#jerker things

[thebloodychampion]

✏️ James and whoever you want :)

James: You're alive. Sethius: There's no need to sound so disappointed.

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James: Hey, I’m getting in the shower. Wanna help me out? Lyon: ...Have you never taken a shower before?

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James: What’s your body count? Jerker: Do you mean sex or murder?

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James: Bro- Etienne: No, no, hold up, rewind. Etienne: My tongue was down in your throat just a second ago and now you're calling me bro??

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James: A decision had to be made. Archer: And you fucked it up!

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[pinacoladamatata]

if they Tamlen solas' ass, that might just be IT for me

[pipperoo]

i hate that i’m always so curious about things that sincerely do not matter in hatchetfield, like really

who cares what roller coaster the tear jerker is? i do even though that fact does not matter to the watcher world story whatsoever!

i made a whole post about max’s school hierarchy when it came to other school sports, like a whole essay basically, and it got one note, which fair. that’s so completely fair bc that doesn’t matter!! but i can’t stop thinking about it!

[lordsardine]

.

[naggingatlas]

i think people's takes on jev being this like thousand year old creatura are fascinating and fit even my interpretation of his character and place in the story (as like. a representation of the setting at large. an archaic force being shoved into a simulation/loop/machine. cosmis horror kinda shit) but i also think it's 1. funnier 2. scarier 3. more emotionally scarring to imagine him as like. a 30, 40, 50 year old man. just a quirky little guy. he had a childhood, maybe he got picked up by seam as an urchin and they were a travelling magic act and clownery and judy n punch duo and they stole apples from the market and he climbed trees w his little paws before someone made him wear shoes. he was a brash teenager and he played the accordion and kept all of his trinkets in a little chest he used to sleep in. seam made his suits, from his own crayon drawings. he was a middle aged man disenchanted with his work and he sought shelter from the boredom in bothering others. and he ran away so many times and he slept outside and he helped seam make their own beer and mead and they still played the accordion and the hurdy-gurdy together. isn't it scarier to make him a normal man? who turns into what we see? doesn't that hurt more doesn't that make his character even deeper. he was just like you and this means That can happen to you too, grounding stuff like that is like one of the basic rules of horror. and then he just goes to jail they straight up lock a mentally ill guy with all those horrors in the basement - not an old-as-time-itself demon, not a savage beast, but. a man. jevil russian sleep experiment au.

again im not calling anyone out its just an interpretation ive NEVER seen anyone else come up with and i genuinely wonder why and if my other jev readings continue to be weird as fuck to other people

[joeeatsdvds]

vale decem!!!!!

farewell ten lay down your burden we will remember you forever more farewell ten we give you thanks on to eternity you are not alone never trust to the last farewell farewell farewell farewell...

[gazeboarcade]

Do you like bad movies?? Sometimes?

Yes!!!!! It’s nice to see bad movies sometimes because you can be silly and goofy when you watch them with friends! I also think sometimes bad movies can scratch an itch

[virginburial]

.·:*¨༺    cupid's girl.    ♱   bob reynolds   ༻¨*:·.

SUMMARY: in which a failed assassination attempt turns into something more

SHIP: afab!reader x Robert Reynolds WARNINGS: explicit content (minors stay out), unprotected p n v, and f receiving oral, sub!reader, bob can't pick between being a soft or hard dom, spittingggg??? also you hate bob's guts before he rearranges yours! #enemiestoloversfinalboss. random storytelling/porn with a plot. is this a self insert? i wish I knew. also btw you're from florida now :D!! TW FOR: mentions of murder/violence/self inflicted harm, grief, recovery/healing, ptsd related topics, mass violence mention.

WORD COUNT: 7K

SONG: cupid's girl by MARINA "Don't panic when it hits ╴shoot my arrow right into your back!"

A/N:��well well well shawties... I've returned. This plot is a lil crazy but it made sense in my head so i wrote it.  I haven't written smut in so long but i have been treated well since then so maybe this is better than my previous work ;) I'm having such a weird regression into my old fandoms so I might publish more work soon! as always, reblogs, comments, likes, and shares are greatly appreciated!

.·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

Quiet steps lingered down the hall as you got a handle on your bow, you knew your mission was only complete if he was taken down, and the last thing you wanted to do was betray Valentina. You were her favorite…which only started to click for you now. Of course you were. There’s no Valentines without cupid shooting arrows and manipulating the background. You were the baseline for The Sentry Project; a test dummy. And similar to the Sentry, you were the only one to survive. Valentina’s secret weapon. You were agile, quick, and seemingly docile and sweet. 

To quote Valentina, directly; “she’s like if Sabrina Carpenter and Natasha Romanoff had passionate sex and scissored out their love child…that’s you, by the way.” 

Of course, you didn’t harbor the same powers as Sentry, in fact, you were almost sure you were created to be the Eve in this situation. Some sidekick with the cute gift of emotionally manipulating the emotions of others, while also being a ruthless killer. You don’t emotionally manipulate others the way most people think off; sure, you bat your pretty lashes and you talk lightly and yes, occasionally, you play devil's advocate. However, you could feel and change the way others feel just by touching them. You know your hand to hand combat, but what's the point if you can just shake someone’s hand, hunt them, seduce them, and control someone so well that they do the job for you? 

No bruises, busted lips, or bloody noses if you will someone to…well, you know. 

It’s what made you so dangerous, and maybe, just as powerful as Valentina’s trophy. It’s also what made him such a good target for you. No need to take him down if you just shake his hand. You could feel the calmness around the room he stayed in, it was almost too calm. It was expected; Valentina just paraded him around and called him and his ragtime team of circle jerkers the “New Avengers”? New Avengers? The sentiment alone made you gag on envy. You hated that they got their flowers while you stayed put, while you obeyed, while you kept sweet. Sentry was just a glorified military weapon. You were the will of Eros and Sigmund Freud’s worst nightmare. 

It should’ve been you. 

And the fact that Valentina still wanted him gone, despite everything, made this operation all the more vital; promising you his spot, promising you everything you initially signed up for when you decided to go through the test trials for the Venus project; a better life. Not a life of suffering. 

It was easy sneaking into where the Thunderbolts were staying at, in fact, you already ran into two members already; that fat oaf Red Guardian and the family dollar (and slightly closeted) Captain America, John Walker. It was easy to get them out of your way, the same way you got men to move out of your way your entire life. Staring up at them with your big eyes and pretending that you were doing the opposite of what you were actually doing; And maybe you did pat a couple shoulders here and made them less…on guard. 

It didn’t matter, you weren’t here for them, you’re here for the poor man’s Homelander. Or whomever he really is. Despite having the same background, being from the same lab, you never once met him, or knew him beyond his project name. You knocked on the door, laying your weapon against the frame of the door as you straightened up. It was your time to shine. Your time to prove everyone wrong; dressed in a white blouse, a black skirt that was way above your knee, and knee high boots with tights underneath. 

The door slightly opened, a small crack of light entering the room as curious, doe eyes peaked out behind the slab of wood that separated you from your most treasured victim. The plan was simple; fill him with the doubt, the rage, the sadness that he had before, and then some. Let him do the rest. It wouldn’t surprise anyone considering his history. You were a character assassin. However, the awkwardness filled the air with its stiffness. You could smell how anxious he got as it sept through every pore. Once he opened the door, you realized he was a lot more timid than previously mentioned. You almost thought you had the wrong guy.

“Um…can I help you?” He stammered. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you smiled. “Yes.” a soft hum leaves you. “Are you Robert Reynolds? I-I got sent here by Mel to do a room check.” you lied, even dropping a slight stutter to convey just how nervous the idea of this made you; even if it didn’t bug you at all. “I already checked in with the others, you were last on my list.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “...Why couldn’t Mel do it?” he asked earnestly. 

He already had you stumped, but you just shrugged. “She got promoted, so I'm the assistant’s assistant now…funny how life works, right?” you stared up into his eyes, you could practically hear his heart beating faster and faster the longer he made eye contact with you. Anxiety mixing in with curiosity, and a hint of attraction; oh, he was in for a rude awakening. He didn’t need to know that just yet. “So, are you gonna let me in?” you ask kindly. 

He hesitated, you could see his jaw clenching–was that irritation? You didn’t care. The minute he stepped aside, you sauntered in, looking around at the bare room as your eyes went towards the nightstand. You slowly walk over as you open the drawers and rummaged through what was inside with only your eyes. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

You snap over to him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I would have recognized you if you worked for Mel.. or Valentina, for that matter.” he leaned against the wall, looking down at the ground until his eyes met yours. You brushed it off with ease. “Was always more of a background actor.” you hummed as your fingers went to the other drawer. “Besides, I was away while everything was happening, just got back from a trip the minute you strolled in. I can't say I'm terribly inconvenienced by the suddenness of everything.” it was a white lie, you were inconvenienced. 

he just nodded. “I mean…you’re a government worker.” 

Yeah, and so are you; 1/4th of the military spending.  

You clenched your jaw, releasing it as you turned your head, flashing a fake smile as you shut the drawers behind you. “You can say that, yeah.” we’ll agree to disagree for now. You sigh softly and look around. There wasn’t much else to check for your fake assignment, it was time to move onto the real one. You approached him. “You should hit up an Ikea or something, and soon, it’s kind of sad in here.” you joke lightly, feeling him slightly relax.

“Eh, I guess…I could fill it up with some things like a bean bag or a nice rug, maybe a couple of posters like a SlowDive one or maybe even an FSU one-”

General disgust hit your face, and you weren’t too keen on hiding it, and he noticed it right away. He furrowed his eyebrows, laughing nervously. “...what?” 

“An FSU poster?” your voice winced softly.

Then it hits him, he takes a step back, and a smug look on his face replaces the timid one. “Are…are you from Florida too?” he questioned, and you shook your head, not to say no, that you’re not from Florida, but to say; “The Gators are so much better-” “-Ew, no.” he combated. “Let me guess, Orlando?” he joked softly. God, we really are in a sassy man apocalypse. 

You scoffed. “Gross, I’m from Tampa.” 

“Should’ve seen that coming.” he smiled softly. “You’re…a lot nicer than Mel and Valentina, despite your bad taste in college sports-” “-I’ll have you know, that the Gators have won multiple national championships, and I also root for the Bulls.” you cut off, then blush slightly. “Sorry…and thank you, Robert.” you stare up at him, and there it is again; Anxiety mixing in with curiosity, and a hint of attraction; a shot of attraction now, there might as well be a pint of it the next go around. The man looked down at her. 

“I’m…Bob, by the way. No one calls me Robert.”  He sticks his hand out. 

The golden opportunity, you practically water at the mouth to get your hand over his. You didn’t want to make yourself look desperate to touch him; that’s always a little awkward. You wanted to give it such a good shake that you were able to send him on that spiral, without having to use that weapon you brought and stashed in his blindspot. So you grin, your manicured fingers slowly slithering over and interconnecting with his fingers, as power surged through you. It felt like a runners high, better than sex, better than taking back what’s yours. “Y/N”

You could see it actively working, the uncertainty that lingered on his face, yet, something else started to swallow you whole. You felt it run through you as everything turned black, and for a second, Bob was gone. He was the Sentry, after all, maybe you were the delusional one for thinking you could be as powerful as him. However, Valentina didn’t mention this. She didn’t mention this unwavering ability he had that made you feel utterly alone.

You felt yourself shift to a new plane of existence, your body now sitting as slight murmuring grew louder and more coherent. The smell of coffee and old books hit your senses like a gut punch, and fluorescent lights peaked through your thin eyelids and lashes. Your clothes were the same, yet everything was different. When your eyes opened, you noticed yourself sitting in a group with people you wouldn't believe you were seeing. Because they were your classmates. Because it’s been years. Because..they’re all dead. The monotone voice was your teacher. She was dead. The clock struck 2:15, and stayed that way after that day. You were strapped to your seat, an adult, seeing your teenage pupils panic to news over the intercom. 

Stuck to your seat, you watched them scramble to barricade doors. Stuck to your seat, you watch them arm themselves with textbooks and chairs. Stuck to your seat, you watched as everything failed, and each life got ripped away from you, the way you couldn’t have seen back then when you played dead. This was what you were escaping. This is the promise Valentina failed at keeping; having to see it play out over and over again; until you realized you could move. You could always move. 

You try to run to the door, swinging it open and seeing yourself and Valentina going over your own project. Before you could run to your salvation, you see Bob on the other side of the classroom, staring at you in horror. 

You snap back to reality, stumbling back as tears reach the rims of your eyes. You were on the verge of hyperventilating as your legs shook, holding onto the edge of the bed frame. Your knees cowering as you look down at the floor. Bob puts his hands up, almost as shocked as you are. As your mind racks with the idea of how your powers failed you here, Bob stares at you. 

“I know what you are…” he says sternly, his jaw tensing up as he keeps his gaze. “Project Venus?” he asked. 

You try to calm down, your breaths slowing down slowly as your eyes finally meet him. You neither confirm or deny. “...Project Sentry.” you grit. You see him slowly put his hands down. “Valentina told me that everyone from Project Venus died…” you watch as he connects the dots as to why you were kept in the dark for so long. Before he had time to process the possible failed assaination by proxy attempt, you ran to hit, backhanding him, distracting him, before kneeing him in the stomach.

He groaned, annoyed, and before you could land another punch, he grabbed your wrist; holding it tightly as you tried to snatch it away. “I’m not gonna fight you-” “-bullshit, if you know me, and what I can do, then you know why I’m here-” “-it doesn’t work, and that’s why you were scrapped, now stop before you sprain something-rob” you didn’t listen, you kicked him and pushed him out of the way, running to the door and grabbing the bow, and aiming it at him. 

“God, what the fuck, Stop!” He holds his hands up. 

“What did you do to me?” you barked. “How did you-” your voice shook as Bob shook his head. “Look, it’s clear that Valentina fucked us both. Okay? You-You have every reason to be upset! She didn’t care about you then and doesn't now either. She probably sent you here to be killed just-just-put the fucking bow down, please!” he pleaded. “Please don’t make me hurt you more than I already have-” 

“Oh shut up!” you raised your voice over his. “I was supposed to be you! I signed over my entire life to be as great as you and you stole that from me, you stole my life…” your tears ran down your cheeks. “You stole my life, and I'm gonna get it back!” 

“I didn’t steal your life.” he snapped. “Valentina did. That man who did that to your friends back in high school did.” he huffed out as he dropped his hands. “God, Y/N, what was the plan here? You ‘infect’ me with depression until I kill myself? Do you know anything about me outside of me being the Sentry?” he stared in bewilderment. “Valentina used just about everyone in this building, you’re not alone.” 

Your hands shake as you hold the bow, and you start to realize that you never shot the bow before, and that you’ve always cruised simply by using your powers. Bob saunters over, his hands reaching towards her bow and lowering it. “There’s…nothing you can do that I haven't already done to myself.” he admits. “Please stop, before you hurt yourself.” 

You’re enraged, and you want to do everything you can to regain control, but there’s no use. You throw your weapon on the ground, drying up your own tears as you sniffle softly. “Did you learn all that after singing kumbaya with Red Room Barbie and her fucking friends?!” you spat. Bob just nods. “I don’t know, have you ever considered that maybe you could use your powers to help people? Instead of hurting them?” he barked back. “You know how much time you could save if you healed people instead of, I don’t know, inducing suicide–Can you stop fighting with me for a second.” 

You hate that he’s right. “If i started with you, we’d be here all night. You have enough personalities to keep me completely occupied.” 

“Now that’s a low blow.” 

You both just stare at each other, staying silent for a second as you sigh. “Why didn’t my powers work on you?” you were dying to know, even if it meant knowing that you were a failure, and you were meant to be scrapped. 

Bob shrugged. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you.” he sincerely said. “Maybe instead of filling a…whatever I am with depressive thoughts, have you considered filling me up with happy thoughts? Let me live like that for a bit and then come back to take it from me? Maybe I'll do what you want then.” he muttered that last part under his breath. 

“Are you seriously giving me tips on how to kill you more efficiently?” 

“I don’t know anymore, Y/N. This is awkward–I’m feeling awkward, in case you can’t tell.” he stared into your eyes. “You know why your trial was called Project Venus, Y/N? It’s because Valentina wanted to make a-a seductress who was an assassin. A whole…Killing Eve situation.” he critiqued. “You put the super serum in Steve Rodgers, you get Captain America. You put the super serum in me, you-you get a clusterfuck of problems. But if you give it to a people pleaser? you get an emotional manipulator…” 

You had enough. “You know what? Fuck you, Sentry.” you pick up your bow, not drawing anything, but holding it, just ready to leave this all in the past. “If there’s nothing I can do that you ‘haven’t already done to yourself’ then my work here is done. You’re the ticking time bomb. Not me.” you spat, only to feel what you felt earlier again; the anxiousness, now masked with annoyance and anger, the curiosity, the attraction skipped the pint size, and the pitcher, and the gallon, it jumped two gallons three. Four. Five. You didn’t care, though. He kept pissing you off. 

“You aren’t gonna try?” he asked.

You groaned and turned around. “Jesus christ, Bob. What would make you happy, huh?” you bellowed. “A puppy? A girl? FSU actually winning something?” 

Bob sighed. “All I know is that we came from the same lab, and we’re both the only survivors. It’s not a fluke. If you truly want to know why your powers didn’t work on me, then I'm telling you that you’re using them wrong.” he looked down at your hand. “Put it on my chest, make me think of something good. Valentina sent you here to die…prove her wrong.” he earnestly suggested. “I was able to prove her wrong, so were the Thunderbolts.” 

You hated that this might be the reason why it didn’t work on him. Maybe he was already filled with such darkness, that filling him with more, oversaturating the inevitable, it was never going to work. The public knew about Project Sentry, but not Project Venus. It made sense as to why you’d never be in the picture. It was a losing game. It was always a losing game. Reluctantly, yet, willingly, you dropped your bow and placed your hand on his chest. Oh… there had to be a rock underneath his sweatshirt…was it always this tight? Didn’t matter, you tried to focus on something that would make anyone feel good. Chocolate, a good cry, ten hours of sleep. Something. 

Bob looks at your hand, then down at your face, studying every feature. Your hand glows a soft pink, your eyes moving underneath your eyelids as you try to change his demeanor. You just sigh and pull away. “This is stupid-” “-maybe.” he muttered. Looking up at him, you realized how close you two were to each other. “All I can feel is how much I annoy you and stress you out.” his heart beats faster, the blood rushes to his face, and you felt all of that too, you just didn’t want to entertain that possibility. “Can also feel how bad you want me.” 

Bob’s cheeks turned a dark shade of pink, he furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, Cupid’s Girl. at least you didn’t force me to feel that.” he looked down. 

Your breath hitches slightly, but you shake your head at the idea of it. “I’m not dealing with this-” 

“I’m just trying to help you see that you don’t have to follow her orders anymore.” He gulped softly, staring into your eyes. “None of us do. Actually, the last thing I want is to see another person like me be under her thumb-” 

“-I’m nothing like you.”

“Bullshit.” he said softly. “Traumatized Floridian escapes pain by signing up for a trial, instead of going to therapy, they become the sole survivor of said trial and, under Valentina De Fontaine’s thumb, they become her own personal weapon…Sounds familiar?” you couldn’t escape from the similarities after he put it into words. You just sigh, opening up your mouth to say something, but Bob cuts you off. “I mean, we own her. Don’t you want that? It doesn’t drain you to do her bidding every now and again?” 

Damn it. You just look down, but feel his hand slowly raise to your cheek. He was right. Part of you hated how something as beautiful as being an empath, emotionally attuned, as turned into some cheap party trick to make top scientists and government officials leave the world behind without a single thought. There was a time you wanted to help others. You figured after you learned what you could do, you could help yourself. It doesn’t work on you, but you wished it did. You felt Bob’s thumb run across your cheek, feeling his anxiety tremble once the both of you locked eyes. “...you’ll never have to force anyone to do anything awful ever again, you won’t even have to force them to love you.” 

“What makes you so sure?” 

Bob just gazed into your eyes, trailing along your soft features as his eyes fluttered down to your lips. Oh, because I didn’t have to force you to want to help me. I didn’t have to force you to see me as more than just a potential enemy. His eyes flicker back up to yours. He wants to say more, maybe even show you exactly what he means. He’s too anxious, too awkward, too nice, while also flooding with some sick desire to have his way with you. The air between the two of you gets thick. The same way it did when he first opened the door, except now the playing field has flipped itself on its head. You stare down at your hands, and so does he, before his eyes find yours again. It’s almost like he’s signaling you on what to do. 

Your hand slowly reached his chest, but before you could make him feel anything, he mustered up the courage and grabbed your chin, slowly bringing it over to him as he kissed you softly. Maybe he just wanted you to touch him, not to make him feel anything he doesn’t already feel, but to reassure him that he wanted to feel you and only you. You feel him relax into you, all the anxiety and curiosity quieting down as you gently kiss back, bumping noses and heavy breaths as the kiss deepens. One hand shakily goes to your waist as he uses the other to slowly shut the door behind him. 

You weren’t expecting this, and part of you wasn’t sure if this is something that should happen, but once you both pulled away, your lips chased each other again; like magnets trying to find their polar opposite. You felt his grip on your waist slowly tighten, almost scared he’d break you if he grabbed too roughly too soon. Your arms find themselves around his neck as you feel your body get warm with need, way too soon to be feeling like that until your tongues accidentally brush past each other; then it was game on for the both of you. 

He feverishly kissed you as his grip on you strengthened, a small huff leaving him as you felt yourself gravitate to him. Feeling his knee slowly slip between your thighs, it was all too convenient. His hand grappling to the back of your neck as he pulled you in more; like he was some needy vampire and you were a blood bag with his name written all over it. His hand on your waist slid over to your lower back as he pulled you more into him, as if you could fade into him, as if he wanted you all to himself. And who were you to deny him of that? Especially if you just started to feel yourself dampen, and wanting nothing more than to get rid of the chaste feeling of not knowing what to do, and wanting something more so bad. 

Alchemizing the hate into passion was something you never thought you could do for yourself. Your hate for Sentry turned into wanting nothing more than to show him just how deeply you felt about him, how deeply you felt for him. The kissing picked up more and more, until teeth started clashing and the both of you started running out of breath. You pull away, breathing heavily and almost mumbling against his lips. “Bob-” oh god, you can’t believe you were getting hot and heavy over someone who willingly goes by the name ‘Bob’. 

He whines softly after he stops chasing your lips for more kisses, you can feel the heat radiating off of him like a space heater. His fingers run through your hair, as he huffs gently. “Sweetheart…” he hoarsely said, his voice dripping in desperation as his thumb slowly ran across your bottom lip. He couldn’t believe that you’d let him get this far with you. “You stress me out.” he chuckles softly. And it turns you on. you think to yourself as he leaves soft kisses on the corners of your mouth. “Picking a fight with me just to…” his mind lingers on the idea of having you in his arms the way he has you now. He loves hearing your heartbeat speed up with such a slight or sudden move, and you realize you’re not the only one who can hear hearts too. 

He softly kisses you for a split second, before leaning his forehead against yours. “Please?” he asked tenderly against your lips. You nearly squeeze your thighs around his knee at the idea of him touching you without it whisking you away to some twilight zone. This could be a sweet dream instead of some awful nightmare, one you deprived yourself of since the trial. “Please I wa-want…” he chokes up, before you nod your head and reciprocate the kiss from earlier; short and sweet. You felt him smirk against your lips as he gently pushed you back up against the bed. 

The bed is plush, and soft; it’s a stark contrast compared to the surprising pair of abs underneath Bob’s shirt. He eagerly attaches his lips to your neck, taking a deep breath and smelling the sultry perfume and the vanilla shampoo that you lather your hair in each night. Your skin is the softest thing he’s ever touched, and he misses it more and more each time he pulls away from you. “So..fucking pretty.” he mumbles to himself as his lips trail down to your collarbone, your blouse getting in the way of everything he wants. 

Your breathing speeds up softly as his hands fidget with the buttons of your blouse, you can feel him have some semblance of self control, and how close he was with throwing it out the window just to have you. God, you can feel the self constraint. He was strong enough to rip your clothes off with one tug, but the last thing he wanted was for this to be shorter than he wanted it to be, even if he wanted nothing more than to dive into you. The more buttons he unclasps, and the more skin he sees underneath, the harder you feel him get. It was right up against your thigh, and all you wanted was to feel it break you in. 

He breathes out a soft ‘fuck’ as his eyes wander onto yours, almost pleading for permission to strip you from the rest; please let me undress you, let me tear this off of you, let me have you. You could feel yourself getting more and more wet with each passing second. The way his hands slowly went over to your inner thigh and softly stroke his thumb closer and closer to your core was just the tip of the iceberg. He slowly leans forward, leaving another kiss on your plump and chapped lips. He stares down at you. “I need to taste you…please?” his voice becomes rash, strained, restricting himself so he doesn't go crazy needing you. 

“You wanna taste me?” your voice is tainted with the desire to assume control, because he sounded so pathetic for you. He nods like a puppy, nearly salivating from the mouth like one too. “You wanna taste how fucking sweet I am for you?” you reiterate, feeling his thumb slowly slide between your clothed crotch, feeling how damp your tights were, knowing your panties had been lined with how sweet and wet you are. 

He blushes at your words. “That…mouth of yours.” he raspily voiced, and before you knew it, the self restraint he could have prided himself on melted away. He pulls your hips down, taking your black miniskirt with you and unzipping your boots in the process as well. You can’t help but let out a soft laugh. “Someone’s eager-” you hum before a gasp leaves you, because before you knew it, he had ripped your stockings; tears lining down your leg as he leaned down. God your panties were cute, and you weren't even planning on this happening. Lucky you. 

He leaned down and gently kissed your clothed clit, a shiver went down your spine as tender whines left your parted lips, and the more noise you made, the more Bob kissed and rubbed and sucked on your panties. The friction makes you more and more desperate. You then felt Bob slowly slide that strip of soaked fabric to the side, spitting on your clit before ravenously lapping his tongue over your sensitive, throbbing nub. 

A moan rips from your throat as you toss your head back, feeling your back start to sweat with anticipation as he buries himself more into your cunt. His arms wrapping around your thighs as he forces you down on his tongue. If there was a heaven, this was it; getting endlessly eaten out by someone you tried fist fighting with earlier. You feel your stomach churn with excitement as he drinks out of you, instantly getting drunk off of you, and muttering helplessly against your clit; “god so sweet–so fuckin’ sweet–sound so pretty” intercutting with a few moans and swear words. You relished in how weak he was for you. “Fuck, Bob!” 

Just the single mention of his name made him speed up, sucking on you as his tongue gently continued to savor every last drop of you. You’d squeeze your thighs around his head, and he forced them back open. If you wanted, he could stay like that for hours; tongue deep into you while prying your shaky legs open. He wanted to stay like that, until your moans became higher in pitch, and more airy in tone. 

His eyes searched for yours, and the way he was looking up at you made it impossible for you to look away or not beg for more. Before you had the chance to, his fingers slowly slid into you, causing your back to arch since there was no sign of him ever slowing down his tongue. Moans spilled out of you as your wetness leaked all over your ripped stockings; dribbling down Bob’s chin and making him even more privy to what you liked, what you wanted, what you needed. 

If he was drunk on your juices, then you were equally as drunk as him on his motions. You became a bumbling mess, and he hasn’t even stuck himself in you just yet. “Ohmygod.” you mumbled as more moans got caught up in your throat. You felt the urge in your stomach, blood rushing more and more to your groin as you whimpered. “Just…breaking…you…in” he muttered against your clit, a low hum escaping him as his fingers rapidly entered you, leaving you, entering again, and feeling it overwhelm you. 

“God-so close!” you whined as he sped up. He huffed out a small laugh, continuing to work on your clit as his fingers curled inside of you, pressing into that soft spot none of your past partners could reach. A small squeal left you as your legs shook with desire. Grabbing a pillow and holding it to your mouth, you came all over his tongue, and you watched as he licked up everything he could get out of you. Your muffled moans were music to his ears, as he pulled himself up, grabbing the pillow from you and engulfing you in another kiss. 

Tasting how sweet you were, how tart it was on his tongue, and how it ran down his neck; you grabbed his face and pulled him away from your lips. He kept on wanting to kiss you, pouting when he couldn’t. You tried to catch your breath before feeling him slide off his sweatpants, exposing his boxers and the giant bulge he was sporting. You could see it throb as he looked into your eyes. “Please Sweetheart…” he begged. “I wanna feel how soft and warm you are for me please.” his voice strained as he looked into your eyes. 

You nod, eagerly pulling off his underwear with him and staring at his cock. Your cheeks, as if they weren’t red already, turned crimson at the idea of him splitting you in half with his member, already dripping in precum. Your hand slowly goes over and wraps around him delicately, seeing a shiver run through him as he grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls you up just to kiss you, then softly letting go and slowly going back down with your lips still attached to each other. A soft moan passes his lips, which are red and plump from the excessive kissing. He teases your entrance. “Sweet thing…” he whispers before placing a soft kiss next to your lips. “Good girl” he hums as he slowly slips himself in you; whimpering the deeper he went

A gasp leaves you as you try to adjust to his length; you weren’t expecting it to make you feel so stuffed already, and it wasn’t even fully in you just yet. “Oh fuck…fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” it all spills out you as Bob chuckles weakly, trying to keep himself together under the amount of pleasure he was feeling. He almost couldn’t think straight with how tight you were around him. How perfectly your cunt sucked him in; like you were both designed for each other. “So-so fuckin’ pretty when you swear-makin’ pretty noises for me.” he musters out before his hips finally react, finally slamming into you in a repeated fashion that’s just…perfect. 

A loud squeal left you, and his hand flies to your mouth as he keeps you quiet; clasping so hard around your jaw that the pain alone makes you cry out for him. Yet, it was overwhelmed by the feeling of him fucking you the way you were meant to be fucked. Your body jolts with each movement as cries spill out from the crevices of his hands. “My sweet fuckin’ girl…” he nearly growls, loving the way you were getting worked up for him; but also getting worked up over you himself. He moves his hand away from your mouth and kisses you softly; god, he had to be addicted to your lips. 

You took this opportunity to express just how good he was making you feel. You knew others were going to hear you anyway. “God-fuck you fit so well in me i-it-s just perfect for you!” your voice wavered, coated in pleasure, feeling him pick up the pace. “I fucking-love-it when you fuck me like this I deserve to get fucked out-” you cry, looking into his eyes.

He slows down, almost to get back at you for all the trouble you put him through earlier. “Never expected something so nasty to come out of those pretty lips of yours…”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Sentry?” You challenged. 

You could see his eyes bristle with power as he grabs you and flips you over, forcing your head down into a pillow and holding your hips up as he slams into you; not caring about how rough he was being. You scream with pleasure as your arms try to hold you up, but the pressure of taking him in this position forces your face back down on the pillow. You whine and swear and cry out, but it’s muffled underneath all the pillows. His grip on your thighs holds you in place; you could’ve almost collapsed with how bad your legs were shaking. 

“Yeah?” he grunted. “That’s what I'm gonna do.” He murmured hoarsely, trying to keep his control for just a second longer so he could enjoy you, but he’s been close to cuming the minute you put your hands on him. He grabs your hair and pulls your head up; forcing you to take his cock deeper and deeper as he tries to whisper in your ear; “shut you up, sweetheart.” he declared as he let you flop back onto the pillow. He stops thinking about being gentlemanly, and more about how to make you cum for him a second time. He could fuck you for hours until you came if it came down to it. 

Your screams and cries and coherent thoughts turned into a jumbled up pile of words, as you drooled onto the pillow; hair sticking to your face as Bob continued to unapologetically thrust against your cervix. It didn’t matter how nervous he was at the beginning, you had him right where you wanted him; helplessly plunging into you and whimpering with each jab. Feeling him rub against your clit with the speed he was going was sending you into a frenzy, causing your thighs to tremble more and more. “What was that, sweetheart?” he slightly smirked as more and more of your muddled moans sept through the fabric of the pillow. 

“You…yes…fuck…so…good.” you cried out aimlessly. 

Bob’s breath shook as he sped up. “Sweet, dumb, thing.” he groaned with each lunge into your cunt. “Good…handsome…boy…fuck!!” you whimpered out as Bob felt his stomach churn with excitement. He didn’t care to slow down, the last thing he wanted was to ruin the moment just to catch his breath. Why do that, when he can finally release the tension he’s felt since laying eyes on you? He groans at the idea of cuming in you, filling you up and making you his. God, he wanted you to be his so badly. He doubted it, but he wanted you every day of the week. 

Sooner rather than later, he felt his own thighs shake. His hands climbed from your hips to your waist, pulling you deeper and closer as he groaned loudly. “Holy fuck…” you felt his cock seize inside of you, twitching every time you squeeze your walls around his member, and every time you did, he’d suck his breath and try to move. He couldn’t take it anymore, he quickly pulled out and pressed his tip against your raw and sensitive clit. He came on your clit, watching his semen roll down your cunt and veer off onto your inner thighs as your hips finally lower themselves.

Bob flops onto the bed and tries to catch his breath. His eyes still glowing as he huffs out in exhaustion, he looks over at you and smiles weakly. “You look…so cute when you’re tired.” he joked lightly.

You face him, blowing a piece of hair away from your face and blushing at the thought of Bob being one of the only people who’s ever seen you this tired. You kept to yourself up until now, and now knowing that someone has seen you all dazed and fucked out turned from an insecurity to something to be celebrated. You reciprocate the same smile. “Well…it’s not every day I get dicked down by someone I was supposed to…” you cringe at the thought of why you came here earlier. “So..this team you’re a part of…”

“The Thunderbolts?”

You nodded. “They…didn’t judge you? Like, at all?”

Bob stops for a second, then shakes his head. “No…you don’t even have to fight, Y/N, I just…don’t want Valentina to hurt you the way she’s hurt me or the others. No one deserves to feel that alone.” he looks into her eyes. “You have something that can…change the world. You always took care of Valentina’s problems, always took care of her. But..who takes care of you?” he asked with genuine concern. 

He was right. No one did. But maybe here there could be companionship, support, trust, everything you ran away from before Valentina, because you thought it was no help to you; and only got worse with Valentina sending you on pointless missions. Maybe you were done being under her thumb just like how Bob was, and the others were as well. Maybe it was time for you to forge your own path–talk about some serious post-nut clarity, but at least you have it now and not down the line when it eventually gets worse. If you wanted there to finally be someone who cared for you…why not have it be Bob? If he wanted to hurt you, he would have already. 

Your eyes stay on his, as his hand slithered to yours; no ominous black shadows included, or horrible memories that already plagued your mind; just a true alliance, an unadulterated connection (despite how smudged your makeup is and how red Bob was) and all the mess that came with it. “What do you say, Cupid’s girl?” and with a soft breath, you nod, giving him a resounding yes. He nearly leans in to kiss you, but you stop him. He pulls away and raises an eyebrow. “What? We’re team members now so we can’t kiss?” he asked, but you shake your head. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Then what is it?”

“…Cupid’s girl is not my hero name.”

 .·:*¨༺♱༻¨*:·.

buy me a coffee ૮⸝⸝> ̫ >⸝ ა

[velvetinks]

He didn’t know

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, Joel’s death, graphic grief, emotional breakdown, heavy themes of loss, Ellie grieving, mention of violence, tear-jerker

You were eight weeks pregnant when Joel died.

You’d known for three.

You’d planned to tell him the night before he left for patrol. You made stew. You wore the dress he liked. You rehearsed the words in your head until they lost their meaning.

But when he sat down at the dinner table, looking tired and distant—like something was weighing on him that he wouldn’t say—you didn’t bring it up.

You figured you’d wait.

One more day.

Just one.

And now there was no more time.

Just silence. And his blood in the snow.

You didn’t cry in front of anyone.

Not at the service. Not when Tommy placed Joel’s jacket in your arms. Not when Ellie stood next to you at the grave with red eyes and a clenched jaw like she was holding the world back by force.

But you broke that night.

Alone. On the floor of the house you used to share. In the bed where he kissed you last. In the doorway where he said, “I’ll be back in a few days,” and meant it.

You screamed into a pillow until your throat was raw.

You whispered to the child growing inside you, promised them you’d be strong. That they’d know his name. That they’d never feel unloved, even though they’d never hear his voice.

But you didn’t tell anyone.

Not yet.

Because if you said it out loud, it would be real.

Ellie showed up a week later.

She looked like she hadn’t slept. Eyes dull, fists balled in her jacket.

You let her in without a word.

She didn’t speak, either. Just walked into the living room and stood in the middle of it—like she wasn’t sure whether to sit or scream or run.

You poured her tea. Neither of you touched it.

Finally, she spoke.

“I keep thinkin’ about the last thing I said to him,” she muttered. “It was some dumb joke. Something about him being too slow. I was pissed about the patrol rotation, and I snapped at him.”

You said nothing. Let her bleed the guilt out.

She sat down hard on the couch.

“I didn’t mean it,” she said. “He was just… he was trying. And I was still so mad about—about Salt Lake. About the lie. But he was still him, you know?”

Your throat ached. “Yeah.”

“He was starting to come back to me. I could feel it.”

You stared at the fire. At the embers that were dying, same as everything else.

“I was gonna tell him,” you whispered suddenly.

Ellie looked up.

“What?”

You didn’t cry—not yet. You just held your stomach. Your flat, quiet stomach.

“I was gonna tell him,” you repeated. “I was pregnant. I am pregnant. I—fuck, I waited. I thought it would be better after the patrol, when he was home and rested and warm and safe and…”

You covered your mouth. It didn’t help the sob that broke through.

Ellie didn’t move at first. She just stared at you, wide-eyed and hollowed out.

Then she stood, crossed the room, and knelt in front of you like she was afraid to break you just by getting close.

She reached for your hand.

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head.

“I was scared. I didn’t know what he’d say. I didn’t want to, what if he thought it was a mistake?”

Ellie let out a breath that sounded like a laugh. Or a sob. Maybe both.

“He wouldn’t have. Not for a second.”

“You sure?”

“He would’ve freaked out,” she said. “Made a big show of being too old and too tired. Said dumb Joel shit like, ‘You sure it’s mine?’ just to piss you off.”

You smiled despite the ache in your ribs.

“But then he’d build a crib,” she said. “Fix the roof twice even if it didn’t need it. Start chopping wood every morning at five just in case.”

You looked at her. She looked at you.

“He would’ve loved that kid,” she whispered.

“I know.”

Silence stretched between you. Soft and bitter.

Then Ellie stood and grabbed one of Joel’s old flannels off the back of the chair. She held it to her chest for a second, then handed it to you.

“Let me help.”

“What?”

“When the baby comes. I don’t know shit about anything, but—I can help. If you want me to.”

You stared at her.

A girl with too much pain in her bones and too much Joel in her eyes.

You nodded.

And for the first time since you heard him scream

You didn’t feel completely alone.

[coleslawedcondor]

watcher world will ALWAYS be one of the best nightmare time episodes to me because im in awe at how in its relatively short (37 ish minutes [apologies it’s more like 50 minutes]) run time it juggles multiple themes, character traits, and conflicts

the constant repetition of Alice being a “little girl” when she wants to be treated like an adult. The ticket taker’s comment on “daddy’s little girl…she’ll always be your little girl,” Bill’s emphasis on “daddy-daughter” time. Bill asking Alice to “grow up” and Alice saying he won’t let her. The Blinky mascot saying creepy things to her (a sadly common impetus for girls/women for “growing up”). The carnival barker at the strong man game coaching Bill’s treatment of Alice as if Alice was a child (“needs an ass whooping”) instead of an adult. Additionally, the barker kissing Bill on the cheek could be the infantilization of Alice flipped onto Bill to show just how uncomfortable it is [side note, the emphasis on ‘possession’ (Alice belongs to Bill, his little girl) could be a reference to Bill’s disappointment with the custody situation after the divorce].

Bill’s dismissiveness of Alice’s aspirations. Despite constantly reiterating she has “time to think about it,” he inadvertently shrugs off her aspiration to be a playwright twice until he is forced to confront it on the tear jerker. It shows that though Bill complains Alice does not let him in to her life, she is attempting that connection but he is fumbling it.

Privacy. Alice’s instagram initially being private before allowing Bill in. Alice saying she doesn’t want Bill to know about her life. Possibly Deb and Ziggy’s past relationship/current relations when Alice can’t be there. The people in line to the tear jerker (“what she can’t see won’t hurt her”). Obviously the security cameras and all-knowing abilities of Blinky. But also Snigglet sharing her deepest aspiration, before being ultimately (though indirectly) punished for it [side note, perhaps the sniggles performance was a parallel to Alice’s fear of opening up to her father?].

Attribution of blame. It’s the phone. It’s Alice. It’s Bill. It’s your mother. The reality is a combo of all of these. If Bill had been more receptive to Alice, if Alice was more open about her fear of roller coasters, perhaps he wouldn’t have encouraged her to go on the tear jerker. [side note, Alice’s play was a parallel to her story in TGWDLM, right? I mean the vampire can be interpreted as Deb, a not so great influence on her. Both Deb and Alice are gay, and they die in the end of TGWDLM. That’s the ending the judges—Pokey, the Lords in Black—want. But that’s the ending that the audience does not want. The audience wants them to live. TGWDLM is scary. It is funny. Just rambling at this point but anyway I think watcher world is full of so much symbolism!!]

[thebloodychampion]

rate the kink -> feet ?

Nicolas // Lyon  // Elgar’nan  -- Dreg  // Sethius  // Etienne // Daniel // Carlisle // Than // Talar //  ELEASAR // danny // fenrir // Jerker // clavius // irius // Noah Shep // Andrew Ryder

Rate Kink: Feet

Nicolas

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Lyon

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Elgar'nan

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Sethius

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Etienne

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Daniel

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Carlisle

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Than

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Talar

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Eleasar

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Danny

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Fenrir

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Jerker

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Clavius

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Irius

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Noah

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

Andrew

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

[ink-stainedkiss]

Doomed to Fall Apart - Jjk Men Smau

Synopsis: After things didn’t go according to plan when you announced your pregnancy, some of the men try and fight for you back, while the others watch as you slip from their grasp. *Intended for Female!Reader*

A/N: Well here she is…the finale!! Warning: It’s a tear jerker. Again thank you all for the love and support on this. Your comments are always entertaining and really help me finish my works. Anyways, hope you guys like this one! Love you all❤️

Part 1 / Part 1.5 / Part 2 / Part 2.5

Taglist:

@herefor-tojis-tits @mel1mak @fxr-evermxre @jinxiewritings

[peppertoastuniverse]

pep reads: gojo satoru – long fics (pt.1)

Part 2

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

☆ the way you love me by @peachsayshi [AO3/tumblr] [status: ongoing ◦ 29/? chapters] [smut!] [fwb!gojo] #pep's first fic she was OBSESSED with #real good good smut WITH FEELINGS

“We can stop anytime. If either one of us feels like... this ...might be too much. We stop, no questions .” “We can stop anytime,” Gojo repeated “... and nothing changes between us .” You swallowed hard at his last statement. You may not be able to read his eyes but you could hear it in his voice that he needed reassurance. “No matter what happens, we’ll still be friends...” you replied softly, “now kiss me before I change my mind.”

☆ you and me by tomodachi [AO3: ] [status: completed ◦ 5/5 chapters] [tear jerker] [eventual smut!] #pep cried #gojo just kinda loves you real hard

“Prisoners say the most comical things when their judgment comes,” you tilt your head, lifting a finger before him, “Who are you?"

--- History is written by the winners, Satoru knew this well. It was only when he lost and got sealed inside the Prison Realm he learned how to be weak and find out a long buried truth.

☆ ito by @peekamatcha [AO3] [status: ongoing ◦ 48/? chapters] [super slow burn] [shinto elements] #pep DIES with every update #the TWIST in that one chapter omg

You, a former sorcerer now working as a university lecturer, were hoping to maintain your distance with the sorcerer world for an eternity to come. However, with the reappearance of an upperclassmen from a decade ago, you are forced to go on a journey which you would rather sit out of. But somebody must save humanity from the impending apocalypse and apparently the job falls on the shoulders of you two.

It would have been alright had he not been everything you didn’t want to be reminded of. And the sacrifices to be made may be more than what had been bargained for. ☆moonlight by @septembersummer [AO3/tumblr:] [status: completed ◦ 10/10 chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #pep SCREAMED

Gojo Satoru is dying. And no, it's not his fault this time.

The curse which is withering Satoru into an early grave is actually the product of his great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, who had a couple of sons that refused to procreate. And what does a proud, powerful man do when his sons refuse to fuck, and there won't be another heir to the clan?

He curses his own bloodline, of course.

It's only natural that he forces them through some twisted form of sorcery to become uncontrollably, violently attracted to the person they're most genetically compatible with.

It's even better that the curse creates a permanent, unbreakable bond between the two unwilling lovers. That's right, it usually takes more than one fuck to make a baby-- so, why not force them to have twelve?

Satoru wished his ancestor would be resurrected from the grave, just so that he could kill him again. That is, before Satoru inevitably dies.

He's had a good run, he thinks. Now, all he has to do is make sure you don't find out that you can fuck him back to life and try to very stupidly save him from himself.

(here's a spoiler: you do).

☆ a typical family by @literalia [AO3/tumblr] [status: completed? ◦ 32/32 chapters] [non liner narrative] [dad!gojo] #pep absolutely MELTED #slice of life #pep's gojo comfort fic

"satoru. where did you get these kids?"

or

after a six month absence, satoru shows up at your door two little kids following behind. chaos ensues.

☆ and if i cant see by hollowdonut [AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 26/? chapters] [slowburn] [eventual smut!] [tw: ptsd] #pep loves the reader's dynamics with gojo!

They say eyes are the window to the soul, but Gojo’s eyes are almost always hidden behind a blindfold. Even when they aren’t, you can never tell what he’s thinking.

You wonder if you should’ve taken that teaching job in Kyoto instead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ

bonus!

☆ all hail the empress! by @chuluoyi [tumblr/AO3: ] [status: unknown ◦ 1/? chapters] [smut!] #pep loves this AU #but THE END THO? OMGGG you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

"Sunrise on the Reaping tried too hard to be sad and a tear-jerker" - congratulations, you have discovered the meaning of the word tragedy. It's exactly what it's supposed to be, a tragedy. I'm sorry, did you want a more colorful way of children getting killed? The whole point of the book is that this tragedy has been happening over and over again for decades and people have tried to stop it and failed but giving up is not an option. Haymitch got to fulfil his promise years later. The whole point is how that tragedy became a more and more refined and polished piece of entertainment, normalized, any resistance erased.

Seeing criticisms that Lenore Dove being related to Lucy Grey and Haymitch being friends with Katniss' dad is "too on the nose" and "cheapens the plot" is hilarious. Once again, the meaning of a tragedy, going right over some people's heads. Besides, District 12 was the smallest one, the population was only 8000. There were barely any Covey left. It was also an isolated environment with very few entertainments. Of course everybody knew everyone. How many kids did Haymitch have to mentor over the years? Of course one of those kids happened to be his friend's. Maybe he would have had other best friends over the years, y'know, if not for the hunger games.

"Haymitch was too much like Katniss" - of course he was like Katniss! Many children were like Katniss! Small town, isolation, dwindling resources, children left fatherless because of them having to do dangerous work, the coal mines, the casualties, seeing your sisters in someone else, no care from authorities...The whole point is that the same thing happened to many children. We're literally told Katniss was just somewhat luckier.

[moth-boi-lycan]

Y'know, if you want it to make more sense I recommend the fic! It's 'Like Father Like Son' by Eternalglitch on ao3. But be warned, it is a TEAR JERKER I SWEAR TO GOD-

TW(s): Blood and injury, manipulation, shock collar, torture, forgotten identity

I made this for RiseTober2023 Day 8: Green! The opportunity was left open and I took it- I posted it on Twitter but wanted to show you guys too! (Second pic is what order the background should be read in)

[cokou]

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚐𝚊𝚛 𝙻𝚊𝚠 𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚎𝚝

tw. Basically smut?. MDNI. ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n. SO YALL, IM ACTUALLY SO HAPPY TO DO THIS NO IDEA WHY. // Don't translate or transfer my works, will not be crossposted anywhere! This is my only account.

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

—Law the man he is, I'd see him asking you if you'd like to take a shower to rid of all the sweat or just ask you if you need anything. Is definitely awkward after sex, but he still tries to get it together and asks if you need something, if so then he'll gladly do it for you.

B = Body Part (Their favorite part of theirs and also their partner's)

—His favorite body part of his s/o would definitely be their thighs or their tummy, he'd cherish your thighs because they're smooth and soft, that means he get to lay his head on it when he's simply tired enough. Your tummy being his favorite would be because he loves burying his face into it.

—His favorite part of his' would be his chest, showcasing the tattoo that reminds him of cora-san. He'll always be proud of its' look, that's why it'll always be his favorite.

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

—His cum color would be #F0E3DD, he loves finishing inside you or on your face. Definitely likes the sight of you covered in his cum, would spill on your stomach and write words on it using his cum.

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

—Is in for the idea of shibari/rope bondage, he enjoys seeing his s/o tied up and unable to move or make a move on him. Will purposely tie the ropes fairly tight and watch you struggle, wouldn't admit it because, he's Law.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

—No experience at all despite reading books about sex, he fairly thinks he's doing a great job in bed, but his thrusts have no rhythm on them. But when it comes to using his tongue, he's definitely a god at doing so.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

—Doggy, watching your ass recoil when he slams against you is definitely one of the things that turns him on.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humourous etc.?)

—Is serious but talks you throughout sex, he asks if you're doing just fine or teases you when you do something that genuinely makes him twitch.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes?)

—It's fairly short and well trimmed, trims it twice a month and it does match the drapes. Its' color would be jet black, just like his hair but even darker.

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

—Being romantic isn't exactly his thing, that includes being in bed too. Although he shows alternative ways of being romantic to you, such as whispering sweet nothings into your ear—, or generally bringing a gift into your doorstep late at night.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcannon)

—He IS the biggest jerker ever, if he has anything to release steam off him from all the stress he was dued, he would be in his private bathroom, bottoms on his ankles and jerking off. Even when he gets irritated in the most slightest things, it doesn't matter, he jerks off in his office.

K = Kinks (one or more of there kinks)

—Just as i mentioned at Dirty Secret, he loves shibari or rope bondage, tying his s/o up to watch them unable to do anything turns him on so much.

—Lactation Kink, he sucks the life off of your tits every chances he gets. It makes it better when you're lactated and producing him the sweetest milk from you and yourself only.

—Belly Bulging, absolutely loves the sight of your belly being swollen from the amount of times he had came inside you.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

—No doubt your shared bedroom, he isn't in the idea of getting caught by his own crewmates since he a reputation to keep.

—His private office, letting you suck him off under the table, OR fucking you against his desk.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, kreps them going)

—Generally his s/o, whenever they come into teasing him or planting to seduce him in the middle of his work, he wouldn't doubt shoving you onto your shared bed.

—Lingerie's, especially colors of red or blue in the bedroom worn by his s/o.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn off's)

—Anything that would cause pain to their s/o or something that causes blood.

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

—He preferes giving oral to his s/o, definitely a god at eating you out. His tongue laps at you and knows where to touch. Although if his s/o insists on blowing him, no way he'd decline his opportunity, he groans when you blow him too.

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

—a 50/50 on each, his pace would be slow and sensual when the moment is calm and casual, however when he's irritated the change of his pace is quickly noticable. His pace is rough and in between of fast and slow, loves getting all his anger out with his pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often)

—NOT a big fan at all, if he decides that he wants to fuck, he likes to take his moment with you and not completely rush it, therefore quickies only come in whenever he needs you and he's terribly late on a mission or a meeting.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks)

—A big no no to him, once again, he has a reputation to keep. He doesn't want his reputation to be destroyed or be messed with, so therefore, no risks.

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

—He lasts about 3 rounds, his stamina isn't quite long but neither does it go too fast. He's in between, he could handle 4 rounds when he's too pent up.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On their partner or theirself?)

—He's not a fan of experimental and prefers vanilla sex, however, he does own a cock ring to stabilize his hard-on whenever they have a moment. If his s/o is eager to try toys with him, he'd only use a vibrator against them.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

—VERY, very unfair, he's into the idea of humiliation from teasing, teasing their s/o whenever he gets the chance to. Speaking to them during the moment to enlighten the silence. Absolutely loves your flustered face whenever he teases you.

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

—He's fairly quiet but enough to be heard closely, he releases pants and groans under his breath and his breathing deepens.

W = Wildcard (A random headcannon for the character)

—okay this isn't NSFW or anything part of this whole part but, I genuinely think he's a gift giver towards his s/o. He's not exactly into pda but he's not against it, he enjoys gifting all various things that reminds him of you most importantly. He shows affection towards his gifts and picks only the finest stuff to give you.

X = X-ray (Let's see what's going on under those clothes)

—It's cut, slight curve, definitely a little pale base like #EAD3C5, tip is #E6ABA7, trimmed twice a month yet grows to be messy, 8.96in 4.5 girth, fluid is #F0E3DD, flavour slightly salty.

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

—Fairly in between, he's not always in the mood but whenever you do ask him he's always on the go.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

—It isn't easy for him to sleep at all, since he has insomnia it takes time for him to drift off. But eventually, after being tired with you, he falls asleep right beside you while hugging you against his chest.

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