#HUNGER GAMES FUCKS ME UP SO BADLY

[flowersfortheghost]

I HATE READING KATNISS AND RUE BONDING KNOWING WHATS GOING TO HAPPEN TO RUE

IM CRYING ACTUAL TEARS RN

[neonkoii]

happy two year anniversary to the very beginning of my descent into madness (the day i added my hockey guy on social media) (it all went downhill from there)

[artdcnaldson]

🌝 and if i speak about how i’d sell my soul for patrick zweig to come home after a long day of practice all sweaty and his bones aching!! and how i’d be like get your stinky ass in the shower but yet i’m on my knees blowing him while we’re in there!!! and then if i say that it would kinda be the dream if he teased during said blow job - “c’mon i waited all day and you’re not even gonna gonna take it all” “baby you can do better” “hold still let me just use your throat”

what would happen if i said all that!

If you said all that I may have to be inclined to agree <3

Because he loves when you act like you’re not absolutely aching for it. When you push his face away when he moves in to give you a sloppy kiss, simultaneously bone tired and keyed up and needing an outlet. His shirt is somewhere on the floor of the hotel room, his clothes like a breadcrumb trail leading to your spot in the center of the bed, his favorite toy to work out all of his pent up energy.

“I’m not fucking you until you shower.” You tell him firmly. And you’re not lying, technically. But if you join him in the shower, sinking to your knees, that’s fair game.

And he thinks you look so pretty on your knees like that— the tepid water pressure trickles down your face, plastering your hair to the sides of your face, mascara starting to run in fat black streaks down your cheeks. Tongue on the underside of his cock, tracing the long line of him up to his tip.

He relishes in your hunger, the way you can’t hide just how badly you want to be a willing hole for him to fill. He pushes his tip between your plush, inviting lips, watches your eyes widen in disappointment when he pulls out and slaps his cock against your cheek.

“Ah— clean me up first.” You make a face, something between annoyance and arousal, but you give in so easily. He groans as you stick out your tongue, lapping at him with soft kitten-licks. His fingers tangle in your hair, the pressure stinging as you make out with his cock. “Atta girl.”

Patrick likes making you wait— likes that desperate look in your eyes when you’re yearning for him to give in. Your lips are spit-slick and pretty as they move to his balls, laving them with the same attention you showed his dick.

And you look so pathetic, on your knees with a hand between your thighs playing with yourself. Getting off on him claiming your mouth. He’d take a picture, if his piece of shit phone wouldn’t die out at a single drop of water.

He takes pity on you, only after his desire to be buried in your mouth turns into more of an ache. His thumb pulls your bottom lip down, making you open wide for him. You stick your tongue out and swallow him down like a good little toy.

It feels perfect— he’d certainly trained you to take it the way he liked, but he couldn’t ignore the urge to be an asshole.

“C’mon, baby—“ the hand fisted in your hair tugs and your whimper vibrates around his length. “Like you mean it.”

Drool drips stringy from your lips, making a mess of your chin, making a mess of him. A firm hand on the back of your head urges you further, to take him deeper and deeper. Your throat constricts around the shape of him, your nose, pressed into the thatch of curls at the base of him, eyes going watery and glossy as he stills there.

You squirm, trying to pull back, catch your breath. He holds you there and you gag slightly as the head of his cock bullies the back of your throat. Fresh tears spill down your cheeks, and he takes pity— pulling you off of him and relishing in the way your chest heaves with each desperate breath.

“Look at you getting off on it.” Shame and arousal floods you in equal measure, because he’s right. Even as he uses you as nothing more than a warm, wet hole, you’re aching for more. You want to be useful, to be a nice little reward for him. “Open up and look pretty for me.”

And you do. Tongue out, mouth open and inviting. He goes slow, at first, letting you get used to the feeling of your throat being used. You look up at him, fingers moving faster between your thighs. You want this. You want more.

You’re moaning and gagging around him, eyes rolling back as you chased your own finish. You loved when he got like this— when he used you for his own release. You’d never admit it to him, not verbally, at least, but he could read you well enough. He watches you tense and tremble beneath him, bucking against your own fingers. Feels you moan around him, and knows he’s fucking done for.

He pulls out of your throat and jerks himself off while you kneel beneath him, tongue out, waiting for it.

He really needs a new phone, he decides.He’d take a picture of you now, face painted in thick spurts of cum, lips swollen and smiling up at him as if to say ‘thank you, Patrick.’

Thank u for readingggg <3

[fridayiminlcve]

what is your problem with tiktok or booktok and colleen hoover lmao its not that bad surely

the fact that it actively promotes overconsumerism, the way it sells books to you by just playing into already heavily milked out tropes with very specific character niches that are seen in every book nowadays and how the reading is just seen as something aesthetic or a part of the "it girl routine" maybe? if those are enough reasons for you?

does the fact that these books are the first things you see when you walk into a bookstore not bother you? when you ask someone for a book recommendation they'll follow it up with "its a romance slow burn enemies to lovers". it's always about the aesthetic of the book, how many lines can you take out of context and post as a compilation of your super cute romantic annotations page on instagram. no analyzing the book, no theories, no symbolism or meaningfulness at all. how people stand reading those kind of books and still feel any kind of emotions over these flat as hell books with no world or character building is genuinely baffling to me

no one seems to know about actual literature anymore, which not to sound like a boomer but i think its definitely true. there's always been trend cycles, i agree such as the harry potter craze from the 1990s to the 2000s and the dystopia hunger games/maze runner/divergent blast in the early 2010s but tiktok has just.. shortened these cycles so much. as a result, people like our darling colleen hoover whose written around 46 books since 2015 (according to google) try come up with as much fresh content as they can as quickly as possible for the readers (see overconsumption). the fact that this lady outsold the bible is not outstanding to me, its fucking concerning.

and after all that, the result is badly written books with characters who're about as dimensional as a piece of paper, overuse of tropes, read like they've been written by a toddler, toxic-ass relationships being romanticised, very unnecessary sex scenes and countless other things. seriously if i wanted to read about the kind of stories hoover tells i would just open a wattpad account.

not clowning on those who made the choice to read it. i'm trying to highlight some of the flaws i find in authors like colleen hoover, sjm, ali hazelwood, casey mcquinston. some of them might be good, i wouldn't know because i actively try and avoid them at all costs. also i am BEGGING u all who will have an objection to this post to reach out of your comfort zone and read something different like non-fiction or fantasy or one of the classics for once if you only read booktok like seriously it might be hard but just do it for the love of god!! if you're annoying on this i will block you by the way i don't care

[miley1442111]

birthday blues part 2- s.reid

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

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

summary: spencer makes a choice that leaves you alone on an important day and causes something in your relationship breaks.

pairing: spencer reid x fem reader

warnings: birthday blues, spencer's an ass, cursing, talks of breaking up, no happy ending :(

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

You walked to your favourite coffee shop the next morning, trying to get everything out of your mind. Your family had texted you over and over last night, wondering why you’d cancelled, and god, you felt awful for cancelling on them. 

But really, it wasn’t your fault. It was Spencer’s. A part of you wanted to just throw him under the bus and tell your parents what he did, but the other part, the part that was head-over-heels in love with him, made you feel like a bad person for even thinking that. 

A buzz in your pocket made you startle back to reality. You had your coffee, you were sitting in the sun and thinking over everything. 

Spencer ❤️: Can we talk soon? I’m so sorry and I love you. 

You sighed and put your phone down. The storm inside your head raged on, confusing you more and more. It had been months and months of this. He was never there. He wasn’t ever there for you either, when you truly thought about it, you realised that when he was there, he was unloading everything off of him onto you, or you two were having sex. Which was fine, for the most part. But, you wanted a real relationship, you wanted someone to be there for you, and you deserved it. You’d spent your whole life letting other people speak for you, you’d spent your whole life letting other people make your life harder just to make theirs easier. Enough was enough. 

You: I think it’s best if we don’t.

Spencer read it immediately and his heart sank. 

Spencer ❤️: What do you mean???

You: I mean that maybe we should see other people. 

Spencer ❤️: Why would we do that?

You: Because I’m sick of being second-best to everything and everyone in your life. You knew it was my birthday, you knew what it meant to me to let you meet my PARENTS, and you still didn’t have the fucking decency to show. I don’t want someone who brushes important things off. 

Spencer hadn’t slept a wink. He’d thought your relationship had been good, great even. What was all of this about? You were breaking up with him? Had he really fucked up that badly this time? He knew it was your birthday, yes. He knew it meant a lot to you to have him meet your parents, yes. He knew he had been putting your relationship on the back-burner for a while now, and yes, he felt bad. 

But come on, his life was difficult enough.

Spencer ❤️: Please can we just talk?

You: About what?

Spencer ❤️: Us?

You rolled your eyes as a tear finally slipped past your waterline. He really was just so… unknowable. How did you ever think you’d figure him out? How did you even think you’d be able to help him? To fix him? 

You: I don’t think there is an ‘us’ anymore. We want different things, and we’re both too stubborn to change. Don’t call me and don't come by my apartment. 

Spencer ❤️: Please can we talk about this. 

He was begging, and he didn’t even care. He wanted you- no, needed you. This wasn’t fair, he had to have a chance, you needed to give him a chance, at least.

You: You’ve had enough chances Spencer. 

As if you’d read his mind. He’d had a lot of chances, you were right. But he just needed one more, and he’d never fuck it up again, he swore. 

Spencer ❤️: Please Y/n, I’m sorry. 

You: Not sorry enough. 

And you blocked him. Fuck him. He didn’t deserve you. You deserved so much better. 

But Spencer Reid, he had a plan.

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

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

criminal minds taglist :) (message me or comment to be added :))

@princess76179

@khxna

@hiireadstuff

taglist for this au:

@bringitonhomejohnb

@cat-lockwood

[weskie]

A New Game (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

18+ | thigh riding, nipple play, wesker being a condescending little fuck, bit of degradation | Fic Directory

When your back hits the wall, you know you’re in the best kind of trouble.

Wesker is silent as he takes you in.  He holds your wrists above your head, wordlessly asserting that you are fully at his mercy as he gazes down at you with a devilish curiosity.  There is a gnawing hunger seated deep in those inhuman eyes of his, and you are the meal that will sate him.

With his free hand, he grips your jaw and turns your face away.

“Where to start, hm?”  He muses, blowing a warm breath over your neck, basking in the way you shiver.  “My, my… So reactive.”

The hand at your jaw slips down your body, mapping a path over your chest to the hem of your shirt, slipping under all too skillfully. His bare fingers graze your skin and he smirks, humming in a way that sounds uncharacteristically delighted.

He had taken his gloves off earlier to tease you, as he had been doing for some time now.  His fingertips carry a strange chill that contrasts against your warmth, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they dance up to your chest.  He cups your flesh as if committing every detail of it to memory.  He looks at you and you know without him speaking a word.  Every inch of you belongs to him now.  You are his to have, and his alone.

You can practically see the gears of his methodical mind turning as he takes in every precious little reaction you give him.  Each panted breath that leaves your pretty lips, the way your eyes dilate, the soft moan turned mewl as he pinches your nipple and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Very good…” He says with that signature dark chuckle of his that always blurred the lines between arousing and terrifying.  “I’ve enjoyed this game of ours, but I have a new one I’d like to play.”  He comes impossibly closer, thigh rising to wedge between your legs as he lifts you just enough to mount it.

The pressure makes your core throb with a burning need and your hips buck of their own accord.

“Well, well…” he purrs, nuzzling against your temple.  “Is that how you want this?  So desperate that you’d hump my leg like a dog?”  You can hear the smirk in his voice as his words shoot straight to your aching core.  “I’m quite impressed you’ve kept your hands to yourself for so long.”

The simple reminder of your self control makes you struggle against his hold on your wrists.  You want so badly to grab him by those damn shoulder holster straps and kiss him stupid.  God… that’s how you’d gotten in this situation.  Brave enough to finally snap and pull the most dangerous man you’d ever met into such an intimate act.  Now it’s got you soaking your underwear as he whispers filth in your ear and teases your chest.  

Wesker tuts in disapproval at your attempts to free yourself.

“Poor thing.” His hand slips out from under your shirt, prompting a downright pathetic whine of protest to escape you.  He snakes it around your waist and rocks you against his thigh.  “Tell you what, sweetheart.”

You gulp and he huffs the smallest laugh against the shell of your ear.

“Give me a good show and perhaps I’ll reward you after, hm?”  His teeth graze your earlobe and you arch away from the wall, hips rocking against the strong muscle of his thigh for more of that delicious friction.

His arm wraps tighter around your waist to aid in your movements.  You bite your lip through your keening, mortified at how quickly the mere idea of this ‘reward’ he’s teased has put you on the edge.

“Show me what I have to look forward to when I take all of you.”  He commands, suddenly forcing you to move faster and harder.  “Feels good, doesn’t it?  Just imagine what you’ve been denying yourself.”

Your vision is hazing and you’re hurtling toward release faster than you can stop it.  His words in your ear, his body against yours, his scent clouding your mind– everything about him has bewitched you.  You don’t even care how pathetic you must look grinding against his leg anymore.

“That’s it, pet.” He goads. “Earn me.”

You let loose, chasing that ever tightening knot until it snaps and the shockwaves surge through your body like a hurricane.

You don’t even try to hold back whatever weak noises escape your lips.  He has to know how good it felt.  Wesker has to know what sweet sounds you’ll sing for him if he gives you more.

You need him to give you more.

With your eyes still shut and chest heaving, you try to say his name but it only comes out silent and breathless.  You feel like jell-o, and you’re pretty sure his good graces are the only reason you haven’t hit the floor yet.  

A curled finger lifts your chin.

“Now was that so hard?”  He asks, a soft lilt ringing in his voice.  

You give a weak shake of your head. 

“Good. In that case, I do believe you’ve earned something special…”

The wet heat of his tongue drags along the edge of your jaw until his lips are pressed right against your ear again.  The act alone is enough to make you clench your thighs around his.

“I will have all of you, over and over again.  You will be mine for the rest of your days.”  He nips at the side of your neck sharply, tongue laving over whatever mark he’s certainly branded you with.  “You have earned me.”

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor.  You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

[threepandas]

Bad End: Royal Red

Have you ever seen blood BURN like the sun?

I'm not even sure "burn" is the right word for it. Writhe? Scream? HATE? Like a standing on a cliff, staring down at a valley consumed in flames. Old forests full of life... burning. Dying. Wrong.

The sky choked with thick black smoke. Tar-like and staining. The ROAR of it. Moisture ripped so utterly from the air, it hurts to breathe. Heat so absolute as it rises... you can not imagine there was ever, EVER life here.

But there was.

And it was once beautiful.

Ancient and green, bird song and morning mist. Moss beneath bare feet and the gentle quiet that is no quiet at all. A thing ALIVE. Breathing. Whole. Now gone beneath the flame. The carnage and hunger. As animals flee for their lives and your men die, desperate to hold back the all consuming spread.

Nothing but FIRE remains.

But have you seen BLOOD burn? The weeping wounds of a soul? The... WRONGNESS inside a man, catch light? A shade of ever overlapping crimson. Drying blood somehow just as fluid as the fresh. Old wounds and new. Somewhere, the depth of scars...

BURNING.

I have.

I do.

I wish I did not.

There is something... WRONG with his Highness. Now, the Crown Prince. He... He HAD brothers. Some were awful, others indifferent. But all of them? All of them are gone. Terrible accidents, allegedly. One after another. And they were NOT the only one's. Consorts, lovers, mistresses and supporters. Allies and anyone unfortunate enough to be in his Highness' way.

But of course, I can prove nothing. And to SUGGEST such a thing? That would be Treason. Defamation of a Royal. That it is TRUE? Holds no bearing. Is utterly irrelevant. Even if I HAD had the proper training, even I'd my Gifts WERE formally recognized, ultimately? Politics is King.

It's not supposed to be. But when has life ever been so kind? When has "supposed to" EVER won the day? No. Such talk gets men killed. And dying once? Was quite enough for me.

Though I HAD to wonder...

How does a Protagonist fuck up SO BADLY, that they somehow send their Hidden Route target, into an empire conquering, murder spiral? That's not "a few bad choices" levels of making a mistake. THAT'S? Damn near deliberate sabotage and I just wanna talk. Violently.

I WOULD too, if I wasn't pretty certain they were either on the run or in exile.

All I had wanted? ALL I HAD EVER WANTED?? Was to just be set dressing. Soldier A, the unimportant background gaurd. A nice, faceless, grunt. Maybe chat with my equals of plot significance, a potted plant and yonder chair. Then? I could take my pay, go home, and live quietly.

But NO!

I get stationed following the Seventh prince. Mr. Hidden Route himself. Which? Okay, fine. Was HOPING for gate duty, cause NOTHING happens on gate duty, but FINE. But THEN? Half my co-workers are ASSHOLES. Like... child abusing assholes! The FUCK?!

So? Oops. Accident on the stairs! Whoops! Lemme help you there, man. Oh? Did I ACCIDENTALLY crush the hand you used to hit that kid? Golly! Gee, I sure hope the healers can fix that for you! (I fucking know they both can't and wouldn't if they could. You can't afford SHIT.) Lemme HELP you there, AGAIN, BUUUUUDDY~☆!

Threatening you? Why I would NEVER! That's illegal!

You know... like hitting kids.

And OTHER shit they try to pull. Never DID get around to updating my Gaurd Forms. Whoops. Turns out being able to literally SEE the malicious intent on a fucker? Makes it pretty easy to know who to watch. DID get jumped a lot though. Stabbed a few times.

I just? Wanted to watch my favorite Otome game play out, you know? Get payed while doing it. Sunk cost fallacy kicked in. I've been here since I was a PRE-TEEN. Signed up for training, a ten year contract, and everything! I can LEAVE now... but like? Go WHERE? And honestly... I'm not actually sure I CAN.

Things are... Tense.

Or maybe they're just tense for me? 'Cause... Cause something isn't right. It's that burning blood color. The way it fills a room. Reaches, covetous, like staining hands. Writhes and drags itself against everything. Something unholy, between a lustful grind and the dragging of the wounded. It's not even demonic. No... somehow? It's WORSE for being utterly human.

There is something deeply wrong with the man I am sworn to obey, and I do not know how to escape him.

Because I definitely SHOULD.

I'm not stupid. He's been... been keeping me, SPECIFICALLY, close at hand, since becoming Crown Prince. The SECOND he was able to assign his OWN gaurds? I am suddenly honor gaurd. Yet not. I have basically no job but to stab just behind and to the side of him and look pretty. (For the given quality of THAT.) And...? Even the other gaurds are looking nervous.

It's NEVER a good thing when powerful people suddenly pay attention to an individual gaurd, servant, or maid. They tend to end up... hurt. Dead. Worse. And given recent behavior? Well... I've been getting offers to quietly arrange an "accident" for me.

Not so sure it won't get everyone involved killed.

He wasn't always LIKE this. Yeah, he was... different, but it wasn't BAD. Just... off. A bit weird. A color I hadn't seen before and couldn't for the life of me figure out. It had been... well, nothing. Not even grey. I KNOW grey, it's apathy or depression. Emotional flatness.

But his Highness? Like mist. The lite distortion of water droplets. Colorless and near weightless, drifting gently along. It was as though he DIDNT have emotional responses to anything. Not even flat. Just... non-existant. Which? If so? That's okay! Really. Takes all types. Something to NOTE, yeah, maybe accommodate? But fine.

It's not like there were psychiatric meds or doctors we could get for him. If he was different, so be it. We just had to work around that. Plan accordingly. Worst case scenario, maybe keep him away from small breakable things. But? He seemed benign. I shrugged and moved on. Accepted him as he was.

Maybe went out of my way to explain things with logic more then feelings. Even when I WAS explaining feelings. Ethics. Pretty much anything else he asked. Which... wait a second...

Fuck.

A nameless gaurd SHOULD NOT know that much about psychology or politics. Economics on the macro or micro scale. Oh god DAMN it Wikipedia! You betray me a lifetime away?! Et Tu random research binges!?

Okay. Okay! So maaaaybe? THATS why he's keeping me close? Cause yeah, I'm pretty stacked these days. No internet kinda leaves nothing BUT time to train and read... and books are kinda hard to get, at my level. So like? Maybe a second set of eyes?

....doesn't feel right though. Close but missing the obvious mark-ish.

I try to think of my interactions with the prince. BEFORE murder-spiral kick-off. He sought me out a lot. I interfered so many times when his Tutors crossed lines, they got me kicked out of the main building. He started skipping lessons to self-study. I got put on patrol? He learned my patrol schedule. Would invade the gaurd mess.

Got punished for that, I think. Vicious cycle. I get punished, he gets upset, wants to make sure I'm okay, I get punished for his basic empathy and being a kid. They kept reassigning me. I got stabbed that first time. Sent too...

Wait.

I try to pull up what I know of the Game in my brain. The Hidden Route and the other Routes. We are.... WAY off script. Not off GENRE... just...?

Mentally I set the Game aside. Shifting in my guarding position at the Crown Prince's side. He continues to work. The soft rustle of papers and the scratching of his pen, filling the silence along side the clink and shift of my armor. We are in the sun room, surrounded by flowers, supposedly for the better light.

To be honest, I hadn't ever BEEN in this room until I was basicly expected to tail the Crown Prince like a glorified, armor wearing, pet. And too be honest? Given that the REST of his honor gaurd were ACTUAL KNIGHTS? It was well beyond ridiculous at this point.

I was a club bouncer surrounded by elite special forces, in fancy little armor, that I could in NO way, have ever afforded on my own. Oh, and I wasn't really allowed to talk to them. So... WHY? Why, EXACTLY, was I here? There was no realistic way anything could get PASSED all those knights. I certainly wasn't PROTECTING the Crown Prince from SHIT.

And... and he hadn't attacked me, thank God. No touchy hands "service to the crown" shtick. Demanding things I couldn't refuse him. So THAT wasn't it...

Right?

My brain insisted it wasn't. That I should keep going over the list of possible reasons. Consider This or That. But... Something in my gut? Rang like a struck bell. Some non-physical part of me. That peice that twined, like gentle golden ivy, up through my body, too wrap around my eyes from the inside. Not enough, maybe, to get me into some high and mighty school or apprenticeship... but ENOUGH.

Because Magic was, is, and always has been? Divine. For all that HUMANS fail while using it. For every MORTAL error in it's implementing or understanding. It's a drop of the Divine. And? You can not LIE to the Gods. Hide, perhaps, but not LIE. Even then, you'd have to know what you're hiding FROM.

Kinda hard to hide from "using past life knowledge to deduce motivation" when that's not exactly a thing people can easily guess I HAVE. I get away with shit. Know things I really shouldn't.

Am.... am desperately trying to convince myself that the twinge I just felt? DOESN'T mean what I think it means. Even as a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. As I desperately keep my expression placid and my stare straight into the middle distance. Ha ha.... oh god. No no no, oh god, no...!

Okay. OKAY! Lying to yourself will NOT keep you safe! We can do this! Nothing is happening. We just... just have to play it cool. NOT. PANIC.

He DID want us for sexual reasons.

But... more? More, maybe. I poke at the feeling. Try to frame my thoughts as absolute statement as see if I get a twinge again. To get a feel for the edges of whatever is happening. I can not protect myself, if I do not KNOW from what I protect AGAINST. Just sex? No. Was I a convenience choice? Also No. Revenge for something? A sudden certainty that I'd be DEAD if it was.

Oh, THATS not concerning at ALL!

Okay, keep prodding. Uuuuh... He has a thing for big muscle-y dudes with scars? Strong yes. Okay! Getting somewhere! Kinda thought he liked the petite, girly girl-ish typ-? Weirdly hollow No? Strong. Okay, what the FUCK. See THIS? THIS is why I wanted to be a fucking GAURD. No weird Protagonist of any adventures bullshit! Just a 9-5 with a paycheck at the end!

Uuuugh. Okay, soooo... likes? Strong dudes.... and I was the closest? No. Okay! Getting somewhere! Other strong dude... isn't available? Yes, but I am looking at it wrong. Great. At least I know what that feeling MEANS. Still wish it would just follow up with a "and btw, here's the answer~☆" but, fuck no! Why would life make anything EASY for a guy?

Fuck it! Random shit at the wall time. He's definitely in love with the Protagonist? No. Wait, really? Then why...? No. Stay on track. He's in definitely in love with ME? I wait, utterly expectant, for the twinge that will mark a negative. Half cursing myself for not checking with the Divine sooner. There had been no excuse. Distractions, yes, but no excuse.

It feels like getting sucker punched in the gut. HARD.

Takes everything in me, not to wheeze and double over. That... that wasn't a "yes". That was so FAR beyond "yes" I'm not sure there are spoken, written, or even conceptual WORDS for it. As absolute a CONCEPT of Yes as I have ever felt or probably ever will.

It... It did NOT feel good.

That was a WARNING.

Like the Gods them selves had taken me by the back of the neck, stepped close, to whisper in my ear as they drove their fist into my gut. "Pay Attention To This. RUN. You Need To RUN. There Are Monsters Here."

My eyes feel like they are burning. Like I haven't blinked in too long. Colors a bit too bright, details too sharp. The edges of reality cutting like splintering, glittering, glass. Everything has a GLOW to it. It's never done that before. Is... is this panic? Fight or Flight forcing me to draw deeper then I ever have before?

Or are the Gods paying attention? Displeased by what they see?

The room around us is... is so quiet. Beautiful. Rare flowers, teeming with life. Decorative and pampered little song birds, flitting from roost to roost. The rich scent of rare tea and expensive cologne, mixing with armor polish and the scent of green, living things. Sunlight makes his Highness' hair glow like it was made of it. Pale gold and filled with light.

If I could not SEE... his Highness would be beautiful.

But I can, and instead? He's terrifying.

I think I'm shaking. I don't understand. The room around me picturesque. Peaceful. Golden and filled with gently beautiful things. Light. It feels mocking. Paper thin. Like some cruel trap laid out over a pit of tar. As though, like in the cartoons of my old childhood, the INSTANT I become aware... acknowledge the reality of my ACTUAL surroundings?

The paper thin veneer will rip, no longer able to hold my weight, and I will be plunged into the horrors just beneath the lie.

How.... HOW did-?! I... I CAN'T-!

I put everything I am, into letting nothing show. E-Everything is FINE. Do not turn around. Please. Please, Gods, do not notice me or turn around! I breathe. Breathe. Can't do nothing now, but breathe. Panic is the mind killer. I remind myself of that. People do stupid things, when they act in panic. Think. THINK! Plan. THEN act! Breathe.

How? HOW did this happen? Trace it back. Find the source and we can... can maybe unhook the noose. Fix this? Escape? Run and keep running. Find the edge of the map and keep going. Where did it...? My brain, maybe my magic, finally takes pity. Connects the wires that have long been JUST missing each other. My mental list of Genre Troupes. My history with the Prince.

The blood drains from my face.

Oh fuck. Shit! Oh fuck, oh SHIT. Yandere. He was a YANDERE hidden route character! Wasn't he!? It's the only thing that makes sense with the-! No, no, he should still-! But, wait. No. No, no, NO. Oh god! I pulled a combo attack. "Childhood best friend" even though we WEREN'T. I was basically the closest in age to him! AND the only non-asshole! So that's "Different From The Others"!

Oh mother FUCKER, I pulled a "Only One Who Cares About Me" while SERVING him! His fucked up little squirrel brain would have taken that as "belonged to him" only to have me "taken away" when I was assigned elsewhere! Every time I kept someone from ABUSING him, I was making it WORSE. Every time they reassigned me, somebody was "trying to take me away"!

Oh sweet merciful FUCK, I got STABBED!

No WONDER he lost his absolute shit! He was unhinged to begin with! But instead of latching on to Protagonist and being HER problem, he latched on to ME! Why did no one warn me he was-!? Actually, I have no idea. Non-Just-Straight?! That! One of the THAT! Like FUCK I'm asking! He'd think it was an invitation, probably!

Because he NUCKING FUTS! Squirrels in the brain! Def Con OH SHIT!!

Yandere! Shit! I'm gonna di-!

"Something's upset you." The crown prince's surprisingly deep voice says, breaking the silence. I flinch. "I can feel your magic moving. An attack, perhaps? Or is someone saying something they should not."

He... oh, great, amazing! He can FEEL my magic. The magic INSIDE me body. That magic. Yeah, I don't feel stripped naked and on display AT ALL. Thanks! Definitely not invasive, your Highness! Still, I have to answer. Carefully. Very, VERY carefully.

He hums, disbelieving, as I reply. Lifting his pen and setting it aside. A graceful hand lifts. The mere flick of his fingers. "Move" it means. "Come where I can see you". Imperious and royal. Casual in it's assumed control of me. Why would he believe anything else, after all? He IS a prince. The CROWN Prince. Future KING.

He DOES own me.

I keep my breathing even. Keep my hands from visually shaking by tightening my grip on my spear. Even, professional, steps. Forward. Turn. Face your ruler. Your BETTER. No eye contact. Even breathing and eyes to the horizon. You are a statue. Just... just be a statue. No thoughts. You can do this.

It doesnt help. I can FEEL those pale, pale eyes. Striking and blue. Rare flower petals or glacier ice, they have been called. Compared to all sorts of haunting things. The Crown Prince is a beautiful man. That dangerous sort of pale beauty, that make for excellent portraits, of bright and holy things. That fools the eyes into thinking surely, SURELY the soul before your is Good. Trustworthy.

How could anything so beautiful be DANGEROUS?

Be corrupted and insane? A killer. A madman.

A MONSTER.

I stand at attention. Where he can observe me. His little toy soilder. Kept like a PET, I know realize, and try not to feel like I am being picked apart. Like a mouse in some tigers cage. The far wall sure is fascinating. Mmmmhmm. Very... very wall-like. Glass and artfully arranged flowering vines. Very pretty. What a wall! Ten stars for wall-ness.

The near silent shift of fine fabrics. A tap. Nail on high grade armor alloy. Just the smallest of sounds that nonetheless seems deafening. I barely stop myself from jerking back in alarm. Can't prevent my gaze from snapping downwards. To the arm outstretched, the elegant hand curled, the well manicured finger nail on the single outstretched finger... that has placed itself right over my heart. I freeze, utterly.

"You're getting nervous, aren't you? Growing uncertain. I've been so busy planning ahead, I've forgotten the here and now, haven't I?" He muses. That finger I should not be able to feel, that somehow feels like a knife trailed along my skin, glides slowly down. A meandering path down towards my belt. "I've neglected you."

The finger hooks into my belt. I am dragged forward a few stumbling steps with a deceptively strong tug. There is significant muscle, hidden by the almost waifish cut of his Highness daily wear. The eyes watching for my reaction are predatory. Intent. It was as though there should be fangs, in that pleasant, politician's grin...

"My steadfast knight, warrior of my heart, you've been so patient for me... so LOYAL." He rolled the word across his tongue as he said it, eyes locked on me with the sort of interest hunter keep, more a sigh then a word. Somehow.. Somehow the concept became OBSCENE, once in his hands. "So good for me. Even after all this time. Soon, Dearest. Soon we won't have to hide. I promise."

I had NEVER been a knight. Not even CLOSE to qualified for the training. Not even a single branch, magical or otherwise. Worse? I knew for a FACT? We had never, not ONCE, been lovers. No stolen glances. No fumbling youthful hands. No "hey, let's explore this closet!". Nothing. I? Had been studiously professional, if a decent human being.

This was ALL him.

What narrative had he painted in his head?

My heart pounds. My brain somehow both gibbering hysteria and unnatural calm. I... I think I may be disassociating. But all I can think, all I KNOW, is that I can NOT, Under ANY Circumstances, break the illusion. Do NOT argue. Why YES, deeply insane FUTURE KING, I DO love you so VERY much! Hey, don't mind me, just left the phone running. Gonna go for a walk. Buy some milk.

I watch, pleasant service industry smile feeling plastic on my face, as he leans forward. Rests his head against my armored chest, as though we were lovers. Just stealing a quite little moment alone. His hand slides along my belt, fingers hooked into it, the brush of his knuckles feeling far filthier then any groping hand. I can HEAR him breathing me in.

Obscene. How is he making such chaste contact so deeply obscene? He let's out a pleased hum and I want a shower.

"Kneel for me?" So soft I almost don't catch it, it takes a moment to register the words. This time, I can not stop myself from tensing. I know he feels it, but can not bring myself to care. "Shhhh shh shh, none of this, my Darling. To your knees before your King. Sweetheart, my dearest. You're going to be serving me there for the rest of our lives. It's okay. Your King won't rush you. He knows how shy you are. How nervous."

W-Well THAT wasn't treason! At ALL! Ha ha...! Oh god.

Hands at my waist. When did the other one-?! I'm shaking. Smile. D-dont set him off. This is fine. I... I shouldn't be ABLE to feel their heat, through my armor. Somehow I do. I want to back up. If I got to do this? At least let me-!

But, no. Pressure. Hands on my hips dragging me down, watching eyes expectant. In stops and starts... like a seizing automaton, my knees bend. Down I go... I guess.

Almost instantly, there are hands unbuckling my helmet. Sliding it off. Stealing it away. Fingers slide through my hair. Cup my cheek. A thumb running itself across my mouth. The prince seemed to loom. Hungry as he stared down at me.

"Beautiful. My loyal knight is so, SO beautiful. I am going to give us the world. Take what is ours. No one will EVER hurt us again, Dearest. I will keep you forever. Dress you in armor and roses. Mine and mine alone."

There was madness in his eyes. Obsession. Is...is that what that color meant? That burning, terrible blood? It's too late. Oh god, it's too late for that to help me. I smile. Do not argue. Fear and fear and fear. I have to get out. On my knees, it is a terrible view of what's to come, should I fail. The Games's utterly fucked. I no longer care.

I have to get out.

The King, after all, has gotten sick lately.

[flw3rrr]

A drunken' gamble

Paring: Billy the kid x fem!reader

18+ MDNI NSFW

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, Smut, PNV (wrap it up guys) Cream pie, Breeding kink, Top/bottom Billy, kinda sub billy, riding (save a horse ride a cowboy), oral (fem, M receiving) Fingering, gambling, drunk billy but not super drunk so they are both able to consent, Degradng (feel free to let me know if i missing💖) no description of reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You and Billy run along with the same gang. Taking a break at the local saloon for a quick drink and a game of poker. leading to Billy becoming slightly drunk and ending up taking a good ride! + Bonus smut again at the end <3

The night took over the land as the lights started to appear around the small town. The saloon was busy as ever at night, with men drinking and women working to make their pay. and you just sat at some table drinking whiskey as Billy played some poker with some gentlemen. You'd watch from afar, seeing who'd get pissed and storm out and leave after losing half of their money during the game. It was a time for some nice relaxation after a tough day trying to do whatever stupid job you had.

Watching Billy as he took a swig of his whiskey and slightly leaning back, legs spread open as he waited his turn. You and Billy had something going on between you both. but nothing dramatic—a few flirting here and there and a hungry look once. But damn, how much you’d wish he'd take you, bend you over any surface, and just take you.

Upon your little session of just watching him, he turned his head slightly and looked at you. Something was held in his eye, like some type of shine you couldn't describe. But as he looked at you, his features were most admirable, like God sent him from above just for you and you alone. Turning back to the table once it was his turn, you looked down at your half-empty glass, feeling the arousal grow within you. How badly you wanted to get a taste of him. The alcohol was taking some part of you, but you were still able to keep a full mind.

You notice some man appear near you; he kept looking at you like he wanted to devour you. It disgusted you; he smelled like hard alcohol and truly made you want to escape. "Well, what's a nice, pretty lady just sitting here all alone, hm?" He said his face looked sinful and dangerous. Looking at him with a puzzled gaze, you tried not to respond and turned your head away from him. "Excuse me, I'm talking to you; didn't you hear me?" Not wanting to start a commotion and be saved, you sighed deeply and looked right at him.  "Sir, I kindly thank you for wanting my attention, but I'm afraid I'm not worthy of your attention. I'm sure some of the other nice ladies are begging for yours." Pointing to a group of working girls who are looking at him.

It seemed to work as he wandered off, stumbling his way over to them. sighing to yourself, you down the rest of your whiskey and look back at Billy, seeing how they just ended their game. With him walking towards you and smirking. "Looks like I didn't have to save you, did I?" He said it smugly. "And it seems you're right, sir." Pushing the playful game between you both forward. Billy looks at you and then at the stairs that lead to the rooms that could be rented. "So.. why don't you say we should get some shut eye, hm?" biting his lip slightly, his teasing manner showing as he looked back at you. Grabbing his hand, you lead him, holding your laughs as you pass by those who lost in the game of poker.

The door slams, and your lips land on Billy. His hands are around your waist, gripping yours tightly. He moves his lips down, kissing your jaw line down to your neck. Working to take off your shirt with his hands, desperately needing to feel you. "Oh fuck..." He groans once he sees your bear breasts. Smirking to yourself, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it to the side somewhere. slowly falling to your knees as you look up at him, filled with hunger. Looking back at his bulge,you take your hand and free his cock out. The tip is hard and slightly red, with pre-cum dripping out. Wrapping your hand around it and pumping it. Billy's head throws back.

Letting a small giggle out before taking his length into your mouth, taking how much you could, and putting your hand to whatever place you couldn't reach You began to swirl your tongue around him, moving your head back and forth, pumping the rest with your hand. Feeling his hand grip onto your hair tightly as his head falls back with his eyes tightly shut. "God, I knew you'd be this nice sucking on my cock like a desperate whore?" using his hand to move your head faster and faster.

His breath got heavier and faster. "God damn, I'm gonna' cum..." Billy groaned out. Seconds later, hot ropes of sticky cum shot through down your throat. Pulling back your head, he took your body and laid you on the bed. Removing your pants, leaving your body fully naked along with him. "You're so wet for me, God," he said, looking down at you like a starved man who just found his first meal in months.  Getting down on his knees, he placed your legs over his shoulders. Moving his face into your cunt, he slid his tongue down slowly, throwing your head back and gripping the sheets.

"Billy Oh my god," you cried out, your eyes shutting tightly as you felt him lapping over and over,bringing his thumb along and rubbing circles around your clit. Your hips stutter as you feel your orgasm approach by the second. "I'm so close right here, oh my god, please don't stop!" whining out as your hand moves to grip his hair tightly as if you were going to die. "Let go for me," he mumbled against you, his thumb going faster rubbing the right places as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. You moan loudly as you came your vision going blurry and cloudy.

Leaning back up, Billy hovers above you. Getting an idea, you flip him around and straddle him on the bed, kissing him deeply. Tasting yourself on him sent a shock of pleasure through you. Feeling his hands as he wrapped them around your naked waist, guiding his cock to your entrance. "You've been so nice to me; let me show you how much I fucking love you." Your breath heavy from your previous orgasm. Sliding fully down onto him, your cunt squeezing tightly around him, sitting still before moving.

Slowly moving your hips back and forth, your hands hold his face, making you both look at each other in the eyes. His blue eyes looking at you filled with passion, desire, and an intense stare. Letting out a quiet moan as his hands guide your movement. "Fuck, just like that, don't stop." He let out a slight whimper. Biting his lip as he glanced down, your bodies connected, a white cream ring slowly appeared. Throwing your head back as he hit your G spot gave him a chance to leave markings on your neck. The room getting hot, sweaty, and sticky. "Fuuuuckkkkkk," Billy rasped out, his head throwing back as he felt your cunt tighten more, feeling your orgasm approach.

"Cum with me, Billy; I know you want to... fuck! Gonna get me pregnant too, hm?" You said Making him look back at you. "Fuck yeah, I am. You'll look so good all round my child." He huffed out, taking his hand to circle once again on your clit. That made you even more turned on, quickening your pace to bring you both to your orgasm. Both letting out loud cries of moans out as he filled your womb with his hot sticky ropes of cum as yours slowly dripped out.

Sitting still, the only thing heard was the sounds of your breathing. your head resting on his shoulder as he placed soft kisses on your neck once more. "I wouldn't be ashamed to do that again once more," Billy joked out as he helped you slide off and lay next to you, keeping you close to him. "I agree. You were... okay." You chuckled. Rolling his eyes, he kissed you deeply once more before falling asleep in one another's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus: Kissing against an abandoned barn as the hot sun beamed onto you both, your breaths were hot and heavy as Billy groped your breasts, squeezing them, causing a moan to slip out. "Hurry, Billy, they'll start to wonder where we are," stating as you unbuckle his belt. It was after a fight with some men and then being chased. Both filled with adrenaline, and needing to get some steam out of you both. "I'm trying, darling, but you know how much I love taking my time with you." he said, kissing your neck as he lifted one of your legs around his waist.

Taking his cock out and pumping it before sliding into your cunt, as much as he wished he could take his time, he knew they'd both have to be quick with this. Both of your forheads leaning onto each other, mouths opened, feeling him filling you up to the brim bottoming out, "Fuck!' You screamed as he began to thrust, leaving no time for you to settle. "God, I always love how you feel around me. Cmon' I know you can cum for  me.''Rubbing your clit as he thrusted more, which started to becoming sloppy

Slamming your lips onto his, silencing both of your moans as you both cum. Grinding your hips into his to work through it "That's it. Fuck yourself on me." Hands tighten around your waist. You both, after hearing your names being called, "Where the fuck are you guys?" Both quickly parted ways before putting the missing clothing on, quietly giggling to yourselfs.

[cloudywriting05]

enjoy the silence. ｡˚⋆☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆ peeta mellark. {3}

→ THG peeta x fem-reader 3 parts.

→ 1, 2, 3

→ may be grammatical errors so bare with me lol

→ 2.6k words

→ smut, edging, mentions of spitting in mouths, rough sex, squirting, slap(ping) lol, soft dom!peeta etc, face fucking!

→ summary: you and peeta are the district 12 tributes for the 74th annual hunger games. you have severe anxiety, and peeta knows how to calm you down, somehow.

→ thought i was gonna make him rougher and more dom but he is REALLY SWEET IN ALL 3 PARTS LOL my bad!

→ give me prompts! here

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

"OPEN your mouth for me." You eagerly did so as you closed your eyes. You felt Peeta spit in your mouth and without hesitation, you joyfully swallowed. Your eyes shot open as you stared at Peeta, who was smiling like a maniac. "Come here."

He motioned for you to lay on him. You lifted yourself to eagerly rip your pants off, and within an instant you were half naked, lying on Peeta. He placed his head on your shoulder while your back soaked up every bit of warmth from his chest. "Tell me what to do, please, Peeta? And can you be a bit rough? Like maybe slap me a little bit?"

"Of course, baby, open your legs for me." you parted your legs at his command, desperately waiting for him to do something, anything, to you. His right hand made its way down to your inner thigh, and you had to find the strength to not beg him to finger fuck you then and there. "Someone is needy– and wet."

His finger lightly grazed over your clit and that alone drove you fucking insane. "Peeta, please!"

His free hand wrapped around your neck, ever so lightly. He didn't want to hurt you or push you past your limits, he was already having trouble containing himself and seeing you beg him to touch you was about to make him spiral.

He reached back down again to your heat and began to slide his finger up and down. You felt his fingertips brush over your clit, and back down repeatedly, his fingertips collecting your juices. You let out a stifled moan, trying your best to keep composure. He used those two fingers to spread your lips as wide as he could. "I could look at it all day."

He released his hand from around your neck and used it to keep your lips open, while his dominant hand attacked your clit. "Fuck, Peeta."

You felt him lightly smack your heat. "Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you with my fingers."

"I want it, Peeta, so badly." At that point you found yourself so desperate, so needy for his touch, that you subconsciously began to move your hips around against his hand attempting to rub yourself to distract you from the throbbing.

It took every bone in Peeta's body to not lose his composure, regardless of how many times he felt his cock twitch. You were so deprived, so eager for him, and that thought alone made his cock pulsate. "Lay down here on your back, now."

Without hesitation, you lifted yourself off his chest and onto the space beside him. Peeta, his eyes still glued on you, positioned himself over you. He pressed his lips on yours and spoke against them. “Take your shirt off.”

You obliged without second thought. There you were. Sprawled across the bed, completely naked, with the blonde boy you’ve been buying bread from for years hovering over you. Peeta looked at you, so many thoughts rushed through his head, almost overwhelmed at the sight of you patiently waiting for him. You gained the courage to ark up. “Why are your pants still on?”

“That’s a good question.” He jumped up and hastily removed his pants, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel alienated. You tried your best not to look at his cock, but you caught a glimpse at it and found yourself a bit startled. The thought escaped your mind as your clit was still throbbing, you reached down and began rubbing yourself. Peeta, finally undressed, is greeted with the sight of you touching yourself. And it made him go fucking crazy.

You watched as he inched towards you, then positioned his head between your legs. He looked up at you from between your thighs and shun a smile you could only describe as sinful. You felt his breath against your pubic hair, making you throw your head back silently. Peeta let his tongue slip between your lips, you let out a hitched moan. “Peeta, please.”

He spread your lips with his hands, then attacked your cunt with his mouth. He ate your cunt like he had been famished, yearning for it. His tongue ran up and down, he made sure to flick your clit, causing your back to arch. He pinched your pussy and tongued every bit of it. His finger found its way into your cunt, mercilessly pumping in and out of you. “Your so fucking good, baby.” he muttered, having the time of his life. “Do you want another finger, baby?”

“Yes, I do. Please, Peeta, ah.”

 He accepted your request and slid another finger within you, you let out a moan that came from within. Your body overstimulated by the feeling of his hot mouth licking every inch of your pussy and only momentarily stopping to spit on it, his fingers inside of you and his free hand that was now groping your left boob. Peeta wouldn’t ever admit it but having your pussy succus on his tongue and you writhing because of him was enough to make him cum tonight but, he knew he wanted you to feel you more. He lifted his mouth from your cunt and spread your lips once again, this time to take in the sight. “I could honestly look at your pussy all day.”

He dove back between your legs and let his mouth attack your cunt again, his fingers still pumping in and out of you. During the complete bliss you felt something begin to form, and you refused to let it happen already. “Peeta, ah, Peeta, stop!”

He pulled away immediately. “Are you okay? Did I do something, I’m so sorr–“

“Can I touch you now?” his faded smile appeared once again.

“Of course, baby.” he replied.

You motioned for him to take your place, and he did. He laid there, his penis completely erect, waiting for your next move. You turned around from him and mounted him, you shuffled back to position your cunt right above his mouth, his dick brushed against your chin. You stared down at his peculiarly large penis, you haven’t ever touched one the size of Peeta’s but you didn’t want to let your nervousness overcome you. You felt his hands grab your ass cheeks; he slapped them before continuing to eat your cunt once again.

You looked down at his cock and spat on it as many times as your could before grabbing it at its base with your right hand. You watched your spit roll down to the base of his cock as you began to stroke up and down. You felt Peeta’s body react from under you, he briefly parted from your heat to let out a soft whimper. You used your free hand to rub the tip of his cock, making him writhe under you. You managed to place your mouth around the tip of cock, despite Peeta’s tongue plunging in and out of you. You began felt his body jerk slightly in reaction. You lowered your head, taking more of his cock in your mouth and you could almost swear you felt it throbbing. Your mouth now full with spit, Peeta's pre-cum and his cock. You began to bop your head up and down, taking more and more of his cock. You felt his moans against your pussy and that almost drove you mad.

"Fuck, you're doing so good." he whimpered, this encouraged you to quicken your pace.

You guided your sucking with your hands that were rubbing up and down his cock without fail, only taking breaks to fondle with his spit-covered balls. Peeta's eyes rolled to the back of his head with every move you made, he fought through the pleasure and continued to devour your cunt to the best of his ability. You felt his cock his the back of your throat, causing you gag instantly. Before you were able to get back to sucking his cock, you felt that feeling again.

"Wait, Peeta! Keep going, please–" you lowered yourself onto his tongue even further, trying to prolong the feeling in that moment.

Peeta joyfully continued, trying to savour every bit of you. His tongue travelling up and down against your clit, his nose covered in your moist and his own spit. Your legs steadily shook, your hips contracted as cried out in elation. Every bit of your body was enveloped with a euphoric feeling, you lost control of what felt like your whole body, including your bladder. Peeta refused to stop.

"Peeta, ah..." you exhaled deeply as you leaned forward until your cheek connected with his lower thigh, you gave yourself a moment to replenish. His lips parted from your pussy.

"Baby.." Peeta remarked.

"Yes?" you responded.

"You got the bed wet."

You shot up and turned around. You squirted all over Peeta and the bed sheets without realising it. He stared at you, starry eyed, his hair a mess and his lips ripe from the magic he'd been working for the last twenty or so minutes.

"I didn't realise..." you looked away, filled with embarrassment. You scolded yourself silently. You looked at Peeta, he stared at back at you, you could see the thirst in his eyes for you. Without needing to say a word, you turned your body to mount Peeta. His penis still erect. He looked at you eager, waiting for you.

You began to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, every inch of him filling you up. "Fuck, you're so tight!" he cried out.

"Peeta, ow.. It hurts." you winced.

"Baby.." he cooed as his hands cupped your cheeks. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel bad. He kissed you for a moment, his own way of showing his empathy. He pulled away and began to

You lowered yourself until you felt the base of his cock. Using the bed-frame for support, you lowered and lifted yourself until you found a rhythm. Peeta, a whining mess, inches away from your face. His eyes shamelessly rolled back, his hands gripping your ass harder than before. You bounced as much as you could, your moans stifled. You kissed Peeta on his open mouth that was exerting groans prior.

He slapped your ass before pushing you on your back, he crept over you and didn't waste anytime before putting his cock back in you, where your tight walls engulfed his cock. "You're so good, baby, take every bit of it for me."

He began to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace, hitting every spot imaginable. Every time you didn't fail to moan and gasp. The feeling that was initially uncomfortable faded and turned into pleasure. You looked at Peeta who was above you, he caught your eyes. He crashed his lips into your open mouth. His hand slithered around your neck as he continued to thrust, pressing down on your throat.

"Do you like that?" he asked, his hand on your throat and his cock hitting every spot.

"Yes, I do, I love it.." you cried out.

"Say it again."

"I love it, so much!" you felt his hand land against your right cheek. You gasped, causing him to stop for a brief moment, then you smiled; which made him smile.

He picked his rhythm back up again. His mind bombarded with thoughts. You looked so beautiful to him. Your eyes were shut as you took his cock, your breasts bouncing at every thrust. This let him admire you. The most gorgeous, selfless girl he wanted for so long was underneath him taking every bit of his cock and moaning like a maniac, and he was so happy about it. He thought that dying in the arena after this would be a blessing.

His hand reached down to your clit and began rubbing, you didn't know it was possible to have two orgasms in an hour, but you could feel that Peeta was about to make it happen. Every thrust was in sync with the way he touched your clit, and there was no words that could let him know how good he was making you feel. "Peeta, it feels so good I could cum again, ah–"

"Then do it." he commanded. You felt his cock hit the top of your pussy, making your eyes roll back.

You could feel that urge to pee again coming back and you were scared to let it happen. "I don't wanna squirt on you again and get you wet." you said through moans.

"Do it right now, I'm telling you to. Or I won't let you cum again." he said. He stoppe"d thrusting and pulled his cock out of you. He used four fingers to rub your clit and labia in a circular motion, he looked at you and smiled. Your eyes rolled back and you were begging to catch your breath.

That familiar feeling returned and you felt your legs begin to stiffen and your whole body contracting as you let yourself have the orgasm you were so scared to have. You refused to look as you squirted on Peeta's chest and instantly felt relief before you could feel embarrassed. Peeta witnesses the whole thing and looked at you endearingly. He never knew you could get more beautiful.

You let yourself catch a breath and a brief realisation hit you. "Did you cum at all?"

"Not yet" he replied. You felt embarrassed and ashamed. He made you cum twice, and he hadn't cum once.

"Why?"

"I want you to feel good, I don't care if I don't cum while doing that. It's hot watching you do it, it makes me feel good." he explained, but you still looked dissatisfied.

"Do you want to make me cum?" he asked, you nodded eagerly in reply. "Get on your knees."

You picked yourself off the bed with all your strength and knelt on the floor. Peeta hauled himself off the bed and positioned himself in front of you. His cock that was semi-erect now sprung back up. He looked at you from above and took in the view, he'd be been waiting for this for so long, and he finally had it.

"Open your mouth." he commanded, his hands on either side of your head grabbing a chunk of your hair. You opened your mouth as far as you could.

He slowly slipped his cock into your mouth, filling your mouth.

"All you have to do for me is keep it open, okay?" he said. He slowly began thrusting in and out of your mouth.

His rhythmic thrusts quickened, each thrust making you groan against on cock. The room pulsed with the symphony of his pleasure, his moans becoming a harmonious melody that reverberated in the air. Spit dripping from your lips as he mercilessly fucked your mouth. Peeta felt his orgasm coming early, the thought he was fucking your mouth brought him to the edge.

He peered down to look at you, that was his last straw. He contemplated finishing in your mouth but he didn't wanna cross any lines. He pulled his cock out and stroke it as fast as he could. The tension is his bones released as he finished on your face, the drops of cum scattered. You stared at him finally satisfied.

"Thank you." you breathed.

Peeta turned to lay back on the bed. "Come here, baby."

You got off the floor and plopped yourself onto his chest, your arm over him. You laid there for a moment before lifting your head to plant a kiss on his lips.

"You did so good, that was perfect." he said before kissing your forehead. "You're so perfect, you always have been."

In that moment, you both forgot about the games, about everything, and enjoyed the silence. You took in everything around you, as did Peeta. All you ever wanted, all you ever need was there, in your arms. You both continued to hold your words for a moment, because all words have ever done is cause harm.

FIN

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

[rabbits-sin-den]

Gojo x Reader

Summary: Gojo disappears after you say I love you. So you punish him.

Minors: DNI

"Today's the day." I said to myself in the mirror.

It was our two-year anniversary. I'd been anticipating this one because today was going to be the day I said I love you. Neither of us have said it before which meant I would be the one diving into uncharted waters first. I was nervous on principal but based on the fact he's said everything but (mentioned a future together, asked about rings, got terminally jealous anytime someone else looked at me) I felt pretty confident he felt the same way.

I went to dinner and everything went swimmingly. We reminisced. We joked, laughed, and paid for our dinner. When he tried to invite himself into my apartment. I stopped him.

"I have work tomorrow and you don't know the meaning of moderation."

"Just quit already.” he whined.

"It's one more week. I might as well finish it out."

He whined some more and I teased him a bit before I finally took the plunge.

"I love you." I said. "I um....I wanted to make sure I said that."

Silence.

The longer it went on, the more nervous I felt. When I looked up, Satoru was looking away. When I was about to ask what was wrong he took a step back and disappeared. I blinked, dumbfounded. My heart pounded in my chest. As the shock wore off it seeped into anger and sadness. I went inside my house and closed the door, sinking to the ground.

He doesn't love me back.

The next few days were a blur. I was heartbroken. I even looked up new apartments to move into. I couldn't exactly keep him out of my house but I could move. Was it dramatic? Yes. Was I going to give myself the opportunity to just forget what happened and let myself be strung along? No. For the past two days the endless cuddles, kisses and passionate nights plagued me. I was almost happy I could work this week. At the end of Wednesday, my boss walked up to me with an oddly apprehensive expression on his face.

"You don't have to finish out the week." He said.

"Huh?"

"You don't have to finish out the week. Letting you off the hook early since you have two days of PTO accrued."

"Did I...mess up?"

"No. But you look like you need a break." He said.

I mean I guess the "eyes swollen from crying every night" look wasn't awesome to look at every day but he also didn’t care about things like that. So what’s happening?

He cleared his throat, looked meaningfully at my desk before walking away. There wasn’t any arguing it. I didn't want to sit at home and think but I didn't have the energy to go out either. I packed up my stuff and took the train home. When I entered the apartment. There Satoru was, looking relieved to see me. I glared at him.

"Get out."

He blinked in surprise.

"What happened?" He asked.

What happened?? Fuck you dude.

"I'm not interested in this game you're playing." I said while putting down my bag and taking off my jacket.

"What game?"

"The game where you pretend you didn't brush me off when I said I loved you." I seethed. "The game where I pretend that you didn't fucking hurt me."

My voice cracked at the end and I could feel the tears coming.

"I love you too." He said.

Bullshit.

"Too late."

"I...."

I peeked at him and he looked sheepish which wasn't like him. Guess he knew how badly he fucked up.

"I left like that because if I didn't I wasn't going to be able to let you go to work." He said.

I ignored him and looked into the fridge for some leftover comfort food.

"You got off work early for the week right?"

I paused.

"How did you know that?"

"I threatened and bribed your boss."

"...What."

Satoru walked over toward me.

"When you said I love you I...." He walked toward me and trapped me against the counter. "Even now, just thinking about it, I want to..." He got closer and I felt something hard pressing against me. "I want to ruin you for anyone else."

I finally braved a look at his eyes and even though I was pissed there was no mistaking that look. His eyes were dark with hunger and barely restrained possessiveness. There were a couple of nights when I got to see a glimpse of this look. Usually, after someone was a little too flirty with me or a random day where he snapped after not getting enough affection.

"You really hurt me." I said.

"I'm sorry." He said, leaning down and kissing me.

I could tell where this was going so I broke it off.

"How sorry are you?"

"Incredibly."

"Then make it up to me.” I said. “And I decide how you’ll do it.”

If I leave it up to him I’ll wake up with a brand new car and an apartment full of flowers. 

I sent him away while thinking of what could possibly make me forgive him for the past few days of hell he put me through. At first, nothing came to mind because nothing was enough. He seriously broke my heart. But it was also his first serious offense besides the cat thing. The apartment was filled with memories and evidence of his affection. The custom couch for he exclusively bought to cuddle more comfortably. The stolen kisses in the kitchen. The random gifts he’s given over the years.

But I don’t want to get played.

After a lot of deliberation I decided I can forgive this. Not before a little revenge though. I wanted him to suffer but not in a way that hurt him. An idea popped in my head and I smiled and pulled up the computer.

Friday morning when I was in the bath, he knocked on the door. When gave him permission he opened it. Satoru stood there in a maid outfit awaiting my orders. He looked confused but didn't dare complain. I stared at him for a bit before smiling at him. I sat up and turned my back to him.

"Wash my back and massage my shoulders while you're at it."

He walked forward and I held a hand up.

"What do servants say to their masters after an order."

"...Yes Ma'am."

"Good."

He came over and did as he was ordered. He was surprisingly good at what he does. I let myself make satisfied noises, enjoying the way he tensed up after each one.

"Thank you. That's enough. Start cleaning the kitchen and living room."

"Yes, Ma'am."

He left the bathroom and I contemplated what outfit would make this hardest on him. Probably me standing out there naked but I didn't have the guts for that. Plus it would be cold. I got out of the bath, draining it. After several minutes of deliberation, I decided staying in a towel might be best. He glanced at me, stiffened then resumed cleaning while avoiding me. I sat on the living room couch and turned on the TV.

"When you're done, come over here and kneel on the floor."

I didn't leave much for him to clean so within the hour he was in front of me kneeling. I got up and inspected the kitchen. He even got inside the fridge. Honestly, I wasn't entirely sure Satoru knew how to clean given his upbringing. I returned to the couch, sat down, and examined him. His skirt was slightly lifted from his half-hard erection.

"You did a good job in the kitchen. So you do have a little common sense."

I pressed my foot onto his cock and he jolted. His body trembled as I slowly put pressure up and down his shaft.

"So what were you thinking on our anniversary?"

"I wasn't." He replied.

"Exactly. You were thinking with this..." I pressed harder and he grunted. "Instead of thinking how that would affect who you're with."

"I'm sorry." He said breathlessly.

His hips started moving and I removed my foot.

"You're not off the hook yet." I said then I held out a vibrator that can be strapped to his dick. "Put this on."

I handed it to him and he glanced at me. He lifted the skirt up, putting it in his mouth, and revealed his unfairly pretty cock. I kept my face impassive as he slid the little ring over his shaft. He looked at me and I clicked the remote. His eyes widened and in his shock, he dropped the skirt, his body tensing up.

"You're going to do my laundry," I said. " And that's staying on till you finish. If you cum that's it." I said.

He nodded and got up. I clicked my teeth and he looked at me, eyes swimming with desire.

"What do you say?"

I could see a wild look building in his eyes.

"Yes master."

I waved him off ignoring how the change in title made me feel. I supervised him while he washed the clothes. It was the most out of control I'd ever seen him. In the middle of movements, I'd increase the intensity, causing his body to jerk. I'd lower it to the lowest volume then rapidly increase it while he was watching the washer. His breathing got heavier as time went on and while the thick tented fabric covered it, I knew he was slick with precum. His hands gripped onto whatever it could like a lifeline. After two hours he was done.

He looked at me, eyes silently begging me for some kind of release.

I picked up one of my underwear from the clean pile and walked over to him. I lifted up his skirt and sure enough, his heavy cock dripped with need. I used the underwear the clean up the mess and then threw it in the washer.

"You've got one more load to do." I said before sitting back where I was.

When the machine got going he walked over to me. I glanced up at him and he bowed his head. I flinched when he dropped to his knees and held my hand.

"I'm sorry for hurting you..." He said softly. "And I want to make it up to you."

He spread my legs slightly.

"May I?"

I was at my limit anyway.

"Sure. At my pace."

I laid down and the second his tongue pressed to my center I gasped. He immediately got to work, running his tongue over my clit and working his fingers in and out. Loud moans rained out of my mouth and I couldn't catch my breath from the onslaught. When I caught a glimpse of his face, the calculated sharpness in his eyes, I realized...I got played.

He got up, towering over me while shoving the vibrating ring further down his cock. He pressed the vibrating piece against my clit causing both of us to curse. His breath was shaky as he rubbed his dick up and down my slit.

"I wanna serve my master." He said with a shaky voice. "Please let me serve you."

You just wanna get off you bastard.

But fuck I wanted to get off too.

I nodded and he immediately inserted himself inside in one swoop. I turned my head to the side as I tried to adjust to the sudden fullness. He moved and I cried out as his cock brushed a spot that made my head spin. He increased the pace, wanton moans filling the air as he got some relief. Every thrust was a shot of pleasure. Loud slaps mixed with our moans as the pleasure started to build. Satoru leaned in, hitting a deeper angle. My back arched as I whined, clenching around him. His tip slammed into that wonderful spot over and over and over.

"Ah-!" I gasped as he slammed down a little harder.

I closed my eyes for a bit and Satoru picked up my hips making me match his pace. My whole body tingled. I was over the moon. I glanced between us and all I could see was a filthy mess. I was in love.

"No one else..." He said with a shaky breath. "I'll make sure of it..."

"Sa-..I-I'm-!"

"Come on my cock, master." He commanded in a guttural tone.

The tension snapped and I threw my head back as I came. My body twitched as he kept fucking me through my orgasm. He never let up, not for a second. His hips stuttered as he came inside me, thrusting deep inside with a victorious look. When he calmed down, he poorly feigned innocence.

"Oh no. I came without your permission." He said, using my finger to press down on the remote.

He was still inside me so both of us jumped from the vibrations. His body shivered as a blissed out look went over his face. He looked down, a sinister smile was on full display as he slowly started thrusting again.

"Looks like you'll have to punish me."

I shuddered and twitched every time the vibrator at the end of his cock brushed my clit. Even though it was too much, I couldn’t bring myself to push him off. Through the intense sensitivity the pleasure started to build again.

“You should’ve been turned into a snake.” I stuttered out.

He caressed my cheek.

“I love you too. I meant that.” He said softly.

”I’m not saying it back until I forgive you.” I pouted.

”I’m willing to put in the work.” He smiled.

The laundry machine beeped, making both of us jump. “Start by hanging up the underwear.” I said finally.

He kissed me on the cheek, looking at me fondly before getting up.

“Yes ma’am.”

[joelsfavouritegirl]

back with some husband!joel headcanons bcs wdym he’s not real and not my husband and not eager to see me after a long day at work???

. such a fucking gentleman, i’ve said this before a million times but his gentlemanliness literally doubles after you get married. opening the door? he’s already done it for you, cooking? he can’t cook for shit but he’s still gonna try his best. oh and don’t even try to open a jar or can or whatever or he’ll shove you gently and open it for you in .5 seconds and press a sweet kiss to your head as he returns to whatever he was doing previously

. admires ya’lls wedding rings way too much. joel’s most probably not the typa guy to wear jewellery but that ring? he’s never taking it off not in your wildest dreams. also while he does like admiring it on his own finger he likes seeing it even more on yours. the thought of any guy searching for a ring on your finger bcs they’re hoping you’re not taken just so they can ask you out and finding that the pretty metal on your finger does in fact show that you’re married makes him wanna kiss you and marvel at you for the thousandth time and take you home and fuck you into the mattress because no other guy could know you as well as he does<33

. will get offended if anyone refers to u as “the ball and chain”. like that’s his wife ain’t nobody gonna talk shit about his girl because that’s the woman he married and he chose and he loves and the thought of anyone thinking you’re a burden on him just pisses him off even more (if anything he’d think that he’s the ball and chain but that’s just his insecurity talking)

. looks scary. like let’s b real joel is an intimidating guy (especially post apocalypse) and most people probably don’t feel very….. comfortable talking to him??? when in reality he warms up when you get to know him but it’s still weird seeing people looking nervous around your husband because there’s literally no reason to be???

. no reason to be nervous around him except if you touch anyone he cares about (especially his girl). any guy even hinting that he’s checking you out? joel’s brows are already furrowed and he’s slipping his arm around you even tighter just to make sure you’re tucked safely into him. any guy tries to make a move? he’ll let you handle it, but if the guy starts being pushy??? that same guy will be booking it out of whichever place he’s in because the 1.91m dude who’s standing in front of the pretty girl he was just talking to looks like he’s about to break his arm and shove it up his ass in an instant

. gets more touchy after you’re married. also feels more familiar with your family and wants to melt when he sees you talking with his so casually. like can you not see that the smile he’s trying to hide so badly is bcs you’re bickering with tommy about why the hunger games books were so much better than the movies and he feels so comfortable seeing that you’re so comfortable around his family

love this man to the moon and to saturn, he’s my rough texan bbg and idc what anyone has to say about it<333

[definitelynotshouting]

So I just started playing In Stars and Time because I got curious about the sad little blorbo you occasionally post about and afshdjdkrn

I just. Wanna hug them. So badly 😭

Siffrin isat my everything my cinnamon fucking apple WKDNWKDNEKEKSK HE IS SOOOOO SQUISHABLE...... THEY NEED A HUG SO BAD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

Incredibly pleased im helping spread the isat propaganda like the dev rlly just Made a whump fic in video game format huh....... for tumblr girlies by a tumblr girlie.... my gods we respect the grind as if i could EVER be normal abt that

I'll be so real ive already written little tidbits for a longer au oneshot i want to write in between chapters of hunger au, and the exercise in 2nd person pov is SO MUCH FUN im enjoying myself immensely :] here, a snippet for both fun and profit (and more fun):

"Siffrin...." Odile says, and it strikes a sour chord, a ripple of dissonance that screws rivets around your chest and tightens. She shouldn't have to say your name like that, with that kind of weight— as if all the Craft in the world isn't enough to carry it. Pure reflex ducks your chin into the collar of your cloak; you avert your gaze back to the rubble-littered floor of the tunnel, tracing dark crags in the stone where sputtering torchlight fails to reach. There you go again, stardust. Loop's voice is an ephemeral echo in your ears, a byproduct of months, years worth of past loops gone by. It isn't real. Gone and made yourself another person's problem. It isn't real. "— need you to start taking this more seriously." Odile bites out each word with the same deportment of a dog tearing off chunks of meat, clipped and cutting. Her brows knit together, mouth pulling down in a sharp curve; the lines around her eyes are tight, carved from the knife's edge of her own disappointment. Her disappointment in you. You almost miss the next sentence as well. "I have no way of helping you if you don't speak to me," she says. "And when you minimize these things you went through— you realize that's going back on your word, yes? Gems alive, Siffrin. We want to help." You speak before your mind has caught up with your mouth, hundreds of loops sanding down the words into something practiced, rote. "But there's nothing to help me w—" "Stop lying to me." Odile snaps, and your jaw shuts so fast you miss biting your tongue by a mere hair's-breadth. Your lungs threaten to buckle— inhale. Exhale. Come on, stardust, Loop's imaginary voice sneers, can't you do something as simple as breathe? Or are you just that blinding useless? ... Shut up. Odile's eyes slip shut. She raises a hand to meet them, kneading at the soft skin between her brows. "I'm... sorry, Siffrin," she says, halting, stilted. "I shouldn't— that wasn't productive. I apologize." Tentatively, you say: "You don't have to." "Yes, I do." Odile straightens once again, tucking a strand of sweat-slicked hair back behind her ear with a grimace. "It's not... conversations like these are... hard. Yelling is pointless for both of us. I'm sorry." "But you didn't—" "Siffrin," she says, and this time the syllables of your name twist, a rise and fall that cracks wryly in the middle. One sharp eyebrow arches up into the canopy of her hairline. "You're supposed to say you accept the apology." You stare. She stares right back. Oh. She's serious. "I..." you look down. "Um. Accept?" "Excellent," Odile says brusquely, and bends to peer at an invisible speck of dirt clinging to her forearm. She brushes at it with absent, studious flicks, the epitome of single-minded focus. "Then now we can move on with our lives."

[storiesundercandlelight]

Just finished the game for the second time and I'm SO happy to see some people still active about Vampyr!!!

I haven't gotten thru all the fic out there yet, but a request: Jonathan needs a hug SO badly, but do hugs from humans even comfort him any more, when they shove his nose in delicious smells / remind him of the last embrace he had (killing Mary x2) ? Geoffrey awkwardly pulling him into a hug for the first time vs. Jonathan's hunger and trauma, if that sparks joy for you.

Ah thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!

Jonathan's mood had taken a darker turn lately, with the main threat hanging over London gone he wondered more often than not, what would become of him now. Would he stay until it became too obvious to those around him that he was no longer aging? And then what? Where?

Would his life be a constant game of settling down only to be uprooted again years later when his time there was up? The idea of a lifetime - more than a lifetime... eternity - alone, filled Jonathan with such a deep rooted feeling of dread he found that on this particular evening... he simply wished to be held by someone. To be told that things will be alright, even if it is a lie.

McCullum was pacing in front of him, muttering to himself about the pack of skals you'd found hidden in a lower level sewer. The chilled night air seeming to not have any effect on him as he tried to map out a plan. Jonathan had long stopped listening to him. His mind flitting back to the more depressing thoughts wandering his mind.

He wondered if somewhere were to hug him...would it even bring him the relief he's searching for? The comfort? Or would he simply be reminded of his last embrace with Mary... perhaps he would be so consumed with the fact that his face would be so close to the source of his hunger that he wouldn't even have time to appreciate the gesture at all.

"Reid!" Jonathan's eyes flicked back up to Geoffrey who was now stood still looking at him.

"Sorry?"

"Where the fuck are ya? Did you even hear what I said?" Jonathan could do nothing more than meet Geoffrey's gaze with a sheepish look of guilt. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just repeat what you said"

"No" Jonathan sighed at Geoffrey's answer, the hunter was still more often than not stubborn and purposely awkward when it came to the two of them working together - something he had also been stubborn about doing.

"I don't have time for your petty behaviour tonight"

"Touched a nerve did I? Tell me what you were thinking about" Jonathan debated just shadow warping out of this situation, the last person on earth that would understand what he was feeling right now would be Geoffrey.

"It's none of your concern" Jonathan spoke too quickly perhaps, didn't take enough time to hold back his emotions, to keep the answer free of the lump in his throat that wouldn't go away. But he didn't. And he saw the change in Geoffrey's features the moment the shaky response left his lips. The way his eye narrowed slightly, the creased from his brows coming together.

"No it isn't, but I asked anyway, so answer" Jonathan sighed, his gaze flicking to the ground briefly before he looked away into the distance, anywhere quite frankly other than at Geoffrey.

"I just... feel down that's all, it's not exactly easy being what I am" That wasn't the half of it, Jonathan knew that he couldn't go into it all right now, truth be told he wasn't sure he would ever be able to start pulling at the threads of his emotions, the last few months had been nothing short of hell for him. He couldn't even think about Mary without becoming so overcome with guilt and anger at himself.

When Geoffrey didn't respond Jonathan let his gaze find him again, his face had relaxed, now he didn't seem to be thinking of anything at all, just looking back at Jonathan, waiting for him to continue he supposed. "I don't want to talk about it, I'm certain you don't want to either... it's just, sometimes it would be nice to have someone to hug"

"You... want a hug?"

"Oh forgive me, I forgot your devoid of emotions... yes a hug, you do know the concept of that do you not?" Jonathan knew it was futile talking to Geoffrey about anything, their relationship - if it could even be called that - was purely an agreement that Jonathan would aid Priwen when called and listen to everything Geoffrey said. No questions, no demands, simply obedience in the rare moments when they valued his abilities. In return they left him alone.

Jonathan was falling so far into his thoughts which were now plagued with the fact that he'd just let loose some feelings to Geoffrey that he didn't even notice the hunter had moved closer to him. The movement was so quiet, so swift, that by the time Geoffrey's arms wrapped around Jonathan all he had time to do was tense. Which he did marvellously.

"Jesus it's like hugging a fucking statue. Relax Reid" The hug was rather awkward, Geoffrey was almost the same heigh as Jonathan so his arms wrapped around him whilst holding his own arms down at his sides. His scent was overpowering at first, the hints of smoke and musk, the underlying scent of whiskey from previous nights spent at the bar on his clothes. But his warmth was more than anything, the thing Jonathan chased. His mind was screaming at him, torn between wanting to let his head drop onto Geoffrey and let his teeth dig into the rather small part of his neck not hidden by his scarf. To taste what he could so easily smell, see even, the blood pumping red beneath his skin.

Images of the night he had hugged Mary flashed over, how easily he had allowed the hunger to influence him, to attack someone so dear to him. He refused to allow it to happen again. He let out a breath he didn't need before allowing his body to relax, his arms bent up to grip onto Geoffrey's coat and he let his head fall onto Geoffrey's shoulder.

He may not have been the comfort Jonathan had in mind, but he was enough, certainly enough in that moment. Jonathan willed his emotions to let him be for a moment, he did not want to allow himself to be anymore vulnerable in front of Geoffrey than he already was. So they stayed like that.

Moments went by and as they passed Jonathan found he'd relaxed so fully into Geoffrey the hunter was taking a fair amount of his weight. He didn't complain though, which was new for Jonathan, usually Geoffrey complained about...well just about everything where Jonathan was concerned but, now he simply held him.

He held him until Jonathan finally pulled himself away. Both of them straightened up, Jonathan now found himself too tired - emotionally if not physically - to feel embarrassed by what had just happened. He let a soft thank you fall from his lips.

"You're welcome" Jonathan looked at Geoffrey, searching for signs of malice or a snide remark that would have usually followed. But he looked more relaxed than Jonathan had ever seen him, almost completely unbothered by what they'd just done. Jonathan wondered if this was how Geoffrey normally was, that maybe it was just him that was on the receiving end of all of his anger and hate.

"You're staring"

"Sorry, you look different" Geoffrey's eyebrow rose in question. "Less, I hate you and want to kill you"

"Hmm don't get your hopes up too high leech, I may still kill you" Jonathan allowed himself to smirk, there was no spite in his words, he didn't spit out leech like he would have before. "Come on let's get it to, those skals won't kill themselves"

"After you"

[lupeloto]

"special privileges" ficlet

so i have this headcanon where ian is actually really bad at video games, so when he notices he's losing pretty badly, he'll get handsy with mickey to distract him...

"Oh, your ass is goin' down, Gallagher... again," Mickey teases through gritted teeth, his top row of teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip as his fingers punch down furiously on the game controller.

"Jesus, Mick, how the fuck do you-" Ian grunts, his hands clicking on his controller with a deeper intensity than his husband. He raises his left leg to kick Mickey's that are propped on the coffee table, his gaze never leaving the game on the TV, "Fuckin' stop shooting at me for five goddamn seconds!"

"No can do, Red. You ain't getting no special privileges," Mickey says complacently, smiling as he continues firing on Ian's player.

Ian realizes that he has let any chance of winning slip through his fingers, and that that would be the third time today that he would have to listen to Mickey's victory speech. He cringes at the thought, no matter how annoyingly fucking endearing his self-satisfied grin always is. His eyes shift to Mickey, taking in his profile, the curve of his nose, the way the top of his soft-pink lips slope upward with that perfect fucking cupid's bow, the freckles scattered across his jaw, as if each one was strategically placed to create this work of art. Ian knows it's corny, but that's what Mickey is to him...fucking art.

Who would it hurt if he pulled his strings a little, get him to let his guard down? It was his speciality…the ability to have Mickey a complete puddle in his hands within seconds.

Ian abandons his game controller, scootching closer to reach his hand under Mickey's ass, squeezing it's side. "Don't get special privileges, huh?"

Mickey squirms, Ian moving his hand to squeeze his thigh before he can respond, "Even if I do this?" Mickey bites his lip, desperately attempting to keep his focus on the game as Ian's hand travels up towards his waistband.

"You fuckin' cheat," he fails to halt the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth, "You knew I was gonna have your ass," Mickey surrenders to his husband's advances, tossing his controller to the side and melting into his touch.

"Mmmh but it'd be so much better if I could have yours," Ian says slowly through soft kisses on Mickey's neck.

His head leans back at the contact, relishing in the feel of Ian's lips, his breathe on that spot on his neck, "Fuck, you always do this asshole," he huffs.

Ian moves to his ear, nibbling softly, "You're just so easy, how could I not?" Mickey feels that smug smile against his cheek.

"Eat me," Mickey replies plainly.

"Gladly," Ian shifts from his position on top of Mickey, standing up and yanking Mickey along with him, grabbing his hips and bringing him in closer, crashing their lips together in an rough, passionate kiss.

"Ya gonna keep talkin' about it or ya gonna take me upstairs?" Mickey pulls always, scanning Ian, the hunger prominent in his crystal blue eyes.

With that, Ian gives his ass a quick squeeze, "Mhm, show me those special privileges," he whispers close to his neck before practically dragging him up the stairs.

[ongreenergrasses]

oh the hunger games + mountains

thank you! this is a phenomenal combo and i was so excited to work on it!

Annie wanted to travel when she was little. See the world. Her father had a few books, carefully hidden under the floorboards, and one of them was a book with pictures of the sea, the forest, something her father called the plains, and the mountains. Annie knew about the sea and the forest, and the plains looked boring to her, but the mountains. That was something she’d like to see. They had hills where she lived, not mountains, but she couldn’t imagine anything bigger than those hills.

Annie grew up.

It was a silly thing to think. A ridiculous thing, but on her way to the Capitol, she kept looking out the window. She wanted to see them so badly. Really take them in. She thought about telling her brother and her friends about them when she went home, but it felt unlucky to think that.

The mountains were even more enormous than she had imagined. Her jaw dropped when she saw them, and she wished she knew how to draw.

The door to the train car slid open. Annie looked over and rolled her eyes.

She didn’t like Finnick, back then. He was too irritatingly arrogant. She didn’t understand why she got stuck with him as her mentor, but he’d clearly seen something in her. It was frustrating that he was so annoying, because maybe if she liked him better, she’d get out of this intact.

“I always wanted to see them,” she said before she could stop herself.

He raised an eyebrow.

“The mountains,” she said. She turned back to staring out the window. “I was just thinking I’d tell my brother about it when I get home, but…”

“We’ll get you out.”

“Don’t say that.”

“We’ll get you out, Annie. We’ll get you home.” His voice was so confident. Everything about him was confident. It was like he knew that with a snap of his fingers, he could get anything he wanted, and she hated it.

“Fuck off,” Annie said.

Finnick laughed and closed the door behind him.

Annie didn’t think about the mountains for a long time after that. It all got buried. She didn’t even remember that she’d been excited, just thought about it with a dull ache in her stomach, because she loathed the Capitol so much that it didn’t seem like there was a single thing she could’ve possibly liked.

“Annie?”

“Mmm?” She was curled up, her back pressed into the leg of the coffee table as hard as she could so she could keep herself upright. All she wanted to do was melt into the floor and stay there forever.

“Did you ever tell your brother?”

She looked up. It didn’t make any sense. Finnick knew better than to ask her questions that didn’t make any sense.

“About the mountains,” he clarified.

“No,” Annie said. She pressed her forehead back down into her knees. “I didn’t.”

“I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen you excited like that,” Finnick said softly.

“That’s pretty upsetting,” Annie said to her knees.

Finnick didn’t say anything, and when she looked up, he seemed so sad.

“You could give me something to be excited about,” Annie said. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll try,” he said, and he had his obstinate tone, the tone that meant he was not going to stop or give up until he accomplished whatever it was he’d put his mind to.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “You already do so much for me.”

“I’ll try.”

Annie had a long string of bad days after that. Days where she was buried in her head, lost, trapped in the past, trapped places she didn’t want to be. She heard things from downstairs sometimes, but mostly she stayed in her room and curled up in a ball and wanted so badly for it all to stop.

Annie heard arguing downstairs and that was what snapped her out of it. It was in undertones, hushed, but Mags was tearing into Finnick about something. Usually he backed down when it was Mags, but for whatever reason, he wasn’t backing down, and Annie listened to the cadence of their voices for what felt like hours before she pushed herself to her feet and went downstairs.

Mags stopped when she saw Annie. “You shouldn’t have that,” she said firmly to Finnick.

“I have it now and it’s better if it stays with us.”

“You should give it back.”

“Mags, this house is filled with photographs.”

“You have a photograph?” Annie interrupted.

“He has plenty, he doesn’t need more,” Mags said.

“It’s not for me.”

“She doesn’t need one. You’ll just put her at risk.”

“She is right here,” Annie said irately. “Let me see.”

“He needs to get rid of it.”

“Let me see!”

Mags threw up her hands and left. Finnick dug around in his bag and passed Annie an envelope.

Annie opened it and gasped.

“It’s beautiful,” she said in a hushed voice. She’d never seen a color photograph before. “How’d you find this?”

He didn’t say anything. It was probably smart, but she wanted to know so badly.

Annie pulled it fully out of the envelope and looked at it. “This isn’t…”

“No,” he said. “It’s of a place that doesn’t exist anymore.”

It was old, then. Old and valuable, and the most beautiful thing that Annie thought she’d ever held in her hands.

It was of mountains. They were even bigger than the ones she saw on the train, she could tell they were, and the colors were so radiant. The trees looked like they were on fire, the sunset was almost as beautiful as the ones she’d seen out on the water. There was a lake in the middle and Annie wished she could live in that photograph. Drown in that photograph.

“It’s a deer?” she asked, pointing at the animal in the center of the lake. Finnick leaned over to look.

“Maybe?”

“It doesn’t really look like a deer.”

“No.”

Their heads were so close together. Annie knew she was smiling. Knew she hadn’t stopped smiling. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in all her life, and he got it for her.

“I’m going to show my brother,” she said. She ignored the rushing in her ears, grabbed her jacket and carefully tucked the photograph back into the envelope, slid it into her pocket. “I’ve never seen anything like that, Finnick, it’s amazing, how do you think they got the colors like that?”

“Be careful,” Mags said, cutting over whatever Finnick was about to say.

“I’ll be careful.” Before Annie could overthink it, she rocked up onto her tiptoes and kissed Finnick on the cheek. “Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

She was already out the door and down the steps before she realized what she’d done, and she stopped in her tracks.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t do that again. She knew she couldn’t.

But it didn’t matter. For one brief, shining moment she’d been swept away in the beauty of something she’d never seen before, and the rules and restrictions and cages around her, around all of them, had lifted. Just for a second.

Annie turned and went up the road. She knew her brother would lose his mind.

one word prompts