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writingchalamet · 1 month

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Angels Like You IV

Angels like you I

Angels like you II

Angels like you III

AN: it’s here! Sorry for taking so long, my nephews have been staying with me this week and keep trying to look at my laptop while I write 💀

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: violence, blood, MATT (because everyone hates Matt) trauma, breaking and entering, SMUT, heavy petting, oral (f receiving) fingering.

You’re welcome…

Chapter IV

Matt didn’t like seeing you with Bucky one bit. The thought that you had moved on so ‘quickly’ after him sent his mind into overdrive. He was good at hinting in the shadows, the day he left the bakery beaten and broken he didn’t go to a hospital or return home like he should have, he waited. Watching in the shadows until you inevitably got in your car and drove home, where he followed, rage simmering inside him. He watched from a distance as Bucky ushered you into your house after collected his child. It was the first time he actually saw the kid, and he hated to say it but he felt a tingle inside him, not the warm fuzzy, loving feeling a father should feel when they see their baby for the first time. But one of hatred. The kid he laid his eyes on was the one thing that took you away from him.

So he bided his time. And watched. He learned your routine, your ins and outs of the house, learned how your new play thing never really left your side much. You hadn’t left the house much since the incident but he liked to spot your movements through the house, you almost worked like clockwork, around the house, doing everything for the child, he despised it, that should be him that you were running around for in there, taking care of, cooking for, god he missed your cooking. One thing he hated more though was the way he saw you and Bucky looking at each other, even through windows he could feel the tension, making him want to tear his own eyes out.

He just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity, and that came the night that Sam came and took the kid over to the neighbours house, Matt figured something must be going on, they must be leaving the house, he had a chance, a chance to do what exactly he didn’t know, but he’d figure that out soon enough. He saw your neighbours leave your house, then you and your new man head out looking all dolled up, he couldn’t stand the sight of it, he waited a while longer, waiting for all the lights to shut off next door before making his move, he travelled to the back of the house, hopping the fence, scurrying across the garden until he reached the back door, taking off his leather jacket, balling it around his fist, he smashed the panel of glass closest to the lock, reaching through the newly made hole, flicking the lock open and letting himself into your home.

He took in the scent as he stepped through the threshold. Bergamot and orange blossom tingled in his nostrils, the strong smell instantly reminding him of you. He wondered aimlessly at first, taking in the sight of your home. The warm homey touches that covered every inch of the house, it sickened him. The house was spottles, considering a toddler lived there, but then again, he had trained you well, he didn't like you to be messy, he was glad to see you still kept things tidy just how he liked. Not that he was clean. he ventured up the stairs to find a bedroom t the end of the hall with the word 'Forrest' hung on the door in Buntin. He guessed that was the name of his child, he still didn't know if it was a girl or a boy, you had kept that fact well hidden from him. He stepped towards the room, opening the door with a creek, finding an array of colourful toys, a Peter Pan mural painted on the walls and fluffy cloud lamps and light fixtures. Even the cot bed had been made pristine, this woman was conditioned he thought to himself.

He looked through the small chest of drawers under the changing table fiddling with some of the small shirts when his eye landed on one baby grow in particular, a 'mama's boy' one, it felt like another kick in the teeth to know he had a son, in some sick way to him it felt like another man to take you away from him. He wished you had never ran away, that he had never left that day so he would have been able to sort this whole problem out, there would be no Forrest, and it could just be the two of you again. No he'd have to sort out the Forrest problem another time, when the little bleeder was home.

He came out of the room and closed the door behind him. next finding your bedroom, the room smelt sweet like your perfume, the smell overwhelming him, he walked to your vanity noticing the makeup you had left out, you never wore makeup when you were with him, his mind hurt at the thought of you dressing up to go out with another man, he looked over at the bed, thinking about all the different things Bucky has probably done to you in that bed. Matt stormed out the room and back down the stairs until he found the Kitchen, deciding to wait there for your return, which apparently wouldn't be too long a wait. He heard the front door opening as well as the distinct sound of kissing, the occasional grunt and soft moans from you, He stood in the doorway of the kitchen waiting for you to notice him, only for him to realise you were to caught up to care there was an intruder in your house. He flicked the light on beside him, sparking your fright.

"Well, isn't this cosy?" he spoke smugly, head tilted, sly sile on his face, even with his hand all bandaged up and the dark circles under his eyes, he still acted as though he was God's gift to the earth. before you have a chance to explain yourself Bucky chimes in from his place behind you. arms strong and protective around your waist. "What are you doing here, Matt?" he oozed confidence when he spoke, and almost seemed unbothered. "Just come to take what's mine" Matt sneered, daring to take a step closer, Bucky tightened his hold around your waist as he felt you shiver. "Oh, yeah, and what's that exactly, because I don't think you own anything in this house..." Matt scoffed at his response, there was something wild in his eyes, you just couldn't tell what it was.

"You know, I had a nice look around, Forrest, that the name of my son? You could have picked a better name Y/n really, and leaving him with the neighbours so you can fuck some random guy? You really are a whore" You tore away from Bucky's arms leaping forwards, slapping Matt so hard across the face your hand ached, you could see you had left an indentation on his cheek, the skin flared red and raised slightly. "You don't get to say his fucking name, get out" Matt held his cheek, shocked that you would dare to speak to him that way let alone lash out at him, you had been away from him too long. He lifted his hand up and cupped your cheek in his hand, softly which shocked you, Bucky took a step forwards but soon stopped when he saw you signal him to still. You looked into Matt's eyes, noticing how dead his eyes truly looked. "Come back to me please, I love you. You can leave the kid here and we'll go" It frightened you how fast it was for his emotions to change. You took his hand of your face and let it drop by his side, shaking your head.

"I will never be with you, ever again, you need to understand that Matt, you can't keep doing this, please just leave us alone" You spoke quietly to him, hoping he would hear you out. A sad laugh left his lips , shaking his head, "I'll get you one way or another, whether I have to take you fighting or dead, but I'm not gonna lose you Y/n, I don't lose..."

“You already have” you knew you’d regret those words the second they hit your brain but you couldn’t stop your mouth from saying them. You saw the way his nostrils flared and how he gritted his teeth, you could practically hear them grinding together in his mouth, he yanked on your wrist pulling you closer to him, Bucky stepping even closer ready to pull him away, “you’ll fucking regret that, I’m gonna make you wish that little brat was never born” You closed your eyes expecting to feel pain as Matt raised his hand, but as quickly as it was raised, it was gone, for Bucky had put himself in between the two of you, pushing you away gently with one arm while attacking with the other.

The sound of bones crushing, and blood splattering rung through your ears. The image of Matt having his face repeatedly slammed against your kitchen counter both terrified and elated you. Seeing Bucky in this feral state made your heart thump uncontrollably out of your chest. You called out for him to stop but the sound was lost to the deafening sound of Matt's cries. Through the commotion of the yelling and the sound of things smashing to the ground you missed the sound of Sam entering the house through the front door shield in hand. Sam ran over attempting to tear Bucky away, Bucky's face turning to horror once he saw what he had done. He stood over Matt's body watching his face swell and weep with blood, as he screwed himself into the foetal position on the floor, coughing and spluttering all over the tiles.

Blue and red flashing lights surround the kitchen as the promise of help fills the room. "You Okay man?" Sam asks nodding at Bucky, he stayed silent, giving a sharp tilt of his head, stretching out his fingers on his virbranium hand, wiping the blood off onto his shirt. You went to his side, stroking your hand down his chest hoping to gain his attention, his eyes met yours, but they were shallow, you touched his face softly, making sure his eyes stayed on you "You're okay, thank you for protecting me" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders pulling you flush against him, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck. "It's- (coughs) cap- Captain America" Matt spluttered out, a combination of drool and blood oozing from his mouth, he seemed delirious after taking several punches to the head. "Yeah, and you're in a whole lotta trouble" Sam scoffed, turning to open the front door as the police and paramedics came up the drive.

After being checked over and giving statements to the police, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of Matt being handcuffed in the back of an ambulance, with the promise from the police that not only breaking and entering, but breaking his restraining order and continued harassment should be enough to keep him behind bars, if not only for a while, you were free.

Yourself and Bucky were sitting on the couch in your living room, the both of you quiet, not knowing what to say to one another. You decided to make the first move, opting to face him on the sofa, sitting cross legged opposite from him. His head turned in query as to what you were doing, but soon turned to face you. "So, what a way to end a first date..." you let the words linger, searing his face for any sign of amusement. A small smile lifted to his lips as your words sunk in, his head tilting towards you. "It was a date huh?" he smirked, eyes lighting up a tad more, losing the dullness that had reached them earlier. "We went for dinner, we laughed and you kissed me, then you saved me from Matt, I'd say that's a pretty successful date, wouldn't you?" You leaned forwards, brushing hand along the vibranium limb that sat along the back of the sofa. He laughed nodding. "So you had a good time up until the end?" he queries. "I had a great time, the entirety of it, no one has ever stood up for me the way you do, I'm really grateful...I just wish we hadn't been interrupted" You could feel yourself drawing closer to him, the magnetic buzz between you was back.

Bucky inched closer to you, his face mere centimetres from yours, his breath was warm across your face, he smelt like his cologne and a tint of dried blood, it was enough to send you into a frenzy. "What would you have wanted to happen if we were uninterrupted?" He bumped his nose against yours, tilting your head to the side, gliding his nose over neck, smelling your sweet scent, brushing his lips against your neck with feather light touches. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me, you can take whatever you want" your breath was nothing more than a gasp as he kissed his way up your neck. "Careful, doll, I might actually do it" his breath fanned your face as he kissed around your cheeks, and jaw. He felt the way your fingers dug into the metal of his arm. "I want you to Bucky" in one swift movement he hauled you into his lap, his arms encasing your body, you squeaked as he lifted you, laying your hands on his broad shoulders feeling the muscles under his shirt. Smoothing over the soft fabric. His own hands wandered, feeling over the silk of your dress, slipping the fabric and bunching it up at your thighs, you gasped at the cool feeling of the metal hand digging into your flesh.

His lips delved in first, yours meeting in the meeting, melting together, melting together in a frantic fashion. His tongue brushed along your bottom lip, asking for access, you opened your mouth wider gladly receiving him. His tongue massaged its way into your mouth gliding along your own tongue. You gripped his shoulders a little tighter, his flesh hand gliding up the front of your body, in between the valley of your breast, settling around your neck. He kissed you as if he had kissed you a thousand times before. It felt natural. You started moving your hips against his, slowly and unintentional at first, but at first sound of your pleasure, Bucky soon started guiding your hips, working you back and forth loving the sounds of the soft mewls coming from your mouth. “Good girl, lie back for me”

You settled back onto the sofa, leaning your head on the arm rest, Bucky settled between your legs, continuing to kiss and nip at your neck while you got yourself comfortable, you giggled as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin between your neck and collar bone, throwing your head back against the arm rest. “God, I want to hear that sound for the rest of my life” he muttered as he kissed his way down your chest, his hands massaging their way over your body, squeezing at your breasts, you moaned his name quietly urging him not to stop. “I could listen to that too” His vibranium hand pushed up the silk skirt of your dress until it was fully bunched up around your waist, exposing the most precious lacey white underwear he’s ever laid his eyes on. He nuzzled his head into your sternum holding onto your waist tightly, kissing your stomach, he noticed small scars the further he pushed your dress up, some obvious burn marks where Matt must have put out cigarettes on you, others small, jagged like the one on your face. He noticed the slight hesitation in your eyes as he kissed over your stomach. “You’re beautiful you know that” you nodded, eyes fluttering as he headed further down south.

“Tell me to stop at any time, I just want you to feel good okay” your eyes met and you watched as he settled between your thighs, placing each of them over his shoulders, you swore you had died and gone to heaven, the sight of the beautiful blue eyed man kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs, swearing only to make you feel good. His arms wrapped around your waist once more pulling you closer to him, the force making you let out a straggled moan. Bucky pressed a kiss to your covered pussy, a shiver running up your spine. He continued to kiss at the bundle of nerves through the lace of your underwear, your back arching upwards in pleasure.

Moving his vibranium hand down he slipped the material to the side, pressing a cool metal digit onto your clit, swirling in circles, you gasped, hips jutting forwards, his flesh hand around your waist, pinning you back down holding you in place. You watched him as he stared at your pussy, glistening with arousal for him, dripping down onto the sofa, he looked like a hunter waiting to dine on his prey, you only opened your legs a little further for him, encouraging him in. Not a second later he dived in.

Lips wrapping around your clit, sucking and kissing it with the perfect pressure, you weee sure your head would explode, he swirled his tongue around the pulsing nerve enjoying the whimpers and moans that escaped your lungs, he looked up while continuing his assault, watching the way your chest would rise and fall, how your head had fallen back on the arm rest, exposing your neck, breathing so heavily the vein stuck out on your neck. He reached up with his flesh hand, palming your left breast, your back arching into his touch.

He licked at the entrance of your cunt, sucking up some of the wetness that had dripped out, “Bucky” you moaned his name for the first time sending vibrations through his entire body, straight to his cock. “You like that doll?” You nodded letting out another staggered moan as he fucked his tongue into your hole. He could feel your walls clenching around his tongue, he withdrew the muscle only for you to sit up in protest, you whine at the loss of contact but soon that turns into a whine of pleasure when one of metal digits enters you instead. Your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, sitting up on your elbows so you could watch him better.

You saw the smirk on his face while he slowly entered you, seemingly rubbing all the right spots, the cool of the metal mixed with the searing heat of your walls creating a beautiful blend of warmth. “That feel better babydoll?” Your brain couldn’t comprehend words at this current moment, your back arching and head falling back onto the sofa arm once more. “I’ll take that as a yes” he spoke smugly, working his finger in and out, applying the perfect amount of pressure, lips reattaching to your clit.

You could feel a heat raising inside you, one that you had never reached with another person before. You tangled your fingers through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to your heat. You were panting, hips rutting into his face, you were sure you’d never felt this level of pleasure in your life. He soon found your g spot, softly nudging it over and over again, earning himself a lewd moan of his name, he could feel your walls clenching and spasms around his finger, he knew you were close, looking up loving the sight before his eyes. Sweat kissing your skin, mouth ajar with gasps and moans, chest raised to the sky. You were right there. “Be a good girl y/n, I want you to cum”

He spoke into your cunt and you fell apart. A scream making its way from your lungs while you writhed. He sucked and lapped up all the juices as they dripped from your pussy, sucking you dry, your body shaked and you felt yourself going limp. Bucky lifted himself up settling above you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, you involuntarily moaned at the taste of your essence on his lips. He pulled back smiling like a Cheshire Cat. “Did you enjoy that” with your legs still trembling beside his hips and a blissed out look on your face, it should have been telling enough. “You have no idea, no one has ever made me feel that good before, you sergeant James Barnes may have just ruined masterbating for me for life” you sighed, throwing your head back dramatically. He laughed , leaning forwards to press another kiss to your lips. He settled down after a moment, laying his head on your chest, listening to the thrum of your heart, while your fingers combed through his hair. You can’t remember a time that you felt so at home and relaxed while not with your son.

The two of you laid there most the night, talking away, sharing the odd kiss, and eventually falling asleep in the same position, only waking when the first sight of sunlight streamed through the living room curtains. The sight of the man still sleeping soundly, on your chest with his arms wrapped snuggly around you, you felt complete and safe, for the first time in a long time.

Tag list:

@unaxv @mrsnikstan @ilovetaquitosmmmm @scott-loki-barnes @lilyyxoii @cakesandtom @senjoritanana @meganwritesfanfics @onceithough @floralwsloki

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sunkendreams · 9 months

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.........some The Lost Boys Marko smut? 🥺🤲

once bitten, twice shy (II).

( paul x fem!reader x marko )

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: paul x fem!reader x marko.

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓: one-shot — requested, continuation of once bitten, twice shy.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8.2K (not sorry!)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT! (mdni), threesome, reader has two boyfriends, bloodplay, violence & gore, vampire antics, dirty talk, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, begging, public sex (on a beach), bruising, blood drinking, biting, hair-pulling, p in v sex, missionary & cowgirl, scratching, voyeurism, making out, breast-play (paul loves your tits), handjob, fingering (f!receiving), ass-grabbing, they smear blood on the reader (not sorry, it was hot), risk of getting caught, there’s probably more ngl

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: technically this is marko smut with a big ol’ side of paul, so ,,,, I am not sorry for this being absolutely filthy, I wish it was filthier tbh :(( anyway, I hope you all have a great holiday and enjoy! there’s so much more content to come!

TAGLIST: @darklylucid ; @freyjasfenrir ; @drascilla ; @beskardaddy ; @kiki-dohedo ; @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better ; @chaotichellscape ; @iamcautiouslyoptimistic ; @milland ; @the-anxious-youth

Dusk had steadily become your favorite time of day — you no longer lived by sunrise, anxiously awaiting nightfall. When the sun disappeared behind the oceanic horizon of Santa Carla, your excitement had always kicked in, accompanied by exhilaration. Instead, you’d become the queen of the night, lost to the shadows and abandoning daylight altogether.

Once the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, giving way to a cloudless, moonlit sky, the boys were up and active. It was like clockwork, something that you’d grown accustomed to as a human. Their circadian rhythm was vastly different, something that took you ages to sink into, even if you weren’t a vampire.

By the time you’d awoken, the cave was eerily silent, swallowed by a certain quiet that only came about when the boys were gone at the boardwalk. Admittedly, you were a little disappointed that you hadn’t seen Paul, but you knew he’d make it up to you later. He always did. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, gently rubbing at the back of your neck.

As your eyes grew accustomed to your candlelit surroundings, there was something sitting at the foot of your bed — a sundress in hues of gold and a vibrant orange, reminding you of a sunset. You rocked forward, gently pushing your sheets aside. The note attached to the bundle of fabric was written in semi-elegant script.

‘Wear this tonight.’ — M.

It was difficult to smother the giddy, excitable smile that stretched across your features as you began chewing at the inside of your cheek. Your fingers brushed across the crumpled piece of paper crudely taped to the dress, gently pulling it aside. You traced your digits over the frilly material, feeling it glide over your hand.

Marko had become your boyfriend, something that Paul was entirely comfortable with. Of course, Paul was your mate — that was a different title and meaning altogether. Even then, Marko had learned to settle; live with the idea that you and Paul were bound together by the hip and by heart. He was thankful that his brother let him in to begin with.

Like Paul, Marko had started down the path of gift-giving, finding items that reminded him of you, from a vast array of trinkets to clothing. You savored every second of it, of the doting attention and protectiveness that came with two vampires. There hadn’t been any intimacy yet aside from the instance of them helping you out while you were on your cycle.

Though, with their combined unpredictability, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

You sprang from your bed, clasping the sundress against your chest as you pictured what you would’ve looked like with it on. Paul adored it whenever you wore dresses — he had a habit for feeling you up through the material or rucking it up around your hips. You wondered what Marko would think, considering that he’d chosen it for you.

After cleaning up in your makeshift spring, you put on the dress, twirling around in it a few times, growing used to the liberating feeling of it. It was loose, with thin-strap sleeves and a ruffled bodice. You felt pretty — like any other gorgeous girl at the boardwalk.

The trek wasn’t excruciatingly long — you’d wandered the dirt path down to the shoreline countless times. Your step was spirited, giddy as you made it past Hudson’s Bluff and to the beach. Bonfires stretched across the white sand as far as the eye could see, often surrounded by surfers or partygoers.

As you stepped onto the boardwalk, your boots thudded against the rickety wood of the pier, your gait noticeably happy. You were smiling, on cloud nine — it was strange that you hadn’t found the boys just yet, but you knew that, once Paul and Marko caught wind of your scent, they wouldn’t be far behind.

The cacophony of people that traversed the boardwalk was seemingly endless — there was always a new face, someone you hadn’t seen before, or someone you’d seen a hundred times before. The distant lull of music filled the air, another concert down at the beach with plenty of cheering and crowds to accompany it.

When dusk hit Santa Carla, the boardwalk transformed from daytime hues to neon — vibrant, casting the pier in shades of an obnoxious pink and crimson. Strangers came out of the woodwork to enjoy the eclectic night life that the boardwalk had to offer, including the rancor and excitement of the nearby amusement park. There were worse things that lurked in Santa Carla.

Sometimes, it wasn’t the vampires. People were the enemy at times, not creatures of the night.

Gangs of Surf-Nazis dominated the beach by nightfall, surrounding bonfires that illuminated the shoreline. You always tried your best to keep away, a stark warning issued by David. The boys had a bitter rivalry with multiple groups, and by your association, that rivalry was extended to you.

You continued your search, weaving throughout the crowds that swarmed the pier, looking for the familiar cluster of motorcycles. It was somewhat unusual for it to take you this long — one of them would’ve found you by now. A pair of guys rushed past you, nearly knocking you over when you heard them mention a ‘beach brawl’ in-passing.

Something compelled you to follow, and you did, swiftly making your way down a set of stairs and onto the sand, finding a gathering of people piled up near one of the bonfires. You jogged over, boots kicking up dust as you waded across the soft shore, nudging through the encroaching crowd.

The boys versus Surf-Nazis — you shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Dwayne was locked in a wrestling match with one of them, clearly winning given his vampiric strength. He was the most indomitable of the group too, effortlessly slamming one of the surfers to the ground. Laddie was perched on the back of his motorcycle, shouting a string of words that sounded unintelligible to you.

Marko had already gotten his fill of fighting — the surfer he squared off against was knocked-out into the sand, nose bloodied. His attention immediately shifted to you, huddling near the fringes of the sea of onlookers.

It was Paul that caught your attention — Paul, who toyed with one of the surfers as if he were simply a plaything, all for entertainment. He dodged and skirted around him in the sand, laughing and mocking him all the way. “You’re too slow, bud!” He called out, giving him a swift kick in the chest.

You entered the fold, a mere human, dashing toward Paul without a second thought. You grabbed at his coattails, yanking the blonde backwards toward the bikes. “Paul! What is going on?” You gasped, catching his attention without a hitch. Once your scent permeated the beach, it was all over.

“Just a disagreement,” Paul mused, watching as the surfers began to retreat. His grin was that of triumph, pulling you into his side. “You’re lookin’ fine, baby. Marko’s got a good eye for that stuff.” The adrenaline rush of fighting Surf-Nazis began to settle, allowing him to give you a very sloppy kiss.

“Easy, tiger.” You mumbled, listening to his laughter as he brazenly squeezed at your ass through the dress. “Where’s Marko?” The curly-headed blonde was easy to pick out amongst a crowd given his vibrantly-colored patchwork jacket.

Another hand settled against the small of your back, soft lips pressing themselves against your jaw. “Right here,” Speak of the devil, and he appears. Marko was delighted to see you, feeling a rush of energy from fighting against the surfers, even more now that he was getting to see you in that dress. “You look perfect.” He sighed.

They were pressed snugly against you on either side — Paul on your left, Marko on your right. You were elated, happily providing them with a hand to hold as the three of you skirted down the shoreline. “You guys need to be more careful. You’re always getting into trouble when I’m asleep.” You chided, listening to Paul’s jester-like laughter.

Paul grinned, showering your sweet flesh in plenty of kisses. “That’s the fun part,” He mused, jerking his head in Marko’s direction. “We wanna have those surfer-dickwads for dinner.” His eyes glistened with an unrestrained hunger, coupled with humor. “Do you wanna come with us, baby? We won’t make you watch.”

“It’ll be an appetizer,” Marko added, flashing those rows of pearlescent teeth, which happened to nibble along the worn leather of his glove. “I haven’t eaten yet.” He mused, playfully nipping at your jawline. You tasted like a thick honey, sinking into his very bones.

“Before we get to the main course,” Paul added, letting out a rather exaggerated, theatrical snarl. His ringed hand snatched yours, spinning you around in a circle as the three of you made it toward the motorcycles. “Think Marko wants to give you a ride this time, babe.” He mused, winking at Marko as if he were playing wingman.

You had a feeling that you would be the main course, which made your stomach ripple with a rush of excitement. Anticipation crackled along your spine, accompanied with that familiar haze of desire. You hadn’t watched the boys kill and maim before — they were afraid it’d be too off-putting for you.

Marko smirked, taking you off of Paul’s hands as he hoisted you up over his shoulder. Despite being the smallest of the pack, his strength was just as impressive as that of Dwayne’s. You let out a squeal of delight, smacking at the blonde’s shoulder. “Marko!” You laughed, enjoying the ride as he escorted you to his bike.

Paul caught wind of the surfers’ trail, able to smell their pungent musk of cheap beer, saltwater, and their clothing. He revved his motorcycle, pulling up next to the both of you with a wolfish grin. “Got their trail, Marko. I say we follow.” He nodded, leaning over to give you a kiss once you were situated on the back of Marko’s bike.

With the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, Marko glanced over his shoulder, nudging your jaw with his nose. “We’re going for a ride,” He mused, flashing a grin in Paul’s direction. The two exchanged a look of understanding, intermingled with that pang of screaming hunger. “Hold on, baby.” Marko teased, mocking Paul’s constant use of the innocuous nickname.

You laughed, arms slipping around Marko’s midsection, idly fiddling with the cropped shirt he wore. His flesh was cold and smooth underneath your fingertips, musculature akin to marble. Once Paul sped off to take the lead, Marko followed suit, saluting Dwayne and David in a mocking fashion as they passed by.

The cool, evening breeze was on your side, accompanied by the saltwater draft wafting from the ocean. Marko drove fast, likely to keep up with Paul, who was swaying all across the shoreline as he tracked the scent of the Surf Nazi group. You felt like you were on top of the world, leaning in to give Marko a few sly kisses along his neck.

Santa Carla’s vibrant carnival began to disappear into the distance, the further you drove along the coast. Paul occasionally wove around, slowing to drive alongside you and Marko. He whistled at you, weaving just a little closer to make things more exciting.

The surfers had moved down toward the old fishing shack, now fashioned into a shoddy party-palace. Old beer bottles and cans were scattered around the rickety wooden half-dock at the shack sat on top of, littered in graffiti. A bonfire glistened in the distance, partially obscured by an outcropping of rock.

Once the thrill of the hunt began to settle in, basic instinct began to override logic — Paul and Marko were no better, submitting to the desire to feed above all else. Paul steered toward the rocks, parking his bike somewhere out of-sight. Marko followed suit, making sure that you were situated before nudging the kickstand out.

“Stay here, yeah?” Paul cautioned, gesturing toward the patch of soft sand. The rock provided something of a barrier — visually and physically. The last thing that either of them wanted was for you to get in the crossfire of a feeding frenzy. “It’s dinnertime, bud!” He howled, pressing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss.

Marko grinned, like a shark drawn to blood in the water, caressing your cheek before giving you a kiss after Paul had his turn. “We’ll be right back.” The two were wickedly fast, swift with inhuman reflexes, hopping over the rock as they made it down the incline.

There were four of them — three guys, and one girl. The girl, a redhead sporting a one-piece swimsuit, was strewn across an oversized beach-blanket, paying little to no attention to the three men drinking around the bonfire. The other three were well on their way to becoming absolutely smashed, sashaying through the sand.

Curiosity got the better of you, shuffling forward through the white sand, soft around your knees as you peered above the rock. Paul’s posture was that of a seasoned predator, mirroring Marko’s coiled stance, like two lions prepared to strike. You shouldn’t have been watching, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Paul was the first one to move, flying up and into the fray, striking at one of the surfers from the cover of darkness. You could hear the cacophony of screams, the terror and fear that permeated the air, causing goosebumps to coalesce along the length of your spine. You shuddered, unable to tear your eyes away from the brutality of the scene before you.

Marko was ripping into another man, rending flesh from bone, muscle and sinew no match for his talons and teeth. Their laughter was partially drowned out by those shrieks and cries of fright. He bit into his jugular, cruor and crimson ichor spraying violently into the night air.

You shrank down beneath the rock, able to smell that coppery twang of blood, intermingling with the salt from the ocean. The breeze was enough to carry it all away, but you could still hear struggling and scuffling in the sand, followed by the girl’s hapless screams and pleading for help.

They were strangers — you couldn’t involve yourself in their lives. Even if the sounds were garish and macabre, you would be like them soon — a vampire. This would be your eternal existence, hunting down locals by nightfall, gifted with immortality, never to die. Paul once told you that it was easier to make it all fun and games, to disassociate whenever he killed people.

To the boys, people were playthings — no singular being was above becoming a meal or toy to them, all except for you. For that, you considered yourself lucky, fortunate to have two vampires that loved you enough to keep you around and not on the chopping block.

Your heartbeat slammed against your chest, humming erratically beneath your collarbone. You decided to look again, breath catching within your throat as Paul tossed one of the now-drained corpses into the bonfire. He looked terrifying, but part of you found it to be wildly attractive.

The bloodless bodies of the surfers were being discarded, tossed into the bonfire as crackles of orange flame flickered into the starry night sky. Marko licked his lips, now full and satiated, one of the better hunts he’d had in some time — outside of you, of course.

You steeled yourself, moving out from behind the rock and toward the slope of sand, skirting downward until you reached the very bottom. Paul’s hair looked like the untamed mane of a lion, eyes still glinting with gold as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Both of them were steeped in gore, crimson splashed across their faces and bodies — clothes that they hadn’t bothered to change in years, you were sure. As you approached them, Paul grinned, leaping toward you with a sense of giddiness, wrapping you up within his arms.

“There she is,” He purred, groping at your curves through the thin material of the dress. Paul kissed your jaw, chin red with blood, not caring if he got you dirty in the process. His mouth searched for yours, lips tangling together in a feverish embrace. “Baby.” Paul’s words lowered to an alluring lull.

A gasp ripped through your throat, able to taste that sanguine twang that permeated his mouth. His body felt so solid and immovable when pressed against yours, like the unyielding form of a statue. Paul’s tongue swept against the inside of your mouth, hands greedily squeezing at your ass.

Marko stepped in behind you, caging you against his body, keeping you for himself. Warmth radiated from you in waves, but the chill of his form kept you from feeling overheated. His fangs scraped across your neck, teasing you as he soothed it all with kisses, sucking hickeys into your flesh without warning.

Your voice soon dwindled into a simpering moan, trapped between the immovable objects that were two vampires. A yelp tore past your lips when Marko’s teeth grazed across the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “H—Hey,” You protested, sighing when Paul’s hands groped at your haunches. “What if somebody sees?”

“Then we’ll just have ‘em for dinner.” Paul’s tone was animated, wrought with a roguish charm as he kissed you hard, which rocked you back into Marko. “Loosen up, babe. Let us take care of you, yeah?” His lips curled into a gregarious smirk, lips reattaching themselves to yours without an ounce of hesitation.

A cold hand began to slither underneath your dress, gathering the material within one fist. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Marko’s voice fluttered from behind you, like fire and ice, making your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You want us to make you feel good.” You hated that he was reading your mind.

Paul cackled, cerulean hues replaced with a blazing fire, pits of gold ringed in a blood-orange, like a halo. “Yeah she does.” He sneered, pressing kisses all along your jaw and neck, licking over the hickeys given to you by Marko. His hand dug into the meat of your thigh, snug enough to leave behind faint imprints. “I can smell her.” He teased.

They were both insufferable at times — able to sense your arousal through scent alone, impish smirks and scanning through your mind. It was easier to let them look, to think freely. There were plenty of things that you wanted them to do to you.

Marko coaxed you close, leading you towards the outcropping of rough stone, bathed in the glow of firelight. In the gloom of the rock, the curly-headed vampire guided you over, back against the outcropping to protect you from the jagged edges. Paul was locked in behind you, hands tangling themselves at the hem of your dress.

“I’d rip it off, but you look beautiful in it,” Marko purred, watching as you preened underneath his praise, hazel hues flickering ravenously across your body. Goosebumps coalesced from the nape of your neck to your spine, excitement panging to the apex of your thighs. “Come here.”

His command was softly-spoken, but you knew better than to defy him. Marko was beautiful — angelic, like some cherub on the ceiling of a Renaissance painting, but beneath the heavenly facade, he was a little demon. You stepped closer, feeling his hands run across your curves, lips crashing into yours.

It was an explosive kiss, wrought with an edge of pent-up aggression and lust. His hand cupped your jaw, pressing into the side of your neck as the other gripped your hip. You moaned into Marko’s mouth, feeling Paul’s ring-adorned digits begin to yank your panties down, erection pressed into the swell of your ass.

Paul made short work of your panties, ripping them somewhere along the way, fabric torn asunder as he nudged a knee in between your thighs. His mouth languidly pressed across your neck and shoulders, licking at your sweet flesh as if it were blood. “Fuck, baby,” He growled, reaching around to push his hand between your legs. “What’s all this?”

It was difficult to ignore his playful, cajoling tone of voice as his fingers grazed over your cunt, swiping at the oozing warmth present. His rings were like the bitter sting of ice along your thighs, digits drawing slow, deliberate circles around your clit. The remains of your panties lay scattered in the sand.

You moaned, caught in Marko’s mouth as he kissed you again and again — all tongue, teeth, and desire. Your palms clamored toward his cropped shirt, dragging your nails across the taut plane of his muscled abdomen. “P—Paul,” You managed to whimper between the intense barrage of kisses. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck, you’re soakin’ wet, sweet thing,” Paul snickered, biting down on the sensitive skin of your neck as he began to rub two fingers back and forth along your cunt, thumb grinding against your clit. “Bet you taste even better.” He laughed, smacking a palm against the pliant flesh of your ass, chin perched atop your shoulder.

Marko grinned, eyes devious and full of mirth as he hastily shoved his hand between your thighs, having to smack Paul’s hand away in order to touch you. Your whimpers and moans were like music — saccharine, strung-out with bliss. He placed two fingers into his mouth, sucking away your juices.

“You’re right, Paul. She always tastes good,” Marko mused, chin still stained with crimson. The front of his chest was unceremoniously splashed with spatters of cruor, and he swiped at it with his palm, smearing it across your chest. “You mind, beautiful?”

Having the blood of a stranger painted across your flesh might’ve been unnerving if it wasn’t for the context of your situation. You immediately shook your head, feeling Marko’s dexterous digits unhook your brassiere, and his mouth was on your collarbone before you could get another word out.

Marko lapped at the sanguine ichor that stained your skin, tongue tracing all over your chest. Normally, that would’ve been Paul’s preferred spot, but he was busy grinding his cock against your ass, ring-clad fingers beginning to bury themselves into your tight cunt. He started off slow, letting you adjust as he circled your clit.

Your fingers grasped at Marko’s curly tresses, scraping your digits through his golden mane as you tugged and pulled. His lips traveled towards your breasts, mouth trapping a nipple between his teeth as he kissed and sucked at the sensitive mound. Paul’s hand was relentless, pistoning his fingers in and out of your cunt.

The scent of copper, decay, and stale cologne stung your nostrils — you’d grown more accustomed to the smell of vampires, but sometimes, it was a little jarring. Paul attempted to conceal it with too much stale cologne, and Marko simply smelled like blood — no getting around it.

“Marko,” You whined, nails digging into his scalp as you attempted to stay upright. Paul was right there to steady you, massaging at your hip as he continued to caress your clit. Marko’s sharp teeth nipped and bit at your sternum, leaving behind a rather unsightly trail of bruised bite marks — his love bites. “Wanna touch you.”

“Don’t be shy,” Marko crooned, guiding your hands toward his waist, right to the leather-studded belt buckle. He showered you in kisses, some far more intense and overwhelming than the others. “We’re all yours.” He leaned back against the rock, letting you use him as your perch — you’d definitely need it.

Paul snickered, laughter akin to the heckling of a hyena as he sank down onto his knees, hands grabbing at your haunches. He had a picturesque idea of what he wanted, neck and chest still smeared in now-dried blood. With a shrug, Paul shed his overcoat into the sand, following the scent of your arousal like a bloodhound.

“Don’t mind me, babe,” Paul mused, wedging himself between your legs, tongue greedily lapping at your slit. “I’m gonna help myself.” Another snarl escaped him as he bit at your inner thigh. You felt awkward, contorted into a strange position as Paul began to eat you out from behind — not that you were about to complain.

Your body felt as if it were burning, being consumed by a flame called desire as it crackled along your flesh, sparking at every nerve ending. You moaned, letting out a wanton cry as Paul’s hands encircled either side of your hips, rings leaving behind indents as his mouth went to work. His tongue split past, right to your weeping cunt, tugging you wherever he pleased.

It was difficult to focus, your motions feeling jagged and robotic as you pried Marko’s belt off to the best of your ability. “Paul’s got you feeling dumb, doesn’t he?” Marko purred, clutching your wrists between his hands, leaning forward to kiss you again. It stole the very air from your lungs, leaving you breathless.

With a whine, you nodded — fortunately, Marko had a rather ingenious idea. Those blood-orange hues ensnared your eyes, hypnotizing you for just a moment. It had gotten you to concentrate, your thoughts no longer safe, nor were they yours. “M—Marko,” You stammered, listening to his fiendish laughter as he stroked your chin. “What was that?”

“Something to help you focus.” He mused, feeling your silken palm wrap around the length of his cock. A growl rippled throughout his throat as you began to stroke him off, aided by his bout of hypnosis. It wasn’t exactly fair, but it certainly got you to compose yourself. It was threadbare, a weaker hold — you were still a mess.

Paul lapped at your cunt as if he were ravenous, a man starved, happy to suck at your clit. He was grinning, attempting to steady you as your poor, feeble legs quivered around him. It didn’t slow him down in the slightest, tongue flicking along your slit.

Marko’s lips returned to yours, grunts muffled through the heated entanglement of saliva and tongues. You whimpered, pumping your hand along his cock, stroking the pad of your thumb across the swollen head, collecting pearls of precum in the process.

Entranced, Marko kept you ensnared, feeling your body convulse and shiver from the pleasure. You looked tortured in the best way possible, mouth parted, moaning and babbling strings of incoherent words. You wanted to collapse, and neither of them had even fucked you yet.

“Don’t make her head melt, Marko. We aren’t to the best part yet.” Paul reminded his brother from between your legs, licking his lips as if he’d had one of the best meals in his eternal lifetime. His cock throbbed within the tight material of his jeans, desperate to be inside of you. He kissed and nipped at your thighs, returning to your sweet cunt once more.

Hypnosis was always a dangerous slope — do it too much, and you run the risk of making someone a mindless husk. Marko smirked, kissing you again and again, hands sliding all along your body as you continued to stroke his cock. Your sounds were heavenly, trembling and high-pitched as he grabbed at the base of your skull.

Paul was messy, greedily lapping at your slick, tongue occasionally circling around your clit. You were shaking like a leaf, all wrought with ecstasy, pleasure blistering all throughout your body. Another hapless whimper escaped you, consumed by Marko’s kiss, his hand squeezing at the base of your throat.

You withdrew from Marko, still connected by a glistening tendril of saliva, your lips puffy and swollen. You quivered, trying to keep yourself semi-composed as Paul devoured your cunt. “P—Paul!” You squeaked, feeling yourself begin to approach your climax.

“You’re hogging her, Paul,” Marko quipped, brows furrowing together. “I want a taste.” His tone was somewhat agitated, though not at you — never at you. The curly-headed vampire gave you another kiss once Paul finally emerged from between your legs, grinning like a wolf.

“Knock yourself out, bud.” Paul chortled, catching you as you slumped back against him, back snugly pressed into his broad chest. He immediately went about kissing you, licking over the numerous bite marks caused by Marko, hands kneading into your breasts. “You smell so good, baby.” He purred, nibbling along your earlobe.

Marko dropped to his knees, abandoning his patchwork jacket — unusual for him, but a blessing for you. One of your hands immediately grasped at his mop of golden tresses, traveling toward the sinewy muscle of his back and shoulders. With strong hands, he spread you open, tongue splitting past, right to your cunt.

Paul rocked himself against you, erection pressed around the soft curve of your backside. His mouth was voracious, licking and kissing every inch of your perfect flesh, gently sucking hickeys into your shoulder if he could. He playfully pinched and massaged at your tits, chest rumbling with laughter when you moaned.

The ravenous vampire whose face was buried between your thighs let out a sonorous grunt, lips pursing around your clit as he began to suck and toy with the sensitive bud. He was relentless, never letting up, never allowing you to have a true moment of peace. Marko was notoriously greedy; covetous when it came to you.

“Where do you want us to fuck you at, babe?” Paul asked, pressing a string of kisses along your back, hands groping and grabbing at your breasts. He was captivated by your pliant chest, continuing to twist and tug at your nipples — it was a torturous form of pleasure. “Right here, in the sand, or maybe back home?”

You could feel Marko’s grin against your inner thigh, tangible and impish, like a brand etched into your skin. He lapped at your cunt again, savoring your taste upon his tongue. “Right here,” Marko piped up, nipping at your legs with devilish laughter. “We have all night.” Your head was bobbing up and down in agreement.

A shudder rolled down your spine, feeling Paul’s hand guide your chin back, mouth hotly connecting to yours in a sloppy kiss. You could taste blood, yourself, the faintest twang of marijuana on his lips. The kiss made you moan, dizzy and delirious from the pleasure you were experiencing.

“There’s a perfectly good blanket,” Marko licked his lips, noticing the blanket left behind by the redhead they’d killed earlier. “Unless you want the ground.” That was certainly food for thought — fucking you right into the dirt and sand like a wild animal.

Maybe he’d take you out to Hudson’s Bluff one night just for that purpose.

Paul’s mild disdain for putting you on the ground was noticeable. “Nah, she deserves something nice to lay on,” He smirked, eyes unnaturally bright as they glistened with desire. “When we fuck her senseless.” With a brief snort of laughter, he squeezed your chin, kissing you again.

You let out another whine, on the precipice of cumming, but Marko was tormenting you, the little demon. “M—Marko, please.” Your stomach felt like a pool of liquid, churning violently as you rubbed your glistening thighs together. “I wanna cum, please keep going!” Your urging came in the form of tugging his hair, but he simply sat there, lips curling into a grin.

“You wanna cum?” Marko inquired, gazing up at you from between your legs, hues shifting to that familiar blaze of burnished gold, countenance akin to that of the Cheshire Cat. When you nodded several times over, he snickered, pressing teasing kisses along your thighs. “I’ll help you out, dolcezza.”

Paul didn’t stop his brother, releasing you from his grasp as Marko flew towards that blanket, bearing now-dried bloodstains on one of the corners. Fortunately, it was protected from the sand, but that didn’t seem to matter much when Marko was crawling on top of you, hungry and lustful.

The taller vampire simply dragged one of the beach chairs over, mane wild and disheveled, chest smeared in crimson as he plucked a pair of sunglasses off of the ground. Must’ve been on one of the heads of the men they’d slaughtered. Paul put them on, lounging in the rickety, woven chair, legs casually spread apart.

“Don’t get too excited, Marko. She knows who she belongs to.” Paul snickered, watching you romp around with his brother atop the blanket. He wasn’t jealous — just impatient, wanting to have his way with you so very terribly. “Be careful with her, too.” He added, not wanting Marko to get too carried away.

Marko had a horrible habit of killing those he slept with. It wasn’t out of malice — just hunger and adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt.

“Piss off, Paul.” Marko growled, knowing not to defy any rules or expectations. He kissed you hard, cock rutting against your slick inner thighs, feeling your hands haplessly grab at his hair. You felt like silk underneath him, warm and feverish as you rocked your hips forward.

Marko’s bloodied body molded itself to yours as he ran the head of his cock against your slick slit, causing you to moan and whimper. “Marko, please!” You whined, desperate for a release of any kind, nearly thanking him when he finally pushed himself into your tight cunt. Paul could be gentle — Marko wasn’t in the slightest.

His initial thrusts were erratic and experimental, not soft or coddling. Marko wanted to find a rhythm that worked for him, and not you. Roughness and brutality were the only ways he knew how, evident in the way he began to move into you. His cock slammed away at your sensitive cunt, feeling you clench and shake around him.

Your hands clamored toward his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he rutted into you, rhythm unyielding and quite rough. You didn’t mind, desperate for the friction, leaving behind indents in his flesh. Marko huffed, biting at your collarbone as he moved his hips forward with the strength of a battering ram.

His cock pounded away at your poor cunt, feeling it clench and throb around his length. Marko murmured something in Italian, teeth raking across your fragile skin, nipping just above your breast as he rocked forward. He was unusually silent, focused on filling you up, fucking you with an animalistic fervor.

Paul was observing — partially for your own safety, the other for his own enjoyment. He cocked his head to one side, watching the way your body trembled with ecstasy, nails raking down Marko’s back as you scratched at his musculature. He adjusted himself within the chair, gripping the arm so hard that it began to splinter.

Marko growled, mouth traveling from your collarbone to the column of your throat, lips gingerly pressing against your jugular. It was a stark juxtaposition to the vicious rutting you were receiving from the hands of the smaller vampire. You were a mess, legs rattling like a leaf as he squeezed at your hip.

“Marko!” You cried out, back arching off of the blanket, nails clinging onto him, hard enough to draw blood. Marko smirked, leaning up enough to grab at your thigh, forcing your legs apart as he fucked you. “M’close!” You huffed, arousal from before carrying over into this.

Your heartbeat was erratic, pounding away just underneath your breastbone, enough to catch the attention of two very riled-up vampires. Marko’s growl reverberated next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine, hips attempting to grind against him. “You feel perfect,” He murmured, kissing your jaw. “My thrall.”

Pleasure rippled throughout your body, sinking into the pit of your stomach, digits threatening to rip Marko to shreds. An impossible feat, but it certainly conveyed your heightened level of desire. “Please, please,” You panted, feeling his cock hit a certain point of depth, rutting back and forth as he lured you into an orgasm. “Marko!”

Being the devil incarnate, Marko fucked you through your orgasm, making your head spin with a euphoric sensation. You moaned, body unable to fully keep up with his brutal pace, shuddering when he rutted into your cunt even still. “Just a little more,” He purred, lapping at the pearls of blood left behind from the bite on your collarbone. “You can handle it.”

Jesus — you were on fire.

Marko was fucking you as if it would be his very last rut, cock slapping away at your cunt. You were quivering from both excitement and from a post-orgasmic haze, stomach churning and rippling with a delightful pleasure. You still held onto him, letting him screw you through your climax, not that you cared. The pleasure made your head go fuzzy, as if you were floating.

Paul frowned, prepared to smack Marko away from you if needed. “You got two minutes, bud. Don’t break my girl,” He uttered. Even if Paul’s demeanor was normally lighthearted and spirited, he could become vicious and downright unhinged. When it came to you, he was rather overzealous at times. “Easy.”

Marko was somewhat ignoring Paul, but still adhered to the side of caution for his sake and for yours. He’d get another opportunity — alone, hopefully. The curly-headed leech continued to fuck you, capturing your mouth in another passionate kiss before he came, pulling out halfway through, painting your stomach with thin ropes of his seed.

You whimpered, feeling messy and sticky, skin heated with a fine layer of perspiration. Marko snickered, biting at the corner of his thumb as he admired you, coated in his cum. It was a mental picture to keep of you as he gave you another kiss. “Good girl.” He sighed, feeling Paul give him a brusque shove.

“My turn,” Paul crooned, deciding that he’d be gentle with you this time around. Marko had clearly fucked your brains out, given the blissed-out expression on your face. “Looks like you did a number on her.” He mused, flinging off the mesh top he wore as he slipped beside you, peppering your face in kisses.

“Paul.” You sighed, soothed by your boyfriend’s sweet, tender kisses. You loved Marko — you loved how feral and unrestrained he was, but you needed something a little more gentle if you were to last another round. They sometimes forgot that you were still human.

Marko grinned, unceremoniously depositing himself into the chair Paul was in moments prior. He liked watching you just as much as he enjoyed participating. Partaking was one thing, but observing helped him study you — what made you tick?

“You got another one in you, babe? I’ll let you get on top. You can give Marko a little show,” He guffawed, settling atop the blanket as you climbed on top of him yourself. Your legs were shaking, sure, but you knew that Paul intended to take it easy on you. “Fuck, you got such a gorgeous body.” Paul groaned, ring-clad hands caressing all over your physique.

Your head began to move, rolling up and down in a lazy nod. “Just one more.” You had the feeling that, by the time this was over, they’d have to carry you back to the cave. Nonetheless, your fingers worked away at Paul’s belt, pushing the snug, white fabric down enough to free his cock. His hardened length oozed with precum, desperate to be inside of you.

Paul kept one hand on your hip to steady you, guiding you up enough until the crown of his cock prodded against your entrance. He let you take your time, feeling you lower yourself, tight cunt swallowing his length, inch by inch, almost painfully sluggish.

One of Paul’s hands skirted upward to massage and caress at your breast, the other guiding you up and down along his cock, keeping a slower pace. “You feel divine,” Paul groaned, your warm palms dancing across the plane of his chest, one hand reaching for his throat. Your digits tensed around his neck, applying a sensible amount of pressure. “You know just what I like.” He purred.

Basking in the crackling glow of the bonfire’s light, Marko admired the myriad of bite marks and hickeys he’d left all along your body. You met his gaze, almost shrinking away until his lips twitched into more of a half-smile instead of a sardonic smirk. A passionate sigh escaped you as Paul lulled you into a more leisurely pace.

The sluggish, deliberate speed of your hips was a much-needed respite from Marko’s near-obliteration of your body moments prior. Paul was more than happy to do most of the work, strong enough to roll you up and down along his cock.

Paul could be unhinged and rough like Marko, but more often than not, he didn’t want to destroy you. He preferred to draw it all out, if he could. Your legs quivered as you let out a soft moan, squeezing at his throat as he let you enjoy the ride. He sat up, enough to get his mouth around your tits again — his favorite.

“Paul,” You moaned, head rolling backwards as Paul’s lips greedily sucked and kissed at your breasts, savoring the silken texture of your chest underneath his tongue. Your hands grabbed at his disheveled tresses in fistfuls, moving your hips with the steady rhythm he provided. “You feel so good.” You sighed.

His cock hit new depths, beginning to lightly push against that spot, opening up a new wave of pleasure. Even then, he kept a gentle speed, not wanting to overwhelm or harm you. With Marko and him combined, you likely wouldn’t be walking around very much. Paul loved your chest, face buried against your breasts instead.

A saltwater breeze fluttered across the shoreline, raking across the perspiration that had dewed up along your back. You shivered, hand gripping into Paul’s broad shoulder as he continued to rut into you, pace still rather tame. “Baby, I’m gettin’ close,” He growled, showering your unattended breast in a flurry of kisses and kitten-licks. “Fuck.” He hissed.

You coaxed him in for a kiss, tasting that amalgamation of blood, marijuana, and a faint wisp of smoke. Paul kissed you with a reverence that transcended a simple relationship �� it was the embrace that only a mate could provide. He groaned into your mouth, muscles of his neck flexing underneath your palm.

Marko watched, enthralled by you — his adoration for you had climbed to new heights, your scent buried within his mind, smeared across his body. Of course, it would’ve been better if you smelled like him, marked as something that belonged to him. He chewed at his thumb, dark gaze glued to you, burnished gold dissipating into hazel-greens.

You didn’t care if you came again, simply basking in the attention from your partners. Marko’s stare bored into you, tearing into your thoughts, enough for you to open your eyes and look at him. You bristled underneath his silent appraisal of you, able to detect the overflow of desire and want in his eyes.

Paul bit at your lower lip, effectively tearing your attention away from Marko. His kiss was blissful, blossoming into something passionate and sloppy — it was so very Paul. His lips curled into a grin, palpable and pressed into your mouth, which you happily reciprocated. His hand snaked in between the both of you, thumb circling around your clit as he bucked up into you.

“You’re my sweet little mate,” His voice emerged as a tantalizing purr, teeth grazing along the column of your throat. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Paul groaned, making your head spin from the compliments. A string of expletives escaped him — breathy, soft ‘fucks’ muttered from the mouth of your very aroused boyfriend.

A moan tore past your lips as he swallowed it whole, cock beginning to throb as he came inside of your tight cunt. He didn’t bother to pull out this time, stuffing you to the brim with his cum, tongue swiping at the inside of your mouth. Ripples of pleasure fluttered across your body as he attentively played with your clit.

His ecstasy was enough for you as warmth pooled between your legs, but you were most definitely spent. Paul huffed, smirking like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “It’s like your body was made for me or somethin’, just sucking me right in.” He teased, peppering your hot flesh in strings of kisses.

“Paul,” You mumbled, nose wrinkling slightly. Everything felt so heavy, but you were determined to keep yourself afloat until you made it back to the cave. “Love you.” You whispered, giving him a sweet kiss as you pulled yourself off of him. It was a mess of his cum and yours that painted the inside of your thighs.

“I love you more, baby.” Paul cooed, squeezing your chin as he continued to pamper you in a barrage of kisses. It wasn’t difficult to notice the little sting of yearning in Marko’s eyes — but Paul understood it all more than anything else. You could love both of them.

Marko had collected your clothing from along the shoreline, clutching your torn panties in his hand. “Think I’ll keep this as a trophy.” He smirked, noticing the way you became absolutely flustered. It was hard not to laugh at your reaction, and the curly-headed vampire pressed another kiss against your jaw.

Paul went about kicking a half-eaten arm back into the bonfire, retrieving the sunglasses he’d snatched off of a corpse. He retrieved some of his clothes, draping his tuxedo coat over your shoulders once you’d put your dress back on. Your undergarments were in a state of complete and utter obliteration.

“When will you both stop destroying my clothes?” You sighed, reluctantly climbing onto the back of Marko’s bike as the three of you prepared for the short ride back to the cave.

“As soon as you stop dressin’ up all pretty for us, sweet thing.” Paul snickered, revving the engine of his motorcycle as he took off into the night. He was howling — likely the post-sex and post-hunt excitement beginning to kick in.

Marko was right on his heels, leaning back into you when your arms wrapped around him. He seemed somewhat docile again, having released his bloodthirst and desire to fuck all in one go — the preferred method, really. You pressed yourself against him, chin perched atop his shoulder.

“Hey,” You mumbled, voice a softer hum, close to his ear. Marko was listening, wanting to drown himself in the sound of your sweet voice. “You know that I love you too, yeah?” Your hands gently traced around his abdomen, feeling his cold musculature underneath your fingertips.

That familiar smirk of his made your stomach do flips as he pressed a chaste kiss against your jaw. Marko wanted to hear you say it — but it was just as palpable within your thoughts, and that was more than enough for him.

“I love you more.”

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #marko tlb x you #marko tlb x reader #paul tlb x you #paul tlb x reader #the lost boys #the lost boys fanfiction #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher x y/n #slasher fandom #the lost boys 1987

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ilguna · 10 months

Note

Hey! Can I get the number 89 (in honour of 1989 tv) with finnick ?

☼ lovestruck, lovesick, lovelorn pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention, death, gore for sure, blood, weapon usage, mention of prostitution.

wc; 8.6k

prompt; 86. "Do you trust her?" // "No, but I trust her anger."

notes; i already did 89 for Peeta (castaway) and i'm trying not to do any repeats, so we're going with 86 :)

The golden Cornucopia sits abandoned in the middle of this black sand island, whereas normally it’s occupied by the Careers to ensure that no intruders steal from them. There must not be anything worth protecting in here, then, besides the weapons that are displayed.

This allows the group to spread out, picking places to rest in the shade. Peeta lowers Beetee to the ground, propping him up against a box. He backs off, going to stand next to Katniss.

Beetee calls out to Wiress, making her go over to him. She crouches down, hands on her knees, waiting. In her limited state of mind, you’re fairly surprised that she’s still comprehending people, much less requests. He holds up his coil of wire, she takes it. “Clean it, will you?”

Wiress nods, wordlessly getting to her feet and going to sit on the edge of the island to clean the spool of blood. She dunks it in the water, occasionally using her fingers to rub a particularly hard spot. While she does this, she begins to sing, no longer repeating the words ‘tick tock’.

It must be some sort of nursery rhyme from District Three, because you don’t recognize it. It’s about a mouse running up and down a clock, which is fairly appropriate, given the recent discovery, thanks to her.

“Oh, not the song again.” Johanna says, rolling her brown eyes. “That went on for hours before she started tick-tocking.”

Wiress stops suddenly, getting to her feet, posture rigid as she points to the jungle and says, “Two.”

The rest of you watch as a white wave of fog begins to seep onto the beach. From here, it doesn't seem so threatening. You probably wouldn’t think twice about it, if you hadn’t run for your life from it early this morning. While it melted your jumpsuit and poisoned your skin, causing you to strip to your under clothes and for your body to be covered in scabs from where it touched you.

You’d rather fight the orange monkey muttations a hundred times than risk doing that again.

“Yes, look, Wiress is right. It’s two o’clock and the fog has started.” Katniss says.

“LIke clockwork.” Peeta agrees. “You were very smart to figure that out, Wiress.”

Wiress smiles, and then kneels in the sand to continue singing and dunking the coil in water. “Oh, she’s more than smart.” Beetee says from beside you. Your eyes slide over to him. “She’s intuitive. She can sense things before anyone else. Like a canary in one of your coal mines.”

“What’s that?” Finnick asks Katniss.

“It’s a bird that we take down into the mines to warn us if there’s bad air.” She says.

“What’s it do, die?” Johanna scoffs.

“It stops singing first. That’s when you should get out. But if the air’s too bad, it dies, yes. And so do you.” Katniss ends that line of conversation, turning to go inside of the Cornucopia.

Johanna goes in after her to poke around in the weapons, since she’s been empty handed the entire time. Funny how Beetee was able to make it to the Cornucopia before she did, even if it ended up getting him hurt because of it.

You briefly glance at Finnick from where you were watching Johanna, and you have to do a double-take when you realize that he’s staring at you. He looks you over, up and down, which would be flattering, if you didn’t know that he was assessing your demeanor, deciding if you were a threat.

You squint at him, face twisting. “What?”

“Nothing.” He tells you.

“It’s not nothing if you’re looking at me like that.” You snap. “Leave me alone.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything back. You’re getting tired of him thinking that you’re going to betray the alliance. You’re in this as much as he is, you volunteered to be here. If anything, he should be a little grateful that he got a district partner that’s invested and capable.

He doesn’t see it that way, though. He thinks that you’re just as bad as Enobaria and Brutus—that you’re itching to get back into an arena to kill for some spotlight. And you know this, because he told you himself on the train. Once you were out of sight of the cameras, he tried to lay you out in front of Mags and the escort, and you shut him down.

You know he disagrees with the way you choose to handle situations, but to think that you would get in the way of a rebellion was a slap to the face. You made sure he knew that later on, when you were out of earshot of the Peacekeepers. If he wanted to think of you so lowly, fine. The line is drawn when he begins to implant those ideas in other people’s heads, too. Especially since you’ve done nothing to deserve it.

It didn’t matter to him. In fact, he tried to block you from being invited into the alliance by telling Haymitch that you could fuck the whole plan if your mood changes. He said all it would take is one disagreement, one thing not going the way you wanted, one wrong look, and you’d make sure that everyone else would be brought down by it.

Thankfully, Haymitch knows better than to just take Finnick’s word for it. He might be a drunk, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention for the past ten years. He knows that you and Finnick have a history of not getting along. If anything, you’ll sabotage Finnick more than you will the alliance as a whole.

Which is why he told you that you have a place in it, if you want. And while everyone else places stepping stones to make sure that the plan to get rescued is in place. You were told that you have two jobs; the first one being protecting Katniss and Peeta, a task that you were already prepared to risk your life for. As for the second one—if anything were to go wrong, if someone unexpected were to get killed, you’ll replace their shoes, and get Katniss and Peeta to the end of the day at all costs.

This is why you’ve been on edge. If Finnick would see past his hatred for you, and thought about it, he’d realize that you’re trying to make sure that Katniss and Peeta are in good positions. You are not the threat here.

Johanna lets out a grunt, you turn your head in time to watch as she throws an axe through the air, straight at the Cornucopia. It hits the sun-softened gold with a gentle thud, and it sticks. She crosses the area, pulling it out by the handle, making a face at the blade.

Katniss is digging through the weapons, probably looking for more arrows to add to her collection, because two sheaths aren’t enough. When she finds one, she swings it over her back and comes out to stand over Peeta, who’s drawing a map of the arena onto a large leaf that he brought from the jungle. He slices the circle, creating twelve equal wedges.

“Look how the Cornucopia is positioned.” He says, looking up at her.

Her eyebrows draw in, and she turns around to take a look at the building she just came out of. “The tail points to twelve o’clock.”

“Right, so this is the top of our clock.” He says, numbering the wedges one through twelve. “Twelve to one is the lightning zone.” He proceeds to write lightning in the wedge, and then goes clockwise, adding blood, fog, and monkeys in the next sections.

“And ten to eleven is the wave.” She says, he writes it down.

Finnick comes over with Johanna, the two of them have upped the weapon count on their bodies. And he thinks you’re the dangerous one, as if you don’t have a sword and a couple knives on you. Does he really need two tridents and half a dozen knives? It makes him look…

Hot, a voice whispers from the depth of your mind, It makes him look hot.

He’s standing in a patch of sun, where the Cornucopia doesn’t quite reach. The sunbeams baking his already tanned skin. His eyes are a brighter shade of sea green, with the light being in his eyes. He looks like he belongs at the bottom of the ocean, commanding the creatures that dwell in it.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he flickers over to yours. You stare for a second longer, before blinking and looking away, back at the map that’s being drawn.

It’s a shame that Finnick decided years back that he would rather keep you at a distance instead of making a friend out of you. The two of you are so similar that it hurts at times, but all he can see are the differences, which hurts more.

The both of you won at young ages, with him setting the record, while you won at fifteen. He had an advantage in his Games, though, because the sponsors were drawn in by his good looks for being someone so young. This meant that he had everything he could have ever asked for gifted to him in the arena.

On the other hand, you didn’t make much of an impression during your reaping or the Tribute Parade, forcing you to change the strategy that you’d been given by Finnick and Mags. They wanted you to keep your head down, but if you wanted even a sliver of a chance, you needed to make your name big.

So, that’s exactly what you did. And that’s where the resentment he has for you, started. You showed off absolutely all your skills in the Training Center, making sure the Gamemakers knew you had potential, getting you a score of nine. During your interviews, you told Caesar that there wasn’t a single hurdle you wouldn’t jump to get home.

That statement was put to the test in the arena, when you killed several tributes, including your own district partner, because you knew it put you one step closer to getting out. You didn’t care what bridges you had to burn, how many sponsors you had to lose, or if you lost the support of your mentors. Nothing could stop you, and it didn’t.

Finnick hates that you had no remorse when you got out of the arena. Or now, because you told him that this is the hill you’ve chosen to die on, because between life and death, you choose life. He can’t wrap his head around the fact you’re so cold. How could the two of you be from the same district?

The similarities came back into play when you turned sixteen, when the Capitol realized that they do care about you. Which changed your title from victor to Capitol darling. You were told to join Finnick and be a prostitute, or President Snow would kill your family.

This is where you screwed up, believing him to be bluffing. You didn’t think he would actually do it, but he’s a man of his word. When you were done listening to the screams and pleas of your parents to spare your siblings, Snow told you that if you didn’t agree, Finnick’s family would be next.

You had no choice, you had to agree. And when Finnick found out that you landed right where he was, there wasn’t a single shred of empathy he had toward you. Not even after you returned to District Four, and he learned that your family had been murdered in your home. The one you’d be forced to stay in for an additional two weeks while they got your victor house ready.

If you weren’t indifferent to his existence before, you sure as hell were then.

“Did you notice anything unusual in the others?” Katniss asks Johanna and Beetee, referring to the wedges.

“Only blood.” Johanna says, Beetee nods.

“I guess they could hold anything.” Katniss looks down at Peeta.

“I’m going to mark the ones where we know the Gamemakers’ weapon follows us out past the jungle, so we’ll stay clear of those.” Peeta says, drawing diagonal lines on the fog and wave beaches. He then sits back. “Well, it’s a lot more than we knew this morning, anyway.”

You look up, going to check on Wiress, since she’s gone quiet. Your eyes find Gloss, water dripping from his bare skin, knife sliding across the skin on her throat. It’s too late to save her, you know this when the blood begins to come down her neck like a waterfall.

The knife on your belt is in your hand and flying through the air in the matter of seconds. It’s headed right for Gloss, and when the blade lodges in the center of his forehead, it throws him back. This kills him instantly.

A movement out of the corner of your eye makes you turn your head, hand reaching for the knife that’s lined up next, but Johanna’s on it. She buries her axe in the center of Cashmere’s chest, eliminating her.

Three cannons blast, back to back.

Finnick swings his trident upward, deflecting a spear that had been aiming for Peeta, thrown by Brutus. Finnick goes to twist his body to take the knife that Enobaria throws at Beetee, but he misses by an inch. It’s too late for you to save Beetee, as the knife shatters the lens on the right side, and the blade buries itself in his eye socket.

Fuck.

Another cannon blasts.

You shove Finnick out of the way to chase after Enobaria and Brutus, who are making their escape around the backside of the Cornucopia. They’ve successfully killed two of your most important allies, and they don’t even realize it.

The two Careers are running down one of the sand strips to the beach. You manage to throw one more knife at Brutus before he’s out of range. It slams into his right calf, taking him down. He lands on his hands and knees, which is exactly what you were hoping for.

Right as you’re about to step onto the strip, the ground beneath you jerks, throwing you down. The center island of the Cornucopia begins to spin, fast. You press your sword between your body and the ground, digging your fingers into the grooves to hold on.

It’s only thirty seconds later when it slams to a stop without warning.

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking measured breaths to calm the growing annoyance in your chest. The Gamemakers knew you would kill Brutus, and later Enobaria, if you caught up with her. That’s why they had to intervene, otherwise the fun of the Games would be gone.

You slam your fist against the rock, pushing yourself to your knees. You lean back on your heels slightly, face to the sun while you collect yourself. With Wiress and Beetee being gone, this is a very large hiccup that you’re going to have to smooth out. You jinxed yourself, didn’t you?

A sigh leaves you as you get to your feet, swinging the sword into your hand. As you round the corner, you can see that everyone else is upright. Finnick looks over at you, eyebrows raised, waiting for good news, because you were the closest to the Two tributes.

“Brutus is injured. I would’ve had him if the fuckin’ Gamemakers had minded their own business.” You stab the tip of the sword into a patch of sand.

“Where’s Volts?” Johanna asks, looking around the group.

“He’s dead.” You tell her.

She meets your eyes, “What happened?”

“I—” Finnick starts.

“I didn’t block the knife in time.” You talk over him. “Enobaria’s got a strong arm, it went right through his glasses.”

You can see Finnick staring at you from the corner of your eye. You lick your lips, tasting the salt of the water, before pressing them together. When you look at him, the two of you stare for a long second.

You, Johanna and Finnick know what this means. If just one of the Three tributes had been killed, you could’ve used the other. With both of them being gone, it means that someone needs to pick up their job, and you were the one that was elected to do just that.

“What now?” Finnick asks you.

You tilt your head, eyes going out to the water, finding two of the four bodies. It’s got to be Wiress and Gloss, because they’d been right next to each other when they died. You lean your sword up against the Cornucopia before wandering forward, to the edge of the island.

Wiress is floating on her back, on her stomach sits the spool of wire, golden and shining in the sunlight. You begin to head down the sand strip closest to her body. “I want the wire.”

“What for?” Johanna asks, “That was his weapon, not yours.”

You look over your shoulder. “It has to be now, doesn’t it?”

Johanna makes a face, but it’s not one of doubt. She knows that you’re right, that’s why she won’t bother to argue. Not that she would, anyway. You and Johanna get along, basically two peas in the same pod. She just likes Finnick more, because he puts up with her bullshit.

You jog as close as you can get to Wiress’s body, before diving in the warm water. It’s a nice break from the sun, even if it is for a minute. It doesn’t take long to get to her body, prying the coil from her fingers. You’re about to swim away, when you hesitate, closing her eyes.

Finnick is waiting for you on the strip when you get back to it. You place the wire on the rock, and he reaches down to help you up. Your face twists, but you take his hand, letting him help. The moment you’re on both feet, he pulls you close, a rough hand on your shoulder as he pulls you close to speak in your ear.

“If you can’t do this, you need to tell me. I’ll figure something else out.” Finnick harshly whispers.

You jerk back, squinting at him. “Worry about yourself.”

As you stoop to grab the wire, Finnick shakes his head. “I mean it, (Y/n).”

“And so do I.” You tell him, lowering your voice. “There’s a reason why Haymitch trusted me with this, and not you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “We’re back to this, huh?”

You scoff loudly. “You’re the one that’s upset by it, Finnick. So, here’s a fucking suggestion: deal with it.” You shake your head. “You’re so worried that I’m going to betray the alliance, that’s you’re forgetting that this is what I do.” You motion to the jungle with your free hand. “Enobaria and Brutus can run all they want, but we both know they’re going to have to come out eventually if they plan on finishing us off. And when they do, they’re going to get it.

“Not from you, not from Johanna, from me.” You seethe, moving around Finnick to head back up to the Cornucopia. You throw your hands up, one of them still holding the wire. “Face it, Finnick, I’ve got this handled.”

You turn around, finding that your three other allies have their eyes on you. You ignore them, watching where you place your feet. On the island, you retrieve your sword, dropping the wire onto a box. Finnick is a few feet behind you, wearing a hard expression.

You hate it when you have to talk to him like that, but you can’t do it any other way if you want him to listen to you. It’s like he doesn’t care unless you’re being hostile, except that tone of voice has him on edge, afraid that you’re going to flip a switch.

There is no happy medium. It’s like he’s dead-set on thinking that you’re an unlikable person. You wouldn’t have minded having an actual conversation between you, Finnick and Johanna to figure out a plan together. It’s his fault that he decided to take the situation into his own hands by assuming that you wouldn’t have the ability to fill Beetee’s shoes.

It makes you mad, so now you’re going to take care of it by yourself. As much as he wants you to ask for help, you’ll do everything in your power to make sure you don’t need him. Or the others, for that matter.

“Let’s get off this stinking island.” Johanna says once Finnick has joined the group.

You dig through the weapons in the Cornucopia, looking for a pair of knives that aren’t too short. The only ones that are available are displayed on the wall in the very back. They’re slightly curved, not too heavy. They’ll work just fine.

You watch as Peeta, Finnick and Johanna start in three different directions.

You stand next to Katniss, watching this. When they realize that no one is following them, they stop.

“Twelve o’clock, right?” Peeta asks. “The tail points at twelve.”

“Before they spun us.” Finnick says. “I was judging by the sun.”

“The sun only tells you it’s going on four, Finnick.” Katniss tells him. “Any one of these paths could lead to twelve o’clock.”

You tuck the knives in your belt, as you circle the Cornucopia with them to try and find the path that’ll lead to the twelve beach. Only, the jungle is perfectly replicated in every section, down to the last tree. Johanna suggests following Enobaria and Brutus’s path, but it’s been washed away.

Katniss stops. “I should have never mentioned the clock. Now they’ve taken that advantage away as well.”

“For now.” You murmur. “We still have the wave at ten to tell us, we’ll be back on track after that.”

“Yes, they can’t redesign the whole arena.” Peeta says.

“It doesn’t matter.” Johanna’s growing impatient, wanting to move. “You had to tell us or we never would have moved our camp in the first place, brainless. Come on, I need water. Anyone have a good gut feeling?”

You let them decide which strip to take to the beach. Katniss and Peeta begin to lead the way. You grab the wire, motioning for Johanna and Finnick to go next, but they don’t budge. You roll your eyes and duck your head, putting a good distance between you and Peeta before you walk.

“What’s the plan?” Johanna’s voice sounds far, and she’s trying to be quiet, but there’s not enough going on for it to conceal her.

“She says she’ll handle it.” Finnick murmurs, you can’t tell if he’s mad or not.

“That’s it?” She asks, “It looked like she was yelling at you.”

“She did.” He says. “She told me to worry about myself, and she’ll handle Enobaria and Brutus.”

Johanna doesn’t speak right away. “Do you trust her?”

“No, but I trust her anger.” He tells her. “She’s right, this is what she does best.”

“So, you want to follow behind her?”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Finnick shoots back.

“No.” Johanna sighs.

When you get to the jungle, they look inside of it, trying to figure out if there’s anything waiting inside or not. When you can’t see any immediate threats, they relax.

“Well, it must be monkey hour. And I don’t see any of them in there.” Peeta says. “I’m going to try to tap a tree.”

“No, it’s my turn.” Finnick objects. “I’ll at least watch your back.”

“Katniss can do that.” Johanna says. “We need you to make another map. The other washed away.” She reaches up, yanking off a large leaf to hand to him. “(Y/n) can stay with us, while she figures out what to do with the wire.”

You drop it in the sand, along with your sword, as you sit down. Peeta crouches beside you, beginning to make his map, again. As you watch him draw the slices, your mind begins to wander.

Katniss and Peeta are the Careers’ focus. They want to target the ones with the highest scores first, and then work their way down. If they take out a few of you in the process, then that’s great, but they’re afraid of what the Twelve tributes could’ve possibly done in order to get a perfect score.

It was a little odd for Gloss to go for Wiress, if this is the case. And Cashmere wasn’t able to kill anybody before she died. You guess she might have been going for Katniss, but Johanna was in between them, she wasn’t going to make it that far. That’s why Brutus tried to get Peeta with the spear, and maybe the knife was originally aimed for Peeta, not Beetee?

You just can’t wrap your head around their strategy of getting rid of the Three tributes. Were Enobaria and Brutus that worried about you guys coming up with a plan to use the explosives on the tribute platforms? It wouldn’t be the first time it happened in the Games, it’s just a stupid idea to do it in the water, when you have nothing to steady yourself on.

Either way, you need to figure out a way to draw them in. If there’s anything you know for sure, it’s that they’ll wait until dark to attack again, because they’ll have cover. It’s only the two of them now, which means they won’t attack the five of you all together, they’ll get overpowered in seconds. They’ll wait until you split up.

You play with the wire, twisting it between your fingers while you think.

If they send another twenty-four rolls from District Three tonight, you’ll have no choice but to go into the jungle for the lightning section, because that’s where they’ll be rescuing you out of the arena. You would just say that you should go up to the lightning tree and wait, except you won’t know what time it is until ten, like you said.

When the wave does it, you’ll have two hours to get to the tree. After that, Katniss and Peeta will have to get split up long enough to get the tracker out of their arms. That’ll be the perfect time to kill Enobaria and Brutus, too.

You just need a reason for them to split up. Johanna’s already agreed to getting it out of Katniss’s arm, which left Peeta for Finnick. You need some sort of placebo plan in the meantime, something for them to focus on to keep their minds off of the fact that the situation is going to be very, very suspicious.

“That’s it.” Peeta says, sitting back. “I don’t—”

A scream cuts through the still air, silencing him. You whip around to look back at the jungle, unsure of whether or not it belongs to Katniss. As you get to your feet, sword in your hand, you can hear another voice, shouting back. That one sounds like Katniss.

“What’s happening?” Peeta asks.

You get to your feet before he does, pulling the sword into your hand as you break through the jungle, swinging at any leaves in your way. “I think we chose the wrong section.”

“It’s supposed to be the monkey mutts right now, how can it be anything else?” Peeta asks.

Your face twists as you look over your shoulder, finding that Johanna’s eyes have rolled back as far as she can get them. “Because it’s the next hour?” She snarks.

Peeta doesn’t respond. For a moment, you’re genuinely concerned that the forcefield on the first day might have fried his brain a lot more than you thought. When you begin to think of all the decisions he’s made over these past couple of days, you relax. It’s not really out of his nature to say something stupid once in a while.

You’re about twenty yards into the jungle when you stop suddenly, sword at your side, eyes scanning the trees above. When Johanna and Peeta finally pause, you realize just how quiet it is out here.

Johanna takes a step or two forward, coming to stand next to you, looking up at the tree branches. She covers her eyes with one hand, squinting. “There’s no birds.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” You tell her, your normal voice feels too loud. “There’s not even insects.”

“What are you thinking?” She asks, looking at you.

“I feel like it’s too early to be the beast, because the sun was down further yesterday.”

She nods. “A new hour.”

“That doesn’t explain why it’s so quiet.” Peeta says.

“Could be something in the trees.” You tell him, turning your body to face him. “That’s why I don’t want to go further in.”

“But Katniss and Finnick are in there.” Peeta shakes his head. “We have to.”

“Don’t you think they would’ve called for help by now?” You ask, “We heard Katniss say something, but then she stopped.”

“And they can’t be dead because there’s no cannon.” Johanna says after. “What if they’re hurt?”

You look further into the jungle. “It’s a bad idea.”

“We have to try.” Peeta says, starting toward the two of you.

You move in time to let him pass without running into your shoulder. He makes it an additional five yards before he walks smack into a wall, head bouncing off. A little smile fights its way onto your face, and then it vanishes when you realize that this is exactly what happened when he hit the forcefield.

He reaches out, going to touch it. You stride forward, grabbing the back of the neck of his undershirt, yanking him back. “Are you stupid?”

“Wait.” He swats your hand free. “Watch.”

You grab his wrist when he holds his hand out again, causing him to look at you with wide eyes. “I’m not taking any chances with you.”

“Then do it yourself.” Peeta motions, you let go. “It would’ve blown me back if it was a forcefield. Besides, it’s too far down.”

You look at space in front of you, seemingly fine. The wall that he’d run into isn’t even visible. You take in a breath, holding it, before sticking your hand out in the direction of it.

The palm of your hand vibrates against it, you apply pressure, wondering if it’ll budge if you lean into it, but it doesn’t move. You look down at your sword, pressing your lips together. If this is a forcefield, this will most definitely kill you. Still, you swing the sword into the invisible wall, and you’re pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t explode into sparks upon contact.

“Well…” You trail off, beginning to walk around the wall, keeping one hand on it. No matter where you touch, or how far along you walk, the wall doesn’t stop. You make it into the next section of the jungle, and around the corner, and still feel it there. When you make it back to Johanna and Peeta, you shake your head. “Sealed.”

“They’re inside?” Peeta asks. “Do you think they can hear us?”

“I’m going to say no.” Johanna grunts, swinging her axe into the wall repeatedly. “If we can’t hear the birds,” Her voice is strained, “Then we can’t hear them.” She stops, tossing the axe aside, it lands next to a bush. She sighs, “I guess we’re going to wait out here.”

Peeta doesn’t like this idea, you can tell by the way his face screws up, but he knows you don’t have any other choice.

“I’m going to grab the wire, then.” You tell her.

“Speaking of it, come up with anything yet?” She asks, eyebrows raised.

“Almost.” You say, walking away from her.

When you get to the beach and find the wire, you don’t go back into the jungle right away. You stand beneath a patch of shade, staring at the Cornucopia, and the trees beyond it, squinting.

From what you can tell, Enobaria and Brutus aren’t on the beach or in the treeline, which means that they’re in those trees, somewhere. They must be fairly far in, where they’re resting. They likely won’t come out again until they’ve been sponsored and their wounds are healing. And even then, they’ll make sure you’re not on the beach, first.

Or maybe they are able to see you, and you just can’t see them.

If you were in their shoes, you’d be watching your every move right now to figure out what you’re doing. And if that’s the case, it doesn’t matter what you do with this wire, they’ll already know the plan. Really, it would just be an excuse to split Katniss and Peeta.

So, that’s what it’ll be.

The wire could be used for a number of things, you could probably make a trap out of it. There’s enough of it for you to bring it to the tree and back down to the beach, twice. The question is what Beetee would have used it for.

You close your eyes, listening to the waves on the beach, trying to remember how Beetee won his Games. You were talking to Mags about it the other day, she was telling you that it’s been thirty years since he won. Back then, he wasn’t the strongest tribute either, he had to make something to electrocute the last remaining tributes.

He wouldn’t really be able to do that now. He had the sources—the lightning at midnight and the water at the center. In the condition he was in before he got killed, he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip up to the tree, back down to the water, and up again to be out of the way of the electricity. And the chances of the wire being cut by the Careers isn’t that low, even in your situation now.

You’d need someone at the base of the tree, and someone unspooling the wire down to the water…

Your eyes pop open, it takes them a second to adjust to the sudden light. You stare at the water. This is what Beetee was going to do, wasn’t it? The wire acts as a conductor. If you hook it up to the tree at the right time when it strikes, it’ll fry everything in the water.

But what you want is to kill the Careers, in a way. The sand would have to be wet too, or at least damp. Which… Which will be the exact case when the wave hits at ten, and it’ll be cooler out, so the water won’t evaporate as quickly. If you bury the spool in the sand, it should have the entire beach covered and the water.

“Bingo.” You say, grabbing the coil.

You join the others back inside of the jungle, finding Peeta on the floor, forehead pressed to the invisible wall. Johanna’s pacing back and forth, arms crossed over her chest. When you get closer, you’re able to see that Katniss and Finnick are on the other side, both of them with their hands over their ears.

When a twig snaps beneath your weight, Johanna looks over. She lets out a sigh, shoulders slumping. “What took you so long?”

“Came up with a plan.” You tell her, dropping the wire and your sword next to one of her axes.

“What plan?” Peeta asks, unmoving.

“On how to kill the remaining Careers.” You wink at Johanna, but it’s not flirtatious.

You know she understands when the crease appears between her eyebrows, giving you a slight nod. “Care to enlighten us?”

“When they’re out, I will. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.” You nod at the other two. “What’s going on in there?”

“I think it’s jabberjays.” Johanna says, pointing up at the trees behind the wall. “They’re fifty of them in the trees. Katniss tried killing them, of course it didn’t work.”

Your eyes land on Finnick, finding his muscles rigid. You crouch to get a better look at his face, there’s a streak of red from his nose, down his lips, and off his chin. “What happened to Finnick?”

“He ran face-first into the wall.” Peeta says. “It was a bloody nose.”

You hum, lowering yourself to the ground. “Hopefully it won’t be much longer.”

—

The wall suddenly breaks, Peeta falling forward. He catches himself on his hands, getting to his feet. He doesn’t even say anything, just scoops Katniss into his arms, and walks straight out of the jungle with her, leaving the arrows behind.

You sit up, looking over at Johanna to see that she’s staring at you. She tilts her head, “Do you want to try?”

You take in a breath, “I’ll let you know if it works.”

She nods, following after Katniss and Peeta, because someone needs to be watching over them. You get up, walking a few feet over to Finnick, before crouching down beside him.

You lift a hand, hovering it over his back for a minute, and then change your mind, placing your elbows on your thighs to lean on them. He’s got his eyes closed, head down. He probably can’t even hear you. You don’t even know how he’ll react to being touched, much less by you.

You press your lips together, heart hurting at the sight of him. It’d be better if Johanna were here, she can talk to him. All you’ll do is upset him more. You grind your teeth, once again wishing that this wasn’t your relationship. As you go to stand up, the hands over his ears loosen, head beginning to lift.

He looks around in the jungle first, making sure the threat is gone. That’s when he notices you beside him, waiting. His eyes are watery, he swallows.

“Hey,” You murmur, “Are you okay?”

He stares at you, eyebrows drawing in.

You nod, “I’ll go get Johanna.”

Once again, you try to get to your feet, when he speaks, “Why?”

“Why… what?” You ask, pausing.

“Why would you get Johanna?” He asks.

You turn your head in the direction of the beach. Is he really going to make you say it? Does he want to see the pain it’ll cause you? Or does he think it’ll come out venomous?

When you look at him, you sigh, “Because I’m not really a comforting person to you, am I?”

He doesn’t answer your question, “Where are they?”

“They’re on the beach.” You tell him. “I figured out a plan that’ll work. I’ll tell you guys when you’re ready.”

“Do Johanna and Peeta know?” He asks.

You shake your head, “No.”

Neither of you move, staring at each other. And while you could stay here forever, you don’t allow yourself. You push on your knees, standing up. You offer your hand to him, but he moves it away, just like you figured he would.

He doesn’t say anything, walking past you to leave. You stare at the scene of dead birds in front of you, before you turn around, collecting yours and Johanna’s belongings, and going to join them on the beach.

Katniss seems better, she’s talking to Peeta. Johanna is standing over them, she glances at Finnick when he passes by. She has to twist her body to see you standing in the treeline. You hand her the axe.

“It was a trick, Katniss. A horrible one. But we’re the only ones who can be hurt by it. We’re the ones in the Games. Not them.” Peeta says.

“You really believe that?” Katniss asks.

“I really do.”

“Do you believe it, Finnick?”

“It could be true. I don’t know.” He says, looking up at Johanna, ignoring you entirely. “Could they do that? Take someone’s regular voice and make it…”

Johanna makes a face, looking at you for help. You play with the piece of wire you’d unraveled, “I’m sure Beetee would know.”

“Peeta’s right.” Johanna then says. “The whole country adores Katniss’s little sister. If they really killed her like this, they’d probably have an uprising on her hands.” She deadpans. “Don’t want that, do they?” She scoffs, throwing her head back to shout, “Whole country in rebellion? Wouldn’t want anything like that!”

She shakes her head, wandering around the beach to pick up shells. When she finds a good few, she stops next to Finnick, holding her hand out. “I’m getting water.” Finnick drops the spile into her hand, and she begins toward the jungle.

Katniss grabs her hand. “Don’t go in there. The birds—”

“They can’t hurt me. I’m not like the rest of you. There’s no one left I love.” She says, shaking her hand free. You don’t miss the look she gives Finnick, and then you, as she disappears into the jungle.

She comes back a couple minutes later with a shell of water, handing it over to Katniss first. She makes trips back and forth, letting each of you have some. She comes out one trip with a pile of arrows that she gives back to Katniss.

Finnick shakes his head, walking to the water. He stops a few feet in, and sits. You let the wire drop to the sand, tired of bringing it wherever you go. You don’t move from where you are, eyes fixated on his back.

“Who did they use against Finnick?” Peeta asks, curious.

Katniss is quiet. You’re expecting her to say Annie, because it makes the most sense, but when you look over, she’s eyeing you, and so is Peeta.

“What?” You ask. “Was it Annie?”

“No, it wasn’t.” Katniss murmurs. “We thought we heard you.”

A loud laugh comes from you, unwarranted. The thought of Finnick caring about you enough for the Gamemakers to use you against him is funny. Really funny, actually. It must’ve been a walk in the park for him, listening to your pleas. A little gratifying, because he could pretend that you were getting what was coming for you.

But Katniss isn’t laughing, she’s serious.

The humor leaves your smile, “It must’ve been his mother, that he was mistaken for me.”

“No, because we heard his mom, too. That first scream was yours.” She insists, “And he dropped everything to find you.”

“Finnick would never do that.” You tell her, voice cold.

She doesn’t press it further, but the look in her eye is enough. She’s not lying to you, she’s telling the truth. She doesn’t gain anything from making something like that up.

You won’t believe it though. This is the same Finnick that told Johanna that he didn’t trust you, an hour and a half ago. There’s nothing that could’ve made him change his feelings in that time span.

Unless it didn’t.

Your eyes narrow at the back of Finnick’s head, hand tightening around your sword.

A cannon blast keeps you from thinking about the subject any further, but the bubbling in your stomach is only getting hotter. Finnick gets up, coming to join you three, as well as Johanna, materializing out of the jungle. You stand together, watching a hovercraft appear over the next section, claw dipping in several times to retrieve all the pieces of one body.

The beast.

This sparks Peeta to create another map, this time he’s able to fill in more than half of it. It starts with lightning, rain, and fog. It moves on to monkeys and jabberjays. He has to skip a section, and then writes beast. And the next one you have after six to seven is the wave at ten. This means you’re missing five of the other hours.

The others begin to come back to life. Finnick begins to weave a water basket and a net to fish for dinner. While Katniss takes a swim and applies more ointment. By the time she’s done, Finnick has worked up a pile, so she sits on the edge of the water, cleaning them for him.

It doesn’t take long for Katniss’s words to creep back into your mind, refusing to leave it be. Finnick cares about you, a thought that should have you excited, but it makes you uncomfortable. He has spent the last eight years making sure that you know that he hates you and couldn’t care less about what happens to you.

Yet here he is, supposedly dropping everything to save you. Possibly even leaving Katniss behind to do it. The Gamemakers must know something that you don’t, if they knew to use your voice. You want to assume that they thought Finnick was worried solely because you’re his district partner. Except, that doesn’t make sense either, because the two of you are notorious in the Capitol for being a pair of mentors that get into fights about how to handle things.

He has a lot of nerve.

The sun falls below the horizon, the moon rising to replace it in the sky. When they finish cleaning the fish, they bring it over, setting it in the middle of the circle for you to enjoy. The four of them begin to settle in the sand, you don’t move from where you stand.

The anthem begins to play, stopping them from digging in. The Capitol seal lights up the sky, and then it’s replaced by the faces. Cashmere, Gloss, Wiress, Beetee. The woman from Five, the morphling from Six, Blight, and the man from Ten.

Eight tributes dead.

Strangely, this makes you think of your own Hunger Games. Where you managed to kill four people in the span of two hours, one of those being Rio, who was your district partner. By the end of the Games, you had eight kills under your belt. A third of the competition was taken out by you, a little fifteen year-old.

Once again, a factor that used to make Finnick sick. And now it doesn’t.

“They’re really burning through us.” Johanna says.

“Who’s left? Besides us five and District Two?” Finnick asks.

“Chaff.” Peeta says without missing a beat.

The sound of clinking fills the air, you look up to find a parachute coming down, teetering from side to side. It lands perfectly in the middle of the group, unfolding itself to reveal the steaming rolls.

“Do these look like District Three to you?” Finnick looks at Johanna.

“Yeah, look at the imprint.” She says, running her finger over the top of one. “How many are there?”

Finnick counts them, being sure to be thorough. “Twenty-four. How should we divide them?”

“Let’s each have three, and whoever is still alive at breakfast can take a vote on the rest.” Johanna says, causing Katniss to laugh.

You pull your sword out of the sand, swinging it up to rest the flat part of the blade on your shoulder. Finnick looks up at you, eyeing your stance. You step away from them, shaking your head.

“Sit down, (Y/n).” Finnick tells you.

“Why, so you can keep an eye on me?” You snap, crossing the treeline. “Come and get me, Finnick.”

You make it a few feet in, before you hear the snapping of branches behind you. You sigh, turning with raised eyebrows to see that Finnick took it as a challenge. You didn’t mean it that way. You didn’t want him to chase you.

“Get out here.” He tells you.

You walk backward, tilting your head at him. “I’m just making sure Enobaria and Brutus aren’t out here.”

“I don’t care.” He’s still walking toward you. “We’ll worry about that when we make camp.”

You stop, letting your sword down from your shoulder. When you look past him, you can see that there’s enough distance between him and the beach. There’s privacy to talk and sort out what you heard.

Your eyes land on him, “Katniss told me something,” You start, watching his eyebrows twitch, “About how you thought I was the one screaming for help.”

Finnick shakes his head, “I thought it was my mom.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said too.” You tell him, “But you said my name, and you dropped everything to go and get me.”

He sets his jaw, “So?”

“So,” The word is bitter, “What changed?”

He laughs, “Nothing, (Y/n). I went—”

“They used loved ones and family.” You cut him off. “You care about me, admit it.”

“I don’t.” He tells you. “I never have, and I never will.”

“You chased after the jabberjays thinking it was me, and you followed me in here because you’re worried that I’ll get caught by the Careers, admit it.”

“I don’t know what you think is happening, but whatever it is, it’s not true.” His voice wavers.

This is all the confirmation you need. “You want to know what I’m thinking right now?” You press your pointer finger to the middle of his chest. “That you’re not bothered by me anymore, and you haven’t been for a while. You’ve done a damn good job of hiding it up until now, but the jabberjays got you good.”

Finnick grabs your wrist, “That’s not true.”

“What changed, Finnick?” You insist.

“Nothing, because I don’t have feelings for you.” He snaps. “The reason why I came in here is because we want to move camp to the ten sector once the wave happens, I just didn’t want you to get lost out here and think we abandoned you, making you think it’s a free-for-all.”

He lets go of your wrist, face screwed tightly, as he leaves you here. You watch him go back to the beach, while you take several breaths, feeling the pit in your stomach grow.

What have you done?

---

this is part of my 3k celebration!!

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internetegoist · 1 month

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Of Shidou Ryusei ; And how his character connects towards sexual trauma

(Content warning: Major mentions of SA/CSA and abuse, minor mentions for NSFW behaviour. Most of them aren't in graphic detail, but please please be wary of it 🙏 There's also spoilers for CSM and A Clockwork Orange)

Shidou's character is one of those that sticks with you throughout the entire series. It feels like we know everything about him, yet there's something so mysterious about his behaviour that makes you wonder, what's with this guy? We know how he acts, his violence and vulgarity injected in his brain and blood, but yet we don't know why he acts the way he is. It is very heavily implied that he went through a sort of restriction, born in a bird cage which he freed himself from through going to Blue Lock, but what is that restriction? What was the bird cage which trapped him? What was it that was holding him back from searching for freedom and exploring the world?

Since then, there's been a large speculation of theories on what his backstory could be. But one of them I want to talk about is about how his backstory is connected to SA, and how he could have experienced it at a young age. At first, I was extremelyyy hesitant to follow it due to how it made me a bit uncomfortable to discuss about, and how I saw a majority of people supporting the theory use it for shock value rather than a chance to devolve into darker topics. Of course, not the case for everyone who supports the theory, just from my own personal experience in the fandom.

But now, I can see the extremely, deeply discomforting vision on how this could be true in a way. From both his favourite manga and movie involving SA as an integral part in the story, to the concerning side of him being slightly revealed in the Egoist Bible. (Eg. crying at the end of the day, when he's feeling nothing or when he's empty, as well as his dislike of gifts)

Due to my heavy interests, I wanted to explore this theory into a more deeper matter. I decided to analyze more of his behaviour, as well as doing some of my own research. I must say, Shidou's behavioral manner can be one that is similar to those of SA survivors, especially male survivors.

Okay okay, enough yapping around. Let me get straight to the point.

Shidou and his instinct's responses

Generally after experiencing sexual abuse, one's entire personality will change. Every behaviour change is different for every sexual abuse survivor. Sometimes they'll isolate themselves more often, sometimes they turn into a much aggressive and violent person. Because the world has failed them, the world is putting them in a place where they are no longer safe and are more vulnerable. Because when your entire sense of self and personal power is taken away by your abuser, you are left with nothing but fear and new survival instincts. Why I bring this up is because Shidou's entire personality is built on instincts. His instant response to even the slightest hint of dislike or threat is to immediately beat them up, no matter who they are. A noteworthy thing to mention is that one of the main responses from males following sexual trauma is anger, because it is more socially acceptable for men to react that way. Attacking someone is the best way of defense, and Shidou follows this way of defense entirely. This also follows up with the stigma with the male ethic of self-reliance, in which help-seeking behaviours can be seen as cowardly or unmasculine.

It's most likely the reason why he also dislikes Kunigami's philosophy of heroes; Considering the fact his entire character is based on wanting to be free from restriction, he must have lived in an environment and/or went through a sort of restriction which influenced his ideals of "I can fend myself, I won't need anyone". The world he has grown up in was nothing but survival against the abuse he went through, so for what purpose should he believe in the principle of a savior, if he himself could have never been saved? It doesn't help either when in real time, there have been many cases where survivors of sexual abuse are either never believed when they speak out about it, or never speak out at all in fear of not being believed.

And besides the fact he uses violence as a defense method, one thing I noticed about Shidou is that during the time he was locked up by Ego for inducing violence onto Rin. We see him, perhaps for the first time, being calm and offering a promise that he'll make sure to stop fighting and hitting others, as long as he is let out of that prison he's trapped in. You see, a common reaction victims will use during the process of the SA is to freeze. To stay silent and still. It's like how animals freeze to avoid fights or further harm to themselves, or play dead in order to prevent getting eaten by predators. Although the outer self may seem to be in a calm state, the inside are on high alert, because they are afraid on what will be their abuser's next moves. The option to fight or run away may seem easy to those who haven't experienced SA, but to the victim it may seem harder than you think. Because freezing is a body's instinct response to abuse, and it'll stay frozen until the abuse is over, it's almost like a human's way of playing dead, so that the assault induced will end sooner. Among the instincts of 'fight, flight, freeze', Shidou seems to use fight the most out of the three. However, when necessary times come necessary measures, Shidou, perhaps for the first time, switches to 'freeze' instead of 'fight'. Not only because he basically, cannot physically fight anyone at that moment, but also because he is afraid. Afraid of being restricted yet again, afraid of not having the chance to live his life, which is to play football. The worst position to be in when you're being hurt or abused is limitation. You can't move, you can't fight, you can't run away from your abuse from happening. Nothing but hope that the abuse happening to you will end soon, that your abuser will stop hurting you. That's exactly what is so terrifying about the freeze responses.

Shidou and his sexual behaviour

If any fan knows anything about Shidou, it's that he's not afraid to speak out what's on his mind, especially lewd and inappropriate words. More or less, this can be connecting to something called hypersexuality. Accordingly, hypersexuality is defined as an intense focus on sexual fantasies, urges and behaviours that can't be controlled. Hypersexuality can not only cause distress, but also problems in school and workplace.

Survivors of sexual abuse cope in one of the two ways: Either by avoiding sexual or intimidate interactions entirely, or seeking said interactions on a large and unhealthy scale. According to this article, a majority of men who suffer from hypersexuality or sex addiction have been either physically or sexually abused in their childhood.

We see Shidou quite literally compare scoring a goal in football, to sexual intercourse. (And also the part where he says he's gonna blow his load, with Sae also dismissing it, but it's just partners supporting each other!)

By now, we know that two things that Shidou is unable to separate from each other is life and football. Both the act of life and the act of playing football is interconnected. Because football is something that allows him to leave a mark, allows him to be known by the world. Because football is a biological phenomenon to him, rather than just a sport.

And yes sure, this is supposed to be a connection to his philosophy of leaving a mark on others, so that you can be remembered. But also remember what he says in his monologue: "Those who create something, those who want to become something, and of course, those who make children." The way humans create life is through intimacy, through intercourse. The two people engaging leave a mark on each other through creating that life, that child.

And while speaking about his monologue of leaving a mark, Shidou also mentions that wounding others are a way of leaving behind a proof of existence. Inducing abuse whether it'd be physical, emotional or sexual, can also be one of the ways to make someone remember you.

The abuser leaves the mark on the victim, the mentioned mark left on them can be seen as PTSD or trauma symptoms.

Abuse is not something you can just simply turn away, forget or overlook. Whether the effects of trauma are short-term or long-term, they are there, they are a proof of existence that it happened. Shidou's inability to separate the physical act of football and the biological act of life's desires, especially sexual desires, can be seen as hypersexuality. Hypersexuality can also be seen as a mark left onto the victim. And it's extremely lengthy to recover and remove those marks left on you.

Of Freedom and Shidou Ryusei

I think Shidou Ryusei and his obsession with freedom is something so interesting about his character, yet so many people tend to ignore it as a significant part of him. Because imagine if one day out of the blue, your entire bodily autonomy gets taken away from you, you're trapped in a cycle of repetitive abuse onto you. When it's finally over and you have control over everything again, the world suddenly feels so utterly different. So what do you do? Of course, cling onto that freedom that is now yours.

Bite any other hand that may seem like it's trying to take it away, because if there is one thing you do not ever want to repeat, it is someone isolating you once more against the world. So hold on tightly to the freedom you now have, and make sure it stays with you for eternity.

All of Shidou's favourite things, his favourite film, manga and song, are also connected to this in a way.

It would take too long for me to get into detail about both Chainsaw Man and A Clockwork Orange, but I want to say that both media and their protagonists have approaches to freedom of life and choice.

In Chainsaw Man, Denji is a child that has been depraved of even the basic of human needs; Just like Shidou, he wants to claim everything in his current life and not return to when he had nothing when he was a child. In A Clockwork Orange, Alexander who in the beginning of the movie has been committing heinous crimes with no one to stop him, is captured and put through inhumane experiments in order to rehabilitate him. His entire freedom is taken away from him and for the next hour, we see him go through immense suffering and torture by those who he had wronged to the point he attempts to commit suicide through jumping off a window. In the end, it doesn't seem like his mindset has changed at all. It makes us question whether or not letting someone be free to do anything they want is the better option even if it hurts others, rather than attempt to isolate them in order to transform them into a better human being.

I would like to talk a little about his favourite artist. For a bit of context, hide is popular for being an icon of rebellion against Japan's conformist society, and one of his songs PINK SPIDER, is listed as Shidou's favourite song according to the official Blue Lock Egoist Bible. I've seen a lot of interpretations of what the song truly means, but the main story is that it's about a spider trapped within and kills anything near it. Because it wishes to free itself away, it steals a butterfly's wings. It attempts to fly, and fails, and tries again. Whether or not the spider did actually succeeded in flying away is unknown to us. But, that's not all!

Around the chapter where Shidou scores a goal, the commenter calls it a 'rocket diving header'. This can lead to one of hide's other songs in the same album as PINK SPIDER, rocket dive; a song with the similar approach of freedom but with different tones. Compared to PINK SPIDER, rocket dive has a more cheerful approach. In the end of the song, the star mentioned in rocket dive successfully flies away and appears as a new shooting star in the sky.

Which brings me to point out something: Shidou Ryusei's birthday is on Tanabata, a type of Japanese celebration called the Star Festival which is celebrated on the seventh day of the seventh month.

His name, Ryusei, is also a homophone for shooting star in Japanese.

Shidou, born as a star on the day where two lover stars meet, yet when he was born, he was not allowed to fly and join the others in the sky.

But he overcame everything, achieved that dream of having the freedom to do whatever he wants. And even though he went through all that pain, all that abuse, and most likely had to learn how to escape by himself through football before Blue Lock, he made it come true, like a spell.

And eventually, he learnt how to fly, and let the world knew who he was.

#cw child abuse #cw csa #shidou ryusei #blue lock #bllk #ryusei shidou #shidou ryuusei #character analysis #bllk analysis #character study #character examination #i deeply apologize for the repetitive words and any mistakes i made it's so late i can't be bothered to fix it until tomorrow #this is my first time writing such a long analysis and posting it publicly. please be nice to me.#i worked on this shit for TWO WEEKS and will probably not like it later but you know what it's better to never post anything at all

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slytherinn-xo · 5 months

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Swim Tryouts at 7:30- Danielle Van De Donk

Danielle Van De Donk X USWNT Player! Lyon Player! Reader

Synopsis: When Daan has football at 7:00 and swimming practice at 7:30, while at the world cup.

851 words

Being a US player that plays outside of the US is rare, like extremely rare, but being the only one to have never played in the NWSL, now that's rare.

I was born in the USA, raised in Memphis Tennessee, but when I was 14, I moved away to Germany as that's my father's home country. When I spent the next three years before I started off my career in the German Women's top League.

I've played for four leagues, now, starting off my career in the German League with Bayern Munich in 2017 for just one season. Getting to play with the greats over there, learning so much from Frido, Sara Dabritz, Jill Roord, Leupolz, and Leah Galton.

Before I signed with Arsenal in 2018, for the next three seasons, until 2021. Where we won the WSL title once, in my first season.

Which was where I met Daan, I fell in love to say the least. But she was already in love, with Beth Mead, so I watched on from the side lines, like I was waiting to be subbed on now.

But she was my best friend, it was her, me, Viv and Jill when she finally came and joined us. The Dutchies and the American.

But they were my family.

And then I moved to play for Barcelona for just one season after they won the Champions League in 2021 til 2022. Before I moved, and I got the chance to be with the girl I was in love with.

Daan.

So I joined in 2022, which was where we reconnected, and to say we both fell in love was the truth. We've been dating now for 10 months, and we do hide it, but we don't at the same time.

We're private people but not a secret.

So facing here now in the group stages of the Women's World Cup, it was hard.

But with less than 3 minutes to go of extra time was on the clock, and I turned back after the whistle was blown.

I just saw an orange shirt on the floor. "Who is it?" I asked Lindsay, my Lyon teammate, as I couldn't read from that far away. Well that and I'm dyslexic and can barely read myself.

"Daan." She muttered before I ran over to my girlfriend. I couldn't hide all of this, I was scared, my girlfriend is on the floor not bloody well moving.

"Schatje." I told Daan standing by her as she was led on the floor not moving, crouching by her as I had my hand on her shoulder.

"Poepie." Daan muttered back to me.

"Not that name." I told her with a smile, that was one good sign she could still understand me and knew who we were around her.

When the Dutch medics made their way over to Daan you saw the first showings of blood slowly coming out of her hair, but you had no idea how much there would be under there.

I wasn't given a choice but to move away from her as the Dutch staff moved me out of their way, pushing me back away from my girlfriend.

"No, stay!" Daan told me as she locked eyes with me, trying to reach her hands out to grasp onto me.

"I'm right here." I told her as I kept eyes with her.

I watched as they placed some gauze over her wound, before just placing a swimming cap over it.

I laughed at her.

"Not a word!" Daan told me, pointing that finger at me, wagging it at my face.

"You look like you've got swimming practice in half an hour." I told her with a smile.

"Oh shut up." Daan told me as she stood up.

"Make me!" I told her walking away from her backwards as she was escorted of the pitch before she could return to play.

"Are you two doing okay, it looked rough on the pitch?" The interviewer switched to English seeing me walk up to Daan, and I stood a bit behind my small gal.

"The best players are always the most competitive." I told the interviewer as I interrupted Daan's interview.

"Best friends?" The interviewer asked us both, as my arm was around Daan's shoulders but Daan's was holding onto my waist.

"The best." Daan answered like clockwork for us, squeezing my waist twice, doing our code, for when we wish we could say our feelings.

"Go get that checked out properly." I told Daan raising one eyebrow up at her, as she nodded, looking deep into my eyes.

"I will, ik houd van je." Daan told me, trying to politely kick me out of the interview.

"Ik houd van je." I told her back quickly kissing her before walking off to Lindsay who was gasping at my actions, before I froze.

"You didn't mean to do that?" Daan asked me.

"No I didn't!" I said shaking my head, before running back to kiss Daan one last time before running away back to Lindsay as we were both bright red in the face now.

#arsenal wfc x reader #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso fanfics #danielle van de donk #danielle van de donk x reader

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jotaroslooseeyebrowhair · 2 years

Text

(un)dead beat dad (Chapter 1)

I hope you all suffer as much as my beta readers do, love you guys @justagaygoosehoard and @le-maidenless

and for those of you who wanted to be tagged, enjoy :) @starkcravingmad @terzatheunderscorerima @sunsetdew0101 @onyxlightdragon @ace-aro-agender @roseinbloom02 @aikoiya @blacksea21090 @the-legal-shipper @paperlicense687 @cursedchaosboys @corfinnsunrise @ascetic-orange @eonic @frostedthroughghost @readerkayden @reach-for-the-horizon @xno-more-smilesx @undead-essence @bluebeariis

edit: please ignore my misspellings im super sick :)

Danny spits blood onto the floor of the tower he was in, his hand pressed against the cuts in his chest, barely holding himself together. He cursed as he felt the ice melting around his chest and dripping to the floor. With a shaky breath, he froze it up again, not as thick this time though. Damn. Danny stood, using the wall to stabilize himself. Smearing his glowing green blood all over the wall. He stumbled up the stairs, spilling puddles of green throughout his walk. He got to the top and fell into the door, black impeding his vision as the large blue-skinned figure floated towards him. “Heya clocky,” Danny whispered with a wet chuckle as he lost consciousness fully, slumping to the floor in a pile of green blood as the white rings encompassed his body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fuck” clockwork said out loud. Somehow, some way, he had not seen this reality. I mean, of course, he had seen the realities where the Fentons had reacted… badly… to say the least. And of course, he had seen the realities where Danny ventured into the ghost zone to find help, hell he had seen every single one and ancients did his heart ache at those. But this? Clockwork hadn’t seen a reality where Danny came to him. How had he not seen that? How had he glossed over that reality? Maybe if he went back through all of those again and tried another time, maybe he could see what he was supposed to do to stop this, maybe he could see what direction he was supposed to go, maybe he could see what he's supposed to do now-

A cough cut him out of his thinking. For once, time is the thing he didn’t have. He thought quickly, what was he supposed to do? He can’t take care of Danny himself, and Danny wont last much longer if he just stays here thinking but ancients what is he supposed to do…. Clockwork snaps his fingers and carefully picks Danny up in a bridal carry, careful not to upset the angry-looking Y-shaped wound on his chest bleeding through his torn medical scrubs. Clockwork waved his staff the best he could while holding Danny, making a portal, and floating through.

~~~~~~~~~

Gotham had been having a wonderful night. Her knights had taken down more than a few of her least favorite assholes, and, as a reward, she made the sky a bit more clear. She loved when those stars shone through her sky. Well, her night had been going well, until she felt a familiar portal open up behind her.

“Ahhhh, my favorite stuck-up bastard. How's it going clockwork? Time treating you well?” She said in her sweet new-jersey accent; snickering and smiling at her pun, taking a drag of her cigarette. Holding the opera-length cigarette holder just past her lips, she blew out the smoke. She rested her other hand on her hip, her sparkling sangria-colored dress flowing over her plump hips. She turned around, her gorgeous crown of black corkscrew curls coming together in a beautiful afro, bouncing as she looked at clockwork. She took a moment to assess the bleeding boy in his arms before looking clockwork in his ruby eyes. “Clockwork, love, what the fuck.”

Clockwork sighed and floated toward Gotham. “This boy… This is the king. He was attacked in his own home by his guardians. He came to me but… but I've never seen this timeline. I wasn’t sure what to do with the boy, but I knew you had knights that could protect him.” Clockwork stared down at the boy in his arms. Gotham took a moment to digest the new information.

“The king, his majesty phantom, is this boy?” Gotham asked, disbelief clear in her voice, Clockwork only nodded and held out the boy to Gotham.

“Yes, he is. I don’t have anyone else to bring him to. I’ll make this easier on you, as thanks.” Clockwork said, handing Danny to Gotham. Gotham flicked the cigarette and its holder out of existence, her feathered boa tickling the boy now in her arms.

“A bit scrawny, is he not?” She smiled lovingly down at the boy king. Clockwork smiled at the two and brought his hand to Dannys' head, a deep blue glow found its way between his hand and the boy king. Gotham stared in wonder as Danny shrunk in her arms. She looked at Clockwork in disbelief for a moment. “Clockwork, I usually do not question your ways, but what are you doing this for?”

“All as it should be. Good luck Danny.” Clockwork smiled and patted the small boys black hair, though it was caked in blood.

Gotham looked down at the boy in her arms, “Daniel. A name fit for a king. Now, I know exactly which of my knights to bring you to. No need to worry your highness, He will take care of you as none else have.” She turned her head to where clockwork was with a thank you on her lips, seeing he already left. She huffed in annoyance and turned towards the streets of her city, she knows exactly where her knight is.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason was having one hell of a night. I mean, the muggings, a robbery, and the riddler? A great night, really. Well, his patrol was finally over, so he crawled through the fire escape to his house and stilled at the chill in the air. Someone else was in his apartment. Jason swung his arm around, pistol cocked and ready to fire, pointing at…. Nothing? A huff of laughter came from the too-dark shadows in the corners of his living room. A tall woman with deep ebony skin sashayed her way from the shadows, a gorgeous dress hugging her thick curves in all the best ways. She smiled at Jason and held the boy in her arms higher, so Jason could see him.

“My knight. I have a request of you, a friend of mine has placed this boy in my care, but I know nothing of raising children.” Jason tried to cut her off with a ‘you think I know jack-shit about kids either???’ but she shushed him with a wave of her hand as she laid the small boy on his beat-up couch. “Of all of my knights, I have deemed you to be the most well-suited to take on this task. This is Daniel, High King of the Infinite Realms. Though he looks younger than he truly is, do not underestimate him. He needs medical attention and someplace to call home. You, Jason, are the best and only option for this task.” Jason stood there dumbfounded. Who the fuck does this lady think she is? Coming out of nowhere giving him a kid and talking to him as if she knew him? And she knows his secret identity!

Jason went to say something but found no words on his tongue as the woman before him dissolved into smoke before his eyes, leaving a bloody kid on his couch. Jason sighed and took off his mask, leaving only his domino. “Well, fuck me I guess” He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and took off his jacket. Who on earth was that? And how did she disappear like that? How on earth did she get into his apartment? Why did she leave a bloody kid- oh fuck the kid-

Jason stopped what he was doing and stared at the bloody kid on his couch. The kid looked bout six, if he had to guess, but was far too skinny for a healthy six-year-old. Jason paced over silently and let his eyes wander over the small boy. Jason breathed out a small ‘fuck’ and bent down to where the kid's eyes were and tapped his shoulder… nothing. He tapped again and a small groan escaped the boy, huh. Jason gently shook the boy and watched as the small boy's eyes fluttered open to reveal an icy blue. The kid took a moment to adjust, as he glanced around the room, his eyes landing on Jason. Immediately, the boy jumped up, falling over the backside of the couch with a loud thump, scooting to the wall behind him. Well… that wasn’t, exactly what Jason was expecting. Loud heaving breaths were heard behind the couch and jason crawled around, to peak at the boy. As soon as his eyes found the kid, his breath hitched in his throat. That's a lot of blood.

“Hey bud,” Jason started softly, “your names Danny, right?” He asked. Jason tried to scoot closer but when the bleeding boy in front of him moved he stopped. The boy Danny glanced over Jason, taking a minute to observe him before deeming Jason safe, nodding his head yes.

“Well, I’m Red Hood, nice to meet you. A friend of yours dropped you off with me, said you're a king or something?” Jason said slowly, lowering himself to sitting criss-cross on the floor. Danny blushed heavily in front of Jason.

“They… they said that?” Danny said, his voice squeaking out. Danny looked confused for a second and quickly glanced down at his body, ‘he's so small’ Jason thought. Apparently, Danny thought the same as he looked at his body in confusion flipping his hands over in front of his eyes. Jason moved again snapping the boys’ attention back to him.

“So, Danny, Your friend said that you needed some help and that I could help you out. If you trust this friend, I’ll trust them too. You don’t have to trust me right away, but know I’ll help you out the best I can, okay? Sound good?” Jason said, turning his palms flat up to show he wasn’t a threat. Danny took a second to think about it and nodded his head again, slowly, but hey a yes is a yes.

��Alright, kid, we need to get you patched up, I have a friend who can get you fixed right up-” Jason was cut off by the boy frantically shaking his head

“oookay, uh, no hospitals?” Jason guessed.

A slow nod.

“My friend’s clinic?”

A shake.

“Well, I can't do it myself…” Jason smiled in realization “What about my grandpa? He patches me up when I’m out on patrol, that sound good kid?”

There was a moment of silence. Jason was thinking he might have to just call Alfred at this point when the kid hesitantly nodded. Jason let out a sigh. “Alright kid, I’m gonna have to carry you there, okay? “ another nod. Jason scolded over and carefully scooped Danny up in his arms and walked over to his still-open window and crawled out.

“I’ll be as careful as I can, alright? Let me know if anything hurts.” Danny nodded again and Jason carefully hopped off his fire escape, he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

Chapter 2

#how we feelin gang #yall sad enough yet? okay ill try harder next chapter #yes im posting stories here before ao3 #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp au #ghost king danny phantom #jason todd #ghost king danny #alfred #red hood #angst #(un)dead beat dad au

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