#HUNGER GAMES FUCKS ME UP SO BADLY
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I HATE READING KATNISS AND RUE BONDING KNOWING WHATS GOING TO HAPPEN TO RUE
IM CRYING ACTUAL TEARS RN
#THIS ISNT OKAY#HUNGER GAMES FUCKS ME UP SO BADLY#erin reads hunger games#the hunger games#thg rue#katniss everdeen
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happy two year anniversary to the very beginning of my descent into madness (the day i added my hockey guy on social media) (it all went downhill from there)
#i love talking in parentheses guys it’s so fun#anyway after that he put me on my deep obsessive stranger things phase. and after that we did the play together. and after that#i watched the hunger games movies because he gave me the flu after tech week. and after that i was sending him videos from an airbnb in#albuquerque nm at one in the morning. and at some point along the way i was squished out badly (vwoop was there) (don’t look at my sideblog#and after that he put me on various new music and then left to california with my best friend for two weeks and i was so alone.#and after that we didn’t talk much for most of last summer until suddenly we went anc saw the barbie movie together. and after that#he called me on the phone various times (he’s one of only two people i dna stand talking to on the phone)#and then he befriended one of my teammates over the socials and then i went to some of his hockey games and then#deep breath. guys im running out of things to say. can you tell im so fucking insane about my best friends irl.#and then he’s gone to my birthdays the past two years in a row even though he can’t drive and it’s inconvenient for him. and then we’re#going to a concert next week (he’s taking me)#rowe rambles#JESUS CHRIST shut up rowe
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what is your problem with tiktok or booktok and colleen hoover lmao its not that bad surely
the fact that it actively promotes overconsumerism, the way it sells books to you by just playing into already heavily milked out tropes with very specific character niches that are seen in every book nowadays and how the reading is just seen as something aesthetic or a part of the "it girl routine" maybe? if those are enough reasons for you?
does the fact that these books are the first things you see when you walk into a bookstore not bother you? when you ask someone for a book recommendation they'll follow it up with "its a romance slow burn enemies to lovers". it's always about the aesthetic of the book, how many lines can you take out of context and post as a compilation of your super cute romantic annotations page on instagram. no analyzing the book, no theories, no symbolism or meaningfulness at all. how people stand reading those kind of books and still feel any kind of emotions over these flat as hell books with no world or character building is genuinely baffling to me
no one seems to know about actual literature anymore, which not to sound like a boomer but i think its definitely true. there's always been trend cycles, i agree such as the harry potter craze from the 1990s to the 2000s and the dystopia hunger games/maze runner/divergent blast in the early 2010s but tiktok has just.. shortened these cycles so much. as a result, people like our darling colleen hoover whose written around 46 books since 2015 (according to google) try come up with as much fresh content as they can as quickly as possible for the readers (see overconsumption). the fact that this lady outsold the bible is not outstanding to me, its fucking concerning.
and after all that, the result is badly written books with characters who're about as dimensional as a piece of paper, overuse of tropes, read like they've been written by a toddler, toxic-ass relationships being romanticised, very unnecessary sex scenes and countless other things. seriously if i wanted to read about the kind of stories hoover tells i would just open a wattpad account.
not clowning on those who made the choice to read it. i'm trying to highlight some of the flaws i find in authors like colleen hoover, sjm, ali hazelwood, casey mcquinston. some of them might be good, i wouldn't know because i actively try and avoid them at all costs. also i am BEGGING u all who will have an objection to this post to reach out of your comfort zone and read something different like non-fiction or fantasy or one of the classics for once if you only read booktok like seriously it might be hard but just do it for the love of god!! if you're annoying on this i will block you by the way i don't care
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A New Game (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)
18+ | thigh riding, nipple play, wesker being a condescending little fuck, bit of degradation | Fic Directory
When your back hits the wall, you know you’re in the best kind of trouble.
Wesker is silent as he takes you in. He holds your wrists above your head, wordlessly asserting that you are fully at his mercy as he gazes down at you with a devilish curiosity. There is a gnawing hunger seated deep in those inhuman eyes of his, and you are the meal that will sate him.
With his free hand, he grips your jaw and turns your face away.
“Where to start, hm?” He muses, blowing a warm breath over your neck, basking in the way you shiver. “My, my… So reactive.”
The hand at your jaw slips down your body, mapping a path over your chest to the hem of your shirt, slipping under all too skillfully. His bare fingers graze your skin and he smirks, humming in a way that sounds uncharacteristically delighted.
He had taken his gloves off earlier to tease you, as he had been doing for some time now. His fingertips carry a strange chill that contrasts against your warmth, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they dance up to your chest. He cups your flesh as if committing every detail of it to memory. He looks at you and you know without him speaking a word. Every inch of you belongs to him now. You are his to have, and his alone.
You can practically see the gears of his methodical mind turning as he takes in every precious little reaction you give him. Each panted breath that leaves your pretty lips, the way your eyes dilate, the soft moan turned mewl as he pinches your nipple and rolls it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Very good…” He says with that signature dark chuckle of his that always blurred the lines between arousing and terrifying. “I’ve enjoyed this game of ours, but I have a new one I’d like to play.” He comes impossibly closer, thigh rising to wedge between your legs as he lifts you just enough to mount it.
The pressure makes your core throb with a burning need and your hips buck of their own accord.
“Well, well…” he purrs, nuzzling against your temple. “Is that how you want this? So desperate that you’d hump my leg like a dog?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as his words shoot straight to your aching core. “I’m quite impressed you’ve kept your hands to yourself for so long.”
The simple reminder of your self control makes you struggle against his hold on your wrists. You want so badly to grab him by those damn shoulder holster straps and kiss him stupid. God… that’s how you’d gotten in this situation. Brave enough to finally snap and pull the most dangerous man you’d ever met into such an intimate act. Now it’s got you soaking your underwear as he whispers filth in your ear and teases your chest.
Wesker tuts in disapproval at your attempts to free yourself.
“Poor thing.” His hand slips out from under your shirt, prompting a downright pathetic whine of protest to escape you. He snakes it around your waist and rocks you against his thigh. “Tell you what, sweetheart.”
You gulp and he huffs the smallest laugh against the shell of your ear.
“Give me a good show and perhaps I’ll reward you after, hm?” His teeth graze your earlobe and you arch away from the wall, hips rocking against the strong muscle of his thigh for more of that delicious friction.
His arm wraps tighter around your waist to aid in your movements. You bite your lip through your keening, mortified at how quickly the mere idea of this ‘reward’ he’s teased has put you on the edge.
“Show me what I have to look forward to when I take all of you.” He commands, suddenly forcing you to move faster and harder. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Just imagine what you’ve been denying yourself.”
Your vision is hazing and you’re hurtling toward release faster than you can stop it. His words in your ear, his body against yours, his scent clouding your mind– everything about him has bewitched you. You don’t even care how pathetic you must look grinding against his leg anymore.
“That’s it, pet.” He goads. “Earn me.”
You let loose, chasing that ever tightening knot until it snaps and the shockwaves surge through your body like a hurricane.
You don’t even try to hold back whatever weak noises escape your lips. He has to know how good it felt. Wesker has to know what sweet sounds you’ll sing for him if he gives you more.
You need him to give you more.
With your eyes still shut and chest heaving, you try to say his name but it only comes out silent and breathless. You feel like jell-o, and you’re pretty sure his good graces are the only reason you haven’t hit the floor yet.
A curled finger lifts your chin.
“Now was that so hard?” He asks, a soft lilt ringing in his voice.
You give a weak shake of your head.
“Good. In that case, I do believe you’ve earned something special…”
The wet heat of his tongue drags along the edge of your jaw until his lips are pressed right against your ear again. The act alone is enough to make you clench your thighs around his.
“I will have all of you, over and over again. You will be mine for the rest of your days.” He nips at the side of your neck sharply, tongue laving over whatever mark he’s certainly branded you with. “You have earned me.”
#albert wesker#albert wesker x reader#albert wesker x you#albert wesker fanfiction#this is a follow up to brave since everyone was saying it was too short >:)#dbd#dead by daylight#wesker x reader#wesker x you#resident evil
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A drunken' gamble
Paring: Billy the kid x fem!reader
18+ MDNI NSFW
Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, Smut, PNV (wrap it up guys) Cream pie, Breeding kink, Top/bottom Billy, kinda sub billy, riding (save a horse ride a cowboy), oral (fem, M receiving) Fingering, gambling, drunk billy but not super drunk so they are both able to consent, Degradng (feel free to let me know if i missing💖) no description of reader
Word count: 1.6k
Summary: You and Billy run along with the same gang. Taking a break at the local saloon for a quick drink and a game of poker. leading to Billy becoming slightly drunk and ending up taking a good ride! + Bonus smut again at the end <3
The night took over the land as the lights started to appear around the small town. The saloon was busy as ever at night, with men drinking and women working to make their pay. and you just sat at some table drinking whiskey as Billy played some poker with some gentlemen. You'd watch from afar, seeing who'd get pissed and storm out and leave after losing half of their money during the game. It was a time for some nice relaxation after a tough day trying to do whatever stupid job you had.
Watching Billy as he took a swig of his whiskey and slightly leaning back, legs spread open as he waited his turn. You and Billy had something going on between you both. but nothing dramatic—a few flirting here and there and a hungry look once. But damn, how much you’d wish he'd take you, bend you over any surface, and just take you.
Upon your little session of just watching him, he turned his head slightly and looked at you. Something was held in his eye, like some type of shine you couldn't describe. But as he looked at you, his features were most admirable, like God sent him from above just for you and you alone. Turning back to the table once it was his turn, you looked down at your half-empty glass, feeling the arousal grow within you. How badly you wanted to get a taste of him. The alcohol was taking some part of you, but you were still able to keep a full mind.
You notice some man appear near you; he kept looking at you like he wanted to devour you. It disgusted you; he smelled like hard alcohol and truly made you want to escape. "Well, what's a nice, pretty lady just sitting here all alone, hm?" He said his face looked sinful and dangerous. Looking at him with a puzzled gaze, you tried not to respond and turned your head away from him. "Excuse me, I'm talking to you; didn't you hear me?" Not wanting to start a commotion and be saved, you sighed deeply and looked right at him. "Sir, I kindly thank you for wanting my attention, but I'm afraid I'm not worthy of your attention. I'm sure some of the other nice ladies are begging for yours." Pointing to a group of working girls who are looking at him.
It seemed to work as he wandered off, stumbling his way over to them. sighing to yourself, you down the rest of your whiskey and look back at Billy, seeing how they just ended their game. With him walking towards you and smirking. "Looks like I didn't have to save you, did I?" He said it smugly. "And it seems you're right, sir." Pushing the playful game between you both forward. Billy looks at you and then at the stairs that lead to the rooms that could be rented. "So.. why don't you say we should get some shut eye, hm?" biting his lip slightly, his teasing manner showing as he looked back at you. Grabbing his hand, you lead him, holding your laughs as you pass by those who lost in the game of poker.
The door slams, and your lips land on Billy. His hands are around your waist, gripping yours tightly. He moves his lips down, kissing your jaw line down to your neck. Working to take off your shirt with his hands, desperately needing to feel you. "Oh fuck..." He groans once he sees your bear breasts. Smirking to yourself, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it to the side somewhere. slowly falling to your knees as you look up at him, filled with hunger. Looking back at his bulge,you take your hand and free his cock out. The tip is hard and slightly red, with pre-cum dripping out. Wrapping your hand around it and pumping it. Billy's head throws back.
Letting a small giggle out before taking his length into your mouth, taking how much you could, and putting your hand to whatever place you couldn't reach You began to swirl your tongue around him, moving your head back and forth, pumping the rest with your hand. Feeling his hand grip onto your hair tightly as his head falls back with his eyes tightly shut. "God, I knew you'd be this nice sucking on my cock like a desperate whore?" using his hand to move your head faster and faster.
His breath got heavier and faster. "God damn, I'm gonna' cum..." Billy groaned out. Seconds later, hot ropes of sticky cum shot through down your throat. Pulling back your head, he took your body and laid you on the bed. Removing your pants, leaving your body fully naked along with him. "You're so wet for me, God," he said, looking down at you like a starved man who just found his first meal in months. Getting down on his knees, he placed your legs over his shoulders. Moving his face into your cunt, he slid his tongue down slowly, throwing your head back and gripping the sheets.
"Billy Oh my god," you cried out, your eyes shutting tightly as you felt him lapping over and over,bringing his thumb along and rubbing circles around your clit. Your hips stutter as you feel your orgasm approach by the second. "I'm so close right here, oh my god, please don't stop!" whining out as your hand moves to grip his hair tightly as if you were going to die. "Let go for me," he mumbled against you, his thumb going faster rubbing the right places as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. You moan loudly as you came your vision going blurry and cloudy.
Leaning back up, Billy hovers above you. Getting an idea, you flip him around and straddle him on the bed, kissing him deeply. Tasting yourself on him sent a shock of pleasure through you. Feeling his hands as he wrapped them around your naked waist, guiding his cock to your entrance. "You've been so nice to me; let me show you how much I fucking love you." Your breath heavy from your previous orgasm. Sliding fully down onto him, your cunt squeezing tightly around him, sitting still before moving.
Slowly moving your hips back and forth, your hands hold his face, making you both look at each other in the eyes. His blue eyes looking at you filled with passion, desire, and an intense stare. Letting out a quiet moan as his hands guide your movement. "Fuck, just like that, don't stop." He let out a slight whimper. Biting his lip as he glanced down, your bodies connected, a white cream ring slowly appeared. Throwing your head back as he hit your G spot gave him a chance to leave markings on your neck. The room getting hot, sweaty, and sticky. "Fuuuuckkkkkk," Billy rasped out, his head throwing back as he felt your cunt tighten more, feeling your orgasm approach.
"Cum with me, Billy; I know you want to... fuck! Gonna get me pregnant too, hm?" You said Making him look back at you. "Fuck yeah, I am. You'll look so good all round my child." He huffed out, taking his hand to circle once again on your clit. That made you even more turned on, quickening your pace to bring you both to your orgasm. Both letting out loud cries of moans out as he filled your womb with his hot sticky ropes of cum as yours slowly dripped out.
Sitting still, the only thing heard was the sounds of your breathing. your head resting on his shoulder as he placed soft kisses on your neck once more. "I wouldn't be ashamed to do that again once more," Billy joked out as he helped you slide off and lay next to you, keeping you close to him. "I agree. You were... okay." You chuckled. Rolling his eyes, he kissed you deeply once more before falling asleep in one another's arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bonus: Kissing against an abandoned barn as the hot sun beamed onto you both, your breaths were hot and heavy as Billy groped your breasts, squeezing them, causing a moan to slip out. "Hurry, Billy, they'll start to wonder where we are," stating as you unbuckle his belt. It was after a fight with some men and then being chased. Both filled with adrenaline, and needing to get some steam out of you both. "I'm trying, darling, but you know how much I love taking my time with you." he said, kissing your neck as he lifted one of your legs around his waist.
Taking his cock out and pumping it before sliding into your cunt, as much as he wished he could take his time, he knew they'd both have to be quick with this. Both of your forheads leaning onto each other, mouths opened, feeling him filling you up to the brim bottoming out, "Fuck!' You screamed as he began to thrust, leaving no time for you to settle. "God, I always love how you feel around me. Cmon' I know you can cum for me.''Rubbing your clit as he thrusted more, which started to becoming sloppy
Slamming your lips onto his, silencing both of your moans as you both cum. Grinding your hips into his to work through it "That's it. Fuck yourself on me." Hands tighten around your waist. You both, after hearing your names being called, "Where the fuck are you guys?" Both quickly parted ways before putting the missing clothing on, quietly giggling to yourselfs.
#billy the kid#billy the kid x reader#billy the kid smut#william bonney#william bonney smut#tom blyth#cowboy smut#billy the kid 2022
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we're in love - m. murdock
a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry.
likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3
warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex.
word count: 7.1k
summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means.
pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader
now playing: we're in love - boygenius
"will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."
Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.
Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.
You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.
It’s how you paid for college.
And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.
Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.
For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.
And then The Doctor found you.
No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.
He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.
You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.
Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.
About a month in, you started growing antlers.
At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.
On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.
At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.
But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.
How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?
Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.
Until The Doctor became cruel.
He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.
One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.
An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.
You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.
The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.
And that was that.
You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.
Which, of course, is where you met Matt.
With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.
And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.
Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.
He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.
He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.
One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor. You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.
He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.
When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.
You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—
‘My Best Test Subject,
I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.
-The Doctor’
You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.
This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.
• • •
After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.
But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.
It all happens too fast—
In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.
He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.
He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.
“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.
Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.
• • •
When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.
You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.
You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.
But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.
Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.
“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”
Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.
“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”
“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”
“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”
“You’re going to kidnap more people.”
“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”
“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”
He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.
“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”
You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.
Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.
The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.
“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.
“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.
The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.
“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”
• • •
Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.
For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.
Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.
Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.
And Foggy has the most important job of all.
Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.
It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.
“What? What is it?”
“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”
The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.
“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.
“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”
“Where?” Matt asks.
“Red, just—”
“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.
“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.
“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.
• • •
Daredevil is my enemy.
Matt Murdock hates me.
I hate him.
We were never really in love with each other.
These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.
Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.
Maybe.
You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.
The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.
But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.
It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.
Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.
Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.
“I found you, I’ve got you…”
You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.
Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.
“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?
Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.
“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”
“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.
“Why was she—”
“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.
• • •
If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.
Today is no different.
You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.
You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.
The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.
“How do you know my name?” You ask.
She frowns.
“It—Because we’re good friends.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”
“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”
Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.
There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.
He speaks next.
“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”
“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.
“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.
“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.
“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.
Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.
And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.
Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.
“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.
It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.
“I don’t know you.” You tell him.
Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.
“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”
“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.
“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”
You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.
Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.
“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?
“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.
“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.
“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”
Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.
“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.
It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.
“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.
You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..
Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.
Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.
“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”
He hesitates.
“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”
• • •
Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.
You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.
“You kept them?”
“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.
“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”
He shrugs gently.
“In sickness and in health, right?”
“And in torture and memory alteration.”
“Same thing.”
For the first time in six months, you smile.
Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.
You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.
• • •
Memories are a tricky thing.
You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.
One night, he brings home Thai Food.
“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.
“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.
“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.
“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.
But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.
“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”
“Why did you want to marry me?”
He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.
“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.
“Oh..”
“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”
You smile softly.
“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”
“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”
“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.
Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..
Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.
“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.
“Yeah..”
“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.
“Can you stay with me?” You ask.
“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.
Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.
But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.
“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”
“Real.” He confirms.
“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”
“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”
You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.
“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”
“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.
You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.
• • •
The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.
Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.
It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:
‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’
Five minutes later, you get a response.
‘Real. Yours is sprite.’
You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.
Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.
“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.
“Do you like pesto?”
“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.
“So you do?”
“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”
“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”
“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”
There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.
“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.
“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.
“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.
“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”
And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.
“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.
You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.
As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’
The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.
So you call Frank.
This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.
“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.
“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.
It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.
“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”
“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.
“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.
“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”
Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.
“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”
Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.
“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.
But he’ll never get that chance.
He hopes Matt does.
• • •
It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.
“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"
“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.
“You like them?”
“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”
He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.
“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”
Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.
Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.
“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.
“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”
You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.
The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.
“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.
“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.
The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.
“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.
“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”
“I know.” You tell him.
A comfortable silence fills the air again.
“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.
“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.
You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.
“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.
You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.
“Real.”
#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x you#daredevil fic#daredevil#matt murdock fic#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock hurt/comfort#matt murdock love of my life#frank castle#karen page#foggy nelson#marvel fic#mcu fanfic#marvel comics#hard of hearing!reader#hoh!reader#deaf!reader
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enjoy the silence. ｡˚⋆☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆ peeta mellark. {3}
→ THG peeta x fem-reader 3 parts.
→ 1, 2, 3
→ may be grammatical errors so bare with me lol
→ 2.6k words
→ smut, edging, mentions of spitting in mouths, rough sex, squirting, slap(ping) lol, soft dom!peeta etc, face fucking!
→ summary: you and peeta are the district 12 tributes for the 74th annual hunger games. you have severe anxiety, and peeta knows how to calm you down, somehow.
→ thought i was gonna make him rougher and more dom but he is REALLY SWEET IN ALL 3 PARTS LOL my bad!
→ give me prompts! here
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ .
"OPEN your mouth for me." You eagerly did so as you closed your eyes. You felt Peeta spit in your mouth and without hesitation, you joyfully swallowed. Your eyes shot open as you stared at Peeta, who was smiling like a maniac. "Come here."
He motioned for you to lay on him. You lifted yourself to eagerly rip your pants off, and within an instant you were half naked, lying on Peeta. He placed his head on your shoulder while your back soaked up every bit of warmth from his chest. "Tell me what to do, please, Peeta? And can you be a bit rough? Like maybe slap me a little bit?"
"Of course, baby, open your legs for me." you parted your legs at his command, desperately waiting for him to do something, anything, to you. His right hand made its way down to your inner thigh, and you had to find the strength to not beg him to finger fuck you then and there. "Someone is needy– and wet."
His finger lightly grazed over your clit and that alone drove you fucking insane. "Peeta, please!"
His free hand wrapped around your neck, ever so lightly. He didn't want to hurt you or push you past your limits, he was already having trouble containing himself and seeing you beg him to touch you was about to make him spiral.
He reached back down again to your heat and began to slide his finger up and down. You felt his fingertips brush over your clit, and back down repeatedly, his fingertips collecting your juices. You let out a stifled moan, trying your best to keep composure. He used those two fingers to spread your lips as wide as he could. "I could look at it all day."
He released his hand from around your neck and used it to keep your lips open, while his dominant hand attacked your clit. "Fuck, Peeta."
You felt him lightly smack your heat. "Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you with my fingers."
"I want it, Peeta, so badly." At that point you found yourself so desperate, so needy for his touch, that you subconsciously began to move your hips around against his hand attempting to rub yourself to distract you from the throbbing.
It took every bone in Peeta's body to not lose his composure, regardless of how many times he felt his cock twitch. You were so deprived, so eager for him, and that thought alone made his cock pulsate. "Lay down here on your back, now."
Without hesitation, you lifted yourself off his chest and onto the space beside him. Peeta, his eyes still glued on you, positioned himself over you. He pressed his lips on yours and spoke against them. “Take your shirt off.”
You obliged without second thought. There you were. Sprawled across the bed, completely naked, with the blonde boy you’ve been buying bread from for years hovering over you. Peeta looked at you, so many thoughts rushed through his head, almost overwhelmed at the sight of you patiently waiting for him. You gained the courage to ark up. “Why are your pants still on?”
“That’s a good question.” He jumped up and hastily removed his pants, the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel alienated. You tried your best not to look at his cock, but you caught a glimpse at it and found yourself a bit startled. The thought escaped your mind as your clit was still throbbing, you reached down and began rubbing yourself. Peeta, finally undressed, is greeted with the sight of you touching yourself. And it made him go fucking crazy.
You watched as he inched towards you, then positioned his head between your legs. He looked up at you from between your thighs and shun a smile you could only describe as sinful. You felt his breath against your pubic hair, making you throw your head back silently. Peeta let his tongue slip between your lips, you let out a hitched moan. “Peeta, please.”
He spread your lips with his hands, then attacked your cunt with his mouth. He ate your cunt like he had been famished, yearning for it. His tongue ran up and down, he made sure to flick your clit, causing your back to arch. He pinched your pussy and tongued every bit of it. His finger found its way into your cunt, mercilessly pumping in and out of you. “Your so fucking good, baby.” he muttered, having the time of his life. “Do you want another finger, baby?”
“Yes, I do. Please, Peeta, ah.”
He accepted your request and slid another finger within you, you let out a moan that came from within. Your body overstimulated by the feeling of his hot mouth licking every inch of your pussy and only momentarily stopping to spit on it, his fingers inside of you and his free hand that was now groping your left boob. Peeta wouldn’t ever admit it but having your pussy succus on his tongue and you writhing because of him was enough to make him cum tonight but, he knew he wanted you to feel you more. He lifted his mouth from your cunt and spread your lips once again, this time to take in the sight. “I could honestly look at your pussy all day.”
He dove back between your legs and let his mouth attack your cunt again, his fingers still pumping in and out of you. During the complete bliss you felt something begin to form, and you refused to let it happen already. “Peeta, ah, Peeta, stop!”
He pulled away immediately. “Are you okay? Did I do something, I’m so sorr–“
“Can I touch you now?” his faded smile appeared once again.
“Of course, baby.” he replied.
You motioned for him to take your place, and he did. He laid there, his penis completely erect, waiting for your next move. You turned around from him and mounted him, you shuffled back to position your cunt right above his mouth, his dick brushed against your chin. You stared down at his peculiarly large penis, you haven’t ever touched one the size of Peeta’s but you didn’t want to let your nervousness overcome you. You felt his hands grab your ass cheeks; he slapped them before continuing to eat your cunt once again.
You looked down at his cock and spat on it as many times as your could before grabbing it at its base with your right hand. You watched your spit roll down to the base of his cock as you began to stroke up and down. You felt Peeta’s body react from under you, he briefly parted from your heat to let out a soft whimper. You used your free hand to rub the tip of his cock, making him writhe under you. You managed to place your mouth around the tip of cock, despite Peeta’s tongue plunging in and out of you. You began felt his body jerk slightly in reaction. You lowered your head, taking more of his cock in your mouth and you could almost swear you felt it throbbing. Your mouth now full with spit, Peeta's pre-cum and his cock. You began to bop your head up and down, taking more and more of his cock. You felt his moans against your pussy and that almost drove you mad.
"Fuck, you're doing so good." he whimpered, this encouraged you to quicken your pace.
You guided your sucking with your hands that were rubbing up and down his cock without fail, only taking breaks to fondle with his spit-covered balls. Peeta's eyes rolled to the back of his head with every move you made, he fought through the pleasure and continued to devour your cunt to the best of his ability. You felt his cock his the back of your throat, causing you gag instantly. Before you were able to get back to sucking his cock, you felt that feeling again.
"Wait, Peeta! Keep going, please–" you lowered yourself onto his tongue even further, trying to prolong the feeling in that moment.
Peeta joyfully continued, trying to savour every bit of you. His tongue travelling up and down against your clit, his nose covered in your moist and his own spit. Your legs steadily shook, your hips contracted as cried out in elation. Every bit of your body was enveloped with a euphoric feeling, you lost control of what felt like your whole body, including your bladder. Peeta refused to stop.
"Peeta, ah..." you exhaled deeply as you leaned forward until your cheek connected with his lower thigh, you gave yourself a moment to replenish. His lips parted from your pussy.
"Baby.." Peeta remarked.
"Yes?" you responded.
"You got the bed wet."
You shot up and turned around. You squirted all over Peeta and the bed sheets without realising it. He stared at you, starry eyed, his hair a mess and his lips ripe from the magic he'd been working for the last twenty or so minutes.
"I didn't realise..." you looked away, filled with embarrassment. You scolded yourself silently. You looked at Peeta, he stared at back at you, you could see the thirst in his eyes for you. Without needing to say a word, you turned your body to mount Peeta. His penis still erect. He looked at you eager, waiting for you.
You began to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, every inch of him filling you up. "Fuck, you're so tight!" he cried out.
"Peeta, ow.. It hurts." you winced.
"Baby.." he cooed as his hands cupped your cheeks. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel bad. He kissed you for a moment, his own way of showing his empathy. He pulled away and began to
You lowered yourself until you felt the base of his cock. Using the bed-frame for support, you lowered and lifted yourself until you found a rhythm. Peeta, a whining mess, inches away from your face. His eyes shamelessly rolled back, his hands gripping your ass harder than before. You bounced as much as you could, your moans stifled. You kissed Peeta on his open mouth that was exerting groans prior.
He slapped your ass before pushing you on your back, he crept over you and didn't waste anytime before putting his cock back in you, where your tight walls engulfed his cock. "You're so good, baby, take every bit of it for me."
He began to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace, hitting every spot imaginable. Every time you didn't fail to moan and gasp. The feeling that was initially uncomfortable faded and turned into pleasure. You looked at Peeta who was above you, he caught your eyes. He crashed his lips into your open mouth. His hand slithered around your neck as he continued to thrust, pressing down on your throat.
"Do you like that?" he asked, his hand on your throat and his cock hitting every spot.
"Yes, I do, I love it.." you cried out.
"Say it again."
"I love it, so much!" you felt his hand land against your right cheek. You gasped, causing him to stop for a brief moment, then you smiled; which made him smile.
He picked his rhythm back up again. His mind bombarded with thoughts. You looked so beautiful to him. Your eyes were shut as you took his cock, your breasts bouncing at every thrust. This let him admire you. The most gorgeous, selfless girl he wanted for so long was underneath him taking every bit of his cock and moaning like a maniac, and he was so happy about it. He thought that dying in the arena after this would be a blessing.
His hand reached down to your clit and began rubbing, you didn't know it was possible to have two orgasms in an hour, but you could feel that Peeta was about to make it happen. Every thrust was in sync with the way he touched your clit, and there was no words that could let him know how good he was making you feel. "Peeta, it feels so good I could cum again, ah–"
"Then do it." he commanded. You felt his cock hit the top of your pussy, making your eyes roll back.
You could feel that urge to pee again coming back and you were scared to let it happen. "I don't wanna squirt on you again and get you wet." you said through moans.
"Do it right now, I'm telling you to. Or I won't let you cum again." he said. He stoppe"d thrusting and pulled his cock out of you. He used four fingers to rub your clit and labia in a circular motion, he looked at you and smiled. Your eyes rolled back and you were begging to catch your breath.
That familiar feeling returned and you felt your legs begin to stiffen and your whole body contracting as you let yourself have the orgasm you were so scared to have. You refused to look as you squirted on Peeta's chest and instantly felt relief before you could feel embarrassed. Peeta witnesses the whole thing and looked at you endearingly. He never knew you could get more beautiful.
You let yourself catch a breath and a brief realisation hit you. "Did you cum at all?"
"Not yet" he replied. You felt embarrassed and ashamed. He made you cum twice, and he hadn't cum once.
"Why?"
"I want you to feel good, I don't care if I don't cum while doing that. It's hot watching you do it, it makes me feel good." he explained, but you still looked dissatisfied.
"Do you want to make me cum?" he asked, you nodded eagerly in reply. "Get on your knees."
You picked yourself off the bed with all your strength and knelt on the floor. Peeta hauled himself off the bed and positioned himself in front of you. His cock that was semi-erect now sprung back up. He looked at you from above and took in the view, he'd be been waiting for this for so long, and he finally had it.
"Open your mouth." he commanded, his hands on either side of your head grabbing a chunk of your hair. You opened your mouth as far as you could.
He slowly slipped his cock into your mouth, filling your mouth.
"All you have to do for me is keep it open, okay?" he said. He slowly began thrusting in and out of your mouth.
His rhythmic thrusts quickened, each thrust making you groan against on cock. The room pulsed with the symphony of his pleasure, his moans becoming a harmonious melody that reverberated in the air. Spit dripping from your lips as he mercilessly fucked your mouth. Peeta felt his orgasm coming early, the thought he was fucking your mouth brought him to the edge.
He peered down to look at you, that was his last straw. He contemplated finishing in your mouth but he didn't wanna cross any lines. He pulled his cock out and stroke it as fast as he could. The tension is his bones released as he finished on your face, the drops of cum scattered. You stared at him finally satisfied.
"Thank you." you breathed.
Peeta turned to lay back on the bed. "Come here, baby."
You got off the floor and plopped yourself onto his chest, your arm over him. You laid there for a moment before lifting your head to plant a kiss on his lips.
"You did so good, that was perfect." he said before kissing your forehead. "You're so perfect, you always have been."
In that moment, you both forgot about the games, about everything, and enjoyed the silence. You took in everything around you, as did Peeta. All you ever wanted, all you ever need was there, in your arms. You both continued to hold your words for a moment, because all words have ever done is cause harm.
FIN
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ .
#peeta mellark#katniss everdeen#the hunger games#thg#thg series#peeta x reader#peeta x y/n#peeta x katniss#peeta smut#the hunger games peeta#josh hutcherson#coryo#Coriolanus Snow#thg peeta#cf peeta#mockingjay
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So I just started playing In Stars and Time because I got curious about the sad little blorbo you occasionally post about and afshdjdkrn
I just. Wanna hug them. So badly 😭
Siffrin isat my everything my cinnamon fucking apple WKDNWKDNEKEKSK HE IS SOOOOO SQUISHABLE...... THEY NEED A HUG SO BAD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH
Incredibly pleased im helping spread the isat propaganda like the dev rlly just Made a whump fic in video game format huh....... for tumblr girlies by a tumblr girlie.... my gods we respect the grind as if i could EVER be normal abt that
I'll be so real ive already written little tidbits for a longer au oneshot i want to write in between chapters of hunger au, and the exercise in 2nd person pov is SO MUCH FUN im enjoying myself immensely :] here, a snippet for both fun and profit (and more fun):
"Siffrin...." Odile says, and it strikes a sour chord, a ripple of dissonance that screws rivets around your chest and tightens. She shouldn't have to say your name like that, with that kind of weight— as if all the Craft in the world isn't enough to carry it. Pure reflex ducks your chin into the collar of your cloak; you avert your gaze back to the rubble-littered floor of the tunnel, tracing dark crags in the stone where sputtering torchlight fails to reach.
There you go again, stardust. Loop's voice is an ephemeral echo in your ears, a byproduct of months, years worth of past loops gone by. It isn't real. Gone and made yourself another person's problem.
It isn't real.
"— need you to start taking this more seriously." Odile bites out each word with the same deportment of a dog tearing off chunks of meat, clipped and cutting. Her brows knit together, mouth pulling down in a sharp curve; the lines around her eyes are tight, carved from the knife's edge of her own disappointment.
Her disappointment in you.
You almost miss the next sentence as well. "I have no way of helping you if you don't speak to me," she says. "And when you minimize these things you went through— you realize that's going back on your word, yes? Gems alive, Siffrin. We want to help."
You speak before your mind has caught up with your mouth, hundreds of loops sanding down the words into something practiced, rote. "But there's nothing to help me w—"
"Stop lying to me." Odile snaps, and your jaw shuts so fast you miss biting your tongue by a mere hair's-breadth. Your lungs threaten to buckle— inhale. Exhale. Come on, stardust, Loop's imaginary voice sneers, can't you do something as simple as breathe? Or are you just that blinding useless?
... Shut up.
Odile's eyes slip shut. She raises a hand to meet them, kneading at the soft skin between her brows. "I'm... sorry, Siffrin," she says, halting, stilted. "I shouldn't— that wasn't productive. I apologize."
Tentatively, you say: "You don't have to."
"Yes, I do." Odile straightens once again, tucking a strand of sweat-slicked hair back behind her ear with a grimace. "It's not... conversations like these are... hard. Yelling is pointless for both of us. I'm sorry."
"But you didn't—"
"Siffrin," she says, and this time the syllables of your name twist, a rise and fall that cracks wryly in the middle. One sharp eyebrow arches up into the canopy of her hairline. "You're supposed to say you accept the apology."
You stare. She stares right back.
Oh. She's serious.
"I..." you look down. "Um. Accept?"
"Excellent," Odile says brusquely, and bends to peer at an invisible speck of dirt clinging to her forearm. She brushes at it with absent, studious flicks, the epitome of single-minded focus. "Then now we can move on with our lives."
#shouting speaks#asks#isat#isat siffrin#siffrin#odile#isat odile#isat spoilers#SORT OF. I DONT THINK THEYRE EGREGIOUS BUT IM TAGGING JUST IN CASE#isat fic#yuor honor. im kinda insane abt the odile and siffrin relationship i wont lie#they are SOOOOOO.. THEY JUST DO COCOMELON SHIT TO MY HEAD OKAY I ADORE THEM#love meemaw's pride issues quite frankly. odile i love u..... i love how ur so bad at emotions but my gods u try#i could go on and on abt how i think she feels incredibly responsible for what happens to the party#if i get my way this fic is gonna be like a 20k character and relationship study between the two of them SJDBSJDNJSDJDJ#my snippets#txt
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Arranged marriage where Shen Yuan is send of to be married to Emperor Yue, and he has to be dragged off kicking and screaming.
And he arrives there, desperately trying to wipe off the scowl on his face when he knows, he knows why he was the one chosen to be send, how everyone knows of the king's childhood fiance who disappeared one day and was never seen again, and of how the Emperor has never stopped mourning him, not really.
The fiance who looked a startling amount like him, the servants send to doll him up whisper.
So he's dressed up in red and so is the Emperor, they bow -- once, twice thrice -- and before he knows it, Shen Yuan is a married man.
And then comes the wedding night.
The wedding night, in which he remains untouched, the Emperor having collected all their heavy robes and made a nest for himself in the far corner of the room, explaining sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I was just searching for any trace, any hope, and they took that as interest in you.
And left alone in the sprawling bed, Shen Yuan thinks about his parents, who jumped on the chance to marry him off, who have incredible political power for all that they are, technically, merchants. About how to spurn them would mean them selling their wheat and rice and everything to the kingdom next doors, who always welcome more food for their hungry people. Not a lot of produce gets grown that doesn't pass through his parents' hands.
And so he becomes Empress. He makes friends with his husband, who really is startingly pathetic and a little bit of a doormat when it comes to Shen Yuan demanding things, but is kind and knows how to keep the common people happy, how to keep away hunger and disease and war.
And he makes friends with his servants, one boy -- a young man, really -- in particular, who seems like he takes on more tasks every day, cooking and cleaning and everything that Shen Yuan needs done. He worries a little for him -- doesn't he need rest? -- so he asks, Binghe, come sit, look at this, what do you think? Play a game with me.
And one day Binghe comes in while he and Yue Qingyuan are having tea, when Shen Yuan is making a joke about how lucky he is that heirs are not required, when he's got two major barriers to that task.
And he goes wide-eyed and later asks, in hushed whispers, has he really not touched you? And Shen Yuan never wanted anyone to know, not when it would reflect badly on him, on his worth, but he tells him anyways, because it's Binghe, about how Yue Qingyuan can't bring himself to pretend when he knows it's not true.
And Binghe narrows his eyes, halfway caught between offended that Shen Yuan would ever not be enough for someone, and determined. Determined enough, in fact, to ask for all those vacation days he has never taken advantage off -- months, now -- and leave.
Shen Yuan pines a little, while he's gone, of course without ever noticing he's doing it. There are many mournful sighs over slightly too cold cups of tea.
And then he returns with a man spitting expletives, covered in scars and seemingly missing an eye below that snarled mess of hair.
He looks, Shen Yuan is somehow shocked to notice, a lot like him indeed.
Apparently, the man explains once he's calmed down a little, glowering at him from the corner where he stashed himself in, his old teacher got tired off him, and threw him into a pit. It took him five years to claw himself out of it, but not without leaving some bits of himself behind.
Shen Yuan stares at his thin robes, laying flat on the floor where a leg should be.
This point is when the doors are thrown open and the Emperor hurries in, throwing himself on top of the man without hesitating. Shen Yuan is tempted to retrieve his knife to take part in what looks like a vicious fight, but after one uncertain look at a very satisfied Binghe, he thinks that might not be what is happening.
So they leave the two alone, but not without a hissed order from Shen Yuan to use your words, for fucks sake, since he knows his platonic husband can get a little bit caught up in actions over words and forget that other people might actually like to hear things. That idiot.
Shen Yuan slams the door closed behind him, and breathes out a sigh and sags into the wood. Then loud noises carry over, not all of them of a conversation, and he decides he should actually, uhm. Go. Anywhere. As long as its not here.
Binghe follows him, of course, and they're not even a hall away before the boy asks if Shen Yuan thinks he'll get a divorce now. Shen Yuan squints at him. He sounded rather eager. Either way, he answers that politics fucking suck, and that divorces are Not Done in royalty like this, but that knowing his husband's skill at diplomacy, he'll find a way to do so that makes them come out of this all smelling like roses.
Binghe seems content with that answer.
Shen Yuan sighs a little, and remarks mournfully that now he'll have to get a job, ew. Maybe he'll even, horror above horrors, have to make his own food.
Binghe seems a little less content with that.
And that is the story of how Shen Yuan got divorced and engaged in the same day.
#bingqiu#qijiu#no romance between sy and yqy#svsss#scum villain#little drabble#i think i could make this into a proper fic#about 4k or so. hm.#maybe if i get reminded of this when i have more time#long post#<- i couldn't add a read more on mobile but if you're bothered by that you probably have that tag blocked
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"special privileges" ficlet
so i have this headcanon where ian is actually really bad at video games, so when he notices he's losing pretty badly, he'll get handsy with mickey to distract him...
"Oh, your ass is goin' down, Gallagher... again," Mickey teases through gritted teeth, his top row of teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip as his fingers punch down furiously on the game controller.
"Jesus, Mick, how the fuck do you-" Ian grunts, his hands clicking on his controller with a deeper intensity than his husband. He raises his left leg to kick Mickey's that are propped on the coffee table, his gaze never leaving the game on the TV, "Fuckin' stop shooting at me for five goddamn seconds!"
"No can do, Red. You ain't getting no special privileges," Mickey says complacently, smiling as he continues firing on Ian's player.
Ian realizes that he has let any chance of winning slip through his fingers, and that that would be the third time today that he would have to listen to Mickey's victory speech. He cringes at the thought, no matter how annoyingly fucking endearing his self-satisfied grin always is. His eyes shift to Mickey, taking in his profile, the curve of his nose, the way the top of his soft-pink lips slope upward with that perfect fucking cupid's bow, the freckles scattered across his jaw, as if each one was strategically placed to create this work of art. Ian knows it's corny, but that's what Mickey is to him...fucking art.
Who would it hurt if he pulled his strings a little, get him to let his guard down? It was his speciality…the ability to have Mickey a complete puddle in his hands within seconds.
Ian abandons his game controller, scootching closer to reach his hand under Mickey's ass, squeezing it's side. "Don't get special privileges, huh?"
Mickey squirms, Ian moving his hand to squeeze his thigh before he can respond, "Even if I do this?" Mickey bites his lip, desperately attempting to keep his focus on the game as Ian's hand travels up towards his waistband.
"You fuckin' cheat," he fails to halt the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth, "You knew I was gonna have your ass," Mickey surrenders to his husband's advances, tossing his controller to the side and melting into his touch.
"Mmmh but it'd be so much better if I could have yours," Ian says slowly through soft kisses on Mickey's neck.
His head leans back at the contact, relishing in the feel of Ian's lips, his breathe on that spot on his neck, "Fuck, you always do this asshole," he huffs.
Ian moves to his ear, nibbling softly, "You're just so easy, how could I not?" Mickey feels that smug smile against his cheek.
"Eat me," Mickey replies plainly.
"Gladly," Ian shifts from his position on top of Mickey, standing up and yanking Mickey along with him, grabbing his hips and bringing him in closer, crashing their lips together in an rough, passionate kiss.
"Ya gonna keep talkin' about it or ya gonna take me upstairs?" Mickey pulls always, scanning Ian, the hunger prominent in his crystal blue eyes.
With that, Ian gives his ass a quick squeeze, "Mhm, show me those special privileges," he whispers close to his neck before practically dragging him up the stairs.
#gallavich#mickey milkovich#ian gallagher#gallavich fic#gallavich headcanons#shameless#i just love writing them being happy husbands#i know it's all i write but i can't stop im SORRY#gallavich ficlet#lupeloto ficlets#never not writing these two as just fucking idiots because they are and i love them
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Mr Big - An Angel Reyes/Reader One Shot Story.
So that gif yesterday on the drabble I did prompted this filth. Enjoy, besties!
Words - 1,854
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
“I’m curious, Angel.”
“Yeah? What about?”
“About that big dick swagger of yours. I’m wondering just how big it is, because if it measures up with the rest of you then damn, I bet you’d give me a hell of a good time.”
It was the above exchange that had him laughing, almost bashful for a moment, and definitely taken aback at a woman matching him for being forward. You had game in shades, and he appreciated that.
It was also what led to the words that suddenly upped the ante in your not so subtle flirting. “Then why don’t you take me home and find out?”
You agreed. Of course, you did. Would Mr Big match up? Well, at 6ft 3, with his back and chest as wide as a highway, and arms like tree trunks, you certainly hoped so.
After a short bike ride to your place, the mid-afternoon sun warming your skin, you arrive at your home, Angel on you even before you’re through the front door.
“God damnit, I want you so badly,” he tells you between kisses, making short work of your clothes, his hands stroking blazing paths of heat over you. “I nearly pulled over three times to fuck you right there at the side of the highway against my bike. Fucking devil woman.”
“I so wouldn’t have stopped you.” It’s a frenzy of feverish kisses, panting in exertion as he strips you naked, your trembling hands unbuttoning his shirt as he lets his kutte fall to the floor, the shirt following, the heat of his skin a decadent blaze against yours as your hands travel over him. He feels even better than he looks, your tongue running up his chest as your hands squeeze his broad back.
Sitting down on the blanket box at the foot of your bed, you scatter open-mouthed kisses full of hunger over his abs, your tongue wetting the line of dark hair leading down from his navel, unfastening his belt. You are greedy in your pursuit of revealing what thickens beneath the jeans you grasp at next, your mouth salivating, aching to pry it loose and swallow it down. What greets you, though, when a combined effort between you has rendered him naked, well...
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
Angel snorts softly with laughter at both your words and the look of shock upon your face. “Yeah, that’s the standard reaction.” Your Mr Big is more like Mr Absolutely Fucking Massive. He’s just about to ask if you need a minute when you wrap a hand around his thick shaft, bringing your mouth to the tip, kissing just once, your tongue circling slowly, dragging a rumble from him that is sharp-edged.
Taking him back, you feel him twitch in your mouth, your fingers stroking over his abs, your jaw strained with the effort, his hands soft in your hair, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. The muscles tighten beneath your fingertips, his breath hitching in his throat as the wet drag of your mouth has heat misting through him.
A few more passes over him with your mouth has him shaking, his groans all smoke and rasp, his hands tightening in your hair, pulling back from you. “I don’t want you to, but you gotta stop, or I’ll blow my load. Fuck, that pretty mouth is too good.” His dark eyes pool with waves of lust as he lays you back on the bed, your mouth placing kisses across his wide chest, a flick of your tongue and a bite to his nipple making him moan, big hands smoothing down your thighs, his lips meeting your neck.
Oh, his weight on top of you. God, you never thought something as simple as being pressed beneath him would feel quite that good. “Fuck, these tits,” he breathes, propping himself up on his forearm, using his other hand to stroke you. “Fucking beautiful.” His head drops, his mouth covering your nipples in the wet suck of his mouth in turn, tongue circling each bud, the briefest hint of teeth jolting you with a quiver, his lips returning to yours, your kisses all syrupy sin, the feel of his cock skimming against your folds causing you to whimper.
“Damn, baby,” he breathes, kissing your neck, his hands running through your hair and down your arms, stoking you with pure glittering ecstasy as he shifts his hips, the tip of his hardness meeting your dewy entrance. “You got no idea how much I wanna just push right up inside you, feel that hot little pussy gripping on me, shit.” He begins kissing down your body, tongue swiping over your sternum, hands pressing your thighs wider apart. “I gotta wreck you with my tongue first, though.”
He descends between your legs, the smell of your womanhood intoxicating to him, any little acts of tease he might’ve inflicted soon abandoned, especially after swiping his thumb through your folds, spreading the little gathering of slick as he brings his mouth to them, tongue pressing firmly, gliding in a long, slow lick. “Fuck me, mamas. You taste beautiful.” His praise, followed by another sumptuously thorough swipe of his tongue has tingles glimmering through you, the pleasure so gorgeously thorough, you feel like if this is just the start of it, your brain might be short-circuiting by the time he’s done.
The drag of his tongue in repeated licks over your clit has you sparking, your fingers tangling in his silky black hair, little cries filling the air, the filthy indulgence bestowed on you causing lightning to flicker at the base of your spine. His mouth is all relentless hunger, sucking on you, stroking your folds before pushing two fingers inside of you, circles of purely sinful heat laved over your clit, his fingertips seeking out every last nerve ending within you, stroking slowly, rubbing utter bliss as he smiles against you, your wail feral and coarse.
“Fuck, baby. This pretty little pussy is getting so wet. Mmmm, I can’t wait to feel you cum all over my tongue.” he groans, sucking you hard, the tip of his tongue beating over your clit at speed, your legs shaking violently as you pant breathlessly. The intensity burns down to your very bones, heat skittering through your veins, until it’s blooming wildly, all the colours of summer bursting behind your closed eyelids.
He grants no clemency from the hypnotic beat of his tongue over your bud in the wake of your undoing, tasting your hot, pink folds with swirls and flickers as you gush onto his lips, his beard wet with your nectar as he sucks a mouthful of your cunt, your hands tight in his hair as you feel the coil within you tightening again.
Needing you, he emerges, your belly kissed by wettened lips before his mouth is on yours, his cock bumping against you in his blinding need to join you, grunting with light annoyance at the miss. Frustration and want flashes his eyes, his teeth prickling your nipple as you raise your hips to him, facilitating his body to align perfectly with yours, your muscles bouncing with lustful quakes as with one fluid push, he’s within you, parting your heat, and god... he feels more incredible than you ever imagined he would.
You’re skewered on him, feeling boneless against him as his mouth buries at your neck. The pressure and power of him within is like taking an entire storm inside you, his hips rutting eagerly as he reaches your summit, bottoming out and dragging back, your cunt hugging him greedily in desperation for him to do it again, fill you wantonly and make you whole.
Stars explode through your groin, a knife edge of pleasure ripping through you, your hands stroking his face as he continues to kiss you, all fire, sin and honey, cusses tumbling from his lips as your soaking core grips around him. You hang onto him as he spears you so deep your stomach shudders, legs and arms clinging on around his bulk as he begins to quicken, his mouth back on yours as his fingers graze your scalp and comb through your hair.
The feel of him rutting against you, dragging wetness from your cunt with every thrust, your dew bathing his cock entirely, you finally slacken and relax, moving fluidly against him as you pant against his shoulder, his mouth finding yours and stealing hot kisses from your lips.
He is tight and heavy within you, imposing and unimaginable in size and prowess, the power and rhythm of his fuck making you dizzy and drunk on him, his big hands grasping your face as your tongues entwine, his teeth then grazing your lower lip.
A grumbled groan wells in his throat, hips jerking and sending him deeper, your walls clenching around him instinctively, a whimper fluttering over your lips as he drags sparks through you, pleasure taking root and coiling around the base of your spine like a vine about to ascend. You thought taking such a huge cock would be painful, but god, how thoroughly he prepared you to be split so wide, breeched so deep, and fuck, how he knows exactly how to evoke absolutely nothing but the burning sparks of utter bliss.
He begins to pound into you with unhinged vigour and boundless determination, syrupy bliss stirred in your loins, your hands running down his wide, tattooed back and delighting in the feel of every rise and fall of his chiselled, bulky muscles, drinking him in, savouring how fucking perfect the moment is, how no one has ever felt better inside you than him.
His voracious dominance overwhelms you entirely, your body once again tensing around him as you chase your release, wanting to drag the same from him into you, your bodies colliding wildly as you pant and groan like animals in heat, everything frenzied and fervid.
You’re away from yourself, floating adrift, lost in the mist until his thunder brings you home, is your anchor pulling your back, the lightning shooting your spine awakening you into full bloom around him, an almost wounded cry leaving your open mouth as your nails claw his shoulders and rake his back. His uncontained hips piston his crest, his cock spurting into you deep, so deep with every wave of release he groans through, thick and hot, like what he leaves of himself within your pulsing walls, utterly spent.
He moves gently in the wake of all that was urgent and barbarous, his cock twitching within your heat before he becomes still, gazing down at you as your breathing steadies, eyes so bright it’s as if stars fell into his blown pupils. He lays his forehead to yours, fingertips trailing your cheeks, sweaty and breathless.
“So, I live up to my swagger, right?” Of course, he’d ask that. Of course, he would.
You smile, kissing him, gently nibbling his lower lip. “Hmm, maybe show me again, just so I can be sure?”
He shrugs lightly, fingertips tracing beads of sweat upon your clavicles, leaning to kiss your throat a couple of times. “Seems only fair.”
#angel reyes#angel reyes smut#angel reyes fanfiction#angel reyes imagine#angel reyes x female reader#angel reyes x you#angel reyes fanfic#angel reyes fic#mayans mc#mayans mc smut#mayans mc fanfiction#mayans mc imagine#mayans mc fanfic#mayans mc fic
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no time to die ⟶ finnick odair & oc [part 8]
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9
A/N: this is for my pookie ookie bear rese <3 happy birthday bbg
WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of sex trafficking, weapons, trauma, smoking, pretty much all hunger games shit :)
SUMMARY: rhys marley was the youngest victor of hunger games, winning at the age of 12. 9 years later, she's captured by the capitol along with johanna mason and annie cresta while everyone else is in district 13.
GENRE: angst, dystopian, fluff, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers
WORD COUNT: 2.1k
oc - original character(s)
NOT EDITED! SORRY FOR MISTAKES :0
lower case intended
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ZEPHYR sits in cafeteria with finnick, peeta, and gale, one of her best friends growing up. she's slowly eating her food when suddenly caesar flickerman pops up on the screen, showing that he's sitting somewhere in the capitol, getting ready to interview someone. suddenly, the camera pans to rhys, her hair chopped short and the bags under her eyes very prominent. "finnick.. oh my god.. finnick she's alive." zephyr yells, tears brimming in her eyes.
finnick's eyes widen as he sees rhys looking so broken up on the screen. finnick and zephyr look at each other before they look back on the screen, hearing rhys' go along with the captiol, telling them to stop what theyre doing. gale scoffs beside zephyr, "i can't believe this. i can't believe she is on their side." zephyrs eyes widen, her eyes shooting daggers at gales face. finnick and peeta look at gale and then see zephyr standing up beside him.
"what? are you serious, right now, gale? fucking look at her. she looks like she is being tortured." zephyr states, venom laced on her tongue. gale rolls his eyes, "i don't care. i would never say what she just said if i was in her position. she is a traitor." without a second thought, zephyr grips gale's wrist and twists it behind his back tightly.
"who the fuck do you think you are? you don't know what she's been through. you don't know what they're doing to her. you haven't experience shit from the captiol. you haven't gone through anything like we have. so close your fucking mouth." zephyr spits, watching gale look at her with a shocked look on his face. she lets him go and nudges him, walking away from the group.
peeta gets up, following her. finnick stands up slowly, going to walk past gale when he grips his arm and leans in towards his ear, "if i ever hear you speak badly about any of them, and i mean any of them. zephyr, peeta, johanna, annie, or especially rhys, i will fucking kill you. do you understand me?" gale looks at finnick, nodding slowly as he looks at him. finnick looks at him one last time before walking away.
a few days later, rhys is doing another interview with caesar flickerman. beetee makes it cut in so that rhys will be able to hear the clip of zephyr singing the hanging tree, a song the pair would sing growing up together. rhys' eyes widen as she looks at the screen, "..z-zeph? are you there? is that you?"
tears brim in rhys' eyes as she can hear a small snippet of the song zephyr is singing. "zephyr. if you can hear this. if you can see me. please. stop what you're doing." rhys looks in the camera, a certain look in her eye. the song plays again.
"how will this end? what will be left? no one can survive this." rhys states softly as she stares into the camera, you can see her heart visibly breaking, "no one is safe now. not here in the capitol. not in any of the districts.." she glances to the side before taking a deep breath, "they're coming, zeph. they're going to kill everyone. and in district 13, you'll be dead by morning." she states quickly as the guards come to grab her and the interview is cut off.
zephyr looks around, sobbing as finnick and peeta stand on both sides of her, "oh my god. she's warning us." everyone heads down to the bunker, waiting for the captiol to stop firing at them. a few hours later, coin asks zephyr to make another propo to show everyone that everyone in district 13 survived. she climbs out, seeing the white roses scattered all over the ground. she freezes, her heart physically hurting in her chest, "he's going to kill her..." she whispers to herself, staring at the roses.
"so, zephyr. is 13 is alive and well, and so am i." cressida says, trying to start the propo. peeta looks at zephyr, his eyebrows furrowing as he can see her mumbling to herself as she starts to hold her chest, her eyes widening.
"zeph." peeta says, his hand on her shoulder as he looks at her, "zeph. hey. whats wrong?" he whispers, brushing her hair behind her ear as he notices the distraught look on her face and the tears sliding down her cheeks. "he's going to kill her. that's what these roses mean, peeta. he's going to kill her." zephyr panics, her breaths becoming ragged and sharp as she starts to slip into a panic attack, her vision becoming blurry and everyone around her going mute as they try to calm her down.
after a few hours, she calms down and haymitch sits down next to her, "i suppose you're just going to hide down here forever?" zephyr stares straight ahead, her eyes tired and bloodshot from crying, "i can't be the mockingjay." she whispers quietly.
"not the mockingjay. just zephyr. you know, you're the only real friend i have down here. i don't suppose they gave you any kind of medication?" haymitch says, nudging her. zephyr shakes her head and rolls her eyes, "haymitch. seriously?" she glares at him, running a hand through her hair.
he sighs and looks at her, "look, the real reason i came down here was to tell you that they're going to rescue rhys and the rest of the tributes." zephyr's eyes widen as she turns to look at him. "what?"
"the dam went down in district 5, took out most of the power in the capitol. knocked out their signal defense. beetee's inside their system now, wreaking all kinds of havoc. a window is open to us." he states, talking with his hands as he explains the situation to her.
"how much longer?" zephyr asks, straightening up as she looks at him, hopeful. "i don't know," haymitch shrugs, "i guess until the capitol can get the power back on."
"and president coin?" zephyr asks, starting to stand up. "you know, i can never fully support that woman in light of the prohibition they have going on around this place, but plutarch got word that rhys and the others are in the tribute centre. and with the power out, coin sees this as an opportunity. she knows that rhys is the capitol's weapon. the same way you're ours. and as opposed to having you two pointing at each other, she's going to get her." haymitch states, running his calloused hands through his hair.
zephyr stands in the room with coin, plutarch, peeta, haymitch and all of coins little henchmen. peeta's hand is intertwined with hers, his thumb rubbing small circles on the top of her hand. she watches as finnick shows up on the screen. "this is finnick odair. winner of the 65th hunger games. and i'm coming to you from district 13, alive and well. we've survived an assault from the capitol. but i'm not here to give you recent news."
zephyr turns to peeta, whispering to him, "why is finnick doing a propo?" peeta shrugs, looking back at finnick. "it's a lot more than that." haymitch says to her as he stands beside her. "beetee's commandeered the system." zephyr hears, she looks at beetee. "now that they're down to generator power, there's a more limited range of frequencies available to them. and i'm filling them all up with finnick. not many will see it, but whoever does will think it's another propo. what they don't know is this broadcast is jamming their entire system with noise. early defense warning, internal communications, everything. as long as the broadcast goes through, our team should be able to get in and out undetected." zephyr nods at him, turning her attention back to finnick.
"the truth. not the myths about a life of luxury. not the lie about glory for your homeland. you can survive the arena. the moment you leave, you're a slave. president snow used to sell me. or my body, at least. i wasn't the only one. if a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward or allows people to buy them. if you refuse, he kills someone you love. to make themselves feel better, my patrons would make presents of money or jewelry. but i found a much more valuable form of payment. secrets." finnick states as he looks at the camera.
zephyr stands there, listening to both finnick tell his story and what coin and them are saying.
"see, i know all the depravity, the deceit and the cruelty of the capitol's pampered elite. but the biggest secrets are about our good president, coriolanus snow. such a young man when he rose to power. such a clever one to keep it. how, you may ask, did he do it? one word. poison. he stopped every mutiny before it even started." finnick's voice echoes throughout the building as zephyr watches the soldiers, including gale, make their way into the tribute centre.
"there are so many mysterious deaths to adversaries. even to allies who were threats. snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. but antidotes don't always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. help cover the scent of blood from sores in his mouth that will never heal. but he can't hide the scent of who he really is. he kills without mercy. he rules with deception and fear. his weapon of choice is the only thing suited to such a man. poison. the perfect weapon for a snake." zephyr stands there, paying attention to both screens as she watches, her eyes widening as she makes the realization.
"beetee?" zephyr looks up, watching the screen of the soldiers.
"im losing them."
"powering back up."
"ma'am, the capitol air defense system is rebooting. it's coming back online."
"must be diverting power from another source. and filtering transmissions. another 60 seconds, and we'll be cut off."
zephyr's eyes widen, realizing what's happening.
"madam president, should we call back the hovercraft?"
zephyr steps forward, looking at coin, "broadcast me. if snow's watching this, maybe he will let the signal in, if he see's me. put me on air so he can see me."
coin nods and gets everything ready. "president snow? president snow. it's zephyr. i need to speak with you." zephyr states, looking at the screen as she waits and waits for him to speak.
"are you there? president snow, it's zephyr. zephyr marley. can you hear me? i need to speak with you." all of the sudden, president snow's glitched voice echoes throughout the room, "miss marley. what an honor. i don't imagine you're calling to thank me for the roses." he grins as he looks at the screen. zephyr's heart drops in her chest as she stares at him, anger flooding through her.
"i didn't ask for this," she starts, her fists clenched, "i never asked to be in the games. i never asked to be the mockingjay. i just wanted to go swimming with my cousin and live our lives, as the children that we are. please.. please just let her go. if you let rhys go, i will stop being the mockingjay. i will disappear. you will never have to see me again." zephyr says with tears in her eyes, her voice hoarse.
"miss marley," snow starts as he leans forward, closer to the camera, "you couldn't run from this any more than you could have run from the games."
zephyr lets out a deep exhale, blinking hard, "please. you've won. you've already beaten me. release rhys and take me instead." zephyr says as tears stream down her cheeks, causing her to quickly wipe them away.
"we're long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice." snow states, his eyes squinting slightly as he looks at zephyr. she lets out a strangled breath, "then tell me what to do. i've always kept my promises, haven't i?"
snow laughs, coughing slightly, "you said you didn't want a war. and that's just what's happened. i told you what a fragile thing peace was. and still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. i know what you are. i know you can't see past your narrowest concerns. but please, miss marley. i doubt you know what honesty is anymore. it's the thing we love most that destroy us. i want you to remember that i said that." he stops, getting closer to the camera, "don't you think i know that your friends are in the tribute centre? cut them off." the camera cuts off and zephyr lets out a strangled gasp.
"oh my god. he knows that they're in there. it's a trap." zephyr states, shaking. "he knew. the whole time, he was taunting me. he knew we would go there."
"no, zephyr. we dont- we don't know that." haymitch says. zephyr slips into another panic attack, sobbing as peeta wraps his arms around her. she sobs into his shoulder, "did i lose her? did i just get her killed? i fucking killed her. oh my god i fucking killed rhys."
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#finnick odair fanfic#finnick odair#finnick odair x oc#hunger games fanfiction#hunger games mockingjay#hunger games peeta mellark#peeta mellark#hunger games prequel#peeta mellark x oc#the hunger games#thg finnick#thg series#thg fanfiction#finnick odair imagine#peeta x reader#the hunger games peeta#hunger games catching fire#catching fire#the hunger games trilogy#the mockingjay#mockingjay#haymitch abernathy#peeta mallark#effie trinket#the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes#hunger games#thg#district 12#the hunger games x reader
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Finnick Odair Masterlist
Supposed to be Us - Based on this request: "platonic Finnick x fem reader. Reader is Finnick’s twin sister and won the games the year after him. Reader isn’t part of the 75th games, but she is part of the rebellion that takes place after the 75th games." Oneshot
Dating Finnick Would Include... Headcanons
Death and Its Accompaniments - Based on this request: "a finnick fic with prompts 3,17,25 ('You know, for a jumpscare to work you have to actually be scary,' 'From the bottom of my heart, what the fuck,' and 'Tell me you love me. I need to hear it just the once.')" Imagine
Admiration - Based on this request: "a finnick fic with Prompts 7, 10, 30. (I put the 'grace' in 'absolute disgrace,' 'I have never admired anyone more than I do right now,' 'I have never enjoyed watching someone kill somebody so much.') Imagine
Reaping by the River - Based on this request: "finnick x reader where they were rivals growing up. Reader is reaped first and realises that she loves him. Finnick is chosen for the next hunger games and the reader won the last one so she mentors him. Annie is in the games and gets close to Finnick and it makes the reader jealous." Imagine
Survival of the Smartest - Based on this request: "in the arena, reader was badly injured and finnick has to help them survive. reader tells finnick to leave them, but he wants them to make it out of the games together. they make it to the transport safely." Imagine
Songbirds - Based on this request: “Finnick × reader. Reader is an incredible singer and Snow wants them as an entertainer. Snow announces a marriage between the reader and some capitol snob. They persuade snow that a marriage between Finnick and reader would be better” Imagine
#finnick odair#finnick odair imagines#finnick odair x reader#finnick odair oneshot#finnick odair masterlist#thg#thg imagines#thg x reader#thg oneshot#thg masterlist#hunger games#hunger games imagines#hunger games x reader#hunger games oneshot#hunger games masterlist#hunger games finnick#hunger games finnick imagines#hunger games finnick x reader#hunger games finnick oneshot#hunger games finnick masterlit#thg finnick#thg finnick imagines#thg finnick x reader#thg finnick oneshot#thg finnick masterlist
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Just finished the game for the second time and I'm SO happy to see some people still active about Vampyr!!!
I haven't gotten thru all the fic out there yet, but a request: Jonathan needs a hug SO badly, but do hugs from humans even comfort him any more, when they shove his nose in delicious smells / remind him of the last embrace he had (killing Mary x2) ? Geoffrey awkwardly pulling him into a hug for the first time vs. Jonathan's hunger and trauma, if that sparks joy for you.
Ah thank you for the request!! I hope you like it!
Jonathan's mood had taken a darker turn lately, with the main threat hanging over London gone he wondered more often than not, what would become of him now. Would he stay until it became too obvious to those around him that he was no longer aging? And then what? Where?
Would his life be a constant game of settling down only to be uprooted again years later when his time there was up? The idea of a lifetime - more than a lifetime... eternity - alone, filled Jonathan with such a deep rooted feeling of dread he found that on this particular evening... he simply wished to be held by someone. To be told that things will be alright, even if it is a lie.
McCullum was pacing in front of him, muttering to himself about the pack of skals you'd found hidden in a lower level sewer. The chilled night air seeming to not have any effect on him as he tried to map out a plan. Jonathan had long stopped listening to him. His mind flitting back to the more depressing thoughts wandering his mind.
He wondered if somewhere were to hug him...would it even bring him the relief he's searching for? The comfort? Or would he simply be reminded of his last embrace with Mary... perhaps he would be so consumed with the fact that his face would be so close to the source of his hunger that he wouldn't even have time to appreciate the gesture at all.
"Reid!" Jonathan's eyes flicked back up to Geoffrey who was now stood still looking at him.
"Sorry?"
"Where the fuck are ya? Did you even hear what I said?" Jonathan could do nothing more than meet Geoffrey's gaze with a sheepish look of guilt. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just repeat what you said"
"No" Jonathan sighed at Geoffrey's answer, the hunter was still more often than not stubborn and purposely awkward when it came to the two of them working together - something he had also been stubborn about doing.
"I don't have time for your petty behaviour tonight"
"Touched a nerve did I? Tell me what you were thinking about" Jonathan debated just shadow warping out of this situation, the last person on earth that would understand what he was feeling right now would be Geoffrey.
"It's none of your concern" Jonathan spoke too quickly perhaps, didn't take enough time to hold back his emotions, to keep the answer free of the lump in his throat that wouldn't go away. But he didn't. And he saw the change in Geoffrey's features the moment the shaky response left his lips. The way his eye narrowed slightly, the creased from his brows coming together.
"No it isn't, but I asked anyway, so answer" Jonathan sighed, his gaze flicking to the ground briefly before he looked away into the distance, anywhere quite frankly other than at Geoffrey.
"I just... feel down that's all, it's not exactly easy being what I am" That wasn't the half of it, Jonathan knew that he couldn't go into it all right now, truth be told he wasn't sure he would ever be able to start pulling at the threads of his emotions, the last few months had been nothing short of hell for him. He couldn't even think about Mary without becoming so overcome with guilt and anger at himself.
When Geoffrey didn't respond Jonathan let his gaze find him again, his face had relaxed, now he didn't seem to be thinking of anything at all, just looking back at Jonathan, waiting for him to continue he supposed. "I don't want to talk about it, I'm certain you don't want to either... it's just, sometimes it would be nice to have someone to hug"
"You... want a hug?"
"Oh forgive me, I forgot your devoid of emotions... yes a hug, you do know the concept of that do you not?" Jonathan knew it was futile talking to Geoffrey about anything, their relationship - if it could even be called that - was purely an agreement that Jonathan would aid Priwen when called and listen to everything Geoffrey said. No questions, no demands, simply obedience in the rare moments when they valued his abilities. In return they left him alone.
Jonathan was falling so far into his thoughts which were now plagued with the fact that he'd just let loose some feelings to Geoffrey that he didn't even notice the hunter had moved closer to him. The movement was so quiet, so swift, that by the time Geoffrey's arms wrapped around Jonathan all he had time to do was tense. Which he did marvellously.
"Jesus it's like hugging a fucking statue. Relax Reid" The hug was rather awkward, Geoffrey was almost the same heigh as Jonathan so his arms wrapped around him whilst holding his own arms down at his sides. His scent was overpowering at first, the hints of smoke and musk, the underlying scent of whiskey from previous nights spent at the bar on his clothes. But his warmth was more than anything, the thing Jonathan chased. His mind was screaming at him, torn between wanting to let his head drop onto Geoffrey and let his teeth dig into the rather small part of his neck not hidden by his scarf. To taste what he could so easily smell, see even, the blood pumping red beneath his skin.
Images of the night he had hugged Mary flashed over, how easily he had allowed the hunger to influence him, to attack someone so dear to him. He refused to allow it to happen again. He let out a breath he didn't need before allowing his body to relax, his arms bent up to grip onto Geoffrey's coat and he let his head fall onto Geoffrey's shoulder.
He may not have been the comfort Jonathan had in mind, but he was enough, certainly enough in that moment. Jonathan willed his emotions to let him be for a moment, he did not want to allow himself to be anymore vulnerable in front of Geoffrey than he already was. So they stayed like that.
Moments went by and as they passed Jonathan found he'd relaxed so fully into Geoffrey the hunter was taking a fair amount of his weight. He didn't complain though, which was new for Jonathan, usually Geoffrey complained about...well just about everything where Jonathan was concerned but, now he simply held him.
He held him until Jonathan finally pulled himself away. Both of them straightened up, Jonathan now found himself too tired - emotionally if not physically - to feel embarrassed by what had just happened. He let a soft thank you fall from his lips.
"You're welcome" Jonathan looked at Geoffrey, searching for signs of malice or a snide remark that would have usually followed. But he looked more relaxed than Jonathan had ever seen him, almost completely unbothered by what they'd just done. Jonathan wondered if this was how Geoffrey normally was, that maybe it was just him that was on the receiving end of all of his anger and hate.
"You're staring"
"Sorry, you look different" Geoffrey's eyebrow rose in question. "Less, I hate you and want to kill you"
"Hmm don't get your hopes up too high leech, I may still kill you" Jonathan allowed himself to smirk, there was no spite in his words, he didn't spit out leech like he would have before. "Come on let's get it to, those skals won't kill themselves"
"After you"
#vampyr#vampyr game#jonathan reid#vampyr 2018#dr jonathan reid#jonathan vampyr#geoffrey mccullum#geoffrey vampyr#jonathan reid x geoffrey mccullum#mcreid
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Happy Homestuck day everyone!
Fuck, insane I'm still obsessed with a comic THIS OLD but what can you do.
I feel like people often focus on what Homestuck did poorly or just discuss the characters or the comic abstractly, so in this post I wanna go into a bit more detail about what I think this comic did really really right which I'm yet to see done in other media.
The dialogue is just fantastic. Hussie really knows how to write naturalistic internet style dialogue and it breaths life into characters which otherwise are very flat. So many of the characters are objectively very simple but the dialogue is just so good they still feel like real people. Like Nepeta is objectively very boring, but the dialogue made her feel real enough to make past me kin her.
The format gets a lot of attention for using flash animation and games, but I think the real biggest strength of Homestuck's format is the pesterlogs. I read through Kill 6 Billion Demons a bit ago which is a very similar comic to Homestuck and despite loving it I found I didn't grow nearly as attached to the characters as I did HS. The reason I've come to as to why is that in K6BD the standard comic formatting just doesn't allow natural the characters to be normal people and have normal conversations without totally killing the pacing, so to maintain a fast pace it has to keep that to a minimum. In Homestuck, however, the pesterlogs allow characters to just kinda talk about whatever for normal amounts of time while not requiring the plot to just stop around them. John can ramble about his love of Con Air while doing important ectobiology shit. This gives the audience time to get to know these characters while maintain the lightning fast pace of acts 3 and 4 and a bit of 2 and 5.
The time travel, holy shit like I have NEVER seen time travel done so well, I used to think I hated time travel in media until I read this comic. The comedy gotten through time-traveling chat clients and the use of stable time loops for the story is just so masterfully done. The fact HS manages to have very few plot-holes in terms of its time travel internal consistency is seriously impressive compared to other stories featuring it. I crave so badly a story which can reach the peaks of the lil' Cal reveal and the conversions Karkat had with Karkat.
The fandom hooks. Like most stories are out here letting the fandom do some shipping or have a fun set of factions or a magic system to sort their fav characters into. Homestuck is here quadrupling the potential ships. "My story has 4 elements and what element you have is determined by your personality" Homestuck has a character personality sorting system with 336 possible combinations. Your story has one cool unique world to imagine being in? Homestuck has several. How would your fav react in the Hunger Games? How would they react to their entire planet being destroyed and being sent into a game designed to allow personal expression as much as possible! The lore is also overcomplicated but it does a great job at helping the audience through it. Like fuck this shit was crack to my neurodivergent ass.
The [s] pages were fucking AWESOME, like I am yet to feel the emotion the best [s] pages did since I finished reading the comic for the first time. The complexity of the storytelling means that when it's being told visually you need to actively interpret what's happening, causing strong moments of "oh shit!" when you realize what you just saw, further making an already awesome animation even better!
The way the comic mythologized the feeling of growing up online was so fucking cool to my terminally online ass. It made the worldbuilding feel so much more compelling than similarly complex fantasy worldbuilding ever has.
I might have missed a few things Homestuck did really well I'd like to bring up so I might make another post later, but like, damn. Homestuck was an incredibly unique work and I haven't seen anything like it since. One of my goals in life is to make a work that makes other feels how this comic made me feel cuz nothing has scratched that itch for me, but who knows if I'll succeed at that.
Either way, happy 413! I'm a derse sylph of heart btw <3
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The Ink Demonth 2023 - Day 19. Ghost
Day 19. Ghost
Crossover: Don't Starve Together
Wait, what does Bendy do in the Constant when neither his name nor even his nicknames start with W?
If anyone is curious about Bendy's character in DST, I also give you an additional sketch...
A very rough sketch of playable character for DST. I will think about it...
I would definitely like him to have trouble satisfying his hunger. Maybe he will only be able to eat nightmare fuel, but he will be able to attack hallucinations at 50% sanity? To consider...
I used here Wooden Flooring from original game :3
If someone doesn't know the game Don't Starve Together, I will say this: both this game and Don't Starve belong to the "either you love it or you hate it" genre - it is a survival game in a charming, cartoonish, slightly "sketchy" style, where our task is to survive in a completely alien, generally hostile world, where almost everything tries to kill us. When you start the game, you don't know anything, so you die quite often (unless you use the DST-wiki, but believe me, half the fun is discovering the world - one of my more epic deaths was when I was chained in the evening on the first day in a new world with a pickaxe a rock from under which bats flew out and killed me in a few seconds... I sat in front of the screen for a few moments after my death, staring at the text informing me that I had survived 0 days with the words "what the fuck" on my lips - beautiful times of ignorance...)
Overall, the game is about surviving, first of all, by getting food, but also by fending off attacks from various types of monsters, enduring bad weather conditions, avoiding darkness, and, above all, not giving in to your own mind, which is gradually becoming crazy. Cute.
Wilson, as this is the name of the character who is the ghost in the picture, apparently made food in the camp without having anything to add to the fire. It went out - and Grue attacked him, killing him in 2-3 attacks. Someone will tell me: wait a minute, there is hay right next to! Let me remind you that in order to collect anything, we have to be able to see it, and when the fire starts to go out, you can only see it a few steps away from it :] Wilson had no chance... Bendy, who was supposed to keep the fire going, screwed it up so badly...
I considered whether there should be a skeleton or even Wilson's corpse among the things, but I decided not... I always treated Grue's attack as not leaving any traces, not even a corpse (in the game, every death leaves a skeleton, which doesn't always make sense).
I took the background, of course, from ready-made turf patterns, in this case Forest Turf and Deciduous Turf (i.e. the deciduous forest biome I hate the most - although I like it for Catcoons).
PS. DST is often draw by me :)
Bendy and the Ink Machine (c) Joey Drew Studios Inc.
Don't Starve Together (c) Klei Entertainment
Sammy and the Ink Machine (c) Nayia Lovecat
#The Ink Demonth#Bendy and the Ink Machine#Sammy and the Ink Machine#BATIM#SATIM#DST#Don't Starve Together#Bendy#Ink Bendy#Ink Demon#Wilson#Willow#ghost#I wanna play now#The Ink Demonth 2023#crossover
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