#cloudy justice

[elecalice]

I'M SO HAPPY I FOUND A FANFIC WITH PROSECUTOR ITO, VIC AND YUIKA!!

And with the ship of Vic x Ito! (Cloudy Justice!)

AND is a Purge AU! I'm so curious to read the writer's idea for the Purge in the MMBN world.

I'm so happy to find and read this fanfic. At the moment of this post, it's currently in Chapter 2. I'll be patiently wait for the next chapters!

[elecaliceworks]

New Fanfic: "New Housemates with Old Struggles"

Title: New Housemates with Old Struggles

Fandom: Mega Man Battle Network

Characters: Vic and Prosecutor Ito (Cloudy Justice)

Summary: Recently Vic started to live in Prosecutor Ito's house. They spend the first night as housemates drinking during the night. And their struggles will show up as they talk with each other.

This was originally a Vent fic. I'll bring love to my two idiots.

(Song recommended to listen while reading the fic. I did played the song while doing the fanfic in 2023)

[ura-niia]

IM OFFICIALLY FREE FROM THE ACADEMIC SHACKLES

In celebratory I made a doodle of @cloudydreamingart 's Kallamar and @asg027 's Jazz au lamb having tea time, an idea that was in my art queue for a bit while hehe

[sysig]

Baby’s first web ❤️💕💞💖❤️💕

[aria0fgold]

Just some really messy doodles to get the ideas out. First gave Josephandre short hair but long hair fits him better I think, like shoulder length type hair. Can you tell how much I love the design I gave Lady Irene? She's sooo pretty... Also I don't know Why Pierre looks simultaneously pretentious and head empty but I wouldn't have it any other way, that's their look now, he got the "no thoughts behind those eyes" look. Also, hair shades for em would be that Josephandre has lightless hair, Lady Irene has light hair (light grey) and Pierre has "dark (dark grey)" hair but it's dyed. He has darkless hair.

[onsomenewsht]

The sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love

About when she's right next to you, he's a menace and nothing can rain on your parade

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: -1.4k

》 rain or shine [idiom]: regardless of the weather or circumstances; sometimes used figuratively for whatever happens

“Mami, it’s raining today too!”

Your son’s voice is a sound you’ll never get tired of.

That’s what you have to remind yourself as you open your eyes at six in the morning on a rare day off, a five-year-old kid jumping on the bed without a care.

The rain hitting the windows is actually the third noise your still-half-asleep mind manages to take in – yet one you’re starting to get used to after almost a year in London.

Upon hearing Rafael’s voice – hours of Facetime could never make your son’s voice justice or bridge the distance –, the slight snoring of your wife comes to you, blissfully asleep at your side and unaware.

Lucky her.

“Rafa, it’s gonna stop soon”, you hope, trying to smooth his disappointment. Or at least make him stop bouncing.

“Aquí siempre llueve!” [but it’s always raining here]

He has a point.

Used to the Barcelona sun, the kid’s trips in London are often greeted by cloudy days and unexpected rainfalls. Maybe an entire morning exploring the park was an overly bold and optimistic promise.

“Monito, ven aquí” [come here]

She rises.

You turn to the woman as she pats the space between the two of you with one hand, the other on her face, trying to wake herself up properly – and hiding an amused smirk too.

Alexia’s smile grows as she welcomes your son under the blankets.

She looks tired, exhausted even. It’s a long and tricky season, the one occurring. And the situation you find yourself in as a family since you accepted the transfer to London is not helping.

You’re trying though, you all are.

“What do you think of lots of cuddles and then lots of waffles while we wait for the rain to stop, ¿qué tal?”

“How many waffles are we talking about?”

“A tantos como podamos comer” [as many as we can eat]

You lightly hit the blonde’s arm, avoiding being seen by Rafael.

She’s perfectly aware you’re going to be the one cooking for two people able to eat like an army – way too much for an athlete during the season and a kid barely tall enough to reach the kitchen counter by himself.

As an answer, the Catalan blows you a kiss and a wink.

You miss dearly mornings like this one, serene and without the frenetic need to be and to do as much as possible in the shortest time out of fear of not doing enough, not being together enough, before you have to be far away again.

“Hay trato” [we have a deal], he says with gravity after a careful evaluation of the proposal.

You and Alexia can’t hold back a laugh at Rafael’s unusual solemnity, ruffling his hair.

“¡Mami, no! You have to wake up, you have to make waffles!

“Yo? Oh no, you didn’t make a deal with me, monito”

“¡Por favor!, mamà can’t make them as good”

The mentioned lets out an offended gasp at the boy’s statement, bringing one hand to her chest as mortally wounded, to then theatrically collapse on the bed.

“My own child!”

“Mamà, es la verdad” [it’s true], Rafael doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge his mother, addressing you instead to plead his cause, “She tries to make them when I miss you, but they’re not really good”

Ignoring the grip on your heart at your son’s comment is way too difficult, but one thing you’re sadly starting to master, redirecting the conversation and sparking another little argument between him and Alexia.

It’s something you both learned to do in the past year, both out of necessity and out of care. You don’t hide the pain the distance causes your family, but you always try to make up for it with the love that binds you.

And with waffles, apparently.

The background noise subsides when you come back from your own head to giggles and a tickle fight.

Without even realising how it happens, you find yourself outnumbered with Alexia on top of you, holding your hands, while Rafael can’t hold back his laugh – even if he’s the one tickling you.

As soon as you decide it’s a reasonable time to actually get out of bed, you push both out of the room, demanding that they get dressed and at least set the table if they want to eat as many waffles as they can.

You’ve never seen either of them get ready so quickly.

What’s left of your morning passes between a long, messy breakfast, the constant rain as white noise, and silly games to distract your son from the boredom of another day locked in your new apartment.

For a kid as full of energy as Rafael is, there can be nothing worse.

A gentle hand diverts your gaze from the little boy not far away, busy setting up some toys to teach his moms a new game he invented.

“You don’t want this to get stuck”, Alexia hits you back with the same sentence you usually tell her when, too focused on something, her face wrinkles.

You turn your face, leaning into her care and her calloused hand.

“Does he hate me?”, you ask in a whisper, closing your eyes.

It’s your wife’s face that frowns this time, holding your face with both hands firmly as she tries to lift your genuinely frightened gaze to meet hers.

“How could he?”

“I moved to another country”, you answer – I left you, you’re too ashamed to say.

“Look at me, mi amor”

“I can’t–”

“Then look at him, por favor”

You dare glare back at your son, still lining up his toys and muttering some words to himself. He feels your eyes on himself, firing a smile in your direction and an excited “Almost ready, moms!”

“He loves you, and I love you”

“But–”

“No, we love you”, the Catalan states with a determinate edge in her voice, “You’re doing what’s best for your career, and neither of us is gonna hold it against you, not now nor ever. We’re making this work, no matter what”

Lost for words, you try to convey your gratitude with a kiss.

“No más lluvia!” [it’s stopped raining], the moment is interrupted by the childlike joy of Rafael, who joins you running and jumping, “Can we go out now?”

“I think it’s a bit too cold to–”

You stop Alexia with a hand on her arm and a small, resolute smile on your face, “It’s okay, go wear the raincoat Vic gifted you”

“¡Vamos!”

He skips to his room in your apartment, and you follow shortly behind, urging your wife to do the same. The blonde has a curious and slightly sceptical look on her face at the sudden mood shift.

“Cheer up, you don’t want that to get stuck”, you mock her with a grin.

The walk to the park just behind your apartment is marked by Rafael’s enthusiastic hopping. He is adorable, protected by huge amphibians and a yellow raincoat with a duck beak on the hood.

A view that manages to hearten Alexia, despite her aversion to the London weather.

When the two of you notice a huge puddle in the middle of the park, you know your son is going for it even before he sprints forward.

The kid jumps impressively high, right into the water, creating a wide splash all around as his open laugh fills the park and your heart.

You don’t miss a bit, taking your wife’s hand and running toward the mini version of the footballer ahead of you – right into the puddle to join the fun. Even skipping and kicking the water more when it starts to pour again, soaking you all head to toe.

The Catalan woman’s hands find your waist as you land another jump, spinning you around and right in her arms.

Loud giggles subside just when Alexia’s lips find yours, not caring about the rain or how the smiles on both your faces make it difficult to kiss properly.

What takes you apart is the sudden wave of water that hits hard and cold, Rafael jumping right between the two of you with a huge grin on his face as he draws your attention very effectively.

You and Alexia look at him, not ready at all for the loud “Quack!” he shouts, covered in his duck-like raincoat.

[peachyforthis]

How genshin men would realise they have a crush on you

Featuring: Neuvillette, Lyney, Wriothesley

Uploading the gifs for some reason took significant time out of my life but here it is ^^

All gifs are by me unless credited at bottom

Neuvillette

Would be so busy in his day to day responsibilities in being the Chief Justice that at first he might not notice you hanging around his office more frequently than others.

But he would appreciate your presence and will to help whenever you saw his loads of work, meanwhile trying to remain professional at first but gradually would warm up to you and tell you his secret and his dragon tales.

It would be at one particular day where he was dejected from a long and emotional trial, and upon arriving in his office noticed your prepared dish of his favourite soup placed carefully on his desk, with a handwritten note stating, “Sorry had to leave a bit earlier. Hope this makes your day better :)”

Neuvillette, at first, wouldn’t understand the warm feeling in his chest… but the weight would hit him shortly as the sky starts to become cloudy, confirming his heart heavy with realization.

“Is this how human feelings are like?”

Lyney

Gradually notices you being a top regular in his shows, attending almost every one of it. Honestly, you caught his eye at first being so pretty and lively.

He doesn’t know how it actually progressed, but he would have this extra air of pride around him whenever your expression shined, or you cheered in the audience at his many magic tricks.

One day, he announces a special performance and asks for volunteers and you happily raise your hand. This, of course, he could never reject and invites you on stage.

Performs a complex but well executed magic trick on you which makes you amused and laugh appreciatively at his talent.

Lyney finally understands now why he needed your approval, as he smiles and bows at you, returning your admiration.

“So this is the magical moment I’ve been waiting for.”

Wriothesley

Would start to enjoy conversing with you, an officer from the Palais Mermonia, sent to help Wriothesley on an exclusive project in the Fortress of Meropide for some months.

Whenever you had to go above ground to submit the progress reports, Wriothesley would silently miss your presence beside him… the two of you drinking tea and bantering at the end of the day. He has admired how you aren’t afraid of him and are brave to always speak your mind and rightfully criticise him occasionally.

Realises how much he really has started to like your company when you return after a few days with a box of special tea leaves just for him, saying how you extended your stay by cleverly convincing the project management above.

Is fully in awe and entertained by your slight cunning tricks and wonders if you also feel the same affection for him after all.

“Well… this just complicates things,” he wonders as he watches you fondly across his table, while you giddily prepare a new tea flavour for him… oblivious to his self confession.

A/N: Also can you tell my undying love for Neuvillette? but Wrio too is just divine lol

Reblogs would be very appeciated ^^ thank you

[stylesispunk]

'I've been praying, I never did before'

Not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

summary: you prayed to God to send you the answers. Should you stay with Joel or leave him?

w.c: 5k> warnings: angst and cheating.

a/n: this one is based on this ask a lovely anon (🍫) sent the other day. (thanks for your support, I hope I made it justice) and I hope you all like it. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You weren't a religious person.

You believed in God, but your devotion didn't go beyond the necklace's cross and your eloquent prayers asking for the protection of your loved ones.

You weren't a religious person, but you thought God sent Joel to you that night at the bar when a wasted man thought he had some power over you just because you wore a short dress. Everyone should have seen his face the night he first got you.

And you thought God rewrote the prophecy of your failed luck in love.

Joel, the sweetheart. Joel, the loving, thoughtful, and faithful.

Joel Miller, your boyfriend of six years.

Not rings, not clues of him saying you loved beyond the whispers in your ear when he had his arm wrapped around your waist in public, showing you off to hide you from the rest of the world once the lights weren’t on you.

The first signs of your love rusting into scarlet maroon.

At first, you brushed them off, attributing the occasional cold shoulders or the missing date nights to stress, life’s inevitable distractions, or nights of hard work. But deep down, you felt the shift. The whispers of doubt crept in, subtle yet persistent, like the gradual erosion of a once impenetrable fortress.

All the vipers are moaning in mourning for you and your poor wounded heart, already cracking due to the daggers thrown at you in poisoned words.

Joel made you feel invincible, loved, and worthy of something as warm as the golden dawn. However, his eyes, once brimming with affection, now flickered with a hint of something words couldn’t speak. His somber eyes matched the gray clouds before the storm on a cloudy day, with no defense or barbed wire to keep you warm. You tried to bridge the growing chasm with gestures of love and attempts at rekindling the spark, but it felt like grasping at smoke.

The nights grew longer, and the silences became more pronounced. You found yourself reminiscing about the early days, the nights spent talking until dawn, the effortless laughter, and the shared dreams you were supposed to build. Those memories felt like a lifeline, a reminder of what once was and what you desperately wanted to reclaim as yours.

Yet, the more you clung to the past, the more it slipped through your fingers. Joel's once warm embraces became mechanical, his kisses lacking the fervor they once held. No more lips attached to your forehead for protection. The blaze on your sheets, once fueled by the fire of your touches, has now become a simple ritual, devoid of connection.

You began to wonder if you had misread the signs, if perhaps you had mistaken God's intervention for a fleeting moment of serendipity. The love that had once felt like destiny now seemed like a chapter nearing its end. The vibrant hues of your relationship had faded, leaving behind a tapestry woven with threads of doubt and broken promises.

In the quiet moments of solitude, when you waited by the door, hoping for Joel to step into the house, you wondered how the red roses he brought grew back as thorns, hurting your fingers as much as when you touched his skin. Would you be able to build a fort after this storm?

"Dad isn’t here yet?" Sarah interrupted your thoughts from the stairs, her wide eyes gazing into yours with the same worry drawn on them.

"No, sweetheart, not yet," you replied, trying to mask your own anxiety with a reassuring smile.

Sarah descended the stairs slowly, her small frame casting a long shadow in the dim light of the hallway. She reached your side and leaned against you, her presence a small comfort in the growing uncertainty.

"Did he say he would be late?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

You shook your head. "He didn't say anything, Sarah. Maybe he's just caught up at work."

But you both knew it was more than that. The nights he came home late were becoming more frequent; the excuses were absurd. The distance between you and Joel was no longer just emotional; it was physical, an ever-widening gap that neither of you seemed able to bridge.

"We'll wait a little longer," you said, wrapping an arm around Sarah's shoulders. "He'll be home soon."

Together, you stood in the hallway, the silence stretching out, heavy and oppressive. The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each one a reminder of the uncertainty that now defined your lives.

Sarah was thirteen; she wasn’t naïve when it came to your somber eyes growing gray with each passing day. How do your luminous smiles become a sad smirk just for the sake of pretending?

And as you waited, you couldn't help but wonder if the prophecy of your failed luck in love had been rewritten after all, not by God but by the slow, inevitable decay of a love that once seemed eternal.

The memory flooded back, a vibrant contrast to the present. It was a crisp autumn afternoon, the air filled with the scent of fallen leaves. You and Joel had decided to escape the city for a day, driving out to the countryside without any particular destination in mind.

“Where are we going?” you had asked, laughter in your voice as the wind whipped through the open car windows.

“Somewhere beautiful,” Joel replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You ended up at a secluded lake, its surface like glass reflecting the fiery colors of the trees surrounding it. Joel spread out a blanket, and you both sat down, your shoulders touching, sharing the warmth of the moment.

“This is perfect,” you whispered, leaning into him.

He turned to you, his face inches from yours. “You’re perfect,” he said softly before capturing your lips in a kiss that felt like the first rays of sunshine after a storm.

You spent the afternoon there, talking about everything and nothing, your conversations punctuated by comfortable silences filled with the sound of nature and the beating of your hearts. Joel picked up a pebble and skimmed it across the lake’s surface.

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over everything, Joel pulled out a small notebook from his jacket pocket. “I’ve been writing something,” he admitted, looking almost shy. “About us.”

You felt a lump in your throat as he read aloud, his deep voice weaving words of love and dreams of a future together. It was in that moment you realized just how deeply Joel had intertwined with your soul, making you believe in a forever you had always been skeptical of.

“Marry me someday,” he had said, not as a question but as a promise.

“Someday,” you had agreed, sealing it with a kiss that tasted of hope and endless possibilities.

That day, everything felt like a love story from a book, each written page filled with the promise that seemed far from the truth now.

You thought of God when you walked towards the church, seeking prayers and perhaps answers about the fate of your written story with Joel.

The voices were getting to your head, as were the flashbacks from the first night. Puzzle pieces on the dead end of a relationship reeking of putrefaction. You should've known better; flowers die of thirst after being picked.

You thought of the nights. Joel came home late—the missed dinners, the cold shoulders. Each instance is a small fracture, barely noticeable at first but gradually accumulating into a chasm. You thought of the way his kisses had lost their warmth, becoming mere pecks devoid of passion. You had tried to hold on, to rekindle the flame, but it was like trying to grasp water with your hands—it slipped through your fingers, elusive and unattainable.

Dolls are pretty inside their boxes, then they are taken out, played with, worn down, and eventually discarded. You felt like that doll, once cherished and now left on a shelf, gathering dust.

"God," you murmured, "if you can hear me, please show me what to do. Show me how to fix this, or give me the strength to let go."

But how would you resist his charming promises after he had stolen your wounded heart, fixed you, and made you feel like you belonged somewhere?

Once you reached the bench, you got on your knees, clasping your hands together, and prayed to the Lord. You begged him to give you answers.

Should I stay with Joel? Or should I take this knife to my lungs and remove it?

There was nothing more humiliating than begging God that somebody would love you the way you wanted. You have let people love you the way you thought you deserved.

Please

Your golden bracelet was fading into a scarlet maroon as you clasped your palms together, praying.

Please

You prayed, trying not to imagine Joel shoving his dick into some other woman.

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on you like a weight on your shoulders. But in that silence, you felt a flicker of something—hope, perhaps, or maybe just a sense of acceptance. You realized that, whether you found a way to mend your relationship or decided to walk away, you would survive. You would find a way to heal, even with your heart in pieces.

As you stood to leave, you took one last look at the altar, the candles still flickering stubbornly against the darkness. You walked out of the church with a little more resolve.

You wake up in the middle of the night. Joel is there, breathing with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You watch him for a moment, your heart aching with the memories of what used to be. Since when did you become a footnote in the story of his life?

Unable to find solace in the darkness, you slip out of bed, careful not to wake him. The floor is cool beneath your feet as you make your way downstairs, the house silent except for the faint creaks and groans of settling wood. You head to the kitchen, seeking the comfort of a warm cup of tea—something to soothe the restlessness gnawing at your soul.

You fill the kettle and set it on the stove, the soft click of the burner igniting the only sound breaking the stillness. As you wait for the water to boil, you lean against the counter, your thoughts drifting back to the early days with Joel, when love was a fire that warmed you both.

The kettle whistles, jolting you from your reverie. You pour the steaming water over a tea bag, and the fragrant aroma of chamomile rises to meet you. As you stir the tea, you hear the soft padding of footsteps behind you. Turning, you see Joel standing in the doorway, his eyes heavy with sleep.

“What’s wrong?” You asked with a clear intention behind those words.

“It’s cold,” he answered. "I missed your warmth," he added, his voice a low murmur that carries the weight of unspoken feelings. "It's cold without you."

You swallow hard, the words catching a lump in your throat. "I couldn't sleep," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just needed some tea.”

Joel steps closer, the dim light casting shadows on his face. "I know things have been... different lately. Distant. I don't want it to be like this."

Here it comes: another lie to cage you.

You look down at your tea, the steam swirling like confusion in your mind. You look down at your tea, the steam swirling like confusion in your mind.

“Do you love me?” you asked.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Of course I love you.” He assured you. “Life just got complicated, I guess. Work, responsibilities... but that's no excuse. I've let us drift apart, and I'm sorry."

You meet his eyes, searching for the truth in them. "I miss us," you admit, your voice breaking. "I miss what we had."

Joel reached out, his hand warm as it covered yours. Promising something without evoking words, as if his touch would be able to evoke the fire you used to feel when his hand touched your skin.

“You can go back to bed,” you said, breaking the suffocating silence settled between the two of you. “I’ll drink my tea first.”

Joel hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Okay," he said softly. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

You watched him walk back up the stairs, each step heavy with the weight of unspoken promises and unresolved tensions. The quiet in the kitchen seemed even more profound after he left. You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the tea seep into your hands, trying to find comfort in its simplicity.

The minutes stretched on as you sipped your tea, your thoughts swirling like the steam rising from the cup. When the tea was gone, you washed the cup and placed it on the counter, taking one last moment to collect yourself before heading back upstairs.

When you entered the bedroom, Joel was already lying on his side of the bed, his back to you. You slipped under the covers; the sheets cooled against your skin. You turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The silence felt different now—less oppressive and more like a blank canvas waiting to be filled.

You settled into your usual spot, leaving a small gap between you and Joel. But before you could close your eyes, you felt him shift. He turned towards you, his arms reaching out and wrapping around your middle. It was a tentative embrace, but it was the first sign of love he had shown you in a while.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the familiar warmth of his body against yours. You relaxed into his hold, feeling the weight of his arm around you and the steady beat of his heart against your back.

"I miss this," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the darkness.

You placed your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I miss it too," you replied softly.

In the quiet of the night, wrapped in Joel's arms, you felt a flicker of hope. The path to healing and rediscovering each other would be long, but in that moment, you both took a step towards it.

The next morning, you woke up feeling the absence of Joel's warmth beside you. The space where he had lain was cool, and the sheets were undisturbed. You rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, and sat up. As you looked around the room, you noticed Joel at the foot of the bed, quietly packing a suitcase.

A pang of confusion and worry shot through you. "Joel?" you called softly, your voice still heavy with sleep. "What's going on?"

Joel looked up, his expression a mix of guilt and resignation. "I'm leaving for the conference," he said, zipping up the suitcase with a firm pull.

Your heart sank. "What?" you asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "You didn't tell me you had a conference."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. I’m sorry. It came up last minute, and I didn't want to worry you."

"But you're just leaving now? Without saying anything until now?" The hurt in your voice was palpable, the sense of déjà vu from last night's conversation lingering in the air.

Joel's eyes softened with regret. "I should have told you sooner. I didn't handle it well. I'm going with my boss, and we'll be back in a few days."

Your mind raced, trying to process his words. "Going with your boss? Why didn't you tell me about this before?" You knew he was saying the truth, and you had come to the conclusion that all the affection he showed you last night was pretending to ease you.

He hesitated, the silence stretching uncomfortably. "It’s been hectic at work, and honestly, I didn't want to add more stress to everything."

You stood up, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield against the emotional chill. "We talked last night about making more time for each other, and now you're leaving without a word."

Joel stepped closer, reaching out to touch your arm. "I know, and I promise we'll talk more when I get back. I want to work on us, really."

You pulled back slightly, searching his eyes for sincerity. "I hope to be here for when you come back.”

"Don’t be like this, please," Joel replied, his voice tinged with regret. "I don't want to lose you, not after everything."

You forced a small smile, though it felt hollow. "Just be honest with me, Joel. About everything."

He nodded, his expression earnest. "I will. I promise."

With a heavy heart, you watched as Joel gathered his things and headed for the door. As it closed behind him, the emptiness of the house seemed to swallow you whole. You sank onto the couch, feeling lost and alone in the wake of his departure.

As the minutes stretched into hours, you found yourself unable to shake the nagging feeling of doubt that had settled in the pit of your stomach. Joel's sudden departure, coupled with his vague explanations, left you feeling unsettled and suspicious.

You paced the empty rooms of the house, your thoughts spiraling out of control. What if Joel wasn't really at a conference? What if he was with her and the secretary you knew had feelings for him?

The mere thought sent a surge of anger and betrayal coursing through you. You had noticed the way she looked at Joel and the way she always seemed to find excuses to be near him. And now, with Joel gone on this supposed trip, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

You grabbed your phone, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. Should you call him? Text him?

But before you could make a decision, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. The lack of sleep, coupled with the emotional turmoil of the morning, left you feeling drained and defeated.

You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. Tears threatened to spill over, but you fought to hold them back. You couldn't let yourself fall apart, not now.

As you sat on the couch, overwhelmed by exhaustion and emotion, a sudden surge of determination washed over you. You couldn't just sit there, stewing in your doubts and fears. You needed answers, and you needed them now.

With trembling hands, you grabbed your phone and quickly searched for Joel's location. Your heart pounded in your chest as the GPS map pinpointed his whereabouts—an upscale hotel here in the city, not at all where he had claimed to be.

The realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Joel wasn't at a conference. He was right here, in the same city as you, but he had lied to you.

You were someone who, until recently, he had shared secrets with, and now he was keeping them from you.

Despite the exhaustion and emotional turmoil, a fierce determination burned within you to confront him and demand answers.

With shaky hands, you dialed a taxi, your mind racing with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief. How could Joel, someone you had shared your deepest secrets with, now keep such a significant secret from you?

As you waited for the taxi to arrive, the minutes felt like hours, each passing second amplifying the turmoil within you. But you refused to let the uncertainty consume you. You needed to know the truth, even if it shattered the facade of your relationship.

Finally, the taxi pulled up outside your house, and you climbed inside, the anticipation building with every passing moment. The ride to the hotel felt interminable, the streets passing by in a blur as your thoughts swirled in a tempest of emotion.

When you arrived, you paid the fare and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the heat of your anger. The imposing facade of the hotel loomed before you, a silent witness to the unfolding drama of your life.

As you entered the lobby of the hotel, your heart raced with anticipation and anxiety. You couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at you, driving you forward with a relentless need for answers.

Just as you were about to approach the reception desk to inquire about Joel's room, your phone buzzed in your pocket. With trembling hands, you retrieved it, seeing Joel's name flashing on the screen.

For a moment, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over the answer button. But then, steeling yourself for whatever confrontation awaited you, you pressed accept.

"Hello?" you said, your voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within you.

"Hey, babe," Joel's voice came through the line, sounding casual and unconcerned. "Just checking in. How’s Sarah? How's your evening going?"

Your grip tightened on the phone, anger bubbling up inside you at his nonchalant tone. "She is good; everything is fine," you replied tersely. "Just fine."

Joel seemed oblivious to your tone as he continued to chatter about the conference, complaining about how boring it was and how tedious it was to spend time with his boss.

As he prattled on, your mind raced with conflicting emotions. On one hand, his words seemed to confirm his alibi—unless, of course, he was lying through his teeth. On the other hand, his casual dismissal of your concerns only fueled your suspicions.

When he finally paused to take a breath, you seized the opportunity to interject. "Joel, where are you right now?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and you held your breath, waiting for his response.

"I'm still at the conference," he said finally, his voice tinged with confusion. "Why? What's going on?"

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your composure. "I see," you said through gritted teeth. "Well, have fun at your conference, Joel. Goodbye."

As you sat in the lobby, the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity. Doubt gnawed at you, eating away at your resolve as you questioned whether you had been mistaken about Joel's whereabouts. Maybe he really was at the conference, and you were letting your suspicions get the better of you.

Just as you were about to give up and leave, your gaze drifted toward the entrance of the hotel. And there, walking through the doors, was Joel, his arm wrapped around the waist of his secretary, her laughter echoing in the cavernous lobby.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you watched them, your heart plummeting to the pit of your stomach. You felt like you had been punched in the gut, the air knocked out of your lungs as the truth stared you in the face.

Joel's eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, his face went white as if he had seen a ghost. You felt a surge of anger and betrayal wash over you, your knees threatening to give out beneath you.

As the truth of Joel's betrayal hit you like a freight train, panic seized hold of you, squeezing your chest in a vice-like grip. The world seemed to spin around you, and you struggled to catch your breath as waves of nausea washed over you.

One of the receptionists noticed your distress and hurried over to offer assistance. "Are you alright, miss? Can I help you?" they asked, their voice laced with concern.

You could only shake your head, unable to form coherent words as tears welled up in your eyes.

But before you could fully process what was happening, Joel appeared, his face etched with panic and concern. "Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" he exclaimed, rushing to your side and reaching out to steady you.

Your heart twisted at the sight of him, the betrayal stabbing at you like a knife. "Don't touch me," you choked out, recoiling from his touch as if it burned.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, unchecked and unbidden, as you struggled to find the words to convey the depth of your anguish. "How could you?" you whispered, your voice breaking with pain. "How could you do this to me?"

His eyes widened in realization, and for a moment, you saw the flicker of guilt and regret flash across his features. "I can explain," he began, but you couldn't bear to hear his excuses.

The pain was too raw and overwhelming, and you felt like you were drowning in a sea of hurt and confusion. With trembling limbs, you pushed yourself to your feet, shaking off Joel's attempts to console you as you stumbled towards the exit.

"I need to get out of here," you muttered, your voice hollow and distant as you fled from the scene of your heartbreak.

As you stumbled towards the exit, Joel's voice followed you, pleading and desperate. "Wait, please, just let me explain," he called out, his footsteps echoing in the empty lobby as he chased after you.

But you couldn't bear to listen to his excuses; you couldn't stand the sight of him after his betrayal. Anger bubbled up within you, a fierce fire burning away the remnants of the love you had once felt for him.

When you reached the cool night air outside, you turned to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. "Explain?" you spat, the word bitter on your tongue. "What could you possibly say to justify this?"

Joel's expression was a mask of guilt and regret as he reached out to touch your arm, but you jerked away from him, the sting of his betrayal still fresh in your mind. "I made a mistake," he began, his voice pleading. "I never meant to hurt you."

"You never meant to hurt me?" You scoffed, incredulous. "You lied to me, Joel. You betrayed my trust and our relationship. How could you think that wouldn't hurt me?"

He took a step closer, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I know I messed up, but please give me a chance to make it right. I love you, and I'll do whatever it takes to fix this."

But his words fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the roar of anger and pain that filled your mind. "I don't want to hear it," you spat. “I gave you six years of my life to you!” you sobbed. “Six years wasted on you, you fucking asshole!” you began to hit in the chest.

With a surge of emotion, you lashed out, your fists pounding against his chest with a force fueled by years of love and betrayal. Each blow was a release, a cathartic expression of the pain and anger that consumed you.

But even as you struck out at him, the tears streaming down your face, you knew that no amount of violence could erase the pain of his betrayal. And as Joel stood before you, his face contorted with remorse, you realized that the love you had once felt for him was now nothing more than a bitter memory.

With tears still staining your cheeks, you turned away from Joel, your heart heavy with the weight of his betrayal. Every step felt like a struggle as you made your way back home, the echoes of your confrontation with Joel still ringing in your ears.

As you entered the familiar surroundings of your home, you felt a sense of overwhelming exhaustion wash over you. But there was no time to rest, no respite from the storm of emotions raging within you.

With a heavy sigh, you began to gather your belongings, each item a painful reminder of the life you had built with Joel. Your hands trembled as you packed your clothes and personal effects, the tears flowing freely as you grappled with the reality of your shattered dreams.

In the midst of your turmoil, the sound of the door opening drew your attention, and you turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his face a mask of desperation and remorse. "Please, don't leave," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion. "I'm sorry; I'll do anything to make things right."

But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him; you couldn't bear to see the pain and betrayal reflected in his eyes. With a heavy heart, you turned away, focusing on the task at hand as you continued to pack your things.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Sarah standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

But before you could respond, Joel stepped forward, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "Sarah, we had a disagreement," he began, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'll do whatever it takes to make things right."

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain the situation to her, but you squared your shoulders and turned to face Joel and Sarah. "I'm leaving," you said, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions raging within you. "I need some time to figure things out, but I'll always be here for Sarah.”

With that, you gathered your belongings and made your way to the door, leaving behind the shattered remnants of the life you had once known. As you stepped out into the night, the weight of your decision hung heavy around you, but deep down, you knew that it was the only choice you could make.

As you stepped outside, the cool night air washed over you, but there was no relief from the turmoil raging within. Joel's footsteps echoed behind you, his desperate pleas falling on deaf ears as you continued to walk away.

"Please, just listen to me," Joel begged, his voice thick with emotion.

But you couldn't bear to hear his words; you couldn't stand the sight of him after his betrayal. With a surge of anger and frustration, you whirled around to face him, your hand connecting with his cheek in a sharp slap.

The sound of the slap echoed in the stillness of the night, a resounding declaration of your pain and betrayal. Joel staggered back, his hand flying to his stinging cheek as he stared at you in shock.

"How dare you?" You spat, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. "How dare you come after me, after what you've done?"

You turned away from Joel, refusing to let him see the depth of your pain. Without another word, you continued to walk away, leaving him standing alone in the darkness.

As you disappeared into the night, the sting of your slap still lingering on his cheek, Joel knew that he had lost you for good.

Your prayers have been answered by God.

[elecalice]

Cloudy Justice (Vic X Prosecutor Ito) Posting!

Okay. I'll admit it. I wanted to post my brainrot of my rareship, but I was kinda afraid? But then, with my self-esteem going from worst to SLOWLY recovering (long story) and seeing hub-bat's posts I said "Screw It".

I'll show my ideas for the Gay Prosecutor and Meteorologist couple!

Origin of the ship name

"Cloudy Justice" comes from the name of the trio between Yuika, Vic and Ito. "Cloudy Bombers" which is Vic's proposed name, and "The Justice Club" which is Ito's.

So, Cloudy Justice!

Why I think this couple is cute

This can be summarized with this:

Angry (Vic) x Sad/Calm (Ito)

Vic tried to get revenge due to being fired of his meterologist position during Mr. Weather's development. While Ito is a desilusioned lawyer who joined WWW trying to get a grasp of his utopic (unreachable) dream of a society without crime.

Vic is impulsive and Ito is calm. I imagine the next things. I ended making some scenarios.

Ito getting a depressive episode and Vic tries to lift him up. In fact, Vic helping Ito's mental state in general.

Vic being angry and Ito trying to calm him down. And maybe Ito apologizing to the person who's affected by Vic's attitude.

Vic defending Ito. Imagine Ito being bullied and called a nerd in a derogatory way, and Vic jumping to defending his nerd BF.

Vic would give Ito a lot of expressive demostrations of affection like hugs, kisses, carresing the other's hair... Vic will show NO shame in showing his affection towards his legally nerd BF. Even in public.

Ito prefers showing his affection towards Vic in more calm ways. Like making coffee or tea for each other, gifting him stuff. He prefers to kiss and hug Vic in private or whenever Ito feels comfortable.

These two are to support each other. Improving each other? Ehm... That's debatable and will depend from person to person, but it would be so fun to experiment.

Vic's a extrovert, Ito, I think he's more of a introvert.

Also. Maybe some angst can generate by each other's desires. Especially from Ito's side. He's a depressed doomer, a desilusioned idealist, after all.

The next point is more of a opinion. But.

Yuika ain't getting them

Not hating on Yuika. In fact I love her as a character and antagonist.

But I don't think she will get either Vic nor Ito. Because of her selfish attitude. She was trying to be a leader of the trio, being bratty and immature. Also, she's canonically 19, and Vic and Ito are probably in their mid-to-late 20s? Considering that both had jobs and have experience on those.

Also she tried to play victim in order to avoid being arrested by Chaud, throwing Vic and Ito under the bus. She failed, and I wouldn't be surprised that after this, Vic and Ito didn't talked to her since.

You do you. I'm done rambling about my rareship. I love these two idiots.

Okay?

Good.

Hope you like it.

_Elec

[ohnoa]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚...𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡

.☘︎ ݁˖ 𝐬𝐲𝐧. 𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 ᥫ᭡. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭. 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ༯ 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑫𝑵𝑰

...word count: 1.1k

...note from irene: don't ask.

nanami kento rests languidly on the edge of the bed, your back in his view as he graciously takes the mantle of an attentive husband.

“i literally can’t with you. you’re a natural at this stuff,” you huff, somewhere between a vent and a bout of praise that he found endearing nonetheless. he raises an eyebrow, albeit dazed by the hypnotic show of you being able to reach your own zipper - who’s a natural at what? you, who resumes your tirade with an obliviousness towards his wandering eyes, is a natural at enchanting him. your hair was blown out, almost reaching your shoulders in cloudy tufts - that had been the last mission of tonight, a hairstyle more laborious than the act of lifting weights. “you can easily get away with being stand-offish, which…i’m not saying you are but…”

he releases a soft chuckle, adjusting his cufflinks, “now, humor me for a second, my love. when have you ever seen me get defensive?” 

“huh?” you tilt your head in confusion eyeing him expectantly through your reflection as you secure your earring. 

“you don’t need to worry about insulting me, darling. i can take it. if you think i’m stand-offish, just say it.”

you briefly turn to face him, bestowing a histrionic look of indignation. “i wasn’t saying that! okay—” you raise your hands in surrender, “you are quite stoic. does that do you justice?”

he offers a hum, one of satisfaction, an invitation for you to continue to the point you had intended to make. and you do just that, bending over the vanity to apply your lip gloss as kento’s attention blithely averts to the curve of your ass. “so, yes. you could get away with what will earn me, at best, some auntie in the corner asking me if i’m okay like…please! i’m fine! i just wanna be left alone!” 

he chuckles along with you again, silently basking in your mirthful exchange… until he notices it. within seconds. the brief drag of hesitation as you began working on your hair. your makeshift puff remains put, arms raised for your hands to take the temporary role of a hair tie and…

…oh dear.

you were staring at your underarms again. in acute disdain. 

he needn’t say a word - this conundrum was as foreign to him as a blue sky. but you’ve only complained about it once, a main focus on the fruitlessness of your spending. all these regimens, remedies and receipts the length of the great wall of china for them to still be there - sizable splotches of pigmentation that you just can’t seem to get rid of, no matter how hard you try.

once, you’ve verbally lamented. 

but more than once, you’d been reluctant to don anything without sleeves, participate in anything remotely related to summer - and if you did, not lifting your arms was the war you were prepared to die in. and tonight, well, you’d had the misfortune of learning life’s indifference. the thin straps of your silky, cream white dress were well in torturing you with a reminder.

a click of the tongue bounces off the walls of your bedroom, and kento tries to think less about how your beauty terrifies him, opting to soothe you with his adeptness in subtlety. 

“darling,” he begins, standing to walk towards you, “i think you should wear your hair down.”

“hm, i think so too,” you smile warmly at him through your reflection, conducting his suggestion by letting go of your hair and instead opting to comb it out, “let’s just hope it doesn’t rain tonight. i honestly don’t get the appeal of outdoor parties.”

all that follows is a soft hum, one of admiration. truly, you are an angel sent from heaven. more than just the angelic glow of your skin under the vanity light, your smile - your soul - can account for that. he watches you, deftly pulling at your coils to maintain the perfect shape - watching you fruitlessly strive to perfect the one thing that has always been just that. you. perfect.

“what?” you meekly acknowledge his stare with a shy smile, halting your movements. 

“my love,” he drags, moving close enough for his hands to reach your hips. your attention moves away from your hair, prompting you to put your comb down and heed the sensation of his chest meeting your back. kento’s hands are calculated, a dexterous trace of your curves striving for a different kind of tenor - a lead from one thing to a delectable other. he moves his lips towards your ear, hazel eyes meeting yours through the mirror in a wordless declaration of unabashed desire. “you know that every inch of you is perfect, right?”

you shiver, at your best to conceal your want to reciprocate by scoffing playfully, “fancy, i’ve never pegged you for the corny type.” 

“i mean it,” he rejoins, ignoring your jest, softly kissing the shell of your ear before he performs the unexpected, a hand moving to gently grab your wrist, lifting your arm up above your head. “every…inch.”

oh. 

he really means it.

heat rises to your cheeks, noting how observant he had been towards your behavior earlier - this wasn’t new to you. you could stain a white shirt with pasta sauce and he’d counter your dismay by saying that it should’ve been there when you first bought it. he’d praise any part of you from head to toe. that realization had been made many moons ago. now, as all attention falls upon your exposed underarm, you forgo the need to protest, keeping your arm raised and resting your hand on the back of your husband’s head, fingertips blissfully pricked by the sharpness of his undercut. 

“mmm…every inch, you say?” you murmur with feigned cynicism, a grin rising as Kento’s hand gently slides down the tricep of your raised arm. 

“mhm…every…inch” your heartbeat is the toms of an acoustic drum set, as he reaches your underarm, lightly grazing the skin with his fingertips, prompting you to shiver at the ticklish sensation. “god, you’re breathtaking…”

he breathes it out like it’s the first time, and the sight before you is…sinful? a burlesque plays out in your reflection, a hand sensually caressing your hip whilst the other continues to draw reverent patterns on the area you’ve detested for eons. your husband, so fucking handsome, buries his face in crook of your neck, inspiring every last bit of your scent, and you still can’t help but huff in amusement, “hm, my black armpits were the ones to bring you to that revelation?”

“you amuse me, my love,” is the muffled, half dismissal towards your counter, followed by a kiss on your neck, “now, let me enjoy you.”

you giggle softly, meek at how your husband's brief praise towards your underarm has ever so slightly titillated you, “we’re gonna be late, you know…”

he perks up, privy to the suggestion you so dared to make, “if memory serves me correctly, it’s you who fails to see the appeal in these outdoor parties.”

[thecharacterchronicler]

District Girl (Part 3) || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader || Smut

Outline: Coriolanus meets you again and, as a bad thunderstorm approaches, you invite him to take shelter in your cabin…

Word count: 3’686

Warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, power imbalance, virgin female (implied) and rough explicit sex.

Author’s note: I tried to fulfill a request I received while sticking to the original idea I had for this part 3, so I hope whoever (anon) asked for it will be okay with this one being a bit rough. I promise I’ll try to write a much sweeter, more romantic, one shot of the reader losing her virginity to Coriolanus for you soon. Thanks for inspiring me with your request! 🖤 (Though I’m not sure I’ll know how to write sweet and romantic Coryo…)

((Part 1 )) - ((Part 2 ))

It had been cloudy since morning, causing the humidity in the air to rise above what Coriolanus usually deemed acceptable. It was still warm, even without a trace of sunshine, hidden behind menacing black clouds. Far in the distance, he could hear the distinctive roar of a thunderstorm approaching from the mountains, electricity almost palpable in the air.

Coriolanus didn’t enjoy sunny days either, mostly because he couldn’t get used to the uncomfortable climate of District 12, but standing between broken shacks, on a dirt road that would probably flood and turn into mud as soon as rain would start falling was a whole new kind of hell to him.

Hopefully, the party he was supposed to keep in check would end soon. It had barely started, with the two newlyweds couples returning from the justice building, gathering with their guests in a narrow space of grass between two cabins. Music was playing, but he didn’t like how wrong it sounded in his ears. People were joyfully chatting, trying to ignore the presence of peacekeepers nearby, watching them in search of an excuse to break out this gathering before it could turn sour because it somehow always turned sour in district 12… But maybe it would be the approaching storm that would put an end to the festivities first, allowing Coriolanus to go back to the barracks and have the rest of the afternoon to rest.

Standing tall, stoic, with a hand on his weapon, he watched the party unfold as some kids ran off to gather branches and burnt grass. He didn’t know the traditions for a wedding in this district but it sure seemed kind of pathetic to him. If it was his wedding, he would have made sure that it was a special day, he would have worn his best outfit and he would have made sure that his guests did too… Unlike most of the ones present today, still in their mining clothes and covered in dust. He also would have made sure that he had a proper venue where to celebrate his wedding, not a small patch of burnt grass near a row of sad cabins. And surely, he would have made sure that no storm was threatening to ruin it all.

“Hurry up or we won’t have enough time to get the fire going for the toasting.” You instructed a group of kids, as they placed a few fragile branches in your hands before running off again. You looked worried, your eyes on the black clouds in the horizon.

Coriolanus’ entire body reacted to your voice, briefly breaking his steady posture. He gazed at you, an irrepressible smirk appearing on his lips at the sight. You looked lovely. Even better than usual. Of course, you - out of all the other people - had had enough respect for the newlyweds to show up to their party wearing a nice and clean dress. The color brought out your eyes, making it all he could see for a moment. Until he lowered his gaze to your silhouette, noticing how it hugged and highlighted your lines and curves in the best way possible. It was as if the dress had been tailored for your body. Flawless.

Even if he wasn’t invited to the party and was instructed to keep his distances unless anything important occurred, he was happy to see you. He could watch you from where he kept guard, admire your beauty and make sure he memorized the contours of your body in that dress to entertain him later, when he’ll be alone in the showers. It wasn’t so bad after all.

The kids brought back another batch of branches to you and you placed them in a pile on the ground, taking a step back as a couple leaned down to light them on fire. All the guests applauded when red flames appeared, you included, as if lighting a fire was some kind of victory… Maybe it was after all, in such a humid climate.

A second couple did the same thing, starting a smaller fire next to the one slowly gaining strength and it pleased the guests just as much. Coriolanus held his breath when he saw you step up again, expecting you to follow suit on the odd tradition with a man that wouldn’t be him. You were dressed so nicely, your hair so beautifully arranged, that it finally occurred to him that it could be your wedding too.

No, he wouldn’t allow it. You were his. You had tasted him and he had tasted you, you knew each other intimately, you couldn’t belong to another man. Not anymore. Not when you could have him.

Instead of lighting a third fire, you handed both brides a loaf of bread and they proceeded to impale it on a branch, the grooms held it above the dancing flame and everyone watched as the bread slowly cooked. In the Capitol, cakes and desserts were served at weddings not… Toasts ?

He shook off his grimace of disgust. He wasn’t sure if it was because he kept being surprised by everyone’s lack of dignity in this district or if he was still slightly unsettled by the idea of you, marrying someone else.

A louder bang resounded through the street, bringing everyone’s attention to the mountains from which menacing clouds were quickly approaching. It was brief, everyone preffering to focus their attention back on the darkening bread held above the fire rather than on the weather, except for you. Coriolanus locked eyes with you, his heart strangely racing in his chest. He wanted you to notice him, but the possibility you might ignore him again, like you had a few days ago at the Hob, made him uneasy. He had showed you how good he could be to you. How lucky you should feel that you had somehow managed to catch his interest. But maybe you would provoke him again, just so that he could show you who you belong to once more.

A few very explicit images bloomed in his mind, he could be pretty creative when thinking about all the ways he could mark you as his. And as usual, it made him hard and desperate for attention.

But it seemed you weren’t going to need a reminder of his claim on you after all. You had stepped away from the party and were now walking in his direction, your pretty dress caressing the dirt road in the wake of your steps. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you grinned at him, as if you were happy to see him too.

“Are you keeping an eye on me, Coriolanus Snow ?” You asked him, playfully, stopping in front of him just slightly closer than what he would have expected.

His whole body buzzed at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. He had never told you so it must mean you had asked around about him. Maybe you had been obsessing over him as much as he obsessed over you, trying to find out who he was and how you could keep being the object of his desires.

“Always since I know how good you are at sneaking around.” He replied, with a grin. He didn’t know your name, but he would eventually. He simply couldn’t ask anyone about you, not when it might bring negative attention on him from his superiors. And what about his colleagues ? They might think that you’re an easy girl, or at least one who isn’t bothered by the peacekeepers’ uniforms and try to flirt with you - very much like Junius had - if they knew. It was better if he kept it that way for now, you’d be his little secret. “You look lovely in that dress.”

“Thank you.” You replied, seemingly a bit surprised by such a compliment. “My friends got married today.”

He nodded. That much he had gathered, even though wedding celebrations definitely looked nothing like the ones he had seen in The Capitol. He glanced to the sad party, where one couple was now eating their toasted piece of bread while others looked at them with emotion in their eyes. You followed his gaze back to where you came from.

“I’m sorry, I can’t invite you it wouldn’t be…” You started, but stopped yourself as he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, of course.” He finished for you, with a smile meant to reassure you that he had absolutely no desire to be invited to such events anyway.

A moment of silence went by, a bit awkwardly. He couldn’t force you on your knees and get you to suck him off right there, in front of everyone, even though there wasn’t anything he wanted more at this very moment and you couldn’t bring a peacekeeper back to the party with you, so you were both frozen with indecision, unsure of what else to do when you couldn’t put your hands - and mouths - on each other.

Despite daylight, an orange lightning illuminated the sky, fracturing the black clouds over your heads. A few seconds later, a loud bang resonated against the wooden walls of the nearby cabins, making the road under your feet tremble. Rain instantly poured down from the clouds, cold drops of water mixed with icy hail, piercing through the leaves of the trees and bouncing off of the roofs and ground.

Coriolanus left out a curse as the wedding party he was meant to keep in check dissolved, people hurrying in different directions to take shelter from the hail. If anything happened now, it would be his fault because he wouldn’t be able to tell if everyone went back to their cabins or if anything illegal took place afterwards…

You pulled him out of his thoughts by taking his hand in yours and guiding him to the nearest shack on the road, just as another lightning hit the ground, a lot closer than where the previous one did. You opened the door and pushed the peacekeeper in, closing it just as the roaring thunder reverberated through the street.

Coriolanus took in the modest house he was standing in, the few pieces of furniture and the broken window above the kitchen sink. It was about the size of his dormitory, but contained everything a house should, there even was a bed in the far corner of the room.

“You can stay here until the storm passes… If you want.” You suggested, the confidence you had been able to display during your previous encounters with him suddenly gone. Maybe because you felt awfully more vulnerable having him standing in your home rather than in a more public place. “Your clothes are wet, maybe I could hang them to dry ?”

A smirk appeared on his lips at your words and you smiled back at him, slightly blushing. He fixed his pale blue eyes on you as he slowly began unbuttoning his vest, you followed the movement of his fingers with eager eyes. He remembered how it felt when it wasn’t his buttons he was so deftly working on but you, pumping his finger deep inside the warmth his cock was so desperate to be buried in too.

He removed his vest, carefully placed his gun on the kitchen table and took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. He saw the way your eyes widened at the sight and liked how you couldn’t help but stare at his muscles, gaze lowering at the same speed your cheeks were gaining colors.

He opened his pants, lowered his underwear and left his erection proudly stand up from the fabric. He was hard for you, so hard it was almost unbearable, and you had barely done anything yet, apart from wearing a dress that hugged your silhouette and smile at him. It was kind of pathetic, how he probably could have come undone simply from closing his eyes and imagining his cum shooting out of his spent cock inside of you… Either buried deep in your wet pussy, either lodged down your throat while you gagged on his length, or even painting your face and chest with his cum again, the lovely sight it had been the first time still burned in his memory.

There were so many ways he wanted you. If he could have it his way, he’d probably lock you up in his dorm so that he could come back to you and fuck you mercilessly every time he felt the need to. Having you at his disposal would be such a relief for his cock - and hand. Maybe he’d finally manage to get you out of his mind if he could indulge in every fantasy he had about you, act out every scenario, test out everything he thought of, until he no longer had anything to think about to bring his cock to life at the most inconvenient times.

Although you seemed a bit more reserved this time, you still had the courage to reach behind your back to unzip your pretty dress, the fabric instantly falling and pooling around your feet.

Coriolanus’ blood changed course and flew to his already stretched cock, making it even harder and twitching with impatience. What a perfect sight you were, standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. It wasn’t a fancy set of lingerie like the girls from The Capitol usually wore but maybe it was because you weren’t a girl from The Capitol that he was so obsessed with you. You were a district girl, and he had never seen a body more beautiful than yours, even in plain underwear that didn’t even match. It was as if he had designed you himself, the shape of you perfectly tailored to his preferences, with curves and dips that drove him crazy and plump, soft, skin that haunted his sleepless nights. It left him unable to decide between his desires to ravage you or worship you.

He stepped forward and carefully pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders. He unclasped the hooks in your back, a bit less assured than he wanted you to believe he was and, once he was able to pull your bra off, he took a step back to admire your bare chest. Perfect.

He pressed a hand to your tender flesh, excitement buzzing in his veins when he felt the soft malleability of your breast. His hands weren’t calloused like the ones of the miners you probably knew, they were soft and delicate, a clear sign of his luckier upbringing.

He leaned down to place a kiss against your neck, just so he could press his body against yours, feel your heat, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. It was the most intimate he had ever been, with you and with anyone else. He couldn’t say he disliked how it felt, but it was also terrifying. He couldn’t let himself be too vulnerable with you, not when it risked leading to feelings he really didn’t want to have for a district girl like you. He already barely could manage how badly he wanted you, how much he thought about you, day and night… What if he fell in love now ? Surely, it would ruin his life.

No, there wouldn’t be any feelings, not on his side and not on yours either. It was just sex. Really good sex. But just that.

He didn’t have to be soft with you so that you’d like him, he could just take what he needed and give you what you wanted too and call it quits. Yeah, it was a good plan. Flawless even.

He pulled your panties down with a rough motion, taking you by surprise. You barely had time to kick the crumpled fabric off of your feet when he reached for the back of your knees, lifting you up into his arms with your legs closing around his hips for support.

He took a few steps until your back was pressed against the wall. Your face was so close to his, your wet lips making it so hard for him to resist kissing them with all the depth of his passion for you.

No feelings. He reminded himself.

He pushed his hips forward, his hard cock easily gliding through your arousal. You were so ready for him. Just like you had been the other day. And this time he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of being inside you. He pressed himself all the way up to your entrance, finding an unexpected resistance on the way. He heard your breath catch in your throat as he attempted to pass it, noticing the grimace on your face but since you didn’t ask him to stop, he kept trying to dive into the surprising tightness of your pussy.

He felt your hands clasping his shoulders for stability, your body writhing with discomfort at the invasion. He knew he was fairly big - bigger than the fingers he had put inside you at least - but he didn’t expect you to be so incredibly tight around him. The pressure of your walls clenching on him almost making him dizzy with the intensity of the pleasure it built in his abdomen.

Then, without a warning, you suddenly relaxed and your pussy seemed to swallow him whole, finally allowing him to fully bury himself inside of your wetness. He cursed at the sensation and you quietly cried out when he hit the deepest point possible.

You still felt tight, but you were finally giving him permission to move. He gently rocked himself, getting his cock to slide back and forth as a way to loosen you up. He was molding you to fit him. Him, and no one else.

No feelings.

He closed his eyes. He could come just from this but he wasn’t going to be selfish. Not when he wanted you to keep wanting him as much as he did. So he focused, keeping his movements slow and wide despite how fast and rough his brain urged him to go.

Suddenly, you came, digging your nails in his shoulders and whimpering against his neck, your pussy contracting around his cock, forcing him to stop his movements inside you again and stand completely still while you moaned in bliss. He was good at this, it was his second time making you reach your climax and it gave him an unreasonable amount of pride each time he achieved this. This time especially, had merely felt like work at all, you simply couldn’t take that many slow thrusts inside you. And now your cunt was contracting around him, trying to milk cum out of him like the only thing missing from your orgasm was a load of his release inside you. But he wasn’t going to give it to you, not yet. No matter how limp your body suddenly felt in his arms and how you cried out as soon as he resumed his thrusts, he was going to fuck you until he was satisfied this time.

He adjusted his grip on your body and carried you to the bed, lying you down and immediately placing himself on top of you, putting his dick back exactly where it belonged, buried deep inside you. His hands behind both of your knees, he held your legs against his hips as he pushed himself back and forth in you, on his knees while you were lying down with your head resting on your pillow. He could feel the pleasure bubbling inside him, demanding more to finally explode and allow him some relief. He was so desperate to finish, he needed to fill you up with his seed, make sure you would be his from now on. Hell, he wanted to spill everything he could inside you until he was bone dry and then, feed you every drop that might escape from your folds so that none of his release would go to waste.

He leaned forward, the weight of his body shifting and pressing yours deeper into the mattress. The bed was creaking loudly with each of his violent thrusts, menacing to break, while your cries of agonizing pleasure escaped through the broken window, mixing with the splatter of the heavy rain outside and the low rumble of thunder.

It wasnt so much the way he drove himself in and out of you, fast and without mercy, that pushed him off of the edge but the sight of you, gasping for air like you couldn’t take him anymore, crying out his name with half of your face buried in your pillow, your pretty lips forming a perfect oval as he finally groaned and released himself inside you, making you climax once more, in unison with him this time.

He filled you up, waiting until his cock was done twitching, the very last drops of cum dripping from his tip before he took it out. He needed to catch his breath now but the way you were still shaking with pleasure in front of him, beautiful as ever and claimed by him made his heart race.

Rain and hail crashed noisily on the roof of the cabin, covering the sound of your panting breaths, lightning illuminating the darkness that had filled the room every once in a while. He knew that his friends were probably waiting for him back at the barracks, that his superiors might start wondering where he was since he wasn’t on permission yet, but he couldn’t get himself to leave. Not yet. He had been dreaming, imagining, fantasizing about this moment for too long to cut it short. The way you had felt, how your body looked without any clothes on, your face when he poured his release inside you, everything had exceeded his expectations. You were truly perfect for him. And he no longer could resist kissing your lips, making sure you’d understand how obsessed he was with you.

No feelings.

[lilisgardensblog]

Getting ready for bed with Neuvillette~

SFW, fem reader, you two are a married couple, he's the sweetest,cutest and most loving husband

Monsieur Neuvillette always comes home after a trial in the late afternoon, putting on him usual serious expression. but it all fades the moment when he opens his door and sees his beautiful wife

"Ma chérie..." he sighs and hugs you from behind, burying his face in your neck. you can see the already cloudy sky turn dark grey as your husband tightens his embrace,pulling you closer

"bad day?" you ask, turning around in his arms so that you're now face to face. you cup his face and kiss his nose as the chief justice of Fontaine melts completely under your touch.

people always wondered how your married life is with the stoic chief, always asking if his cold or simply uninterested in you since it was an arranged marriage. but he was never one of those things, in fact he was the sweetest and warmest person you knew. he always made sure you're comfortable, always asking for your opinion and listening to your thoughts.

still in each other's arms, you whisper in his ear, not wanting to ruin the peaceful atmosphere "let's get ready for bed, amour" he looks at you before nodding and hand in hand you lead him into your matrimonial bedroom

he let's go of your hand, wanting to do his usual routine- change clothes and go on his side of the bed so he won't disturb you. but you had other plans tonight

you place your palm against his now rapidly beating heart and lock your gaze with his, as a little pinkish blush covered his cheeks

"let me help you" you suggest as your hands already travelled up to his shoulders and down his arms, taking off his jacket

Neuv hands found yours as you went further down his arm and he brought your knuckles up to his lips, placing a tender kiss making you blush at the sight of your husband being so affectionate

he released one of your hands only to place it on top of his head as he still held your other hand close to his heart

you took off his head accessory and placed it on the table near you as his hands found your waist and brought you up in bed

another one of your habits together was sitting together before bed, when you undo the hairstyle the melusines did that morning. you first started this habit when he came home soaked with his eyes puffy from crying. you were worried he'd catch a cold and after he changed in dry clothes you started working on his hair, trying it and combing it

he'd patiently sit waiting for you to remove the ribbon in his hair before turning around to grab you and cuddle you. he loves cuddling you, his face buried in your hair, your perfume intoxicating him, while he whispers you sweet nothings and slowly drifting to sleep

he's not a sleep talker but he sometimes mumbles in his sleep, whispering your name and adding every sweet thing he told you before he felt asleep

you'd ask the next morning what he dreamed about, but all he says is "you, mon amour" leaving your mind wondering about what kind of dream did he have

(tysm once again for the appreciation shown to my last work; sorry for any mistakes english is not my 1st language)

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ BLOODSTREAM ✦ NEUVILLETTE.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Neuvillette has always avoided you when he is in heat, more like ghosted you but not this time, not when you are knocking at his doorstep to take care of him.

+

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣fem!redaer, abo dynamic,heavy marking, nipple stimulation, blood k!nk, cockwarming, knotting, piv + unprotected, monsterfucking, mention of rut, oral acts, mild dub-con; 1k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |

There is a rustle of rumor amongst the people in Fontaine ever since you came to Fontaine in search of work, that Monsieur Neuvilette has a separate chamber, adjacent to his main office, where he spends his time when in a rut. Some people even say that he is just a pesky knockoff of god, inhuman, a puppet and so many more just because he enacts impartial judgment devoid of any feelings and emotions. But you begged to differ. They have not seen him closely like you. They have not seen him soaking himself wet when the sky weeps. They have not seen him when he is in your embrace. Like now.

Your fingers partly cover your face leaving room for the eyes as you inhale deeply, moaning and feeling a stinging pain inside your lower belly that makes you arch your head backward with a long inhaling moan. This is perhaps the fifth time he has made you cum and just by eating you out, surlping your juices and fingering your whole. You have lost track of it since every time you feel less sane, less human. As you gradually straighten your head again, accompanied by cloudy vision, shaky breaths, and sweaty skin you see Neuvillette licking the wounds on your supple skin. They are just love bites, you remind yourself feeling the sharp end of his fangs graze along your boobline. His tongue encircles around your pebbled nipple making you moan again. 

“Monsieur Neuvilette, Are you feeling better now?” you ask feeling his fangs sit along your boobline. He does not bite. He never does yet you find yourself crawling back to those evenings when he would keep you in his embrace, let his teeth touch your skin whenever he kisses you. He is cautious around you. You do not understand why he is like that even though there is no risk if he crosses the line more than that. Your relationship with the iudex is ambiguous at best, but those little moments always come back to haunt you. He has never fucked you before; sure there were intimate moments but never went to the point of sex. It is frustrating at times given he has confided so many things in you.

Neuvillette mouth pauses, hung open around your boob.He does not answer but rather poses a question.“Why did you come here again?” You recall having a need to visit him to submit some papers and also, to get some official papers signed by him. You wince as his tongue lapped over one of your wounds. “Remember. You asked for this.” He states before taking your nipple in his mouth, pulling it away by holding it with his lips. He is careful not to let his fangs touch, not to get swayed by desire. 

You do not deny any of it. It is true that you came to visit him during his rut when he strictly forbade you do so. Not only you but it is forbidden to visit him in his inner chambers for a certain time span once or twice in every month. Curiosity got the best of you, and the pressure of piles of papers had you totally forgotten about this rule. Breaking rule in Fontaine is not tolerated at any cost but perhaps once the chief justice regains himself he might punish you; maybe he is already doing it. 

“I know. I’m aware.” You exclaim and he holds you by your waist, curling his arms around them letting his eyes fall upon you. They seem to sparkle or maybe it is just the lightning. “I’m just a beta. There is nothing to worry about of we … if we.” 

Such a naive little thing you are. You stutter to say the very thing you wanna do. It makes his stone-cold heart warm. “You know nothing. But need not worry, I’ll give you a taste of it,” he whispers in your ears before focusing on what he was doing before. Your innocence tempts his desires so much. You try to laugh it off but then he says, “The rumours, they are not just rumours. Rumours grow when some of it is at least true, won’t you agree?” He arches you a little to align his cock with your entrance. You do not resist as he pushes his cock inside you.

The tip of his cock hits deep inside you as his knot starts to mature making you shut, tears pooling at the corner of them. His palms latched around your waist and they almost covered your whole waist now. His touch is cold, slippery, and wet. Neuvillette starts to make you bob up and down his cock as his cock grows inside you. The scales on his arms which you have so longed to see before were now slowly developing. He was transitioning. You want to see him but something blocks your eyes. It is not his hands, they are on your waist. A rumor that is shaping into a reality. 

You moan and whimper as you feel another orgasm approaching. You can feel his high emerging too but you can not see. Your eyes are wrapped with something but you can not focus on what it is because his cock is hitting your sweet spot with so much precision that all the pain you have endured so far is now becoming pleasurable. Hot spurs of liquid shoot inside of you while his fangs sink at the dip of your neck, biting and sucking your blood. You can feel it. The flow of your blood from your vein to his mouth. You can even hear him gulp. You think you are going to lose consciousness but you did not. 

You can see him now. His true form is in full glory. “You’re mine now.”  He exclaims letting his tongue clean the blood over your neck as he twirls and swings his tail. “It will take a while for me to get back to my human form. You can rest now.” he says, guiding your head along his nape as he keeps himself busy licking those two symmetrical wounds clean. It does not hurt, nor sting. Maybe it is him who is healing it.

[jube-art]

Would you...make more...JJ art? 🥺👉👈

sure! lmao :) a fic snippet under the cut!

Cassie breathes out, the fire inside of her makes it cloud up in the cold mountain air. She grounds herself, trying to think back on all that her Aunty Diana taught her, about containing her anger, about keeping things manageable and not lashing out at the people around her.

It’s not Cassies fault that anger runs in her family.

Deemed just a bit too ‘rough’ for the regular teen titans, she’s been given an address to go to for a team meet-up that would “fit her deposition” better.

(That the teen titans wouldn’t have a name attached too.)

It’s an old Justice League base, up here in upstate New York just outside of the Catskills and she’s just a little early. Not terribly early she doesn’t think, just about fifteen minutes from the official meeting time.

She knocks on the disguised door, the official teen titans stationary in her hands tell her exactly how to knock and where.

Sure enough, the rock wall opens up, creaking with disuse, yawning a gaping doorway into darkness.

“This is a bad idea.” She tells herself, the words make more of that cloudy air puff around her, but she moves forward into the dark anyway.

The first thing she sees is Nightwing.

Robin is here too, helping him with something just out of sight.

Involuntarily she relaxes a bit. Nobody doesn’t know who Nightwing is, he was the one who handed her the little piece of paper in the first place, telling her to come here. “Hello?”

“Oh!” Nightwing turns, shoving what he was working on down underneath the table. Robin keeps working. “Wondergirl! You’re a little early! Hello!”

Oh god. Did Cassie mess up? Should she have arrived on time? Damn it, mom, she should have left when she wanted to-!

“Welcome!” Nightwing instantly is all charming smiles and a brilliantly handsome face. He moves forward, leaving Robin to continue what he was doing. “I’m glad you decided to take a chance on this little project we wanted to start up.”

Cassie really didn’t have much of a choice did she? It was either this last ditch sort of reject project that she had no information on or it was ‘don’t be a hero’

“We’re just waiting on the other three to be ready.” Nightwing is still talking, still with that relaxed tone and smile. “They should be getting here soon. Do you want some water? We have cookies too-“

Robin jerks back. “Don’t bite me you little shit!”

Nightwing’s smile freezes on his face, awkward. “Ignore him. He’s getting one of the participants on board for this little subgroup.”

Cassie regrets everything. She’s gonna be working with somebody who bites? Who bites like a fucking child? Who is feral?!

Cassie’s all for fighting, all for war, but she’s also all for strategy, it’s in her blood. It’s apart of her power. She can’t deal with anything that’s little more than a feral beast-

Robin yanks around, bringing with him-

The boy is Cassie’s age. Black hair, a black mask over his eyes that can be nothing but one of Batman’s sort. He’s got a thick heavy and large cape on, black, going down to his ankles, pushing away from Robin with a sneer.

He’s sort of cute.

Pale face filled with freckles, thin and gaunt, a little taller than most boys Cassie’s age.

Is this- is this the new Robin?!

Cassie’s expectations of the group go way up.

“Hello?” Another voice comes from behind Cassie, causing her to turn and-

Oh my gods!

That’s! That’s Lex Luthor’s son! Dressed sharp in a form fitting leather jacket with skinny jeans and his signature thick sunglasses.

He’s got powers?!

“Ah! Superboy, so glad to see you-“

“I would rather not be called that.” The boy cuts off Nightwing, a sour expression on his face. “I would rather not be associated with that parent.”

Cassie’s mind is getting blown right now. What. What is going on?! Who is on this team?!

“Of course. I understand completely.” Nightwing’s still speaking for the bats. It looks like the older, still in the traditional uniform Robin is maneuvering the new guy to be front and center. “We’ll make a note of that going forward. Is there anything specific that you’d like to be called for now?”

The boy- superman’s son?!- just sort of looks sad now. Now that it’s been brought to attention, Cassie can’t see anybody but a younger version of Superman looking up from a punk’s face. “If I get one, I’ll let you know.”

The older Robin taps out some kind of pattern on Nightwing’s shoulder, and Nightwing taps one backwards onto Robin’s arm. They understand each other perfectly, as the older, traditional Robin goes ahead and leaves, headed to a side room with the label above it ‘Zeta’.

The new, strange, Robin (because who else is this?) sticks himself into Nightwing’s side.

The Superman … child (how?!) cocks his head at the behavior, the new Robin and him get into a weird stand off, eyes wide and unblinking. Creepy.

“Now we only have one more to wait on.” Nightwing tells the group at large. “Then after introductions we’ll discuss sort of what we have in mind for this group moving forward, and training both physically and mentally to help with both working as a team and working on handling what it takes to be a-

The concussive boom from outside makes Cassie’s ears pop. She winces at the sound, so does the kid of Superman

The bat’s both flinch, full body, jerking away physically from the noise.

The little new Robin way, way worse than Nightwing. Clinging onto Nightwing physically, off the ground and like a koala.

“That’s gonna be Impulse.” Nightwing sighs. “I thought Flash told me that they had stopped breaking the sound barrier-“

He sort of mumbles off, and the group waits a few beats in strange silence. When nothing happens for a bit, Nightwing actually reaches over to the command console and presses a button. “You have to go normal human speed, little dude.”

The group at large waits another second-

Like a flash, sure enough there’s two little wisps of a human being, one with red hair, one with blond. The two of them are wearing the same outfit, white and red, and are vibrating so hard that they are hard to get the details of.

Cassie can only see the chain that connects their wrists, tugging towards one or the other with every twitch.

It hits Cassie then, just how wild this is.

In the room right now is some powerful players, more powerful than Cassie was originally expecting when the teen titans had told her that with her … anger issues she might not be a good fit for the Titans name. Cassie expected to be thrown to the side, mad as hell, not put on a team that consisted of only power players. Batman, Superman, Flash, Wonder Woman, you couldn’t get bigger names.

And here they all sit, in some run down old base cave in New York, waiting to be told that they’re going to finally be a team.

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 02

✩°｡ ⋆ unholy matrimony

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, family drama, description of aggressive behavior

notes: somehow i just really love writing this. hope you enjoy this chapter!

series masterlist | next. the right husband

And so here comes the day of your wedding to Fushiguro Megumi.

The two of you stood before the shrine altar, surrounded by your extended families, as well as your clansmen, who were there to observe this union. You looked down at the white silk kimono you were wearing. The thought of being Megumi's wife was still surreal.

The sky was grey and cloudy too―just the perfect weather for some nice, depressing nuptials.

Megumi seemed to stand there with no expression, staring straight ahead, not really acknowledging what was happening despite the fact that this was his wedding. You wondered if he felt the same way you did.

At least he is a friend, you thought. Even if everyone here is against you, Megumi is in the same boat as you. The knowledge brought you comfort.

The priest stood at the altar, droning on about how your marriage was one of love and respect. Everything that proceeded afterwards became a blur―the purification rites, prayer, exchanging sake, wedding vows. Megumi was the one who recited the oath with clear voice, as your mind was tuning in and out, remembering the circumstances that had led you both here.

Have you done the right thing? By dragging a wholly innocent person into your mess?

You were having second thoughts about all of this right when you caught the sight of your mother, who was wiping her tear-streaked face at the forefront seat while watching you. And those doubts dissipated. Yeah, this is the right decision. Should you marry Naoya, you were sure as hell that he wouldn't allow you to see your mother ever again. Your father didn't really care which Zen'in you were marrying, and by dragging Megumi, you have dissolved your binding vow with him.

Everything should be fine and dandy now, isn't it?

You and Megumi had been asked to exchange rings as part of the ceremony. He stood there, staring down at the gold rings, and found his breathing to increase in intensity. He hated to admit it, but even though he found this whole ordeal tedious, he felt like he wouldn't do you justice if he fumbled this part. Your hand was soft and warm, and he tried ignoring the rush of emotions as he put the ring onto you.

His hand did hesitate for a brief moment though, wondering if he could just pull it back at the last second. You awkwardly slid the ring into his finger afterwards.

You are now husband and wife, as the priest said so.

With the ceremony over, came the reception party. Both of you took a seat at the main tables, surrounded by numerous guests.

You caught him stealing many glances at you throughout this ordeal, seemingly uncomfortable with being under the spotlight. Megumi was not one to show his emotions, but you could tell something was going on inside his head.

After a while, you excused yourself from the main table to the washroom, as greeting the well-wishers took out more of your energy than you initially thought.

“Well, if it isn’t the runaway wench.”

You stopped in your tracks as dread soaked you. Oh hells…

He flung his arms around your thick wedding garments and pulled you aside. You gave him the most offensive side eye. “Let go of me, Naoya.”

“Ah, don’t be like that, sister,” his tone was scathing, amused at how prickled you were. “We are family now, aren’t we? We should be cordial with each other.”

“No, we are not,” you gritted each word through your teeth. “You don’t get to do this on my wedding day, Zen’in Naoya.”

And suddenly his nails pierced the skin of your neck, and you gasped, almost letting out a yelp.

“You insolent whore!” he hissed in your right ear, and you really hoped no one would walk through this hallway anytime soon. “You think you can do this to me? Do you really think I won’t do anything but watch you and that bastard walk all over me?”

Of course you knew. Gojo Satoru had warned you. The very second Megumi put one foot in his ancestral home, Naoya would be after him, out for blood.

“Unhand me this instant,” you croaked out with steel. No, you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear. “Or I’ll shout. Even your clansmen won’t take it too kindly if you murder me in front of them.”

Naoya spat at you, letting go of his hold. You immediately shoved him away, tried to control your trembling form, and took the chance to run.

“Enjoy this while it lasts, you wench!” he taunted as your thundering steps resounded throughout the halls. You shut the door of the restroom with a bang, trying to collect your bearings. You were so terrified. Even when you were the most overlooked daughter in Hara family that you hated, no one has ever manhandled you like that.

You wiped the trickling blood from your neck and washed it with the running water. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you took a deep breath and swallowed it. You can’t. You have gone too far now. You have to see this to the very end.

When you got back to the reception hall, your mother caught you and pulled you into her arms. Her embrace felt warm, and you sighed against her, finally finding peace. “Mom…”

“Sena,” she breathed out. “Oh, my baby, you are really beautiful today…” she pulled back to caress your face, and then she whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry to put you in this position.”

You shook your head lightly, smiling at her. “No, don’t be, mom. It’s fine.”

“At least he seems to be a decent young man,” your mother dabbed her eyes with her kerchief, referring to Megumi who was sulking at his dais. “I’m still sorry, but at least I can rest easy, knowing that your husband isn’t someone who would treat you badly.”

Almost, you thought with a sigh, shuddering at the remainder of Naoya's hold against you earlier. Once again, this reminded you that you have made the right choice. Whatever it was that Naoya had planned, it was a problem for another chapter.

“Now I can visit you every time I want, mom,” you said heartily. “Father can’t get in the way between us anymore. We’re free.”

She shot you a scolding look. “You silly girl, you don’t have to focus on that. Even if he tried again, I would crawl my way back to see you.” You almost didn’t want to let go of her hand, as she finally untangled them from your hair. “Now go back to your husband. Poor him, I think he’s having a hard time there.”

Your mother was right. Megumi really seemed to be struggling with the inquiries of people who surrounded him. Reluctantly, you went back to your place at his side, and politely answered their queries.

Megumi was slightly relieved. With you back, he didn't have to speak as much. Soon it was time for the guests to have a chance to pour you drinks. A troublesome tradition, he sighed to himself.

"Honestly, it's the first time I've heard of her," an elderly woman said in a thoughtful manner behind the first line of crowd surrounding the two of you. "And doesn't Hara clan only have three daughters? Aren't all of them married already?"

"Hush, auntie!" the woman beside her rebuked in a whisper. "She's not the daughter from the main wife."

"Oh, really? A lesser daughter... How come she got the Zen'in with the Ten Shadows?"

Megumi blinked, the sake felt bad as it burned his throat. Did these guests just slight you right in front of your face? He found himself glancing at you to see your reaction.

But you kept smiling, tending to each praise of your grace and sipping the drink with positive attitude. You either paid those whispers no mind or just didn't hear it altogether. And as he wondered, he noticed the bruise on your neck.

He was sure that wasn't present up until just now.

When those two women who gossiped about you finally got the chance to pour you the drinks, Megumi suddenly felt the unbearable impulse to blurt this out. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about my wife like that."

You were surprised. The two women were too. As they bowed in apology, you threw him a small smile―a silent thank you. He averted his gaze, ignoring the blush on his face.

And soon, it was Naoya's turn. He looked unpleasant and had this sneer on his face that made Megumi uncomfortable. But when he saw you tense and shrink back in alarm, he immediately connected the dots.

"Should I say it?" the elder Zen'in murmured with a low cackle, concealing it through the trickling sound of the sake he poured into his cup. "Why a bastard daughter can marry into my clan―because she is lucky to be legitimatized by her sorry excuse of a father.”

At this point, you really didn’t care a whit about what Naoya said—you just wanted him to leave. But Megumi took offense, clenching his jaw. "If you disrespect her one more time―"

"What? What can another bastard like you do, huh?" he challenged.

Megumi was this close to flipping this stupid table of drinks before him when Zen'in Naobito took a hold of Naoya's shoulder, silently admonishing him. Naoya grumbled under his breath and moved away in disgust.

"Well, that's that," Megumi grunted as the last person went back. There were murmurs among the guests, perhaps talking about your status or Naoya’s antics just now. He looked at you again, suddenly finding the atmosphere quite oppressing. "Should we go now? It isn't like we're bound to drink through the night anyway. I hate alcohol."

"Sure," you snorted quietly. Both of you moved away from the main table. For appearance's sake, his hand gripped yours―and he was taken aback by how clammy it was.

Many things ran through his mind, but one thing he knew was that he didn't like this at all.

"Did Naoya do that to you?" he released his grip as soon as you were secluded away in the gardens. His dark eyes seemed to gleam with something as he had a good look at your neck.

You let out a resigned sigh. "I’m alright. Please don't make a big deal out of this."

"Sena, if I see something like this again, I won't stay quiet, you understand?" He would take matters into his own hands. What in actual hell is this? Why should their lives be haunted by Zen'in Naoya in the background?

The very idea made him angry.

"Don't think about it that hard," you rebuked with a grin. You wanted to lighten things up really, with all that had happened during the course of today. "So we're friends already, eh? You’re concerned about me.”

He threw you a look. "I suppose we can call each other friends for today."

"Not just today. From now on. Because you're the only one I can trust now, amongst people with agendas within our clans."

It wasn't your intention to say that. Maybe the many cups they poured you loosened your tongue.

"You really trust me?" Megumi asked, amused, his arms folding across his hakama.

"Out of those Zen'in who see me as vile and people in my clan who clap their hands as they ship me away?” you squinted, sighing. “Yes.”

He barked a satire laugh. If he had doubted it before, then after tonight he was certain that this marriage thing with you was indeed doable. "Well, good, because I don't not trust you either."

Both of you were getting somewhere, and you could feel it. Your wedding day might not go as smooth as either of you wanted, but you couldn’t care less about that. As you walked in the same tempo with him, you shared a laugh and company.

"Don't you hear what they were saying earlier? They told me to have your child as soon as possible."

"Huh? We haven't even been married for a day and they're already pushing us to have a child?"

"They mostly whispered it to me. It's incessant."

It isn't so bad, each of you thought to yourselves, unaware of what life has got in store for this marriage that had started with duty, lies and betrayal.

next : the right husband

🏷️ taglist

@moonmalice @hellothere9597 @qtnfer @firstplaidpeachnickel @waddlingwanderer @chilichopsticks @satorus-slut

[b1mbodoll]

i dont know why hybrid breeders thought it was a perfect idea to put bunny!you in a cage with wolf!nicho (＞人＜;) he so obviously could break you to pieces but instead he likes to play with you! pulling on your ears and flicking your tail :( it's enough to make you whine everytime but he doesn't care !!!! and eventually when his heat comes, you can tell bcs hes twice as mean when teasing you, pushing you down and lifting your ass up so he could "play with you like normal" but the whole time his hybrid cock is running against your pussy TT n when you get really fussy it gets hard not to fill you all the way up completely (non con) ★★★ literally theres no way you're getting out of his hold! you can cry and try to push him away but hes 10x stronger than you and his heat makes him soooo hot all he can think abt is making your tummy swell up with his pups! (so unrealistic but i know you're into it but imagine him fucking his knot into you so deep it starts pooling out your mouth and your eyes are rolled back and u cant do anything but feel it completely)

love 🎀 anonie!

pairings: nicholas wang x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + inflation + knotting + breeding + blood + noncon + jealousy + a/b/o dynamics + drool + daddy kink + subspace + inflation

💌: i had to prio this bc its so dreamy like 😵‍💫 u included a lot of my fave kinks n tropes n im so thankful i love u so much for swndinf this my way idk how much i can add on bc its lrtrly perfect but i hope i do it justice !

the first time you and nicho r forced into the same cramped cage your heart was racing and ur tail was twitching so bad :( your reaction tugged at nicho’s heartstrings but the lust he felt was overpowering any bit of sympathy. he’s not a complete monster so he doesn’t take your virginity immediately. instead the wolfboy satiates his sick need to torment you by tugging at your loppy ears and mouthing at your cotton tail, strings of saliva coat the entire thing n pool at your asshole.

he doesn’t go any further yet, has to get you used to the “tame” stuff before he can fuck you raw. tries to hold back for as long as he can but the closer he gets to his rut, the less self control he has n it’s your fault he’s got his teeth planted on your shoulder as he slips his cockhead inside. “your pussy is so tiny, bunny,” he murmers, words slightly slurred from the drool escaping him, “gonna fuckin’ tear you apart.”

before he’s able to fill you up completely, nicho’s needed in the breeding room n your handler lets you out into the gated pasture, doing their best to keep you two in seperate enclosures from that moment on.

it’s been a week since your caging situation was sorted n the wolfboy is lucky if he catches a glimpse of you through a fence. words cant describe how furious nicholas is, snarling at the sight of bunny hybrid! euijoo cuddling up to you under a tree wishing he could scare the male into submitting to him n prove to you that he’s the prime mating choice.

it’s not long before your luck runs out and wolf! nicholas corners you after your caretakers have gone to bed. he’s so large and intimidating and his cold stare makes your legs shake with fear. the silence is deafening and he breaks it by asking to play, the question making your blood run cold because in his world, “playing” means letting him grope you n leave bloody lovebites across your chest. he doesn’t bother waiting for a reply because no matter how much you refuse he’s not gonna leave you alone. he needs to touch you.

nicho decides to go about toying with you differently this time. has to put you in your place n get it through your head that you nd your bunnycunt belong to him! snarls when he gets a whiff of euijoo’s scent, “present f’me, slut” he demands and the need to obey is so strong. has you opening your legs immediately, small hands spreading your hole open to expose your pussy. he groans at the sight and his mind becomes cloudy due to his impending rut, cant take the time to prep your cunt for his huge cock so he just opts to get it over with and makes you take his entire length in one go. “knew you’d feel good ‘round my cock,” his voice is thick, “gonna make you have my pups, bun.” more filthy words are directed to you n they have you keening, fucking yourself on his cock faster n faster.

it’s easy to slip into a submissive headspace, the feeling of his balls slapping your clit and knot beginning to inflate are overwhelmingly delicious leaving you no choice but to beg. “pleasepleaseplease cum, alpha! need your knot so bad i hafta make you a daddy!” nicholas fucking howls when his seed shoots directly into your womb and it makes your eyes cross. even after his knot reaches its full size he continues grinding his cock into you, cum getting pushed so deep inside it spills out of your open mouth n trickles down your chin. he’s too far gone and can’t stand the sight of his semen dripping out, cups your jaw with his hands n covers your mouth, makin you choke on the creamy fluid <3