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youngmoviemaker · 4 months
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It could be real . . . @bamsara
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the-slasher-files · 1 year
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I got this idea in my brain.
König getting some pussy so good he forgets to pull out. Neither party is complaining.
[CALL OF DUTY]
YOUR BEAST
KÖNIG
Oh oh oh ooooh my God I love this!! Warnings include: accidental breeding, knifeplay, mirror sex, stomach bulge, size kink, daddy kink and of course dirty talk... Hope you enjoy🔪💕
MASTERLIST
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Stretched. Marked. Burning. A deep ache, almost painful, fluttered from your core reaching through your throat and bubbling up in the sound of incoherent words and wanton cries. He pushed you further into the depths of a vicious sea and allowing you to bare witness to the storm tearing through his eyes still smeared in black paint.
"K— Kön—" His name, sweet and brutal was caught in your throat with another deep thrust.
"Tell me, baby. Tell your King" You could hear the cocky rumble behind the words, sure that his mouth was curled in a smirk if only you could see. It wasn't the black hood with bleached tears that hid his face, it was the fact that König's massive hand pushed the back of your head down, forcing your face into the mattress.
Oxygen waned within your seering lungs, body covered in sweat, spit and cum. Yours and his. Both of you had lost track of what round you were on, but your brain had melted out your mouth long ago, perhaps when he placed you on the kitchen counter and finger fucked your cunt until there was a large puddle of your mess on the tile below. Or maybe it was when König first walked through the front door and pinned you against the wall, having just come off a 2 month long mission gone wrong and he was desperate for you. A caged animal with claws dripping blood and devastation running through his veins with each pump of a war-torn heart.
A garble of whimpering words tried to escape your pretty mouth only to fall flat with a dumb tongue but he heard one word "C—Can't"
König's crushing hand disappeared for a moment with a dark growl rumbling behind his ribcage allowing you to sputter and gasp from the newly found air. However, it wasn't long before his mammoth hand appeared again except the long fingers tangled with your locks, gripping strongly and pulling you back with ease. Your body now flat against his front.
"Yknow, I've never liked that word... can't," He rasped out with rough lips grazing along your naked shoulder. "...Now, Maus,"
Humming in response to the nickname for you, eyes half-lidded and foggy with a cockdrunk haze, gazed up behind you with a whimper. Konig's thick and long cock held still against your cervix, relentless and unmoving, there was no ability to wiggle within the soldier's iron grip.
"We both know you can," He sneered with mischief and wicked intentions flashing like lightning behind the intense blue eyes.
Suddenly you felt it. Cold and sharp laying flat on the tender muscles of your neck, daring your pulse to remain steady. A gasp left your kiss-bruised lips and eyes went wide in shock, any haze gone from them as you stiffened on Konig's massive frame and he felt in, a quiet groan sounded in his throat feeling your spongy walls close in around him.
"shhh Maus, do you trust me?" The beast was gently pushed aside for a moment to check in before you nodded wordlessly, "Good girl"
Body still stiff, Konig's soft praise and protectiveness calmed your overstimulated nerves. You were and always will be safe and loved by your king. He reassured you every day, even if he was on the other side of the planet.
"I want you to see something, sweet girl" His voice went dark, dripping with a heavy accent brought your thoughts to a halt, "Just watch how fucking good you take me"
Konig hissed, twisting the hand in your hair to turn your head forward to see the bedroom floor-length mirror capturing an absolutely sinful scene. The 6 foot 10 Austrian soldier's hulking body, skin tanned and scarred, muscles tense, visibly controlling his strength not to break your little body before him. He was still dressed in his beige cargo pants now dark in parts with the stains of your countless releases, they were folded down making the V on Konig's torso even more prominent, drawing your eyes to where your dripping cunt was being spilt open around him. Soft open kisses were placed from your left shoulder to your right making your eyes flutter up. Going across the thick, veiny arm hugging your ribcage like a deadly anaconda, reaching up to hold the large german military blade to your throat, his hand overwhelmingly the knife handle making it look like a toy but the cold bite against your pulse made you know it was real.
"Konig" Your voice was weak, daring to crack at the sight before you.
Intense blue eyes stared back hungrily as he raised to the full height on padded knees from behind you. Releasing your hair to drag down where you two were connected and spread your pussy open as if his cock didn't do that enough before he rumbled with a sharp thrust inside you, "Look at this tiny little cunt begging for me"
A feverish heat spread to your head as the man you knew as Konig was slowly, methodically turning into a beast, something primal and ancient clawing out desperately. The air had been stolen from you once again as Konig fell into a sharp, deep pace, angling his hips in just the right position to make you see stars.
"Konig, Konig, Kon-" You chanted, almost as if it was a ritual to an old god.
He couldn't control it any longer. The way your breasts bounced with each splitting thrust, the way your drooling pussy leaked around him and dripped on the bed, how your body looked like a tiny toy against his, holding you with ease as your eyes rolled back within your skull even though Konig watched your stomach bulge taking every thick inch of him. Dark sentences in German could be found between animalistic grunts and moans, but they didn't meet your ears beyond the lustful haze, drunk on everything that was Konig.
"C-close, D-Daddy, sooo c-close" A cry tore through your throat, body about to give out still looking at the reflection as much as you could focus.
"Give it to me... Now" He growled deep, removing the blade from your neck and pushing you forward. Massive hands pushing, grasping and bruising your hips as he lost himself, fucking your body like a fleshlight through your final gushing orgasm. "FFFFUCK"
The world went black between you both.... Breath heavy.... Body tingling.
"Fuck," He pants, "Fuck"
The beast lingers in the form of a man, hunched over his lifeless feast with damp huffs.
"M'sorry, baby... sorry, fuck" Konig knows he lost his head, it happens sometimes in the field turning into that aggressive hound breaking bones with the hands that held you. "verdammt"
Slowly he rolled to the side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body close as you came back to life. First, the feeling of achy muscles and blissful tingles across your skin made your eyes flutter open half-lidded, reaching out to draw Konig even closer if it were possible.
"Easy, sweet girl, easy" He coos, guilt growing within his core with thorns.
Shifting with a whimper, he was still inside you and the now soft blue eyes went wide, he had never done that before with you.
"...Need you, Konig" You meekly whispered, needing his warmth and comfort so much now with your thoroughly fucked out body.
"B-baby, okay, just-" Konig stumbled slightly over the words that wouldn't stop.
Stunned, he didn't know how to react. One side of his brain didn't want to pull out and the other side just wanted to make sure you were ok and make sure you knew what had just occurred. It was your body after all and your choice, never his even though Konig's pride and fansites overcame him.
A whine broke the train of thought that ran through his clouded mind, rolling back his hips and pulling out. Stick warmth spilled out of you involuntarily as your cunt quivered from the aftershocks and the Austrian groaned at the sight, wanting to just shove it all back in and fuck you again, but he held steady and turned your weak self towards him. Cuddling and ducking into his neck. The scent of gunpowder and his cedar aftershave stirred within your lungs like a mystical potion, always needing more of him.
Gazing under your lashes softly, you knew what happened, how could you not feel it.
A wicked smile curled on your lips as he delicately pushed the hair away from your face. His pierced brow raised as your small hand reached down to sheath himself inside you once more with a hot moan, staying there hopefully for hours now, "That's where you stay, big man"
Fuck, you were his everything
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gmaybe666 · 4 months
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inspired by riddler: year one , experimenting with using digital brushes to appear like traditional pen and paint in a comic format and using my jargyle/byler road trip comic idea that I will never finish
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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months
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I love your writing. It's just the best. Seriously I check dc dp tags to see if you've written anything.
By the way, can you write anythng with another dc hero or maybe a villain? Maybe Superman or Captain Marvel(Shazam) or anything. You don't have to obviously, but it would be really cool if you did.
Oh gosh, thank you! I'm glad you like my rambles. I'm happy to write you a dabble! Hope you like!
Billy Batson was expecting a lot when the Wizard told him to only break the ice crystal in dire situations. He figured if the dying man had enough time to pass on thousands of years' worth of knowledge and store Old magical artifacts, then the Crystal had to be a last resort.
He also figured it wouldn't be so darn breakable. Billy felt they should have made the last resort a little steadier if it was so important.
But no, one accidental trip over his far too worn-out pants legs had the thing shattering like cheap glass.
Billy stares at the shimmering remains, his heart pounding in his chest as the soft green glow that had always come from the crystal fades away.
"Oh no. no, no, no. I can fix this. I can fix this. " He whispers to himself, falling to his knees and scooping up the pieces. He tries to reattach them, but the crystal melts in his palms. "I can't fix this."
All this because some jerk kicked him out of his old sleeping place, down by the docks. He had been squatting in Old Man's Jackson shed ever since the man finally bit the dust, and he had been so excited to have a building all to himself. Word must have gotten around somehow because he comes back from a Justice Leauge Meeting to find a sixteen-year-old rooting through his stuff.
As a homeless ten-year-old, Billy had scrambled to reclaim his possessions, including this critical crystal, jumping on the intruder with a war cry. He got a broken arm, a black eye, and a few bruised ribs for his troubles.
Thankfully he could walk away with most of his things as the teen sneered and screamed at him while he ran away.
It's not that Billy couldn't fight off the homeless teenager, but he didn't, and to go all Captain Marvel on some random citizen. Captain Marvel can go toe to toe with Superman, but plain old Billy Batson struggles to take kids his own age. He's always been smaller than his age group, not to mention hunger's damage to him.
He returned to the abandoned subway, stumbling down the dark tunnel. Billy didn't like the place- it was damp and cold and a little too open if someone else wandered in, but it was the only place he could go for the night on such short notice. He was thinking of asking Batman if he could take more shifts on monitor duty just so he could sleep at the watch tower.
Then his pants leg got stuck on a broken stair, and he fell, sending his dew earthly possessions into the air. Now he was, blinking away the spots from the beating the teenager gave him and a powerful artifact he promised the Wizard he keep safe, broken beyond repair.
Against his will, sobs start to shake his body. The more he fought to clear his eyes from the tears, the more he began to fall. He leans his forehead on the floor, uncaring how a piece of crystal cuts his skin, causing a trail of crimson to flow down his face. What's one more scar on his already broken body?
In a moment of weakness, he violently wishes he could run to his mom for comfort. It's a fantasy. She's long gone, buried next to his dad, and his uncle was somewhere warm spending their money.
The knowledge causes more despair, and he sobs harder.
Why does he have to be here hungry, without a home, when his father's brother didn't even bother to attend their funeral is living off of his inheritance? Living great, if all the zeros he saw on the check were any indication?
Life is genuinely unfair sometimes. That's why he took being Captain Marvel so seriously. Someone had to protect people from the cruelty of life.
A swirling green portal rips open underneath him just as the trailing thought of I wish someone out there wanted to protect me just as much.
His echoing scream, the swirling green, is the last thing Billy knows before everything goes black.
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Billy wakes to the sound of someone humming. He blinks open his eyes, fighting against the exhaustion and the siren call of slumber. The first thing he notices is the soft green of the walls, like the color of Easter eggs he used to paint with his Dad. He smiles at them.
It's his favorite color.
Then Billy notices his eyes getting heavy again as he slowly turns his head into the plush pillow and sinks into the warm blankets around him. His body is boneless in comfort, his eyes are closed, and he's just dropping off into dreamland when his mind finally notices that you're homeless and don't know this room. You're in danger!
Billy leaps off the bed like he's been shocked, throwing the two blankets on the ground. Glancing around, he's horrified to see he's in some kind of kid room- comics, toys, posters- all tailored to his tastes. He can even spot an archeology kit for kids sitting on a desk, just like the ones his parents used to buy him when he wanted to help out in their digs.
He always thought he actually found something in his little play rocks while waiting at one of the tents as his parents worked. They always beamed when he showed them the fake dinosaur bones he discovered in his kits.
He even has nice, fluffy pajamas. The kind that doesn't have buttons or zippers but is oversized, so they let him toss and turn in the night. His bottoms are a grey and black checker pattern, while the top has the Batman symbol proudly on the front.
Everything is perfect, from the decor, to his clothes to even the furniture placement.
It's the bedroom of his dreams.
Oh gosh, he has been Coraline-ed!
"Oh, Billy! You're up. Breakfast is ready and I just finished ironing your uniform." A man's voice says from the doorway. He swings his head around to see a man in his late twenties in an apron smiling at him. He's handsome, has fluffy black hair and baby-blue eyes, and practically embodies comforting vibes.
The other-mother.
"Who are you!?" Billy demands, fist raised. He can't go Captain Marvel with someone dead on staring at him- at least he risks his secret identity, but he has been on the streets long enough to put up a decent fight.
The man seems flabbergasted by his aggression which causes Billy to bristle until he slaps his own forehead.
"Right, forgot about the introduction. I'm Danny Fenton, and I will be your new guardian until you are old enough to care for yourself." Danny smiles, and the boy can't help but find it too pretty to be authentic. "As per your request as the champion of Magic."
Billy has been taken by someone who knows he's Captain Marvel. Which could be better on the one hand but on the other, it means he can do this.
"Shazam!" A bolt of lighting has him shifting into his adult form and flying a break neck speed towards the threat. He intends to punch Danny, but his fist is caught in Danny's palm like it's nothing.
Danny seems unimpressed. "Don't think you can Shazam yourself out of class, young man. Being a hero will cut your attendance, but I won't allow you to skip just because."
Calm yourself, child Batson Solomon says to Bill. King Phantom is here per your request for aid. He will not harm you.
What request!? I never called for him!
When you broke the Infinite Realms Crysta of distress, you called for someone to protect you like your caregivers once did. King Phantom is the most vigorous protective spirit in all the realms. He answered the call. Solomon replies. Billy can feel the god shift on his golden throne a sense of amusement. It's strange to know what the gods are doing without really seeing them He made a deal with the wizard to pose as your father until you are of age. You both are bonded by this Oath.
An oath. That made Billy feel a little better. He knows that once an Oath is made, no one in the parties involved can break it. If the Wizard had done one while borrowing Billy's body then Billy would be untouchable until the contract was done.
He has a new dad that would be bound by magic and the might of the six gods to protect him.
Billy was curious to know if that was a good thing or not. Being protected is not the same as being loved.
"Kid? You okay?" Danny asks.
"What is expected of me? What do you want me to do?" Billy counters, floating back a little now that he knows what's happening. An Oath is a two-way deal. If Danny had to pretend to be Bill's father, then Billy had to do something for Danny.
"Well, I expect you to have your teeth brushed and eat your breakfast before class, but something tells me that's not what you mean." Danny jokes with a chuckle. Billy frowns, which makes the humor on the man's face disappear. "In all honesty? You are my anchor. I haven't been in the material world for years. Not since my home dimension was destroyed by an asteroid. I missed it. I missed people."
Okay, nothing sinister. But he would never let this random stranger think he had the right to boss Billy around.
"You don't have to pretend to be my dad when we're alone. And you can't tell me what to do!" Billy hisses, expecting the man to get upset like other foster fathers had been before he ran.
Danny nods. "Sounds fair. Sorry for coming on like a fruitloop."
"A.....fruitloop?"
"A big fruitloop. One with a cat."
Right.
"You said my uniform. What uniform?" Billy asks to choose to come back to Danny's odd phrase later.
"Gotham Acadamy. I signed you up for classes-"
"We're in Gotham!? Why?!"
Danny tilts his head. "It's the only place with enough death to sustain me."
Billy is glad he is Captain Marvel right now. Otherwise, he thinks he would need more guts to ask. "Why do you need death?"
"Not death itself, more like the by-product. I need ectoplasm since I;;m a ghost." With a bright flash of twin rings, Danny shifts into a very obviously non-human form, and Billy's mouth drops.
"You're dead?!"
"So-and-so. I'm a halfa. A being dead and alive but at the same time neither" Danny rubs the back of his neck, twirling his small point tail nervously. "Yeah, it's a bit confusing. Sorry."
"It's fine....ugh so we just live in Gotham until I'm what eighteen?"
"Until your twenty." Danny winces at the glare Billy throws him. "Sorry, ghosts see adulthood as two decades for the living, two centuries for the dead. Since I'm both, I have to follow both and thus have to be your caregiver until you're twenty. I can portal you to Fawcett whenever you need to hero with the snap of my fingers. It'll be inconvenient, but I promise it will be better than the streets. And I will never, ever hurt you, Billy."
Billy crosses his arms, listening with half a ear as the gods start speaking at one, their voices and opinions a background noise he long learns to turn out until Atlas is louder than the rest.
I understand this might be a lot at once, young Batson, but accept King Phantom's help. You will no longer be alone. It is not easy carrying the world on your shoulders, trust me.
The god's words make Billy sure this is a good idea.
"Shazam!" With another burst of lighting, Billy is a kid again, stretching his neck back to make eye contact with the taller man. "Alright. You got yourself a deal .... again."
Danny grins, warm and delight dancing in his eyes. "Excellent! Lets's hurry then, we're supposed to arrive at your school early today to meet with a man in charge of your scholarship who is my new employer for computer software. That's our cover, by the way. We moved here after I got a job at the man's company."
"Who are we meeting?"
"Someone unimportant, I'm sure," Danny says, waving a hand. "My friend Clockwork set us up our background, we have the papers to prove everything."
Billy finds out that Danny really is from a different universe because how in the world could he claim Bruce Wayne as unimportant!
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mossymandibles · 2 months
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Ummm meet Jago (I changed it last minute from Zaander who I’ve mentioned like, twice but whatever) Close childhood friend/old flame of Kraw. They have a sort of haphazard reunion neither of them are expecting.
I’ll post more about him later, I feel like I’m not in the headspace to drop a big ol lore dump, idk. I’m ok with asks about him though ofc
He’s a species of Hox Stray, kind of a primate/bat/sapian? I’m still thinking of ways to organize my ‘new human’ taxonomy so bear with me I’m slow.
I’m just very excited about him and enjoy drawing him a lot and he’s been on the brain for SO long so I’m happy he has a form now.
He’s trans but could only afford to get two sets of his tits removed.
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mochippyyy · 2 months
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New Rageon OCs: Cash and Couture!
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Cash and Couture were born in an old money family (family that has amassed wealth through generations), and their parents had always taught them not to be careless in their decisions to educate them in hopes of Cash taking over their family business (they own everything above the clouds at Mount Rageous), with Couture being his right-hand man.
Cash and Couture's parents were extremely strict, especially on Cash, since he was the heir. They believed Cash's quick thinking and decision-making would make him an excellent choice as the heir, as well as his having a right-hand man, Couture, who has excellent communication and time management.
However, what the twins' parents didn't expect was that Cash had no plans to inherit the family business. Cash instead wanted to pursue his own passion: fashion. When they found it, they opposed the idea, calling it ridiculous and saying that it could never succeed. It was then that Couture first heard that Cash had ever had a dream that he wanted to achieve. As Couture had always been complacent with his title and spot, he had never really realized the pressure being put on Cash to do a good job as the heir.
When he turned 17, Cash had a fight with his parents, resulting in him leaving the house to pursue his dream. Couture was deeply hurt by this, thinking that Cash had never once opened up to him about wanting to take this career path, despite him knowing about it for quite some time and being open to talk about it.
During this time, Cash had a hard time starting up his business. He had saved up enough during the time he lived with his parents, but it was extremely difficult to introduce new fashion to the Rageons of Mount Rageous, who each had unique styles that had already been set in stone. However, he did not give up and started creating fashion lines after fashion lines.
He was especially inspired by vampires and wanted to create a gothic line that was modern and could be worn. For this, he hired the person who fit the most into this idea: Vermillion (OC of @/FoolsThrone on Twitter) to model for his outfits, (who later became one of his closest friends) with the negotiation that Vermillion could keep the outfits after he was done modeling.
Meanwhile, Couture slowly started to fill the spot that Cash had left open, taking on the pressure Cash had left for him. He slowly built up a dislike for Cash, as he could not believe that Cash would leave him in pursuit of his own happiness. However, eventually, the anger died down, and Couture found himself missing his twin.
During this time, Couture successfully took over, and Cash had already reached a point of fame for his unique fashion-forwardness. Both of the twins have heard about each other at this point, but feel that they are too estranged to have a chat again.
Even though they were so estranged, they still had the same tastes. They enjoyed certain things that neither would know nor find out that they still complimented each other wonderfully.
That is until they saw each other at a Velvet and Veneer concert coincidentally. Cash had taken an extra ticket from his friend Vermillion, while Couture had received it from his assistant, who fell sick but wanted to receive an autograph from Superstar Velvet. It was the first time they interacted with each other since the day Cash walked out on Couture, and they just stared at each other that night.,
Coincidentally, they kept bumping into each other at the concerts and slowly began to understand each other again. Soon, Velvet and Veneer's concerts became a key part of their life, as they felt that it had reconnected them to one another. They became hardcore fans of V&V, buying merch, going to every concert, and started to sponsor and support them in any way possible.
Then, Velvet and Veneer got arrested. Cash and Couture were devastated, to say the least. The rope that had tied them together again had slowly fallen apart, and though they were as close as ever now, they wished that they could preserve their idols' prestige.
So, they spent time on the black market, hoping to buy a troll. When they received one, they made sure it was talented, before appealing for a bail for Velvet and Veneer. They quickly paid it off and met up with Velvet and Veneer.
At first, they wanted V&V to perform and rise to stardom again, but upon seeing and hearing what V&V had to say, C&C realized that they had a change of heart. However, it was more than enough to just see their idols before them once more and C&C couldn't have been happier.
Eventually, they became close friends with V&V, and Couture slowly felt himself falling head over heels for Veneer, while Cash and Velvet became the closest of friends and shopped together and did all the other girlypop stuff together :>
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rebka18 · 3 months
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And heres my secret santa gif from the event at @mp100secretspirit
For @pia-duo who asked for serirei baking some cookies and sweets at home to give out to the kids later with some mishaps,and obcourse i had to make them dreaming what the both think was going to happend hehe,hope you like it had much fun!!
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mothiepixie · 11 months
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@sans-guy congrats on 300 followers!!
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nuppu-nuppu · 1 month
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Kaworu Nagisa
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twinnedpeaks · 6 months
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a sorry lack of funerals, elvira s.
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for @blmpff 💜
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0fantasma0 · 1 month
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Petals to Thorns
{Chapter One}
General Fic Warnings: NSFW, dubcon, stalking, manipulation, possessive behavior, canon typical violence.
Chapter Two:
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The sun was up, but you saw no reason to move from your spot at the kitchen table. A beautiful orange glow streams through the white curtains of your dining room. The soft light gleams against the tiny metal-tipped tool you use to whittle the chunk of alder wood in your palm.
This was your routine.
Sleeping well into the early evening to spend your nights at the kitchen table carving. It keeps your mind focused and your hands busy. You’d never thought your hands being unoccupied would be a bad thing until you started picking your lips raw. A nasty habit you haven't been able to kick since your games.
The other positive of sleeping through your days was that you missed all the people who came to your door. It had been a little under a month since you returned, and people were still dropping by. Most came to leave flowers or bottles of booze; some even left a few cords of wood. Thoughtful, but it would be several more months before you could put your new fireplace to use.
Nobody ever knocked, but just knowing they were on the other side of the door was enough to make you want to disintegrate. You couldn’t imagine trying to greet any of them. The walk from the train station to your new home in Victor's Village proved to be challenging enough.
Seeing the faces of your fellow District 7 inhabitants was somehow worse than being goaded by Capitol cretins.
Some cheered, some cried, and some didn’t say anything at all.
They were disgusted by you.
You slam the tool on the mahogany table below. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you were in desperate need of background noise. Your old radio busted a week ago, and you hadn’t worked up the courage to buy a new one.
You really should go to the market.
It was only a half mile from the Village, and walking might be pleasant. You could perhaps trade some of your woodwork for goods like you always have. Though, you didn’t need to barter anymore. The Capitol’s generous compensation for your efforts ensured that you never had to worry about the usual obstacles of District life again.
Maybe tomorrow.
Bracing yourself on the table as you stand from your chair. You drop your chin to your chest and stretch your achy limbs briefly before starting the long trek to the bathroom. This house was much bigger compared to the one-room shack you once called home. You weren’t sure who, but somebody had taken the liberty of moving all your belongings into your new home in the Village. They had even organized your clothes in the closet and hung your family pictures on the walls.
It had to have been Flora.
You fail to keep her son alive, and yet she still takes the time to make your transition easier. The mother of three was well known for her compassion and willingness to help others—traits very few people still possess.
What you did to still deserve her kindness, you were unsure.
Finally arriving at your destination, you nearly melt at the sight of the porcelain tub. Twisting the silver handle, you let the warm liquid slide down your hand before reaching its final destination.
A bath and then bed.
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You had only just managed to fall into a dreamless sleep when the sound you had been dreading hearing echoed up the hall.
A knock.
Remaining still in your bed, perhaps whoever it was would think you weren’t home and go away.
Another knock.
Throwing the covers back, you grab the pair of trousers you left to rot on the floor. You tuck your white long-sleeve shirt into the waistband while searching for a belt or suspenders to hold your pants in place. Most of your pants and shirts once belonged to your father, and to say they were ill-fitting would be an understatement. Finally finding a pair of suspenders, you clip them on and shrug them over your shoulders as you walk down the stairs to your front door.
Hovering for a moment over the door knob, you take a deep breath. It was probably just a child or maybe even somebody you went to school with. You didn’t have a lot of friends per se, but you were friendly with almost everyone.
So why were you scared?
Turning the lock and twisting the handle, your eyes squint as the hot summer sun blinds you momentarily. Your vision slowly brings the figure in front of you into focus before a familiar, icey voice clues you into who your visitor is before you can finish fitting the pieces of their face together.
“Good morning.”
Coriolanus Snow.
He is as well put together as the last time you saw him. His hair combed back, and a perfectly tailored black vest hugged his torso and made the white of his dress shirt shine against the rest of his dark ensemble. Did he know it was a million degrees outside?
“Good morning,” You manage to choke out. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
He smiles kindly, like you would greeting an old friend.
“That’s quite alright. May I come in?”
No, you can’t come in.
“Of course.” You move to the side and open the door a little wider.
Why was he here? Gamemakers never usually leave the safety of the Capitol. There was more hate for Gamemakers than for Peacekeepers; plenty of disgruntled family members of fallen tributes would gladly hang if it meant there was one less Gamemaker in this world.
He’s here to arrest you.
Coriolanus takes his time surveying the state of your home, stopping at a picture of your mother laughing as you dangle from the maple tree that once grew outside your childhood home.
He’s alone. You could take him.
“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much right now, but I do have coffee.” You ask as you move towards your kitchen, hoping to create a little distance between you.
“A glass of water if you could.” He calls back, seemingly still looking at the picture on the wall. It takes a few tries to find the cabinet with your cups in it; still unfamiliar with the layout. Bringing the glass over the sink, you stare out the window as it fills with water.
If he were here to arrest you, you would have already been dragged through the mud and on your way to a cell or the hanging tree by now. Any chance they could take to make a spectacle of a rebel’s torture or death, they would.
Is that what you are now? A rebel?
You didn’t feel like one, but the secret you harbored was undoubtedly an act of rebellion.
“Did you make these?”
You jump at the sound of Coriolanus’ voice behind you. Looking down, you see the cup has been overflowing for some time and has soaked your shirt sleeve. Shutting the water off, you quickly grab the washcloth next to the sink and wipe off the outside of the cup.
Turning around, you see the Gamemaker has one of your sculptures in his hand. A chickadee. It looked so much smaller in his hand. Coriolanus seems to consider the wooden bird before moving on to another sculpture. A rabbit whose ears you were still working on defining.
“These are lovely,” He muses, carefully returning the rabbit to its place in the ecosystem you have amassed at your kitchen table. “Do you only carve animals?”
Why do you care?
“No, I uh,” You hold out your hand, inviting him to sit across from you, placing the cold glass of water in front of him as you take your place at the head of the table. “I can make tools and cutlery, too; I was commissioned to make a jewelry box a while back. That was a unique challenge.”
There is a moment where you almost forget you're talking to a Gamaker—the very same man who boasted about his involvement in creating your prison cell.
Especially when he’s looking at you like that.
His expression is much softer than it was when you first met him. The threatening air that you felt before is nowhere to be found, and he seems content to let you continue talking if you so choose. His blue eyes don’t leave yours as he lets the quiet hang for a moment longer before straightening his back.
“I apologize for showing up unannounced. But I’m here on behalf of The Capitol.”
You’re fucked.
Like the young man could sense your immediate unease, he continues calmly.
“There have been reports of increased rebel activity in District 7. Now, this isn’t unusual. We’ve found there is a spike in this sort of conduct following a particularly emotional game like yours.”
You remain silent.
“I’m here to investigate these claims and ask a favor of you.”
A favor? That’s brave.
“The Capitol sends Gamemakers to deal with rebels?” You can’t help but scoff.
Coriolanus seems to find it funny as well. He chuckles and shakes his head.
“I studied military theory in university and served as a Peacekeeper in District 12. They send whoever they believe best represents and upholds Panem’s values.”
Silence fills the room once more.
You cross your arms in front of your chest and shift as far back in the chair as possible. You catch a slight twitch in the Gamemaker’s cheek when he notices the albeit small but important change in your posture.
“We’ve found that Victors tend to be the best at dissuading these acts,” He intertwines his fingers in front of him on the table. “I’m not asking you to make a speech. Just to be an example to the others in your District.”
“An example of what exactly?” The weight of your exhaustion is starting to wear you down.
“An example of compliance, order, loyalty. Show them the truth. That we are better and safer united as one.”
He wants you to be a mouthpiece.
To have you whisper Capitol rhetoric into their ears under the guise that it’s coming from one of their own. Easier to swallow that way, perhaps. But there was no way you’d be able to convince anyone that their children weren’t worth fighting for.
Not that you ever would, for anybody, at any cost.
“I would love to help with your rebel problem.” You mutter. “Unfortunately, I hold very little weight in the minds of the people in this District.”
The Gamemaker’s brows bunch together like he couldn’t tell if you were facetious. He nods slowly before you watch his eyes wander back to the chickadee. The first time his gaze has left yours, this entire conversation.
Coriolanus slowly unlaces his fingers in front of the bird, lingering like he wished to hold the tiny wooden creature once more. It seems to be a fleeting thought, though, as he quickly tangles his fingers back together
Had this been a different conversation and him a different man, you might have even offered to let him take it.
“I think you will find that to be quite the contrary.” Coriolanus abruptly pushes himself away from the table. You flinch before mimicking his actions and stand. “In any case, I will be available to you should you encounter anything troubling.”
He pushes in his chair, taking extra care not to knock the table. You feel dizzy from getting up so fast but try not to let the heaviness in your head become apparent to the Gamemaker.
The last thing you needed was Coriolanus Snow, knowing you were barely put together.
“I have to meet with Commander Ward, but there are other things I would like to speak with you about.”
Of course there is.
“You know where to find me.” You give a practiced, polite smile, which he returns. For a second, the blonde looks as though he has more to say. His lips part, and you find yourself holding your breath.
“Thank you for your time. I’ll see myself out.”
You wait until you hear the sound of the door opening and closing before you rush down the hall to lock it behind him. Steadying yourself on the wall, you gulp down some much-needed air. The late morning heat was starting to fill the house, but you felt cold and clammy. A symptom no doubt brought on by the Gamemaker.
Finding your way back to the kitchen, you stop in the door frame, your gaze settling on the untouched glass of water. Your chest burns with an emotion you can’t put a name to. It weighs heavy, and you feel the need to cry.
The promise of return made by Coriolanus only further fuels the flame growing beneath your sternum.
Next time you won’t open the fucking door.
Stomping over to the table, you snatch up the cup. Water spills over the edge as you raise your arm in the air. You aim at the empty hutch located behind the table and watch as it shatters into countless glistening pieces all over the floor.
It felt cathartic for a fraction of a second before your senses return as you realize the mess you’ve made.
A problem for later
On unsteady feet, you start for the stairs. White knuckling the railing as you climb your way up, perhaps your bed would grant you the relief you hoped you would find in the broken glass.
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derpiedoxie · 6 months
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ADHD and me
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culssi · 9 days
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Lucifer won the hottest character thing I did yesterday. This is my first time drawing him so it was slightly challenging, but I’m quite proud of how he turned out although I did not know what to do for the background.
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writeshite · 5 months
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More Bucky arm breaker, heart breaker, hole breaker? 🥺
We need to know what happens know that he's got the reader at his mercy
You look around the new home Bucky had gotten for the two of you. Well, it was less a home and more a cozy home in the countryside; there was a lake twenty minutes down the path, a large backyard big enough for that dog Bucky had promised you, and more than enough space for the two of you. Your hand wasn't quite as healed as you'd like but just about, but Bucky refused to let you raise a hand.
"Buck, isn't this a bit far from everywhere?" You ask him, covered in the blanket he'd draped over you.
"You know what the economy is like, doll," he replies, carrying another box to the porch, "besides, you know how crowded the city is."
The drive here had been long, and you'd slept through most of it, waking up briefly when the car had passed over a bump in the road. Town wasn't that far, an hour or so walk, you think, at least without snow, it was just you and Bucky out here. It should've been a dream, yet you felt your stomach twist into knots at the thought of the isolation. Maybe it was the way Bucky had almost insisted on a change of scenery. "Can't have us at odds before getting married, doll."
Not that you'd ever spoken about marriage.
Or maybe it was the way Natasha had hugged you tight, reminded you of the string of numbers she'd made you memorize before Bucky had found you. "Paper trails too risky." She'd been right; Bucky trifled through your notebooks out of mock curiosity every week; he'd do the same to your devices - borrowing them and returning them perfectly the same, though you didn't change or speak out loud with them nearby. But that was just how Bucky loved, right? He'd been trapped in HYRDA for years; you were the first sliver of normal he'd experienced in decades. He was just protective. Careful. Possessive. Overbearing. Obsessive. It's just how Bucky was.
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darkestmad-er · 2 months
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🫧🧼🫧
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