#but the armorer is THIRSTY for her

[gethellbcnt-m]

i am this 👌 close to having Belphegor dress up as either Twilight Midna from Zelda or Ranni from Elder Scrolls simply bc they vibe with the hat and geometric additions, and the only thing keeping me from doing so is the Guerdo thirst tbh

[autisticgingerblonde]

If Fallout 4 companions had TikTok accounts

Cait would have an account dedicated to fighting and thirst traps (aimed at women mostly). Teaches women self-defense techniques. She earns a spot in the algorithm of muscle mommies. She also raises awareness for addicts and former addicts, educating on the effects of drugs and the reasons people seek them out in the first place. Honestly, it's a very good account to follow.

Codsworth is just confused about TikTok. He's like "oh so what are the children saying these days? Aura? I'll have to add a new word to my vocabulary banks! Cheerio, mum!"

Curie makes educational videos for all ages and all subjects. She has a series of learning Japanese, a series of vaccines and the science behind them, a series about the effects of different types of parenting, you name it. She also takes suggestions from her audience on what new things to research.

Danse has unintentional thirst traps. He talks about power armor and the Brotherhood of Steel but also posts workouts. These are what get the most attention out of everything he posts. The BookTok girlies find him and all hell breaks loose in the comment sections. He responds to this with, "Thank you, civilians. I am not sure what you mean, but I am glad you are supporting the Brotherhood of Steel by being on my page. Thank you for your enthusiasm for our righteous cause. Ad victorium." People armchair diagnose him as autistic.

Deacon does "GRWM as i tell you about the time i ______" videos where each day he looks completely different and you can never tell if he's telling the truth or not. He also does head shaving videos that double as story times or opinion pieces. You can't tell if those are true or not either.

Dogmeat has a viral account followed by millions. Get's a lot of "I can't imagine liking this guy" comments with the op replying to their own comment with "anymore than I already do. Huge fan!"

Hancock does subtle cheeky thirst traps and dance challenges. This entire post was inspired by the FACT that Hancock would participate in the brat summer trend and would do the Apple dance with Fahrenheit filming it. He also tells stories, mostly of him being high. He gets a lot of requests to cosplay Deadpool.

MacCready has a lot of things he does. Some videos are sniper trick shots, some are Grognak the Barbarian yapping (he does short lore deep dives when he can), and some are about being a young single dad. He doesn't show Duncan's face because he's extremely protective. Casually drops the most insane lore about his childhood which leads to comments like "are we just ignoring that he said he grew up in a cave?"

Nick Valentine would be a very popular fashion and "a day in the life of a detective". He'd do vintage fashion looks, like loose slacks and suspenders with a trench coat to top it off. Sometimes does a deep dive into detective history. Gets a lot of thirsty comments to which he replies "that's one way to get the coolant pumping."

Old Longfellow has the appeal of the New England, stormy weather, sweater-wearing fisherman aesthetic, and he tells stories of his youth while showing people around the area he grew up. Learns mobile phone cinematography to make it look cooler. Every video has either a lesson or a skill for survival.

Piper's account is solely focused on news and truth, posting every source she uses. She uses the trend of an insane video, like someone falling badly on the ground or getting splashed with water, and stitches it to look like a seamless transition of her rolling from the fall or being splashed to start talking about her news stories. It gets traction so she continues.

Porter Gage has a side gig of running TikTok accounts for different people. Gets the money, doesn't get the backlash when they get canceled for racism or worker exploitation.

Preston has an account dedicated to charity work and social activism. He makes sure to highlight organizations he feels are doing the world a service and regularly has fundraisers. He's well-known for always sharing content from people in dire situations and raising money for them. Has a master document of Go Fund Me pages and vets every one of them.

Strong has a lot of those unintentional boomer tiktoks that are 1 second long and he's just looking at the screen in confusion.

X6 cyber bullies the rest of them because he thinks having a TikTok is cringe and stupid (he is currently writing hate comments with his TikTok account)

[boyfriendtaekook]

Jungkook AO3 recommendations !!! (nobody asked for but i'm still doing it anyway)

I've been wanting to do a recommendation list for God knows how long, and it's finally here !!!! There are TONS of great great works that can never be appreciated enough, and i'm here to show my gratitude by sharing some of them with others.

I think... You can find most of them on tumblr as well, but it's on my AO3 bookmark, so... *shrug*

P.s. I might just do another one for other members in the future ;)

Enjoy <3

Minors dni !!

Love Shop by @jjungkookislife (lanken) (wc: 22.9 k)

You wanted the boyfriend experience at the Love Shop... you didn't think it would turn into more.

2. In Motion by dailydoseofdia (wc: 175.5k)

Summary: The rule is simple - you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times but it was only when a certain boy arrives at one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside. Warning: exhibitionism, public display of masturbation, graphic smut scenes, mutual masturbations, mentions/use of sex toys

3. Damsel in Shining Armor by @jimilter (cevansbiceps) (wc: 44.5k, not completed yet !!)

Earth has completed a little over a revolution around the sun since Jeon Jungkook was brought onboard as the company’s CEO, but what does that change? Not a thing! You’re still his babysitter, he’s still an uncontrollably chaotic toddler, you still hate yourself for finding him hot, and he still needs you to save him from a crisis. Life is still so freaking unfair.

4. i know i kissed you before but i didn't do it right by royalwilds (wc: 28.1k)

your friend hana is known for putting together the best vacations for her friends, the most notable is her coveted couples vacation. the rule being you have to be a couple to join. when hana mistakenly thinks you and jungkook have started dating the two of you decide to pretend so you can go on the trip. the only thing is you’ve been in love with your best friend for years.

5. Créme De La Créme by BreadOfFoxy (wc: 10k)

Summary: The scale of supply and demand moves back and forth and your body doesn’t know how to keep up. Good thing you have a trio of thirsty cat hybrids to help you out when it’s too much for you to handle.

6. Tis The Season To Be Horny by Evafrechette (wc: 6.4k)

It's that time of the year, the annual Rosco Ave Christmas Display Competition and the fierce rivalry between you and your neighbour Jungkook has kicked into gear yet again. But the stakes are higher than ever this year when you both place a wager - the winner gets to fuck the other however they want. Who needs a sleigh when you can ride Jungkook instead?

7. STUCK WITH U by jvngkook (wc: 10.6k)

perhaps being stuck with your roommate during a global pandemic wasn't bad after all.

8. blank check by pantaemonium, sugaxjpg (wc: 44.4k, not completed yet)

“Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”

9. the proposal by @hansolmates (wc: 20.1k)

Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse.

10. A Night to Remember by @yoonieper (wc: 10.7k)

Taehyung somehow convinces Jungkook to go to one of his ‘special’ parties after years of a dry spell. Let's just say he was not prepared for the night ahead…

11. Ace by sennie (wc: 24.2k)

Jungkook only cares about three things: Baseball, painting and his team, but soon he’s adding you to that list when love comes flying at him fast and hard, knocking him right on his ass.

12. Down The Rabbit Hole by Jeonie aka @jjkxla (wc: 73.8k)

GUYS !!! THIS IS IT !!! THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY LIFE !!!!!! ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVS <3 i'll NEVET get tired recommending this one <3

Jungkook leaves a long relationship, doubting himself over issues that he can’t seem to control up until his best friends drag him down into Wonderland, a secret and vast BDSM community, the place where he meets and falls for you.

13. (s)he's on my mind by softskjin (wc: 27.3k)

You know when you’re having a discussion with yourself in your head? That very private moment? Forget it. Someone is listening to it.

14. Pub golf by @taleasnewastime (wc: 23.1k)

One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin.

15. Moirai by NoraBean (wc: 92.5k)

On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

16. Show Me Something by dailydoseofdia (wc: 51.7k)

He was your first kiss years ago, only to become your first heartbreak the next day. Your life would have been much easier if only you would forget about him and move on, instead of having to see him almost every day because your best friend had fallen in love with his best friend. When your pal had suggested having a road trip for the final days of summer break before going back to campus, you said yes for a reprieve. Too bad she forgot to tell you about the two extra passengers tagging along. One of which is the boy that still has a tight hold of your heart without either of you even knowing it.

17. Microwave (Mis)adventures by @bymoonchild (wc: 20.8k)

The classic

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

18. Falling Skies by @fortunexkookie (wc: 50k) (tw: it's an ANGST :( )

Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. You used to be friends, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash. Despite the teasing and fighting, Jiyeon realized how Jungkook felt about you long before he did - it was a twin thing - and if you were her sun, and he was her moon, then she just wished she could show you how he reflected your light.

19. reading between the lines by Anonymous (wc: 51k)

You're an art student beginning your final year at university, and the assigned partner for your thesis project? Much to your dismay, it's Jeon Jungkook. You don't like him — he doesn't seem to try very hard, and besides, he's on the soccer team, and you don't really get along with athletes. Thanks to a lack of available models and a shortage of studio space, you end up spending a large portion of your semester locked in a tiny closet with Jungkook, where you eventually discover he's nothing at all like you originally thought.

20. Four Letters by @littlemisskookie (wc: 103.3k)

Your icy exterior makes it seem as though you dislike everyone- which is partially true. But the one person you truly dislike is the cocky frat boy Jeon Jungkook.

(+) Special shoutout to THE sub!jungkook drabble, piss baby by gothvkth !!!

trying out watersports with jeongguk.

I don't know guys... Listing all these wonderful fics makes me want to create one for sub!jungkook or sub!bts only...

Maybe one day... LMAO

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 19

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: Have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The queen rises, restless as her skirts sweep around her, streaked from the hem with the filth of the road. Her insistence on finery has proven fruitless. Her once prized gown will likely never be free of stains. She has many more, you only hope they survive the journey. 

She struts back and forth, scowling as she faces the wall and drops her shoulders. 

“Why is there no mirror?” She pouts, “this place is drab. How am I supposed to keep from going blind with dullness.” She flops back onto the bed, “ugh,” she rolls over, “maid, I need wine.” 

“Your highness,” you say sheepishly. 

“Do not,” she raises her hand in a harsh point, “I don’t care about the king’s orders. I have been on the road for weeks, I am sore, I am filthy, and I am tired!” She snaps her fingers, “if I want wine I will have it.” She puts her hand over her middle, “it is for the king’s child. He is thirsty.” 

You avert your eyes. You can’t deny her. Even if the king ordered that she be deprived, you cannot look her in the face and tell her no. If they king never knows, it mightn’t matter. You turn, your disobedience nipping at your ears. 

You emerge into the corridor. The orange-haired guard remains, along with the shadow standing across from him. Bryce looms, picking his nails with a small dagger.  

“Has the queen retired so early?” He asks. 

“She requires wine,” you return, “I won’t be long, sir. Might you point me towards the kitchen?” 

“I will accompany you,” he insists as he stand straight. 

“Do not trouble, sir, I am faster alone. I only need direction.” 

You see the disappointment tick in his cheek. You’re not so mad as you were, only cautious. The king will always come first, his will shall always circumvent your own. It is a reality you knew before but now it gleams in a much different light. 

“Down to the east, on the lower floors behind the statue of the knight in black armor,” he explains, “do take care not to lose yourself.” 

“I will, sir,” you nod and glance over at the other soldier. The man with carroty hair eyes you up and down. 

You flit off, hurrying upon your quest for a bottle. You’re not certain you’ll find bounty in your mission. This is not the king’s castle and you are not a thief. 

You descend and come around the bottom of the wide stone railings. The great hall is empty and only a few lanterns remain lit to guide you. You go east and find your way, coming upon the knight in black armour that at first appears as a real sentinel in the dark. You stop to look upon the suit, admiring the ripples in its forging. 

You go into the kitchen and find the haze of the stove lighting the empty space. You peer around at the dark alcoves as the air glows amber, pulsing with the heat of the embers. You tiptoe inside, narrowing your eyes to see through the dim. 

“Are ya lost?” A growl rises from the darkness. 

You spin and face the black silhouette of a large man stood on the other side of the thick wooden table at the center of the kitchens. You gulp and sway on your feet. He must be the cook or perhaps the cellarer. He likely thought you a rat scurrying around looking for crumbs. 

“No, sir, I... would there be a bottle of wine? For the queen?” You ask, your voice catching in your throat as he looms like some great husky bear. He reminds you of the white beast in the corridor as he comes around the table, the light catching the white of his thick locks. 

His body is as thick as a barrel and his shoulders broader. The flickering hue reveals the scar above his left brow and his pocked cheeks. You wonder at the tint of his hair as you try to tell if it’s the age the lines his face or if it is the same effect as the king. 

“Wine? For the queen?” He echoes sonorously, “hmmm.” 

“Yes, sir, if there would be any to spare?”  

“Mm, suppose a bottle might go missing,” he backs up and turns. He doesn’t beckon you onward but you follow anyway. Something about him bids you without a word. 

He takes you to the far end of the kitchens and grunts as he squats and reaches to his belt, jangling a ring of iron keys. He shoves one in the thick lock in the clasp of the hatch and unhooks it. He lifts the heavy door, thick cedar bolstered with steel and throws it back to hit the floor. 

“Ah, hold,” he signals you with a palm as he stands and retreats. 

He strides across the kitchens and without a word, shuffles in a cupboard. He mutters as he takes a tallow and lights its wick from the embers, setting it into a brass holder. He offers it to you and you take it without a word, curious at the grumbly cook. 

He descends the steep stairs first and you follow, balancing the candle carefully. He takes you by the elbow to help you to the beaten floor and you raise the candle to light the expanse of the cellar. It extends well past the limits of the flame’s eye. 

He goes to a shelf and slides a bottle free of its cubby. He tuts and puts it back. He pulls out several bottles before he makes a decision. He comes closer to examine the glass by the flame. 

“Summer wine,” he says and flicks his pale eyes up to you. They remind you of the king’s though they are paler in the candlelight. “And you, serve the summer queen?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You are a summerer?” He asks. 

“Sir,” you bow your head, “you can tell?” 

“Aye, no winter’s blood wears a cloak with walls to hold them over,” he chuckles and looks around. 

You glance down at the cloak. You hadn’t thought to remove it as the cold radiates from the stone. Even without the wind, a shiver creeps through your flesh. 

He frightens you as he reaches for you, only to touch the fur collar of the cloak, rubbing a tuft between his fingertips, “it is well made.” He lets his hand trail along the front and turns out the interior of the trim. You look down your nose as he reveals a patch you didn’t notice before; a wolf’s head. 

“Yes, sir, it is warm,” you agree and he withdraws his hand. 

“Suppose a summer’s maid needs it more than a winter’s king,” he says. 

You’re quiet. You have nothing to say to that. How many others took note of you in the king’s cloak? Do they whisper about it? 

“Your queen may take the wine,” he holds out the bottle, “and the king, might have a cask of ale should he require. Only one,” he lets go of the bottle as you accept it and holds up a finger, “he does not have leave to drink this cellar dry. Crown or no crown.” 

“Yes, sir. Many thanks.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, peering down at you, “a dove like you is out of place in this nest of vultures,” he muses and gently takes the candle from your hand, “better fly back to your queen, bird.” 

“Sir,” you turn towards the stairs as the candle illuminates your shadow against the shelves. You turn to climb and peer back at the man. He watches you, his eyes flickering with the flame. 

“Gentle creatures don’t fare well in the cold,” he clucks, “best keep that cloak close.” 

You ascend and cradle the bottle at the top, keeping it close as the liquid sloshes heavily inside. You pad over the kitchen floor and into the corridor. The great hall is even colder as the shadows ripple over you. As you come up the stairs, a shiver quakes through you. 

Something about that man, about his words, clings to you. His way of speaking is ominous, like those card readers who would visit Lady Rezlyn. Or perhaps it is only that you are waiting for the inevitable. 

As you near the queen’s chambers, you hear distant footsteps from the other direction. You come in sight of the grey soldier, spinning his knife as he whistles, the redhead guard sending him an irritated glower. You slow, preparing for the guard to repel you or at least seize the bottle from your arms. 

He does not. Even as he turns his scowl on you, he only reaches for the door to let you in. Before he can push inward, a throat clears. You all pause and turn to face the new figure. The king looks between you all; from the guard, to you, to Bryce. Your nerves flutter wildly. You haven’t been this close since the night on the pass. 

“I hope that wine is meant for you, Sir Bryce,” King Geralt booms, “as my queen is not permitted to indulge. She has a vile reaction to the stuff.” 

“Your highness,” the guard swallows audibly, “I... the queen--” 

“The queen is my wife and a wife must bend to the will of her husband,” the king insists hotly. The guard’s expression draws and he mutters an apology. 

“I was unaware of the ban,” Bryce intones, “but I’ll gladly claim the bottle for my own.” 

“Gilles,” King Geralt ignores the quip and points to the redhead guard, “you will inform the queen that she needs retire for the night. In her condition, it is necessary that she rests. If she requires sustenance, she may have bread and cheese and a bit of goat’s milk.” 

“Your highness,” the guard, Gilles, nods diligently. 

“And you will fetch it yourself,” the king insists, “I trust you might find your way around a tray.” 

Gilles stares at the king then slowly pushes into the queen’s chamber. The king nears and takes the bottle from your hand. You let him and back up as Bryce steps closer. 

“Your highness,” the soldier begins, “if I’d been aware--” 

“Hardly matters now,” the king shrugs and steps close to his man. He leans in and whispers something you cannot hear, “as you were,” he slaps his shoulder then continues on. You watch after him, perplexed but relieved at his indifference. Perhaps he has rethought his intent. 

Bryce is quiet until the king’s footfalls fade off. He lowers his chin, rubbing his thick beard. He touches your cloak, a small tug on it, “this way, maid. Let us find you a place to lay your head.” 

The promise of a bed is nice and reminds you of your weariness. Your legs ache as you follow Bryce along the corridor. Your shoulders rack and the remnants of the road begin to lace through your muscles. It is only as you think of laying down that you feel the effect of those last months. 

You yawn and stifle it in your hand. Bryce glances over and lets out a willowy breath. He is certain of his path despite the twists and turns. He directs you to a door at the base of one of the castle’s towers, opening it to a spiraling staircase. 

“Would be at the top.” 

You look up at the winding ascent. The walls are mounted with lanterns over every fifth step. You frown and pull back, turning to the soldier. Your stomach churns. 

“Up there? May I not rest in the servant’s quarters?” 

“You must be closer to the queen,” his lip trembles. He raises his chin and looks away. When his eyes meet yours again, he puts his hands on your shoulders, “rest your head, mouse, you’ve come very far. You’ve earned it.” 

You look at him. You know he isn’t saying all he could. He can’t. You put your hands on his arms and squeeze.  

“I’ll try,” you affirm, “thank you, sir. I am very tired.” 

“Yes, mouse, sleep,” he pulls away. 

“Good night, sir.” 

He hesitates, “good night.” 

He turns stiffly and marches off. You step into the staircase as his shadow disappears and you pull the door shut. You look up, climbing step by step, legs shaking as you get higher and higher. You reach the top step and another door. 

You push the handle down and the lever rises on the other side. You enter the chamber to find it empty. You stand at the threshold and turn, searching for any shadow, any shimmer in the low light of the fireplace. It’s only you. 

You breathe and turn to look down the staircase. You listen. Nothing but the winds battering the walls without. You close the door and slowly wade into the warmth of the room. The windows are hung in heavy curtains and there is a tray waiting on the table. An ewer, cups, a plate heaping with delights. You aren’t hungry for any of it, you’re too uneasy. 

You unbuckle the cloak and drag it from your shoulders. You turn it over your arm and feel the patch sewn into the lining, examining the wolf’s yellow eyes. He’d marked you and you never even knew it. You fold the heavy length over a chair and back away. 

You untie your cap and unveil the short shanks of hair jutting out from your scalp. You haven’t had a chance to shear your unruly locks before they could get too long. You fold the cap and put it on the bed. You remove your apron then your dress and leave them with your cap. 

You take a pillow and a blanket from the mattress and bring them down to the bench at the end of the bed. You fit yourself onto the hardwood and watch the fire’s light pulse on the stone wall. Your eyes glimmer with tears, turning your vision to speckled hues. 

It’s all so nice, too nice for you, and knowing why you’ve come upon it, turns it sour. It is not kindness, there is expectation attached to such generosity. You should’ve known. You did. You were just too stupid to see it, just as the queen always said. 

You twit. 

You close your eyes and pull the blanket to your chin. You embrace the warmth, your one comfort left. There’s a long road that awaits you still. Not only through the Hinterlands but another, more treacherous path. One you never meant to stumble upon. 

Your body weakens, succumbing to your fatigue, overtaking your wrought mind. Your eyes roll back behind their lids and your breath peters out. Sleep enshrines you as blackness eclipses the orange haze of the chamber. 

[emmcarstairs]

From Gloves to Fingers: The Ghoul and Lucy MacLean

Despite their mostly practical usage nowadays, gloves used to be a powerful tool in society. There were rules about how and when a person should wear them, and what messages they relayed to others. Gloves were more than a fashion accessory; they had symbolic functions. Across various sources, such as visual media, art, and literature, gloves are associated with notions about power, protection, purity, as well as sexuality.

In the following analysis, I will examine the Ghoul’s gloves in Fallout (2024) as a visual key to understanding his character, motivations, and relationship with Lucy. 

What if I told you that the first thing we see about the Ghoul, his introduction to us, is his gloved hand?

His character is shrouded in mystery, and his gloves facilitate this impression. When a character hides their hands, we assume they have secret or evil intentions. That’s why gloves have come to be associated with villains. And at first glance at this character, this assumption would not be far from the truth. But in the Ghoul’s case, it’s more complicated than that. Let’s roll back to the beginning!

As soon as we learn that the Ghoul used to be the famous Hollywood actor Cooper Howard, and the face of Vault-Tec, we start to make the connections. For instance, we know he refuses to do the thumbs-up for the photo during the birthday party. The thumbs-up, his thumbs-up in particular, is a symbol for Vault-Tec, a company he has grown to despise. So it isn’t surprising that he would try to conceal his relation to the company, figuratively and physically.

Two hundred years later, we learn about the nature of ghouls. Radiation has ravaged their skin and appearance. In this case, the gloves might serve the cosmetic purpose of hiding most of his scarred body. 

However, it all comes down to the image he presents to the world around him. His gloves, and his hat, are accessories for the costume he’s chosen to wear. He doesn’t go around by the name of Cooper Howard anymore; he has built himself a new identity, using props just like an actor would. He is recognizable by these attributes and they are a makeshift armor for the real man underneath it. I’d even argue that his gloves act as a physical and psychological shield between him and the atrocities he’d committed to survive.

Now that we’ve discussed the symbolism of him wearing gloves, it’s time to ask the important question. Do we see the Ghoul’s ungloved hands? We do. Two times. And both of them are connected to Lucy: one in her presence, one in the presence of her finger.

The first time we see the Ghoul’s ungloved hands is after the significant scene of him mercy killing Roger and feeding on him in front of Lucy. The fact that Lucy witnessed him eat, not just any food but human flesh, is extremely important. In that scene, he reveals his animalistic nature. It’s an intimate scene because he begins her initiation into the Wasteland by offering her his knife to cut off some pieces herself. In a way, he shares his meal with her. Her repulsion is clear but she relents. It’s important to keep this scene in mind.

Cut to the scene with him with no gloves. At this point, he’s shown her a part of himself. In the past, the removal of gloves was a sign of closeness, and even inferiority. He has shed his skin, literally in the form of his gloves. He has allowed himself to be vulnerable in her presence. He’s naked in a way we haven’t seen before. It’s no wonder what happens next has so many sexual undertones.

To put it plainly, in this scene we see the Ghoul relishing the taste of irradiated water while Lucy is right next to him… thirsty. It’s an interesting juxtaposition to a previous scene when Lucy politely asked for water but he denied her (with his gloves on, retaining a metaphorical barrier, an air of superiority). She then saw the pool of water but resisted drinking from it while he taunted her. Now, it seems different. He watches her with a silent challenge in his eyes, tempting. She isn’t asking him anything this time. All she sees is the water, the means to quench her thirst, and… his ungloved hand.

Personally, I find the choice to include his hand here very interesting. What happens next, even more so; Lucy succumbs to her thirst. In contrast to her hesitation and revulsion with slicing pieces off Roger for food, she eagerly drinks the irradiated water the Ghoul drank moments ago. It’s a desperate physical need, and it’s out of her own volition. If you don’t see anything sexual about this frame, I don’t know what to tell you:

It’s worth mentioning the way the Ghoul stoops to her level here which enables the iconic “Oh, I’m you, sweetie.” She’s almost his equal here, as they stare after she’s drunk the water, their hands ungloved.

Lucy, being ever the opportunist, sees his weakness and tries to run away. Her attempt is short-lived because he catches her in his lasso. And all the build-up ends in one of the most memorable scenes in the show; and for a good reason!

In their struggle, Lucy takes advantage of his exposed hand, his weakness, and bites his finger off. It’s almost like she’s turned into him: an animal tearing flesh. The gloves would have protected him against harm but he’s taken them off, he has allowed himself to be vulnerable around her. Perhaps, he underestimated her.

In a violent imitation of a lover's touch, he cuts her finger off. This is the first time they touch hands. In the past, a woman had to be wary of a man’s ungloved hand because it signified danger and the loss of her chastity.

In Lucy's case, chastity refers to her naivety about navigating the world around her. The Ghoul opened her eyes about the surrounding world, but she dared to go one step further and stole something of his, a part of him. For two centuries, he's managed to keep his ten fingers intact, a sign of his competence, and it's none other than Lucy who overpowers him this way. So he feels obliged to take a part of her to replace his missing one. It's very much an exchange of rings/vows type of situation. But I digress. 

After the finger exchange and the visual replacement of Lucy's finger, which for a second looked to me like adding a band/ring, we see the most significant scene for her character yet. She survives alone in the Super Duper Mart and despite it all, retains her principles, by saving his life. She emerges the victor, both in terms of survival and morals. But how does the exchange affect him? 

In a rare scene of self-reflection, the Ghoul watches his old human self on film. The gloves are back on and he mimics pulling the trigger, nothing unusual.

But as we watch him rub the leather of his missing finger, we know that something has shifted. Beneath the seemingly intact glove, there is a missing piece. Try as he might to conceal it, and even if it's unnoticeable to others, he’s aware of its absence. Despite the external armor, the damage is internal.

Which brings us to the second scene with his ungloved hands: the scene of him sewing Lucy’s finger on his hand.

The Ghoul is held responsible for the thrashing of the Super Duper Mart. While they question him, he asks for the needle and thread (red thread of fate, anybody?) in his bag. As he unrolls the piece of cloth, we see Lucy’s finger.

Here I want to make an important note: In the past, gloves were considered an extension of the wearer’s body; another symbolic body part. In the classic novel Little Women, Meg loses one of her gloves and it turns out that the man who is interested in her romantically – Mr. Brooke – has hidden it in his pocket. Later, characters would consider this act a declaration of his intentions toward her. The Ghoul has neatly packed away Lucy’s finger in his bag. The subtext is definitely there. 

In the first scene when he was ungloved, it was in Lucy’s active presence. In this scene, she’s not here but her presence is felt, and not only because it’s her finger he’s sewing. While he is attaching the finger, he takes the blame for what she did in the Super Duper Mart. He throws away the act for a moment, his hands are ungloved and unprotected, as he surrenders himself in her name. The intimacy of the mere image of him sewing a part of Lucy’s body on his own, literally tying the knot, deserves its own analysis.  

You could say it fits him like a glove. ;)

This is the last scene we see him without gloves in S1. But every time we see his gloved hand afterward, we are reminded that he carries Lucy’s finger. It’s a symbol of what Lucy reminded him of: his lost dignity. It’s his trigger finger, a moral compass. It led to him shooting her dad when she herself wavered, but also letting him go alive. And it’s her replaced necrotic finger which pulls the trigger when she mercy kills her mother, a lesson she learned from him. Their fates have intertwined and their fingers are the perfect representation of that. 

With the focus on hands and fingers we saw in S1, I expect this symbolic storytelling to continue and expand in S2.

[veethewriter]

I have a prompt in mind… if you can’t do it tho that’s ok!! My brain has been rotting with scenarios of reader fighting with Astarion and The Gang™️, reader gets gravely injured and Astarion has to choose between letting the love of his life die in front of him or turning them. What happens and how reader reacts is up to u 😉

Of course!! Sorry if astarion is a little ooc....I tried my best. Also requests are open!

He barely had any time to process what had happened before you had fallen to the ground, incredibly injured. They had come out of nowhere it seemed just as you were setting up camp to rest, what seemed like hoards and hoards of goblins. It wouldn't have been a problem usually but you all had been low on supplies recently from all the fighting you've had to do. Not to mention how exhausted you all were from it. Wyll killing most of the ones near him and shadowheart, shadowheart trying to keep him healed.

You and astarion on the other side, fighting as well however taking more damage with no healer. That's when he had heard it, the painful gasp of breath coming from you as your armor had broken and a goblin had been able to stab a sword through the hole in your armor straight into your stomach, into some of your organs. You stabbed the goblin in front of you before falling to the ground yourself from all your injuries.

Filling with uncontrollable anger he quickly killed all the goblins around him before rushing over to you. Calling out the rest of the team as he went over to you. Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over still focused on killing the rest of them while protecting the two of you now. Making sure he's covered, astarion softly held you in his arms trying to not let the tears start seeing how bad you were. You were already unconscious barely breathing and turning pale, he could hear your pulse slowly dying.

He didn't know what he could do, you were bleeding too much even with him keeping the weapon in so you didn't lose more blood and wrapping the other wounds you had. He knew he could just turn you but would you be happy with that, is that what you would want? To become what he is? Would you be upset at him if he did? He didn't want the choice forced on you like it was to him. However he also knew he couldn't go on without you and the rest of the team would need you too. He had to make a decision quick and fast before you did die and it was too late to even turn you...

Caressing your face softly before finally deciding he leaned down and bit you before pulling away, cutting his palm, putting it up to your mouth making sure you drank some of it. Quietly hoping it would work, not even sure he was doing it correctly. You had already stopped breathing as he finished, he pulled the sword out of your wound before picking you up. All speechless still of what had happened they quietly went back to camp. Finally in your tent astarion set you down on the bedroll as shadowheart followed and broke the silence that had been hanging in the air, "Are you sure this is what she would want?".

All astarion can do is look down at you while thinking of what he had done was right before looking at shadowheart, "What would you have done?".

All she could do was sigh before using her magic to hear the wound on your stomach through still leaving a big scar since she had used most of her magic in the battle. As she leaves, astarion stays not leaving your side just with his book trying to distract himself even a little bit, feeling worried and guilty for what he had done....

It had already been a while since the sun had set when you had finally opened your eyes, feeling tired and for some reason very thirsty.... Seeing you finally awake astarion became nervous about how you would react. Astarion sat back down near you as you had sat up, holding your throat, "Astarion, what happened?"

He seemed nervous and very hesitant before grabbing your other hand, holding it softly, "My love, you got greatly injured, shadowheart was out of magic I didn't know what to do...".

You looked confused before you finally felt it, what more now than before permanent bite mark. As you were processing astarion handed you his mirror, confirming what you thought. You had only made astarion more nervous than before with you not saying anything, he quickly tried to explain himself, "I- I'm sorry darling, I just needed-," before being interrupted by you cupping his face softly.

You sighed softly trying to process everything before talking, smiling at him softly, "I don't blame you, you did what you thought was best and to be honest if the roles were switched I would've done the same....if I had something to stop you from dying I would've done it.".

As astarion tears up, knowing you're not mad at him, you pull him into a hug, running your fingers through his hair. Whatever happened next you two would get through together no matter what.

[oneforthemunny]

thinking of the sweet side of rockstar!eddie and all the tiny things he'd start doing when he and nb officially start dating:

like how he always lets her have the booth (duh) bc he's a gentleman. and how he knows her drink order by heart. any drink order. how she likes her coffee, and he always orders her a little pastry because she'll never get one for herself.

or when he takes her to hawkins, he'll take her to the diviest dive bars just for the experience. she never had fried pickles, and he considered that a crime, so he flew her out to a place in georgia that had "the best fuckin' fried pickles, babe, swear. if it's your first time trying them, we gotta do it right."

he bought a decanter for her bedside when she started staying over more and more because she always gets thirsty in the middle of the night. he's so proud when he first shows her. "i had no clue what it was called, so i was tellin' the sales lady and it took us forever to figure it out. she kept thinkin' i wanted a pitcher."

he was always a roses guy on the rare occasion he bought a girl flowers, until he realized that there were so many other kinds. she always has fresh flowers in her kitchen, and he wanted her to have them at his place too. so he made it a weekly responsibility of his assistant. he'd call the local florist, have them make up some elaborate bouquet for the week and surprise her. every monday without fail. even when he was away.

gets a vanity put in his room. it's random, she didn't even say anything, but he noticed how she'd sit on the floor by the window and get ready. he wanted her to be comfortable so he had one delivered.

how slowly his bachelor pad of a house turns into a shared space for the two. small pieces of her mixing in with him, becoming their own. the bed still has posts with loops, but a comforter and throw pillows too. the living room has stupid memorabilia he bought bc he could (a real lightsaber from the movies, and a suit or armor???) but also now has wall art.

[ilguna]

☼ the water heals our wounds (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; Finnick was beginning to believe that the damage done on you was permanent, but he had to try one more idea.

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture mention

wc; 5.3k

–

It’s too loud.

You can hear everything, between the people shouting nearby, and the consistent beeping from machines. There’s voices talking over one another, orders being barked around the room, fighting for more attention.

It’s bringing on a pounding headache, as if there’s tiny people inside of your head, slamming their fists on the inside of your skull with both hands, trying to get out. At first, it’s bearable, considering what you’ve been through lately.

And then it burns.

You fly up in the bed, eyes opening, hands reaching for the source of pain, attached to your forearm. Several people reach to grab and restrain you to keep from moving any further. You can see that there’s a needle, blood moving into a small vial.

“Miss (L/n), we’re just drawing your blood.” A nurse tells you, “You’re in District Thirteen, you’re safe now.”

“Dis—” You begin, and find that your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat, “District Thirteen isn’t real.”

“I assure you, it is.” He says, “We just had a team of volunteers rescue you and a few other victors from the Capitol.”

“The Tribute Center.” You murmur, watching as they pull the needle out, and replace it with a cotton pad, wrapping your elbow. “We were in the Tribute Center.”

“Yes, very good.” He says, “Can you tell me where you’re from?”

“District Four.” Your face twists, the headache is coming back, “Can we—?”

“When did you win the Hunger Games?”

“Sixty-Seventh. Can we talk about something else?” You look away, observing the space you’re in, “Anything else…”

You must be in District Thirteen’s hospital, judging by what you’re surrounded by. You can see a lot of people moving around, dressed similarly. The nurses and doctors look like they’re wearing different outfits than—what you can only guess is—regular civilians. There’s a few people sitting on gurneys dressed in hard armor and bulletproof vests, pockets absent of weapons.

You’d like to say that it’s not usually this busy or disorganized often, and that’s because of how the medical crew are reacting to the sheer amount of people in here. It’s crawling with bodies. They push people on gurneys away into hallways, some straight into private rooms where they pull the blinds, others are subjected to being treated in the main open room, like you.

You must not be high risk, then. 

You watch as a team of professionals wheel a gurney by, someone laying unresponsive in the bed. You look away quickly, to the next rapidly moving object, and realize that you recognize the person. You manage to look back in time to see who it really is, stomach squeezing in horror.

It’s Johanna on that bed, head shaven to the skin, scabs covering every inch of available skin. She looks disgusting, but it answers the question that’s been on your mind these past couple of weeks. You finally know what’s been happening to Johanna in the Capitol.

“Are you hungry? Or thirsty?” He asks, “We normally have to wait for clearance, but you’re alert and responsive. They wouldn’t want us to wait for permission.”

“I’d like water, if you can.” You nod, “I’m not hungry, though.”

He gives you a smile, turning to place his hand on the girls’ shoulder next to him, beginning to talk to her. You look away again, towards the doors that have just been pushed open, doors slamming against the wall from the force.

A young woman with dark hair in a braid is looking around the room quickly, searching for something. You get a glimpse of her face, and you know instantly that it’s Katniss Everdeen. 

You grit your teeth, a shudder running through your body. You grip onto the railings handles, letting out a shaky breath. You’ve seen her a lot recently, although you’ve never met her, not yet anyway. You had mentored the Quarter Quell—no, no you shouldn’t think about that.

“Gale!” Katniss shouts, starting for him.

A nurse blocks her, saying something, and you’re trying to read her lips, when a voice cuts through the noise.

“(Y/n)!”

You flinch, jerking to the other side of the bed, squeezing your eyes shut. The thoughts—the memories—of all the times he’s screamed your name, screamed at you. The morning he left, the purple bruises…

He punished you, said that it’s your fault this happened. 

“Miss (L/n)?” The nurse asks, placing his hand on yours.

You jump, swatting his hand off of yours. In the process, your eyes fly open, catching sight of him—of Finnick—coming towards you. You can’t let him have you, the last time he did—the nightmares still haven’t stopped. You can’t do it again. You need to get out of here.

You almost trip getting out of the bed, legs tangled in the scratchy white hospital sheets. Your bare feet slap against the tile floor, which is cool against your soles. You stumble a few steps to catch your balance before wheeling around, both hands grabbing the gurney.

“Get away from me!” You scream, pulling the back back a bit before launching it in his direction.

You watch his smile drop, eyebrows drawing in. He’s doing it again, the next thing you know he’ll have everyone on his side. He’s not going to trick you, you’re not going back to him this time. You’ll die before you end up in his hands. It was better in the Capitol. He wasn’t there, and you were safe.

A couple people jump to catch the gurney before it slams into him. It almost makes you want to scream at them, too, for trying to protect him. You don’t have time to, you turn around and start for the exit doors on the other side of the room. The male nurse that had been helping you tries to make a grab, but completely misses.

“Stop her!” He shouts.

You slip past several people, slamming into the metal doors, which start emitting a terrible, high-pitched scream that starts once they’re opened. You make a run for it down the long, cement hallways, feet slapping painfully on the floor. You can hear shouting behind you, pleading for you to stop.

You’re faster than they are. The further you run, the less you’re able to hear them, until their voices are gone entirely. You end up tripping into one of the side doors, leading you into a dark room. Good, they shouldn’t be able to find you here for a long time.

You drag your feet to the corner of the room, panting, struggling to catch your breath. The burning in your chest slowly grows stronger, you dig your nails into your collarbone, trying to distract from the pain.

You slide down the wall, letting out a sob, hands moving to clamp over your ears to block out the humming sound coming from somewhere inside of the room.

—

You hate the hospital wing of District Thirteen.

Surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the fact of how the medical team is treating you. For once in your life, they couldn’t be more considerate and caring about your feelings. It’s refreshing, considering you’ve been in and out of the hospital since you won the Hunger Games.

The Capitol didn’t catch that your immune system was weaker than it had been before. You were home for a week before you caught the nasty disease that was going around the district. You spend two and a half months in the hospital trying to recover and leave. 

You honestly thought you were miserable in the arena, but it was nothing compared to how they treated you in the Four hospital. You know it was nothing personal, that’s how they treated all their patients. It was just so odd to see so much aggression in a place of healing.

There were a few times you almost left the hospital without being discharged because you couldn’t handle it anymore. It’s difficult to deal with that behavior in such a fragile state of mind. You couldn’t sleep because of the nightmares that plagued you, you were hardly eating because every bite made you nauseous.

The only reason why you were convinced to stay each time was because of Finnick. You think you remember him telling you that you could risk putting yourself in more danger if you didn’t stay. The last thing you wanted to do after you won the Games was die when you got home.

When you told that story to the Head Doctor here—mostly the part that you hate hospitals, in hopes that he would change his mind and let you stay in your own dorm—he hung onto that story, and a certain factor about it. Like how you didn’t mention Finnick in a negative light.

Those times in the hospital could’ve very well have been Finnick drawing you in. You smelt honey each time you were around him, making you feel safe enough to land. And the second you did, he trapped you.

The doctor won’t let you leave, no matter how many times you beg him to.

Like you said, you completely understand that they’re just doing their jobs when they come to check on you, and accompany you to the bathroom, and take you for walks around the hallways. The issue is that there’s nothing more you want right now than to be left alone.

When they hover like this, it’s like they’re trying to set you back. They did this in the Capitol, hovered over your smallest movements, made you second-guess your sentences. Now, you’re always waiting for the nurses here to say something like they did, always waiting for the drop that’ll never come.

“Do you want to go around one more time?” The nurse asks.

“No, I’m done.” 

There’s no point in walking around these halls. There’s nothing to look at, no rooms to look inside of. All it does is leave you to your thoughts, because half of the time, the nurses can’t bring themselves to carry a conversation. You might as well stay inside of your room.

“You remember that you’re supposed to be pushing yourself, right?” She asks.

“He wants me to push myself to walk in a rectangle?” You snap back, looking at her, “I can obviously walk just fuckin’ fine. They didn’t break my fucking legs.”

“It’s to keep up your stamina.”

“If you wanted to test my stamina, then you’d let me walk around the entire bunker and keep your fucking mouth shut to see how long I’ll go for.” You shake your head, rounding the corner to go inside of your assigned room.

You make it two steps before you stop, eyes locked on the foreign object. Your foot moves back to get you out of there, but you know that there’s nowhere to run to, anymore. You need clearance to get through the doors, and you can’t do it without one of the nurse’s approval.

You would’ve snuck out by now if you could.

Your arms wrap around your upper body to hug yourself, fingers digging into your upper arm’s flesh to ground yourself.

It’s just a vase of flowers, it can’t hurt you. What can, is the thought of him being in here, delivering these himself. What else can be in here? What of your belongings did he touch? Is this why the nurses insisted that you get out of bed at that exact moment.

“(Y/n)?”

“Was he in here?” The words are harsh.

“No, we don’t let visitors back here, they are to wait in the lobby.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is surprisingly measured, despite the uncontrollable urge to freak out. You grip your arms tighter, “Was he in here?”

She’s silent for a few seconds, “Yes.”

“Why on earth would you let him?” You tear your eyes from the flowers, “Who approved of that?”

“Doctor Hurley did.” She says, “There’s been so much progress between you two, so he allowed Finnick to come in here on special request to deliver a gift. He picked the flowers himself this morning. He wanted them at their freshest.

You begin to take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, “I don’t understand.”

“What’s the matter?”

“You let him in my space?” You ask, tears building in your eyes. You can’t be safe, not even back here, in an area where you can’t escape if he were here. Is he here? “The one place that he wasn’t supposed to have access to? You let him in here? What did he touch? Did he leave?”

There’s a smile that hints at the corners of her lips. He must’ve talked to her, that’s the only reason why she thinks it’s okay. He told her the same sob story that he told you to get you to stay. She’s supposed to be on your side.

You start inside of your room, one long stride after the other, hand reaching for the clear vase of colorful flowers, paired together to show the end of summer, the beginning of fall. There’s a few long leaves sticking out, giving you more of the outdoors.

You twist around, letting out a scream as you throw the vase at the nurse. She jumps out of the way, making it shatter against the concrete wall instead, glass bursting into pieces, flying in every direction. The bundle of flowers lands in the puddle of glass and water.

—

“I want to go to the cafeteria to eat!” You shout, hand flying out in the direction of the door, “I don’t understand why Peeta’s allowed to go and I’m not!”

Doctor Hurley is shaking his head at you, face twisted like it always is when he’s delivering bad news. Behind him stands Boggs, the head of security, arms crossed and waiting in the doorway. You demanded to see both of them today, because it would be the only way to appeal to both at the same time.

“It’s not an act of unfairness, (Y/n).” Doctor Hurley says, “Let’s say you have an episode, there’s a chance you could trigger both Johanna and Peeta at the same time too. And it’s vice versa with Peeta.”

“You really think that Peeta’s aggression could set me off?” You ask, “Peeta and I might have had the same treatment, but it was obviously done in different ways. He’s aggressive towards Katniss, and they made me afraid of Finnick.���

“Yes, precisely.” 

You turn your attention to Boggs, “Please, you know that my first reaction wouldn’t be to fight. The first thing that I’d do is run. All you’d have to do is worry about getting Peeta under control.”

“We would still have to spend time finding you after you run. That first day you came here, you only had access to the hospital wing, and it took hours for us to find you. It’ll take longer, possibly days, if you went hiding here.” Boggs says.

“Yet you were able to find Katniss each time she hid, right?” You shoot back, watching his face twist. “Yeah, I know about that because of Haymitch. And worst-case scenario, if you can’t find me, I come down from the hysteria and come out myself.” Now you look back at Hurley, “You’ve been teaching me self-soothing techniques for a reason to bring myself back down when I’m feeling that way.”

Hurley shakes his head, “This is not a time to put that to the test.”

You cross your arms, shaking your head, “Then why don’t you send Johanna or Peeta to their rooms? It’d be a fair trade-off.”

“We can’t, we’re under special orders from Coin to continue to push his progress. We need him outside of his comfort zone.” Boggs says, “And Johanna’s stable enough to mix her with the other victors. We can’t risk a third.”

“So he’s the golden one, again?” You ask, “You say that it’s not a matter of being unfair, but that’s exactly what it is.”

“(Y/n), why don’t you go down on a different day?” Hurley asks, “It’ll still let you feel some sense of normalcy.”

You slam your fists into the desk, the tray full of food rattles against the wood, “You only let them go down once a week! I don’t want to sit with people I don’t know! I want the victors, for fuck’s sake!” You scoot away from the table, back further onto the bed to give you more leg mobility. This is when you draw your leg back and kick the table so it topples over, the tray hits the floor, food splattering up the wall. “I want to see Finnick!”

The room’s silent for a good minute, while you struggle to get your emotions under control, realizing that this is exactly what they meant about you triggering Peeta and Johanna. These outbursts don’t help you, but what else are you supposed to do? They don’t listen to you. They back you into a corner and give you solutions you don’t care about. 

“You said—” You begin, wiping the tears that are forming in the corners of your eyes away, “You said that denying me things like this is a step back.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Hurley says.

“It feels like you’re trying to keep me from moving forward, by keeping me away from them. How am I supposed to know how to act around them, if you don’t give me a chance?” You ask, “I want an opportunity.”

Boggs watches you for a few more seconds, and then he lets out a sigh, “Tell the nurses to give her a jumpsuit.”

Hurley turns to look at him, “After this?” He motions to the mess on the floor, “How do you think Peeta will react?”

“I think Peeta’s shown a lot of empathy for the people that were with him in the Capitol, recently.” Boggs says, “He’s made it a long way as well, and I’m not going to prioritize him. If there’s a step back, fine. We have another couple of weeks to work on it.”

“If you think so.” Hurley looks at you, “We’ll have a nurse bring a jumpsuit. Boggs will bring you down.”

“Thank you.”

Both of them leave, heading in the direction of the nurse station at the end of the hall. You try not to bother them too much if you don’t have to. They’ve begun to lift a lot of the restrictions they’ve put on you, which is a relief. It’s driving you crazy to be treated like a child.

While you wait, you go over to clean up the mess you made. You place the table upright, and get to work on using napkins to scoop the specific portions of food back onto the metal tray. By the time Boggs comes back, the food is relatively gone, and you can’t even tell you knocked the table over.

He hands over your new outfit, one that you’ve worn a few times before. You take it, and shuffle inside of the bathroom. You use the one hair tie they allow you to have to tie your hair out of your face, and then you change into the grey outfit. You leave the bathroom, pulling on your flats, because that’s all they allow you to have. 

Boggs escorts you out of your room, down a hall and through a pair of swinging doors. They moved you out of the first area because you stopped showing a threat of escaping. You nearly cried when they told you the news, because the nurses there are significantly meaner than the ones over here. And they’ve told you several times that they would never have let Finnick go into your room like that, regardless of what Doctor Hurley approved.

The moment you step foot out of the hospital, you wrap your arms around your body to hold in the anxiety that’s beginning to bubble inside of you. In a few days, it would’ve been two weeks since you last saw Finnick. You’re not used to him being away for so long, especially with how persistent he is. You’ve been told by the nurses that it’s because he’s working on something with Coin, Plutarch and Haymitch.

When you asked more about it, you were told that they didn’t know anything. And even if they did, they wouldn’t be allowed to tell you, because you haven’t hit that stage yet. Yes, you’re a victor, and you’ve just managed to survive the Capitol, but that doesn’t give you a rite of passage here.

Boggs brings you to an elevator, where he has you step inside, and then pulls the door down. He presses a button on a box next to him, and the two of you begin your descent to the cafeteria’s floor. The elevator’s not even close to as nice as the ones from the Capitol, those ones move smoothly and noiselessly.

It stops, he pulls the door open, and leads you to the cafeteria doors. He stops in front of them, “If you feel the need to leave, you have to let me know.”

“I will.” You nod.

“We’ll grab you a tray, and then sit down with them. Lunch just started, it should be over in thirty minutes.”

You nod again, letting him know you’re listening. He goes through the doors, and you follow behind him, hugging yourself tighter to give you something to focus on. A few people glance to look at you, but their eyes don’t linger for very long, returning to the person they’re talking to.

Boggs brings you to the short line that leads to the window where you get your food. When it’s your turn, the lady on the other side gives you a wide smile, and tells you to enjoy. You wonder how many of the people in here know who you are.

Boggs starts walking away, and you follow behind him, taking deep breaths to calm yourself, because you can no longer hug yourself. You’ve got the tray in your hands, something to focus on.

“Mind if we join you?” Boggs says, stepping aside.

You suck in your bottom lip, giving a smile to the table of victor’s in front of you.

“I was wondering when they’d finally let you out of your cell.” Johanna says first, motioning to the one open spot, “We have so much to catch up on.”

“Trust me, it was a fight to even come eat lunch down here.” You set the tray on the table, and then move to sit on the bench. Peeta scoots over to give you more room, “If it weren’t for Boggs, I’d be eating my lunch off of the floor.”

He laughs behind you.

“Lucky you.” Peeta murmurs, “You do that often?”

You breathe out a laugh, “I try not to anymore.”

You pick up the fork, twisting it in your hand, looking up to see exactly who you’re sitting with. Johanna’s sitting across from you, with one leg up on the bench, leaning into it while she eats. Peeta’s sitting to your right, his own personal bodyguards tower behind him, they must not bother him.

Katniss is sitting across from Peeta, but she’s more toward the end of the table, eating with the man you saw on your first day, the one she couldn’t see, Gale. On the other side of Johanna sits a blonde girl, twirling her hair around her finger. She offers you a wide smile.

And the last person, who was on the other side of Peeta—now next to you—is…

You swallow thickly at the sight of Finnick, feeling your heart begin to beat faster in your chest. Usually when you see him, it’s across a table, at the far side so that you’re not close. Always your request, never his. He goes along with it because he doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.

You have to quickly remind yourself that he won’t hurt you. Doctor Hurley and his team of doctors have been working hard to try and reverse the damage that was done in the Capitol. However, if there’s one thing that people tend to hold onto the most, it’s fear. 

Finnick raises his eyebrows, the small smile he was holding is slowly fading, “Do you want me to move?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, “It wouldn’t be a big deal, you didn’t know—”

“I’m sure.” You smile, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I heard you’re working on some projects with Beetee?”

Finnick’s expression transforms entirely, lighting up, “Yes, he’s showing me new trident designs. You’d love them, he made one the other day that made me think of you. It had these vines that snaked around the handle, and bright colorful flowers. It’s not practical to use, but I know how you like the prettier looks.”

“Maybe you can show me the next time we have our meeting. It was on paper, right?”

“Yeah, I think he made a small prototype, it’s plastic, so hopefully it’ll pass through the doors.” Finnick shrugs.

“That sounds nice.”

Johanna lets out a scoff, “Nerds.”

—

“I still can’t believe you convinced them to let both of us up here.” You say, jogging slightly to catch up with Finnick. “And alone?”

“I have a way with words.” Finnick turns to wink at you, “You’re going to love it.”

He readjusts the bag he has on his shoulder, it’s gotta be heavy. You offered to carry some of the food inside, but he told you that he wants you to enjoy being outside again for the first time in months. 

“This is the last door.” He tells you, going through it first, and then holding it open.

The sunlight streams through the door, and blinds you on your way through. You take in a deep breath as soon as you’re fully outside. It smells so fresh, lighter than the recycled air from inside. The sun on your skin feels nice, and it’s warm. 

“Johanna would love it up here.” You murmur, crossing your arms over your chest, “Do you think they’d let her out?”

“If she shows signs of getting better, they will, but she’s having issues at the moment.” Finnick shakes his head, “I wish it could be the three of us again.”

You nod, “So where are we picnicking? Right here?”

Finnick scoffs, “Are you kidding? No, I’ve got a special spot that you’re also going to love?”

“How deep?” You ask, “We shouldn’t go too far.”

“It’s not too far, I promise. It’s closeby, Katniss showed me where it is.”

“Okay,” You motion for him to go first, “Lead the way.”

Finnick begins walking along a path that has been stomped into the ground. The two of you travel through the trees, and you can’t help yourself when you touch every green object you pass. The bark, the leaves, the grass, the rocks. You pluck a white flower out of a bush and carefully tuck it behind your ear.

“Can I ask what you and Katniss passed? I heard it was some sort of test.” You pull a leaf off of a plant to fold and pull apart while you walk. “I was going to ask Johanna but I was told I couldn’t see her.”

“I can tell you, but you can’t go and tell Boggs that I did. You can’t tell anyone, actually.” He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes lingering on the flower.

“Promise.” You smile.

“Well, they’re planning an attack on the Capitol, which you already know.” He starts, “The test Katniss and I took was to see if we were eligible to join.”

You can feel the smile disappear from your face, “Why would you want to do that?”

“To help, of course.” He says, “I was placed on the same squad as Katniss, Boggs is going to be leading it. Johanna failed the test, she freaked out. That’s why she wasn’t available for visitors. I had to fight them to be let in.”

“When are you going?” You ask, fingers gravitating toward your mouth, teeth biting onto nails.

“Soon, hopefully. We won’t know more information until we ship out.”

You’re not sure why they, Katniss and Finnick, would want to go there after seeing what happened to you, Johanna and Peeta. Haven’t they learned anything from it? What happens when they get captured? They’re automatically killed.

“That’s a bad idea.” You murmur, “For either of you to go.”

“Our luck, we won’t even be able to do any of the action.” Finnick shrugs, “I could tell by Boggs’ face that we’re going to be decoration.”

You hum, “How much farther?”

“Only a couple more minutes.” Finnick tells you.

He changes the topic, talking about Peeta’s cake decorating skills from a couple of weeks ago. They threw a party and filmed it to use for propaganda. You were in a few of the shots, but not many. The cake that Peeta made had to be carried out by four people, and they were careful not to ruin the beautiful icing that must’ve taken Peeta hours, despite his skilled hand. 

You wish you had even half the talent that he does.

“We’re going this way.” Finnick begins to go down a slope, you follow, not really paying attention.

And then you hear it, the sound of running water. You pick up speed, going right past Finnick to see if what you’re hearing is correct. You’re led to a tree, a patch of shade, and beyond that, a small cliff that leads to a shallow river.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, “You knew this was here?”

“That’s what I was bringing you to.” He laughs, placing the bag down by the tree. He reaches in to pull out the blanket, spreading it over the patch of shade.

You reach to pull off your shoes, not bothering to entertain the idea of sitting down, not with something so refreshing and familiar nearby. You throw your shoes by the end of the blanket, and move on to rolling up the legs of the jumpsuit, not wanting them to get soaking wet.

“What are you doing?” He asks, looking up at you.

“I’m getting in, of course!” You turn away from him, heading to the river.

“Wait!” He shouts behind you, getting up, “What if it’s faster than you think?”

“So be it! Let me get carried away by the waves!” You laugh, sitting down on the edge before scooting in.

You’re afraid that you’re going to land harshly on rocks, but your feet sink into mud. The water is cold, but not as bad as it can be back home in Four. It feels nice on your skin, and combined with the sun… it really is a perfect day for a picnic. 

You wade deeper into the water, feeling it go up to your knees. When you turn around, you’re met with Finnick, standing at the top, staring down at you. You splash a handful of water in his direction, letting out a laugh.

“This is so much better than taking a shower and pretending it’s raining!” You throw your head back, arms out while you spin slightly, “I love it!”

“You don’t want to eat first?” Finnick asks, laughing.

You wave the idea away, “This reminds me of the summer after I won. How we went to the beach all day, forgot sunscreen and went back home burnt to hell. It hasn’t been that hot in a long time.”

Finnick’s face twists, a pout appearing for a second, before it disappears, “I remember.”

“Get in here!” You splash at him again.

[firapolemos05]

Manners

CW: suggestive, creepy whumper, lady whumper, pet whump, water deprivation, muzzles, defiant whumpee, forced to beg

The glass of water on the table had caught her Pet's attention.

Scarlet noticed him stealing glances over the book in her hands, eyes darting between the glass and the floor. Longing. Oh it was simply adorable how he tried to hide it.

'How long should I make him wait?'

She raised the glass and took a nice long sip, the cool liquid refreshing. Her Pet's gaze held longer that time, a glint of desperation sneaking into his eyes. Chapped lips pulled into a thin line under his muzzle, and Scarlet knew he was trying so hard not to waste any remaining moisture in his mouth on them.

It had been days since she last allowed him to drink.

A consequence of disobedience. 

Fluids and nutrients delivered intravenously would prevent any actual dehydration, but that did nothing to treat cottonmouth. The parched barren of his throat must be unbearable by now.

"You must be thirsty, aren't you, Pet?" she inquired. His eyes shot back to the floor, embarrassment marking his face at being caught. Scarlet chuckled. That pride of his made it too easy. "Come now, you remember your tenth rule, right?"

Mentioning the rules always made him flinch. Oh he remembered alright. She had made sure of that. Made him recite each one over and over, interrupting each mistake or refusal with a strike of her switch across his back.

He remembered them very well.

'Rule 10: Pets do not request, they beg.'

While knowing his rules was one thing, following them was another. And her Pet had a particularly difficult time with this one. A defiant little one, he was, but after several weeks of strict training, Scarlet had cracked his armor. 

Some beautiful cracks. 

The fear that flashed in his gaze whenever she entered his cell. The empty, resigned silence whenever she ran her fingers through his hair, or traced the masterpiece of scars over his skin. He was even getting better at remembering to call her 'master.'

Now Scarlet watched another crack form. Watched the show of emotions he failed to suppress: anger, humiliation, anxiety, craving. She took another sip from the glass and watched the unspoken threat fuel those last two. And soon she spots the exact moment of breakage. 

He turned towards her and bowed his head. His voice weak and rasping.

"May I please have some water. . . Master?"

Oh how delightful. 

It usually takes him far longer to beg. He must really be desperate. He didn't even growl this time. 

The satisfaction was like a drug.

"Good boy," she smiled and he bristled at the praise. He despised it now but it'll be a matter of time before he's craving that too. She pointed to the floor in front of her chair. "Come here."

Her Pet hated to crawl, but he knew better than to attempt standing without permission. Oh well. He can be grateful his arms are bound in front of him today.

He avoided eye contact as he approached, a glare glued to the tile flooring. But soon, he was where he looked best, kneeling at her feet.

His hands rose to reach for the glass, a gesture Scarlet swiftly corrected by catching the chain connecting them under her boot and pinning them down.

"Pets do not use their hands," she scolded and he grimaced. She held the glass out, hovering it just above his head. "Tilt your head back and open your mouth."

His face flushed dark at that, the anger and shame making a reappearance. He had earned his reward, but he still had to accept it however she wished him to. Even if it was a display of power such as this. It was too late for him to refuse, but he almost looked as if he was going to try. Fortunately for him, the desire to quench his thirst won out. He obeyed, his jaws parting as far as the muzzle would allow them.

Scarlet poured slowly, wanting to savor his reactions. She could be a gracious master now and then. She was careful to let the water fall steadily in between the muzzle's wires.

To his credit, her Pet tried to remain stoic, composed. But as soon as liquid passed his lips, the animal need took over. Like an eager dog he gulped it down, leaning closer, squeezed his eyes shut as he craned his neck to catch every last drop. The effort failed him, as his movements made the drops catch on the muzzle, splashing over the metal. Well, that was his own fault. Glossy streaks ran down his chin and neck.

Scarlet licked her lips.

She should do this again, just with her favorite red wine. Painting her Pet's neck with dripping red would be quite enticing. And it would be an order then, rather than a reward. He won't be able to refuse, and won't be able to stop her from pulling him into her lap to lick the wine from his neck.

Oh how he will hate it. And she will feast on his helpless fear.

The last drop of water fell from the glass.

It's barely enough to satiate. Her Pet gasped for air, greedily seeking more where there is none. It will be a short respite, and he closed his mouth to prevent his breaths from stealing that back. Then he noticed the amused expression of approval on his master’s face and turned away, abashed at his behavior.

Scarlet curled a finger through his muzzle, pulling him back to face her. "Now what do you say?"

Another rule he had difficulty with.

Contempt twisted his features, and before he could think better of it, the words already left his mouth. "Go to hell."

Scarlet grinned. She can already taste his regret. 

Time for another lesson. 

[josnhoes]

which of the self aware bg3 characters do you think would be the most romantically interested in reader?

As we know all the companions are thirsty Lil gremlins. So the option is all of them. Save Tav and Durge for the simple reason of wanting to keep them as bland as possible so people can put in their Tavs and Durges. But like if you want them to have a mommy kink hit them up too I guess lol.

Some little things on each main companion in order of thirstiest to less thirsty.

Gale is the most thirsty. Simply because you are kind to him. Even when the truth comes out you support him and do your best to see him happy. Even if you can be a little mean about his use of 'fancy' words. He'd say stop calling him your thesaurus but you say it so fondly he can't deny it makes his face heat up a little.

Wyll and Karlach tie.

Karlach loves how different from everyone you are. Given your story that's no surprise but you kept hyping her up. Even as she was on literal fire you were confident that the group would help her. She fell a little harder when she found out from a few people that you'd been looking into fire protectant armor or enchantments so you could hug her with out her fearing for your safety.

Wyll loves how warm you are. When he got changed you sought him out despite the party. You reminded him that not o ly does a pair of horns dictate who he was, but that no matter the form he took human or tiefling that there would always be those who would dislike him. You reminded him that his appearance was not as important as his actions. With a little bonus of now he had a whole new group to inspire and motioned to the tiefling kids. When you speak to him like that how could his heart not open to you?

Astarion takes a long time to fall but not as long as Lae'zel. It's not a single moment that makes him realize it either. It's an accumulation of little things. The playful yet kind behaivor. The way you look after him even after you know what he was. And a little bit the way when he confessed his vampirism that you just were surprised and asked, "That was a secret?" Okay he hated that moment but he gets a good laugh of it now. You treat him not only as a person with his own say in things, but as an equal. He loves it. It was about time *he* got kindness so why shouldn't he indulge.

Shadowheart loves the way you respect her. You never push nor prod for answers to things but leave the door open for her to tell you things when or if she does. Though she can see how badly you want to know her more. It was sweet. Though she has banned you from alcohol after the time you accidently got drunk and proudly called her Shart. Never again.

Halsin would be higher on the list if it weren't for the fact he is scared to act on those feelings far longer. He wants you, he wants you to look at him the way you marvel at nature and cities alike. But he fears a couple of things, at first it's the fact that no one really thinks you're all there in the head himself in the start as well. It would be *wrong* to take advantage of you. Then once the truth is revealed he fears loving you only to loose you if you get sent home. The fear of loss makes him keep a distance. Maybe someday he'll be brave, welcome the chance Silvanus had given him bring you to him.

Lae'zel was completely and utterly disinterested for the longest time. You were like a newborn fawn. Unless, weak, not an ounce of a threat to anyone aside maybe bumping into to someone. You were touched in the head. Then you grew on her. You despite having no clue how fought. You acted fast in battle to protect the others and even sometimes herself. You were surprisingly perceptive of the battlefield. It was that potential that drew her to you. Now she doesn't love you in the traditional sense. There is no plan of a happy ending. But there is a fondness of sorts, and potential for a few intense nights.

[bones4thecats]

Heyy hii hellooo , hruuu and what's your fav cat breed , btw can i req a leonidas , Nikola Tesla , hades , and Hercules x fem!homura akemi!reader

I hope you watch Madoka Magica , i just want a simple long ahh angst and then fluff

So basically the reader is like the goddess of time (for the gods part) and a time traveler(for the humans part) the reader basically repeat the same month that Ragnarok has taken place for over 1200 years just to save them from their fate which was turning into a green weed snort dust in because the charas are who she hold dear so much since they are her husband , each time she failed and failed and that affect the universe since she bend the time around the charas making them stronger but each timeline they just die , and i want them to confront the reader Abt it and then the reader is like having a meltdown or something and then tell em all the stuff she have been doing to the point she almost gone insane with all the timeline of watching them die

And after that can you just put on like a huge comfort scene where the charas finally survive and comfort the reader after all the pain she gone through

I hope you don't mind , sorry if it too muchhh srryyyyyy

A/N: Okay, my favorite cat breed is the Birman, it's just so fluffy and cute!! It also reminds me of a Siamese. This is one of the saddest things I have ever written, so expect to cry a few tears and then feel like your heart’s gonna explode! This is kinda themed after the song Haunted by Taylor Swift because I was listening to it while writing. Enjoy~~

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🚬 You had tried so many times, yet you always fail… why?

🚬 Why wasn’t it fair then, why wasn’t it fair now? Why did he have to die, why couldn’t that selfish and impish God Apollo die?!

🚬 1,200 years you have tried, over 103,782 attempts have been made in counting, maybe this would be the one to work!

🚬 But it was too much for one person to watch their one and only, their husband, die over and over and over by the same cause

🚬 You watched as he trained, and you couldn’t stop crying each time

🚬 Leonidas looked over at you and grinned his signature grin saying, ready for battle

🚬 When he hugged you that night you started to cry and not stop, which caused him to look at you with shock

🚬 You never cried

🚬 He kneeled down and tilted your head towards his face, his eyes asking the same question over and over again

“ Are you okay, my love? “

🚬 That was when you let loose, spilling everything, the endless death and depression you had gone through just to see him win, it made his heart ache

🚬 You went through all of this to see him come out on top, to see him alive again

🚬 Leonidas held you and shushed you, while you mumbled how it wasn’t fair since no matter how much you tried it never worked

“ You cannot escape fate, love. But, no matter what happens, believe me, I will always, always be by your side. No matter what. “ “ Promise? “ “ I promise. “

🚬 And he did. He won. He beat that snobbish bastard, Humanity cheered for the win while you smiled and cried happy tears for another reason

🚬 You finally did it, he lived…

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🧪 This stupid myth wasn’t coming to fruition, it said every time you traveled, he’d grow stronger! Just how much more strength did he need?!

🧪 Time after time again he died from that depleaded and god-awful immortal Beelzebub, why did he have to live?!

🧪 He hurt a child for crying out loud, causing him to turn into a blood-thirsty monster for the heck of it! He didn’t deserve life! He showed no remorse for what he had done, even Thor showed some of it to Lü Bu!

🧪 While thriving on the past, you were watching Nikola work on a problem for his armor for Ragnarok and you smiled when he got the fact right, it was better than last time, maybe this was it?

🧪 He did the same thing as last time, but he added more weaponry and more strength to it per your request, now maybe it could work!

🧪 You sat by Hlökk and Jack while the fight ensued, and you were praying that he would win, that your husband could finally come home safe and sound

🧪 And he did it… he- he beat Beelzebub!

🧪 Nikola was healing as you jumped onto him, he chuckled and kissed your forehead, and that was when you let it loose

🧪 You spilled the tea, all of it, the 1,200 years of torment that you faced watching him die, the same fate over and over and over again, not being able to stop it hurt

“ Darling, I am sorry for failing you so many times. “ “ It’s not your fault, you’re here now… and I’m thankful. “ “ I am thankful as well, Y/N… “

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💀 No, no, no, no!

💀 Every god-forsaken time, the same damn thing!

💀 Oh that human will pay for his insolence, killing the King that you loved was a crime only punishable by death at the hands of his victim!

💀 Every single time that Hades proclaimed his wish to fight, you were with him, helping him train to beat that puny being

💀 But every time it wasn’t enough, and it hurt so much…

💀 And the way that human smiled and had every human there cheering for him made you sick, many lost an ally, Zeus, Hermes, Ares, and Adamas all lost a brother and uncle, one that cared for them oh so much, and you…

💀 You lost your one and only love…

💀 But maybe this time it would work! It said that they grew stronger every time you traveled, so maybe now it would be right!

💀 Hades looked up at you and smiled as he prepared for battle, and every cut and bruise only gave you the biggest PTSD stain in history

💀 He couldn’t die, he just couldn’t!

💀 And when the cry of Zeus’ cry entered your ears, you started to doubt everything

💀 It worked, it finally fucking worked!

💀 You had never sprinted that hard before into the arms of your love, dragging him to the infirmary after sharing the best kiss known to the Gods

💀 Hades saw how sad yet happy your eyes were while he healed, and when he looked at you and asked why you were so down, you tole him everything, sobbing the process

" My dear, you've seen that happen all those times? For that long? " *Sigh* " I apologize for not being able to change that for so long, but, now we can start the life we've always wanted, by each others sides for eternity. "

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💪 He was the kindest soul you had ever met, why would fate just screw him over like this?!

💪 You understood he knew Jack far better than you, but watching the human just kill your lover blinded all of your judgement, no matter what

💪 Heracles had died so many times in front of you that you felt like crying tears of joy and sadness from both seeing him alive and from knowing what was bound to happen

💪 This time he had been talking to his adoptive brother, Ares, when you traveled back to see him and try getting him to survive, and seeing him with the only other person who wept and understood how much the lose of him affected you just hurt

💪 He called out to you and hugged you in his arms while calling his goodbyes to Ares, in which the God of War just smiled and waved back

💪 Your husband was the one person you didn't want to lie to anymore, and you hopes that after 1,200 years, this may be the final time you'd have to travel to save him

💪 You grabbed his hand which caused Heracles to turned around and give you a curious look, and that was when you told him

" 1,200 years for me? Angel, you... you didn't have to do all of this for me! "

💪 Heracles looked at you with shock, he figured nobody would drain themselves physically or mentally to the point of near insanity just for him...

💪 He hugged you even closer and he swore the same thing you heard over the last thousand years;

" I'll be safe, and when this is all over, we'll rest together just like before... I promise. "

💪 Your husband laid the most gentle kiss on your lips ever as you nodded, believing the words more than you ever did before

💪 Before Round 4 of Ragnarok started, you strolled over to the Humans side to speak to their fighter, Jack the Ripper, so you could get something clear

" In these last 1,200 years, I have been trying to get my husband back... as whenever he fought against you, he lost... died at your hands. And while I respect you and everything you have done for your people, I am just asking you one thing; Is this really what you want to be known for? Pure murder? "

💪 When Jack was about to kill Heracles, he remembered your words and smiled humbly before lowering his hands to the ground and laying on his knees, causing Heracles to stop and stare at the male

" I do not wish to kill you, God. " " Heracles. And Jack, I do not wish to kill you. This match stays at a draw! "

💪 All Gods and Humans were obviously pissed, but you got your husband back, and one of your previously close friends. Win-Win for you!

[pickastitch]

watching other ppls pov when interacting with false and then going to false's pov is such whiplash. like everyone characterizes her as this blood thirsty pvper, but then you look over, and she is just a nervous wreck just trying to build her base in peace.

i think what makes her such an intimidating player is that she is really good at weighing her odds of survival and picking fights she KNOWS she'll win.

she also uses all the leverage she can get, such as enchantments ( ex. putting on projectile prot armor when hot guy tried to kill her ) or potions ( ex. keeping her health up in total chaos by paying attention to the healing pots ) or just past reputation ( ex. everyone scared of her during s7 headgames cause of the civil war ) + she is also pretty good at pvp, so

all this to say, i absolutely adore false's content

[aphroditesmoon]

melting moment

harwin strong x targ!reader

summary: harwin falls for the dreamer of house tagaryen.

warnings: nsfw, smut (minors dni!!)

°°°°

The first time he saw you, he knew he had to have you. You were the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. Your peculiar personality might scare off other people's from making friends with you, but it only intrigued him.

A lot of people agree, only the knight and her sister, the princess Rhaenyra, had enough patience an love for you to tolerate and keep up with your weird conversations and random thoughts. You were easily branded as insane. Though no one would have the guts to say it to your face, and you didn't care as you were too busy being caught up in your head.

Harwin was as weirded out by the way you talked just as everyone at first. But the more he guarded you and spent time with you, the more he paid attention what you were saying, he realizes you might not be sputtering garbage after all.

He believes you were some sort of magical entity gifted with the gift if prophecy by the gods themselves.

He remembers the one time you wouldn't stop rambling and repeating about thirsty rats and something about a killer in a knight's armor during Rhaenyra's wedding day.

He assume it the same as always, you're daydreaming again. But then Rhaenyra's sworn knight starts beating the shit out of a man until he died. And your voice repeats themselves in his head over and over as he rushes to escort you to your room to safety.

As he secures you inside, he realizes you don't look even e bit scared, a disgusted expressions crossed your face when you saw the poor man's barely existing face, but that was all. It's almost as if you had expected it.

He tried telling himself it was impossible, and that he was overthinking it, but deciding to indulge his curiosity, he asks you if what had happened was what you had been talking about all morning.

Instead of answering him you had only stared at him for a solid 2 minutes making him sweat under your intense gaze, before slowly smiling softly.

As weird as it sounded, he felt the answer to his question was already answered by the peculiar given grin.

Since that night, he had spent the rest of his guarding with more friendliness, learning the gears of how your mind works and becoming fast friends with you.

He realizes then that if there was one thing more beautiful than your appearance, it was your mind.

He prides himself for being an honorable knight and protector of the princess, yet each day his want to be more than that increases.

How could he not crave to have more between you when his days that use to start from standing by your door from morning to eve goes to laying by your lap as he gives you permission (after many begging and puppy eyes while holding his hand) to braid his hair with flowers.

He has had the miraculous luck of feeling your hands running through his hair and your lips on his cheeks for a thankful peck. The only thing holding him back from doing anything unbecoming of his station was your station yourself.

He cared too much to risk dishonoring you in any way.

But when one day she surprises him with a stunning ruby engraved dagger made of valyrian steel for his seven and twentieth named day, he told himself himself would marry her.

She looked so happy by his own joy that he couldn't stop himself from holding her face in the palm of his hands and closing her mouth with his. claiming her.

She flinched at the contact at first. But as he pulls away to apologize, she pushes their mouths together again and he was ever the willing to reciprocate the kiss.

That same night he informed his father of his intentions to wed you.

To say that Lionel was nervous for his son was an understatement, he was well aware that compared to the Targaryens, they've nothing to offer them. But for his dutiful son, he would try to speak with the king.

The king ended up giving Lionel a vague confusing answer then proceeded to request the presence of Harwin himself to present his intentions for his daughter.

He offers the king nothing but his loyalty and love for you, vowing to protect you with his life as that is all he has of him to give.

Viserys was doubtful, but knowing how different her daughter is compared to the other girls of the court and her own sister, it wasn't shocking that he fears for her fate as well and wishes to wed her to someone he's sure would take care of her, not trusting himself to tie her to some political alliances.

And so, trusting the knight's reputation as the strongest man in the seven kingdoms and the loyalty if his father and dear friend to himself, He gives his blessing and announces their betrothal the next day.

He was attached to you like a second shadow from them on always needing to be near you at all times, if people had thought you two were familiar before, now they have to try and not throw up at your displays of affection.

It's not your fault you're both infatuated with eachother. He was too impatient to restrain himself until you were wed.

And that is the story of how you found yourself splayed on your bed, legs wide open with his fist inside your cunt, wrist deep fucking you.

He's thrusting his hand in you while clenching and unclenching his fist as you're moaning and screaming out his name in an unholy erotic manner that's making his cock harder.

He marvels at the sight in front of him. Your laid bare body writhing under his gaze pulling and gripping the sheets with your mouth hung open chanting out his name, tears wetting your cheeks. Your tits red with his bruises and bitemarks.

His cock twitches at the sound of your whine when he uses the thumb of his free hand to rub on your clit. You were arching your back and clenching on his fist begging him to go deeper.

"so fucking tight for me, hm? no matter how many times you take my cock." You clench harder at his words. His pacing becomes unrelenting as he fucks you through your orgasm, rising up to shove his mouth againts yours, letting your tongues dance with eachother's.

You came with his name spilling off your lips repeatedly as he moves his to assault your neck, licking and kissing the marks from before.

You whine at the lost of contact as he slowly takes out his wrist from you, licking and sucking off the juices off his hand, never breaking the eye contact.

He pushed two fingers through your lips and you instinctively suck on it making him groan at the bewitching sight.

As he starts rubbing himself on your thigh your hand links behind his neck to pull him closer, needing him inside of you

"Think I've stretched you enough, sweet girl?" He was met witha delirious moan as a response as you start wrapping your legs around him and grinding your sensitive raw cunt on his hardness.

He groans low in your ear, trying not to pound into you. "Say it." He grunts out. "Say you want my cock."

He was forcing you to submit, and gods you loved it so much you're embarassed.

"Please Harwin, please-need you, need your cock inside me-" You let out a strangled moan as his restraints broke and he holds your thighs apart, shoving his fat cock in you, plunging in and out of you so hard, the wet squelches of your skin slapping became as loud as your screams.

His back was being scarred and torn apart by your nails dragging and holding on to him with your dear life as he took you apart, ruining you for anyone else.

"Mine, all mine. My sweet dreamer, my pretty dragon girl." You couldn't respond if you wanted to, the only noises coming out of you, incoherent.

You've predicted many things, but you wonder why your dreams never told you you'd be this happy.

[katerinaaqu]

Kinda a prequel to

Originally for @prompted-wordsmith so yeah something I have been working for ages. April 1st for our poor tormented little liar Odysseus 😆

~~~

Guilt (P1)

The noise was deafening. It was a sea of people cheering and whistling; a sea dressed in bronze, leather and blood. Odysseus was pacing among these people keeping his head low. He was trying very hard to avoid gazing someone in the eye. He could hear their praise and yelps of excitement. On occasion he could feel a pat on his back.

"Huzzah! Hooray for Odysseus!"

"Man of Many Ways!"

"The one Equal to Gods! Hooray!"

"Sacker of Cities!"

"Sacker of Cities!"

His ears were buzzing. All sounds around him were silenced or blended together in a mass of unknown origins. His head was throbbing painfully and the helmet adorned with boar tusks seemed to be weighting more than all metal in the world upon it. Just a little longer...just a bit further... Blood had become one with his skin and hair. He could feel it running down still even if it was long now clotted upon him. How weird! Normally every person would be delighted with this triumph. Why couldn't he?

"Sacker of Cities!"

Just a bit further...

"Sacker of Cities!"

His previous noble prancing became a half-run now. He was almost pushing his way through the mixed people of triumph and of woe. Eventually he reached his hut and felt like breathing in relief as he ran in with his close friend coming right behind him.

"Close the damn curtains, Polites!" Odysseus ordered

He half-collapsed over the bronze bowl containing fresh water they had picked up off the river. He remained there for a few seconds, supporting his body over the metallic water container. He looked down. What he saw scared him; it was a warrior staring back at him through the dark depths of the vessel. His head was adorned with a helmet of boar tusk, stained with blood and scratched by some sword. His expression was hard and had sunken eyes in their sockets. The beard was shaggy and splattered with blood. His onyx eyes had a worrying sheen of death, of triumph and of guilt...

"Gods help me...that's me!" He thought in terror

The ambitious, flamboyant and somehow a bit arrogant young man was long gone. He had given his place to this bloodthirsty killer, the face of that man was reeking of sweat, blood and tar from weapons and smoke; the Sacker of Cities. How had they come to this?!

*

A few days before...

The room was buzzing by the men talking almost at the same time. All the Greek kings were supposed to discuss their plan on their next move but it ended up being a buzzing hive of angry bees that fought for a better place in the sun. Neoptolemus was still thirsty for revenge for hi ls father, wearing his armor proudly. The kid seemed to be one with the damn thing! Odysseus was still cursing the moment he decided to bring him from Skyros. This boy seemed less and less like a good idea for his expedition. Agamemnon was there for the glory of his nation, Menelaus wanted his wife back, this time time from a new suitor that took her as a wife, after the murder of Paris. Nestor was trying to keep them all in check, Diomedes still held a grudge against Paris even long after the mutilation of his corpse. Odysseus thought his head would split by this cacophony of tired and frustrated kings that each one of them wanted something different!

"ENOUGH!" Odysseus bellowed

The silence that followed was deafening as the king of Ithaca practically pranced through the crowded hall and grabbed the bronze scepter, pushing it to the ground.

"EVERYONE KEEP QUIET AND LET ME SPEAK!"

His voice had echoed long enough for everyone to understand that there was no stopping this man now. Odysseus took some raspy breaths as if he tried to collect himself before speaking.

"How much longer must this go on? How much longer should we keep this siege? Can't you see it? It's been a decade already! Troy won't fall! Trojans get new allies and we grow weaker by the year. Year after year after year after year we held this city and for what? How much longer will we stay here? Another 10 years? 20? I do not know about you, my lords, but I refuse to stay here that long! My wife and child waited way too long!"

"Do not wish to be king among kings, son of Laërtes!" A voice was heard over others, "you are not the only one with home and family to return to!"

"My lords, I can speak of no one else but myself. However I believe you shall agree with me that this siege lasted way too long. I have no doubt that there are many people; younger people in this council that can withhold this for the decades to come, but I have long stopped being young, my lords, and I do not intend going back to my home when I reach the age of Nestor and pass the crown to my adult son to retire. There are other kingdoms that require our attention, my lords! Not just this one, but our own!"

A series of hums passed around but Odysseus could feel it already there were some objections or some hesitations. They obviously didn't know what he was talking about.

"The war won't last much longer, Odysseus" Agamemnon the son of Atreus spoke, "we have already cut the tree of succession to the Trojan throne. Both Paris and Hector are dead, you managed to capture Helenos. Troy is losing already. I highly doubt we will stay here much longer"

"With all due the respect" Odysseus interrupted, "as long as there is the line of Priam Troy is not finished. Helen has now joined in matrimony with a new husband. Undoubtedly the widow of Hector will do the same when her period of mourning is done. And line or no line, the walls are still there, my lord, they are mocking us. We cannot break them from the outside"

"Odysseus..." Menelaus now spoke, the man who still believed in him blindly, "What else is to be done? We are not gods to transform ourselves to birds and get in"

Odysseus's eyes sparkled in a determined way as if he managed to hypnotize everyone in the room with just his fiery gaze, his voice sounded clearer than ever.

"I could take Troy in one night if the plan works!"

The seer audacity of his words was greeted with a silent shock and then a wave of chuckle.

"I believe you lost your mind FOR REAL this time, Odysseus son of Laërtes!" Neoptolemus called out arrogantly

Odysseus shot him with a warning glare. He had no idea how that insolent boy had heard about his attempt to avoid that war in the first place pretending to be mad but that was not the time for quarrel.

"I am pretty sure that the black ships of the Acheans rest in this place over a decade for nothing! We could obviously have asked you! I am sure you can also guide us inside the city yourself!"

"I have already infiltrated Troy!" Odysseus claimed.

The wave of exclamations that passed among the kings of the Greeks was delightful as it was annoying to Odysseus!

"We were protected by the gods, Diomedes and I. We disguised ourselves as beggars and walked about the city, I found their secrets, I know the passages! I plundered their temple according to the prophecy!"

With a determined move he threw the palladium of Athena to their feet; proof to his words. The silence he earned was delightful.

"I have a plan...if you choose to accept it!"

"That is not fighting with HONOR!" Agamemnon pointed out, "We do not do that Odysseus!"

"We fought with honor, Agamemnon...10 years now! And where did it lead us? We are still here; debating whether we shall live and die to the foot of Troy when the price is right there before us! If you want results, hear me out!"

As his onyx eyes stared deeply into his audience, he knew he had them now.

"I shall uproot the line of Priam from the city! We can throw them all out of the castle walls of the holy city of Troy! So, my lords, long-haired Acheans, if you want results, hear me out!"

Their silence was his confirmation.

"Here's the plan, then..."

*

Odysseus growled and snapped out of his flashback. How easy had he made that sound at that time! Even in his own ears such a promise wouldn't appear nearly as horrendous as it was proven to be! He felt a drop of sweat rolling down his chin but it was thicker. He could still feel blood... He grunted in annoyance as he removed that helmet that was crushing his head and sank his hands in the water, brushing them intensely. The water took a reddish sheen almost immediately. Blood was sticking way too much... Odysseus splashed water all over his face maniacally, even passing water over his matted with blood head. It was still there...the memory was still there... he felt dizzy almost. He rushed to the wine jar resting at the side. He broke the wax seal and filled a cup for himself without watering it first. He downed it quickly before having the chance to feel the burning sensation down his throat.

"Odysseus..." Polites started, alarmed

Odysseus didn't hear him. He filled a second cup that was gone the same quickly. He was still shaking.

"Blood..." he whispered, "Blood and death everywhere... plunders and rapes...everywhere..."

He clenched the cup in his hand.

"What have we done, Polites! What have we done?"

"What have I done?!"

"Sire..." Polites began, "this is war..."

A dry laughter escaped Odysseus's lips.

"That was no war, my friend...that was a massacre...a slaughter..."

He drained yet another cup. He was feeling dizzy and he wasn't sure it was the red wine at fault.

"Priam is dead..." he whispered as if in delirium, "...killed upon the altar of Zeus where he sought sanctuary... Cassandra raped right outside the sanctuary at the xoano of Athena...and Astyanax...the child is..."

His voice broke. He covered his face with his free hand as if that could stop the sobbing that was coming out of his thick chest.

"We're cursed, Polites..." he whispered, "Cursed...doomed! The gods won't turn the blind eye in this hubris..." he finished the cup he was holding

"Odysseus...please!" Polites exclaimed concerned, "Even so...what you say is right but still...it was war..."

"I gave them the key to this, Polites..." Odysseus ignored him, "it was MY plan that put them in..."

"Please, Odysseus...you...you didn't know..."

Odysseus chuckled. It was a dry, humorless one...

"Yes I did, my friend...I did...I just chose to ignore it..."

He refilled his cup.

"Odysseus I beg of you at least...at least put some water to your wine...don't do this..."

He placed his hand upon Odysseus's large shoulder.

"And no, that was what you feared...not what you knew. There was no way you would know the magnitude of it...you gave them the city just like you promised. What they did with it it was their responsibility."

If only it were that simple, Odysseus thought.

~~

Soon comes part 2. It will be probably 3 parts plus a footnote section!

[kit-williams]

War wife

@bispecsual here you go your space wolves

I think I'm getting the hang of doing x reader (still not my favorite as I'd prefer to make OCs but hey its an exercise in just writing)

Not 100% happy with this but happy enough

Tw: Yandere behavior & Plot

"Why hello Captain Arkyn." You cooed up at the space marine Captain as he always made a beeline to you. The now dubbed 'work wife' as the space wolves under him have openly said 'Where is Captain Arkyn's wifey?'

"Hello elskling." The timber of his voice seemed to shake the air around him as his voice dipped an octave in his greeting. "How is my aspiring Captain doing." He picked you up and just easily buried his face into the crook of your neck and you could hear the deep inhale. It was hard to stop the blush that danced over your cheeks... the butterflies that fluttered in your gut... oh you were a hardened veteran of 3 battlefields you shouldn't be getting all flustered but it was an Angel of the Emperor!

You wrapped your arms around the man and you let out the sigh as his hands felt so tender on you even in his power armor. "Come now Arkyn I'm very far off from being a captain and you shouldn't be all affectionate with the kids around." She spoke and could hear him snicker.

"The kids are fine I'm certain my boys are focused on other things then what daddy is doing right now." Arkyn growled out showing those enlarged canines of his. He drank in her groan of embarrassment but he could smell what he was saying was doing to her. A heady smell... not sweet it was salty... but thick like a musk... it was distinctively yours and he was addicted to it. "I'm feeling quite thirsty elskling."

You let out a shuttering breath as you could practically hear the lapping noise. This was the second battlefield you've met Captain Arkyn on and you two had left off on a good note. Well you survived that first note and even if it had been nearly a decade since that first encounter.... Captain Arkyn treated it as no time had passed at all. "Arkyn..." is all you manage to say on a shaky exhale.

Oh but for Arkyn time had passed and it drove him mad. For the Space Wolves it was a horribly kept secret that they indulged in the finer things in life... and they didn't leave it at just mead... they enjoyed their women too. For those with mates it's always a scent that drives them to pick their next mate... a smell that all the pretty little mortals all share in common regardless of if they can give the Brother children or not. Oh yes another horribly kept Fenrisian secret as half of the serfs and a quarter of the brothers were just offspring of other space wolves.

Arkyn just thought your scent was a fluke. You were a happy little thing... a tenacious little vixen... a courageous elskling. And he had driven himself mad at the fact he let you get away. He had spent 3652 days in his bed alone without you!!!! Oh he fixed that once he found out you were there. You looked older... it hurt him that he missed three thousand days of yours... three thousand days you could have been smiling at him... having his pups... thousands of days of laughter... tears... hopes and fears... sighs of delight and sighs of being fed up with his antics. Something in him snapped when he saw you again.

You... you just kept on surviving with your little misfit band that seemed to kept swapping in and out of members. You were thankful for Arkyn being here after the last of your original friends died in your arms. And here you thought Arkyn just wanted to relive the magical moments from back in the day but you were so thankful that he was there to hold onto you. And he always had a knack of holding onto you.

"RICO!" You screamed as you watched the man turn to mist as Arkyn's massive hand wrapped around your chest as he grabbed you and ran toward the Land Speeder. "They're all dead... they're all dead!" You screamed as you shot back at the damn heretics!

Thank the God Emperor for your helmet as when Arkyn jumped into the Speeder your head all but smashed into the armored chest. "Hang on!" He howled at you as all that was keeping you from flying off of the Speeder was his arm.

His mind was racing just like the Land Speeder was as bolters exploded out of the barrels. But a part of him was howling with laughter as it couldn't have lined up better! He really had to thank his Brothers for helping him. Oh yes he was a fool for letting her go the first time but they were here to help!

"Arkyn where are we going?!" You connect to his private vox line as you realize you're not heading back to camp and are seeing more space wolves and space marines around.

"To meet up with the rest of the Vlka Fenryka and let them know what has occurred."

"Alright when do you think I'll be heading back to the guard outpost?" That seemed to be said as he patched you to the rest of the wolves with him. It went silent for a beat before they all started to laugh.

"Oh she's a funny one Captain!"

"Oh when do I go back?" One said in a mocking tone as they laughed harder at the look on your face.

"Arkyn!" You looked up at the expressionless mask unaware of the enamored look on the man's face as his hand just moves so gently over what he can without crushing you. "Arkyn what are they talking about!?"

"Oh it seems yer man is tongue tied."

"The past ten years lassie... you're all that he could talk about."

You leaned away suddenly feeling very trapped and afraid as they speak like what is about to happen is just normal. But the fact you couldn't see their faces just made this a bit more horrifying.

"Really I don't know how he could have fucked you and let you go. It's like what I did with my little wifey. I fucked her so good that she didn't even realize that I snatched her up. "

"I've got a little husband this time around..." You hear one of them start but you soon only focus on the sound of breathing coming over the vox and realize it's Arkyn's breathing and the sound of chops being licked.

"You let Rico die...." Is all you could get out.

"He was too close to you elskling." Arkyn said as if it was the most logical thing.

You would often like to say that you were a fighter. You would fight against anything until the bitter end but you just shut down as you barely listened to the Fenrisian though you had a feeling it was about you. And when you woke up next... you'd be in Arkyn's room with a pretty new collar.

[existslikepristin]

Okay, so this is significantly larger than other parts have been. Don't expect them to be this big in the future, you greedy little—

Anyway, glad to be posting again. I hope you enjoy this part because it was very fun to write! The next part will probably be about two weeks from now, as I'm currently moving into a new place (not a BIG move, but exhausting nonetheless). Good riddance to bad rubbish, creepy landlord!

Tags: NSFW, S.M.U.T., genie, futanari, threesome, P-in-V sex, anal sex, a suspicious volume of jizz

(Story Index)

Joy joins

You smirk at Joy's shock. "You looked a little thirsty, Joy."

Her shock disappears and she smiles right back (fucking dammit). "I'm always thirsty."

Somehow, that statement sounds a lot more menacing and/or existentially horrifying if she’s not exaggerating than whatever you expected she'd say. Anecha doesn't notice, still twitching from her orgasm, head hung low and the last bit of her cum dribbling down over your knuckles.

Anyway, "So you want some more?" you ask.

Joy hops off the bed. "Of course!"

"More?" Anecha sounds like she’s having some small difficulty catching her breath. She wipes her hair away from her eyes.

“If you’re not satisfied, yes,” you say and nibble on her earlobe. 

You already know what her response will be, given the way her nipple and cock harden even further from their already hard state under your fingers, but you still love the way she responds, breathless, “Yes, master. I want more.”

With that, Joy removes your hand from Anecha’s dick, and fully engulfs it in her mouth. You’d call it a deepthroat, but that’s just not technically accurate. But deepthroat or not, it wakes Anecha right back up. She gasps and clutches at your hips for support. Her pussy clutches your cock as well.

Rather than take complete control, you allow yourself a few moments to just enjoy this. You take Anecha’s bikini “armor” all the way off and palm her tits, doing your mortal dangedest to match what you assume is Joy’s intensity. Anecha wiggles, unable to do much more as both of her genitalia sets are locked into place, but that's oh-so-pleasantly acceptable.

"Gods, master…" Anecha moans, "This feels so… so good!"

Pulling out a bit, you 

"You like that?" you whisper.

"Fuck yes!" Joy responds.

You smack your forehead. "I meant Anecha."

"Yeah. Her dick is easy to blow, delicious, and I can feel how much she appreciates it. What's not to like?"

"No. The question was for Anecha."

"Oh! Haha, duh. How about it, Anecha? Do you like it when I suck your beautiful cock while master fucks your pretty little pussy?"

Anecha blinks and coughs awkwardly, “Um. Yes.”

“Nice,” Joy says, and then goes back to sucking, thankfully.

You roll your eyes and your hips. Anecha reacts to the latter in kind, bucking the short distance she can, held between you and Joy even more firmly as Joy slips her fingers between your bodies, groping Anecha’s ass.

Anecha groans and whimpers, even as you twist her part way around so you can kiss her. The sounds reverberate in your mouth. It’s clear that Anecha’s overwhelmed. Her hands roam wildly, both where she can reach you and Joy, the tips of her fingers twitching constantly. Her eyes flutter, unfocused, and her words (when you separate yourself enough from her to allow her to speak) are simple, stuttered noises that only give you the barest hint of their meaning.

“Master, your girl’s about to cum again,” Joy's voice saunters out. Sounds like she’s putting in a little more effort not to quip.

You slow to a stop and kiss the back of Anecha’s neck. “Not yet. I want to see her cum in your ass.”

Joy stands up, hugging you (and making an Anecha sandwich), smirking. “Do you want to feel her cum in my ass too?”

“Wh-wha?” Anecha stammers. You’re unsure too.

Joy takes Anecha’s cheeks in her hands and pulls their faces close together. Joy is kind of tall, but Anecha’s a tiny bit taller. “Just a little magic, honey. I’ll make you feel what master feels when he cums in your pussy too, if you want.”

You wish (BUT NOT LIKE THAT) that you could see Anecha’s face. She nods in tiny and gets pulled in for a steamy make out. The way she moans, you’d think Joy was still deepthroating her dick, not tonguing her lips… but that’s a potential double entendre giving you some great ideas. You should write that down.

“Master?” Joy asks, breaking you out of your futa cunnilingus fun thoughts.

“Yes, I’ll have what she’s having.”

One very literal floating sensation later, the whole Anecha sandwich is on the bed. Joy’s on her back, Anecha’s on top of her, and you sit up so you’re not smashing them. They’re making out again, and you get a wonderful view of everything between their legs. From top to bottom, one tiny asshole, a lovely pussy, a cock mostly covering Joy’s ever-weird vagina-free zone, and the metallic, slightly green sheen of the buttplug. Goodness, your ideas are great.

You twist the plug slowly out of Joy, making her moans melt in with Anecha’s, and you admire her slightly open ass, still slick with your cum. It was from hours ago, but it still seems… fresh somehow. Probably more magic stuff. Regardless, your cum mixed with whatever mystical lube flows over the flawless surface as you calmly spin the plug around before touching the warm tip to Anecha’s butt.

Guessing by the muffled but exuberant “mhm’s” and Joy’s groping, spreading hands, everybody else is excited about this idea, so you push. Anecha is tighter, as you could have expected, but a three person team effort is nothing to scoff at. Her asshole stretches and collapses under the plug’s base in the most satisfying way. Without skipping a beat, you also guide her cock into Joy’s ass. All of it makes Anecha squirm, curls her toes, and arches her back. It’s a wonder that she doesn’t cum immediately, but it could be a result of how recently she had her first orgasm of the morning.

To finish off this little jenga tower of sex, you press the tip of your cock to Anecha’spussy and make your way back inside with some difficulty due to the amount of space the plug in her ass is taking up, but certainly with no other difficulty due to how pouring wet it is.

You thought Anecha was overwhelmed before, but it feels like it was nothing now. One of her hands is trapped somewhere under Joy, but the other is clutching the sheets, knuckles white. She bounces up and down, held mostly in place by Joy’s legs wrapped around her back. It sounds like she’s crying, sobbing even, into Joy’s mouth.

Joy catches your attention with a little wave, and points up. Curls of green smoke form letters, words, and eventually a whole message that floats over Anecha’s head just long enough for you to read it:

Hey master! I just thought you might like to know how much raw lust is coming out of Anecha right now. It’s incredible! She’s had one girlfriend and one boyfriend, and after her breakups she’s been having these wonderful dreams about this exact scenario except the butt plug, which is new but she is loving it. Oh, right, so I kind of experience her entire life because when you magically create a living being, you’re connected to them fourth dimensionally. The fifth dimension is an option but it’s kind of overkill OKAY, I’m sorry she’s not a “real anime girl”. I got carried away with the creation bit, and Anecha is kind of my OC (don’t steal). I promise there are girls from actual anime in the app too. I modeled Nami from One Piece after the live action one, but pretty much all of the rest are just like their anime counterparts but fully rendered in 3D. I think you’ll really like Flannery. You know, from Pokemon. Anyway, I could have told you all this later. What was I going to sa RIGHT yeah, Anecha’s favorite part is your cock in her pussy. If you ask her later she’ll probably say her favorite part was the blowjob I gave her but her mind is absolutely swimming with desire for your cock, so it would be SUPER hot if you give her a taste after you cum. Figured I would puff up your pride a little bit by telling you about that. And on that note, I have been holding back her orgasm. I was going to tell you several minutes ago that you can release it by lightly pinching her nipples, but her dick is PULSING in my ass, and the desperation in her lust is intoxicating. It’s sexy in a kind of tragic way. Yeah, just a little pinch and she’ll explode. I guarantee that as soon as you feel it, you’ll go off too. Go as deep as you can inside her. At this point, she NEEDS it in the worst way.

Realizing now that you read all of that mostly unnecessary bullshit while Anecha was being supernaturally edged, you feel a little bad for her. You give her one long, slow thrust until you’re completely hilted inside her, then you grab her by the hip and pull even harder, flattening her ass against your pelvis. Not only are you as deep as you can possibly be, but you’re also pushing the plug as well. Some part of that last sentence is making her whimper pathetically. You reach down without compromising the position of your hips, slide your hands between Anecha and Joy’s breasts, give them each a brief rub, and finally, carefully, you pinch.

Immediately, there’s a cacophony of noise and a barrage of sensation slamming your ears and all of your nerve endings respectively. Anecha screams, Joy screams, you scream. Your dick, separated from your body, erupts with cum, flooding Joy’s ass with a quantity you couldn’t have even imagined last night—Wait, that’s Anecha’s dick, but it’s you that’s cumming, you think. But your cock is erupting too, doing exactly the same thing to Anecha’s pussy. Said pussy is erupting right back, your mixed juices spraying out so emphatically that the sound of it splashing against your stomach is actually audible over all the screaming. Anecha’s hand finds yours and crushes it, consequently crushing her own tit. It’s appropriately meta, as your brains at last seem to be simultaneously registering that you’re experiencing multiple, edged-out orgasms all at once. Stars pop in your vision, partially and rudely obscuring Anecha’s heaving back and Joy’s twitching legs.

It’s all you can do to stay upright, even on your knees. Even so, with all the difficulty you’re having, it looks like Anecha has it worse. Her scream peters out into one long, pained groan between gasped breaths and she convulses like she’s going through one of those crazy fake aphrodisiac JAV orgasms. In her case, it could very well be real. You felt it, after all, and it is appropriately crazy. Plus, she’s got the added stimulation of having her holes stuffed and pounded and her body being groped all over. Maybe you could feel all that sometime… But not this time. You’re already struggling to come down from your cum high, but Anecha is clearly failing to do so.

For her part, Joy doesn’t seem to be in orgasm mode any more, but she pulls Anecha’s head down into the crook of her neck and you see her face for the first time in a little while. Her expression is still euphoric, open mouth, eyes rolled partially up, and breath heavy. You still feel her ass around “your” dick, rhythmically clenching and massaging in that inhuman way that no mortal ass or pussy can do (not that you’d disparage the wonderful feeling of Anecha’s beautiful, quivering core). She sighs heavily and takes a hand off Anecha’s butt to give you a thumbs up, then flops back onto the bed.

“Good game, master,” she says somewhat breathlessly, “I knew we gave Anecha the right build… You’re DPS, I’m support, and she tanks… Perfect basic team composition.”

“What the… shut up,” you respond, similarly out of breath.

Joy gives you a stupid grin, “We’ll make sure to balance elemental equipment next time too.”

You roll your eyes and pat Anecha’s back, rubbing softly. “And how about you? Still feeling good?”

Anecha rolls to the side a bit, and both of your cocks slip out of their respective holes. They’re both quite hard, but her pussy and Joy’s ass both gush with a truly shocking volume of jizz as soon as she moves, ensuring you’re pushed out. Joy gives you a guilty shrug when you look up at her from the impossibly large streams of spunk.

Lips quaking, eyes slightly red, tears smeared all over her face, and somehow with her minimalist makeup perfectly unskewed, Anecha smiles at you. “Master… I’ve never felt… so good in my whole life.”

You climb up, planting kisses from her sweat-slicked hips to her mouth, then her nose and forehead. She giggles, though still notably with a rasp. “Good to hear.”

Anecha puts her shaking hands on your face and kisses your chin, then your lips. “Please, master, um… I’m a little weak now, but can we… please do this again?”

You can’t help but smile. “Of course. For you? With you? Happily.”

She shyly hunches her chin to her chest. “Thank you… A-and the mess I made?”

Looking down at your uniformly white-glazed cock, you chuckle and remember Joy’s smoke message. “I think we all contributed, but…”

Climbing further up, you end up with your penis hovering next to Anecha’s cheek. She reacts quickly, catching a drop of cum on her tongue before it hits the sheets. For a moment, she stares, shocked, and then closes her eyes and runs her tongue along your cock.

“Master… gods, master, it tastes perfect…” she mumbles, irises practically turning into hearts as she slowly cleans you off, savoring every lick.

You give Joy another raised eyebrow and she points up again, another message curling out of green smoke:

Okay. So. Yes. I “engineered” her taste buds so that her brain registers the taste of your cum as extremely delicious. As far as she’s concerned, all sex fluids taste good. Yours is just the best. What are you going to do? Fuck my ass and sue me? To be clear, suing me won’t do you any good. You can fuck my ass and wish for as much money as you want though. That is definitely an option. No legal battle required.

You’d roll your eyes at her again, but by the time you’re done reading, Joy has already slipped down between Anecha’s legs. Anecha moans with her lips around the head of your cock as Joy gently removes the butt plug from her.

Options:

Go to work and put Anecha back in the app so she can rest. You need to get something done.

Leave her out. Anecha can rest on your bed in the real world while you go to work.

Ask Anecha if she wants to stay or go, and also wish for infinite money so work is unnecessary.