#and man. drawing the clothes was the Hardest…

[evanescentsun]

[pork-pop]

DON’T MAKE ME BEG FOR YOU!

✧ the girl of his dreams is throwing him a bone…is he feigning nonchalance or acting a fool?!

contains: gojo, geto, nanami || cw: p in v sex (unprotected), oral (f. receiving), like a hint of hair pulling for suguru, mentions of masturbation || wc: 1.7k~

✧ a/n: i am half asleep right now if there’s a typo just come to my home and take me out before i wake up! cheers. srry nanami’s ended up kinda shorter than the others oopsie daisy.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

SATORU GOJO

acting a fool is an understatement

Satoru is terrible at the art of subtlety, and to most, making one’s intentions blatantly clear to the person they’re interested in might seem mortifying. But that’s been Satoru’s goal since the start. Those lingering touches, the flirtatious glances and suggestive comments were all done in stride, after all, he takes pride in the fact that he’s getting what he wants. You, however, have been the hardest shell to crack. So, naturally, he’s utterly whipped. 

He can hardly believe his luck when you choose to reciprocate after months of cat and mouse, and he has no choice but to lay out all of his chips and double down. 

For someone who was raised to be a gentleman, he sure does know how to get your clothes on the floor without any manners at all. As soon as you’re blessing him, deepening the kiss, his wandering hands are tugging at your blouse for permission to show you how much he’ll work for it. 

“Isn’t this a treat?” He pants humorously between thrusts, fucking into you like he’ll know he’ll find the answers to all of his intrusive questions regarding you if he just gets an inch or two deeper. Satoru hisses as you tighten around him, “You gonna keep talking or are you gonna fuck me harder?” you snicker. And you should know that there’s nothing Satoru loves more than a good challenge; getting you like this wasn’t the challenge he’d most anticipated, no, it was making you crave it just as much as he did. 

“Is that an invitation?” He asks, a big grin twisting at the corners of his lips while he inches a hand down to thumb teasingly at your clit, “You know, I’ve been thinking about you saying that for a while now, don’t you?” In spite of his stamina, Satoru’s breath is ragged and shaky, could it be that he was even a bit…nervous? You didn’t have the time to put much thought into it before his hips speed up, knocking every one of those pretty suspicions out of your head for the time being. Your eyes roll back and you swear you can hear a triumphant little huff of a laugh from him as he takes that as inspiration to roughen the circles he’s drawing against your clit. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you’d sound like when you cum, too,” he admits without a shred of shame, nosing into the tender column of your throat so you can hear him better, “Can I hear?” “Fuck!” Is all you can manage through a strangled cry, clawing at the shifting muscles of his back in a futile attempt to ground yourself. “C’mon, I can tell you’re getting close,” he rasps madly, “I wanna hear you.” He begs, suddenly licking a greedy stripe along the dampened skin of your neck. 

And who are you to deny him? You cry out a declaration of your sudden orgasm, features squeezed and mouth parted as you struggle to catch your breath. Satoru stares at you with widened eyes, and a stuttered breath, “Hah-...” He hadn’t even realized how close he’d been getting to spilling inside you, but welcomed the overwhelming feeling with open arms. He could go for five more rounds if you’d let him, anyways. 

God, this must be what it’s like to hit the jackpot. 

SUGURU GETO

nonchalant (acting a fool)

Suguru can’t lie to himself and pretend like he hadn’t imagined this scenario too many times to count before, usually as a desperate last resort when he’d found he can’t imagine getting off to anything other than the thought of you at a certain point. He’s sure that he’s a better man than this, and he’d certainly tried to be courteous and discrete about the way you make him feel, shying away from the line he’s been dreaming to cross. 

But now, sitting up on the mattress and unable to tear his eyes away from your tits, he realizes that he’d been overshooting the strength of his own resolve. Suguru surges forward, taking one in his mouth as he guides you up and down his length, doing anything he can to prove he’s still being normal about this. Fuck it. 

“Fuck,”  he moans against your chest, “wait a minute-...” You still your movements, tilting your head curiously at him as he swallows breathlessly, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” He quickly reassures with a shake of his head, gently squeezing at your hips to punctuate the promise, “God, nothing’s wrong at all, I just need-...let me eat you out. Please?” You blink at him in surprise, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Huh?” 

“Seriously, I-...” He shakes his head, gazing up at you like you’re the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen, “it’s all I’ve been thinking about.” 

During those moments in the past in which he found himself fucking his fist to the thought of you, he only ever found himself relishing in the idea of burying himself between your legs and making careful sure that the only thing you’d be capable of saying was his name. The both of you had been too hasty in the wake of realizing your feelings were reciprocated, too desperate to give each other everything you’d been dreaming of. It feels like the heavens have opened up before him as you slip off of his lap, letting him situate you against the pillows. 

Suguru’s methodic in the way he trails warm kisses down your body, stopping to suck a mark into your hip, but he can’t tease for too long, not when he probably wants to get you off on his tongue more than you want it (which is saying a lot). 

He kisses your bare cunt gratefully, before dragging his tongue against your entrance, eyelids already going heavy as he slips into a euphoric trance. Suguru tries his very hardest to keen on every noise you make, every cry of his name, but it’s hard to do that when he’s getting so drunk off the flavor of you. He’s suddenly starved, devouring you completely, too far gone to be embarrassed of the way he shakes his head against your pussy or moans just as loud as you do. 

Geto’s suspicions had been utterly correct. While he’s been eager to have you like he did moments before, to feel you wrap around him and to fuck up into you with calculated thrusts, this definitely takes the cake. He grows dizzy off your scent, grinding against the mattress to prevent himself from further losing his mind over the prospect of what he’s doing right now. 

You lace your hands through his hair, pulling at it as he brings you closer to the edge. This is all he needs, he thinks, he can easily be fine spending the rest of his life like this. Suguru wants to prove that much over and over again to you, and he won’t hesitate if you’ll let him. “You’re perfect.” He mumbles against your cunt, and he’s partially glad you’re too far gone to hear some of the pathetic remarks he’s uttering, “Need this so bad.”

Yeah, good luck hopping back on his dick anytime soon now that he knows he was right about how addicting you’d be. 

KENTO NANAMI

nonchalant by a thread

It’s easy for Kento to have steel-grade self control when you’re fully clothed and the conversation is tame. But when clothes are taken out of the equation, well, that’s a different story. That being said, he won’t forget his manners. 

You’re in a tender mating press, smiling softly at the sweet kisses Nanami keeps peppering across your face, and occasionally one to your lips. He briefly wonders why he ever thought it was a good idea to hesitate in taking the initiative to have you laid out against his pillows like this, moaning his name almost as if you knew how much that chipped away at his own self-preservation. You’re dangerously close to getting him to embarrass himself. 

“Do you like this?” He breathes against the shell of your ear as his pace speeds up a bit, knocking the wind out of you. Regardless, you nod, hardly able to wrap your lips around anything other than the shape of his name. Kento bites his lip, fighting the urge to go even faster. This was your first time together, after all, he’d be mad not to cherish it like something fleeting and sacred. He wants more, he wants this all the time, and he’s so close to begging you for it. In some last attempt of self-preservation, he utters, “You feel amazing,” almost choking on his breath after the fact. 

“Fuck, keep doing that.” You cry out, throwing your head back to give him a clear view of your throat that he so desperately wishes to mark up. He almost asked what you meant, before he peers down, realizing he’d mindlessly begun rubbing circles into your clit. Kento feels like he’s getting ahead of himself, yet not doing enough at the same time; this feeling is so foreign and overwhelming, but he’s falling in love with it. 

Following your orders, he continues his steady pace on your clit, mouth going dry as you tell him how close you are. Yes, please, that’s all I want to hear. 

“Please,” he murmurs in a gravelly voice, not realizing he’d started voicing his own thoughts, “cum for me.” Nanami is certain he’s going to lose control any moment, and he’s sure that you cumming around his cock is not going to help him at all in his hope to still be a gentleman to you. It’s alright, though, he thinks. If he’s going to embarrass himself, lose all resolve and allow himself to drown in this simple pleasure, Kento doesn’t think he’d want to do it with anyone else but you.

[lvmimis]

cw: senku accidentally makes an aphrodisiac and fem!reader helps him out... minors dni! smut but no penetration. american colony au.

Senku rarely makes mistakes, ever, but as Gen has so often pointed out, luck is very often not on the young man’s side - in fact, luck seems to avoid him as though punishing him for refusing to leave his life up to fate. 

Minutes after he’s taken the potion that had been designated by the village doctor as an analgesic, he realizes quickly he’s made a grave one. Sweat beads on his forehead as he breathes in, the very action of drawing in a breath serving to increase the deafening drumbeat in his ears. Thump, thump, thump. The heat clouding his mind right now as he tries to remember where exactly he went wrong, what could have possibly happened to have him in fetal position, tensed up everywhere but especially in the space in between his legs.

Top shelf, to the right. A small vial stopped up with a cork.

Cork. It shouldn’t be a cork, he remembers suddenly. She had said the bottle might be hard to twist open. He must have taken something else. What else could explain the fact that all the blood coursing through his body seems to have collected to one place only, giving him the hardest erection he’s ever had in his life?

The scientist can’t claim to never have thought about sex. After all, he’s young and healthy and as curious about his body as anyone else, even if he’s not so easily persuaded by the prospect of soft round breasts or plush thighs as others, and he prides himself in knowing the basic workings of everything including that particular type of recreation. 

Now it’s all he can think about as he shivers and flushes, blood gorged cock throbbing and desperate to be touched in any way, shape or form.

He’s initially thankful that he was struck by this affliction while hiding away in the lookout tower  in the middle of the night because of its privacy and the ability to rub one or ten out and hopefully turn into a logical human once again, but once he can hear the familiar soft pad of your footsteps approaching up the stairs, he’s repetitively cursing his rotten luck under his strangled breath. 

Scrambling from his position sat in the corner, back against the wall, he quickly finds his way onto a chair, but stumbles, and when your eyes fall onto him, he’s practically face down. 

“Senku?” 

Your voice is soft as usual, not completely sure it’s him in the dim light. Moonlight illuminates part of the wide room, and when he finally rolls over to a cross-legged position, doing his best to hide the embarrassing bump in his clothes, you look at him quizzically.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Senku exclaims. There’s an uncharacteristic upturn to his voice that is a cause for concern.

“You mean, in the tower you supposedly made for me?” you ask. Senku pales, but you’re already sliding down to sit cross-legged next to him. 

“Are you doing okay?” you ask. Leaning over to press a hand to his forehead, you frown at the dampness, while a shudder passes through Senku’s entire body the moment the back of your hand grazes him.

“I’m fine,” he says, coughing to cover up the strain in his voice. His body language is slightly turned away, and so is his face, because he can’t look at you, not like this. Desire pools in his chest heavily, so thick he can barely breathe, and your sweet voice is like water dripping onto an already overfilled cup.

“You don’t sound fine,” you muse. You think of yourself just weeks ago insisting on being left alone despite a raging pneumonia, and move in closer, a move that has him retreat like a trapped mouse. “Did you take the medicine for your headache like you were supposed to?”

Senku would roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that an accidental brush of your hand against his could make them roll into the back of his head.

“Your friend might be a quack,” he says, but then quickly adds in fairness, “...the truth is I think I might have picked up something I wasn’t supposed to.”

He laughs, and then feels his cock jump and scrambles to his feet to stand further away. You’re troubled by his anxiety and his refusal to look you in the eye and after a few more questions about his mental and physical state, you decide you’re tired of his dodging questions.

“Senku, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” he lies. He’s thinking of a way to escape without you noticing, but you’ve moved now, and are standing right in front of him, far too close, and your upset look is simply too pretty, and he looks at you almost fearfully.

“I need to go,” he says, and tries to move past you, but you immediately block his path. 

“Senku.”

It only takes one look at the knit in your eyebrows to realize he’s not going to make out of this without the truth. He’s still flushing intermittently, and can feel the tip of his dick more exquisitely than any other part of his body. It takes him a moment to decide, but eventually he realizes he can approach this embarrassing predicament in the best way he can think of.

Logically.

“Whatever I took… I think might be having aphrodisiacal effects on me.”

You blink, bright eyes wide with every bat of your lashes, and he feels the genuine pull of yearning in his loins.

“Oh.”

Senku blushes, the warmth spreading throughout his whole body this time as you finally look down then quickly avert your gaze. In a flash, he wonders for the first time how much you know about sex. Are you a virgin? When was your first time? With who? Would you do it again? With him?

The last thought he immediately banishes from his mind, telling himself that it’s likely the effects of whatever potent concoction is clouding his rationale. Not now. If ever, not this way.

“I… I can help, you know,” you offer. Your voice is quiet, gentle and steady, the same way you speak when you talk to the animals when they misbehave, when you want to reassure without controlling. “Platonically, of course,” you quickly add.

Platonically. Of course. It’s just an urge, and you understand those animalistic urges pretty well, given your breadth of experience in the natural sciences. Just a want. It wouldn’t be a crime if…

You move in close, your hand hovering over his crotch but not touching him. You then look at him, asking with your pupils, and he can swear he can feel his dilate. He nods, and you let your fingers slip beneath the layers of fabric until they reach the slightly coarse grain of his pubes. Your lips part slightly as you move slowly; he’s holding his breath but the moment your finger grazes the skin of his firm shaft, he lets out a moan, covering his mouth immediately to shut himself up.

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. He’s embarrassed, suppressing pants, but you press forward, letting your fingers close around his shaft, one by one. Grip still awkward, Senku shifts, pulling down his pants further, and you pull your lower lip before your teeth briefly before you tug smoothly for the first time. He gasps, and you press your thumb on the tip, right at the orifice of his urethra.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, wondering if you should have asked earlier. The small talk is meant to make it more casual, less intimate, but he’s quick to shake his head and say no, breathily.

“Not by anyone who mattered.”

Your heart flutters and you move just a bit faster. Senku moans, throwing his head back, and you keep your pace.

“Is that enough? Are you feeling good?” You slip. You mean better. You’re not trying to pleasure him, you’re trying to help him. 

“Fuck, can you… more… can you-” he stops, then bites his lip. He’s breathing heavier now, the expansion of his chest much more noticeable. He glances at you for a moment, then quickly looks away. If he were to do what he wants to do, ask you for more, press his lips onto yours, would it be using you? Is he allowed to ask that of you? Is it just this… or something else?

Your hand has stopped but he’s whining now, bucking his hips into the base of your fist almost subconsciously. You grip tighter, then slide up and down his shaft again, pressing against the darkened tip more, now slippery with treacherous precum. It occurs to you for a moment that maybe, maybe just a bit more friction would help, and you take the initiative of spitting on your hand, then resuming and he moans, fingers pressed to the floor beside him tensing and tightening as he accepts your onslaught.

Straggled groans escaping his throat, his eyes close, and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows spit and desire. He’s thirsty, needy, unsure if this is making it better or worse.

And just at that moment, you ask, “Are you feeling better, Senku?”

Oh, the way you say his name, he practically spills into your hand. 

“D-don’t talk…” he begs, and your face flinches with hurt, but you remember that you are only helping.

“Mm.”

Your hand keeps moving, and you watch his cock throb and twitch in its grasp. It’s a pretty thing, you let yourself consider for a moment, pretty like the rest of him, eager, greedy… it has been a while, you think, since you’ve been so intimate with someone.

Not intimate. That’s not what this is. You’re helping a friend.

Senku grits his teeth as you spit on your hand again and your moistened palm swirls around his cock. 

There’s no reason for you to be so good at touching him like this. He exhales.

“I’d be a real piece of shit if I asked you for more, wouldn’t I right now?” he finally asks. He’s looking at the ceiling now, trying to contain himself, but how can he when you’re touching him like this and he feels better than he’s ever felt in his life. He’s only mildly coherent at this point, perhaps he should count backwards, perhaps…

“Tell me what you want, Senku, I’ll do my best.”

He turns, and you look at him in just that moment, but you don’t let go of him. 

His hand goes to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and he stops quickly, inches apart. 

You’ve closed your eyes, and you’ve puckered your lips just so. Senku swallows hard, wondering how he could have ever stopped but he knows why.

“It’s not the drugs,” he’s able to eke out. Your eyes open, gentle as they look into his, your lips still parted. Your hand shifts, palm rested on the edge of his warm length. 

“It’s not the drugs,” you repeat.

“I’d feel like this anyway, in this moment,” Senku says. A moment passes. Your tongues passes over your dry lips.

“Do you mean it?” 

Senku doesn’t hesitate, before saying yes.

You press your lips to his first, letting him press his way in and explore, letting him bite your lip and suck, and pass his tongue against your teeth, letting him tip your neck backwards and deepen the kiss. You kiss, and you move your hands and your lips part, and you dip lower, to make him feel pleasure like he’s never seen.

[gloomwitchwrites]

morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv, creampie, feelings, oral sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Bonus Chapter: Alejandro Vargas

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed.  Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

[invincibledc]

Now that I have ur permission to request, I was wondering if it could be a batfam/invincible x magical boy reader (magical boys are just magical girls but dudes) it can be headcanons or a small drabble, doesn't matter!

(Anyway I'll be waiting in the basement 🕶🦯)

𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐦/𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

A/N: doing both because I love them both!

BATFAMILY—

If reader/you were to say the spells out loud, the family would try to see if you can try to do them some other way for your safety. If it’s not possible, than maybe how about you say the spells softly low

Your own batfamily suit is so cool! It has back up weapon that holds your magic incase your magical weapon snaps and have it regenerate, so it’s a win win that Bruce is considerate 

Bruce, the man himself sees you as a son. So of course expect a little bit of bossiness and control about where you go, what you eat, and how your performance is with missons

Although, Bruce is amazed by your abilities, especially your spells. He’ll test how much you know about your spells and analyze what each can do be helpful during serious things.

Lastly, he’s a good guy that makes sure you also have a good “normal” life outside of your magical business.

Jason is the type of guy to ask for you do a magic trick, and it literally the most classic “magic” trick in the world as you make an apple disappear or maybe pull a bunny out of no where.

Course zatanna and you are best friends! You both are different kind of magic users but are still powerful. Zatanna is mostly shocked that you are.. a magical boy.. cause like she never heard of that before so of course she is interested in you (platonic ofc)

And Raven? She’s chill about it! You could be doing something by her as you hum whilst she meditates to keep her powers in control

If you were the kind of magical boy to be like “i honestly wants this shit to be done” with a quick transformation of your outfit and immediately one shooting an enemy.. any one around the radius would be shocked to see that

Dick is literally the same as Jason, “do a magic trick!” He exclaims as he sits on the couch and watches you sighed in an annoyance as you pulled a quarter from his ear out of pity

He fakes shock before clapping his hands as he just kept that stupid grin on his face. But other than that, he at least supports of you if you do wanna be a at a kid’s party to show off your own tricks.

Dick always shows you designs of his own about your magical boy outfit, honestly is your number one supporter

Tim side eyes you everytime you transform cause it’s so dramatic, like bro is holding his staff as he just stares at the glowing light blinding his eyes. But either wise, he would just use that blinding light to “STRIKEE!!” a hoe when the foe is stricken by your glowing body

Tim using you as a glow stick, or maybe your wand as you run up and smack his head as he uses it during a power outage

You and tim are an odd duo that don’t be around each other as much, but always make things work with duo combos

Damian pitys you due to how he sees your whole being as pathetic, that was til you hit killer croc with the hardest beaming blast of his life

Soon he magically clings to you like a black cat that doesn’t like anyone but you, he literally tugs on your clothing to show you some drawings of you in a sparkling aura having your magical weapon

Shows Jon you, and Jon starts to fanboy over you whilst you have two young child just gushing over how cool you are to them now.

It’s a shocker really

INVINCIBLE—

Honestly, you’re in teen team, there’s so many coool people with such cool powers! And then there’s you in your “magical” outfit as Rex makes fun of you. Saying how “girlish” you seem whilst Eve and mark try to comfort you.

Rex was soon turned into a frog, smirking as he croaks in distress.

Rex never doubted you again, but after the whole shot in the head gig happened, he was one of the dudes that just got along with you. “Oh that guy? Yeah he can make you shit sparkles, watch out.”

If you had a magical weapon that helps along with your magical boy persona, you can bet mark is swooping in as you yelled in anger about your broken weapon that will have to regenerate in 24 hours now

Mark and the others, mostly mark, scolds you for relying on some “stupid” staff

Eve being your best girl friend as you both hang out, mark is a great guy. He would always make sure you’re okay, and always see what kinda other spells you can do.

If your magical boy transformation changed your whole appearance like hair, eyes, or just like height, the team will be shocked when you’re out of your appearance and look so… normal.

You’re more of a support than on the team, sure you can fight and handle battles with those deadly or passive attack spells, but you’re on the sideline of things

Debbie wasn’t sure about some magic boy in her house, but seeing how Oliver likes you and mark loves you around. She invites you at any chance for dinner

Meanwhile Cecil has plans for if you turn against him, of course if you went rouge and not just “hey, I quit.” Type of against him ofc

Either way. You and Oliver are such gremlins

“Can you turn mark into a frog?” Is what Oliver asked you the first moment you told him how you turned rex into one.

Chasing mark with Oliver was fun!

Eve finds it so funny when you turn any guy trying to harass her into a horse , just to actually call them a horse face.

Imagine mark watching your transformation and just clapping supportively as you flex off your new “hero” costume

The variants, they stare at you weird. You don’t exist in any of their worlds. You’re an anomaly, something that shouldn’t be alive, something that shouldn’t even breathe when you blast one variant from you with a beam that actually hurts him. And he’s supposed to be… invincible.

THANKS FOR READING!!

[ctrlhope]

Red Carnations (m)

synopsis: District 11-- your home. Your fields to run through. Your flowers. Your everything before your name was called on that fateful day. Before you were forced into the arena. Before you fought to save your life. Before you knew you were never going to see it again. Because even a victor is never truly free, are they? Even victors are forced to fall to the will of the capitol. And you-- you especially have no choice in the matter. Not when he has fallen for you. When you've become his petal in a much-too grey world. When you're already his everything. As long as you're with him, you're still in the games, aren't you?

p.jimin x f.reader (ft. implied m.yoongi x reader)

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: wc: 9.5k

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: genre: hunger games au, yandere, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort,

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: content: capitol!jimin, victor!reader, yandere!jimin, obsession, kidnapping, toxic relationship, forced relationship, forced affection, manipulation, implied isolation, kisses mwah, reader has trauma, unreliable narrators, hunger games typical violence (though it's only at the beginning, fic begins after reader has won), jimin swears yall are soulmates frfr, future smut

⚘ ࣪ ˖ ┊: notes: HIII!!! surprise!!! this is my love letter to the hunger games lol <33 requests are coming soon I prommie!!! :33 they are in my drafts as we speak!! planning on this becoming a series too, so stay tuned if you guys are interested!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The world is spinning– everything is shaking. Air is passing through your lungs, the sound panting through your teeth, yet you’re not entirely sure anything is happening at all. Not cognizant of anything around you, of yourself as you struggle. As you fight. As you move to grasp a single straw from the man pinning you to the ground, baring his teeth in your face. 

You remember his hand, the way it reaches down almost as if in slow motion. Coming closer. Ready to grab your forehead. Ready to raise it and bash it into the ground below. Over and over again until you’re no more. Until the crops drop and weep to a shade of grey. To finally kill you. To put you out of this misery. 

Allow you to leave painfully, yet with all the grace a man starved from another district could allow. Gracefully. Right. 

You knew you fought your hardest until the end. Really, you do.

You hope your parents will be proud of you when you arrive home in those little metal boxes filled with ash. Hope they know how hard you fought to come back to them– to be with them once again. Hopefully your big sister will remember all the ways you tried to fight flowers in her hair when you were meant to be working. Hope your mom and dad remember the way you made sure to dye all your white clothes bright with colours of nature. 

Maybe if you were more of a singer you’d comfort yourself with a tune, but you don’t know many songs. Your brother was always more creative. He made sure you knew it. You– you were just a girl of the buds. Nothing more, nothing less. Only glad to be the last child your family had of reaping age. At least they wouldn’t incur anymore loss, would they? 

They’ve already watched you go mad. Nothing can be worse than watching their own daughter do what she needs to survive. Only a pity it had to be the last drawing before she was safe, too. 

No, the fate before you is one that had been told too many times before. You were never a victor, you knew that. You were meant to be another pitying girl swept away by the slaughter. And that’s okay. You’re okay. 

So, the question remains. How did that knife end up in his neck?  

Did you do it? You don’t remember doing it. You don’t remember the movement your arm had to have made, or the way it must’ve felt to sink the knife in. You don’t remember much of anything to be honest but oh– oh, he’s fallen off of you. You can move. You can move!! 

The shock remains present within you, though. You barely haggard a quick shuffle back, a hand clutching the skin where your heart lies. Your eyes are jittering, frantic. Looking. Trying to see, to make sense of what is happening around you. 

Is anyone else coming? Wait– no, that wouldn’t make sense. No, it wouldn’t. You’re the last two alive. Alive? Are you? Wait, hold on. What is happening. What is happening. What is happening. You were going to die– he was going to kill you. But you moved, or maybe, you guess, he let up? But did you, did you really just stab him? Did you just–

There’s blood on your hand. 

Bang.

That's the sound. That’s the sound! 

You’re alive. You’re alive. You’re alive. 

You won. 

Trumpets are playing, maybe the capitol anthem. You can’t seem to hear it, not really at least. 

No, all you hear is your lungs finally filling with air for the first time in a long time. For the first time since your name was called at the reaping. For the first time since you turned 12.

The next thing you hear is the breeze. Maybe the whole arena is taking a breath since these games started, too. 

You look around, try to take in your surroundings. Feel the way the world inhales and exhales along with you. Make yourself finally feel one again after the days that all seem to morph together.

Huh. 

Strange shapes crest over the horizon, the ground underneath your scraped limbs feels foreign. The scents that travel are a mystery and the skyline is nothing you’ve ever seen before. You don’t recognise anything. Almost as if you haven’t been here the last 6 days. As if nothing is real. 

But it is. You know it is. The pain shooting through every inch of your being tells you as much– tells you everything of the stories you can’t seem to remember. Right along with the loudspeakers, the voice of Octavia Flickerman reigning supreme. 

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the winner of the One-Hundred Eleventh Hunger Games! (Y/n) (L/n) of District 11!” 

You won!! Oh!!! You won!!!! 

Jimin practically squeals, jumps from his seat as he watches the screen. His arms flying into the air, brain spinning as adrenaline from the entire event courses through him. Finally settles into a gentle lull as he knows for certain that you’re alive. 

He knew you would!! Of course he did! He would never want you to think otherwise, no. He knew from the second he saw your face projected into his apartment on reaping day that you would. Was sure of it when he sat front and centre at the parade, waving to you and only you. 

Knew for certain (as if he wasn’t before, duh!) during the interviews when he first heard you speak. The cadence of your voice as you spoke into the microphone– your quipped yet nervous replies as the latest Flickerman worked you into a more relaxed state. 

Your shy smiles, the flattery of your dress. Just!! Everything!!

Oh– how enchanting you were!! He knew the rest of the capitol thought so, too. He made sure of it. He knew to make you the star because of course you would be coming back alive.

He knew you would win. 

You would be a fool not to with all the gifts he sent you, silly!! They may have cost anyone else a small fortune, but it was nothing for him, so you shouldn’t worry! He’d be sure to remind you of that the next time you meet. He knows you’re kind. He knows you’d feel some sort of guilt.

Oh!! But that doesn’t matter! He much rather thinks about how cute you were on your first day in the arena. How confused and bewildered you looked when his gifts started floating down from the sky. You ran from the center right away, of course you would, because you’re just so smart! But that meant you had nothing. 

He didn’t want you to have nothing!!

Blah blah blah, your mentor wanted to wait a bit. Save any money pooled your way. But with Jimin funding everything, why did that even matter? 

Soon, you were caked in more weapons than you knew what to do with. It was just too. Fucking. Cute. 

You should only be covered in things from him from now on. He was sure of it when you stood there in the arena, trying to figure out how to tote around a spear, bow, sword, knife, club, and a pack full of food, and he’s even more sure of it now. You used his knife to win the games. 

His gift he watched you take care of, cherish over the last 6 days. 

It’s almost like he was right in there with you! Supporting you, helping you! He couldn’t even sleep the last days, knowing you were in there, scared. 

My, he understands now why the skies saved you for him. You two truly are a match made for everyone to bear witness to you. 

And now!! Now that you won he knows your fates were set out for in the stars. 

He’s just so proud!! So– so proud of you!! 

Soon!! Soon he can be with you! He promises, okay? 

He knows Namjoon and Taehyung– the former more than the latter, will make him wait a bit before he actually can have you. There are duties you have to attend to, after all! Responsibilities! And he knows you wouldn’t want to neglect those. You’re very accountable like that, he knows it. 

But that’s okay! He can be patient. He’s waited his whole life for you– 23 years to be exact! He can wait a little more. Wait for the right moment. 

He knows you’ll be hurting from having to wait, too. It’s been so long since you last spoke! You really should have kept up better with your letters, you know!! You’re lucky he even remembered your name!!

He’ll have to scold you for that later– his cheeks puffed out in that way he just knows you’ll find adorable~

Ah!! But he’ll get to see you at the capitol parties!! Won’t that be fun? He’s sure of it! You two will get to dance and fall in love all over again. Taehyung will swoon and wonder when it’ll be his chance at love while Namjoon– well, Namjoon will probably be doting after his latest project or networking with politicians. But he’ll definitely want to hear all about everything from Jimin later!

Oh, he knows you’ll just look so sweet then. 

Uhg. But now he just has to wait. 

Disgusting it is, being without you for even a second longer. 

Disgusting it is, that the eyes of the rest of the world get to bear witness to your beauty, as well. 

Fucking peasants. 

Namjoon should just let him have you. This whole thing is just ridiculous. Why should he have to wait when you’re soulmates? Why should you be kept from him? All of it is moronic and Namjoon wouldn’t understand the meaning of such love if it slapped him across the face.

Annoying. 

Whatever. 

…

Oh!! He can rewatch your pre-games interviews again!! Or your reaping– ooo.. He does love watching your reaping.

Or maybe!! Maybe the chariot ride when you wave at him– because he’s sure for a moment then you two locked eyes. And he knows you felt the spark then, too. 

Or maybe he should rewatch his favourite scenes from the last 6 days, no matter how fresh in his mind they are. Watch as you become the perfect victor.

Or maybe he should go to the salon again! Get his pink hair fluffed up to perfection! Maybe the shops to get more new clothes for you! Oh, you probably wouldn’t know the renaissance is back in fashion, would you? Hmm, do you know what the renaissance is? What do they teach you in district schools? 

Well!! It doesn’t matter! He can ask you soon, and he’s willing to teach you anything, regardless!!

Hmm hmm hmm…

Oh! Oh! Oh! Or maybe he should go around and clean his home again– make sure the apartment is just perfect for you! He knows you’ll love it already, but you know, it never hurts to do a little extra for the one you love! 

Oh! He’s so excited to have you home! So, so excited! He just can’t wait! He can’t!

Solid memories, you realise, are hard to come by these days. There are things you think you know, of course. But nothing you can really wire down. Firm up into reality that isn’t mistied by some hazy expanse in the distance. 

You remember the capitol– there were parties in your honor, an exit interview. You think you can see yourself rewatching a few clips of the games but… to be honest, it all feels as if you’re looking back in third person. The ghost of yourself watching a shell without a face. Maybe reacting, maybe sitting there in silence. You’re not really sure. 

Though, you know all of it happened regardless of what your brain may distance from you. You know it did. But again, memories are… tricky. To say the least. 

The next solid one you have after your games, you’re still at the capitol. Still at the world filled with glimmer and gleam. You remember sitting in the shower, water pounding against your skin as the world all to suddenly feels whole again. For the first time in weeks it feels as if you’re wearing your own skin, seeing things through your own eyes. 

You remember your eyes casting down upon your hands. Droplets congregate on your palms as you have your first conscious thought since the night those games ended. Since the world became a mist no one would be able to see through. 

You’re going home. 

The realization is awe-inspiring. Stuttering, really. You know, then, that soon– in just a few days– you’ll be returning to District 11. You’ll be with your flowers and your bees. You’ll be able to walk through the tall grasses that fill your heart. Be able to see the sunset against the horizon and pretend as if you’re a bird dancing among those clouds. 

You’ll be able to see your family again. To feel their hugs and listen to their stories. You’ll be their daughter again. Not a box of ash on the mantle, not a tale to avoid especially on the most harrowing nights. You’ll be free from the games. Your family will be free from the games. 

You’ll see him.

You’ll see Yoongi.

He gave you a book on the old language of flowers— one of the last few standing after the history of before was erased from the public's eye. The original meaning of petals bound in worn leather, pages dried with colours of pressed flowers in their wake. In their entire glory for only you and him to see. To have together. Antiquities of a time you’ve never known, would never know save for the stories that were hushed in whispers of your attic walls between your voices alone. 

The new language of flowers was something you didn’t like as much, not after learning the true words they spoke. Highly published novels depicting a different tale then the ones they murmured to you out in the fields. A language that was a lot more angry, spiteful. Filled with resentment of a darker time that bled into even the most beautiful, innocent things. 

The book he gave you now held more meaning than ever before. While you don’t know much, you know that for certain. 

You’ll have that book in your hands again soon. Him in your grasp again— soon. 

Tears are in your eyes faster than you can blink them away. Sobs of a simple babe leaving your mouth for no one in the capitol to see. Just for yourself. Just for you, in your shower. Pathetic hands moving to try and wipe them away, yet there really is no hope. Tears will continue to flow, just as the sun will rise. 

You needed this more than you could ever know. More than anyone would ever know. 

Because then the thought is in your head again– about what you had to do to live. To survive. And for some strange reason, when you pull your hands away from your eyes, they look like they’re covered in red again. That boy in the arenas’ red. Your allies’ red. Strangers you didn’t know in the slightest’ red. The pasts’ red. 

Tears continue to fall, but for a different reason now. 

You’re out of your body again, and you think you might just stay there for a while. Until all of it just stops. 

Fuck whatever the hell Namjoon says, actually. Jimin doesn’t give a shit anymore. Jimin doesn’t care about waiting for the “right time” or when you’re more “susceptible” (as if you even need to be!). You need to come home now. You have to. 

He can’t just– he can’t just watch you destroy yourself like this in isolation! Especially when you have a warm, loving home to come home to. When he can support you. 

Fuck that. He can’t watch this any longer. 

This is all his fault, for going out earlier that day. Arriving home later than normal– missing your dinner together entirely. Oh, you’re probably so lonely without knowing he’s watching through the security cameras. Oh-so lonely. 

That’s why you’re crying in the bathroom, that’s why you’re hurting inside. Because you’re so alone. Because you have no one when you need him. 

You haven’t cried this entire time! There’s no other explanation as to why you’d be breaking down now! On the one day he didn’t have time to spend watching the cameras every waking second! 

He always wakes up with you, falls asleep with you. Eats with you, showers with you. Does everything with you! Fuck! How could he be so stupid! How could he be so neglectful! He’s an awful boyfriend! Awful! Awful! Awful! 

He can’t just watch you like this anymore. He doesn’t care if you’re more distressed, distraught– whatever. He’ll deal with that then. But you’re crying and it hurts him just as harshly as it does you. 

He doesn’t even realise the tears that well in his own eyes. The stinging pain of his nails digging into his palm.

Fuck Namjoon. This is his fault! It is! He’s the one that kept you from him! He’s the one that’s been insisting on your isolation until the “right time”-- whatever the hell that is! 

This is all his fault! 

You’re so scared. So lonely. So heartbroken.

He’s going to save you. To help you. To bring you home. 

Namjoon and Taehyung– they’ll understand, right..? He’s sure they will. They would do the same thing for their soulmates. He knows they would. Taehyung would do it in a second for his fletchling that got away! He could never be mad at Jimin! Never ever! 

And Namjoon, Jimin knows that he was just doing what he thought was best– trying to help. But Jimin knows best when it comes to you. 

He knows it's time for you to come home, even if it is a little more difficult. He can take it, he knows he can. 

Jimin sniffles, wiping the underside of his nose as he mops up his lousy expression. Reminding himself that all of this is okay– at least it will be soon. When you’re with him. When you’re in his arms. Safe from the rest of the world. 

Safe because of him.

The scent of sweet linen fills your nostrils to the very brim. Gentle fabrics twist in your palms, head leavered to the side, shoving your face even deeper into the too-soft sheets. 

It smells almost like home. Like the fresh flowers you’d pick every morning to put on the table– the lilac, sweet pea, and babies breath mixture you made most often for the neighbours. 

Something… Something is off. Something… artificial. But you choose to ignore that fact for the simple instance of staying sane. For the ability to lull your mind into a simpler place– a simpler time. A place before the games. A place so wonderful you don’t even allow yourself to dream of it anymore. Home. 

Maybe that was your first mistake, thinking you might return to that place for even a moment. 

Maybe it was a lot of things. It could have been imagining you just missed the entire train ride home– that you didn’t fall asleep in your stupid capitol apartment last night. Maybe it was thinking your mom’s bed could even afford such soft cottons to warm the lonely nights. Maybe it was letting your guard down for even a second, missing the footsteps that travel through the door. 

Maybe it was missing a whole slew of other signs. 

You’re too tired to know. Too tired to care. 

Well, that is until a sing-song pitch feels like it breaks the sound barrier. Feels like it shatters your disillusioned peaceful world into a disarray of shards you can’t glue back together. Sends you tumbling from the bed, startling you. Making you remember exactly how you felt in those games all over again.

“Petal~ Are you awake yet, my love? Oh my–” He seems just as shaken as you as he watches you bolt from the bed. Startling back a few steps as you roll to the floor assuming a crouched, almost predatory position. Your hair messy, lips puffy from sleep. Eyes wide, almost unnerving as you try to take him in. 

“Ah~” He resumes his original state, the one he had before you spooked him. One more relaxed– more carefree than you would ever be able to hold. A tray of food in his grip, filled to the brim with foods that used to be your favourites. 

Food has tasted dull for awhile now. 

“My, I must’ve scared you. I’m sorry, little petal.” He hums quietly, ignoring your flighty state instead focusing his path to the end of the bed– a bed you don’t recognise in the slightest. You’re not in any home that you’ve ever known. “I know, it must be pretty startling, hmm? I wanted to wake up in bed with you, but I didn’t think that would be the best idea.” 

He lends a giggle to himself, though you can’t understand the humour in his words. Not when you’re reeling. Eyes darting around, taking in the scenery around you. The grandiose bedroom piled high with the most comfort the capitol can offer. A large bed in the center of the room– the bed you were just in. A large window taking space of the entire wall, giving view of the city down below.

How did you get here? What is going on? Who the actual fuck is this guy? How does he know you?

Well, the last question is easy enough to answer. How does anyone know you? The games of course. Your new victor status lends the title of celebrity. 

You miss the days you were no one now more than ever. You need to get out. 

Your eyes dart between his figure, now perched on the end of the bed next to the tray of food and the door. Could you make it past him? Beat him in a race? Sure, he looks taller than you. But from your position on the floor– practically in a runners start already, you’re sure you could beat anyone in the capitol who’s never had to work a day in their life. 

What would you do after you make it out that door? You’re not sure. But you need to put more distance between yourself and this– this psychopath.

“I wouldn’t recommend that if I were you, love.” His voice is light, airy. Your mother would say he sounds like a songbird, however, you know that isn’t true. Only the capitol-created mutts would observe you as he is now. Close, pointnet. “The doorway has a sensor. I go through it, I’m fine. You— bzzt!!” 

He grabs his collar, shaking a little to give off the appearance of being electrocuted, giving a light laugh at the end to show humour. What part of this is meant to be fucking funny?! You– you!! He kidnapped you!! What part of that is fucking funny!! 

You feel heat in your face, air exhaling a notch faster than before as anger rises higher in your being. Who the fuck does he think he is?! You would be a fool not to go for it anyway. An idiot to just trust this man's words without a second thought. 

“Not enough to kill you but–” You bolt for the doorway, running as fast and as hard as you can. Though, it doesn’t last long. The man did not lie, and you are frozen in place the second an inch of your frame has made it through the passage. A current shooting through your being, freezing you in place. Causing you to crumple to the floor without even a second's notice. 

The pain is burning, though not as strong as you expected such a force to be. You don’t understand capitol technology, and you don’t want to. You don’t want to know how it could hurt so bad yet not hurt at all at the same time. How it could completely immobilise you yet feel as though it didn’t do any real damage. 

A simple shock to your system, as he presumed this whole thing would be. 

He tuts out a soft sigh as he watches you fall, standing from his place on the bed and allowing his legs to carry him to your form. “I told you petal, I wouldn’t recommend trying. It’s okay though– I expected this.” 

He hums, easily scooping your body into his arms. And as much as you want to run, to push him away, to strangle him– you can’t move a muscle. Limp in his arms, useless to him moving you into bed, tucking you back under the sheets. All save for your face, and maybe your voice. Though, you haven’t tried to use that yet. 

“Oh– don’t look at me like that!” He giggles, placing your body upright in bed. Back against the headboard, blankets pulled to your hips. You think you hate the smell of them now more than anything else. “You’ll be able to move again soon, I promise. 10-15 minutes max? I’m not sure the details– Joon set it up for me. I didn’t want to!”

He looks at you seriously now, almost a complete change in his demeanour. His hands moving to clench your unmoving ones, his eyes staring straight into your own still set in a glare. “I knew you would love me right away, petal. I promise. I didn’t think you would run. But Joon said it would be better to be safe than sorry, you know? And I didn’t want you to get hurt with all the shock this change would be! You understand, right?”

You don’t know what the fuck a Joon is or the bullshit the man in front of you is spewing. You don’t even know why he’s spitting it!! You don’t even know him!! You’ve never seen him before in your life!!  A thousand words well up in your throat at once, yet you’re not sure which ones want to leave first. Hatred, as well as that puppy-dog look you already have come to despise forces your hand. You want him off of you– away from you. To give you a moment to think and to figure out all of his nonsense!! 

“Fuck you.” Is all you can manage between your teeth, though you want to will so much more. Want to let loose every stupid, horrible thing you’ve thought since you first arrived in the capitol. The words you wanted to say during all of your interviews– the words that wouldn’t gain you sponsors or support. 

Maybe you should have said them back then, maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position now. 

Oh, you hate that he only smiles at your words. Moves, instead, to grab the tray of food abandoned at the edge of the bed. “They’ll be plenty of time for that later, petal.” 

You know it’s meant to be a tease– the way he says it puts no real meaning behind his words. But their simple utterance leaves you wanting to spasm. To will your body to move– to make him not threaten you like that again. To yell, to scream, to throw fists his way. To throw him out that giant window. The one that taunts you of your freedom.

“No! No–! There won’t be!” You almost shout, attempting to force your body to move. To twist any part of it. To gain back any level of control. Slap that giggle that spills from his lips. “Who the– Who the fuck are you?!” 

Your voice is practically a growl, but he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. In fact he's– he’s jovial? His shoulders shake with amusement while his eyes crest with joy. And you, you hate every second of it.

“Ah~ There’s the petal I know!” He hums, cutting away at the pancakes below. Plucking a few pieces onto a fork, bringing it closer to your lips, “Though, if I’m being honest, I’m a little hurt you don’t remember me, my love! We’ve had so much fun together!!” 

His expression softens now, almost appearing wounded. Like you had stabbed him somewhere you couldn’t even begin to explain. It only enrages you further, to be honest. Though, nothing to do about that now. You’ve already boiled over. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I don’t know you!! We’ve never–” He takes that moment to shove the fluffy bread between your lips, knowing otherwise he would not have the chance. He takes his other hand, placing it on your lower jaw before you have the chance to spit it out. You hate how he seems to know your actions before you know them yourself. You hate everything about him. 

“You need to eat.” His tone is harsh again. It switches so easily– everything about him does, honestly. It confuses you, but there isn’t much time to spend on that thought at the moment, is there? Not with a psycho in the room. Not with everything happening. 

You still don’t follow his direction. Instead just hold it between your lips, not chewing. It gives you some sense of control you otherwise lacked in every other way. Gives you an ounce of strength. 

“Chew. Or else you’ll be on a liquid diet. Neither of us want that.” The way he looks at you now sends a chill down your spine. Eyes half lidded, almost in a glare. Jaw set harshly in place, puffy lips pulled in slightly.

You feel like you’re in the arena again. 

Maybe you never left.

“Eat. And I’ll answer your questions.” Begrudgingly, you oblige. Though it doesn’t come without some force, humiliation burns through as you actually listen to what he tells you. As you follow his command. 

You want to die, maybe. 

Or that could just be the shame that runs through your veins. 

You’ve never been a strong person, you don’t think. And the thought feels even more apparent now. Your ally in the games– she would’ve never done what he said. You know that. She was strong. She always listened to her own conscience above all else. She would’ve never given in over a threat and a promise, while you, at least on the inside, feel as if that’s all it ever takes. 

A threat and a promise. 

You hate it. Even more so when his personality does a complete 180 once again. When he starts praising you. When he hops up next to you on the bed and nestles you into his side. Especially when he plants a kiss on the top of your head, telling you how good you are. How he just knew you wanted to please him and that there's no reason to pretend. 

“See, baby? I just knew you could do it. I knew our little rough patch wouldn’t last long, would it? See, you’re already so good for me. Just the perfect little thing like I knew you would be, yeah? Wow~” His lips against your head feel like the first soft thing you’ve felt in the last month. You hate it. “What a perfect little Victor for me baby, you know that? C’mon! Let's eat up lots! I hate how much weight you’ve been losing since you got here from the districts. It’s so sad.” 

You want to sob, actually. Burning humiliation feels unbridled in your core. You hate that you can’t push him away. That you can’t get away. Why does such a simple action of chewing food feel like so much more? Why does everything feel like so much more?

You want to go home. You want to be among your flowers and your best friend. 

The fork is in front of your mouth again. 

This time, you take it without a fight. Already knowing it will be going in your mouth, regardless. Especially in this new, feeble position. His arm around your shoulder, your legs soon tugged onto his lap the same. 

“Who are you.” You ask again, hatred in your tone. Though he ignores it completely, instead favouring to focus on the way you took his offering without much physical fight. He could tell the mental one was burdensome, though there will be time to deal with that later. 

He smiles at you, though you choose to focus on a spot through the window in the far distance. Hoping against all hope it is the glimmer of the sun rather than a hologram pasted on the glass.

“Jimin. My name is Jimin. Remember it this time, okay petal?” He says softly, as though it was just for you to hear. 

You wish it wasn’t. 

You wish it was at some sort of public hanging for the world to hear for kidnapping the Capitol’s much favoured victor. You wish he was being hung while you were in the arms of your best friend instead, far away from the entire mess. Far away from everything.

Why hasn’t your mind locked you away again? Made you incapacitated– a drop among the flowing river? Why did it have to make you so aware, now, when it was all you had ever hoped for before? Why couldn’t it lock away these memories like it did for those in the games?

The answer is obvious. 

You’re still in them. Maybe not physically, but mentally, now more than ever, you’re in those games. Except now, the only enemy is one and if you make it out, there would be no trumpets signalling your victory.

There is no victory in these games, is there?

“Hmm, you’ve had a hard morning, haven’t you?” He’s still being soft. Still slowly feeding you bites of food you want nothing to do with while his other hand gently traces circles on your ankle. At least you’re still wearing the clothes you fell asleep in. You have that to be thankful for. “I’m sorry for scaring you so badly, I hoped the scents would calm you down but I guess I was wrong.” 

You finally spare a glance his way, noticing his lips in a pout. He has nothing to be sad for, you know it to be true. So why is he acting like the burden of the world is on his shoulders? You have not a clue, nor a care. Though you keep yourself quiet all the same, knowing any words you say might set him off– especially the unkind ones you think.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon.” He smiles again, eyes cresting into half circles. His lips finding your hair once again, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. It makes you want to gag– want to cry in the way it mimics your mothers. But there's nothing you can do. Absolutely nothing for at least another 3 minutes. But where will you go– what will you do once that time does pass? You need to be smart about this. 

You can’t run. You can’t leave this room without being paralyzed. You could grab a fork, you could stab–

Your eyes automatically trail down to your hands, as if they expect the red to still be there. As if you didn’t scrub it away countless times, a new red in its place. Raw and irritated, painful. 

…

What will you do when the time passes?

The urge to scratch at your hands once again is insurmountable. An itch pulling behind your eyes as a meager way to force away the visions of that career in your face. Of his expression as blood dribbled from the side of his lips, eyes becoming hollow against the sandy ground.

You force your eyelids closed. Pressing them together. Willing away the picture of at least 12 other tributes– the slaughters you witnessed first hand. The colour draining from their skin from where you hid. The emptiness where there once held life. 

You watched them smiling in training. You ate with a few. They were real people with real lives and now they are dead and you’re alive. 

You want it to go away. You want it all to go away. 

…

You’re not sure what you can do once the time passes. The wails in your ears at the mere thought of stabbing him are evidence of that enough. 

You need more time to think. 

“Why?” The question hangs heavy in their air, almost so quietly you’re not sure it left your own lips. You don’t remember it leaving them, surely. Nevertheless, willing them to move– but the question found its way out on its own. 

You don’t know if you want an answer, but you can’t force it back in. 

“Why?” Jimin, your captor, hums. His thumb tapping gently against your ankle bone in a way that you assume is meant to soothe. He takes a moment– thinking, contemplating, before a smile so bright it could be the sun itself takes over his expression. One filled with care, with such soft admiration you’ve only ever seen on one person before. 

“Because I love you, of course. You love me too. You promised.”

The days– no, weeks, that follow are, disappointingly, similar to your first. An almost-routine forming between you and Jimin. Horrible, unnerving Jimin. Wake up every morning all-too aware, force yourself from his too-tight grip he’s managed to pull you into while you slept. Check the exits to see if they’re still locked or shocked. Eat breakfast with Jimin, deal with his mood-swings and tantrums. 

Eventually he leaves for work– not before he clings to you again, whining about how he doesn’t want to go. You lash out, yell at him to stop touching you– you hate when he touches you– after which he either cries or gets mad. Whimpers about how he doesn’t understand why you’re being so mean. Why you hate him. 

A little kid being refused their favourite toy, maybe. The same way your little brother might’ve done the same. 

He’s got some sort of twisted reality, that's all you know. Has convinced himself you’ve loved each other for years, that you two are meant to be some sort of fairytale. That it’s fate you were drawn that day– something about letters. You have no clue how he’s come to that conclusion, nor find yourself wanting to delve into it. All you do know is that it’s tiring, too tiring. 

To be honest, when he cries like that in the mornings, it almost makes you feel bad. Almost, because you’re not stupid. You know what’s real. You know that before he took you, you had never seen him in your life. You made no promises like he swears, you never showed him any sort of inclination otherwise.

On the other hand, it's clear he’s sick in the head. Clear that something in the capitol deluded him into believing whatever… this is. Maybe he’s never known what actual love is– you doubt the capitol knows anything about that. Maybe it was his friends you’ve been forced to hear about, maybe it’s just, everything else. 

Either way, you wouldn’t know. He doesn’t talk much about himself– nor his family. He doesn’t talk about visiting them or introducing them to you the same way he does his best friends.Two people you’ve never met yet already hate. An already-assumed air to the presidency and the head gamemaker– Taehyung, Namjoon. 

You really did get lucky with your captor, huh? Well, you knew he had to be in high places for the wealth he assumes. The wealth he practically forced on you in the arena. 

Oh, the realization he had been the one to dump food and weapons on you was a sobering one indeed. 

You often wonder where it comes from. What he had to do to become so rich when back home, all your family had to their name was a small two bedroom cottage in the far-reaches of town. When your father would become so skinny during the winter months that you found yourself sleeping next to his bed, afraid he might not wake up in the morning. 

It had been worse when your parents were little, or so you were told. The capitol used to be worse– more vicious. Something about an almost uprising. An agreement made when a mockingjay flew. You’re not sure, it sounded like some sort of strange symbolism when your teacher spoke the words. And back then, when you were young, you didn’t care about the symbolism of birds. Flowers were much more your heart. 

What did the capitol kids learn in school? Did they have it? Or were they already assumed geniuses. A silver spoon born into the mouths of the wealthy, their paths laid out by birthright alone. Never having to worry, never having to struggle. Jimin is most definitely the same, regardless. 

Spite is an emotion often had, along with too many others. 

You have too much time to think here. Too much time to reflect on your inability to act. Why you’re cursed with visions whenever you so much as have a passing thought about killing Jimin to get away. 

Though, maybe it’s a blessing, in a way. What would you do if you did manage such a feat? Run with his friends tailing behind you? Find some way out of the capitol? Risk the lives of everyone you love by somehow returning home with nothing to your name? How would you even leave the apartment? Sure, he normally turns the bedroom shocks off during the day so you can roam, but you know the same device stands at the front door. 

The windows are too tall to leap from, no fire escapes in sight. You would be stupid to not assume he already planned for you to try and kill him. Maybe if he dies the entire apartment explodes. Maybe he’s got some sort of medical implant that could patch all wounds instantly. You have no clue what kind of technology the capitol holds, much less one of its most important citizens. 

What you can assume? He dies, you die with him.

You’re not sure if you could kill him anyway. 

So there you are left, planning. Forced to listen to him. His day, his life. His friends. You. The people he deems actually important to his life, you presume. 

Then there are his plans– what he wants to do with you that day, dates he hopes to take you on after you finally accept him. Proposals. Marriage. All things that twist your stomach– make it ache. 

Of course, he asks questions, too. Makes it appear as though he actually wants to get to know you better. What a joke. This whole thing feels like one. Like some type of dream you won't be able to escape no matter how hard you thrash under the covers. 

Most of the time, you find it easier not to answer. If you say nothing, he can’t use it against you. Can’t turn it into a tantrum from a wrong answer or stare at you with those warm-brown eyes while you open your soul. Can’t take a mile when you only bare him an inch. 

You never can tell what he is thinking. 

What you do know? He looks so pathetic when he cries during those times you decide to let hate fill your heart. When the band inside finally snaps and you just can’t take anymore of this. The demon clawing out from your abdomen, spewing vile from your lips before you can even think of what you’re truly saying. 

Oh, how clings to your legs, looks up at you with tears streaming down his face. His perfectly styled pink hair a wreck, his puffy cheeks flushed red. Veins in his neck straining. Begging, pleading for you to just love him. For you to come to him like he does you, to crave him like he does you. For you to just say you didn’t mean it. To please, please just not hate him. He just can’t take it. You’re soulmates. You’re meant to be. You can’t hate him, you can’t.

Maybe sometimes you feel a small ounce of sympathy when he gets like that, knowing that you caused it. Humanity thriving within you when, at this point, in most it would be squandered away. 

You feel too much lately, to be honest. 

Though, that little bit of pity, small and waning, is wiped away all the same when he forces you to sit in bed with him at night. Most nights he’s able to hold you due to the same zap you receive every time you try to run out that door– still believing it would be stupid to not try. Others, it's because you’re simply too tired to fight him. Because it’s easier not to.  

Either way, the result of your compliance forced or not is the same. Your frame tucked into his side, legs across his lap. His arm pulling you close, tucking the top of your head into his neck. All the while he plays reruns of your games, your interviews, your reaping. 

He smiles watching them, eyes casting a fond glow on the projection of your nightmare. The things you wish you didn’t have to do. 

You hate that you can see the fondness in his expression, especially. Makes his words seem even more true, that he wholeheartedly believes them. Whenever you appear on screen, his expression lights. His lips quirking whenever he urges you to watch– that his favourite part is coming. 

He seems to have a lot of favourite parts. 

At least it fills in a lot of gaps in your memory– maybe that’s one good that comes of it. Or maybe it’s another negative. Something that should be forgotten for your own sanity. That’s what your brain thought at least but now… You’re not really sure anymore, to be honest. It’s hard to keep things straight when you’re stuck in this apartment. When everything else your head is doing to protect you is oh-so-tiring. 

You remember him showing you your reaping a month after arriving at his apartment– one of the projections you seem to have forgotten completely. A day entirely forgotten returned to you all-too quick. A shot straight to the heart. 

You were standing there in line, waiting to have your face and fingerprints scanned for attendance. Hair a little wild, dress bustling in the wind. You watched as you walked forward, as they took you into the system. Corralled you into the area reserved for the oldest age group. 

You feel like you look so young then, or at least felt a million years younger than you do now. So happy, so carefree. Waiting for the whole drawing to just be over so you could be free of it. Finally free of it. Of everything. 

Fuck, your final reaping, too. How pathetic.

“You looked so pretty for me then, petal. That’s when I recognised your name.” Jimin whispered to you, nuzzling his face in your hair. Yet you paid little mind– eyes glued to the screen as the scenes shifted, bringing you directly to the drawing.

Hearing your name called, your face displayed on the screen was entirely mind-altering, to say the least. The girl on the screen is no longer you– maybe a body double, maybe a secret twin. It doesn’t matter which, because that girl, no. She doesn’t feel like you in the slightest. You don’t remember any of it happening at all. 

Back then, you remember how your legs stumbled as they carried you. How they shook with terror. The world was ending, you were sure of it. You knew it was. But the girl on screen is confident. She’s bold. She bares an expression of neutrality– posture held high, chin up against the winds with a red carnation tucked behind her ear. 

He tucked that flower behind your ear that morning, you know that for sure. It was tradition that he would. Petals tucked in your tresses, the promise of researching their meaning when you two departed. 

Maybe you should have done so before the reaping that day– maybe that was another mistake. 

Either way, it doesn’t matter now. Now you’re tucked in the arm of a deluded capitol boy who bought you from the president, being forced to watch the screen as it changes to something you were never meant to witness. 

The camera cuts to a scene in the crowd. A group of 6 standing together, holding each other. Mother, Father, Sister, Brother-in-Law, Brother, Sister-in-Law-to-be all joined together to watch their last family members very last reaping. 

Your heart shatters as you hear the syllables of your name called once again. 

The shock, the horror. The terror. The tears. The realization that you were going into the games. You watched from your seat in the capitol as your mother crumpled in on herself– as your brother fell right alongside her. Trying to hold her, trying to console her while your father just stood in utter shock. Frozen in place from his daughter being taken from him. 

He always did say your family was too lucky, to prepare for the worst. When you were young, it was a joke. But on that day it wasn’t, no. It was every nightmare a reality. 

Your family’s realization they would never see you run amongst the fields again. Hope already mist in the wind. That’s what it was.

Then, then the weight of ten-thousand bodies feels as though it has fallen onto your shoulders.

The camera cut to him. Your best friend. Your Yoongi. The man who tucked the flower in your hair, who made you promise to come back to him. The man who said he would do anything for you facing the one thing he couldn’t do anything against.

You don’t even know how the cameramen knew to film him in that moment, but you wish they didn’t. You wish against all else that you would’ve never had to see his face like that. 

This is the worst thing you could have seen. That Jimin is making you see. Worse than making you rewatch your games with that sickening smile on his face. Worse than making you relive the other lives you had to take in that arena with the weapons Jimin provided through sponsorship. Worse than finding out he had been privy to all the cameras in your capitol apartment.

No, seeing Yoongi again was worse than anything else. Especially knowing you would never see him again. 

At least during the games you knew you had a chance. Now, it feels like you have none. 

He’s gone.

You can’t stop the tears, from forcing your gaze away from the screen and hiding your face in Jimin’s neck. From breaking down against him– your captor, yet at the same time your only source of comfort. 

Maybe that's what he wanted. Maybe that was the point of all of this. You don’t know anything other than the pounding of your head and the burn of your lungs as it tries to pull in air. The static that runs through the wires of your brain as it shuts down, succumbing to the pain. The hurt of just– everything.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay~” He tries to calm you, yet it does nothing. Your wails only grow louder. Nails scratching, grabbing for anything in their reach. Finding home in his loose linen shirt. 

If you were any more sane, maybe you would know he was panicked in that moment too. Scrambling with what to do, how to console you. Eyes darting as he manages your form, tries to discern what to do or say. “That’s enough for today, I think…” 

He turns off the tv, you know that. You thank the skies for it. You don’t think you could listen to your supposedly private goodbyes with your family and Yoongi at that moment. You think that might just break you entirely.  

The actions that follow are foreign. Too consumed in your grief, you’re not sure how you wound up on his lap. How your body found itself clinging to him entirely. You’re sure of the sound of his voice, though. The way it gently shushes your cries with a smooth hum. Trying to comfort, to soothe while he strokes the top of your head with one hand. The other rubbing circles into your hip as you cry. 

The terrible part? You let him.

You let him mumble into your hair. You let him be your support when he was the very thing keeping you away from them. The very being holding you hostage when you should be in the victory village with them. When you should be with Yoongi. 

It’s too bad, but you really can’t help it. Honestly. Everything inside of you that you’ve been holding onto for so very long is flushing from your system all at once. Waves of emotion from the reaping, the games, the kidnapping have overflowed, and without something solid, you might have drowned. May have been washed away in a haze of memories you’re unable to come back from.

Can you really be blamed for letting the fire of hatred be quelled for only a night when a tsunami is about to pull you under? 

“It’s okay petal, let it out. You needed all of this, hmm? I’m so sorry for upsetting you, baby. I had no clue it would, I swear. I’ll never do something like that again, okay? I don’t want you to hate me, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know your heart was still all the way back there, okay?” 

During the entire time you’ve been in the capitol, not a sole has offered you a single ounce of comfort. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to just let him. To let him comfort you. To let him take care of you. No matter how humiliating or awful it will feel tomorrow, you’re too tired to care. 

You’re so tired of fighting. Why do you have to keep fighting? Why you? 

“Worked so hard on being so strong. I’m proud of you. I’ve got you now, petal.” He whispered into your hair so softly. As if he could break you, as if he ever even conserved doing such a thing. 

Maybe he could feel it then– the way you had given up. Even if it was just for the hour. Maybe he knew to use it to his advantage. That’s what you would have done in the arena. Or maybe he did actually care. Did actually want to be there. Wasn’t planning on using your vulnerability for his own gain.

You would never really know, would you? 

You’re just so tired. And the way he gently pulls your face from his neck, tucks your face into his palm sure makes it feel like he cares. You don’t know. You don’t want to care. You just want to be free from thinking for a little while. 

Maybe that’s why you don’t look away when his eyes search to find your own. To make a connection– to try and convey that he can be solid for you, despite how he acts most of the time. Maybe it’s the tears that fall onto his cheeks, fooling you into believing his pain is your own. Your head feels so screwy anyway– unable or unwilling to function any longer than it has to. 

Maybe that's why you don’t pull away when he glances towards your lips. When his tongue darts out to wet his pretty pink pair. When he leans closer, his lips pressing against your own in a way that is utterly consuming, yet so soft at the same time. Dual worlds colliding together. The very definition of who Jimin seems to be. 

The kiss is a short, gentle thing. Something meant to soothe, to help you relax more than anything else. One that you neither respond to, nor push away from. But the fact it happens remains. The fact you didn’t hate it remains a thing to ponder on another day. 

His thumbs move up to gently swipe at your cheeks, collecting the last of your tears on his fingertips. Your head choosing to ignore the way he pops the digits in his mouth, tasting the salty tang. 

You're too tired– too confused right now, to care anyway. 

“Let's go to bed now, okay? You must be tired, baby.” He lifts you, placing you on your side of his massive bed. Tucking your frame in, moving your hair to the side before placing a gentle kiss on your temple. 

That night, he doesn’t force you to cuddle him. He doesn’t touch you at all, something you’re grateful for. But it’s clear something– maybe everything has changed. The repercussions, unclear. 

Yet the next morning, when you’re shocked awake by a gentle kiss to the lips and the floppy, too-happy face of Jimin in the morning, the memories of the night prior return. Then and there, for the first time, you’re sure you’ve made a mistake. 

⋆𐙚 part ii -> coming soon to a theatre near you <33 and as always, feel free to ask hunger games!jimin anything you want along with all my other guys!! MWAH!! ily and i hope you enjoyed <33

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2025 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[the-sweet-hibiscus]

Prequel thought of this bc I need more complex Gaz in my life. Because he was always taught that sharing the pieces of himself was bad. Not in an overt way – he will be the first to tell you that his childhood was fine, thank you very much – but in subtle ways that left him convinced the only way to keep people interested was to take the best traits of those around him and make them his. He was the best of everyone around him, and he always would be.

It starts when he's a child, despite what he says. The first time a teacher tells him that he's asking too many questions about the Roman Empire, and the girl behind him snickered at the admonishment. If you'd asked him at the time he'd say he'd felt hot, molten in his chest like he'd swallowed a spoiled reheated meal. And he learned to take his questions home with him to look up another day.

The first time he says he likes Manchester, while watching the telly with his father, he learns that "in Liverpool, we cheer for Liverpool" and it was not up for debate. So now he owned a hoodie and jogger set that he only wore when he returned to his father's house, and a Manchester hoodie he could wear with his team. (Because Ghost liked Manchester, and if Ghost likes it then Soap will fall in line. And if Ghost and Soap are in line, Captain will give a nod of approval, and no one will know what he's against and what he's for.)

The first time he asks a girl on a date, he awkwardly shuffles toward her, cologne too strong and his stutter stronger – and she laughs at him. He spends the entire year observing, almost falling for tragic advice of negging and peacocking, just to realize what he needed was charm. What he needed was smooth confidence. And he could fake that. He could fake anything. And with enough practice, it wasn't faking, it was real. Confidence was his weapon, and he had enough of it in spades.

He's an adult before he learns to change his approach to each woman he meets, however. Until one night he gets rejected - the hot flame of shame beginning to settle in his chest - before Soap claps him on the shoulder, a tad too jolly, joking about how "a lass like that needs more than you're pretty smile".

That's when he realizes the team has more to them than he realized.

He'd watch as Price clocks girls who prefer a quiet night in to whatever bar they happen to be at. How he'll go outside for a few minutes to let the cigar smoke mute itself on his clothes before coming inside to "happen" to need a drink from the bar at the same time as the girl. Instead of flashing a smile he makes conversation about wishing he was home with the book he's reading - it was always the same book - but it was enough to get the girl to smile at him.

And Gaz would take note. Shift just enough in his routine to draw an eye. A cigarette instead of a cigar. A subtle cologne that gave him an outdoorsy vibe. A dog instead of a book, perfect for pictures and a way to get her phone out.

He'd watch Soap, as brash as the bloak was, he'd often go after girls who seemed like they radiated "do not fuck with me vibes". But he'd find a way to break the ice. First he'd try a compliment. If that didn't work, he'd be honest. "I just wanted you to know I thought you were gorgeous, and if you tell me to fuck off i'll fuck off. But i'd just like to chat." And he'd be in.

Gaz only tried this a few times. Less interested in the work of trying to be interesting and more interested in the conquest. The fuck off girls, rightfully, seemed to only want a real connection - and that was something he could only fake for so long.

Simon was the hardest to pin down. He rarely actively went after a bird, as he called them. They normally came to him. In fact, it took several months of Gaz eyeing the man to realize what was up. Something, or someone, would catch his eye, and he'd sit up a little straighter. Suddenly he was the biggest thing in the room, eyes only occassionally meeting his target as he seemingly scanned around looking for something to interest him.

It was a form of negging, Gaz would realize. Simon would make it seem like their appearance hadn't interested him, and they'd be drawn to it like moths to flame. They'd want to know what could make him interested.

This was the hardest to replicate. The nonchalance, the appearing to not want the chase. There was a certain balancing act to adapting it to his playbook. Only acknowledge once, a curt nod or a raised drink would suffice, pretend to only glance their way when they're glancing at you. But when he got it? He was able to swoop in on every target, until they started partnering off.

First it was John. It only took one canceled outing to know that the Captain would be missing in action for the foreseeable future. And he was. It took five months for the Captain to invite them 'round for a drink at home, a pretty little thing sat on his lap.

Ghost was shockingly next, despite Gaz' assumptions that it'd be Soap. It was on a rare leave, John and Johnny both gone to their respective homes. Gaz's one thought to cure the boredom was his Leftenant. Only to be shocked by a bird, thick as cream and sweet as pie, opening Simon's door in one of the man's training t-shirts. Something the man never acknowledged while they watched the Manchester match.

Soap was leashed by the time that leave was up. Claimed he'd found a "right bonny lass" at a neighborhood potluck. (And seemingly never left her side until it was time to come back to base.) He was almost eager to show a polaroid photo ("she's into photography, that one. But some of these are private, ya know), both smiling ear to ear with matching scarfs. Johnny claiming he'd have her fully moved in at the end of his next leave.

So, in all honesty, Gaz should've seen you coming.

He planned for it, initially. Supposed if the rest of his team was paired off, he needed to be too.

He should've seen the writing on the wall when he was on a rare night out with other soldiers. A popular military bar next to base, crowded and full of people he typically found not worth in imitating. But it was a night to celebrate a successful mission to capture a terrorist in the North Sea. A man who's name he didn't remember, but he'd kiss on the mouth if it meant he'd meet you again.

You were a bartender. Clearly in your element as the room ebbed and flowed in crowd size. Still, he waited til the bar started to get sparce to try anything. First, he attempted Ghost's method. A raised glass as you're scanning the room for anything. You send a waitress over, and it dashes that plan.

He finishes his (new) drink, tossing more than he needed to on the table for the waitress, before relocating to the bar.

It's Johnny's tactic next. A flash smile and a nod to your skills, the compliment rolls off his tongue like honey. You're not impressed. A leveled glare and a shrug as you mosey about cleaning the barback. That's when he decides to remix. A mixture of Soap and Bravado.

"Listen," he says, "I know you're probably tired of all of us soldiers hitting on you – I can't say I blame them. But I'm genuinely impressed. And I just think you deserve to be pampered, is all." It wasn't his smoothest delivery - the drinks and late hour clearly wearing on his charm - but it still was enough for you to pause. Enough that he has you home that night. And he thinks he'll have you every night, if you'd let him.

[starry-eyed-wild-child]

🤍 charlie walker boyfriend headcanons 🤍

charlie walker x reader

. my sweet, sweet baby charlie - this man is so obsessed with you

. like it's low-key creepy but in such a sweet way you'd never even know

. i like to imagine you probably met in his film club, but he'd probably seen you in the hallways at school and he was just smitten after that. or even if you sat behind him in history class or smth and he tried his hardest to not look at you

. will be the most loyal boyfriend you could ever imagine, this man would die (and kill) for you in a heartbeat

. okay so, either you had to ask him out OR a bunch of mutual friends grouped together to get yous together because they were just sick of your pining

. honestly, robbie's ears are talked off about you, poor guy can't catch a break

. speaking of robbie, he definitely teases charlie about his little crush and will subtly drop hints in front of you just to embarrass him

. but robbie is also definitely 1000% your biggest fan, this man would literally make a movie just about how awkward your get together was, he adores you and thinks you're perfect for his best friend

. charlie stutters a lot when talking to you, he just struggles to believe he actually pulled you, the girl of his dreams. and he BLUSHES too, omg this man is a walking mess for you

. movie dates ofc are a given, if you're not a fan of horror movies, charlie will still happily sit and watch whatever you want. i personally think that charlie would draw the line at rom-coms tho, but that's just my personal opinion. like he will, but he'll criticise it all the way to the credits

. charlie is 100% a night owl. you'll probably be waking up as charlie is getting ready to go to sleep. not that he likes watching you sleep or anything 😳

. BOARD GAMES - play some cluedo with this pathetic little man, he lives for board game nights. play some music in the background, a bottle of cheap rum or smth between the two of you and that's charlie's dream night fr

. absolutely loves holding your hand in public. I don't think that's charlie's that big on pda but he's a sucker for hand holding and nose kisses

. is the king of remembering little details about you. remember that necklace that you got when you were six but lost somehow? no? charlie definitely does and would probably get you a new one

. his favourite thing is your eyes. it's his absolute favourite colour. he'd get a bracelet specifically with a stone that is the same colour so he can look at it when he misses you

. loves listening to music with you and making you your own playlist. he's the stereotypical romantic of where he loves sharing earphones with you so you can listen together 🥹

. okay I hate to admit it, but charlie is probably a terrible cook. BUT he tries his hardest to cook your favourite foods for you just to see you smile

. the most giggly, awkward boyfriend you've ever had and ever will have. he loves your smile, he's always trying to make you laugh

. I have a theory that charlie's laugh is very contagious. this man would giggle once and have the whole class in a fit of giggles because his laugh is just so adorable

. wear. his. shirts. this man LIVES to see you in his clothes

. would probably eventually end up giving you the ones he doesn't wear anymore

."they look better on you anyway" 😖 an absolute sweetheart

. soft, gentle kisses are the usual. he's so gentle with you like he's scared you'll break ALTHOUGH when he kisses you, he will grip at your waist really tight

. will not, under any circumstances, have you involved with the ghostface killings. charlie can be quite frightening when he's angry so he makes sure jill knows her place

. would probably lie to you about his involvement, as much as he hates lying to you, he couldn't stand the thought of you hating him and leaving

. no seriously, charlie would have a full on mental break down if you were to ever leave him or break up with him

. speaking of breaking up with him, lol, yeah no... not happening. it's the last thing he'd let you do

. the relationship is low-key a bit toxic but in a 'you can't leave, you're the only person I have' kinda way? y'know?

. sex would be hella awkward at first, charlie would have absolutely no clue on what to do, poor boy :(

. he just wants to make you feel good. speaking of which, PRAISE. praise this man, he thrives of knowing how good he makes you feel

. loves you on top, and when you tug at his hair when you're close to finishing

. is the most whiny mess during sex. he's so LOUD. he moans, groans, whines and whimpers so much and he's not embarrassed by it either

. makes sure you cum first every single time. charlie will not stop until you do, even if it take until morning

. king of aftercare. he'll clean you up, cuddle with you, talk with you, make you a cup of tea and a snack, All OF IT

. don't be fooled though, he loves some aftercare himself. playing with his hair as you lie on him, completely blissed out. cuddle him, tell him how good he was, and boy MELTS

. overall the dream boyfriend and i'm desperate for a charlie in my life (rory culkin a chance, please?!)

. 100/10 would recommend

[happilyhertale]

Captured Moments – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Daemon has to go on a business trip again. You hate it every time he leaves you alone for a long time. But to make his alone time special, you plan to make him a little film.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering; Dirty Talk; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

This is my last story for this year's Smuffmas Challenge. It was great fun creating all these little stories and reading your comments on my stories. Thanks for reading!

I hope you'll also like my last Daemon story.

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

Daemon is a man of many complexities. With the sleek, tailored suits he wore to business meetings, you almost forget that there is a certain fire beneath his cool exterior. He isn’t the kind of man to show his emotions easily, nor was he the type to stand still when there is a task to be done. But when he is with you, all of that seems to melt away.

But now, you are facing the reality of his business trip. The one he has to leave for so soon. You don‘t know how long he’d be gone, and that is the hardest part. He would normally give you exact dates and let you in on his plans. Usually to rant about his business partners. But this time, he didn't know how long he would be gone. And you hated it. You hate the uncertainty, you hate the distance that it created. And yet you know he has no choice. Duty, work, all of it… it doesn't make it any easer though.

You are in your bedroom now, your mind racing. The soft lighting in the room creats a sensual atmosphere, and as you gaze at the old camera on the dresser, the thought of giving Daemon a farewell gift consumes you. You aren’t the type to be overtly emotional, but this is different. You want to leave a piece of you with him, something tangible. Something to make him smile when he is far away.

You move to the bed, your fingers grazing the smooth silk sheets. Carefully, you strip out of your clothes, leaving only your lingerie—a white lace that clings to your skin, accentuating your curves. You aren’t trying to seduce him in the usual way; no, this is different. This is something deeper. You are offering him a part of yourself, a memory of you when the distance felt too much to bear.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the camera just so, making sure it has the right angle. This is the first time you are doing something like this, and a slight nervousness creeps in. But you push it down, telling yourself that Daemon would love it. After all, he appreciates the unconventional, the unexpected. You are certain this would be something that would make him smile when he was alone in some hotel room, far away.

The camera rolls as you lie back, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you imagine his reaction. You shift slightly, adjusting your position, arching your back slightly so the lace clung to you even more. You want him to feel your presence when he watches this. You want to be in his thoughts, every moment, every second.

What you didn’t realize was that Daemon was already closer than you thought.

Daemon is walking down the hallway when he hears a faint sound. He knows you are in the bedroom, but he hadn't expected this. Curiosity draws him closer, each step silent as he approaches the door. He peers through the crack, his heart beating slightly faster as he sees you lying there on the bed, dressed in nothing but lace and silk, the camera trained on you.

He grins. The look on your face—soft, sensual, and unaware—make something deep inside him stir. You have no idea he is watching.

His breathing slows as he leans against the doorframe, unable to avert his gaze. The way you move, the way the fabric of your underwear caresses your body, it's like a slow, seductive dance just for him. His eyes take in every detail, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the softness of your skin, without you noticing his presence. He feels his desire stirring, his length twitching.

Daemon is just standing in the doorway watching you. Your eyes are closed as your fingers glide over your body and you sigh softly. Do you imagine that they are his fingers? He feels his member twitch slightly again, but he just watches you. Your fingers glide over the fabric of your panties and you sigh again. You press against the fabric and he knows you are pressing against your bundle of nerves. Your hips move slightly as your fingers glide over the fabric in circles. The camera captures everything, every sigh and soft whimper as your fingers pick up speed.

He knows it is wrong to just stand there, to not make his presence known, but a thrill ran through him. He lets himself enjoy the moment—before stepping forward, slowly, deliberately.

With a deep breath, Daemon walks into the room, his footsteps silent as he approachs the bed. They haven't noticed him yet, but the air has changed as soon as he walks further into the room.

The cool confidence in his stride, the intensity of his presence—it is impossible to ignore. Slowly, he enters the room and watches you closely, but you don't notice. “Are you already preparing for my absence?“ His deep voice suddenly sounds. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp, "Daemon!" You sit up slightly and breathe a little heavily. “No, no... don't let me disturb you, go on,” he encourages you with a small smile around his lips.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for you!“ you pout a little. “Oh believe me, this is a surprise,“ he says and starts to unbutton his pants. “Daemon...” you start, but you can already feel the throbbing intensify between your thighs.

“And where did you dig that thing up?” he mumbles, while his pants slide down and he tilts his head in the direction of the camera. But you don't answer immediately, your attention is focused on his boxer shorts, which are already sliding towards the floor. His hardness springs free and the throbbing between your thighs becomes unbearable. You squeeze your thighs together. “I wanted you to have something to take with you on your business trip...“ you say, earning a chuckle from Daemon as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. ”Well, I could watch a video of me keeping you company instead,“ he mumbles and crawls onto the bed. ”What...?” you start, but then you understand, “Oooh…“ you say.

But then he grabs you by the back of your knees and pulls you towards him. You let out a small squeak, but you can't stop smiling. Your legs wrap around his waist as if by themselves and you pull him closer. His scent envelops you as you press your face into his neck – his growl fills the room as he grinds his length against your core.

Your teeth dig lightly into his skin as his hip grinds against you in rhythm. His eyes flashing with primal desire,“Get them off, ” he mutters. Slowly, torturously, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down your thighs, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze.

He tosses your discarded underwear aside carelessly. His large hands skim up your sides, pushing your lingerie up to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.

Leaning down, he captures one pebbled nipple between his teeth, suckling and nibbling as his fingers find your slick folds, stroking teasingly. "So wet already, just for me... I bet this tight little cunt is aching to be filled, isn't it baby?".

You just whimper, ending in a desperate moan, your back arching slightly as Daemon teases your nipple with his teeth and tongue.

He smirks wickedly at your breathy moan, reveling in the power he holds over your pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping wet heat, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace

"Fuck, you're dripping, babe," he groans, curling his fingers to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. "This greedy cunt is sucking me in, like it never wants to let go."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub in tight, fast circles as he increases the speed of his thrusting fingers. Leaning down, he laves his tongue over your neglected nipple again before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, which makes you moan.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty noises," he demands huskily against your breast.

Releasing your nipple with a wet pop, he starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth over your racing pulse point.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he moans and you whimper in reply, your hips moving against his fingers as you want to feel him deeper inside you.

He just smirks wickedly at your wanton response, enjoying the sight of you writhing beneath him, flushed and panting with need. Sliding his two long fingers deeper inside your dripping channel, he curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot within. Your pussy is dripping and you feel your walls flutter around his fingers. Daemon's teeth dig into the soft skin of your neck and you moan out again.

"Mmmm, such a responsive little thing you are," he groans approvingly, pumping his digits slowly. "Clenching so greedily around my fingers, like this greedy cunt is starving for my cock."

And in that moment, Daemon pulls his fingers out of your dripping heat. You whimper in protest and look up at him as he sits up slightly. He grins cheekily as he sees you lying there, breathing heavily and spread for him.

He fists his length in his hand, pumping it a few times, your slick on his fingers aiding the motion. You watch his long and thick manhood as he strokes it, and your pussy clenches around nothing. Even in the dim light of the room, you can see a pearly bead of liquid forming at the tip, and you bite your lip in anticipation. He grunts as he fucks his fist, biting his lip as well as his eyes roam over your naked form.

He leans down again, letting the tip slide through your pussy and you whimper again as he thrusts shallowly against your opening. You try to push your hips towards him because you finally want to feel him inside you.

A stifled groan escapes his lips as you grind your folds against his cock.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, but then he gives in and you feel the stretch. You gasp as he penetrates deeper inch by inch. He growls as he feels your pussy clench and pushes deeper. The way your walls wrap around his shaft, drawing him deeper and deeper inside until his swollen tip presses against your cervix. You're so tight and wet, you're leaking all over his cock.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he slides out almost completely and then pushes into you again. His thrusts get faster and harder, making you moan and gasp. His balls slap against your ass with every powerful thrust. The tip of his cock hits your cervix with more force and you cry out slightly. The bed creaks with every movement and your back arches slightly, wanting to feel him deeper. When Daemon suddenly grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders. You gasp and look at him, but before you can react, he slides back into your pussy. You moan and your eyes roll back into your head. Daemon growls, he feels your pussy fluttering around his cock. He thrusts deeper into your heat, leaning forward a little to make you scream. “Daemon!” you scream, and he grunts. He stretches you out, deepening the angle even more. “YES! Let me hear how deep you need it!” he grunts.

He pulls out for merely a second before slamming back in with full force, electrifying every nerve in your body and coaxing more sounds out of you. Your legs are still over his shoulder, he has a firm grip on you while he fucks hard into you. Tears form in your eyes as Daemon holds your thighs. His grunts get louder and louder as he feels your pussy start to milk his cock.

He can feel how close you are and his fingers glide to your clit. He rubs your clit wildly, playing with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, making you see stars while you clench hard around him. “Come on, come on my cock!” he growls and you whimper as he thrusts deeper and you can't hold back anymore. You come and feel your orgasm rush through your body as you moan. Your pussy clenching hard around his cock and he grunts. He slides in and out until he spills his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He cums hard, his cock throbbing inside you with abandon as he grunts and groans. Part of him delights in the thought of marking you, of filling you with a hot, sticky reminder of him.

His motion becomes sloppy and he growls until every drop is milked from his cock.

You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Daemon lets your legs slide off his shoulders before he leans down and kisses you. Almost gently, in contrast to the previous moment. After he breaks the kiss, your eyes fall back on the camera that has captured all this. But before you can say anything, you hear Daemon's hoarse voice. “Now I have a great video for those lonely moments,” he murmurs against your skin and you giggle slightly.

[court-jobi]

Hi, is there any Headcanon of a Married relationship between Izuku Midoriya and the reader? Could you write based on the Canon? Although the Reader, besides being a heroine (Izuku the teacher), is a model for clothing brands, cosmetics, etc! like any celebrity.

The reader is female!

ooooo~ how fun, anon! Let's see what I got... first headcanon request, here we go!!

A/N: I've gotten several fun asks recently, and am moving those larger works to the top of my WIPs as time allows. This is so fun, and you all suggesting prompts like these make it a joy!

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x Fem!reader (SFW)

MARRIED HEADCANONS!

Married!Izuku who -even though you're coming up on your third wedding anniversary- still crams love notes on index cards into your e-reader before he leaves for the day. You have it plugged into the side table of the living room and will pick it up as soon as you come home from work to wind down; so even though he will have a later arrival home than you, you'll hardly feel alone with Izuku's words of affirmation pouring out their surprise greeting.

Izuku writes in the middle of the night when he wakes before you- whether by an overactive mind or a nightmare he'd sooner forget. Rather than disturb your much needed rest, will channel reflective thoughts towards you onto paper- and sneaks their secrets around the house where you'll least expect them. Just when you think you know all his hiding spots, he picks a new one to surprise you. Once satisfied with his "journaling" tactic, he'll scoop you back up against him and settle into sleep.

Married!Izuku who chooses a travel tumbler for you every morning and fills it every time it's empty. Car ride ahead? It's crafted with your homebrewed coffee to keep you awake. Got a photoshoot ahead? Water it is, keeping his love hydrated. You are his beloved beverage goblin and though he finds your car to be a tervis graveyard, what's one more dish to wash if it makes you happy?

This man, who will hiss when your hands are too cold against his, getting ramped up far too easily when it comes to worrying over your health... meanwhile Izuku toughs through the worst of allergies himself with a hundred sniffles (and an aversion to cough medicine.) It's one of the first big arguments you had as a couple: you forcing him to take better care of himself when his self-preservation streak peeks through and nearly wears him into the ground during grad school. He'll start to defend himself, only to be caught by flashbacks to the last time he tried managing things on his own, and rightfully apologize. You are a team, and Izuku tries his hardest to let you step in and give him the same care and caution he gives you. It's a hard lesson, managing pride when it comes to taking care of someone so selflessly, and Izuku is still unused to this treatment when turned to himself. You're doing your best, armed with a world of grace to set him straight.~

Married!Izuku who is a phenomenal teacher. One of the most patient souls you've ever met, which is a large draw that led you to date him! You're encouraged to stretch your ways of thinking, listening to his alternative points of view... and find yourself marveling that a man who's so closely engrossed with training the next generation of heroes is still so happy to watch the news at the end of the day in hopes of learning more!

You've gifted him a notetaking tablet that's meant to replace his waning supply of favorite notebooks, but if you find that blue Campus brand in a shop that's selling your brand deals somewhere, you are absolutely picking it up for him. He cries every time you make him close his eyes and hold out his hands, producing your surprise in giddy silence. "They don't make this edition anymore!! H-HONEY!!"

^^^After a day of sparring with his students -giving them a run for their money- you'll be the one patching him up out of sight of Recovery Girl, everything from a lightly busted lip to each blooming bruise he's gonna feel in the morning. You're surprised he's getting hit as much as he is when he's still renowned as one of the heartiest teachers at UA- quirk or not, he is no lightweight. You may worry over him just as much, but with your honorary brother-in-law 'Kacchan' running drills on him on the weekends, you know Izuku is in tip-top shape. No one is invincible, after all.

Will gladly talk to your mom on the phone~ welcomes it, actually! Izuku wants to learn every little tidbit and creature comfort he can about you, so any nerves he had about meeting your family when you began dating dissolved once he kept that goal in mind. (This mentality won your father over well, to a comical degree once Izuku showed him the notes folder on his phone with your die-hard favorite secret pleasures only a loved one would know...) Allmight makes his trip to your dinner table every other week or so, becoming a ready and available father figure to you while yours lives hours away. It does your heart a world of good sitting in his nurturing company.

Married!Izuku will carry your luggage to and from the airport without a single grunt or complaint (That's what he continues to work out for, even as a teacher!) A few tears upon departure and arrival, sure, but will always ground himself steady in his pride over the hard work you're putting in. He's the one who calls to wish you a goodnight when you're on location for hero support, and a sends a text for every morning and lunch break. Regardless of timezone, he's going to make sure you are part of his routine like nothing's changed. You rely on this consistancy more than life. Living apart -even short term- is expected at this stage of your career where you're needed more than ever to help fund your hero ventures through sponsorships... but Izuku will forever be your biggest supporter.

///Little does he know, you are cramming in twice as many roles to help fund a certain someone's hero suit development, per Bakugou's discretion. It's the one, solitary lie of omission you keep from your husband, but one you trust is going to be worth it in the end to see him shine where he wants to once again. He'll always be your hero, but you'll help him see that realized self any way you can.///

Married!Izuku will be flooding the groupchat with every single advertisement that features your face. Every last one. And there are many. The girls will share you on each of their socials in support of whatever you are sporting, while the boys will... look respectfully and congratulate Izuku on his absolute knockout of a girl. Izuku is just insanely proud of his wife and will make it everyone's problem~

He may be operating on a teacher's salary, but is the most thoughtful gift-giver. Married!Izuku will choose experiences over 'things' when it comes to you, like vacationing to the largest library in the world where you can spend hours holed up on a loveseat somewhere, taking notes on all the old tomes you find, using those classic academia desks as if you were still at the 'study abroad' college where you met... Trip planning gives you both something to look forward to amidst your busy schedules, and takes the financial pressure off you both as well. Not that he won't still treat you to just about anything you ask for when you're giving him that sweet, small 'please' standing in the checkout line at the corner store...

Married!Izuku, who misses you adorably when you're not home. He runs a fairly typical working schedule that lines up with yours for the most part-- makes him the happiest, coming home to you! You adhere to a few sacred rules in your shared home: you always go to bed together, you can occasionally go to bed angry- but always remain in each other's corners, and you know giving him head scritches is the easiest way to make Izuku pliant enough to sleep. He'll nurse your migraines that aren't so pretty, you'll give his hands massages when the phantom pains make them ache. Whatever you can do to give your man some ease into his life, you give wholeheartedly.

You'll kiss Izuku's every trouble away; and the ones that linger, you'll tend to as gently as you can until you can replace the thoughts with something sweeter, kinder, delicately on his still-healing heart when the embers remind him of old hurts you weren't around to see. You care for Deku just as you do your darling Izuku- as they are two sides of the same coin. You polish and affirm them both, strengthening all the parts that have made your life partner the man he is today. That made him him.

Married!Izuku: your darling husband with eyes that light up when you enter a room, mist up when they see you down, and stare eternally grateful on you as you listen and take in every word he has to give and through every promise shared-- just like your vows.

[inactive-trashcan]

Finally decided to figure out my vision of the Fellowship based on the books as a celebration of getting a tattoo of Tolkien's Old Man Willow in couple of weeks :D

This story has always had a special place in my life so this was an amazing experience. I went kinda overboard so hobbits without travel cloaks and coats on top of super long yapping session about my design choises under the cut (I might be insane)

Gandalf:

I decided to include blue tones in his othervise gray desing because Tolkien many times gave him blue clothing pieces. For example, in the Hobbit he is described to have blue, long hat and in last parts of LOTR, just before the hobbits arrive to the Shire, he has a blue mantle. He also wears black boots, so I had to include them. I also love the idea that Gandalf has a gem-like stone in his staff that he lights up during the Moria part of LOTR. (I always thought that all wizards have some kind of special stone which represent them/their powers on top of their staffs)

Aragorn:

I approached this design thinking that this man has walked his whole life in nature, so I went with earthy tones for easy concealment in the wilds and shaggy looking clothes with small parts that wink at his noble lineage. Things I really wanted to include from the books to this look was the long boots and gray streaks in Aragorn's hair, because c'mon gray accents in otherwise black shaggy hair is the best idea Tolkien had for description of any character. I also wanted to include the elfstone he keeps showing off in the books and the star shaped clasp that his Dúnedain brethen have. His eyes are gray as Tolkien described, even though they are mostly hidden by his hair, lol. I also decided that Aragorn would gave pretty dark skin because his close ancestry to Númenorians, who were originally seafaring folk. It means that their skin would have been in straight sunlight during their long times in ships. Aragorn would also have been walking under the sun his whole long life, being Dúnadan and all.

Boromir:

This one was the hardest desing to do because of two reasons: 1. Boromir is my favourite character and I needed somehow not to give him super special treatment and 2. I actually love his look in the movies so making something all of my own was HARD. (I actually did steal the arm guards from the movies but they are such a great idea that I couldn't fully remove them from my mind) BUT enough yapping about him and onto his actual design: I wanted to show his high standing by giving him clothes with colors that have been expensive to make and also include the fact that Tolkien says that he has dark hair. I also love that Tolkien describes Boromir having fur lined cloak and silver collar with some kind of a stone in it, so I kinda went overboard with these two details. Lastly I added some silver tree motifs in his shirt and riding boots because he had started the jorney to Rivendel by horseback. I really went with my vibes with the horn because only thing I remember Tolkien saying about its design was it being silver tipped.

Gimli:

I hate drawing armor so this was actually hard design to set up too. I based everything on rectangular shapes to contrast Legolas' own natural ones and I really wanted to add a lot braids in his hair. I also tried to make refrences to Moria in his clothes because of its central importance to dwarfs. I really can't say anything deep about the colors other than I gave him a silver belt similiar to his dad's as a nice nod to his lineage. I also wanted to show that Gimli has used a lot of his life around hot forges and fires, so he has strong skin that is accustomed to it.

Legolas:

As I said, I tried to base all his decorations on natural shapes and looked into what kind of things archers usually wear. I talked about his footwear with my brother, and he suggested sandals that are easy to remove. I instantly fell in love with that idea. It makes it easier to Legolas to connect with the nature around him and walk barefeet if he wants to. He does have his dagger, but I like to think he has it stored horizontally in his belt at his back.

The hobbits:

So I wanted to give them as colorful, soft and comfortable clothes as possible and based them on 1900s english fashion. The gentlehobbits have different types of wests while Sam has his trusty gardening overalls with a lot of pockets to store tools and seeds in. I see Pippin having the most colorful clothes of all the hobbits so he has combination of red, green, yellow and brown in his clothes. At other side of this color variety is Frodo who would probably use one color suit combinations that are easy to move in.

[weepywound]

Bubba Sawyer NSFW Alphabet

Hi. I wuv him. This is unedited cause uhhh i dont wanna its hard.

wrote this all before getting ready to go to work, Bubba fans unite, we are few but we are LOUD

18+ MINORS PLEASE DNI!!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sweet, grateful and almost always a little lightheaded.  Bubba is at your beck and call, will clean you up, get you water, a towel, but please, don’t forget to hold him close too, his feelings are so big, make him feel loved and appreciated.  He’ll coo and sigh sweetly if you lie on his chest and draw circles in his chest hair, he loves physical touch. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s honestly hard to guess what Bubba’s favorite body part on him is, but my best inference would be his hands, they’re large and skilled, he’s a craftsman at heart and values hard work.  The size of them against your body would rile him up, their rough, calloused surfaces engulfing your soft skin would never go unnoticed.  

His favorite body part of yours is also such a hard guess, as I think this boy is a body worshipper all around, just basking in every unique feature, but I really think he’d fixate on those very delicate parts, ankles, wrists, your neck, it’s all so small and delicate in comparison to his own.  He could snap them like the neck of a bird, but holds them so delicately all the same.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

It goes pretty much without saying, Bubba is majorly inexperienced, prior to losing his virginity with you, he had only touched himself occasionally and the times to completion could be counted on one hand, so when it comes to cumming, he doesn’t have a great sense of when its going to happen and will often accidentally cum inside you, his whole body spasms, he shudders, whines and grips you tight, pulling you into his chest until the sensation passes.  His loads are Huge, you can feel his cock and balls tighten and fall with every rope.  If you’re blowing him, he will often cum in your mouth with little warning, you really have to keep an eye on his body language to prepare.  

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Panty stealer- sniffer- wearer.  Will steal your cuties worn panties, huff them and often wear them under his work clothes.  It makes him feel feminine, as well as close to you.  It gives him a funny feeling in his gut to wear your tiny lacy panties around everyone, knowing they have no idea (everyone can see your huge cock print, man, they know somethings going on) He would be incredibly embarrassed  if you found out but would be on cloud nine if you complimented him in them, told him how pretty he looked in them.  He’d be all roses and puppy eyes if you would  Iget the two of you a matching set.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Little to no prior experience, we all know his family’s views on sex, but we also know Bubba does have canon sexual interest and desire,If you have experience, I think he’d be a fast learner, he’d be more than eager for you to show him the ropes, he loves to learn a new skill and hone a craft, and if that craft is making you squeal, he’ll be your teacher’s pet.  If you also have little to no experience, though, it would be a slow learning process for both of you, but a primal, carnal journey in learning how to make yourselves and eachother feel good, and well, that’s pretty fuckin hot.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Cowgirl/ reverse cowgirl, loves loves looooves to see you on top, and is strong enough to basically just lift you up and slide you back down on himself, making it easy on you.  He loves to feel your legs on either side of him.  If you can convince him to take his mask off, definitely sit on his face, he just loves the squeeze.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s too focused to be goofy, he’s really trying his hardest.  Often regarded as goofy for just existing as an autistic man, one who enjoys crossdressing at that, even when he isn’t trying to be goofy, and that can be incredibly discouraging when it comes to feeling sexy.  He’s not like, deadly serious but he is all in the moment of pleasure, not in the mood to be laughed at.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not groomed (YUM), natural body hair all over, hair on his chest, stomach, thighs, back, legs ass and has the loveliest bush.  Sometimes he will bathe before sex, sometimes.  Often though he is sweaty (DOUBLE YUM), and bloody (ooooh baby a triple). 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Extremely intimate.  Such a special sensation for him, the opposite of pain, all he’s ever known, equal in intensity and vulnerability.  Especially when you treat him sweetly, his pupils blow out, he breathes heavily and sighs to release the rising tension in his body.  Handsy, squeezes your flesh between his fingers, sometimes it hurts but that's just part of the territory.  Will start taking off his mask later in your romantic relationship, so he can press the real skin of his real face to yours, to feel the direct heat, the immediate touch to the nerves.  Something kind to the skin he was punished for having.  

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I might just be projecting as a fellow autistic person, but I have a feeling he absent mindedly palms himself all the time when he’s trying to focus and it’s less for sexual pleasure but it almost feels like he can think better when he’s doing it.  All that being said, it's still fun to watch, his huge hand stroking and squeezing his hardening dick through his pants.  Hell yeah.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He definitely doesn’t know what any kinks are called specifically and has super little information on this kinda thing, but I think he would get especially satisfied marking his partner, just a little, just to have something that’s his it; has his name on it.  I also think he’d get off on watching his partner get off, sometimes not even mutually, just to watch and look into your eyes while you squirm around and beg him to touch you.  Also a huge fan of blowing off steam immediately after working by fucking you, will be covered in blood and viscera, and need to calm down by seeing you in ecstasy. 

Also- I’ll add breeding, more as just this primal itch in the back of his mind, like that’s what he is supposed to do.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Honestly, probably just his bed, its soft, but also can see him as a tub sex sweetie, values the comfort and experience of it over the riskiness.  

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Validation, loves that he can do something so powerful to you that is the opposite of the violence, the only thing he is consistently praised for.  So praise and giving pleasure, also though, really values the pleasure it brings him, and when he needs to, he likes that he can pleasure himself with your body.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing.  Is very jealous and protective, crossing the line to overbearing.  Does not want anyone to even try having a shot with you. He’s extremely insecure and is never convinced 100% you won’t leave him for someone else, and he won’t find anyone like you again.  

You can be dominant and take the lead with him, but don’t humiliate him, I don’t think he’d understand the kinky aspect of it and take it to heart, poor feller.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

My God does he like to receive oral.  What a feeling, a delicate, soft mouth on his dick, warm and wet, its just gut twisting, head spinning, pure pleasure.  I also think he gets in a specific mood to give oral, and he’s got those pouty, soft lips.  But you might have to coach him out of biting you - unless you’re into that kinda thing. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends mostly on positioning.  If you’re on top, its rough and a little sloppy but slower than when he’s on top, he can’t help but to rut into you with desperation, if you ask him to slow it down, he will try his best to oblige for as long as he can, until the urge takes him over again and he finds himself giving you his all again.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are often an accident of just cumming too quickly which can disappoint Bubba a little, damn it, he was looking forward to at least a little longer than that.  But, better than nothing!  Morning quickies before chores/breakfast are a different story though, it gets him in the right head for the day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

All of this is still pretty experimental for Bubba, I guess he could get his hands on a dirty magazine of his brother’s (we know Chop Top has a sticky Playboy collection, get real), but I am not all that sure he’d be able to read it, just see pictures, which immediately make him blush and return the stolen pornomag.  But, again, he is at your beck and call to make you feel good, not much is off limits if you want to try it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Did you SEE how fast he runs in the first movie?  And for how long?  If it weren’t for having to cum, he could probably just go until he passed out.  However, thats IF it weren’t for him not lasting all that long in terms of orgasming, he’s not keen on delaying it, he’s chasing that high and won’t fight the wave.  And when he does cum, he needs a long recovery period, he just gets so relaxed and satisfied, he crashes, total system shut down brrrrr.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does not know what that is.  If you’re a smart little pervert like me, you’ve thought about the vibrations of a chainsaw against your - ahem.  But, unless you bring that up, he’s not even aware that that kind of thing would feel good.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not often, but hearing you beg to put his hands on you is music to his ears, it makes his blood run and heart flutter.  He gives in very easily though, you’re too hard to resist.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Yeaah he’s loud, he’s grunting, he’s moaning, he’s blubbering and squealing, humming and growling, he can’t contain his pleasure.  Everyone knows what Bubba’s doing up in his room with you, much to their disdain and entertainment.  Get it, Bubba.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Is really thoughtful and romantic, like sets his bed up nice, runs baths, will crack the window to let in moonlight.  Bubba loves you, he puts so much meticulous effort into it, he’s so sensitive.  He’s also very sensitive to touch in areas that aren’t normally touched, his stomach and inner thighs are soft and ticklish,and it makes him twitch.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

GahDauhhmhmm I Want That Fat Boy.  Thick thighs, stomach, arms, and cock.  Girth girth girth girhththfgirht fuck. Uncut, 6-7 inches, equally fittingly large balls.  He really is so fucking strong, barrell chested with his shirt off, large, w shaped tummy, big biceps and soft, far set pecs. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It doesn’t really cross his mind when he’s got other things to focus about, but he’s ready when you ask, almost anytime, unless it’s like really bad time, in which case he’ll just give you a “one second” gesture and lock into what he’s doing, to quickly get done with his task and attend to you.  Does get offhandedly horny though, if he catches a glimpse of you just looking especially nice, doing something impressive.  You almost always have to explicitly state that you want to engage though, because he likely will not on his own, he’s shyyy..

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If it’s after a long day, goodnight.  Boom, might not even aftercare, just poof, out, snoring, it’s the cutest shit ever.  Even in the morning or midday he might slip into a little accidental nap, but will wake with urgency, a sound that almost resembles waking up late for work and going “shit!!”  Pull his clothes on and hustle out to get an earful from Drayton about sleeping with that girl and how it’s getting in the way.  He drowns it out with the memories of the sounds of you saying his name.  

[lucydixon]

how would faust/oystein/pelle react to you begging them to fuck you rough so you can get some good sleep? meds, tea, meditation, weed-none of it's working. life is stressing you out and your brain won't stop. you've been running on a two hour toss n turn "nap" for a few days, you need your brain to turn off! the only way you can do that right now is to be cockdumb, not having to use a single brain cell as they take control and use you ��� bonus for aftercare

i personally think oystein would jump at the opportunity 🥴 especially with how bratty you get when you're running on fumes like this,it'd be his pleasure to fuck it out of you. no cruel names though ! naughty boy 🤭

Oh man. As someone who has not been sleeping lately, this one's doing things to me. 😫

Euronymous You're right, Øystein woud be all over this shit. You wouldn't even have to beg, although he'd like it if you did. He'd just throw you down onto the mattress and tear your clothes off. If he could see just how exhausted and desperate you were, he'd skip the usual torturous teasing and get right down to business. I don't think he'd be able to help himself and would absolutely be running his mouth the whole time, muttering mocking praise into the side of your throat while slamming into you relentlessly. You'd probably been driving him crazy for days, irritated and bratty with him, arguing over every little thing. He'd jump at the oportunity to ruin you until you couldn't speak. I think he'd fuck you real good, then he'd work you over with his hands and mouth, over and over again until you're a drooling, babbling mess. Even then, he'd fuck you again, just to make sure you slept deeply before getting you cleaned up and clutching you to his chest tightly

Dead I think that with Pelle, you're gonna have to get him riled up, regardless of how tired and whiny you get. He never really wants to be rough with you, and he never means to. He just sort of loses control sometimes and can't stop.

There isn't really anything that gets Pelle riled up quite like blood does. I think that if you were tired enough and strung out to the point where you're completely desperate for some kind of relief, you might be prepared to make yourself bleed a little just to get him going.

A nice gash across your chest would probably do the trick. His eyes would widen slightly, and he'd immediately lick his lips, mesmerized by the crimson drops rolling down the plane of your stomach.

I think you could convince him to start with his hands and mouth to really draw it out. He always gets overeager when he's fingering you anyway, overstimulating you without meaning to. He'd be able to tire you out by the time he's finished. You'd both be so tuckered out by the end of it that you'd pass right out in one anothers arms.

Faust Sweet boy Faust is probably going to be the hardest to convince to go rough on you. But, I think that he'd be so desperate to make you feel better, able to see just how bad the lack of sleep is getting to you, that he'd eventually fold like a lawn chair.

He'd start off soft, same as he usually does, but your eyes would well up with frustrated tears, and he'd dial it up, but still be careful with you. The begging would continue until he finds himself wondering how the fuck you managed to convince him to bury himself inside you to the hilt. He'd know that you'd be hurting in the morning, but the not sleeping was really fucking you up and surely, it wouldn't be worse than another sleepless night. So, Faust would fuck you until you're nothing but a whimpering, mewling mess, tears running down your cheeks and eyes glassy, completely fucked out.

When it's over, he'd get you a nice warm washcloth and get you all cleaned up, wiping your tears so you can curl into him. He'd stay awake, resting his chin on the top of your head until he was sure that you were sleeping soundly. Only then would he shut his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief.

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics MDNI Banner Made by @cafekitsune

[somedaylazysomeday]

Good Intentions Part Twenty-Nine

You finally break free.

Silco x fem!reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,000

Warnings: Warnings for themes of nonconsensual bondage, kidnapping, feeling trapped, intense themes, and multiple references to accidental death throughout.

Previous | Next | Masterlist

If you usually skip the author's note, please read this one. It's important.

---

You woke up from your fitful sleep when Silco rose from the bed. With half-closed eyes, you watched him get dressed and cross the room. You soaked in as much of him as you could from beneath your heavy lids. If all went well enough, you would never see Silco again. 

Hell, if everything went badly enough, you would never see anyone again. 

With that cheerful thought, you rolled quietly out of the bed. 

Silco had provided you with some clothes, but nothing that would work for a long-term escape attempt. You would have to make at least one stop. You probably would have even if you’d had the right clothes, but that just cemented it in your mind. 

You dressed as carefully as you could, silently breaking the chain where you had earlier. Unfortunately, that left you with a length of chain still dangling from your ankle, but you dealt with it by snaking the length back up the inside of your pant leg and wrapping it around the waistband of your underwear. 

It was far from elegant, but it helped you be silent as you slipped through the door. You placed Jinx’s device on the table beside the ugly vase and descended the staircase as quickly as you could. 

It was a heart-pounding trip. You got to the bottom of the stairs without incident, but there were people on the ground floor of The Last Drop. The Drop was getting ready to open for the night, which meant increased staff wandering around, and more chance that you were going to be caught. 

You only had shadowy half-memories of the way Jinx had led you before taking you up the staircase, but it turned out not to matter. It seemed as though she had taken you in a winding pattern that led you through every room without ever revealing that the path to the staircase was fairly simple to find. At least, it was going in this direction. You had to pass through several unremarkable doors that didn’t look like they would lead anywhere, and a few hallways that seemed to match the previous and following ones. 

But just when you were losing any hope of getting out, you stepped through a door and found yourself standing in the watery light of the setting sun and the vivid multi-colored lights of the Lanes’s neons warming up for the approaching evening.

It took a you a long moment to catch your bearings, until a passerby gave you an odd look and you realized that time was running out. Silco would eventually realize that you were gone, and your only chance was to be far away when that happened. 

You staggered against the wall as you pulled on the shoes you had been too nervous to wear on your way down the stairs. It would have been smart to grab a cloak or jacket, some way to disguise your face, but there was no use. Anything Silco might have had around would be extravagant enough to draw attention instead of avoid it.

The hardest part was trying not to run. Running in the Undercity drew attention, and that was something you couldn’t afford. You managed to stay calm enough that your pace never increased to anything more than a brisk walk, and you made good time to the docks. 

The bridge to Piltover was out of the question, of course. Beside being manned by Piltover guards - and you were lacking the proper paperwork for them to let you pass - Silco had people watching the bridge at all hours of the day and night. You couldn’t let yourself be seen there. 

The docks were far easier to reach unobserved. You were pretty sure you had managed to avoid being seen, and you found one of the half-wrecked boats that had been discarded at the edge of the water. 

The docks along the river Pilt were a popular method of bringing drugs into the city - anything other than Shimmer, of course. The only way to avoid paying the exorbitant docking fees for tying a boat at one of the berths was to abandon it. Piltover didn’t necessarily care about who left a boat there, just that the people using the docks on a permanent basis were the ‘right kind’ of people. Which, of course, meant that they could pay the docking fees. 

You snorted, thinking about how easily Silco wrote a check or paid off officials. Maybe someday, Piltover would learn that ‘rich’ did not always equal ‘moral’. Clearly, it would not be any day soon. 

You had chosen the boat that seemed least likely to sink halfway across the Pilt, and searched the area until you found two paddles. The river’s current was strong in some places, and you would need as much power and maneuverability as possible if you were going to reach Piltover without being pushed dangerously downstream. 

To your surprise, you made it across without drifting too far off-course. The Pilt’s currents were gentle, and you were willing to bet it had something to do with the time of the day it was. You could see the distant ocean as you passed through the middle of the Pilt, and the waves looked small enough to be low tide. 

When you reached the other side, you secured the boat as best you could. It helped that the boat was weighed down by the water that had steadily leaked in as you paddled across. 

Now that you had finally made it to Piltover, there was only one place you could go.

—

“Here you go,” Jayce said gently, handing you a cup of steaming tea. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can get some more blankets.” 

You blinked at him, thoroughly swaddled in the first four blankets he had offered you. 

Viktor huffed at his business partner. “Any more and I won’t be able to find her ankle. I still have to finish with this cuff.” 

“I thought you were good at picking locks?” Jayce teased, a smile on his handsome face. 

Viktor snorted at that, apparently choosing not to dignify the barb with an answer.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said at last. 

Jayce nodded, looking down at his own cup. “Good. That’s good. I still think we should call in the Enforcers-” 

“We cannot,” Viktor told him, narrowly beating you to it. 

“She was kidnapped!” Jayce reminded him, outraged. “I understand that the Undercity has a different scale of morality, but there has to be something they can do about Silco. This could be the thing that finally gets him put in prison.” 

You and Viktor exchanged careful glances. You cleared your throat as Viktor turned his focus back to the cuff. “Jayce, I understand what you mean, but… that’s not how things work. Not for Silco. He owns half the Enforcers in the city, and he has some control over the ones he doesn’t. He’ll never see the inside of a prison cell.” 

Jayce started to protest, but Viktor cut him off again. “The only thing we would accomplish by calling the Enforcers is to make sure that she’s taken back to him before we have the chance to get her away from here.” 

“Away?” Jayce’s face was aghast. “That can’t be our only option.” 

You felt the same way, but you were pragmatic enough to know that Viktor was probably right. It had always been a possibility that the only way to escape Silco would be to leave the country entirely. You had just been waiting for confirmation from someone else who understood how things really worked in Piltover.

“No, Viktor is right,” you admitted heavily. “I barely got out of there once. He wouldn’t let me escape a second time. We can’t call the Enforcers and I can’t stay in Piltover. The only problem is that Silco will follow me.” 

“Only if he believes you are alive,” Viktor muttered. You glanced down at him, surprised, and were treated to the sight of the ankle cuff clicking open. Viktor set aside his lockpicks with a sighed, “Finally.” 

You rotated your ankle, the joint feeling incredibly light and free after being locked up for so long. With every motion, you half-expected to hear the chain still dragging behind you. 

“So, what?” Jayce asked. “You want to fake her death?” 

Viktor shrugged. “I think it is an option. Perhaps the best of our very limited options.”

“And how would we fake a death?” Jayce asked, exasperated. 

Viktor glanced pointedly at the room around you all. The bulletin boards around the room were covered in blueprints and schematics. There were worktables against every wall, each one weighed down with prototypes and the assortment of tools that had been used to create them. More than one table bore the singed marks of unsuccessful experiments past. 

“Incidents happen all the time, particularly during the development of a new technology,” Viktor said casually. “Perhaps she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Now it was Jayce’s turn to share a look with you. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We can’t do that, Viktor. People won’t trust HexTech if there are deaths associated with it. Especially civilian deaths.”

“There will be deaths associated with it, civilian or no,” Viktor told him dispassionately. “It is unavoidable.” 

“Then there can be one fewer death!” Jayce said, half-laughing with his disbelief. “Besides, people know we’re partners. If she dies in a HexTech accident and we can’t provide proof, no one will believe she’s actually dead.”

“What if we get a cadaver from the University’s biomedical studies lab?” Viktor countered. 

“We both know that won’t work,” Jayce said, frustratedly raking his hand through his hair. “HexTech would leave chemical traces that we couldn’t fake. Not without a lot of effort and a risk that we’ll actually make the gate malfunction.”

“True.” Viktor sighed. “But I think we could still get a cadaver. I think I’ve seen some with similar skin tone and proportions come in lately. Faking her death seems like the best option.” 

“Not through any connection with HexTech,” Jayce said firmly. 

You shook yourself from your half-asleep torpor. “Agreed.”

“Fine, unconnected to HexTech,” Viktor agreed, waving his hand irritatedly. “But somehow. Maybe pretend she was pulled out of the Pilt.” 

“Silco will find a way to examine the body himself,” you said. You didn’t enjoy poking holes in the work they were doing to help you out of your mess, but honesty could only help. ��He’ll recognize that it isn’t me.” 

“What if we… disfigure the face?” Jayce asked. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, but you had to give him credit for ingenuity. “We could change or remove the hair, make it so he can’t see any distinguishing characteristics-?”

Various moments with Silco flashed through your memory. All the times he had watched your reactions, touched you with care, studied every part of your body… 

As if on cue, the imprint of his teeth - marked in blood and bruises on the inside of your thigh - throbbed. 

You sighed and shook your head heavily. “He would still recognize that it isn’t me.”

There was a beat of silence, followed by another. The air hung tense and heavy as both men processed the implications of what you had just told them. Then both expressions smoothed - not into judgment or even simple realization, but into a sudden and terrible grimness. For the first time, they understood just what kind of connection with Silco you were trying to outrun. 

You waited for the inevitable. Surely, they would refuse to help now that they knew. And you couldn’t blame them. Helping someone under Silco’s thumb flee the city when he expressly didn’t want them to was undeniably dangerous. Helping his lover flee would be near-suicidal.

“Perhaps we do not allow there to be a body at all,” Viktor suggested. 

Jayce nodded. “I think that’s the only way. But we need to make him believe that she died, or he’ll just follow her and we’re back to square one.”

The relief consumed you just as completely as the fear had a moment before. You wouldn't have blamed either of the HexTech founders if they had decided to walk away, but you weren't sure what you would have done instead. Your options were so limited that it would have been laughable, if only it had been amusing in the slightest. 

“What if I fell into the river?” you suggested. 

“The Pilt is quite polluted,” Viktor said doubtfully. 

Jayce nodded. “And if you catch it at the wrong time of day, the currents can be strong.” 

“I was hoping we could make it look like I had fallen in.”

The amended statement made Jayce and Viktor go quiet for a moment as they thought it through. 

“Maybe if we staged it in darkness-”

“And it was during the changing of the bridge guard-” 

“And we had some kind of proof-” 

“A witness,” you interrupted. “You guys could tell the Enforcers that you saw me fall into the Pilt. Silco has enough of them on his payroll - he would find out about it.” 

“We could not be the witnesses,” Viktor said, though it was filled with contemplation rather than outright refusal. “You are too publicly connected to us. Silco is well aware that we contribute to the Haven’s operations.”

Jayce nodded slowly. “It would need to be someone who doesn’t have any connection to you and no public connection to us.” 

“But they can have a private connection to you guys?” you asked, half-joking in an effort to lighten the mood.

“That would be the best way to ensure that they have no ties to Silco,” Viktor agreed dryly. 

Jayce, however, looked thoughtful. “Maybe Mel Medarda.”

Viktor glanced at him sharply. “And why would Councilwoman Medarda be willing to lie on our behalf?”

“She's done it before,” Jayce said with a shrug.

“When she had the chance for material gain,” Viktor reminded. Jayce opened his mouth and Viktor made an impatient sound. “Not yet - I am well aware. But she has invested heavily in HexTech and helped us build infrastructure that would support everything we have planned. You would be a fool to assume that she is simply passionate about the science.” 

You had watched the exchange with lifted brows. You were familiar with Councilwoman Mel Medarda, of course, but by name only. The task force had been canceled before you had the chance to meet most of Piltover’s council.

Rather than be offended, Jayce clapped Viktor on the shoulder. “Think of it this way, Viktor: what other choice do we have?”

“That is hardly an argument,” Viktor said, frowning at his business partner. 

“But it seems like it might be the best option.” You shook your head slowly when they both looked curiously at you. “Maybe we could think of something better, but we don’t have much time. I covered my tracks as well as I could, but Silco is going to start looking for me soon, if he hasn’t already. I’d take a less-than-perfect plan over delaying this for another night.” 

Viktor sighed. “Since you are so certain that she will help us, Jayce, you can speak with the Councilwoman. Keep as many details hidden as you can.” 

“How will we prove that she was actually at the bridge?” Jayce asked, glancing from Viktor to you. “Silco isn’t going to believe us without some kind of proof. Something more than a witness.” 

You grabbed the cuff from the ground, the chain still partially coiled on the floor even when you held it up. “How about this? We’ll set it up like it snagged on something as I was crossing the bridge to get to Piltover during the shift change. I fell, but the cuff couldn’t support my full weight.”

“It would have broken,” Viktor observed. 

Jayce took the cuff from you and latched the lock closed once more. He reached up, attaching the end of the chain to something you couldn’t see in the beams overhead, gripped the chain with both hands and dangled his full weight from the cuff itself. It broke almost immediately, leaving the opened cuff and the shattered remains of the lock to hang, twisting, in the air. 

“I’ll take this with me to Mel,” Jayce suggested, unhooking it from the ceiling. “When I convince her, I’ll go to the bridge with her to set it up.” 

Viktor gently touched your shoulder, drawing your attention from the retreating form of Jayce leaving the main HexTech laboratory. “We have tasks to accomplish while he’s gone. Come.”

As it turned out, Viktor’s ‘tasks’ included taking a shower, packing some clean clothes from what he had hastily collected (honestly, you weren’t sure where they came from and you were hardly going to ask), and writing a letter. 

You had been focused on the Haven from the moment you realized that you weren’t going back. You had worked to make sure the outreach could survive without you, but there was no one on staff who was ready for the responsibility of taking over it completely. 

In fact, there was only one person who you could comfortably leave the Haven to: Arunn. 

You sat down to write him a letter, taking care to word it as though you had written it in the past - sometime between him finding out that you had accepted donations from Silco and the time when you were supposed to have disappeared. It was difficult to leave out references to your current situation, but you did manage to include an apology for hurting him, as well as a sincere hope that he would take over the Haven on your behalf. The instructions you left in case he did step in were highly specific, but you wouldn’t want to leave any loose ends after you ‘died’. 

Or in case you really did die in the escape attempt. If you couldn’t convince him that you had died, Silco wasn’t likely to let you go without a fight.

At the end of the letter, you apologized again and assured Arunn that he was under no obligation to take over running the Haven. You did ask that he send the letter back to the Haven for whoever may end up in control eventually, then you copied the instructions and asked Viktor to do the same if Arunn ended up taking the news poorly. Viktor gravely accepted the additional responsibility. 

When they had designed the HexTech headquarters, Viktor and Jayce had clearly taken late nights into account. Viktor ushered you into a small bedroom with an en suite bathroom tucked around the corner from the lab. It was sparse, almost stark, but after the stress of the day, you fell asleep as soon as your head hit the thin pillow. 

It seemed like only a handful of minutes had passed when there was a light knock on the door. “We have some news when you’re ready. Meet us back in the lab.” 

You had risen from the bed as soon as you heard Jayce’s voice through the door, so you were in the lab mere moments after Jayce himself. 

“Oh, you’re already here,” Jayce said, turning and trying to disguise the surprise in his voice. “Mel - Councilwoman Medarda - agreed to be our witness. The shift change for the overnight bridge guards happens in about an hour, so she’s going to leave soon. I already placed the cuff on the bridge.” 

“Where?” Viktor asked, adding, “And how?” 

“It’s a Piltover tradition to use the underside of the bridge to get as close to the Undercity as possible without getting caught,” Jayce told you both with a mischievous smile. “I wasn’t born here, but I was a teenager in Piltover. I know a few things about the layout of the bridge that helped me. I tangled the chain around some bolts roughly halfway across.” 

You nodded. “Should I leave now? I think I could make it out of the city before the shift change happens.”

“No.” Viktor held up a small scrap of paper. “Some of my Undercity contacts reached out to me. Silco knows that you have left and has sent people to observe all routes in and out of the greater Piltover area. We must wait until the Councilwoman has made her report and the chain is located.” 

“Even if he doesn’t believe the story, Silco will expect you to have left by way of the river,” Jayce mused. “We’ll have to transport you out of here in a different way.” 

“We do have a number of airships delivering HexTech supplies that need to travel back to their respective countries.” Viktor tapped the paper idly against his chin. “Do you have any idea where you might wish to move?” 

You had been thinking about that extensively for most of the time you had spent trapped in Silco’s bedroom. “I think going west would be the best choice. Freljord is too cold and I have no interest in being conscripted, so Noxus is out.” 

“So Demacia,” Jayce concluded. “That would work. We get some of the magic-dampening stones for the test areas sent in from Demacia. We’ll have an airship returning to the petracite mines in High Silvermere in two days.”

“And once you’re in Demacia?” Viktor asked. “We would like to keep in contact, to warn you if we hear that Silco is going to keep looking for you.” 

“Fossbarrow was my first thought.” 

Viktor scowled. “The demon town?”

“Not anymore,” you explained. “It was killed. But there are a lot of people who need help recovering, and their families and town need help by extension. Besides, Fossbarrow is next to the Serpentrion River. If Silco does end up finding me, that will make an easy escape to the Conqueror’s Sea.”

“I think it’s a good plan,” Jayce admitted. “And we can get you there quickly. The two days before the airship leaves give us time to monitor Silco’s response to the story about you falling from the bridge. We can get you as set up as possible before you leave.” 

And you abruptly lost the battle with the tears you had been holding back all night. Jayce rubbed your back, soothing you with murmured nonsense while Viktor disappeared for a moment and returned with a fresh cup of tea. 

Through hiccups and sniffles, you asked, “How can I ever thank you for all of the help? You’re both doing all of this for me, someone you hardly know. I can never repay you, and now I won’t even be in the same city to try.” 

Viktor shushed you gently. “When we first met, we told you that we were working to improve the lives of the people of Piltover, both Upper Piltover and the Undercity. You’ve done more work to help the Undercity than anyone else in recent memory, and you’ve done so at great personal cost. How could we refuse to help someone who shares our goal?”

You sniffled again, but a long sip of tea helped soothe you enough to help you avoid starting to cry a second time.

“You should get some sleep,” Jayce announced, standing up. “We’ll start getting everything ready tomorrow morning.” 

“I packed a bag earlier-” you started. 

“And we’ll keep it nearby in case we need to smuggle you out sooner,” Viktor told you. “But with more time to prepare, we can find you clothes suitable for meetings with potential sponsors in Demacia. Their royal family can be outreach-minded, so there is a possibility you could secure funding from them.” 

The idea of a meeting with royalty made you a little dizzy with the potential, so you excused yourself and went back to the small bedroom. Despite the thoughts, fears, and half-plans swirling around your mind, you couldn’t keep your eyes open a moment longer.

---

Author's Note - She's finally free! Bittersweet, I suppose.

Here's the important part of this note: I am going to be Petty. I still haven't watched S2 of Arcane, but I plan to by the end of the month. I'm ready to be pulled back into this world and this story. I want to write some chapters from Silco's POV, but I'm not sure which chapters. That's where the pettiness comes in.

I will take suggestions about which chapters to rewrite (possibly to be compiled into a poll later for open voting), but I will ONLY accept suggestions from people who have commented on or reblogged chapters of this work.

I feel really weird about doing this and I've asked several people irl if it's too much, but realistically, this fic represents almost three years of work. The last chapter got 88 likes, but only one reblog and two (lovely) comments. Those stats are rough, even for a labor of love. I write for myself, but I share to hear what people think!

Thank you for reading and I'll see you soon with the final chapter!

The good news is that it's not too late! Comment on or reblog any of the chapters (or the GI page of my masterlist) and you can suggest which chapter you want me to rewrite in Silco's POV.

Plus you'll absolutely make my day!

[naruto-imagines-and-headcanons]

Naruto Love Languages (Konoha 12 + Sand Siblings)

Naruto Uzumaki - Words of Affirmation

This man is your #1 fan. Everything you do he is behind you cheering and hollering the whole way. It doesn't matter if it's something stupid like trying to do a bottle flip, Naruto is gonna hype you up. He just adores you so much and wants you to know that! He wants you to know that he believes in you fully. When he isn't being a hype man, Naruto is just genuinely complimenting you and showing his appreciation for all you do. Nothing you do will go unnoticed, you WILL feel this man's love

Sasuke Uchiha - Gift Giving

Sasuke is, uh... kinda rough when it comes to romance. He's gone through some shit and even after all these years doesn't quite know how to deal with it. He isn't good at words, is wary on physical contact, and isn't around often. But the one thing he succeeds in is giving you gifts. Everytime he leaves to go who knows where, he will always return with an incredibly thoughtful gift. Sasuke doesn't just grab whatever he see, he knows what you like and what you appreciate. Every gift he gives you has meaning and fits you perfectly

Sakura Haruno - Acts of Service

Sakura is a girl who heavily desires to be loved. Ever since she was a child she was a hopeless romantic, so when she finally got together with you she fell head over heels. She's quite open with her feelings for you both physically and vocally, but her favorite way to show she cares is by helping you around the house. She'll cook for you, help clean up, give you massages, and of course heal your wounds. As long as you are dating her you will never see another Medical-nin. Every injury you get will be treated by her with full seriousness (even if it's just a paper cut)

Sai - Gift Giving

You though SASUKE was bad with feelings? Dear lord you gotta have a lot of patience with Sai. Unlike Sasuke though, Sai tries his hardest, even if it's a bit rough. He tries to say nice things and touch you, but it's still incredibly foreign to him (not to mention he can get a bit brutally honest about some things). The only thing Sai is confident in is his gift giving skills. He loves to draw art for you, pretty much everything he sees inspires more art to give you. It's gotten to the point that you have a whole room filled with them (Sai keeps telling you it's okay to get rid of some, but you refuse! They are so pretty!). On special occassions, Sai loves to bring his drawings for you to life, enjoying the look of amazement on your face

Ino Yamanaka - Gift Giving

This girl is gonna treat you RIGHT, believe that! She's is incredibly open with her feelings, especially when it comes to flowers. You will be getting flowers for every occassion, sometimes just randomly. She'll buy you other gifts like jewelry and clothes and books, but her real love language is flowers. Her bouquets aren't just randomly put together either, Ino carefully hand picks each one and take in mind the meaning of each one. The longer you date you will soon learn the different meanings, which makes her so proud. Although she doesn't really expect anything back every time, make sure to get her a lil something for special occassions, she'll appreciate it~

Shikamaru Nara - Quality Time

We know Shikamaru is a lazy bitch, but that's what we love about him! He may seem distant and seemingly uncaring, but if you look closely you can clearly see how he shows affection. Sure he may not wash you with praises or get you expensive things, but he stays by your side. Always. Somehow he always is in the same room as you, even if you are doing two different things. You're always together in some sort. He'll definitely deny it, but you notice he doesn't leave still. It's kind of like a cat, ya know? Shikamaru gets especially clingy when you're in bed together. This man doesn't get up for hours, and you aren't getting up either. You will lay and sleep with him for 3 more hours, no discussion

Choji Akimichi - Acts of Service

Just... just so sweet. My boy is such a sweetie oh my god. Choji is quite nervous in your relationship, both due to low self-esteem and just anxiety in general. Just you surprising him with a hug is enough to fluster him for a solid minute. Since more direct ways get him anxious, Choji prefers to do things for you, and his favorite thing is to cook for you. This man can COOK like no one's business! You guys will go out to eat on the weekends (there is nothing like fresh barbecue), but through the week he is in the kitchen cooking your favorite meals full of love. Seeing your giant smile and hearing your satisifed eating makes his heart soar. Also, you are one of the only people who he'll always share his snacks with, no hesitation (the other is Shikamaru, obviously)

Kiba Inuzuka - Physical Touch

Kiba is a toucher, hands down. He LOVES to just touch you all over. He is always in contact with you no matter what, appropriate or otherwise. Hands on your waist, head on your shoulder, fingers in your hair, sometimes he will just randomly pick you up to get a reaction out of you. Let's be real, Kiba's a dog through and through, and dogs adore attention. Whenever he wants your attention or love, Kiba will poke you and bug you until you give in and cuddle with him. Spooning is his absolute favorite position. Give this man his head pats and belly rubs god dammit, and don't forget Akamaru!. Oh and uh, warning, this man is also perverted. Quite perverted. Your cuddle sessions will devolve into him dry humping you 50% of the time. You gonna get manhandled and groped quite a bit (every touch full of love <3)

Hinata Hyuga - Words of Affirmation

You thought Choji was shy? You haven't seen nothing yet. Hinata was already a sweating mess when you were just friends, the moment you asked her out she literally fainted and collapsed on the floor. Thankfully she is better now (and didn't get brain damage), but it's still nerve-wracking to be in a relationship with you. You're just so... perfect. And Hinata wants you to know that. Throughout the day she is normally very sweet and appreciative, but whenever you are on dates or cuddling in private, she lets all her feelings out. She shares her admiration for you, her appreciation for you, and just how happy she is to have you in her life. It always makes you cry, which makes Hinata feel bad, but you always assure her they are happy tears

Shino Aburame - Acts of Service

Shino is a man of little words, and you knew that going into a relationship, so you have no issues with that! It makes the times he does speak up mean even more. Since he's inexperienced with relationships and romantic gestures, Shino's main way to show he cares is by protecting you and keeping you safe. He always is ready to defend you in public, and whenever you go somewhere alone he gives you one of his bugs so he can know you're safe. Anyone who even tries to harass or injure you is getting shot down immedietely. Losing you or you getting hurt is one of his biggest fears, and he'll never let that happen. You'll never feel unsafe when Shino is around

Rock Lee - All of Them

You can call this a cop out, but let's be real, Lee is the embodiment of EVERY love language. He never stops gushing to you about your beauty and skills, and screams how much he loves you from the rooftops. Anything you ask him to do will be done in record time perfectly. He loves to give you extravagent gifts for your anniversaries and random occasions. Spending time with you is his favorite thing in the world, especially when you train together. And physical touch? He is always happy to hug and kiss you all over. Lee is just full of love for you!! He knows he can be a bit overwhelming at times and will calm down if you tell him. He just is so grateful to have you in his life, and wants you to know that every day for the rest of your life

Neji Hyuga - Words of Affirmation

It may come as a shock to most due to his sharp tongue, but the way Neji shows his love is by words. To most he is aggressive and stand-offish, and ocassionally is to you too. It's just how he is unfortunately. But unlike with others, he is noticabely incredibly soft with you and is much more open. Neji isn't afraid to compliment how you look or give praise when you succeed at something. Even when he gets annoyed he doesn't raise his voice or throw insults at you, he stays respectful. The fact that he calls everyone an idiot except you says a whoooole lot about how he feels about you. Wear that honor with pride

Tenten - Quality Time

Tenten is pretty easy going and prefers a partner who is the same. Of course some spice and excitement is greatly welcomed, but at the end of the day she just wants to sit back and relax with her partner. So spending time together means a lot to her. She loves going on dates where you guys try something new (just no long hikes, please) but if needed will default to the local weapon museum. By the way, everytime one of you has to go on a mission, Tenten will act cool but will secretly pout the whole time until you meet up again

Gaara - Physical Touch

As he's grown, Gaara has turned into a real sweetheart. With you he is incredibly gentle and cares for you deeply. You are his treasure, you deserve the world. He still is dealing with social anxiety, and can be a bit awkward sometimes. But Gaara is always comfortable touching and holding you. His touches are gentle and kind, and sensual when he wants. He likes to give gentle kisses all over you throughout the day, and whenever he leaves for work he gives you a loving kiss before he leaves. Gaara also really values cuddling together. This man is touch starved like no one else, everytime you hold eachother he feels like a part of him is healing. Please reciprocate, he deserves it

Temari - Words of Affirmation

Temari is fiery as hell, and you knew that the moment you met. And her words are just as sharp! She isn't afraid to tell off people who annoy you guys (especially when you are on dates, they are DEAD). With you she is still mildly aggressive and intense, but in a more lighthearted way. She just gets so worried about you, she can't help herself from scolding you for being an idiot. Every word she says (positive or negative) comes from the heart. When you manage to not be a fool Temari is vocalising her approval and pride. Oh, and she has a habit of openly bragging about how amazing you are to your peers (much to your embarrassment)

Kankuro - Quality Time

This man is a teeeeeease (in a good way or bad way, your decision). He is constantly joking and making fun of you, reveling in your cute annoyance. He even likes to annoy you physically like blowing on your neck or pinching your butt. Kankuro is quite playful pretty much 95% of the time, but the other 5% he's actually quite sweet. Spending time with you is his favorite thing in the world! Yeah it's fun messing with you, but he likes to just have genuine connections and going on more mature dates. His favorite thing is dancing surprisingly, and he honestly is quite good. Holding you close and swaying makes him content ... Until he sneaks in one of his puppets halfway through, scaring the shit out of you in the process (he slept on the couch but it was worth it)

----------

Konoha 12 + Sand Siblings | Shinobi & Founders | Akatsuki

[sweatinghoneybee]

MORE QUEEN OF THE MOUNTAIN ART!!!

I absolutely love all of them so much and i just gotta draw them out! Ok time for a bit of rambling of design details!

Yulan: for Yulan i honestly just tried my best to translate the description Berry made of her in her post cause man i have difficulty with Yulan cause i’ve never drawn elephants before so i don’t know what the heck i was supposed to do!?! Tho luckily for me i got some good references from the amount that was given with the elephant daisy meme guy (shout out to him cause those fanarts are really good references for how to make anthro elephants) and since Yulan got her looks more to her mama t I thought it’d be so cute if she wears her papa’s colours!

Rinrin: for Rinrin i mostly used references from the picrew made by Berry and also looking at how she was described in the fic tho i add my own spin on her one of those things is making Rinrin the shortest out of the monkey parents cause one, I thought it fits her gremlin vibes and two, I thought it’d be such a cool character design idea for story wise cause Rinrin said that she felt like she needs to be perfect in the past and i thought making her short really is showing how she has grown in her story where her physical appearance shows how she felt small to someone who wouldn’t think twice before roasting someone. And i don’t know why but with how she’s told in the fic Rinrin gives off like girly tomboy vibes so i made her wear mostly pinks and reddish pinks, and to also sort of have like an a complementary color scheme couple going on with her and Shanzha and to also make her color scheme harmonized with her favorite flower hibiscus. Also i intentionally made her wear her clothing massily to also illustrate her growth from her past cause i imagine in the past she wears her clothing perfectly ironed and symmetrical and now with her being comfortable in herself she let’s herself be more free on how she wears her clothes, loose fitting and oversized. Also the shall she’s wearing is the one that was gifted to her by macaque.

Shanzha: honestly i didn’t really change or add much to Shanzha’s looks from her appearance in Berry’s picrew and how the fic described her, tho i did add little butterfly embroideries caus ei just love how her facial marikings looks like a butterfly so i just gotta add more butterflies. I also made Shanzha the tallest of the monkey parents cause i just love the image of Shanzha picking up tiny Rinrin when she’s being her gremlin self to give her a kiss to calm down (also to add the like mother like sun with how Jidu got picked up by Yulan, the monkie have a type with big gals) Also yeah i just gotta draw Shanzha’s muscles cause damn that’s hot.

Wan: mostly drew out him with how he’s described in Berry’s post and just adding feather hairs to him, tho for like his time skipped look i made him more bundled up cause it’s said that Megapolis was the one that’s most technologically advanced so I thought besides Megapolis everyone else in the world most likely bundled up more. Also he’s the hardest to draw cause like Yulan i have never drawn owls ago but i am so proud on the results and i love how his feathers turned out cause i wanted to do barn owl feather coloring justice!

Longnu: same i just used the description given in Berry’s post and just made her have that cool upperclassmen big sis vibes to her tho i wonder if i did her filed horns and claws in her appearance back in the celestial realm and also i made her in that illustration and her full body one abit different with how she wore her clothes cause i feel like she’s holding back quite abit to not flip off while she’s there but have to push threw to not get punishment and i wanted to show her with her way of wearing her clothes. Tho i will say this her time skipped lunar node appearance really made me racked my head alot cause i had difficulty both with the sallow face thing going on and also that the thing that confused me was that Yue said she saw the machine that helped Longnu’s heart beats but then i was thinking “wait how would that look like? And also wouldn’t that be dangerous since it shows where she’s most vulnerable with it being exposed?” And that part made me searched up alot of stuff to figure out what her lunar node uniform would look like and decided to just gave her a hood cape that sort of long enough to cover up the machine and sort of have it have steam puck vibes cause i came up with an explanation on why the machine is exposed is that since the world is reverted back by centuries that the technologies are not the best and that it can overheat quicker so that’s why her heart machine was exposed and made her wear armor below her ribs from where her machine ends, oh! And also i made her glasses her snow goggles cause i thought with how the snowstorm is going on that she’d want her glasses be stayed put on her face with no worries of it flying off from the storm. I must say i’m the most satisfied with her appearance here!

Also funfact: one of my noted for the characters that got time skipped looks is that their future selves have eye bags and looks disheveled cause they are all getting angsts and none of them are having fun with what’s going on with the world right now.

If anyone is wondering what i’m rambling out checkout the fic made by @centuryberry. Pls give her some love kay? She works really hard on her fic so give her support for her work!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52026085/chapters/131567989