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adeptus-nonsense · 4 months

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humans are poets as well as warmongers

Humans nowadays are well known far and wide in this galaxy. Mostly because they are some of the most chaotic, Stupid or bold "daredevils" around (think i used that word correctly).

While i do recall my first meeting with the humans very V E R Y badly since i served in the contact wars when the Graktuka a well known theocratic empire and very influential and politically strong contender in the galaxy stumbled across human colonies. They saw this as an hostile action since the planet they were settling were a holy world, That however is a story for another time.

Just know that the Graktuka empire shrunk by a significant margin to the point where they asked for militairy support. The humans had apparently developed a kind of magnetic accelerated firing plattform piercing through multiple layers of hull completely ignoring shields. Given that Graktuka empire relied on shields since most of the galactic arsenal is plasma based but their hull wasn't weak at all. Unconventional weapons had to be used to even dent their armour. Realising that the humans ships were massive but rather primitive and slow a ground based invasion was seen to be the optimal way off going.

If you were there you would know why humanity is as feared as they are. Masters of the what did they call it? Art of war? Yeah something like that. Fields of bombs buried into the ground detonating with a light step. Weapons dedicated to injure soldiers just enough to save them but not kill them in order to make the invader spend more resources on saving said soldier.

Even our bases of operations with shields were not safe, let me tell you if you think regular humans can cause damage to stuff by touching things dont even get near trained saboteurs with your stuff. They break things in a ways that seems like a simple malfunction and will work after a simple repair. When the shield generator first broke down i thought i could fix it in a matter of minutes, I still havent fixed it to this day and i have taken that thing apart thousands of times without finding the fault.

safe to say we lost that war and this is just one one planet. This was the short part. Just be glad that they pack bond with just about anything. Saw a human carry a cleaning unit and named it "Ronald the Roomba" And that is apparently our ships mascot. But this is things we all are aware of. Let me tell you of their poetic side

This is not something most of us see as common knowledge about humans, but their cultural aspect besides war is for a lack of better words beautiful. This thing they call music.

for all their wars they know how brutal they are and write songs about everything they did wrong and how they wished how they could change it. But that is not all, according to human Jakob music portrays emotions and ones feelings in a way that regular communication doesn't and you dont even need to understand the words to understand the emotion said piece is carrying. Which i know to be true, it's almost therapeutic

I think My log of it will be a better way to describe since it is honestly hard to describe [alltough be careful their music is quite loud for most prey species]

Year 4574 human sector 456854 log 1 of service leave. I am currently here on a passion project of mine. While the war has ended 6 years ago off now the tensions do still exist. Me and some comrades in service are taking some time off and going to what humans call a bar and apparently there is a human performing. I have no idea of how this is gonna go. All i know is humans are incredibly chaotic especially when intoxicated. Still i should probably record this for the culture scientists at social scientific hub.

Log 2

*murmur and loud talking in the background at the bar*

"for clarifications sake, my name is Groakslo, i am here with my two comrades Kyukla and Telosa. We are currently at the bar only to see that humans are actively drinking poison, i was quite shocked to hear this and asked if it isn't dangerous and the bartender said and i quote "nah we gucci" note to self find out what gucci is."

Log 3

"the humans were beginning to get rowdy and even slight outbursts of violence did occur but nothing the surprisingly loud bartender couldn't handle by a very concerning threat, followed by him saying that the band is preparing so settle down. Telosa and i looked at each other very confused but still awaited this "band"

Log 4

"the band arrived and started to set up weird things, long instruments with metal strings, of varying thickness, i asked the a human who were close by what they were and he said instruments. I asked what they were used for and he said to play music. I was getting nowhere and decided to see for myself what they were gonna do."

Log 5 (i decided to be quiet for this one)

"welcome folks and aliens of all sorts shapes and kinds! Thank you for coming to this bar for our first debut our name is The Lines In between, and for those who dont know human music, we'll slowly lean you into it with this first on and it is namned Memories beneath the stars" [3 hours of music recorded]

Final log (yes i know i could voice record but i want to write while the memory is fresh i'm bad with words)

I never knew that humans could make such songs. Telosa and Kyukla was particurlarly affected. The song was as the name suggest the memories we made sneaking out to watch the stars as younglings, reminiscing about the times when the stars were the most unknown, adventure filled and beautiful place to be in. But also about the connections they've lost over the years, the good times wiped away like a water slowly polishing a stone into sand. It was odd, beautiful calm, sad all at once.

The voices i heard when i fought humans in war can not even be compared to that of the singer in that band, what is most perplexing is that the once borderline rioting bar was completely quiet when the band was performing, almost as if in a trance completely captured by the singers voice, smooth, rough, raspy but controlled in a way i thought impossible. A song about 4 human minutes somehow managed to capture the full emotional spektrum of not only humans but multiple species in that bar.

Humans truly are an astounding species. Truly a species that are on all of the extremes, stupidity, ingenuity, violence, poetry and many many more. For now i'll sign off and hope you at the social cultural exchange fellas have a field day with the music file attached to this.

Grokslo, highly decorated former geothermical shield generator militairy specialist.

#humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space fae #humans are space orcs #this is my firsy real post and more to come :)

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romantichomicide95 · 8 months

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geto suguru

drabble request- @satorizz my first time requesting geto heheh. smut prompt #49 pleasee !! as filthy as possible with no pre-established relationship 👉🏽👈🏽

content warning- 18+ cockwarming, penetration, fingering, slightly dom!geto, squirting, creampie, one bed trope sprinkled in, slight dirty talk.

You and Geto were both exhausted from your mission. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins as you entered the dimly lit motel room.

“Shit. There’s only one bed.” you say as you look around the dinky motel and the realization hits you. You and Geto stood side by side, glancing at the lone bed that was before you. Neither of you spoke.

"Hmmm. Seems like fate has played an interesting hand," Geto finally broke the silence, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "I don't know about you, but I could use a good night's sleep."

You turned to face him, leaning your back against the wall. "Are you suggesting we share it?"

Geto flashed you a mischievous smile,. "Well, considering the circumstances, it wouldn't be the worst idea, would it?" He sounded too smooth, and too confident, you thought.

"You must really think highly of yourself, Geto. I mean, what makes you so sure I'd want to share a bed with you?"

His eyes sparkled with something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, and he took a step closer to you, closing the distance and practically caging you in. "Oh, I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice," his voice low and seductive. "The way your eyes linger a little bit too long, the subtle hints of attraction you try to hide. Trust me, it's hard to miss."

Your heart started to pound slightly, his words catching you off guard. "Well, you certainly have an ego don’t you Geto?” You tried to challenge him.

Geto flashed you his signature playful smile. "Oh, really? So I’m just imagining all those lingering looks? Or the times you find excuses to be near me?” he raised an eyebrow, taking another step forward.

You crossed your arms, feigning irritation. "I never said anything about excuses. “M-maybe I just.” you stutter “maybe I just have a reason to be around you. Doesn’t mean anything.”

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze intense. "Doesn't it though? You like me, admit it.” he puts one hand on the wall next to you and you look at it before looking back at him.

As you stood there, contemplating his words, the air crackled with tension. You locked eyes with him, unable to resist any longer.

"Fine, Geto," you whispered, "Maybe I do like you. Maybe I always have. What’s it matter to you?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his free hand instinctively reached out, gently tracing the outline of your face. He presses his body against you, brushing his lips against yours. “It matters because I was really hoping you'd say that.”

His actions coupled with his words has the spot between your legs pulsating, needy. The thought of him taking you, doing whatever he pleases had plagued your mind for months, but you couldn’t admit that. You couldn’t feed into his ego even more.

But when he crashed his lips on yours, that thought went out the window, replaced by a need for him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he grinds himself against you, you can feel his hard on through his pants as he rubs it against your clothed pussy, eliciting a moan from you.

Geto bites your lip playfully, pulling away and looking deeply into your eyes. “Tell me how much you want this. Say it out loud.”

“I-I want this Geto.” You avert his gaze looking down to the floor.

He caresses your face again, lightly, before taking your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. “Look at me when you talk to me.” he says and the fire behind his eyes awakens a deep seated need inside you, and you feel arousal pool in your panties. “Tell me how much you want this?” he repeats.

You look him in the eyes, “I want you Geto.”

“And what do you want me to do to you huh?” he asks, running his hands up the skirt of your uniform and tracing his fingers along your clothed pussy.

A soft moan escapes your lips as you answer him with a whisper. “I want you to touch me Geto. I want you to fuck me.”

“That's not very convincing now is it?” he smirks at you, leaning in and giving you another short kiss.Looking at you again he slides two fingers inside your panties and rubs your clit. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

You whimper as you nod your head, unable to formulate words around the neediness you feel for him. He pins you against the wall as he rubs your clit, sliding his fingers into your warm pussy. He pumps them in and out of you and you feel yourself clench around them. They’re so long, they reach your sweet spot over and over again, as he trails his thumb along your puffy clit.

He’s pumping in and out of your wet and needy pussy, your lip is tucked between your teeth as he fucks you nice and slow with his fingers. His teeth graze against the skin of your neck and your hips roll into his hand at a similar motion.

“Look at you already shaking just from my touch.” he whispers in your ear. Your pussy tightens on his fingers as you kiss his lips with intensity.

Suddenly, just as you were about to let go, he pulls his finger out and lifts you up, holding you by your thighs as he carrys you to the bed, laying you down beneath him. “Undress for me. Can you do that?” He asks as he pulls his shirt off. You admire his body, eyes tracing from his face down along his abs before you nod once and do as he asks, stripping yourself down to just your bra and panties.

“So pretty…fuck. You’re beautiful” his lips are tasting every inch of your body as he slips your bra and panties off in a swift motion. He gets up and hovers above you, gripping your thighs and pushing them apart. “Fuck…such a pretty pussy. Dripping wet already…guess you really do want me huh pretty girl?”

Your hands are on his belt buckle, pulling it off before hastily undoing his pants. His hand grips your wrist “That impatient to feel my cock are you?”

“Geto…please I need you to fuck me.” you look up at him with pleading eyes and he lets your wrist go. He watches, amused, as you pull his pants off, then his boxers and watch as his cock springs up. It’s bigger than you anticipated, and thick.

He leans down again, kissing you on the lips this time. Hungrily, your tongues dance together as your mouths move in sync. “Ready?” he whispers in your ear before he lines the tip up with your entrance and slowly slides his dick inside. He lets out a deep low grunt as he feels your walls take him in.

“You’re so fucking tight. Fuck, think you can handle me?” He says letting out another grunt.

“Mhm. S-so big Geto, but I can take it.” you let out a whimper as he slowly slides himself inside you, inch by inch.

“Ahhhh -ahh fuck.” he grunts as he feels your walls tighten around him.

You look up at him through thick lashes, his bangs are flat on his face with sweat and his eyes are focused on you. You wrap your legs around his torso and pull him closer until he bottoms out.

He just sits there for a moment, not moving, just looking at you. He’s enjoying the way you’re wrapped around him, the way your pussy is taking him in. God, he thinks he’s drunk off the way it tightens around his cock, off the way tiny little tears form at the corners of your eyes by the way he fills you up.

“Geto, please move.” You say, pulling him even closer with your legs.

His thumb reaches down to wipe a tear from your eye, “Sorry pretty girl. You feel so good just enjoying it.” he flashes you the most confident smile you think you’ve ever seen grace someone’s face. And then he thrusts his hips, once inside you than twice, taking his time to feel you around him. God, do you feel good. He could cum right now, the way your pussy feels around him has his head spinning.

Three, he thrusts again and then he picks up his pace. Filling you up completely every time his hips hit yours. He feels good the way he fills you up. He’s too big, it almost hurts a little, but in a good way. Your breathing is too heavy, moans too loud. It might be a shitty motel but god everyone must be able to hear you right? The way his dick hits all the way into your cervix, the way his thumb circles your clit with each thrust. The way his lips take in your breasts, his tongue circling the nipple. It’s almost too much, too much pleasure.

“f-fuck suguru…sug-mmphh”

“Yeah you like that? Good girl.” He whispers in between moans. His pace quickens as his lips travel from your breasts back to your mouth and he kisses you passionately. His hands fall to your waist as he fucks you hard and fast, pulling you into him. Your fingernails grip his biceps, digging into his flesh.

Sugurus movements become more urgent and desperate and you throw your head back in pleasure as you feel yourself coming undone. He takes his fingers to your clit again as he guides you through your orgasm. Your legs start to shake and you lift your hips up, thrusting into his. “That’s right…good girl. cum for me.”

At his words you feel your orgasm take you over, the best orgasm you’ve ever had as you squirt all over his cock and thighs.

“Fuck, that was hot.” He slows down but doesn’t stop entirely as he feels himself on the verge. “Gunna cum pretty girl where do you want it?”

“Anywhere.” you say and you see his eyes light up and with one last thrust deep into your cervix and one last groan he shoots his cum deep inside you.

He pulls out, leaning down and kissing the side of your mouth. “fuck.” he says, wiping the hair from your face and kissing you again. “fuck…” he repeats with a laugh. “can’t argue about sharing this bed with me now can you?”

#geto smut #geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #suguru getou #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #jjk smut #suguru geto x reader smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader smut #suguru smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #geto x female reader

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the-guilty-writer · 11 months

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So Much

Request from anon: Hi if your comfortable with it do you think you could do like goth teen reader who scared to come out as gay to her father or the group. Who their father is doesn't really matter. I can barely find fics like this, and if your not comfortable with the topic that's completely fine. Thanks

Aaron Hotchner x teen!reader

Summary: reader comes out to their dad as gay and his reaction is not what they expected.

A/N: *extreme sarcasm* Gill writes a character differently than expected… no way?! In all seriousness though, my approach to Hotch’s reaction might be controversial, but I wanted to capture how I think he expresses love. There is a happy ending of course <3 and Happy Pride everybody. Everyone is welcome here and I care for every single one of you.

This is a request, but is a contribution to the PRIDE CHALLENGE

CW: Haley is reader’s mom and she is in here a fair amount but no mention of reader’s appearance, lots of up and down emotions, Hotch’s reaction could bring up feelings about the sad reality of the safety of the world for the LGBTQ+ community

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You looked yourself up and down in the mirror, trying your best to look casual. You forced your wringing hands to your sides, though they still trembled. A large exhale released some of the shoulder tension, but not enough. Any tell in your body language would be easily caught onto by your dad; Aaron Hotchner wasn't the BAU Unit Chief for nothing.

For weeks now, you’d been rehearsing the composition of your posture in front of a mirror while thinking about the words you were going to say. You had the speech perfected when you were staring at your bedroom ceiling in the dark alone. When you practiced it out-loud, you stumbled over a word or two, which was better than it had been at the beginning; your jaw would lock up in anxiety, unable to get out any words at all.

The first time they slipped past your lips, just for you, it had felt like freedom - in an empty school bathroom you looked yourself in the eyes.

“I’m gay.”

And just like that, the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m gay,” you had repeated to yourself, and that time it made you smile.

The time after that, it made you laugh. You said it until you were practically dancing alone in the space, feeling so light, so free after so long hiding who you were, even to yourself.

Coming out to someone for the first time wasn’t even on your mind when your best friend walked into the bathroom to find you. You’d been so high on joy that there was nothing stopping you from telling them, and having them join in on your dance. You considered yourself lucky that the first time happened on accident. There was no room to hide from at least one person in your life. You were met with their support and it seemed like it would have been easy to tell the other important people in your life.

It hadn’t been.

You weren’t sure why— you’d grown up in an open-minded, loving family. Not once had a seed of doubt been planted in your head that they would reject you, but there was always the dreaded what if? that crossed your mind. The infinitely small chance that it wouldn’t be okay to them held you back.

It felt silly - almost stupid - how many weeks it had taken to look at the photo of your mother that sat on your nightstand and whisper to her in a trembling voice, “Mom, I’m gay.”

She had been dead for years. There was no risk of disapproval, being looked at differently, even of her ever loving you less. But it was the first time coming out to someone felt like it mattered.

All you could do was hold the frame to your chest and cry silently in the dark, imagining that she was there to wrap you in her arms, hearing her sweet voice speak the last words she ever told you: “I love you so much.”

That was the silent promise you held onto as you padded silently past your brother’s room and to the living room. You settled your hand on the outside of your pants pocket where you had been carrying around a small picture of her for weeks now. I love you so much.

“Hey, Jack’s in bed and you don’t have school tomorrow, so I was thinking we could stay up late and watch a new movie.” Your dad came into the living room, dressed in a casual tee shirt and shorts, just like it was any other day. It wasn’t just any other day.

“Yeah, sounds good.” You swallowed down bile.

“You want popcorn?” he asked.

Part of you wanted to explode - to forego the monologue you’d been planning for weeks now. How could Hotch not see the stiffness to your posture and worry in your eyes? Could the man who profiled people for a living truly not see how his own child wasn’t acting normal? But all you could manage was a “Sure,” and he left for the kitchen.

The anger dissipated when he left, and you found yourself sitting on the couch, fumbling with the remote in shaking hands. You scrolled through the titles, landing on the one you wanted and sat. Never had you felt so stiff in your own home.

Your dad walked in with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and two cans of soda in the other. He handed one to you and you took it, murmuring a thanks under your breath. That’s when he paused.

“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you and put the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

In a sudden rush of anxiety, you grabbed it and wedged it into the small space between your leg and his, where it always was during movie nights so both of you could reach. Except now, you felt the need to have a physical barrier between the two of you. Maybe you felt the salty snack could soften the blow of what you were about to tell him, or maybe you just needed to feel that normalcy in case it changed everything.

“I’m uh-” the well scripted, even more well rehearsed words were nowhere to be found inside your head. You sighed. “Dad, I want to uh… tell you something.”

“What is it?” He was looking at you concerned. Still, Aaron Hotchner’s “look of concern” was ever intense. You thought about your mom’s gentle eyes, her soothing voice...

I love you so much.

“I’m gay.”

A beat of silence.

Numb anxiety caused you to turn to face your father, but you couldn’t read his expression, not with the surge of fear that had taken over your brain.

That moment seemed to last forever - you, staring at him, searching the line of his brow or the curve of his mouth for any reaction. Him, staring back at you…

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You blinked, taking a second to comprehend his words, working through the tension. “Uh, yes?”

“Has anyone tried to hurt you?” Your dad’s eyes shifted to gaze down your arms to your knuckles.

“What- no! Of course not.” You shifted in your seat and Hotch’s eyes came back to your face. “Dad, didn’t you hear what I just told you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I need to know that nobody has hurt you.” He paused. “The world isn’t always nice to people who don’t fit their ideals. You have to promise that you’ll call me if you ever feel like you’re in danger.”

And that was that - your father’s version of I love you so much:

I would die before I ever let someone hurt you simply for being you.

“I promise, dad,” you said, holding back tears, though a few must have slipped down your cheeks because he raised a gentle hand to wipe them away. “So you don’t- you aren’t-”

He shook his head. “I care that you’re happy, and that you’re safe.”

“I’m happy, dad,” you said, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. “And I’m safe.”

He wrapped a gentle arm around your shoulder and pulled you into a hug; the place you would always feel and be the most secure in the world.

“I love you,” you told him quietly.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #hotch x daughter!reader #hotch x child!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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mybrainisrotted · 6 months

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Gojo/gn!reader, established relationship. Post Shibuya incident spoilers. When our man returned.

Read on Ao3.

"I mean this respectfully Ijichi, please get the fuck out of my way."

The metal examining table under Gojo's thighs is cold and uncomfortable, but it's a different sort of cold and uncomfortable and for that he's grateful. But the voice that echoes in the hall outside the medical room sends a rush of warmth through him that makes it feel like his heart has been restarted when he didn't even know it had stopped. For a moment--a second stretched indefinitely--he forgets where he's been, what he's seen, what he's felt, who he's lost.

The door slams open, bouncing off the wall hard enough to make even Shoko wince a bit as she takes a drag from her nearly ever present cigarette. Smiling softly, she joins Ijichi in the hall, closing the door behind her.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait anymore."

Gojo's already on his feet when you come barreling into him, arms open and ready to catch you. Your body molds to his, arms wrapped tight around his middle, face pressed against his chest where he's sure you can hear how his heart has picked up pace, slamming against his ribcage. He folds himself around you as best he can, squeezing you a little too tightly because he knows that's how you like your hugs. You take a deep breath and let it out with a pleased hum, nuzzling your cheek against him.

"You smell like you. Like home."

The corner of Gojo's mouth ticks up, and he presses his own nose to the top of your head, letting the faint but familiar scent of your coconut shampoo take over his senses. It triggers memories that are uniquely coded to you; smoothing fingers over your shoulder as he ghosts his lips over the back of your neck in bed, and steam filled showers that you always begrudge him for taking with you even as you lovingly massage that shampoo into his hair (which he bought to keep at his place specifically for this purpose), humming softly under your breath as your nails gently rake over his scalp.

Gojo's favourite part was smelling you on his things. Rolling over in bed, alone, and burying his nose in his pillow and smelling you. Drying his hands on his towel, sitting on his couch, pulling on his clothes and having that faint scent of coconut suddenly tickle his nose. You're with him even when you aren't. And in the Prison Realm, with nothing to do to pass the infinite looping of time except dive inward into his own mind, he'd tucked his chin into the collar of his shirt and--smelled you. Lingering within the fabric and threads was the simple essence of you and suddenly he hadn't felt so alone.

"I'm sorry I've been gone," Gojo murmurs, mouth at your temple and fingers smoothing nonsensical patterns up and down your spine. Now that he's got you in his grasp again, when the likelihood of that had begun to seem like a fleeting possibility, he doesn't want to let you go. "It won't happen again. I promise."

You squirm in his hold, placing both hands on his chest to push him back slightly so you can look at him face to face. You don't think you've ever seen him on school grounds without his blindfold or sunglasses. The nineteen days without him makes you realize between the sky and the ocean there isn't a shade of blue that could possibly capture what you see swirling in his irises.

"You don't need to apologize for something out of your control, Satoru," you say with a slight frown. You bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, committing him to memory all over again, warming when his expression softens under your touch. "You have no idea how happy I am that you're back. That's the only thing that matters."

Something in Gojo's eyes flickers, and though he smirks it doesn't carry his usual lightheartedness. The coil of tension in his stomach twists uncomfortably. "Missed the strongest sorcerer, huh?"

You shake your head again, smoothing the pad of your thumb over his lower lip. "I missed your corny jokes. I missed your surprise mochi deliveries. I missed our late night hot chocolate talks on your balcony." Your fingers trace a gentle path upward, over his sharp cheekbones and soft brows, smoothing a lock of silky white hair over his temple and then settling at his nape. "I missed your morning bed head. I missed your laugh. I missed your touch. I missed the way you said you loved me. I missed my sweet Satoru."

The love you give him, have always given him, is free of strings and expectations. Gojo doesn't know what his future is going to look like but he knows he wants one with you. By your side. His smile wobbles as he gently swipes away the tears at the corners of your eyes, that knot in his stomach loosening with your words. He kisses you on the forehead, on each damp cheek, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips, once, twice, three times, before he taps his head to yours.

"I missed you too, sweetheart."

#satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #my writing #my brain rots

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3d-wifey · 8 months

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And They'd Find Us In A Week - Chapter 3

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 5.08k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! A/N: Don't be scared to click the embedded links, you might get an auditory surprise (Ai voice cloning works wonders)

Past (iii) - You

[16 & 17] - THE CAPITOL

When you were six, Eleven had a bad year for crops. Of course, the ones who felt the brunt of it were the district citizens. Your parents had given you half of their rations plus your own, but that still wasn't much and you were starving. So you snuck into the woods in hopes of finding something to eat when you saw it. A coyote stuck on its side, legs too frail to lift itself.

It looked gaunt, ribs protruding and spine on display. You knew hunger personally enough to recognize it anywhere. But even as weak as it was, it looked at you like you were prey—growling and snapping its teeth from where it laid on its side.

You knew it could hurt you. No matter how weak it looked, it was still stronger than you and all it would take was one bite for you to get some kind of infection. With how weak your immune system was, something like that would have killed you almost instantly. So you left it there.

As you sit in front of President Snow, you can't help but be reminded of that coyote.

He's paler in person, face thinner up close. That doesn't make him any less imposing. You fidget in your seat and glance at the door. You know there are four Peacekeepers stationed outside, guns full of ammo. They'll shoot you down without a second thought if Snow wills it, put a bullet in your skull at the snap of his fingers.

There are dozens of white roses around you, tucked inside vases on any available surface. Almost innocent if not for their cloying scent. It gives you a headache. You’ve never seen so many roses outside of a funeral.

When you received the letter requesting your presence, you were at a loss. The next Victory Tour wasn't for a couple of months. What business do you have in the Capitol?

You're so concentrated on your surroundings that it surprises you when he finally starts talking.

"Forgive me, I never personally commended you for your games. I would have done so a year ago, of course, but there were complications." His gruff voice carries in the room. Your shoulders are stiff with tension.

Is that it? He invited you to the Capitol—to his office—to what? To salute you? Your stylist didn't have you plucked and waxed just for a pat on the back. There must be more behind this, not that you would ever call him out on that.

He opens a drawer on his right and pulls out an intricately designed, rectangular canister. He places it in front of you, takes off the lid, and picks up a gold-wrapped piece of candy.

"Many people don't get to relish in the luxuries of the Capitol. For example, this candy. You didn't get to have many of these growing up in Eleven, did you," he chuckles when you shake your head. He knew the answer to that question before he asked it, "No, of course not. But you're a victor now, you should indulge. Butterscotch?" He offers and it feels like bait.

You're not sure if you can work up the nerve to say no to him, even over something as trivial as a piece of candy. You nod and he raises his eyebrow. You clear your throat, "Yes, please."

"Good girl." He mutters approvingly, gloved fingers brushing your palm as he hands the candy to you. You barely hold back a flinch.

He watches you unwrap the candy and place it in your mouth. It's quiet. You can feel your heartbeat in your teeth.

"It's good, isn't it?" He asks rhetorically but doesn't continue speaking. He just stares. You can't tell if he wants you to answer or not. And when you finally open your mouth to say something, he cuts you off.

"There's something on your mind. Say it."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I—I just didn't think my games were impressive enough to garner your attention." You barely did anything worth a spectacle. Your games might have been entertaining, but you're no Finnick Odair.

“Now, let's be honest with each other. You're thinking, ‘Surely, he didn't invite me here just to congratulate me’, yes?” He smiles with an encouraging nod, almost like a schoolteacher. Are you that easy to read? First Finnick, now him.

You nod, unsure if any noise that comes out of your mouth will be intelligible.

"You're quite clever for someone of your background. That's why people love you so much. And it's that love that brings you here today. The people want more of you."

"I didn't know I was so popular." You naively thought the hype surrounding you and your games would die off with the entrance of a new victor. Will you be interviewed by Caesar? Doing another photoshoot for Capitol Couture?

“I want to explain something to you, my dear, in a way you’ll understand. Imagine a wolf wanders onto your farm—you know what a wolf is, yes? This wolf hasn’t killed any of your cattle, but it has the potential to. Now, you could always get rid of the wolf, kill it, but that’s only a temporary solution. There will always be other wolves.” He scolds you as if you were the one to suggest it and not him. “Why go through the effort of killing it, when you can tame it—give the wolf a bone, so to speak. You earn its loyalty and it protects the cattle from other predators.” You aren’t sure you really follow what he’s trying to say. Are you the wolf? The cattle? You certainly don’t own the farm.

"In the past, I’ve always resorted to getting rid of my wolves. But I’ve found it’s easier to domesticate them. I'll be completely transparent with you as I want no misunderstandings between us. I am in the business of making wolves happy. And something that'll make them very happy is you," your knees ache with how hard you're gripping them, "not even the most blue-blooded citizens can fight the allure of spending a night with a victor. Especially one as captivating as yourself."

You stare at each other. Your eyes stunned, his apathetic. You’re able to decipher his needlessly complicated metaphor and you wish he was talking about actual wolves. You’d rather take your chances with the predators in the woods than the ones in the Capitol.

“I...I'm sorry, I don't understand. If this is a money thing—”

"No, I don't do this for money. Although there is a substantial fee involved, the people who are pushing for this are my key endorsers. You provide this service for them and I ensure their loyalty. Wolf, meet bone."

You shake your head, suddenly nauseous. "Why would I agree to that?"

"Why? Do you not care about your mother? What of Seeder and her poor children," he asks, tsking at your confusion, "Eleven is our most populated district. It can stand to lose a few people." You hear the threat he's not saying and throwing up becomes a very, very real possibility.

You say nothing, swallowing around fear and vomit. He leans back in his chair, probably sickly satisfied at how subdued he’s got you.

You've never hated anyone as much as you hate the man before you. Not the peacekeeper that executed your father, or the Crop Overseer that made it her mission to touch as many of the young farmhands as she could. He's going to whore you out to the highest bidder. No, he's giving your body away like a party favor.

He steeples his fingers. "There's a party tonight. I can expect to see you there, hmm?"

You nod slowly before remembering what he wants. "Yes, sir."

"Good," he releases a puff of air from his nose that you can almost count as a laugh. He slides a key card across the desk. "You will be staying at the Marquis Hotel in room 2077. There are only two people with access to the door: you and the Avox in charge of cleaning it. Unless stated otherwise, you will hold all of your appointments in this room." He's given you the top floor, you note faintly.

"You will receive your assignments from me personally," he sits a paper card face-down in front of you, "This is the name of your client and what time you can expect them to knock on your door. Along with your room number, in case it slips your mind," You pick both cards off the desk, almost expecting them to burn your fingers. But they're just objects. The only thing that can hurt you here is Snow.

"You've been very compliant thus far. I hope it's a trait you continue to possess in the future." The sound of his leather gloves squeaking against each other draws your attention for a beat. It's a welcome distraction from the blood rushing in your ears. "Now, there's something important I must ask you."

You look up at him, shaking where you sit. You know your face is twisted into a scowl and you dig your nails into your thighs.

What more does he want from you? He’s practically squeezing a stone, expecting blood, but can’t he see you have nothing left for him to take? But there’s something Snow knows that you haven’t considered. If you squeeze a rock hard enough, you get diamonds. Finnick finds you with your back pressed to the wall like you’re the only thing keeping it up, scowling at anyone who tries to start up a conversation with you.

"What's got you pouting, beautiful?" He teases, approaching you with a good-natured smile.

He leans in next to you, close enough that your bare arm brushes his satin-covered chest with every breath. He's a drink or two in, you can tell by the slant of his eyes and the flush in his cheeks.

You contemplate it for a second. Should you tell him? You need someone to talk to, or just to listen to you and he's the closest thing you've ever had to a friend in a very long time, especially in the Capitol. That certainly means something to you. You’re so far from your natural habitat and there’s safety in numbers. Though, you guess you’ve never really left the forest, have you? The same rules apply in the Capitol as they do in the wilderness: blend into your surroundings and if a predator spots you, pray to God they lose interest.

"Can I trust you, Finnick?" You ask in place of an answer, eyes locked on the crowd. Snow never said that you had to keep your arrangement to yourself, but it didn't hurt to be safe. You want to confide in him more than anything, but you need to be sure that Finnick won't trade your secret for another.

He straightens, sobering at your sudden seriousness. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

You stare at him for a moment. You've talked to Finnick a handful of times and only had two meaningful conversations that didn't involve either of you flirting. By all means, you shouldn't trust him.

But you do. You really do.

You take him by the hand and pull him behind you, dodging socialites left and right, to a narrow corridor that nobody frequents. There are too many ears out there and the only people that walk down this hall are Avoxes. And it's not like they can tell anyone what they hear.

You stand across from each other, so close that your heels touch his boots when he leans against the wall. You open your mouth, hesitate, and close it.

Finnick pushes off the wall to touch your shoulder, leaning down to try to catch your eye. "What happened?"

You keep your gaze down; you don't know if you can stomach the look he'll give you when you tell him.

“Snow…” You trail off, losing steam fast. Finnick stiffens, his grip on your shoulder as tight as a corpse’s.

“What did Snow do?”

You launch into your explanation, starting with the letter you received and ending with the last question Snow asked you.

"And, when I agreed, he asked me if…if I was still a virgin. Apparently, there's a high demand for my first time." You pick at the skin around your nails, a habit your prep team admonished you for. Nothing pretty about bleeding, peeling fingers.

You bite the bullet and look up. His sea-green eyes are rocky and there's a grimace on his face. An angry tilt to his mouth, but that's it. No shock, no disgust, none of the emotions that this kind of revelation warrants. You take in his stance. He's tense, but he's not surprised. Almost as if he expected this.

"Finnick, are you...?" Your voice peters out lamely, unable to put words to what Snow is making you do, what you suspect he's been making Finnick do.

He rocks on his heels and lets out a slow puff of air from his nose. "Since I won my games."

You shake your head. That can't be right. "You were only fourteen."

"Only a select few in Snow's private circle could indulge in my services at first. But once I hit sixteen," he shrugs with a mean smile, "I was fair game." Of course. You had thought Finnick was handsome when he first won, in that passing way thirteen-year-olds often thought of others. Obviously, it was a shared consensus.

And Snow had said that he planned on speaking to you sooner—when you were younger. Stupid of you to think that he was swayed by something as trivial as morals.

"Who else is he forcing to do this?"

"You, me, and any other attractive victor with something to lose." The sleeves of his white blouse rub together as he crosses his arms, a sneer stretched on his pretty face. You're quiet. You think of Seeder. You think of Chaff and Haymitch. Cashmere and Gloss. You think of fourteen-year-old Finnick. You think of them in the same chair you were in, guns at their back and faced with an impossible task.

Were they as scared as you?

"I had thought...I thought that he wouldn't ask you," he looks at you with a gleam in his eyes that you recognize. It's the same one he had during that first dance. But you can distinguish it now because you feel it; he looks haunted, "Usually, he'd spring it on you as soon as you win, but he didn't with you, so I thought—I hoped…" He cuts himself off, staring over your shoulder. He bites his lip so hard you know it has to hurt.

You reach forward, using your thumb to pull his lip away from his teeth. He looks between your eyes for a second and you drop your hand. "Hoped what, Finnick?"

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "I hoped you were safe." That's...you don't know what that is. Your heart is beating so fast you can feel it knocking against your ribcage. You lean your head back with a sigh. You close your eyes and resist the urge to rub at your chest. That's not supposed to happen. This isn't supposed to happen.

"It almost sounds like you care about me." You joke, voice wavering. You can't do this right now.

"I do," his arms drop beside him with another shrug, "I care about you." He says plainly, eyes locked on you. Evidently, he's not one to beat around the bush and, usually, you aren’t either. You don't say anything. Speechless is probably a better word for it. And then, he continues on like what he said isn't a revelation within itself.

"Snow says it's to ensure loyalty, and maybe that's true, but it's not the only reason. His goal, above all else, is to further drive the wedge between victors and the Capitol," he says, an echo of your first conversation, "We're not human, not to them. He made sure of that."

Neither of you talks, the silence heavy with the truth of that statement. You're well informed now, and you aren't alone in your imprisonment to Snow. You aren't sure what to do with that. It certainly doesn't make you feel better, and it doesn't change the fact that you only have two hours and forty minutes before your appointment.

Finnick must be able to feel the anxiety wafting off you in waves because he grabs your hand and…pinches the skin between your thumb and forefinger? "What the hell are you doing?" You half-heartedly tug at his grip, more out of reflex than anything else, but he holds on tight.

"It's a pressure point. You squeeze it when you're stressed or anxious—a trick I learned from Mags." He slides his thumb down to where the bone of your pointer finger meets your thumb and presses down. You both stand like that for at least ten seconds.

"...It hurts."

"It's supposed to," he laughs, soft lips pulled into a grin, "The pain, it's supposed to be distracting." It's definitely uncomfortable, but the only thing you're distracted by is his touch. You don't know if it's some kind of placebo effect or if this pressure point shit actually has some validity, but your heart doesn't feel like it'll beat through your ribs anymore.

Or, the third option. It has nothing to do with the pressure point and everything to do with the man in front of you. This close, his scent engulfs you. Saltwater and something sweet buried under it, a smell you're sure will still be caught in your nose long after you go home.

He digs in a pocket of his billowy pants and places a card in your hand.

"Here," it's the same as the one Snow gave you. The only difference is the name, the time, and the room number. 2064, "It's one of my regulars, so I don't need it." He states in such a nonchalant manner, it almost sounds normal to you.

"Regulars?" You frown before you can catch yourself. A seventeen-year-old shouldn't have regulars.

"Don't make that face. I don't need your pity. We're in the same boat, remember?" He asks, but it's one of those rhetorical questions that only have one answer.

"Right." At this point, the waves have capsized your boat. You're drowning, water filling your lungs, but at least you're drowning together.

"Look, he puts us all on the same floor." He's still holding your hand with both of his. Like it's something delicate, something worth being gentle with. Like it hasn't taken lives. "If you need me, you know where to find me." He offers with a tender squeeze of your hand. And, despite yourself, you believe him. If you need him, Finnick will be there.

A thought that's just as comforting as it is terrifying. He removes one of his hands from yours and thrusts it forward—correction, one of his pinkies forward in a gesture similar to the one you did months before. You only hesitate for a second before locking yours with his.

A silent promise.

“Any advice?”

“Advice,” he laughs, short and brittle, “Yeah. Just…breathe and endure. It’s all any of us can really do.” His voice is angry, but his eyes are mournful. That’s definitely not the kind of advice you wanted to hear and you can tell it’s obviously not the kind he wants to give. But what were you expecting, some kind of miracle cure? That’s not the way this works.

You could always just…disappear. If not physically, then mentally. A trick you picked up in Eleven when the grueling work days got especially long and—Finnick’s pinky is still locked with yours, you hadn’t even registered it. He doesn’t seem too nonplussed about the prolonged contact, quite the opposite, actually.

And, well, it's not like you're complaining

Present (iii) - Finnick

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT FOUR

The escort for District Four, Freesia Ashwind, stands before a rowdy crowd. Most, if not all, of the citizens, are excited to see who will represent them in the Games.

It makes him sick.

Finnick stares at the back of her magenta head and cracks his fingers behind him.

When Finnick was younger, he hated her. Out of all the names she could have picked, all the lives she could have ruined, she picked his. She inadvertently had a hand in the years of suffering he endured. And when he was fourteen, alone and hurting, blaming Snow wasn't enough.

It's different now. He's older and wiser, and he does still hate her, but no more than he hates every other Capitol. He tunes her out and tries to remember if he's had sex with her.

After preaching the same spiel she's said every year, she finally says something of substance.

"Now, normally, it's ladies first. However, since it's such a special occasion, how about we switch it up a bit?" The crowd roars, exhilarated, hanging on to her every word. He's sure she could recite the entire history of Panem and they'd cheer. District Four doesn't suck from the teat of the Capitol like One and Two do, but it's still a wealthy, Career district.

She approaches the bowl on her right instead of her left.

He stands alone as the sole male victor. There used to be three others, but they either drowned in their liquor or overdosed on their Morphling. Despite that, she makes a show of it. Swirling her hand around the empty bowl until she plucks the only paper out with a gasp, exaggerated in nature as most people of the Capitol are.

"Finnick Odair!” He doesn’t know what he was expecting. There—there was no other outcome. Still, he goes cold, heart growing heavy with reality sinking into it.

Finnick is a good actor. Maybe not the best, but he's certainly up there. Not many people could see through his veneer. It's fragile, cracks and instability on display to anyone who truly knows him—and even then, that's only three people.

Two of them stand beside him now, waiting to see where the sword will fall. And the other…Finnick waves to the cheering crowd with a closed-mouth smile.

The other is lost to him.

He plays up his enthusiasm, winking and waving. He dons the mask they chose for him: Golden boy of the Capitol, a born killer. Why wouldn't he be excited to get back in the ring? A couple more thoughts like that and maybe he'll start believing it.

"Ladies next!" A hush settles over the crowd. No one is excited to see this. He glances to his left. Annie is shaking as Mags holds onto her.

It's so quiet, Finnick can hear the tape tearing off the paper.

"Annie Cres—” Annie is screaming before Freesia even finishes. He faces forward, biting his cheeks to shit.

"Oh, it seems we have a volunteer!" He almost breaks his neck from turning so fast. Mags has her hand held high, gesturing to herself.

The crowd cheers, but this time they cheer for Mags's bravery. Finnick feels like crying.

As the cameras zoom in on them, he breaks protocol and goes to comfort her. He holds Mags close and kisses the top of her head. He's known her for most of his life and he's still surprised by her selflessness. She must know how high the deck is stacked against her. That, even with him beside her, the odds aren't in her favor. And she still volunteered. There's a reason you and her got along so well.

He looks at Annie. Her hands are over her ears and she stares back mournfully, more lucid than she's been in years. She makes to come towards them before she's intercepted and ushered off the stage like a sheep.

Finnick wonders who will take care of her with both of them gone. Annie may not be going into the arena, but this is just as much a death sentence for her as it is for them.

Right about now, the reaping for Eleven should be taking place.

Finnick knows Snow well, more than he'd ever admit. He knows, without a doubt, that he put Seeder's name in twice.

But there's a chance that he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does. Two years is plenty of time for a person to change. God, he hopes he's wrong about you. He hopes you've grown mean and callous, and you wouldn't even think about trading your life for someone else's.

He hopes you're safe.

Peacekeepers approach. Far more cordial than they'd be with the lower districts, but still gripping their guns tight. "Right this way, Mr. Odair." One of them says. He and Mags follow after him, like pampered pigs to the slaughter.

Present (iii) - You

[23 & 24] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

You don't remember the walk to the stage. You've been out of it since the Quarter Quell was announced. You remember specific instances of Chaff forcing you and Seeder to train, your mother following you around like a shadow—and when you come to, it's to a sea of despondent faces. Every District Eleven resident, young and old, stands before you.

Argon Wellway is the same announcer Eleven has had for the past five years. His neon purple hair remains stiff despite the breeze. You've always loved purple. It's an odd dichotomy to see something you love on something you hate.

He steps to the mic, enthusiastic and jaunty despite the dour reception he receives from his audience.

"Hello, District Eleven! Are we excited for the Quarter Quell," he pauses with a wide smile, every tooth on display. The crowd stays silent, "Well, I certainly am. And so is everyone in the Capitol!"

He steps back, attitude impervious to everyone around him. "Now, for the men!"

You pity Chaff. He stands by himself on the left, bearing the weight of being the only male victor of Eleven. He never had a chance.

Argon approaches the bowl on the left like a magician, showy with big movements. He pulls the card out and stands by the mic. "Chaff Mitchell!"

Chaff doesn't move from where he stands, there's no point.

Seeder takes your hand and you squeeze back with numb fingers. You don't know where her kids are, the mass of people too big to pick out three children, but you look for them nonetheless. You wonder what they're feeling. You wonder what you’re feeling.

"On to the female victors. This one is especially exciting, a fifty-fifty chance!" There's not a wrinkle on his face as he smiles, skin too tight with Botox. It makes him look inhuman, fitting.

"Which one, which one," his fingers dance between the two cards inside the bowl, going back and forth like it was a guessing game and not someone's life on the line. He goes on like that longer than needed before deciding, "Aha! This one."

He steps back to the mic, tearing the tape off the back of the paper before announcing, "Seeder Howell!"

She is quiet, face twisted in an attempt to keep back tears. Her grip is crushing as if she's scared they will drag her away. And you move without putting much thought into the decision.

You raise your free hand and say, "I volunteer." You don't yell it, you don't need to.

Your mother lets out a shrill, throat-shredding scream, her voice only elevated by the silence surrounding it. This will be the last thing you hear from her.

Seeder holds on to your hand as you step forward, grip tight. There are tears in her eyes, lips trembling around words she doesn't have the strength to say.

"I know," And you do. As a mother, she's grateful, but as your mentor—well, "Let me do this for you." You say, but it isn't a request. You're going back into the arena whether she gives you her blessing or not. You can admit your reasons for volunteering aren't entirely selfless. You're going up against seasoned fighters, all prepared to do what it takes to survive.

But—you don't have to win. No one expects you to win and that...that thought is relieving. You aren't planning on rolling over in the arena and letting someone get a free kill, but this is something Snow won't be able to work around. No matter how hard he tries, he can't manipulate the outcome of the games. And he'll have no one to blame but himself, no one to punish. It's cowardice, in a way, but you're tired. And you think you've been tired for a long time now. You'd be stupid not to take this ticket out.

Most eyes pity you. You're essentially volunteering yourself to put your head under the executioner's sword. However, some eyes envy you. You're leaving Eleven. For good. For many of the citizens, death is a small price to pay for freedom. But there’s something else, something everyone in the crowd shares. There’s anger, a righteous fury in every face you see.

Is this the view your dad had? Are these the faces he saw before he was lynched?

You spot your mom a few rows back, someone holding her up. She's inconsolable. You take a moment to look at her for the last time. After you die, they'll make her move out of your house, but you know without asking that Seeder will take care of her.

"This is certainly a surprise! Very exciting," Argon grabs the stump of Chaff's right arm and the wrist of your left, lifting them into the air, "We have our tributes!"

No one claps. You don't expect them to.

Things move pretty quickly after that. You're given no time to say goodbye. No time to try and run.

Peacekeepers approach and the hands that grab you are rough with their treatment, dragging you and Chaff in the direction of the train.

There'll be many victors facing the guillotine, many of your friends forced into a death march.

You look to the sky, a quick glance before you're ushered to the train. It's a sunny day with plump white clouds on a baby blue backdrop. It might be the last time you see the real sky as a free woman. Calm and beautiful despite the carnage happening under it.

You close your eyes for a moment and think. For the first time in almost two years, you'll see Finnick.

#catching fire #hunger games catching fire #hunger games fanfiction #thg #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair fanfic #and they'd find us in a week

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live-laugh-lenney · 24 days

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loving the dad george content but what would arthur be like as a dad??

i was waiting for this to come in, hahaha. :')) we need to go into more detail on this trope like we did with girl-dad!george. i think it's a desperate need, too... i can already feel my mind racing with ideas...

"how?"

"arthur, for god sake, do you really need me to answer that?"

he gulps back the thick lump in his throat that sat low, head aching and he felt constricted and tight with the headphones that hung around his neck, the main channel video he was editing going long forgotten about on his screen. and she can see the colour of his cheeks vanish. and she was thankful he was sat down because she was certain he would have passed out once she told him the news.

she didn't want to take the test at his place... but it was a burden on her mind as the pregnancy test box sat in her handbag, hanging on the back of the chair tucked underneath his desk in his bedroom, and she just needed an answer. having felt sick for the last few weeks, waking up feeling nauseous and unable to keep her breakfast down her, it was either a serious matter of needing a doctor to take a look at her or she had fallen pregnant... she wanted it to be the former but she had a gut feeling it was the latter.

"but-"

"i know. we were careful."

and they always were.

he had a stack of condoms in his bedside table for when they got a little carried away. she was on the pill.

except that one night, coming home from a party thrown to celebrate a birthday, where they stumbled into his flat drunk and desperate for each other, ripping off their clothes and leaving a trail right up to his bedroom door. it was quick, lust-filled, drunk. neither one of them in the mood for foreplay. she didn't remember reaching for protection, she didn't remember him taking a moment to wrap himself up, she didn't remember sliding it on for him or watching him take it off... so she wholeheartedly trusted her own protection to save her.

she knew it had to have been that night.

the dates matched.

"we clearly weren't that night," she adds, "arthur-"

"i don't- i- yn, i don't know how to be a dad."

"and you think i know how to be a mum? arthur, in case it didn't occur to you but, i don't have kids. i've never been a parent before either," she hisses at him from his office doorway and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, "christ, i'm just as scared as you right now. and i think i deserve to be-"

"it's a two person situation, yn," he claims, sticking two fingers up in her direction and she frowns, "i don't deserve to be scared?"

"yeah but you're not the one who has to go through the chances, are you? you'll still remain you where i'll look like i've stolen a watermelon from the supermarket," she grumbles lowly and he lets out a slight snicker; the light tension that was building had seemingly fizzled out, the initial shock still lingering in the air but it was something he could ignore, "it's not funny!"

"a watermelon?"

"it's the first thing that came to mind," she sighs heavily and puffs out a long breath from within her chest, "you're not going to throw up at any given moment because a smell puts you off. you're not going to have hormone changes and cry at stupid things. you won't get fat or start to waddle because you can't walk properly. you don't even have to push them out of a tight hole that's not big enough."

he sets his hands down on the arms of his chair and pushes himself out from underneath his desk, standing to his feet with his arms stretched out in her direction, and he takes her hands tightly in his own.

"i get that, i do," he hums softly, stroking a knuckle with his thumb and using his other hand to pull her into his chest, "but that doesn't mean my feels are invalid. i'm a support system for you in a situation that i've never had to deal with before."

she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face into the tee draping down his chest, the smell soothing the butterflies that were fluttering around in her stomach - the one thing she panicked would happen never did and it put her mind at ease.

"yeah, okay, but you won't get fat, arthur," she grumbles.

"you won't be fat though," he assures her, pressing a kiss to her head, "you'll be carrying a baby. our baby. making sure they're growing and that they're healthy. you're a home, keeping them safe, looking after them."

they stand there in silence, swaying from side to side, seconds going by and she truly felt like they could work everything out together. as a team.

"you're not upset?"

he pulls away and looks down at her, shaking his head, "why on earth would i be upset?"

"because we never spoke about this. we're not even married. we don't live together," she looks up at him and makes eye contact with him, "i know it's not ideal and-"

"i'm scared, i'm not upset," he interrupted and smiles down at her, "we've got nine months to figure everything out. i'd say that's enough time."

and, of course, he spent nine months reading all the baby books and reading things online. buying book after book from amazon and creating a good pile on his bedside table that he read before they went to bed, reading out different facts and important things so that he could involve yn in his learning. asking all the right questions at their midwife appointments. asking his mum and his step-mum all the right things to understand what could happen during her labour and what he could do to make things easier. and he's so proud to talk about it when people ask him. xx

#arthurtv #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv prompts #arthurtv blurbs #arthurtv headcannons #arthur frederick #arthur frederick imagines #arthur frederick blurbs #arthur frederick prompts #arthur frederick headcannons

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 months

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I barely played Nikke in my iPad, so the fact that you can write them is pretty surprising for me. So, for my request, can I have the Nikkes reaction of their s/o being injured when helping them during dangerous missions?

(GoV: NIKKE) Rapi, Anis, and Neon reacting to their S/O getting injured

If my inclusion of iDOLM@STER on this blog is any indication, I will write anyone I deem worthy, no matter how big of a pain in the ass it is. I guess in Nikke's case, it's just ass.

(Rapi) "S/O, are you okay?!"

Rapi remains calm as best as she can, immediately rushing to their side and administering first aid.

Even in the heat of combat, Rapi remains steadfast, analyzing to see where the worst of their injuries are before patching them up.

The moment the mission is complete and extraction arrives, Rapi is by their side the entire time, watching over them.

Once the debriefing is over, she rushes over to the infirmary where S/O is to either keep them company or wait for them to wake up.

(S/O) "Rapi, if I'm keeping you-"

(Rapi) "Rest assured, you are not. I will remain here...I-If you want me to, that is."

Even though she doesn't breathe, S/O can see her shoulders slump in relief when they tell her they want her close.

Eventually, Rapi does have to depart for her other duties, but always tries to drop by until S/O fully recovers.

She can't help but blame herself, if she were a better soldier, S/O wouldn't have been hurt this bad.

Rapi didn't even voice her thoughts, but S/O gently squeezed her hand in reassurance, catching her attention.

(S/O) "I'd do it again, Rapi. Don't beat yourself over it."

(Rapi) "I am a Nikke, and you are human. I can be repaired, you cannot."

(S/O) "Call it irresponsible, stupid, or whatever. I'm not letting anything hurt you, Rapi."

She remained quiet for a moment before closing her eyes and gently smiling.

(Rapi) "I...should be saying that to you, but...Thank you, S/O."

Her heart would be skipping several beats right now if she had one.

But it doesn't stop a blush from creeping onto her cheeks.

Anis is the first one rushing over to S/O's side as she picks off the enemies that had injured S/O.

(Anis) "H-Hey! What's wrong with you, why did you take that shot for me?!"

(S/O) "Agh...! Heh, t-thought I could get you out the way and dodge it in time!"

(Anis) "That was stupid, you almost got yourself killed!"

Anis's overbearing side rarely showed itself, but now it was kicking into overdrive, fully bandaging S/O and letting an arm go around her shoulder as she helped them up.

(Anis) "Next time, just let me take the hit! My metal bits can be replaced, you can't-"

S/O smiled at her, lightly chuckling.

(S/O) "I'd rather not hear you whine the entire trip back, if it's all the same to you."

Anis laughed in response, some of her tension finally cooling off.

(Anis) "So you'd rather get shot than hear your lovely girlfriend talk? You sure know how to make a girl swoon."

(S/O) "I learned from the best."

(Anis) "...HEY! What's that supposed to mean!? I oughtta drop you right now!"

Their banter made the trip back to the Outpost more bearable, S/O getting her mind off their injuries as best they could.

But Anis becomes hyper aware of where S/O is during a mission, ensuring they wouldn't waste their life, even for her.

Neon points her gun in the general direction of the enemy that had shot S/O, and completely erases that direction by filling it with bullets.

(Neon) "LEAVE MY S/O ALOOOOOOOOOOONE!"

After the dust settled, Neon rushes over to S/O who was being patched by the other members of Counters, setting her rifle down and checking their injuries.

(Neon) "S/O, you're not dying are you?!"

(S/O) "No, but I think I'm slightly deaf from all the ammo you burned next to me."

(Neon) "That was for revenge, S/O! No one hurts you and gets to live!"

Neon, despite her small stature, helps carry the injured S/O back to extraction.

(S/O) "I feel like luggage rather than a squadmate-"

(Neon) "Listen, I can only hold my ammo AND you in a certain way, and there's no way around it!"

Neon does feel bad that they were injured on her watch, but if anything that strengthens her resolve to protect them better next time.

After all, no one could hurt S/O if they were decimated by her superior firepower first!

In the infirmary, Neon is already constructing a better way to keep them and the rest of the squad safe with even bigger guns!

(Neon) "Ooh, I think no one could hurt you again if I give you a rocket launcher!"

(S/O) "I think that'll encourage people to hurt me faster if I had that much firepower!"

(Neon) "Hm...You're right. How about a minigun?"

(S/O) "T-That's not much better!"

#goddess of victory: nikke headcanons #goddess of victory: nikke imagines #goddess of victory: nikke x reader #rapi nikke x reader #anis nikke x reader #neon nikke x reader #rapi nikke #anis nikke #neon nikke

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svn-bangtan · 8 months

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In The End - MYG (Teaser)

»Summary: Han Y/n, hailing from a prominent family in Seoul, returns to South Korea after years abroad. Amid her family's internal power struggle for their hotel empire, Y/ns disinterest in the chairman position disrupts the status quo. A mysterious phone call prompts her return, marking a turning point. As she confronts her arranged marriage to Min Yoongi, a once-fancied childhood crush, the stark reality sets in. The contrast between her youthful fantasies and the complex man he has become introduces unforeseen chaos.

»pairing: Husband! Yoongi x Wife! reader

»genre: Arranged Marriage AU, Angst,

»wc/date: 1k | August 2023

» warnings: Angst, Yoongi is cold, reader is cold but eventually opens up and is very independent, eventual smut. All other warnings that may come will be noted on each part.

» m.list | Taglist | Thoughts? Comments? Concerns

» Part 1

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the opulent room where Han Y/n and Min Yoongi found themselves entangled in a fierce argument. The atmosphere was charged with tension, as their words collided like storm fronts.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Y/n's voice trembled with frustration, her eyes sparking with emotion. "You act as if my feelings don't matter at all. Like I'm just a pawn in this marriage game, waiting to fulfill my duty."

Yoongi's brows furrowed, his gaze locking onto Y/n's. "And what about me, Y/n? Do you think I had any choice in this? You're not the only one whose life has been disrupted."

Her lips trembled as she fought to hold back tears. "You think I don't know that? Do you think I'm naïve? I've been living this reality my entire life. But that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to feel hurt or angry when you treat me like a stranger."

Yoongi's patience wore thin, frustration mounting in his voice. "So, what, you expect me to sweep you off your feet and play the part of the dashing prince? Is that what you want? This isn't some romantic drama, Y/n. This is real life, with real responsibilities."

"No, but you're not making it any easier!" Y/n's voice quivered with raw emotion. "I've been trying so hard to make this work, to understand you, to be a good wife even when you're distant and cold. And what do I get in return? Indifference and disregard."

A bitter laugh escaped Yoongi's lips, his patience waning. "You act like you're the only one who's suffering here. Do you think I wanted this? To be tied to someone I barely know? You're not the only one who's sacrificed, Y/n."

Her eyes flashed with anger, the pain beneath her frustration bleeding through. "You talk about sacrifice, Yoongi, but have you ever considered what it's like for me? To be shoved into a life I never asked for, with a man who barely acknowledges my existence?"

Yoongi's restraint snapped, his voice rising as anger flared within him. "You knew the terms when you agreed to this marriage, Y/n. You knew that our families were binding us together for their own gain. Don't act like you're the victim here."

The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and regret. Y/n's tears finally spilled over, her voice cracking as she retorted, "And what about you? Have you ever once tried to see things from my perspective? To understand the weight of expectations that I'm carrying?"

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his tone harsher than before. "You talk about expectations? My entire life has been built around expectations – from my family, and from the industry. And now, I have the added weight of being a husband forced upon me. Don't think for a second that you're the only one dealing with pressure."

Y/n's voice wavered, the pain in her eyes cutting through her anger. "Is it so wrong to want something more? To want a connection, a partnership based on more than just duty? We're both trapped in this, Yoongi, but it doesn't mean we can't find a way to make it bearable."

"Life isn't always about finding happiness, Y/n," Yoongi's voice softened slightly, tinged with bitterness. "Sometimes it's about fulfilling responsibilities, no matter how painful."

Tears glistened in Y/n's eyes, her voice trembling as she whispered, "But what's the point of it all if we're just two strangers sharing a house? Is this the life we're doomed to live?"

Before Yoongi could respond, before he could unleash another wave of his own frustration, Y/n's eyes blazed with an intensity he hadn't seen before. And then, as if the floodgates had burst open, she shouted, "But do you even know what love is, Yoongi? Have you ever loved someone?"

"Love, Y/n? Is this what this is about? Something as pointless as love? If I had known you'd act like the spoiled rich brat I always remembered you to be, I wish I never signed those papers, never agreed to marry you in the first place. Grow up, you aren't in America anymore, and you aren't in some fucking fantasy world, we are in reality." A bitter edge crept into his voice.

Y/n's eyes widened, her heart twisting with hurt and anger. His words struck a deep chord, cutting through her defenses. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of their unspoken emotions.

A tense pause hung in the air, a silence broken only by the sound of their strained breaths. And then, as if a dam had broken within her, Y/n's voice trembled with an unexpected vulnerability. "I've fallen in love with you, Despite the walls you've put up, despite all the pain you've caused me, I've fallen in love with you all over again."

Time seemed to freeze in that instant. Yoongi's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat. The intensity of her confession hung heavily in the air, a declaration that shattered the fragile equilibrium of their argument.

As the rain began to pour outside, the room was steeped in a heavy silence. The weight of her words settled around them, each drop of rain echoing their unspoken emotions. And then, without another word, Y/n turned abruptly, her footsteps echoing through the grand corridor as she rushed towards the door.

"Wait!" Yoongi's voice finally broke through, laced with a rawness he rarely displayed. Raindrops splattered against the windows as he took a step forward, his eyes searching for hers, desperate to find a connection that had been missing for far too long. "Y/n!"

But Y/n's steps didn't falter. The weight of her confession still hung heavy in the air, and the intensity of her own feelings overwhelmed her. She needed to escape, to find solace in solitude, to come to grips with the reality that she had bared her heart to a man who might never reciprocate.

As the door slammed shut, the room fell silent once more, the aftermath of their argument settling like dust. Yoongi's hands clenched into fists, his mind racing. He was left alone with his thoughts, with Y/n's confession echoing in his ears, the sound of her retreating footsteps fading into the distance along with the sound of raindrops tapping against the windowpane.

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 1 year

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Ticking Time Bomb (Fem!MCXBeel/Belphie)

This was requested by a friend of mine, and I figured I'd post it.

MC occasionally has a hell of a time on her period, and the brothers now have a protocol to make life as easy as possible <3

Fuzzy comfort fic with the twins, happy reading :)

One would think, that in the home of Seven Demon Lords, the little human would be the less frightening of the bunch, at least, to the naked eye.

On most days, one would be right to assume MC the most harmless of the bunch. Master of them all or not, she's not as quick to anger as Satan, or as sadistic as Lucifer.

Most days, she's the diplomatic eye of the storm, but every now and again, mother nature will turn their sweet human into a beast to rival Cerberus in ferocity.

It doesn't happen every month, sometimes, her bleeding will come and go and no one will be the wiser except for the occasional wince from the poor human. However, once in a while, their sweet human becomes an absolute demon.

It starts with a warning, her scowl in the mornings that doesn't lift no matter how much coffee or sweets she's handed. Nothing can make her smile before ten, and even then, it's an effort.

When this happens, the brothers all brace for impact, because they know none will be safe, except the two lucky exception.

The twins.

Beel and Belphie are the only two demons spared, not even Diavolo is safe from saying the wrong thing around MC when she's just downright miserable.

"MC, I seem to have misplaced those documents you sent me, would you be so kind as to fill them out again?"

Normally, Diavolo's request would be met with a quiet sigh at worst, perhaps a light-hearted eye-roll and a warning that she wouldn't be able to get it done so quickly.

On Death Week?

"I'm up to my ears in school work, find the old ones or get my deadlines extended." She snipped, not outwardly rude but...short tempered, in a tone that warns Diavolo that she's not in a giving mood.

"I, see." The prince casts Lucifer a pleading look, begging for help because he's got a habit of putting his foot in his mouth when it comes to MC during Death Week, six months ago, he'd received a glare so lethal it chilled his very bones.

The other brothers cast each other glances, Asmodeus pulled out his calendar, and winced, quietly confirming what many already knew.

Sadly, Lucifer didn't catch the warning soon enough, and planted his heavy foot firmly on the wafer thin ice of MC's patience.

"Watch your tone, MC, or you may find your deadlines shortened instead."

It would have been a poor choice of words at the best of times, MC never took well to Lucifer's "discipline", and it showed, as she fixed him with a look to melt the flesh from a shadow-hog's bones.

"I fucking dare you, Lucifer."

The eldest's eyes went wide, and his brothers' panicked (and Asmo's frantic waving of his DDD's calendar) soon reminds him.

Satan clears his throat, eyes darting to one of the only demons with the capacity to save them from the fury boiling under the human's skin.

She's doing her best, they know she is, she's still their beloved MC, and she'd grin and bear the pain and roiling hormones if they let her, but watching her struggle to make a coherent thought past whatever haze she's stuck in is downright painful.

Beel is quietly shuffling to his feet, Belphie close behind him, and as the sixth born offers his hand and a sweet smile, the tension in MC's shoulders melts.

Diavolo is already writing up excuses for three absences while Beel has quietly scooped up MC and carries her wordlessly out of the room, with Belphie holding open the door for him.

"She must be incredibly uncomfortable, for it to affect her so." Barbatos mused in their wake. "I'm glad I restocked the herbal tea she likes."

Lucifer nodded his agreement, still shaking off the glare his human sent him. Is this how his brothers feel?

As the meeting carried on in their wake, the twins got MC back to the House of Lamentation, and began the regular process of spoiling their human when she needed it most.

Beel set her on his bed first, placing the gentlest kiss to her forehead as he set her down.

"You don't need to do this every time." She muttered bashfully, hating that she can't make herself be normal at times like these, it's like her body conspires against her. "I can handle it."

Beel's big hands, roughened with callouses, cup her cheeks, lifting her chin so he can kiss her forehead again, his words a soft whisper against her skin. "We know you can."

"You shouldn't have to." Said Belphie, making his way to the bed with a set of her comfortable clothes that she always left in their room. "As fun as it would be to watch you bite Lucifer and Lord Diavolo's heads off. We are not going to sit and watch you struggle through the day when we can do something about it."

Beel pulled away, replaced by Belphie's knowing hands helping her out of her uniform while Beel left for the kitchen to get snacks.

Belphie's warm lips chased his hands over every new exposed patch of skin, kisses that raised gooseflesh down her arms long after he's replaced her uniform with soft cotton.

He changed himself, and slid into bed beside her, letting her settle however she was comfortable before curling around her, long fingers finding their way under her shirt to press warm palms to her lower belly.

"Does it hurt?" He asked softly, mindlessly tracing patterns over her skin. "Sometimes it doesn't, right?"

MC nodded, wondering if she's turned two of the Devildom's highest ranking demons into menstrual experts.

"It got worse the more I moved, my legs feel...treacherous."

One hand wandered away from her soft belly, down to her thigh, gently needing the plush skin beneath her shorts.

"How exactly does anyone expect you to function like this?" The seventh rasped, already half asleep, lazily snuggling into her back, breath tickling her neck in that gentle rhythm that lulled her tumultuous body into rest. Slowly, tight muscles began to unwind and release, toes uncurling as she pressed her back into his chest.

Still, she couldn't sleep, her fingers tangling and untangling the golden sheets until Beel tip-toed back into the room, arms completely laden with food that did not fit on the bedside table.

She smiled at the gentle giant as he held out two of her favourite snacks: one savoury, one sweet.

MC took her pick, and lifted her head so Beel could sit up beside her, his thigh serving as the perfect pillow.

He flicked on the TV, letting it drone on in the background as he occasionally fed her or Belphie from his own snack pile.

In these moments, MC could want for nothing, for when a cramp did strike her hard enough to make her breath hitch, Belphie was already rubbing away the pain, Beel's fingers stroking her hair to distract her as wave after wave rolled away.

She had nowhere to be, nothing to wish for but for her two sweet demons, lovingly dotting on her without judgement. They know she could handle herself just fine, they know she's done it her entire life, and she'll likely do it again, but for now, neither of them is willing to let her go through that pain alone.

#obey me x mc #obey me x female mc #obey me beel #obey me belphie #beel x mc x belphie #obey me twins x mc #beelzebub x mc x belphegor

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xxsycamore · 8 months

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SS-Rank Husband Duty

↬ 💎 You don't even know how you managed to close the distance, but here you are. On the lap of your pretend husband. Doing something that a pretend wife is not supposed to do…❝ Performing an act reserved for married couples. One that would definitely bring us closer together. ❞

Shelby Snail x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Fake/Pretend Relationship; Fake Marriage; First Kiss; Resolved Sexual Tension; Kissing; Making Out; Oral Sex; Cunnilingus; Size Kink; Size Difference; Shelby is packing; of course he is; Condoms; Vaginal Sex • wordcount: 3,246 • masterlist

a/n: Happy (belated) Birthday, mister President...of Cupid Corp 💘I wrote this fic one year ago after Shelby stole my heart.His route had EVERYTHING I wanted in a route and more. I can't wait for the fandisk!I miss my husband 😭

Gradually, dinners with your pretend husband, Mr. Snail, start to have an air of familiarity to them. Recently though, all your mind has been filled with is spending even more time with him than you normally do. You already explained to him your desire to strengthen the bond you two have, in order to guarantee the success of the mission - the more you practice acting like a married couple, the more convincing it will look. As his ever-so-trustworthy subordinate, Shelby had no reason not to listen to you. Any ideas you might have, you're encouraged to share with him.

And ideas you have.

Fidgeting nonchalantly with the fork around the remaining contents of your plate, you patiently wait for the moment he excuses himself for the night… watching from your peripheral vision the exact moment he diligently wipes his mouth clean with a napkin, about to stand up.

"Shelby…actually, I…"

Brows arched, Shelby's attention is all on you - and not just because of the sound of his first name falling from your lips. He still hasn't gotten used to hearing you address him so informally, and the proof is sitting on his face unmasked. Out of respect towards what you have to say, he doesn't gaze away to hide the faint blush.

You gulp down and continue, putting a note of laughter in your tone.

"I thought we could benefit from spending some quality time together after dinner."

Shelby produces a low noise of surprise. 'For the sake of our mission', he crafts the correlation quickly on his own, as expected of him.

"Very well then. What should we do?"

You feign thinking about it, the answer long prepared at the tip of your tongue.

"It doesn't have to be anything too engaging. Even a simple evening in front of the TV is okay. I suppose you still have work to attend to, so please don't feel too obligated to pay attention to the TV screen."

Hearing that, Shelby gradually calms down. As expected, you've come up with a plan of double, no, triple benefit - taking care of his business affairs from the comfort of the luxurious living room is a nice change of pace, doing so alongside his pretend partner would surely close any gaps they might have in sitting in each other's company comfortably.

"That's very thoughtful of you. Alright then, I will bring my laptop to the living room."

The noises coming from the TV prove to be the perfect ambiance for a relaxing couple's late evening spent together. Even for the ever-workaholic Shelby occupying the couch, work correspondence flows more smoothly somehow, as if carried on the wings of the summer evening's bliss. His tireless fingers dart across the keyboard to complete email after email, soft clicks of a mouse accompanying them from time to time as if joining the symphony. He feels your presence without feeling the need to shoot a glance above his laptop's screen too often.

Phone resting atop your raised knees as you sit on the armchair nearby, you've engrossed yourself in catching up with colleagues in the group chat - work matters quickly morphing into social matters and occasionally shared rumor there and there - the usual. As absorbed as Shelby is in his work, he hardly notices when you let out a giggle while reading their nonsense. You know you're supposed to take it slow with your plan, but soon even the phone games you attempt to play grow dull for your entertainment, mind occupied with other things. Paying half a mind to the movie you put on, one that you lied you haven't seen before, the knowledge of what is to come starts knocking on the door and you know you should start carrying out your plan.

Leaning up more against the side of the armchair, you're now facing Shelby more than you're facing the TV - and truth to be told, stealing a glance at him every now and then would captivate you more than any movie in the world, you can't be blamed in indulging yourself. His serious expression is only broken by a hint of a smile every once in a while, probably indicating his self-satisfaction of a job well done. Other than that, he is absolutely stoic, as you're used to seeing him while in work mode.

It's ridiculous, it's pathetic, but you want him.

You've been wanting him for a long time now…

Taking in a slightly deeper breath, you think of recent events. You and Shelby bumping hands on accident, you and Shelby getting on the same wavelength as you speak the same words at the same exact time and exchange an amused glance; him running into you just before you drop your towel in the shower; the thump of the door shutting back in a hurry with a string of apologizes; the electricity sparkling invisibly between him and you when you bumped hands; the sight of what you swear could only be a hard-on the one time you needed some help with putting on your dress-

He always looks at you with the same eyes he looks at his work matters, with professionalism. And something else.

And you want to bring that something to light.

Granted, as absorbed as he is, he fails to notice the extension of your leg, then the other, accompanied by a half-faked yawn and arms raising as much as you can get them to, while still in the armchair. You easily prop up your legs to rest on the couch, in close proximity to your pretend husband.

Right on time, the movie's otherwise monotonous plot takes a sudden turn - the couple on screen, spies with different goals finding themselves working together on a dangerous mission, succumbing to their lust for each other in the heat of the moment. It's wild, it's ridiculous, it's all they can think about right now.

The sounds of their heated affair get to Shelby's ears, cracking the stratosphere of his professional world. He is startled by this unforeseen, awkward moment as soon as he realizes what it is about - and hiding his momentary stupor with a cough, he palms around his side in search of the remote.

The room is not too dim, you already allowed him the negligence of working after dinner instead of taking a proper rest, you're not allowing him to ruin his eyesight in the meantime, too. Still, he somehow misses your feet on the couch and his hand grazes directly on their underside, making you stir on the spot.

"That tickles, Shelby…!" You laugh, once at the sensation and then again at the haphazard way he changes the channel as soon as he gets his hands on the damned remote, apologizing for tickling you. His cheeks are red, too. Maybe he saw more than what he anticipated from the erotic scene while dealing with the distraction…

After some shuffling through the channels, he decides to turn the TV off for good.

"I think we should turn in for the night. We can do this again sometime, I genuinely felt relaxed tonight. And I can tell our bond…ahem…benefited from it."

Reasonable in his responses as ever, you think while nodding, letting him know you agree, but your tone lacks confidence.

"Actually…there is one more method of strengthening our bond that I thought about. I wanted to discuss it with you."

Shelby sets his laptop on the table, closing it, and prompting you to go on. To be fair, having you around for the duration of another short conversation is welcomed - was it not for the erotic scene urging him to turn off the TV and put an end to your time together, he'd anticipated some more of that. Sleep is the last thing on his mind after such refreshment as this change of pace.

You curl your toes, your hands' fingernails biting at the soft cushioning of the armchair in sudden reluctance. That's when your gaze falls on your otherwise innocent "husband" 's crouch, now tented with an obvious erection.

Oh…

He must be awfully distracted tonight as to forget that his laptop is no longer blocking the sight. Your heart leaps, confidence builds, mouth going dry nonetheless-

"It might be a stupid idea."

Shelby's beautiful, clear eyes sharpen in question, only to soften anew with a playful smile playing on his lips.

"You and stupid ideas? I doubt it. You know I trust your brilliant mind."

He is being generous with the compliments today, you almost bite on your lip, feet swinging slowly from side to side, close to his knee. Testing the waters, you nudge his knee a little. Then snake your way over his knee, until it rests dangerously close to the place between his legs.

Shelby shudders, but does nothing. He likely already realized just how much the arousal had gone to his head, too. His mind is a whirlwind of the worst of embarrassments, the memory of how much the scene from before matched a particular fantasy he had with you, and the anticipation which his rational mind bolds - he is dense but he is not dumb. You're…probably making a hint at him.

No, that can't be right.

He needs to focus and hear the rest of what you want to say, judge the best exit from the situation from there on, close himself in his bedroom and curse himself for these uncontrollable feelings.

There is no hiding it now. He looks at you, waiting for an answer, anything.

"Well, then, my idea is…"

Gripping the arms of the chair, you prop yourself up before the urge to press your foot directly on his bulging pants can defeat your sanity, and standing up you realize that you're hearing your own heartbeat in your ears. Finally being up and getting closer to Shelby, if not directly throwing yourself into his arms, is giving you maddening thrill. You don't even know how you managed to close the distance, but here you are.

On the lap of your pretend husband. Doing something that a pretend wife is not supposed to do…

"Performing an act reserved for married couples. One that would definitely bring us closer together."

Shelby produces another one of those groaning noises deep in his throat that you so adore hearing. He marvels at how good it feels to have you in his lap. Desires kept under a key emerge to the surface, images he banished from his imagination for good. Your lips on his lips, your waist in his hands, your body pressed close against his…

"Do you think you can carry out this particular, erm, husband duty, Mr. Snail?"

Going back to honorifics out of a sudden is making him stir again. He can only hope you didn't feel the way his cock jumped at the sound of it, underneath your butt. One, because it's embarrassing to be so turned on at the sound of your voice, and two, because he doesn't want you to take that as a positive reaction to this rude erasure of progress between you and him.

"With an SS rank, like everything else."

You don't believe his words at first. Such a sharp turn in demeanor is reasonably making you gasp in surprise.

His stern expression accompanies the trademark serious intonation. You don't have too much time to dwell on it, because the hands on your waist work to lower you to a lying position on the couch.

Behind the eyelids of your fluttered-close-for-a-second-eyes is cast a dark shadow of his towering figure. Before this moment, you had no idea how lonely your lips were without Shelby's warmth on them.

The kiss you share is a synopsis of everything you felt for each other up to that point, dwindled to the duration of half a minute. The pretended reservation, the push and pull, and lastly, the explosion of emotions.

His experience in such acts is limited, but not to the extent he would feel insecure about it. Granted, things change when it's you in front of him - you with your unfamiliar air of young love that he didn't know he was capable of inhaling. He feels like a horny teenager, heat rising to his face among other parts of his body.

His intuition tells him he should be ashamed of showing his lust like so, resembling a man starving, as he takes from your mouth what he longed to be his for such a long time now.

The way his tongue swirls around yours is exciting, wild, and making your head spin - is that the same company president that you've known for so long? Lust dresses his manners into an honest display of lust. Looking at him, his cheeks are flushed when he finally withdraws - but so are yours. You're equally out of breath, but more than that, you find yourself the stunned one, feeling as if you might explode if he touches you further.

And touch further he does.

Unassisted even when you wished to help, Shelby peels article after article of clothing off you - yet the heat clinging to your skin doesn't reduce, quite the contrary. In a daze, you figure it might be the same for him. Shaking fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, one, two, three, four, a big hand interrupting and almost tearing the expensive silky fabric in the process until he is all yours to touch, hills and valleys of muscle and all.

The feeling of his abs under your fingers is so nice, nicer than that one time you caught yourself daydreaming of it when watching him take lap after lap of his devoted swimming routine. Hands moving up, his shoulders are sturdy and giving you a sense of security - more so than the one time you fell off a chair in an attempt to reach a high kitchen shelf, and landed in his arms, gripping his shoulders.

The sheer amount of suppressed wanton you have for his man is coming to render you utterly, fully capitulated to his charm. And you don't mind.

Shelby appears to be not any better, sucking on a breath each time his trained lungs fail him in not letting out strained breaths. He wants to kiss you without pausing for a minute, to share his oxygen with you until it's enough for both and he can let go and believe this is not just another erotic daydream he is having about you.

He knows he hardly would get enough from now on. But that's fine. He has a duty to fulfill.

Resuming his position of towering above you, he is aware that he is smiling - because you are smiling back. You wrap your hands around his neck in an attempt to bring him back down for a kiss, and he uses the change to lift you up. Your legs wrap around his torso instinctively as he supports your weight, standing up from the couch and going in what you know is the direction of the bedroom.

The cool bedsheets on your naked back are heavenly, and the feeling grows tenfold when Shelby makes you squirm on them. Your back arches as his wet kisses drop lower, all of your skin caressed thoroughly as if he makes sure not to miss a spot - your nape, collarbones, the place in-between, the valley of your breasts and lower, on your tummy, the gentle hill of your sex…and yet lower. A kiss blooms directly at your clit, igniting the first sparks of definite, pure pleasure that is promised to you for the duration of the night. Shelby look at you for reaction. He is satisfied with what he sees, and smirks against your sex. He is very serious in his intentions to bring you to the throes of pleasure, not suspecting just how easy it is for you to come undone at the mere sight of him going down on you.

Your over-sensitive sex is a victim to his sweet ministrations as Shelby eats you out like a professional; the lewd sounds of his mouth greedily drinking your arouse is driving you crazy and the pleasure spirals until it reaches its peak. You scream and fist the sheets, your body soaring. When you come down from your high, Shelby is seemingly far away, making you whimper - in reality, he is only just busy putting on a condom.

"Always prepared, aren't you?"

Shelby shoots you another smirk, the redness dissipated from his face but only somewhat. True, he does take pride in being prepared for all kind of situations, but keeping those condoms around is like admitting to his secret hopes of this very scenario becoming reality.

He doesn't need to know you carry some in yourself for the exact same reason.

Teasing him should be left for a time where you can at least catch your breath, you decide, as you reach and grasp his hard cock. And your built-up confidence shatters at the realization just how big he is.

"Shelby I don't think-"

He shushes you. Groaning at the softness of your hands, he lets you grasp and stroke experimentally all you want, despite his urge to finally be inside you. His kisses are reassuring and his gaze is having that trustworthy light in it, and you maintain eye contact as you prepare yourself for the sensation of him pushing inside.

He rubs his blunt head into your inner lips, collecting the copious amount of lubrication you produced, dripping with fresh need even after that mind-blowing orgasm he gave you. You get used to the teasing touch eventually, shoulders relaxing as Shelby looks down at you, whispering.

"Why are you having doubts in us all of a sudden? I thought you already knew that we…"

He slowly, slowly makes his way inside.

"Are compatible in all aspects."

It feels like he is pushing in forever until he finally hilts all the way in, and you cannot bear the thought that you hold the whole of him inside you. Muscles contracting a little too tight, he whispers to you to relax.

"Shelby…" You moan out to him, helpless, needing to be held tight in the bottomless pit of desire that reveals itself in the wake of his following thrusts.

Your insides are on fire and it feels so good. He holds you in his strong arms, chasing after the same thing that you chase after, calling your name just as you call his. The desire to consume all of each other leads you two to another push and pull, with bedsprings creaking under the change of positions and with countless kisses shared inbetween.

In one perfect, blissful moment, you two truly become one, the waves of climax coming to wash over the both of you at the same time.

In the next moment, over the sound of your own heavy breathing, you hear his satisfied groans and feel as if you can pounce on him right away, if it isn't for the energy you need to replenish over the course of a very welcomed cuddling.

Shelby uses the chance to ask you a question in his raspy, sex-marred voice, and you shiver.

"Is my wife satisfied with how I'm carrying out my husband duties?"

Face buried in his chest, you mewl and start thinking of ways to let him know just how much you're enjoying it. You're not putting his trust in you when it comes to ideas to shame.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#cupid parasite #cupipara #cupid parasite shelby #shelby snail #cupipara shelby #otome #otome games #otome fanfic #cupid parasite shelby snail #cupid parasite fanfic #cupipara fanfic

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sleepy-gee · 1 month

Note

Hmmm...*erin raids again but says sorry*

lets say...x male reader??? Like since yknow relationships between the same sex is very illegal at the time how would he react to his feelings for the reader and wouldn't he go through so many emotions?

like..."this is so bad" or "im gross. Whats wrong with me? Why can't I be 'normal'?"

so kind of like angsty and the reader can like reassure him

not sure who this is for so i'll do all 3 of my main boys (billy, coryo, and sej) just as treat for you x

coriolanus wouldn't want it to get out to protect his reputation, plain and simple. he kinda feels bad for having to think that way, but he's seen how others are treated.. and it just isn't the best time to be out right now. it would definitely sting every time you two had to hide it, leading to some very awkward moments and an underlying tension in your relationship. even around those he knew would be fine with it, he was still hesitant. what if they were lying? or what if they used it against him later down the line? you'd stroke his hair and promise him that they wouldn't, but you could tell he didn't believe you.

sejanus probably would have some internalized homophobia and see himself as being in the wrong. he's a plinth, he's rich, he's powerful, he's supposed to have children and carry on the family name! he'd never feel bad for loving you, though. he loves you no matter your sex or gender. still, it gets to him. he's spent a few nights crying in your arms. the pressure to be perfect just gets to him sometimes.

billy loves freely. he's already on the run, having a million targets on his back, so what's another? obviously he's careful, but not too careful. he never stays in one place for long. the only reason he'd keep it secret is to keep you safe. he doesn't want to put you in harms way whatsoever. he'd rather take a bullet to the head than do you any harm.

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handoneohone · 2 months

Note

Yandere Valentino X Trans Masc Reader who's hiding that he's trans

omg i actually am obsessed with this. Amazing first request. im honoured

Yandere!Valentino X TransMasc reader who is hiding the fact he's trans

THIS IS REALLY LONG. IM SO SORRY IF YOU were expecting IT TO BE SHORTER OR LONGER AND I DIDNT KNOW IF YOU WANTED NSFW SO I ADDED THAT AT THE END WHERE THERES WARNING. I'M JUST SORRY IF THIS ISNT EVEN CLOSE TO WHAT YOU WANTED

I wrote this pretty fast in two sittings so some of the scene transitions might not be errm smooth💀

WORDCOUNT:3576

TW SA NONCON AT THE VERY END, DRUGGING, SHIT WRITING, VALENTINO, ABUSE, THERES A NOTE AT THE NONCON SO YOU CAN STOP AT IT IF YOU WANT.very anticlimactic ending im sorry

Valentino's initial interest in Y/N takes a darker turn as he begins to control every aspect of Y/N's life in Hell. His interest is aroused even more by Y/N's resistance and desperation to keep his freedom.

Y/N feels the pressure of Valentino's attention, with each encounter leaving them more mentally and emotionally exhausted, striving to balance his need for safety with the loss of his freedom.

When Valentino's usual strategies fail in controlling Y/N, he becomes more forceful. To destroy Y/N's resistance and sense of self-worth, he uses threats and derogatory remarks.

Y/N finds himself isolated, as Valentino's influence makes it nearly impossible for him to seek help or run away.

whenever they are together which is most of the time he ends up crying or silently begging for praise from Valentino. Valentino pushes his attempts as he senses Y/N's growing pain. To establish his power and authority, he becomes physical and uses his strength to make Y/N feel powerless.

Y/N ingrains Valentino's harsh remarks, and as a result of the constant assault, his sense of worth declines. He is unwilling to fight back out of fear of punishment or worse, which makes them look helpless and lost.

Valentino sometimes displays kindness to Y/N in a display of affection, misleading and manipulating his emotions. This measured kindness is intended to cause Y/N to rethink his opinions and deepen his bond with Valentino.

Y/N is torn between contradictory emotions, with Valentino's sporadic generosity making it difficult for him to completely dislike him.

Valentino's constant manipulation causes Y/N to withdraw progressively, destroying his spirit. early anger is replaced by a silent acceptance of Valentino's treatment, and he begins to feel that he doesn't deserve any better.

Valentino relishes his seeming triumph, viewing Y/N's ravaged state as the peak of his dominance and control. He sees Y/N as his most prized possession and confirmation that he can do anything he desires.

Y/N is reduced to a shell of his former self, attached to Valentino's manipulation and control. His path becomes dark with the little to no hope that he can escape this literal hell and break away from Valentino's smothering shadow.

With anxiety coiling in his tummy, Y/N stood stiff in the dimly illuminated confines of Valentino's office, bathed in the neon glare that seemed to follow the overlord like a shadow. Valentino moved in a circle around Y/N, a predator stalking its prey, his voice a deep, menacing drawl that built tension in the space between them.

"You know, baby, it's weird... that you've been with me for a little while, but there's so much I don't know about you." He positioned himself in front of Y/N and made him gaze up into his eyes by tilting his chin up with a thin finger.

"Take your past, for one. You guard it tightly~ what could be so sinful that you have concealed it from me?" Y/N lowered his gaze and muttered with a guarded tone.

"My past doesn't matter... Really it doesn't-" Valentino chuckled, his tone devoid of true amusement.

"Oh, but it does matter, my dear one. I'm interested in everything about you. Especially those elements you are desperately trying to hide." His grip tightened slightly, a reminder of the control he carried over him.

Y/N felt a chill run down their spine, the intrusiveness of Valentino's interest making them feel exposed. "There's nothing to say. I was no one before this... I'm still nobody."

"But that's where you're wrong," Valentino said quietly, his breath hot on Y/N's ear, causing him to tremble instinctively. "You are an important little thing to me my dear~," he says it like you're a toy

"A truly unique someone. And I plan to know every tiny detail, every secret... even the ones you keep locked deep inside."

Y/N's heart pounded, and a mix of fear and protest flared within him. "You won't find anything, I won't let you..." he whispered carefully yet the tremor in his voice revealed his anxiety. he feels embarrassed knowing there's jack shit he could do against Valentino...

Valentino took a step back, his gaze sharp. "We'll see. Everyone has a breaking point, darling, Even you~" he stepped forwards threateningly

"so when I break you down, and oh yes baby I will~ nobody will be there to pick up the pieces. nobody but me~"

As Valentino moved away, leaving Y/N to digest the disguised warnings and promises. he feels sick... knowing about Valentino's fixation with his past, with finding every secret he hid, was just another kind of cruel power play...

----

The evening passed into the early hours of the new day with the neon lights of Hell casting long shadows across Valentino's extravagant chambers. He arrived back from his various underground operations, a mix of eagerness and desire running through his mind as he contemplated seeking adoration and devotion from Y/N.

Valentino spotted Y/N in the dimly lit lounge, a book in hand and appearing lost in concentration. The overlord's presence enveloped the room, demanding attention.

"Here you are, my beloved. I've been looking forward to this... to us~" he murmured, advancing with predatory ease. "I've had such a long day, and I was hoping for a little... passion, baby~" Valentino lens over the sofa, his hands on Y/N's shoulders rubbing down his chest. Y/N stiffened, their previous encounters with Valentino's erratic moods making him afraid. he quickly stood up pushing Valentino's hands off...

"Val, I am... not really in the mood for anything tonight. So Maybe—"

"You're not in the mood?" he asked, his voice dripping with threat. Valentino's demeanour shifted suddenly, and the air surrounding him crackled with barely controlled rage. "After everything I have done for you, this is your way of repaying me? By denying me what you OWE me?"

Y/N flinched, setting the book aside, and cautiously eyeing Valentino. "It is not like that. I just... don't... want to do anything right now-" Valentino's composed demeanour slipped for a brief moment, revealing a glimpse of the cruelty beneath. His hand shot out, gripping Y/N's arm with unwavering determination. "What you want?" he sneered as his grip clenched. "My darling, that is meaningless. Remember that you are mine. And if I want something, I expect to get it"

Y/N's breathing increased, both fear and pain mixing in their eyes. "Valentino, please... you're hurting me" You looked up at him begging.

Valentino glared at you for a moment before throwing you to the floor. With that, Valentino turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Y/N trembling in the wake of his wrath.

----

Valentino, who always served as the master of perversion and dominance in his sphere of influence, never showed enough concern for a demon to find out about anything beyond their name—and frequently not even that. Y/N was one of the first exceptions.

Valentino recognized potential in Y/N the moment he entered his orbit. there was something special about his appeal and mystery that made him irresistible. Using his extensive network of subjects and followers, Valentino avoided probing Y/N's directly. Valentino was a wealthy lord, and in the hierarchy of Hell, information was sometimes as good as cash.

With eyes and ears everywhere across his realm, he wasn't long before rumours found their way to him. They didn't come from a direct infraction of Y/N's privacy, more like the inevitable rumours that surrounded anyone trying to keep a secret in a place as gossip-filled as Hell.

The days blurred together and a dense tension grew in the area surrounding Valentino's land. The normal commotion of Hell's never-ending partying subsided to a murmur in the background as Y/N's anxiety grew. he sensed eyes watching him, unseen but penetrating, removing the barriers to seclusion that Y/N had worked so hard to uphold.

When the moment finally came to confront Y/N, it was under the guise of a casual invitation. Y/N was summoned to Valentino's private quarters, a place where the glittering shiny lights of Hell's nightlife dimmed to the intimate glow of sexy ass lava lamps. Valentino's fierce, Predatory, and mesmerizing gaze blazed through the dark light as Y/N stood in front of him, clearly tense.

Valentino spoke in a tone as soft as silk, his words flowing with an almost unnatural gentleness. "You know that I've always had a special interest in you, Y/N, my dear. Your uniqueness, your... resistance. Your everything is quite... adorable~"

Y/N shifted uneasily, cautious of this unexpected compassion. He knew from experience that Valentino's sweetness was often used as a set-up for something worse.

Valentino's attitude abruptly switched, going from being sweet and soothing to dark and threatening, seemingly without warning. "However, I've recently come across some... information," he said, the word hanging there like a threat. "details that you have been unwilling to reveal to Moi."

The change in tone validated Y/N's fears and sent a shudder down their spines. Uncertain of how to react or protect themselves from the impending threat, they stayed silent.

Valentino leaned forward, his features briefly looking like a monster due to the way the light was catching him. "It's truly very fascinating. How far you've gone to conceal your true identity. However, as you can see, you can't hide things from me baby~" he spits the last part out harshly, you feel stupid for even thinking you could hide it from him...

Fear took hold and Y/N's heart began to race. It was infuriating to consider that Valentino would turn this knowledge against them, wielding it like a mallet.

But almost as suddenly as it had disappeared, Valentino's voice took on its previous sweetness again, but this time it felt hollow and tarnished.

The sweetness in Valentino's voice reappeared as swiftly as it had disappeared, but it now felt hollow, tainted by the bitterness that had come before.

"But do not worry, my dear. I will protect your secret~" The shock and relief you felt only lasted seconds before he opened his mouth again.

"But I do wonder... why the secrecy? Why hide who you truly are, unless... Do you fear how others might react? How they might treat you differently?" he says it as if he was only just realising why, taunting you...

Y/N remained silent, their jaw set, a clear struggle between wanting to respond and knowing the wisdom in restraint. Valentino's smile widened, but there was no warmth in it.

"Ah, there it is. That fear. It's powerful, isn't it? The fear of being exposed, of being vulnerable. But you have nothing to fear from me, Y/N. Your secret's safe... as long as you remember where your loyalties lie.~"

The implicit threat in Valentino's words was clear, and Y/N understood the precarious position they were in. Valentino had no interest in their well-being; this was about control, about power.

"See, I don't care about what you were or what you've become. To me, you're valuable as you are, my dear~” he pauses to sit up and tilt his bastard head at you as if giving you pity

“But we both know that not everyone in Hell shares my... open-mindedness. It would be fucking shame if your secret were to slip out because you weren't... cooperative~"

Y/N clenched their fists, a silent rage building within them at the manipulation, the exploitation of their deepest fears. Yet, they knew that confronting Valentino outright would be futile.

"So, let's not worry about the 'what ifs,' shall we? As long as you're with me, as long as you're mine, you have nothing to fear. I'll protect your little secret... and you'll continue to be the perfect lover. It's a simple exchange, really”

It was obvious what was meant to happen, and it struck Y/N like a punch. Valentino was asserting authority and utilising his knowledge of leverage to bind Y/N closer to him. to weaken his final barriers, rather than providing support or understanding

Y/N felt helpless, torn between wanting to respond with anger and realising that Valentino had the upper hand. "Valentino, I..." they began, but his voice trailed off. What could they say to that?

Valentino's face relaxed, a predator content with his ability to make his victim scared.

"Words are not necessary, baby~. Your behaviour will speak for you~" he leant forward even closer. you didn't dare move. his face in yours "Just keep in mind that I am either your sweet doting master... Or the man that will ruin your afterlife~. It is up to you to decide." he grinned at your scared little expression. He pulled away only slightly. As if thinking something over.

Y/N realised how serious the situation was as he stood there, the weight of Valentino's words bearing down on him. His confusion stemmed from Valentino's unpredictable mood swings, which could turn him from charming to terrifying in an instant. He wasn't sure what to do.

The tension in Valentino's office was obvious, the exchange leaving a dreadful feeling that Y/N found difficult to proceed through. His mind raced with ideas of escape and disobedience, but the mere presence of Valentino, powerful and cruel, did what it was intended to do. keep his little bitches afraid.

Valentino, feeling Y/N's inner struggle, saw an opportunity to strengthen his power and make sure his little Y/N stayed compliant for a while longer~

He reached into his cigarette case, extracted one with ease, and lighted it. The smoke that curled from the end was not the normal grey but had a delicate, hypnotic pink.

(sa here. NC is further down)

"Y/N," Valentino said, his voice unexpectedly softer and filled with an exaggerated warmth that contrasted strongly with the perverse glimmer in his gaze. "I know this is difficult for you... So Allow me to soothe your worries!~"

He took a long drag, the shimmering smoke whirling about him, and then slowly exhaled, directing the enchanted mist towards Y/N. The air between them was filled with a mesmerising aroma, sweet and overpowering, intended to numb the senses and influence one's willpower.

As the smoke reached Y/N, he inhaled almost unintentionally, and the immediate effect was confusing. his head felt light, and his thoughts were hazy as if he were in a dream. The space softened at the edges, Valentino's presence becoming less intimidating and more attractive

Valentino observed with predatory patience as Y/N's defences weakened under the potion's influence. "There, there," he said softly, standing to approach them, the air around him thick with charmed smoke. "Isn't this better? There's no need for panic or disobedience... oh you look so loopy already~"

Y/N's gaze met Valentino's, and for a brief moment, they saw him through the haze, not as the manipulator he was, but as a beacon, a source of refuge amid all the confusion that clouded his mind. he felt himself dozing, their natural resistance softened by the potion's influence.

Valentino smiled, a predator enjoying the success of his trap. "That's all, baby. Just let go. You are safe here, with me. All I want is what is best for you."

However, even as the elixir worked its charm, a portion of Y/N stayed detached, a whisper of self that watched in horror as they fell to Valentino's power. It was a little, rebellious flame that struggled against the seductive cloud, a reminder of the reality beneath the illusion.

Valentino leaned in, his lips forced against Y/N's in a kiss intended to seal the false promises, tying Y/N to him via force and fake devotion. "You belong to me, bitch. "Don't ever forget that,”

As Y/N's eyes met Valentino's he leant in quickly once again capturing his partner's lips in a rough, passionate kiss. It was a stark contrast to the gentle, tender atmosphere that Y/N under the drugs was experiencing. Their lips met with a hunger that belied the situation, and Y/N's drugged state only seemed to fuel the fire.

He felt the warmth of Y/N's skin beneath his touch, and it sent shivers of pleasure coursing through him. As their kiss deepened, their tongues danced together, exploring the hidden depths of each other's mouths with a fervour that bordered on desperation.

Y/N moaned softly into the kiss, his body arching into Valentino's as he returned the passion with equal intensity.

Y/N, still under the love-smoke's spell, Y/N gazed at Valentino with a mixture of what felt like true love. Valentino loved the look in his eyes. Craving it even more than he did before. He looked at Dave and then the cigarette that had brought him here. It almost made Valentino mad that he had to resort to drugging him. But that wasn't his fault, this was Y/Ns fault. well, now would be the best time to punish fuck him.

“You're never leaving me. Im gonna make sure you truly know who you belong to~”

NON CON VERBAL ABUSE AND AFAB GENITALIA.

Valentino loomed over Y/N who had all the adoration and love in the world in his eyes for him and him only. Valentino shoves him out of the cuddle grabs his hair and yanks him up, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, unable to escape the inescapable grip of Valentino when he is mad.

Valentino's eyes glowed with an evil tinge like something had made him snap, casting shadows across the room as he stared intently at Y/N, his eyes seemed to hold an insatiable hunger.

With a swift and forceful movement, Valentino pinned Y/N to the bed, his stronger body pressing down on the small sinner. Y/N's struggles were futile against the overlord's unyielding strength, and he knew that resistance was pointless.

As Valentino's lips met Y/N's, the kiss was anything but gentle. His tongue forced its way into Y/N's mouth, tasting and exploring with a roughness that bordered on cruelty. Y/N's moans of fear and pain were muffled by Val's relentless advances.

Valentino's hands moved with a sinister grace, tearing a Y/N's clothing as he continued his assault. Y/N's bitching was silenced by his face being shoved into the mattress. And soon, he was completely exposed to Valentino. and after denying him so long, he had a lot of pent-up fucking ready for you~

"I hope you ready for this baby cause I am not holding back~"

Ignoring Y/N's pleas for mercy, Valentino positioned himself over the trembling man, his large cock poised at the entrance to his bratty lover's body. With a growl that resonated through the room, he thrust himself inside, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Y/N.

"shut the hell up you fucking bitch" he would growl in your ear and slap you around the face many times before you could even attempt to be quiet.

Despite the agony, Y/N's body responded to Valentino's invasion, a strange mixture of fear and arousal coursing through his veins. Valentino began to move, his hips pumping in a rhythm that was both brutal and erotic. Each thrust drove deeper into Y/N, his face was red and he wanted to be sick but the smoke stood strong in his mind, keeping him from fighting back too hard~

"you love me- I know you do~ see how nicely your pussy is taking me, boy??" Valentino said in between long, slow thrusts, as tears slid down your face. "You were meant to be my little fuck baby right? answer me you fucking whore-!!!"

As he continued his relentless assault, Y/N's cries of pain and pleasure melded into a single, tortured sound. His body writhed beneath Valentino, unable to escape the assault.

In the end, it was Valentino who found release first, his cum filling Y/N up and making him feel sick knowing what just happened. Y/N's body shook beneath him, and for a moment, their gazes locked. That's when he knew. He fucked up.

Srry im shit at endings hope this was good for your request im so sorry if it was shite iive never done a request before eeeeeeeeeeee THANKS FOR REQUESTING EVEN IF YOU HATED THIS I LOVE YOU <3,<;£<£,3,3,3,3,,3 i take criticism but i might not respond cause ill be hating myself for not being perfect <3 eeee

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streaminn · 9 months

Note

Yoko's not really sure whats going on right now but she's honestly so bored that she doesn't even care. In front of her there's some kind of commotion going on between two Furs. One looks a bit older, he holds himself with the level of confidence that gives away the fact that he's somewhere higher up in the pack hierarchy. He must be a senior. The other looks like she's probably close to her own age range. A newbie to the Academy.

Now typically Yoko left Furs to deal with Furs. Historically speaking, Fangs and Furs didn't always see eye to eye. While that particular hatchet supposedly got buried centuries ago; many of the older generations from both races hadn't quite let go of the grudge. More times than not the "beliefs" would continue getting passed down. All that to say that Yoko really was not inclined to interrupt whatever pack bonding activity was going on over there.

"It wasn't on purpose Marr-" the girl started before getting cut off.

"It doesn't matter Enid. It's the fact that it happened at all." the older boy says.

They're speaking loud enough that she can hear them clearly. She doesn't mean to eavesdrop but given her sensitive hearing and the fact that Furs in general tended to be a rowdy and rambunctious bunch, well... can't help what you can't help.

"I didn't know Marric." the girl, Enid, says.

"Of course you didn't." Marric scoffs.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Enid asks and Yoko can hear the anger building in her voice.

"You know exactly what it means. Of course some half wolf wouldn't know not to speak over a pack leader. You couldn't even tell could you? You can barely smell better than a normie." Marric mocks.

Fun Fact: Yoko hates bullies.

Before even fully realizing it, her feet are carrying her in the direction of the commotion. Oh I sure hope I know what I'm doing. By the time Yoko reaches the group she can see that the younger of the two is on the verge of tears.

She knows that before she even got close, the Furs in the group could tell she was heading towards them. Now that she's this close she can read the tension in a lot of their stances. If she doesn't play this right, Yoko knows this could very well trigger another feud between the species on campus.

Here goes nothing.

"Hey, are you Enid?" she asks, doing her best to appear genuine.

The girl in question sniffles before answering, "Yeah, who're you?"

The older boy tries to cut in but Yoko just speaks over him "I'm Yoko, the Headmistress asked me to be your guide around Nevermore the first couple weeks. You ready to go?"

At the mention of Weems, all the Furs in the group start getting fidgety. It was well known that Weems ran a tight ship and had a zero tolerance policy both when it came to bullying and discrimination, even within a species. As long as they're enrolled at Nevermore, no one is allowed to be treated different based on any status of any kind.

Yoko didn't have to say it for it to be understood: if the headmistress caught wind of what just happened, the entire group would be in boiling hot water.

Quickly the group disperses until its just the vampire and this Enid girl left standing there. The two just look at each other for a moment before Enid breaks into giggles. Yoko didn't realize how tense she'd been until she felt the relief hit her system.

"Sooo..." the blonde starts "are you actually my tour guide?"

Yoko shrugs. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Yeah, sure why not." With that, Yoko simply turns around and starts making her way to the quad with Enid skipping alongside her.

______________________________________________________________

Yoko is about to start chewing through drywall.

How in the hell can her bestie from another nestie be this oblivious? This dense? This cannot be real. Yoko feels like she's witnessing the world's slowest, most horrific car crash in slow motion.

For the past week, Yoko has watched as Enid has been borderline waited on hand and foot by her roommate. If the vampire hadn't seen it with her own two eyes she would have thought she'd dreamt up the short ass goth hand feeding Enid food in the courtyard. But no, the shared looks of disbelief between herself, Divina, and Bianca are a testament to the fact that this is, in fact, real life.

What the actual fuck?

Like don't get her wrong, Yoko wants Enid to have it all. She wants her girl to be swept off her feet and given the whole world. She just was not expecting the fuckin Demon of Nevermore, herself, to take it upon herself to fulfill that role.

(Although in hindsight, maybe there were hints that Yoko just wasn't picking up on. That hug after the Crackstone Incident was definitely charged. She just took it as the goth finally letting her walls down. But maybe it was that and more. Huh.)

Either way, Yoko simply cannot believe that Enid is not picking up on any of this. And she genuinely is not. Yoko has flat out told her that she is being courted by her roommate and all she got was a "Yokes, c'mon. She's just learning how to be more open with her feelings."

"Yes! Her feelings! Of Love! For you!"

Enid just shrugs her off. It's driving Yoko insane. The way she sees it, either Enid is just straight as straight can be or she is so deep in denial that it's an ocean instead of a river. At this point, the vampire is rooting for Wednesday. She hopes that little freak woos her bestie so good that it makes every girl on campus seethe with jealousy.

In the meantime, Yoko is gonna do her part to try to at least open Enid up to the idea that her and Wednesday could be more. Maybe she just needed to take baby steps instead of just going all in. She thinks maybe some brainstorming with Div will help. She sends out a text for the siren to meet her in her dorm after classes are finished. She gets a thumbs up emoji as she heads to her next class.

Okay, she thinks, just focus on schoolwork and then hopefully Div's got some better ideas for how to make this work.

Once Yoko has wrapped up her final class for the day, she beelines for her dorm. She's in there for only a few minutes before Divina enters and greets her with a kiss on the cheek. The two settle on her bed before she broaches the topic at hand.

"Soo, I know we both witnessed whatever the fuck that was at lunch today..." Yoko starts.

Divina snorts, "Yeah, it was cute and really sweet on Wednesday's part but also super out of character."

"Yes, yes... but like... she's definitely trying to court Enid, right? Like I'm not losing my mind here?" Yoko presses.

Divina shakes her head, "Yeah, no, Enid is for sure being courted right now. It just seems like she isn't catching on yet."

At that Yoko clambers out of the bed and starts pacing. "That's the thing, Div, I don't think she's catching on at all. I think Enid honest to god, does not believe for a single second that she could ever be courted by Addams. I try bringing the topic up and she just brushes it off. It's like she can't even wrap her head around the possibility of it being a possibility."

From her spot on the bed, Divina only tilts her head. Yoko understands the silent question.

"I know Enid's got stuff going on with her family. It's not really my place to share any of it but I know you caught the stuff that went down at Family Day. I think maybe Enid doesn't think she can let herself have this. I mean, Div she shifted for Addams. Saved her life. Fought a fuck ugly Hyde to do it. That's pretty intense for a friendship." she explains before sighing and running a hand through her hair. "That's not to say she wouldn't though. If anyone would do all that for the sake of a friendship it'd be Enid. Pup is loyal like that."

Divina hums and stands from her place in bed and crosses over to where Yoko is. The siren stops the vampire before she starts pulling hair out. Yoko leans her face into the palm resting against her cheek and sighs again. Divina presses their foreheads together before speaking.

"I know you're worried about her and that you genuinely want whats best for Enid but, Yoko, I think we'll just have to let this one play out a bit more." At that Yoko pulls her head back enough to look at her girlfriend. Divina continues before Yoko can jump in. "If you try to push her too hard, she might get scared or even upset and pull away completely. That would ruin any chance Wednesday has and we wouldn't want that would we?"

Yoko groans and throws her head back. She can hear Divina huff a laugh at her theatrics and the vampire can't help the smile that creeps onto her face. Yoko brings her head back to lean against her girlfriend and she allows herself a few minutes to sulk.

"I just want her to be happy."

"I know and I'm sure she knows, too."

"God, I hope so."

"Well I know so, and I know she'll come to you to talk through things at some point which is why we just have to let everything run its course."

"...Fuckin Addams of all people, couldn't be someone less prone towards actual torture?"

Divina just snorts in reply.

Been getting a little burned out on writing but I'm trying to write a little everyday just so I keep the habit going. Feels like words are difficult lately though, so not super happy with how this turned out

Hope the ear starts feeling better soon Stream

Hey frog no worries!! It came out great, I can really see that yoko is worried about Enid

And damn Enid... She's so dense I had to search an example of it to prove my point

But heyy, atleast she's getting that princess treatment right! Right,, totally not gonna end badly or anything aha.... 😢

(remembers how Enid dates someone else and Wednesday holes up in her house)

#Wenclair #Froggy #Writing

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