#hot and dry fall little snow fall

[artcalledwind]

Fractures Being Fracked Eel the supple Ill in behaviors Well fractures being fracked - - - - WARNING THIS NOT ABOUT OIL - - - - The choice: Experience As President, 4yrs As Vice President, 8yrs In supporting corner As Vice President, 4 yrs As Ex-Former President, 4yrs As TV show Host, (sorry, only watched a handful of episodes) Brought in on Earth with money ___________Reflection Line_______________ Made easy for purchase of Golden Toilet The rump T never bought a chariot he would have had to smell it Blooddeath started Jan 6, Intimidation tactics begin if not elected, “Bloodbath” “Lower the Regulations” Ex-FP speaks on his behalf Welcome our environmental catastrophe’s Allowed still to be an entrepreneur representative The always? for the people? Oops what? ooh whoa! There is now FOD on our windshields Our mirrors & windows Due pray for wings & wheels And don’t forget doors, fuel pumps the faulty alternators criss crossed wiring and prices It all has been about profits And a pack of now how many is saving lives? The slanted iron walls Just caused problems from the purposefully start and started *An American Way! American Way! American Way* Fractures being fracked Nut not tighten To be torqued to obviously better than manufacturing guidelines and/or loosen the reigns as they say, lower regulations We won’t be here for after effect or the affected, we got really nothing to loose…… Thee out cries Fractures Fracked

[skbeaumont]

"Make Me Wanna" | Jackson!Joel x Reader oneshot

Song: Make Me Wanna - Thomas Rhett Summary: Joel fucks you in the back of a truck. That's literally it. Tags/Warnings: MDNI, 18+, porn with a smattering of plot, smut, PIV, dirty talk, pets names (baby, darling), kind of dom!Joel, established relationship, Jackson era Word Count: 3.2k A/N: As always, the lyrics have been worked into the story, so if you can listen please do!

There are two working vehicles in Jackson. The school bus – a large van that serves as transport for the kids in the winter, when the paths freeze over and the snow falls too thick to walk through – and a ’75 Chevy Cheyenne. It’s the keys to this that Tommy hands Joel one early morning, the dry Wyoming summer heat already pushing the mercury up into the eighties.

The rest of the town are still asleep, but you, Joel, and Tommy are outside in the square, your conversation chorused by the call of the town’s raggedy old rooster. Joel’s having trouble concentrating on his brother’s instructions, his eyes flicking like the hands on a clock to the way the dress you pulled on this morning clings to your ass and hips, the thin cotton leaving very little to his imagination.

He’s sure you’ve done it on purpose; there can be no other reason to wear such an impractical outfit when you’re heading out beyond the wall. Sure, it’s an easy run – up to the dam, check everything’s in order, head back – but Joel’s not sure how he’s even going to make it there with you in that ridiculous damn dress, curves calling out to him. It makes him wanna-

“Joel, are even you listening?” Tommy’s voice cuts through his reverie, has him shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it of flies.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What was the last thing I just said?”

“Uh,”

Tommy rolls his eyes and Joel looks at you for help, but you just smile at him innocently with dimples in your cheeks, batting your eyelashes like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Jesus Joel, can’t you concentrate for two minutes?”

Tommy relaunches into his lecture about the dam and the route, and Joel tries to pay attention to the words, tries to ignore the way you’re gliding a single finger across the small of his back, hand dipping under his shirt to reach the hot skin there. It’s such an innocent gesture, the pad of your finger caressing him gently, without urgency, but it sends electricity coiling up his spine.

For your part, it’s all you can do not to jump him here and now. Tommy’s early morning wakeup call disturbed what was shaping up to be a very pleasant morning in bed with Joel, and there’s an insistent warmth in your belly at the memory of his rough stubble on the back of your neck as you lay together in bed not an hour ago. You’re wondering how far you can push him, how riled up he’ll have to be before he sacks in this run and takes you back to bed.

Finally convinced that Joel’s taken on board at least some of what he’s said, or perhaps fed up of trying to talk to him while he’s clearly so distracted, Tommy leads you both to an old barn where the vehicles are kept. The chevvy is a faded, sun-bleached red: a worn leather front bench up front, large enough for three or four people to sit in a line, with an open bed in the back. You climb into the cab next to Joel, shuffle yourself over so that you’re almost in his lap where he sits at the wheel.

“Wanna explain what this is about?” He asks as he starts the engine, gesturing to the dress with his free hand.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” You reply, and you can hear him rolling his eyes, hear the tight, whispered Jesus Christ as he shifts the truck into gear.

It’s a slow drive through Jackson; the narrow streets aren’t built for vehicles. Joel steers the truck around the chicken coops and picnic benches, taking you to the front of town where the gates are. Here, the watchers on the duty lever open the corrugated metal wall that separates Jackson from the wilderness outside, and Joel guides the truck through.

You haven’t had much of a chance to spend time outside the walls since your arrived in Jackson some four months ago, but even so, you find it hard to take in the countryside and wide, rolling hills with Joel sat next to you, his warm hand on your thigh. You trace patterns across the back of his hand, follow the lines of old scars and new scratches, let your fingertips trail higher, up to his bare wrist, over the prominent veins that sit just beneath his tan skin.

“I know what you’re doin’” He says, voice dark as he squeezes your thigh in his grip, a warning you’re bound to ignore.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” You repeat, letting go of his wrist to lean across in your seat, reaching for the glove box. You pull it open.

“Aha!” A cassette tape falls out into your hand, writing blurred with age but still legible. “County Sound FM.”

You slide it into the old cassette player set in the dash, hold your breath as it cracks and pops and then starts playing.

“Is this…” Joel turns his head slightly, angling so that the gentle rhythm and rolling melody can reach his good ear. “R.E.M.?”

“Man on the Moon,” You confirm, looking at the track listing on the cassette.

“Jesus.” He says, shaking his head.

He takes a right at the end of the main track up to Jackson, down a dirt road that’s overhung with dense trees. You let your eyes trace over his profile; the strong, curved line of his nose, dark stubble that’s flecked with grey. His jaw is set, but he’s nodding along with the music. He catches you watching him out of the corner of his eye and squeezes your thigh again, kneading the flesh there.

“You gotta stop looking at me that way, baby,” He says, shifting the fabric of your dress so that he can drag his hand further up your leg, the heat of his palm almost feverish against you.

You shift in the seat, open your legs wider, encouraging him to move higher still and then turn into him, press you lips against the juncture of his throat, inching your own hand over the front of his jeans where he’s already half hard.

“You know there’s only so much I can take,” His voice is gruff against the lightness of the country song. “You make me wanna…”

He trails off and you huff a laugh against his collarbone, move your mouth to his ear so that you can say, “make you wanna what, Joel?” into it.

“Pull this truck to the side of the road, for a start.” He says, turning his head to look at you.

His eyes are dark, expression serious, a frown creasing his brow. The hand he’s got on the steering wheel is gripping it tight, knuckles white against the dark leather of the grip. You can see the tension in his shoulders, his thighs when he shifts as you run the flat of your hand against his cock.

“If you don’t stop,” He says, voice catching in his throat, “I’m gonna- fuck, darlin’, Jesus Christ.”

He breaks off as you slip your hand suddenly under the waistband of his jeans, wrist barely squeezing between the buckle of his belt and his stomach. His cock jerks against your hand, smearing precum across your knuckles as you fight against the tight denim. “Gonna what?” You ask again, wrapping your fist around his cock, letting your thumb run over the silky tip of him. “Pull the truck over? Go on then.”

The truck veers to one side, brakes squealing out as Joel brings it to a stop at the side of the road, tree branches scratching against the windows.

“Slide on over, then,” He says, turning into you, leaning back and opening his legs so that you can climb into his lap.

His gaze is hot and hard and animalistic as you settle against him. You reach between your heaving chests to paw at the button to his jeans but he grabs your wrists, grins at you, eyes glinting.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking,” He says, wrapping two solid arms around and pulling you flush to his chest, mouth resting at the shell of your ear. “I’ll tell you everything I’m thinking.”

He buries his mouth at your throat, licks and sucks and nips at the tender flesh there, kneads your ass with his hands.

“I think you’re an impatient little thing who needs to learn some manners,” He says, his voice thick, “and I think I’m gonna take you to the back of this track and fuck you on the tailgate. How does that sound?”

He barely gives you a chance to answer, just tucks your dress out of the way so that he can reach down between your ass cheeks to the wet line of your panties, following the crotch round over your cunt to the hard nub of your clit, already swollen and throbbing under his ministrations.

“Joel, please,” You whine, as he teases you with two of his fingers, circling your entrance but not breaching it.

“You know better than to wear that dress, baby,” he says into your throat, “Oughta be against the law,”

He pulls back, fists a hand in your hair and drags your mouth to his. The kiss is heated and ferocious from the start; Joel pulls your lower lip into his mouth with his teeth, draws out your keening moans with a clever flick of his tongue.

“I need you, Joel, please,” You say, trying again to undo the button on his jeans.

“Ain’t room in here,” He says, reaching over the pop open his door, “in the back, like I said. C’mon.”

You follow him out and round to the back of the truck. He lets the tailgate fall with a soft clunk, takes his jacket off and spreads it out on the dusty metal of the truck bed.

“Hop on up,” He says, shooting you a grin that’s laced with mirth and heat, his eyes crinkling mischievously.

You do as he says, sitting up on the open tailgate. He steps between your thighs, presses them open with two large hands so that he can fit there. Running one hand up your chest to your breast, he presses his clothed cock against the wet line of your panties, circles his hips so that the rough denim catches against your clit and makes you moan.

When he pulls back he takes your panties off, dragging them down your legs with two fingers before pushing them into the pocket of his jeans. It makes your stomach clench, the sight of them peeking out, the pink lace a stark contrast to the worn dark denim, marking you as his. With them out of the way, Joel wastes no time in pressing two fingers into your soaking cunt, grinning down at you as you yelp at the sudden intrusion. It turns into a whimper as he bends them just so, the calloused pads of his fingertips searching out that tender spot inside that has you curling your toes and clawing at his shoulders.

“There she is,” He says, chuckling darkly, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit and applying a steady, gentle pressure.

It’s intoxicating – the firm pressure of his fingers inside you, the sure, confident thrum of his thumb over your clit. It’s like being drunk on no alcohol, just Joel, his breathy sighs and warm scent enveloping you, wrapping you up in a haze of heady desire.

“Gonna come for me, darlin’?” He asks as he feels you start to tense around him.

He trails his free hand along the side of your jaw, drawing your face back to his so that he can kiss you again, swallow down your moans as you jolt and shake against him, the orgasm rising up suddenly in your belly, sending spikes of ecstasy through your quivering cunt.

“Good girl,” He whispers, drawing his fingers out.

He pulls them up to his mouth, places his fingertips against his lush bottom lip and slides his tongue over them, groaning at the taste of you.

“You wear this dress jus’ for me, baby?” He asks, fisting the fabric between his knuckles as he unbuckles his belt, “Know just how to turn me on, don’t you?”

You nod, watching him pull his cock out of the confines of his jeans. He drags the swollen, weeping head against your folds, drawing air in through his teeth as he does, hissing the breath back out.

“Good girl,” He keens, using the fist that’s clutching your dress to drag you forward in the truck bed so that he can line himself up. “Feel how hard I am for you, hmm, baby? Get me so goddamn worked up I can’t think straight.”

He presses the thick length of himself against you, covering his shaft with your slick. He pulls back slightly, places the fat head of his cock at the entrance of your cunt, curses through his teeth as he inches inside, a drawn out, breathy “fuck, baby”, that has desire coiling up your spine. A muscle jumps in his jaw as you watch his face, watch his eyebrows pull up as he sinks into you, the slight tilt to his mouth, a steady slow breath pouring out of him with the effort of not slamming into you in one hard thrust.

“Okay?” He asks, holding himself still when he bottoms out, waiting for your confirmation that he can keep going.

“Move, Joel, please, God.”

A chuckle echoes deep in his chest at this, and then he wraps his arms under your thighs, pulls you firmly into him and drags himself out before slamming back inside. He sets a punishing pace. It’s all you can do to grip onto his shoulders, dig your fingernails into the firm muscles of his back and let him fuck you, his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. You watch the beads of perspiration rise on his forehead and cheeks, trace them as they roll down his face to his neck, the tendons there straining as he continues to pound into you. He’s quiet, mostly, grunting and cursing in a rasping voice, fuck, that’s it and Jesus Christ, baby.

“Got the softest pussy I’ve ever felt, darlin’.” He praises you, pressing kisses to your forehead, the side of your neck, groaning as he drags his teeth against your jaw, “gripping me so fucking tight.”

A familiar heat is coiling up inside you again, making your stomach clench and your toes curl in the boots you’re still wearing. Joel knows, can tell by the way you squeeze your eyes tight shut, hands gripping his forearms where they hold your thighs up. He changes the angle, shifts his hips so that his cock hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, spikes of pleasure sparking in your cunt right through to the tips of your fingers. You come around his cock, fingernails digging into the hard muscles of his arms, no doubt leaving indents that will mark him as yours when you return to town later.

“That’s it, baby, comin’ all over my cock like a good fuckin’ girl.” He presses his lips to yours, licks his tongue into your mouth, teeth biting into your bottom lip, pain blossoming into pleasure.

He slows his thrusts as you come down from your high, dragging his cock against the roof of your cunt and running a hand up your side, over the curve of your hips up to your breast. He pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, soothes your moans with his mouth on yours, swallowing them as they fall from your lips.

“I know, baby, I know.” He says, picking up the pace again, snapping his hips to yours, fisting his hand into your hair. “Can you give me one more? One more and I’ll come in this perfect cunt, hmm?”

He reaches between your writhing bodies, presses his fingers to the bundle of nerves above where he’s thrusting into you and draws circles over your clit. The pressure is firm and fucking perfect, Joel’s fingers confident and sure in what they’re doing. He knows your body like the back of his hand, has spent hours learning how to make you come. It only takes a few minutes before you feel yourself tightening around his cock again, eyes squeezing shut, but this time he lets go of your thigh with his free hand and grabs your chin.

“Eyes open, baby, I want you to look at me while I make you come.”

And you do, locking your eyes onto his. His pupils are blown wide, eating into the chocolate brown of his irises. His brow is furrowed with the effort of fucking you, making the lines that paint his face stand out. There’s a bead of sweat sliding down one cheek, and he bites his lip between his teeth as you come, cunt clenching around him.

“Fuck, that’s it baby, good girl” He keeps circling his fingers as you come, drawing out your orgasm, his voice vibrating in your chest. “Jesus Christ, I’m gonna come. Shit.”

He groans, holding himself still as he spurts inside you, ropes of come painting your cunt as you contract around him. You’re both breathless then, panting and holding each other, your fingers pinching his skin, his hand tangled in your hair.

“I can’t believe we did that.” You say, suddenly laughing as you realise how reckless you’ve been, out here in the middle of nowhere, Joel’s gun long since forgotten on the back seat of the truck.

“Well, you know better than to wear that dress,” Joel says, pressing his lips to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, the side of your neck. “You make me wanna…”

[zzencat]

Your Person When They Realize They Want More With You (+ character traits) - Timeless ⏳

From left to right. Choose the one you can’t take your eyes off of.

Applicable to a current or future person. This is someone that wants to be someone more to you. Warnings: tooth-rottingly sweet. Some suggestiveness. Some angst.

BEFORE YOU CHOOSE. Clear your mind. Time is now patient and still. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill your chest up to the fullest, feel the soft air brush up against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out. You may now begin.

———————————

Pile 1. “If we’re both still single by 30, let’s get married.” “Deal.”

•you could be coworkers OR someone who goes in the same direction as you in the morning

• one day, a thought will cross their mind when they’re ordering your favorite so-and-so, maybe coffee, maybe favorite pastry, OR they randomly keep remember weird details about you(?) like “oh y/n likes this…”—cuz they’ll be like “wait…why do I know that? lol why did I just randomly rmr that…” they’ll laugh it off,,,,and then they see you again later and their heart beats a different way…

• they honestly did not see you like this before…

• ear muffs and black sweaters…puffy jackets…perhaps it’s cold/snowing when it hits them how radiant you look

•honestly a very sweet fs. if you’re okay with vanilla people, this is def for you. if not, let’s spice it upppp (you gotta do it)

• it’s weird bc it hits them gradually too. like thinking “why are you still single…why am i still single?”

• you guys have a mature vibe. ^^(relating to previous point) a lot of this pile’s fs will realize their feelings too late or will realize when you’re both financially stable

• maybe you give the vibe you’re not interested in them or you don’t have the intention of getting married—at some point you may have mentioned this to them, sober or drunk, and they rmr it so their being cautious and gauging how you could feel about them, if you feel anything for them at all

• childhood friend kind of energy. I really don’t think you see them in this way either, not until they start acting weird around you. All of sudden, they’re not smiling as much anymore and maybe they’re averting their gaze more

• it sucks bc you’ll question why and will feel weirded out when they start avoiding you, turning down your requests to hang out…

• I’m getting a very empty feel. Either you feel empty without them or they’ve been on dates with other people in the past (you’re wondering how tf they still haven’t settled) and it’s bc they’re not feeling that “unidentifiable”…spark. Like the one they should be feeling on dates with new people, but no…it’s just…dry. They don’t know what it is tho. All of these people are attractive and share the same interests, yet there’s just something missing…

• if you give this a try, you will fall very fuckin hard

• ^^ having thoughts like “how tf do they know how to cook? were they always this hot?” lawd…noticing the small things about them and it’ll get you blushin

• honestly…there’s gonna be a huge difference in communication. you’ll probably be a bit pissed- like “why are you acting so weird? have you been avoiding me?”

• they’d give you all these excuses of why they can’t hang out, and that’s bc they wanna be a lone with their feelings. They’ll try to suppress it at first because there’s just no sign that you like them back, no indication of you even feeling anything romantic towards them, and it kills them…

• I honestly see this person suffering alone from it. They’ve got all this worry and bad energy and it’s not even your fault, so the energy is just going inwards. They can’t express it- they don’t even want to verbally acknowledge it bc they’re THAT sensitive to the fact that they like you and the potential of you not liking them back. It’s really just their own mind and doubts being the bad guy

• why is this happening in a car? 😳 you might have to conjure up a little ruse to get them in one place bc they are definitely avoiding you

• I’m really getting the feeling that you were oblivious. Like it had NOT occurred to you once that they could’ve had feelings for you. The most you would’ve thought of your relationship with them is a friendship

• ^^ bc ngl a prominent portion of this group think the fs is too good for them, like out of their league—both in physical and status

• they could be tall and wear glasses, or fit and good facial bone structure

• if you mention another person (that you could possibly interested in) they’ll purse their lips and play up that they’re happy for you (but trust me, it’s fake as hell and you’ll see it). Like they won’t even be able to hold a real smile bc they’re already hurt by the possibilities. OR they just go quiet and say “oh, really?” *looks down, hands in pockets* if you’re both standing up. If you’re one of the oblivious bunch, you’ll notice their tone change but you won’t understand what’s wrong. (there’s also a split amount of you that would ask what’s wrong and others that won’t)

• BUUUT there’s also a handful of fs in this pile that will look down at their feet, hands in pockets, maybe even wearing a beanie, and will avoid your eyes while passive aggressive shooting down the other person. For example, if you compliment this other person, they’ll quietly be like “well, they’re not THAT good…”

• if you’re not giving any signs STILL? then this person will try to suppress their feelings even more and will start going on dates again. this person isn’t the most optimistic when it comes to this—which I can’t blame them for bc I think you treat them TOO much like a friend or family and joke around too casually with them that they think it’s permanently stuck like that—EVEN THO you haven’t even rejected them. there’s also a chance you’d never even friendzoned them. Perhaps when you two were younger, you were like “ewww 🤮🤮🤮” to the prospect, but now that things are different, you’re not totally opposed to it…maybe it’s crossed your mind once or twice, but you didn’t think much of it really…

•hella puppy vibes from this person tho. either they look the part or act it

•I feel kind of sad for your fs only bc some of you could friendzone them or at least have given off that vibe to them. you would go out to events with this person, even 1-on-1 and not even think of it romantically while your person is feeling this one-sided love

• it’s up to you guys if you want to date this person or not, but if you do, they will literally do EVERYTHING for you- esp the planning

• very strong cold weather, scarves, hot drinks, cold region

•this person tries to invite you out often

• i will also mention, this pile is more likely to date this person than pile 3 is to date theirs

• if you do end up dating, in the beginning stage of this relationship, they’re just shy as hellllll and you’re like “what? 😃” when you catch them staring at you — in the beginning stage, they’re prone to laughing/giggling a lot when yall make eye contact and looking away so you don’t see how flustered they are

• you could be an extrovert OR if not, you just really enjoy being around this person. their personality and presence balances out yours

• you might be unsure of what you want in a romantic partner, open to different cultures/people, kind of in your own world(?) —> like not fixated on one thing or it’s easy for you to get caught up with multiple projects/easily distracted and this person keeps track of you/keeps you grounded

• if you figure out that they have feelings for you, you’ll start to feel bad for not seeing it earlier, you’ll start to hella ruminate about it and the more you think abt them, the cuter and more appealing they seem to you

Points of Interest: infj? overthinker for sure, introvert but still good with people, the color gold, “we’re just hanging out,” going to dinner often, getting mistaken for a couple, 7:43 pm, *shrugs* “idk maybe” (from your side), unwarranted sass (from both sides), no hookups—this person wants a genuine relationship with you, “you have shit taste in love interests”(lmfao???), car fights, “wifey” *takes Snapchat selfie while sitting in the passenger seat with the more feminine energy driving*(…nah listen, if the more masc energy be saying this? dude is immediately submissive), curly hair or FLUFFY hair, lots of thick hair, you make this person feel like a kid…like you bring them back to when they didn’t have to worry about jobs and taxes, financial stability, maturity, miscommunication, amusement park dates, trench coats, “I’m feeling kind sick. Sorry 😞”, excuses, excuses, excuses, “why haven’t you been answering my texts?”, catching them try to shamelessly avoid you at the parking at their workplace, going to movies with this person and them treating it like a date (even when you don’t see it that way), when will they make an actual move??

——————

Pile 2. “What are you looking at?”

• yooo have you been to this person’s house before? 😳👀

•idk if you realize this pile 2, but if it was just the two of you, alone, with some dimmed down lights and faint jazz in the background? it could get down and dirty real quick. but only if you’re not sober and not a stubborn person. otherwise, this person isn’t who you’d initially think of as spouse-material

• I’m pretty sure this person has thought abt it before. 200% sure. Not sure if you’ve caught this, but they check you out a lot. They’ve had their eyes on you for a while…

• idk if they’re a huge flirt or just really gives off sensual vibes, but this person is hot…damn

• something about their eyes. They always look so sensual? Or they look really seductive? They’ve got *those* eyes ykwim? They’re also very laidback so that adds to their sexiness

• I think I lot of people wanna sleep with this person, so you’re in an unsaid “competition” — or at least the people around you see it as such. you might get a few dirty looks or sneaky glances your way from jealous people and it’s honestly tiring. you won’t care but it’s just an extra bug on your shoulder

• an issue tho is that you could find this person untrustworthy or not ready for commitment. they’re just hot AND THEY KNOW IT, so if someone asks them for a piece, they’ll easily give themselves — BUT what you don’t know is that a lot of the fs, NOT ALL, in this pile are very picky with who they want

• if you’re smart, this person could tease you for it. only bc they find it super sexy tho. You’re not exactly friends, just acquaintances/partners in business? People who know of each other because of mutual things or people. They know you secretly want them tho even if you try to keep composure

• I’m sure a lot of this pile thinks this person is conceited as hell or you could even cringe at how they are, and you wouldn’t admit in front of them (not even to yourself) that you do find them attractive

• if you’re stubborn, possess a lot of self control, or perhaps hold yourself and others to a standard, maybe it’s just hard for people to get into your pants in general—but this person will like that. they think you have substance to you and you’re not like the rest

• This person likely has a bunch of yes-men around them. It’s a pretty privilege thing

• pretty mysterious and even prettier eyes

• smth about those eyes man… you’d blow up if you look too long or steam might start coming outta your ears

• a lotttt smarter than they play out to be

• if you’ve never been with this person sexually, they’d be so down. if you’ve hooked up once, they’d hit you up again

• even tho this person seems noncommittal, once they commit, they REALLY do

• this person might be wealthy or has grown up in an affluent space

• OR they’ve grown up playing sports

•I don’t think they view people as “pawns” necessarily. I think you perceive them as super popular but in reality, they only consider a handful of friends, real friends. this person isn’t dumb and they know who kisses their ass

•your deviance will intrigue them. not conforming to what they want and what the people around them are like. you do what you want and they like that. they like that you also don’t settle for less.

•but I have to say, these people don’t chase. If you end up with this person, it’s bc you grew the balls to ask them out and they, impressed, agreed to it. Outside, they LOOK the same- like carry the same expression on dates, but inside, they know there’s something more to you

• it’s most likely an ego thing. They don’t do the asking out if you’re someone minding your own business

• both of you guys have an ego thing tho. This person beats you by a smidge but you think they get too much credit for just…existing.

• they’re thinking how people usually try to get with them, but bc you haven’t yet, that kind of…tugs their attention a bit. (Their spirit doesn’t want me to make it obvious that they’re lowkey affected by it lmfaoo). It’ll hang in the back of their mind, yes, but it’s not something they think about randomly in the middle of the day

• this person has found or will find success early in life…in their 20s or even before. Some of it may be due to their looks getting them the opportunities, but they haven’t done modeling. At least, not for the sake of modeling. I don’t think it’s an interest of theirs. Heavy on business person tho or someone pursuing a profession in business/finance/economics

• this person’s jaw is nicely shaped. they don’t have too much fat around their jaw

• weirdly, they can be smart for their age. I think they feel a bit of pressure from being praised for so long for looking so good that they have to perform at that same level

• there will be chances for you to actually speak to them regularly, but they will seldom make the first move. they want you to pursue so it doesn’t hurt their ego. if they can’t take it anymore, they’ll approach you (preferably at an event or somewhere where youre kind of…disillusioned? stood up, standing alone somewhere feeling insecure abt something…not in the right state of mind/unbalanced mind

•i’m not getting too many extroverts here. high chance a lot of you are introverted and would rather not be at this event. you either pushed yourself to be here or you HAD to be here. the people at this kind of event are not for you…you don’t like a lot of them and some of them feel the same towards you. you don’t care too much tho (maybe a little but not to the point where it hurts your self esteem)

Points of Interest: suits, symmetrical face, blessed features, POSSIBLY MIXED RACE, hazel colored hair, brown or tan skin, hair that compliments skin color, eyes with soul, kinky as hell, realllly good looking, switch in bed, there’s a lot of emphasis on this person’s looks, “don’t try to fight it,” 50 shades of grey (😂?!?), “if you want me, just say so”, any slow Chris Brown song, some fs here has stubble, laidback, single hand in pocket, isn’t scared to make eye contact with you, will leave a conversation with their friend midway to talk to a potential lover/partner in bed interest, zayn malik is not leaving my brain, very slow and sensual vibe, the color black or darker shades, tons of eye fucking (from them to you), intense gaze and especially intense eyes (the staring into your soul type, full of desire and curiosity type), black clothing, mysteriousness, unable to look away, intj vibes

——��————

Pile 3. Best friends forever.

• This one feels more sad than the other piles bc it’s just straight up unrequited love (from you). they’ve got the fattest crush going on but you may not feel the same way.

• ^^ damn yeah…i’m getting a mixed bag for this. some of you are open towards it but the other half of you are really not interested

• This person has to have started out as a friend first and then started making subtle, almost too subtle and friendly, gestures that they’re interested in you

• similar to pile 1, you won’t be able to tell that they like you. UNLESS, they get super (very obviously) shy when asking you to go somewhere with them, like a movie or something — and you’ll be able to tell with the stuttering and head scratching and fidgeting, might struggle to make eye contact but will try

• ^^^ The biggest distinction between this pile and pile 1 is that this person is a full on FRIEND. pile 1 is more of friends that fell apart and are reconnecting, while not considered to be a part of your friend group or close friends. in pile 3, there’s an obvious disconnect, like some kind of veil between you two, and it’s really bc they only see you, but to you, this person is a ghost. someone that you really only feel platonic towards.

• they could be soft spoken or has a very… “non-aggressive” voice when speaking to you specifically

• tries to send you funny stuff or make conversation on text — 50/50 answering you right away bc they don’t wanna seem desperate/obvious, but they’ll remember to respond in the same day

• i think they hold back a lot tbh. like they have to sling back to composure whenever you’re around

• stares at you a lot in a group setting

• this person is sooooo similar to pile 1, but more…masochistic? lmfao I mean as in…wanting to be around you even when they know that they don’t have a chance or even after you’d straight up rejected them

• to be honest, there’s a chance you don’t like them that way because of their looks? the personality is perfectly fine but they’re not the type of person you’d go for if you’re looking for someone super attractive (this might be a bit harsh, but maybe a big part of why you’re comfy around them is bc they’re not someone that has model type looks? like it makes you less nervous around them than you would be around someone crazy good looking)

• stalks your social media a lot, doesn’t look at other people. you literally occupy their mind around the clock

• some people here might date this person, only for a little time tho bc there could be someone else you’re interested in, so you end up breaking up. for everyone else, you’re just really unlikely to date this person bc they’re too far from what you consider a romantic partner

• in a monogamous relationship, these are the type of people that would forgive you and welcome you back into their lives if you cheated on them

• an extremely SMALL portion of you, and i mean very small, will actually see this person for who they are and will decide to stay with them. idk if this is out of pity, “oh it’s bc I feel bad for them 🥹”, or possible regret- like “if I don’t date this person, I might regret it”—looking at it like a missed opportunity?? if you genuinely like them and grow fond of them, it will come later and like I said, an extremely small amount of you (~99.9% nonexistent)

• in rejection, this person takes YEARS to get over it. even if they try dating someone else, they’ll think about you and will show care towards you — some will try to be less obvious like “it’s fine i’m over it 🙂‍↔️” but nah, you can feel it. at some point, you could feel annoyed about this

• there’s a small chance that they believe you’ll give them a chance after rejection so they won’t date easily—unless you end up dating someone else and they know abt it, then they’ll do the previous bullet point

Points Of Interest: emotionally masochistic bc they keep wanting to be around you even when they’re hurt (if rejected, this person NEEDS to take some months away from you. idk if they’ll do that right away or not), “nothing else to say”, “that’s okay, I can wait”, awkward, unrequited love, unbreakable loyalty, “aww you’re so sweet”, this person is super rebound energy, gets their heart broken and welcomes the heartbreaker in again, snapback, acne, crooked smile, possible mbti involved (you or them): enfj, enfp, infp, isfj, esfj

———————

Teddy Note: Enjoy this one guys!! As always, thank you for reading. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t :)

Teddy outtt 😎😎😎

[monster-mash-m]

Okay hear me out, to all my lads ladies and pals who literally never get cold. (Like meee)

A winter fae, an elf like man who is quite tall in stature. He’s used to humans recoiling in his touch, to run away from his frosty embrace, but you. As his snowy aura circles you, you don’t flinch don’t look away. You smile at him and the beautiful snow that gently falls to your skin, kissing it before melting.

Now this fae man is made of flesh, so you wouldn’t be able to melt him physically, but you have somehow managed to melt his heart.

Ever since bumping into eachother he’s kept you cool and he’s kept you warm. He always says that you both were made for eachother and you were a divine gift sent to him by the gods.

He can get a bit… possessive, but can you blame him? His cute little human heater is his and his alone, right?

Definitely into temperature play, and if you’re not into it, you will be if you date him-

His icy fingers tailing down your sensitive body before delving into your entrance. In his other hand, warm honey. He pours some on your chest then licks it up with his cold tongue, over and over. He loves bringing you to the edge with this.

But also very very physicallly affectionate, he’s been so touch starved since everyone he knew hated being cold. And since you liked it…? He’s clinging to you all the time.

Especially likes sleepy cuddle sex, his cock buried deep in you as he rutted against you. Both your bodies intertwined, your eyes closed with a flushed expression as you try and concentrate on the cuddles. Trying to not focus on his lazy slow pace.

He also likes bathing together, although you may need to wear a wet suit, since being dry with him is fine, but in water, the boiling hot water instantly becomes an ice bath with him in. But you still indulge him from time to time.

—————————-

Just wanna comfort the uncomforted monsters 😭

[selinay-in-wonderland]

ART THE CLOWN X FEMALE READER (CHRISTMAS EVE) 🎄🍪

—————————————————————————-

It was a quiet Christmas Eve. The kind you liked most. The warmth of your little home contrasted with the snow falling gently outside. You’d just finished putting away the small decorations, the soft glow of twinkling lights reflecting off the windows. Your modest tree stood by the corner, decked with ornaments you’d collected over the years—nothing extravagant, just little pieces that made you smile.

You hadn’t planned on having company. You rarely did. Between your shyness and social anxiety, you preferred the quiet of your home, where things were predictable, where you didn’t have to worry about what people thought of you.

You curled up on the couch, your oversized sweater enveloping you like a cozy hug, and sipped from your mug of hot chocolate. It was the perfect night—a small, peaceful Christmas Eve all to yourself.

But then, you heard it.

A soft creak. The sound of footsteps, almost imperceptible but there.

You sat up, your heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t the wind, and you knew it wasn’t the creaky old floorboards. You hadn’t left the door unlocked… had you?

Before you could fully process the thought, the footsteps grew louder, closer. Your pulse quickened as you stood, holding your mug like a fragile shield.

Then, out of the shadows of the dimly lit hallway, he appeared.

A man—no, a clown—stepped into your living room, dressed in a stained, tattered Santa Claus suit. The fur lining of his costume was yellowed with age, and the red fabric was smudged with dark stains you didn’t want to examine too closely. His white, painted face was frozen in a grotesque grin, black eyes gleaming as they locked onto yours.

You gasped, dropping your mug, the hot chocolate spilling onto the floor, but you were too stunned to care. Your mind raced—Who was this? How did he get in? But your body froze, your usual response to confrontation kicking in. It wasn’t that you weren’t scared—you were—but fear for you often manifested as being trapped, unable to react.

Art the Clown stood there, perfectly still, his head tilted to one side, his black lips stretched into that eerie, permanent smile. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched you, as if waiting to see what you would do.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry. This had to be some kind of prank, right? Someone dressed as a clown for Christmas? Maybe one of your neighbors playing a joke?

But as your eyes met his, you realized there was something off about him—something much darker. There was no mischief in his eyes, no playful spark. Just emptiness. And yet, despite the eerie stillness of his body, you sensed that he was studying you, just as confused by your reaction as you were by his presence.

Your instinct told you to run, to scream, but instead, you took a step back, your voice barely a whisper. “Who… are you?”

Art didn’t respond. Of course, he wouldn’t. His silence was his trademark. Instead, he raised one gloved hand slowly, mimicking a wave—mocking, almost theatrical. His smile stretched wider as if to say, Look, I’m friendly.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but instead of running, you stood there, frozen by a strange combination of fear and curiosity. You had always seen the good in people. Always. Even when it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t that you were naïve—you just believed that there was always something redeemable in everyone. Maybe this person, dressed up like Santa, had some kind of reason for being here. Maybe it was a misunderstanding.

“I-I don’t know who you are,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “But… if you need something, I can help.”

That’s when Art’s grin faltered ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. He took a step closer, his movements eerily graceful, like a predator assessing its prey. But there was no malice in his expression—just that unsettling, twisted amusement, tinged with curiosity. He was intrigued by you, by your calmness, your lack of panic.

You took another step back, your breath shaky. “It’s… Christmas Eve,” you added, feeling ridiculous for trying to explain something so obvious. “Are you lost?”

Art mimicked a deep, exaggerated frown, his shoulders slumping dramatically as if he were the one in need. His gloved hands fluttered to his chest in mock despair, his entire body language shifting to exaggerate the sadness you had suggested.

You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Was this really happening? A murderous-looking clown was in your living room, dressed as Santa, miming some bizarre performance in response to your kindness.

Your kind nature kicked in again—the part of you that wanted to see the best in people, that always assumed there was a reason behind even the strangest behavior. He was miming like a performer, sure, but maybe he didn’t mean any harm. Maybe he just needed help, attention, or… you didn’t even know anymore.

“I-I have cookies,” you stammered, not sure what else to say. “If… if you’re hungry?”

Art’s eyes gleamed at the offer, and he straightened up, his smile returning in full force. He gave you an enthusiastic thumbs-up, his head nodding vigorously. You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief wash over you. Was he seriously accepting your offer of cookies?

You moved slowly toward the kitchen, your body tense as you kept an eye on him. He followed, his movements completely silent, gliding almost like a shadow behind you. The only sound was the faint jingle of the bells on his Santa hat.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the plate of Christmas cookies you had baked earlier. You set them down on the kitchen counter, your heart racing as you tried to process what was happening.

Art leaned forward, inspecting the cookies with exaggerated interest. He picked one up, held it to his ear, and gave a comical nod of approval before pretending to take a huge bite out of it. His body convulsed in an exaggerated chewing motion, as if savoring the flavor, though he didn’t actually eat it.

A nervous laugh escaped you, surprising even yourself. Despite the fear gnawing at your insides, there was something about his antics that almost made you forget the danger. Almost.

He pointed to the cookies, then back to you, giving you a thumbs-up. You nodded, unsure of what else to do. “Y-You’re welcome,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Then, without warning, Art’s eyes narrowed, his smile twisting into something more mischievous. He reached into the sack slung over his shoulder and pulled out a small, wrapped present. He held it out to you, wiggling it slightly in his hand, as if daring you to take it.

You hesitated. The wrapping paper was torn and stained, and something about the way he presented it made you uneasy. But then again, everything about this situation made you uneasy.

With shaky hands, you reached out and took the gift. It was light, almost weightless, and you had no idea what could be inside. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you carefully peeled back the paper.

Inside was a small, cracked snow globe. The glass was chipped, and the tiny house inside was barely visible through the clumps of fake snow stuck to the bottom. It was… sad, really. Broken.

You stared at it for a moment, then looked up at Art, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Art’s eyes flickered with something you hadn’t seen before—confusion. He wasn’t used to this. To someone accepting his strange gestures with such sincerity, such gratitude. His smile faltered for just a second, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of you.

Then, in a swift motion, he straightened up, his grin returning in full force. He mimed tipping a hat to you, his body language exaggerated and theatrical, before turning on his heel and gliding back toward the door.

You stood there, clutching the snow globe, your mind racing. What had just happened? Who was this man—this clown? And why hadn’t he hurt you? He could have easily… but he hadn’t.

As Art reached the door, he paused, turning back to look at you one last time. His eyes lingered on you, and for a brief moment, you saw something beneath the eerie exterior. Confusion. Curiosity. Maybe even a flicker of… respect?

Without another sound, he disappeared into the night, the door closing softly behind him.

You stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where he had been. Your heart was still racing, but the fear had faded into something else—something more complex. You had no idea who he was or why he had come to your house, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you.

As you sat in the soft glow of your living room, your gaze drifted back to the broken snow globe resting on the mantle. It seemed almost magical, despite its fractured state. Intrigued, you picked it up again, cradling it in your hands and feeling the weight of its history. The delicate glass felt cool against your skin, and the world within it was still, waiting for your curiosity to stir it to life.

You tilted the globe gently, watching the tiny flakes of faux snow swirl around. With a soft shake, you let it settle again, and that’s when you noticed it. Nestled among the miniature decorations of a quaint little house was a small figure, partially obscured by the swirling snow.

You leaned closer, your heart quickening as you focused on the little scene within. As the snow began to settle, the figure came into full view, and you gasped, your breath hitching in your throat.

Inside the globe stood a miniature version of Art the Clown, perfectly crafted in exquisite detail. He wore a tiny Santa suit, complete with bright red fabric adorned with fluffy white trim. The suit hugged his small frame, the colors vibrant against the stark white of the snow. His face was painted in the signature stark white, with exaggerated black eyebrows arched in a playful expression. His lips curled into a wide, almost mischievous grin, revealing sharp little teeth, which only added to the character’s charm rather than fright.

A tiny Santa hat was perched atop his head, tilted to one side, and it danced slightly as the globe settled. His eyes were bright and lively, capturing the essence of the man you had just encountered—curious yet playful, a mix of innocence and mischief. It was almost as if he was beckoning you to join in on some festive fun, despite the bizarre nature of his presence.

Around him, the miniature landscape was adorned with tiny gifts, faux snowflakes, and even a small, decorated Christmas tree. The entire scene felt alive, imbued with a strange magic that made your heart swell. You could almost hear the jingle of distant bells, feel the warmth of Christmas spirit that enveloped the globe.

Then, without warning, a chill swept through the room, causing you to shiver slightly.

Suddenly, the glass of the globe cracked, sending a shockwave through the room. You gasped and dropped it, but instead of shattering, the globe exploded in a burst of shimmering mist that filled the air, swirling like smoke.

Out of the mist, a shadow emerged, and your breath caught in your throat as Art materialized before you, stepping out from the darkness, his expression eerily calm. He was right there, in your living room, just as he had been before—but somehow more solid, more real.

His eyes locked onto yours, an intense gaze that spoke volumes, and yet he remained silent. The room felt charged with tension, the air thick with a mix of fear and something you couldn’t quite identify. He took a slow step closer, and your heart raced, caught between terror and an inexplicable attraction to his dark presence.

As he approached, you couldn’t look away. His costume was slightly tattered, his face painted with the same twisted smile, but now it felt oddly intimate in the closeness of the moment. You felt drawn to him, despite everything that screamed to run away.

But then you noticed something—your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and for a split second, you thought you saw vulnerability flash in his eyes. Was it possible? Could there be more to him than the monster you feared?

The lights flickered again, casting a warm glow that softened the edges of his terrifying appearance. In that moment, it felt as though time stood still. You could either embrace the fear or take a step forward, drawn by an unexplainable connection.

And just like that, as if sensing your hesitation, he reached out a gloved hand, palm up, inviting you to choose. The gesture was both terrifying and strangely comforting.

You took a deep breath, knowing you were standing at a crossroads—one path leading back to safety and the other into the darkness, where the lines of fear and fascination blurred.

You reached out, hesitantly placing your hand in his, feeling the coolness of his touch. A rush of emotions surged between you, as if the moment had the power to change everything. In that shared silence, you realized that despite the horror, you felt more alive than you had in a long time.

As you held his hand, the atmosphere shifted. The air thickened with unspoken promises, and Art's eyes glimmered with a dark intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned closer, and without a word, he began to move, guiding you into a slow, hesitant dance.

Your heart raced, a mix of fear and thrill coursing through your veins. The world outside faded, leaving only the soft flickering of Christmas lights and the haunting melody of a distant carol. Art twirled you gently, his grip firm yet surprisingly tender. It felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a dream where the lines between danger and desire blurred into an intoxicating haze.

You moved in sync, the dance a strange blend of elegance and unease. Every step felt like a delicate negotiation—a silent agreement between you two. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it felt like to make a deal with the devil: exhilarating, terrifying, and utterly captivating.

As he spun you around, the shadows danced along the walls, elongating and twisting in the soft light. You found yourself laughing softly, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it. Art paused, his head tilting slightly, as if confused by the sound. You were surprised by your own reaction—how could you be laughing when you were dancing with a killer?

But then, you looked into his eyes, and something shifted. In that moment, the darkness around him seemed to melt away, revealing a glimmer of humanity beneath the surface. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that resonated with you, a reminder that even the most monstrous of beings could yearn for connection.

He pulled you closer, the warmth of his body contrasting with the chill that had initially filled the room. It was as if the dance was a ritual, sealing the unspoken bond that had formed between you. The world outside was forgotten; all that mattered was this moment.

With each step, you felt your fears dissipate, replaced by an unexpected thrill. The gentle sway of your bodies, the rhythm of your hearts—it was intoxicating. This was no longer just a dance; it felt like a pact. You were choosing to embrace the darkness, to see past the clownish façade and into the depths of his enigmatic soul.

Then, just as you thought you were losing yourself completely, Art’s expression shifted. His grin widened, revealing a playful glint in his eyes. With a sudden burst of energy, he spun you out, your body twirling in a flourish. Laughter bubbled up again, this time more freely, filled with exhilaration and delight.

He drew you back in, and the moment was electric. You could feel the weight of the world pressing against you, the realization that this was a moment you’d never forget. In the quiet chaos of the dance, you found a kind of freedom—one that defied the boundaries of fear and embraced the beauty of the unknown.

And then, as the music faded into the background, you locked eyes with Art, the reality of the moment crashing down around you. You both stood on the precipice of something dangerous, something that could change you forever.

With a breathless smile, you knew that the dance was more than just movement; it was a shared understanding that you were both caught in this dark world together.

In that instant, you realized you weren’t just dancing with a monster—you were dancing with a soul that craved connection, just as you did.

The shadows flickered around you as you continued to sway in silence, knowing that, in this moment, you had forged a bond that was both thrilling and terrifying—an unbreakable contract made in the stillness of Christmas Eve.

[moo-blogging]

No thoughts tonight, just dad Levi in my head.

You always wanted a spring baby. You thought it represents hope, new beginnings, and endless possibilities. But your baby came at mid autumn when the leaves were falling and the sky gray. It wasn't that you would love your baby any less just because of the season the baby was born in, but you had concerns about your baby surviving the winter.

Living in the outskirts of town closer to the military camp allowed Levi to sleep at home whenever he wasn't on night duty. However this had reduced the convenience of reaching for a doctor. Levi knew about your concerns and he assured you that there was less titan attacks in the winter and he would arrange with Erwin to have lesser night duties.

Before the winter came, you and Levi had been thrifting for warmer clothes, but it was hard to get infant sizes. You learnt to strap your baby onto your chest to keep warm together. Levi had the cadets carried more logs to the cabin. You sewn clothes together to make thicker blankets, socks and mittens.

When the cold harsh winter hit, you dressed your baby in 3-4 layers of clothings you sewn. You yourself was wearing 2-3 layers too. The jacket Levi took from the military was useful when you had to go out to fetch more logs, but it was too hot in the house. Seeing your baby's cheeks red with warmth and love, your worries reduced. Your baby was the exact replica of Levi. With his hair was dark as the night, his eyes gleaming silverish blue and his pointed little nose, you loved your baby so so much you felt like your heart could explode with love.

One evening without night duty, Levi came home to you. He gave you a quick kiss, played with baby for a moment, and hit the shower. Levi always showered before you during winter to make the bathroom warm. After a hot shower and feeling warm, you walked into the living room finding Levi alone and the crate empty.

"Levi? Where's baby?" You asked, a wet towel draped on your shoulders. Turning around, you saw a big bulge under Levi's oversized hoodie. Levi insisted on buying this oversized hoodie at the bazaar. You knew Levi did not wear oversized clothing but he refused to disclose what it was for. And now you knew.

You mirrored Levi's grin as you approached him. Levi was bouncing on his toes. He leaned in toward you, pulling at his collar. You saw your baby's sparkling huge eyes staring at you. A grin started to spread across his face when he saw yours. A sharp baby-ish giggled echoed through the room. Levi had strapped baby onto him and pulled the hoodie over them. Baby was safe and warm with Levi, grinning as he ate his little fist.

Levi started to hum and rub the baby's back, lifting his eyebrows and blinking his eyes to tease baby. Baby laughed again. You kissed the side of Levi's lips. You really loved watching Levi being a dad. He was never shy or embarrassed to learn about being a supporting partner during the pregnancy. You tried to stop him for strapping the baby onto him after his long day at work. You knew how it hurts your back, but Levi insisted because "you have been carrying baby for 9 months, i want to share this with you too".

With Levi sitting on the sofa and you on the carpeted floor, Levi was drying your hair with a towel by the fireplace. The cabin smelt like bonfire, tea and baby powder. Snow was falling quietly outside, and the night was dark.

But your cabin was warm and cozy. Your husband's fingers massaging your scalp as he dried your hair. Your baby babbling happily and Levi replying with "oh really?" "you like to eat your fingers, huh?" "you think so?".

Oh, you thought, what a wonderful life this is.

[elysianightsss]

La da de da viking Price for the win🛡️🌺

Your heavy snow boots trudged through the thick mounds of pure white snow, the freezing breeze was pinching and nipping at your cheeks. The cold had began to hurt your nose as you breathed, the back of your throat dry. Trying your hardest to keep warm, you shove your chin and mouth further into the top of your coat and breathe out hot air.

You only wanted to hunt for food and go back home, but seeing as you couldn’t find any animals near your little cabin, you had to venture elsewhere for the hunt. Something you annoyingly regretted the further away from home you got.

An exaggerated sigh left you for the twentieth time today as you knelt down on the ground feeling the snow start to soak into the material of your trousers. Pulling your bow off of your body and an arrow from the quiver that was strapped to your back. You drew back the string of your bow, holding the arrow steadily in place.

Closing your eyes, you waited. Listening oh so carefully, for anything. The sound of any animal to make itself known to you. A while passed, all you could hear was the soft wind and a nearby steam trickling quietly.

Until the snort of a deer had your eyes shooting open and your weapon aiming at the creature. Exhaling slowly, you let go, the arrow whipping through the air heading straight for the unknowing animal but ultimately hitting a different target. A huge gasp left you as you watched the arrow go straight into the chest of a man, the deer snorted before running off.

You grunted annoyed and dropped everything to run to the injured man. Your eyes set upon his figure. Large and strong, you recon if you’d hit anywhere else on him that’d he probably wouldn’t have collapsed. Probably would have grabbed the end of the arrow with his big sturdy hands and pulled it straight out like nothing happened. Probably.

The realisation started to set in the more you stared at him, you just shot a man. “Oh my, I’m…I’m so sorry!” You panicked falling to your knees next to him where he was on the ground. His blue eyes meeting yours, looking at you as though you were an alien. His nostrils flared as he quietly grunted, feeling the pain begin to spread throughout his chest and body.

“I was hunting and….and you…y-you stepped in front of the deer. I’m so sorry.” Your hands hovers over his injured while your mind began to become frantic with how to proceed. You eyed the expensive leather that graced his bulky figure. Wrapping around every muscle eagerly. The fur cloak that was spread around him, clearly from a hunt.

It did little to hide the tattoos on his arms. Further up chainmail covered his shoulders proving how sharp you’d made your arrows for it to pierce the chainmail that presumably sat below his tunic and leather. You took note of his face better now, thin lips almost covered by a bushy moustache all connected with thick mutton chops and a full, long beard that caught your attention a little too much.

“Are ya’ done ogling me lass?” He gritted his teeth, wrapping his hand around the arrow and yanking it out. He groaned loudly, deep and rough just like his voice when he spoke. It sent shivers through your body in an unholy way. Nothing like you’d ever felt before.

“Are you a royal from the mainland?” You asked, worry underlining your question.

He bellowed at that, “Ne’er erd’ that one before.” His laugh trailed off as he pressed his fingers into his wound and pulled them away watching the blood drip down his hand.

“My bag.” He was gesturing to the bag that lay a few meters over from where he was. You scrambled to grab it, desperately trying to pull it open. The leather satchel was medium size with about a hundred strings tying it shut.

“W-What do you need?” You were stumbling over your words as you took noticed of the blood that was seeping out of his wound and staining the snow beneath him.

The man grabbed your shaky hands in his and whispered “Breathe.” You listened hesitantly, taking a deep breath.

“Y’know I think I’m supposed to be reassuring you.” A breathless laugh leaving you sounding more like a scoff, he let out a chuckle his face scrunching up in pain.

“In the bag, the bottle with the red liquid.” Nodding quickly, you searched through the bag and pulled out the bottle, pulling the cork out with your teeth and looking at him for instructions. He took the glass container and poured it over his wound and drank the rest of it.

You watched as his heavy panting of pain began to level out. He soon sat up and looked at you curiously, “I’ve ne’er seen ye round these parts before.” He states though you’re pretty sure it was a question, you simply shrug and stand up. He followed suit, a shock jolting through you when he stands only to tower over you greatly.

“I, um really am sorry. It truly was an accident.” You wring your hands together before offering one of them to him. He looks surprised and you don’t blame him, you’re sure a woman has never made this gesture to him before.

“Svo fallegt,” he seemed to look over you for a moment then let his large hand wrap itself around yours with a shake, “S’okay.”You nodded letting go of his grip and making your way to pick up your bow and quiver.

“What’s ya name?” He asked suddenly feeling a wave of panic as he watched you walking away from him. You answered, waiting for his in return. “Price. John Price.”

Now where had you heard that name before?

[francixoxoxo]

🂱 Dogs’ White Teeth ☠︎︎

𝐁𝐨𝐱𝐞𝐫!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬, 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡-- 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥.

Coryo wasn’t a violent guy. He didn’t know why he fought in the ring.

That’s what he told himself. He wasn’t violent, ‘cause he didn’t deck the first guy who looked at him funny. That was Coriolanus Snow’s logic. He wasn’t violent, ‘cause he felt nothing as he pounded the punching bag until his knuckles bled, he only felt a thirst for cash. Not blood.

But the first time his glove connected with a guy’s stomach? Oh, Coryo was violent. He’d never admit how stupid gratifying it was when he threw a punch to knock the other dickhead’s lights out.

Coryo shouldn’t be with you. He doesn’t deserve a girl like you, he could live a hundred times over and never deserve a girl like you. You’re kind, and generous and so, so thoughtful and fucking smart, you’d think you’d be smart enough to stay miles away from him.

But no. Here you are, standing in the dingy basement the fights are held in, among a crowd of shitty and disgusting people— Coryo’s people. Not yours. He’d rip his own teeth out before he let them be your type of people.

Speaking of which, he has one of his guys standing beside you, a looming warning that nobody could touch you. Coryo knew somebody would try. You were wrapped up like a piece of candy in a prison yard, and he was nothing if not protective. You already didn’t belong in the dank room, watching your boyfriend either scramble somebody’s brains or get his brains scrambled— he got some peace of mind knowing you atleast weren’t alone in a crowd of violent assholes.

Coriolanus was a good boxer. A damn good fighter. Of course he knocked the other guy out, short and burly with a mop of stick-straight hair, by the time Coryo was done he was missing a tooth. Coriolanus was baring his own teeth in a sneer, lip curled and nostrils flaring as he spat out a bit of blood onto the ground beside the man.

He stumbled a bit as the referee grabbed him by the forearm tugging him to his feet and raising his glove up to announce his win. Coryo's bare chest was heaving, covered in a sheen of sweat. His nose was surely broken, blood drying under his right nostril, his eyes wide and crazed as he looked 'round for you. A crooked smile split his lips, revealing his maroon mouthpiece as he lifted his brows at you.

Coryo, bloody and battered, was definitely a sight.

Maybe it was wrong to find it so hot, as you cheered with the rest of the crowd for him. But that attraction always, always delved into a distraught concern for your boyfriend by the time he was in the locker room.

Coryo lifts his head as he hears footsteps. His elbows are on his knees, his hand that had been rubbing his shaved head falling down as his lips pulled into a smile. “Hey, baby.” He’d cooed to you while you stepped close, slotting yourself between his spread legs. His hands found a home on your waist as he grinned dopily up at you.

“Hi.” You mumbled, your hands cupping his cheeks. Your brow furrowed, you gently pressed both thumbs along the length of his aquiline nose. Coriolanus curled his lip and grunted at the pain, you sigh. “You broke it again.”

“It’ll heal.” Coryo shrugs, watching you with puppy-dog eyes as your thumb swipes some blood from under his nostril. He rubs your hip affectionately as a thanks. God, he was love drunk. Absolutely whipped for you. He just hated how much he made you worry. Coryo didn’t think himself worth your peace of mind.

“Oh, but it looks like it hurts.” You frown, your thumb dropping down to brush over his busted lip. Your gaze trails over his blackening eye.

Coryo shakes his head a little, pressing a kiss to your thumb pad. “I’ve had worse.” He reaches up, clasping your hand in two of his. He thinks he catches a smile, but it quickly falls when you see the state of his hands. Bloodied and battered, his skin split at each knuckle, your expression melts.

He doesn’t protest as you reach for his bag, rifling through the duffel. When you find what you need, you slip into his lap, your knees straddling his hips. The boyish grin that splits his face is almost hilarious as you reach for one of his hands.

The alcohol wipe is ripped from its packaging with help from your teeth. With a tender, delicate touch, you swipe the pad along Coryo’s knuckles. His fingers flex against the sting, his lips pulling in a grimace. “It’s not that big a deal.” He whispers almost plaintively, pressing the concave ridge of his nose into the slope of your shoulder like jigsaw pieces.

“It’ll make me feel better, how about that?” You huff, letting go of his hand to fully unravel the wipe and clean the blood caking on his skin. His nostrils flare, but he nods. Coriolanus watches as you lean for the bench beside him. His hand on your side tightens to keep your balance for you as you grasp the roll of bandages, coming back upright and wrapping the material around his knuckles.

He lets you go about fixing him up (though he’d argue there wasn’t anything to fix, nothing worth your peace of mind,) with surprising lenience. Only when he grits his teeth against the sting of alcohol on the other hand does he speak. “You didn’t bet on me, did you?”

“I did.” You let a faint smile creep across your features. Your thumb brushes along his metacarpal bones. Coryo scoffs, averting his eyes with a shake of his head. “I told you not to.”

“So? You won anyway.”

“It’s the principle.” He insists, his nose brushing your jaw as he cranes his neck forward in frustration. You orbit those bandages ‘round his hand, on and on until you’re satisfied. “What principle?”

Well. On plenty of things, Coriolanus thought. He wasn’t something to waste money on. He wasn’t even something to waste time on, frankly. There wasn’t a point in putting in effort with him. He felt a bit like a vicious mutt; who cares if he’s got a muzzle on him? Or if he can sit, and fetch, and give you paw? He bites. In the end, he will always bite.

“What if I lost?”

(What if he screws up?)

“You’d lose money. It’d be a waste.” Coryo mumbles, presses a faint kiss into the tender skin of your neck. Your pulse is warm under his lips.

(You’d lose time you could be spending with somebody… he doesn’t know, better.)

“It’s not a waste. It’s just trust.” You shrug, and he wonders for a moment if you can crack his head open like a walnut, peer inside and read his mind like a book; one you were simply rereading for lack of new novels.

With his newly dressed hands he rubs his palms over your back. Coriolanus studies every crease of your face with a strange reverence, his brows tense for a brief moment to match the divots twixt your own. “You shouldn’t bet on losing dogs.”

Your shoulders lift, fingers sneaking ‘round his head to run your nails through his cropped blonde hair, “Who says you’re a losing dog?” A laugh sings from your lips. Coriolanus only smoothed his hands down your waist, his own lips pulling taut in a guilty expression.

You’re putting all your money on him, and it’s not literal. You love him, that much is true, and that much is too much. It tightens his chest, it chokes the air from his lungs and the pink from his cheeks. Atlas had a puny burden to carry, since he never had to fear letting you down.

Come on now. He just made a couple hundred bucks off of decking a guy until he looked more beetle than boy— all spasms and twitches and whimpers that make Coriolanus’ head spin with a power trip to put vermillion behind a man’s eyes. They all say violence is gut-churningly horrific, and maybe it is. But it isn’t if you’re winning, if you’re the one with his fist curled. If you’re the one landing on top.

Coriolanus is the kind of guy to get high off the crunch of somebody’s nose under his glove. You creep into the deeper corners of his mind, weaving cobwebs to lay in and inadvertently instilling a disgust, a self-loathing that not even a parent could plant. You don’t mean to, sure.

He wants to be better. He wants to cut his bad leg, he wants to behead the serpent in his belly, so that it’s safe for you to reach your delicate little hand in there. He wants to be deserving of all the goodness you wreath him in.

He’s fully aware you deserve a guy that doesn’t have to carve himself to be good to you. What can he say besides Snows tend to be selfish?

Coryo would slit his skin from his Adam’s apple to his navel to let you crawl inside. But he’s certain. It’s in his nature, it’s his body, not his heart and not his mind, that will reject you like an organ donation, will spit you out. Perhaps you would fit better elsewhere, in another man’s cavity, for his is too large to be comfortable. He felt like a scrambling man trying to sew you in, a rare organ, a piece that he’d fill his own gaps to make fit.

“All roads.” Is all he could whisper, his azure eyes glassy, hoping that his eyes were glassy in the sense of a window pane. That way you could see without forcing him to wrap his tongue ‘round the words, which is getting increasingly difficult. Coriolanus speaks like an Olympic sprinter, he’s sure that he’ll chicken out of it if he takes his time. “All roads lead to Rome, to me being a shithead.”

Your lips pull taut. For a moment, a gut-churning, pain-staking, bile-rising-to-the-throat moment, Coryo thinks he got through to you. Maybe you’ll dump him right there in the locker room. He didn’t think the prospect would put such an anchor in his stomach. Again, he thinks, Snows tend to be selfish.

But then your lips are moving again, your hands are bracing the back of his head with intertwined fingers, your perfume filling his nostrils and distracting from the dank stench of the locker room, it’s not too strong, it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled, but he can’t focus, he can’t, words the greatest poet couldn’t conjure after a lifetime of pensive thought are rolling off your tongue, somehow to him, somehow all of this is for him, and it’s all so sickly sweet that he’s dizzy with it.

“You’re doing your best.” Already your visage is blurring like ink in the rain. He believes he’ll chew through his cheek. “You don’t see what I see, Coryo.”

Damnit. A pearly tear slips down Coriolanus’ flushed cheek, the scarce light shooting diamonds from his azure eyes, your hands twisting to hold his face. He looks like a boy in your hands, and if it weren’t for his purpling eye, his lip split, you think he’d pass for a little boy.

He sucks in a breath through his nose as your lips connect, his lip painful whether the kiss was tender or bruising. Coryo was fierce in his love, fierce in everything about you, always, but oh, how grateful is he for how soft your lips move on his. His hands roam to the plane of your back again, a relieved exhale leaving his nostrils against your cheek.

It didn’t seem to matter whether Coriolanus thought you fit into the crevice (gaping hole, ravine, sink hole, call it what you will,) of his heart or not. You found your way in, you’d crawled deep into his heart, his body, his soul, and sewn the door behind you. How silly of him to believe that he had any choice in allowing you in or keeping you out. How foolish to believe that if the hole in his belly was too weeping for a single other soul to fill, that you wouldn’t stretch your arms high above your head and your legs as extended as possible.

How utterly idiotic of Coryo to believe that the hollow in his chest was a tower to selfishly keep you in, and not your rightful home.

[moodymisty]

Heya Misty! Your blog has cheered me up so many times since I found it last year. Genuinely, thank you for everything you share with us. Its always a ton of fun here! If I'm not too late for requests, could I request some pred/prey smut with Leman? Wolfdaddy can always use more love :) and I hope the future has nothing but blessings in store for you xx

Author's note: BARK BARK

Relationships: Leman Russ/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Predator/Prey play, Oral (female receiving), Very light breeding kink

The tree branches scratch at your skin through your clothes, boots trampling through the deep snow. It's up to your mid calves- considered a light amount of snow on Fenris. You can feel your own hot breath fan across your face as you run through it, stumbling through the woods with no sense of direction.

Russ had given you a few hour head start, with the implication that you wouldn't even last till nightfall. You hadn't disagreed with him, though there was a sudden blossoming of pride in you that wanted to prove him wrong.

But the sun is starting to set, the sky is turning purple and orange; That sense of pride is now replaced with fear, you have a feeling he's toying with you.

You keep hearing leaves rustling and branches breaking without a trace of why, but always from a particular direction.

You know he's toying with you.

For just a moment you dare to try to stop and catch your breath, feeling your heart beat against your ribs. Your body feels hot in your clothes despite the temperature, though taking them off would be suicide in this icy chill.

A terrifyingly loud crunch has you taking your hands off your knees and putting your head on a swivel like a rabbit, taking off again through the thick snow trying to make any sort of distance- before realizing that it isn't an option.

Through the last few trees you can see the edge of the cliff, dropping down hundreds of feet into nothingness. Your throat burns in pain, each heavy breath is like knives against it's dry flesh as you stare into the abyss.

Russ herded you here- he's trying to trap you and succeeding.

"I can smell you, little wolf."

The deep rumble of his voice echoes through the trees, and you don't bother to look around before running. The snot in your nose is frozen and you can feel snowflakes against your skin, the cloth of your clothing dragging in the snow.

"You want to get bred. Once I catch you, I will."

There's absolutely nowhere to hide out here- The only foliage is the trees and even if you had the strength to climb them, you would only trap yourself for him. The instinctual want to get higher is a thing you have to fight within yourself to keep moving.

Not that he would complain if you trapped yourself; You're sure he's being lackadaisical on purpose to draw this out, to try and simulate a hunt that would actually require some effort.

"You make such good prey,"

Russ' revert back to baser, wolf taught instincts has him overjoyed at the struggling of what to him is a small animal, one who's heart is about ready to explode.

"I wonder if you could ever last the night out here."

You suddenly stumble over in the snow, the cold ice stinging your palms like needles. Through the cloud of your own breath you try and get to your feet and keep moving along the edge of the cliff to somewhere else- anywhere else, but you end up just stumbling over again as your body begins to give in.

You feel the ground rumble beneath your hands and knees and instantly your heart begins to race, the prey instinct of being injured and exposed.

"I can smell you're bleeding,"

He says, emerging from between the trees. You quickly try and scamper to your feet, only to fall right over again into the snow. A scream catches in your throat as the thought of fleeing overtakes you.

Russ however simply laughs at the struggling of his prey and quickly moves in to snatch you up, tying you wrists together as you try to escape from him.

"Let us get this bounty back to the Great Hall then, shall we."

You scream as he throws you over his shoulder, gripping you by the thigh and trudging through the snow leagues easier than you could.

There's no motion you could possibly make to free yourself from him now, and your heart finally begins to slow down once your mind catches up with the fact that this play hunt is over.

It's terrifying how a change in context can turn him into an absolute horror; And you know he's only playing.

Despite it being so easy however Russ seemed to very well enjoy it, bursting back into the blooming warmth of the Great Hall boots thundering on the ground. He tracks in snow from his boots, it crumbling to dust all over the floor and making a mess of the rugs.

"Ahh, father!"

One of the wolves guarding the hall speaks up with a pep in his voice and a warm flush to his cheeks from the chill outside.

"You finally got your prize I see!"

Embarrassment blooms on your face in a sudden explosion when you realize that Russ apparently not only told his sons about this little game, but more likely bragged about what his prize was going to be.

Russ lets out a chuckle from deep within his chest you feel vibrate in your gut, nodding at his astartes.

"Tell Bjorn he's in charge until the morn, I won't be interrupted unless it is urgent."

The wolf nods back, and watches Russ leave in the direction of his bedchambers. You are able to watch the wolf as he departs, giving you a keen look before leaving himself to presumably tell Bjorn of his temporary duties.

The entire time Russ has quite the firm hold on your thighs and ass, taking the fruit of his hunt right to his den. Once he gets there you're thrown onto the massive bed covered in pelts with little fanfare, hands still tied.

For a moment, the way Russ looks down on you is with that same predatory stare you saw out in the woods, and your heart begins to pick up pace as he approaches and hefts his weight onto the bed.

"You're taking this far more seriously than I-!" He suddenly pushes you around on the massive bed, wrapping the fabric around your wrists to connect you to part of the headboard. "Than I expected!"

Russ gives you a large, fang filled smirk.

"What, do I seem the type to half ass things?"

He doesn't quite care about your response, only about the way you squeak when he grabs hold of your clothes and rips them off of you bit by bit, the fabric scattered about. The snow you had also tracked in on your clothes dusts around the bed, some of it getting on your bare skin and making a shiver run up your body.

Your breath comes out of your throat shaking and ragged as he presses his face to your lower stomach, laughing as he grips your thighs. You can feel him intake a good breath of air as his beard digs into your skin.

"You smell even better than usual- should do this more often."

You don't know how you feel about that; You're so tired from all the running that your muscles are screaming in pain; You don't think you have the strength to do much more than lie here and simply let him have his way with you. Not that he will complain about enjoying his prize in such a way.

His mouth drifts lower, large hands pushing your thighs apart and back. You let out a soft noise in your throat.

He then presses his face between your thighs, mouth covering your cunt. He listens to the way you suddenly squeal and kick your legs, hands still locked above your head. You writhe underneath him with no way to even grab something to ground yourself, your whines echoing in the massive, high ceiling room.

The course, rough hair of his beard scratches against the skin of your thighs and outer lips, surely leaving you with hot, scuffed skin that will burn for days after. Russ finds it amusing, and will sometimes after he's done and sees the raw flesh will lick and kiss at it- listening to you try and whimper at him to stop.

You feel the deep groan he lets out rumble against your core, tongue brushing over your clit. Your thighs are tight trying to close around his head but he doesn't let them, pressing them back and far apart. He closes his lips around your clit and sucks listening to you squeal and writhe underneath him, before pulling away and laughing at the way your hips try to follow.

He drags his jaw against your leg scratching the soft skin with his beard. He can't resist giving it a quick bite also, leaving dents in the soft fat at the apex of your inner thigh.

He returns his mouth to your cunt and continues, feeling his sharp fangs occasionally catch at your skin. He may never be the most coordinated, but he makes up for it with an enthusiasm that has tears in the corners of your eyes; Spit mixing with the juices that leak from you neverending.

"R-Russ,"

Your stomach tenses almost painfully as he continues to lap at you, one hand leaving it's grip on your thighs to slip a finger past your entrance. You gasp and tighten around him, feeling the way his thick digit slips deep inside of you. It feels like he's trying to push up through your lower stomach with how deep his is, brushing deep towards your cervix.

Your one thigh pressing against his head now free, he slips a second finger inside of you and listens to you keen and writhe at the stretch. He chuckles, tongue dancing over your folds and overwhelming you until your stomach feels like it hurts so much it's going to explode; Clit throbbing underneath his tongue.

Your throat is raw from running for so long in the cold but this only makes it worse, letting out a ragged, shaking dry moan as you body goes limp and you cum on his fingers.

He continues for just a bit longer feeling the way you whimper at the overstimulation, milking every last bit out of you until there's nothing left.

Left panting and totally limp you feel his fingers leave your cunt, grimacing at the way they stretch you wider as they pull out. His mouth leaves and he wipes your juices, though it mostly smears them over his beard then actually cleaning himself.

Out of breath and limp you look up at him with wide eyes, watching as he starts to undress himself.

"Can you untie me first?"

You plead to him, watching as he undoes the top half of his clothes. You see his lower stomach, the trail of hair that leads down below his waistline and beneath his trousers.

"No. I quite like when my prey is tied up."

[bunnyreaper]

johnny maintains his yearly christmas tradition with you, this time with a twist.

(18+/MNDI, f!reader, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, established relationship, brief mention of reader having a specific hair type. Originally written for @soapsgf as part of the secret santa I hosted, but adapted for tumblr!)

Johnny's enthusiasm for Christmas truly knows no bounds. Coming from a large family, he was surrounded by siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles who all loved the festive season, and it created an impression that lasted a lifetime. By the time he was old enough to get weary of the holiday, deployments reminded him of how special that time of year was.

When deployments became old hat, little nieces and nephews were there to remind him of what it was all about. But now there was an itch inside him.

Last Christmas saw Johnny proposing to you under the sparkling lights of your flat's dinky little Christmas tree—and this year he needed to match the excitement that last year had given both of you.

Luckily, up in a snow-topped cabin in the Highlands, with a real fir tree and private hot tub—John MacTavish has a plan.

The sound of the radio and your gentle humming carry through from the kitchenette, filling Johnny with a warmth inside that not even the roaring fireplace can provide.

Johnny rushes around the living room of the cabin, grabbing the supplies he'd snuck in earlier from his truck—extra candles, blankets, and the red ribbon he has tucked in the back of his jeans.

Even the mere thought of his impending gift has him half-hard as he kneels on the fluffy rug, ready to go as he unzips his jeans, pulls down his boxers, and gets to work tying the ribbon around his rapidly hardening cock.

Johnny calls out for you, hoping his voice carries enough to be heard over the noise. When he doesn't hear you coming, he calls out louder, his voice booming and cheery as it so often is. "Bonnie!"

Finally, he hears you pause the music and set down the dishes in the sink—moments later, you appear around the door, bright-eyed and content with a dish towel still drying off your hands.

"Yes?" You call out, before you finally take in all of Johnny and his state of undress.

Johnny's smile is infectious, just as it always is—but under the sparkling lights it shines extra bright with a swirl of mischief, Christmas spirit, and arousal. "One last gift."

"Johnny..." You laugh, blushing ever so slightly as your hungry stare settles on where Johnny starts to stroke his leaking cock.

"Yearly tradition, c'mon." He smirks, thrusting his hips into the air slightly as if to tempt his love.

"Fuck. Hard already, Johnny." You tease him with ease, having done this sweet song and dance with him before. After all, it was a yearly tradition Johnny all but insisted upon keeping, even the year you'd spent at his parents where he'd fucked you oh so quietly and oh so dirtily in his childhood bedroom.

"Extra excited to give you this gift, doll." He growls, eyes clouding over with lust. "Get over here."

You quickly find your way to your knees, your hand falling to Johnny's velvety, hard dick in an instant as you begins to stroke him lovingly.

Johnny's hand strokes across your curves, embracing your figure before his fingers find their way lower—across silky thighs, with teasing touches as he goes. Each inch he edges up the hem of your dress, the more shivers wrack your body, and arousal flows through your veins.

When Johnny's fingers dip below the waistband of your lacy panties, the thick pads are greeted with your dripping slick. "Wet already?" Johnny teases back.

"Fuck off." You whisper, just before your lips capture his.

Both of your eyes flutter shut as you fall into each other's embrace, hands caressing each other's most intimate parts as your lips intertwine sweetly.

The kiss between you two escalates, lips and teeth growing hungry as your hands move over each other with enthusiasm.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny," you mumble against your fiance's lips, the hand not on his dick coming up to stroke across his stubbled cheek.

Johnny returns the favour, rough palm settling on your soft skin and caressing. "Haven't even given ye the gift yet."

"The gift wasn't your dick?"

"Not quite, lass." He smirks, fingers curling expertly inside you, against your most sensitive spot inside. His lips fall to your neck as he continues to stroke, nibbling at the one point he knows drives you wildest. "Lay back and find out."

The two of you part slowly, exchanging a few more pecks before Johnny helps lay you down. Your locks cascade around your head like a halo as Johnny settles you into the shaggy rug. His hands take the time to rove over your figure, appreciating every inch of your body under the twinkle of the fairy lights and the flicker of the candlelight.

He pushes the skirt of your dress down your thighs delicately, kissing at the sensitive inner flesh before peeling off your panties. His eyes hold yours the entire time in an intense gaze, but especially so when he pauses with his mouth latched onto your skin, sucking a mark into your flesh. Blue eyes burn into yours, bearing his hunger to you.

"I don't think eating me out counts as a Christmas gift either when you do it every time we fuck." You sigh, overcome with the anticipation and pleasure of Johnny's mouth hovering just inches from your exposed folds.

"Tha's no' the gift, doll." He purrs, quickly dipping down to press a kiss to your swollen clit—he smirks when the action draws a wanton moan from you. "Just getting you ready for the real deal."

Johnny spurs into action, pulling away and scrambling to push off his jeans and boxers. He pulls the ribbon from where it's tied at the root of his dick and tosses it at you, delighting when he draws out your giggles. You brush the ribbon off your face, curling it in your fist as Johnny spreads open your legs, setting your feet on his shoulders.

He's quick to line himself up with your wet cunt, swiping the head of his dick through your folds with a hungry grin and delighting in the way your legs quiver.

As he's about to push himself into the tight heat of your pussy, a weakly protesting hand comes to press against his muscled chest—one that speaks to a rationality neither of you really wants to listen to.

"No condom, Johnny."

"Not this time, bonnie." Johnny circles his cock around your entrance, waiting for permission for you both to give in to your more carnal urges. "Tha's your gift, if you want it."

"Johnny... are you serious?" You gasp, a smile spreading across your face, completely unrestrained. You'd talked about it before, yet you were just waiting for Johnny to come around to the idea.

"Dead serious, gonna make ye a ma..." He growls, before sinking into you fully in one thrust, making sure his cock is snug inside and filling you so completely.

"Fuck, Johnny!" You gasp, struggling to catch your breath as Johnny's hips start moving at a brutal pace inside you. All you can do is lie back and take it, watching as the gorgeous wall of muscle that is your fiance hammers his dick deep inside you.

Still, you need to get out your next words.

"Have something... to tell you." Johnny's eyes flicker to yours, yet he remains quiet and focused. "I'm... already pregnant."

For a moment, Johnny stills, eyes going wide before they're overtaken with an even wilder hunger in his gaze. His hips snap harder and deeper than they did before, as he practically turns into a feral beast on top of his you.

"All the more reason to fuck ye full of my cum, eh?" He growls, his voice desperate and strained as he strokes across your stomach where his seed has already taken hold. "Gonna fill you again, make sure it really takes."

Your eyes roll back in your skull, overwhelmed at the idea of being bred all over again by Johnny, this time with purpose.

You two cling to each other desperately, animal instincts driving you together, as you both desperately seek to make sure you're knocked up good and proper.

It isn't long before your cunt is being flooded with rope after rope of Johnny's potent cum—the man himself not pulling out, instead peppering your face with kisses as he keeps your hole plugged up and his load deep inside.

"Merry Christmas, bonnie."

[here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can]

’i know, sugar, i know.’

summary: finnick comforts reader after a nightmare

warnings: mentions of violence, death, pain, fear and forced prostitution (let me know if there’s more)

hot tears are running down your cheeks over already dry ones, like the adrenaline through your body. your hands are trembling as you hurry along the path that goes through victors village. it’s covered in sand. almost everything in your district is. sand from the beach, little stones and pieces of seashells, crushed under the peacekeepers’ boots. you’re running away. why? isn’t that obvious? you’re a victor, haunted by nightmares like every other one. where to? you don’t even know yourself. just away from your house, not your home. the house you got gifted in return for your cruel actions. actions that still haunt you and always will. you never wanted this. yes, before you did all of this you had to work hard to survive and still only barely made it. but was it really worth it? you know the answer. no.

definitely not.

when you win the hunger games, you can be free, live a happy life and the games are over for you. that’s what they say. well, guess what. that’s not true. the games never end, even if you won them. you can never really win. you aren’t free and president snow makes sure for you to know that.

your life had never been perfect but before you were thrown into an arena with 23 children that wanted to kill you, you were happier. the ones you killed yourself still haunt you, you see them in the scared, little kids at the reaping, your new mentees. the capitol is cruel. the four words repeat in your head. over and over again, the sand is hurting your feet but you don’t pay attention to that. you’re running through the village without stopping. you are just a kid. just a kid. 17 years old. you should be living your life instead of being sold to people at the capitol. but you can’t do anything about it. your family has no protection except you. you suddenly stop running. where’d muscle memory bring you? you’re standing at the end of the path in front of a house identical to yours. 

finnick. your mind clears up and you find your original intention. the one you had when you left your house. you just want to see him, know if he’s okay, want him to tell you that it’s not real, that he understands you, that he goes through the same things. you want him to hold you close, whisper sweet words to you and wait until you fall asleep. without thinking any longer, you knock on the door. one, two, three, four seconds go by before the door opens. surprisingly fast.

finnick is standing before you, his hair disheveled but perfect, as always, wearing a white shirt and sweatpants. he looks alarmed but sighs loudly when he sees you. his sea green eyes are tired but as piercing as always. he seems to stare directly into your soul but not in a way that makes you uncomfortable. 

‘y/n? what’re you doing here?’ 

‘i’m sorry i woke you,’ you murmur with a soft sniffle.

‘no,no, don’t be. are you okay?’ he asks with a worried frown. you weakly manage to shake your head before the adrenaline from earlier is completely gone. two muscular arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest where you let out a choked sob. finnick’s heart breaks for you, seeing you like this. to him, it’s a miracle you’re not able to hear it shatter in your position.

without thinking much about it you wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his torso before he picks you up and carries you inside, closing the door behind the both of you. the next thing you know, you’re standing in the kitchen, feet now on the ground but still close to the young man’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and breathing as your crying slowly stops and your breath calms. 

‘hey, it’s okay, i’m here. i’ll protect you, alright? promise,’ he softly mutters into your hair. you can feel his lips move against your scalp as guilt washes over you. you shouldn’t burden him with this. he goes through the same things and you don’t find him knocking at your door in the middle of the night. he’s been doing it for a year longer than you now and he’s never really talked about it to you and how he’s getting by.

‘i’m so, so sorry, finn’ 

‘there’s nothing to be sorry for, sugar’ 

‘but- but you don’t show up at my front door step in the middle of the night because of some-‘ 

he interrupts your ramble. 

‘maybe sometimes i want to.’ he gives you a soft, sad smile. ‘c’mon now. tomorrow’s the reaping, we gotta get some sleep,’ he states and without waiting for a reply, he picks you up again and carries you upstairs to his bedroom. finnick crawls into the bed next to you and pulls you close to his body again where you both lie in a comfortable silence until you start talking. 

‘i saw her again,’ you whisper. ‘the girl from 10. she was only 13 years old.’ your voice breaks. ‘she was just a kid. and i shot her, i killed her. i feel horrible. i’m a monster, finn.’

it’s true. you saw her again in your dream. almost every time your brain puts you back in the arena you see the little girl, your arrow in her chest, the clattering of your bow on the ground as you realise what you had done, the cannon that signals her death.

and then the booming voice that announces you as the winner of the 68th annual hunger games, the winner. 

what a lie. no one ever really wins. 

‘you were just a kid yourself. you didn’t want it, you were forced. it’s not your fault, sweetheart. you’re in district 4, safe,’ he  mutters as you let a few silent tears fall onto his chest, dampening his shirt but he doesn’t care. finnick just wants to hold you, make it stop, protect you from the capitol, snow. if he could take all of your pain and fear away, he would without hesitation. without even thinking about it. ‘but so were you,’ you whisper. ‘you were 14, finnick, 14 and then 16. and now 19. it’s not fair.’ he repositions himself to look at you. there it is again. the sad smile. it says more than a thousand words. and you return it.

‘i know, sugar, i know.’ 

you fall asleep soon after but finnick stays awake for now, unable to bring himself to sleep as well. he watches your facial expressions shift, watches a frown form on your face as you mumble quietly. all he does all night is whisper sweet things to you and hold you close in the hope to ease your mind and help with the nightmares. he silently thinks about the situation you’re both in; forced into prostitution by president snow. an object to buy. he knows that you’re only doing it because you want to protect him and he only does the same to protect you.

ironic, isn’t it? he chuckles softly at the thought before silently vowing to find a way for you out of this, away from the capitol, into a happy and free life. maybe with him. you’d want that. a life with him somewhere down by the coast. 

‘i love you, sweetheart, you don’t even know how much,’ he whispers and plants a soft kiss on your hairline before finally falling asleep with you in his arms. 

a/n: please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it <3 luv ya also I’m laughing at the gif rn because it’s literally finnick casually laughing about his own death i love him

edit: i just noticed that finnick being 19 in this and the sentence ’tomorrow’s the reaping’ means that annie is going to get reaped the next day

[bunny-1111]

Dry your tears - TN

Theodore Nott x reader - angst, comfort, sad

Description - Theodore and reader go through a breakup

word count: 700 words

not always a happy ending teddy :(

It was a dark and gloomy night. Winter was about to set in. Snow had not yet fallen.

As you sat on the couch of the Slytherin common room, you looked around. Your friends were chatting, and your tea on the table sat untouched, steam flowing from its heat.

You take your first slow sip of your hot drink, it was supposed to be comforting, it brought you no comfort.

Looking up you see your boyfriend, Theo, laughing at Draco as he tells a story about yelling at some first years.

You take a good look into his distracted eyes; you can't find yourself in them.

You can't find yourself in anything anymore, considering yourself lost.

Focusing again on your tea, you watch your crocked reflection,

'Oh Merlin" you muttered to yourself - the sound of your voice almost startled you, realising that you had not spoken a single word all day. Nobody noticed, you didn't even notice.

You felt an unusual anger brew in your body, you felt hotter than the mug in your hands, so you picked up and left for your dorm.

No one stopped you, no one questioned it.

You waited in your bed, wondering how long it would take him to show up, realise something was deeply wrong.

Two fucking hours.

It took Theodore two hours to knock.

"What?" You ask, peeking through the gap in the doorway,

letting himself in he says, "What, you."

"I want to be alone tonight, Theodore" You sigh

He just looked at you, face scrunched.

"I have a big day tomorrow, I need to be alone" you state

"Oh yeah? what happening on your big day tomorrow?" He says sitting on the beds' edge

"potions quiz, I told you about it" You huff

"No you didn't" he says back

"Yes! Yes, I did, I told you four days over. You just don't listen," you almost cry out

"Ok?" he almost laughs

"OK? ok, Theodore I want to break up" you blurted out

he stood up instantly

"I'm breaking up with you." You said firm

Panic washed over his face

"I don't think so" he tried to smile

"It's done Theo, you don't even like me anymore" you say taking a deep breath in

"Yes, I do, I love you" he starts

"No, you loved me, past tense, the idea of me, us, you don't put in Theodore, I can't keep fighting for something that died months ago" you explain, tears welling.

"Is this what you really want" he choked out

"Yes, it's what you want too, even if you don't realise it yet" you cried

You watched his chest rise and fall, you couldn't help yourself, pulling yourself into a hug close to his chest, but he didn't move.

He stood there, slightly nestling into your neck

"Oh" was all he manged to say, tears running down both your now wet faces "I'm gonna miss you" He added stepping back to take a clear look at you

"What are you doing?" You ask through your own tears as he placed a hand on your face

"Just trying to remember you, I don't want to forget" He frowned

"Theo," his words only adding to the string

"No you're right, I wasn't there; I'll learn to live with that, I won't make you stay, but right now just let me memorise you, please," he says studying you completely

As the seconds passed you were both understanding this would be the last few minutes of each other.

"What do we do when we miss each other?" he asked

You took his hand and placed it on your heart, you took your own hand and placed it on his.

"We'll find each other there, alright? We might be done now, but we'll always be in each other hearts ok? OK, Theo?!" You cried once more

He just pulled you close, hugged you a little tighter, kissed your forehead and softly said "I should go, you take care of yourself" wiping your tears, than his own.

He walked out.

You let him.

You let each other love and let go.

[poundstonaira]

Mascara - Albert Wesker x F!Reader

A/N - There is one scene thats a bit ... uncomfortable (?) but for the sake of my trauma and others, I was NOT going to write a non-con scene. Absolutely not. There's is barely any smut in this because I believe storytelling can be good without smut. It's not everyday sex ngl.

CW: Obsessed Wesker, Stalking, minor dubcon intercourse scene, Cat and Mouse vibes, Dry Humping, Gun Violence, Age Gap, Kidnapping, Wesker being an Asshole, Captain and Lieutenant, Wesker is bad at feelings, bad story with HEA.

Song Inspiration: Mascara - Deftones

Word Count: 10,639

Summary: Captain Albert Wesker of STARS is obsessed with his Lieutenant. He feels as if soon, he'll sink into her. What does she think of that?

1. LONG, SHADY EYES

“Lieutenant, have you seen how weird the Captain has been acting?” Your fellow teammate, Jill told you while you guys were hanging out at the front office of the police station, drinking your hot chocolate after a quick mission. It was early December, which means it was snowing heavily, and everyone needed a quick hot refreshment after saving the citizens of Racoon City.

“What do you mean?” You raised an eyebrow, not knowing what Jill meant as you stared into her light blue eyes in confusion. 

“I don’t know… but something is off about him…” She said, twirling her cup of hot chocolate in her hand, her look stern.

Recently, Captain Albert Wesker has been more tired-looking than usual. It must’ve been either the endless hours of paperwork, the amount of calls to the police department for them to summon the members of STARS to handle some of the toughest crimes in the city, or the reports of countless women going missing after leaving a club late at night. Or, could it have been something else? 

It was dark outside, and the snow from the sky was falling down relentlessly. It was brutal out there, which is why barely anyone came in to work today. From STARS, it was only Captain Wesker, Jill, Chris, Rebecca, and you.

“Like what?” You asked the short-haired brunette, taking a sip of your sweet hot chocolate, savoring the delightful taste. 

“I think…” Jill paused, appearing that she was thinking hard about her answer into the realms of daze before she spoke again. “It has something to do with you. ” 

Your heart moved down a bit, but it didn’t drop to your stomach… yet. You were good at your job, you were flexible when it came to hand-to-hand combat, intelligent when it came to planning solutions in tight situations, strong when it came to holding your own, wise when it came to everything else, and overall so stunning. 

“ Me ?” You pointed at yourself, looking around to see if JIll got you confused with anybody else, ignoring the distant footsteps coming closer from the stairs. “I literally have been doing all of his commands without question and I’ve been doing them flawlessly. Why the hell would he have a problem with me?” You scoffed, a little scared but irritated. 

“Lieutenant, the Captain wants to see you in his office.” Chris spoke in a worried tone, coming down from the stairs. 

Oh? 

Now your heart really dropped to your stomach. That’s not good. 

“Did he state why?” You questioned Chris, taking another sip of your drink.

Captain Wesker is not the one to call people to his office for anything, really; only if they have been slacking on the job or actual imperative reasons. This must be serious. 

You might just be in for one hell a night. 

“No… He just said that you should come and that it’s urgent. ” 

In unison, you and Jill both flashed each other a look that included wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Urgent? 

“Oh…” You muttered, your heart dropping once more. 

“Should we wait for you?” Chris asked, standing next to Jill. You nervously sipped down the rest of your hot chocolate before you shook your head and threw the cup at the nearby bin, already walking up the stairs towards what could be your doom. 

“No… you guys should get going before the blizzard gets worse.” You implied, waving at them while still walking up the stairs. 

“Are you sure?”  Chris insisted. 

“Yes. Don’t worry. I doubt it's anything serious. The Captain is probably just in one of his moods. I’ll be fine.” You let out a heavy sigh, hoping this little meeting with the Captain isn’t anything too serious. 

…

“Come in.” You didn’t even have to knock before you heard Wesker’s voice from the other side of the door. You opened the door to see your Captain automatically staring at you. In the dimly lit room, you feel his presence before you see him. As you enter, he occupies the chair with a predatory ease, his frame sprawling, arms confidently resting on each side. The lamplight casts shadows on his angular features, accentuating the intensity in his cold-blue eyes fixed on you.

“Hello, Captain.” You greeted him quietly, your usual, calm persona already leaving you as soon as you felt his aura. It was chilling for some reason. Very strange. 

You closed the door behind you for more privacy as you stood by it, not wanting to move away from said door because of how nervous you were at this moment. 

That was your first mistake: closing the door. 

“Hello there, Lieutenant.” He greeted you back. “Why don’t you take a seat?” Wesker asked you with a grin, eyeing the chair opposite his desk. 

He seems so eager to talk to me, this is a little strange. You thought, needing some space from Wesker. 

“I don’t want to-” You attempted to protest, waving your hand but his voice caught you off-guard.

“It was a command, Lieutenant.” Wesker’s grunt voice and his intense, chilling blue-eye stare filled your body with chills and the small hairs on your arms and the back of your neck rose. Did you really do something wrong?

Your gentle persistence faltered as you slowly took the seat in front of your Captain, both pairs of eyes still focused on one another as his pair of cool blue eyes made you a little queasy. You had to look away or else you would’ve started to physically shake. Your gentle, feminine eyes started to wander around his office. It was quite dim– very dim, actually. The only things that were giving it light were the two lamps by either side of his desk. There was the S.T.A.R.S insignia embedded into the wall behind him, and the walls painted, stained with an ugly shade of blue, to you.

You started to speak up after the moment of silence. “Chris told me that it was urgent for me to talk to you…” You spoke, fingers from your left hand playing with the chrysanthemum tattoo on your right hand.  “Is there something wrong?” You asked, still not giving your captain eye contact, instead, giving your visual attention to the tattoo of your favorite flower on your hand.

“You’re really good at your job, Lieutenant.”  You look up at him, raising an eyebrow at his statement. It wasn’t that you were insecure or anything, matter of fact, you knew you were good at your job. You were the Lieutenant of S.T.A.R.S Alpha team for crying out loud. Why is he telling you such an obvious fact? 

“I know I am. Thank you.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“No need to get cocky, dearheart .” Wesker smirked, his voice low and grunt. 

Oh. That’s different. Dearheart? You wanted to mentally ignore that last word, but it stuck with you.

“Is that why you called me here today? To compliment me?” You ask him, tilting your head to the side, giving Wesker a tired look. If he really wanted to praise you for your work, Albert Wesker should be on his hands and knees before your feet, thanking you for your existence, cherishing you with a raise and all the gifts you’ve wanted in life. Instead, he’s just front sitting you, staring at you in the most creepy, gnarly, and uncomfortable way ever. 

“You're a very useful asset to the team. I was looking through your data and reports and I couldn’t help but be impressed by you.” He praised you. 

“So… what else? That’s it?” You ask him, rolling your eyes at his words. 

“What’s the rush, my dear ?” He questioned you, pale, wintry cold, blue eyes boring into your siren ones which were laced with mascara on the eyelashes. He leaned in over the desk, making you slowly move back.

“You’re doing nothing but complimenting me, I thought you called me to your office for something actually important-” You tried to get a point but he cut you off. 

“ You are important, Lieutenant. Which is why I wanted to see you, and only you .” 

At this point, you’re convinced this is an imposter, not your Captain. Your brain cannot wrap around this new behavior at all. All you know is that your guard needs to be up.

“Where are you going with this, Captain? Are you drunk?” You ask him, annoyance and small fear tinted across your voice. 

That was your second mistake; asking that question.  

“Tch. How bold of you to ask me that blunt question.” He scoffed, shaking his head. 

“Well excuse me for my rudeness but I am very tired and I want to go home, and you’re wasting my time.” You stood up from the seat, walking towards the door, you heard Wesker sigh but thought nothing much of it. You were irritated because you actually thought you did something wrong, but no, your Captain is in a peculiar mood today and that’s pretty much it. (It seems like.)

Before your hand could even touch the doorknob, you felt a strong arm wrapped around your waist. Your heart wasted no time dropping to the pits of your stomach. Slowly, you slightly turn your head around to see Wesker’s eyes staring right into your soul, again. This time, you feel a sense of fear arising on your body as he looks a little tense. 

“Where do you think you’re going, Lieutenant ?” His voice this time low, laced with dangerous venom from the bottom of his throat. This time, your body felt on edge, feeling weak everywhere and even light-headed.

“H-Home...” You stuttered, this time looking down at where his hand held you on your waist, where your other chrysanthemum tattoo was. You lay your right hand on his to see how hard he was gripping you and oh , his grip was secure and tight. 

“I don’t remember saying that I dismissed you. Why are you so eager to leave?” He whispered into your ear, that transatlantic accent sending shivers down your spine and his cold breath blew onto your neck.

You bit your lip, trying to hold your breath because of how scared you were. There is nothing worse than feeling the looming doom of something bad happening to you, and you don’t have much control over it. “...” You need to talk, you need to speak up. “Because… I want to go home.” You blurted out. It wasn’t a lie. 

A chuckle with malicious intent just left Wesker’s mouth as his grip on you tightened, even from behind, you flinched as he rubbed himself against your behind, letting out a deep groan. 

“You can’t go just yet, my dear. I haven't finished enjoying my time with you.” He then said, his other hand slithering under your long-sleeve uniform shirt and onto one of your breasts. 

“Let me go, Captain...” Your voice cracked and tears were on the verge of spilling onto your eyes, you were shaking, terrified with no one to help you but yourself. It was only Chris, Jill, Wesker and you in the office when you were downstairs but because you told your two colleagues to leave, you only have yourself to use to defend yourself.

“No…” Wesker whispered again, letting out a little laugh as he could hear the fear in your voice. He squeezed your breast, making you gasp. “I don’t think I will.” The blond male responded slyly, pushing himself roughly against your backside again. He was hard. 

“H-Huh?” You muttered. You were sweating, shaking, crying, trying to wiggle out of this tightly, evil grasp but it didn’t work. Wesker was too strong, too evil, too good.  

“Kiss me, Lieutenant.” He spoke, leaning into the side of your neck and giving it one long lick. You visibly gagged as you felt the cold saliva on your neck. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command. 

“Fuck no!” You screamed, finally growing the courage to turn around, elbow him and slap him in the face. He let out an angry groan as he held his face with his hand, he wasn’t bleeding, but he was bruised. 

That was your third mistake; slapping him.

“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter, Lieutenant .” He laughed at you from where he was standing, looking at you again. This time he stared at you, licking his lips as he eyed that voluptuous body of yours. You cursed to yourself, looking back at the door, and then back to Wesker.

This was your chance. You had to run out of here. And so you did, not turning back once as you ran full throttle to your office, grabbing your stuff and out of the station. 

Damn, it was cold outside. 

Luckily, you parked right at the parking lot since there weren’t many people in today due to the heavy snow. Panting with fear, you turned on your car, got inside, turned on the engine and quickly moved out of the station.

2. I'M ALL ABOUT HER SHADE TONIGHT

It was the next day and you were not sure what was real and what was false. All you know is that you did not want to go into work today. That was for sure. 

But, you can’t have it your way. Missing work without a prior notice is very dangerous at the Racoon City Police office. 

You were currently sitting in front of your vanity. Your hair was a mess, lips bruised from you biting them, your eyes were tinted with red , and you had dark circles under your eyes from staying up all night, trying to listen for signs of intruders… or your captain waiting to kidnap you. You did not like this, at all, whatsoever. 

Your tired eyes move toward the handgun that lays in front of you. It was a Colt 1851 Navy Revolver that was given to you from your father as a gift for making into S.T.A.R.S . From all your years of working at the station, you never would have thought that you might have to use it on your colleagues, let alone Captain Wesker for crying out loud. Who knew he was such a scum of a man?

Yesterday night was something you still couldn’t wrap your head around; Captain Albert Wesker assaulted you. 

Those words don’t even make any sense. Your captain, who is always wearing those dark sunglasses even when the scene is more dark than midnight with no lights in the street, who is always serious and time for absolutely nobody’s bullshit, who is always picking on Chris for even the slightest of mistakes, who is always serious about his job and the safety of the citizens… sexually assaulted you. It doesn’t matter how many times you rapidly blink, or how much water you drink, or how many hours you stay up, because that is exactly what happened. 

And there is no way to justify that. Your superior took advantage of you.

At the same time you could try telling Jill and Chris what happened but, what can they even do? That’ll just cause more chaos and you’ll still have to face Wesker in the end. 

Do you even have a way to confront the son of a bitch? Probably not. But, you’ll never let him get away with this scott-free, that’s for sure. 

“I need to do something about this…” a mutter came out of your mouth as you eye the wooden handled six shooter on your vanity.  “ before I don’t even belong to myself anymore. ” 

Or, do you just ignore him like he doesn’t exist? That can probably work but it is still you too who close the station down when the day ends… and the stow refuses to stop falling.

“No…” You look at the revolver again. I won’t do anything just yet, not until he strikes first. I’ll just ignore him for now. 

…

You slowly make your way to the STARS Station once again, the snow still falling down.

Can I really do this? Can I ignore him?

You find the snow is starting to fall harder, and the wind begins to pick up.

It seems like the weather does not want to help me either.

You see yourself approaching the doors of the STARS station, and then walking inside.

I have to do this.

You see Wesker standing just at the top of the staircase, even with his stupid shades on, you can still feel his predatory gaze targeting you. Your heart automatically drops to your stomach without failure. 

"Hey, Lieutenant." He waves with a smile on his face. 

You feel like a million thoughts are going through your mind, your mind racing.

I have to ignore him. Be normal. Don't show him anything is wrong.

You take off your Ushanka and shake your head so your hair isn’t flat, so your hair can look free and full of life. Luckily, Chris blocks Wesker out of your vision by standing right in front of you. "Snowy day, isn't it, Lieutenant?" Chris says to you.

You shake your head as you see Chris greet you, and say the same thing to him.

Be normal.

You try to just do your work, as if nothing ever happened.

As the morning progresses, you see Wesker a few times, but you ignore him. You're glad to see that he hasn't approached you or said a word to you yet.

Is he going to let it all slide? Forget about it?

Seeing him has made my heart drop to my stomach multiple times... and it looks like I'm gonna have to stay here overtime again. You think to yourself, and you look at your surroundings carefully, biting your lip. 

You see Wesker a few more times throughout the day, and you feel your heart sink a little with each and every time you see him.

That bastard. Is he going to do anything to me today? Am I just going to have to try to avoid him today as well?

As afternoon sets in, you see Wesker a few more times. Yet, he has yet to approach you or say anything.

Am I safe…? Did he just let this whole thing slide already? Why? Was he just having fun with me?

I don't think I'm safe but I just need to keep ignoring him... I'm only gonna be here until 8:30PM today.

You continue to see Wesker throughout your shift. He's clearly aware that you're also there and seeing him. Yet for some reason, he does not approach you. Nor does he say anything.

Why? Is he just playing with me? Is he just planning something more sinister and twisted when I leave?

You keep doing your work, trying to ignore his very visible presence in the same room as you.

Don't look at him, don't say anything to him, don't even smell him.

As the work day continues, you continue to ignore Wesker. You do all of this, thinking the whole time that...

Maybe he just plans to try and force himself onto me again sometime later after work?

That's it. That's what he's doing. He'll just try it again, only this time he will be better prepared to hide it from the other members of the STARS Alpha team.

Tssk... Shit. What should I do?

That's when you finally see Wesker approaching you now, his eyes still on you.

This is it...

He's going to do something right now.

You feel a rush of anxiety now rush through you, and your heart begins to pound in your chest. He's going to do it again.

I'm screwed... fuck.

Wesker is now standing in front of you, his eyes still locked onto you.

He's going to force himself onto me again. I just know it.

How the hell do I get out of this?!

You turn your head to look at him in fear. Your body is already shaking. You don’t even have your gun on you. You left it in your office. What should I do? No. What CAN I do?

Wesker sees your reaction, and a small smile begins to creep across his face.

He knew this would work. He's not even trying to hide it.

He reaches his hand out, and before you can even say or do anything. Wesker is holding you in a tight grip.

Oh no... oh no... oh no…

Wesker begins to slowly move you off from the desks you both were working at and away from the team.

No one is seeing what's happening... They just think we're working together.

They think nothing is happening right now...

Wesker begins to slowly move you towards one of the closed meeting rooms. He's going to force himself onto you right now and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

Someone… please… help me. 

No one is seeing this happening and Wesker continues to hold your small frame in his tight grip. As he pushes you towards the closed meeting room, he begins to force the door open.

He pushes the door open and forces you inside now, his grip still not loosening.

As you begin to hear the noise of the snow outside again, you see Wesker close the door and lock it.

Oh god... oh god... oh god...

Wesker looks at you now, his face getting closer to you.

Now what...? What's he going to do?

You’re still breathing heavily, shaking, feeling all so uneasy. 

“...” You don’t say anything, but you just stare at him. Wesker leans in now, his lips getting closer to your ear.

"Hello, Lieutenant."

“...” You still can’t talk. 

Wesker's voice now whispers into your ear.

"Did you miss me...Lieutenant?"

He's talking to me as if nothing even happened. He's acting as if what he did was no big deal, as if nothing even happened. My god... is this what it's going to be like?... Just acting like nothing happened?

“W-what?” You manage to stutter in silent anger and confusion. Wesker slowly leans even closer now, his hands now still gripping you.

"Did you miss me..." He whispers into your ear again.

My god... I don't know what to say... I don't know what to do…

"I missed hearing your little voice..." Wesker whispers again, his hand now slowly going up your back.

"Captain... s-stop this..." You attempt to try and speak up again, but of course he isn’t going to listen to you. 

Wesker's grip on you remains firm.

"I’m not going to stop." He taunted you. Wesker's hand now continues to slowly move up your back, his fingers moving to the nape of your neck.

“That’s a good girl…” He chuckled near your ear.

It is then that a loud smack is heard as you slap him across the face with your right hand. Wesker, caught off guard by the hit, lets go of you. Without looking back, you quickly run to the door and unlock it. 

“Agh! You bitch!” He groaned loudly. 

The door opens now, and you rush out. You see Wesker is looking at you with a look of both shock and rage.

I need to run to my office and hide there, locking my office is a must!

You ran, evidently, you sprinted, not caring how loud your footsteps were as you basically flew down the hallway. With your Captain being more fit, more stronger, and faster than you, of course he was right on your tail . You rush into your office, feeling a sense of relief once its door is shut and locked. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest now.

Oh no... oh no... oh no...

You see Wesker try the doorknob, but the door does not open. He pounds on it, and asks you to open it. You didn’t plan this through, so you’re trapped. Wesker continues to bang on the door.

"Open the goddamn door, Lieutenant."

His voice now sounds furious.

He's been caught off guard by a single hit, and so now he's going to be more cruel.

"..." You don't answer him... You’re frantically looking around your office to see if there is anything you can use to further defend yourself.

Wesker's banging on the door is loud and terrifying.

Do not let him in... you must not let him in. Just don't make any noise. You look around your office, not seeing anything you could use to defend yourself. The door to your office can only keep him out so long… He will eventually break this door open.

Wait... My revolver…

You see your revolver, which you normally keep hidden, sitting in your desk. Could that actually help you ? It's the only thing that could possibly help you. If you could surprise attack him with it, maybe that would work. Wesker is still banging on the door now, his voice still furious.

"Lieutenant! Open the goddamn door now!" Wesker bellowed, banging on with what seemed like most of his strength. You can see the door caving in and out with every bang. 

You grab the revolver out of the drawer, and you open the ammo... there is only one bullet that remains but it is not next to be shot. 

Maybe if I can catch him off guard...

Your hand is shaking, your mind racing...

One single bullet. Do I just try shooting him with this?

You keep listening at the door as Wesker continues banging on it.

There's no way he will let this slide.

Wesker then begins to say something to you.

"Lieutenant... I already told you, I’m not going to stop."

My god... he's still acting as if nothing happened. He's not going to let this go.

You slide down on the wall that the door is on. You’re shaking, you’re crying, you’re even sweating while the weather is freezing cold outside. It’s getting too much for you now. Why can’t you have just one single moment of peace? Why is it that you have to be the victim of power abuse and male obsession?

"..." You start sobbing so loud even Wesker can probably hear it. You hear Wesker laughing on the other side of the door. Your tears are flowing down your face now.

Of course he would enjoy this...

You are trapped in this office. You can't get out. The doors remain locked.

Wesker continues to bang on the door, his voice sounding as if it's taunting you now.

"Look at you, Lieutenant. Crying like a little girl." He continues laughing from the bottom of his throat, as if he just won a game or something. It jabs your heart, it makes you feel so restless and your heart just can’t stop dropping to your stomach. It’s so unfair , it’s so asinine , and it is just so fucking jarring . 

What is with him...?!

His words hurt because they just don't make sense. Am I not allowed to cry? I am not allowed to be upset and angry?

 You’re still sobbing loudly, your left hand trying to wipe all of your tears and your right hand is holding the revolver on the ground.

Wesker continues banging on the door, and you hear him say something again.

"You know, you sounded really pretty when I forced myself onto you before. But now that I know how scared you can be..." He sounds sadistic now. He sounds as if he takes pleasure in knowing you're afraid of him.

"You know... I might just try and do that again after I get in here." Wesker says that last part in a dark, malicious tone, then letting out a low chuckle. 

You scream. And you scream loudly, before going silent and taking a moment of silence to look at the revolver that you now held with both hands. 

Wait... what if I shoot...

You feel your mind racing and racing, your heart beating with fear.

What if I shoot... what if I shoot? Will he be gone?

Your hand is shaking badly now, the revolver firmly in both of your hands.

Is this the only way? There has to be another way!

Wesker is still banging and laughing.

"Hey... Lieutenant?"

“...” You’re panting, trying to catch your breath.

Wesker is still banging, trying to get the door open. 

“Lieutenant? Lieutenant!? I know you’re still in there.” 

"So... you know what?... I'll make you a deal, Lieutenant."

His voice sounds both cruel and sadistic.

What kind of a deal... What kind of a deal will he make?

“...” You stay silent. What deal?

"How about..." Wesker's voice now takes on a more casual tone.

"If you open that door for me right now... I'll just pretend like nothing even happened. We'll just pretend like nothing ever happened between us, and forget your little slap."

That's ridiculous. No way. No way is he willing to just forget.

"Open that door, Lieutenant..." He asks with a cruel, yet casual tone.

What should I do? Is this just him lying to me?

"..." You refuse to listen to him, You will not answer him. You will shoot him.

"You know... your silence only makes it worse for you..." Wesker starts laughing again as he hears your silence. He's still banging on the door. "Lieutenant... you're not making this any easier for yourself." Your hand is still shaking, you keep the revolver firmly in your hands.

It's so heavy, your hand is shaking so much.

"I'll give you... let's say... five more seconds before I really do something bad to you ."

Five seconds? What an evil prick he is. Now, you need to hide. Wesker continues to bang on the door and laugh.

"Lieutenant. Four..... three...... and two."

You run over and try to hide as best as you can in your office, keeping the revolver firmly in both of your hands.

He won't be able to find me that easily... I'll still have time to surprise attack him with this revolver when he comes running in. Yeah.. that's it. That's my plan. I don’t want to kill him though. 

Wesker keeps banging on the door. 

"One..." He says, his voice still casual and as if nothing happened.

Is he actually going to break that door down now? Why is he making this so difficult for me... why isn't he just going to leave me?

You have the revolver in both of your hands now, feeling it become even heavier somehow than it was before. There's only one bullet... don't miss. You mustn't miss it.

What does he even want from me? 

Wesker laughs again, still banging on the door as a smile takes over his face.

"Oh, Lieutenant... you're making this so tough for yourself. All you had to do was not slap me and everything would have been fine." You feel frozen in place, the door banging and his words getting to you.

My god... I have one chance... and one chance alone. After he breaks that door in, there's nothing more I can do. But I wasn't gonna let him have his way with me... no way in hell.

Wesker's words keep banging against your psyche as his banging on the door continues.

"Fine. I’ll be nice. One minute... one minute is all I'm giving you now, dearhear t."

You can feel your hand sweating now as the revolver feels as though it's a hundred pounds.

I have one minute before he comes in here to force himself onto me again. One minute to get the aim of my revolver perfect… If I don’t aim this right then I’m fucked.

Wesker continues to laugh outside and bang on the door.

"Thirty seconds, Lieutenant."He sounds so smug.

 God... why isn't he just going away? Is he really not going to give up until he gets me again? I have to keep calm.

You listen closely now, hearing that even Wesker's breathing is getting louder now and more rapid.

"Open that door, Lieutenant. Open the goddamn door!" Wesker yells now at the top of his lungs.

He's now waiting for you to comply. He's not going to wait for long.

I’m not opening the door. I refuse.

Wesker stops yelling. You think for a few seconds, he might try and break the door down.

"Fine..." Wesker's voice sounds quiet now, and you feel yourself getting more hopeful.

He's going to give up.

"If you won't open that door for me... then I guess I'll just have to open it myself."

He can't be serious... not the actual door.

Your hope and relief fade within a few seconds.

Oh no... he's going to do it... he's going to break it down.

Wesker's voice gets louder again as you hear him walk right up to the door.

"Three... two... one."

You hear your heart immediately racing at a quick pace.

This is it. Now or never. There's no more time left.

"Fine, I'm coming in." Wesker laughs, and you hear him begin to use his shoulder to bang on the door a couple times. This is it. Your chance.

Wesker starts using his foot now to break the door down. He's putting his body weight into breaking that door down.

I have to do it.

Your hand is shaking uncontrollably now, the gun feeling like it is going to slip out of your hands.

Come on... any second now. You’re still shaking, but you're managing to keep your breath under control. Wesker is still kicking the door... your breath is getting shallow...

I can't miss... I can't miss.

Wesker continues to kick the door.

I have to remember my training... I have to keep my aim steady and fire at him...

Wesker kicks the door one last time, and it sounds like it is about to snap.

This is it.

Your hand is shaking like it's going crazy, your breath almost not coming now. You see the door begin to shake and get close to falling. You point the revolver at the door, trying to steady your hand as best as you can. Wesker's entire focus is on the door, trying to break that door down.

God, I can't miss. Do not miss.

And with one final, ruthless kick to your door, it was down. Wesker was now staring down at you, already moving towards your direction.

Bang. 

3. WELL, IT'S TOO BAD

Captain Wesker’s body fell backwards and fell to the ground of your office floor with a loud thump. Immediately, you screamed loud enough to the point where the whole city could hear you. That didn’t really make a difference, though. Same as yesterday, there was no one in the office, just Wesker and you. This time, only one of you is standing.

And the other may be dead.

“Oh my God… Oh my God! I shot him…” To say that you were panicking was an understatement. Your gun dropped to the ground, your hands in your head, eyes wide open with tears spilling out, your mouth was dry and your heart felt like it was trying to leave your body again .

“...”

Is he dead!? Shit! I can’t just leave him like this… But at the same time… You didn’t really know what to do,  you can call the ER but you would probably get arrested since it’s so obvious that you’re the one that shot him down, just look at the little spots of blood on your face and shirt. Or, you can just run away and go home like this never happened. 

Which one will benefit you the most in this predicament? 

I have to go…  

You didn’t have much time to think before one of your colleagues went to check what scream of yours was all about. The thing is, they already left, and there are no cameras in this area of the hall. How cliche. You decided to put on your coat and your Ushanka and run to your car, deciding to never look back. 

Self-preservation is the most important thing to worry about right now. You did what you had to do to defend yourself. Or else…

You kept looking behind you to see if Albert was already on his way to hunt you down, again. He wasn’t there, so you took the advantage and drove out of the station, again . This time it was life or death. 

You still cannot process what has just happened to you in the last 24 hours. 

…

It was the next day,  Friday. Exactly 24 hours since you left the station. You were in your bed all day. Not even a shower and consuming a single meal helped the fear that you were feeling. It was creepy like the devil hanging out on your shoulder. You felt so uneasy you wanted to scream, but you were too scared to do so. Too scared that someone might hear your… or know what you did yesterday night. Staying in your bed and under the covers was way better than leaving your apartment complex.  

Although it is your personal sanctuary, there was just something enticing about how comfortable your room was. 

Suddenly, your phone rings on your night stand, you reach out your arm to grab it and see the contact who was calling you. It was Jill. Hesitantly, you answer it and put the phone next to your ear. 

“Hello?”  You mumbled, eyes closed as you held the phone next to your ear. 

“Hey, _/_…”  Jill said, she sounded more quiet than usual, saying your first name with a little more caution.

She called me by actual name this time…

“Is everything okay at the office?” You asked, considering how you were out of the office because of yesterday night's events. At the same time, your stomach felt like it was twisted around your ribcage, you were so scared that she would mention him after yesterday night’s events.

“Yes. Everything is absolutely fine. I was just checking in because you weren’t today.” Jill spoke casually.

Oh thank God. 

“Sorry I wasn’t in today, I got sick from the blizzard last night, and plus, I am just really tired.” You groaned, your stomach untwisting from your ribcage in the process. 

“I see. When do you plan on coming back? I can write down your sick days if it makes it easier for you.” She said,  

“Probably next Wednesday. When the snow is calming down.” You responded.

“Okay. That seems fine…” she responded back. There was then a long pause. It was unsettling, it made your heart drop to your stomach a little bit. What is she thinking about?

“Is there something wrong, Jill?” You asked out of anxiety. 

“There’s nothing wrong. I just wanted to warn you to stay safe.” 

“…” This time, you were the one to give a long silence back. Now you were on edge. You were in your house, your sanctuary. What did she mean by “stay safe”?

“We got a new case today, regarding  a woman getting assaulted and attacked. I know you’re my Lieutenant and you know how to defend yourself, but I still want to make sure you’re okay in your current condition.” Jill then explained, sighing shortly after.

“Thank you, Jill. Make sure you watch your back as well. In case you get in some danger, don’t forget the training we did together and the skills I showed you.” You mumbled, not feeling relaxed at all.

“Pffft. I won’t. Anyways, take care of yourself, Lieutenant _/_.”  

“You too, Jill.” 

You ended the call, then got up to look outside your window. The street and pavement was still blanketed in thick white snow. You loved this weather because for some reason it made you feel so safe today, and relaxed, like there wasn’t danger running rampant in this strange world, as if you didn’t shoot your captain yesterday, as if you don’t know if he is currently lurking in the shadows.

Of course he’s lurking. Why didn’t Jill mention the bloody scene at your office, or the absence of Captain Wesker?  Jill goes into your office usually to collect some snacks and other documents that you keep around and she didn’t mention the blood stained floor.  Not only that, what gives it away was that a new case was given to S.T.A.R.S Alpha team and only the Captain can command the team to investigate the cases, and your team received a new case today regarding people going missing.

Oh, he’s definitely lurking, and after this shift is done? He’s all about your shade tonight.

It makes you laugh. For some odd reason, you weren’t that scared anymore. Sure, your Captain attempted to violate you in his office, which causes you to shoot him the next day is very terrifying, but what is more terrifying (from what you’re gathering)  is that he’s still alive, and he’s walking around as if nothing happened. 

What a dedicated stalker. That man is so funny but so persistent. 

“Wesker doesn’t know when to give up, doesn’t he?” You let out a chuckle, smiling to yourself about the realisation of how scary your current predicament really is. You weren’t smiling and laughing to yourself because you were happy, that wasn’t the case at all. It was because you were absolutely petrified. “I’ll let him have his way tonight but, after that, I need to end him quickly. ” You finished talking to yourself, still staring out at the window, awaiting the horrors that will eventually come to life tonight.

…

And, those horrors wasted no time showing up at your front doorstep. Your blood went cold as you saw your Captain open the front with a makeshift key. You were standing in the middle of the hallway with your gun in your right hand. Wesker was dressed up in his uniform, sans the black vest that he wears while he’s on duty. The blue-eyed monster then bellowed a loud laugh once he laid his cold, unforgiving, crystal blue eyes on your smaller frame, it made you shiver in fear.  

“You’re so cruel, my dear…” He sighed, automatically walked over to you, encasing you in his arms. You couldn’t back away because you were still perplexed as he was still walking around as if you didn’t shoot him right in the stomach. 

“What…” You mumbled quietly, trying to wriggle out of his tight grip. It was uncomfortable, intruding and claustrophobic. It wasn't comforting at all, it felt as if someone was trapping you in a jail cell. 

“How dare you…” Albert started, now slowly snaking  his arms to your backside. Your breath hitched. “How dare you shoot me in your own office and then run away? I had to clean up after your mess.” He questioned you with a pout. Evidently he was mocking you. 

“How are you not dead… I shot you clean in the stomach.” It’s either you said something wrong or it was the look on your face; your pupils were dilated, the colour drained from your face, and your breathing was heavier than before. You were panicking, the reality of the whole situation was dawning on you but you can’t be scared now. You need to face it head strong. 

“You shot me, but you didn’t kill me, my love.” Wesker explained. 

But it doesn’t make any sense… I shot him in the stomach, he should still be in pain, not only that but he shouldn’t even be walking… What the hell? Is he even human? The next time I have the chance, I need this man dead. Expeditiously. 

“With that being said,” You were suddenly lifted off of your feet, and your body was on Wesker’s shoulder, and the both of you were on the way out of the door and to his car. “I’m finally going to have my way with you, dearheart.” Wesker chuckled, using his right hand to slap your ass.

“Let hell you will!” You gasped, trying your best wriggling off of his arm, but to no avail. No matter how much you kicked your legs up and down or tried to use your arms to release yourself off his grip, his strong, muscular arm kept you right in place on his shoulder. You were just wasting your energy at this point. “I won’t let you ruin my life. I’ve worked too hard for you to do this to me!” You screamed.

“So persistent,” Wesker groaned, you heard the sound of a car door opening and in no time you were thrown in the backseat of Wesker’s car, he pulled you closer to the door and pulls out a rope, then he ties the rope around your body, making sure you cannot use any of your limbs. “You need to be patient my dear, the fun hasn’t begun just yet. You’re lucky I’m not taping that sexy mouth of yours, I love hearing how scared you are.” 

“...” You sighed out of exhaustion and you threw yourself down to the seat below you, having no further energy to fight back. 

“Now you’re not talking? Don’t do that, sweetheart. You’ll be screaming my name very soon. I’m afraid I’ll fuck you so hard that your whole entire neighborhood will hear you, which is why were going somewhere private.” The blond older male opened the driver’s door and sat down, turning on the car.

“In your wildest dreams , you sick bastard.” You chided. 

Now, while he drives you to wherever the hell is he taking you, this is the time to figure out how you’re actually going to kill this man. 

And this time, he won’t return. 

4. IT'S TOO BAD... IT'S TOO BAD...

After calculating every twist and turn the car has made, and counting the minutes of how far Wesker has taken you away from your home, you finally feel the car stop. You feel the car power off and hear Wesker leave his seat and go to the back to get you out. You yelped, his strong, lean arms wasted no time pulling your smaller body out of the backseat with no trouble through the ropes. 

‘We must be at his house then…’ 

He’s carrying you bridal style, knowing you can’t properly move with the ropes tied around your body. Wesker doesn’t have his signature, dark, goofy sunglasses on, so even in the somber night, those cold, sky blue eyes are still so visible you could’ve sworn that they were glowing. It was terrifying. And what is even more terrifying is that his eyes were focused on you, more specifically your own pair of eyes as if he was trying to read directly into your soul.

Although your stalker– captain was purely a wicked man from what you’ve seen yesterday night and tonight, you couldn’t deny that he wasn’t handsome or fine to say the least. There was just something about how sharp his jaw was, or how nicely straight his nose was, or how the tips of his ivory-colored skin would turn cherry at the slightest of any rough action, or how perfect his teeth were, or how crowning his golden blond his slick back hair was.

Albert Wesker without a doubt was impeccable. How beautifully diabolical.

There was silence between the two of you. The type of silence that would lead to a later suggestive scene that would happen in a dark romance movie. But why would that happen? That wouldn’t even make sense, not after what Wesker did to you yesterday and the day before that. Your own captain assaulted you and now you feel some sort of sexual attraction to him? That doesn’t make sense.

He was still carrying you in his arms as he opened his front door and closed it behind him, locking it. You were tired and all of the lights were off so your vision was blurry. With every step that Wesker took to his bedroom you felt your stomach twist and turn in the most uncomfortable way ever. It was not a fun feeling. At the same time, it was a little exciting. Oh?

Being trapped in ropes while being taken to someone’s bedroom isn’t the best situation to be in.

Wesker gently places you onto his bed and immediately starts gently removing the rope off of your body. It is finally all undone when he starts eyeing with a more hungry look than before. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this…”  Again, his voice was low before he  let out a heavy sigh. Wesker’s eyes are squinted in seriousness and his pale, ivory cheeks are now tinted with a rose flush. Your captain starts to unbutton his shirt slowly while his eyes are still maintained on you. And for some odd reason, butterflies start to grow in your stomach.

“What the hell are you talking about…” You slowed down your words as your eyes wandered down to his crotch. It was obvious he was hard. You could see a huge bulge sticking out from his black pants. It was like it was itching to be released from the cloth it was being restricted by. Damn.

Wesker lets out a chuckle. “Don’t act stupid, my dear. I was planning to go easy on you until you shot me,” There was only the last button of his shirt left. You could see how defined his chest was, even though you could only see the middle of it. You always knew that your captain was lean and he worked out basically everyday but, you didn’t know you could see it even through just a sneak peak. “Which means I have to capture you now before you attempt to try and get rid of me again. I can’t let that happen when I didn’t even get the chance to kiss you…” He finished, the last button finally undone. Through the undone blue shirt, his gunshot wound that was done, courtesy of you, was still there. You didn’t get to see it fully before Wesker leaned into you, straddling your legs wide open, you could feel yourself getting wet just at the sight of him. 

‘Why am I getting so… aroused by this? This doesn’t make any sense. ’ Your inner thoughts are fuzzy and are getting mixed with the feeling of your body shivering from a peculiar cold. It was snowing outside but, you’re inside, so why are you suddenly cold? And shivering? That’s strange.  

You’re then snapped back to reality by your legs being snapped open. You winced at the sudden action and pain. 

“Stay still.” Wesker basically drooled over you, eyeing your erect nipples and innocently confused face by his actions.  His hands held down your plush thighs with such natural strength that you couldn’t even move under his grasp. “You look absolutely idiosyncratic.” He muttered. 

The innocent face that he was eyeing was gone as you sneered at him and his pervertness. “Fucking pervert.” You groaned, still mad that he’s made you horny by his forceful will. 

“Do you finally surrender?” Albert gloated, his blue eyes narrowed at you like a predator finally about to feast on its prey. You weren’t going to that to yourself and say that you were not intimidated. He was stronger than you, faster than you, even smarter than you. The chances of you winning this unfair game was even less than another  planet other than Earth successfully managing to survive the natural causes of the universe throwing everything at it. You weren’t going to win this, at this point you were only hoping that he wasn’t going to kill you. 

“Well I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You said with pure stoicness in your voice, blinking at him twice. At your words, you’re blue-eyed monster of a Captain chuckled lowly, flashing a blinding white smile at your hint at defeat. 

“You could always fight back. Or, shoot me… again.”

Oh… He is terrible.  He pulls the right side of his shirt to reveal his body. It was like he was a Greek god sculpted by an Italian artist. His abs were a sculpted masterpiece, chiseled and defined beneath the taut surface of his skin. The lines of his abdomen led the eye on a journey of admiration, from the prominent V-shaped cut of his lower abs to the symmetrical rows of his upper abs. Your eyes were gazed on them, stuck to them like a magnet. It was like your pupils were getting bigger just to praise how wonderfully built this man was.  

Not to mention the very noticeable and fresh gunshot wound, courtesy of you, that made it obvious that it existed and that you put that there. It made Albert’s image even worse, even more… hot. 

How were you going to fight back? Did you even want to fight him back at this point? You weren’t going to answer the question yourself, instead, Albert Wesker was going to answer it for you.

…

You were lost. 

You weren’t sure how long it had been, all you knew was that your Captain was on top of you, inside of you. His hands on your arms, sans of all your clothing. Repeatedly slamming his cock inside of you. 

And you just had your head laid on the plush pillow and took it. You don’t know why, but you just did, It felt… too familiar, too good, too amazing, it's like you had sex with this man before, but you just don’t know where. The way he fucked you had you screaming, moaning, whimpering in so much pleasure that you no longer shame about your current situation no more about fighting him back. It made no sense at all, but you no longer cared since you were under the curse of such ecstasy.  

It was disrespectful the way he used his tongue on you earlier. The way he used his long, wet, tongue to have you try and scream aloud. In the end, you did end up screaming his name. It was so unnatural and unfitting in the moment but then again, you did not care. 

It was strange. You still hadn’t reached your orgasm yet. He hadn’t either.

  It was like an infinite loop. 

…

You were back to your senses and you realized that you need to get out of here.  Now. 

You were scrambling to find your shorts and long sleeve shirt, to put them back on and to try and find help. The clock was ticking. 

‘Come on come on… where did he throw my clothes?! ’ You were frantically crawling on his bedroom floor absolutely naked as he slept peacefully, you looked crazy but nobody was watching. You were also surprised that he didn’t wake up at the sound of you trying to find the clothes he took so gently off your body. It felt like ten minutes but in ten seconds you felt the familiar clothing you were wearing earlier. ‘Found them!’

Trying to make the least noise possible, you put on the clothes while you were still on the cold, wooden floor. Then, you heard the bed creak. Shit.   

“Now where do you think you’re going?” You heard his voice. Your heart drops. There isn’t enough time to think of an escape plan at this point. Your only hope of getting out of here was to gun him down or break a window. “Did I say you could get away from me?” 

“...” While you were still on the ground, you stayed silent out of fear, your body feeling weak. You were even too scared to move. But you had to get up, or else it would’ve been game over for you.

‘Shit… I can’t walk properly.’ 

‘Where is this fucker’s gun!?’ You thought to yourself as you quickly rose to your feet, eyes scanning the room rapidly as your messy hair was in your face.

“Not saying anything? Don’t tell me you’re still scared…” Wesker sighed, getting up from the bed as he was completely naked. Trying to ignore him from getting up, you look behind you to see his samurai edge on his desk.

‘His gun! It’s on the desk…’ You run to grab it and then turn back around to face him, staring at him dead in the eye, ignoring his sexually distracting body. 

“Stay… away… from me… you have done enough damage.” You panted as your body shook violently, holding the gun up at Wesker. All he did was smirk at you in amusement, you wouldn’t even dare to bat your eyes down to see his appendage rising the sound of your fear. 

Wesker took another step towards you. “I don’t think I’ve done enough damage…” 

Bang. 

5. YOU'RE MARRIED... TO ME

As your eyes snapped wide open, your body was automatically in a cold sweat. The bedroom was freezing cold, which made sense because it was still snowing outside. Huh. 

‘What the fuck?’ You mentally thought to yourself, your eyes traveled around the room rapidly, still trying to get a sense of what you just went through. It was dark outside, the only thing that was light was the snow that was falling down violently, with the occasional gusts of wind accompanying it. Your head felt so light, you thought your head was going to fall back on the pillow below you. 

The surroundings are different and nothing about the bedroom is the same, neither from yours nor his. Could this be reality?

You look to your left to see someone sleeping next to you. It was so dark that you couldn’t make out who it was at first, and you weren’t going to turn on the lamp on your nightstand just so you could see who it was. It would be an eyesore for the man next to you.  

The man who was sleeping so peacefully next to you had blond hair, sharp cheekbones, and thin lips that if they were to touch yours, his mouth could drive you crazy with them. 

‘Oh.’ Your heart froze while your stomach twisted with both of your intestines. It then sunk into you on what was actually happening. 

In an instant, you slowly took the covers off of you and quietly but quickly walked to the bathroom that was inside your shared bedroom. You opened the door and closed it behind you, flicking the light on. You then proceed to carefully study yourself, touching each one of your features, ,from your eyes, your eyebrows, your nose, your lips, the shape of your face, to your neck, your chest, your torso– your tattoos– but you couldn’t find any tattoos, not even the one you saw on your hand. You had no tattoos. None, whatsoever.

That caused you to let out a sigh of relief. 

None of that was real. Nothing of all of that at all was real. 

‘So that was all a dream… Albert– my husband trying to sexually assault me and hunting me down was all a dream… All of that was never real… ’

It makes no sense on how realistically weird it was. Yes, you and your husband did work at the S.T.A.R.S in the RPD and he was the Captain while you were the Lieutenant but… that wasn’t even how you two fell in love.

It was instant love for Wesker. He hired you when he saw you practicing some karate moves at your old martial arts school while he was patrolling the streets of Racoon. He was impressed by your skill. And at the age of 24, you were hired to work at STARS in the Alpha team. Albert was 32 at the time. It’s been two years since then, and now, you two are married. Strange how fast time flies. 

But knowing Albert, even though the man is strict and serious ninety-nine percent of the time, he would never chase you down and defile you against your will. That is something inane and asinine. 

This was all making your mouth dry. You stared at yourself for a few more moments before adjusting your dark blue button-up pajama shirt, turning off the bathroom light, and leaving the room all together, still making sure Albert was sleeping. For such a hard working man, he was surprisingly a heavy sleeper, barely waking up to loud-ass thunderstorms. 

You went to the kitchen and poured yourself a nice glass of cold water. Gulping down that ice-cold water made you relax more, calming down your brain that was still a little perplexed at the weird-ass dream you just had. You didn’t even dream that often, and when you did, your dreams were never that weird. Could you even call that a dream? Was it scary enough to call it a nightmare? Actually–yes, it was. Having a dream of your husband stalking you down and violating you is terrifying. 

Downright frightening. 

Now it was time to try and sleep again, hoping, praying that you don’t have any weird nightmares like that again. 

You went back to your shared room, closing the door and locking it. You crawled back into bed, put the covers over you, and took a deep breath. Suddenly, you felt a hand wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer. You flinched at the sudden movement. 

“Dearheart?” You heard your husband’s deep, throaty, and tired voice from behind you as you turned around to face him, his eyes were open and you could see the familiar arctic blue eyes that you loved so much.

“My love, you’re awake.” You pointed out and smiled at him. 

“Only because I didn’t feel you by my side.” Albert leaned in to kiss you on your lips, to which you kissed him back. 

‘There he goes again with his words.’

“Come on, I only left for five minutes, it wasn’t like I left the house or anything.” You told him, sighing at his clinginess. 

“You left me all alone while I was sleeping for five minutes, it felt uncomfortable.” 

“Well, I’m here now. Jeez, you’re such a child.” You quietly laughed at him. 

“Is everything okay, my dear?” Albert asked you. You paused for a split moment, trying to think of an answer. Here’s the thing, you could tell him the truth about the nightmare you had but that would cause chaos, and all you wanted to do was sleep, so you avoided that trouble.

“Yes… I just felt a little thirsty.” You lied, feeling a bit guilty about not telling your husband about that nightmare you had. It’s just that you did not want him to worry about you, and he gets all protective, even at the tiniest things. He raised an eyebrow at your answer and looked at the window behind you. 

“Thirsty? It’s freezing cold outside and you’re thirsty?” He’s skeptical. 

“Albert, you’re shirtless.” You retorted, using your hand to trace his stomach and chest. You felt how nice his body looked, it was exactly the same, but sans the gunshot wounds that you gave to him. He was all lean muscle, no signs of any painful, inflicted injuries on him anywhere. He felt nice and warm against your cold body. Very comforting.  

“And your hands are cold.” Albert shivered, against your touch, learning a small laugh from you. Slowly, you placed yourself on top of him, laying your head against his neck and your legs wrapped around his torso. This felt fine, absolutely fine. He wasn’t chasing you down the hallway, or forcing you to open your office door so he could do terrible things to you. He wrapped his arms around you, and embraced you. This was okay, this was absolutely okay. 

“Well, maybe you can warm me up.” You said against his skin, nuzzling into him.

“Of course I will, my dear wife.” He responded and you felt his smile on your skin. 

You laid on him for a few moments, enjoying your husbands warmth, feeling so safe.

“Hey, Albert?” 

“Yes, dearheart?” 

“Would you ever hurt me?” 

“Never.”

But, Albert Wesker wouldn’t actually do that to you. Would he?

[starieq]

“Lovin her seems tiring..” Part 2

Taggies/ warnings; Pro!HeroKats, cheating, fingering, creampie, blowjob, ridding, cumming, squirting, swearing, mention of sex toys, dirty talk, titty fuck, drinking, drunk messaging, dry humping.

part 3!

After that crazy call with your boss, you went right into making reservations so you don’t get yelled at the next week of work. 

Wait. Is his girlfriend coming? Should you call and ask? Would he be mad? Do you reserve two rooms? One for you, and one for him? Of course you would! Why wouldn’t you? Don’t make this weird y/n.

You had a lot of what if’s. But, you wanted to be brave and call your hot headed hot boss. 

ring, ring, ring.

“The hell ya want now? Thought i made myself fuckin clear.” He grumbles into the phone.

“U-uh,” you stutter. “S-so, is uhm, Kira coming like she usually d-does, or..-“ 

“No. Just make two rooms. One for you and me.”

“Okay! Thank you for letting me know. B-but i do have a question Mr. Dynamight.” 

“Lay it on me.” He says calmly? Wow, you’ve never heard him so calm before. 

“So, why I’m I coming..?” You ask a little scared.

“Need ya to come with me cause you’re my damn assistant and you should do as I say. See ya next week y/n.”

He hangs up. God, his voice was so sexy. You couldn’t get enough of it. At least his bitch of a “girlfriend” isn’t coming. 

You go to work the next week after your short weekend. You get packed to go to Tokyo, and you plan to maybe go to Tokyo Disneyland since it’s not like your gonna be on patrol with him, right? 

Right? 

You make your way to the bus station to get to the Dynamight agency. It was snowing and a horrible day to wear a white high waist mini skirt with a cute flower cardigan. At least you have a snow jacket and shoes in the office. 

You pay for your ticket and get on the bus. The bus station was pretty packed, you cant be late today. You decided to go on your phone to see the news, until you get a text from your boss.

:Dynamight🧡💥: I need ya to get to the fuckin office now. Go to my office when you’re here.

:y/n: sorry! Bus station is a little full today. I’ll get there as fast as I can! :D

You see the Dynamight agency and run out the bus as fast as you could. You knew Bakugo was a hot head and the last person you wanna piss off. It was kinda hard to run in the thick snow with uggs on, but you couldn’t care less. You NEEDED to get to your boss. 

You open the large doors and greeted the front lady that at gives you little candies. 

“Thank you Mrs. Hellen!” You wave goodbye and pop the candy in your mouth. You get to the elevator and press floor 8. As you get on, you notice you have a big whole in your tights. Fuck. Those were new too! Damnit. 

You gracefully walk to Bakugo’s office and hear grunting on the other side of the door.

You knock on the door and you hear Bakugo startle and race to get up. You’re not sure what he was doing, but your little dirty mind thinks something else. 

“What-“ he looks down at you. “Get in here,” He pulls your wrist inside his office. 

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Dynamight.” You give him a warm smile and he falls back on his chair. 

You notice his face is a little red and his cheeks are slightly puffed. You couldn’t help but also noticed a bulge in his hero cargo pants. 

“Ay, eyes up here sweetheart.” He says with a a smug smirk.

“O-oh sorry. I was just thinking about my uh, hole in my tights.” You said. Nice save, you think to yourself.

“Uh huh.” He says turning his chair so the back faces you.

“So Mr. Dynamight-“

“We’re leaving tonight, did ya pack your shit?” You noticed he clenched his jaw when he span his chair to face you again.

“Yeah.. uhm, are you going to pick me up or-“

“Yeah. Text me your address when I leave.” 

“Ok.. thank you for your time.” You spin on your heel to leave. You opened the door and took slow steps. 

Well, guess you should start working.

@bakugounextswife

[shiggysimp69]

Public Restrooms

Warning: Implied non-con, Reader gets followed.

——————————————————————

You never liked public restrooms. They were filthy, claustrophobic, and always smelled like body odor. There was something inherently nerve wracking to be engaging in something so private next to complete strangers. You only hated one thing more than using public bathrooms, and that was using them at night.

Gnats fluttered around the bright street lights as you tightened your multicolored scarf around your neck.

“It's colder than it was yesterday…” You thought, blowing on your frostbitten hands. Work had ended an hour ago, however, you decided to stay longer for a little overtime. But now your bladder was practically bursting and you needed to make your way to the nearest restroom before things got ugly. You looked around, the shop was all closed up and your home was a whole bus ride away.

“Maybe there'll be one on the way?”

Snow crunched beneath your feet as you made your way to the bus stop. The air smelled of frost and gasoline. Winter came with a vengeance this year, covering almost everything with a fresh coat of glittery white snow. It would be nice to have a car at a time like this but with your rent already sky high, it would be virtually implausible. You approached the stop, blowing on your hands once more as you scanned the area. You couldn't see any stores still open at this hour. In a perfect world, someone would make an exception and let you in just to pee. But it was not a perfect world. You looked to your left and there was a bench with a roof to keep out the snow or rain; but there was also a person there, sitting. You didn't wanna bother the man, especially if he was homeless, however, it was becoming more and more difficult to hold yourself. You were tempted to just go in a bush at this point. Walking over to the man, you waved at him.

“Excuse me.”

He looked up at you, his messy hair falling over his face. You would be lying if you said he didn't give you a weird vibe. He sat hunched over, dressed in all black, with sharp red eyes. You almost peed right then and there.

“S-Sorry to bother you but do you know anywhere I can use the restroom?” You asked, swallowing your fear. He stared at you for a while, and you swear he was undressing you with his eyes. His tongue swiped his bottom lip. That's when you realized just how dry and chapped they were. Actually, the man's whole face looked a little dehydrated…

“Down the street to the left.”

You blinked.

“There's a park and the bathrooms should still be open…” He spoke again.

“Oh, right! Thank you.”

You laughed a bit to clear the nervousness in your voice. He looked away and you took that as the end of your conversation, turning around and heading for the park. As you walked you felt his gaze on you once more. It made you shiver, his eyes colder than any winter. But you kept going, he was probably just some homeless guy that you'd never see again after tonight. Right… Just some bitter homeless person.

To your surprise, the man was right. You half figured you'd get led around in circles listening to someone who clearly wasn't mentally sound. But there it was. You hoped that you'd be able to go inside somewhere to pee. Like a restaurant or convenience store. It just felt safer that way, and it was more than likely cleaner than the restroom you just stepped into. It reeked of feces and hot piss, and questionable stains and toilet paper seemed to be everywhere. This was one of the many reasons why you absolutely hated public bathrooms. You could catch a disease sitting on some of these toilets. However, beggars can't be choosers and you were about to bust.

The creaking of the bathroom door caught your attention as you looked for a clean stall. Great. Now it was worse. Doing your private business next to a stranger was embarrassing and you avoided it at all costs. You sighed.

“It's whatever, just hurry up and pick a stall.” You thought, pushing open another door. Heavy footsteps approached you but you didn't turn to face them. It wasn't until they stopped that you looked over. Your eyes were met with deep crimson ones. It was him, the man from the bus stop. You took a cautionary step back.

“Y-You can't be in here.” You spoke, trying to convince yourself that he was just confused and didn't know that this was the women's restroom. He didn't respond, eyes still locked on yours. He sat with a hunch before but now he towered over you. At least a five inch difference between the two of you. For some reason he looked more cognitive than when you first saw him. Something about the look in his eyes told you that he definitely wasn't confused and that he knew exactly what he was doing. Suddenly, you felt warm in thirty degree weather. Fear heating you up and making you sweat bullets. Your heart sank as he took a step closer. You shook your head, a silent “no” escaping your lips.

“What's wrong…?”

Your eyes widened, shocked to hear his voice.

“A cute little thing like you stumbles across my path and you think I'm just supposed to let you go?”

His voice was smooth yet raspy, and it definitely wasn't something you'd ever forget. He stepped forward again and you backed up, straight into a wall. You looked behind you and in that moment he closed the gap between the two of you. He chuckled as he gazed upon your face. Horror. Absolute terror was written all over it. With tears filling your eyes and dampening your full lashes. You were beautiful.

“little one… You are nothing but a sheep waiting to be herded. Now you're gonna sit here like a good little lamb and let me fuck that sweet pussy of yours until we're both spent and my balls are completely dry.”

Without warning, hot liquid ran down your legs leaving a dark spot right at your crotch. He looked down at the area and smirked.

“How adorable. I guess you have no choice but to take them off now…”

——————————————————————

Writing requests are open!

[mayasaurusss]

In your arms.

Contains: angst sprinkled with a little bit of fluff, dissection of animal that can be read as gore (not intended to be read as such).

A/n: I channeled my anger and sadness into this, I hope you'll enjoy it.

Her heels dig in the cold coat of snow that covers the earth, breath quick and laboured from the fatigue that heavies her body.

Natalie wields the gun in her hands, eyes closed against the force of the wind. Her prey has just gotten away from her, leaving it's footprints in the snow; but the dark is descending and with that goes away the last possibility of a meal. Her hunger precedes her thoughts though, and before she can stop herself from dying of hypothermia, she continues.

The snow pools at her ankles, making it hard to continue walking, but she's hungry. She's so, so hungry. A branch breaks, resounding in the dead silence of the forest.

'There it is' something screams in her brain, 'to the right' and before she could hear the sound of the bullet firing, the body has already fallen on the ground.

A stag, a young one. Good enough to feed them for three days. Heavy, too heavy to carry all at once. Could make something out of it's fur and bones.

All the information floods Natalie's brain, the cold calculating matter helping her understand how to move, how to plan.

She drags the deer's carcass on a nearby tree, posing it at its roots. With her knife she carves an 'x' on it's bark; she reaches for a rope and ties it to the animal's corpse, heavies it with rocks so it can't be taken away by other creatures or entities.

She wants to tell herself that she doesn't believe Lottie's bullshit, but begin alone in a dark unknown forest at night sure does make a shiver run up her spine. With her knife then she separates the femur from the pelvis and cuts, propping the leg up her shoulder.

It feels heavy on her shoulders, but she must continue to walk. They rely on her, you rely on her.

When she finally sees the lights of the cabin Natalie is almost prompted to fall back into the earth, to finally let her life be taken by the Wilderness, but she continues. It feels like ages but finally she steps inside. Snow melts at her feet and wets the wooden floor of the cabin. It's hot inside, a welcomed feeling on her tired skin.

"Natalie!" you are the first to notice her, as you always were. Natalie falls to her knees, her bish exhausted beyond imagination. She's quickly embraced in your arms as people around her move and she falls asleep.

Hours later she wakes up in your arms. You're near the fire, everyone else is asleep around you two. You are the only one who is still awake. Your hand is combing knots out of her hair, drying them of the snow as best as possible. "Baby..." she mutters, snuggling near you.

You immediately look at her as soon as you hear her voice. "Natalie!" someone near you stirs at the sound of your loud voice, so you whisper to her ears. "Natalie, how are you? Is everything alright?" you notice a blush spreading on her cheeks as your hands check everywhere for wounds of any kind. "Y-yeah I am fine" she whispers, looking at you with adoration and love in her eyes.

"How did everything go?" you ask her and at your words she remembers the left over carcass in the snow. "The... The body is still there. We got to-" she is already about to move from the safe nest that is your arms, but you pull her back within you. "No, stay here".

"But we have to-!" she tries to fight against your hold but you're stronger than her and she falls right back into you. She's about to protest but you interrupt her before she can say anything, "No one requires anything out of you, Natalie".

As soon as she hears your words, something snaps and she collapses, limbs heavy as lead and heart wounded. All the muscles in her body have become soft and moving an inch proves to be a far difficult task than she imagined.

You are so nice, so lovley to her, and she doesn't deserve this.

"For tonight you can rest". She presses her nose into the cavity of your neck, searching in any way to be as close to you as possible, to melt into you.

Her stomach grumbles and all at once she's hit with hunger. Now she's conscious enough to take in the state of the cabin and the others. Everyone is asleep, only the sounds of their snores echoing in the space. Wooden spoons and bowls are scattered around the floor, not one drip or crumb of dinner left. The mouthwatering smell of meat shimmering on a pot filling the cabin from the outside.

"Has everyone already ate?" you move so that Natalie can sit up on her own. "Yes, but I wanted to wait for you" her grey eyes peer into yours, darkned by the dim light of the room. She looks worried, scared.

Scared that you might put her in the first place, scared that you might die of hunger, scared of everything. And you can see that hurt, that fear in her. The mask she has created these months is slowly crubling, revealing a terrified and tired person behind it.

"You didn't had to..." once again, her worries are shut by your words, "Of course I did". It's almost like she can't fully comprehend why you do this. Why you act like this.

You get up and get outside, where the wind is whipping at your skin. You fill two makeshift bowls to the brim with the remaining meat.

You give one to Natalie and sit back next to her, already dipping the spoon in. Meat floats above the surface of hot water, making Natalie nauseous.

"There were no mushrooms left, right?" she asks, reciving a small hum from you. She sighs, setting her hopes and complaints aside and digging her theet in the first bite of meat. It's cooked, no ounce of pink left inside, but flavourless. It tastes of wild, untamed animal. It's crude, it's hard, but she's hungry. The only source of flavour is the water, salted by the blood.

She would do anything right now to eat a god damned hamburger, or anything else for that matter, but her hunger is too hard to battle.

She could do with this. She has eaten worse.

"It tastes like shit!" you comment with a laugh, but neverteless continue to eat.

As the last drop of water falls into her mouth, Natalie sets the bowl aside, looking into the shades of the window. She can see the reflection of the dying fire outside, smothered by snow and wind. It looks so much like me, she thinks to herself.

Natalie would do anything in the world to be as far away from here as possible. She seeks refuge in her mind, in a made up world where there's just the two of you. She imagines a small house, in the countryside. It's just you and her, and maybe one or two cats. She'd name them after her favourite band's members. She's finally free from her addictions, no ghosts of the past haunting her or you. No father, no mother, no Jackie, no death. She can finally let that mask fall; she can finally feel like herself. She wakes up in your arms, hot and cuddled up against you. It's spring, there's no cold and the house is full of food. She is happy and safe.

"What a beautiful life would that be..." she sighs, running her hands over her eyes. It's surprising how quietly she falls, unable to stop the tears and hiccups coming from her. "Why isn't it true...?" the dark room is closing in on her, leaving her breathless and empty. But your touch becons her, like a warm light, like the north star guiding sailors into the vastness of the sea.

You look at her eyes: nothing needs to be said. Both of you know that the situation is dire, that it's unlikley you will see the end of winter. Natalie breaks when you kiss her, so tender and sweet that it makes her heart cry. She's the first one to talk; "I love you" she says, crying as you hold her face in your palms. "I love you too", it's the first time she ever heard you say those words, and even in the pain and hurt, she smiles. A feeling of relief, happiness, washes over her.

Maybe she will be okay. Maybe you will be okay.

"As long as we have each other, everything will be fine".