#in only one of these occasions is it about food hunger

[curiosity-killed]

WIP game: hunger

:D

She glanced back at Callebero to see him watching every motion with thinly veiled hunger.

send a word + I'll share the sentence it appears in in my wip

#wip word game #asked & answered #o-winterqueen-o #i apparently use hunger very rarely in this thing??? #like once in books 1 & two each and then twice in b3 so far #in only one of these occasions is it about food hunger

[hidden-poet]

Commander Snow; chapter 6

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Being Commander of District 12 meant that Coriolanus couldn’t just whisk you away to the forest to face his fears. He had a whole army dependent on him. It meant that while you were held up in his apartment, he was held up in his office. 

It annoyed him to no end. To have you so close and yet still out of reach. 

Despite you living with him for a week, you’ve only shared one meal together. 

His overtime meant that you were asleep by the time he got home. 

You had left a clean pair of his pajamas on the end of the bed. He had a habit of just stripping down to his underwear to join you. 

You left dinner for him in the fridge and he sat at the dinner table eating it alone. 

On the odd occasion, there was time to spend together, the mood was often tense from Coriolanus stress. 

He tried not to take his frustration out on you but his answers were often short. 

After a long day filled with complaints and issues that could have been easily solved without him, Coriolanus decided that he would not return to his office after supervising drill training and instead remain with you. 

He was beyond tired from his day, but it was too early to suggest bed. You lay with him on the couch, propped up by a throw pillow against the arm of the couch while he lay in front of you. He threw your arm around his shoulder and held it tight under his chin. 

The TV played a music talent show that neither you nor Coriolanus could care about but the tv only picked up two channels; the news or the entertainment channel that the Hunger Games were shown on. Coriolanus couldn’t bear to hear any more politics for the day so you watched people dressed in irregular costumes perform ballads out of their range. 

His eyes droop as he fights the upcoming sleep. It was the first time since the fight with Edmund that he got you to sit down. The little he was here you spent avoiding him. For the first few days, he was angry too and avoidance stopped the fight he wanted to have with you. 

But a week had passed and his temper cooled. 

You were with him now. Playing housewife to the Commander. 

He felt better now that he was coming home to something, rather than just the cold. When he looked in the fridge there was food for him. His clothes were washed and prepared for him. His bed was warm at night. He made him feel less homesick.

The talk from the TV turned from the judges to Lucky the presenter. 

“Now ladies and gentlemen. We have a surprise for you tonight. We have a certain special guest gracing us. And we have given him the power to save one of your favorites from elimination! Mr Augustus Bloom won’t you please come out!” 

Coriolanus shot up from your hold to watch him. 

Augustus Bloom walked on screen wearing an expensive suit. His brown hair was slicked back and a small gold earring dangled from his ear. 

The crowd cheered for him. 

Coriolanus was stuck in District 12 dealing with half-wits and scum, while Augustus was charming the Capitol on live tv. 

He shakes hands with Lucky. 

“Mr. Bloom, a privilege to have you here tonight!” 

“A privilege to be here amongst you and away from my office.”

Lucky turns to the crowd and laughs. 

“Look at you. You good-looking man! You should be out on the town, breaking hearts!” 

Augustus laughs along with the crowd. 

“I am too busy preparing my business for when I am president of Panem. I’ll worry about women after that.” 

Coriolanus clenches his fist. 

“Oh,” Lucky turned serious to the crowd, “I think Coriolanus Snow might have something to say about that!” 

The crowd murmurs amongst themselves giving Coriolanus an air of confidence. 

A picture from his Academy days flashes up on the screen, you look at it with curiosity. He was once a young boy with soft curls, he now sat nearly unrecognizable. 

“He’s looking like a strong contender. Isn’t he handsome ladies!” He points out to the crowd, “And some gentleman.” 

Augustus had the wind knocked out of his sail. He fidgeted on stage and took a step back almost as if he was going to run away. Dr. Gaul's criticism ran through Coriolanus’ head, “a soft-bellied rich boy, not fit for the presidency.” 

Now the whole audience knew it too. 

“Snow isn’t here” he gritted through a smile. He wasn’t going down with a fight. 

“No. He’s in District 12, keeping us here in the Capitol safe. A round of applause for Commander Snow!” 

The crowd cheered causing Coriolanus to smile.

“So am I!” Augustus interrupted like a child. 

“Yes, right. I am sure one day you will!” Lucky claps him on the back and returns to the audience with an excited demeanor. 

“But of course, that’s a while yet! We are wishing our President Ravenstill all the good health in the world. Now let’s get on with the show!” 

Coriolanus switches the TV off and rests his arms on his knees. He couldn’t help but smile at Augustus' national failure. He made Coriolanus look so strong, so mysterious, and focused. He would send Lucky a fruit basket in thanks tomorrow. He would also send one to Augustus. 

“You had curls.” The young boyish figure had shocked you. 

“Yes,” he pats your knee affectionately, “When we are back in the Capitol and I am president of Panem, I’ll grow them back again.” 

==================

Coriolanus has the nightmare that night. He woke up with the tune of ‘Hanging Tree’ stuck in his head. The first thing he does is reach out to where you should have been lying only to find the space cold. Panic rushes through him. His feet thump against the floorboards as he runs from the room into the hall. Your sleeping body can be seen on the couch and he instantly relaxes. 

His body tells him he should be angry; fists clenched, shoulders up and tense, his face hot. But he couldn’t manage it. His mind was too hazy to comprehend anything but his own panic. 

Instead, he sits down on the floor beside you and tries to control his breathing. The tune hums in the back of his mind and he tries to force it out. 

“You had the nightmare again?” Your voice halts the tune. He looks over his shoulder at you with wide eyes. You finally saw the resemblance between the schoolboy with the curls. 

He gets up and pushes himself on the couch next to you. You feel his hands slide up your back, trying to hold you close but you wiggle free from his grasp. 

You would not comfort the man who kidnapped you. 

He tried to bring you back down to his chest as you crawl over him but his tired state left room for error. 

You tumble down to the floor as you escape. 

He sighs disappointed, bringing his hands up to his face. 

“Was there something wrong with the bed?” he asks. 

“I prefer the couch.” You sit on the ground next to him. 

“You prefer the bed built by Edmund.” He spat his name like it was poison. 

You look up at him warily, “I never told you that Edmund built my bed.” 

Coriolanus is silent for a minute, he sucks his teeth and sits up. 

“You didn’t have to. The wood from your door and bed match.’’

He feels settled as you sit by his feet. The panic subsides, but his anger bubbles up from it. 

“Can you make me a cup of tea?” he asks. 

With him on your bed, you couldn’t go back to sleep anyway so you rose and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. 

He watches you while sitting on the couch. He liked how you moved so comfortably in the space. You were treating it like your home. No hesitation about where things were, you used things liberally.

“What do you dream?” You ask him. 

“When I wake up it’s gone,” he lies. 

You know he carries it around with him.

“Whatever it is, it scares you.” 

The kettle whistles and you pour it over the tea bag. 

He worried that he now looks weak in front of you. The man who was supposed to be protecting you was scared of a dream like a child. He could continue with his lie but you already knew. 

Instead he tries a half-truth. 

“I dream that I am killed like my father was.” 

This peaked your interest causing him to sit up straighter under your attention. 

“How did he die?”. 

He takes the cup from you but you don’t scurry away like you usually do. You stand in front of him eager to listen to him. The attention moved his mouth, 

“Here. In District 12. A trap out in the forest during the war. He was a governor”. 

“Is that why you wanted to come back?” 

“I didn’t want to come back” he admits. He reaches up with his spare hand to lightly touch yours, “But I am glad I did.” 

“What did you do?” you feel his thumb brush over the back of your hand, “I mean, to get you sent here?” 

He takes a sip of his tea before answering, “I had an enemy in the Capitol. He disliked my father and took it out on my family”. 

“He sent you back as Commander?” 

“No. He died. Gaul sent me back for my presidential run. It looks better to be serving my country.”

You tear your hand from him, “And when they find out you brought me back to the Capitol. How will that look?” 

He places the cup on the floor and stands up to your height.

“I’ll keep you safe, okay?” he presses his forehead against yours, “In the district and in the Capitol”. 

“Safe from danger you put me in.”

Coriolanus shakes his head as you pull away from him. “You’re safe. You’ve always been safe.” 

He tried to pull you close again but you stretched out your arms to keep him at distance.  

“I wanna go home, Coriolanus.”

“Home to Edmund, perhaps?” he bites. His calm and soft features harden. 

A shiver shoots up your spine at the mention of Edmund. 

“Home to my family. The same as you.” 

He sighs, “You won’t be alone in the Capitol as you are here. You just have to put up with it just a little bit longer. We’ll be back home soon”

The Capitol was not your home nor would it ever be. 

But you knew anymore talk of home would lead to more talk of Edmund. 

“Come on. Let’s go back to bed.” You rip your elbow from his grasp as he walks past you. 

“I’m fine on the couch.” 

He rubs a hand over his mouth before bending down and picking up his tea cup. He splashes the remains on the couch and hands you the empty cup. 

“Enjoy it then.” 

—————-

The next day he comes home around lunch time. It catches you by surprise. 

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head backwards. 

You follow him without a word to the van below where officials stood around. Upon seeing him they take their place. You see Smiley by the passenger side door and he calls out for his Commander. 

Coriolanus tell Smiley to take the seat and climbs in the tray of the truck. 

He pulls you up into the van amongst the Peacekeepers. He sits on the end of the bench with you between his legs on the floor. Like a seatbelt he keeps you in place by taking a hold on your upper arms and pulling them back up on his knees. 

You can feel the glances of his officers but they look away as soon as you try to meet their eyes. 

Halfway they try to break the tension with idle chatter. 

“Will the recruits be as bad as last year?” 

“That’s couldn’t be possible.” 

The talk soon turns to anecdotes about their youthful days as Peacekeeper grunts. 

None of them try to include Coriolanus in their jests. They all willfully ignored the couple on the end. 

You don’t try to talk to him either. 

As you pass through the district the people look at the Peacekeeper van causing you to turn your head in embarrassment. You could still feel the harsh judgements from your community as you sat between the Commander's legs. How would you ever rebuild your reputation? 

The van stops in front of the tunnel to the train station. The people part in the crowd to let the van through. 

Coriolanus releases you to unhook the bolts from the backn of the truck. None of the other Peacekeepers move until he does. He jumps down from the bed of the truck and turns back around to help you down. They all wait until you are down and out of the way before they follow. 

It’s busy, too busy for a normal docking of fresh recruits. All of the road and tunnel leading to the train station were overrun by bodies. 

 District people flood the space, all chatting loudly in a panic. They part as the line of Peacekeepers march through. 

Normally on orientation day, the newcomers to District 12 were given a wide berth. People had better things to do then get a glimpse of the faces that would soon be terrorizing them. 

You wondered what peaked their excitement today. What had Coriolanus done that both you and the district people had to see?

Coriolanus drags you down the dark tunnel into the light of the train station. The talk quitened but didn’t stop altogether. 

You screamed upon seeing the commotion. 

Edmund. 

He was badly beaten and tied to a sturdy metal pole that kept the roof up. A bulls-eye was spray painted an inch above his head.

Blood soaked his face to the point you almost didn’t recognize him. 

Large black bruises covered his exposed skin.

You turn to Coriolanus who was already looking at you and beg him to release Edmund. 

“Please, Coriolanus. Let him go.”

“He threw the first punch.”

You knew it had less to do with causing Coriolanus physical harm than it did with damaging his ego and need for control. Your neighbors were shown that the Commander bleeds like any other man. 

“He learnt his lesson.” you promise. 

“Have you learnt yours?”

Only ten young boys disembark from the train.  They were all thin with a badly-shaved buzzcut and carrying a Capitol issued duffle bag. 

You wanted to run over to Edmund. Protect him somehow. But you couldn’t, it was your protection that got him here in the first place. 

“Gentlemen, welcome to District 12.” 

Coriolanus stood by your side while another officer went in front of the line of boys. 

“This is Edmund Flare,” he gestures to Edmund at the post, “A known rebel sympathizer, and a troubled citizen of District 12.”

Another Peacekeeper runs over and passes the man a gun. You grab Coriolanus' arm in protest. 

“More likely than not, you will have to shoot Edmund one day in service of your country. We figured today we would give you the opportunity to save yourself the trouble in the future.”   

The first young boy is given the gun. 

“You get one shot before you have to wait for that day to naturally come.’’

Edmund holds his head up high to show he is not afraid. But you were. You were terrified. A strong urge to go over and rip the gun out of the young boys hands presented itself but you knew you would be pulled back before you could even stand close enough to touch him, 

The boy checks the gun for the trigger, earning a laugh from everyone but you and Coriolanus. 

Eventually he finds it, and he takes aim. 

The shot misses by a mile. 

“Coriolanus please.” He remains emotionless, watching the scene before him. He stood as if it was a street performance, hands clasped behind his back and perfect posture to get a good view.

“Wait! Wait!” you call out but the men continue. Another boy steps up and takes the gun. 

He takes less time to examine the gun before firing a shot. Edmund flinches as it wizzes past his shoulder. 

‘‘Coriolanus! Stop this. Just please stop, untie hi-”

The next shot is fired causing you to spin around to ensure that Edmund was still standing. He was tall and stupidly proud. 

“I’ll never forgive you if one of them hurt him!” you threaten but it doesn’t even earn you a glance. 

“Do you love him?”

“No” you answered firmly and fast, “No, Coriolanus. Please stop.” 

Another shot is taken. 

“Because if you loved him now would be the time to tell me, because I would hate to break apart lovers.”

The third shot lands next to Edmunds boot. You felt physically sick watching the scene. Your legs shook and would soon give way. 

The men start to whoop and cheer the young recruits on. It gives the next young boy confidence to take a step closer to take his shot but it misses all the same.  

You can’t tear your eyes off Edmund as the next recruit takes aim. They look each other in the eyes. Never spoken a word and already enemies. 

The shot is taken but wizzes past Edmunds head.

You shake your head no. You knew telling him that you loved Edmund would sign his death certificate. 

“He’s my brother's friend, Coriolanus. We grew up together.”

The next shot hit the pole but not the target, causing you to yelp. 

Loud cheering snapped you out of your daze. Begging would get you nowhere. 

Instead you take his shoulders into your arms and turn him towards you.

“He looked after me before you. I would have been dead long before you got to me if it wasn’t for him”. 

Coriolanus throws his eyes back to Edmund which was not the desired effect. 

You change positions, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling his attention back down to you.

“I didn’t tell him that you’d taken his role. The other night he was just trying to protect me as you would’ve.” 

He finally looks down at you.

“Please, don’t kill him, Coriolanus. I could never forgive myself.” Your voice begins to shake. You were so nervous for Edmunds safety. Your knees buckled and tears threatened to spill from your eyes. 

He takes the side of your face into his hands. 

“Do you love him?” 

You shake your head feverishly, “No, Coriolanus.” 

“Do you love him?” You feel his fingers tighten on your face. 

“Yes.” you admit. 

“Do you love me?”

Through gritted teeth a ‘yes’ resounds. 

“More than him?” 

A shot whizzed into the crowd as the new recruit lost control of the gun and Coriolanus pulled his body over yours. 

The officers scold the boy. Taking the waving  gun away. The shot landed into the train station wall but it was a close call for those standing in front of it.

He removes your arms from him and you watch him walk over to the officer holding the gun. 

He takes it and aims at Edmund who stood straight and tall. 

You shrink as the gun fires. Unable to look, you cover your face with your hands. 

The cheering made no impact on your confidence. You couldn’t hear Edmund from their excitement. So you reluctantly open your eyes to see him still standing. 

The bullet had made it straight to the middle of the painted target. 

Coriolanus stood taking aim still, as if he was still considering firing another shot. 

Edmund stared back, almost daring him. 

“Commander.” you call. You don’t call him by his name, not in front of people. 

Coriolanus lowers the gun but keeps his eyes on Edmund as he speaks, 

“Load them up and head back to the compound.” he passes the gun to the closest officer and turns back to where you stood. 

“Cut him loose.” he calls back. 

When he tosses his arm around you and pulls you back to the truck, you turn back to see Edmund surrounded by Peacekeepers. 

People mummer as you walk past but your ears buzzed too loudly to hear a word. 

You felt so weak as you walked. You thought you were going to collapse before you could make it to the van. But with Coriolanus’s strong hold on you, you made it back. 

He climbs in first and reaches down to pull you up. He sits you on his knee instead of on the ground and you watch as the peacekeepers, old and new, return to the truck. 

You don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed as eyes locked into you. 

No one said anything to Coriolanus on the way back. 

As soon as the truck opens back in the compound, you are the first to jump out. You hear Coriolanus footsteps as he followed you back to the apartment.

You immediately take a seat at the kitchen table and Coriolanus gets you a cup of water. You stare at it in front of you. 

“Edmund died today, as far as you are concerned.” 

Closing your eyes to the image of him, you nod your head. 

He could hear Coriolanus moving around the apartment but you couldn’t care what he was doing. 

When he slams something down in front of you, you open your eyes to see a piece of paper and a pen. 

“I want you to write to your brother and tell him about us.” 

You couldn’t. Your brother was hot headed, and powerless. He would cause only problems for himself trying to get back. 

“What would be the point? He is over in District 8.”

“My family are in the Capitol, yet they know about you.”

Shock strikes you knowing that his family knew of Coriolanus’s actions. 

“Write to him,” he pushes, “tell him that we are together. How you feel.” 

You pen a half-hearted letter about how you met a man. Coriolanus, you called him, Not Commander Snow. You tell him how you miss him, and that your mother is okay. That Coriolanus is ensuring that your basic needs are met. Don’t worry, you tell him, you’re perfectly safe.

Coriolanus reads it after you are done before folding it and placing it in his pocket. 

He slides another piece of paper over in front of you. 

“Now write to Tigris and my grandmother. Tigris suggested it would make you feel better, already knowing someone in the Capitol.”

You pick up the pen and write again, but your mind remains on the image of Edmund being used as target practice. You make yourself a promise that you would never meet his cousin or his grandmother. Their letters are as close as they will get before you could escape.

—------

Coriolanus amped up his work schedule even more. Eager to break free from his responsibilities and solve the mystery of Lucy Gray. 

You were left alone at night which was preferable to his company but you felt yourself going crazy with only your own company. 

You tried to keep a routine to fill the day. It was mostly taken up by cleaning tasks. 

After dinner you would wash and dry the dishes, wipe the countertops and table and sweep and mop the floor. Then you would retire to the living room with your sewing or polishing work until it was time for bed. 

There is a quiet tapping on the window disturbing you from securing the buttons on Coriolanus’s shirt. 

No fear ran through you wondering who it could be. They couldn’t get in to harm you anyway. So you peer out from the window. 

“Edmund” you gasp. 

His left eye was blackened, a large bruise formed around the bloodshot vessels. A purple bruise marked his cheek and there was a cut on his right eyebrow. 

“How did you get in?”

He hold a pair of wire cutters up to the window. 

“Are you okay? God I was so worried about you.”

“Ah,” Edmund smiles and replaces the wire cutters with a small knife from his pocket, “Takes more than that.” 

“What are you doing?” you hiss. If Coriolanus found him, there was no way Edmund would escape death a second time. 

“Getting you out of here.” 

“You can’t be here. He’ll be home soon.”

“I know. I’ve been here every night since i’ve been well enough.  I told you, you’re not alone.”

“The Peacekeepers-’’

“There’s a fifteen minute window where this section is blind.” The lock wiggles but resists being opened under pressure, “And he just entered the infantry to wish our poor peacekeepers a speedy recovery. We have time.” 

The door was determined to chew most of it up, however. 

“Edmund, what did he do to you?” his face was swollen from the bruising, and you could see large black and purple spots peeking out from under his shirt. 

“The day after he took you, he sent Peacekeepers to my home. They took me back to the compound and showed me some ‘hospitality’”. 

“Edmund,I am so sorry,” you begin to cry, “I never should have taken the oat bars to the jail.” 

You remembered the day at the market that set off the chain of events. 

You remember seeing the man, he stood out amongst the crowd. Dirty, torn clothes. An arm missing, no doubt from the district's mining work. There wasn’t much work for men outside of it. 

A sense of pity overwhelmed you, so when he swiped a loaf of bread off the table, you looked the other way. Unfortunately a watchful Peacekeeper did not. 

The man's plea echoed through your mind as he was taken away; “Please, I am so hungry.” 

It led you to making the oat bars not only for him, but for all the others punished for their hunger. 

You remembered a rumor that there was a hole at the west end of the jail for the Peacekeepers to sneak out from, and women of the night to sneak in. You were surprised to find out it was actually true. 

“This is not your fault, okay. I am going to get you outta here, and we’ll go to the mountains okay? Where it’s safe. Like planned.”

You nod your head. 

The door jingles as Edmund tries to force it open with his knife. It doesn’t bulge.

“Edmund, my mother, is she okay?”

“She’s okay. She’s already up the mountains.”

“How? She could barely walk?”

“I carried her.” 

The guilt came crashing down on you. Edmund had his own family to look after. They wouldn’t survive without him. 

“Edmund. Stop. I can get the key,” you weren’t sure if you actually could, “You need to go. Just tell me where you cut the hole.” 

He stops trying to wedge the door with the knife so you could hear him clearly. 

“There’s three big bins out by the back,” he points to the direction, “I cut a hole behind the middle one. It’ll take you to the south forest. I’ll wait there.” 

“No,” you interject, “No. Wait for me in the mountains.” 

He rolls his eyes and picks up his work of jamming his knife in the door. 

“You’ll never make it up the mountain by yourself.” 

“At home then! Just stay away from here.” 

The plea was for both you and him. 

“You can get the key and get out?” He asks in a serious tone, looking at you once more. 

“Yes.” you confirm. 

He sighs as he pockets his knife, “When?” 

The Commander kept his keys by the night stand. You think you could remember which one opened the door. 

“Soon.” 

“A week. I’ll give you a week before I come back with something stronger.” 

You nod your head in agreement.

“Thank you, Edmund.” 

“You’re my girl.” he remarks as it was an obvious motivation for his work. 

You shiver at his words. 

————

You don’t sleep well at night so you have taken to having naps while Coriolanus is at work. He is home more often now. He had got ahead of a considerable amount of work which meant nights were spent together. 

Most nights he would take you walking around the compound for fresh air after dinner. You tried to memorize the key he used to unlock the door but there were so many that all looked the same. You wondered how he even knew.

He is anxious now that he found out you were sleeping in the living room and has taken to chaining you together as you slept. He cuffed one of his wrists and one of yours, making sleep impossible as he basically slept on top of you now. 

It was only three days after Edmunds promise, that you woke from your nap with the sight of Coriolanus packing your clothes into a bag. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

Was he moving you to your own apartment? 

He drops the bag and comes over to sit next to you on the bed. 

“Hey,” he greets “You need to get up now. We are going to go away for the weekend.”

You sit up away from him, “Where are we going?”

Vacations were not a thing in District 12. 

“The Capitol?” you guessed. 

“No, not the Capitol.” 

You sigh in relief. Still he had not answered your question. 

“Where then?” 

He gets up from the bed and zips the bag up. 

“Do you not trust me?”

You get up from the bed to see he had laid a dress on the end of the bed for you. 

‘‘I just want to know where we are going.” 

“You took me to a special place, and now I want to take you somewhere, okay?”

Throwing the duffle bag filled with spare clothes for you and him, over his shoulder he exits the room. 

You change and his way out to the living room. There would be no point in fighting. You were going to find out where he was taking you at some point. 

The living room was empty, but the door swung wide. 

With the door being left open for you, you took the stairs down to where Coriolanus was loading the back of a patrolling truck. 

You saw a small cooler of food, one of the old pans, bedding and pillows, a small bag of toiletries and the clothes bag. He had packed in a hurry. The bags were thrown in without care. They were far apart from each other and more items than not were upside down.

“We’re not coming back?” you ask. 

“We’ll stay a night or two.” Or however long it takes to find Lucy Gray’s body.

He holds open the door and you follow his silent command to get in. You spot the rifle tucked between the seat and the console. It makes you rethink your decision of complacency. 

“My special place didn’t need a gun.”

He takes your arm and gently pushes you forward into the car, but you tug back against him. 

“It’s nothing. Just a precaution.” 

He gently pushes you again to move. 

“Get in.” he barks. 

“No.”

He takes a harsh grip this time on your arm and leads you back to the cage where Peacekeepers kept people who disturbed the peace.

He pushed you into the small space amongst the bags. 

It was big enough that you could sit with your back against the wall but it would only leave an inch of space between your head and the roof. The back was caged in so the rebels couldn’t reach the officers in front, and the length was long enough to fit three or four rebels at one time. Albeit a tad uncomfortably. 

You bang on the metal divide as he slams the door shut and begins to drive. 

“Coriolanus, you don’t have to do this. I could just go home.” 

He drives through the middle of the district to the out of bounds forest, where Peacekeepers were waiting armed and ready by the electric fence line. They buzz the parting gate open and seal it shut again once the car passes. 

Past the gate, it was just you and him. What would he want to take you to a secluded forest for. A million reasons run through your mind and they all end with you dead. 

“How are you doing back there?” he calls from the front. The car as it powers through the harsh conditions almost drowns him out. 

“Where are you taking me?” you demand to know, “What’s out past the boundary line that you set up?”

Was he hiding something out there? Was that the reason he set up the fence? Not to keep people contained but to hide something. 

“There’s a cabin I know of. There’s a lake too. I think you’ll like it.”

You watch from the front window, looking out for landmarks that could lead you back home. The dark clouds that roll fourth threaten to destroy anything you can remember. 

The path to the cabin is ingrained in his mind since he walked back a different man. He weaved through the gaps in the forest without looking at his father’s compass. 

“Did Lucy Gray like it?” 

He ignores your comment and you don’t speak again. 

—---

When you reach the cabin it is old and run down. Vines cover the walls of the house, patching up the rotten wood. 

Coriolanus seemed nervous to be there. His hand flexes as it reaches for you.

The door had been sealed shut with moisture and it took three hard shoulder charges from Coriolanus to get it open. He invites you in with a hand on your shoulder, shutting the door behind you before retaking your hand in his.

You could smell the dust as you stood in the small living room. The cabin was small and colorless. Mostly everything was made from wood. From the small kitchen table and chairs to the bed you could see in the adjacent room. The only thing that was metal was an old fire stove, and a few decorative pieces.  

Leaves had blown in from holes in the roof scattering the floor. The place looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. You would have thought the place was abandoned since its creation if there weren’t bags upon the floor. Despite its appearance, someone had been here before you and Coriolanus. 

He lets go of you to rush over to the bags. He unzips one and pulls out a colorful dress. The way he lets out a laughy breath sends shivers down your spine. 

“Lucy Gray’s?” you ask but you already know the answer. He had taken her here to kill her, maybe under the guise of running away together, and now he has taken you here to kill you. 

Coriolanus shrugs as if he doesn’t know and shoves the dress back in the bag. 

“Whoever it belongs to is long gone.” 

He continues to look through the bags for anything missing while you glance at the door. 

You think about making a run for it. Surely you would have a better chance in the forest then against him. You feel your feet slowly turning in the direction of the door when his speaking interrupts you. 

“I’ll take this junk outside.” he gathers the bags, slinging one over his shoulder and carrying the other two in his hands. 

You don’t speak as he comes over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, noticing your uptight demeanor. 

“Fine. You?” Was he being driven to a quiet rage with thoughts of Lucy Gray?

“Perfect.”

He places a quick kiss to your lips before carrying the bags outside. 

You look at the gun on the floor. If you ran now while he was busy outside it would give you a head start. Surely he would need to come back to get the gun before chasing you. He couldn’t do it with his bare hands. 

You could feel his hands around your throat and knew he could. 

You bolt through the door and down the old steps but run into him as he comes back up. 

He had only taken to throwing the old bags by the side of the house, planning to sink them alongside of the guns in the lake at a later point. 

“Whoa” he stops you with his hands, “Where are you going?”

“The bags. To get the bags out of the car.” 

He looks out to the forest as if he had heard something. 

“Get back inside. I’ll get them.” 

You watch him from the window bring the items in. He was cautious and kept glancing at the forest. 

You did not want to end up a ghost among the forest with Lucy Gray. You wanted to live. To go up to the mountains with Edmund and be shielded in his arms. 

As Coriolanus finished his second trip with the bags, he used an old chair still there and pinned it under the door handle to prevent it from opening. 

You promised yourself that you would make it to the mountains. Coriolanus would not kill you and bury your body next to Lucy Gray. 

You felt as if you were in the Hunger Games.

You were going to be the victor.

Coriolanus looked unbothered by these thoughts as he tried to light a fire in the old stove. 

He gets it going and as he puts his matches back in, he notices you still in a tense form. 

“It’s only for tonight. We’ll go home tomorrow afternoon.”

“Will we?” you spat. “Why are we here anyway?” 

‘To kill me. Say it, you coward’, you thought. 

“It’s quiet,’’ he suggests, “Some place quiet where we can be alone.”

“Is this where you took Lucy Gray?”

He slams a pan down on top of the hot surface. 

“I didn’t know Lucy Gray. I’ve told you.”  He opens a pack of sausages and throws them down without care before tossing the leftover garlic potatoes you cooked the night before in as well. 

“Did you bury her out here?” you push. 

He ignores you. Pushing around a sausage with the knife he used to cut open the packet. 

“Are you going to bury me out here?”

“I have never hurt you.”

“You starved me, hit me, nearly killed my mother. You call that not hurting me?” 

You felt your blood boiling. It was one thing to make your life a living hell, it was another to deny he did it. 

He drops the knife and turns to face you. 

“Have you starved under me? Has your mother?” he hits his chest with his next words, “You eat because of me. You sleep in a bed that I paid for. I provide for you. Me.” 

He stalks towards you causing you to stumble back. You hit a wall but feel a rusted piece of metal under your fingertips. You grab it from the desk but keep it low from his sight. 

“Everything has happened to you because you strayed, and you want me to apologize for it?”

“I want you to admit to what you did.” What you are about to do, so I don’t feel guilty. 

He grabs hold of the bar and pulls it from you. 

“I did not kill Lucy Gray,” he said earnestly. But he wished he had. 

He throws the rusted object across the room and it lands with a heavy clang. 

“And I am not going to kill you. You don’t think you’ve done enough already to get yourself hanged? I protected you from that. Not Edmund.”

Your breath hitches as you hear his name. 

The smell of burning and sounds of angry popping infiltrates the room. Coriolanus leaves you to deal with it. The sausages were charred on one side but raw on the other. After a quick flip, Coriolanus returned his attention to you. 

“Sit on the ground, by my boots.’’

You eye your weapon on the other side of the room but he was stronger, faster, you would never get it and wield it in time. Night time would be the best chance of escape. The cabin had no lock on it, and you were sure you could make it to the mountains from here. But first you had to get Coriolanus off his guard. He still carried his cuffs with him. Escape would be impossible if you were locked in place. 

So you sit on the ground and wrap yourself around his leg as he cooks. 

He liked the feeling of you anchoring him. It made him feel secure. 

He cooks in silence, tossing the items in the pan so they wouldn’t burn. Cutting a sausage in half, he could see it was done, but he had forgotten plates. 

Instead he takes the pan off the stove and carefully sits down across from you on the floor. The pan sizzles as it is placed between you on the floor. It didn’t matter if it burnt the wooden floor. The cabin was so run down, it hardly made a difference. Coriolanus pokes a potato with his knife and brings it up to you. 

He wouldn’t give you the knife after the pipe incident. You bite the hot potato off and Coriolanus had his turn. 

You could tell the rocky temper was still floating around in him. He had calmed but his face still spoke of his annoyance. His necklace overlaid his shirt, your ring called out to you. 

“Give me your dog tag.”

“What?” he responds. 

“If you’re not going to kill me, then let me wear your necklace. I’ll give it back at the compound, but if you do kill me, you’ll be forced to wear your guilt around your neck.”

You wanted your ring back before you left him forever. 

“I am not going to kill you.” he sighs, taking a bite of sausage. 

“Then give me the necklace.”

You hold your hand out for it, which Coriolanus eyes. 

Dropping the knife into the pan, he maneuvers the tag of his neck, bypassing your hand and dropping it over your head. 

You felt the ring scratch you as it landed. 

“Happy now? Will you stop acting crazy?”

You hold the pendants in your hand and nod in agreement

. 

The rest of the night was uneventful. He sets up lamps as it darkens and teaches you a card game. You lost every round, even the ones he tried to let you win. It was a strategy game and you didn’t have the head for it.

The game only lasted an hour before you were helping Coriolanus set up the bed. He had brought along air beds from the Capitol that inflated and deflated by a push of a button. He pushes them together and you made a bed out of the queen sized bedwear from the apartment. 

As he went to sleep with you wrapped safely in his arm, he thought about how he was going to get you to stay inside while he went searching the woods.

He couldn’t tell you what he was looking for or who he was looking for. Nor could he take you with him under the guise of a leisurely walk. If Lucy Gray was out there he didn’t want you anywhere near her. He knew there were four more other cabins in these woods. Just because she hadn’t come back for her mother’s dress, didn’t mean she wasn’t out there. If anything, if she was alive it would be the last place she went back to. She was smart, she would have known that Coriolanus would one day come back to find the mystery of Lucy Gray. She was probably trying to throw him off her scent. 

You wiggle, pulling the blanket higher over you and it brings his attention closer to home.

Maybe he could lock you in the back of the car while he searched. 

He decided he was going to do something nice for you after this. For putting you through it all. Get your measurements and commission Tigris for a new dress, perhaps. Or buy you a necklace of your own. 

 Maybe both. He had the money for it for the first time in his life. And he did owe you an apology and a thank you for being here with him tonight. 

He could see how scared you were thinking that your protector was turning against you. After yesterday, he perhaps should have waited a day or two before taking you away. He at least  should have been more gentle in the approach, so you didn’t think he would harm you for his anger towards Edmund. 

Coriolanus understood him in a way that saved him from being shot. He was just looking out for you, the same way Coriolanus would have. He and Edmund both wanted to take care of you but your heart only had place for one. And that spot rightfully, and wholly belonged to Coriolanus Snow. Edmund did his job of keeping you alive for Coriolanus and he was rewarded when the bullet went behind him and not into his skull. But now it was Coriolanus’s turn and both Edmund and you needed to learn that. 

Coriolanus mind slowed as you stilled beneath him. 

You will yourself to be still. You count your breaths out to mime sleeping. Coriolanus’s hold on your shoulder falls as he sleeps but you don’t make a move just yet. Half-scared that he would wake when you got up. 

It wasn’t until it started to pour rain that you decided to stop stalling and make a move. 

Carefully you rose, and the chains of his arms fell off you. The rain pelting down covered the sound of the air mattress as you moved off it. 

The rain, as it turns out, was a blessing and not a punishment. 

You had left your boots and dress next to you for easy access. Stripping yourself of your nightdress, you quickly change and tie up your boots. 

Coriolanus had taken to sleeping in his underpants, now that you weren’t in a position to indirectly persuade him to dress in his nightwear. He liked the feeling of skin to skin with you but you beg him to keep his t-shirt on. You hated the feeling of his skin pressed against yours. He obliged. 

Your boots squeak against the old floor boards as you walk across it to the door. Causing you to wince at every step, but you do manage to reach the door without waking him.

You try to gently tug the chair from under the door but it was jammed. Turning back to see him still sleeping, you tug a bit harder, but only the door knob jiggles. You cringe as he moves slightly on his back. You would have a harder time escaping the compound than here. There were no armed guards or sniffing dogs. Just you and him, and you had a head start. You had to pluck up the courage now. 

The chair scraps against the floor but you manage to get it free. 

There is a second where nothing moves or makes sound. You almost think you got away scot-free.

“What are you doing?” You hear his voice and turn to see him sitting up dazed. 

Your answer is the throwing open of the door and running out. You hear him jump up as you do. 

He yanks on his Commander’s pants and boots, leaving the laces untied. 

It was too late by the time he got out you were nowhere to be seen. 

He felt his heart jump from his chest. This couldn’t be happening.  It was just a bad dream that he would wake from. But the icy water pouring down on him told him that it was true. You had betrayed him like Lucy Gray. 

Lucy Gray. What if she was out in the woods where you ran? She was the victor of the hunger games, you were a lost lamb. You wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She would tear you to shreds if she thought she could get back at Coriolanus. 

He thinks about returning to the cabin and retrieving his gun but you were already too far out of reach. 

He yells out for you. 

The rain poured down soaking you to the bone, but covered your tracks as you ran. 

“Y/N!” he screams. You battle the rain as you ran through the forest. Pushing yourself to go faster. 

“Hey, it’s dangerous out here. Lets go back to the cabin. Talk about this.” 

His wild eyes scan the area for any sign of movement. The rain hindered his vision but he could hear the faint sound of branches snapping under your foot. 

“Do you honestly think you can run from me? That I won’t find you?” 

You don’t answer and he screams out some more

“Y/N! Come out now! This isn’t funny!” 

You stumble as your dress caught on a tree, it grazes your arm as you pull, leaving a nasty cut. 

He screams loudly out of frustration. The rain seemed to slow down to a trickle as he did, as if it was also scared.  

“You stupid, little girl” you can hear him as he walks, he was catching up. You couldn’t outrun him so you slowed your pace, focusing your efforts on hiding. 

“When I catch you…” he doesn’t finish his sentence. 

You press yourself against the tree. Your arm stung from the cut and your lungs burned from your efforts. 

“Hey, who do you think will reach your mother first?” he taunts. 

 You knew it wouldn’t be him. She was safe in the mountains and soon you would be too. 

“Y/N. That’s enough.” 

You slink to the next tree and focus on quieting your breathing. His footsteps got louder as he gained ground. 

“Y/N, I said that’s enough!”  He picks up a large tree branch and walks forward with it. 

“You’re going to get lost in the forest. There’s worse things than me out there.” 

He imagined you wandering, lost amongst the trees. Lucy Gray, savage and wild, following you. You wouldn’t see her as a threat when she introduced herself. You were too sweet. You would willingly follow her back to wherever she was hiding and by the time you sense the danger of her, it would be too late. 

He needed to find you. To make sure you were alright. That Lucy Gray hadn’t got her hands on the only pure thing in his life. 

“Look it’s not too late. We can just forget this happened. Go back to the compound.” he offers but you knew it wasn’t true. 

You hold your brother's ring in your hand and make an attempt to move forward. 

You made it to the next tree but hear Coriolanus stop walking. 

With the rain slowing, it was harder not to make a noise. 

A loud banging spooked you as he threw the wood against the tree you were hiding behind. You knew you should have stayed still, he was only testing, but your feet took off before your mind could command them not too. 

He felt better seeing you run off. You ran uninjured and with no one following you. 

He takes off after you, determined not to lose sight again.

Both of you run through the forest and rain. You felt as though he might eat you alive if he caught you, but he was faster. All too soon, you feel hands on your waist, pulling you down. You scream as you sink into the mud, trashing under his weight.

He sits on your thighs and keeps your hands pinned against the dirt floor. 

“What were you thinking?” He spat. You had never seen him look so upset. His face scrunched, eyebrows furrowed, his eyes looked down at you in a crazy panic. 

“How could you be so stupid?” 

You toss under him, screaming at him to release you. 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” 

You kick your feet in an attempt to buck him off, but he was too heavy. 

“Shut up,” he grabs your jaw and stills it in his direction, “You stupid, stubborn, fool of a girl. What was your plan? Huh? Wander around the forest and hope you make it back to District 12?”

You don’t answer and he tightens his hold. 

“It was foolish. What if something got you in the forest?’’

What if Lucy Gray got you in the forest. 

“Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?” 

“I don’t care,” you cry. 

“You don’t care?” he says, astonished.

He sits back off you and pulls you up by your arms. 

“When you were hungry, I cared.” he pulled you along back to the cabin. 

“When you didn’t have money for rent, I cared.” You wriggle your arm, but his hold was too tight. 

“Clothes for the winter, medicine for your mother. I cared. And what do I get for it?”

You latch yourself onto a tree. It grounds you as he tries to tug you off it. 

“All I ever wanted from you was for you to care.” 

He yanks you off the tree and shoves you forward. 

“You would think after everything, I would be entitled to it.” 

“Coriolanus, please let go of me.” you buck against him. 

He tightens his hold, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground. 

He throws you across the floor as you reenter the cabin, going to get his cuffs from his bag. You scramble away from him as he gets closer but he stands over you, trapping your wrist in the cuff and hooking it around the leg of the oven and then trapping your wrists. 

He stood back over you.

“Look at you,” he spat, “You wouldn’t have lasted the night out there.” 

The cut on your arm bleed down, your hair was tangled with twigs and mud. You looked pitiful. 

“Let me go, Coriolanus. I won’t tell anyone.”

He lowers himself down to the ground, placing his knees either side of you. He places the weight of him on your legs. You hated the feeling, as now you were fully immobilized.

He speaks slowly and dangerously with your face in his hands. 

“If you ever try to leave me again, there will be nothing you could do that would save Edmund”.

Do you understand?” 

You nod, but it seemed to anger him. 

“I asked if you understood,” he yells. 

“Yes. Yes. I understand.” 

“How stupid could you be? So worried about me killing you, you decide to do it yourself.” 

“I wasn’t thinking,” you just wanted him to get off you. His weight was crushing. 

“I doubt you’ve ever thought something useful in your life. Use to everybody else doing it for you.” 

His hands tangle in your hair forcing you to keep still. 

“I’ll do your thinking for you from now on. Your next independent thought, I’ll smash from your skull, understand?” 

“Yes.” you cry. The night proved too much for you. The hope of getting away now crushed under his foot. 

Your chest heaves with sobs. The panic of being a sitting duck waiting to be killed courses through you, it was a choking sensation. 

He takes his wet form off of you and towards the door. 

The night was getting to him too. He felt as if history was repeating itself. Back in the forest with little control.  

He goes to the side of the house where the bags layed and stuffed them with as many heavy rocks as he could find. 

They were heavy as he picked them back up and takes the old boat out to the middle of the lake. The bags sink easily with the rocks, and join the guns at the bottom. His past was officially buried. He now only had the future to look forward to. A future with him as President of Panem, and you by his side. 

He rows the boat back to shore. The rain soaked him again and his shirt clung uncomfortably on his skin. It sticks the cold to his chest and his mind floats back to you inside. You were sure to catch a cold if he didn’t move fast. 

Entering the house, he could see he was correct from the way your body shivered. 

Wiping off the water from his face with his soaked shirt, he goes to his bag and pulls out a fresh shirt for himself. He could still hear you crying as he changed into dry shirt and underpants. 

He takes one of his long sleeve off-duty button ups and a towel he wanted to be used from swimming in the lake and brings them over to you. 

He had brought you a spare change of clothes but after tonight he felt like he needed the extra security and you needed a extra reminder. 

You flinch as he drops down on his knees. 

“I am going to uncuff you so you can change.” 

You sniffle and he takes it as confirmation to move. With your hands unlocked, you battle with Coriolanus over your clothes. He grasps the end of your dress, beginning to hike it up but you push down the fabric. 

“I can-” you manage. 

“I do the thinking for you, remember.” 

You don’t fight as he yanks the wet dress over you, throwing it behind him carelessly. He keeps his eyes as forward as he can as he slides the sleeves up your arms. Only looking down as he does up the buttons. It was oddly gentlemanly and you wonder if he did it for his sake or yours. 

“Stop,” you beg, as you feel his fingers hook over the elastic of your underwear. He doesn’t, going as far as to help you put on a fresh pair. He cuffs you once more to the oven before bringing one of the blankets and pillows back over. 

He lays the blanket over you without a word and props the pillow under your head before returning to makeshift bed. 

He lays on his side away from you, but you gather he doesn’t sleep, as an hour or so later he brings his pillow and blanket and curls up against your side. 

He gets his rest, but you are left in a state of shock that hinders your sleep. 

————-

Early the next morning you woke from the sound of Coriolanus stomping in the kitchen. He was eating beef jerky for breakfast. You wake with the sight of him leaning back against the wood counter, towards you. You try to sit up as much as you can while being tied down. 

Looking at the food, your stomach grumbles. 

“Hungry?” he asks. 

You nod in hope that mercy would be given to you. 

None was.

“Imagine how hungry you would be lost in the woods.”

“I would have made it back.” you contend. 

He strips off another piece as he answers, “You would be dead if I didn’t find you.” 

He throws the packet on the counter. It sits unbalanced on the side. 

“Are we going home?” You saw the bags were neatly packed in a pile and you thought calling the compound ‘home’ might earn you some beef jerky. 

“I have something I have to do. We’ll be back by this afternoon.” 

“What do you have to do?” 

“None of your business.” he snaps. 

The conversation ended as he walks over to the bags and picked up his gun that was resting against them. 

You watch him, dressed down in his white t-shirt and army pants, as he swings his rifle over his shoulder. 

“I’ll be back soon.” he comments, half way out the door. 

He walks through the forest at a slow pace. Careful not to miss the smallest bit of detail. 

Retracing the steps of that day, he makes it to where he was bitten by the snake. 

Time had overtaken the hunting ground. There was now grass where the earth once was.The branches and trees had healed from the damage done. 

He eyes the place where he attempted to shoot Lucy Gray and aims his gun like he did. 

He half-expected to see her in the space waiting for him, but it was just ground again. No clues were left for him to find.

There was no rotten smell overtaking his nose. No scrap of clothing left for him to find, or anything to indicate human life had been moving through the forest. 

He continues to walk through. 

The mockingjays squawk above him. If he was a better shot, he would have taken the time to kill at least some of them. But you would hear the gunfire and panic. 

With no sign of Lucy Gray, he continues his way up to the other cabins. He searches each one but they look untouched and run down. The heat of the sun beats down on him as he makes his way back. It was early afternoon by the time he had satisfied himself that Lucy Gray was nowhere in the woods. She could have made it back to District 12, but it was unlikely. He kept tabs on the Covey for months after he got back. He surely would have known if they were hiding her. She must have gone north like planned. He wondered if she made it, or if her body is now one with the earth. 

Either way, she was gone and Coriolanus could shake her from his memory. 

When he returned back to the cabin, you were busy yanking on your chains. 

He presses the point of the gun into your ankle, pinning it against the floor. You don’t try moving  under threat. He slides the gun slowly up your leg, over your calf, over your knee, inching up to the middle of your thigh under his shirt. You pulled against your chains, but don't verbally acknowledge you were scared. 

“Open your legs wider.” he demands. Instead you squeeze your thighs tighter together. 

He pushes the gun with more force against you. 

“I am in a very good mood. You would hate to ruin that wouldn’t you?” 

Deciding you would, you separate your legs. He nestles himself between you, pulling you closer by your thighs so your legs are past his hips. 

Thankfully the gun settles on the floor.

“I think we should talk about last night.” 

You shake your head no and he gives you a serious look. 

“Every time I give you an inch, you take a mile.” 

“I thought you were going to kill me.” 

“I have been nothing but patient and kind to you.”

You wanted to laugh at him but forced it down. It was not too late for you to end up dead in the forest. 

“I know, Coriolanus. And I am sorry. It’s just no one has ever cared for me like this before”. 

He laughs gently at you, “You’re trying at least.”

“It scared me. But if you give me another chance, I promise I won’t disappoint you.” 

He lays his body down on yours, keeping his weight off you by planking on his elbows. 

“You can have as many chances as it takes.” he promises, softly.

“Just one more.” you return in the same small voice. 

He kisses you as if you had earnestly promised to live up to his expectations. 

But really what you promised is that you would allow yourself one more chance of escape before he made good on his promise to kill your mother and Edmund. If you lead to their death, then you would follow them shortly after. 

---------------------------

NEXT CHAPTER

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[pedge-page]

Plushies 5 - Piggy

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Plushies Series Masterlist but Can be read as standalone

^^Story is not nearly as serious as the gif--its just the knife bit that counts.

Summary: Date night starts with being hungry--but ends with a different kind of hunger.

Warnings: Plushie humping, unconventional toy in the bedroom, unprotected sex, daddy kink, doggy, cowgirl/riding, degrading and praise, lots of giggles at the end, mentions of a fight, cum eating, creampie, a little Protective!Joel, comedic dumbassery for these two as usual

18+ ONLY

- - - -

When you and Joel occasionally decide to treat yourself for an all out dinner, sometimes it’s a lovely table service, nice dress occasion, with a sexy glass of wine and 5 pieces of cutlery—and other times it’s at the Hungry Pot with a giant cheese smothered greasy loaded brisket and bottomless coke/root beer floats. Tonight was a Hungry Pot night. And while you were excited to indulge Joel’s starving belly after a long and physically taxing day, having him nearly start a fight at the bar only 10 minutes after the two of you were seated wasn’t exactly the date you wanted.

Not that the night was ruined at all. It’s not his fault you get so wet when he goes alpha mode.

“Bed. Now,” you command. Your warm hands force him into your room. The two of you had whisked out of there before the food was even ready. Not really because he was worried about being kicked out, but because he could see the look in your eyes and knew this was going to be a different kind of date night.

 He could barely keep his hands off you in the car, and the wet throb pooling between your legs didn’t help either.

He plops his ass down on the cushion, famish gaze looking up to you tower over him between his thighs. It’s one of the few times Joel obeys you. You push him back, climbing over his waist as his hands go to their usual spot on your sides.

“My hero,” you charm. Your lips devour his, tongue poking through his teeth. His neck strains to keep your mouth on his.

His hands move to your upper back to hold you close but you immediately grab his wrists and pin them to the bed. 

He smirks. 

“Ya like being in charge?”

You shake your head bashfully, nipping his lower lip. “Just want you—and you’re taking too long.” His ravenous eyes piercing yours then down to your lips.

“Jesus. Like watchin’ me get all riled up in front of you? Bet you do. Makes that little pussy gush, don’t it?” He greedily sucks your tongue back in his mouth, hips grinding down against his poking bulge. “My perfect, sinful angel.”

Your digits slide upwards, entangling your fingers together as the two of your hands move up along the bed, over his head while you continue to make out.

There’s sudden movement—and Joel immediately tenses, hands escaping yours—“Thefuck—what”— and he’s karate chopping something alive in the mess of your plushies that goes flying out of the bed and into the corner of your room violently. 

“S’something movin’! Get back!” He orders.

You feel your entire body being hoisted up on to your feet, Joel protectively guarding in front of you. arms holding you close as bay behind his massive figure as he scans the room ready to pounce again. 

The two of you can hear the faint lively buzzing of the thing that was living in your bed. And you finally sigh in relief. 

"Joel! That’s Mr Oinkers!"

Joel has an incredulous look back at you. Now you want to scold the man trying to protect you for yoinking him so fucking hard. You brush past the brown bear of a man despite his worrying stance and retrieve the poor squished pig from the floor. He’s got a big dent in his poor face—Joel’s punch right on target even when it surprises him. You refluff the pink piglet gently to his original rounded and exceedingly huggable shape. 

You hand it to Joel, now more curious than defensive. His large hands tentatively engulf its entire body, sending it into a little spasm of vibrations.

He stares at it with a mixture of disgust and amusement. “What the fuck."

"It vibrates when you hug it."

"Where the fuck you huggin this, between your legs? They sell this to kids?"

“Oh my god, It’s not THAT kind of toy.” Who gave this man such a dirty brain? “Besides, it doesn't have that level of power. Just give it a regular, loving squeeze and it vibrates a little. Like an interactive teddy bear when you hug it?"

His eyes don’t really say much. He twists it like a wheel, inspecting the underside, gauging the weight of the battery pack safely snuggled inside. It’s gone still in his hand, but when he gives it a firm squeeze, the little jiggles come back to life, humming in the quiet room. A small, yet distinctly Joel, smirk begins to tug at the corner of his mouth.

And--oh fuck—you know that look.

-

It’s the look of ‘Kiss this plushie’s virginity goodbye’ look—so oddly specific and yet so trademarked by your boyfriend now. 

He practically holds Mr Oinkers hostage for the next hour,  cradling it under his massive arm as he sifts through your kitchen drawers. You hover around him, partially unsure what he’s up to, but also for poor Mr Oinker’s safety. While you love Joel being rough with you, you don’t like when he gets too aggressive manhandling your poor little squishes. They have to live at least until you die and that means coddling them with delicate, loving embraces, sweet kisses and regular poofing—.

NOT LIKE JOEL RIPPING THE SEAM WITH A PAIRING KNIFE RIGHT NOW.

“JOEL!” 

The horrid sound of scratchy tearing of fabric rapes your ears like nails on a chalkboard, and you instantly go to seize the pig from his grasps.

But Joel yanks it just right out of your reach, your hand closing around thin air.

“Ah! Don’t play around when Daddy has sharp tools.”

“Fuck off, Joel, you just ripped my plushie!”

He brushes you off. “Mr. Piggy—“

“—It’s Mr. Oinkers.”

“—The pig—is just havin’ a bit of surgery—“ his  fingers dig into the fresh hole, pries apart the back flesh of the pig even more, making your ears twinge with pain at the continued horrors—“gonna sew him back up, sweet pea, don’t worry.” He looks at your bewildered and near crying state and chuckles. “Jesus. I PROMISE—gonna make him just like new okay? Now please stop worrying?” He caresses your cheek with soft grace, thumb soothing over the redden state of your eyes.

You nod, refusing to cry over it. “Okay...” you whisper, adding a quick “fucker,” and calm down now that you’ve uttered the necessary retort. “Please—be gentle…” you say meekly, eyes trained on the gash in Mr. Oinkers once smooth body. The cotton filling practically gushes out, wanting to escape like pussing blood.

He kisses your forehead. “I promise. Now go take a shower, and let me finish with my patient here, yeah?”

With a final little kiss to your forehead, you do as he tells you. 

Afterwards, you can’t help but anxiously pace, peeking towards the harsh light of the kitchen where Joel works. He had splayed out more tools found in your apartment—a litany of batteries, thread and needle, a screwdriver, the fished out battery pack from deep inside the plushy’s wound.

True to his word, Joel keeps a surprisingly gentle touch. He carefully removes and replaces the batteries with a different—more sinister pair, places the cotton filling back in, glasses perched on his big nose as he holds the fabric close, sewing little strokes with the thin thread like an expert ancient seamstress, quiet and concentrated in his habitat.

And despite all his intimidating physique and attitude, the thing that you loved about him so much was that he was just as delicate. He fucks you like rag doll one minute then is tending to you with the softest, sweetest touches and kisses. The man is practically a walking paradox.

It makes you wet all over again.

So when he tells you to get naked on the bed and straddle the now recovered from surgery Mr. Oinker’s, you don’t even question it. You so badly want to please him again and again.

Joel settles right behind you. Your bare crotch hovers just over Mr Oinker’s poor squishy face—but what’s one more sacrifice to the Pussy King’s use? 

You feel hot open mouth kisses along the length of your spine, his fingers curling around your sides, gliding up your breasts with smooth, ticklish haste. 

“Go on, give ‘im a big hug,” he whispers to the shell of your ear. “Between your legs,” he adds with a chuckle.

You sink down your knees a little further, feeling your dripping entrance make contact with the soft, stuffed plush. The pig jolts to life with a violent seizure—far more aggressive than it ever did before.

“Oh!—OH god!” You moan, instantly wanting to pull away, but the firm press of Joel to your back prevents you from going anywhere. The plush vibrates extra violently between your legs, nudging your little clit repeatedly. 

“Feel good, baby? Gave him a stronger dosage.” You feel the hard press of his bare cock humping along the crack of your ass, his arms draped over you with palms flat into the mattress—caging you between himself and Mr. Oinkers. 

“I—you—“

“Lay forward. Let me and the Pig do all the work.”

He presses his forehead on your upper back, forcing you down until your face is relaxed into the pillow. You barely hum a “Mr. Oinkers” to correct him. Joel shakes his head, unresponsive.

The new position pushes your clit even more snugly into the lively Pig’s jittery tummy. You moan out loudly, your clit sucking up the pleasant sensation.

You hear him laugh a little at the state of you: ass up, face down with a fun little vibration toy wedged in your slit. He pumps his hard cock in his hand a few times before sighing. 

“Put it in f’me,” he says.

You don’t hesitate—reaching your trembling hand, so shaken with pleasure, behind you to grasp his throbbing length, pulling the bulbous tip closer so that it parts your petaled folds. Joel grunts at the feeling of the plushie vibrating along the underside of his balls. He thrusts in slowly, stretching you wide to accomodate his thick girth.

“Fuck me with a hoe, baby girl, you’re so perfect f’me,” he moans. 

Joel pauses, savoring the mix of vibration and tight squeeze of your cunt sucking him in. 

“Joooooeeeeeellllllll,” You whine desperately. You try to wiggle your hips to incite movement but he holds you still.

“Sorry baby, man’s gotta enjoy what’s his.” 

Your heart swells, resigning to his desire. Hishishishis, rolls over in your mind like a placate spell. I’m his.

You feel the warm weight of his belly conforming to the arch in your spine, his hot breath tickling your ear once more with a sweet kiss. “Piggy treatin’ you real good down there?”

“Ah—mhmm—it’s s’good. So good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Smother him with your cute little nub. He’s so excited to get a taste of ya pussy. Just like me.”

You bury your face into the pillow—Joel’s deisgnated pillow. His scent fills your nostrils, the hot stretch of his cock fills your cunt. All while you can’t help but start grinding your sopping pussy against the plush, effectively touching your clit with mad vibration while also fucking yourself on to Joel. 

“So hungry, babygirl,” he grunts. “Told ya, let Daddy and his new friend help ya. Just stay still like the good girl I know.” Hot paws wrap around your hips as he begins to work a steady pace, thrusting in and out of you while also pressing your ass down into the piggy’s face. He watches his cock disappear into you before emerging with glistening slick of your sweet juices, so wet pent up and needy for him all night. 

And the damn PIG between your legs just happily jittering with violent spasms nonstop makes it impossible to ignore the knot growing in your lower belly.

Joel can feel it too—the way your walls are closing in on him. 

“What does my babygirl say?”

“T-thank you—Daddy!”

“Wrong.” He starts a quicker pace, making you cry into the pillow with each unforgiving rut. “Give ya a hint—the cow goes moo, dog goes bark—what does the piggy say…?”

“I—I don’t—”Oh god, he can’t seriously be asking…

“Oink for me.”

“Ugh—Joel—no, fuck—I’m close. Right there please!”

But right as you’re on the cusp of your orgasm, he pulls back, lifting your hips with him so the Pig just barely graces your folds as he shallowly grinding his hips against your ass.

“Cmon, make the little guy between your legs proud. And the big one inside you too. Do it for me,” he repeats, a hint of sadistic satire dripping in his voice. “Oink like a pig.”

But you groan in frustration again. His hands keep you pinned high, locking you uncomfortably, unable to leverage your knees to fuck yourself back onto him and finish the job. You so badly need to cum, the persistent hum on your inner thighs making your legs quiver, practically begging to have the wet animal feasting on you again. 

The consideration of embarrassment over your release only washes over you briefly before your opening your lips and bubbling his wish from deep within your throat:

Snort—“O-oink,” you cry meekly. “Oi-nk”.- Snort— “oink!”

He stops moving entirely. You almost want to cry, because what the fuck—he said he’d let you cum! The room is silent minus the persistent buzzing muffled just out of reach under you.

Then you feel little shakes behind you, like something caught in Joel’s chest. The shakes grow, rippling through his body— until you can hear him— laughing out uncontrollably with tears in his eyes while he’s still buried balls deep inside you.

"That's... That's not funny Joel!"

"I'm sorry I just didn't think you'd actually do it!" He slips out of you and sits back on his haunches, arching backwards as he clutches his chest from wheezing so hard.

And he’s still cackling, hardly noticing he’s the only one laughing, nor the lack of mirth in your body language, the shift in your positions as you roll him on his back and straddling the big hunk of giggles. And it’s only when you’re lining his dick along your wet pussy that his amusement goes stale.

“—Hah!—oh—oh shit." 

His hands instantly seek purchase on your waist, mouth parted ever so slightly with eyes glued to the space between you where his tip just barely begins to poke your folds.

You hover over him for an agonizing amount of time, refusing grant him entry.

"You... told me to,” you say, face red and hiding from him. 

While he was so hyped up on the adrenaline that you were finally going to take charge in this rare moment, he now sees it in you. Yes—you were embarrassed. But yes—you wanted to please him so badly that it was worth the shot. He can feel himself swell in your hand, precum and your juices coating his dick proudly because this is his girl.

Joel grips your hips and starts rolling your pelvis into his, sinking himself into you and taking charge again. You gasp out, hands on his chest to steady yourself as you both rock into each other. 

His eyes are darkened again, movement purposeful. “I know. I know, babygirl. That's what I fuckin’ love about ya. You'd do anything I ask you, huh baby? Humping your squishy piggy just cuz I told ya. My Little cum hungry, greedy girl.”

You lean back, bouncing on his cock with little slaps of your ass clashing down. That delirious feeling of Joel—his voice, his touch, his cock—JoelJoelJoel—filling your every senses once again, mugging your brain as you ride him to your hearts content. “I’m Daddy’s c-cum hungry greedy—girl,” you moan, brain so turned to mush so quickly that he can’t help but smile.

 “‘At’s right. There’s my girl. Didn’t even have to ask ya.” He plants a wet kiss on your knuckles, and you can feel yourself shudder at his lustful gaze. “Keep goin’. Just like that. Ride me. Fuck me.” 

He slaps your ass with encouraging stings, begging you to bounce along his shaft harder, faster. 

And in true Joel fashion, he fists the nearly forgotten vibrating plushie and shoves it at the crevice right between your pelvises.

You cry out pathetically, riding Joel faster. The pig’s full belly wedges between the two of you, jittering against your abused clit and a bit of Joel’s unsheathed cock with violent rhythm. He groans out, fucking up into your tight heat harder.

 “Say ‘Thank you Mr Piggy’,” he commands, his voice straining with the impending proximity of his own orgasm.”

"H-hjs name is —mmmmm—Mr. Oinkers.”

"Well I'm the one fuckin’ you right now and I'm telling ya it's Mr. Piggy.”

While Joel’s lips curl into a snark, so desperate to have you cum, your mouth parts so heavenly, eyes heavy with lust as you chant. “T-Thank—you MR! Mr PPIGGY! Ahh—ah huh—for—fucking me—my-mm-my clit—hungry pussy—fuck Joel!—needed Daddy’s filling—wanted to fuck you—Piggy kisses my cum hungry—pussy—so good—oh fu-FuuCCCkkKK I’m cumming—I’m cumming on my Piggy! Thank you, Daddy!” You cry with a pained smile, letting go as pleasure washes over your entire body, shaking with the same lack of control as Mr Oinkers has been showing you all night—and Joel doesn’t let up. Fucking you through your orgasm with one death grip on your hip and the other ramming the plush between your sweaty bodies, biting your swollen sensitive nub as he canters up into your womb.

“Yeah fuck—fuuck that’s it-there’s my girl—gonna let Daddy make you his cum dump? Huh? You want that? You do—you fuckin’ do—dirty girly—shit—Daddy’s gonna give it to ya.” 

You fall forward, your breasts smushed against his chest as he continues to rut into you. You let him use you. Let him dominate your body and own you because it feels best when he does. 

He’s gritting his teeth, the plush absolutely pancaked between you and sputtering along his pelvis, sending shockwaves down from his base to his balls. “Oh fuck—Mr Piggy—givin’ it to me too shit—shit baby! here it comes!”

 He growls when he cums, pouring buckets of cum from his tight balls and releasing inside you with each spurt. And the soft cushion of the pig between you rumbling only prolongs his orgasm, ropes after ropes filling your gut like a four course meal until he’s over sensitive and yanking the soaked cotton mess out and tossing it to vibrate helplessly in the corner of the room.

He cradles your neck close, breathing in the sweet smell of shampoo from your partially damp hair. Soft strokes along your spine comfort you as you both relax in each other’s embrace.

As you rest on top of him, you pull your head out of the nook of his shoulder, his eyes falling to yours as you two lie staring at each other.

“Why’d you get so mad at that guy at the Pot?”

Joel scowls at the memory: “He asked if you were single—said I looked too old n’ that ya needed a real man to satisfy your appetite.”

You hold your breath with him. Then you snort—like a real, genuine and uncontrollable snort. “And you didn’t laugh your ass off at him?? Oh my God, Joel! That’s fucking hilarious!”

His fingers curl around your soft hair, a half hearted smile on his adoring face.

Your eyes become serious again. “You didn’t actually believe him, did you?”

“I did. For a minute. Till we got home, and you showed me how hungry you were for me. Needed to take ya right then.”

“Proved him wrong.”

“No,” he shakes his head, sucking in a big breath. “No, just did it because I wanted ya so badly for so long. Who else is gonna do this crazy shit, fuckin’ stuffed animals like the weird little freak you are?”

Your jaw drops in astonishment, sitting up on your elbow. “The plushie fucking is YOUR idea! I have never humped any of these bitches in my life until you!”

You can feel his chest rumbling, eyes crinkled with subdued laughter. 

“You fucker,” you croak, voice cracking with a giggle. 

You both hear Joel’s tummy growl. “I’m still hungry, didn’t get to eat our Pot, remember?”

“That’s funny. I’m surprisingly full. Thanks to you,” you hum, kissing his lips. 

He accepts, making out with you unhurriedly until he’s rolling you over to your back and gliding down your body, pressing his chapped lips between the valley of your breasts, down your naval, and over your sensitive clit. Your legs spread on instinct. Joel’s eyes never leave yours as he presses his nose to your slit, inhaling the succulent scent of your mixed cream. “Gonna make my tummy happy too?”

 His tongue laps up at his cum dripping down to your crack back up to the source, making you grip his curls. “I s-still ha-haaaven’t forgiven you for —urgh Daddy—r-ripping Mr. Oinkers apart.”

“So? Made him better, didn’t I?” He continues to suck up his cum clean from your entrance. “I ripped Mrs. Oinkers apart just now too.” He buries his nose into your cunt and snorts: “Oink—oinkoinkoink!” 

You yank his hair harshly off of you and kick him to the couch for the rest of the night.

Until an hour later, you’re waddling wrapped in a big comforter and curling up against him on the thin sofa and spooning him. He wraps his arm around you with a kiss to your neck before falling asleep again.

-----

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[kanene-yaaay]

The Benefits of a Restful Sleep (and other things that a friend can help you with)

Kanene's notes: In my defense, Dogday is way too cute and kind. That was his mistake. Now I just HAD to make an entire story where he is alive and the Player is both the most stubborn bean ever and the biggest softie to set a foot in the factory. That is it. That is the entire story. Warnings: Mentioned death as a form of reset, angst and mention of injury and blood. It's discussed but not too deeply and isn't the main plot of the story. Raspberries, nibbles, lots of teasing, hurt/comfort and roothing fluff. Reader is adressed with they/them. Around 9.500 words. Heavily inspired by @fluffymary 's wonderful, incredible stories. Take a look at them too :D

[~*~]

You were exhausted.

That was a problem.

Sure, tiredness wasn’t really a new feeling in your life when you looked at the big scheme of things. Even before you went back to your old workplace, it used to cling on your bones, to fill your mind with memories and to pull your spirits down at any time of the day when a kid’s laughter or flowers would remind you of everything you tried so hard to leave behind.

(And look where you are now.)

The constant ‘fighting for your life’ thing also hasn't been helping a lot lately. Adrenaline and the will to keep on living were perfect for the battles but could only get you so far when the feeling of danger and fear scrutinized all of your steps, stalking in any and every corner, waiting for the right moment to strike. Days and hours became a total mess and the longer you spent on exploring and surviving, the more and more things that were once important started to fade to a background thought in your head.

Food was one of them. Water. Sleep. The debris and destruction brought a lot of memories and enemies but hardly a safezone where you could actually sit down, breathe and rest for a bit. It was fine, though. The solution was simple and quick. 

Dying.

Sounded harsh when you thought about it in that way, to be honest. 

Resetting. 

Or something like that.

Not during a fight, of course. After the first couple of times, it quickly became annoying and no fun at all to have to experience all the chase and… other things more than once. However, on other occasions, missteps into an abyss happen and sometimes a bad calculation using the grabpack could be fatal (and more frequent than you should admit.) 

You couldn’t deny its convenience. In a blink you would wake up, not hungry, thirsty or exhausted, a few meters behind your previous location and then you would be ready to go until the pain of hunger or the feeling of being in a brick of passing out appeared once again.

It was not the best, you knew, but it was a good enough solution. 

It was fine.

(It was fine.) 

Especially now, when you have someone else depending on you to survive. Saving Dogday had been tricky and much, much harder than the alternative. Keeping him alive after that, during the smiling critters chase and the aftermath, even more so. None of this didn’t really matter, though. It was worth it. 

The beginning had been tougher. With all the emotions, the changes, pain (and how to keep going after all of that), going back to Home Sweet Home and getting into more trouble trying to turn on all the generators. The fact that, not very longer after getting into the Daycare, you found a new, clean fabric and a set of tools to take care of Dogday’s injuries was the perfect help, even if the coincidence of that encounter had bordered on a miracle that made your skin prickle in discomfort as you had stared at the sewing kit localized (placed) just a few meters away from you two. There was no way that this could have been accidental. 

(Ever since you set a foot in this factory not a single encounter, voice, tape or battle seemed a coincidence and the fear of the image that this puzzle was creating haunted your every choice.)

Nevertheless, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Even though Dogday stayed unusually quiet for a really long time after his injuries were taken care of, he still insisted on using it despite both of your strong suspicions, not wanting to be a ‘burden’, anymore.

You disagreed strongly with that word, of course. Not only because his knowledge of the place and the little shortcuts or hidden spaces had been essential both to escape from the hungry toys and to make your path confusing enough to mislead any pursuers you had was essential to your survival, but also because… 

Damn. 

You just really missed this.

Chatting. Having someone truly by your side. No second intentions or guesses or working around to earn a couple of moments of dialogue. Just a companionship and a fighter if needed, someone bright who could, just with their presence and company, help to keep your focus and your objectives in mind. 

Dogday’s voice was raspy and rough but his words were light and kind. He would insist on calling you ‘angel’ and gesture excitedly around when he was talking, pulling your attention back when you began losing yourself in your thoughts. He would help solving the complicated puzzles spread through the factory and hold your hand tight to hide the tremble of his own paws when you both went through somewhere too dark. He would joke and hold and help and you wished you could put in words how no trouble in the world could make his presence here not worth it. 

That is why you couldn’t afford passing out right now. That is why you kept pulling one foot after the other and continued your path to the end of this hell.

Unfortunately, the very reason that kept you moving forward was the same one blocking you from actually managing to reset your body and get over that tiredness.

The fact that Dogday cared.

He was smart and quite smooth too. That was clear after all the times he would ‘accidentally’ get in front of you when you managed to step a bit too close from a deepless hole or how he would suddenly remember a shortcut that would have you to deviate from the giant abyss you had been eyeing for a few moments ago or when he distracted you as he followed another direction, a light pull on your wrist and a inviting conversation on the tip of his tongue, the pit getting farther and farther away.

It was a bit endearing, you couldn’t lie.

However, when a badly placed hand of your grabpack successfully made you slip from a fatal high and you only had time to listen to a surprised yelp (or more like a ‘yap’?) before a giant orange arm held you close to a fluffy chest you were actually torn between hitting something in frustration and melting in the warmth.

Dogday smiled, looking down. 

“Ops, you almost fell in there, angel.” His eyebrow was crooked and his expression filled with tension and confusion. Yep. He definitely realized what was going on. That kind of sucks.

He started heading the other direction, taking a different path to where you were going. “You‘re really tired, aren’t you? Saving everyone must cost a lot of energy.” His eyes softened. You struggled to keep yours open, body inevitably relaxing with his voice and kind touch. “And, well, I don’t think you had a lot of opportunities to rest since you got here too, right? Ehehe. That is… a bit worrisome. Humans need plenty of sleep and we have been walking for a long time already!”

You have survived longer without it. It was fine. There were more generators that had to be turned on before anything else. Those were your priorities.

Dogday acknowledged the end of your sentence before shaking his head vehemently, his ears flopping around in an endearing way. 

“The generators have been turned off for a long time now, a few more hours won’t hurt. You are our priority, angel.” Dogday tried to not let his tail wag in adorableness when he pulled you closer to his chest and you let your head and eyelids fall with a really tiny, quiet sound for a moment too long before opening them and watching him in a stubborn manner. “And I think I know somewhere where we can hide for long enough before continuing.” 

He watched as you deviated your gaze, thoughtful. Almost there.

“Besides, my kind angel” he let his posture go, just a little. The exhaustion from… everything showing from the light of his eyes to the darkness of his mouth. Trusting had been what got him stuck but also what freed him. He could offer this human a bit more of it. “I-I really think I need time to recover. Sometimes it just… hurts.”

He looked down and you didn’t need to follow his gaze to get what he was saying.

Oh.

Oh.

That was what settled it. You nodded. But he had to put you on the ground. 

You kept your expression firm and ignored his playful chuckle and the way he only pulled you closer with your words, because if he kept holding you, there was no way you would not fall asleep instantly and you both couldn’t afford that until he got to that safe place.

With a huff and a beginning of a pout he acquiesced and put you on the cracked floor, getting your point. He had to hide his snickers with his paw when you wobbled on the same spot for a second before eventually gathering your strength back, feeling a million times more tired. 

Urg. Relaxing was a mistake.

“Don’t worry, it’s not too far from here. We will get there in no time!” 

(...)

Took longer than he expected for you to finally lay down, but it was worth it. The place was one of the old dorms so there were a lot of pillows and mattresses thrown around, a few somewhat still holding a good condition for use. With the help of some furniture and moving around, you managed to barricade the door and build a sort of nest hidden in a farther corner so that it would be really difficult to notice through any window. 

The human seemed ready to pass out at any moment, yawning and giving the door a last look, watching every creek and tear on the walls for anything that could be dangerous, even after all their previous care to make this place as safe as possible. Silly dear.

Dogday has always prided himself in being perceptive. Both because of the kids he once needed to watch and take care of and also because it’s important to notice and understand the details around your teammates so he would know when to help them.

(Old habits die hard, as it seems.)

And, yeah, maybe it had something to do with how long he spent without seeing a human or how he missed having someone (anyone-) who cared so much around. But he couldn’t really help to watch, prod and pick every little detail and gesture of yours around as if he was collecting flowers in a garden. Humans were so… expressive, and this one wasn’t different at all. 

Angel was fierce and determined, going silently and non stop through the facility and all their objectives with a focused mind and precise movements. Their senses and general environmental awareness were good, too, catching hints and dangers just a second or two after Dogday himself caught them, which, considering their small ears and eyes, was an incredible feat. 

Still, like a true angel, strength and kindness walked side by side with them. Dogday didn’t say that only because that person was the literal reason he was alive today, but simply because it was clear as water how much of a true softie you were inside. It was in the way they fired only around the small smile critters, avoiding to actually burn and kill them (even though he didn’t really know how he should feel about it), on how they carried and treated his wounds and how all their features - tensed, anxious and angry - softened everytime they looked at him. 

It was on the way that they walked slower to accompany him, amusing his rambles with pokes of fun and interesting additions and in how each touch or word was filled with tenderness and respect. He didn’t feel like a toy with them like some old employers had made him feel before or a failure as… others made him believe.

So, his companionship was extremely captivating and maybe that was why it hadn’t been really hard to notice how the little tiny hints and actions came together to form a quite worrisome image of how disregarding about their own safety they were. Jumping into fights, crawling into dangerous, small spaces without thinking twice (he couldn’t get them there, if he needed he couldn’t get them there-), following strangers’ orders and running over cliffs as if their life wasn’t the thing that mattered the most and Dogday would always be there to catch them when they fell.

(What did they use to do when he wasn’t?)

Even now, he huffed as the human slowly took off the grabpack while still not even lowering themselves on the mattress or trying to get comfortable even though they seemed ready to slip into unconsciousness at any time now. Alert to the very last second.

It felt a bit nostalgic, if he was being honest. At least helping someone to go to sleep was a kind of problem that he knew how to solve. 

With no further ado, he let himself fall on the soft pile with a ‘oof’, slowly rolling around the cleanest pillows they found and hugging the mattress as a loud, relaxed sighing fled from his mouth. His entire body seemed to untense with the unexpected comfortable feeling. How long had it been since he could just enjoy being surrounded by softness and safety like this?

His tail began contently thumping on the pile, another sigh leaving his mouth and making him forget for a moment his objective as he rolled more and more on the spot, the pure feeling of bliss taking over his senses until the sound of amused chuckles brought him back to reality.

He opened his eyes only to find an incredibly fond gaze looking right back at him. The absurd weight that haunted his friend’s shoulders seemed to have disappeared for a moment and, if he really concentrated enough on those kind eyes, it was like the rest of the world became unfocused. That is right! Dogday shook his head, as if cleaning it from his distracting thoughts. He had a mission to accomplish! Get the human to rest! No more fooling around!

“Hmmmm, It’s so, so, sooo comfy here!” Dogday controlled his voice so his playful tune wouldn’t show too much and give away his plan. He got a pillow and shoved his face on it just to highlight his words. “Like a kingdom made of clouds, where all the citizens get to lay down and rest all day, everyday and their favorite hobby is to cuddle and snuggle. Sounds like a nice place, don’t you think?” 

You agreed, snorting when two expectanting lights turned around and Dogday patted the spot right beside him, only smiling bigger when you pretended to roll your eyes and finally, finally, laid down, barely touching the pile before your body crumbled the rest of the way.

It was… really soft. Even more than you expected from such old furniture but that could be the exhaustion talking. A relieved groan filled the place and before you could process that it came from your lips two arms came and carefully pulled you to a bunch of even softer fluff, which automatically made you snuggle closer, hugging the pillow (friend?) and relaxing, body aching with how much tension flew away from it so quickly.

A sweet voice said something in the background, but all of your senses melted together with your muscles when a hand began rubbing your back, drawing light circles on your spine and following it to your neck, briefly massaging it before going back to the back rubs.

That nice voice kept talking and you could briefly distinguish the words ‘deserve’, ‘rest’ and ‘good’ before the hand got a bit too close to your side and you giggled. The hand stilled but it was okay, it just tickled, that is all. No need to stop. 

This was really nice, you kind of missed it. 

You snuggled more.

All of it. It’s been a while.

As the darkness of the unconsciousness started taking you away, an amused, fond ‘aww’ was the last thing you heard.

(...)

You woke up with a scare.

Nothing necessarily happened, but your body immediately tensed, in alert. Blurry eyes traveled with speed around the room in search for any kind of movement, the silence helping to amplify the sound of any enemy that could be closer. 

One second, two seconds…all you could pick up was the paused, calm snoring of Dogday still being deeply asleep.

Right. Safe. You were both safe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, blinking rapidly to scare the sleep out of your sight as you looked up, mind finally getting time to grasp the memories from last… (night? hours? day? irrelevant). The quick beating of your heart started to slow down to a normal pace and you laid down again on the mattress, now wide awake.

Dogday was still sleeping. That was good. He deserved all the peaceful rest he could get after everything that happened.

And, to be honest, it was quite amusing to watch him sleep. Each time he snored his big ears flopped just the slightest bit around and from time to time those little muffled barks would appear on the back of his throat and his tail would wag a bit, not so different from a real dog.

(He truly was a marvel of science.)

At one time you could almost swear he said a name, but it was so low that you couldn’t quite catch it.

Beyond all of that, you couldn’t deny how right Dogday had been, resting really did wonders to your body and mood. You could feel your mind clearer and your muscles less stiff, even if still quite sore. Also, it was made in a rush, that is true, but the soft pillow pile really was comforting enough that it didn’t make it any easier to get up and go on about your day.

Still, as always, there was work to do. It really wouldn’t hurt to get up in the vents and walk around a bit to see if there was any murder toy wandering close so you could attract them away before they could interrupt Dog’s sleep. 

It wasn’t anything really that urgent, however,… It felt weird not doing anything in this place, to deliberately choose to stay instead of to move. Letting your guard down last night had been literally the only thing you could do with how exhausted you were and having a trustful friend close by your side, but now? When you were more rested and nowhere close to the exit? The jittery feeling was already catching up to you. 

You tried to get up, only to be stopped by an arm closing on your midriff, a nose being pressed on the top of of head and nuzzling it with care before a raspy voice - you really needed to find some kind of oil or toolbox to help with his voicebox, sometimes it felt like he was always with a sore throat - glitched for a half second before coming to life in a quiet, slurred “Angel?”

Good morning, sleepy beauty.

Dogday huffed in amusement. Silence washed over you both once again.

A while passed and no more words were exchanged. Uh, probably went back to sleep already. You tried to carefully extract yourself from his hold. 

“Mm? What happened?” Dogday yawned, sounding a bit more awake this time. “Do we have to go?” He propped himself in one elbow, using his enormous height to peak over the hiding place and watch the door and windows, ears perking up in a search of any strange sound. “I’m not listening to any danger. This is a good spot.”

You agreed, feeling a tad bad that you woke up your companionship unnecessarily with your unrelenting thoughts. Nothing really happened, you assured, he could go back to sleep if he wanted. You could stay with the guarding shift.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning more, the sentient toy then changed his focus to you, noticing the slight drop in your tune, mind becoming clearer as he added to that detail the stiffness that went back in your shoulders. His brain tried to connect the dots.

“Did you have a nightmare, sunshine?”

No, not really. 

“What happened?”

It’s all just… too much thoughts. You wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep like this, not without a distraction. It would be the best if you got something to do, so he could go back to his nap. It was fine, you would stay awake in guard.

“I see.”

He laid back down, however, instead of letting you go and immediately go back to sleep, as you expected, he began massaging your shoulders, mouth turning into a pout when that didn’t make you melt completely in blissful slumber like last night, but at least got some of the tension out. 

Even if it felt like the human continued to hold onto every last drop of stress for some reason, refusing to close their eyes or fully relax. Knowing their current situation, Dogday could understand. But still, his friend should be able to enjoy this little chance of a rest that they’ve got. They were both so tired and finally had a good place to spend some good old lazy time without being worried about running for their lives or seeing nightmares at each blink of eyelids. It was not the best spot that the factory could once offer, of course, yet nowadays it was like a piece of heaven.

He wished he could help his angel to enjoy it. Yesterday they seemed so happy. But unless he could think in a good distraction…

A sudden thought then popped in his head, a memory from what happened the previous night. An idea.

Hm.

“Sunshine, do you like games?”

Games? Like… hide and seek or catch? 

Dogday nodded, looking eager. 

Yeah, you did. Even so, you don’t think that making up some ruckus will be good to keep up their hidden spot, well, hidden.

“No, no! This one doesn’t involve running or anything that could give up our location. Actually, you won’t even need to move from where you are to play it.”

Really? Well, it was worth a shot, then. 

“Alright. Do you remember what happened when we found those old rags in one of the corridors a few days ago?”

Yes, you did.

You watched as Dogday chuckled, like he knew something you didn’t and, with a crooked eyebrow, you stared at him, trying to remember the mentioned moment better. 

Nowadays his fur was no longer the bright orange that it once was like the old cardboards and tv episodes showed, but at least it got a resemblance of a cleaned state after using some good-enough rags you found on the way to one of the generators. You both did the best to take out the debris, dust and blood from him. It took longer than it should because the taller toy kept squirming and wiggling around in an adorable inescapable fit of giggles, not really being a big help as, in between his laughter, he kept claiming that it really, really tickled. 

As a good friend, of course, you just grabbed the rag he let fall after a bit of lil cleaning on his poor ticklish tummy and racked both hands up and down his sides, scribbling away while he hid his smile behind hands, muffling his loud crackles. The cleaning didn’t stop there and hunted each tiny spot and slight hint of dust off him with plenty of scratches, prodding and drumming everywhere your hands could reach, catching all the titters, snickers and snorts that danced in the rhythm of your fingers. Your own giggles did not take much longer to follow them. 

Dogday’s paw continued to run in a light touch on your back and suddenly a bolt of electricity jolted you up when your mind connected the memory of his playful demisse to what he just said.

Your eyes widened and his expression opened into a smirk, sensing the very same moment you got to the conclusion that you were about to get absolutely and utterly destroyed with tickles.

You tried pushing him away, one hand twisting behind to catch his wrist as the other hand fought to snatch his free one, which kept flying away from yours in a game of mouse and cat. 

“Wait, angel!” He couldn’t help but laugh, especially as your movements got more and more uncoordinated the longer they kept this little game, even before he truly attempted to do anything. A wobbly smile was already taking over your face, only growing bigger when every swipe he did in your direction - only to be deflected by your hands - made your entire skin tingle and prickle in anticipation. Each adorable reaction only assisting in making Dogday more determined that he choose the right distraction. “Don’t you want to know about the game? I bet that you will love it! I used to play and win all the time so I can teach you every special trick of mine.”

No, no, no, no! You knew exactly what he was doing! There was no such thing as a game!

“Gasp!” You were sure that Dogday would be dramatically putting a hand on his chest if it wasn’t for the rough housing, but sudden noise was successful to break your concentration. He used his trapped hand to sneak a quick jab on your side, ripping out a delightful screech before you slammed your back again on the mattress, both hands now in front of you, no longer moving, yet still ready to defend and attack. “I would never lie to you, my beautiful, beautiful beacon of light, the only and one sunshine, my angel.”

He was not going to succeed in distracting you again with those sugary sweet nicknames! You knew exactly what he was doing and you wouldn’t let him get you.

“No, no, you got me wrong, angel.” Dogday booped your nose, seeming like he couldn’t control himself with excitement and a smug kind of joy that only grew the longer you both stared at each other, waiting for the moment to strike. His tail wagged and he pretended to lounge at your stomach, stopping inches before touching it and drinking the way that a squeal escaped from your mouth, body stuck into a position between laying down and curling on itself, giggles quickly filling the room. Actually, you could feel yourself getting giddier at each second, completely aware that there was no way for you to get out of this and no other option besides wait for the next attack.

The way that this thought only made butterflies go crazy on your belly should be illegal.

Dogday continued as if nothing happened. “This isn’t the game. The game only starts when I start to tickle you, silly! And it is called ‘Try To Not Laugh’.” He managed to waltz through your defenses, his index finger and thumb catching your side in a grip way too light to even be considered a pinch. It made you try to squirm with a snort to the other direction, as if he just had unleashed a ruthless attack of squeezes on the spot. 

His grin glimmered and he let you go, chuckling. You could feel the phantom touch still. 

(Why did his paws have to be so fuzzy!?) 

“It means that you can’t giggle, squeal, snicker, chuckle, snort, chortle, shriek or laugh! No matter how much it tickles, itches or ‘feels funny’.” Dogday counted each reaction pulling up a finger and you tried to not let your face melt as he just kept talking, looking more and more delighted with how each word seemed to make you twitch on the spot, his paws clawing in your direction when he was done. 

Before you could think, he went for your neck, fingertips barely, just the slightest bit, grazing the skin before you catched his wrists and pushed them away, scrunching your neck as tiny tickly sparks spread like fire across your nerves. A sound akin to a keysmash left your lips and Dogday looked like you had just given him the best news of his entire existence.

He tilted his head and watched his own captured paws for a piece of moment before shrugging. He continued on with his explanation.

“In turn I will try my true best to make you laugh. And that can mean anything! I can fill your entire cute neck with aaaaall the raspberries that it could ever want, wiggle my claws on your ticklish armpits, play your ribs like a very lovely piano, squeeze your sides non stop until you’re dancing around like a wiggly worm, maybe even give your tummy a few scratches and scribbles, or, or even better! I can play ‘This little piggy’ with your toes over and over again until your sweet laughter fills this entire room like the sweetest melody. And then we can do it all over but with you giggling and snickering ringing free the entire time! Doesn’t it sound like a fun idea, my angel?”

Oh, you were going to die. Whether he decided to tickle you right away or keep the teases for who knows how long, you don’t think that your face would survive being under so much heat for so long.

Besides, this is not fair at all! He will win it anyway, you couldn’t hold on your laughter forever while he t-, while he attacks you.

“Aww, but, sunshine, tickling is hardly an attack!” His face got closer and suddenly you realized that he did not need any free hand to accomplish his first promise of tickles. 

With wide eyes you tried to roll away, but to do so, you would have to let his paws go, and you knew very well that the moment this happened, it would be a game over for you. For the way that Dogday grinned in your direction, he reached the same conclusion as well. “Also, I can’t even touch you, right now! I think you can win this.” Dogday wiggled his paws in your hold, as if proving his point. 

With (an eager) trepidation, you watched as his face continued to get closer, prying a couple of titters when his floppy, fuzzy ears brushed your own ears. He chuckled at your reaction, a mix of fondness and playful, fake frustration painting his words. “Sunshine, you’re already giggling? I will have to take my last words back, then, I don’t think this game will last too long, anymore.” 

Oh ho ho, he should just wait, because when you get him back you then he was going to see who was-

Dogday shoved his face on the crook of your neck and immediately began nuzzling the spot without a worry in the world, successfully cutting your threat short.

Wait! Wait!

“Don’t mind me, angel, please continue.” He huffed and puffed on the spot, shivers running in a hilarious cacophony across your every sense, almost ripping a squeal from your lips. Actually, just like his words hitting the skin, you could feel the way that snickers began pooling in your throat, waiting for any tiny chance to escape. You clamped your mouth shut, a muffled snort taking over. You were going to at least try to hold them in and try your chances at winning this childish game, for your own pride, if nothing else. 

He didn’t have his paws to tickle, right? I mean, how bad could it really be?

Dogday hummed, each word vibrating on the skin in an almost unbearable manner, making you want to jump away and at the same time let yourself get lost in the sensations. “What were you saying, angel? Please, don’t stop because of me! You know I always love to hear what you have to say.”

You shook your head, partially in an attempt to somehow escape from the tickling and partially to dissipate the energy that was building up on your system. Anything to not focus on the snickers bouncing freely in your chest.

“No? Not a word? Aw.” You could feel the fake pout the sentient toy did right before letting his features go back to that dangerous, mischievous grin. “I have a question for you, then! Do you know what is the tickle puppy favorite’s fruit?”

You knew a trap when you saw one, so you kicked your legs, trying and failing to let out any protest because you were sure that if you stopped pressing your lips in a tight line for even half of a second, there would be no stopping from the waterfall of laughter.

“Raspberries!”

A shriek almost made you lose when he unleashed the first raspberry, more and more of them being quick to follow right after. On the base of your neck, your collarbone, under your chin and in every inch on the unprotected spot. There was nowhere safe from the awfully buzzing that made every other feeling disappear, seeing to tickle every nerve and making tingles to run crazy in absolutely everywhere. He even grazed the back of your ears with a couple of raspberries, cooing when you tried to shrink and hide the spot by pressing them on your shoulder, only succeeding to leave the other side of your neck completely free for more nuzzles and tickles, an opportunity that Dogday was fast to take, taking turns in bashing every side of your neck in a tickly attention. 

Another quiet, muffled squeak painted the air.

Dogday lifted his head again, entire demeanor completely melting for a piece of time when he saw you (oh my stars, look at this amazing smile!) before that joyful light was back in his eyes. Once more, he tried wiggling his paws out of your hold, but your grip continued to be as firm as ever, your wobbly smile shining in a challenge.

Oh, you’re just so fun!

“Gasp! It seems like I am stuck! Oh no, angel, what will I do now?” His gaze then traveled to your stomach, and all the hints that softness had ever been present in his features instantly evaporated as his face became something more playful, even a tad devilish, with a hint of hunger. 

“My, my,” you didn’t exactly know why, but his voicebox glitched, jumping between a light taunting tune and his usual lower one. “Is that a delicious tummy that I see? Poor thing, it must be so cold to be shaking like this. Well, and what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer any help, huh?”

Your friend was quite tall and kind of clumsy when he walked around, too. Now, how that clumsy toy was able to, in a span of less than a blink, take a gigantic breath and immediately attack your stomach with it was a true mystery that you didn’t had a lot of time to think about when your entire body took a screenshot for a long, long second, ticklish sensations exploding in a frenzy, before your entire torso instinctively beginning to trash, loud peals of laughter jumping freely on the tip of your tongue, begging to be free. They cheered in excitement and only grew stronger when other smaller raspberries took their turn to explore every spot, every sensitive creek or place of your stomach, breaking more and more of your barriers, little by little. It took every single ounce of strength to not lose the game right here and there.

Dogday didn’t even pretend to be holding back, anymore. Right as you survived another tiny raspberry that got way too close to your side to be an accident, a nibble appeared, catching you so out of guard that it made your arch your back, legs kicking with adrenaline. But the tickly, light nibbles weren’t diverted, intertwining with tiny raspberries in a mischievous dance that increased your internal laughing into a tenfold.

That was when one of them hit the spot closer to your bellybutton and you couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands let go of his wrists to push his stupid smiling - so proud and so bright - face away, body squirming and eyes crinkling on the corners with mirth.

“I am free!” He laughed, pretending to not hear the tiny low titters flying from your mouth as you regained your strength, taking the breather as what it was. His ears twitched with every cute little giggle and he kind of wanted to immediately go back to bash every sweet, soft spot in tickles you until that beautiful laughter was ringing loud and free across the entire room and that soft, relaxed state you were in became so much common that he wouldn’t see you stressed ever again.

But he was going to wait for you to rest a tadbit first, that was the main objective of their game, afterall.

Feeling calmer, you looked at your friend, who jolted in the same place, seeing to get out of a trance. He recovered quickly and lifted his paws, easily slipping into the tickle monster persona as he slowly clawed in your direction.

“Now that my hands are free, I wonder where I should attack next…” He looked thoughtful, slowly bringing his paws closer and closer to your torso, wiggly fingers softly scrapping the ticklish skin, but not really drumming on it, not yet. “Maybe I should try your armpits first? Aw, but you were so jumpy when I squeezed your side that one time! And you seemed really excited when I mentioned tickling your ribs… Ah! So many options, so many options… We will have to try every single one of them, of course. What do you think, my giggly angel? Which one do I tickle first?”   

None! Absolutely none of them!

“None?” He tilted his head, knowing very well how cute he looked like when he did that. “But then … Oh! I see!” Dogday snapped his fingers and you were pretty sure that if this was a cartoon a lamp would appear shining right above that absolute, silly, mean, goofball. “You want me to tickle your legs!” 

What!

At your wide stare and sputtering pretenses of protests his smirk turned sharp, which didn’t quite help the anticipatory bolts of electricity that suddenly left you feeling even more ticklish than usual, trying to curl and hide your legs but feeling him dig more on your torso every time you did so. He continued. “That is why you didn’t stop kicking and squirming the entire time I was tickling your neck and tummy, right? Aww, sunshine, if you wanted my attention so much, you could’ve just asked!”

That was literally not the reason at all! Dogday!!

He hummed in an answer, turning around and easily pinning your legs by holding your ankles down, his touch so gentle that you were pretty sure that if you really wanted and struggled you could escape from it.

(And if that didn’t make everything even more endearing, you honestly didn’t know what would.)

Without wasting any more time, Dogday started squeezing the sensitive spot right above your kneecap, skillfully jumping from one leg to another unexpectedly, digging on the skin and following your leg around with no problem as a new round of kicks started once again, keeping up with the tickling. The ticklish sensations made your head spin, tingles spreading across your muscles and teasing all the nearest tickle spots, leaving them prickling in anticipation and a funny kind of energy that made every nerve of your knees crazy as more and more squeezes and pinches continued unmercifully assaulting the spot non stop. 

A sudden move and you yelped when your legs were lifted, his curious hand worming its way under your knee to lightly scratch the sensitive skin there. The touch was so incredibly fuzzy, so adoringly soft that the sudden change from the rough to light technique almost ripped a series of snickers from your throat without permission, the hilarity and urge to laugh taking over your every thought. 

Dogday continued scribbling and drawing shapes, leaving a couple of pokes here and there just so he could listen to those delightful muffled snorts.

(He would really love to listen to them more clearly, though.) 

“You really love this, don’t you, angel?” 

You barely sputtered out an answer before being obligated to clamp your mouth shut, uncontrollable laughter making your shoulders bounce as he took the chance to crawl his fingers upwards to your thigh, skittering them there for a couple of seconds before spidering them right back to under your knees, repeating the cycle for a couple of times before mirroring them on the other leg. 

“When I tickle you.” He scratched under your knee. 

“When I tease you.” He squeezed your calf.

“When I fluster you.” He swiped at the space right under your toes.

“It’s really adorable!” His paw stopped right on your sole and he pressed it, firmly enough that it didn’t tickle, still, for some reason you couldn’t stop your smile from becoming even more wobblier, the giddiness growing stronger and spreading in your every cell just like the heat that seemed to take over your face. 

“Especially because I can’t wait to hear aaaaall those cute giggles and beautiful laughter that you have trapped right there.” Suddenly, he raked his fingers up, from your heel to under the toes. A squeal filled the air. Dogday’s eyes shone, like an arrow findings the target. His fingertips curled, kneading on the skin. “That is why I have to apologize, angel, because I lied to you. That is a game that I just have to win.”

He then attacked.

It was less than a half of a piece of time, but suddenly your soles were being overcomed with scribbles, scratches and wiggling everywhere they could reach. There were digging fingers under your toes and a spidering that followed them to the pads, tweaking and scritching them all while curious pokes payed attention to the entire path of your arches, even if shouldn’t be possible for him to be tickling both places at the same time. Nevertheless, Dogday’s paw was so big that he was able to torment both of your feet at once while still holding them through all the resulting kicks those created.

And the teasing… Of course there was also the teasing.

“There we go! Oh my, oh my, look at you! You just can’t help being so adorable, now, can you? Awww, angel, you always get this… sweet expression when you are happy, so I like to call it your happy face! It’s delightful. The corner of your eyes gets all crinkly and your face gets all soft and your smile… your smile is the best part, it’s so bright! No matter the size or the time, it really feels like we have our own special rays of sun down here.”

He found a rather sensitive spot right above your heel and immediately concentrated on it with all his might, drumming and prodding there as if the salvation of this entire factory depended on making you laugh.

“That is why it was so easy to see how much you love tickles, sunshine. First when you were tickling me a few days ago and now. Since we started that game… you didn’t even ask me to stop and all while you simply never ceased looking so adorably full of joy like this! I could really spend the entire day just here, you know? Tickling you silly over and over again.”

That did it. The barrier broke. Loud peals of laughter were fished from your lips. Every sound and reaction filled the air in a frantic, unrestrained melody of mirth. 

Now, with them flying freely in the room, there were uncontrollable, hysterical giggles when Dogday decided to knead your calves up and down, those only being taken down by an unstoppable crackling, painted with one or two snorts, as his paws wiggled away to squeeze right above your kneecaps, taking his sweet, sweet time to give the ticklish skin under it a few swipes before moving away.

Finally, he let your ankles go, both paws resting on your sides, unbothered by all the squirming and protests that this simple act created, drinking in every reaction with a so fond, so tender gaze that it bordered on dotingly as you got another break.

You tried to take big gulps of air, but everytime your gazes found each other, titters grew anew, distracting you and leaving you in a constant state of a silly, giggly kind of joy.

M-Maybe he should reconsider! You laughed already, he won the game! That should be the end of this, right!

Dogday chuckled, fingers tuttering in their spot, curling and uncurling slowly, content to feel the trembling on the skin under them. 

“The end? But we just started! And you still got so much beautiful laughter trapped right here to show.” With his index finger, he highlighted his word by tapping on your belly, right in your bellybutton, ears perking at the screech this brought. “So many cute snorts and melodious shrieks that I would love to meet. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help to let them out, huh?”

A flow of words, more unintelligible than anything, fell off your lips. A mix of pleas,  threats, high pitched giggles and some indistinguishable sounds that could only be considered a true keysmash rather than a sentence. Dogday hummed in agreement and nodded his head as if it was all a well constructed and understandable sentence.

“I knew you would eventually see my point, angel. You’re such a delight, you know, that?”

He smiled, so kindly and caring, and then he digged.

His paws, big enough to cover your entire midriff drummed non stop, squeezing the lower part of your stomach while scratching everywhere they could reach. He stayed there for a while before his wiggling fingers crawled up, scribbling and pinching your sides unmercifully. They looked for any weak spot, any lovely place that would make you snort and squirm away and latched there with pinches and kneading until your back arched, only then moving back to tickle your stomach until you went back to try to curl yourself in a ball, starting the cycle over and over again. 

You felt almost high with laughter, the thought that it tickled, it tickled so so much and more than anything ever taking over your brain in sync with the loud, high pitched squeals and belly laughter (ha- Dogday would love that pun if you could say it to him) that chased after each other. After so much teasing, every tickle seemed to be accompanied by the brush of thousand of tiny phantom feathers that still tormented your stomach even when he moved away to your ribs, carefully pressing down on the bones and quickly scribbling with so much skill that it should be illegal the actual, loud crackle such a simple action created.

Your hands flied to hold his wrists, caught between pushing them away and pulling them close and, at seeing that, the sentient toy couldn’t help but feel himself melt and snicker fondly, barely controlling the urge to shove his face back on your neck and nuzzle and nibble the daylights out of it in a pure attack of cuteness. His tail was wagging so much that it dislodged a few pillows from where they were.

“Such a good friend. Such a cute, nice friend for me. For us.” The praises fell from his mouth naturally, your companionship too focused on keeping those happy reactions to really think too much about them. “You do so much to all of us, to me, and keep going above and beyond just to accomplish what you set your mind in. You’re brave and one of the strongest humans I’ve ever known. And there is so much kindness in you that I could talk the entire day about it! You saved me, you cared and tried and sometimes down here it feels like a nightmare but you… you make everything so much better, like a true angel. That is why I love this nickname so much. It really fits you.” 

You tried to answer, to say how much especial, strong and essential Dogday was for you as well, but every time a single coherent word slipped from your lips he immediately reinforced his attack, fully aware that if you said anything sweet he would inevitably let his guard down and you would be able to turn the tables, and he really needed to say all of that to you before that. 

His tickles were now focusing on keeping up the flow of starry laughter, watching them grow up to chortles and tune down into snickers as he scribbled in between each bone, keeping track of every special spot that pried a shriek from your lungs only to randomly attack it with prodding and poking, slowly fishing all kinds of joyful sounds that you could make.

He then buried his paws in your armpits, swirling the fingertips there for a few moments before digging energetically, fingers dancing and prodding every inch they could reach, which immediately made your arms come down with a loud chortle, head shaking and legs kicking at the sensation.

How was he so good at this?

Dogday gasped dramatically (not again-) and lightly pulled his paws in faux alarm, not really stopping his attack. “Oh no! Once more, you have trapped me!” Such a goofball. Such a silly, mean goofball and you could not wait to put your wiggly hands on and see how flustered you could make him be. “Dang, I really didn’t want to resort to this but I guess that I have no other option but to keep tickling and tickling and tickling on your poor ticklish pits forever and ever until the end of our days.” He then winked when he found your shining eyes. “But you would actually love that, wouldn’t you, my giggly sunshine?”

That was it. You were going to die. Right here and there. The playful tickles, the unrelenting teasing, the fond stares and gentle words… you could actually feel your entire body about to melt.

With a strength you didn’t even realize you had, you pulled your arms up to hide your flaming face, a pitched ‘eee’ sound mixing with the hysterical, absolutely uncontrollable laughter, your body rolling to the side and curling, shoulders bouncing with the force of each of your giggles.

Dogday let go of you, giggling together with your reactions, resting his hands on the ground and just observing, amusement and care clear as water in every trace of his features.

After a while, you felt a paw lay on your back, retracting for a bit when just that made you wiggle away, a new round of chuckles spilling, before it came back to rub your shoulders, touch kind and too firm to tickle. “Okay, okay, sunshine. I’m done. You can calm down for now.”

Laying down on the floor giggling yourself silly didn’t feel so embarrassing when Dogday’s own quiet snorts and snickers were quick to accompany you, especially since the rubbing really felt relaxing, making you melt on the touch bit by bit. 

After a few minutes, when a comfortable silence had fallen on you both, you rolled on your back, finally being able to stare at your companionship without feeling like you would explode. Dogday smiled bigger at your direction. He lifted a paw to gently wipe a tear from your cheek, not thinking too much about it.

“That was so fun! I didn’t know you were so ticklish, angel. You are almost as bad as m-” He stopped right in his tracks when a gasp and a new string of titters fell like a waterfall from your mouth and you pushed his paw away, fastly rubbing your cheek so the feeling of fuzzy tickles would go away. It was like the softest makeup brush had just touched your skin, and you had no idea that just this could tickle so much.

Dohohogday! You sahaid you werehe done! 

But your companionship didn’t answer. Astonished, he stared at his paw before looking at you again, gaze jumping from one to the other like he was watching a tennis match.

Suddenly his entire face brightened like the sun and he looked at you as if you had just said the funniest, most brilliant pun he had ever heard in his entire life.

“Aaaangel!” Every letter was bathed in pure, disbelieved delight.

No! You knew very well what that tune meant! No way! Nononono! Don’t you dare!

“Are your cheeks…”

Dohohogday! Don’t you come closer!

“Ticklish?”

Before you could push yourself from the mattress and jump away, there were two thumbs softly scratching on your cheeks, scribbling so lightly that it immediately made a giant smile take over your expression. Titters started to fill the air once more.

“Oh my… angel! This is adorable!” Dogday looked like he was about to bounce around the room with how much excited he was, his voice getting higher and glitching in excitement. “I can’t believe how fun and cute… You just… Ah, sunshine, I can’t help but!”

And before you could even blink, he shoved his smiley, stupidly fuzzy face right on your neck again, nuzzling there without a single worry in the world. His fingers kept  tickling your cheeks, sometimes even slipping to tease the back of your ears with a few scratches as he giggled in joy since he could literally feel the rumbling of your snickers. They twirled and spun in the air for much minutes more until his tickly attack from cuteness overload was finally finished and you both just kept layed down on the comfy pile, cuddling in between content sighs.

Dogday listened to your calm breath, saw how relaxed your entire body was and, according to the few sneaky peaks he had, saw that happy, full of mirth, smile was still in your face, leaving him melting in contentment, entire body relaxing as well. 

Perfect. His plan had worked.

Not that it was that big of a deal, but it had been such a long time since he had the opportunity to…

He was just glad that it worked. That he still got it in him. 

(Being playful. Happy. Helping the others. Being there when they needed him. Matter when it was necessary. Being silly and fun)

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t sense the hand coming until it laid on his head, playing with the fur there and scratching on that place right behind his left ear that never failed to make him embarrassingly become a mush of pleased hums and wagging tail. A low, sleepy voice crossed the air.

You said you would take him out of here. It’s a promise, Dogday.

How his angel knew exactly what to say was a mystery to him. And, it didn’t quite hurt, but his entire being ached at those words. His smile was sad and he was glad that the human couldn’t see as he blinked quickly, eyes suddenly moisty. “Alright.”

There would still be some revenge when you woke up, though. Be ready.

And that reminded him so much of others playful, sleepy conversations he had before everything happened that it ripped a surprised laugh from him. He tried to look up to see the very much likely mischievous glint in his friend’s eyes, but a few more purposeful scratches turned him right back to a content puddle. He nuzzled the human a bit more. “Sleep well, angel.”

You too, Dogday.

(And sleep well they did. Lost in a peaceful rest as the entire world outside left them be.)

[~*~]

Random fun facts!

-There is a parallel I made by mistake between CatNap and DogDay and the whole 'trusting and following the being that saved your life'. It's not too deep and Dogday isn't as bad as Catnap but that was an interesting thing I noticed :D

-Different from the reader, Dogday is more used to the time down there so he has a good grasp when day and nights happens in general.

-I am actively ignoring the plotholes here about food and water here. Ya know when you have to poke holes in a lid so the bugs in the container can breathe that is what I doing kjhgfdfghyhgfd

-Nothing to do with the fanfic but I kept listening to this song when I was writing it and I think it's cute.

#Had so much writing this! It's been a good year and something since I wrote some good ol reader insert #xreader #Ticklish!Reader #Lee!Player #Lee!Reader #Ler!Dogday #Mentioned Lee!Dogday and Ler!Reader #poppy playtime tickles #poppy playtime tickling #wanted to say more on the tags but woke up sick so brain is fuzzy #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic

[drpeppertummy]

some more tummy-themed emoji asks mostly stuffing some hunger. warning for potentially unhealthy habits & shit

👖 Will they undo their belt or unbutton their pants to relieve pressure on their belly, or will they suffer through it until they can get changed?

🫳 How do they respond--physically, verbally, emotionally, etc--to belly rubs?

🤒 Are they prone to tummyaches? If so, for any particular reason? If not, what circumstances DO they get tummyaches in?

🤤 Do they have a favorite thing to be full of? Not necessarily a favorite thing to eat, but something that feels good in their belly?

🤢 Is there anything in particular that does NOT feel good in their belly? How much of it can they eat, if any?

🤼 Are their friends & loved ones more likely to be urging them to eat more, or to stop eating so much? Why?

🎂 Are there any foods that they only have on certain occasions? Do they go overboard when they have the chance?

📐 What's the shape of their belly like when it's full and bloated?

🛌 Can they carry on like normal on a too-full belly, or do they need to take a break?

🍗 How well do they function on an empty stomach? Can they go about their tasks, or do they need to stop and eat?

🥘 How hungry do they typically get before finally eating? Do they have any choice in the matter?

🗣️ Who's more likely to speak up about being hungry first--them, or their belly?

🍳 If they come home tired and starving, are they taking the time to make food, eating something quick, or going straight to bed? Is whatever they do enough? Is it too much?

🫄 How likely are they to overeat? Are there any particular circumstances where it happens?

🍽️ How likely are they to go without eating enough? Are there any particular circumstances where it happens?

🥡 Do they usually bring home leftovers if they go out to eat, or do they manage to clean their plate?

🧑‍🤝‍🧑 Do their eating habits change around other people compared to when they're alone? In terms of quantity, what they choose to eat, how they eat it, etc? Does this have any positive or negative effects on them?

#text #belly kink #tummy kink #stuffing #stuffed belly #stomachache kink #hunger kink #prompts

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

Please give reaper ash headcanons or I might ACTUALLY combust, thank you 🧎🧎🧎

I ❤️ Reaper

Reaper Ash x Gender Neutral! Reader (romantic headcanons)

Summary: basic romantic headcanons for Reaper before and during the Hunger Games. __ Before the Games:

Far before the reaping or the Games, Reaper had fallen in love with you. It happened since you had the same classes and he slowly gained feelings for you. You were so kind, and he couldn't help catching glimpses of you during class.

During the reaping, when his name was called, he almost immediately felt dread. He desperately wanted to never be called, not only because it was his lasting year of (possibly) being reaped, but also because he wanted to get the opportunity to ask you out.

Reaper didn't think he could feel worse but apparently you being reaped caused him to feel so many things he thought he couldn't.

Though he would greatly prefer you not being reaped with him, considering Reaper would win and he would get to be around you.

Reaper would spend most of his time in the train car talking to you, hoping to get to know you better. He's very 'normal' when it comes to conversations, not the best, not the worst.

He's very kind and would try to keep you safe from not only the other tributes but also Capital mentors. Why should they be trusted? None of them were being taken care of properly, it's not like anything would change.

Of course, one of the mentors brought around food. Reaper wasn't extremely excited about talking to some random Capital kid. But you got some of the food. Even if he told you, it wasn't really worth it since they could've put stuff in there, you got some stuff anyway.

But he's more than grateful for you sharing food with him, giving him half of your sandwich. Reaper would make himself think you magically got it, and it was out of the kindness of your heart to give him some.

Both before and during the Games, he would keep watch over you, making sure no tributes tried anything or any Capital person came in the night to grab at you or something. Reaper would sit close to you, looking down at you softly and carefully wiping the dirt from your face, hoping you won't wake. He would be so embarrassed if you did.

During the Games:

Since he grew close to you before the Games, it meant you were more trusting of him, which meant you stayed close. You could fend for yourself, but you decided he was good enough to trust.

He would tell you to stay near him, not going to the cornucopia since he would be able to get the weapons himself. Instead, Reaper would tell you to stay in your spot or go for the tunnels.

Reaper will take you into a room in the tunnels, forcing the door shut, just enough for only him, you, or one of the stronger tributes (like Jessup) to get through. He doubted anyone would go for him since he was strong enough to take on another tribute (maybe even two if he felt it was worth it).

With his time in the tunnels with you, he would stay up nearly the entire time, staying watch to keep you and him safe. It's only on one occasion you got him to sleep while you stayed awake, which took a lot of convincing.

While a lot of tributes are asleep, he would talk to you about District Eleven, talking about things like music and hobbies he might not know you have. If you both have same hobbies or music you both like, Reaper would view it as a good bonding experience and try getting to know you better.

But he's just friendly, it's not like he has had a thing for you for months.

As time goes on, he'll try and get closer to you, physically and metaphorically. If you accept his advances, he'd be over the moon, smiling so much his face would hurt.

And he would only kiss you when he knew the Capital was asleep, no longer looking down at you through their cameras. That's when he would leave soft kisses on your face as he would hold you in his arms dearly.

__

So sorry it took so long to complete!

My tbosas masterlist

#ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #thg #thg prequel #tbosas x reader #tbosas headcanons #reaper ash x gender neutral reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #reaper ash x reader #romantic headcanons #headcanon #reaper ash headcanons #reaper ash #request #reaper tbosas #reaper ash tbosas #reaper thg #tbosas x gender neutral reader #reaper ash x gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader #gender neutral insert #reaper ash x you

[hostdoozy]

The horrifying implications of Meat Sweats powers.

Rupert (mainly known as meat sweats) is possibly one of my favourite side-villains within Rottmnt as of this moment. Down his writing and animation, the Gordon Ramsey parody is an absolute delight to watch.

Something about his mannerisms is beyond fascinating to me. He's a double threat, both cunning and robust. I could go on about for hours about this overgrown porky pig characteristic and how he is so much more than the very thing he is parodying.

But I'll spare you that mercy and focus on ONE aspect of his character.

His mutant powers. (read more down below)

In 'Nothing but Truffle' we get a lot of insight into how his abilities function. Using the strange tendrils that make up his arm and hands, he can latch onto his prey and suck out their 'essences'. Temporarily possessing his victim's powers while his victim is either immobilized or die after the process (implied). The key word here is "Temporarily" During the episode, after Mikey is betrayed by the British Meatbag we get this little exchange between the two.

"B-but- i thought you were nice now?" "Oh. that wore off hours ago...and by the way, you play lousy mandoline" This shows us, that once he absorbs his victim's powers- throughout the course of an entire day- they only last for a short period. This shows us, that his mutant form can quickly burn off "essences". why is this horrifying? I'll get into it soon enough, sit tightly. Let's us examine what exactly he IS absorbing.

We see that whenever Rupert is absorbing something- it is always GREEN and you what else is green? Empyrean. the source of yokai power, the ingredient used to create mutants. His mutant form requires Empyrean. What do I mean by "require"? well then. We established that Rupert can quickly burn off Empyrean after absorbing it. now i'd like to point out something to you. Notice how Rupert is often described as "cannibalistic" or "vampiric" by other characters, merch and even concept artwork. Notice how often he hunts, he jumps at any opportunity to catch any prey. See how within the show, there are many instances of him having cages upon cages of mutant/yokai saved for special occasions. Almost like, he NEEDS a constant onslaught of Empyrean not because he enjoys the power that comes with it but rather, out of necessity. It is VERY possible that his Mutant form needs it to survive. Normal food won't simply cut it, He hungers for yokai and mutants alike.

So is that it? seems pretty simple enough, right? AHAHAHAHAHA NO MY DEAR READER, WE ARE NOT DONE YET! you are stuck here with me. I had a shocking revelation, one that seemed rather far-fetch but please bear with me.

Rupert has minimal control of his powers.

When the metal gauntlets come off, Rupert cannot control what his tendrils can absorb. An example of this is featured is once again, in "Nothing but Truffle". The second Mikey pulled Rupert's arm to the weretree, the tendrils began draining it upon contact- against Rupert's will. He can't stop it. This is just one of the many instances of it. We know that Rupert can form "claws" with his tendrils based on this one Ep but this is the only time it happens. Usually, they are untangled instead of interconnected

While this could just be an animation inconsistency- please just. indulge me for a moment. Rupert is known as most dangerous mutant according to Tmnt and there's good reason for this. Despite Ruperts disadvantages, he is capable of working AROUND them. He is dangerous not because of his mutant abilities but for his intelligence. we the viewer don't suspect it because He is capable of making split-second decisions within a fight. Rupert is competent in many others ways that we overlook and mislead into thinking he's in full control of his powers. (Idk if he's autistic but he'd be a master at masking lol)

So NOW why is this horrifying?

Keep in mind. Rupert was a human- a shitty one but still human regardless. His mutation wasn't by choice. His cannibalism wasn't a choice. Imagine, you are at the height of your career and in the middle of your show- in front of an entire audience- you suddenly feel a pinch. everything is painful. Your body contorts into a horrific pigish amalgamation in a matter of minutes. The world has its eyes on you. people are watching. All you see is RED.

You've become a monster.

Once the red is gone. All that is left is the hunger. You are reduced to nothing more than a creature lurking within the shadows. A wall is put between you and the remaining semblance of your old life. Everything you work for, Gone. Left to rot away.

No matter how many scraps you pull out of NYC's trash piles. You are still hungry. This disgusting form of yours demands more. The only thing you can do to survive. is give in. indulge. you didn't just become a monster. you ARE the monster.

Whether or not Rupert was deserving of this faith is up in the air. We know that he's always been an Asshole. (both Mikey and himself go on to confirm this)

This isn't meant to suddenly paint Rupert in a sympathetic light nor be an attempt to "redeem" his actions. Far from it. This is meant to further insight into him as a villain and why he acts the way he does. Rupert still values his humanity. Rupert resorts to extreme measures to ensure his own comfortability and his legacy (i.e his restaurant) but thats a topic for another day.

To finally conclude this tangent. While Rupert is scummy sod, the situation he's forced into is unsettling when you sit down and think about it. If anything. he might have become a bigger asshole due to his mutation. (now excuse me- im going step inside this man's food truck and kiss him)

#Rupert swaggert #Meat sweats #theory #headcanon #character analysis #rottmnt rambles #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise mikey is just mentioned #mikey #rottmnt mikey #brew talks #Rambles #am i insane #yes #yes i am #todd is also mentioned idk #im eepy

[swmmi-kti]

Run!

Pairing: Kyojuro Rengoku x Fem Slayer Reader.

Part Two: here Part three: here

--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--*--

Kyojuro seemed to have it all together. You somehow had survived final selection with him and on the off chance you saw him he always seemed to be three steps ahead. So it really was no surprise when you had learned of his status. Kyojuro Rengoku, the flame hashira. It had a nice ring to it. 

Really you only got to see him ever so often but when you did it was a nice form of catchup. He was always eager to tell you about what he’s done and what new slayers he may have met. Even what new food he may have tried. 

Rarely ever did you guys stay longer than one meal always off to slay demons. But that didn't mean that there wasn’t something there. Something in your very being that you knew all too well.

Sometimes when you had bid Kyojuro goodbye you wondered to yourself did he perhaps feel that way too? Or was it something silly that you rather not whisper into the world. Maybe too scared that hushed winds would travel and let him know about your harboring feelings. 

However on the rarest occasion he had invited you to join him to a feast while he spoke of his most recent adventure. 

You had only ever only heard rumors about a boy who traveled with a demon and to know that the Hashira were okay with it well it eased your mind a bit. He spoke loudly, eating without a care in the world as he continued to tell you about Tanjiro. The Umai’s sprinkled here and there didn't startle you as it had done sometimes before. 

He turned to your hushed figure as he finally looked at you since the last time you spoke. Always as stunning, always breathtaking. 

Rengoku men are always known to love only one woman. 

“So Tell Me! Any New News You Would Like To Share With Me?” He spoke loudly now, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You looked at your bowl that was somehow full. You figured you just enjoyed Kyojuro’s time so much it made the hunger go away. So without thinking you handed the soup over before placing your finger on your chin as you began to think. 

“Well there’s not much going on with me if ill be honest Kyojuro-San” you said nodding a no as Kyojuro tried pushing your meal back towards you. “If im honest i think ive come closer to death than i had imagined” 

That Made him stop before he had even begun to eat. Eyes now full of concern as he looked at you. “Death? What even do you mean”

“Don’t look at me with such worry. You are closer to death than i” You stated blankly. True, being a slayer meant he was always out to possibly die. Being a hashira never made it less threatening. However you laid your head on your hand as you stared at the ceiling to recollect your thoughts. 

“There was a demon which I thought I could handle but I ended up more beaten than I had prepared myself for. When morning came and the demon was no more I collapsed. It was by some miracle one of the citizens found me and nursed me well.” You said now fully looking at him. Noticing he had not at all taken even a sip from the soup. 

“Are you not hungry?” you asked, looking at him. 

He looked down at his plate. Seeming that he had lost his appetite while speaking with you. “You could have sent for help you know?” 

“I know but it was my mission. Besides it is an honorable to die for the cause we fight for. I wouldn’t mind dying so long as the demon i died to also dies” You said eating the leftover shrimp tempura you two shared. 

“Id prefer you didn't die at all” 

“I do too” 

“I mean it Y/n” He spoke bowl now being held by both his hands as he looked down to it. Could he be brave? Would he be able to tell you all that runs wild in his mind? “I’ve been imagining things with you” 

“What?” you asked a little bit shocked

“I know its foolish and i know your my friend and all. But I imagine that I met you, us as humans and there are no demons. Sometimes i imagine that we go on dinner dates. I imagine coming home to you on days where its just a little too much for comfort” He swallows down hard

The sudden awareness he has of your eyes on him made him swallow down the shyness he never knew he could have. 

“I picture Meeting you here, an everyday normal woman who has stolen my heart” He said the blush now appearing as he tried averting your eyes, laughing a bit  “Isn’t that ridiculous? Tell me it so” 

You couldn’t even help how hot you suddenly felt. How aware you were about how close you two sat. How maddening it was to be so close to him physically and emotionally. 

“I think its best if i go Rengoku-San. Thank you for the food However i hope to see you sometime soon” 

Your gaze didn’t meet his. Your face red and running impossibly hot, His eyes, his demeanor shifted that like a child who just got scolded. Did he really mess this all up? 

However with a shaken breath you smiled at him. Holding his empty hand and placing the small hair pin that held it all together. Your laugh was shaken as you looked at him, his bewildered eyes staring at you 

“A promise Rengoku-san! I must go!” You spoke rather loudly before running out of the establishment. He knew this hair pin was very special to you. It held a lot of meaning he knew as much. 

With a reddened face he placed it safely besides his scabbard held tight by his belt. 

Paying for the food he left quickly too. His heart was beating ever so fast. He hoped he would see you very soon.

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny kyojuro #demon slayer kyojuro #kny rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader

[somewhat-very-insane]

questions i am sick and tired of hearing as a chronically ill and disabled person (and why i hate them)

this did wind up a bit longer than i expected it to, but by all means, feel free to add on with any questions you hate to be asked (and why!)

abled people, please do refrain from overtaking this post, and, disabled people, please do refrain from making this post entirely about any one specific condition.

"do you really have to talk about being disabled all the time?"

yes. yes i do. i promise that however annoying it is for you to have to endure the absolute agony that must be me making an offhand comment, or, on occasion, maybe actually talking about something that affects me for more than a few minutes at once, it is infinitely more "annoying" for me to have to actually live with the issues i talk about for every second of every day of my whole life. when i stop talking, you don't have to think about it anymore. but i always have to think about it. you get to put your full focus on something else, or, if the conversation is that annoying for you, you can leave! nobody is forcing you to stay. but talking about my problems is the only way i can get any support for them, and even when i stop, they are still there. i cannot "step away" from the figurative "conversation" with my pain. it is always talking to me, whether it be just a small whisper in the background or screaming at the top of its lungs in my ears, that pain is always there. so, while it's unfortunate that you are getting "tired of hearing about it," please do understand that i got tired of experiencing it a long, long time ago; do not destroy my one way to speak about my experiences solely because you do not wish to be made uncomfortable by them.

"do you really need that pain medication? won't you get addicted?"

in response to that, let me ask you this: do you really need that water you're drinking? aren't you afraid you'll get addicted to drinking water? it sounds ridiculous, i am aware. but i will break it down for you, now (as, in my mind, it is an adequate comparison). every human being needs things like safe, clean water, food, and some form of shelter to survive. however, the majority of humans can survive adequately with a reasonable amount of these items and will be able to function without major pain or other symptoms that detract from their general quality of life. some people, like myself, can have our basic needs of food, water, and shelter met, yet still experience major (or minor) pain, which cannot be blamed on a lack of rest, hunger, or thirst. therefore, in order to function the way society expects us to, and in order to not be quite as utterly miserable as we otherwise would, we may rely on other, stronger medications than the average person would, to manage that pain. these medications are medically prescribed, and we therefore have every right to utilize the resources provided to us. if i were to simply stop taking certain "non-necessary" medications, while my body would technically continue to function with the aid of my "necessary" medications, i as a person would not be able to function. imagine, if you will, the worst headache, joint pain, cramp, or other temporary ailment you have ever experienced. that probably wasn't a very enjoyable experience for you, was it? but you might've been able to use some ibuprofen or acetaminophen, maybe a heating pad, and after a little while it got better. now imagine if you tried to use those same things but the pain did not get better; imagine that pain lasting for months, even years on end, which you simply could not get rid of. a pain which you were expected to simply pretend was not bothering you, and continue to function the same way as everyone else, who was not in pain, was capable of. surely, in this hypothetical, you would want the (perfectly safe, legal, usually non-addictive) medicine that could make that pain even a little bit less excruciating? even if you knew that the pain would never fully disappear, not really, you would still want it to be less. so, i will take my medications, and leave you with the freedom to choose what you put in your body, just as i deserve the same freedom over mine.

"have you tried just exercising? eating healthier? meditation?"

the short answer is, for almost every disabled person i know, yes. though, granted that you've come this far, i'm sure you are prepared for the long answer, too. exercise can, for some conditions, help to alleviate or lessen certain symptoms. the key thing to note here, though, is that the exercise must be safe and selected specifically for the person based on how it may negatively affect them, as well. even activities that most able-bodied people regard as minor, such as going on a walk, can be draining, nausea-inducing, painful, and outright miserable for some people. i cannot, personally, go on a fifteen-minute walk on flat, paved terrain, in very pleasant weather, without triggering dozens of sensations that would surely make any healthy person worry that they were dying. when i tried to pick up an exercise regimen without professional help, i made my health several times worse. taking the advice of people who were, sometimes, genuinely trying to help, put me in serious danger. even when i did have a team of three doctors working on a plan for me, it took several rounds of trying and failing before we were able to determine what activities i could safely do, and which would be beneficial to me. now, being told to "just eat healthier" particularly irks me, because what foods i have to eat to maintain a more "healthy" balance of sugars, sodium, protein, and fat in my system varies quite a bit from that which a healthy person might be told is the ideal. i do understand that, generally, a low-sodium, lower-fat, mainly natural-sugar, high-protein diet sounds healthiest to a large percentage of people, the same cannot be said for myself. i have been told, by numerous medical specialists, that it is absolutely necessary for me to consume high amounts of sodium (think: eating salty food and snacks, on top of an electrolyte drink and salt pill every morning). i also deal with highly fluctuating blood sugar, which doctors cannot yet explain why it suddenly plummets (no, it is not diabetes, yes, i have been asked this dozens of times). as a result, i will often have to eat something "unhealthy," such as fruit snacks or a similar gummy candy, to get my blood sugar back up. is a high-sugar, high-salt intake diet generally what outsiders will see as healthy? of course not. but, as these are things i have to do to specifically manage my symptoms, it is always frustrating to be told that maybe they are symptoms i experience because of my diet. they are not. as for the types of people who insist that simply doing a guided meditation session each day can cure me of my dozens of health conditions, you are simply incorrect. while some people may experience a temporary psychosomatic alleviation of their pain in response to practicing mindfulness techniques, no one should ever urge another human being to substitute life-saving medication with guided breathing and essential oils. the two are simply not on the same level, and meditation does not, cannot, and will not help every disabled person deal with their symptoms.

"aren't you too young to be so unhealthy?"

no. and, while i do wish that people would not press further when faced with such a simple, clear-cut response, some people simply cannot grasp the idea that anyone under forty-five could possibly deal with any sort of health complications. people can be unhealthy at any age; even infants can have heart conditions, after all. while old age certainly has a higher correlation with deteriorating health, it is certainly not a reason to believe that, therefore, anyone who is not old cannot have poor health. believe me, i do wish that whenever someone older told me that i really am just overthinking things and lying to all my doctors and somehow faking things like MRI and X-ray results, those problems simply disappeared. unfortunately, things do not work that way, and by saying things like that not only do you invalidate the experiences of countless ill individuals, you (deliberately or not) paint us as bad people, when all we want to do is survive.

#actually disabled #disabled #cripple punk #angry cripple #disability #disabilities #chronic pain #actually chronically ill #chronic illness #information #chronically ill #//mortal ills #//god's words

[thorougly-melted-brains]

Simons always noticed Soaps a bit… off. Not that he’s unfriendly, or threatening. Far from it. He’s the friendliest man he knows. He’s certainly competent, disturbingly so on occasion, but outside of the field he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

It’s just, there’s small things that can’t even be explained by the normal variety of human weirdness.

For example, eating. Soap has the same appetite as the rest of the 141. He obviously feels hunger, has dislikes and likes, has cravings. It’s in the mechanical aspects of it that something seems misaligned.

He has two dramatic poles Simon’s noticed. Either scarfing down food so quickly that Simons not sure how he doesn’t choke. Or chewing for so long it’s like he forgot he needs to swallow eventually.

Then there’s the matter of injuries. Every time Ghost’s seen the man injured (which was frequently, unfortunately for Simon’s nerves) it’s like he’s surprised it can happen.

He obviously has some sense of pain, but over anything else he seems disappointed by being hurt. Be it a paper cut or a gunshot wound, he has a habit of staring at it like it’ll heal out of shame.

He’s also remarkably blasé about touch, which tips Ghost off less than it probably should. Simon himself is usually touch-averse, so he understands (in concept, not really in practice, besides with Soap) that some people are the opposite.

It’s only that anything Soap touches him, something about Soap’s own body or his understanding of them is slightly worrying.

A consistent one is his temperature. Parts of his body can be drastically different tempetures at once. And not in a ‘bad circulation’ way. In the way that a half shaded-rock is hot to the touch in places and cool in others. It’s like he’s cold blooded.

He also shows a certain… disinterest, disrespect, maybe incompetence about the human body. Ghost isn’t even sure what to call it. But he can swear, the multiple times Soap has draped himself over/next to Ghost, he’d always had bizzare complaints.

First it was Ghost’s ribs as Soap tried to rest his face on his chest.

“Couldn’t you spare just a few? It’d be more comfortable.” Soap had said, muffled by the fact his mouth was half smushed right over Ghost’s heart.

“Can’t do that unfortunately, need those to hold my body together.” Simon had said, assuming it was a bit.

But the Soap had grumbled, “Greedy fucker” with just a bit too much malice for him to have been joking.

Next was his breathing, or rather the sound of his lungs(?)

“Too loud, ever heard of fucking curtesy?” Soap had said, half asleep where he had tucked his back against the curve of Simons body.

“Thought I was breathing rather quietly. The mask helps that.” Simon had said. He payed more attention this time, the rib incident still fresh in his mind.

“ s’not your breathing, its your divison. Fuckin’ anaphase. Don’t know why you bother with it.”

So he did know human anatomy. To an unusual extent. Simon himself didn’t remember that from human bio. To be fair he wasn’t a great student.

At that point Ghost had stopped paying attention for his own sake. He had his own curiosities after all, and he doubted Soap spent hours pondering them.

Little did he know…

#alien!soap #prompt #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #cod mw2 #writing #au

[meshlasolus]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 10

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: more death, more canon typical violence, some bonding between allies because they gotta survive this bitch as long as they can...

Chapter Summary: Danger lies in places you least expect it. Whether that be in the form of a small animal, or in a harmless capitol citizen. No one is safe from anything in the hunger games.

Word Count: 3.2k

howdy ho, pls excuse my laziness as of lately and enjoy some daily updates (i am not lazy i swear i have been launching a literal fashion brand ToT)

He snapped out of his trance when he heard the tail end of a half whispered conversation behind him.  “I imagine with her it would be marvelous, she certainly has the stamina,” one of the men behind him chuckled, the one on his left nodding in agreement before slamming back his drink. “Not to mention the flexibility.”

Finnick was restless, watching the screen, as usual. 

He’d only gone into the viewing party to stir some chatter, enough to get a sponsor, but then he’d been back on his couch, Mags close by in a chair that was far too large for a sweet little old woman such as herself. She did not care to move, either. 

It hurt her, to know that all this work, all this dedication, and all this commitment to the girl that came here from four might be in vain. But she kept a smile of optimism on her face for him, because she hadn’t seen him care so much about something in a long time. He had almost been numbed to these occasions, dulled to their effects. She held onto the same sliver of hope that he had been clinging to, praying that he would not be crushed if she were to lose. She couldn’t bear to watch him go through something like that again. The first time being when he watched the girl from his district die in the arena beside him. They trained together, they were allies together, and they had known each other before the reaping. Just like you and Lukas. 

Lukas, the dear boy with the longing for a loving mother. Mags hoped she gave him a taste of what it was like, to have someone wrap their arms around you and to be proud of you without any cause or reason. Lukas needed that. Lukas needed a lot of things. She hated the rules of these games, hated the games more than anything. That boy deserves to live, deserves to finally be shown respect from the one person he craves the most… but Finnick’s girl. One who also deserves to live, to come home and to let Finnick hold you in his arms. Mags would never bring it up to him, but she knows the glint in his eye is more than just the protection of a mentor. The look of genuine fear when he feels his prized girl may be in danger is not just one of sympathy for another tribute. He’s latched onto this one, she can feel it. She only hopes that when the time comes for one of them to die, that she will not have to face the streams of tears… her own or Finnicks. 

She watches him, the way he studies your every movement when the screen returns to the career pack, now depleted to three careers and a district seven tribute. A wild bunch they are, but hopefully the game makers will not overestimate their abilities. Lukas may have killed one tribute already, but Mercedes hasn’t. Mags doesn’t think she even could if she tried to. She knows that Finnick thinks the same thing. 

His smile when he leans forward is sweet, seeing her open the note she had crumpled into her pocket. She mirrors his smile on the other side of the camera, not even realizing it. His heart melts as she reads it, and rereads it, and then once more. She’s clinging to it, holding onto that little piece of paper. It’s the only communication she can get from him on the inside of this damned arena. 

-

“We should save those, we need to be using this time to gather other sources of food before more tributes come back to the cornucopia.”

Lukas was taking the lead again, and for good reason. There was little debate when it came to who was pulling the strings of this makeshift operation. He’d been the most confident with his survival knowledge, although he lacked in combat from the other careers. 

“He’s right, by tomorrow, the last tributes are going to try and find us. It’s best we stock up everything we’re going to need before that happens,” Lyra said, throwing on one of the backpacks, one of the smaller ones full of Kunai knives and hunting lures. 

“I w-wove this last night, it’s n-not standard, but it should w-work,” you held up to Lukas the fishing net you’d conjured before you’d gotten so tired the night before. It was far smaller than what he was used to, but it would work nonetheless. 

“It’s perfect,” he smiled, packing it up into another backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he nodded his head towards the trail ahead. 

You all were going to need to find a river, but luckily for you, Rodey had claimed to see one earlier yesterday, when you were all barely limping back to the cornucopia. 

He was doing really well this morning, probably on account of the sponsor he’d gotten. A new pair of shoes to replace the ones that were torn to bits from running yesterday. His blisters were killing him until those new shoes arrived. Now he was chipper as ever. 

“It was a bit further out, had a waterfall behind it…” he trailed, leading you all in a twisting and turning hike through the foggy forest of vines and trees that were tall enough to be skyscrapers. 

The scenery was something out of an old adventure book, something of an era you wished was alive today. Something where the hero gets the girl, and the danger comes to an end. You don’t see that happening at the conclusion of your story. You see your picture in the sky and the boom of cannonfire, ringing out in your ears before it all goes dark. You just hope it won’t be too horrible, too violent or too messy. 

By the time you reached the river, which was barely even a river, you went to the edge to stand by Lukas. You looked out to the waterfall that was sitting at the edge of the river bank, creating the endless flow. It was pretty, or it would be, under different circumstances. The other two of the group had taken off, finding bushes full of Echinacea flowers, and started harvesting those in case of any possible infections occurring in the future. 

“W-what do I need to do?” You asked the boy next to you, helping him take the net out of the backpack and unfold it enough that it will work to catch. 

“Not much. Can you stand in this shallow part over here?” 

You used his help to step down into the water, the surface level barely reaching your hips. The coolness drenching your clothes was a nice contrast to the constantly warm and overly humid environment. You’d been feeling sticky and gross for the past two days, and this was like a little bath of sorts. It rid you of that nasty feeling, and for once, you were happy to be standing in water.

“You’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m g-good.”

He nodded, hopping in as well and handing you one end of the net, beginning to walk over towards the further side of the small river. It was far deeper on his side, but it didn’t deter him. He kept steady, opening the net and allowing it to start blocking the flow of anything swimming through. There weren’t many fish in the water, so it would take a minute of waiting. 

Meanwhile, Lyra and Rodey had stuffed their pockets full of the flowers and other plants that may be useful to them.

“So, Mercedes,” Lyra began, looking towards the riverbank and seeing you splash your hair into the water. She found it amusing, considering she heard one of the boys comment about her lack of swimming abilities. Maybe they’d been joking. She was from four, so it didn’t quite make sense. 

“What about her?” Rodey’s brows strewn with confusion, he turned to face Lyra completely, setting his backpack down for a moment to sit and rest. It had been a longer journey than expected to get here. 

“You call her Mercy, right?” She asked, and he nodded in return. What was she getting at? He didn’t care to interject yet. “Do you think…?”

“Do I think what?”

She sighed, looking once more to yourself and Lukas, before settling her eyes on Rodey. 

“Do you think she’s actually merciful? I have to think she’d kill either of us if she had to, but something tells me she’s not so sure of herself… She’s strong, man… she’s really strong. But she doesn’t exert it. When she fought me in training, it’s like she didn’t care if she won or lost.”

Rodey’s eyes found your smile by the riverbank, something sweet and warm and full of life, the exact opposite of what these games are supposed to be. You contradicted the meaning the capitol gave them, and he wondered if that would be in more ways than one. 

“She hasn’t killed anyone yet. I think when the time comes she’ll do what she has to, but until then, I wouldn’t bet on it being either of us.”

Lyra nodded, seemingly having the same thought. Rodey likes you, he wasn’t going to say something about you that could get you killed before you had to be. That’s the game, but for as long as he can he wants to take a page out of your book, avoiding the rules.

-

Finnick was standing as straight and tall as he could, his confidence on the outside rivaling that which had been seen for years. The side of him that people knew and loved. His cocky gestures and snarky remarks, the slight arrogance and acceptance of man worship at his feet. It had always been a facade, but it was harder to wear recently. Now he did his best to show that he was back, his original self was on display for everyone to see. 

He’d taken the day to become a little more serious about sponsors. So far, there was only one need of a Capitol gift, but as the last days roll around, he knows that he needs to start racking up the funds. You and Lukas have dwindling supplies, and soon, he’s sure the game makers will be using that against you. 

Mags never felt herself useful for this sort of thing, she always sat quietly in the corner and tried to simply read the room, giving tips to Finnick if he needed them. She was so thankful to have him by her side. He was so much better at being the talkative presence in these Capitol functions. Especially ones that had so much riding on them. Today, yours and Lukas’ lives. Next year, another pair of tributes who will need the same supplies, sponsors, and supporters. It was a crucial part of the games, and now more than ever, Finnick sought after these wealthy citizen’s personal assistance. 

He’d taken a break from circling for a moment, standing before the screen, watching you help Lukas with the fishing net. The water was shallow enough to stand in, and you seemed to be doing alright, the current of the stream not pulling or pushing you in any which direction. You’d even dunked your hair into the water, bringing some relief to your body, having thoroughly been exposed to the heat and humidity of this rainforest. Even though it rained often, it was still warm and humid. 

You’d whipped your hair back over your head, splashing Lukas in the face. He playfully scooped a hand into the water and threw it up in your direction, and you laughed with a wide smile. 

You were so beautiful, your smile was stunning. He was momentarily frozen in wonder… awestruck wonder. Like a moment where you gaze upon a magnificent sunset or a calming scene of nature. Something that you have to sit and admire for a second, because damn… you didn’t think anything could be so lovely without even trying.

He snapped out of his trance when he heard the tail end of a half whispered conversation behind him. 

“I imagine with her it would be marvelous, she certainly has the stamina,” one of the men behind him chuckled, the one on his left nodding in agreement before slamming back his drink. “Not to mention the flexibility.”

Finnick turned on his heels, staring down the gentleman’s face, and acting as though he didn’t know what was going on. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He played, tilting his head to entice some sort of response. 

“Oh, nothing. We were just talking about how agile and athletic your tributes are. You must be very proud.” 

“I am, and I’m going to do everything I can to keep bad things from happening to them,” he said with a sarcastic tone on the last bit. He knew that with the look he shot the man to speak, they would consider another topic of conversation. 

Finnick only turned back around when they moved on to talk about other tributes. 

What he’d heard pretty much cemented in stone what he already thought to be true. If you made it out of that arena, you’d be doomed to a life the same as him. Being called into the Capitol for nightly visits until they grow tired of you. It took finnick five whole years to become old news… he can’t even imagine how loved you would be for many years beyond that. You’d somehow charmed him without even trying, and here he was on a mission to save your life because of it. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could grow tired of you. There’s no other tribute, past, present, or even future that has a chance of beating you in sweetness and beauty. There’s no other tribute who has your compassion, your mercy… as much as he hated that nickname for you, he now found himself clinging to it in hopes of repeating it back to you. 

The people around him continue to speak of you, and he knows that his selfishness will use it to his advantage. Your life out of the arena would be filled with comments like these, and the repercussions of them, the work and practical slavery of them, not one ever being your fault. But even through all of it, he still wants you to live. He wants you to come home and have a house across from his and beside Mags’. He wants to keep giving you swimming lessons until you feel confident to go into the water without him. He wants to teach you how to fish like he and his father used to do. He wants to take you into the market and show you all his favorite places to get food. He wants to watch you thrive and grow beyond these games and forget about all the bad things. His want for your happiness, his need for your presence to return… It's what drives him. 

He doesn’t linger on the screen for too much longer before he continues making his rounds.

-

The looks on the other tribute's faces when you offer them a piece of split open fish is hilarious. You can’t help but giggle. You have to sit for a moment and think, because no, other districts probably don’t just tear open a fish and eat it. How strange, that the tributes can be so different in culture, but still all the same. 

You’ve grown up eating fish, grown up being around the smell and feeling the texture. It doesn’t bother you because it is familiar, and mundane. 

They eventually sucked it up and tried some, knowing that by tomorrow they would have to eat it anyway. 

“It’s not terrible, could use some salt,” Rodey joked around, twisting his face into different expressions with every bite he took. 

“My m-mama cooks fish better than a-anyone I’ve ever met. Bakes it with lemon juice a-and pepper.” You smiled, willing yourself to remember your mother and her home cooked meals. 

She hadn’t been able to cook in very large quantities lately, one of the primary reasons you’d been hungry so often.The loss of your dad’s paycheck was bound to take a toll. 

“Sounds pretty good to me,” He laughed, leaning his shoulder into yours playfully. His attempts at affection were becoming more pronounced as the day went on. Offering you his hand to step out of the river, handing you one of the blankets to dry off with, his lingering touches and prolonged stares that lasted just a bit too long. You didn’t mind it. He made being in this hellhole a decent experience. You’re going to die anyways, might as well enjoy the time you have left. 

Out of nowhere, Lukas’ yell of warning stirred everyone. 

“Lyra, watch out!” 

But it was too late. There was a long and colorful snake that had just sunk its teeth into her arm. Lukas immediately grabbed one of the short swords and cut it in half, ridding her of the animal… but the damage had already been done. 

“What was that thing?” She grabbed her arm in pain, writhing around on the ground after feeling the spread of its venom in her veins. It turned them dark, the webbing of black inky venom had already sunk too far into her system. 

“Lyra,” Rodey tried to still her movements, her screams of terror going in one ear and out the other. Lukas rummaged through the backpacks, along with you, to try and find some of that healing ointment that the sponsors had given you the day before. You’d found it at the bottom of the last pack, turning around quickly and trying to help her. 

“Hold her still,” Lukas told Rodey, opening the canister, and applying some of the medical treatment over the entry wound, but it didn’t do anything. She still shook like a leaf, and wasn’t stopping. 

You knelt down and grabbed one of the bandage rolls from the same pack, trying to tie off her arm and create a tourniquet from it. The venom didn’t spread as fast, but it was still going, slowly reaching the top of her arm as it crawled over every vein she had. She had stopped screaming, but took your arm with her other hand. She pulled your forwards, and your eyes widened momentarily in fear. 

“Take it off, please,” she cried, her voice now slightly hoarse from the screams. You shook your head, about to protest, but she nodded. “I’m one less person to kill. Take it off.”

You looked at Lukas and Rodey, and they looked upset, but didn’t tell you anything. They didn’t know what to say. They had been happy to have this girl as an ally, but this is the hunger games. All will die but one, and this is Lyra’s time.

You looked back to her, your eyes welling up with tears. With a heavy heart, you untied the bandaging, letting the venom spread quickly again. Her flailing movements and screaming returned, but you had to step back, turning away and ducking your head into Rodey’s shoulder to keep her out of your eyeline. Once again the screaming stopped, and you looked back… Lyra had a look of peace in her now still eyes. She was gone, and the cannon fired synonymously after. You didn’t stop crying, and neither Rodey nor Lukas said anything to you about it. You felt like it was you. You felt like you’d killed her… 

That’s the thing about mercy. It isn’t always about showing restraint, or holding back. Sometimes, it’s about giving in, and letting things take their course.

-

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

#finnick odair x oc #finnick imagine #finnick odair thg #thg finnick #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #sam claflin #sam claflin x reader #the hunger games #thg series #thg #katniss everdeen

[chubjoon]

You can('t) call me Idol.

Seokjin knows he shouldn't do this as he is technically forbidden to , but he can't stop himself.

He's been forced to be on a strict diet for an upcoming comeback, but right now with the build up of never ending blend food and stress, the only comfort he’s found was snacks he impulsively bought at the 7/11 in the middle of the night. It was a risky trip, but oh so worth it he thought as he finished his fourth pack of snacks. It's been a while since he felt satiated, and the warm feeling of being full was soothing to all the stress he's been having due to their next comeback.

He patted his stomach and reckoned it had become a small bump now because of all the snacks he ate after his dinner. He didn't think about it too much, it was only a special occasion right now as it has been one of the worst days of these past few weeks.

He threw the packages away in his desk bin and burrowed himself under his covers, sated and relaxed.

But alas, it didn't stop there. He found himself in the same situation the day after, and the day after, and the day after, until it became weeks of night trips to 7/11 to buy more and more snacks. It's even been almost a week and a half since Seokjin started buying fried chicken with all of the rest of the snacks.

As always, he was in his pajamas sitting in his bed gorging on all the snacks he bought. He couldn't count the amount of packages that were surrounding him. He was only keeping his stress at bay right now with every bite he took, now greedily devouring the chicken he bought and savoring it like it was the first time he's ever had it.

He felt sad when he finished everything, not realizing how fast he ate. As usual, he gathered the packages to throw in his bin that's quickly overflowing these days. But everytime he did that, he’d feel how much all he ate weighed his belly down, slowing his movements.

He threw the plastic packages in his bin and then lifted his head towards the door. He just remembered they had some packets of instant ramen left in his pantry.

Quietly, he opened his door to check if anyone was around. Then, he crept up into the kitchen to prepare himself the ramyeon he's now dreaming of. After successfully finishing his cooking, he walked back to his room discreetly but quickly to finally be able to eat it.

He ate the noodles like he didn't just finish eating enough snacks for 4 people, fried chicken and his dinner. He inhaled them with renewed hunger, polishing his bowl quickly and drinking all the soup. He let out a burp without meaning to, laughing to himself as it startled him a bit. He felt his stomach being heavier, and it felt a bit sore. He brushed a hand against it, noticing that his stomach felt way more dome shaped than before, even pushing a bit into his oversized pajamas.

He didn't care because now, he felt warm and sleepy enough to instantly sleep when his head touched the pillow, which he did.

When the time of the comeback came around, he was having some troubles fitting into his designated suit. First, the pants had trouble coming up his legs and mostly his ass, he had to jump in place for the pants to finally cover it.

Seokjin took a peak at the mirror to see what's wrong. Well, it was very clear what was wrong.

He gained weight. And not just a little weight, enough for his belly to push through the open zipper of his pants and hang a bit low. Seokjin brought his hand to it and looked at how his belly filled his palm, jiggling it afterwards. He saw how jiggly his stomach was, not having noticed earlier.

He took a look at his face and saw that it was pretty obvious he's gained some weight. His cheeks were chubbier, and he had a noticeable beginning of a double chin. Under quite a lot of angles, you can see it.

He kept his surprise at bay and tried to button his pants, and after a bit of struggle he was able to. It hurt because it was too tight around his belly but it had to do the job.

He took his button up shirt and put it on, watching how his belly even if contained by his pants was able to push against the shirt. There were gaping holes in between each button and Seokjin didn't know how he would hide that.

He took the blazer and thank the Lord it did exactly what Seokjin wanted. It hid enough for his belly to not be too noticeable.

He sighed in relief and felt a button of his shirt loosened, accompanied with a creaking sound. He looked straight at his reflection in panic, looking to see if anything looked weird. Nothing did.

Well expect all the weight he's gained of course. He turned sideways and saw how thick his belly looked. Why did no one say anything to him?

What weirded him out the most was that he didn't quite mind it. He rubbed his hand on his new found belly and thought that he actually quite liked it. It suits him.

He can only hope he won't get screamed at for gaining weight.

He went all out that night. Bought his usual snacks and McDonald's which he hadn't had in years because of his diets.

He didn't get screamed at for gaining weight, be oh boy did he receive a lot of unflattering comments about his body. It lasted all day, all the time, until Seokjin was able to hide again in his oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. He sulked the whole time when they were going home, looking outside the car window and keeping quiet to keep his anger from lashing out onto the members who did and said nothing. When they arrived at the dorms, Seokjin went straight up into his room and locked himself inside of it.

He only went out of it hours later during the night to go outside and buy his usual.

It was after his trip to the 7/11 that he saw a McDonald's a little further down the road. He didn't eat dinner so his stomach was rumbling at even the idea of sinking his teeth into a burger right now.

So he went there and, in a fit of hunger, bought two XL meals, a 20 chicken nuggets box and two wraps.

Something he quite regretted now as he was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, empty wrappings around him, and his second burger in hand. It was the only thing left along with one of his drinks, but he felt so full.

He rubbed his stomach to relieve the dull pain he was feeling from it. He had to finish his food now. Tomorrow it won't be good anymore.

So he pushed through, and with some belly rubs he was able to finish all he bought. He rubbed his stomach a bit longer, looking down at it. It was bulging out, big and round and almost touching his thighs. He lifted his head towards his full length mirror and got an idea.

After a few struggles, he finally got up. He padded sluggishly towards the mirror and he took a hold of it. He carried it for it to be right in front of the foot of his bed, right in front of where he ate his food at night.

After that, he sat at the foot of his bed and looked at his reflection. His belly was pushing against his pajamas, with a hand on his stomach he felt and actually looked big.

He lifted his shirt and slid the hem of his pants until his stomach to get a whole view of his stomach.

It was riddled with stretch marks he didn't pay attention to earlier, slightly red from all the food that helped distend his stomach. He rubbed a hand on it, his belly feeling drum tight. He let out some burps he tried to quieten as much as possible.

He looked at himself rubbing his belly for some time before he got up to look through his closet.

He retrieved a button up shirt and a simple t-shirt, his basics in his wardrobe. He went and stood in front of the mirror again and he took off his pajama top. He took his t-shirt and slid it on, smoothing it down his torso.

It couldn't cover his belly entirely.

Only a centimeter or two wasn't covered by the fabric at the bottom of his belly but seeing him look so big in this t-shirt made Seokjin feel weird. A good kind of weird.

He took his button up and slid it over his t-shirt. He closed all the buttons and admired how tight it looked around his stomach. The gaps between the buttons were bigger than with the button up shirt he was wearing earlier, they looked ready to pop at any moment. He rubbed his hand over his stomach again and suddenly realized that the weird feeling he was having was horniness. That turned him on.

The rest of the night was all the more pleasurable following his new discovery.

A few weeks went by. Their comeback promotions were over and they were finally able to rest.

Since Seokjin was now able to just chill at his apartment alone since their schedule was done for now, this of course made him up the habit he’s begun to have.

He never stopped ever since the day he found out that feeling fat made him horny. Every night he'd eat more and more food, pushing himself and his belly every day. And now, since he could just laze all day…. He decided to up his challenge.

Now everytime he was playing on his computer, he was also emptying a stack of snacks he refueled whenever it was empty, and he always ordered fast food or copious amounts of food for every meal. He'd stuff himself to no end, leaving him a moaning mess at the pain he felt from stretching his stomach so much. But the feeling of his usual baggy pajamas starting to struggle stretching around his thighs as well as his shirt lifting up at every steps he took were worth the struggle.

He kept those habits during their whole break, for a month and a half almost. Tonight was his final night of eating whatever he could before he'd have to go back to the dorms again. So he let himself go.

He bought way more food than he planned initially, all mixes of fried foods, burgers, jjajangmyeon…. All his favorites. He gorged himself on the food like he never did before.

Each bite and swallow he took, he felt his stomach stretch more and more.

The more he ate, the more his small t-shirt was lifting itself slowly over his navel and even upper. His pajamas were tight around his thighs and hips, squishing and emphasizing his love handles more.

Eventually when he was done eating everything, some stains on his shirt and sauce around his lips because of the intensity of his eating. His stomach was aching but it also was pleasantly full. He let out a belch, his stomach begging for space, and he rubbed a hand over his belly.

His stomach was hard and dome shaped, it sat on his legs a bit. He tried to pull down his shirt but it was to no avail. He looked down at his stretched belly, patting it with his hands. He looked around at all the wrappers and packagings around him too and thought This is where I belong.

This was not going to be the last time.

He wanted to get bigger. So much bigger. So huge that sitting and eating all day was all he would be able to do.

So he started off with mixing himself weight gain shakes everyday, to drink all day along with his meals. Meals which he upped in size too.

With an average of 7000 calories per day and with his broken metabolism, his weight was bound to up even more rapidly than before.

When he was dressing up for a dance practice, as he was putting on a pair of sweatpants that he hasn't worn in a while, he noticed how hard it was to slip on. He had to pull really hard to get it fully on.

He grabbed the matching sweatshirt and put it on too. As much as he tried, the sweatshirt had a hard time covering his entire belly.

He looked in a mirror and got hit by his own reflection. He looked so fat.

His thighs and arms looked like sausage casings ready to burst out of the piece of clothing. His belly was hanging so low it was almost impossible for the sweatshirt to cover it, and it was warping the hem of his pants. His sweatshirt was skin tight, showing the rolls of his double belly and his small moobs that were forming.

He was so fat it was hard for him to fit in his mirror even. It was turning him on so much, he hesitated on if he should have a quick wank session before going to the dance practice. But he wouldn't have time.

He looked around and his eyes landed on his 1.5 liter bottle. Everyday now, he cut his weight gain shakes in half, drinking one half directly after making it and keeping the other in his bottle. He took it, opened the cap and drank from it.

Now, the bottle was full. But within a few seconds Seokjin was downing the last drops of it, rubbing his stomach at the same time. He put the empty bottle away and looked at his reflection again.

He looked so massive. He looked like a pig. He put his arms around his belly and shook it. It was such a bliss.

But alas, he got to go. He'll enjoy it more that night.

Seokjin regretted coming to the dance practice. After only one try at the choreo, he had to sit down with his back against the wall opposite to the mirror. He was out of breath and sweatier than he's never been after one rep. He closed his eyes for a second, fanning himself with his hand as he adjusted the hem of his sweater that rode up when he sat. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, struggling to regain a steady breath. Dancing hadn't been so strenuous since he started this career.

After a beat, he opened his eyes back again. He stared straight at his reflection and oh.

He had sat with his legs spread out and his belly was making itself home between them. It looked so big in his small sweatshirt that was stretching out to accommodate its size. He was red in the face from the exercise but also out of fluster. He discreetly landed a hand on his belly, feeling up its weight and density. It's there now and it's not going to go away easily.

Jungkook appeared out of nowhere, making Seokjin jump out of his skin. The younger was unphased as he thrusted his hand towards him.

“Come on I'll help you up” he suggested. Nothing in his demeanor seemed to show that he had any clue of what was happening inside Seokjin's head. The older gladly took his hand, he knew it would've been an embarrassing show if he were to get up by himself right now.

Jungkook pulled him up, but not without issue. He was visibly surprised at how heavy Seokjin was, despite it being evident by his current appearance. Nevertheless, he got the older up with a grunt.

“Jeez hyung, you really let yourself go, huh?” he said without any mirth. He sent Seokjin a playful bunny smile before patting his belly two times and turning away towards Jimin to bother him.

Seokjin stood there, suddenly shy at the remark and the gesture. They'd never said anything about his weight until now, so that came out as a surprise.

They all went back to their placement in the choreography but Seokjin hadn't quite recovered from the first rehearsal. And the second time wasn't better.

His belly couldn't help but peak from under his top during the majority of the dance. At first he tried to stop the hem from rising but he quickly gave up as it wasn't his main problem now.

He was struggling to keep up with his new gained weight. He had a hard time accommodating the fact that he took up more space now and that every part of his belly will obviously jiggle and move at every step. But the strain of having to move his heavier thighs, stomach, arms, it felt harder than a workout. He was hot, sweating like crazy, and deeply regretted his choice of coming here. He should've said he was sick.

At the end of it, he spotted a chair near the water bottles and he plopped himself on it, hearing it creak loudly in response. He grabbed a water bottle and downed more than half of it in one go.

“You're having a hard time keeping up huh?” Hoseok said while approaching him. Seokjin usually was scared of Hoseok’s feedback during rehearsals but the other man showed a gentle smile at him with no reproach. “Bet it's harder now with all the…” he seemed to hesitate on his use of words. “Additional struggles. But you'll get there. Even if you don't, we'll be here. Keep doing what you're doing if that makes you happy” he said, ending his phrase quite timidly before going away.

It was strange. Seokjin didn't know how to take what he just got told. Keep doing what you're doing if that makes you happy, was he referring to his obvious overeating and all the weight he's been gaining in so little time?

He didn't get time to ponder on about it too much though.

Out of nowhere, he was stopped by one of the staff members. Seokjin looked at them a bit confused before they told him he was expected to attend a meeting right now down the hall. He was told it was an emergency so, he went.

He thought he was the only called on but apparently Namjoon too, seeing as the younger was following him too. Seokjin looked at him and the other looked back with a shrug and confusion on his face. Seokjin shrugged too but he felt like he knows what it was going to be about.

He kept the hem of his sweatshirt down with his fingers as he walked, the fat of his belly wobbling so much that it was lifting his sweatshirt at every step.

A few minutes after they entered and settled themselves in the meeting room, they finally got told what was up, in a rather blunt way.

“Seokjin, we're not going to blabber for hours, let's go straight to the point. You've gotten fat and we're not going to accept that. We put you through diets that you're obviously not following, are you even conscious about what you're doing? We have to put a stop to this” their manager said.

Namjoon spoke before Seokjin could say anything.

“What are you implying?” the younger said sternly. Seokjin looked at him and saw how tense and angry he was becoming for some reason.

“He has to go on a hiatus until it's fixed.” their manager responded, almost frustrated. “He can't participate in any group activities until he's back to be properly fit for his image”

“Fit for his image?” Namjoon repeated, clearly upset. “I don't see why you're excluding him over something so trivial as weight. He still can do what any other idol can do, it's just ridiculous to put him on a hiatus for that.”

“Namjoon you saw how much he was struggling to keep up with the dance earlier. And it's not even in the hardest ones that you all have. Plus, it's just not acceptable to have a pig amongst the most looked up idols in the industry”

After that, Namjoon became angrier, but it didn't fix anything. They were set on their decision and the meeting ended in defeat for them. Seokjin had to go on hiatus.

He hadn't said a thing during the meeting, because he wasn't that surprised it happened. As he was glad in a way to have a sort of break, he was sad that he'll be the only one. He'll be mostly alone from now on, and the fact that he was also just rejected from the group kinda hurt. What was said about him hurt the most though. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up.

“I promise this is not over hyung. I'll keep fighting for you” Namjoon said, looking straight into his eyes. Seokjin smiled a bit at him.

“Thank you, best leader.” he said in a light tone, making Namjoon huff a laugh for the first time today.

They had to separate at the practice room, since it was soon going to be recorded Seokjin shouldn't be there now. Namjoon patted his shoulder again and said he'll go home as soon as they're done.

That's something that always happened between them, like they could read into each other's mind. The younger knew that Seokjin couldn't handle being alone well when it was imposed like that. The older felt his heart melt when Namjoon told him that.

He then went home to their dorms, alone. The house was so silent it felt weird, and Seokjin didn't quite like that.

He walked slowly to the bathroom and straight up took their scale to weigh himself for the first time in a while.

He stepped on it and had to lean forward a bit to be able to look at the numbers on it over his belly.

247.3 it read.

He had gained so much in so little time, he really wasn't surprised by his predicament. He was a bit disappointed but now he was also starting to get turned on again.

He knew that incessant diets could break someone's metabolism but it still was a lot of weight gain in such little time that he was almost impressed

[writingfool001]

Food is Important

Author’s Note: I decided to change the reader's gender to gender neutral since I just write in the second person point of view.

Request: Yes

 Helloooo! May I request headcanons for our lovely Trey, Ruggie and Jamil receiving tasty food daily from their female s/o who's a chef? When asked why, she says that she wants to see them well-fed.

Pairing: Trey, Ruggie, & Jamil x GN!Reader

Warning: GN!Reader

You were taught by your father figure that food was sacred and that you should use up every piece of what your given, even the bones. You were unsure about his teachings and didn’t believe him. After a small voyage going to ruins, you both got stuck on a remote island with limited rations of food and waited for rescue. You remember the constant presence of death and hunger clawing at your empty stomach, there were few occasions when you were ready to die while you waited for a ship. You realized that your teacher had rations and thought about stealing his, only to find out he gave you everything so you could live. After that, you fully trusted him and his teachings, even if you two bickered back and forth, which made you into the skilled chef you were today. He also taught you to respect food and to always feed those in need.  

When you arrived at Ramshackle, you had to make do with what was given to you which led you to exploring the botanical garden and even started our own garden for ingredients. Your food was well known and spoken of well, some say that your food has a healing factor to it. 

Trey 

He has heard and tasted some of your leftovers that you sent with Ace or Deuce. He asked about some of your recipes. He's impressed by your talent and is a bit insecure about his baking until you told him that his baking was spectacular. You both end up exchanging recipes and having small cooking dates as well as shopping dates.  

This man has to take care of his entire dorm and it may look flawless. Helping students with almost anything and listening to them when they need someone to listen. He also makes sure the dorm doesn’t burn down. Even though Riddle works hard as the dorm leader, Trey has his load of work as Vice as well as student. We all know that deep down he is tired and probably collapses from exhaustion. 

He woke up in his bed to a faint savory aroma as he sat up and grabbed his glasses to see a small thermometer with a note attached. Adjusting his glasses, he read your note about how he should take better care of himself and to not let his dormmates push him around as well as him to get better. Sipping the tempting soup, he immediately felt back at home as the nostalgic taste hit his tongue, causing him to relax a bit. He smiled and continued to enjoy your soup. 

For a while, you would always drop off soup or lunch for him to eat which he enjoyed every single one and asked why you were giving him food before hearing you said that you wanted to make sure he was well fed since he was always busy and needed to balance out his sweetness. Congrats, you made Trey blush and break a bit before he heartly laughed at your response then gave you a kiss. 

Ruggie 

He understands your rule of using every piece of your ingredients in some way, considering his past. He understands the feeling and doubts you at first when you offered free food. Usually, he would either figure out his lunch or Leona would just let him use his card to buy lunch.  

There was a day when he had nothing prepared and Leona was off campus for some family reason, he was considering eating dandelions before noticing a small bento box in front of him. Looking around the cafeteria, he noticed you walking away with your own lunch. Who was he to deny free food? He opened it to see a picturesque bento and immediately started drooling at the aroma before finally digging in. One bite and he was in heaven, angels singing and all that. He ate every last bit of that lunch and gave you the container back then the cycle started of Ruggie eating your prepared meals. After a while, he would ask why you were giving him lunch, not that he minded. When you told him he should feed well, he almost got down on one knee.  

You always catch him trying to steal food and always tell him to be patient while you work. He would challenge you to try to make different dishes with strange ingredients. He also found out that you're scary with knives. 

He invited you back for winter break so you could meet his grandmother and share your cooking with her. When you insisted, I cook for his grandmother, he noticed you making a large batch and found it a bit weird before noticing a couple pairs of ears in the window sill. He found it hilarious as all the neighborhood kids crowded around the window, curious about you and the aroma you created. By the time you finished, you brought out some bowls that Ruggie got from Sam's and started serving him and his grandmother before taking some bowls outside to give to some of the families who gathered around. His grandmother told him to make sure to marry and treat you right. 

Jamil 

He's heard about your food through Kalim as well as Ace and Floyd at practice. He has eaten your food and agrees with the praise you receive. Same as Trey, you both have cooking dates and would trade spices. He tried telling you that you didn't have to help with preparing food for a party Kalim invited you too. He would trade lunches with you, giving each other a taste of the other’s food. 

“Take a break,” You answer. “I brought food.” 

There was a time when Kalim came to you and told you that Jamil was slowly overworking himself. You decided to try to persuade Jamil to take a break and you decided to use some powerful tools. Food and love. You made a home meal, packed some up and left for Scarabia, leaving enough food for Grim. You greeted Kalim and a couple of people before heading towards Jamil’s room. And knock before going in to see him sitting at his floor desk with his headphones on. Quietly, you take off your shoes before walking over to set the bag next to him before wrapping your arms around him and kissed his cheek. Surprisingly and thankfully, he did not flip or attack you at that moment as he kept his attention on his homework as he kissed your cheek back. Lovey dovey Jamil, a privilege you get in private. You sat there, hugging his middle as he continued to work until he put his pencil down and turned towards you. 

“Yes, my diamond?” 

“Did Kalim put you up to this?” 

“Not entirely, besides you deserve to be well-fed, and I am not letting you go until you put your homework.” 

He decided to test your threat which lasted a couple hours until he gave up and took a break. He appreciates and cherishes you for being there and reminding him to take a break. He wanted to spend the rest of his life showing all the love he has and taking care of you like you do to each other. 

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #trey x reader #trey clover #twst trey #twisted wonderland trey

[drpeppertummy]

writing laundre & yankers for the first time theyre not nearly as weird as id like them to be but if i write them more theyll warm up to me

[brief hunger, stuffing, tummy rubs]

"You sound just about ready for dinner, darling," teased Laundre, giving her husband's soft little tummy a squeeze as it rumbled again. "You didn't let yourself go hungry on my account, did you?" She took him gently by the chin, smiling sweetly, and he grinned up at her, his fake tooth twinkling in the light. She knew perfectly well that he had, and for good reason: they had dinner plans.

"I didn't wanna disappoint you tonight, babydoll," he said, taking her waist in his hands and leaning up on his toes to kiss her.

"Oh, my little heartworm! You're so sweet." She hugged him tightly, and he beamed as she marked his cheek with a bright pink kiss. His stomach let out a whining grumble. Smiling, she threw a lanky arm around his shoulders and swept him into the kitchen.

Yankers was greeted by the warm smell of buttery garlic and fresh-baked bread, and there was something sweet lingering beneath it. He had to fight to keep the drool from escaping his mouth. He wanted to help set up, but Laundre pushed him gently into a seat and tapped a finger to his lips.

"Not tonight, my little dust bunny," she said, tapping his nose. "You wait right there." He watched with wide-eyed interest as she moved away gracefully, her feathery flamingo-print robe flowing around her like water as she retrieved their dinner. First, she set down a dish of homemade rolls, filled with raisins and dried cranberries and dripping with garlicky butter. Then, she placed a bowl of gnocchi topped with thinly sliced hotdogs and a dollop of pineapple jelly at each of their seats. His bowl was much bigger than hers, he noted, and his belly rumbled at the sight of it. Following the gnocchi, Laundre set out the grand attraction she'd been working on all day: a fabulous arrangement of eggs, olives, and fruit suspended in a tower of bright pink aspic.

"Wow, you've outdone yourself tonight, baby," Yankers exclaimed.

"I wanted to do something extra special," Laundre beamed, getting out a pair of wine glasses. She filled hers with her signature cocktail of Yoohoo and Sprite, and his with hot Dr. Pepper, complete with a slice of lemon. She set the glass down before him, and he gently took her hand in his.

"You're spoiling me, sugarlips," he said, looking adoringly up at her, and she leaned down to kiss him.

"Not as much as you're about to spoil me."

Laundre took her seat across from her husband, elegantly holding her glass in one hand as she picked up her spork with the other. Yankers hadn't even noticed the sporks; they were a Sauce family heirloom, and Laundre only got them out for special occasions. She meant business tonight, and he had no intention of letting her down.

"Well, don't go letting it get cold, darling," teased Laundre, scooping up a sporkful of hotdog gnocchi. "Eat up." Yankers gladly obliged, picking up his spork and sticking it into the bowl. Just as he brought it to his lips, however, she spoke again, this time with a certain authority in her voice.

"Oh, and darling, you will finish the whole bowl, won't you?" She looked him in the eye, a sly twinkle in her own.

"You got it, babydoll," he promised, and she smiled.

Obediently, Yankers dug in, and his hungry belly eagerly welcomed the hot food. He could've eaten the upholstery off the couch at that point and enjoyed it, but fortunately, he was, as far as he was concerned, married to the best cook in the world, and he felt lucky to have his hunger sated by such a lovely dinner.

"Honeybunch, you've done it again," he said, a dreamy grin on his face as he savored the gnocchi. "I think I must be the luckiest man in the world to be married to a girl like you."

"Oh, my little bunny gizzard," she giggled, bringing a hand to her cheek. "You're too sweet!"

The dinner went on with the couple happily gushing over each other, and as it went on, Yankers began to feel full. He'd only gotten halfway through his gnocchi, but he felt like there was an enormous dense ball of it sitting in his stomach, along with a couple rolls and a nice chunk of the aspic. The hot Dr. Pepper was refreshing between bites of the heavy meal, though, and despite the growing fullness in his belly, he kept going.

Laundre was taking her time with her own dinner, knowing there was no rush when Yankers had so much to get through. She watched him, chin in hand, with a loving smile on her face as he ate, taking a certain pleasure in the fact that he was beginning to slow down. It was no coincidence that she'd picked such a filling pasta for their special evening; she wanted to see just how much his tummy could take before he had to tap out. And if he managed to make it through dinner, well, she would be ready with dessert.

Yankers was undeniably stuffed now, and his belly bulged firmly out against his belt. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, leaning back in his seat to rest a hand on his distended tummy, and forced up a small burp. He looked down at his bowl. About a third of the gnocchi remained. The other two thirds felt like they were expanding inside his stomach. He rubbed his taut upper belly and covered his mouth to stifle another burp.

"Getting full, darling?" Laundre teased, eyeing his belly from across the table. He smiled up at her.

"Just a little," he confessed. Smiling, Laundre rose from her seat and strode gracefully over to him.

"Why don't you let me help with that?" She leaned down over his shoulder from behind and slipped her hands around his waist to undo his belt. She tugged gently at it as she did, and Yankers couldn't hold back a little groan as his full belly was constricted, followed by a sigh of relief as the belt fell away.

"You're an angel," he said, tilting his head back to look up at her. Her slender hands remained at his belly, where she began rubbing softly, taking in how tight and hard his stomach felt under the cozy layer of fat. His eyes fluttered shut with bliss. He turned his head to plant a kiss on her neck as she leaned over him, and she giggled, giving his belly a gentle squeeze.

"Think you can finish now?" Her hand lingered by the button of his pants, but she left it alone; he would have to go a little further before she could give him that relief.

"You got it, babydoll," he said confidently. She gave his tummy a final pat before returning to her seat, and he dug in once more.

While losing the belt had relieved some of the pressure on his belly, it was no match for the pressure that was building inside. His stomach felt unbelievably taut, absolutely packed to the brim with heavy pasta, fluffy bread, and chunky jello. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. Still, for Laundre, he pushed on, and his stomach grew tighter and tighter as he ate.

His high-waisted pants were growing increasingly uncomfortable as his belly pushed out further. Laundre was enjoying the way his tightly-stuffed upper belly bulged over the top of them, and the swell of his lower belly pushing out beneath the tight waist was adorable, but she supposed she'd have to let his poor tummy loose before long. She could hear the fabric creaking each time he leaned forward--it must have been terribly uncomfortable--and it was only a matter of time before the button popped open on its own.

Laundre rose once again from her seat and moved around the table to lean over her husband's shoulder. Looking down at him from above, she could see just how far his tummy was sticking out, and for a moment she was a little surprised. Despite his big appetite, Yankers was small, and she was impressed at how much he'd managed to squeeze into his belly.

Slowly, almost teasingly, Laundre brought her hands around his waist once more, running her fingers up and down his distended tummy before settling on the strained button of his pants. She stuck a finger into the top of his pants and found it surprisingly difficult to do so; his belly was bulging so tightly against the waist that there was little room for anything else. Pleased, she began working at the button. This was an even more difficult task. It was pulled firmly against the hole, threatening to pop off if he so much as inhaled too deeply, and she had to pull his pants tighter to get enough slack to undo it. A tiny moan escaped Yankers as she did, but the ache of the added pressure was quickly replaced with relief as she let go and his belly pushed the fly wide open.

"There, now, I bet that feels better," she said, slipping her hands under his shirt to rub at the angry red mark his pants had left across his belly.

"Way better," he agreed with a sigh, melting at her touch. His stomach rumbled and groaned unhappily as it struggled to hold itself together around the enormous meal inside it. He wasn't sure whether he'd be able to finish the last few bites of his dinner; even without his pants squeezing him, his belly felt ready to burst. He forced up another burp, followed by a little grunt of discomfort.

"Do you think you can finish?" she asked, kissing his cheek as she rubbed her hand across the dramatic curve of his overstuffed belly. He hesitated for a moment, and that alone told her that the real answer was no.

"For you, babydoll, I'll give it a shot," he said, and she smiled.

"Would you like me to help you, darling?"

"I'd love that."

There were only a few bites of hotdog gnocchi left in the bowl, and Laundre brought a sporkful of it to his mouth. Despite his efforts, they'd barely made a dent in the aspic, but that was alright; they could have the rest tomorrow. Yankers swallowed the mouthful of pasta, and his stomach grumbled as it stretched around the growing mass of food. He hesitated at the second bite, but let her feed it to him. His stomach tightened as he swallowed it with a thick gulp. When she brought the final bite to his lips, he stopped.

"I can't," he groaned defeatedly, clutching his belly. "I'm too full."

"Oh, darling, not even one last little bite?" He shook his head, and she set the spork down.

"I'm sorry, baby," he said, looking sheepishly at her, and she took his face in her hands.

"Oh, my little heartworm, don't be sorry," she said, kissing his forehead. "You did such a good job. Look how much you ate." She ran her hand along his belly, pressing in gently to test the firmness. It pushed out tight as a drum, straining the buttons of his shirt and gurgling away as it struggled to digest the enormous dinner that had been packed into it.

"Your poor tummy is so tight," she said, rubbing it softly. "Does it hurt?" He nodded, looking exhausted.

"I feel like I'm gonna explode," he said, and his belly rumbled ominously in agreement. Smiling, Laundre began to undo the buttons of his shirt, then applied a fresh coat of lipstick.

"Well," she said, opening up his shirt to reveal his impressively bloated belly, "why don't we see if I can kiss it better?"

#writing #belly kink #tummy kink #stuffing #stuffed belly #hunger kink #xlaundrex #xyankersx #burst mention

[mommycity]

Older Gojo

Omg!!! Thinking about older Gojo in his early 40s or late thirties. He’s still teaching, still checking in on his older kids when he can. He doesn’t go on missions anymore and just handles stuff with younger sorcerers . He doesn't date but he stumbles in your house sometimes. Fills himself up on your cooking, helps with chores. He spends his days exercising in your garden that he had built for you and playing simply board games. He often comes over for dinner or lunch and he keeps coming back because he loves it, it feels like home for him. He also can’t help but flirt with you, you're such a cute thing and similar to him: a mostly retired sorcerer. He’s agreed to have you just wade around the home  and only care about the rest of your days with domestic activities. Once a month he’ll invite all his kids over for family dinner, he helps you cook and prep everything. His kids wonder if sensei has found a lover of sorts but he only chortles at their questions. He’s found a home. 

And on some days he comes staggering in and asks you to make him something sweet. You ofc whip up a pastry for him that’s topped with matcha and whipped cream with fresh fruits. His favorites. He’ll sit at your table and wait for you to come out with the treat. The heavy look in his gaze is followed with,”why don’t you feed me yourself beautiful”. And you do. You settle your weight onto a neighboring chair before he pushes you into his lap. Your legs sit on one side of him as you feed him bit by bit of the yummy treat. He moans, satisfied with the sweet view and sweet treat.

You two spend many days like this. Filling each other’s company, and you specifically filling Gojo’s tummy. Your cooking starts to show on him. As the days go on his waist softens. The skin of his mid section becomes malleable and soft. His muscles are still evident in his chest, shoulders and biceps. His thighs and ass followed suit and swelled along with him. It’s enough to make your mouth water. The clothes that once fit him stretch and ripple, much to his dismay. But he does little to change it when he sees how you look at him as he eats. The way that food travels down his throat grows tantalizing. The light hugs become pleading squeezes. You can find your hands traveling from his back, to his full waist and at times a squeeze of his thick ass. He sees your hunger for his maturing body and he returns it. He loves squeezing you in small spaces and holding you against his hair chest, loves spending the lazy days and nights cuddling and being cuddled by your soft arms. 

And on some days!!!! He’s so worked up. It’s rare that you ever make a move on you. Opting to simply get off in your shower alone. Sometimes it’s simply insatiable, especially when he comes home to you in nothing but his    a large tshirt while cooking in the kitchen. When you turn around to greet him he’s greatest with your nipples poking through the shirt and he’s had enough of just jerking off to photos of you. He traps between the countertop before greeting you. “You always fill my tummy with yummy food, baby your making me soft. Let me fill your tummy honey. Please” 

Middle aged Gojo spends his days folding your half and fucking you full, on occasion he might he be on the receiving end. Older Gojo doesn’t work to hold his statues anymore. He’s fully trusting in you and lets you handle him when you want. He handles you on every surface of your home but his favorite is the couch. Loves fuckinging you while you both lay on your side. He loves it even more on lazy days when dinner and sex end up happening at the same time and you struggle to feed him his home made food. His moans are both from the satisfaction of your food and your body. He looks so fucking good when he’s warm and glowing. His soft tummy fills the curve of your back just right you can’t ignore his space. He finds himself whimpering these days: a light pink dusting his pale cheeks. The indulgences he so craved for being fulfilled by someone who he really likes-no loves. Gojo who kisses sweet purple marks on your skin and begs you to look at him so he can finish. “F-fuck baby ugh so pretty. Mmm please. Love you, love your body, love your home. Please h-huh let me cum inside. Anything Mmm~” and he kisses your face so sloppy. His kisses clash with the corner of  your mouth as he thrust harder, slower and deeper. You let him cum inside and his fluffy lashes close in his height. He can see your combined releases all over his cock and both of your thighs and some of your tummy. He can’t help but flip you over and kiss you so sloppily.  He loves his new soft life. His tummy is always full and he comes home to a pretty thing cooking his meals and warming his cock. 

giggles I want chubby toru so bad!! I also did that sketch based off this idea :3

#thirst post #jjk #jjk x reader #drabble #gn reader #your fave #gojou satoru x you #gojo saturo #yeah #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x gn reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neautral reader #anime x nb reader #anime fanfic #jujutsu geto #Really proud of this idea #I need a face full that fupa so bad #Imagine how soft his big pecs are and how nice his stomach feels #Need a big squeeze from him #playing with his tummy like dough #Ugh the way his ass would jiggle #THE THIGHS fuck they probably are so big #he likes when you kiss his thighs #Wanna blow raspberries in his tummy #A bit of foodie gojo #he likes being fed during sex #fucking 6'3 and 260 lb gojo #warm tummy on your forehead as you suck him

[warmmilk-n-honey]

Ok part 2 of my dadbastian vampire au...

Seb is actually surprised that Ciel survived the transformation since he's tiny and Seb has never known of another child vampire. Sebastian also kind of lucks out finding out that his new charge was the son of a wealthy nobleman, now he gets to live in a giant manor! Before he was just kinda hopping around mostly living in like the woods, he's a very skilled shape shifter and was kind of feral before he started playing at being a fancy noble.

Seb is an extremely old vampire and is therefore pretty dang powerful.

Ciel adjusts to being a vampire poorly at first, he is just a baby after all and he's still grieving his family and dealing with his trauma. He does start to enjoy his un-life a bit though as he realizes he can take out his rage and trauma on adults, he can make adults suffer and he doesn't have to feel like a helpless child anymore, he likes feeling powerful. He develops quite the sadistic side which Sebastian can't help but feel pride for.

Ciel has a hard time sleeping in his coffin at first because of nightmares :( (Even though these vampires are physically dead when they sleep they still can dream.)

Sebastian has to teach him to be an earl and a vampire at the same time and he realizes he has his work cut out for him. He's definitely teaching his son all the wrong lessons just like in the manga.

Ciel is by no means powerful by vampire standards since he's so young, and needs Seb to help him with hunting most of the time-they eat the intruders trying to attack the manor.

Ciel starts to act like he doesn't care about his dead human family and this revenge thing is just a game to him, but deep down he misses them a lot. He also acts this way when Madam Red dies, not only because he's the dysfunctional sonboy we all know and love, but because he feels like he should be more detached from humanity and in many ways he is. Ciel also has a soft spot for the Midfords, though when he saw them for the first time after he turned it was rlly difficult for him to not eat them. He especially wants to protect Lizzy and keep her from knowing his true nature.

Ciel is also extremely gluttonous for blood and his hunger is difficult for Sebastian to satiate, his love for sweets transferred to a to a love for fresh blood :)! He grumbles about being hungry all the time and Seb has to warn him about feeding on conspicuous victims.

Queen Victoria actually knows about Sebastian and Ciel's nature but doesn't rlly care since having powerful undead creatures at her disposal doing her bidding is nice for her. (I mean she employed a 10 year old, what's stopping her from employing a vampire? Also because John Brown may or may not be a vampire...)

Being the queen's guard dog also provides more food for our vampires, they have an agreement with Victoria that they are allowed to eat the criminals they subdue instead of turning them into to the Yard.

While Ciel enjoys parts of undead existence, he did not think through becoming a vampire and really just wants to die for real. He hates being stuck in the body of a 10 year old and it's a great source of angst for him. He has also not properly dealt with his grief and trauma, and being a little sadist isn't actually good therapy for him, who would have thought!

He openly resents Sebastian for turning him, which Seb's dismissive response is always "well you chose this.🙄"

Their relationship is quite toxic like it is in the manga, the differences being that Seb doesn't have to be fake nice since he's not playing the butler role, and that he does deep down begin to care deeply for Ciel as his son.

On the one hand Seb regrets turning Ciel because he sees how much pain he goes through, but on the other hand he does like having this little thorn in his side around. He's still kinda abusive tho and their relationship is complicated, Ciel has slit Sebastian's throat on occasion, y'know how it is, kids🙃

Ciel also deep down feels attachment to Sebastian as a parent, but he would never admit it out right.

Ciel is lowkey planning to off himself after he gets his revenge but Sebastian hasn't rlly told him how to do it, they are weaker during the day and direct sunlight hurts, but it doesn't destroy these vampires (neither does fire). Ciel thinks Sebastian won't tell him because he's an asshole and won't tell him important vampire information, but the truth is simply that Seb doesn't want his son to kill himself, and doesn't want his son kill him! (Ciel would never actually kill Seb if he knew how, but these two suck at communicating their true feelings so...)

Also in this au all of the reapers are actually vampires-so vampire Grelle! (side note I've always seen the reapers as sort of vampiric especially when you consider certain vampire myths that say people who commit suicide become vampires!)

#holy shit I didn't realize how long this became #haven't even brought up vampire agni still! #kuro #black butler au #au #my au #kuroshitsuji au #vampire au #vampire!dadbastian au #kuro au #dadbastian #black butler #kuroshitsuji