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spatialwave · 1 day

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pairing: the ghoul x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k words

summary: you’re not sure how, but you, a vault dweller, managed to sneak your way into the ghoul’s heart.

warnings: implied sa

notes: just a little/poorly paced ficlet LOL, testing the waters of writing for cooper. kind of fluffy, the start of maybe a little ficlet series?? also taking request for ghoulcy or ghoul x readers! 🖤

being a so-called ‘vaultie’ had put you in quite the predicament while on your journey through the wastelands. unbeknownst to you, a bounty had been placed on your delicate head — a large bag of caps that would be sure to provide a ghoul with adequate supplies to keep from going feral.

you, on the other hand, were severely unprepared for what the surface would bring. several nights alone, your supplies depleting. hell, you hadn’t even known that bounties were a thing, or that you’d be needing to purchase your next meal with a handful of bottle caps.

if it weren’t for cooper finding you, you’d likely have died out in the wastes with the radiation eating you away until you were nothing but a pile of bones. still, you weren’t fond of the treatment he’d greeted you with.

when you first saw the shadowy figure, your naivety had you hopeful. you stepped closer and even spoke a soft, “hello?” before a lasso had been thrown in your direction and wrapping snug around your neck.

“were’t you taught that you shouldn’t trust strangers in the dark?” the voice of a southern man spoke, thick like syrup. sounding like the man in the movies you had watched with your dad back in the vault.

knowing what you did now, you wished that you hadn’t put so much trust in him, though, you had no idea a ghoul would be making himself known.

the first day was brutal, being dragged along like a dog with blisters forming on your feet and your lips cracking and bleeding from dehydration. you had tried to plead your case to him, explaining how you needed to find your father, but he hadn’t shown an ounce of remorse.

by the fourth day? well, for your own sake you wouldn’t say it aloud, but you were near certain that you had grown on the ghoul. he removed the rope that left reddened marks on your skin and even gave you the chance to clean yourself up in a bucket of rain water. even gave some jerky he’d dried out from some critters he killed—allowing you to indulge in food without resorting to cannibalism like he had.

you didn’t want to push your luck with him, but you wondered why he’d grown soft on you.

the man was far from soft or vulnerable, unafraid to push you around or tighten the rope when you spoke out of turn. so, when you had a moment of reprieve after cleaning yourself up, your hair damp and clinging to the side of your face, you forced yourself to ask the question on your mind.

“why’d you remove the rope?” you asked, sitting around a fire on the third night—having never felt safer than with him. your knees were pressed to your chest and you fought away the hunger pangs as your eyes drifted to the ghoul sitting propped against a tree, eyes unseen under his hat.

you were greeted with the sound of a soft grunt as he shifted in his spot, and you could tell that he was thinking of an answer. something he could say that wouldn’t translate to ‘i’m growing tired of treating you like a piece of meat’.

“i don’t needa’ reason,” the ghoul muttered, lifting a hand up to his hat and adjusting it so it covered more of his face, “but that pricey bounty on that pretty head of yours is higher if i make sure you’re alive and well. not my preference, but can’t argue with money.”

the compliment struck a chord in you, one that rose colour to your cheeks and had you turning your head away to look at the small fire. pursing your lips, you weren’t satisfied with the answer.

“i could run away, though. without the rope around my neck,” you piped up, brows furrowing.

a heavy and loud sigh came from the hole in cooper’s face, your eyes lifting to him as you watched him a lift a hand. that hand pushed back the hat on his head so those piercing eyes could meet with your own doe-eyed stare. a smirk grew on his lips and you felt your stomach twist nervously.

“how far do you think you’d get if you tried to run, vaultie?” the ghoul questioned you with that sickening look on his face, “the bounty prefers you alive, but don’t think i won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head if you try to stir up some trouble for me.”

when day seven had rolled around, you found yourself in a predicament that only confused the everlasting fuck out of you. cooper had finally brought you to the man who had some caps for your head—a man who you didn’t even know, but claimed to know your father.

your heart shattered when you were thrown into a cage, bruises already forming on your skin when you had made contact with the shoddy brick wall. eyes fixated on the ghoul who was busy shoving caps into his pockets and taking precious vials from the box that had been offered to him.

what a fool you were to think that the ghoul would change his mind, that maybe he’d have an ounce of empathy in his irradiated body. you were no more valuable than what kept him alive… you couldn’t blame him for that.

“well, well,” the man spoke, his body covered in dirt and grime, teeth so decayed you could smell his breath even as he stood over you after entering the makeshift cell, “don’t try squirm on me now, we’re going to get ya’ all tied up… then i’ll have some fun with you.”

your lips quaked in fear, the first time you truly felt fear in days. cooper, the ghoul, had become your safety net and yet he tossed you away like you were nothing. into the hands of a pig, no less.

“don’t touch me,” you yelled at him, hearing the sounds of footsteps retreating.

you were alone.

“quit making a fuss,” the man spit at you, “the quieter you are, the less this will hurt.”

the sound of a distant gunshot had caused the man to pull away from you, and for you to perk up in your position on the ground. you hadn’t realized your entire body was shaking and you assumed the worst—someone was about to come in here and kill you.

why the hell did you ever think coming to the surface was a good idea?

you quickly sink back against the wall as you hear commotion, men yelling and more gunshots. it was a shootout.

“what the fuck is going on?” the man in front of you yelled, but no one answered. he spun on his feet and bent down in front of you, a heavy hand grabbing tight at your wrist, “get up, we’re leaving.”

“wha—“

you words were cut off when footsteps entered the room once more, the man quickly standing and dropping you back to the floor hastily where the back of your head smacked hard against the brick wall and left your vision hazy.

“you stupid ghoul,” the man roared and you felt your chest flutter, even as another gun shot rang through your ears and blood splatted across your face, a gurgling sound filling your ears.

through your blurred vision, you looked up just as the grotesque man collapsed in front of you, blood spilling out of the wound in his neck as he twitched until the blood loss killed him.

“cooper?” your voice croaked, the name slipping from your tongue easily. a name you’d wriggled out from him just a couple days prior.

a figure knelt in front of you, you immediately recognized those eyes even as your vision had grown spotty. you parted your lips to say more, but nothing came out.

“stay with me,” his southern drawl comforted you as you felt your mind edging the line of unconsciousness, the pain in the back of your head feeling cold now, “vaultie—“

the crackling of a fire was all you heard when your eyes fluttered open, red and orange filling your pupils as the smell of smoke filled your lungs. there was something underneath your body, leathery fabric… and something brushing through your hair.

smacking your lips together, you tried to sit up but failed immediately when you realized your body wasn’t ready for moving yet.

“slow down, cowgirl,” a voice spoke, “we’re in no rush.”

that’s when you realize that there were fingers in your hair. cooper’s fingers. why was he soothing you? when did you get here?

“you left me,” your voice was weak, still hardly able to keep your eyes open, but you figured a stimpack was the reason you hadn’t felt anymore pain from the back of your head. your first concussion.

“almost did,” he said, a heavy sigh coming from him, but nothing else to explain his actions.

tilting your head back just enough, you were able to spot cooper sitting next to you, legs outstretched in front of him and head tilted back against the wall he leaned up against. he’d found an old building to set up the night in, all of the windows shattered and broken, so the smoke from the small fire had a place to escape.

“but you came back,” you murmured, rolling slowly until you were on your back and cooper had to retract his hand from your hair, arms instead settling over his chest, “i thought you hated me.”

a snort, which you could only assume was his form of laughter, came from the ghoul. a smirk playing along his lips as you watched him from your position on the floor, his leather jacket keeping you from laying on the layer of dust that accumulated in the building.

“if i hated you, darling, you would’ve been gone the moment i laid eyes on you,” cooper answered honestly. you finally got that vulnerability you asked for.

your lips twitched, hiding back a smile as you adjusted yourself more comfortably on his coat that he so lovingly rested you on. as you laid there in silence, allowing your eyes to fall shut once more, you couldn’t help but wonder where you’d be in the coming weeks.

now that cooper had delivered his bounty, you wondered what could be next on his plate of adventure. you hoped that you’d be able to convince him to help find your father, but that was a conversation you’d wait for in the morning.

for now, you were content with the feeling of gentle comfort as his hand returned to your hair, calloused, weathered fingers pulling through the strands as you lulled back to sleep—knowing that you’d somehow found your way in the ghoul’s heart.

#fallout tv #ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout prime #fallout fic #wordsbyspatial

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 day

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First! Congrats on 3k!!!!!

For the ask game “If you asked me to, I’d give you the moon.”

Love your stuff!!

Thank you my dear! It's been a wild ride so far! Hope you like what I threw together for ya!

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Eddie watched. He observed. That's how he kept himself safe for years, kept himself from getting into physical altercations throughout middle and high school. That's how he managed to survive the city streets between gay bars, alone, trying to find a place he belonged. That's how he found himself in this group of young adults and children, friendship- family- forged from fire and blood.

That's how he recognized what Steve was doing.

He was always in the middle of things, but never the center of attention. Always put himself right on the cusp of being involved, but hung back enough to go unnoticed. He protected, but he stepped away the moment his safety was no longer needed.

He didn't think anyone else seemed to notice.

Steve was just there.

Present and accounted for, but not an active participant in anything.

Like today, this pool party, celebrating Max finally being done with her physical therapy and El finally being able to come out of hiding officially. It was Steve's house, Steve's pool, Steve's food, but Steve wasn't in the pool, or eating the food. He stood by the sliding door to the kitchen, watching with a fond smile.

Eddie walked over to him, poking his shoulder playfully. "You comin' in? I put on this bathing suit for you, least you could do is swim with me."

Steve tried to hide the red flush taking over his cheeks and neck, bowing his head and avoiding eye contact.

"Don't think I'm up for it today, sorry," he said quietly.

The kids yelling, the music blaring, and Robin and Nancy arguing over who had to blow up the float bounced around the large outdoor patio.

"You didn't feel up to it last month either," Eddie tried to get Steve to talk, to be involved in the conversation. "You wanna talk about it?"

Steve shook his head.

"Is it Upside Down related?" Eddie pushed.

Steve nodded once, looking away from everything.

Eddie didn't need to know more, not now or ever if Steve didn't feel like sharing, but he wanted Steve to know he could share.

"If you ever wanna face your fears, you could trust me."

Steve's head shot back towards him. "What do you mean?"

"If you wanted to talk about it. Or if you wanted to try getting in the pool sometime. I can be moral support either way," Eddie laced his fingers with Steve's, ignoring the pull in his stomach that was telling him to either let go or lean in further to kiss him.

"You'd-" Steve flexed his hand, squeezing Eddie's in his. "You would do that? For me?"

"Stevie, if you asked me to, I'd give you the moon," Eddie huffed a small laugh. "Moral support for what's clearly been pretty traumatic for you is kinda the bare minimum."

Eddie was met with silence, but he didn't feel nervous.

He was observant. He knew how Steve felt, even if Steve didn't realize it quite yet himself.

Okay, and maybe Robin had nudged him to make a move, saying there was no way Steve would react poorly. He trusted Robin to know what she was talking about when it came to Steve.

"The kids aren't staying tonight, just the adults. If you wanted to...I dunno. Maybe I could stick my feet in later if you wanted to smoke a bit out here with me?" Steve finally replied.

"Anything, Stevie." Eddie squeezed his hand. "I mean it."

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #asks #follower celebration #it's basically a love confession #and i don't even care how ridiculous it is #you all know what you're getting when you give me these romantic lines

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suguru-getos · 2 days

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fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 1

warnings: abusive!suguru, mentions of cuts, mentions of physical abuse (choking, beating up, chaining), not for the faint-hearted. not beta'd. dead dove do not eat. summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through.

it has been in total of three days since you have been caged in the geto estate, at first, your anxiety and palpitations could not let you sleep, now? you're too exhausted to have those in the first place. it was simple, your parents were millionaires and owed geto some money, they decided not to go ahead with the deal and in turn, Miguel brought you here. in the confined walls of the estate where they crush you chokingly.

it's 3 am, your eyes wide awake in the bed that you're confined to, leg chained to the bedpost and the metallic bite of the chain brushing against your skin, bruisingly. your ankle is tied from the bedpost, you could walk around only to a certain extent. why? because you tried to escape and almost succeeded. now even when you try to sleep, it serves as a reminder of how you are a prisoner here. you hate this, all of this because the cult leader named geto thinks you're useless and a monkey. you don't even have an idea what that means...

---

"they have a daughter." miguel hums at suguru, crossing his arms and manspreading, sitting with geto in his office. the feline eyed man raised a brow, "is that so?" "Interesting..." he hums again, feet tapping on the floor. "Miguel, how does she look like?" his voice laced with curiosity echoed in the room which had the two of them contemplating future plans. "wait, i have a picture.."

and there you were, papped and captured from your morning errand, holding your coffee in your hand and wearing a white tank top, and some parachute pants. you were beautiful, suguru could almost call you perfect. if only... you were not a pathetic monkey. he hates them, and they have no place in his world, they will never be a part of his world...

"i just want to go home- i don't have any idea what you're talking about." another flashback rang through your mind. your first day here, comprising you begging and whimpering against the ropes of the chair you were tied to. "of course you don't, your parents do. your opinions are worthless in this anyway." geto looks at you with disgust, his eyes carry a strange emotion... he just, hated you for existing. nothing else. mere existence...

"fuckers like you who have no morals whatsoever have no other choice but to kidnap huh? fucking asshole!" you snarled, screaming out in frustration. you had no idea how your life could change so easily. a large hand wrapped around your throat the next instant, choking the life out of you with no relent. you struggled, eyes widening and feet kicking with wheezing gasps. "you see?" geto hums, leaning in against your ear and gravely whispering, "this is how easy it is for me to kill you, you're nothing. just a worthless piece of shit born to create curses in this world."

you couldn't do anything, your hands were tied up, you could only see the life you had, flash in front of your eyes before you passed out. suguru has no idea of his strength with a feeble human yet. he leans back, noticing the prominent bruising on your neck once your head leaned back, limp and lifeless. he yanked his hand away, putting some sanitizer on it. "pathetic." he hums, gritting his teeth. you were so weak... so fucking weak and still all you had to do was use that pathetic mouth didn't you?

geto left you there for the night, a very minuscule part of him feeling upset over the way he treated you, he would call himself an asshole for it if it was a sorcerer, but you weren't one. who cares if you're not a sorcerer anyways...

the next day, your eyes blinked awake, a hiss escaping you when you noticed you were still tied up, some of the blood circulation stopped because of the ropes tying your body to the chair. you wanted to scream, but your voice box hurts after yesterday. a grim reminder of what your kidnapper was truly capable of. you sniffled weakly, senses in fight or flight.

before your pitiful breakdown could even commence, manami opened the door, watching you with the same disgust her 'geto sama' carries... what is wrong with these people? truly? why do they look at you like you mean nothing. like you have done the greatest sin of the earth just by being born? "good morning, here's the thing. geto sama has informed your parents that you're under our custody, if they agree to give the money then you're safe to go, or we kill you." she shrugs. killing... is it that normal of a thing to say?

your eyes widened at the sheer panic of it, manami noticing the palpable fear in them and laughing, walking closer to you and untying you roughly; ignoring the scratches the rough rope surface would gift your skin. "take a shower." she yanked you by your hair, throwing you on the floor.

a loud whimper escapes you when your ribs collide with the solid marble, your body was still recovering from being tied up. what is wrong with these people? you're sure you have some visceral damage at this, your internal organs hurt with that throw, blinding pain in your sensitive scalp because of the hold in your hair. suck it up... you need to suck it up. "shouldn't you- treat me like a human at least? if my parents come back for me?" you grunt, using the aid of your palms to get up, a little dizzy.

manami cocks a hip out, "geto sama was right, you have a smart mouth for a monkey." she scoffs, walking outside with a hold on your nape. you stumble on the floor, how is this woman so strong? you couldn't understand why... you couldn't budge in her grip on you.

everything is hazy after, except you were force-fed hot soup for telling geto to kill himself during dinner, and not fed at all the next day, getting captured as well for running away and now a chain on your ankle.

you close your eyes, hugging yourself tightly. you need to be your own comfort. you have to be your own comfort. but its hard... the way they look at you, the way they treat you, everything is making you wish you were better off dead. why are your parents taking so long in the first place? what's wrong with them really?

your body is exhausted, unable to keep up with the constant stress. you do end up getting dazed to sleep. although its filled with nightmares. you're woken up to an echo of a voice.

"good morning, i'm sure these don't feel good." geto hums, and you jolt awake, leaning instinctively against the headboard. eyes glossed, fear dancing through your nerves. you don't respond. why is he here? "i didn't think you were that dumb to try to run yesterday." he clicks his tongue, looking at you. gosh you still have the popped lip from when manami hit you after getting caught. some of it is in your nose too. geto sighs, its the way you behave that he gets conflicted. he has always been an underdog supporter, now a bunch of powerful sorcerers were torturing a frail human just because of money...

maybe he should do you a favor and kill you instead. he could just tell your parents that they delayed in sending the sum of money and take the money anyway.He wants to stay true to his word but also wants to return you to them. another part of him... which he hates the most, almost wants to hug you and apologize. That part is the reason you're being treated this way.

"you're not answering me." he raises a brow, watching you shiver with fear and flinch at the tone of his voice. "I'm sorry, won't run again." you managed to say meekly; within three days of you being here, you look like a completely different person. your neck is bruised, your face is bruised, your hair is a mess, you are chained to a room. it is drastic for you, geto knows that. "hm, you know the consequences aren't too great, i would just listen to me if i were you." he adds on, watching your shoulders slump in defeat. my god were you beautiful, you were perfect in his eyes, someone he should have taken on dates if his life was normal. thanks to your disgusting kind, his life isn't normal.

"manami will come to you with breakfast." he stands up with that, and your heart races. you hate that woman and the way she treats you. you wouldn't say geto is any better but at least he isn't downright awful... so far. you nodded, getting up to go and shower at least. the clank of chains in your ankle echoes in the room, and it makes geto stand still for a moment. the flash of his little girls caged haunts in his eyes. isn't he doing something similar to you.

"y/n." he says your name, watching your eyes slowly dart towards him. "if you behave for a few days, the chain will be gone."

you don't respond to that, walking away. suguru bites his lip, he hates this feeling he's getting. a frog in his fucking throat and it's just been four days of you being here. he shouldn't deter from his thoughts like this anyway. you're a monkey, a useless monkey who should be killed as soon as possible.

manami comes in with breakfast and you could only manage a few bites despite not being able to eat properly. manami was not that mean today, all she said that she expected you dead but you're not yet. she says this everyday, nothing ordinary.

meanwhile, your parents have decided to actually manage the sum of money, but it will take time. they inform geto of the same. your mom pathetically sobbing for her little baby girl. "don't worry, she will be alive and kicking, i will keep my word. you have 10 days." suguru cuts the phone call after.

you... would be elated to hear this news wouldn't you? you should be! and so he walks towards your room, where you were laying on the mattress, leg bruised and bleeding. his eyes widen a little. what did you fucking do?

you had a big and a deep gash on your ankle, from the looks of it, you were trying to get free from the chains. what did you even use for this? his eyes land to the sharp enough culinary knife on your bedside table. you were crazy, any other monkey girl would simply behave and let time decide her freedom. why did you want to be so miserable?

"y/n." he mumbles your name again, and your eyes land on him, "geto" you respond, you didn't even carry any malice when you said your name. he walks towards you, getting the first aid from your cupboard and tending to your leg. "if you want an easy enough death, just ask me." he's sure you'd have another panic attack at this statement. you've been having one every day for the past four days after all.

"hm, gimme n' easy death then" you hummed, emotionless as ever. "cus i think m' parents don't give a shit anyway." a stray tear escapes through your eyes, followed by a soft hiccup of a choked sniffle. geto stays quiet at that. yesterday night, he had a dream of you smiling. or what he envisioned your smile would look like... it would surely make you look more beautiful than you already are. he's so sure of it.

"it's not like that, they did contact me and soon you'll be free." he smiled, the close-eyed feline curve that charms everyone fails to work on you. "i see." you hum, and geto trifled with the metallic cuffs on your ankle, gently putting them away. he can't really let you be this miserable. it was pathetic, it was making him pathetic.

"sorcerers exist to protect the weak." his own voice echoes which he preached satoru with. a soft sigh escaping him. he hates you. he hates what you do to him and he hates how you're having this effect on him without even trying. "yeah, a few more days of me tolerating a hooker-looking pest like you." he grits his teeth, getting up. you blinked, unsure what the sudden change in his demeanor signified. all you could do was brace. brace for another attack.

suguru watches you do so, and that sends a shiver down his spine. what's happening to him? he kills monkeys without remorse! maybe he should kill you, fuck your parents, fuck their money. fuck you.

"since you really like using the knife how about i teach you how to use it hm?" you blinked when he spits those words out, feet stomping and holding the knife up. before you could even lean away he has your wrist in his hold, hot tears streaming down your face with the way your heart thumped loud from your mouth. "please please- no no- what're you-" the pointed tip of the knife glides down your skin, and despite your gutteral, blood-curdling screams and pleas, geto only lets go of your hand when he's written the word 'MONKEY' in your arm. throwing the knife away and watching you bleed.

"i hate you, stupid monkeys." he walks away with that, while you succumb to the ache and pass out. it hurts, you could feel the blood trickling down the mattress before your body lulls you to sleep.

meanwhile, suguru shuts himself in his room, the daunting sound of the door shutting down loud and him covering his ears with tears streaming down his face. what's he even doing? why did he have to do that? oh he knows why. he wanted to prove a point that he doesn't feel anything when he hurts a monkey. that he relishes in it... but that didn't happen.

didn't happen at all...

just nine more days with you until suguru geto gets rid of you and proceeds with his mission to kill all non-sorcerers.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #fractures geto #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #geto angst #geto suguru angst

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theraccoonslair · 2 days

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Sacrifice (NSFW)

[Giving this a second chance because a friend and their kind words helped me see it under a different light.]

Characters: (Heian Era) Ryomen Sukuna x AFAB!reader

Synopsis: You've been chosen by your village to be the annual human sacrifice for the King of Curses. Little you know you're gonna quench a different kind of hunger...

Words: 3600⁓

Note: Reader is afab but I tried to keep anything else as gender neutral as possible, so description of body should be ambiguous. "sex", "labia" and "clit" used to describe genitalia. No pronouns used. This is a NSFW text, so please MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THANK YOU.

CW: mentions of cannibalism, blindfold, manhandling, a bit of blood play, pet names (reader is once called "good little thing"), fingering (mouth, vagina, anus), double penetration (yes, Sukuna has two dicks), a bit of edging and choking.

It is not really how you expected it to go. In your head, you always pictured this moment to be ceremonious, solemn, grandiose even. Your logical brain always knew it wasn't the case, but you didn't expect to be treated like mere pounds of meat: blindfolded, gagged, hog-tied and very unceremoniously thrown in one of his mansion's chambers. Yet here you are now, trying to even your breath, your remaining free senses trying to take in as much of your surrounding as they can, a feeling of impending dread crawling up your spine and covering you in cold sweat.

You still don't know what fate will await you the moment the King of Curses is going to enter the room. Ryomen Sukuna is famous for his voracious appetite: is he going to throw you to his servant and let them slowly cook you over low heat, is he going to straight up eat you like an appetizer, or is he going to toy with you like a child not so willing to consume the offered meal? You don't know and you're not that sure you want to find out either. But it is your duty, as the chosen one for this year, and there is no way of bailing out of it now. Well, there had never been a way in any case.

The sound of barefoot steps approaching the room makes your entire body freeze, ears pricking up to catch even the faintest shift of feet against the wooden floor. He's near, he's coming. The steps come to a halt just outside the door, but he doesn't enter immediately, instead letting a couple of minutes pass in complete silence. A hundred and twenty seconds of pure agony where your heartbeat starts to gallop in your chest and the cold sweat covering you penetrates right through to the bone marrow, silence so deafening it turns into a ring in your ears.

The door slides open in its tracks and Ryomen "the King of Curses" Sukuna enters the room. His presence is enough to immediately nail you motionless in your spot on the floor, even if your blindfold is keeping you safe from his sight, a thing you both find to be a blessing and a curse. You can't see him, but there's no need for it: his aura is so powerful you don't have any problem in pin-pointing where he is in the room. Guessing what he intends to do is a different kettle of fish tho, and you return to concentrate all your focus in what your ears can catch, but he's very silent, just the brush of feet on the tatami and of his clothes on him betraying the little movements he's making.

Circling around you, he's taking his sweet time to do anything relevant, the tension putting you back in that sense of dread that took over your body earlier. The almost inaudible sounds of his measured steps drive you crazy, breath starting to hitch and limbs trembling from the exertion of their tied-up position.

What is he gonna do? How am I going to die? Am I really ready? Oh gosh I don't want to die...ohgodsohgodsohgodsohgods...why did they choose me?? WHY ME??? WHY M-

Warm, calloused hand is suddenly on you, making you somehow jump in your spot, your frantic thoughts a distraction powerful enough for you to not realize Sukuna approached and is now sitting at your side. Again, you don't need to actually see him for you to be intimidated: you feel him towering over you, his body radiating an aura of dominance and reverence, and again you find yourself frozen in your position, feeling like a frog ready to be dissected by a med student.

With slow yet firm motions, his big hand wanders on your body, barely covered by the haori you wore for the brief ceremony right before your offering. His touch is inquisitive, fingers digging from time to time into the softness of your flesh, as to asses the quality of the meat, thumb brushing in particular spots that catch his interest. Feeling your distress, he tries to sooth it, powerful digits hitting in the right spots and slowly turning your rigid muscles into something more tender, even though they don't completely surrender to his touch.

A second hand follows the first and their warmth dissipates the cold that lingered in your bones, making you relax a bit more. You can feel how he is more curious now, hands daring to venture under your clothes, groping, pinching, squeezing what is now his property. Finally, his hands stop their wandering on top of your tied limbs and, much to your surprise, he starts to undo the knots until your limbs fall with a thud on the floor, their stiffness making you realize how long you have been kept in that uncomfortable position. Then, as some miracle your mind have never dared to conceive, one hand goes to the back of your head and undoes the piece of cloth that has been put around your mouth.

Free to move and free to speak. Your mind still kinda processing those facts and you're turned around and on your back by his foot, that places itself on your stomach and pins you down. So big it cover the entirety of your midsection, the pressure is enough to keep you still, but not painful nor uncomfortable.

"Massage your wrists and ankles, make the sensitivity come back to your limbs" he speaks -no, he orders- for the first time since he entered the room and his voice sounds and echoes inside you like the rumbling of an approaching storm. You don't even think about disobeying him, so you force your hands up, numb fingers trying to move and do as he commanded: it takes you several minutes, but you gradually feel your blood rush back to your extremities and make them tingle.

You are still massaging the markings of the ropes on your wrists, his foot still planted on your stomach, when you feel his face descending on yours, just to stop at mere inches before your skins can actually touch. Your body stills, uncertain of his next move, and your mind starts to race through all the meat-based recipes you could possibly know, wondering how Sukuna will like your flesh best. His hot breath tickles your neck as his nose finds his way to the soft skin just under your jaw, and takes a good sniff of it. Involuntary goosebumps forms all over your body and you hear him chuckle directly into your ear, hair raising on the back of your neck.

"Are you afraid of me?" his voice his low, unexpectedly pleasant, and there's no threat in his tone, not yet at least.

You ponder for just a moment over your response, not wanting to upset the King of Curses, knowing well that your purpose is to win his favour over for another year on behalf of your village, but you also know that Sukuna is a man who doesn't like being lied to, so you give him what he's asking for.

"Yes... and no - you answer, your own voice sounding so feeble in your ears, but you can sense his brow rising and filling the silence with unworded surprise and curiosity, so you continue - I dread what awaits for me at the end of this night, what you're going to do with me...but there's a part of me that now feels...otherwise."

Honest thought it is, as you imagined his behaviour towards you to be indifferent at best and straight up predatory at worst. Well, he is predatory, something you muse is carved deeply in the very essence of his being, but right now he also feel almost...generous? If someone asked you before the ceremony, you would have never imagine that he would do such courtesy of freeing you of (almost) all of your restraints.

His chuckle is latched with amusement and when he talks again, huskily and low, his voice makes something warm stir into your lower abdomen, now free from the weight of his foot. "Good."

Giving you no time to ponder over his response, sharp teeth suddenly sink into your shoulder, making you yelp in surprise and pain. Delicious you may taste to him, as he doesn't let go of you, but bite harder, until his teeth break your skin and draw blood.

So this is how I go, uh? Consumed raw and alive by a monster in human skin...

Yet again Ryomen Sukuna surprises you, as he doesn't tear the first piece of your flesh away, but licks and sucks at your blood, before closing the wound with his Reversed Technique. Is he toying with you? Most likely. As it turns out, you seem to prove yourself as an entertaining one, enough to convince him into sparing your existence on this heart for a few hours more.

A shiver runs up your body, when you feel all of his four hands on you all at once. They quickly take care of your haori, tearing it into shreds with just one motion, and leaving you completely naked at his mercy. Have you thought it wrong? Does he really want to devour you right now and there?

And much to your surprise, instead of tearing and breaking as you thought they would, his hands really start to palm you, almost gently, the upper pair going up to your chest while you feel the lower ones caressing down your sides and legs. Eyes close under the blindfold and you start to tremble: of all the possible outcome of the night, this was not included in the ones you contemplated.

One of your nipples is reached by his big, deft fingers and is immediately pinched and twisted, making you squirm under him. "S-sukuna-sama..." you try to stop him, or at least slow him down, but he takes care of you in such a quick manner, that it takes your brain a full minute to realize what he has done: mouth over your other nipple, his free upper hand roughly pushing index and middle finger in your mouth, successfully silencing you, while his lower hands spread your legs open and keep them in position.

It takes you another minute to steady both your breath and your body, after the initial shock. The fact that you're unable to see starting to affect you more now that your body is completely immobilized again, but you try to calm down and slow your erratic heartbeat, fully aware that you had never had a say about the whole night. You are here just to give whatever he wants to take from you.

Sukuna waits patiently, lazily licking at your nipple and slowly pumping his fingers into your mouth at the same time, covering both your chest and chin with saliva. Once you let out a long breath through your nose and let your body relax under him, he resumes his attack and gives more vigour to his actions, the intensity of it all making you arch your back. His tongue is big and rough against your nipple, circling around the bud without mercy, while his big fingers relentlessly fuck your open mouth, almost leaving you without breath. It's all so intense, you struggle a bit to comprehend all the sensations and feelings travelling around your body all at once: the firm grasp on your legs, his calloused digits against your tongue, the sharp teeth that scratch your skin from time to time, the apprehension of blood being spilled again lingering in the back of your mind.

The grip on one of your thigh leaves and you feel his fingertips brushing the area around your sex, reaching your labia and spreading them open, the first traces of your arousal starting to drip out. He lets out a hum of approval and slips two of his fingers inside of you, making you moan around the ones that are still pumping inside your mouth. They immediately start with a fast pace, both set of fingers going in and out of you at the same time, and almost send your brain in short circuit. Too many fingers in and on you, too many stimuli calling for your attention.

Clinging to one of his arms, again you try to steady yourself in that sea of sensations that washes over you in big, strong waves. The room starts to be filled with lewd sounds: the squelching of your juices, his slurping on your nipple, your muffled moans, his occasional humming.

Once you think you got a hold of yourself tho, he starts to scissors his fingers, nicely spreading you open while your walls try to clench on them. You can feel the smirk on his lips, how is enjoying teasing you so much, taking you to your limits and making you test them, only for him. The sensation at the beginning makes you go tense again, not in a hurtful way as Sukuna seems strangely careful not to harm you, but in the way only of two of his fingers alone seem to fill you up to the brim. You feel them stretching and spreading, exploring your insides to find all your most vulnerable and sensitive spots: they press here, move in a circling motion there, and every time without fail, they make you react in the most delicious way.

Without warning, you feel another finger making its way into your entrance to join the other two, and a wave of anxiety tries to take hold of your brain: if you fell so full with two big fingers already inside, how is it going to be with a third one?

Frantically grabbing the arm that’s taking care of your mouth, with the last remnants of coherence left you try to ask for mercy, but your words are strangled by his fingers, forced to go back from where they came. Whines, moans, and grunts are the only sounds you apparently are allowed to produce, but you’re sure that, even if intelligible words had come out of your mouth, the King of Curses would not have had ears for them.

The knot that was building inside your lower abdomen is dangerously near to snap, but you try to keep it at bay, not sure what Sukuna really wants: does he intend to torture you all night long, or does he really wants to see you lose yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you? You look up at him even if you can’t see him due to your blindfold, so you miss his mischievous grin plastered on his lips, matching with the hungry stare that had his pupils overtake his crimson irises.

Your body has probably given you away, as he lowers his head until his mouth is brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers huskily “Don’t hold it from me, let yourself go and give it to your King” and going in pair with his sultry words is the tongue of his abdomen mouth, treacherously teasing your clit with its tip, moving slowly at first and then quickly taking up the pace.

It’s too much, it’s oh so fucking good, and it all overwhelms you.

And you give it to him.

Your orgasm hits you so hard you spasm and shake, your walls clenching hard on Sukuna’s fingers still deep sheathed inside of you. Lewd moans try to escape your muffled mouth while his second mouth laps and slurps at your spilled juices, his low chuckle all you can hear above the furious rushing of blood in your ears.

It takes you quite a few minutes to come down from your high, minutes where the King of Curses seems to be ever so patient, leaving you now free to regain your breath and composure. Your breathing returns regular and the roaring in your ears subside as well. Finally back in this plane of existence and you find yourself feeling his not yet satisfied hungry aura, looming expectantly over you, and you know the night has just only begun.

As if you are but just a mere rag-doll, he grabs you by your hips and turns you over, your hips then immediately raised until you have your ass up in the air and your face still plastered on the floor. No problems for your bottoms to be taken in a handful of his, big and calloused palms covering your flesh with no effort, grabbing, squeezing and pinching to their delight. Pressing you against himself and through the fabric of the clothes that are soon to be discarded, you realise how much of a demon he his.

You know that he possesses some attributes that barely classifies him as "human": unsettling double pair of cold eyes, two sets of muscular arms, and an additional very big mouth on his abdomen. He has double of almost everything... and apparently, he has double the normal amount of dick as well. You tense. But there aren't any other choices, are there? So you just have to relax, and do your best.

Inhale and exhale.

You convince your muscles to let go of the tension, becoming more pliable in Sukuna's hands, who starts to manhandle you even more eagerly. "Good little thing" he murmurs, the praise adding to the warmth that is slowly but relentlessly pooling in you again.

Making your flesh his playground, Sukuna continues to take care of it, now with his two dicks joining as players alongside his hands: one slides itself through your still soaked folds, the other mirrors the movement between your butt cheeks. From your position, you hear him make a strange sound, something near satisfaction not quite achieved. Your mind buzzes with thoughts about what you could have done to upset him, but after a moment you feel your fears being vanquished: a string of spit slowly descends where your skins touch and he resumes his stroking motions, spreading it nicely on your rear entrance.

A couple of times again, the amount of saliva being more and more every time, until you finally hear his satisfied hum rumbling low in his chest while now his cock slide easily on you. The motion of both of them on your private parts starts to have the desired effect on you and you start to move your hips in unison, seeking the friction your body craves.

However, he doesn’t indulge you immediately, detaching himself from you just enough to spit another time and let one of his fingers spreading it and prodding at your butthole. He enters slowly, almost gently, giving you time to adjust to the intrusion, before starting to gradually move his finger inside of you. Again, he leisurely explores your insides, taking notes of every one of your reactions and enjoying seeing you giving up all your restraints for him.

Not gagged by his fingers, you now let all your sweet sounds fall from your lips like a cascade, Sukuna’s name resonating loud and clear in between moans and whimpers. In the temporary absence of his cock, one of his hands sneaks under you, finding your puffed labia and your swollen clit and making you reach new notes in the musical scale of your pleasure.

When he takes all of his teasing fingers away and out of you, you let out a whine in protest, turning your head to look at him above your shoulder, even if you can’t see him. He gazes back at you with the same wolfish grin from before, while he slides both of his dicks inside of both your entrances at the same time. Eyes shut and mouth gaping in a soundless oh, you feel the first wave of him hitting you when he bottoms out.

Having you all ready and prepared with his finger, he doesn’t waste much time and just lets a couple more droplets of saliva down, before starting to move into you with a lively pace. And while you’re being fucked by two dicks, four hands are all over you body, wandering on chest, hips, clit, shoulders, neck, mouth: no part of you is being left untended for and soon enough your brain find itself bombarded by stimuli again.

The waves becoming bigger and stronger at every thrust, you drown under the intensity of his squall. The pleasure engulfs your body and threatens to throw you off the cliff, but the King senses your imminent climax and slows down, eliciting another frustrated whimper from you. And, as a cat who plays with their prey, the King takes a liking to this little game and shoves you almost off the edge to just catch you back before your fall for a few more times, until you’re a sobbing mess in his arms.

One of his hands comes to your throat and raises until you are flushed against his big chest, his low panting in synchrony with the squelching sounds made by the connections of your bodies. A quick clench and the air is briefly cut from entering your lungs, your brain soaking in the waves of pain and pleasure from the momentary lack of oxygen.

“Su-sukuna-sam..aaaa...puh-please..!”

His pace becomes more wild and intense, his cocks spreading you in the most fulfilling and delicious way, your second orgasm threatening to explode any moment now. But he’s not satisfied yet, he wants you to crumble under him completely so he finds his way to your clit and teases it, while your shoulder is once again subject to the attention of his teeth.

You finally fall from the cliff and it’s all white and oh so intense.

---

When you regain consciousness, you realize your blindfold is gone and you can finally see the man in the room with you, lazily munching some dried persimmons. He gives you one, an offering you gladly accept, your body aching in every joint and muscles you posses as you move yourself in a seated position.

“Hope you’re hungry as I am – he says with an husky tone, while offering you another fruit after you devoured the first one – because that was just the appetizer.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #Coony scribbles

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wordywarriorwrites · 1 day

Text

Assignation

Title: Assignation | AO3 | Rating: M | Masterlist

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F! Reader

Summary: You meet Frankie on your dream vacation and sparks fly...

Warnings: Language. Smut. Alcohol consumption.

The all-inclusive, adults-only resort is undeniably luxurious.

Clear-blue skies. White-sand beaches. Glorious accommodations. It’s an absolute dream vacation destination, and you – long overdue for a break – fully intend to spend your time in paradise eating food you’ve never tried, sleeping in as late as you want, and testing the limits of your liver.

The patio outside your suite offers a panoramic view of the Atlantic, along with a private pool, and gated access to the beachfront. Nearby, you can see people dancing and eating and playing games. You’re far enough away from the noise for it not to be bothersome, but close enough that you can join in any time you like.

Feet in the water. The apples of your cheeks slathered in sunscreen. You let your senses take in the salty air and chlorine, the echoes of laughter and revs of water skis, the sleep-inducing heat, and the chilled-to-perfection cocktail. The buzz in your veins has kickstarted your appetite, and your nose guides your gaze toward the tiki hut across the way, the delicious scent wafting from it prompting you to pocket your room key and make your way onto the sand.

You sip as you precariously swerve and dodge, mindful of your step and the revelry of the other vacationers. You’re being extra careful, so, it’s not your fault when the collision happens. In fact, you were well out of the way of the group of men drinking beer and playing volleyball, but the safe distance you kept wasn’t enough to stop the collision from happening.

The glass in your hand goes flying, the ice and tequila splashing on your face and chest just seconds before you’re entangled with muscled limbs. A blur of a hat and dark eyes, and then, it’s all hops and sweat and the unmistakable scent of coconut. Everything goes tilt-a-whirl, and you roll a few times before your back eventually meets cold water and wet sand. Waves rush forward, and the only thing that prevents you from swallowing a mouthful of brine is a broad-shouldered body blocking the spray.

“You alright?” a deep voice pants, low-timbered and tinged with concern.

A large, warm palm cups your cheek, prompting you to look up and drink in the sight of the man hovering above you. Dark, decadent brown eyes squinted against the bright, late-afternoon rays. Water drip-dropping from the tip of his sun-burned nose, the lobes of his ears, and his lush curls. Plush mouth, lips parted to take in gulps of air. A mustache. A patchy beard.

Christ, he’s beautiful, you think.

“There’s ice in my bra,” is what you say.

His handsome face is completely transformed by his smile. A rich laugh follows, revealing lines around his eyes and mouth that show he’s a good-natured man with a sense of humor, and something about that warms your insides better than any liquor ever could.

When he flops onto his back, exposing your now too-curious gaze to his throat and torso, your belly swoops and your heartbeat kicks up a notch. After a series of slow, deep breaths, he gathers himself, groaning slightly as he sits up and brushes his hair from his face with his forearm.

“Sorry about that,” he says, getting to his feet and offering you a sand-covered hand up. “Guess me and the boys got a little too into it.”

With a flex of his bicep, you’re standing, watching as he deftly retrieves his hat and plops it back onto his head with practiced ease. A moment later, the boys he referenced appear; three grown men, each possessing auras of calm authority as they introduce themselves and ask if either one of you needs a medic. He, who you discover is named Franscisco but-everyone-calls-me-Frankie is quick to wave them off, and so are you.

“Nothing broken,” you insist, tagging along with the group as they start walking as a unit toward dry sand. “Enjoy your game.”

They wave. You wave. Adrenaline waning, you’re a bit wobbly as you move toward the restaurant, and promptly collapse into the first vacant seat you find. A kind attendant brings you a towel and a bottle of water, and after you catch your bearings, your stomach reminds you of your original mission.

Spiny lobster. Yaroa. You’re pretty sure you eat your weight in both, washing it down with a nice, full-bodied chardonnay before topping it all off with bizcocho that is criminally delicious. The journey back to your room is uneventful – though this time, when you pass the volleyball pit, they halt their play, and Frankie nods at you rather sheepishly.

After a quick shower to rinse away the sand and lingering stench of alcohol, you fall into bed and are asleep almost as soon as your head hits the feathered pillow. When you wake, it’s to an unfamiliar ringing and a darkening room. A bit disoriented, you fumble around for the bedside lamp, clicking it on before leaning over to grab the receiver of the room telephone.

“Hello?” you croak.

“Good evening, madam, this is the concierge,” a polite, feminine voice greets. “Sorry to disturb you, but a delivery has arrived for you. May I have it sent to your suite?”

You rub sleep from your eyes and sit up slowly, “Uh, sure. That’s fine.”

There’s no time to ask what it is or who it’s from because all you hear is a cheery thank you, followed by a chirped goodbye and a click as the call is ended. You hang up and take note of the time, and the knock announcing the arrival of the delivery comes a handful of minutes later. Still bleary-eyed and fuzzy-minded, you stumble out of bed and forget all about checking the eyelet before answering.

And to say you’re surprised to find Frankie just beyond the threshold of your hotel suite is an understatement.

Sporting cargo shorts, a maroon-colored t-shirt, and a soft smile. Curls on full display. Sunscreen traded for fabric softener and deodorant. He’s casually, disarmingly handsome, and the bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, coupled with that strong jaw and charming smile that makes you feel all gooey-in-the-middle?

Christ, you’re going to swoon.

“Were you sleeping?” he wonders, tone curious, if not entirely innocent.

You blink slowly. He looks right back at you, now fully smirking, revealing a dimple you hadn’t noticed before – one that somehow insinuates that your appearance has sparked both a keen interest and great amusement. It’s then that you remember how you’d crawled into bed earlier in just a t-shirt and underwear, and now, your bare legs, unsupported cleavage, and unkempt hair are currently on display for him.

“You can see all my cash and prizes, can’t you?” you blurt.

Frankie laughs, but it’s not cruel. He’s also not crude, insisting nothing X-rated is visible, and when he holds the flowers out toward you, you take them without hesitation. Face on fire, you bring the bouquet to your nose and inhale slowly.

“These are lovely,” you murmur, holding them to your chest. “I take it you’re the delivery the front desk called me about?”

“Yeah, Benny charmed the clerk. Got me your room number,” he confesses, left shoulder shrugging. He clears his throat. Rubs his hands on his shorts. “Look, I just – I wanted to say I’m sorry. And make sure you’re okay. I feel bad, you know, for earlier.”

Taken aback, you trace a fingertip along a petal on one of the blooms and swallow hard. It’s a beautiful array. Pale pink, red, yellow, and orange – traditional for the area and likely bought at one of the many on-site gift shops. It’s a kind gesture that flummoxes you because it’s so unexpected and completely unnecessary.

And you don’t know what to say.

You’re a take-charge kind of gal – firing on all cylinders, always ready with a solution or an answer. You’re fully capable of having a conversation with an attractive, amiable man. One with broad shoulders that strain against the seams of his shirt. One who has a bedroom voice, even in the middle of a brightly lit hallway. One who makes you keenly aware with every passing second in his presence that you’re a woman – not just some high-paid, high-powered, pencil-skirt-wearing cog in a corporate machine.

Frankie fiddles with his watch before shoving his hands into his pockets. Effortlessly gracious, he’s forthcoming with another apology – this time, for interrupting your sleep. He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his intention to leave you be, and you watch him take a few steps toward the elevator before you find your voice and rediscover your spine.

“Hey, you, uh, want to get a drink?” you call after him. “With me? Or some food?”

He stops. Turns around. That smile and that damn dimple are back, and you just can’t help but grin at him in return.

“I dunno,” he murmurs playfully, thumb rubbing absentmindedly at his chin. “You gonna put some pants on?”

You shrug, “Maybe. And if you’re nice, I’ll might even brush my hair.”

Fannkie’s deep chuckle prompts you to insist that you can be ready in five minutes. Content to wait in the hall, he lifts his wrist, and pointedly eyes his watch.

“I’m timing you, gatita,” Frankie says.

You hurry back into the room, dropping the flowers into the bedside water pitcher before digging frantically through your suitcase and putting on a clean bra and a sundress. You multitask and push your feet into a pair of sandals as you wrangle your tresses. An oversized claw clip saves the day, and after a dab of perfume and a swipe of deodorant, you’ve got your handbag, and are stuffing your phone and room key into it as the door clicks shut behind you.

Leaning against the wall near the elevator, arms casually crossed over his chest; Frankie straightens when he spots you, all smiles as he jabs the button with his thumb, prompting the doors to slide open.

“Four minutes, thirty-three seconds,” he remarks, stepping in after you. “Cuttin’ it close, gatita.” You arch a brow. Purse your lips. Jab the button for the ground floor. You’re amused and failing to hide it, and Frankie knows it, but he doesn’t say anything – he just stands close enough to you to make the butterflies in your stomach go frantic, the teasing wink he tosses in your direction perfectly timed with the doors reopening.

The two of you disembark, walking side-by-side out of the lobby and onto the hotel grounds. Guided by spine-shaking music, past a colorfully lit dance floor, and into the restaurant area proper. Bass and cheering are traded for clinking utensils and quiet conversations, making it easier for the two of you to chat as you peruse. There are menus to be found outside the door of each place, and you and Frankie are quick to agree on a spot about halfway across the property.

The roar of the ocean is smothered by the chatter of guests, who are strategically seated throughout the wide-open, dimly lit space. Frankie hones in on a relatively quiet spot toward the back, and once he’s guided you into a chair, it doesn’t take long for the tiny, modestly set table to become invisible beneath a smorgasbord of food and drink.

A couple of shots of Mama Juana. A cocktail for you. A beer for him. La Bandera and Sancocho. Cassava dumplings and tostones. Spanish flows naturally from Frankie’s mouth, and somehow, it all tastes better when he’s the one ordering and explaining what’s in each dish.

Time passing. Chairs inching closer. Idle chit-chat easing into an interesting conversation. A touch to your forearm. A squeeze to his shoulder. He takes from your plate, and you take from his. The two of you – laughing just a little too loudly, sharing a bottle of wine, and then, a bottle of champagne. Splitting a plate of fresh fruit, with warm, dark chocolate for dipping. Furtive glances, morphing into lingering looks…

“How long are you staying?” you wonder.

“Fly out tomorrow night,” he says, popping a piece of pineapple into his mouth. “You?”

You reach for a slice of mango, “Three weeks. I got here two days ago, and I’m already thinking of ways to stay longer.”

He hums and nods, “I’ll drink to that.”

Glasses raised, the two of you clink and sip, finishing off the bottle with ease. Frankie’s attentive, and quick to offer a top-up, or to order you something more, but you shake your head and decline. You’re comfortably full, pleasantly buzzed, and you let him know it.

“It’s a nice night,” you remark, eyes searching for the waves in the dark. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”

Frankie sits back and tosses his napkin on the table, “Want some company?”

You nod, and the two of you set out, meandering down and beyond the main drag, strolling by fountains and decorative greenery before hitting the gardens. The two of you stick to the lit paths, strides matching, easily picking up where you left off.

“My ex and I – we split up about five years ago,” he says without a trace of upset. “And I told you about my daughter.”

“Maya, starting first grade in the fall, hates crunchy peanut butter,” you recite.

Frankie chuckles. Goes on to say that she’s the reason he stays in Florida. That work (helicopter tours) is easier to come by in a state with a lot of tourism, and it’s heavily populated by impatient people with disposable incomes, meaning he makes good money on chartered flights as well.

“Makes sense,” you agree. “And the guys – you said you’re all from the same unit?”

He nods, “We do this once a year – pack up and go somewhere to blow off steam. We made it a thing after… Well, anyway. Enough about me. What about you?”

You shrug, “I work. A lot.”

“Family?”

“Either dead or out of state.”

“Friends?”

“Believe it or not, I do have a few,” you insist.

Frankie makes a sound of skepticism, and you swear you have friends – that you were, in fact, a bridesmaid at a wedding last year, and present for a baby shower a few months ago, but he doesn’t believe you. You prove it to him, showing him a video of your gift being unwrapped, followed by several snaps of the wedding party, all donning western-themed garb.

“Look,” you point out. “I even wore a bonnet and petticoats.”

“You most certainly did,” he half-laughs, half-snorts.

A playful swat to his shoulder, and then, he’s grinning and hooking his pinky around yours. A nonchalant thing – a flirtatious, silent request to touch, to get just a little bit closer, and you like it. By the time you’re headed back toward the resort, your fingers are intertwined, and the steps the two of you take become progressively slower as you approach a discreetly hidden path lit up by tiny, white lights.

Frankie gently, carefully, pulls you into his arms. You go, all too willingly, goosebumps spreading at the heat and proximity of his body so close to yours. He crooks a finger under your chin, prompting you to tilt your head back and lift your eyes up so you can witness his intentions for yourself.

“Are you going to let me kiss you, gatita?” he wonders.

“I was hoping you would,” you reply.

Another smile – this one slow and sweeter than syrup. Then, your face is cupped in his warm hands, and he’s closing the little distance that remains. Frankie kisses you like he means it – unbridled, but not unskilled, tongue dipping and teeth nipping in such a way that you’re left reeling, unable to anchor yourself as he slowly retreats and rushes in for more. You know this time with him is finite, that tomorrow, he’ll be gone, but for now, in this moment, he’s yours.

A pause – quiet and searching, but still seeking, his mouth eager to return, as if he can’t help himself, lips chasing even though you’re not running. Hands now gripping your waist, squeezing, throat bobbing as he swallows hard and lets out a ragged breath against your neck.

“Do you – I want – I’ll stop,” he rasps. His actions immediately contradict his words when he brings your hips together, pressing up against you as his mouth runs along your jaw and the shell of your ear. “I’m – shit. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

You shake your head and dig your nails into the meat of his shoulders, “Don’t stop.”

A groan, and then, he’s kissing you again, and the ache that’s begun to settle between your legs is becoming an insistent, unbearable throb – one you want Frankie to alleviate with a passion that’s bordering on desperation. You pry yourself from him, pressing a hand over his mouth to hide his tempting, kiss-swollen lips from your view.

“My room,” you insist. “Let’s go.”

Hand-in-hand this time, the two of you practically jog back to the resort. Frankie stops off at a shop near the entrance, emerging a few minutes later with a bag containing a package of condoms, some gum, and a touristy-looking baseball cap.

“I’m sure the clerk has no clue what we’re about to get up to,” you deadpan.

Frankie grunts and swats your ass. You yelp and hiss at him, but he just grins and unceremoniously shuffles you toward the elevator. The doors shut, and he doesn’t hesitate to crowd you, eyes never leaving yours, the tension palpable as his gaze sweeps over you like a caress. The other passengers either don’t notice or don’t care, and the anticipation builds even more as you disembark and head to your suite.

“Can you just – let me – Frankie,” you whimper, keycard bumping up against the lock for the umpteenth time.

“What?” comes his reply, all cheeky, feigned innocence, hands and lips exploring every inch of you he can reach. “Trouble with the door?”

Anticipation wreaking havoc, you groan when he thumbs your nipple through your dress, his actions deft, but doing absolutely nothing to help matters. By the time you manage it, and the light on the lock goes from red to green, you’re writhing and so turned on, it’s almost shameful. When the door shuts again, the do-not-disturb hanger is on the outside, and the security latch is firmly in place.

“Say it,” he insists, tossing the bag onto the bed. “Say that you want this.”

You toss your purse aside and kick off your sandals, “I want this.”

“Because we’ve had a lot to drink,” Frankie continues, fingertips seeking out the rounds of your shoulders and the line of your collarbone. “And I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I crashed into you on the beach, but I gotta – you gotta be sure.”

Tongue heavy and throat tight, you twist your fingers into the skirt of your dress, pulling it up, up, up, until it’s high enough to guide one of Frankie’s wandering hands beneath it. Beyond the fabric of your panties and between your legs – the proof of your want, of your desire, is unmistakable. Frankie inhales sharply at what you encourage him to find and exhales a baritone-deep sound that can’t be mistaken for anything other than approval.

His rough, whiskered cheek against yours. His heavy palm slides up your spine, seeking, until the clip in your hair is removed and sent clattering and bouncing against the tile. A tug to your tresses. A nip to your jaw. Swirling fingertips that breach deep and curl just right. Gaze fixated, expression ravenous in the ambient glow of the pool light, Frankie’s the epitome of a quick study – learning you like a flight plan, mapping out the quickest route to what will make you take off and fly for him.

Knees trembling and calves burning, you’re being coaxed toward a precipice, and it feels so good that it’s overwhelming. Spine-bowing pleasure rushes forward, impossibly fast, and with a pointed strum to your clit, you’re lost to it. The muscle of his forearm flexes as he guides you through a heady surge of bliss, and while you fall apart, Frankie watches you – lower lip tugged between his teeth, head slowly nodding as if he agrees with your complete and utter surrender to your climax.

“More of this?” he murmurs, voice a gravelly rumble against your hairline. “Or do you want me?”

Quicker than lightning, the word ‘you’ slips out from between your lips, and your answer, filled with unmistakable, unreserved eagerness, prompts the reappearance of his smile. Only this time, it’s all cat-got-the-canary as he eases his hand out from between your legs and unflinchingly slips the pleasure-soaked digits past his lips. Lashes fluttering, his expression becomes reminiscent of how he looked at dinner, all appreciative, as if the flavor of you is just as satiating.

“You taste good, gatita,” he murmurs.

“Jesus, Frankie,” you breathe shakily.

Hands trembling, you reach for his shirt, and he allows you to help him out of it. This time, he guides your touch, prompting you to splay your fingers across the expanse of his chest and down his stomach. Eyes hooded, he watches you slip his belt open, pop the button beneath his naval, and ease the zipper down. The shorts fall away easily, and a careful tug at the waistband of his boxers is all it takes to see him free from the confines.

Reaching for him, taking the heft of him in hand, you find him hot and hard for you. You grasp. Squeeze. Experiment until he starts to kick in your palm, letting you know with each groan, with each involuntary thrust of his hips, that you’re doing it right. Tip leaking furiously, precum easing the way, you cup and fondle his heavy sac until he’s cursing against the seam of your mouth.

“You’re gonna,” he huffs, voice muffled around your tongue. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Want me to stop?” you wonder.

You nip his chin. Twist your wrist. Frankie’s brow draws tight, face warring with conflicting desires, but eventually, he pulls himself back from that ledge. The straps of your dress and your panties suffer for it, though, as he practically tears at them to get at you. A tangle of limbs and laughter, the two of you fall onto the messy bed, the bag with the condoms snagged just before it can be crushed beneath your combined weight.

Hat and gum discarded. The condom box torn open. The package crinkles, and then, it’s tossed aside. You offer to help, but Frankie insists on doing it himself, and the strained edge in his voice lets you know that his control is hanging by a precarious thread, and it’s all because of you.

“Still with me?” he checks, thumbs rubbing your kneecaps.

You nod and squeeze his wrist, “Yes.”

A deep, languid kiss, and then, you’re guiding him to you. Body sensitive, nerves alight, you tilt your hips up in anticipation. And Frankie’s careful – so, so careful – forehead pressed to yours, all wide-eyed, as if he’s anticipating – practically expecting – the exact opposite of the welcoming sound you make when he eases forward and begins to rock his hips.

“More,” you plead, voice needy – even to your own ears.

The request soon becomes a demand, one he doesn’t give in to until you promise him you can take it – that you can take all of him. Only then does Frankie roll you onto your stomach. In a display of strength and prowess, he gets you up on your hands and knees, and guides you back onto him with a thrust-and-roll that has you keening.

“Good?” Frankie pants against the hinge of your jaw.

“Yes,” you insist, the warmth of your impending orgasm spreading through your body and loosening your tongue. “Want you to fuck me, Frankie.”

“Greedy,” he grits out sharply. “Codicioso, pequeño gatito…”

It’s impossible to answer with your chin grasped hard in his hand and your neck craned to the side. Frankie’s kiss is sloppy, all carnality, and absolutely no finesse – still, it takes your breath away and makes you feel desired. There’s an edge to his touch, now; a bite in the way his fingertips pinch at your nipple, sending a zing of pleasure directly to your core. Caresses turn into gropes and heavy-handed squeezes until he’s pressing your spine into an impossibly deep arch that forces you to take him just a little bit deeper, the tip of him bumping, bumping, bumping the parts of you that make your bones rattle.

“Want you to come,” Frankie grits out, voice a breathless, strained thing as his teeth dig into the round of your shoulder. “Come for me again.”

You’re already there, but you can’t formulate the words because it happens slowly, and then, all at once. He seeks out your clit, drawing circles with the pressure and ruthless precision of a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. You hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears, and then, it’s a free fall. You’re soaring, high above the clouds, euphoric beyond all comprehension. And he’s right there with you – pulling you back and up against his chest, arms banding around your waist as he grinds into you, prolonging your release and taking pleasure in his own.

A careful parting, followed by twin sighs of satisfaction. Frankie makes quick work of the condom, and then, you’re back in his arms. He’s soft again, sleepy eyes finding yours in the dark, fingertips lazing over your brow, your cheeks, your lips. He lingers and you bask in it, but you know what this is.

This is the goodbye.

And a twinge of something – not pain, not regret, but something – fills your chest and makes your eyes sting. Your lower lip wobbles and it’s stupid. Stupid enough to prompt you to roll onto your back to put a bit of distance between yourself and this beautiful, beautiful man stretched out next to you. You stare up at the ornate ceiling fan and cough lightly in a vain attempt to clear the tightness in your throat.

“Two hours and thirty-five minutes,” he says.

You furrow your brow, “What?”

“A flight from Illinois to Florida,” Frankie explains. “Assuming average speed accounting for eastward headwinds… Yeah, two hours and thirty-five minutes.”

You take a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Frankie’s pinky finds yours amongst the sheets, and you turn onto your side to face him. There’s something between you. An attraction, to be sure, but now, an unexpected, mutual desire to see each other again. To not let this moment be the last moment. Even if it doesn’t make any sense, even if it’s crazy, even if you don’t know him, he doesn’t know you, and neither one of you knows where it’ll lead…

“I’ve never been in a helicopter before,” you tell him. “What’s it like?”

“Amazing. Loud. Windy,” he replies, lips twitching. “You might need your bonnet.”

You smile. And Frankie smiles back.

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut #frankie morales fic #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction

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princessbrunette · 1 day

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I’m really bored and i’m thinking about your blog, so here’s some more animal readers for you incase you’re looking for some new ideas.

fox!reader: she’s a pouge of course, sly and cunning but she can be shy and timid like an actual fox, lowkey a kleptomaniac, been arrested several times on account of shop lifting. Loves jean skirts, and baby tees, and a pair of wedges on her feet. She’s uses tears as a weapon.

I can also see her with pouge rafe, they’re not friends exactly but they know eachother (maybe they grew up together) one day she overheard him talking about how tight money is at the moment, and so she shows up to his house with thousands of dollars in a bag and holds it out to him all sweetly like “i got this for you.” And he’s all wide eyed like “where the fuck did you get all this from?” and she’s like “it was sitting in suitcase at barry’s house and no one’s name was on it, i got it for you.” all innocently and now he’s an near hyperventilating, snapping at her “you’re gonna get both of us fucked up.” and she gets teary eyed like “but i got it for you 🥺”

She meets john b when he catches her stealing one of his chickens (like foxes do, except she doesn’t want to eat it, she wants it as a pet) She tries to hide the chicken under her shirt when he catches her, & johnb’s like “do you…have one of my chickens?” scratching his head all confused and half asleep cs its 10 in the morning, and she’s like “….no.” even as the chicken is literally freaking out under her jacket, stomps her foot when he tries to retrieve his chicken and tells him that “you don’t need them all! you already have so many!” and he just like “they’re literally mine though….” and she starts crying, until he gives her an egg. then probably runs away without saying thank you cs she’s scared he might take it back. Johnb tells everyone about it later and literally no one believes him.

or maybe even regular look rafe. She’s Always getting into trouble with him because she think “no” means “find a way to do it yourself.” it’s a slow and grueling process for him, breaking her out of her sneaky habits, i mean he literally met her when she pickpocketed him at a party she snuck her way into, (he did not like that told her “oh your ass is going to prison now.” and had to literally chase her down when she tried to make a run for it. she ended up crying and he let her go.)

met jj in an over night holding cell at the county jail, after she was picked up for…breaking and entering (in her defense she saw something shiny through the window and had to have it) jj thinks it’s cute when she tearfully confesses why she’s there, so he takes her under his wing and introduces her to the pouges (she’s instrumental in the search for gold cs she’s so smart and knows how to manipulate people into getting what she wants.)

She met pope when she quite literally walked up to him while he’s doing work for his dad, points at his shark tooth necklace and says “can i have that?” and he gives it to her cs he’s super confused and also why not, she’s cute and she looks like she might start sobbing if he says no) and then it became a thing that she asks for something of his every time she sees him, he doesn’t know what she’s doing with all his shit, but it’s fine.

she’s cute and so me, so i’ll let you decide which of the boys she would be with!

this is sooooo good !! i think moony writes a fox reader but im not sure how similar this is !!!!! i love her being a klepto and i think she works great with pogue!rafe !! both very rough n tumble but fox still has that sweetness to her n rafe very clearly doesn’t. all her interactions with the pogues are so fun too — this is a 10/10 🩷🩷

#anon #fox!reader #chatting ૮₍ • ˕ - ₎ა♡₊˚

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 3 days

Text

STILL ALIVE!

tobio kageyama learns to fall in love with the small things. although in his eyes, no thing is truly small as long as you're involved in it. a ruined kitchen for a strawberry tart is a small price to pay to admire your everyday.

gender neutral reader

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Tobio found out not too long after you moved in with him that he liked watching you while you worked your magic in the kitchen.

He was always a stickler for what he ate. Ever since he was young, the adults around him hammered the importance of food and its nutritious properties into his volleyball-filled head, and like the good boy he was, Tobio took everything they said with a great deal of respect and dedicated himself into his strict upkeep so that he could do his best on the court. Now as an adult, he adhered to a strict diet of nutritious vegetables and plenty of protein. But given that his mind was hyperfixated on volleyball and he was never one to get super creative in the kitchen, there was never much variety to his diet outside of his regular rotation of healthy meals tailor-made for a professional athlete’s needs.

Frankly speaking, he never thought he’d need too much variety. Tobio was a man of schedule, of regularity, of volleyball and volleyball only. Everything he did, from maintaining his nails whenever he got the chance to doing finger exercises with weights before bed, was to augment his skills as an athlete. His food was no exception. He wasn’t picky. All he needed was the proper nutrients to fuel his body, and as long as it didn’t taste horrendously awful, he was fine with it.

Once he started dating you though, he started eating other things more and more. At first it was ordering a slice of espresso-tinged tiramisu occasionally while on a date with you, and then it turned into you insisting on packing him a bento box whenever his practices and matches required for him to be out of the house all day. Next thing he knew, you’d greet him with a piping hot dinner whenever he trudged back home, and the aches in his limbs seemed to melt away as he wolfed down whatever you had whipped up while he was gone. It was never the same two meals in a row, and despite being unused to unpredictability, Tobio found himself looking forward to mealtimes specifically with you.

He learned early on in his life, thanks to his grandfather, that cooking for someone was an art just as much as it was an underappreciated act of love. And with each bite, he savored the love that you must have poured into it, just as much as he dedicated himself to perfecting his craft in order to show you how far your love took him. There were times he wished he was an eloquent man, a more romantic man, so that he could actually articulate all the fuzzy feelings overwhelming him whenever you made food for him.

But you didn’t need words to understand him.

And he loved you.

He barely stifled a smile as he sat a few feet away from the kitchen, where you were frantically scurrying around. He knew you were probably frazzled, desperately scrolling through the recipe websites that had videos and ads scattered throughout them to make it almost impossible to access the actual recipe. But the cacophony of your slightly annoyed exhales, the banging of pots and pans, and the clatter of glass plates being shifted around every now and then were like a sweet melody to Tobio.

He feigned interest in the match he was supposed to be studying, and he stole a glance across the living room to see you dump something into a big bowl before sticking your hands into the mixture. Tobio has loved you for as long as he has known you, but there was something especially calming and bewitching about seeing you do something so ordinary. He stared at you with a softness in his eyes he couldn’t quite describe, a softness that he wasn’t even aware was there half of the time, as he watched you let out little grunts to work whatever tough dough you were kneading.

The apron you insisted on wearing was already skewed, and he knew that by the end of your little cooking session, the apron would have done nothing to keep your clothes from getting covered in bits of food. Your eyes were fixed downwards in concentration, the skin in between scrunched up cutely. Your sleeves were rolled up but not quite secure as you might have hoped, and Tobio could also see that in a few minutes they would probably become undone and you’d have to call him over to ask him to roll them up properly for you since your hands were covered in sticky dough.

Tobio believed love was in the little things. Love was in the way he’d accept an earful from his dietician from sneaking in one too many desserts that you insisted on him having. Love was in the way he let himself get distracted so he could watch you make a mess out of the kitchen counter, and he prayed that you never learned how to clean the countertop off thoroughly because he loved going over and wiping off the marks of sauce and flour with a clean dishrag of his own. Love was in the way you cheekily stole a lick of the sweet dough from your fingers before washing your hands off in the sink, your sleeves rolling down your forearms and wrists and the telltale loud yelp you let out when the sink water lapped at the edges.

“Tobio!” You cried out, yanking your hands away from the sink. A few water droplets dripped down from the back of your hands and alongside the silhouette of your fingers. Your hands were always so much smaller in comparison to his wide, calloused palms, and the drops of water fell helplessly onto the floor. “Can you help me roll my sleeves on?”

He acted as if he hadn’t been staring at you for more or less the entire time, and he hurriedly paused the match. He would have to rewind it and rewatch it later, but he had a much more urgent task at hand. You grinned at him as he shuffled his way into the kitchen, and you held your arms up.

“What are you making?” The smell of something sweet had been wafting through the house a long time ago, the notes of sugar and vanilla intermingling all throughout the atmosphere. The kitchen looked as if a hurricane had passed through it: a mountain of dirty tools splayed out on the table, flour spread across a section of the countertop, and the cabinet doors thrown open and not properly closed. Had he been someone else, or any less in love with you, he might have considered all of this as an eyesore or a mountain of impossible chores, but Tobio’s heart swelled so much in his chest that he felt like he was struggling to keep his usual stoic expression.

“A tart!” You announced proudly. His fingertips brushed against the delicate skin of your wrists as he folded your sleeves over, and he made sure they wouldn’t fall down again. “Do you remember the restaurant we had dinner at last week? The one where I got a slice of strawberry tart for dessert? Oh, I couldn’t stop thinking about it… So I decided I was going to try making it myself! You’ll have some once I finish making it, right?”

That’s if you actually manage to make it. The thought bubbled to the forefront of Tobio’s mind, accompanied with a defeated but still adoring smile. It looked like he was in for another long lecture about watching his sugar consumption from his dietician, but he would gladly take an eon of scoldings than pass up on a chance to eat the treats you made.

He picked up the tart crust sitting in its pan, and he gestured towards the heated oven. “Why don’t we put this in the oven to bake first? But yeah, I would love to have a slice once you’re done.”

You beamed at him, laughing sheepishly at your airheadedness before stepping aside for him to maneuver the delicate tart crust into the oven. If he looked closely, he could see where you had filled the holes in the crust with extra dough. Bits and pieces of the edges were lumpy and not quite fully adhered to the shape of the pan. He already knew it wouldn’t look anything like the pretty store-bought crusts or the expertly crafted ones in the bakeries around town, but judging from the fingerprints etched into the dough and your giddiness, Tobio would happily pass it off as a Michelin star pastry if anyone cared for his opinion.

“You’re the best!” You gushed at him as he walked past, and he let a flash of pride light up the inside of his chest as he settled back down in the living room. You hummed some tune slightly out of pitch as he settled back down into the couch, turning the game back on. The sounds of commentary and the players quickly melted into background noise when he found his eyes sneaking back over to you, splashing water all over the surrounding areas of the sink as you rinsed the strawberries in order to chop them up.

The bright crimson of the fruit stood in contrast to your skin, and Tobio’s eyes crawled all over the shape of your pinched fingers. You carefully sliced them up to the size you wanted, the knife marks a little jagged and not super straight. But they were perfect in your eyes, so they were also perfect in Tobio’s eyes. He can imagine the sour pangs of the fruit in his own mouth when you chow down on a handful of strawberry pieces that didn’t quite make your cut. Your fingertips, the cutting board, and a small part of your apron was stained with the pink, sticky strawberry juice, but you looked so proud scooping up the bits of strawberry and setting them aside.

None of this was particularly special, but Tobio admired you from afar as if his vision had been coated over with honey. But he lived for these small moments, lived for the trivial everyday parts, like you dancing around in the kitchen with strawberry juice and dough bits stuck to you, and Tobio would be mesmerized all the same as if he was staring at you at the wedding altar. And god, does he hope a day like that might come, where he can make these small scenes a promised reality for the rest of his life, taking in the beauty from places you would never have expected and uncovering different ways for him to fall in love with you all over again.

He wished the thirty minute timer you set for the tart crust to bake could last forever. He could die a happy man, right here and now, eyes fixed on you until the end of time as you happily turned the kitchen upside-down in order to satisfy your craving for a sweet treat. He loved the way you approached life with a newfound vigor that bled into his own day-to-day, turning his bland and predictable meals into something for him to look forward to, be it a recipe you pulled from a social media website or you doing your best to recreate the dishes he enjoyed so much in his childhood. You always went the extra mile for him, the same way he did for you. Tobio didn’t need any grand gestures of love, nor was he one for anything like that, and he would rather learn how to love and be loved through these small, continual motions that came and went like the gentle pull of the waves to the silver-tinted moon.

But for now, he let the softness of the couch envelop him as he watched you from across the room, the pitter-patter of your bare feet on the kitchen tile like the sounds of wedding bells. He didn’t need to taste the unfinished strawberry tart to know that he was going to taste every bit of it like it was his last meal, swallowing the warmth back like an oath and a promise, to cherish and love you for as long as this life would let him.

Nothing could be sweeter.

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#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kageyama tobio #x reader #my writing #did u guys miss me :3 #cuz FAWK i forgor how much fun writing is i missed yall sm

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ladysroom-zaza · 2 days

Note

I loved the karina sub drabble omg — do u think you can write abt tying ningning up and using her (face riding, fingering, ass or tit play, eating her, whatever you’d like) then eventually she breaks the ties and spanks reader till they come pls? I love ur writing xoxo ‼️

[Hello sweetie, of course I can. Thank you for your kind words and for being so polite, I appreciate that🫶]

An habit of Ning when she wakes up is to sit up and have a good arm stretch; however last morning she was not able to do that. "Good morning, princess", you said with an evil smirk on your face. "Good morning, baby...why am I tied?", she asked, being at the same time confused and curious.

You moved your hands under the blankets, caressing Ning bare legs. Your gf had quite outfit for the night: nightgown and panty, that's it. "It's because you were looking a bit too good while sleeping", you explained, pushing away the blankets.

"Baby, I have dance practice later, we ca-", her words were interrupted by a kiss. You literally shuted her up with your lips, while your hands were busy unbottoning her gown, in order to have free access to her tits.

Immediately you started playing with them, while Ning could only squirm and kick lightly her legs in pleasure. After making out for a bit, your lips moved down, leaving a trail of kisses until reaching her nipples, just to suck and bite them.

"Fuck...I swear sometimes you're such a baby", she muttered, biting her lips. "Am I? Well, you seem to like that tho", you teases her, moving your hand down, on the wet spot formed on her white panty.

You rubbed againt her covered pussy, making Ning begin to pant. "No, don't touch there, I'm sensitive", she tried to complain, failing to hide how good you were making feel her. "What did you say? Keep going? Sure, princess", you teased her, proceding to move her panties aside and sliding your fingers inside.

"Shit...ahhh... you're evil", she cried in pleasure; she couldn't help but move her hips in rhythm with your fingers pumping inside her hole. As the little shit you are, you started to twist your fingers inside her, reaching all her weak spots.

Ning could barely think straight at that point, she knew it had no sense trying to resist you, you had all the power in that situation; the same power you used in fingering her until her juices started overflowing from her cunt, making the bed wet.

"Ahhh... ahhh...fine, you made me cum...wait, what are you doing-", she asked, seeing you leaving her nipples in peace - they were aching for how much you sucked them - just to move your head in correspondence of her pussy.

"No, baby, don't you even think about it, I've just cu-", once again you don't listened to her, drowning your face in her sensitive pussy, still leaking her juices. "So tasty, I love it so much", you commented, while keeping her legs widened and licking her clean.

Ning chest was moving up and down so fast, her pleasure didn't seem to stop, on the contrary it was growning up every minute. But the "worst" part was when you started sucking on her clit. In that moment she completely lost it, her abs contracting while squirting all over your face.

"Ahhh... ahhh...my pussy hurts...are you done now?", she said in a high pitched voice, tears running down her face. "Done? Not at all, pretty princess", you grinned, slapping her pussy and making her leaks some more liquid, while pushing her head back.

Then you stand up on your feet and walked until being over Ning head. She didn't even try to protest, she just waited for you to sit on her face and do your things. And you did. Your pussy was now grinding against her mouth.

You were going as hard as you can, totally using her face like an item for your pleasure, when a sentence escaped from your mouth: "Yes, take that, you slut". That made Ning snap: how did you just called her?

Maybe you didn't tied her well in the first place or maybe all the movement made the knot loose, but finally your gf was able to get her hands free from the rope, pushing you away when you were so close to reach your climax.

"You fucking brat, now we'll see who's the slut", she said between her teeth, pulling you over her legs, your core against her thighs. A sharp blow hit your booty cheek, making you gasp loudly.

"Bad girls should be punished", she growled before hitting you again in the same spot. Your skin was becoming so red and you couldn't seem to escape from that situation because her grip was so strong.

"You're slut, you are!", she cursed, slapping your ass more and more. Your skin was sore and your pussy was throbbing. The fact that Ning was putting you in your place was so hot for you. She may be small, but she was scary.

"You whore!", she thundered, giving you the strongest slap so far, making you finally cum all over her legs, moaning like a real whore. "Mmm...baby...ahhh... I'm sorry", you cried in pleasure, making Ning satisfied. She got her revenge.

#kpop thoughts #girl group x reader #kpop smut #kpop x fem reader #girl group smut #kpop girls #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader #aespa ningning #aespa ning yizhuo #ningning smut #ningning x fem reader

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materassassino · 2 days

Note

For the prompt ask: hoodie for Joe/Nicky 😉

This one got a bit long, actually... It works though.

One word prompts!

---

Somewhere in the Altai Mountains, 1402

They are travelling east again, weary of the never-ending woes of the Mediterranean and Europe, and because Quynh wants to eat what she calls ‘proper food’ again – there is only so much Nicolò can do with imported spices that have lost their potency from travel (when they can afford them). Why they chose this accursed northern route instead of some sensible ship from Jeddah Yusuf will never understand, but Andromache mistrusts the sea in general, and Quynh will go where she goes, which means Yusuf and Nicolò have little choice. She also wants to show them Karakorum, which they have yet to see.

Winter is not close, but there is a chill on the air, especially now evening is falling and the shadows lengthen. Andromache scouts them a place she deems worthy for camp that night (though she is rarely very discerning, and Yusuf would swear she could sleep on a bed of gravel with no complaint), and they settle. Yusuf joins Quynh to fetch water, Andromache tends to the horses and Nicolò starts their fire and starts to prepare their food. It is a well-worn, familiar routine, each night in the wilderness the same as the one before.

Quynh is busy telling him about the time Andromache got herself in a spot of bother with some Gauls in Armorica when they get back to camp, and Yusuf is trying very hard not to trip over he chokes on his own laughter. Andromache scowls, and if the light were better, Yusuf would wager he saw the slightest embarrassed flush on her stoic cheeks.

“Not that one again,” she grumbles, removing her horse’s saddle and blanket. Quynh grins, something sharp-fanged and delightfully wicked.

“You just hate it because it ends with you in a pig sty!” she says. Yusuf wheezes helplessly.

That is when Nicolò sneezes.

Yusuf stops laughing immediately, sets down their filled waterskins and puts his hands on his hips.

“I told you to wear your cloak!” he grumbles. Nicolò has the cheek to roll his eyes, even as he wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

“I am fine,” he retorts, turning back to the fire. He sneezes again.

“God give me strength,” Yusuf mutters, raises his eyes to the heavens and waving his hands beseechingly. He stomps over to their pile of saddlebags and begins rummaging, but he soon stops.

“Nicolò,” he asks, “where is your cloak?”

They all see the way Nicolò’s shoulders tense, creeping up guiltily by his ears.

“Come to think of it,” Quynh says, pursing her lips, “I have not seen it since the village we passed through two days ago.”

Yusuf levels Nicolò with a long glare. “Nico?”

Nicolò rubs the back of his neck. “I think… I think I forgot it. At the inn.”

Andromache guffaws. Yusuf groans. Nicolò is usually so meticulous, but in fairness they had beaten a rather hasty retreat after Andromache got into a fight with a merchant over the treatment of his horses, so it is entirely likely it was simply lost in the whirlwind madness.

“We might not see another settlement until Karakorum itself,” Andromache says, drumming her fingers on her knee. “And it will only get colder the further up we go.”

Yusuf sighs, getting to his feet and fumbling with the clasp of his own cloak. He throws it over Nicolò’s shoulders and sits heavily beside him.

“Do not be stupid, Yusuf,” Nicolò says, shrugging the cloak off. “You need it!”

Yusuf waves him away, dismissive. That causes Nicolò to scowl.

“Well, if neither of you wants it…” says Quynh edging around the fire with a sly look.

“Leave it!” the two men snap in unison, and she darts back, hands raised defensively even as she laughs.

“Share it, you idiots,” Andromache snaps, shaking her head. “We’ll turn one of the spare blankets into a new cloak tomorrow.”

Yusuf and Nicolò both look at her, and then at each other.

“That… seems wise,” Nicolò concedes, and Yusuf muffles a snort of laughter.

They end the evening beneath the same cloak, huddled close together. There is, Yusuf muses archly, little difference with the night before.

Geneva, August 2022

The clouds roll in from almost nowhere, spilling down from the mountains. They don’t herald rain, but they cover the sun and an uncharacteristic chill shrouds the city. They’ve been scouting out potential new safehouses – it’s good to add to the rotation, and it’s time Nile got a few under any of her various shiny new aliases. The prices are eye-watering, but there’s always something to be found somewhere, especially further outside the city.

There’s a slight bite to the air now, just enough to cause some goosebumps. Nile tugs on the cardigan she’d draped over her shoulders that morning, covering her bare arms. Andy does absolutely nothing, because she refuses to let the whims of Mother Nature bother her overmuch. Nicky untie the hoodie from around his waist – unfashionable, as always – and zips it up, sticking his hands in its pockets.

Joe sneezes.

Nicky looks at him, in his optimistic breezy linen shirt and shorts, and raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t even need to say anything as Joe scowls at him.

“It was sunny until a moment ago!” he protests the unspoken accusation.

“Yeah, but the weather lady said it would get cloudy!” Nile pipes up, withering slightly under Joe’s glare.

“Should’ve paid more attention,” is all Andy says with a flippant smirk.

Joe simply folds his arms petulantly and stomps on ahead, attempting to brave the sudden chill. He doesn’t last long before he’s rubbing his arms, and the walk back to the hotel is thirty minutes.

Nicky sighs, and unzips his hoodie again. He drapes it over Joe’s shoulders, completely ignoring Joe’s pout.

“I don’t need it!” he says, about to shrug it off and hand it back like a stubborn fool. Nicky levels him with another long, hard look, and Joe meekly puts it on properly. He allows Nicky to adjust it fastidiously and zip it up, his resigned façade cracking entirely when Nicky plants the most fleeting of kisses on the tip of his nose.

“Oh my God,” Nile says. “That’s so adorable it’s disgusting.”

#the old guard #kaysanova #joenicky #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #andromache the scythian #nile freeman #quynh the old guard #pixie writes #one word prompt #what is an ending i don't know her #we spend more time on the cloak than the hoodie but i think the cloak has a hood so it totally counts shhh

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user2772636 · 1 day

Text

Douzième Fille

12th Girl

××《☆》××

Some chances are taken too late. You only realise what you've lost when you're starting to lose them. Goodbyes are hard, especially when you've just started.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST, turn back now I'm warning you, goodbyes, intimate scenes, MAJOR heartbreak, swearing

References to Call Me By Your Name

===

Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

===

It was hot that morning. I woke up in a layer of sweat, windows exuding heat, hair clinging on my neck, my blanket on the hardwood floor.

George sits on the window frame, taking the heat opposite of how I was.

I get up, groaning with a slight headache. I place my feet on the floor, keeping my eyes closed for the time being, trying to relax and gain back my senses.

There'd been a feeling in me this whole time, but as I woke up, it felt so much more evident. A clench in my chest.

I don't know where it came from or when it started, but I felt it there. It never really took my attention. Maybe it was from whatever position I was in. Or if I hadn't eaten or drank enough.

Summer is just around the corner, but I don't want it to start. It was always something I looked forward to.

Dipping into cold waters under the heat of the afternoon sun, eating fruits with their juices spilling over countertops and silverware. Tanning, sunburns, dry mouths from salt water. Then winter comes and you wait for summer again.

It's probably because I'm expecting something I know won't be there. But what is it? I have a summer job now, and I'm headed to Paris. What else could I possibly want?

I know exactly what. It's not that I'm afraid of it. It's because I can't change it. And it hurts.

Summer is when I'm supposed to be happy. He's ruined all of that now. I've got to get a grip, too. He won't care, so I shouldn't. But I care. I care a lot.

This isn't something I should think about. I'll forget him as soon as I get to Paris. I'll forget anything that's happened between us, even if nothing really did. I'll forget, and I'll forever have that feeling that I felt now. That something's there, and I'm not giving it attention.

Because deep down, I know what it is. And, it hurts.

××《☆》××

The walk to school was short-lived and ordinary. Nothing special happened. It was just brighter; which didn't really match my mood.

I was also a bit late. Most of the students were already heading in, and the bell rang as soon as I stepped through the gate.

I make my way up the staircase, keeping my head downcast and not paying anyone any mind.

All throught class it wasn't special. We did assignments, lectures, and all common school things. But the sound of pages being flipped, ink on paper, pattering of floorboards, it comforted me. I knew those sounds would stay with me throughout my life. People don't.

When class was dismissed, I took my time. I might not see this school again. I might move back to Paris. I might not see Michèle or Simone as much. And I won't, more so refuse to see Joseph ever.

It was afternoon now, so everything's brighter than this morning. And everything's hotter, too. I shade my face with my hands, squinting to see Callum's well-known car on the side of the road.

He's outside leaning on the door, smoking. I'm guessing his third cigarette today. He still has his wide smile on, and I wonder if his cheeks ever hurt.

"Good afternoon, pretty girl." He says as he patches his cigarette out. "How are you?"

"Hot." I shrug, going around the car with Callum as he opens the passenger door for me. I get inside, him as well after doing another roundabout the car.

"Well, love how you state what I already know." I think about that sentence for a while, sensing it was off. I realise what he meant, and I smack his arm.

"Oh, what now? Let me be funny!" I roll my eyes as he starts the car, a faint smile on my face. One thing I know for sure is that Callum is one of the people who would stay with me throughout my life. He was the reason I'm going back to Paris, the reason I have somewhat of a career. And I'm glad I met him, even with the circumstances of difficult feelings.

Whilst I talked about my day to him, I had realised nothing special happened because I didn't interact with Joseph. The day felt gloomy. It felt so underwhelming, so boring, because he wasn't involved.

"And it's so weird because we hadn't talked since that dinner." I tell Callum, who's been listening to me this whole time. We decided to go to a lake to cool off. It was a bit well known, but not too crowded since the school season isn’t off yet.

I made a quick pick up in my house, including a goodbye to George.

Going back, Callum nods. His hand flexes on the steering wheel.

"So, let me round this up. Joseph's mother invited you to dinner, then teased both you and him, then when he walks you out to their place, some girl-"

"The girl from the alley."

"The girl from the alley pops up from nowhere, fully dressed up."

"Exactly."

"But, why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I mean, sure, I've never met her, but who could compete against you?"

"Okay, Callum, whatever-"

"No, I mean, how stupid can Joseph be to pick anyone but you?" This makes my breath catch on my throat.

"Don't call him stupid, Callum. He's fucking brilliant."

He quiets down, smile fading just a bit from my serious tone.

"Sorry." I had apologised.

"No need. It's fine. I just... you know what I meant."

"Yeah, I knew what you meant. Just... instict, you know?"

"I get that. You're in love, so you're defensive." He shrugs and starts to smile again. He's holding in a laugh.

"Shut up." I glare.

"Not gonna happen." I don't want it to happen.

××《☆》××

The next morning was the same. It was hot, I took a longer shower, got dressed, said goodbye to George, and headed to school.

This time, I met with Simone. I ask her about Michèle, getting worried that she hasn't come to school for two days straight. Before she could respond, she stopped in her tracks, seeing Jean Pierre across the hall.

"I- I'm sorry, Y/N, but I really need to talk to Jean Pierre. Stay here, please?" She scrunches up her face in guilt, but I simply shrug it off, knowing that if she wants to talk to someone, I shouldn't stop her. Especially if that someone is her boyfriend. Or whatever he is.

They go ahead to talk, me staying at the same place she left me, keeping a close eye on them. I lean against the wall, the hallway now a lot more quiet than when the bell rang a few minutes ago.

Their conversation lasted for only a bit because I saw Jean Pierre walking away. I head to Simone's side.

"So, what did you talk about?" She's still, and there's no emotion on her face. I worry.

"He just broke up with me." Oh. I pull her into a side hug, not knowing whether she was devastated with the news or if she was okay with it. She looked like both but neither at the same time.

I nod towards the stairwell, deciding for the both of us we should head to the courtyard to have our break. Or the bathroom for a quick cry.

We pass by a group of boys, and one of them keeps his eyes on me. Then, when I turned to glance at who it was, I realised it was just an eye.

In that moment, everything in me faded away. All the hate towards him, all the sadness, all the misunderstanding. I just wanted to talk to him again. For one last time. So I did.

"Joseph," I stop in my tracks. I tell Simone to keep going, that I'm fine left alone. She nods in acknowledgement and walks down the staircase.

I turn around to meet his stare. My breath catches in my throat, not having this kind of interaction in a while.

I walk towards him, a bit slow. "Can I talk to you?" I pause. "Alone?"

His friends tease him and push him around lightly, but his eyes are still as well as his whole body. I fear his heart might be, too.

He simply nods and silently eyes his friends to go. We're left alone near the window and take a seat in the space.

"You must be wondering why I'm talking to you again so suddenly." He stays quiet, looking down.

"Joseph..." I scoot closer. I bring both my hands up to his cheeks, only hovering above them.

He stays silent. I bring my hands back until he leans forward and into them, gently grabbing my wrists and holding them still. I feel the air come out of his nose as he exhales, body slumping down.

"I'm sorry. For everything. Ignoring you was one of the most stupid things I've done. Being angry was second." I tilt my head to see if he's opened his eye, but he keeps them closed. His thumb rubs one of my wrists.

"You should be with anyone you want to be with. It shouldn't matter to me. But, it did." He lifts his head, peering an eye. His mouth opens, then closes again. I keep going.

"I missed you. I've been missing you. I miss all the times we weren't mad at each other." I caress his cheeks, and he leans into my touch.

"I was never mad at you." Joseph says, but I shake my head.

"You were. And that's fine. It's okay to be mad at me. I get it." He furrows his brows at me.

"Don't say that. I was never mad at you. I've never been mad at you."

"But what about all those times you shouted at me? Those times in the streets?" He sighs deeply, not as relaxed as before.

"I was mad at myself, but I was letting it out on you. And I'm sorry about that. But trust me, I could never be mad at you."

We just stare at each other after. The silence fills the air, and it's the first time it was like this in a while. I had to tell him.

"I'm leaving." I feel his breath stop, and it's so nauseating.

"What?" He mumbles out.

"I'm leaving." I repeat.

"For the summer?" He squints, the gears turning in his head. I wish it was only for the summer.

"No," I look down. "For good."

He pulls away from my hands, sitting straight again.

"No..." He shakes his head. "Don't lie to me."

"I would never." I look him dead in the eye, not wanting him to think that I would ever do.

"Exactly. I know you'd never. So why are you lying to me now? This is some joke, right? Like a cliffhanger for next year. Right?" I simply stare at him.

"Y/N, please tell me you're lying. I'll let it slide. Tell me you're lying." He begs, grabbing a hold of my dropped hands.

I don't move. I don't look at him. I don't say anything. That was enough of an answer.

"No..." He whispers. He does it all over again as he gets up and paces. He rubs at his eye, and I get up and say "Stop."

He stills. I see the tear stains reflect off his cheeks from the sunlight outside coming in. His head is down as it was before. I sigh deeply, placing my hands on his shoulders.

"Come here." I pull him in, and he immediately engulfs me in an embrace. He sobs desperately, and I try my hardest not to join him.

A series of "please don't go"s spill out of his quivering mouth, and my brain goes numb. He's shaking. His heart is pounding. His mind's all over the place.

I hush him, rubbing his back like I do with a baby, whispering nothings into his ear. When he stops, his body is still slumped down to hold mine.

"We wasted so many days. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asks once we're sat back down the window.

"I tried. I promise. We were still mad." He laughs, and it's been such a long time that my brain got nostalgia.

"Fuck. I'm gonna miss you all over again." He bites his lip as he looks down, fiddling with the inseam of his pants. I purse my lips together.

"We'll keep in touch." He shakes his head.

"You'd be everywhere."

"I'll call your home phone."

"I'm not gonna be home in the summer."

"I'll call wherever you are."

"Thank god you thought of something for that because I was ready to start sobbing again." He laughs again, and the suns back in his eyes. Like it left and came back.

I grab a hold of his hands, stopping him from fidgeting. I make him look back up at me.

"I promise I'll phone you every day. I'll send you letters, postcards, and pictures. I'll even send you some magazines I'm in." I shrug, and he smiles.

"I don't think you have to do that last one. I'm keeping my eye on every magazine booth here on out." We chuckle together. We stay quiet again, then Joseph tucks my hair behind my ear.

"You're beautiful, Y/N Pardine. You'll do great out there. I'm only a phone call or a pen away." I flush at his bluntness and smile sweetly. He does, too.

××《☆》××

The party happened. We spent almost the whole time together. We had even danced.

An American song called "At Last" plays in the background as Joseph holds me, dancing slowly.

His hands cup my waist, my arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead against mine. I play with the ends of his hair as he caresses my body.

We laugh, we drink, we talk, and we glance. We do what we missed. We held each other. We absorbed one another.

There was a time in that party that happened between Simone and Jean Pierre. Thank god he finally said something of the truth, because that breakup was a straight lie.

Anyways, the night ended, but nothing happened. I don't know what I was expecting, but there was a feeling something special could've happened to me. Like a string tugging on my insides.

Something to do with pretty pink lips.

××《☆》××

The next morning, I woke up with his arms around me.

He smelt of fading whiskey, cigarette smoke, and expensive cologne. Just as he always did.

His eye patch was off, his hair a mess, and his jacket's on the floor. His shirt is wrinkled, he's breathing evenly as one does in their sleep, and there's a small snore coming from him. It's adorable.

When I get up, or at least try to, his grip on me tightens. Not in a way that hurts, but it's strong enough for me to come collapsing on his chest. He's warm again.

"Five more minutes." He groans, and I sigh deeply. Five more minutes will be alright.

Ten minutes pass, and only then do we get up. I hand him a towel and some clothes, my father's again, then one of my own, then usher him to the bathroom. I fix our bed, pick his jacket up off the floor, and fold it neatly.

Once I hear the shower turn off and the door creak, I try my best not to turn and just... stare. It's creepy, I know. But, who could blame me? I mean, I was leaving for good.

Right. Leaving for good.

I feel his arms wrap around my waist, his head tucking into my neck, his nose poking at some sensitive spots. I squeal silently, and he chuckles to himself, the vibration of his chest spreading around my back.

"Want some breakfast?" He whispers. George lies by the windowsill, watching the both of us in embrace. His tail moves around, eyes blinking slowly. He's glowing from the sunlight hitting him.

"If you don't mind. Please, and thank you." I turn my head a bit towards him. He nods, pressing a kiss to my hair. I smile to myself whilst I check things off my list last minute.

He's done with breakfast by the time I finish my quick shower. I'm fully dressed now. The only things missing are my coat and my suitcases.

Joseph sits across from me. We were in this position before.

"So, how's Callum? Still a prick?" He says as he stabs on some of the eggs he made. I finish my bite before answering.

"Callum's doing fine. I don't know why you've always been so off about him. He's a good guy." I shrug, tilting my head for an answer. "What's got you like that?"

He sighs, dropping his utensils gently on the table top. I place a hand over his, and he turns it to hold mine.

"Felt like he stole you from me." He mumbles, but it was clear enough for me to hear.

I purse my lips at this remark. "No one's gonna keep me away from you. Except that girl that actually did." I laugh as Joseph groans.

"I already told you, I didn't even know her." From this, I kept going.

"Well, then why did you basically call me a slut?" I raise my eyebrows in amusement, as to show that I moved on from it. Still, I was curious.

He pauses. For a long time. I begin to worry, thinking he actually meant it. I try to pull my hand away, but his grip turns firm.

"No." Joseph whispers out of desperation. He's taking deep breaths. I can tell he's overthinking. But I need to know the truth.

"You've got to tell me, Joseph. Otherwise, we'll shrug each other off again. Do you want that?" I push on him. He needs to tell me. I need to know.

"No. I don't want that. Just..." He closes his eyes, readying himself.

"The boys wanted to talk to you. I couldn't let them. I knew how they meant. And I'll just put it simply that they meant badly. So I had to tell them things about you that weren't true so they could get pushed away from the idea of you." He cups my cheeks from across the table. I lean into his touch.

"I don't want anyone to take advantage of you. Thank whatever god is up there that I found out because if I hadn't..." He breathes in deeply, caressing my face with his thumb. "I don't even want to think about that. Okay?"

I nod. I get up from my seat to give him a hug. He remains seated, his face pressed up on my stomach. I rub his back and comb fingers through his hair.

He stands up slowly, hands still attached to my hips. They roam up to my wait as he hovers over me, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. He's so close. His nose just bumps into mine. He's looking down at me. At my eyes. At my lips. His breath is haggard.

"Callum's probably waiting." I whisper, my breath fanning over both our lips. Our lips only an inch away from eachother.

"Let him wait." His voice is low. He's starting to make my knees buckle.

A loud crash is heard throughout the flat. I yelp away from him. Now we're feet away from each other, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. As if we did something. And we didn't even.

George meows on the kitchen counter, staring at us innocently with the keys now on the floor. I sigh deeply, walking towards him and picking him up.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but," I hand George to Joseph. "My baby's yours."

His eye widens in surprise, then he switches his gaze from me to the cat, then back to me, then back to the cat.

"I can't..." I shake my head, smiling.

"He's yours, Joseph. That's final. He already loves you more than me. It's alright. Plus everytime you see him, you think of me."

He flushes, demeanour relaxing. "I already think of you too much."

It's my turn to flush now. But I respond. "Good."

××《☆》××

We arrive at the train station. I bid a thank you and goodbye to Joseph's mother, hugging her for a short while. Joseph carries all my belongings.

I spot Callum at a bench.

"Callum, you remember Joseph." I nod to Joseph. He drops my things next to Callum's.

"Of course I do. The infamous lover boy. It was nice meeting you, man." Callum shakes Joseph's hand. Joseph purses his lips tightly, gripping on Callum's hand.

"I'm still not sure about you... but she trusts you, so I should, too." Callum nods firmly. They let go of their handshake.

"Well, I better get our things in. Say your final goodbyes." He moves to go in the train. Me and Joseph are alone again.

"Got your pretty things intact?" Joseph teases, and I simply laugh.

"Yes, I do." I look up at him. He moves closer, hands on his hips.

"One day, I'll hear those words again." There's a feeling in me. Like dejavu, but a feeling from the future. I couldn't explain it, but what he said made sense. Like I knew, I would say those words again, too.

We stand in silence. I walked closer, embracing him for one last time. He leans down, his hands tight around me, his head over mine. I feel a lump in my throat.

We held each other for one last time. We smelt each other for one last time. We absorbed each other one last time.

I try to pull away, but he pulls me back in. The lump grows bigger.

When we finally pull away, my eyes start to sting. I palm my throat, trying to push that growing lump down. His hands are on my shoulders. He lets go.

"Goodbye, Y/N Pardine." He mutters, his voice breaking.

"Goodbye, Joseph Descamps." I mock him with a smile on my face.

I turn around and walk on the train. Joseph follows me, guiding me up the steps. His hand holds onto mine. I hang on the pole.

The train blares its horns, and it starts to move very slowly. The tears escape my eyes. He wipes it away.

"Y/N," he says. "I love you."

I sob. I laugh. It's a bit ugly.

"I love you, too. So much."

He stands on his toes and kisses me. His pretty pink lips are finally on mine. I grip the trains pole harder.

The trains blares again, and my kisses become more desperate. The train moves faster and faster, and Joseph starts to run. His lips start parting from mine, tears dropping even more.

"Come back to me, Y/N!" He shouts. He's still running. He's laughing now. And he's crying. He's beautiful. He gets farther, farther, and farther.

Then he's gone.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

Next- Chapter nine: ______

××《☆》××

I'm actually crying omfg. This hits so diff w the song in the background. Its short but omfg the angst. Help me. Hahhahahahaha.

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #michèle magnan #simone palladino #jean pierre magnan #alain laubrac #fanfic #reader insert #enemies to lovers #angst #heartbreak #call me by your name #cmbyn

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sunakittymeow · 8 hours

Text

Summery: You guys broke up due to a stupid reason and he's getting you back no matter what.

Genre: Fluff

Warning: None

Requested: No

A/n: took so long, finished it long time ago but forgot to post 😭. Reblogs are appreciated.

Mikey wasn't certainly good at most of the things but love. He never understood the concept of the word called love. Surely he never dated, he was too occupied with gang shit that he never really thought of love and to give any attention towards it.

Until you came and swept him off his feet. You weren't more special than any girl, you were simple and kind like the rest of them. But what made his heart flutter when you respected his passion for his gang? Brought him his favourite snack-dorayaki. When you comfort him all the time whenever he gets upset because of his dead brother. You never left him or made him feel small.

He was very glad because of that but yet after getting into a relationship you both shortly broke up after 1 year. Why? You still questioned yourself.

Was it because you have gotten chubbier? Or was it because you have gotten skinnier and it made you look like a skeleton? Or was it because he was ashamed to call you his girlfriend in front of everyone or was it because he was simply tired of you, your nagging and the simple gesture of being worried for him? You still wonder about that.

But why does it hurt Manjiro so much to look at you with another boy instead of him?? Something isn't right when you are with someone else, you should be with him. He was shameless after practically breaking up with you for no reason and a proper explanation he still wanted you to look after him and only him. Call him possesive but isn't what he is?

"Are you dating him?"

A cold voice spoke out behind you making you immediately turn.

"What are you...doing here?"

You spoke slowly, too shocked to say anything. He was the least expected person to be here.

You were waiting for your name co-worker to come back from the store since you needed some food supplies.

"You didn't answer my question"

"You didn't either"

He blankly stared at you.

"You have bad taste"

"Huh"

You questioned him.

"What do you mean?"

"Your taste has gotten worse"

You widen your eyes at his statement, what does he mean by that? Was he thinking you and your co-worker are dating and that's why he is saying? Or something else.

Questions after questions keep flooding inside your head making your head spin.

"We aren't..dating"

"Really?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his statement.

"What you are doing here anyway?"

"To buy dorayaki what else...don't think I'm stalking you or something"

His tone changed after your last statement, which makes you wonder if was it really because he was relived you weren't dating your co-worker or if was it because he has bipolar disorder.

"Okay, I guess"

You decided to walk away from him. But he keeps catching up with his bike. You stopped in your tracks.

"What do you want?"

"Aight, let's get back together"

You stared at him as if he was talking gibberish.

"Are you for real?"

"For real"

he smiled confidently.

"No, we broke up already"

"Well we did but it was your fault anyway"

He gasped dramatically and shook his head at you imitating a hurt expression.

"You ate my dorayaki".

He exclaimed once again.

"Geez Mikey it was just a dorayaki"

You rolled your eyes.

"See, that's a valid reason"

you stared at him for some seconds and started to walk away as fast as you could.

"Wait!"

"What now?"

He took a deep breath.

"Sorry."

"for?"

"I took this matter too far"

"You did"

He wondered everywhere except you, he was trying to find words to tell you but looks like he could not find any.

"Ken-chin told me that it was too childish and I was immature acting like a kid"

"He is right and you are a kid though"

His eyes darkened.

"I'm sorry. Please don't leave me. I couldn't fall asleep nor eat peacefully"

"So you are bringing me back just for your own benifit?"

He shakes his head.

"No. You are kind of my habit. Just like people can't spend a day without blinking their eyes I can't spend my day without you, I need you. Please forgive me and let's get back together"

"That was... lowkey cringe"

You murmured to yourself.

"I heard that"

"I missed you"

He smiled.

"Hop on my bike already"

You did as he said and drove off somewhere. It was already evening. He stopped, parking the bike somewhere.

"Mikey?"

He hummed.

"Will you leave me ever again? For somebody else?"

You asked him.

"Never."

"How can I believe you? You broke up with me because of a dorayaki."

He realized how big of a matter it was to you. He felt bad for making you feel this way.

"Come here!"

You did and closed the distance between you and him.

"Would you mind?"

He pointed at your lips. You understood what he meant and slowly nodded.

Soon he brought his lips closer to yours and placed his lips onto yours, it was a soft and gentle kiss. Mikey didn't have to say anything after it. The kiss said enough about how he misses you. The slight desperation was visible that he had missed you.

Shortly after, he pulled away.

"I don't know about promises or keeping them but I promise that I won't do that again"

You both stared into each other's eyes once again.

"You sure?"

He gave you a small smile and leaned once again to let his lips collide with yours to tell you the answer.

#tr x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #mikey x you #tokyo revengers x you #mikey sano x reader #manjiro sano x reader #bonten x reader #bonten x you #bonten x y/n #toman x reader

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rudytubooty2107 · 15 hours

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(Short Story) Chapter 1: The End of the Beginning

When they say your whole life flashes right before your eyes in the very moment before you die, I always thought it was nothing more than a load of bullshit. And yet, here I am now seeing everything I once thought as nothing more than a man's thoughts filled with nothing more than regret and superstition seeing it all unfold before my very eyes.

There I am, as just a child witnessing the end of the life of my father ebbing away at my feet by my very own hands. My father had abused my mother every day just because he felt like it. And every time she lost consciousness, he would take the rest of his rage out on me, a 7-year-old boy who was nothing more than skin and bone. He never feed us, he took all of that food for himself, and only gave me and mother enough to barely survive. Some time I wasn't sure why he even bothered. Maybe due to guilt, or maybe because he truly did love us. Who can really tell? He worked a shitty job with shitty pay living in a shitty small studio sized apartment. I can understand his feelings in a sense. No one would want to have to live their lives like that. But it gives no right to take his woes out on me, or her.

One day he took things too far. He had just got laid off of his job. Not much of surprise. He was always late to work because he was always up all night drinking until he passed out anywhere, he felt comfortable. But when he came home, it was like looking at a volcano ready to blow at any point. With no hesitation, he lunged at my mother like a man possessed by nothing more than his pure rage. Nothing was held back. I thought he had already put all of his strength into her before, but nothing could compare to what I was witnessing. I felt so helpless seeing all of this happening, feeling as though I could do nothing but watch it all unfold. It was as if I knew what was going to happen. I knew that it was going to be the last time I saw my mother. It was going to be the last time my mother draws her last breath.

Without any thought, I yelled. I don't what I yelled, maybe I just shouted at the top of my lungs. I had to do something, if nothing else, I could at the very least do that. All he did was stop for a second to look me in the eye. As if to tell me through his eyes that I was next right after her. As he went right back into beating my mother, I felt something I never felt before. I felt something gnawing at my inners, trying to claw its way out of me. I felt as though if I didn't let the beast out of me, it would eat from in the inside out. I howled to the top of my lungs, running at him like a wild animal ready to hunt, not for food but for the thrill of the kill. He easily threw me at the wall in the kitchen. As I came back to my feet I saw a knife next to me. Without hesitation I grabbed the knife hurling myself back at him stabbing him without fail. Stabbing him in the back, clawing out his eyes, cutting away at his stomach, pulling out his guts. I knew exactly what I was doing, and I didn't care. His death meant nothing to me. All it did was stain my clothes and skin red as he laid there dead on the floor bleeding out. And yet, I still felt sad. I'm still not sure why to this very day. But one thing for certain, I did all of this for her, for my mother.

And do you know what she did? She looked at me with nothing less than fear. And to make matters worse she said I killed the only man she ever loved, crying as she laid her head on his dead body. I was in shock to see how all that I did, was for her, and yet she hated me for it. Once I dropped the knife as I fell to my knees in shock at this revelation. My own mother, who loved and adored, took that same knife and stabbed me in the eye trying to kill me. She slipped from the blood on the flood from father breaking her ankle. She cried in agony crawling backwards to my father's side.

Once again, I felt something gnawing at my insides. But this felt different than it did before. Instead of feeling a raging beast, I felt something else. Something that I wouldn't understand until later on in my life. I grabbed the knife that once stabbed eye, the same knife that I used to kill my father, walking up to my mother slowly. As I looked into her eyes, I could see them filled with fear, and yet I felt absolutely nothing, nothing at all. So, I slit her throat, and then stabbed myself in the stomach, as I felt as though I couldn't live the rest of my life.

And yet I awoke cleaned of all the blood I was covered in now rapped in bandages with an old scary man standing over me missing an eye just like me. Asking me if I wanted to live, I could only think of one thing. It was the only good thing I think my father taught me from watching him everyday.

"Go fuck yourself."

So, he punched me in my only good eye, and so my new life began as the only thing I, and even this old man, knew I'd be good at, a killer.

#male writers #short story #writers thoughts

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owlwithanapple · 19 hours

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Bird & Fox

Chapter 5

Jason POV

In the morning before Y/N replied…

Dickhead made a willful request, so I went back to the manor eat the breakfast prepared by Alfred. I saw everyone woke up early in the morning and were doing their own things in the hall.

While Alfred hadn't prepared breakfast yet, I sat next to Tim who was working on his laptop, with my hands on my chest, leaning on the sofa in a daze. I couldn't help but glance at Tim, what was he doing on the laptop, and he also glanced at me.

"Ermm, hi." Tim greeted politely.

I poked him with my arm "Hey, what are you doing?"

I don't talk much with them usually. We only chat a few words when we meet occasionally. At most, we talk about patrols and missions. It makes me feel uncomfortable and awkward to talk with them.

He turned his laptop to show me. He was analyzing the relevant content of Kitsune. It carefully recorded every word said by the fox, her body reactions, equipment and movements.

"No flaws at all." Tim gave the answer.

I exhaled, "It seems that she is not a small character, especially her mouth."

Tim nodded, "Yesterday, not only Dick was flirted by her, but also Damian."

I stood up from the sofa, "Huh!? That demon brat was flirted by her?!

Hearing the word demon brat, Damian jumped off the sofa, walked in front of me and Tim and shouted, "I didn't!"

I covered my mouth and laughed, "Hahahaha! Demon brat! Congratulations on your peach blossom!"

Damian stamped his feet desperately, "I didn't! I just..." He whispered.

I put my palm behind my ear and approached him, "The hell? "

He turned his back to me, his ears slightly red. This kid is really easy to understand. It should be said that he has little experience in this kind of thing, he was fooled by Kitsune's sweet words.

I sat back on the sofa and said, "Haha, a kid is a kid." I mocked him.

He gave me the middle finger "Heh! You deserve to be used as bait by her."

I don't deny that she is good at choosing the right time, but I really can't swallow the fact she used me as bait. With her reaction speed, she can make changes so quickly, and I slightly recognize her ability.

However, this demon brat still makes me very angry. How can this guy make me angry every time I see him? And the most funny that he is Bruce's biological son.

Bruce closed the newspaper, "You two stop arguing."

Bruce's words, I and he remained silent didn't pursue it. He sat quietly next to me. I thought to myself this house has such a big living room and there are several sofas. Why does he have to sit next to me?

I poked him with my arm, "Hey, sit somewhere else."

He stuck out his tongue, "I don't want to."

Suddenly, someone came from behind hugged me and demon brat together, "Okay, okay, don't quarrel, get along well~" That person was Dickhead.

I shook off his hand, turned around and said with a smirk, "Hey, how many rounds can you take?"

He blushed and clarified, "Shut up! Don't mention it!"

"Hehe." We looked at the laughter, it was Bruce who was laughing.

Dickhead walked forward, "Bruce, no way, even you are laughing at me."

Bruce immediately clarified after hearing Dickhead's words, "No, I just feel happy when I see you guys making trouble sometimes, don't mind me."

I scratched my head awkwardly, demon brat looked in another direction, Tim's mouth corners slightly raised, Dickhead kept smiling and giving me thumbs up gestures, Bruce buried his head in the newspaper as usual.

Bruce occasionally said words like a father, I couldn't figure out his mind, I knew he wouldn't show his feelings on face, but his actions would show some fatherly little movements.

For example, when I returned to the manor, he was the first one hug me, a very tight and warm hug. At that time, I was so scared then pushed him away and turned away. From then on, Dickhead kept trying to find ways to resolve our differences.

I was very happy to return home, but I still couldn't get over that hurdle. Maybe I am too fragile and too sensitive. Every time I back, I am filled with anticipation and fear in my heart, but I am afraid that I will lose my mind again.

Tim touched my shoulder "Hey."

I was awakened by Tim, and my clenched fists unconsciously loosened "Hey."

"Would you like some coffee?" Tim was comforting me in his own way.

I touched his head "You are really addicted to caffeine. One for me."

Tim closed his laptop and left the sofa "Okay, okay, I'll try."

Demon brat on the other side whispered "Hey, are you free?"

"If you have anything to say, do it now." I said.

"Train with me later. You will be my opponent." He suddenly asked.

Not only me, but also Bruce and Dickhead were flattered. This was the first time I heard him say this. Usually Dickhead and Bruce trained him, and this was the first time he asked me.

He was so weird and abnormal today. I covered his forehead and said, "Hey, did you see a ghost? Or do you have a fever?"

He slapped my hand away and said, "Do you want to or not?!"

I took out my phone and saw that there was plenty of time. I clicked into the chat room but there was no reply from her. I was a little disappointed, but it was not good to force a meeting, and it was not good to get entangled, so I took back my phone.

I scratched his hair with both hands and said, "Okay, okay, I am happy."

Dickhead and Bruce were very pleased to see what I did. I was actually very happy in my heart. Although I hated this kid, he occasionally showed the attitude of wanting a brother, just like he wanted Dickhead.

Tim approached me and handed me the coffee. "Here you go."

I took it and raised my glass to his cup. "Cheers."

"Haha, it makes us look like we are drinking." He sat next to me.

I carefully put the coffee in my mouth and took a sip, savoring the warm coffee carefully. A strong aroma came to my face. No wonder Tim is addicted to caffeine. It can not only refresh the mind but also smell delicious.

"Ahem, everyone, breakfast is ready." Alfred popped up.

Bruce put down the newspaper and got up from the sofa. "Okay, kids, breakfast."

"Yahoo!" Dickhead screamed excitedly.

I got up and was about to go to breakfast but Alfred stopped me. "Master Todd, you are welcome to come back anytime. I am also looking forward to chatting with you."

I smiled and responded to him. "I will come when I can find time. I promise."

Alfred put his arm around my shoulders and walked to the dining hall together. Everyone sat quietly in their seats, except for idiot Dickhead, who was supposed to sit next to Bruce, but today he sat in my seat.

I stood behind him, "Hey, Dickhead, leave my seat."

He turned around and stuck out his tongue, "I don't want it. This seat is very comfortable."

"You bastard!" I pulled his collar.

"Ahem. Master Todd." Alfred stopped you.

I let go of his collar. Dickhead looked so proud that I really wanted to punch him. This guy always came up with bad ideas. I scratched my hair helplessly and sighed to calm down.

I moved closer to the seat next to Bruce, pulled out the chair and sat down quietly. I looked at the table full of delicious breakfast and the shiny tableware. I carefully took the tableware and put a mouthful of food into my mouth to chew.

Sitting next to Bruce made me feel weird and stressed. It was a very awkward feeling. It had been a long time since I had sat next to him to eat. Before, we were always at a distance from each other, but now he was so close to me. How could I start a conversation?

"Jason."

I heard someone calling my name, and I looked up at Bruce in the direction of the voice. He called me with a gentle expression, and I put down my cutlery and looked him in the eye.

"What's the matter?" I was a little embarrassed when he called me by my name.

Bruce turned his fork and was about to speak, and he swallowed his saliva "How are you getting along with your friends?"

I was extremely shocked when he suddenly mentioned Y/N. I put my hand on the back of my head awkwardly "Ermm..."

He looked at me in confusion, and my mind was blank. I didn't know what answer to give. I didn't know how to change the topic of her in the middle of the conversation, and I didn't know how to describe her to them.

"Break up?" Demon brat interrupted.

I gave him the middle finger "She and I, pure friendship, how can we break up?"

Tim tilted his head curiously "What's her name?"

Dickhead raised his hand "I want to know!"

I covered my face and didn't want to pay attention to them. Everyone was talking nonsense, acting like an idiot. I didn't hate this noisy atmosphere, I just wanted to keep her presence until we met and introduced her.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about how to answer these questions. At this time, Bruce's hand was on my shoulder, which made me calm down immediately.

"Erm... she's a good person." I told him vaguely.

Tim looked confused, "What else?"

Dickhead interrupted, "What about the appearance? Where is the photo?"

Demon brat also intervened, "I'm more curious about who is not afraid of death and dares to be friends with you."

"You two are really nosy!"

Bruce covered his mouth and laughed quietly, "Are you happy to be with her?"

I turned to look at Bruce and nodded, "Yeah, happy."

Bruce nodded and smiled, feeling relieved, "I hope I can meet her one day. Talk to her again."

Tim took a sip of coffee and said, "It seems that you are very cautious about her. I am more curious about who is your true love."

"Yes, yes! Have you mentioned us to her?" Dickhead pointed at himself.

"I didn't tell her about my family affairs. I didn't think it was necessary." I said indifferently.

Dickhead complained, "You didn't introduce me, a handsome big brother, to her? How shameful!"

I glared at him, "I don't want her to know that Nightwing was foolishly flirted by Kitsune last night."

Dickhead stood up from his seat, "Not talk about that!"

"I can't stand it either. Cheesy love talk." Demon brat chewed his food.

Dickhead pointed at demon brat and complained to him, "You are the same! When Kitsune is mentioned, you blush!"

Demon brat stood up and retorted, "I'm not blushing!"

For some reason, they started to quarrel. I ignored them and continued to eat my breakfast. After eating, I cleaned up the dishes and took them to the kitchen, because the whole house was in a quarrel.

Just then, Bruce also walked into the kitchen and put the dishes aside. I opened the refrigerator and took a bottle of juice to pour into the cup. I also poured another cup and handed it to Bruce. He looked at it and smiled with relief.

"Thank you." He took the juice from my hand.

"You're welcome." I put the remaining juice back.

Bruce leaned next to me "Jason."

I looked at him "What?"

"You know I'm not very good at expressing my feelings, but I'm really happy for you."

"What did I do?" I was confused.

"You met a good girl."

I scratched my hair "Just friends, nothing else."

He chuckled and said "Whether friends or other relationships, I hope you can be happy."

I swallowed and my hands trembled slightly "Actually, I didn't tell her about our family affairs. I don't want her to be implicated."

Bruce nodded and smiled "I understand."

"I want to protect her." I smiled slightly.

Bruce took the empty cup from my hand "You can."

He put the cup in the sink, then put his arm around my shoulders and led me out of the kitchen. The other people looked at him in confusion but smiled. I looked particularly embarrassed but not disgusted.

Dickhead wanted to follow but stopped by Alfred. Alfred did this so that we could have our own father-son time without anyone interfering or disturbing our time.

Bruce and I talked a lot alone in the room, including about Y/N. It was still unbelievable that I had the opportunity to sit and chat with Bruce calmly like this.

I felt that someone was eavesdropping outside the door. I opened the door and saw three other people. I had no choice but to invite them to chat together. Y/N's matter should be kept secret from the three of them for the time being.

The topic of the long-lost family gathering together was not work, but the stupid things encountered in life. Looking at this scene, I really don't want it to disappear. I also want to protect this family, not as Red Hood, but as a son.

In the afternoon, we all stayed in the Batcave. Tim was busy with the computer as usual, demon brat and I were sparring with each other, while Bruce and Dickhead sat aside and watched.

Demon brat was trained as an assassin since he was a child so he already had the basics of fighting. Later, he was brought back by Bruce to be Robin and guide him. From the sparring, I could still feel his shortcomings.

He rushed towards me with a stick in his hand. I saw through his attack, grabbed the stick with my backhand, and threw him over my shoulder. He was a beat slower to react, and I threw him to the ground.

I sat cross-legged in front of him, "You are too naive."

He punched the floor with his fist, "Damn it! Do it again!"

Bruce stood up and was about to scold the demon brat. I raised my hand to tell Bruce to stop talking and just watch. I stood up and went to get another stick and took off my shirt. This time I would not fight with bare hands.

"Demon brat! How long are you going to lie down! Get your weapons!" I got ready.

"Jason..." Bruce whispered.

Dickhead patted Bruce on the back, "Let him go. You know his style of doing things. He won't be ruthless."

It seems that Dickhead still doesn't understand me. This time he is wrong. Whether I have a weapon or not, I can be ruthless at any time and thoroughly eliminate the enemy.

I did not show mercy to Demon Brat. The force of the shoulder throw just now was not strong, he must have been injured when his face hit the ground. He slowly got up from the floor, holding the stick tightly in his hand and wiping the blood from his nose.

"Demon brat! That's all you can do!" I mocked him.

He spat out a mouthful of blood and said, "Shut up!"

Actually, I hope he can be more mature. Since he is Robin, he should be. He is an important person standing beside Batman. If he keeps rushing around and acting recklessly, he will sooner or later be stuck in a crisis and unable to survive.

Although my personality conflicts with his, we also have disputes because of our different tempers. It is indeed difficult to get along with people with different values. He is the one talks meanly and loves to be arrogant with a rude attitude. I don't know he inherited it from his father or his mother.

"Ha!" He hit me with a stick. I blocked his attack. He aimed at my feet at a fast pace. His judgment ability is good, but he was still careless. His expression completely exposed where he was aiming.

I turned over and kicked him in the chin with my heel. My kick confused him and his consciousness began to blur. I put the stick under his chin to make him look directly at my face.

"Listen to me, kid. I will only say it once. You are full of flaws."

I took the stick from his hand put it back in place, walked to the side to get a bottle of water, opened the cap poured it into my mouth, Alfred handed me a towel, I wiped the sweat off my body, after training I let my body regain its balance.

Dickhead left the chair and hurriedly tried to support demon brat, but was rejected by his weak hand. He walked towards me step by step, and I could hear his panting breathing.

"You..." He muttered softly.

I put down the water bottle and stared at him seriously, "What?"

"One more time!" He roared angrily.

"Damian! Enough!" Bruce pulled demon brat.

"Father! I can still do it!" Demon brat obviously couldn't afford to lose his self-esteem.

I couldn't stand his face, I grabbed his collar and pulled him in front of me, "You are still far away from beating me." I threw him to Dickhead and let him take over.

Dickhead carried demon brat away to treat his wounds. Alfred wanted to clean up but was stopped by Bruce. He asked the other two to leave the Batcave first. He wanted to talk to me alone.

I sat on the floor. "What's the matter?"

He shook his head quietly. "Nothing. It's been a long time since I saw you being so serious. It just reminded me of the past."

"Hey, Bruce, we can have a fight after a long time. Do you want to?" I knocked on the floor to challenge him.

He chuckled and got up from the chair and clenched his fists. "Come on. Let me see your strength."

I got ready for the fight. This was the long-lost pleasure. The person I always wanted to surpass, Batman Bruce Wayne, was right in front of me, without equipment, just bare hands.

A drop of sweat flowed from my forehead. Bruce punched me head-on. I didn't dodge his fists, but chose to face him head-on. I punched him mercilessly. I didn't feel pain from a heavy punch, but pleasure.

I aimed at the target and punched him in the stomach. He grabbed my hand with his backhand to defuse my attack. He grabbed my collar and tripped me to the ground.

He strangled my neck with his left hand and clenched his right fist try to hit me in the face. I subconsciously punched him in the abdomen to make him lose balance. I rolled to the side to keep a distance from him.

There was no anger in his eyes, but a reflection of the battle between two hounds, biting each other wildly until one of them fell to the ground. That was the real winner.

I took another step forward and rushed over. He put his hands in a defensive position. I aimed at his hands and punched them continuously until he put them down. He grabbed my fist in the next punch and hit my abdomen with his knee.

He was about to give me an uppercut, and I blocked his fist with both hands. This time I made a mistake, he stepped on my feet and threw me to the ground with the shoulder throw I used on demon brat.

I got up again and reached out to touch my chin. I noticed that my fingers were stained with blood. It was the injury from the head-on attack just now. I took a deep breath and adjusted my state to prepare for the second round.

Bruce wiped the blood from his mouth with his thumb. "Are you okay?"

I laughed. "That's what I was asking you. Round 2?"

I took my stance and walked in a circle, keeping a distance from Bruce. He had the same idea as me and did the same thing as me. It seemed that we were both unwilling to give in.

"Ding!" My phone received a message, but I ignored it.

"Don't you want to read it?" Bruce asked.

I nodded in agreement with Bruce's point of view and temporarily called a truce with Bruce. I scratched the back of my head, picked up a towel to wipe off the sweat on my body, and picked up my phone to see that it was her message.

🐶: Sorry! I stayed up all night last night and stayed up late!

I was so touched by her reply that I covered my mouth and laughed.

🐶: Are you there?

I laughed for a long time. I guess the uneasiness in my heart had disappeared so I could laugh out loud. At one point I had some wild thoughts that she didn't want to talk anymore. I was really too funny.

🏍️: Hi! I was busy just now.

🏍️: Have you eaten?

🐶: Just a glass of milk, I'll make a sandwich later.

🏍️: Very good, don't starve.

I want to ask her out, but I don't know what her hobbies and interests are.

Bruce approached me and asked, "How about asking her out to watch a movie?"

My eyes lit up, "It seems possible."

🏍️: Do you want to watch a movie together tonight?

🐶: You don't have work tonight?

🏍️: It's my day off today, I'm free.

🐶: Okay, see you tonight.

🏍️: It's a deal! I'll pick you up at 7 o'clock tonight.

🐶: See ya!

🏍️: Adios~

I looked at Bruce and smiled at him for a while. "I didn't expect that you were the one who gave me the idea of where to ask a girl out."

Bruce laughed. "Hahaha, who said I understand women's hearts."

I searched for movies to watch recently, and Bruce opened his phone and recommended that I ask her out to a drive-in theater. Usually, they go to the cinema, but this drive-in theater can bring her a surprise.

I laughed and praised him. "You are still good at picking up girls."

Bruce patted my back. "I believe you don't just want to covet her body."

"Your words are very vulgar." I punched him lightly.

"Hahaha, bring her back next time so that I can see her." Bruce mentioned.

"Actually, when I drove your car to pick her up, she asked me to introduce you to her." I said with a smile.

Bruce tilted his head. "Then?"

"I told him not to hit on you. You are already old." I mocked him.

"I am still confident in my charm because I have lot of money." Bruce laughed.

"Is this a so-called dad joke?" I mocked him.

Bruce tilted his head and gave a sly smile, "I just want to see my son's future wife."

I raised my middle finger, "Pure friends, Bruce."

He grabbed my middle finger, "I also have pure friendships, in bed."

This fucking Bruce and I were joking and chatting, Dickhead brought demon brat to us. The kid still had a sour face on his face, and his face was covered with traces of being beaten by me.

"Why did you two suddenly fight?" Demon brat said.

I shook my shoulders, "We just sparred when we were bored. Nothing else to do."

Bruce approached demon brat, "Does it still hurt?"

Demon brat's response was just shaking his head. Bruce breathed a sigh of relief and his expression was a little relieved. Dickhead scratched demon brat's hair, which reminded me that he used to do this to me.

"Hey, annoying guy." Demon brat approached me and looked up at me.

"What?"

He pointed at my chest muscles and asked, "How big are your boobs?"

What kind of joke is this kid playing? I was stunned. I squatted in front of him with a smirk on my face, "What? Want to touch it?"

Dickhead also squatted down and took a closer look, "Indeed, really big."

I raised my middle finger, "This is called chest muscles! You idiots!"

Tim came to intervene, "I want to touch it!"

I stood up stepped back a few steps. The three of them raised their hands and wanted to attack my chest muscles. I immediately dodged them. These idiots are so fucking perverted!

"That's enough!" I yelled.

Suddenly Dickhead grabbed me from behind and shouted, "Now!"

"Fuck you! Let me go! Idiot! Don't come near me!"

During the play, Bruce sat aside and laughed hard. Dickhead held me tightly let demon brat and Tim touch my chest muscles. This should be the worst moment in my history.

I felt helpless even struggling. At this time, Alfred came into the Batcave with lunch. Seeing the scene in front of him, he immediately turned his back and laughed. I could hear Alfred's whisper from a distance.

I was topless, and my brother were sexually harassing my chest muscles. At this moment, I couldn't let Y/N know about this, otherwise I would be considered a pervert and she would start to question my fetish.

"How did you train it so big and firm?" Tim approached my chest and kneaded it with his hands.

Demon brat tilted his head and pinched it. "I'm also curious about how you did it."

"Little boy, I don't just have big chest muscles." I grinned.

Demon brat tilted his head. "Huh?"

Tim was immediately shocked when he heard me say, "Wow."

"How many girls have you slept with?" Dickhead asked curiously.

I laughed in a mocking tone. "Ha! Definitely more than you!"

"Damian! Attack!" Tim ordered.

"Dickhead, you better hold on tight, or I'll kill you all if you let go." I gave a helpless warning.

Dickhead heard my warning, "Uh oh...shit..."

"You guys are having fun." Alfred said with a smile.

I yelled, "Who is having fun!"

After playing for an hour, they finally let me go. I couldn't hold back my anger and punched the three men one by one. Bruce came to me with a medicine box, wiped my face clean, and applied another layer of medicine.

I had a lot of fun today. Although I was sexually harassed by the other three, I was lucky that Y/N was not there, otherwise she would have seen my embarrassing side. It seems that I have to think carefully about bringing her home.

"Although you were punched in the face several times, it still can't cover up your handsome and charming face." Bruce put away the medicine.

I touched my face, "Damn it, if she sees it, she definitely will be scared."

Tim interrupted, "Or you can wear the Red Hood helmet."

I kicked him, "Damn it! Why do I have to hide it!"

Bruce put his hand on my shoulder, "Men with scars are more attractive. I have a feeling that you will charm her."

I scratched my head, "How many times do I have to say it? It's just pure friendship."

Demon brat chewed an apple, "Do you want it to be just pure friendship?"

His words made me hesitate, "I..."

Dickhead shook me, "No matter what the two of you are at, as long as you are happy, we are happy too. Right?" After saying that, he looked at everyone.

Everyone nodded in agreement. It was really unbelievable that everyone would support me. I was not abandoned by them, and I was also glad that I had never given up on this family.

"Hey, I still won't introduce you to her." I added.

Dickhead strangled my neck "You must introduce! I want to see my brother's future wife!"

I hit his waist with my arm "Fuck you!"

Y/N who was at home at this time "Achoo! Who said something bad about me!"

Chapter 5 End.

If you have any suggestions, please leave me a comment and I will use it as a reference.

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S3: The Bad Batch (3)

Chapter Three: Shadows of Tantiss

Gif by @theworstbatch

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Time is against Omega and Crosshair as they finally make the move to escape

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, mentions of food and the importance of self-care, the Force and meditation works how I say it can, reader is a bit more forceful in making Hunter look after himself lol, Hemlock and Palpatine, threatening insinuations, light angst, again my interpretations of headspaces, limited use of (y/n)

Word Count: 3.7K

Author's notes: The people have spoken (it was three people but people I greatly appreciate and it was enough) so here is the third chapter too! Very much sticking with the episode plot because the main focus is on Crosshair and Omega for this one but there's still an added moment in the beginning! Enjoy and I'm excited to start chapter four!

“You picking up anything?” Wrecker asked your cross-legged form that was seated by the tree at the top of Pabu.

You heaved an annoyed sigh as you sat there. “Nope. I don’t know if it’s cause I’m out of practice or if she’s really somewhere I can’t reach or both, but I can’t get a read on her.” You then sensed Wrecker’s slight unease. “What’s up?”

“Well… um… Hunter’s talking about heading out immediately.”

“Mm-hmm.” You said, shielding your eyes from the sun as you opened them to look at him. “And that’s a problem because?”

“Come on, (Y/N), we can’t just drop the kids here and leave. That’s not fair to them. Plus, Shep offered us a break and- and I- I think it would be good if we got some actual food in our systems. Supplies haven’t exactly been easy to come by when you’re travelling as much as we are.”

You had to agree with him there. You got to your feet and followed his eyes and saw Hunter disengage from a conversation with Shep and stride back to the Marauder. “And what exactly do you want me to do here?”

“Just…” He breathed heavily. “I dunno. Talk to him? Try to get him to listen? He won’t hear us out but- but your relationship is different and- and it’s not just for me, okay. Do it for him. I know things are better but…” He trailed off. “But I’m still worried about him that’s all.”

His sensitivity to the situation never failed to strike a chord with you. You patted his arm. “We’re family, Wrecker. I’d do it just for you anyway.”

Wrecker let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I know.”

You walked away from him towards the ship and as you stepped aboard, you saw Hunter sitting back by the navicomputer with his sight fixed firmly on the datapad. “You know, the sector isn’t going to change if you don’t look at it every two minutes.”

“I’m just making sure we have it correct and ready to go. Can you get Wrecker?” Hunter asked without looking at you yet.

“About that…” You came to stand in front of him and placed your fingers under his chin to get him to face you. “What’s this about you wanting to just leave the cadets and take off? Shep’s offering us some decent food and we could rest up before we depart.”

“We don’t have time.” He maintained.

“No one’s talking about a five-course meal. It’s a quick sit down where you can put those clones at ease about this new situation that they’re in and you take a moment to just look after yourself.”

“I don’t need-”

“Hunter, when was the last time you had something to eat that wasn’t just rations?” You interrupted sternly. The mere fact that he couldn’t answer told you that it had been far too long. “Look, we don’t know what we’re going to face out there and we all need to be at full strength and ration bars can’t always cut it. It’s not just you involved in this either. Wrecker has been at it non-stop too and he deserves a moment of respite and something that isn’t a flavourless stick and so do you.

“(Y/N)-”

“Thirty minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

As Hunter saw the determined look in your face, he heaved a sigh, but put the datapad down. He had never wanted his tunnel-vision with this search to negatively impact the rest of you but thanks to you, he realised now that if he had insisted on leaving immediately, then that’s exactly what he’d be doing.

Taking that as your answer, you took a hold of his hands and started to pull.

“Half an hour?” Hunter double checked as he let you tug him from the chair.

“Half an hour.” You confirmed with a nod. “Then we can get going again.”

Omega was already on her feet and waiting by the door when Emerie opened it.

“Good morning, Omega. Come along, there is much to do today.”

Omega followed Emerie through the usual route to the testing room but as she walked in and hopped up onto the examination table, she noticed there were more troopers patrolling and there was a new kind of tension in the air. “Something’s different.” She shared her observation aloud to Emerie. “Why are there so many troopers around?”

“I’m not certain.” Emerie replied.

“You don’t know?” Omega queried, not fully understanding how Emerie could be so content not knowing about what was going on around her.

“The doctor will inform me if it’s necessary.” Emerie prepared the blood drawing equipment and took the sample from Omega.

The door opened and they both turned to see Hemlock and Nala Se enter the lab.

“Emerie, a word?” Hemlock called over.

Emerie put the sample in the tray and walked over to him.

“An unexpected guest arriving shortly. Nala Se and I will be indisposed until he departs. Oversee the lab in her absence.”

“As you wish, Doctor. I will begin testing the latest samples.”

“That is unnecessary.” Nala Se interjected. “I will see to them when I return.” She had been doing her job in keeping Omega safe and having Emerie carry out the tests jeopardised all of it.

“Dr. Karr’s quite capable of handling such matters.” Hemlock ignored the Kaminoan’s objections and faced Emerie. “See it done.” His attentions were then commandeered when Scorch walked through the doors.

“Sir.”

“Is everything in order?”

“Affirmative. The shuttle has left the orbital station and the coordinated were transmitted.”

Nala Se stepped away from Hemlock to walk over to Omega as she saw Emerie gather the samples and leave the lab. She pretended to examine the records on the screen as she quietly addressed the young girl, “Omega… listen carefully. If Emerie tests your sample, you will be in danger. You must flee this facility before it is too late.”

“Wait. Is that why you’ve been destroying my sample?” Omega whispered back.

“Yes.” Nala Se replied. “Project-” But Hemlock’s voice interrupted her.

“Nala Se, come along. Our guest is arriving.”

“Go to the lab, retrieve my datapad and use it to escape. Sneak aboard a shuttle and flee.” Nala Se instructed before she left with Hemlock.

Omega made her way to the lab, her nerves growing as she saw the vast number of patrolling troopers, but she couldn’t second guess now, Nala Se made it clear she had to go, and she could make it work, she just needed the datapad and Crosshair.

She entered the lab and saw that Emerie had already placed all the samples, including hers into the centrifuge.

“Did you need something, Omega?” Emerie asked.

“I… Hemlock said there’s a guest arriving.” She released an awkward chuckle. “Who is it?”

“It’s best not to ask questions.” Emerie replied briskly. “See to your tasks for the day.” When Omega made no move to leave, she properly looked at her. “Are you feeling well? Forget your assignments and get some rest.”

“Okay.” Omega said lightly before she made her way over to Nala Se’s datapad but Emerie’s voice stopped her from taking it.

“Omega, I can handle things here. Go. I’ll check on you later.” Emerie insisted.

Double checking that Emerie’s attention was elsewhere again, Omega grabbed the datapad and ran out of the lab.

“We have quadrupled our objectives in record time.” Hemlock informed Emperor Palpatine as he led him to the vault. “The exotic matter facilities have expanded, providing alteration and testing of much larger assets.”

“I have need of such grand designs. However, that is not the reason why I am here today.”

“Of course. Project Necromancer.” With that, Hemlock activated the door to the vault.

Omega made her way to the detention level and covertly ran to the cell where her brother was lying on the cell cot. “Crosshair.” She whispered.

“What are you doing here?” Crosshair asked irritably.

“Escaping. And you’re coming with me.”

Crosshair reluctantly sat up and regarded the girl with scepticism. “You found a weak point?”

“Not exactly. I’m kinda improvising.”

“Is that some kind of a joke?”

“I’ll explain later. Just get the guards’ attention.”

Crosshair sighed, “That’s not a plan.”

Omega released a disgruntled scoff, and she did not want to entertain this argument, “Just distract him.” She insisted.

His longing for freedom trumped his displeasure at the fact that this kid seemed to lack any sort of proper strategic thinking. So, he got to his feet and walked towards the bars of his cell and addressed the two troopers standing down the corridor. “Guards!”

Omega waited round the corner and watched as one of them approached Crosshair’s door.

“Unlock this cell.” Crosshair demanded.

“What did you say?”

“I was giving you an order.”

The guard scoffed and called back to his partner, “This clone thinks he outranks us.”

“I do.” Crosshair replied simply as he saw the other guard coming to join. “And I’ll take your blaster too.”

“Oh yeah?” The trooper challenged with a mocking laugh. “How are you gonna do that?”

Whilst this was happening, Omega used the opening to place her datapad into the now unmanned centre console and programmed Crosshair’s cell door to unlock.

“You’ll see.” Crosshair didn’t have to wait long until his door opened, and he instantly overpowered the trooper. He stole his blaster and used his body as a shield from the oncoming stun blasts from the second stormtrooper whilst he fired his own stun blast in return and they both fell the ground.

“Nice work.” Omega praised as he put them back behind the cell door.

“Didn’t have much choice.” Crosshair griped as he picked up the second blaster.

“You’re out of the cell, aren’t you?” Omega countered smugly as she removed the datapad and caught the blaster he tossed to her before they both started running.

“Well? Start talking.” Crosshair said as he waited for her to get the next door open.

“I told you. We’re escaping.” Omega repeated.

“Why now? What’s changed?”

“Nala Se said I had to. And I wasn’t gonna leave without you.”

Crosshair let that sink in for a moment. It wasn’t a sentiment he was used to hearing or experiencing, and whilst he held responsibility for that, it was still strange to here coming from someone who had no true reason to have any loyalty to him.

“She told me to use her datapad to access the base and find a shuttle. We just need to get to a hangar.” Omega continued explaining as she finally got the door open.

They took cover behind the hallway’s centre console as a squadron of stormtrooper passed and they overheard part of their musings.

“We’re not supposed to be on patrol until midwatch.”

“Commander’s orders. All hands-on deck until the Emperor departs.”

“The Emperor’s here?” Crosshair hissed.

“What? I didn’t know.” Omega said defensively as she looked through the manifest of available shuttles.

Crosshair released another exasperated sigh. “Another reason why this was not the day to wing an escape.”

“Thanks for the reminder, but I think we’re past that point.” It was then that Omega noticed the tremor in his hand as he held the blaster. “Your hand’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“I- It’s fine.” Crosshair said with a dismissive grunt as he willed it to stop shaking.

Not having time to push the matter yet, Omega turned her focus back to the screen but what she saw was not good. “Uh oh.”

“What?”

She took the datapad out. “All the shuttles have been grounded, except the Emperor’s. We’ll have to steal it.”

The sheer simplicity in which she said that had him realising that his brothers may have entertained one too many crazy ideas in his absence. “Impossible. It will be too well-guarded, even for me.”

Omega pondered through any possible alternatives in her head and then she came to the realisation with a gasp. “Wait. I know a shuttle we can use. It crash-landed outside the perimeter back when I first came here.”

“How does a crashed shuttle help us?”

“If the comms are still functioning, we can contact the others.”

He could concede that that part of this ill-conceived ‘plan’ wasn’t totally far-fetched. “And how do we get outside?”

“Follow me.”

“As you can see, the specimens are well-guarded to ensure they remain viable for testing. However, with more time, and additional resources, I am confident that we will have a successful M-count replication.” Hemlock revealed to the cloaked figure.

“There is nothing of greater importance to secure the future of this Empire. Whatever is needed to accomplish this goal, you will have it.”

“Thank you, Emperor.” Hemlock made to show him out, but he only turned to face him. His yellow eyes the only thing visible underneath the cloak as they regarded him with curiosity but also with a hint of disappointment.

Palpatine did not follow the scientist immediately. “I did here word, however, one such specimen escaped your grasp.” He commented. “One that perhaps could offer you more than those that are already under your… observations.”

Hemlock’s posture stiffened and he massaged the palm of his gloved hand. “It was an unfortunate error but one I am hoping to rectify.”

Palpatine only silently nodded before he started to walk out.

As they entered the kennels, they didn’t give the droid much time to react. A few blasts from their blasters and he was down.

“Now what?” Crosshair asked.

“We’ll use the kennel chute.” Omega said as she readied the controls. “It leads outside, but it’s protected by a timed ray shield. We’ll have to move fast or we’ll be trapped.”

Crosshair regarded the aggressive barking hounds uneasily. “Oh, I can hardly wait.”

“We can use Batcher’s empty kennel. Be ready.” She opened the chute, but the door whirred open.

“Omega.”

Crosshair cocked his blaster towards the woman that walked in.

“Don’t!” Omega placed her hand on his arm to get him to lower it.

Crosshair didn’t listen, he kept his sights trained on her.

“You should go back to your room.” Emerie advised as she advanced towards them.

“You mean her cell.” Crosshair snapped.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Neither of you.” Emerie said. “But it’s not too late. Come with me and no one needs to know about this.”

“I can’t do that.” Omega responded firmly.

“Omega-”

“I spent most of my life confined on Kamino. I won’t be trapped here too.” She looked imploringly at the older clone. “You’re a clone like us, Emerie. Help us.”

Crosshair could tell Omega’s words weren’t doing enough to convince her and he set his blaster to stun.

“Escape is not possible, Omega. This is for your own good.” She pressed the security alarm, but the stun shot hit her immediately afterwards.

The dreaded sound of the comms steady chirp told Crosshair he’d reacted a split second too late. “We have to go.”

Omega activated the first kennel door and the two of them ran down the chute.

Hemlock watched the Emperor’s shuttle depart with a growing sense of pride as the possibility of becoming the scientific minister felt closer than it ever had before.

“Sir.”

Hemlock half turned his head to the sound of Scorch’s voice. “What is it?” He asked tightly.

“Omega and CT-9904 are missing.”

He turned around fully. “Missing?” He glanced over at Nala Se and though her face didn’t give much away, he was sure she was involved somehow.

“An alarm was just triggered in the lurca kennels.”

“Seal it off.” He ordered.

An alarm blared through the tunnel and the shields throughout the chut started to turn back on.

“The shield’s not supposed to be active yet.” Omega said in distress.

“They know we’re in here.” Crosshair realised before he increased his speed. “Move faster!”

Together, they both managed to dive out of the exit just as the last shield activated.

Crosshair peered into the dark forest ahead. ��What direction is the crashed shuttle?”

“Not sure.” Omega replied.

“Oh, great.” Crosshair muttered impatiently before he looked up to the sound of a shuttle leaving the base. “We’ll follow the flight path.”

“I’m picking up something.” Omega said as she looked at the datapad whilst they both came to a stop. “I think it could be the ship. That way.” She pointed ahead but the cry of a vicious snarl grabbed both their attention.

“Oh, good. The killer hounds.” Crosshair said wryly.

They started their run again but with Omega being so focused on the screen, she tumbled over a tree root.

Crosshair picked up the loose datapad and helped the girl up to her feet.

“Thanks.” Omega said but then she heard a new kind of animal growl, and she peered past Crosshair to see a giant bear-like creature standing tall on two legs. “Crosshair.” She said nervously.

Crosshair pointed his blaster, but he knew by the sheer size of the creature that there wouldn’t be much he could do.

Suddenly, the hounds came running in and rather than come after them, they charged at the creature, and they gratefully took the opportunity to keep running to the downed shuttle.

They reached the shuttle and Omega got to work on powering it up whilst Crosshair kept watch.

Having been dismissed by Dr. Hemlock when she’d come too, Emerie made her way back to the lab to do as he instructed and monitor things there. The monotonous click of the centrifuge blended into the background as she worked.

“Anything?” Crosshair asked.

Omega hit the control panel in sheer frustration. “It’s not working!” She let out a defeated sigh. “Comms are completely dead.” She put the datapad into a supply pack she’d found, grabbed her blaster, and put the pack on her back and came out to join Crosshair.

“They’re coming.” Crosshair said as he heard the low sound of engines approaching and he signalled to Omega to take cover to the side of the shuttle.

“I’m sorry. I thought this would work.” Omega

He may have been doubtful in the beginning, but it was clear that what he originally thought was careless thinking was actually rooted in that out-of-the-box thinking that had gotten him and his brother’s their success during the war and time thereafter. She had done something just by finding a way outside. Now, he could bring in his own experience. “You got us this far. And we’re not done yet. Did they teach plan 72?”

“Mm-hmm. Tech had me memorize all the plans.”

Despite the situation, he couldn’t help the small but fond smile that graced his face upon hearing that. “Of course he did.”

The two of them got in position as the shuttle arrived.

He looked at his hand with anger and infuriation as his aim was off with the first shot and all he could do was retreat into the treeline whilst they fired back at him.

With Crosshair’s distraction giving the opening she needed, Omega made her way to one of the cables the troopers had used to descend. But before she could get up, a stormtrooper cocked his blaster.

“Stand down.”

She awkwardly turned and waved to the soldier. “Hello.”

“I said, stand down.” He repeated forcefully.

Omega watched with shock as a lurca hound came snarling out from a bush and took out the trooper and when he got to his feet and aimed at the hound, she got her own stun blast away. “Batcher?” The answering happy bark told her the answer. “Stay close.” With that, Batcher went to take care of the troopers and she hooked onto the cable and ascended.

With the hound Omega had befriended making her appearance, Crosshair was able to take out more guards than he thought he would’ve been able to.

If things had gone according to plan, he would be able to join Omega in the shuttle in a few minutes. He just needed to bide his time.

Sure enough, as he took out one other trooper, the shuttle started to move wildly out of position and as he took cover from an onslaught of blaster fire, the shuttle fired down on the remaining troopers, and he hastily made his way across the rocks to reach the opening ship doors.

Omega steadied the shuttle and came down the lift to provide Crosshair with cover fire as he came in board and headed up to the pilot’s chair.

Crosshair reached the seat and chucked the pilot out the hatch.

Hearing the doors getting ready to shut, Omega took cover and whistled for Batcher. “Batcher, come!”

When the dog was safely inside, Crosshair shut the doors and got the ship in the air.

Emerie had gotten so used to the monotonous drone of the centrifuge that it had become mere background noise. So much so that she almost missed the new rhythmic beeping that chimed as a new sample clicked into position. Emerie stood up and investigated the screen and the realisation with what she saw, stunned her.

The troopers had only been half the problem. Despite having escaped the ground assault, they were now trying to out fly V-wing shuttles and the bases’ laser cannons and one of them managed to hit the shuttle.

“They’re locking onto us!” Omega shouted as alarms blared throughout the shuttle. “I can’t shake them! Systems are failing.”

“I want that ship neutralized.” Hemlock insisted heatedly as he watched map in main control room.

“Stop! Don’t shoot them down!” Emerie urged as she entered the room.

“What?” Hemlock snapped.

“The clone’s sample supported a positive M-count transfer with no degradation from the specimen.”

“CT-9904 was ruled out long ago.” Hemlock argued.

“Not him. It’s Omega.” Emerie revealed, showing him the results.

Hemlock studied the datapad and saw what she was talking about. “Call them off!” He directed Scorch.

“But, sir, they’re escaping.” Scorch tried to protest.

“Stand down!” Hemlock insisted. “We need her alive.”

Not looking to question the reason as to why they peeled off, Crosshair shouted to Omega. “Now!”

Omega launched the ship into hyperspace.

Hemlock watched the ship disappear off the map.

“They’ve jumped.” Scorch confirmed.

Hemlock released a short sigh. “A minor setback. I have the full resources of the Empire at my disposal. We will find her. And with her gone, she will lead us to someone else who will prove most useful to our endeavours.” With that, he exited the room.

Next Chapter (to be posted)>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @andreaaxy, @dominoeffectsworld, @nightmonkeysstuff, @arctrooper69, @starwarsnerd111, @fuckoffthanos, @graciexmarvel, @tpwkcalli, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @sunkissedclones, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

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