fingers running through his ivory happy trail, trailing down to the band of his sweatpants and tugging them down along with his boxers to reveal his angry leaking cock. precum decorating his pretty tip, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, he aligns his cock against your wet entrance. 

"pussy so wet for me," he groans, the tip of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, making you squirm underneath him.

"fuck-" you squeal, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick grith as he bottoms out in your warm, velvet walls. fingers digging into his biceps to ground yourself, he increases his pace. a handful of your tits in his hold, squeezing them and twirling your puckered nipples in his cold fingers as his balls repeatedly smack against your ass, filling the once quiet apartment with sounds of skin slapping skin. 

choking on your moans, your toes curl as his thick cockhead thrusts up into your sweet spot. a finger making its way between your thighs, rubbing circles on your clit, pleasure overwhelming your senses as tears stream down your cheeks. 

your vision cloudy as you feel a pinch to your sensitive clit, making you wrap your legs around his slim waist, pulling him in closer. 

with a final thrust, he bottoms out in your tight pussy, mushroom tip kissing your cervix as he cums inside your pulsing walls. lips fluttering around his cock as your pussy tries to milk him dry, you cumming undone around his pretty cock with a moan. 

a/n: idk how I feel about this lol.. but enjoy <3

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

[madamechrissy]

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- MDNI- Warnings- overuse/incorrect use of prescription meds, angsty asf in places, scene of a medical procedure, heavy subject matter, some sexual tension. Reader, 26, Dr. Gojo 34- Grey's vibes -Angsty and emotional, mentions of pregnancy and loss of pregnancy, mentions of surgery and blood, light smut scene, mostly a ton of drama and feelings

=͟͟͞♡ Part eight =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

Part Nine

You’ve never been on a helicopter.

Doctor Gojo is helping you up into it, as you two are about to ride over to the next city’s hospital to get the heart for Choso. You’re just a little nervous as the loud chopper starts, he places the earphones on you and then himself, brushing his fingers across your cheek delicately as he does for a moment, you feel him wrap his arm around your waist when you jolt a bit as you all take off.

“Nervous sweetheart?” You barely hear him, moreso reading his lips, nodding. “C’mere.”

Satoru brings your face against his neck, soothing as you cling to him and try to lose yourself in that embrace, to not pay attention to the flight, the height, the loud noises. You don’t outwardly say it, but you’re terrified of heights, planes, all of it, and avoid them completely, yet you’d basically begged to come along with him.

This was important, this was Choso’s life at stake, one of the sweetest men you have ever met, who deserves to live more than anyone does. Satoru knows how attached you have gotten, you’re always attached in general to your patients. It's your biggest weakness and strength, but in this case it was very important to be there for him as you were the most comforting presence for him.

He needs strength and will to survive a serious surgery, even under the most experienced surgeon in it there was. Satoru specialized in cardiovascular surgery, though he was a general surgeon as well, that was his level of higher expertise. His hand is soothing as you lay against his chest, feeling his heart beat so steady and slow, from years of athletics when he was younger.

You wish yours would slow just a bit but it’s racing.

You’re starting to learn more and more about him, but the more you learn, the deeper you fall, and that in itself is scary, it’s concerning, the love building more and more in a potentially devastating relationship. Giving up on the idea of family for Satoru was eating you alive the more and more you grow attached, and you wish the lingering thoughts weren’t there.

He holds you close, thinking of the words you spoke earlier, the way they broke his heart. Choso had said you’d be a great mother, and you agreed, and it’s not that Satoru disagrees. You would be. He does not know if it’s still in your mind, as you snuggle close to him, your breath against his chest, cheek resting against his lavender scrubs.

He never wants to let you go.

“It’s a quick ride, okay?” He says, you nod, squeezing him tighter, and he loves the feeling of you needing him, when you’re so strong and independent. Something makes every protective urge increase, holding you so close, unworried if other people can see the two of you.

It’s a quick ride as you descend onto the helicopter pad, he helps you down, hands on your waist, lingering as the chopper blades slow, blowing your hair around just so until it’s messy. He brushes it back gently, just touching you in any way makes him ache to do so every moment, to just constantly have some part of you touching him, like a deep need that grows every moment.

Not just the sexual moments, just everything about you.

“Ready to get this heart?” You smile, so pretty it makes his chest tighten, grabbing the cooler and then taking his hand.

“Let’s do this.”

Soon Satoru is cutting a chest with a scalpel, you’re watching curiously, a mixture of adrenaline and too many feelings rushing through you as you see him perform with a skilled, steady hand. He’s meticulous in how he slices the skin open, but a part of you feels for whoever this heart did belong to, this person who is no longer there, clinically dead by all accounts.

But your mind wanders, who were they? They’re young, a tragic car accident that leaves moments for everyone to gather what they need.

Other doctors are all waiting, coolers in their interns’ hands, as they prepare to take all the organs as quickly as they can. Of course everything is important and will save many lives, but the heart was the most important. Satoru eyes you carefully over those glasses, brilliant blue eyes a calm storm at this moment, and you eye him back, smiling a bit under your mask.

You feel it, the tension even now, how deeply the two of you feel and how much more is left unspoken, but in this moment you just watch him intensely, as does everyone in the room, while he carefully separates the chest bone and rib cage. You’ve seen it done over video several times but this is the first time you’ve been that close to it.

Satoru quickly and with precise, effortless movements with skilled precision, everyone watches quietly, including his fellow doctors. Satoru carefully severs the last attachment, his hand moving with a quickness under those latex gloves. You come over quickly with the cooler, and you carefully take it.

Putting it delicately in the ice filled cooler, inside the saline bag, so precious you feel the pressure from it, from knowing how important it is. Choso’s chance at a good life, at not being in and out of hospitals over and over. You quickly close it as Satoru nods to the other doctors, and they each individually begin to take what other parts they need.

You can’t say you don’t feel just a little sick, panicking every which way it could go warm as you both leave, Satoru taking off his gloves and cleaning up as you tentatively put the cooler down for a moment and do the same. “You did it so quickly.”

“Have to, sweets, we don’t have much time here.” He dries his hands and leans down, planting a kiss on your head. “Are you doing okay?”

“I am, promise.” He smiles just a bit.

“I’ve done quite a few of them, and all were successful. He’ll make it, okay?”

“I just… really need to be there.”

“Of course,” the two of you head back, this time the trip isn’t quite as scary for you, as you’re a little used to it now, clutching the cooler to you tightly. “It’ll be okay.”

He keeps reassuring you, even as you all land, like this is just another day for him, and it is. Even though rare, this hospital is the number one in the country for transplants, heavily due to Satoru, though Nanami and Suguru also are highly experienced in all sorts of transplants and surgeries. 

When you arrive at the hospital, it’s like a well-oiled machine as always, when you all descend from the helicopter. The doors fly open, nurses and doctors rushing to greet you all, Maki is there walking with you as you clutch the cooler, and are reluctant to let it go even for just a moment. Satoru leans in, whispering in your ear, “We got this, it’s all gonna be fine. You go calm him down, okay?”

You’re doing just that later, as he’s about to go under, he’s the picture of calm with his cute little smile.

“You’re getting first hand experience, aren’t ya doc?” He teases, and you grin, checking his vitals as the anesthesiologist administers the correct dose.

“I am gonna see all of you. All your insides.”

“You’re so freaky.” You giggle at that, softly smiling behind your mask as Satoru comes in, eyeing the two of you, donned in that white lab coat and the magnifying goggles, making his blue eyes insane to look at. You see his eyes crinkle at the corners as he clearly smiles behind his mask as well.

“You’re in excellent hands, Choso.” You say softly, looking at Satoru.

“The best I hear.” Choso says, yawning a bit now, eyes getting just a little heavy, until he murmurs your name and drifts off.

“Are you ready to assist, intern?” Satoru is the ultimate professional in the huge, freezing cold OR, the smell of alcohol permeating in your nostrils, as you stand right by his side.

“I’m ready, Dr. Gojo.”

As Satoru starts the surgery, you begin passing him instruments, as Satoru cuts Choso’s chest open, that felt so different than before, this was someone you’ve already grown to care about, and you feel just anxious and so faint. But you also watch how perfect every one of Satoru’s movements are, as he separates the chest bone and opens up the rib cage so that he can operate on the heart.

It’s small, the heart that has done way more than it ever should have, you notice then, helping clamp down as Satoru begins the process of removing it, and that’s where it’s down to moments, years of his knowledge, and you trust him implicitly, working quietly by his side while others watch. Maki, Yuta, Toge, and many of the nurses and interns are all avidly watching the surgery from above.

Satoru quietly orders the nurses there in the OR, and then he removes the heart, as the new one is placed. He begins to sew the donor heart into place, attaching all the major blood vessels so quickly but also he makes sure they’re perfect. To watch him work like this is entrancing.

“Here, clip this av.” He orders softly, you do just that, holding the clamp down as Satoru starts working on the blood vessels to the donor heart. It’s already been a long time, just prepping, opening, but this part he does tediously, he’s quiet, but he’s so calm. You hold your breath as Satoru starts the delicate process of connecting it to the surrounding tissue and remaining blood vessels.

Calm because of the meds, you have to wonder, is that how Satoru maintains this?

It can’t just be that, even though he surely thinks so.

There’s much more to that, to him, the natural talent of the way his fingers perform surgeries is profound, like he was just made for it. Once the heart is fully attached, it’s utter silence, as you wait to hear if the heart will begin beating, you panic when it doesn’t, eyeing Choso’s sleeping face.

“It’s normal not to. Let’s shock it.” He says quietly, his presence so calming in that room, you instantly do just that, shocking the red organ, and then it begins to beat, the monitor stops its flatline.

Satoru takes a step back, and the heart monitor starts to beep. It’s a slow, steady rhythm, a sound that fills the room with relief. Choso’s new heart is beating, and the room lets out a breath, including you, but Satoru simply smiles, admiring the strong beat of the heart.

“And we are successful, team.” He murmurs, the people up above are clapping, and the team of doctors now works to stitch him back together. You’re trembling as you keep eyeing the monitor, the strong, steady beats. “It’s been hours,” he says later, after you all had cleaned up. “Go take a nap, sweetheart.”

“I can’t, I have to go check-”

“He’ll be asleep for hours.” Satoru grabs you a coffee as you yawn again. “Go lay in one of the bunks before you fall over.”

“That was insane, Satoru. The way you worked? The way you just… everything about it.” You sip your bitter coffee, and he smiles a bit, not looking the tiniest bit exhausted.

“Take a nap, I’ll wake you up if there’s any signs he’s up early. Okay?” Satoru’s gently brushing a finger against your wrist, you panic just a bit, looking around.

“Satoru…”

“Would it be so bad if we told them?” He murmurs then, you feel a few eyes upon you all, it wasn’t as if they didn’t know, they surely had rumors spreading around of the two of you.

“You’re suddenly very serious, mr. bachelor.” You tease then, and he frowns, not the reaction you expected.

“You don’t think I’m serious?” You shake your head, trying to shake off any of the extreme fatigue you’ve felt grow all week.

“I’m sorry, just so tired. I should nap.” You touch his hand gently, then smile a bit, walking off, trying to calm your heart, your tummy, just in knots.

*****

Satoru was not just perfect as a doctor, he was a caring and loving boyfriend, he genuinely loves you, you feel it in his every look, every movement, but it makes it that much more devastating that you see all you can’t have with him. You let the exhaustion finally win for a bit when you shut off the lights and climb into the bunk, letting yourself rest for a few blissful moments.

The dreams are harder than the reality.

In them, it’s Satoru and he’s touching your tummy, and he’s so happy, you should immediately know it is a dream from just that alone, but it takes so long to register that you’re in a dream. You’re tossing and turning when Satoru comes in a couple hours later to check on you, and he can’t help but lay next to you on the bunk he’s way too tall for, caressing your cheek.

“Satoru…” you’re murmuring his name in your sleep.

He watches you, he does that when you stay over, once you caught him and called him a creep, but he can’t help but love to watch it. “So beautiful.”

You blink a bit, opening your eyes, and he notices they’re glassy and full of tears, making his heart ache. “Satoru…”

“What’s wrong? Honey he’s fine. I came to tell you he’s stable.” You shake your head, unable to speak the words that are stuck in your throat, instead burying your face against his neck, trembling. “Baby…”

“Just a dream.” You’re sobbing more and more now, uncontrollably, as he holds you so close, his silky white locks brushing your cheek as he nuzzles your neck.

“A bad dream?” You shake your head. “Talk to me.”

“It was a beautiful dream, but it’ll never happen.” He looks confused as he pulls back, looking down at you, blinking beautiful eyes, snowy lashes casting dark shadows over his cheeks in the dark room.

“What won’t?” You can’t say anymore, you can’t try to change Satoru.

“Just kiss me.” He does just that, lips descending in the quiet of the room, the rustle of his hands against your scrubs, the shifting of his body making the shitty little bed creak. “Mmm…”

“God, baby,” he’s slipping his fingers under your scrub top, brushing them against your bare tummy that trembles under it, his practiced fingers that saved a life today, so delicate yet firm as they touch you. His lips work over yours, as your tears spill, salty against his lips. “Baby you sure you’re okay?”

“Just tired, Satoru.” He slips his hand up, cupping you over your bra, thumb brushing a nipple that’s sensitive, making you cry out ever so softly.

“Do you want to sleep a little more, or…” he’s kissing his plump lips along the corners of your mouth. “Want me to make you feel so good?”

“Please,” your breathy whisper has Satoru’s cock throbbing, if it wasn’t risky enough to pleasure you in this moment, he’d be shoving his cock in your perfect little hole, feeling you quiver around him.

“Want my fingers, or my mouth?” His words tickle against your ear with his breath, and you feel his hand slip low, under the stretch band of your blue scrub bottoms, finding you and moaning.

“Fingers we can act like we’re just napping if they walk in,” you tease, he smirks at you then. “Plus those fingers are amazing.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He’s chuckling as you lose yourself in his kisses, shoving back that pretty dream, and just being here, being present, while his finger rubs you over your panties, making you whine.

“Toru…” He’s leaking pre against his boxers when you say that sweet little nickname, when your hands grip the lapels of his white lab coat, and he’s playing your pussy in the quiet room. It’s so wet, you can hear it, the clicking as he runs his fingers side to side, watching you.

“God you’re beautiful,” he’s sending you with a few rolls of his fingers, bringing you to wriggle, hips bucking up for more, as he studies every bit of your face so intently, slipping that finger down your slit. “Look at you, fuck.”

You feel so beautiful when he says that, when he looks at you like this, trembling and rolling your hips for more, your own hands slipping up his shoulders, lost in the dark rings of blue on his eyes. “Need more.”

“Later, brat.” You pout and he grins at that, pressing a kiss on your brow, then your nose as his fingers slip in your soppy little hole. “God, so tight.”

“Want you in me, I lied.” He’s shaking with his laughter, while he curls that finger up just so, moving it up against your g spot as the gasps and whines ring in his ears.

“Be a good girl and cum, then I’ll let you have all of me tonight.” The words sound so husky, so vulnerable, it breaks your heart into pieces to think you won’t truly have all of him, but as much as he’s willing to give you in these beautiful moments.

That has to be enough.

“Close, I feel it, let go baby,” Satoru’s words ring in your ear, and you do feel that pressure, how you’re clamping down on his finger, feeling the texture of the thick digit as it crooks up, as his thumb presses your twitchy clit all while he’s watching you, never taking his fucking eyes off. “That’s it, be good for me.”

You’re done for, teeth clamping down, hand over your mouth as you gush and squirt down his angled finger, his hands, slipping down all over your panties and scrubs. He moans at how much you do cum, dying to fuck into you, cum inside you. But he knows it’s not exactly the best moment as he has another surgery on the board, so instead he ruts his cock against your hand that’s reached down.

“Lemme make you cum,” you’re whispering, blinking slowly. He shakes his head. “Let me.”

“In your hand!? No. I’m thirty four not eighteen.” He pulls away with a whimper, as you giggle, but then he’s got you cumming again, and your thighs are gripping his hand, making him wince.

“Sensitive!” He relishes in your hushed whisper, smirking so damn attractive, pulling back his hand finally, slipping it into your mouth then.

“Suck, sweetheart,” you do just that, sucking his fingers, up and down like you want to do his cock so badly, and the sight almost makes him spurt hot cum, he barely holds his composure. “God, so fucking sexy.”

“Mmm,” he’s pulling his saliva coated fingers back now, kissing your sweet arousal off your lips. “I feel so much better.”

“I’m quite the doctor.” You giggle, as he kisses you, leaning up finally and caressing your cheek. You kiss him softly, sighing, carding your fingers through his silky soft locks.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” his words resonate, hitting your fucking soul, the way he looks at you and touches you, everything shows his words are true, making it radiate through your body slowly. “What was the dream?”

You freeze up then, fingers pausing, looking down. “I can’t really say.”

“You can tell me fucking anything baby, don’t you know?” You blink a bit, tears forming all over again, and he leans up, lips pursed just a bit. “Is it about me?”

“Yes but nothing bad, just… jumbled. I can’t put it together.”

“You suck at lying.” You sigh, looking away, but he turns your chin to him. “It’s just a dream you say, but you were crying.”

“It was something that can’t happen.” You don’t get to elaborate, the door opens and he eases back a bit, the two of you look like you’re laying and talking as Suguru walks in, yawning.

“We gonna cuddle?” He teases, poking at your shoulder, and Satoru scowls at him while you giggle.

“No cuddling her. Only me.” You’re tugged against him as Suguru climbs to the top bunk, chuckling a bit.

“I see, don’t fuck loud please I want a nap.”

“We weren’t fucking!”

“Uh uh,” he doesn’t believe you clearly. “Nap time.”

“I have to get up, actually.” You yawn once more, Satoru is watching you carefully, something unreadable in his gaze.

“Gonna go check on him?” You expect the hints of jealousy or him being pouty as usual, but he’s calm as he asks and you nod, pecking a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll see you after the shift?”

“Yeah of course.” Your pretty smile tugs at Satoru’s heart before you run off and leave him with your scent filling his nostrils, hugging a pillow tightly.

“What’s with you?” He hears Suguru up there, and he frowns, turning on his back and staring up at the bunk bed, fingers dancing across cool metal bars.

“I don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

“Probably not.”

“Suguru!”

“I’m kidding. Kind of.” Satoru glares, and he hopes Suguru feels it, but he chuckles instead. “Why do you say all that?”

“I just think she’d be settling on a lot of things with me.”

“That’s fucking weird of you to say,” Suguru’s words are true, Satoru has been nothing but cocky his entire life. “What do you even mean?”

“The family thing, the marriage thing.”

“I mean it's still early, it’s normal not to want that until you’re more serious.”

“She’s all I’ll ever want,” his words are just a little broken, and there are a couple moments of contemplative silence. “There’s no one else.”

“I figured so, after that locker room incident,” his words are quiet, Satoru chuckles a bit without humor. “So then let her know that.”

Not knowing the conversation going on in that room, you’re drinking another cup of coffee, going over to see Choso now in the ICU. You pass Maki and she grins at you. “You did so good in that surgery, babe, he’s already awake.”

“He is!? Shit I wanted to be there.” Maki tosses back her dark hair, gently brushing a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s okay, he’s great actually. I told him you were napping.”

“You did?” You sigh in relief, hugging her then. “You’re the best.”

“Go on,” you run over to the room and see Choso, hooked up to an IV and several cords to monitor his every vital sign, he’s smiling at you as you rush in.

“Choso!” He chuckles a bit as you carefully take his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling so big at him.

“You saved me twice now, I think I need to make it up to you.” You shake your head, feeling emotional as you now look at the monitor, seeing a strong, steady heartbeat. 

“You just stay healthy, yeah? That would make me very happy.” He nods, thumb brushing your knuckles gently, lashes lowering a bit.

“I know you and Dr. Gojo are probably together,” you tense a bit at that, his violet eyes look up at you. “He’s pretty awesome, so even if I’m jealous I can’t hate him, he gave me a heart.”

“He is pretty awesome, are you jealous?” your teasing words make him laugh, then he winces, you put a hand on his chest, as his heart rate quickens. “So jealous you’re spiking.”

“I guess so,” he murmurs, pink cheeked with embarrassment. “I would ask you for dinner if you were single, you know.”

“Oh, would you now, to thank me? For being your angel?” You’re teasing, checking his incision line now.

“Yes, I would,” he answers, a hand on your wrist now. “You are.”

“You’re always too sweet.” You let his hand go gently, assessing the work Satoru did. “Looks perfect, Satoru is so good at stitches.”

“It’s gonna be an even better scar than before.” You laugh again, pushing the button for his pain medicine. “The good stuff.”

“Mmhmm, it is. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He pauses you with your name. “Hmm?”

“Thank you for saving me.” His words make you feel so much then, so much relief you tear up, dimming his lights now.

“Of course, you just get rest okay?” He smiles at you, when you shut the door you lean against it, sighing and swiping at your eyes, Satoru sees you, walking up quickly with long strides across the squeaky clean hospital floor.

“You okay? Everything look good?” You nod, wanting to let him just hold you, but trying to hold back, knowing where you are. His hand pauses in the air next to your cheek for a moment, longing to touch your skin.

“You did amazing, I’m just so relieved.” He swipes a tear regardless of who looks, seeing just how caring you are, how attached you get. It should be a bad thing for a doctor, but he loves it about you.

“Should be proud of yourself, just a few months interning and you did open heart surgery with me. That’s pretty badass.” You giggle through your tears, when both of your beepers go off, and you both sigh. “Work is never done.”

“No it isn’t.” This was a car crash victim, luckily no major injuries, you end up stitching some wounds and disinfecting as your shift ends, soon meeting Satoru in the locker room as you both get changed. “I want a nice hot bath.”

“I’ll run you one,” his voice is practically a purr. “Come stay with me.”

“You stay with me, I always come over.” You let out a little yawn, hand over your mouth as you do. 

“Toge hates me, and I think Maki and Yuta wanna beat me up.” He’s pouting, making you laugh softly again, slipping a sweater over yourself, but not before he presses a kiss on your breasts over your bra.

“Mnh!” He’s cupping them and moaning softly, in the quiet of the room at night, thumbs brushing your nipples over lace. “Sensitive.”

“You said that earlier, pmsing?” He teases, and you frown a bit. “Baby, period sex won’t bother me one bit if you’re worried.”

“No, no, not worried.” You mentally calculate then, sitting down and just blinking, he slips on his sweater and then sits with you on the bench.

“What’s up?”

How long since…

You and Satoru hooked up for the first time about six weeks ago, you typically get your period the last week of the month - but you haven’t. Your mental math says then it’s been 2 periods as of today, you’re supposed to be on it. You frown, grabbing your purse and counting the birth control pills, feeling him tense next to you. You haven’t missed any, and haven’t taken any extra.

“Shit.” Satoru’s fists clench, while your stomach drops.

“Don’t tell me you skipped it,” his words are deadly quiet, just a whisper, and you already hear it, the frustration. “I just scheduled the vasectomy.”

“You scheduled it? Without telling me?” He frowns deeper, looking away.

“We talked about it.”

“I didn’t agree!”

“You don’t really get to agree, but it looks like maybe too late for us to not have…” Your hand darts to your tummy then.

“I could just be stressed,” he shakes his head. “I am stressed!”

“Sure but the nipples?”

“I don’t know, I guess… I’ll have to take a test.” He says nothing, absolutely nothing, as your mind goes in circles. “Will you leave me if I keep it?”

“What!?” His blue eyes widen, your tears start to fall hot and sticky trails down your cheeks.

“Will you leave me?” You ask again, his mouth is wide open at you.

“No, shit, you think that?”

“What else can I think?” You stand up, trembling now. “I’ll take a test in the morning and see.”

“Right, okay.” He doesn’t move, he doesn’t do anything, just sitting there.

“I didn’t miss any, I’m not on antibiotics, I take them at the same time. It could be nothing.”

“Right.” He repeats again, even quieter.

“You’ll hate me if I am.”

“No, I won’t.” He grips your wrist tightly, you can’t even meet his eyes, your own are burning from a mixture of exhaustion and stress, “Look at me.”

“What if I can’t handle the disappointment in your eyes?”

“Look at me.” He orders again, gripping your shoulders over that soft material, your heart thuds loudly in your chest, you do just that, meeting his gaze. “I will not hate you, and I will not leave you. Even if it’s not what I want, I would never just fucking do that to you.”

“You won’t hate me?” He shakes his head, heart breaking for you then, your lip is trembling as the tears make your eyes glassy. “Resent me?”

“It’s not intentional, so no. If you are, we both caused it. I’ll… we’ll figure the shit out I guess. Okay? We don’t even know right now.”

“Right, you’re right. I don’t want to lose you,” he kisses your bitten lips, trying to smooth those teeth indentations with his own mouth. “I may need to just… be with Maki when I take it. Is that okay?”

“Of course, I know you two are close. You have tomorrow off right?”

“I do.”

“We’ll spend the day together. Whatever it says. I love you so fucking much, even if I know I’d be shit at parenting, I’d never leave you for it. Okay?” You nod weakly, as he presses gentle kisses against your cheeks.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, Satoru. I love you too.” He gets in more kisses as he walks you to your car, you see the fog of both of your breaths linger in the air as you meld into each other, sighing and holding each other so tightly. You will hate yourself forever if you make him miserable like that.

But you can’t imagine not having one if you are.

Later after buying a test and looking at the result with Maki by your side, you’re not even sure how you feel. Are you excited, terrified, nervous? Your career is just starting, this will make everything change, while you wanted this later in life absolutely, this was not how you pictured it.

Also, Satoru says he won’t resent you, but how can you believe that, when he is so adamant against this all? How can you know if he won’t, even if it’s deep down under wraps? Will he think you planned it, and not just resent you but the baby too? It’s so many thoughts you just feel sick, so sick Maki is holding your hair up as you throw up everything in the toilet.

“Shit babe, you’re a mess,” she murmurs, cleaning your lips, you just sigh and hold her. “And knocked up.”

“I know, fuck. God what should I do?” You look up into her emerald eyes, and she shakes her head a bit, stroking back your hair.

“I can’t tell you that, but you very much are knocked up. You know how babies are made, right?”

“Shut it.” You giggle a bit, before getting sick again.

*****

On your day off you’re laying in bed, rotting away and terrified to answer Satoru’s phone calls. And there are many, but how can you tell him his life is over as he knows it, when you know how badly he never wanted that to happen? You also feel so exhausted, it’s been coming for weeks, the exhaustion, you thought from just work, but now perhaps more.

By the early afternoon, someone bangs on your door.

“Go away.”

“Open up, now.” You hear it, Satoru’s voice, you’re trembling just a bit as you lift off the blankets, walking to it and twisting it, seeing his angry expression, his eyes this frightening bright shade of blue, jaw set. “You avoiding me, really?”

“You showing up like a psycho, really?” Satoru opens the door as you try to shut it now. “Let me wallow away in misery.”

“No, sure the fuck won’t. Talk to me.” He gently pushes himself right into your room, the floorboards creaking under his sneakers, he’s just wearing jeans and a sweater right now, as he shuts the door behind him and looks at you. “You look like a hot mess.”

“I am just a mess.” He sighs, cupping your face now. “I have an answer that you’ll hate, and I’m avoiding it.”

“So you… are.” He swallows, nervous as he touches your brow. “You’re sweating and warm.”

“I guess hiding under blankets,” you do feel just a bit dizzy though, swaying ever so slightly. “Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” He immediately goes into doctor mode, assessing you through the haze of his own drugs, he’d taken several bars today while you ignored him, right now he’s dying to snort ten. But he will keep his damn promise, even if the not knowing was killing him.

“Nothing, I’m preg-” you pause again, feeling another wave of dizziness, taking several breaths. “I’m preg-”

“Pregnant, I know I figured that shit already. But what are you… hey, sit down, shit,” Satoru gently leads you back to the bed, as you almost collapse on it, feeling the beads of sweat on your brow drip across your face. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Toru will you hate me forever?” He glares now.

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

“Resent me?”

“I… no… you’re sweating more and your color is off, the fuck is up?” He narrows his eyes, assessing you further.

“Blood sugar maybe? I haven’t eaten,” he curses softly, cupping your cheek delicately in one hand.

“I’ll go grab something for you, okay?” You nod weakly, vision just a bit distorted, your hands are shaking once he’s gone and you hold them out for assessment, feeling yourself fade.

Panic attack?

Blood sugar?

Blood pressure?

You shake out your hands, trying to breathe, but you don’t get to see Satoru return with food that he inevitably drops, not when you’re collapsed on the fucking floor, crumbled up. When he finds you, so helpless on the floor curled in a ball, he’s panicking, trying to wake you, tears falling as he assesses every bit and feels your skin is now burning.

“Shit, baby, shit,” he’s cursing softly, the last thing you’d done is look at him with all this damn worry, wondering if he’ll be gone, did the stress cause this!? He picks you up in his arms, and your friends quickly gather.

“What happened!?” Maki whispers, brushing your hair back, seeing your unconscious head bobble just a bit. “Gojo what is it!?”

“I don’t know, she’s burning up and sweating, she wasn’t finishing sentences. I need to get her checked.”

“We’ll come with you.”

Satoru’s soon hooking you up to an IV, ever so carefully pressing one into your veins, worried you must be dehydrated, malnourished, you never eat and live off coffee, and being pregnant? That could only escalate everything. He orders up a full panel of blood work as he tries to find out just what is happening, pumping you with antibiotics, with fever reducers.

You just don’t wake up.

Your heart rate has jumped up then, you’re shaking your head back and forth as Shoko walks in, assessing you quickly. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yeah,” his soft answer is met with exhausted eyes. For an hour he has been unable to wake you, every moment that goes by achingly slow. “Can you check to make sure everything is alright?”

“Of course, how far along?” Satoru sighs, as Shoko starts bringing the ultrasound machine over.

“Can’t be a month or two, just barely.” Shoko frowns a bit after the screen lights up. “What!?”

“Shit,” her answer terrifies him then. She’s moving the wand lower, slipping your top further up, revealing a still flat stomach.

“Shit what, Shoko? What is wrong?”

“Let me do a different ultrasound.” She’s not answering him, instead doing a transvaginal, all while Satoru is losing his fucking mind. Satoru stares hopelessly at the screen then as he sees it, clear as day.

“Tubal?” His words are hoarse, Shoko sighs, nodding. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck this are you serious?”

“Unfortunately, we’re best to do a laparoscopy if we can. And I need to do it right now, she has this fever and fainted from it.”

“Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit.” He’s shaking as he covers his face, shaking his head now. “She’ll lose her tube then?”

“I’m the best in my field at it, I will try to make sure she doesn’t but, of course it’s a risk, and risk that she’ll get another.” Satoru’s heart shatters into a million fucking pieces. Shoko walks past him, a hand briefly on his shoulder. “I need her in surgery now, if you can’t keep it together-”

“I can. I will.” He swipes at his tears and she nods, leaving you alone with just him in the room, as he stares at the screen with the photo paused on it.

There’s no chance of having this baby of course, but he’d be damned if you lose the ability, whether it’s with him or someone better, he sure the fuck wasn’t letting you lose it. He thinks about the hurtful way he said things before to you, the day that baby died and you were so devastated, the casual way he told you what he’d do if you had a baby, the panic on your face as you told him.

It all sinks in, while you’re immediately prepped for the surgery - if it failed, they’d have to be invasive, if it ruptured, you could potentially never have children with just one tube. Even if you could, the risk of another rupturing would be substantial, he’s not in the same field as Shoko but he’s still seen it.

Satoru never wanted them, but for a brief moment he saw it, the life with you, that he’d make it work somehow, that you’d be so happy to have a baby that he could learn to love it with you. Now it seems a cruel joke on you, while you’re asleep on the operating table, and Satoru gets the scalpel, making a tiny incision in your pelvis, tearing precious skin off the girl he is in love with.

He has to keep his fucking composure.

He has to keep his hands steady.

No amount of xanax however can stop the nausea of watching Shoko Ieri insert that thin tube that has the camera inside of you, little by little ever so carefully, and it all starts coming to view. She is the best with this, with babies and c sections and miscarriages, but the sick feeling makes him sweat, makes his heart race.

If you weren’t okay after this, how could he live with the hurt you’d face?

This chap was so depressing my bad lol this story is heavier than my usual </3 DW reader will be okay and so will Choso though no one is dying on my watch, dammit

tags- @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @labelt-san @jkslaugh97 @shadeowz @gojo1228 @jaeminaur @httpstoyosi @angel1of-death @seeing-stars-alt @bol0-de-morang0 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @trishiepo0 @inthedarkshadows000 @gina239 @pelicanpizza @gojo1228 @ducky1232 @inthedarkshadows000 @eclecticmentalitypersona @burguhndy @levislug @addehehe @sluttyofgojo @msniks @xixflower @ambiguouslady42 @kiaraandrea @jjknanamin @suguruscousin @silverfangmarks @atiny-99 @thatssoambs @kanekisheart @mahalsuya @kimkimoruo @hoelynecujoh @ravenbc @abiiebibie @procastinatingbitch

[rafeslvbug]

introducing…pediatrician!rafe

back to basics!! (physical)

height: 6”3 at minimum, the type of height where he can be assertive if needed with other doctors, or appear gentle to patients if he kneels down. some of the boys he has as patients, always say they aspire to be like “doctor cameron” and the dads are always envious of his height, as men are.

age: early 30s. had to do years of training && education. considerably young in his respective field, but widely praised for his efficiency and ability.

build: works out daily. believes in keeping peak physical fitness to take care of his patients. scrubs fir too tightly over his muscles. could be prone to ripping. mothers often find themselves staring a bit too long at their kid’s doctor.

looks!! (specific)

arms: consistent with any !rafe au, he’s got massive arms. but this is because

- a: to carry patients if need be (though he works with children) - you never know when emergencies might come up,

- b: he finds that having bigger arms is more comforting for little children when he has to hold them

- c: has to handle hospital equipment that might be heavy, and he’s a gentleman so he’s always helping people carry equipment if he’s not busy.

pager && watch: his pager is forever on him, not that he has no life outside of work, just that he cares so much about his patients. he won’t hesitate to cancel a day off for the sake of his patients. his watch is of course because of how much rafe is invested in his fitness and health. needs it to track his workouts and steps etc. or he also likes how convenient it is, to access emails or messages etc.

personality

patient: eternally patient. during arguments. meltdowns. when the baby’s been crying all night. all calm words and gentle movements. never yells. controls his anger and doesn’t make huge outbursts. even when stressed (unless it reaches an extremely bad point - this is rare)

multi-tasking: can put the baby to sleep in one arm and type up an article/report with the other hand while in bed. listens to research podcasts while cooking dinner so he doesn’t have to find time to do it later. efficiency is key. his job is already time consuming, and he wants to make sure he has as much free time as possible.

attentive: rafe’s busy. he’s always working overtime or being called away because of an unexpected patient issue. but when he’s at home with you? his pager isn’t off..but it’s not on his person all the time. he’s able to maintain work-life balance and he’ll listen to everything you have to say about your day. he loves your daughter to bits, and frequently says she’s his, always checking up on her and making sure she’s healthy (as doctors habitually do)

job

specialist position: neonatologist - someone who mainly looks after premature babies’ development and intensive care for infants.

salary: $350,000+ (excluding bonuses and potential to increase)

reputation: young, but well respected. considered one of the best in his field in the hospital. always gets compliments from patients, and dedicated to his work.

likes

stress-free days without overtime. he lives for any ounce of free time, no matter how satisfied his job makes him. likes to be home, likes having time go on hikes or play with your baby.

getting called your baby’s father. he loves it when he gets to say he’s the dad, or when you call him the dad. even if he’s not biologically her dad, he’s the only one who’s been present. adopts her relatively quick.

picking your daughter up from daycare. loves the way her face lights up when she sees him, how she’ll run as fast as her little legs can take her and getting to scoop her up into the car.

when you come to him for help. whether it’s with your daughter or anything tbf. he loves helping, loves being the person you rely on.

dislikes

when you go to a different doctor for help with your daughter. if anything starts arguments it’s that. he wants to be the one to look after her, because it’s all he’s done since she was born. he thinks of himself as her father, and wants you to too. a father looks after his daughter.

patients who bring in their children for dumb reasons. a common cold? wasting his time because they act like they’ve never had a cold before. children in his care are in critical condition, not basic colds, and these people are usually insufferable because they force themselves to the top of his list of priorities.

your ex. never even met him, never even seen him. hates him. loves that he left in a way, because it means he could be in your life, but hates the man for what he put you through.

pet names

he gives you: baby, sweetheart, babygirl, honey, busy lady

you give him: doc, handsome, honey, baby, darling

what he’ll call your daughter: sweetie, pumpkin, little lady,

[alternate-real-ities]

Subject IND1

This document reports the events that transpired during a controlled study conducted on [REDACTED], who consented to participate in our trial, to document the physiological, cognitive, and behavioural changes in a human subject infected with a new strain of the Asian Flu, here denominated by the acronym IND.

To help recording the results, Dr. Kenji Nakamura, the lead researcher, recorded his observations throughout the experiment.

The subject was a young caucasian male, with a lean build and average height. He was selected for the trial due to his good health and lack of pre-existing conditions. The experiment was conducted in a secure laboratory environment, with all necessary precautions taken to ensure the safety of the subject and the research team. Below you will find the transcription of his observations.

Audio transcriptions:

[Recording begins]

[00:00:06 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Kenji Nakamura, lead researcher on the Asian Flu IND strain project. Subject IND1 is now secured to the examination table. The strain has been already administered. Initial observations indicate a rapid increase in body temperature and heart rate. Subject appears agitated, but this is expected given the nature of the virus."

[00:00:25 Security] : "Dr. Nakamura, are you sure this is safe? Those restraints don't seem that sturdy."

[00:00:33 Nakamura] : "Yes, yes… I understand your concerns. But this is a controlled environment, and we have taken all necessary precautions. The subject is well behaved, in good health, and I will be closely monitoring his vitals."

[00:00:47 Security] : "Alright doc, if you need anything, just call us. We'll be awaiting further orders."

[00:00:54 Nakamura] : "Thank you."

[Door closes]

[00:01:02 Nakamura] : "I will now begin the examination. Subject IND1, can you hear me?"

[00:01:07 Subject IND1] : "Y-yes… I can hear you…"

[00:01:10 Nakamura] : "Good. I need you to remain calm. I will be monitoring your vitals closely. Please describe any sensations you are experiencing."

[00:01:18 Subject IND1] : "I… I feel hot… really hot… and my heart is racing…"

[00:01:23 Nakamura] : "That is expected. The virus is designed to increase metabolic activity. I will now take your temperature."

[00:01:30 Nakamura] : "Temperature is elevated to 39.5°C. Heart rate is 120 bpm. Subject's skin appears to be slightly flushed, and there is a noticeable increase in perspiration. I will continue the recording when the subject's condition changes."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[00:49:52 Nakamura] : "The subject appears to be more calm now. Heart rate has stabilized at 110 bpm. There is a slight increase in body hair on the chest and belly. Moreover, it appears that the subject's hair is darkening slightly. The perspiration still continues, but the subject seems to be more comfortable than before. I will now take a blood sample for analysis."

[00:50:10 Subject IND1] : "Doc… my head… I think I have a fever..."

[00:50:19 Nakamura] : "That's a common symptom with the flu. Do you feel anything else?"

[00:50:25 Subject IND1] : "I don't know how to explain it but… my chest feels tingly… and it's like there are invisible hands rubbing it."

[00:50:33 Nakamura] : "Invisible hands? That is interesting. I will note that down. Please continue to describe any sensations you are experiencing."

[00:50:42 Subject IND1] : "I feel… sick…"

[00:50:45 Nakamura] : "Do not worry, the mortality rate of this virus is less than 1%. I will keep monitoring your vitals from a distance. Thank you for your cooperation."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[01:34:17 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Nakamura again. About 45 minutes have passed since the last recording. The subject's skin tone has deepened to a light tan. There is a noticeable increase in body hair on the arms, legs, and face, which has darkened slightly."

[Muffled sounds]

[01:34:41 Nakamura] : "Subject IND1, can you hear me? Please try to focus."

[Muffled sounds]

[01:35:00 Nakamura] : "Hmm... the subject's pupils are dilated. He appears to be mumbling incoherently in his native tongue. Subject IND1, are you there?"

[Muffled sounds]

[01:35:17 Nakamura] : "It seems that the subject doesn't seem to be able to respond at this time. I can observe involuntary muscle fibers twitching. It also seems that his musculature is becoming more defined, his facial features seem more masculine than what they were an hour ago... I will continue to monitor his condition."

[Recording stops]

[Recording resumes]

[02:15:43 Nakamura] : "Nakamura here. The subject's skin has darkened to a warm brown hue. There is a significant increase in muscle mass, particularly in the chest and arms. Facial features are changing further than before, with a more pronounced jawline and cheekbones. The subject appears to have developped stronger facial hair in the last 30 minutes."

[02:16:08 Subject IND1] : "Doc… I... why am I here again?"

[02:16:19 Nakamura] : "You are participating in a study, Subject IND1. Please try to focus. Can you describe any sensa-"

[Loud moan]

[02:16:32 Nakamura] : "Oh my... the subject appears to be experiencing a heightened state of arousal. This could be proof that the virus affects the hypothalamus. I can feel a strong odor emanating from him. It is quite intoxicating."

[02:16:50 Subject IND1] : "Doc… get me out of here…"

[02:16:56 Nakamura] : "I will do that as soon as I can. Please try to remain calm."

[02:17:05 Subject IND1] : "Fuck… my lul…cock… it feels heavier…"

[02:17:14 Nakamura] : "The subject appears to be developping an accent. Sentences are shorter. Abdominal muscles seem to be defined into an almost clear six-pack, covered by his growing body hair. Will report back later."

[Recording stops]

[Recording begins]

[03:12:37 Nakamura] : "This is Dr. Nakamura, and I'm afraid I've lost track of the time. The subject's transformation appears to be complete. His skin has deepened to a rich ebony hue, and his features are distinctly Indian. He now possesses a broader nose, fuller lips, high cheekbones. A totally different masculine version of what he used to look like 3 hours ago."

[03:13:02 Subject IND1] : "Doctor…"

[03:13:06 Nakamura] : "Yes? What is it?"

[03:13:10 Subject IND1] : "Doctor… I need… I need you."

[03:13:19 Nakamura] : "It appears that the subject is feeling infactuated. This is likely the virus attempting to spread itself through intimate contact. His smell is stronger than before. There is a chance that his body started producing pheromones to attract other males. I can feel something only from his odor. I must remain focused on my work."

[03:13:52 Nakamura] : "I will now take a blood sample for analysis. How are you feeling, Subject IND1?"

[03:14:00 Subject IND1] : "I feel… good… bhai…

[03:14:05 Nakamura] : "The subject's speech incorporates Hindi words, interesting... There's an increased mass in the pectoral region, evident from closer inspection, covered by a thick layer of shiny sweat. This is trully a marvelous specimen to behold...

How did you get out of the restrain-"

[Struggling sounds]

[03:14:29 Subject IND1] : "Yes bro, take my smell…"

[Muffled screams]

[03:14:45 Subject IND1] : "You like my pits, don't you? I smell so good…"

[Recording cuts out]

The audio recording stops at this point.

[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]

The rest of this document contains classified information. The information transmitted is intended only for the person or entity to which it is addressed and may contain confidential and/or priviledged material. Any review, retransmission, dissemination or other use of, or taking of any action in reliance upon this information by persons or entities other than the intended recipient is prohibited. If you received this message in error, please contact the sender and delete the material from all computers.

A security camera in the lab was able to capture the events that followed. The footage shows Subject IND1 breaking free from the restraints and approaching Dr. Nakamura, who appears to be in shock.

Dr. Nakamura's pleas were cut off as the transformed subject grabbed him roughly, holding him in his pits. The subject's powerful, muscular body pressed against Nakamura's, his broad chest leaving the doctor drenched in his sweat. We believe that a strong, musky aroma emanated from Subject IND1, based on our current data.

"Shh, just relax bhai," Subject IND1 purred in a deep, accented rumble. His large, calloused hands made quick work of the doctor's pants, yanking them down to his ankles and exposing his pale skin. "We're just 2 bros having some fun together… nothing wrong with that heh?

Subject IND1 hooked his thumbs into Nakamura's underwear and pulled them down, revealing the doctor's most intimate places. Nakamura whimpered, face flushed with unwanted arousal as the subject's thick, hard cock grinded against his ass cheeks, leaving sticky trails of pre-cum on his skin.

"Arre yaar, look at this tight little lund," Subject IND1 growled appreciatively. He then spat crudely into his palm, slicking up his massive, veiny shaft before notching the swollen head against Nakamura's quivering, virgin hole. With one brutal, deep thrust of his powerful hips, he buried himself balls-deep in the doctor's ass.

"AAAHHHNNN!" Nakamura screamed at the sudden intrusion, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the metal table as Subject IND1 began to move. The room filled with the obscene slap of flesh on flesh and the heady, musky scent of their coupling. Beads of sweat rolled down Nakamura's brow as his body struggled to adapt to the relentless pounding.

Then, suddenly, Subject IND1 grabbed Nakamura's hips and flipped him over onto his back. "Ride me, bhai," he commanded with a wicked grin, pulling the doctor on top of him. "Take what you need."

Nakamura gasped as he found himself straddling the subject's thick thighs, that massive cock spearing up into his guts. His own dick bobbed lewdly between them, drooling pre-cum onto Subject IND1's abs. As if in a trance, Nakamura began to move, hips rolling and bouncing on the subject's lap.

"Yes, just like that," Subject IND1 groaned, hands gripping Nakamura's waist hard enough to bruise as he thrust up to meet each downward grind. "Fuck yourself on my big Indian cock, bhai. Take your pleasure!"

Subject IND1's cock seemed to grow even larger inside Nakamura's stretched hole, veins pulsing as it pumped the doctor full of its virile, Indian essence. Nakamura could feel it, hot, thick and alive, changing him from within. His own dick throbbed almost painfully between his legs, swelling a bit, the head flaring and darkening like Subject IND1's.

Nakamura could only moan brokenly in response, eyes rolling back as he felt something powerful rising up inside him. His skin began to flush a deeper, richer brown, muscles swelling and hardening beneath the surface. Dark, coarse body hair started to sprout along his arms and legs, thickening with each passing second.

"FUCK!" Subject IND1 roared in Hindi, slamming up into Nakamura one last time as he exploded inside the doctor's ass. Nakamura screamed as the wave of transformation crashed over him, back arching like a bow as his skin deepened to a richer, ebony hue. His muscles swelled into hard, defined slabs, abdominals popping out in a perfect six-pack that glistened with sweat.

The musky scent of their coupling intensified, filling Nakamura's nostrils and clouding his mind with lust. Body hair continued to sprout across his chest and back, curling slightly as it darkened to a deep, glossy black. His nipples hardened into small, sensitive nubs.

Then, Subject IND1 gripped Nakamura's hips tighter, fingers sinking into the firm flesh as he began to thrust again, fucking the doctor throughout his transformation. Each stroke sent jolts of pleasure through Nakamura's body.

Nakamura's dick pulsed and twitched between them, growing longer and thicker with each passing second. The shaft thickened, veins and ridges forming along the surface as it darkened to a deep, ruddy brown. His balls swelled and tightened, churning with backed-up cum.

The room filled with the sounds of their grunts and moans. Nakamura could feel his mind changing too, thoughts shifting to the need to rut, to breed, to dominate… The doctor threw his head back and moaned. His skin rippled and shifted, the last traces of his old self melting away as he embraced his new identity - an Indian stud, strong and virile.

As the transformation reached its peak, Nakamura's dick erupted like a geyser, painting their chests with thick ropes of hot, sticky cum. His body shuddered and clenched around Subject IND1's cock, milking it for every last drop of his Indian seed.

Finally, panting harshly, Subject IND1 pulled out with a wet squelch, his softening dick slipping free of Nakamura's gaping hole. A flood of pearly white cum poured out in its wake.

Nakamura lay there for a long moment, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were dark and almond-shaped. He sat up slowly, muscles rippling beneath smooth, ebony skin, and turned to face Subject IND1. "भाई, मुझे बहुत अच्छा लग रहा है" - says the newly improved doctor. He flexed an arm, watching the bicep swell into a perfect, round dome.

He turned to Subject IND1, eyes glinting with a newfound purpose. "I need to get out of here, bro…" he growled in a thick Indian accent. Then, with only his lab coat, Nakamura got out of the facility thanks to his keycard, while IND1 lay there spent on the floor.

It wasn't until hours later, when Dr. Nakamura still hadn't reported back, that security was alerted something was wrong. They found Subject IND1 alone in the lab, a satisfied smirk on his face as they led him away in cuffs.

But by then, it was too late. The IND strain had breached containment, in [REDACTED], were it could spread rapidly. We are still trying to find Dr. Nakamura, but we fear it may be too late for him as well. Subject IND1 is still in our custody, so that we can study this new strain of the virus. We will continue to monitor the situation and report any further findings.

[End Report]

[jjenthusee]

Woven Hands

jason todd x reader

A/N: thank u to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes for their post linked here for their jason headcanons, they got me dancing and swinging my feet while I wait for my classes. 🤭 ENJOY my small drabble, tell me ur thoughts in the comments :D

also small rant but tell me why i never undated my tumblr app and i was struggling for so long and everything didn’t look like how it was supposed to? 😀 please don’t be like me and update yo shiz like responsible human beings

“Don’t make me do this.” You muttered, standing on top of the couch cushions, water gun hoisted in your pocket, filled completely with sink water.

You felt the weight of the water droop in your pants, you squinted, trying to frighten your opponent. You didn’t have a holster, so your sweatpants pocket was the next best thing.

The couch increased your height, made you stand tall, allowed your voice to be more direct. You wanted to overpower Jason, part-time Red Hood, full time smack talker.

“And what are you gonna do if I don’t listen?” Jason’s eyes lowered, voice deepening to a menacing tone. Invisible cowboy hat tilted on his head.

He stood tall, spreading his legs shoulder width apart, letting muscle memory place him in an opposing stance that’s proven effective each time someone has tried to stupidly test the Red Hood.

He lowered his hands, fingers dancing in the air as he waited to reach for his water gun in his holster.

Lucky fucker was wearing a holster because he’s the Red Hood. Not only does he get a cheat, but he has two water guns?

Completely absurd.

“You might not live long enough to find out.” You tilted your chin up, trying to attempt to be arrogant, but the smirk on Jason’s face was telling you it wasn’t as effective as you hoped.

Maybe if you could actually be taller than him, it would make you sound tough, but looking from just above his eye-level was the best you were going to get.

Jason’s shook his head, slowly, calculating your moves as he never took his eyes off of you.

You met his stare, never blinking as you watched.

You could feel your eyes wavering, shaking the longer you looked.

Jason was calm, his stare locked onto you. Countless interrogations under his belt, aiding him the experience you didn’t have.

“You know we both can’t walk away from this. We have too much history.” He spoke, letting the words settle between your showdown.

You firmly frowned.

“I stand by what I said and if you can’t live with that…I guess you leave me with no other choice.��� You quickly grabbed your water gun, angling it to your partner.

By the time you could pull the trigger, water was hitting your shirt. Soaking into your skin as you looked down, watching the fabric darken.

Like in slow motion, you fell to your knees, watching Jason also get his shirt soaked, but not nearly enough as yours.

“No, no, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.” You dropped your plastic water gun, reaching up with your free hands to grab your shirt.

You plopped down onto the couch, letting your body go limp as you laid there.

“I told you, only one of us would walk away from this.” Jason walked over, kneeling next to the couch, where your body lay.

You reach up, feigning shaking hands as you reached for the muscular man with his imaginary cowboy hat.

You gestured for Jason to lean closer, following along with your antics.

You carefully lowered your voice to a whisper, a final wish.

“Delete my search history.”

You closed your eyes, arms going limp as you stuck your tongue out in a bad rendition of fake dying.

Jason laughed, reaching out to grab your hands in between his warm ones.

You never moved, zeroing in on the feeling of your fingers.

Soft caresses. A small peck before Jason littered your knuckles in kisses. Kissing down to your finger tips, then repeating down to your wrists.

“I should’ve chosen a sword fight, how could I choose water guns of all things?” You opened your eyes, shaking your head as Jason continued to worship your skin.

“You’re just pouting.” He said in between kisses, nose pressed into your palm.

“Come on, you always get to kiss my hands, when can I hold yours?” You watched carefully, thoughts slowly lost to the repeated warmth from Jason’s lips.

“Wanna sword fight to find out?” Jason smiled into your hands.

end a/n: serial hand kisser jason changed my life, thank u pooks for ur headcanons and restructuring my brain. and thank u 🫵 for reading my drabble, i just thought this was a silly idea :D

[greatbigbellies]

THE GREAT BIG GRAVID PREGNANCY KINK ASK GAME

There are some very fun preg or belly kink ask games out there, but the one's I've seen are typically focused on one flavor of said kink, or aren't strictly pregnancy-focused or are heavily gendered.

So I thought I'd to cook up 50 fun, kinky but not outright explicit, questions for an ask game. All pretty broad in application, and gender neutral! Please enjoy! _______________________________________________________

What's your favorite aspect of pregnancy? What makes it hot for you in a kink sense?

Would you rather be with someone who IS pregnant, or be pregnant YOURSELF? (or both?)

Do you prefer pregnant bellies that sit high, or carry low?

Do you prefer a pregnant belly that leans more "torpedo belly" or "beachball belly", or something else?

Favorite pregnancy blemish (stretchmarks, veins, linea nigra, ect), if any?

If you could only pick one, would you keep hyperpreg, rapid preg, or perma preg? Why?

Favorite NON-physical attribute of pregnancy? (Ex: cravings, pregnancy brain, nesting)

Most niche part of pregnancy that fits into your kink?

How pregnant is TOO pregnant where it stops being hot?

Thoughts on ill-fitting/outgrowing clothes with pregnancy?

Do you prefer bare, partially covered, or tightly clothed pregnant bellies?

Do you have a favorite occupation to see a pregnant person performing?

In preg kink writings, when a pregnancy is abnormal in any way, do you prefer when it's supernatural (fantasy), technological (sci-fi), explained some other way, or not explained at all?

Who are some of your favorite preg kink artists/blogs?

Do you prefer when a pregnancy is super encumbering, or doesn't limit the pregnant person in an extreme way?

How do you feel about pregnancy and stuckage?

How do you feel about pregnancy and stuffing, or vore, or wg, or inflation, or any other kink that increases belly size?

How do you feel about pregnancy paired with another, non-belly related kink? (asker may specify)

Thoughts on pregnant belly worship?

Thoughts on pregnant belly manipulation? (like pushing on or shaking a pregnant belly)

What's something kinky you would love to do to a pregnant belly, outside of the realm of normal pampering or worship?

What's an outfit you'd love to see a pregnant person wear?

For kink purposes, what's your favorite stage of pregnancy?

Favorite view for a belly? (straight on, side profile, POV looking down as though it's yours, ect)

Do you prefer a pregnant person dressed to the nines, or basically in their pajamas?

Describe one of your most self indulgent preg kink fantasies in full.

Do you prefer super active pregnant bellies, or bellies with calmer babies?

Do you prefer smooth and blemishless pregnant bellies, or ones with lots of marks and veins and strain?

Favorite non-belly physical attribute of a pregnant person?

Favorite state for a belly button on a pregnant belly? (innie, outie, flat, ect)

Thoughts on pregnant bellies with a soft layer of chub around them?

Favorite word to describe a pregnant belly?

Do you prefer when a pregnant person is "maxed out" and at the height of their possible growth, or big but still growing, lending to some anticipation for what's to come?

What's your ideal rapid preg growth speed? How long should it ideally take to go from a flat tummy to full term?

Do you prefer a large/overdue singleton, or a batch of multiples?

What what point does "high order multiples" become "hyper preg" to you?

Thoughts on monsterpreg? If you enjoy it, what's your favorite monster to be/see someone pregnant with?

If you enjoy pregnancy encumbering mobility, do you prefer if its due to size, or weight? or both?

Do you think of a pregnancy kink as a more "vanilla" kink, or as one of the weirder ones?

What are some aspects of pregnancy that you enjoy in a kink way that AREN'T the pregnancy itself? (Ex: breeding, labor, birth, lactation, ect)

Have you told anyone you know IRL about your pregnancy kink? If so, who (within reason privacy wise), and how did they take it?

Favorite piece of pregnancy-centric media? (could be for kink purposes or otherwise)

Favorite part of a pregnant belly?

Thoughts on belly piercings on pregnant bellies?

In a kink context, what's an activity you would you like to be doing/see someone doing while pregnant?

At what point does a pregnant belly go from "big" to "huge"?

Do you have any preg kink "guilty pleasures"? What is one, if you have any and are willing to share?

Do you have another kink that you enjoy mixing with pregnancy? If so, what is it?

Do you have any irl stories or anecdotes that relate to your pregnancy kink in way way? Care to share?

In as much detail as possible, what's your IDEAL pregnant belly?

[crescenthistory]

Haunt Me, Then

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Synopsis: The Hunger Games AU; After your best friend miraculously won his games, you were never to see him again – until your last Reaping as an eligible citizen ends catastrophically for you and another one of your friends.

Words: 6.1k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, us of y/n, Hunger Games typical warnings, grief, implied loss, heavy hurt/comfort, talk of death and poverty, Capitol Citizen!Bellatrix Lestrange, same for barty sorry, angst, some fluff, childhood best friends (to lovers), physical affection, unwanted physical touches, creepy Capitol behaviour, heavy disassociation, strategically used characters, background bsf!marylene, implied that sirius got the finnick odair treatment, nb! it's a thg au but not thg canon compliant (aka i make the rules here)

A/N: this is sooooo exciting to me. your district is only implied (district 7) in this one and there are a lot of purposefully unresolved threads 🌝 there's more to come, if you want it. and yes – the title is from the wuthering heights quote "you said i killed you – haunt me, then"

Part Two

You hated Reaping day for more reasons than most.

While no person, whether they are of eligible age or not, enjoyed being in that town square annually, watching the Capitol representatives clown away on stage as your heart and ears thundered with anticipatory fear, you were left with the biting pain of the past, present and future all at the same time.

Stood in a sea of people, feeling both as if you were drowning and had a spotlight shining on you, you feared for yourself. You writhed beneath the thought of how many times your name had gone into that bowl in an attempt at keeping your loved ones safe, you winced at the knowledge that it would be just the perfect karmic timing for you to have everything taken from you this one last time.

Clutching onto Mary’s trembling fingers with one hand and Marlene’s little sister, Mabel, with the other, you feared for your loved ones. Your makeshift found family now consisted of the McKinnons, the McDonalds, the Pettigrews and you – and you could not bear the thought of how many of you were jammed into the plaza today. Marlene and her older siblings had aged out, but you, Mary and Peter were still in for your last year. Your mouth ran dry at the thought of how many years Mabel and the McKinnon and Pettigrew boys had left. Children. They were all just children – the very reason why you all kept consistently placing your own name in over and over again, to keep them safe. While you could never decide if you trusted the legitimacy of the arrangement that you could covertly buy someone’s immunity by placing your name in more times, you also could never help but try each year.

Thus far, it had worked. Mabel had at least never been picked. 

But then again, you knew of at least one person who was picked despite their supposed immunity. Odd how the guilt always forced your hand regardless; the risk was worth the potential reward.

You could feel Mabel’s breaths grow shuddering beside you, but could not bring yourself to look down at her. You just wrapped an arm around her shoulders and shoved away the doomsday feelings brewing within your chest.

You felt guilty for even fearing for yourself, because you knew well how out of everyone, your name was in there probably the least amount of times. Apart from buying the immunity of one of your friends’ siblings, you had never needed to buy anything with tickets of your name. You had been financially looked out for to a much larger degree than most could dream, and not had your hand forced. At first, the help came through the direct acts of kindness from your best friend, and then later, you would somehow just always find exactly what you needed. Whenever the Capitol increased ridiculous taxes that felt as if they were specifically designed to wring you dry, there would be a freshly opened position for you to apply for, a wad of cash found in one of the boxes you looked through, even a charity basket by your door that you would always pass on to the rowdy McKinnon home. 

Part of you could hear his whispered promise to you whenever these blessings seemingly fell into your lap, but you pushed it down. It couldn’t be.

“I will always take care of you, princess”.

Above all else, being in the town square tore up your heart because you could only ever think of him. Of Sirius.

Of that day 5 years ago, when you had just started breathing normally after they called some girl’s name you did not know in the Reaping, only for your lungs to be ripped from you permanently at the sound of the reaped boy.

The second “Regulus Arcturus Black” boomed through the scratching speakers, your heart was shattered into a million pieces, never to be recovered, because it was followed up by a small yet firm: “I volunteer.”

When your head whipped to the side to witness your best friend in the whole world square himself against his inevitable death, you had found his sad grey eyes already fixed on you through the massive sea of bodies. You have no recollection of the sounds after that, but you know you were protesting, crying, trashing even, in the firm grip of Marlene as she forced you into a bear hug to stop you from trying to be a human shield for the one person you could not stomach losing. The sight of Sirius kissing Regulus’ head and squeezing Peter's arm before taking to the stage, shoulders squared and jaw lifted, already looking every bit like a child warrior, was burned into your retinas.

It took years before it was not the first image you saw whenever you closed your eyes. It still sometimes was.

That day, you had been certain your best friend was lost. When they let his loved ones bid him a quick goodbye in a solitary room after the ceremony, you had stood to the back with your hiccuping sobs, allowing Regulus the space you knew he needed. Marlene and Mary passed through, so did Peter, until it was just you left.

His parents did not show up.

While Sirius had kept up the facade with the others, his face crumbled when it met yours in your momentary privacy – save the Peacekeepers by the door. You had been hugging your front to keep from falling apart, but the second he slumped back against the desk and opened his arms for you, you were wrapped up in them.

At just 13 and 14 you were each other’s worlds. Grown up as neighbors, surviving just about everything together.

And it was because he was just 14 that you had no belief he could survive the games – at that point, no 14 year old had, and no matter how strong Sirius Black was, it took more than strength to break through that harrowing cycle.

Sirius had let his first few tears slip and fall into your hair, holding onto you for dear life. You can’t remember what you said anymore, just the way he smelled, just the way he held you and the murmurs he whispered into your skin as he swayed you.

“I’m sorry, I had to. You’re wonderful. I love you. You’ll be okay. I love you.”

You hoped to the gods you had said it back.

Though you did not know that then, you had been correct. Your best friend was lost that day – but he survived his games. 

It had been a torturous few months, forced to see him paraded around like a piece of meat, only to suffer through one of the longest games anyone had seen. You had sworn you would not watch it, but could not resist taking a peek at a small screen you snuck into your bedroom, crying as you caressed his dirtied face that looked so void of the Sirius you knew. Sometimes he would find a nearby camera and stare into it as he fell asleep, almost as if he could actually see you, feel your touch. You hoped it comforted him; that thought had you returning to the screen almost every night. The only nights you didn’t were the ones where you and Regulus slept in the same bed to keep each other sane, tethered.

When you two eventually woke up to the news that he managed to outlast the final tribute overnight, you cried until you laughed only to laugh until you cried.

On the day of Sirius’ return, you had made everything ready; dusted his room, bought the ingredients for his favourite dessert, orchestrated for his parents to be elsewhere, planned what to say with Regulus, who was equally as teary. Except when the Capitol Carriage swept up by the entrance and you ran out to greet him, only Peacekeepers exited the carriage, forcing you to step back. The blinds of the carriage were shut. 

You stumbled, entirely bewildered by the situation, sharing deeply concerned looks with Regulus. You had tried shouting for Sirius, you had tried asking the Peacekeepers, but you were left with nothing but silence.

While you were dumbfounded, Regulus grew agitated. With months worth of guilt piling up, it was easy work for them to bubble over into anger; he pushed past the Peacekeepers to try and bang on the wall of the carriage, yanking on the locked door handle. His screams of Sirius' name were cut off in an instant when the Head Peacekeeper slammed the back of his rifle against Regulus' neck. He lurched, tried to regain his footing, before he crumbled to the ground.

Acting more on instinct than anything else, you dragged him off to the side and held him tight to your chest, as if that would protect him. With an unconscious Regulus in your lap, you were forced to watch them carry down all of Sirius’ belongings, packed haphazardly in bags, and shove them into the back of the carriage. 

It drove off without you ever even catching a glimpse of Sirius. 

The next time you saw him was a few days later, on a broadcasted interview where he announced his permanent move to the Capitol. Clad in shining black clothes that could have fed the entirety of Districts 11 and 12, he had taken on the persona of the Casanova of the Capitol, the goading gladiator, the wicked victor. At just 14, he had made history.

The day after that, Regulus disappeared without any warning or trace. 

All you had was a seemingly private note slipped beneath your pillow that said “Don’t go looking” – you never told anyone about it. No one seemed willing to talk about him either. You were left completely and utterly alone. 

Grief settled into your veins, and you did the only thing you could: you settled into routine. Sweet, hard-working routine to keep your storms at bay until you had made some sort of life for yourself. With one job as a wooden toy carver and another as a wood sculptor, not to mention the dinner rotation at the McKinnons and the Pettigrews, you kept busy. You could pretend to forget.

Until you couldn’t. Each year when you were forced into that town square, the memories haunted you viciously, cruelly – taunting you with how little you understood, how much time had passed. Beneath it all, there was a simmering of the one emotion you never could get rid of in the grief and confusion; love. It was the singular thing that powered all within you, ranging from the determination to the resentment. Oh, how you loathed how much you loved and missed your Black brothers.

You felt Mabel jump beside you at the crackle of the sound system, as the new Capitol representatives got ready to commence the Reaping. You shared a quick glance with Mary, acknowledging how the younger girl had to be your priority right now.

“It’s alright, Bel,” you whispered, shifting to hold her tighter against your side. “That sound means it’s almost over. Soon we’re done.”

Mary squeezed your own hand in return, almost as if to say take your own advice. You smiled meekly at her, and she rewarded you for your efforts by momentarily placing her forehead on your shoulder.

The younger girl just buried herself into you and you sighed to make yourself softer. It was her second Reaping, which meant it was far from her last. You understood her fear well, but still, you wanted to quell it.

The further the representatives got into their speeches, the longer the same old video droned on for, the more you disappeared from the current moment. It was hard to differentiate between past and present in these few heavy minutes, so you preferred to be in neither, to float up and out of your body. The only thing grounding you was your two friends pressed up against you, and that was all you needed. Nothing they could say up there was of any meaning to you except those two harrowed names.

Sirius never attended the Reapings the way some of the other victors did. They would line up at the front, on occasion even make speeches themselves, but never Sirius. He had yet to be a mentor, but you knew that victors were supposed to have a meeting of sorts before each game, where one of them was selected for the year. You often found yourself wondering where that meeting took place, if it was at the Capitol or nearby, if you unknowingly were standing just a couple hundred metres from him where he waited backstage or on the train.

A part of you hoped to never find out. A part of you hoped to never be near him again.

Most of you knew that was a poisonous lie.

These were thoughts you promptly pushed away. They did you no good – it had been made clear to you that you were not to think of the noble victor Sirius Black anymore.

The muscles in your back tensed tighter, shoulders hiking higher and higher the longer into the speeches the Capitol representatives got. Knowing that a name was soon to be pulled, yet you kept yourself disconnected.

Almost over, almost over.

The sudden outburst of sound and emotion around you – cries of relief, gasps of shock, whispered reactions – alerted you to the fact that a name had been called.

However, it was Mary’s loud sob and her face turning towards yours with nothing short of horror written over it that told you it was someone you knew.

One glance up into her grieving eyes told you that no, it was– it was you.

After so many years of just barely dodging it, you had been reaped. You were reaped. You were reaped. If your thoughts mere moments before had been a cloud, dragging you up above the crowd, they now became an anchor, cementing your feet to the ground.

“Mary…” you began, but were cut off by a static crackle.

“Y/N L/N? Come now love, don’t be scared.” The glee and excitement in the Capitol woman’s voice was nauseating, but it did kick you into action – and everyone else around you too, as the crowd seemed to separate to form a physical beacon on where the three of you stood, pressed together.

Your body moved on instinct; it was as if you were possessed by Sirius’ memory, pulling Mabel's crying form against you and kissing her head much like he had done with Regulus, squeezing Mary’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile much like he had done with Peter. Ignoring your heart and mind screaming through sobs and anger, you released yourself from both of their grips to walk down the metaphorical red carpet leading up towards the stage. Chin tilted up, face schooled into nothingness. Eyes burning at the lights that suddenly shone upon you, fighting to keep from squinting. Forcing the tremble away from your fingers by balling them up into fists as you began to ascend the steps to the stage. 

“There we are, darling,” the male Capitol representative, who you had yet to bother learning the name of, essentially cooed at you, reaching out a hand for you to take.

You walked past it and assumed the position to the right of them both, staring emptily into the air. 

He chuckled in a low, menacingly lilting tone. “Okay, well, we can see what kind of tribute we just selected, can’t we, Bella?”

“We sure can, Barty,” the woman, Bella, replied with a gleaming smile. “As for her comrade in arms…” she trailed off for dramatic effect before dipping her fingers with their ridiculously long and sharp nails down into the pot.

From a distance, it was easier to distort the sounds of their voices. Now up close, you couldn’t help but hear every word passing between the two representatives, no matter how loud the screaming in your own head was.

No. No, no, no, no.

“... Peter Pettigrew!” Bella shouted cheerily, with a screeching joy that all but punctured your eardrums.

No. 

You squeezed your eyes shut from the first syllable, fighting the shaking taking over your body. Heavily, your shoulders slumped and your face began to fall at the revelation, before you scrambled for any and every piece of strength in your body to square up once again and face the literal sound of the music.

Deep breaths. 

In the corner of your eye, you saw him climb the stairs to stand beside you. For only a brief second, you dared glance over, only to see the pure terror written all over Peter’s face, only to immediately regret it and whip your face forward again. You knew in your heart that you were not making it out of these games – and unlike with Sirius, the feeling settled like wings on your shoulders instead of rocks. If you were honest, you knew Peter would likely not either, but you could at least fight for him, in the hope that he would.

The man Bella had called Barty came up behind you both and placed a strikingly cold hand on your shoulders, twisting you to face one another. It was custom to shake hands with your fellow tribute, but for the Capitol representatives to lay hands on you like this was certainly not. You fought back the urge to shake it off.

“Now if the tributes may shake hands,” Barty said with a wicked grin, speaking loudly enough for the microphone a metre away to pick up on it – thus too loudly. “And may the odds be ever in your favour.”

Peter’s hand was trembling with such force that he could barely move it away from his body. With a quick sideway glance at the cameras, you reached forward to grab it, steadying it even as you shook it. Peter could not meet your gaze, and not a single part of you could hold it against him; you merely squeezed his hand reassuringly. That had to be enough for now.

As soon as you let go, Bella closed the Reaping Ceremony with a flourish. 

You kept your chin elevated and your gaze empty as you began to move, lest it meet any of your friends and family in the many separated crowds. You weren’t sure if you would be able to keep it up if your eyes locked with Mary’s parents, with Peter’s brothers that he had to leave. Instead, you walked behind the walls with a pin straight back and let the Peacekeepers lead you through the townhouse, room after room, keeping all your emotions balled up. You signed some papers in one room, received a bag with a uniform in another. Finally you walked into the very same room that broke your heart 5 years ago, where your friends and family were already waiting.

The goodbyes were a flurry. Nothing felt real.

You hugged every one of the McKinnon siblings goodbye and nodded weakly when they begged that you would come back home to them, unable to make false promises verbally. The eldest, your Marlene, was the only one who did not plead; she grabbed each side of your face with a determined look and forced you to meet her eyes. “You will come home, Y/N. You will. I am not giving you a choice, you are making it back to us. Do you hear me?”

Even her, you could only spare a nod. But you listened and held her gaze through every word she spoke to make up for it, which seemed to be enough for now. Her hug was even more crushing now than when she kept you from running after Sirius and getting gunned down during his Reaping.

Mary had been silently crying through it all. When she hugged you, your collar was instantly wettened, and you could not help but wonder if this was how it felt for Sirius when you cried into him. You hoped it wasn’t, even as you knew it was. 

When every cheek was kissed and every I love you uttered, you sized them up with a resolved gaze. You let it drag carefully over them all, committing them to memory, one last time. 

Marlene could see what you were doing. With minimal movement, she shook her head – not admonishingly, but the correction was clear nonetheless. You will come back. You gave her a tight-lipped smile, and gave them all a final nod before exiting, allowing Peter to enter for his own goodbyes.

You stopped to say something to him, to hug him or give any reaction, but he scurried past you before you could. Even as you kept walking, your heart was sinking.

There was only one Peacekeeper waiting for you in the hallway. 

“Where do I go now?” You hated how weak your voice sounded, but at least there were no cameras here to catch it this time.

“Mrs. Lestrange is waiting for you around the corner. She will take you to meet your mentor on the train.” Even in your shock, you were baffled by the extreme lack of emotion in his voice. It was almost like talking to a robot, except it had distinctly human eyes. You supposed that was something to get used to.

“Thank you,” you replied, unsure if that was a common custom with Peacekeepers. You were lucky enough in 7 that their presence was limited.

You heard Bella before you saw her, she was excitedly recapping the entire Reaping process to Barty, as if it did not just end and he wasn’t there for the whole thing. He didn't seem to mind; he was twirling around himself, as if your metaphorical dead body was his favourite meadow to frolic through. Her clapping hands and screeching voice made you sick to your stomach, but her eyes might as well be cameras in the court of public opinion, so you picked your facade back up.

“I was told you would take me to the train.” You interrupted one of her tirades, and when her head snapped towards you, there was a second of blazing fire in her expression before she realised that it was you – a new plaything. The glee set back into her within a second.

“Oh, this was the part I was the most excited about.” She smacked a kiss to Barty's cheek before grabbing your elbow to drag you away with her. You had to clench your teeth not to rip it away from her – these Capitol people were handsy. “It’s about time for a reunion, don’t ya’ think?”

You weren’t sure what she was saying most of the time, though you rarely were with Capitol people. Yet the pinching feeling in your stomach did not recede to make space for confusion, nor did your shoulders lower even a fraction.

There was a special entrance to the train that you could access through the townhouse, so that you would not be too swamped by onlookers. Bella was explaining the whole ordeal to you somehow, but as the metallic train came into view through the windows, the blood rushing through your head got louder and louder, even more so than her pitchy voice. 

With this entrance, you only had to walk a meter unsheltered in the transition between the townhouse and the train. Shortly after the first gust of wind hit you was it again shut away as you stepped onto the metallic floorboards.

“Where are we going?” You found yourself asking Bella, unsure if she had already answered this or even if she was in the middle of a sentence.

She looked at you as if you were dumb, but it did not lessen her unnerving smile even a fraction nor stop her quick strides through the many corridors of the train. “Well, to meet your loverboy, duh.”

You stopped in the middle of a step, staring at her incredulously, unsure if you heard her correctly. A frustrated groan escaped her when she had to stop too, looking at you as if you were quite tedious. You knew who she must be referring to, but you had no idea why she would. At least like that.

“Am I not to meet with my potential mentors?” You tried to force any emotion out of your sentence.

“You’re being so silly, did you know that?” Bella took your arm once more, jostling you along with her. “Your mentor has already been decided, stupid. He’s waiting just over there, come on.”

You stumbled slightly in your step from how forcefully she dragged you. You were unsure if she even knew that she was gripping you as hard as she was, or if there was some serious disconnect between her mind and body. 

She only let you go in favour of ripping open a rather large oak door and releasing an unnecessarily loud “ta dah!”. 

The back you were met with was one you would have recognised in every life. 

He stood hunched over a table, hands splayed out so wide they were shaking, black curls hanging messily in his face, breathing ragged. At the sound of Bella’s entrance and you being ushered in, he whipped around.

It was Sirius. Of course it was. Your heart wanted to say it was your Sirius, but you could clearly see that he wasn’t. 

Though he looked different than he had on the occasional glance you stole of him onscreen, he still didn’t look the way you remembered either. No longer was he the scrawny boy you grew up with, the one you messed around in fields with, the one you read books with, the one you cried with and slept beside and walked beside and lived beside. Before you stood a weathered man, sharp in his handsomeness, pointed in every one of his features, guarded by an army of layers yet wearing more emotions than suited him. He had a few tattoos creeping up the side of his neck, the onyx ink shining in contrast to his pale skin.

The one thing that remained the same was the utter heartbreak spelled out in his eyes. It was the same as when you saw him last, only perhaps worse.

No, it was decidedly worse. When the stormy greys landed on your face, flitting about so rapidly that you were unsure how he could even see, lips parting ever so slightly, whatever tormented him settled in deeper. He looked inconsolable.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. As if he didn’t know what to say, as if there were no words.

His attention was abruptly shifted over to Bella when she clapped her hands together in mirth. “Isn’t this exciting!” she exclaimed, looking back and forth between you. “Aren’t you going to hug in greeting? Aren’t you going to ki–”

“Bellatrix.” Sirius spoke through gritted teeth, all of his pain schooled away in favour of a burning fire when he faced her. His voice was so much deeper than you remembered, so much hoarser. “Get lost. This is a meeting between mentor and tribute.”

“Oh, this is hardly a meeting or classified in any way, Siri. Just–”

He cut her off once more. “I won’t tell you again.” He eyed her with a severe glare. “Leave us. Now.”

It looked like Bellatrix wanted to fight him on it, but after looking between you three more times, she evidently decided she had gotten enough out of this endeavour. “You’re too serious, Black,” she said with a giggle. “Don’t bite her face off, you dog, she needs it for the interviews.”

She seemed to all but float out of the room, but closed the door behind her with a loud bang. You kept your head craned sideways, eyes burning a hole through the door where she left, leering. 

The silence in the room felt more deafening than the volume of the plaza had. You had no idea what to say – this was nothing like what you could have imagined.

You and Sirius, alone in a room. Something you had craved more than words could explain, but that you now backed away from with every fibre of your being.

“Princess.” Sirius breathed the word out like he had been choking on it. Before you had the time to turn your head fully back towards him, he had swept you up into a bone-crushing hug. “Y/N,” he whispered into your neck, almost reverently. 

A minute ago you were walking down the hallways with an awful stranger, and now you were embraced by someone who, despite everything, was painfully known to you. It did not compute in your mind, everything was whirring and screeching, and unlike what he once could, Sirius did not quiet the noises.

He almost did, though. Just almost. With his arms around your back, fingers splaying around your ribs, with your nose shoved against his neck as he cradled you, his scent taking over your senses, you could almost fall into it. Could almost fall into him. Your Sirius.

He smelled the same.

You reared backwards out of his touch, back hitting the wall as you stumbled. Your eyes felt wide, almost like a cornered animal, your lips parted as you stared at him. You realised you were breathing heavily. If he was startled by you ripping away from him, his face didn’t show it.

Studying his face now gave you a wave of deja vu so strong, it almost made you dizzy. There was no way you could communicate anything effectively at the minute.

“Sirius, what the fuck?!” 

You hadn’t meant for your voice to be so loud, but not even that drew a reaction from him. Kicking yourself off the wall, you walked past him – leaving a large amount of space between you – dragging your fingers through your hair as you did so. You began a sentence multiple times, but no coherent word came out. “Why are you here? What just happened?” you ended up whispering, feeling pathetic at how close to a whimper it was. “Who–” You stopped. That was a sentence you did not have it in you to complete. 

Who are you?

When you turned around to face him, you found that he had followed after you, keeping a respectable distance but still within arm’s reach, as if he couldn’t allow you to get further than that. For the first time since you stepped into the town square, tears began to fight to well in your eyes. Sirius didn’t look away from them.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper, insistent and imploring. “Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“For what?” You choked out, wrapping your arms around your stomach, not much unlike you had during his Reaping. Sirius’ gaze flitted down to your arms before moving back up, and it was as if you could see the memory playing across his irises.

He heaved a deep breath before rubbing his hands up and down his own face. When he lowered them, he gave you a look of defeat.

“I– let’s start over again,” he said then. He gave you a rueful smile. “Hi, princess.”

You looked at him, uncertain of whether you should start crying or laughing. You settled on a scowl in between. “I’m not sure you get to call me that anymore.” You looked away from his face as you said it, unwilling to see his reaction. “But sure. Hi, Sirius.”

When you dared a glance at him, he had his lips pressed together and a look of remorse in his eyes. You hated that you could still read him like this, for more than one reason.

“I was roughhoused onto the train last night. Told that I was to be the mentor of these games, whether I’d like to or not, no more information.” He said, as if that explained anything.

You couldn’t help the bite in your reply. “Am I meant to feel sorry for you? I was just given a death sentence. And now I have to face my ex best friend who I haven't seen in five years. This is some awful joke.”

This time you didn’t avert your gaze, the simmer within you for once bursting into a flame, however short-lived, and you got to witness how his face jerked backwards as if you had slapped him. In some way, you kind of had.

Your anger was not mirrored in his expression, but a form of determination took over his face as he spoke. “You weren’t. You weren’t.” 

“What?” you asked dumbly, yet uncaring of sounding it.

Sirius stepped towards you, gingerly taking your hands into his own. His touch burned, the new awkwardness of the gesture burned. “You weren’t given a death sentence. I wasn’t and you weren’t. I bloody swear to you, Y/N, you will make it through these games.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from his touch, but you managed to at least not lean into it. There was a dangerous gloss coated over his grey eyes when you met them with your own, and for a second you got lost in them. Your voice cracked as you asked, “Why?”

Sirius let out a humourless laugh and suddenly brought you back into a hug, as if he just couldn’t help himself. Your hands were trapped between you in an embrace with one of his, but he rested his forehead against your temple and seemingly breathed you in.

“I am so, so sorry you have to ask that, princess. I’m so sorry, but I had to go.”

You shivered in his hold. These were words that you dreamed of – but had they not been nightmares? You shook your head but made no other move to remove yourself.

"It's been five years, you know? I'm not sure we even know each other at this point."

Sirius' answer was immediate. "I know you." He pressed his forehead firmer against you. "I know you."

The emotion in his voice rendered you speechless.

He pulled backwards without releasing you from the embrace, leaning away just enough to catch your gaze with his. It felt like the floor was giving way beneath you. His hand on your back travelled up to your cheek. “I'm sorry for it all. Always. And I’m sorry for calling you princess when you just asked me not to,” he added with a hint of the sheepish smile you once loved.

You opened and closed your mouth, absolutely dumbfounded, and he just stared at you patiently. Warmly. Desperately. 

“Sirius–”

You were cut off by the door swinging open once more, causing Sirius to physically spring away from you, suddenly putting multiple metres between you at the sign of new guests. You almost stumbled at the change in positions, and you saw his hand twitch when he cast a glance your way, as if it ached to steady you.

“Now that the lovers have had their private greeting, maybe it’s time to include the other tribute in your strategies, Siri? Or are we just going to let itty bitty Peter die at the cornucopia?”

Bellatrix’s high pitched voice pierced through your ears, and you felt a mountain of guilt fall on top of you when your eyes fell on Peter cowering behind her, his eyes flitting wildly between you and Sirius. In your whirlwind of emotion, you had almost forgotten that he was as doomed as you were.

One glance to your right showed you that Sirius had no idea Peter had been reaped too. His brows furrowed and his lips fell into a decidedly downturned frown. “What– no, Pete,” he breathed out, arms falling to his sides.

“Hi, Sirius,” Peter squeaked, seemingly uncertain about what their dynamic was now, but relieved at at least being acknowledged.

Sirius stepped forward and physically nudged Bellatrix to the side as he pulled Peter in for his own hug. The sight stung in a way you couldn't communicate.

Over Sirius’ back, Bellatrix was grinning at you wickedly.

“Seems like you three have a conundrum or two to work through for us, don’t you?” Barty said cheerily as he emerged from behind Peter, clapping his hands down on his shoulders and making the younger boy jump in fear.

Bellatrix laughed as if that was just the funniest joke, and all but skipped up to you to tug at your cheek while turning to look at Sirius’ face that became increasingly stony at the sight of Bellatrix’s hands on you.

“Don’t you, Siri?” she pushed, giggling in a nearly maniacal manner. “Luckily, the Capitol is still far off. Gives you just loads of time to catch up, yeah?”

Part Two can be found here<3

[thecameronchronicles]

A Cup Of Sugar

TW: age-gap (reader's over 18.), dirty talk, sex without condom, manipulative behavior.

SUMMARY: Your next door neighbor and crush asks for a favor and leaves with something else...

A Cup of Sugar

The blue house with the white shutters has always been a staple to your cul-de-sac community since you could remember. Block parties pulled everyone together through fake smiles to save face for those who would more than likely be thrilled to not have to speak ever again. But in the politics of jealous wives and HOAs came one glimmer of peace in your existence.

The man in the blue house and white shutters.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood classified to his thoughts, his eyes always dancing over some shaven blades of grass paid to appear so perfect. He offered the waves to those to his caliber and always left you with a kind smile before slipping back inside. And this is how it had been for two decades. Since you were the little girl with pigtails who walked over with your parents to welcome him and his wife to the neighborhood before you could even look him in the eyes. And now, you dreamed of those eyes looking down on you for an entirely different reason.

You were always on the cusp of being noticed, putting increases effort when it was least expected. Even going out to check the mail you made yourself flawless in what you could, only ever getting the politeness from him.

At least until your eighteenth birthday. You caught his gazes lingering, your heart picking up speed, and his words a bit more adult than normal.

-------

A knock pulls you from the mundane afternoon where even the recent slew of TikTok trends over your FYP page do little to pass the time. Once opening the door, you silently curse not giving yourself a once-over in your camera before pulling it open.

"Mister Cameron. My dad isn't here..." The corner of his lips pull upwards.

"I know. I'm sorry to bother you, uh...do you have any sugar?" You stare, helplessly lured and anchored into the beckoning of him. Having always been attracted to the forbidden man across the street of blue eyes full of intimidation and cautious hands silently strong, you find it difficult to keep from showing it.

"Sugar? Um...let me check..." You move inside and hear him follow in uncertain steps before the door finally closes.

Once you come to the cabinet full of baking ingredients seldom used, already aware if you have any sugar it is probably more in brick form than edible, you play the time anyway to keep him in your company.

"Is Madison making something for Cheer or-"

"Let me help..." He stands behind you, shadowing you enough to nearly swallow you in his height alone, as he reaches over the cabinet.

"This cabinet?" You nod, facing him. His smirk remains on you as he makes no effort to actually seek out the sugar and simply holds his hand beside you as if to block you in.

"Mister Cameron..."

"Did you know that when your window is open at night that I can hear you in my backyard?" You blush, trying to imagine if there was anything embarrassing you had done. Played music too loud? Argued with your (now ex) boyfriend and it keeping him awake? Talked to yourself? Only God, it wasn't about him was it?

"Did I? I'm sorry. If I was too loud-"

"I can hear everything from the concerts you put on...to that which you do after you think everyone has gone to sleep..." He leans against you, his cologne dizzying you.

"I..." There is no mystery to his thinly veiled innuendo.

"You heard..." You can't say the words aloud, never having the chance as nobody else has ever been so brazen.

"Everything, Y/N. Or at least enough to know exactly what it is you need..." You blink in disbelief as all words thicken on your tongue, refusing to formulate.

"I-"

"You don't have to deny it. I know exactly what you need....Let me give it to you?" You swallow hard, trying to understand how this is happening. Manifestation truly works if your silent prayers had gone unanswered.

"I don't know-"

You are lifted onto the counter and he stands between your parted legs. It is a quick moment that feels as if it is in slow motion to the feeling of his hands on you.

"You want to know what else I know?" You swallow and nod, curiosity succeeding over logic.

"You can only come with my name on your tongue..." He kisses you with intent. Not to be gentle or loving but to claim. He doesn't wait for you to find breath or even steady against him as he uses the grip on your hips to pull you to him. You hold at his shirt for stability and it only makes him growl as your nails find him instead.

"You need what only I can give you, isn't that right, sweetheart?" You nod, too intoxicated by his touch to want to tempt fate to sober.

"I know nobody will be home for at least a few hours. You know how I know? Because I made sure of it. Now open those thighs for me-" You open and he scoffs, rubbing his jaw as he sees you not only eager but ready as you've completely soaked through your panties.

"I've had to listen for months while you got yourself off thinking nobody could hear you. But I did. And I wondered if you were doing it just to fuck with me or if you were really REALLY that desperate to come...next time, you say my name I'm taking it as a call and I'll make you come. Bet this sexy fucking ass on that." He grips the part of your ass exposed to him before he leans forward.

"Because I've had to hear you and now, you're gonna show me..." He pulls your panties to the side and rubs his cock up and down those lips.

"God, you're so fucking wet, it's almost pathetic." He moans before pushing the bulbous head of his dick closer to your entrance.

"Yesssss." He hisses as you gasp. He's wide, thick, and hot in every sense of the word. The coarse hair usually hidden to the naked eye is now stroking against you as he pulls back far enough to see the slickness you left behind on him.

"That's it....coat my fucking cock." He groans as he continues to thrust brutally and withdraw in almost torturous strides as you are breathless and wordlessly in awe. It is erotic, and almost painful, before he huffs.

"You sound so much better stuffed with me than whatever you were doing. What was it? Hmmm? Your fingers?" You nod, embarrassment rising up your body.

"And it was only me you thought of, yeah? None of those useless boys who can only dream of filling you like I can, right?" When you don't answer, he grips the back of your neck. "RIGHT?!"

You nod as he hoists your flat feet up to the counter so you're completely wide to him. His speed is no longer traceable as he's just pounding into you. Hand stabilizing himself in the cabinet above you, he rams into you with the force awakening something bold within you. You claw at his back and through his hair before kissing him again, instigating it all as he reciprocates with heady excess.

"Trying to get me to notice you in those bikinis and shorts like I could ever ignore you? Fuck, Y/N you're so wet for me aren't you? Gonna come hard? Maybe I should make you wait like you made me." He patronizes behind a humored growl. His head comes back, throwing it in pleasure as his face comforts, mouth wide and almost in disbelief as he grips the flesh of your hips with a punishable clutch.

"You need to come, you come to me. For me."

"Mister Cameron-"

"You call me Rafe when I'm this deep inside of you. Understand?"

"Yes R-Rafe."

"Good. Now scream it while I make you come and then I fill you up." The kitchen shudders around you as he thrusts and retracts, in and out, hard and deep. You were already sore but now you feel expanded and exhausted as he grips the back of your neck and pushes his mouth against yours. Not to kiss, to inform, and maybe even earn through a clenched repetition of "mine".

"Say it!" He calls out as you nod, agreeing in desperation as he showcases his approval on the final snaps of his hips before you feel him flood your womb in all that you were responsible for.

"Ahh fuck, yes I needed that..." He sighs as you keep your eyes on him as he pulls out of you. Without a care to clean up anything more than the space between you, he conceals himself back within his pants and shakes his head.

"So fucking sweet." He walks to the door and you're suddenly left half naked and empty.

"Wh-what about the sugar you needed?" You question, hoping it'll make him stay. With his brilliant smile and tempting lips purposed to a smirk, he grins.

"I got what I came for,. sweetheart." You sit in awe, realizing he took more than he left, including the fact you hadn't come. It was a play for power you gave him willingly and as much as you wanted to be the one in control, you knew you'd falter against him. Having a taste of him, you were eager for the next. Suddenly addicted to the man across the street you've loved and lusted for in equal measure since you could remember...

MASTERLIST