#I am putting the triggers if the fics
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You read Ripples? I was disgusted by it
Timoteo and Iemitsu are disgusting and I am glad Tsuna wasn't born a girl
Begin a girl of Vongola blood would be hell
Just ask Sawada Natsuki and Sawada Chiyohime
They immendiately view anyone of blood as their property
Trying to make a 'deal' that don't benefit her at all? What even as that?
And genuine think she won't kill them? That they would be what? Her advisors? She clearly isnt their weak and moldable Tsuna, she would kick them out the moment she could or kill them, for real
Again, Enemy on the Throne
I need to make this a tag
Those people are dumb
And so is Tsuna (sorry)
#tw rape#trigger warning#katekyo hitman reborn#khr#I am putting the triggers if the fics#forced marriage#Maybe thats the reason I am on Alicent's side on the Team Green vs Team Black war
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If this scene shows me Medic Eddie tending Bucks wounds whilst standing between his legs - I will promptly expire
#the tenderness and intimacy of tending wounds whilst standing between Bucks legs#eddie getting to be a care giver in an intimate and vulnerable way#the way Buck would let Eddie - would be vulnerable in that way with him#(even with his boyfriend there)#it would definitely be a way to trigger a Buck feelings realisation#and put things into flux and bring change#not to mention the fact I would melt at the fact it would be fan fic come to life#the potential way it parallels the way Tommy treated Eddies injury v Bucks#the way Tommy is distant with Buck but was intimate with Eddie - the play on Tommy pursuing Eddie first and switching to Buck later#the call back to their first kiss (Buck is in a similar spot and tommy is too - and likely wearing the same colour ways as that scene)#the way it creates this interestingly tangled knotty web - that Buck is unpicking and figuring things out#hmmmm I am intrigued!#but I will die if it actually happens and be screaming soooo loudly!#911 spoilers#eddie diaz#evan buckley#911 abc#buddie#anti tommy kinard#anti bucktommy
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Aventurine x reader
You die.
─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───
TW: DEATH, heavy angst, gore, blood, kind of disturbing, a bomb explodes, derealisation/disassociation, graphic, I'll be so honest this fic is kind of fucked up
Lmk if I should add any more specific warnings!
If you're sensitive to violence and dark themes, you probably shouldn't read this.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
This mission had gone terribly awry.
It was only meant to be a routine checkup. The IPC was planning on allocating resources from this planet, something the locals had not been pleased about. Aventurine understood. He would not be particularly happy to have his planet drained of all that made it worthwhile either. (He had not been happy. But all things considered, he thought he was being generous. Nobody was being directly killed, the IPC merely wanted a cut of the many materials the planet offered. The Avgins on Sigonia had all been very intentionally exterminated. He was not doing that to these people.)
Still, he couldn’t afford to take risks, hence the many IPC assigned bodyguards he had brought along. Deals like this, where the clients were undeniably on the losing end, were bound to go wrong in one way or another. Often violently so.
He just had not expected the bombs. He had not expected the mass amounts of guns. The people were more capable and vengeful than he had assumed, then. Ultimately, it was his own fault.
Most of his goons were dead. Most of the government officials were dead too. It made sense they’d want to go out in such a loud and proud way. A declaration to their people they wouldn’t lay flat before the otherworldly corporation that had come to essentially take away what made their planet their home. Bold to be ready to kill so many of their own, but he could respect it.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be very angry. It was fair, all things considered. He’d had this long coming; being killed by the people whose lives he was ruining. In their positions, he’d love to kill him, too. The only issue was that this hadn’t happened under normal circumstances.
No, you were with him. You’d been just a bit away from him when they opened fire, when they set off the bomb.
It was so stupid. It was so, so unbelievably stupid that he’d let you come with. It was your job, yes, but he should have reassigned you to some other mission. Something safer. Something that didn’t involve visiting planets to drain them of all their worth. Something that didn’t bring about rage from the clients.
He could see you. He’d been saved from the brunt of the impact, and his luck had once again protected him from serious harm. He had only been slightly grazed by a bullet, had only been slightly burned by the heat of the explosion. Nothing serious. Nothing he couldn’t walk off within a week or two. You had not been so lucky.
Your arm was outstretched over your head, body lying limply on the floor. Missing the other arm. There was only a gaping, red hole where it had once been attached to your body, a little bit of bone sticking out of the gory mess. The blown off hand with your engagement ring lay close enough to him that he could touch it. Maybe intertwine his fingers with it for the last time. The pinky was missing.
He pushed himself onto his feet on unsteady legs. He could barely feel his own body at all. One glance down at it told him he’d been right in his initial assumption, though. No parts of him were missing. He was intact.
He stumbled over to where you lay, your expression calm, almost peaceful. No pained pinch between your brows, no worried frown on your lips. Were you unconscious, or were you dead? Though he knew it was unlikely you’d leave this place alive either way, he hoped desperately for the former.
He fell to his knees next to you. Something was buzzing beneath his skin. Something was buzzing in his vision. Had the world always been so blurry? Had there always been such a loud noise ringing in his ears? His hands trembled as he carefully reached out, a hand tenderly cupping your cheek. Your face was red, slightly burnt in places. Your hair was singed. You felt hot to the touch.
No, not hot. Warm. Warm as in alive. He couldn’t hear you breathing, but warmth meant life. Warmth meant life. You were alive, surely.
He brushed his thumb under your eye. Tried to find something to say, but he found his mouth refused to open. Carefully, so carefully, he shifted you onto his lap. He stared at the dust from all the debris that had settled onto you. He couldn’t breathe.
(He thought back to a time when the dust had been sand. He thought back to the red that had painted the ground then as it did now. He thought back to another body he had pulled closer, with hands much smaller and weaker than the ones he had now. He thought back to the taste of salt as tears fell in an endless stream from his eyes to cover his face and hers.)
He moved his free hand to your neck, gently pressing a finger to where he knew he was supposed to find your pulse. It wasn’t there, but only because he wasn’t searching hard enough. He carefully felt around, and though he couldn’t find it, he knew it was still there. He just didn’t dare press down hard enough to find it. The same applied when he felt your wrist. He was just bad at finding things today.
(He stupidly hadn’t found a good enough reason to put you out of this mission. He stupidly hadn’t found anything that happened before the explosion suspicious enough to leave early. He stupidly hadn’t found his way next to you quickly enough to save your life.)
When his hand landed on your chest, absent of a heartbeat, tears started falling from his eyes. But why was that? You weren’t dead. In fact, the longer he looked at you, the more sure he became this couldn’t be you. Your skin wasn’t this hot. Your arms were both still attached. You did not have fresh burns covering your face. Most importantly, you were alive. Alive and well and happy and safe from this little mishap. He had misremembered, you had stayed home during this mission. The hand he’d been so sure belonged to you had been someone else’s, he’d merely mistaken the ring for yours. It was such a bland ring, after all. He’d have to buy you a new, much prettier one once he came home to you, and apologise for his oversight in giving you such a boring design.
He ignored the repeated whispers of ‘not again, not again’ going through his head. Nothing was happening ‘again’. This was not Sigonia. This was not a person he loved, or even knew. He couldn’t understand why his body curled over the stranger’s, sobs wracking his frame as he pulled them close, soft apologies tumbling from his mouth. He nuzzled his face into your- their hair, hand carefully cradling the back of their head as the other supported their back.
The body smelled like you. The body felt too similar to yours in his arms. The body had your face, even if your features were a little damaged. The longer he stared, the more he could feel his gut sinking. So he shut his eyes and reminded himself that there was no possible way this was you. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t. The universe would not be that cruel to him, would it?
Then again, maybe he had deserved this. If it was real. He was not a good man. He had not come to this planet with good intentions. Losing the thing most precious to him, the only thing precious to him, after taking away so much from so many others was a befitting punishment.
But you hadn’t deserved this. Wouldn’t have, if it was real. You were so kind and generous and perfect and lovely, so different from him, so different from the position your job wanted you to be. You didn’t deserve to die.
Die. Dead.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
You were dead.
(Aventurine had seen so much death in his life. He should have been used to it by now. He was used to it. He had just forgotten how much it hurt when it is someone he loves.)
He held you tighter. If he held you tightly enough, could it piece you back together? If he held you tightly enough, could he replace the parts of you that were missing with his own? The sobs that escaped his lungs were violent, and quickly, some morphing into gagging. He felt sick. He had to turn himself away from you briefly to throw up, not wanting to soil what was left of you further, before he desperately held you again. Would it be the last time he held you?
Maybe if he took you back to the ship quickly enough, something of you could be salvaged. Maybe he couldn’t piece you back together, but he could find someone who would. There had to be something he could do. This couldn’t be it. He couldn’t lose like this again.
He could barely stand. His body was already weak and your added dead weight made it even harder to balance. He picked up the parts of you strewn about on the ground he could quickly spot. Your hand, your shoulder, what he thought might be your bicep. He couldn’t find your forearm and he didn’t have time to properly search for it. Maybe someone could put all of you back together? Maybe you’d be whole again. He wanted you to be whole again.
(He couldn’t save his people. He couldn’t save his mother. He couldn’t save his sister.)
(But things had to be different now, surely. He was a different person now. He had power, he had wealth, he had everything. What would it all be good for, if he couldn’t save you?)
Other IPC personnel met him outside the building as he stumbled out, and Aventurine’s mind was so hazy he couldn’t make sense of anything that was happening. He was pretty sure his own, now dead, workers had sent a distress signal. People rushed in to find anyone else from the wreckage. After, Aventurine found out he was the sole survivor. (He always was.)
(You had not survived.)
He demanded you be taken into surgery. That the medical staff on board had to get you to breathe again. For some reason, they had been hesitant. He threatened to have them fired or killed if they didn’t get to it. He set you as first priority, putting the best doctors they had on hand to work on you.
They sewed you back together as best as possible at his insistence. They got your heart pumping blood again, they hooked you up to machines and forced your lungs to breathe. The surgery lasted for four hours.
It did not change the flatline on the screen signalling your brain activity.
He could find the best doctors in the whole galaxy, but he already knew the line would remain flat. Nothing was bringing that back.
He stared at you for hours after your surgery. Interlaced his fingers with yours, feeling the artificial warmth of your hand. It did not feel like you. The temperature was wrong. The look on your face was wrong. Your body was wrong. Everything about what remained of you was wrong.
He eventually laid his head on your chest, and then he cried.
He cried until the black spots in his vision grew so numerous he could no longer see, until everything faded and he could no longer hear the beeping and humming of the machines keeping you hollowly alive.
(Why did he ever let himself love again?)
─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───
Sorry that was messy I wrote everything today because I am con-crunching tomorrow and won't be available for like at least 3 days after this (usually I write over the span of multiple days so I can re-read for grammatical/spelling errors and so my language will be a little more varied + I get fresh ideas). Sorry this fic was ?? kind of messed up ??? I think ??? I think my perception of what's messed up and not is kind of weird (I grew up on warrior cats HELP.) so to me it didn't feel that fucked up to write about Aventurine literally picking up your body parts after you died but I've realised upon mentally summarising that part of the fic that maybe that was kinda horrific. Just a glimpse into my twisted mind heh 😈.... sorry
My inbox is open, feel free to send in asks or requests, I'd love to ramble about things <3
#[rawbin]#[aventurine]#[by me]#[rawbin fanfic]#aventurine x reader#Idk what to say about this idk what trigger warnings I am supposed to put in the tags bro#idk if I portrayed his reaction the way I wanted to. I wanted it to come across more clearly that he was so devastated he couldn't even -#-comprehend this really was happening at the same time as he was slowly being hit by the realisation that this was in fact happening#Can't stop making him suffer sorry bro#Hope I got it across he's kind of a bad person also. In my previous fics I feel like it comes across a bit as if he's needlessly blaming -#-himself for being a monster. Want to make it clear he is actually on the mark and IS actually kind of a monster !#(hence why he's kind of flippant about taking resources away from a whole ass planet.)#(Remember when he basically scolded Topaz for not like colonising Jarilo IV ?😭)#I probably have more to say but I'm tired so erm bye#aventurine honkai star rail#aventurine hsr#aventurine star rail#hsr aventurine#reader x aventurine#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#reader insert#aventurine#star rail aventurine#death#tw death#angst#heavy angst
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Brain Chemistry = INFLUENCED Your Feelings = IN DANGER
When @kyokokusakabe is whispering ideas in your ear ft. @snobithesnorunt screaming "I LIKED THE WAR BETTER" in the background
#I AM CACKLING LIKE A MADMAN#SWORE UP AND DOWN I'D NEVER PULL THIS TRIGGER BUT I HAD A MOTIVATION BLOCK AND KYOKO JUST#PUT A GUN IN MY HAND#WAR IS OVER WE TEAMING UP NOW#ALSO#MY N KEY IS BROKEN AGAIN HELP LOOOOL IM FURIOUSLY TYPING#WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PITCHFORKS#I CAN SM ELL EM#AHAHAHHAHA#my fics#dipplinshipping#kieran pokemon#kieran x juliana pokemon#juliana x kieran pokemon#kieran x juliana#juliana x kieran#juliana pokemon#the friend group#we joined forces wHAT A TIMELINE#taylor swift didnt even release ttpd yet I am not even at my full power but#GOD THE FUN WTH THIS SUBPLOT IS SO BEYOND INCREDIBLE#you coulda had something sweet#YOU COULDA#BUT YOU VOTED DIFFERENTLY ON THE POLL#ITS ALL YOUR FAULTS
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got my finger on her trigger
“You promise this won't make it weird?” Jo asks slowly. She knows the whole ‘gay woman falls in love with her straight friend’ trope is something that happens, sometimes. She doesn't want to put Nate in that position. Nate's mouth curls into a grin. “That won't be a problem on my end, honey.”
Jo gets broken up with by her shitty boyfriend. Nate makes her feel better. (Or: The fic where dirtbag lesbian Nate fucks her straight bestie Jo)
(click here to read)
possibly part of a series but I'm only one woman with a metric fuckton of WIPs and ideas, so who knows! pretty sure @droumack would kill me if I don't eventually post a sequel tho
#natejo#hockey rpf#fic updates#fic: finger on her trigger#mean dyke nate came to me in a dream and told me to write this#also ftr i am putting straight in HEAVY quotes
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does anyone want a depression banger fic
#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschstein x reader#jean kirstein#jean kirstein x you#lmao i am. Not Okay.#ill have to put so many trigger warnings on this fic. insane.#anyway!#fireflys rambles
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@ people running various ship tournaments on here: you know that if you hate reylo, you can choose not to include it right
#tumblr has thrown me so many brackets with people shitting on reylo but still putting it in and like ???#i get it everyone wants to be the ao3 fic where rey throws kylo in the trash whatever#i am just continually astounded that the most vanilla enemies to lovers ship out there triggers THIS level of rage in people#*three years after the movies finished*
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wow!!! nothing better than watching your AO3 subscribers stat go down every time you post a new chapter of your current fic!!!
#/sarcastic btw. i am. Not happy about this recent development#Seven.txt#writing stuff#ao3#like. don't get me wrong i do understand why and i can't fault anyone and i'm not like.. Mad. but it does hurt a lil#but alas. tis the nature of creating and posting things. not everything's gonna be received well and that's fine#it does suck to see a fic i put so much time and effort and love and part of myself into flopping so hard#not because i wrote it for anyone's sake other than my own#but i'd be lying if i said i didn't want people to enjoy the things i create. that's like. a normal and common desire#and i think i maybe killed it before it could get going with how i tagged it and the bigass disclaimer at the beginning#i think those turn a lot of ppl off that might otherwise read and maybe even find that they enjoy it??#but i would rather over-warn ppl for the triggering and non-canon aspects than under-warn them and potentially trigger or upset someone#and i can't blame ppl that subscribed for some Other thing when they open their email and see a notif that i posted smthn#and it's a mile of upsetting/negative sounding tags for a fic abt a guy they either don't know or don't wanna see mischaracterized#and so of course they unsub and that's okay. it's okay.#anyways. enough bitching abt my fic not doing well. i don't have much room to complain!#most of my stuff is fairly well received imo. so i can stand to have a flop fic every once in a while. gotta balance things out lmao#the good thing is it's already fully written so the lack of engagement can't stop me!! there's no motivation to kill! it's done already!#anyways. i'll post a chapter a day as planned and then it'll be out of my system in a week and i can post other stuff again finally#next up will be an [N]MbD oneshot. then i'll finally post the Dew Ghost Band OCD fic. then another [N]MbD oneshot ehehe#and thennn ES Ch.5! fucking finally. i can't wait to continue that story#the Dew fic is a oneshot too btw. once AEIWNF is fully posted then the only multi-chapter project i'll have is ES. and that's Enough
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y'all, if you don't even like the premise of a fic, never mind its content, and you possess the ability to scroll past it, you should probably just...do that. instead of putting authors on blast for writing a thing you don't agree with.
#like what is your life like if you get you so bent out of shape over something someone wrote about people who are...not real#i scroll past shit that i don't like/doesn't interest me/disagree with literally daily it's not that hard#the only time i've ever gotten this mad at a fic it was for untagged drugging and subsequent non-con#and even then i didn't put the author on blast i was just like - hey this thing exists heads up to anyone who may be triggered by it#you can be mad about things and disagree with things and not be an asshole about it it's really very simple#you're absolutely allowed to not like the content of a fic - be it characterization or plot points or whatever#what's not okay is being really fucking rude to the people who create the content you disagree with#am i just a crotchety fandom old at this point? who knows. i don't care.#also not allowing reblogs because i'm not interested in discourse. i'm airing a grievance and moving on.
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I never had an rp blog back when those were super popular on here but last night i was like “hm what if i made an rp blog for like if charlie spring was on edblr” bc he does canonically have tumblr and lets be real he’d probably be on this side esp when he was doing poorly. But i don’t know the first thing about having an rp blog and it might feel weird making one of a fictional character esp if said character was 13 (bc i’d be starting around when he got outed which was around a year before the comic/show started) so idk, would that be something anyone wants to see? Does anybody even make rp blogs anymore? I’d be like genuinely worried that someone wouldn’t know it was an rp blog and think there was an actual 13 year old on here having a terrible time in life/if anyone found out it was an rp blog and decided to purposely misinterpret it as a 25 year old catfishing minors or something i really wouldn’t want that.
#really i just want to project onto charlie on here bc i am writing a few vent fics but this would be easier and more immediate#i mean not that setting up an entire rp blog would be easier but yk#i also want to find someone to beta read my fics when i’m done with them. bonus points if they’re british so i can have accuracy in my fics#edblr what do y’all think?#edblr#i’m not gonna put this in hs tags bc i don’t want fans coming onto this side of tumblr and getting triggered or reporting anyone
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Don't mind me I'm giving myself therapy in the tags
#pan.txt#why can i like the idea of a particular ship dynamic in my head and then get triggered by it if i read someone else take on it#WHY CAN FAN WORKS TRIGGER ME FULL STOP absolute bizzare i don't get it#torn between doing exposure therapy for it and ir just Not Engaging bc like fucks sake dude why put urself through it#but idk!!!! it could be a good way of working through some of my hang ups#just very odd#i suppose it triggers me bc thinking about blorbos in my head is like the Safest Space#so when i see something that makes me feel Bad with them in it's almost like. anxiety twice over#i saw something that makes me feel gross that actively involves something that usually makes me feel happy#it's so odd bc it really is a Uniquely upsetting experience. i feel like it's somehow tapping into my ocd tendencies#i feel like it's somehow. some kind of creative insecurity#it is specifically fanfic that does it most frequently#and i'm kinda uncovering in therapy that i have a massive complex about the grand concept and contents of my stories being 'lesser' somehow#i feel bad that i 1) can't enjoy other peoples fics just bc it doesn't appeal directly to my tastes#2) feel bad about this at all?? like this is a bizarre thing to get upset about#but also like. what good am i doing getting worked up about a trigger?? i'm allowed to get triggered by Anything#anxiety is not logical or empathetic or academic#it's something i'd like to try to overcome#bc somehow. this feeling is connected to my inability to share my writing i can feel it#but right now i need to do something else or this is gonna turn into a compulsive thought loop lol
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...
#i miss writing#i have been SO stressed and writing was the only outlet i had#but i don't feel comfortable sharing my fic anymore#and it's just put such a damper on my ability to write in general because the idea of it just triggers anxiety now#after all the bullshit in this fandom#and now i just feel like i don't have anywhere for all this stress to go and i am SO tired 😣#911 negativity#i guess#i don't know#personal#will probably delete later
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Achievement unlocked: How did we get here? Attempt to write a lil fic abt a fave duo, end up with unhinged shit instead
#//Ok I’m exaggerating kinda#//That not the WHOLE of it; just a brief part where they’re reconnecting/bonding again. Thats more like#//‘a character admits he’s too possessive to let the other be devoured by monsters; he’d rather burn them both alive with his own flames so#they’d die together w their frequencies too distorted to be absorbed. & the other being TOO damn into it admits how romantic he finds it’#//WHOOPS#☆ ┆ ( .ooc. );#//Yknow I though j|yantef| was gonna make this angst bittersweet and wholesome#//Uh NOPE#//I mean it was; and then it escalated Quickly#//Top ten reasons I am glad I don’t write M0rtef| hdbfb#//At least the fic has a hopeful ending? jdhdb#//Damn almost forgot to trigger tag. wtf do I put there#death mention tw#suicide mention tw#//I mean dual; but yeah#//Its not TERRIBLY unhinged tho I think; could have been Much Worse#//But still I find it so funny THATS the route it went to
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So I edited like 40 pages today and I might have gone overboard
Also brainstormed ideas for a fic and am now nearing the edge of an anxiety atack.
#Note to self PUT LIMITS ON HOW MUCH YOU DO#I think this might be why#I am calming down now though so perhaps I didn't go to far#Or perhaps I'm just worried about betaing and the next fic?#Love the autistic feeling of trying to figure out what is triggering the bad emotions#likley gonna do some break stuff? DUNNO#I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED WHEN THE EMOTIONAL EXCAUSTION STARTED#writing fanfiction
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I'm sooo sleepy and the brainrot is still strong and does someone want me to play with their hair
#i don't really like having my hair played with#like it's meh#doing it myself is fun but it's because i have uuh scabs on there so i can scratch at those#but playing with someone's hair when they like it? fun. very fun#i have pillows. i'll put one on my lap and you can put your head on it and i'll do scritches#if i were a character i would love to have my hair pulled in fics#it's long and. well. long#and people love writing long haired characters as having orgasmic reactions to havung their hair touched#having i can't type i'm sleepy. eepy...#but my hair's really pretty like. eh. not that important. it's pretty but you're not going to get much fun there.#i wish i were a fanfic character on a weird kink hair trigger or something sometimes. and then i live my life and i don't actually#we went biking with my dad for like an hour this afternoon and i'm so tired#if someone wants to talk i am also here#wow i have a ramble tag now
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Owned By The Demon Admiral (AFAB Reader Version)
Male Demon Yandere x AFAB Demon Reader CW: Noncon/dubcon, terms like pussy used for reader's genitals, yandere DILF, general yandere behavior, groping, biting, captive reader, reader is setup, an overly cute semi-aquatic demon cat named Mr. Sir Buttons Word Count: 2k (I am saying this fic is AFAB versus female because no gendered pronouns are ever used at all for the reader in anyway, rather their genitals are biologically female. Terms like pussy/cunt are used so if that is triggering for you please avoid this fic. This was a birthday gift for a friend normally I don't do AFAB reader so this may be a bit sloppy. I hope you enjoy it.)
The battleship you were on drifted through the calm blood red waters of one of Hell’s oceans. The light of the two suns scintillated beautifully off the serene waves. No evidence at all that your ship had just sunk an enemy vessel, condemning the unlucky demons manning it to death.
In the ensuing ebullience at having survived with no damage the leader of the ship, Admiral Oraan, put one hand behind on your ass and one behind your head and pulled you into a passionate kiss as his tail began to wrap around your leg.
You struggled to push off the larger demon but finally he released you. You steadied yourself and gasped for breath.
“I said no!”
Then you stormed off to your quarters.
This wasn’t the first time your commanding officer had done something like this. This was at least the fourth time you had rebuffed his advances. He just wouldn’t get it through his thick skull. You were focused strictly on your military career. The war against Pride, one of the Princes of Hell, was far too important for romance and sex to get in the way.
But you underestimated his desire for you. And his rage. You should have assumed that the highest ranking admiral in Wrath’s fleet would have some severe anger issues. But you naively thought that service to his prince would take priority over his feelings for you.
The first thing he had done was to sabotage your quarters during inspection. You didn’t know it was his doing and were angered and paranoid that someone would thrash your space in such a way, causing you to get written up.
In reality it was all Oraan. A rising action in the story of your downfall.
The next thing that was done to ruin your uniforms. He told you it was disrespectful to the prince you all served, to the branch you served, and to him to have your uniforms in such a state.
After that it was a more serious infraction. Reported for contraband that was then found in your locker.
The final, and most infuriating, nail in the coffin happened in the next skirmish. A small opponent, easy to sink and posing only a slight threat to the hellish dreadnought on which you served. But Oraan had forced multiple witnesses to claim you were a coward. That you had abandoned your station and hid in your quarters while the rest of the crew gallantly manned their posts.
This led to you having to be court-martialed. No time to dock and have more formal proceedings. You had to be court-martialed right on the ship. Despite the evidence against you, you thought that once you were given your chance to make your arguments and have your comrades vouch for your behavior and character then this would all disappear.
That isn’t quite how things played out for you. You started the court-martial optimistic but with each passing moment a sense of dread became stronger and stronger. Each witness, people you had respected and thought of as your friends, gave damning testimony. They painted you as a belligerent, lazy, neglectful oaf. Someone who cared nothing for duty, rules, or honor.
You had to hold back tears as your body shook with rage and sorrow. Why were they saying such things? Why were they lying about you and your actions and character?
It finally became obvious when the sentence was passed. Not death, as might befit someone who fled from combat. Not dishonorable discharge. No, you were being reassigned. As Oraan’s personal attendant. “A non-combat role where no one would be harmed by your cowardly behavior.”
It was all him. He had pressured or otherwise bribed everyone to turn against you. To lie about you. All to get you in his clutches and punish you for rejecting him. And there was nothing you could do about it. He was an older and stronger demon, you’d have no hope to beat him in a fight. And even if you somehow managed it, how would you escape on a ship? And if by some miracle you either made it to land or just waited until the ship was docked you would be chased for all eternity.
No, he had you in your clutches. Your only hope was that your contract with the navy was almost up. You were only to be enlisted for five years at a time before you had to renew. The only exception for that being prolonged was if a hot war was going on, but this one was nearing its end. Since all that happened was the court-martial was just technically a reassignment you were only bound by the terms of your enlistment.
All you had to do was endure for ten months.
It was humiliating. Oraan really wanted to keep you reminded of your new position. You had to be at his side constantly. Obeying all his orders and whims. You had to press his uniforms and get his meals. And in private the tasks got much worse.
Sucking his girthy cock was a common “request” of his. Almost daily. You also had to bathe with him most nights. This required you to wash his entire well-muscled form. If you were a willing participant you would have enjoyed it, he was very attractive, the tattoo of an anchor on his left shoulder and the three large scars on his ribs adding to his rugged allure.
But you weren’t a willing participant. And bathing him usually led to him giving you an “inspection.” That was where he touched, kissed, groped every inch of you before sliding his cock into your hot pussy, slowly fucking into you until he came hard. His tongue, of course, had to probe your mouth during these inspections, “just to be thorough.”
It was good that he had you eat meals with him in his private quarters, because you didn’t think you’d be able to look any of the other crew members in the eye ever again. The ones that hadn’t been involved in fucking over your entire life were the ones that believed the lies about you. On the entire ship you had not a single ally. The only one you could confide in was Mr. Sir Buttons, the semi-aquatic demonic cat that served as the mascot and unofficial morale officer on the ship.
You were on your way back from taking your food trays back to the galley when you felt something soft rub against your leg. Mr. Sir Buttons! You had a few minutes before you had to be back with Oraan so you stooped down and picked him up. He purred loudly.
“At least I never have to worry about you betraying me.”
He meowed as if in affirmation. You nuzzled his thick, red, waterproof fur before placing him back down to go about his very important demonic cat business.
When you got back to Oraan’s quarters he was naked on the bed. His large prick standing erect and ready for the attention you would surely have to give it, a bead of precum running down the length evidently in anticipation.
You sighed in resignation and began to strip your clothing. You had been doing this for over a month now. Only less than nine more to go. You could do it, just one moment at a time.
Too excited after leering at your naked form, he couldn’t wait for you to come to him anymore. Instead he got up and used his strong arms to pick you up and pin you to the bed. He stole your lips with his, kissing you in a greedy frenzy, his large cock swung below as he groped your chest.
“Mine! I can’t believe after all these years you’re finally all mine!”
He bit your neck, causing you to moan involuntarily. But maybe you should just give into the pleasure of the situation. It was going to happen either way and you’d be able to move on with your life once this was all over anyway. Besides, getting into it a bit might just help him finish faster so you’d have less time stuck in this position.
Oraan massaged the outside of your cunt before sliding a couple of fingers into you to get you wet and ready for his large prick.
When he lined his cock up with your drooling entrance, rough hands on your hips, you didn’t look away or flinch as you would normally. You wrapped your arms and legs around him instead, allowing him the perfect angle to slam deeply into your pussy. He grinned, ecstatic that you finally seemed to have not only learned your place but were actively embracing it. He slammed down with hard but slow thrusts. Each one making you gasp and each one punctuated with another kiss or nip up your neck.
Lewd squelching noises emanated from your sex as he increased the tempo of your lovemaking.
Had any of the crew passed the admiral’s quarters on their way through the halls all they would have heard was the rhythmic slap of Oraan’s nuts against your skin as he bred you along with the occasional grunt or swear from him or moan from you.
“Fuck! I love you so much!”
You only drooled a bit while looking up at him dumbly with lustful eyes, having been fucked nearly senseless. You scratched his shoulders with your sharp demonic nails as you pulled him closer to you in an attempt to somehow get him deeper. You were near your climax, desperate for it.
The pain from your nails spurred him on, causing him to fuck you at a new pace that straddle the line between pain and pleasure. You winced as he came hard, your tight clenching walls milking his cock and sending him over the edge soon after.
He gave a few final thrusts into you to empty his balls good and deep before pulling out and holding you tight, caging you in with his sweat-slicked body. You went limp from exhaustion, practically basking in the afterglow that always followed such intense, passionate sex. If you didn’t know any better you could have mistaken Oraan for a lust demon. Though you imagined saying such a thing to his face would have him prove instantly that he was, in fact, a being of wrath.
When the two of you had recovered he took you into the small shower with him. This time around, he cleaned you. Gently washing your body of cum and sweat before rinsing your hair. Far more tender behavior than you would have thought possible from the stern leader. Maybe there was more wisdom to just being more open to your predicament than you had initially thought.
It was a change in your behavior that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the man who had orchestrated the vast shift in your life circumstances.
“Finally decided to give in, huh?” Came his gruff voice from behind you.
You had no reason to be dishonest or hide your thoughts from him.
“Well, my contract is up in just a few months. I am not going to renew so this assignment is only temporary. I figured it’ll go by faster if I just accept it.”
He laughed and pulled you close to him, you could feel his stubble on your neck as he whispered words that made your fiery demon blood run cold.
“With my power, influence, and wealth I can assure you that your signature will keep renewing that contract for eternity, sweetheart. Whether you sign it yourself or not. Even if we aren’t deployed I will find a way to keep you with me.”
You went limp and would have fallen to the floor had he not had his arms wrapped tightly around you. The room felt like it was spinning. You barely took note of the water trailing down your skin or the chaste kiss he pressed to your cheek.
It was over for you, now that Oraan finally had you there was absolutely nothing that would make the older demon give you up.
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