#I've grown addicted to this

[gaeldricge]

POV: When you visit your daughter...

...and that shy girl still has that crush...

...and she looks at you, prettier than usual.

Okay, are @frooopsen​ and I the only ones who see this for what it is?

[meownotgood]

strong boy... cute boy......

[huccimermaidshirts]

.

[shadesoflsk]

YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has. 

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is. 

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon. 

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man. 

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better. 

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature. 

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it. 

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon. 

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging. 

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him. 

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience. 

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air. 

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew. 

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having. 

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence. 

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy. 

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye. 

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings. 

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret. 

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk. 

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you. 

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up. 

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?” 

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time. 

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

     ⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish. 

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date. 

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror. 

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations. 

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do. 

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario. 

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope. 

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret. 

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret. 

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself. 

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry. 

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle. 

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you. 

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep. 

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose. 

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter. 

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur. 

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you. 

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior. 

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this. 

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it. 

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world. 

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess. 

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now? 

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you. 

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have. 

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted. 

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession. 

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

[pantalonelover]

korean va dainsleif is so hot 😭

[risuola]

▶ MOM ISSUES — late night talks, cuddles and lots of theatrics. that's what living with your boys mean, but your mom seems to see it a little differently.

contents: college!au, roommates, sa/domestic violence mentioned (it has nothing to do with the story, but it's a warning nonetheless) — 0,8k words

a/n: there it is! i've been thinking about this story for months, drafting dozens of scenarios and finally it's happening! this series will be made of short pieces about three best friends turned roommates that slowly realize there's more to it than just friendship. it's not gonna be chronological, more so a series of random moments from their adventure - in the masterlist i'll try and organize it in an order, more or less. also, as you read it, can you hear Suguru's nagging voice when he calls Satoru's name or is it just me?

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

First thing you learned at the beginning of your university journey is that no amount of sleepovers and cuddles could ever justify sharing an apartment with two grown ass men. To your mom, at least, because once you told her that you and your two best friends – Satoru and Suguru – are going to live together, there’s not a single phone call that goes without her assuming you’re being regularly subjected to domestic violence and sexual harassment. They are men, she always tells you and it’s been long since you’ve given up any attempts to tell her otherwise. They were futile after all and what surprised you the most was that your boys are no strangers to her.

With a low grunt you made your way above Satoru’s ass and dropped onto the mattress in the middle. Both men shot you a short glance before resuming their things – the white haired one was playing a game on his phone and the brunette was reading a book.

“How’s mom?” Gojo broke the silence, cutting the thick tension around you with his voice. “Still convinced we’re fucking you dumb every night?”

“Satoru–“ Geto was quick to nag his friend and his manners (lack of them, actually), and the other one didn’t skip a beat before defensively asking “what?”

“No, it’s fine,” you sighed, covering your face with your hands, hoping to squeeze out some stress out of your head that way. “I can’t believe it. She knows you two for over a decade and it’s only now that she’s absolutely convinced I’m being abused even though she knows I’m safe with you.”

“She used to feed us cookies and now what?” Satoru gasped, his theatrics reaching a critical point as he dropped his phone onto the pillow and fake-sniffled dramatically, clutching the fabric of his white shirt over his chest.

“Do you want me to give her a call?” Suguru offered, now focused more on you than on his book. He reached to you, pulling your hands away from your face and brushing some stray hairs away from your forehead. There’s a delicacy to his movements, a subtleness that the other one of your friends lacks and you’re yet again made aware of it, when Gojo throws his arm over your middle, pulling you towards his body as if you weighted nothing.

“No, Sugu, it’s pointless,” you replied, exhaling deeply and patting the strong grip away before it got a chance to suffocate you. The very aggressive cuddle only got more intense and for a brief moment you thought Satoru wanted to squeeze you out like a toothpaste. “Besides, we all know that whenever she talks to any of you, she’s as sweet as honey. It’s only me who has to listen to her weird assumptions.”

Gojo scoffed and giggled at the same time, a huff of air brushed against your cheek as he nuzzled his nose right next to your temple, threatening to bite your cheek. “Told you she’s gonna get addicted to criminal podcasts when you were introducing her to Spotify and you didn’t listen to me,” he said in a light tone and the few seconds of silence that followed made your heart skip few beats. Any sudden loss of words is always a bad sign when it comes to the blue-eyed princess. “Does your mom know about our sleeping situation?”

“Oh god, no,” you whined, pushing his face away before his teeth sunk into the flesh of your cheek that he always insists, reminds him of mochi. Sugar addict.

“Should I accidentally send her a selfie with our bed in the background? On the group chat?”

“Satoru.” Suguru grunted, nagging again and visibly reconsidering all the life choices that led him to being friends with Gojo. You knew that look, you saw it many times over years of friendship with them.

“You can do that, Toru,” you replied, your tone dead serious. “But if you dare, I will change my number into yours in her phone and you’ll be the recipient of the shitshow it will cause. And you know the hell will break loose.”

“Throughout heaven and hell, you alone will be the fucked up one,” Geto mused, pressing the dark red, hand-painted bookmark that you gifted him a year prior, between the pages of his book, ultimately deciding that it’s enough of reading for today.

“Point taken, no pictures then,” Satoru hummed and nodded once, ignoring the obnoxious insult and he let go of you, suddenly not overly dramatic anymore. He got back into indulging his phone-gaming addiction.

You let out a small sound of resignation and helplessness and crawled underneath the sheets. Suguru soon joined you on the pillows and as you quietly chatted the time away, Gojo fell asleep, nuzzled between your shoulder blades.

[hannieehaee]

idk if anyone has requested or mentioned this yet, but have u ever thought of sub hoshi??? also i love ur work, it’s absolutely incredible🤧 i love it sm😖💐

18+ / mdi

content: sub!hoshi, softdom!reader, afab reader, smut, edging, handjob, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of crying, etc.

wc: 1139

a/n: amazing concept, anon. not proofread btw sorry for any mistakes</3

masterlist

"w-why are you being so mean to me?", cried the boy as he hissed in sensitivity.

his complaints did not prevent your fingers from slowly running up and down his chest, gracing the nipples you'd just spent twenty minutes sucking and biting into.

"just let me go, i'll be good, i promise!", he whined as he pulled at the restraints you'd used to tie each of his built arms to the bed frame.

"i can't do that, soonie. you asked for this, remember?", you pouted mockingly at the desperate boy.

you knew soonyoung to be quite experimental in bed. he was really down to do anything at least once, which was something that kept your sex life quite interesting throughout the duration of your relationship. for instance, a few weeks ago he had insisted on testing out bondage, choosing to try it on you as he tortured you for hours on end. after the fact, he had insisted on your own usage of it, begging you tie him up and have your way with him.

and so you did it. again and again, and he kept coming back for more, insisting you play with him time after time as he begged for your touch, trapped and unable to touch you back.

it quickly became a staple in your sex life, with the strong boy becoming a weak mess under you any time the mood struck for him to lay back and allow you to do with him as you wished. you'd still switch roles every so often, but soonyoung had grown addicted to you having your way with him as of late.

even now as he begged for you to let go, you knew that no part of him actually wanted the torture to stop. that furrow of his brows and the heavy puffs of air he was letting out were all you needed to know he was deep into the torturous pleasure you were giving him.

"want more ... want you to touch me ..." he pleaded despite one of your hands already being on his chest and the other wrapped around his cock.

but that was the crux of soonyoung's problem. the feather-like touches you kept giving him kept making him grow dizzier by the second. you'd get him there in the slowest way possible, only to take your hands off him and play with yourself as he watched.

he'd beg and plead at you to let him go, to stop being so mean to him, but deep down you knew his cries demanded for you to continue, to take him to a point where his sobs would become pathetic and uncontrollable, forcing you to finally let him have his finish.

you'd only edged him three times thus far, playing with his cock and rubbing at his sensitive nipples while you fed off his pretty whines. you'd also edged yourself along with him, not allowing yourself to cum even once as you forced him to watch you without a single lick of gratification.

"touch you? but i am touching you, baby. see?", you squeezed his cock a little harder, "is this not enough?"

"need more, just ... want you, please."

"want me? what do you want, soonie? want me to touch myself again?-"

"no! no, please. need to touch you. just ... it's been long enough, just take off th- fuck ...," he groaned when your mouth suddenly went down to lick at the tip of his cock, interrupting his pleas.

"but soonie ... want your cock so bad," you breathed as you kitten licked at his tip, occasionally slipping it into your mouth as your hands continued to jerk at it.

the slamming of the headboard could be heard from the way soonyoung pulled at his restraints in attempt to free himself. groans of desperation accompanied the sounds of the headboard, with soonyoung clearly growing more frustrated than usual.

"baby, just ... let me have you, i- i'll be good, i promise. i've been so good for you, just n-need to feel you," he cried.

you only tortured him for a few more moments before finally pulling away, granting him with a sweet kiss before beginning to undo his restraints. not wanting to run the risk of him accidentally injuring himself (knowing that the promise of some pussy would likely have him taking such risk), you decided to finally give into him.

the sight of the boy under you was absolutely pathetic. tears stained his cheeks and his eyebrows remained furrowed, a permanent pout attached to his lips. his hands were delicate as they dug into your hips, silently begging for you to please sit on his cock. his hiccuped pleas for your cunt made you coo at him, finally giving in to him and sinking down on his blushing cock.

"a-ah, fuck, thank you thank you thank you thank you," he chanted breathily, "feel so fucking good ... finally," he sighed, eyes rolling back.

"been so good, soonie. deserve to feel so so good," you whined back, immediately speeding up and bouncing up and down his cock, not caring about how sensitive the two of you were after over an hour of edging.

"i-it's so good, so fucking good ...", he cried as tears began pouring down his face. his hips attempted to weakly hump against your own despite the immense sensitivity he was feeling, "'m gonna cum, fuck. can i cum? please, i need- i need to cum."

"cum, soonie, just wanna make you feel good," you nodded frantically, "been so good for me ... cum with me, baby. i'll cum too, i- i'll cum," you moaned.

the tightrope inside you snapped, leading soonyoung to wail out your name surrounded by pathetic cries of 'sorry' and 'thank you' as his stomach caved in and brought him to his orgasm.

"so g-good. always make me feel so fucking good," he kept repeating while his hips lost control, filling you up without a care in the world.

once your orgasm subsided, you let yourself fall against his chest, kissing at his chest and neck as his own orgasm simmered down. his hands were still digging into your hips and ass, groaning endlessly at every bit of physical contact you gave him. his pretty gasps hiccuped between his groans, creating a choir of noises as his load filled you up in a seemingly endless manner.

when he finally made it to the other side, balls empty and out of energy, he caught his breath by breathing into your neck, holding you against him without minding your weight atop his own.

more thank you's were shared in whispers, kisses being exchanged as you took care of each other in the most intimate of ways, his cock still buried deep inside you. you fell asleep like this, entirely too relaxed and content as you held each other to sleep.

[desireangel]

Infernal Desires | Chapter 2 | Coriolanus Snow

Summary: as penance for your brother's sins, Coriolanus demands that you are sent to his household to work his debt. But Coriolanus does not expect to burn so strongly for you and finds himself addicted to having you as close as he can keep you.

Chapter 1

young!president snow x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: NSFW! Smut! enemies to lovers (??), biting, fingering, unhinged dirty talk I guess, degrading, swearing, talk of ownership, orgasm denial, almost hate fucking, stockholm syndrome maybe?

a/n: ok, i got a little carried away here and I'm sure you can tell because this one seems possibly more disjointed than the last. let me know what you think and if I've missed any warnings!

Days had passed and Coriolanus had been acting as if you didn’t exist. He had ignored your attempts at talking to him, pretended he didn’t hear the constant questions that you asked about what work you were supposed to be doing and why are you here if you aren’t doing any work like you were meant to?

Truth be told, Coriolanus had acted irrationally in making the deal. Jericho may have been someone he loved as a confidant and a friend but truly, he could have simply had him hanged without blinking an eye. Treason is treason and Coriolanus certainly would not stand for it - more so because of the sting of your brother’s betrayal. But here you were, waiting outside of the bedroom he had the staff keep ready for you with a fierceness in your eyes that managed to catch him by surprise. 

Without saying a word, Coriolanus stood in front of you and waited for you to speak. 

“I was supposed to be given work for our end of the bargain,” You avoided letting your anger seep into your tone. “Instead, you’ve been keeping me in your home and avoiding me like I’m some sort of disease.” Stepping towards him, you shook off the nerves that had your stomach in knots. “I tried to leave yesterday. Your guards–or whoever they are–stopped me from leaving. Said you told them I’m not to exit the grounds.”

Coriolanus was calm. “That’s right. That is exactly what I told them.”

“You said I could visit home.”

A shrug. “I lied.”

“You’d better start telling the truth-”

“Do not,” Coriolanus spat. Somehow, he resented you so much that he couldn’t hold back the worst of himself around you. “speak to me like that. I won’t tolerate disrespect. Not from the likes of you-”

Your hand met his cheek before you realised what was happening. It wasn’t hard and Coriolanus barely flinched more than the turn of his head but your hand burned hot at the mistake that had just been made. Pushing down the fear that bubbled in your gut, you squared your shoulders and spoke firmly. “You will let me serve my brother’s sentence so that I can get the hell out of your house as soon as I’m done. Or is there no honour to your word?”

Coriolanus was red with frustration and you were half aware that angering him would not turn out well. But you were not going to cower and fold to the power that he claimed to have over you. He may be ruler of Panem to its citizens but the two of you had grown up side by side and you knew the man he was past the charade of charm and carefully written speeches. Arrogant, greedy, entitled and selfish. 

“You still think that’s really why you’re here?” He looked terrifyingly handsome in his rage. “You should appreciate the generosity I’ve shown you. You’re living in my home, free of charge and free to do as you please with your time so long as you stay within its walls. I hardly see how that is a problem for you.”

“Generosity?” You scoffed. “You’re keeping me prisoner.”

Coriolanus’ expression was blank, his light curls casting shadows of his face as he let out a snarl. The fabric of his meticulously tailored jacket brushed against your hand and before you knew it, he guided you into the bedroom with a strong hand on your back that had you stumbling into the middle of the room. 

“Since you’re so ungrateful, I’ll show you what it means to be a prisoner in my home,” Coriolanus said, sticking his hand into the pocket of his dress pants and pulling out a set of two keys, dangling it in front of your nose. “You’re not to leave this room until I say so. Try to leave and I’ll have you whipped.”

And with that, he left you to yourself, slamming the door harshly behind him. The click of the lock was barely drowned out by your protests, palms smacking against the wood of the door. 

How dare he? 

Tears welled in your eyes but even in your own company, you refused to let them fall. The ache in your chest for the freedom to visit home, to walk the streets of the Capitol and to see your friends was overwhelming. You hadn’t been here long and you knew that the Coriolanus’ home was a luxury far beyond your imagination but the feeling of confinement ate at you. 

This was not fair. You had done him no wrong. In fact, his hatred towards you was entirely unwarranted and everything seemed so, so unfair. His problem wasn’t with you - it was with Jericho. So why did Coriolanus have so much rage for you? Even as a teenager, he was cold and detached despite your best efforts to warm him. 

If this was to be your prison cell then you were fortunate, you thought. At least he didn’t send you down to the bunkers or to whatever place was made for those who crossed the new President.   

The room you had been given upon your first night was unlike anything you had expected. It was red and big and the carpet felt like clouds under your toes - a luxury so simple and so particular that you wondered what kind of wealth could afford such minute pleasures. The wealth of a country, it seemed.   

You still think that’s really why you’re here? 

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew Jericho and your father had been lying to you. It made no sense - in fact, it was a ridiculous excuse that they had given you. You weren’t stupid - there was no work that you could possibly do to fulfil the extent of Jericho’s debt nor to save your family’s already tarnished reputation.  

So why were you here? You had your own doubts. Not only had you spent the last three days with little more to do than think but hours had passed alone in this cage since your confrontation with Coriolanus.

Jericho had said you were only part of whatever bargain he had struck. You figured that Coriolanus had use for Jericho and here you were, a token of control over your family. So long as Coriolanus had you here, Jericho would have to do whatever it was Coriolanus needed him to do. 

The sound of the door lock clicking pulled you out of your thoughts. Candice didn’t bother knocking before stepping into your room with her arms full of–dresses?

“Mr. Snow wants me to get you ready,” she said. “You’ll be attending the gala we’re hosting tonight.” 

What?

You eyed the dress that Candice laid down on your bed before rushing towards your wardrobe to put away the other dresses she held. From what you could see of the dress, it was unlike any dress you’d ever had the chance to wear. “I’m supposed to wear this?”

The look she gave was answer enough. “Take a bath first. I’ll help you into the dress once you’re out.”

You quickly washed up, half tempted to take your time but Candice was waiting for you and you didn’t intend for her to fall victim to your antics. There was a matching set of underwear laid out with the dress - if you could call it underwear. 

Clutching the towel to your chest, you decided against the g-string that accompanied the stick-on bra. Before Candice could turn around, you shrugged on a robe and turned to do your own makeup. 

Candice pottered about, seemingly displeased with your insistence on doing your minimal hair and makeup yourself.  She helped you step into your dress, adjusting the fabric wherever it needed. “Perfect, ma’am.”

“Please, you don’t need to call me ma’am,” you corrected. 

You stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Fuck. 

The dress was a perfect fit. It was a deep emerald green satin, floor length gown with a wired corset midsection. The bust was stiff and covered your cleavage just enough so that it could accentuate the swell of your breasts perfectly. Inch thick straps hung just off of your shoulders, leaving your neck and collarbones bare. The back of the dress dipped just above your hips. It made you look and feel sultry in an entirely new way. 

This was a powerful dress and you wondered if Coriolanus had intended it to be. Candice fastened a thin, crystal chain around your neck. You asked her the question that had been lingering at the back of your mind, “Why does he want me at the gala?”

“I’m merely the housekeeper,” Candice spoke, her voice stern. She reminded you of a teacher. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” you murmured. 

“I’ll leave you for now. Mr. Snow will escort you downstairs when he’s ready.” 

And just like that, you were locked in your room once more. 

Coriolanus was making you wait. He knew that your mind would be racing with questions - questions he knew you would assault him with as soon as you had the chance. If he wanted to, he was more than ready to pick you up from your room and show you to the main hall. But there was something so satisfying in knowing the effect he had on you. 

He could picture the scowl on your face and the way you’d be wallowing in your impatience.

Forty-minutes had felt like two hours before Coriolanus was standing in your doorway, dressed impeccably in a three piece suit that was tailored to every curve in his body. He was like the embodiment of Adonis, the way he radiated with beauty and temptation. 

Coriolanus’ gaze made your breath catch in your throat. It was hot and you swore you could feel it scorching your skin as he studied you from head to toe. “Let’s go.”

“Am I-Am I your date?” You still didn’t understand. 

“Of course not,” he answered. “You said you wanted to see your family. Your parents will be here tonight.”

A statement. That’s what you were. 

I have your daughter. She’s safe and sound so long as you behave. 

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if it meant that you’d get to see your parents. A sense of urgency overwhelmed you and you rushed towards Coriolanus. “Let’s go then.”

Goosebumps arose on your skin the second that Coriolanus’ hand brushed against the dip of your back. It was a gentle graze, feather light and barely there but he drew his hand back and took a breath before you could even blink. 

“Follow me.”

Coriolanus had left your side before entering. The main hall was packed with people, many of whom you recognised from your days studying or as past friends of the family. They all looked at you scornfully and you knew that they were all thinking of you as a traitor to the Capitol. You weren’t but you had the same blood as one. 

The music was pleasant and some people danced while others were busy drinking and conversing. You searched the crowd for your parents, hoping that you didn’t look as crazed as you felt. There were so many eyes on you, so much judgment that it made you suck in a breath and keep your eyes anywhere but on the guests. 

Your mother was toward the entrance, a champagne flute held delicately between her fingers as she talked with your father. 

It was a miracle they had been invited after everything but you knew that they were only here because Coriolanus had a message for them. A message that was loud and clear just through your attendance. A message that told them that you were sitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, that he could use your entire family for whatever he pleased. 

“Ma,” you reached for her, willing yourself not to cry in a room filled with people. She gasped, arms wrapping around your shoulders as she mumbled incoherently. “Are you okay? And Jericho?”

“We’re all fine,” she smiled sweetly. “How is it? Over here? Are they treating you badly-”

“Ears everywhere, my dear. I see that Snow has been generous.”

Generous. That word was like a parasite, stuck to you and making you sick to your stomach. 

“Yes. I’ve been–I’ve been okay.”

You stayed with them for the entirety of the night, slowly making your way through one glass of champagne and a couple plates of the food that was set out for the guests. 

Slipping your glass onto a tray that one of the Avox were carrying, you smiled at Livia Cardew who barely spared a glance at you from where she stood. She was talking to Coriolanus and another man whom you could not name, a hand on his arm as she gazed at him through her eyelashes. 

You glanced towards the corridor. Coriolanus seemed distracted enough by the conversation. Maybe you could blend in with the guests, make your way out as part of a group and nobody would be any the wiser. 

A few steps at a time, you made your way towards the exit. Every now and then someone would try and make idle conversation, seeing you alone and extending a greeting. But it would only last a few minutes. 

By the time you were at the exit, Coriolanus was nowhere to be seen. Fine, as long as he was far away from you. The front door was grand and there were groups of people saying their goodbyes. It was the perfect getaway opportunity. 

You could disguise yourself within the guests, make your way a block down where your parents would drive past and leave with them. It would work and you’d be out. You could see Jericho, your friends and then you could disappear somehow. Jericho would help you if you explained things to him–if you asked him. 

The thought that you were making a mistake began to cross your mind but just as you were at the foot of the door, an arm wrapped itself around your waist roughly, fingers digging into your hip as you were pulled away. Coriolanus smiled at the people who turned to look at you, their eyes trailing to where his hand burned its mark into your side.

You could hear your blood rushing and heart racing, your palms growing clammy. You considered struggling, maybe putting up a fight. But it would be useless. Coriolanus was strong and how far would you even get before someone else caught up to you? Your plan was a desperate, confused mess. 

Of all the things happening in that moment, your mind was clouded by Corolanius’ cologne and the roughness with which he held you. The tick in his jaw and the slight purse of his lips gave away the anger he was suppressing as he dragged you through the crowd, opening the closest door he could find and pulling you in with him. 

Shit. 

Coriolanus pulled you so that you were facing him, holding your arms firmly in his hands. He all but growled, “Didn’t I tell you not to run away, little mouse?” 

Your cheeks burned and your chest felt as if it were about to explode. Corolanius had brought you into a closet which was the size of a small bedroom but you were flush against him, chest to chest and eye to eye. 

“What? Are you going to have me whipped for it?” Taunting him was not a good idea but it came so naturally that you barely realised what you were doing. 

Coriolanus pushed you into a shelf, pressed against the surface and your back flush against his chest. “I don’t like disobedience. My things are to stay where I leave them.”

You struggled against him. But it was for nothing. You barely stood a chance against the man who held you, his breath tickling your ear as you spoke. “I’m not something you own, Coriolanus. I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Oh but you do,” his knee lodged between your thighs, holding you down. “Where were you going to go, hmm? There’s not a single place in Panem where I couldn’t hunt you down myself and you’d be back here within a week.” Coriolanus could feel your rapid breathing, feel the way you squirmed against him but moulded so perfectly into his body. “Maybe I should have let you go. I do enjoy a chase.”

There was a seductive venom that coated his tongue. It was so unlike the Coriolanus Snow you had known all those years ago who may have been riddled with arrogance and dishonesty but he was never wicked. 

“What did I ever do to you, Coriolanus?” You gasped as he pressed himself further into you in an attempt to put an end to your struggling. Tears threatened to well in your eyes.  “Why are you doing this to me?”

Coriolanus stilled. He thought of the words to say, the words to describe the way that four years ago, he would have despised himself for making you cry. As far as you were concerned, all he was to you was Jericho’s friend. Jericho’s friend who never had the perfect home that you had, never had the wealth that he deserved, never had what he desired the most. 

He never had you. 

And Coriolanus hated you for it. 

“You were so blind,” he said. “So unaware. So selfish. All I had ever wanted from you was your devotion and all you gave me was resentment.”

Whether it was the gravity of his confession, or the way his body felt against yours, it took your breath away. What he was saying didn’t make sense. “I didn’t know. You were so cruel to me, Coriolanus.”

Your chest was heavy with so many conflicting emotions. Fear, shock, anger and desire. 

“You want to know why I’m doing this to you?” Coriolanus brought his lips so close to your ear that they brushed against your skin and sent a shudder through your body. “Because I hate your brother for what he did. Because I hate your family. Because I hate you.”

His hands, his hands. 

They were everywhere, dragging all over your body and leaving a trail of fire on your skin. He slid his fingertips down the sides of your dress, bunching it up at your hips. You couldn’t breath, couldn’t think of the words to say as the ache between your legs grew for him. It wasn’t right - Coriolanus was all but kind to you but your body yearned for him. 

He bit your ear. “I hate you but I fucking burn for you.”

Another gasp and you arched into him. Coriolanus’ words burrowed deep into your core and made your head spin with unfettered lust. After everything, you would have given him everything right then and there. The desire you had for each other was infernal, it was wrong and it was perfect. 

The air was thick and Coriolanus thought he’d choke on the passion that was heavy in his chest. Your skin was soft like the satin of the dress he had picked out for you and it drove him crazy to think about all the ways he could indulge himself in your flawless body. 

“So tempting all the damn time,” he touched you with so much determination you wanted to let yourself melt into him, to become one with his heart and body. “Would you let me fuck you like this, missy? How I should have done years ago and make your body mine?”

You let out a wanton moan as his lips found your neck, sucking roughly along the ridges of your skin. “I don’t know-”

“Of course you don’t.” Coriolanus let his hand slip to the inside of your thigh, roughly digging his nails into your flesh and dragging them up to the most intimate part of your body that was bare under his touch. He sucked in a sharp breath at your lack of underwear and placed his hand flat against your sensitive flesh.  “I’m sure you would. Look at how responsive you are to my touch, such a needy little thing.”

The feeling of his hand against your sex and his body pressed against yours sent shockwaves through your body, right down to the tips of your toes. With heavy breaths you reached for his arm, desperately scratching his skin because you needed more, more, more. 

You were blind with need for Coriolanus’ body, for him to make good on his words and show you all the filthy things you knew he’d have perfected. The little voice at the back of your head told you to slow down, to think and that you’d regret this tomorrow morning but you were far too weak to listen to it. 

“Just this once,” you were breathless as you spoke, chest heaving against the hard surface of the shelf. 

Coriolanus tensed against you in surprise, his hips pressing against the swell of your bum. He was hard, so hard for you. “If I’m going to have you missy, it’ll be in my bed. Where I can take you in every way I’ve spent hours dreaming about.”

Against your better judgment, you drawled, “Thought you hate me-”

“I do hate you,” Coriolanus growled, swiping the pad of his forefinger over your clit in one swift movement that had you writhing in an instant. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you.”

You were so wet for him, so prepared for him to push his cock into you right then and it made him throb under the restriction of his dress pants. But Coriolanus was a man of great self control and he refused to give in so soon. 

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, the pads of his fingers rubbing circles over your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Your hips rutted against his hands, incoherent words tumbling from your lips. 

Coriolanus was usually a selfish lover. He didn’t take pleasure in someone else’s pleasure. But the way you trembled against him, the way that every inch of you called for his touch and the way you sounded so desperate and so filthy for him satisfied him in an entirely new way. It made his cock twitch and set a fire in his blood.

“Please, Corio–I’m so close,” you whined. He chuckled darkly before pulling his hand away from you.

There were people looking for him, Coriolanus could hear them through the door. He couldn’t care less.  “That’s enough for now. Seems like they’re looking for me.”

You turned yourself around, still squashed between Coriolanus and the shelf, just to gape at him. A smug smile graced his face, his pupils blown out with lust that you could feel pressed against your thigh. You resisted the urge to smack him again. 

“You can’t be serious.”

Coriolanus stepped away from you, taking a moment to look at the mess he had made of you while slipping his fingers between his lips. Your dress was caught at your hip and hitched up at your thigh, your hair was tangled and your knees wobbled gently. But your eyes, wide and full of innocent, unburdened desire for him had him questioning his decision to stop. 

How he longed to corrupt you. 

“Collect yourself. I’ll send Candice to get you to your room,” he was at the door by now, fixing his tie as his fervent gaze was focused on you. “If you ever try to leave again, I will not be so lenient.”

With that, he was gone and you were once again left alone with a mind full of wild, distressed thoughts. 

tags: @deadly-femme-bimbo @justaproudslytherpuff @10ava01 @edb954 @real-lana-del-rey @demyackerman @whatupitshuff @foreludes @motley-baby @unclecrunkle @cillianmurphysbxtch

[forest-hashira]

Surprise, Baby

ok i've decided to stop being so In My Head bout this and just post it. it was entirely self indulgent so it's just fluff, & i apologize if anyone seems ooc but i really like this one ok?

pairing: gojo/reader, geto/reader, also technically satosugu

word count: 3.3k

read it on ao3

warnings: pregnancy, gn pronouns used for reader but implied afab reader (it is a pregnancy fic after all), reader is referred to as "mom", other than that it's pure fluff

It wasn’t like you’d planned for this to happen. 

Raising four children when you were still practically kids yourself had been rewarding, but it had also been difficult. Even with three of you to juggle everything – getting the kids to school, running errands, keeping up with appointments and practices and rehearsals – it still got overwhelming sometimes. 

Despite all that, though, all three of you were incredibly proud of the people the kids had grown into. They were all strong, kind, and considerate, even as they became moody teenagers; yours and Suguru’s endless patience over the years had ensured that, as had Satoru’s eager and constant encouragement in everything they did. Raising those kids was one of the most rewarding things you’d ever done in your life. 

So why were you so terrified of the thought of doing it again with a baby of your own flesh and blood?

“Are you feeling alright, love?” Suguru asked, his brows furrowed with concern as he took you in. “You look a bit pale.”

You offered him a weak smile from your spot in bed, propped up by a few pillows, trying to stave off the waves of nausea as subtly as you could. “‘M fine,” you assured him quietly. “Just not feeling very good right now.” 

Your words only seemed to worry him more, and he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out and resting the back of his hand against your forehead, checking to see if you had a fever. “You’re a little clammy,” he said quietly, “but you don’t feel warm. Can I get you anything?”

You hesitated for a moment at his words, not wanting to inconvenience him at all when you knew he needed to head off with Satoru to start their students’ lessons, but before you could brush off his offer, your stomach decided to make an ungodly noise. “…some toast would be nice,” you admitted, unable to do anything but blush as he smiled at you.

“Whatever you want, love,” your dark haired partner agreed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before he stood and left the room. 

Satoru was already in the kitchen when he stepped into the room, pouring a truly obscene amount of flavored creamer into his coffee. The sight caused Suguru to wrinkle his nose slightly, but he said nothing, too focused on making the toast you'd asked for to tease his lover for his sugar addiction. 

“Everything alright?” the white haired man asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched the other move through the kitchen; his shoulders were tense, a clear sign that something was bothering him. 

“They’re not feeling well,” Suguru answered simply, still focused on his task. 

“Again?” Satoru asked, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s what, four days in a row now?”

“Five days total this week,” Suguru confirmed with a sigh, dropping two slices of bread into the toaster and pressing down the lever, after making sure the settings were to your preference. 

The blue eyed man said nothing in response, a concerned hum escaping him as he set his coffee aside. Drink now abandoned, he turned and made his way back to the bedroom, his only thought being checking on you. 

“Sweetheart?” he called softly, stepping into the room. “Sugu said you’re feeling sick again.”

You smiled apologetically at him. “Nothing to worry about,” you promised, but he was clearly unconvinced. In just a few steps, he crossed the room, easily crawling up the bed to snuggle up beside you. 

“D’y’want us to stay with you today?” he asked, shuffling as close as he could get as he rested his cheek against your chest near your shoulder. 

You shook your head slightly at his question, one hand coming up to play with his snowy locks. “The students need you.”

“They’d understand,” Satoru insisted. “Megs and Yuji asked about you yesterday. Nobara won’t admit it but I think she’s worried, too. They miss you.” 

“The twins haven’t said anything?” you asked, fake pouting, hoping to lighten his mood a bit. 

“Sugu spent over half his time yesterday keeping them from sneaking off to check on you.” 

Not having expected such a heartfelt answer, you suddenly felt as if you were going to cry. You blinked quickly, biting your lip as you fought away the tears; the last thing you wanted was to worry your partners even more. 

No such luck. Satoru immediately noticed the shift in your mood, and he felt his heart stop for a moment. “Oh, honey, don’t cry, please? I’m sorry, I didn’t think that would upset you.” His words held an edge of panic as he lifted his head, brows pinched harshly in worry. 

“‘M not upset,” you promised, shaking your head and reaching out for him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you.”

He easily took your hand in his own as you reached out for him, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Don’t apologize, sweetie,” he soothed. “Just don’t like it when you don’t feel good.”

“Neither of us do,” Suguru chimed in, stepping into the room with the toast you’d requested from him. “Love, what’s wrong?” His voice was impossibly gentle as he approached, and for some reason, that was the last straw for your fragile emotional state. 

Tears began to pour down your cheeks as you burst into sobs. You covered your face with your hands, apologizing over and over again on hiccuping breaths between your sobs. 

This alarmed your partners a great deal, and Suguru raced forward, hurriedly closing the remaining distance between the two of you. He set the plate on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed, taking one of your hands and carefully pulling it away from your face; Satoru did the same on your other side, with your other hand. “What are you sorry for, love?” he asked softly.

“For everything!” you burst out, then seemed to get embarrassed by your own outburst. “For crying,” you continued, voice lowering as you sniffled. “For worrying you, and the kids. Didn’t mean to, I just…just didn’t wanna make a fuss for no reason.”

“Let us fuss over you,” Suguru murmured, offering you a gentle smile.

“We worry when you don’t let us fuss over you,” Satoru added, a hint of teasing in his gentle words. When it succeeded in drawing a hint of a smile from you, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. “Now, can you please tell us what you didn’t want to cause a fuss over?”

You hesitated again, looking between the two men beside you, the love and tenderness practically beaming off of them making you feel foolish for keeping this to yourself for so long, worried about what they might say. Before you spoke, you carefully guided their hands to your stomach, releasing them and allowing their long fingers to splay over the area, the warmth of their hands still easy to feel even through the fabric of your shirt. 

Two sets of brows furrowed in slight confusion at the gesture, but they waited patiently for you to elaborate. No matter how curious they were, they would never push you to speak before you were ready. 

You wracked your brain for a clever way to break the news, but eventually you gave up, not wanting to keep them waiting any longer. “I’m pregnant,” you said, and for some reason you found yourself blushing.

Two sets of eyes widened in shock. The men sat in silence for a moment, before Suguru’s soft voice broke it. “You’re having a baby?” he asked, wonder all over his face. 

“We’re having a baby,” you corrected softly, heart swelling with love as you took in his lovestruck expression. “All three of us.”

“We’re having a baby!” Satoru exclaimed from your other side, hauling you into his lap and burying his face in your neck. 

The movement knocked the air from your lungs for a second, but his excitement was so palpable you couldn’t even be upset with him. A small laugh bubbled out of you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his hair for a moment. 

“Careful, Toru,” Suguru scolded his partner, though there was no heat behind his words. “Don’t break them.”

Satoru’s half-hearted “sorry” was muffled against your skin, the tickling sensation of his lips causing you to giggle softly. 

Another thought occurred to you after a moment, and you deflated a bit. This did not go unnoticed by either of your partners. 

“Nooo, no sad thoughts!” Satoru pouted, lifting his head from your neck as he spoke. “This is good news!”

“Toru’s right, love,” Suguru agreed, tilting his head slightly; you couldn’t help but admire the way his bangs drifted across his face at the movement. “What’s got you down?”

“Do you think the kids will be upset?” Your voice was small as you asked the question, and you bit your lip immediately afterwards. 

“Why would they be upset?” The question was gentle, holding no judgment whatsoever, just like your partner’s brown eyes. 

“I dunno, I just…don’t want them to feel like they’re being replaced, or something.” You shrugged slightly, avoiding his gaze as you spoke; you realized how foolish it sounded, but you still couldn’t help but worry. 

“You’re their mom,” Satoru said, as if that answered the question, as if it was the obvious cure to your worries. “They would never think you were replacing them.”

His words made you burst into tears again, which earned him a harsh pinch on his thigh from your other partner. 

“Stop making them cry, babe. It’s rude.”

“I’m not doing it on purpose!”

“S’okay,” you cut in, not wanting them to bicker, even if it was lighthearted. “Happy tears. Just love you both so much.” You sniffled softly, rubbing at your eyes with one hand and reaching for your dark haired partner with the other. “Too far away, Sugu,” you pouted. 

“They’re right, sugar,” Satoru agreed, a cheeky grin on his lips. “Cuddles aren’t as effective or as satisfying without you.”

Suguru rolled his eyes at his lover’s words, but he couldn’t help but grin back at him. He didn’t waste another moment before climbing up the bed to properly join the two of you, settling comfortably against Satoru’s side and your back, one hand wrapping around your front and resting lightly on your stomach again. “Better?” he asked, the word murmured sweetly into the back of your shoulder. 

“Much,” you agreed, turning your head to press a kiss to his temple. 

As the two of you got comfortable together, the white haired sorcerer adjusted slightly, shifting just enough to pull his phone from his pocket. He kept one arm wrapped around you, his free hand pulling up his messaging app. 

“Whatcha doin’?” you asked, face still toward Suguru’s, so you could only sort of make out what he was doing on his phone. 

“Texting the kids,” he said. The text he sent to the four of them was short, to the point: class canceled. family meeting. He tucked his phone away again after that, unable to resist the urge to bury his face in your neck again. 

All you did was hum in response to his words, too wrapped up in the warmth and adoration from your boyfriends to worry too much about what he might have told them. 

The three of you spent the next few minutes snuggled up together, exchanging little kisses and soft touches, just happy to be with each other and revel in the warmth of your good news. 

The moment was cut short by a knock at the door, though, and your nose scrunched in confusion. 

“I’ll get it,” Satoru said right away, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before transferring you into Suguru’s lap. Once you were settled, he hopped up from the bed and left the room. 

You pouted as he left, but allowed yourself to be appeased as your other partner held you close, pressing kisses along your hairline. 

Just a few seconds later, you heard several sets of footsteps enter the apartment, accompanied by a familiar voice. 

“Where’s mom?” Megumi asked, hurrying past his sisters and his father figure, his eyes scanning the main room of the apartment. 

“In here, Gumi!” you called out to your son, frowning when he hurried into the room, worry etched into his features. “What’s wrong?”

Megumi returned your frown as he looked you over, not able to see anything noticeably wrong. “Gojo canceled classes and called a family meeting, and you’ve been out most of the week. I thought there was bad news.”

The girls filed into the room after their brother, peering at you with worried expressions of their own, though Megumi seemed to be the most frantic of the group. Satoru followed the girls into the room, and you scowled at him. “You called a family meeting?” you asked, crossing your arms as you turned to face him a bit more. Suguru easily accommodated you as you shifted, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. 

“What? It was the quickest way to get them all here,” Satoru said, somewhat defensively, crossing his own arms in a mirror of your stance. 

“You should have asked us first.”

“Or at least told them there was nothing to worry about,” Suguru added, hooking his chin gently over your shoulder after he spoke. Satoru said nothing, just let out a huff, though he did have the decency to look a little sheepish. 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” you assured the kids, offering them an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry Toru worried you. I promise I’m fine. C’mere.” You extended a hand towards the kids, beckoning them closer, encouraging them to join you and Suguru on the bed. 

As stoic as he usually was, Megumi was the first to join you, settling on the edge of the bed, as close to your side as he could get. The girls followed soon after, all of them perching on the mattress and looking between you, Satoru, and Suguru expectantly. “So…what’s the reason for the family meeting?” Tsumiki asked after a moment, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at Satoru. 

The white haired sorcerer’s eyes flashed at the question, and he smiled, tilting his head in your direction. “Ask your mom.”

Four sets of eyes turned to you, all varying levels of confused and curious, and you felt yourself grow a bit flustered at the attention. 

“I can tell them, if you’d prefer,” Suguru offered quietly, immediately picking up on the shift in your mood. 

“No, Sugu, it’s okay,” you answered, though you did lean your cheek slightly against his before you spoke again. “Your dads and I are having a baby,” you told the kids. As all four sets of eyes widened at your words, you felt the heat return to your cheeks, but you smiled brightly at the excitement that was so obvious in their expressions; even Megumi was smiling. 

“A baby?!” the twins chorused, followed by a cheer when you felt Suguru nod against your shoulder. The sound drew a giggle from you, and you settled further back into your dark haired partner’s chest. 

“That’s really great to hear,” Tsumiki agreed, her eyes sparkling as brightly as her smile, and you smiled right back at her. “We’re happy for you guys.” 

You nodded in response, then turned your attention to your son, who had yet to say anything about the news. “Whaddya say, Gumi? Would you rather have a brother, or another sister?” You nudged his ribs lightly with your elbow as you teased him, and your expression softened slightly as a chuckle escaped the boy. 

“I just hope it doesn’t look like Gojo,” he replied, a playful twinkle in his eye as he spoke. You could feel Suguru’s chuckle rumble through his chest and into your back, and your own giggle turned into a full-out belly laugh as Satoru let out a cry of indignation. 

“Megs, you wound me! I happen to be very good looking, and I have two romantic partners that would wholeheartedly agree,” Satoru insisted, flopping dramatically down on the bed beside you. 

“Subjecting a kid to those genes seems a little unfair, that’s all I’m saying.” 

You did your best to stifle your laughter at your son’s response, but given that all of your daughters and your other partner were all laughing, too, it was difficult not to join them. 

“You’re a traitor,” Satoru pouted, looking up at you and Suguru from where his head rested on your thighs. “Both of you are, siding with the kid over me like that.”

“You’re just whiny because he’s right,” Suguru replied, smirking down at his partner. 

“Sorry, Toru,” you soothed, reaching down with one hand to run your fingers through his hair. “I think you’re very pretty with your white hair and blue eyes.”

He seemed to brighten a bit at that. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “Pretty like a cat.”

Satoru’s brows furrowed at the words. “…I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” he said after a beat. “But I’m going to take it as one.”

The exchange drew a fresh wave of giggles from the twins, which in turn made you, Tsumiki, and Suguru laugh; Satoru and Megumi watched with silent smiles. The moment was warm, and happy, and lovely. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. 

“Good morning Sensei!” Yuji greeted enthusiastically, a bright grin on his face as he waved. “Fushiguro says you’re feeling better?”

“Yes, Yuji, I’m feeling much better.” You smiled at the boy as you answered him. “I’m sorry if I worried you at all.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” the pink haired boy said easily. “You’re not sick very often, we weren’t sure what was going on. Even Kugisaki was worried.”

Your eyes darted over to the girl as Yuji said her name, and you couldn’t help but smile as she turned away, saying nothing but letting out a soft grunt; not agreeing with her classmate’s words, but also not denying them. 

“Well, there’s nothing to worry about,” you promised. “And I wasn’t sick. Not really.”

Yuji’s face scrunched together in confusion. “But Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei both said you weren’t feeling well?”

“Because I wasn’t.”

The boy’s expression grew impossibly more confused at your words, drawing a soft chuckle from your partners. 

“Just tell him, love,” Suguru said, fingers trailing lightly down your back as he spoke.

“Please do,” Nobara agreed. “Itadori’s brain isn’t built to think this hard.”

“His head’ll probably explode if he tries to figure it out on his own,” Megumi agreed, the twitch in the corner of his lips only noticeable to you and your partners. 

“Hey!” Yuji said indignantly, though he gave no specific arguments; he had no clue what could’ve kept you feeling unwell but not actually sick for so long, and he really wanted to know. 

“Fine,” you said, sighing melodramatically and suppressing your own smile. “It was morning sickness, Yuji.”

“Morning sickness?”

“Itadori you, dumbass!” Nobara exclaimed, her eyes wide as she looked at you. “They’re having a baby!”

“A baby?” Yuji asked, tilting his head slightly, before the words seemed to fully click in his mind. “Oh! A baby! That’s amazing!” He turned his beaming smile back on you full force for a moment, then glanced over at Megumi. “Aren’t you excited, Fushiguro?”

“Nope!” Satoru cut in, trying – and failing miserably – to hide his playful grin. “Megs is a party pooper who never gets excited about anything.”

“Satoru,” you and Suguru scolded in unison, causing the white haired sorcerer to hold up his hands in surrender. Even with his blindfold on, you knew his eyes were flashing with love and mischief. 

“We told Gumi and the girls yesterday,” you explained. “No surprises for him today.”

“…is that why Gojo-sensei canceled classes yesterday?!”

i hope you guys enjoyed! like i said this is purely self indulgent fluff lol. i have a couple other lil ideas for things floating around in my brain/that i've started working on but idk if/when any of them will be finished 🙈

dividers by @/benkeibear

[cuyh]

a little rant about discourse rn

TW// rape, pedophilia, incest. necrophilia mentioned?

why is there so much rape/incest/pedophile fanfics within the resident evil community? and with the amount of people i've seen defending themselves or their favorite writers is so concerning to. it's so disgusting to see things like 'leon would rape his little sister, snuff her by accident, then continue to use her dead body for weeks on end as she rots' how out of touch with reality are you? this isn't 'dark content' or 'taboo topics' you guys sound like pedophile and rapist apologists. seeing grown ass adults writing about leon raping a minor is so jarring and disgusting. you see that as something you can defend? you all seem like porn-addicted zombies. the second hand embarrassment i get backhanded with when i see people defending this stuff leaves a red, bruising mark. rape, pedophilia, and incest are real. they're traumatic events and it's not something to find arousing. it's such out of touch behavior coming from grown adults. could very well be the same adults you walk past out in public. i've blocked a lot of writers and such. i just wanted to come on here and say whats been on my mind because it's honestly been eating away at me for a few days.

[lyricailove]

Does it ever hit you that because of Frank and Monica's emotional detachment, all of the Gallagher's seek out affection from romantic partners? But like to an almost obsessive degree.

Fiona's is obvious. She's hypersexual and falls in love easily. She will downplay her issues with Frank as something she's grown used to, but it's clear that it still affects her. She also does the same when it comes to Monica but I feel like her hostility towards other women comes from how she doesn't trust Monica, doesn't really trust herself, and sees those insecurities on other women. Ex: Her treatment of Mandy and distrust of her around Lip.

Lip is a classic case of a man dealing with his mommy issues by making it every woman's problem. He's hostile towards his romantic partners when they want a real commitment from him and he talks to women with so much disrespect that it's a wonder someone hasn't stomped his ass out yet. He's especially harsh towards his own sisters even though they've been the one's who have been there for him. He may hate Frank but he's noticeably giving and extremely forgiving towards men, even those he's only known for a short while. Almost like the story about the turtle was just as much about him hoping that he could fix Frank as it was about Frank crushing his hopes of a real father figure.

Ian being groomed is in no way his fault and is the fault of the creeps who pursued him. But I can't ignore the fact that Frank's abuse and neglect opened him up the further abuse he suffered at the hands of Kash and Ned. It's no coincidence that both Kash and Ned shower Ian with gifts and compliments about how impressive, smart, and mature he is.

Debbie 1. deals with comphet in the first few seasons, and 2. Feels ignored by her family so she tries to create her own family. Debbie is visibly the one most affected by Frank's issues and even when she for all intents and purposes gives up on him, it still affects her. Frank's hurtful words about her only finding love with someone "just as fucked up as she is" pushes her to put consider a dangerous situation with Heidi. She's also someone who struggles with control issues because she needs to help other people. She's a problem solver by nature. It's just that the two problems she wishes she could solve more than anything are out of her hands (Frank and Monica). She can't fix Frank's addiction, his selfishness, or his abusive tendencies. She can't fix Monica's wanderlust, her avoidance, or her aversion to long-term commitment.

Carl is so good at masking his emotions. It's easy to miss. But then you notice things like his attachment to Fiona, his absolute devotion to the girls he likes, and his need to protect. Carl is hypersexual, even though I've seen it rarely brought up in fandom, and longs for a long-term girlfriend. When he does get girlfriends he's all in from the beginning. When Carl loves someone he is all about them. He's so casual when it comes to talking about Frank and Monica, but that doesn't mean those feelings aren't there and they aren't affecting him.

Liam is still young so we don't get to see him in a relationship. He's the one Gallagher who's consistently treated like an actual kid. Probably the one who has the best chance at healthy emotional attachments. But then again, Fiona leaving most likely did a number on him and we weren't privy to what that looks like for him because the latter seasons forgot how to do long-term storytelling and emotional payoff. All we know is that he doesn't remember Monica, Frank being gone makes him an orphan and he's worried about where he's gonna live because Lip forgot that Liam was technically under Frank's care. We didn't get to see it, but I'd say Liam's first emotional crash is probably on the horizon.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[valeriele3]

hello! I've been craving some octotrio angst and was wondering if you would indulge lol. if it's within your boundaries, what about a reader who struggles with self harm?

Octotrio x GN!Yuu/Reader

The reader in this fic is Yuu although the fic is mostly in 2nd pov ^^; Warnings: Self-harm(reader/Yuu), attempted suicide(reader/Yuu), and implied depression(reader/Yuu), not proofread (Please lmk if I missed smth) Words: 2019

Self-harm

It was one of the things you thought you'd never do.

Everything was perfect; your life was perfect, or so you thought.

You were grateful; you really were. You had both your parents, had nice siblings, or, if you ignore the usual sibling shenanigans, they were nice, your grandparents had always supported you, you had a lot of friends, good grades, you never had to go through a day with an empty stomach, and even lived in a decently sized house.

So where did it all go wrong? Why have you fallen into this hole? When did it start?

All you knew was that one moment everything was perfect, and the other everything seemed to crumble down.

Little by little, the beautiful tower you had built crumbled and turned into ruin. 

The anger, the sadness, and the fatigue that you had been keeping locked away burst open, spilling all over.

No matter how much you try to scoop it up and place it back into its container, it leaks back. After all, a broken container can't keep everything inside; it'll continue to leak.

The festering emotions got too much to handle.

And so, you just gave up.

Why try to contain something that'll somehow keep getting out?

You hid

You cried

Pleading that someone, anyone, to help you, to rescue you, to be that prince who rescues his damsel in those fairytales you've read as a child.

But, oh, you've mistaken something. Life isn't a fairytale; it never was and isn't even close to being one. This is reality; there is no shining prince to rescue you, and there is no happily ever after.

But then, you thought of something; why not distract yourself instead?

If, for even a second, you could forget about your troubles, wouldn't that be great?

Although temporarily, you can be free.

'Ah, but isn't self-harm bad?'

'I̵̬͝'̸̨̈́m̷̘͒ ̸͙̅s̷̹̋u̶̫͗r̵̠̾e̸̘͝ ̶̳̈́i̵͓͂t̷̤͊'̷̞̓ṣ̷̃ ̶̪̆f̴̮̔i̸̳͆n̸̜̊e̵̤̍.̸̱̈́ ̸͎͝Ì̷͖t̸͙͠'̶͇̄s̴̻͛ ̶̛̼ó̴ͅn̴̝͝l̸̤͛ý̵̤ ̴̹̔ó̴̖n̴̖̄c̶̻̈́e̵̦͘ ̶̟̀o̷̻̎r̶̺͛ ̷̬̄t̵̜̏ẃ̴̠i̴̗̇c̵̱͌ȩ̶̑ ̶̺͋a̶̱͋n̷̪͘ỳ̴̖w̷̤̐a̷̟͋ỳ̸̟.̵̠̂'

'Just o̵̪͒n̴̜̈c̵̤̃e̴͕̚ then..'

Oh, how foolish you were.

Once someone feels the relief they've been longing for, it's hard to let go.

They'll keep seeking it.

They'll keep wanting.

They'll grow to be reliant on that addictive feeling of your worries going away.

With each passing day, week, and month, the scars on your arm increase.

Your family has grown worried.

Their once cheerful child suddenly turned gloomy. Oh, what could have happened to their beloved child? But alas, they never dared to ask.

They just watched as you spiraled down into the abyss.

Everyone did

T̶̻̑h̶̄ͅĕ̷͖r̸̩̀a̶̫̕p̴̝͝y̶̧̎

You and your 'friends' were hanging out during lunch.

You sat at the farthest corner, listening to their laughter, when suddenly one of them piped up, "Hey, Yuu, you should go to a therapist; otherwise, you might just infect everyone with that gloom you have." Everyone seemed to think it was funny and burst into laughter.

That comment was obviously a jab at you, but.. maybe they were right.

A therapist—you never thought of that. Maybe.. you can return to your old ways if you try it out.

You had been going to a therapist for the past 2 years.

The progress is slow, but there's a bit of improvement, at least.

You were slowly returning to being a "normal human being."

You'll be free.

Soon

You'll be free from the shackles.

You just have to endure a bit more.

'̶̯͠A̶͓͠h̸͎̊,̵͇̈ ̸̺̍ȟ̶̜o̷̬͒w̵̠̎ ̸̤̏s̸̬̅t̸͙͠ǘ̸̠p̷̙͝i̷̯͝d̶͔̂ ̷͈̚I̶̧͗ ̷̤̉w̴̩̄ȃ̸ͅs̸̠̿ ̴͚̀ť̴̫o̴͉͛ ̴̜͗b̸͎̏ę̷̂l̷̰̂ị̶̈́ẻ̵̩v̴̟͐e̶̗͘ ̷͒͜ḽ̷͌ì̷͙f̶̹̓ḙ̷̂ ̶͒͜w̸̻̿o̷͚͛ų̴̛l̶͈̉d̵̠̀ ̷̧̈́b̵̛̜e̷͍̾ ̴͙̓t̴̞̋h̶̥̍à̶̫t̶̖̿ ̶͈͛ë̶͎́a̸̭̍s̷͚͂y̷̼̾'̴̯͝

Just when you thought life had finally smiled upon you

Everything seemed to crumble again.

Your failing grades had caught up to you; your family is now struggling to make ends meet; and the people around you slowly left one by one.

"̵̭́W̷͔͂h̵̯̚ỵ̸̐?̴̧̕"̷̰͆

̸̳̂"̵̦͊I̵̡͝'̶̺̑l̷̼̈́l̸̬͌ ̴͓͠b̸̩͌e̷̳͒ ̶̪͝b̴̨͆ḛ̶̊ṯ̸͘t̵͈̅e̵͓͐r̸̫̃ ̶̮͝t̵̫̓h̵̻͐i̷̖̅ș̴̎ ̸̞͌t̶̼̆i̵͓̿m̸͓̀ë̵̻́!̵̪͂ ̴̙̀P̴̋ͅl̶͔̾e̸͇͌a̴͍̾s̶̬͝e̴͉͑ ̴̺̈́c̶̜͊o̷̘͝m̷̩͛é̶̟ ̷̜̊b̷̦͝ä̶͎́c̷͍̐k̶̩̓!̸̭̒"̶̞́

Everything crumbled beyond repair

Life.. felt hopeless and useless; it was painful.

You were walking down the street when you thought

'Maybe if I were to rush into oncoming traffic, my pain will finally end'

Just as you were about to take a step towards the traffic, you heard a horse neighing. 

You turn your head to the left and see a carriage heading your way.

You were frozen.

One part wanted to move away from danger, and the other wanted to stay in place.

Y̵͚̋ò̵̝u̴͍͑ ̴͔̍w̴̪͆ã̴̙n̷̠͝t̷̖͌e̴̳̍d̶̖̑ ̸̦͆t̵̗͑o̷̫̓ ̶̙̉l̶̞̔i̵̦̿v̵̩̈́e̷̡̔

Not even a second later, you collide with the carriage.

'Ah, I guess I really am destined for a bad ending'

"Shrimpy~, wake up!"

"Floyd, I'd wish for you to please not bother the prefect."

"Eh~, but they're cryin' in their sleep."

"What?" Jade and Azul say in sync.

"Floyd! What did you do?!"

"Wha~t? Me? I didn't do anythin'!"

"Don't blame me, blame Jade!"

"I don't see why I should be blamed, Floyd."

"I bet you made Shrimpy cry with your weird mushrooms!"

"I don't see any reason for my sweet innocent mushrooms to be dragged into this conversation" Jade says, giving his signature customer service smile.

Grumbles and mischevious laughter fill the room.

"All right, stop it, both of you. You'll wake the prefect up if you continue this childish banter."

"Aha ha! It looks like your warning came off late, Azul~"

"Welcome to the world, Shrimpy!"

"Ahem..I believe it was, "Welcome back to the land of the living," Floyd" Jade snickers.

Floyd ignores Jade and opts to engulf you in a hug instead.

You feel him squeeze tighter and tighter until you can barely breathe.

"F-Floyd- a-ir"

Azul gives Jade a pointed look, signaling him to stop Floyd in his assault lest you go back to being knocked out.

After catching your breath, you look around the room you're currently in.

You were in the lounge VIP room.

"Ahem, um, what am I doing here?"

"Hm? Do you not remember?" Azul turns to you

"No, I don't think so.?"

Floyd was about to say something when suddenly Azul stopped him from saying anything further.

"Jade"

"Yes sir"

With that simple exchange, Jade drags Floyd out of the room.

'Weird..'

"Since it seems that you've forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory."

"You see, you came here to have lunch, but then suddenly you fainted! We were so worried that we decided to graciously let you rest in here until you woke up."

"I see.." 'I guess that explains why my head is sore..Although it feels more like I got hit rather than some sort of mental pain..'

You decide to trust Azul this time

"Anyways, feel free to rest some more or leave if you feel like you can move without any problems."

"Right, well then, thank you for taking care of me." You begin to stand up, only to almost fall down.

It seems that your leg fell asleep.

You chuckle awkwardly. "Or... maybe staying a bit won't hurt."

"I..Please stay as long as you find necessary." Azul pretends to have seen nothing.

After resting for a bit, you exit the room and walk around the place.

Noticing a glint in the corner, you turn your body towards the source.

You come face-to-face with a room full of aquariums.

No, can you even call it that? The room was so majestic, it almost felt as if you were in the ocean itself.

It felt.. relieving, serene, and healing.

Suddenly, you were engulfed in a hug.

You tried to turn your head, but the person ensured that you wouldn't be able to see them, even hiding their face in the crook of your neck.

But hidden or not, you could easily tell it was Floyd. Due to the number of times he'd hugged you, you learned to recognize it right away when it was him who hugged you.

"Who made you cry?" His voice, barely above a whisper, was laced with concern, sadness, and anger.

"Cry? What do you mean, Floyd?"

You received no reply.

Just as you were about to speak up, your eyes got covered by someone's hands.

Naturally, you started to panic, but then a gentle voice spoke, "Don't keep everything inside. It's alright to cry." You recognized the voice to be Jades.

The tightness around your chest, your vision blocked, only able to rely on your sense of hearing

It would make one panic.

It felt suffocating, but.. for once in your life, this tightness, this darkness you feel around you, felt warm, comforting, welcoming, and protecting.

Footsteps..

You hear footsteps make their way towards you.

You can hear them stop in front of you.

"Yuu, don't be afraid. It's alright, you can let it all out."

"We'll be here supporting you."

It was Azul; he tries to sound confident and maintain his usual composure, but you can easily tell by his tone of voice that he feels awkward saying this.

Suddenly, you feel a sort of gust of wind, and next thing you know, the solid floor you had been standing on is gone.

You panic once again and try to speak up, but a finger, presumably Azuls, shushes you.

The tweels let go of their hold on you. You opened your eyes, and in front of you was complete darkness.

"Jade? Azul? Floyd? Where are you?"

You turn but something feels off.

The pressure you feel makes it feel like you're underwater.

All of a sudden, a light enters your field of vision.

Two blobs? 

You notice the two glowing things getting closer to you.

Hurriedly, you try to swim away as fast as you can, but something else keeps you in place.

Something slippery, like tentacles, held you in place.

You close your eyes, accepting your fate, but after a few beats of nothing happening, you open your eyes to see once again, only this time you could actually see something and not just darkness.

In front of you were the tweels, with one of them barely being able to contain his laugh, and the tentacles that held you in place belonged to none other than Azul Ashengrotto himself.

Upon noticing your gaze, the octopus man, as if acting on instinct, slaps your face in the other direction.

You stare dumbfoundedly.

"Ah, ahem..I sincerely apologize for.. slapping you, Prefect."

Floyd, no longer able to contain his laughter, bursts out laughing, "Pfft- Aha ha! Shrimpy looked so scared, and Tako-chan accidentally..Pfft"

Azul gave Floyd a pointed glare. "Hmph, and here I thought you'd dropped that Tako-chan ages ago" he mumbled.

"Fufu~ As entertaining as this is, I'm afraid you guys just traumatized the prefect."

After giving all the explanations (Especially how you're able to breathe underwater and not die from the water pressure..) and needed sorry's, they officially started the so-called "Give the Prefect a relaxing day." mission.

The name really didn't match any of the events that happened today, but.. you can't do anything about what's already happened, sadly.

And so, the rest of the day consisted of them dragging you around the ocean and showing you things they thought you'd like.

Visiting the city and just having fun.

"Azul, Jade, Floyd! Look! It's ice cream! Underwater!! This has to be magical ice cream!"

The octotrio watched as you admired the ice cream you had in your hand. It was like watching a child see ice cream for the first time.

Seeing the smile on your face, the trio deemed the mission accomplished.

Tired, you and the trio decided to rest in a nearby, secluded spot.

"Thank you"

"Hm? Did you say something, Prefect?" Jade asks.

"Ah, no, it's nothing." You smile, silently thanking the trio once again.

After a while, you unknowingly fell asleep, and when you awoke, you were back at the Ramshackle dorm, safely tucked away in bed.

You figured that maybe what happened was just a dream.

Unbeknownst to you, however, while you were still asleep, the trio swore an oath to make sure you were protected and would never be hurt again. Be it physical or mentally

The scars on your arms felt different this time around. As if someone had kissed it so lovingly and thanked you for being still alive that you were still here in the world, but, oh well, it's probably just your mind making things up, right?

.ೃ࿐Reblogs are highly appreciated! ^^

I'm so sorry for this abominationnnn. I lost all the vision I had by the time the trio appeared, and when I regained it, it was already too late, as I had already written a lot. And the ending is so rushed too T-T

[tamayula-journal]

These are Seb and Omi that I drew a year ago, when I first got into HL... Ominis is almost bald, I drew Sebastian's parting wrong, and I'm embarrassed to look back at them now 🫠 Thanks to my addiction to HL, I've seriously learnt how to draw handsome men and I've grown up a bit, but on the other hand, I've forgotten how to draw women because I'm always drawing eyeless OCs... Anyway, I need to leave the preparations for the move and do some drawing 😩

[covetyou]

the howler monkey

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: Mature (18+ only!) warnings: no smut but some nudity, implied drug use/addiction, little bit silly, mildly angsty, performance anxiety, screaming, Dieter Bravo's soft cock. basically mild hurt/comfort/fluff with my usual bit of silliness. word count: 2.8k summary: You got him here, he was safely tucked away upstairs and everything was going, mostly, according to plan. So, who the fuck is screaming?

A/N: For the Dieter Bravo Brain Rot Club March Server Challenge - you're unhinged and I love you all. Dieter would be so, so proud of us. Circus mention in honour of Clown!Dieter.

TROPE: Only one bed and forced proximity PROMPT: "You're going to get us arrested." "Oh, I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

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On days like this, getting Dieter Bravo out of the house was more like wrangling an overtired toddler than it was dealing with a full grown man. At least, you assumed it was. You didn't have a toddler for reference, but you did have a Dieter and, sometimes, that felt worse. He stalled and delayed for so long that by the time you finally - finally - got him out of the door, it was quite literally a race to get the the airport.

The flight hadn't been much different, having to practically drag him through the terminal with head down and sunglasses on to cram him into his window seat. Truth be told, you didn't know why you were flying with him anyway, only to fly back later tonight. Still, as long as it wasn't your money on the line, what Dieter wanted, Dieter got.

But now it was done. You got him here relatively unscathed, all things considered, and Dieter had been deposited in his room, ready to get a full nights beauty sleep before the press descended and the festival opened. All that was left to do was check in with his publicist and you'd be on your way back home, where you couldn't wait to crawl into bed and have a few blissful days to yourself.

So, as is the natural way with these things, it's when you're just finishing up with his publicist in the back of the bar that it all starts. It's nothing but a few strained looks from the hotel staff to begin with.

Then the phones start ringing. Every single one.

And when the phones can't be answered quick enough, hotel guests start crowding around the lobby, whispering amongst themselves about the screaming.

The screaming.

And your blood turns cold. Because it's not. It couldn't be. He wouldn't.

The publicist pays no attention, continuing swiping through his phone and yammering away. Not your circus, not your monkeys, you try to think to yourself as the lobby just gets busier and busier.

But then the hotel manager rushes in, sickly sweet smile plastered on his face, Dieter's publicist blissfully unaware as he stares down at his phone, looking at schedules and interview times and literally anything but the chaos evolving around you.

"Excuse me? Excuse me," he's saying, wringing his hands together as he approaches the table. "You're with Mr. Bravo?"

His publicist doesn't even bother looking up, simply nodding as you stare, open mouthed, into the lobby.

"It seems we have... a bit of a problem," he whispers with wide eyes. "Mr. Bravo is uh... well, screaming. It's disturbing the other guests. I'm afraid if he doesn't stop we're going to have to ask him to leave or call the police."

Well, shit. This is your circus, and that is your monkey in particular.

You're swiping the extra key card out of his hand and making your way out of the bar and into the packed lobby as quick as you can while his publicist sits there, arguing that Dieter would never (he would), that he was quiet (he wasn't), and so it couldn't possibly be him (it absolutely could).

The elevator feels so slow, the whirl of gears and an unseen mechanism pulling you up and up, as you ascend the many floors of the hotel. Then, in a blink and with another creak the doors are about to pull themselves open, and you swear you can hear it already.

The fucking screaming.

You're running now, the elevator doors barely open before you're squeezing through them, not caring for the noise you make as you thud heavily down the hallway. What would a little extra noise matter when there's someone screaming blue murder inside one of the hotel rooms.

Tapping the card, the lock on room 819 illuminates green and you're throwing open the door, the screams having subsided for a moment, and shutting yourself inside and trying to catch your breath.

Aside from the silence, it's dark. That's the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice is Dieter Bravo is nowhere to be seen, even in the dim light creeping around the window.

"Dee... Dieter?" you whisper into the darkness, hoping beyond hope that he's not here and he hasn't been screaming for the past fifteen minutes.

A small, hoarse voice floats toward you from much further away than you'd expect him to be able to be given the size of the room, "Who is it?"

"Dieter? It's me. What the fuck is going on? Where are you?" you loud whisper into the hotel room, running your fingertips across the wall as you creep forward. From what you can tell it looks the same as when you left him here. Nothing is wrecked or overturned, and he hasn't had another sudden burst of artistic inspiration - the walls look the same as they did when you shut the door to Dieter looking forlornly out of the window to the city below.

"What do you mean?" comes the muffled voice. It's closer now, but you still can't see him. There's no lump on the bed, no one sat in the chair, and he's not lying spread eagle on the floor.

"Dieter, where the fuck are you?!"

He sighs, and you hear a slap, like the sound of a hand hitting a flat, solid surface. "Under here, numbnuts."

You take another step forward, peaking under the desk, seeing no sign of Dieter. Turning toward the bed, you try to find somewhere else to look under to find wherever Dieter has stashed himself when you see it.

Two bare legs sticking out from under the bed, the end of his soft green robe just poking out from beneath the frame.

"Dee... what is going on, why are you under there? There was screaming, they think it's coming from in here."

Dieter's silence is all you need to confirm it was indeed coming from in here, from him. Pinching your nose, you ready yourself for whatever he's going to throw at you this time.

"Why are you screaming?"

"Come under here."

"Dieter, no, it's disgusting under there, they don't clean these -"

"I'll tell you if you come under here."

"No, I know this is a nice hotel, but the floors are still filth-"

Dieter cuts you off, a loud scream ripping out of his chest and rattling around your head at a frequency that makes you feel like your skull is about to burst. It must hurt, is all you can think, his throat must be raw and his mouth dry. Panic sets in - hearing a scream like that will do that to a person, you suppose. You panic not just because it must hurt, but because if there was one thing you knew, despite Dieter Bravo's flair for dramatics, he wasn't a man to scream for no reason. And, as much as you hate to admit it, you can't help but think down to Dieter's publicist likely still sat in the bar - Dieter will be impossible to interview tomorrow if you don't stop him soon, and that's if he's even allowed to stay in the hotel much longer.

So, you do the only thing you know how to do when a metaphorical fire in the shape of Dieter Bravo threatens to burn everything down. You throw yourself over it and hope for the best.

"DEE! DIETER! OKAY, OKAY!" you shout, trying not to grimace as you get on your hands and knees to crawl under the cramped space under the bed, ignoring the grit and dust already on your palms.

"Fuck. Shit, Dieter. Ow." You're wedged under there with him now, ass sticking up in the air as you cram your upper body under the bed frame. You can see the vague shape of him under here, a Dieter shaped profile visible in front of you as he stares blankly up at the underside of the bed.

"What's wrong with you?" you ask, somewhat breathlessly, only to watch Dieter tense up at your words. Shit. You didn't mean it like that, and you certainly didn't say it like that either, but before you can take it back and apologize, he beats you to it.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong with me," he says in a voice so much smaller and quieter now that your head is right beside his.

"Sorry. Look, I didn't - I meant, why are you screaming, Dee. They said they'd have to kick you out or call the cops. You're going to get us arrested."

"Arrested, huh?" he says thoughtfully, turning to look over at you. "I've always liked the idea of you in handcuffs."

"No, Dieter," you say, and even though you know he can't see you, you roll your eyes in the dark anyway.

Dieter's sigh is so big it picks up errant dust swirls it around under the bed. The urge to swipe at your nose is strong but you resist, knowing from the state of things and the chalky feeling of your palms that it'll only make things worse.

"I'm nervous," he finally says, and that's all you needed to hear.

His face is turned toward the underside of the bed when you crawl backwards. It takes a moment for him to notice, but as soon as he does he's whimpering and taking in a breath big enough that you know he's going to scream again. But you're not leaving, and instead you roll onto your back with an oof and slide yourself under the bed to look up into the nothing with Dieter.

You think back to other times he'd been like this. Too scared to perform, anxiety taking root, frightening him off into some dark quiet corner of a set or his house. You'd found him in his closet once, the only thing apparently capable of coaxing him out was watching you unbutton your shirt a little more because you'd gotten so hot sitting in the stifling little room with him. When he'd finally made his way out, it had been with his eyes glued to the extra patch of skin you'd uncovered and the trickle of sweat dripping down your chest.

Dark as it was, visual distractions wouldn't work this time.

"How many times do you have exactly the same thoughts, and how many times does everything turn out okay anyway? You're good at this, Dieter. You're going to be amazing tomorrow, just like you always are, and I'm not saying that to pressure you to perform, but just because you are. You're amazing."

"Yeah, right," he scoffs, slapping a hand dramatically down on the floor again with a grunt.

"I'm serious. You have a lot to be proud of."

"A lot to not be proud of too."

"Well, you know what to do about that."

"I'm not going to rehab."

"I've never told you to."

Dieter sighs again, because you were right. You had never told him to go to rehab. You never would. It didn't feel like your place to - you were only his assistant. He knows this and you think - know - that sometimes he'd like for you to just tell him to get it together and go, but you don't. "I know."

You don't know how long you both lie there in silence and darkness after that, softly exchanging breaths under the bed. You do know it's long enough for your mind to wander back down to the bar and all the people now going about their evenings. It's not lost on you that no one came in to check on him before you. That now that he'd been silent for several minutes, no one had bothered to knock on the door to see if he was okay. None of them cared, not really. You knew that and, worse of all, Dieter knew that. The people here didn't care about him unless he was being a shiny, glitzy movie star who could say and do the right things in front of the cameras.

Scuffling feet alert you to his movement as Dieter move shuffles toward you, his head colliding gently with the side of yours. You make no effort to move and neither does he, choosing instead to lean his head against yours and rest it there.

The signs are obvious then. The small weave of his head as his eyes track invisible shapes in the dark. The twitch in his fingers, the bounce of his foot. He'd been a mess all day, you can see that now, and whatever he had taken since getting here was somehow making it better and worse all at once.

"How much have you taken this time?"

His breath catches, caught doing something he said he wouldn't do, not here, not this time. But he doesn't lie, not to you. He'd stopped doing that a long time ago, and that was as much progress as you could ever hope for.

"Too much. Not enough. I don't know."

"Okay," you say, even though it isn't, not really. He should stop. You wish you could do more to stop him.

"Will you stay?" he murmurs, even though he knows you have a flight to catch. He'd paid for it when he demanded you come with him, promising you a few days off while he was stuck at the festival answering the same questions over and over again.

"You know I can't, my flight is in a couple of hours, I need to get through the traffic -"

"Please stay."

"There is nowhere for me to stay, Dieter. You don't need me here and I couldn't get a room if I tried. Everywhere nearby is booked." Assistants don't sleep with their employers, assistants don't sleep with their employers...

"I do. I do need you. I'm not asking you to stay anywhere else, I'm asking you to stay here. Stay with me," he mumbles. "I can sleep under here if I have to. Just stay." Assistants don't sleep with their fucking employers...

"You're not sleeping on the floor. And I- I can't." By this point you don't know why you can't, because maybe assistants don't sleep with their employers, but you and Dieter were always a little bit, well... y'know.

"Please."

And your resolve never was that strong where Dieter was concerned. Not really. "Fine. I'll stay. I need a shower and I need to go -"

"You can borrow some of my clothes," he says quickly. "We can shower - separately, I mean - get room service - fuck I'm starving - and then when we sleep, we can cuddle?"

You can't help but laugh, smiling up at the bed at how quickly his mood could turn around, particularly where cuddling and a good meal were concerned. Sometimes, when he was really tired, or high, or sad, or a combination of all three, he'd ask you to cuddle. You'd always settle on stroking his hair instead, watching his face as his jaw relaxed and sleep finally pulled at his features before sneaking away. Today, you had nowhere else to be so, you think, you may as well stay to cuddle.

"Yeah, Dee. We can cuddle."

You talk over room service - fancy toasted sandwiches and warm chocolate chip cookies that weren't on the menu, but Dieter had the audacity to ask for anyway. When you shower, he waits outside the door for you, restlessly stepping from foot to foot. You wait for him too, convincing him to leave the door open a little just in case, and he does so without question. A few minutes later he comes out, flushed red from the heat of the water and totally naked. You don't bat an eye.

Your skin still feels damp when you're climbing into bed, grateful to be on top of it and grit free now rather than under it. Dieter soon follows, crawling naked on all fours before tucking his legs under the sheets beside you.

You talk for a little longer, listening as Dieter sounds more and more slurred with sleep, before flicking the light off. He fidgets, shuffling closer to you until his arm wraps around your chest, resting his hand softly on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into your neck on the pillow you now share. It's not comfortable, not for you, but the contented sounds coming from Dieter and the way his face twitches against your bare skin tells you he's holding back tears, that he needs this. You can be uncomfortable for one night, you think, just before he hooks his leg over yours, well and truly pinning you to the bed.

"Dee?"

"Yeah?"

"Your cock is on my leg."

"I know."

"Okay, well... G'night Dee."

"Night," he says straight into your ear, smacking his lips as he snuggles into your side, soft cock squished against your leg. And when, somehow, sleep ignores your discomfort and pulls you under barely a few minutes later, you swear you can feel Dieter press his lips to the bare skin of your neck.

[cnnmairoll]

OMG could I have the love bites prompt but with Sampo and Dan Heng 🥺🥺🥺🩷

Bites of Affection

Character(s) : Sampo Koski, Dan Heng Genre : Fluff a/n : Here you go Vi!! Hope this is to your liking! ^_^

You couldn't help it; your love language was biting. Not the kind that left marks or caused pain, but the playful nips and nibbles that you showered your beloved Sampo with. It was a habit you had developed over time, one that seemed to bring joy and amusement to your relationship.

Sampo, the silver-tongued salesman with a flair for theatrics, initially reacted to your nibbling with sheer dramatics. The first time you planted a soft bite on his arm, he clutched his chest and staggered back as if you had wounded him.

"Oh, the agony!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with mock pain. "My dearest, do you intend to devour me limb by limb?"

You giggled at his antics, unable to resist the urge to give him another playful nip. "Only if you taste as good as you look."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, my love, I suppose I must prepare for the most delicious demise."

From that day forward, it became a delightful routine. Whenever you were together, you couldn't resist stealing a quick bite, and Sampo, always the showman, played along.

One sunny morning, as you both sat in the garden, Sampo was engrossed in his book. You saw the perfect opportunity and gently nipped his shoulder.

Sampo let out an exaggerated gasp, his book falling to the ground. "Oh, the treachery! I've been ambushed in broad daylight!"

You laughed, leaning in to give him another bite. "Consider it a love ambush, my dear."

Sampo captured your lips in a sweet kiss, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. "I surrender to your love, my mischievous bandit."

As the days went by, Sampo began to anticipate your bites, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. He'd playfully present his arm, offering it up for your affectionate nibbles.

One evening, you shared a quiet moment by the fireplace, cuddled up together. You couldn't resist the temptation and leaned in to nip his cheek.

Sampo grinned, his hand running through your hair. "Ah, my little love bandit strikes again. I should hire you as my personal nibbler."

You chuckled, planting a soft kiss on his cheek to soothe the imaginary wound. "I'd gladly take the job."

But it wasn't just during quiet moments that you indulged in your love language. Even during Sampo's boisterous gatherings and parties, you'd find a moment to sneak in a playful bite.

At one particularly lively soirée, you nipped his wrist while he was in the middle of a story, causing him to momentarily falter. "And then, my friends, the chicken—" he paused, looking at you with a smirk, "decided to take a bite out of the merchant."

The room erupted in laughter, and Sampo took a theatrical bow. "I am but a humble feast for my love's insatiable appetite."

Your playful bites became a symbol of your love, a secret language that only the two of you understood. It was a reminder of the joy and laughter you brought into each other's lives.

As the night grew darker and the party continued, Sampo pulled you close, whispering in your ear, "My love, if you keep biting me like this, I might just become addicted to your love."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "And what a delightful addiction that would be."

You've been traveling with Dan Heng and the rest of the Astral Express crew for some time now. Your relationship with Dan Heng had grown stronger, despite his initial cold and reserved demeanor. But there was something about your love language that continued to baffle him – your penchant for biting.

It all began one evening in the common area of the ship. You were sitting together on a comfortable couch, your fingers tracing patterns on his arm as you engaged in casual conversation. Without warning, you leaned in and playfully nipped at his shoulder. Dan Heng tensed up, his blue eyes widening in surprise.

"Did you just… bite me?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

You chuckled softly. "Yeah, I did. It's just my way of showing affection."

Dan Heng blinked a few times, clearly trying to process this new information. "Biting as an expression of affection? That's… unusual."

You couldn't help but laugh at his perplexed expression. "I know, it's a bit unconventional. But it's how I feel close to someone. Trust me, it's harmless."

Over the next few weeks, you continued to indulge in your love language. Soft bites on his arm when you cuddled, a playful nibble on his ear during movie nights, and even a gentle nip on his neck when you wanted to show just how much you cared. Dan Heng, ever the stoic one, gradually grew accustomed to your unique way of expressing love.

One evening, as you both watch the stars through the windows of the Astral Express, you lean over and gently nibble his earlobe. Dan Heng doesn't pull away this time; instead, he chuckles softly.

"You know," he began, "I never thought I'd say this, but I've grown quite fond of your biting."

You grinned in response, feeling a warm surge of happiness. "I knew you'd come around eventually, my dear."

Dan Heng wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. "I suppose it's your way of keeping me on my toes," he teased.

"Exactly," you replied, leaning in to steal a sweet kiss from his lips. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You really are something, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice filled with fondness.

You smile up at him, your heart warmed by his reaction. "Just trying to make you smile," you reply.

Dan Heng leans in and places a soft kiss on your lips. "You do that every day," he says, his eyes locked onto yours.

From that moment on, Dan Heng not only accepted your love language of biting but also started to reciprocate in his own way. He'd surprise you with gentle nips and nibbles, a silent testament to how much you meant to him. In the quiet moments of the Astral Express, your love continued to grow, one bite at a time.