#my outrage given voice

[maythevoidnotscreamback]

My outrage given voice: The Shittenou were done so dirty!

It's very damn annoying to me and I hate it! Why the hell were the Shittenou not given a chance for a 'normal' life like Usagi wished for in the 90's anime; especially with the implication of the time of the first season repeating for the second and thus meant that they hadn't been nabbed for Beryl's/Metallia's purposes? Or even in the manga/reboot rather than kept as the stones they became after their deaths?

Like, what thoughts went into that? Why were the various relationships of the Shittenou changed so drastically, and not just between each other but their Prince and their Love Interests too? Especially when Mamo got a, technically, third chance to be with Usa after the first season's finale. The girls themselves have other love interests, I know, but you'd think that they'd at least be given the option to see if they were still compatible and part (hopefully) amicably if they weren't, rather than just have the view that they'll never have love or even a family. And, no, I don't count the "Parallel" world of the manga because it seems that they're right proper clones of their mothers rather than their own persons with thoughts, feelings and dreams like Chibi is. Yes, she's annoying and a frickin' Obnoxious Brat, but at least with that we know she's not Usa's clone just with pink hair and red eyes.

I remember watching the show growing up and never, not once, thinking they used to be love interests of the Senshi during the SilMil. Just that they were at the front of the invading army once that episode aired. Not to mention how my perceptions were fucked with beforehand because two of the four were in a relationship with each other (after one of them had been 'gender-bent'. Just...why?!) and a third was romancing a side character that had disappeared after the one episode she was in during the third season. Hell, the only reason I found out Sen/Shi was a Thing was due to the internet a while after watching the 'last' (for the North America viewing audience) episode of the fourth season. That pissed me right the fuck off.

I believe that shouldn't have happened. They could've done so much foreshadowing, maybe even a bit of character development, about the tragedy that would've been the Shittenou being killed off as the season went on once the SilMil's Last Day came about.

Like, think about it.

With Jad's constant disguises and schemes, it could've been that Rei, being a trained Miko, always seemed to find and flirt with him, because he was cute no matter his disguises, and then get mad about it because why?! is it always him?! she does that with?! The fuck?! And Jad's just like, 'How the hell does she keep doing this?!' before putting together that she must be an informer to the Senshi with the way they always show up when she does so he tries to keep her distracted in one form or another so his youma can do its job because she's too passionate and fiery to want to hurt or drain despite getting in his way so much. Beryl actually kills him off after his showdown with the Senshi, not listening when he says how he knows who they are, instead of being iced for his constant failures. (I never did get why he was singled out like that.)

With Neph's civilian identity of Sanjoin Masato, instead of Naru being the 'victim' of his 'manipulations', Makoto could've been brought in earlier and get to experience being treated like the young woman she is despite how other guys were put off by her strength and stature and just discovered she could transform just as or after he died. He still dies to Zoi's schemes but it's because, due to being around his Lady so much more than Jad was with Rei, he's starting to question what once he hadn't, especially if some dormant memories he hadn't known about break loose from their shadowy bonds, and so Beryl made out that he was defecting or losing sight of their goals so she didn't have to get her hands dirty.

With Zoi, 'cause I found it real annoying that only he could extract the Nijizuishou when the Moon Wand could also track them down but not get them out, Ami could've used her palmtop to scan whatever residue might've been left on the Wand, to also help look for the Carriers as Zoi did the same with his own tracking crystal. It could go that, because she does take her duties as a Senshi seriously and she's not all about school/studying despite her grades and work ethic and she's gonna prove it, she might get in trouble for 'stalking' while Zoi's just wondering what this cute but annoying brat is doing following him where she could get hurt - the Great Demon he awoke might very well kill her! - when in all reality she's trying to get close to the Carrier but this jerk-wad with the beautiful blond waves, because those are not curls as far as I'm concerned, in a ponytail keeps getting in her way! Shenanigans are had where they try to outsmart, trick or distract each other to get to the Nijizuishou first without outing themselves or her comrades. Zoi's killed by Beryl because when Ren's revealed and Zoi takes that hit with the Ginzuishou it purified him and, like Mamo is later in the season, left weakened and considered 'delirious' by Beryl who doesn't care she'll lose another of 'her' Generals because it means she'll have enough energy to get Dymi onside and keep Kunz loyal to her and scared of the Moon Witch's power.

With Kunz, well... we all kinda-sorta saw how many times Minako seemed to fall into his traps meant to nab Usa, not to mention their own history while she was in London. And he's killed as in canon because he would not be tricked by the images and lies the Witches from the Sky tried to force into his head, an unintended side-effect of how the SilMil's Last Day was shown, especially regarding her (Venus), into betraying his Liege; completely unknowing that he, technically, already has!

[maythevoidnotscreamback]

Thank you, @master-ray5, for proving my point about people being anal about how Usa "should be" with Seiya. Mentioning those people who choose to make out "where she has been a cheater. Which have painted her being with Mamoru as a prison constructed by destiny instead of her fought-for-and-earned happily ever after." as you said. Granted, I think it's because her own Guardians were shown to look like they're forcing her to stay loyal to Mamo while he's gone. Daring to remind her of Chibi and/or CT as though she'd forgotten either of them and she's looking at them bewildered for their mentioning. Acting as though she won't want to be with him, despite the many hells she went through and how hard she fought for him time and time again, just because someone else who looks similar has come along when it wasn't even a thought in her head. Still. Those people can take such choices and keep them WAY over there! *points into the void of space*

"Mostly I think though you were trying to bait any who read this into writing the stories you laid out." - would I do that? 😈 The way I see it, if they want to write such stories out, using such inspo to get the creative juices flowing, then they are very welcome to it.

After all, *turns to the void of the internet* I too get so very tired of seeing the various SeiUsa fics that say that Usa's not happy with her beloved Mamo-chan for whatever reason they put down and that she was only happy when Seiya was there. As though she wasn't, in actual fact, hella depressed because her love seemed to be ignoring her and she was using her friends to distract herself and forcing a smile on her face to keep them from worrying because she loves them too and didn't want them to think otherwise by acting down, especially when they were trying so hard to cheer her up. Because I fully believe that people giving poor Mamo shit about that time is because we saw her suffering not just then but during the Break-Up too, whereas we hadn't his, or got bare glimpses, then or knew about his circumstances, though if they actually cared the foreshadowing should've been a major clue, until the Finale. He would not have ignored her if he was okay, plain and simple. As it is, Seiya and Usa weren't friends when they met (she didn't even know who he was or what he did despite being so popular with her best friends!) so she had no reason to have the mask for her friends put up around him, he was just a stranger in the park at the time - especially when she'd told him multiple times that she had a boyfriend to make him back off; it's not her fault he ignored the memo or assumed things because of his own feelings about her - and Usa, being pragmatic, wasn't going to waste her valuable energy putting it on for him just because he was a friend now; she needed that energy for truly important things: her best friends, family (which obviously includes a certain pair of cats), writing those happy-go-lucky letters, and to return those whose shine were darkened by being exposed back to their true form (to which the Starlights had claimed couldn't be done - that they needed to be put down for the sake of the people, which have implications - when they first interacted as senshi!).

She wasn't fucking happy around Seiya! She appreciated his support, as she did C-C's, and his explanations and liked him as a friend but that's the extent of her feelings for him. The so-called "date" was her thinking she was hanging out and having fun with a friend until a certain point where she realized her naivete and even then she tried to clarify, but he bulldozed right over her. Tell me, how many times did C-C interrupt with the excuse of 'being a child' and 'it was an accident' when Usa was getting uncomfy with Seiya's words or actions (cake to the face anyone?) or caused misunderstandings where Seiya would get close to getting his ass whooped for his presumptions? Door to the back and Usa promptly tossed him off where if it was Mamo she'd be all over him is one. Then trying to take his towel in probable hopes the girls would go ape-shit in a violent manner (Haruka would've done it in a heartbeat) not the naked-hot-guy reaction she got is another since he really didn't need to leave the bathroom to talk to or ask Usa questions. Like, what the fuck? That was seriously inappropriate, and no you can't say 'it's because he can turn into a girl' or 'it's because he's an alien who don't know certain customs', he started blushing when he realized there was more of an audience than he was expecting and started freaking when C-C tried to take his towel! He knew exactly what he was doing!

Seriously, go through the eps and see where she's actually looking happy with him (and getting that explanation over song telepathy don't count as far as I'm concerned because she's finally getting an explanation, of course she's happy about it; anybody with a brain would be!) and not faking for whatever audience, her friends or people they might know and ask questions for example, might be around. Because she was playing a role, like Robin Williams in his personal life, because she wanted Mamo back, just to hear his voice at least once more, but couldn't and she had no explanation or reason why! It's not her fault Seiya thought he could supplant or replace the actual love of her lives just because he was around. He was basically using the Friend-Zoned Best Friend defense/argument.

*turns back to @master-ray5* Sorry, this turned into one of My Outrage Given Voice rants. If anything people think that way about Mamo because, as I said in my previous reblog, the decisions of the people in charge of the 90s Eng anime were stupid. All that aside, I wanted to clarify that I know you're still writing I just wanted to show my support. Kinda like, "keep on trucking" but for writers. :D I look forward to your next update(s). Stay safe and keep being awesome.

Mamoru vs. Seiya

I found this picture in a Facebook group years ago. Unfortunately I have no idea who the artist is. If you know please let me know and I will update and credit.

Sooo... Mamoru looks like he's interrupting something serious happening between Seiya and Usagi.

This artwork might have influenced some of the dynamic between these two when I was writing the second arc (Black Moon) of Chaos Theory.

This would have been such an interesting storyline in the 90s anime if the Starlights didn't leave to go back to Kinmoku.

Happy Sunday!

Back to outlining more chapters!

[lyssitalennon]

not me recording the fairytopia trilogy plus Mariposa and her (garbage) sequel

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was when I was working at Red Robin. I was around eighteen and I worked as a host. I answered phones, opened doors, and seated people. The job wasn’t strenuous.

One night, the phone rang. It was fully dark outside. My shift was almost over and my mom was picking me up because I still didn’t have a car of my own. She was waiting in the parking lot when the store phone rang.

I picked up with a chirpy greeting and slammed into a horror movie when a gruff voice informed me that he could see me. He had a shotgun pointed into the building and I’d see brain matter sprayed across the walls if I didn’t do what he said. My brain froze in blind panic. I couldn’t believe this terrible thing was really happening to me.

The restaurant was all windows, visible on all sides by the parking lot except for the kitchen. He could be looking in from any direction, shotgun leveled on customers, or coworkers, or me. “Do you hear me?” he asked.

I stared in blank terror, not answering until he yelled, “Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Yes,” I was so transfixed with fear it hadn’t occurred to me to lie.

“Give me the number.”

My mind suddenly whirred into panicky circles. I couldn’t give some crazy man my phone number, I needed to do something else but I couldn’t make up a number either because my head was pounding with adrenaline. My frightened head latched onto the only other number I had memorized.

I rattled off my mothers phone number.

“You’re going to hang up the phone, walk to the back dumpster with your cell phone in your left hand, and I’m going to call you. No one has to die tonight.”

I stood shaking with the phone pressed to my ear.

“Hang up.”

I hung up the phone. I was trembling, but I knew there was no windows in the kitchen. If I got to the kitchen I’d be safe, and that’s where he told me to go so I could make it there if I just held it together.

I made it to dry storage and met one of the assistant managers exiting. I broke down in sobs and started garbling in incoherent fear. He looked utterly flabbergasted by this, as I had the reputation of being the most level headed of the host staff.

He asked me to wait at the bar. He rushed off to try to finish what he was doing so he could deal with me. I was too scared to leave the kitchen hallway; I huddled as close the end of the bar as I could get without leaving the safety of the wall.

I was sobbing when the bartender looked over and saw me. She gasped in outrage and had me into the managers office in a blink, arms around me asking what was wrong, what was wrong.

I was finally in an enclosed room with a locking door. The gibbering in my head calmed to the point that I relayed the whole thing to the bartender. Near the end, the manager returned. He had my mother in tow.

She was furious, hearing the tail end of my death threat call. Apparently, while sitting in the parking lot she’d received the call I had been too scared to get.

The man had asked if she was me, and she was instantly combative. She didn’t tell him anything, just demanded to know, “Who’s This?” He hung up.

He’d called back once just saying my name and she’d angrily asserted, “No.” He hung up.

My mom was furious and confused and marched into the building. Part of her anger was that I’d given away her phone number. She’s a violently private person. My manager had been making sure the servers knew they didn’t have a host when my mom burst in on a mission of vengeance. He quickly escorted my rampaging mother to the back room and they were both in time to hear I’d received a death threat.

My mom rounded on my manager demanding to know why they hadn’t called the police and he pleaded that this was the first he was hearing about it. The police were called.

My mom and I waited in a booth while my nerves jangled with anxiety. No one had checked the cars outside for shooters and now I was sitting here exposed, surrounded by windows. She tried not to be mad about me giving her number given my emotional state, but she wasn’t thrilled with me.

A police office showed up an hour later. I answered her questions and my manager asked if I wanted anything. Everyone at the table looked astonished when I requested a root beer float. But by god, I wanted one.

The officer assured me that most events like this did not happen on site, that the caller wasn’t here. I didn’t believe the dowdy woman sitting across from me had even bothered to do a security sweep but I drank my float and tried to forget the darkness of the night staring in from all those windows. The clear line of sight on me from every side. The image of brain splattering against the glass divider. I drank more root beer.

I got a day off to calm down. On closing shifts after that my heart would pound when the phone rang and the bartenders all agreed to be on phone duty for me. A private investigator came in one day and I recited the whole event again. He’d been hired by the company as Red Robin’s nation wide had been targeted by the same caller.

The investigator told me he was working on it. That dozens of other businesses across the country had been called. He told me that if I’d given the caller my real number I would have been subjected to sexual assault over the phone.

I was starting to feel stupid. Everyone I told was so sure that he’d never even been present. That I’d never been in danger. The only thing I could console myself with was that many other girls had given him their number, but I hadn’t. I started forcing myself to pick the phone back up on closing shifts.

A few months later I was notified that he’d been arrested. The private investigator hired by a fast food restaurant had done what the police force hadn’t and tracked him down to a small town in the Midwest. My testimony was one of dozens used to convict him and for a while I received checks for 0.23 cents as reparations for the mental distress.

[zephyrchama]

We know there's cooking duty, and trash duty, and various cleaning duties that the brothers rotate who's in charge of. They take turns shopping for groceries. When MC becomes their attendant in Nightbrighter, some of these chores are foisted onto them.

Is there a laundry duty? Does MC have to do everybody's laundry? Does Asmodeus keep buying more and more outrageous underwear to leave on top of his laundry so he can tease MC?

---

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whaddya think you’re doin’?”

Mammon walked into his room and caught you red-handed with a pair of his yellow briefs. He nearly flew across the room to snatch them out of your hand.

“Uh, the laundry?” You gestured to a basket of Mammon’s dirty clothes that had been collected from all over. “This would be easier for me if you left it in one place. Getting all of your stuff every week is like a scavenger hunt.”

Mammon threw the dirty briefs over his shoulder. They landed somewhere on the opposite side of the room for you to find again later. You looked at him in exasperation while reaching for a pair of crumpled-up jeans. His face had a rosy tint.

“Why are you doing the laundry?” he demanded.

“Because it’s my job as your attendant,” you answered.

“Wh-? Like, just this week?”

“I’ve been doing your laundry for the last three months, Mammon.”

He craned his neck forward in shock and waited a beat, as if you would say psyche. It’s not that Mammon couldn’t understand you, but this was new information he did not want to process. A hand rose to his forehead, sliding upwards as he pushed in frustration. “Well... cut it out! You look like a pervert. How would you like it if I did your laundry, huh?”

That’d be nice. “Could you, please? That would be great. I don’t have a day to do my own wash, given there’s seven of you and only seven days in a week.” Chores, RAD duties, and devilsitting took up every waking moment.

Mammon sighed and ruffled his hair. He muttered, “Seven…" In an instant, his attention snapped back to you.

"Seven? You’re doin’ everyone’s laundry?” he shouted.

You were ready to pull his jacket off yourself if he wouldn't cooperate. “Yes! And I’m short on time so just give me your dirty clothes!”

--

You cracked the door open ever so slightly. Leviathan was preoccupied with a game at his desktop, the back of his chair pointed at the door. The chair shook from the intensity with which he smacked the controller. Now was the perfect time. With the goal of being as quiet as possible, you crept into Leviathan’s room and made a beeline for his laundry hamper.

“Dooooooooooon’t touch those!” The pitch of his voice rose and fell impressively as Leviathan jumped and scrambled across the tile on all fours to physically block you from the laundry. Did he see your reflection in the monitor? His headphone cord popped out of the PC, its headpiece falling down to tug at his neck, and the gaming controller clattered to the floor. Leviathan slid in between you and his laundry basket like an athlete safely sliding onto a base.

In contrast, you just stood there wide-eyed with a tub of detergent in one hand.

Leviathan stammered a few times, realizing he might have overreacted. “So, uh. You see, Mammon gave us all an earful for letting you touch our clothes,” he explained. “He clearly didn’t listen when Lucifer told us you were doing it.”

“Oh, and you knew? Good job, Levi!"

You both smiled, Leviathan chuckled bashfully at the praise.

"Now give me your laundry.”

His face fell.

“No, wait! I knew you were doing it! But… you know, I never really thought about it. And for once, I think Mammon has a point. So, please!” Leviathan pressed his hands to the floor and bowed his head to the ground. A pose he learned from anime. “I’ll do my own laundry from now on! Just don’t touch it anymore!”

“Why? I've always been careful, I check the tags on your shirts so the colors don't bleed.” All of the brothers' clothes had insanely specific washing instructions. Compared to laundering suit jackets and leather and silk, colorful graphic t-shirts were a walk in the park.

Leviathan did not budge. "That's true. Still, I have dignity that must be protected!"

---

Beelzebub goes through almost twice the amount of clothes that his brothers do due to his regular workouts. Thankfully, he helps you carry them all to the laundry room so you're not struggling alone.

Beelzebub already had everything neatly sorted into two baskets - regular clothes and workout clothes. They were all ready to go when you showed up for the weekly collection. He let you take the lighter one.

Before the two of you left the bedroom, Belphegor called out, "are you doing laundry?" His head lolled over the side of his bed.

"Yeah, do you need anything washed right now? You can put it in with mine," Beelzebub kindly offered.

Belphegor wormed to the edge of his bed and picked up an empty pillow case. "I drooled on this and stuff. Can you take care of it?"

"Sure," you said. "Pass it over."

Getting up was far too much work. Instead, Belphegor loosely balled up the pillow case. With the world's laziest throw, he tossed it in your direction. It managed to sail through the air. It smacked the side of your head and landed on your shoulder.

"Thanks," Belphegor yawned, having already turned his back to you and Beelzebub.

[choerypetal]

Hickeys / Wade, Logan and Remy

summary: small prompts, on how the xmen boys would be when given hickeys.

ps; i apologies if there is a few grammatical errors, as english isn't my first language.

enjoy!

Wade: 

That man can’t resist keeping you in his sight and making sure to give you at least a kiss, or some small gesture of affection, before heading off to work.

This means his lips would form an adorable pout as he insists on leaning in. When you give in, his lips curl into a smirk, and before you can protest, you feel his hungry kiss.

Of course, it doesn't end there. His fingers slide around your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you onto his lap. "The boss can wait a little while," he murmurs, his voice rough and laced with a hunger that demands to feel his teeth on your skin. That's how his habit of leaving hickeys began. "Not until I'm done."

"Wadee," you tried to protest, glancing at the clock to remind him not to be late, but his priorities were elsewhere. You knew it when you felt his tongue tracing the crook of your neck, followed by the slow press of his teeth against your skin. He left a few more bruises, as if the ones from yesterday weren’t already enough for him.

"Shh…" he purred, his eyes darkened by lust and the passion in his voice. "I need to finish my little masterpiece." You rolled your eyes, letting out a slight chuckle, but before you knew it, a moan escaped your lips as he nipped harder with his teeth. "That's it, princess, I want to hear you moan," Wade whispered, the desire and need evident in his gaze.

He finally stopped, as always, to admire his work—several new hickeys on your neck. Just the sight of them made him bite his bottom lip. When your eyes met his, he leaned in for a sloppy kiss, leaving you breathless, with pouty lips and fluttering lashes. "Oh, so now the princess wants more? It's a shame I have to go to work. And so do you," he teased. Typical bastard, you thought to yourself.

Logan: 

Unlike Wade, Logan isn’t the type to be vocal about what’s his. As the Wolverine, it wasn’t surprising when you ended up covered in hickeys. One time at the X-Men Labs, Logan immediately noticed a coworker checking you out. It wasn’t just the hickeys on your neck but also an outrageous comment that set him off. If those hickeys weren’t enough, you were in for a session where Logan would mark you as his—completely and everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Naturally, he chose the Lab as the perfect place to do it. Despite his wild nature, Logan is surprisingly traditional, which might catch anyone, including you, off guard. But with his Wolverine instincts, he didn’t hesitate to grip your waist, pulling you up from your chair despite your protests, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for support. "You really thought I’d let you leave work that early? That’s the kind of question that would make me feel ashamed, love."

Before you could say anything, his lips caught yours in a hungry kiss. His voice was hoarse, thick with the impatience and craving he’d been holding back all day—especially after seeing you with your coworker. When Logan’s jealousy flared, you knew there was no stopping him. “Logan…” you whispered, your soft, vulnerable voice a huge turn-on for him. He purred as he nodded at your call. “Yes, sweetheart?” he murmured, his gaze never leaving you. “I need you, so bad…” Your confession was all he needed. He began by nuzzling his head against your neck, his teeth sinking in without hesitation.

The neck was just the beginning for Logan; he wasn’t satisfied yet. He needed more, which meant leaning you over your Lab desk. Your blouse clung to your curves as his fingers, both gentle and eager, began unbuttoning your jacket. The typical work attire—a short skirt, sheer lace, and a blouse that matched the color of your nail polish—was what truly captivated him. Even his own attire seemed to complement yours. One of the many things he adored about you, he murmured, “Man, you look gorgeous…” 

“You don’t look bad yourself either,” you echoed the words you’d whispered when you first met Logan. He adored this gesture, finding it endearing. Just moments before unbuttoning your blouse, he asked, “May I?” with the gentlemanly demeanor he always displayed. You smiled and nodded in response. “Since no one else will be coming to the Lab, my body is yours, Logan.”

That response alone pleased the Wolverine. As his fingers delicately and slowly unbuttoned your blouse, he took a moment to admire your breasts, beautifully outlined by the cup of your bra, before nuzzling his head against your stomach. His teeth sank into your flesh, leaving more hickeys than he had originally intended. “Now, I hope this will stop your coworker from looking…” he murmured.

Remy Lebeau: 

Of the two, Remy is undoubtedly the most proud when it comes to showcasing his affection. His love language includes plenty of flirtation, and he makes sure that most of your hickeys are prominently displayed. He’s also quite vocal about it, especially when your best friend, Peter Maximoff, notices the sudden marks on your neck and expresses his concern. “Geez, Y/N, someone was feisty last night. I’m curious who the lucky one is.”

In no time, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, with Remy’s shadow looming over your petite frame and a smug look of pride on his face. “Ma chérie, you look a bit tired today,” he remarked, prompting you to shoot him a death glare. Despite your effort to remain professional, Remy’s public displays of affection made Peter gulp silently. “I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he said. “See you at lunch?” 

That question was an offer Remy was inclined to refuse, as he had other plans in mind. Everyone knew it, especially you, which surprised him when you agreed to join. His grip around your waist tightened, and a smile spread across his face. As polite as ever, he said, “It would be a shame if Y/N didn’t join us. But my chère has other plans. Sorry, mon cher Peter.”

Wanting to protest or suggest otherwise, it was clear that Remy had different plans. Sneaking out of work hours only seemed to please him more. As he planted a few kisses in the crook of your neck, his silhouette lingering behind you, Peter took the opportunity to excuse himself. He shared a glance with you, his expression teasingly reflecting his amusement at Gambit’s protective nature.

“Now, chère,” he said, his voice hoarse and his accent more pronounced. His fingers gently caressed your waist. “We have some unfinished business to attend to, don’t we?”

He wasn’t wrong. Your eyelids grew heavier as his teeth sank in, a soft moan escaping your lips just before he covered your mouth with his hand. “No, no, no,” he purred. “Not here.” Yet, he continued, and when he finally stopped, his fingers intertwined with yours, leaving you breathless. With a look of typical smugness, he found you adorable and said, “Alons, y.”

[ozzgin]

The Mean Girl Bully Reader x Nerd Loser Yandere story sparked another red flag reader idea I had 😈

Imagine a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere. Unlike our favorite monster whore gal, and two-faced bully, this new reader insert is super vocal about her distaste in just about everything. Hardly anything is up to her “standards.” She not only complains, but whines too! 🥳

Then her poor beau weirdly loves her despite her horrid personality. I don’t know how, I’ll leave that part of imagining up to you, but there’s my request 🥺

I just like morally grey or blatant antagonistic readers. A lot of times, it’s more fun if the reader is attractive this way to a yandere, than having stereotypical good traits, like being compassionate or respectful 😔

So please, a Bratty Female Reader x Well Mannered Wealthy Male Yandere?

-👘

I was wondering if I should just incorporate this into the Yandere CEO draft I have, but I had this sudden idea for a downright shameless relationship between a beloved, well-respected politician and a perverted, needy brat of a Darling. (I don't like politicians but alas, I needed a high-stakes public profession for this)

Yandere! Politician x Bratty! Reader

Mr. Politician is a true rarity in his field of work: well-mannered, articulate, and most importantly, genuine in his dedication. He works tirelessly for change and improvement, earning the adoration of the people. There's only one exception to his loyalty: no country ever comes before his Darling. And what a demanding Darling you are...

Content: female reader, older yandere, NSFW, some exhibitionism

Many would describe their interactions with Mr. Politician as follows: he's disciplined, confident and resourceful. A natural born leader, you can tell within seconds of meeting him that he is a man to rely on. He's spent many years in the game, and nothing can shake him out of his signature calmness. He keeps everything in pristine order, and nothing escapes his scrutiny.

There is, however, one quirk only few select people know about. A detail no one dares to discuss. It is common knowledge that Mr. Politician has a partner, yet the particularities of it are kept private. His beloved is a much younger girl, rotten to the core. It is unclear how this pairing came to be; the day Mr. Politician won his place in his prestigious office, he showed up with the mysterious feminine figure at his side.

What's certain and obvious to all witnesses is that his vocabulary quickly discards any meaning of refusal whenever he's dealing with you. It almost feels like the man worships you. He's never alluded to being religious, most likely because that role's been taken already. His eyes soften whenever directed at you, gleaming with raw adoration.

Splurging on expensive things is a given. Money has never been an issue for someone of his status. In fact, it's a handy and convenient tool he frequently uses to dampen the damage of your tantrums.

"Disgusting", you spit between your teeth, pushing the plate away and crossing your arms. The renowned chef of the Michelin star restaurant can only stare in horror before Mr. Politician intervenes with a chuckle. "Not feeling it today, huh?", he coos at you with loving strokes. "May I ask that you bring everything else from the menu?" he says in a sterner voice to the employee. "E-everything, Sir?" the waitstaff questions. "Well, naturally. I can't let my Darling starve."

"I'm bored. Let's leave now", you mention bluntly, standing in front of the heavily ornate table with a huff. "Are you sure, Darling? It's an important meeting for the country", Mr. Politician tries to plead. Around him, the other men sit baffled, observing the outrageous exchange. "Now!" you conclude louder. Before anyone can protest, your boyfriend stands up obediently and reaches out for your hand. "Then allow me to guide you, love."

A paradox. His earnest work is put to a halt if you require anything from him. Somehow, he has until now managed to juggle the two with little effort, and to his credit, there have been many instances requiring nerves of steel. Such as you paying him an unannounced visit to the office, and disliking the fact he was unavailable due to a meeting. So, you marched over to the window and promptly flashed your chest against the glass. Everyone else was focused on the opposing whiteboard; he was the only one who immediately noticed your arrival. "As you can see, the expected result is irresistible", he continued with a professional smile, tapping the graph with a marker.

Everyone knows Mr. Politician is fervently devoted to his principles. Take his last public speech, for example. Knuckles white from gripping the podium, he'd nearly choked during an eloquent -but passionate - conclusion. His face was red, his jaw tightened. He needed a moment to recollect himself, and the public waited with bated breaths, visibly emotional. Of course, they couldn't tell the outrageous truth: that you were shamelessly kneeling at his feet, pumping and teasing his erection until, at last, he let go all over your face.

"I wanted to see if you'd stumble on your words", you explain afterwards, wiping the sticky liquid off with a damp cloth. "That would've been unpleasant", he responds with a shiver. "It was live on national television."

He does not seem too bothered by the potential risk of being caught. Truly, his nonchalance knows no bounds when it comes to you. Or perhaps it is part of the charm. There's something quite depraved yet tempting about this perpetual contrast.

To return your daring favor, he gently places you onto his desk and spreads your legs, leaving trails of kisses along the inner surface of your thigh. A quick glance down confirms his suspicions: your bare bottom lays on top of confidential, rather important documents he dutifully signed hours ago. How thrilling of a feeling! He already smiles in anticipation, picturing himself as he hands over the folder to the oblivious party. He's not breaking any rules, now, is he? Nowhere in the book of etiquette does it state you mustn't fuck your beloved on top of official papers.

You gaze at the disheveled face underneath you. "One day I'll get you in trouble", you blurt out between whines. "Me? Oh, Darling. You know I always have everything under control." He lifts himself up and gives you a quick, desperate kiss. "Including you."

[soobibabe]

espresso kim mingyu

rewite of one of my most popular oneshots, espresso! pairings: kim mingyu + reader trope: friends to lovers genre ▸ romantic comedy (including smut) wc: warnings: 'unprotected' sex (she's on the pill tho) , oral [m + f receiving], fingering, choking, lots of praise and pet names, creampie, v. squirting. lmk if I miss any.

[ august 2nd 2023 ]

It’s been so long since you last saw the friend group that just walking in makes you jittery. You've known these guys since high school, all thanks to Mingyu, but university life has kept you too busy to catch up.

You do see Mingyu the most, given that you both attend SNU together, but the rest of the gang has been a rare sight.

When you finally step through the door, your nerves quickly dissolve. The room erupts in cheers as soon as you're spotted, with Soonyoung’s voice ringing out in delight.

“Come hereeee! You’re all grown up now!” His eyes light up as he watches you move towards the circle they’ve formed in the living room. He’s already looking tipsy.

“Soooonieee, I missed you!” You hug him tightly as soon as you’re within reach. Chan’s voice cuts through the celebration. “Yah, quit hogging her!”

“Ignore them both; they’re half a bottle of soju away from full-blown drunkenness,” Dokyeom says with a laugh, pulling you away from their clinging. “Let’s get you settled. What do you want to drink? It doesn’t have to be alcohol if you’re not into that, though we were about to start a drinking game.”

You smile, feeling a wave of nostalgia. “Just water for me, but a drinking game sounds fun. I’d love to join, though you know my tolerance is pretty much nonexistent.”

“That’s fine,” Dokyeom says. “You can just watch, but—”

Before he can finish, Mingyu joins you in the kitchen, cutting in smoothly. “We were thinking of playing truth or dare, or drink. DK suggested it for old times’ sake.”

You don’t notice Minghao entering until his voice calls out your name, making you jump slightly. “I missed you. It’s been so long!” He moves in for an embrace, but Mingyu grabs your wrist and steers you towards the others. “Missed you too, Hao—” Your words are cut short by Mingyu’s brisk pace.

You miss the tense exchange of glances between Minghao and Mingyu, the latter looking determined while Minghao wears a sly smirk.

DK follows into the living room, carrying a tray of shot glasses and bottles. “So, who’s up first?”

The game kicks off with outrageous dares, from posting twerking videos on Instagram (DK’s specialty) to speaking Korean with an American accent for the rest of the game.

When it’s Minghao’s turn, he locks eyes with Mingyu. “I dare you to call the girl you like and confess exactly how you feel.”

The dare hits you like a punch to the gut. Mingyu hesitates for a moment before downing his shot in one go. Since when was he seeing someone?

The game continues with laughter and more dares until Wonwoo finally arrives, fresh from a long day at his internship.

The night has been the most fun you’ve had in years, but Mingyu’s secret lingers in your mind. Why hasn’t he told you about this?

Later, after everyone else has either left or collapsed on the couch, you and Mingyu find yourselves sitting on the porch outside his room. The cool night air and the city’s soft hum create the perfect backdrop.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked someone?” you ask, trying to sound casual despite the twist in your chest.

Mingyu looks at you, his expression unreadable. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how? We’re best friends, Mingyu. You can tell me anything,” you press.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Really, don’t worry about it.”

Defeated, you decide to drop the topic. “Anyway, it’s late. I should get going—” But before you can finish, Mingyu’s warm hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back. The touch is unexpected but gentle.

“Don’t go,” Mingyu says, his brown eyes earnest. “It’s past midnight; you shouldn’t be driving alone.”

“It’s okay, Gyu, I’ll be fine.”

He pulls you closer, his grip firm but tender. “Please don’t go.” His plea makes your breath hitch. You’re used to his alcohol-fueled clinginess, but this feels different. Your heart races, and the tension between you makes your cheeks flush.

You grab Mingyu’s leftover soju from the ledge and take a swig. He watches you with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“Mingyu, can I do something stupid?” you ask, feeling the alcohol’s effects loosen your inhibitions.

“Do anything you want, whether it’s with me or something else. Just stay with me,” he replies, his voice low.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the moment, but you lift your hand to his cheek, standing on tiptoe to meet his gaze. Lost in his eyes, you notice his focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, as if he could read your mind.

He doesn’t hesitate. With a swift, decisive movement, his lips crash onto yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away for air, but he immediately follows, chasing your lips with his own.

His hands explore your hips, then waist, until he's grabbed one of your thighs, pulling it up to his frame.

He pulls away, this time you expect him to say that you shouldn't be doing this, but to your surprise... "Need more. I need you, y/n" The whininess in his tone causes you to reject any worry you previously have about 'ruining the friendship'.

"You have me, Gyu". you manage to say, but you're so breathless it comes out sounding like a moan, it ignites something in Mingyu You'd never seen before.

His eyes grow dark in an instant, kissing you again this time leading you into the room with the hold he had on your hips. Strangely, you're the one who feels intoxicated now, mingyu sobering up by the minute.

"Can i touch you, y/n?" he whispers, breaking the kiss.

"Please do" you whisper back. He feels feral. Now you're on the bed, back against the mattress with mingyu hovering above you. He takes off his shirt and you're blushing like a teenager all over again.

You've seen Mingyu shirtless a number of times throughout your friendship. You would always have to look away, afraid he'd notice how flustered he made you. All those times were nothing compared to being this up close.

"Do you like what you see princess?" the way he says nickname has your heart and core fluttering. He holds your hand, presses it against his chest and you feel his heartbeat racing.

"I'm nervous too, its alright. we can stop at any point you don't feel like doing more, okay?" No other guy you've got this far with before paid this much attention to your satisfaction, he's unreal.

"Mingyu, i need you"

"You have me pretty girl, just tell me where"

You start by placing his palm against your cheek, then down to your chest torturously slow following the line that divides the left and right of your torso all the way down to your clothed cunt. "Here." you bat your lashes at him, doe eye on full display.

Mingyu wastes no time, he tugs the waistband of your pants all the way off in one swift motion. "Tell me how bad you want it baby" "Please gyu," you start, but your mind wonders far off anything coherent when you feel his lips graze your supple skin. He bites onto your panties, pulling them down your thighs with his teeth. So slowly, so sensually it almost feels surreal.

Once it's off, all of his attention is on your bare cunt, "dripping for me already and I haven't even touched you yet" "let's take care of that, yeah?" almost immediately, his face is buried in your heat, licking a long strip from your clit to your needy hole until he's back up, attacking your clit.

"Fuck, you taste so good" he practically moans out against your skin, sending vibrations through you.

Not long after the constant cycle of rubbing your clit and eating you like you were his last meal, he pulls off, spitting directly onto your slit and slides his middle and ring finger into you. His face returns to your cunt, repeating everything he did earlier, this time focusing on stimulating your gspot with his fingers.

“Right there! mmh” you whine out, trying to suppress your moans incase one of the guys outside wake up (which they wouldn’t even if you were to scream, because they’re all blacked out drunk).

“Don’t stop, please! fuck, gyu don’t stop” you feel him smirk against you. Your hands scurry the bed for something to hold onto when the pleasure starts to feel like too much. They finally reach to mingyu scalp tangling his hair causing him to moan out.

Without warning, his hands and lips detach from your pussy, earning pained a whimper from you feeling empty.

“Need to be inside you. Like now. i’ll make it up to you. Promise” he leans in, pulling you into another passionate kiss, hands busy with the him of your shirt “Take this off pretty. Wanna feel all of you.”

“Good girl” he hums once you do, kissing you as a reward. “Put me in”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated by his size. Not only was he long, but he was blessed in the girth department too.

You reach for him, holding the base of his cock to align it with your entrance. Once you start pushing the tip in, you’re scared you might not be able to handle the rest of him.

“That’s it, keep going you can take it.” he encourages. He glides in easily thanks to his fireplay earlier, but the stretch was alot. “Don’t worry baby i’ll make it fit.”

He gently moves your hand off of his dick where you connected and places his on your hips instead. “It’ll feel good soon, i promise” he whispers.

He slams every inch of himself into you all at once in a sharp motion. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good for me” his strokes are slow, but hard. Not missing your g-spot once. The pain turns to pleasure faster than you thought.

“You look so pretty like this” you’re unable to respond to the compliment, too consumed in how good he makes you feel.

Your nails graze his back, surely leaving marks. It drives him insane. the thought of you claiming him gets him so worked up his pace quickens, his pelvis snapping against yours.

Mingyu busies himself in your neck, leaving bites thatlll most definitely bruise before tomorrow.“Gyu m’gonna cum” you’re seeing stars.

“let it all go for me princess” that’s all it takes for you to release all over his cock.

His pace is constant, fucking you through your orgasm.

“Shit, that was so hot, good job pretty”

Your pussy clenches on him repeatedly, sending him closer to his edge. “Ass up” you obey as soon as he requests. Once you’re flipped over, he puts a pillow under your stomach ensuring your comfort.

“Took me so well just like i said you would”

In no time, he’s back to his previous pace, thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt. “Has anyone else ever made you feel this good?”

“No! fuck, only you gyu!” you can’t see him, but you can already assume (accurately so) that he’s got a smirk plastered across his face.

As he continues, you feel the coil from earlier build up again.

Mingyu holds your hand, pulling it under your body, between your lower tummy and the pillow, pressing it against the bulge that appears when he strokes all the way into you. “Do you feel me here?”

“Yes, god cumming again” he presses down against the bulge harder, adding more stimulation to your second orgasm.

“Good girl. Me too” he groans.

“Fill me up, gyu” he does exactly that.

“Fuck,” he chucked lowly “you can’t just say stuff like that, it makes me wanna ruin you”

“Then ruin me” you muster out through broken moans from the overstimulation.

Your walls are coated white, flodded with his release.

He still hasn’t pull out of you, not wanting to break contact.

“You mean that?” he says as he collapses onto the bed, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Nah i was just kidding” of course, you’re only teasing. After this, he can do anything he wants to you.

“Uh huh, will you still be saying that when i ask you to sit on my face once you’re no longer sore?” he bites back at you.

“Shh go to sleep” you attempt to change the topic, aware that you’re playing a losing game.

“No sleeping yet pretty girl. Let’s get you cleaned up” and with that, he scoups you up bridal style, walking you to the bathroom and starts the shower for you two.

“My legs are wobbly because of you”

“Weren’t you just begging me to ruin you?”

“Okay whatever let’s get this over with i’m sleepy “ you sulk.

Mingyu spends most of the time in the shower focused on tending to you even though you reassure him you’re okay to do it on your own.

You’re in his clothes, cuddled up into his large arms. He can’t believe this is really happening. The girl he’s been inlove with since he was a teen is really here, right now, beside him like this.

“are you asleep?” he asks softly.

“depends” you respond playfully, making him roll his eyes.

“i’m really glad… this happened” his tone changes to a whisper, much more serious than earlier.

“Me too. i’d be even more glad if it happened another time?”

“Noted” he giggles, which turns into a yawn.

“goodnight, y/n”

“goodnight, gyu”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in somehow even closer. You both fall asleep in a matter of minutes. your heart feels so full.

[ august 3rd 2023 ]

You wake up wrapped in Mingyu's embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest syncing with your own. As you shift onto your stomach, you lift your head to take in his sleeping face.

He looks utterly serene, the most angelic sight you've ever seen up close. Without thinking, your hand reaches up to cup his face, tenderly caressing his cheeks.

"I wish we could stay like this all day," you whisper, and his peaceful facade momentarily falters as a smile tugs at his lips.

"You sly little sh—" you begin, but yourwords are cut off as he flips you over, positioning himself on top of you.

"Let's stay like this then," he murmurs, burying his face in your chest, unwilling to let go of the warmth.

"But what about the guys?"

"What time do you think it is, baby?" he chuckles. "They all left, which is why I was already awake."

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. It's already 11 a.m.

"Don't blame me; you're the one who drained the life out of me last night!" You wince internally, regretting your choice of words as you notice him blush, his face hidden against your chest.

"Anyway, I made breakfast for you. Let's head to the kitchen," he says, and you can't help but think that Mingyu just keeps getting more perfect.

You spend the rest of the morning at his place, showering together, brushing your teeth, and lounging around in his clothes while eating and chatting casually. Well, almost casually. Mingyu finds every opportunity to steal kisses—at first, he says it’s to check for something on your lips, then it’s to blow an imaginary eyelash off your cheek. None of it is necessary, but you revel in his affectionate gestures.

Later, Mingyu insists you stay longer, but you have plans with Jiwon, your best friend, that evening. Reluctantly, you agree to leave, making a promise—thanks to Mingyu's persuasive charm—that you'll spend more one-on-one time with him later that week.

At the mall, Jiwon and you meander through a maze of shops, trying on clothes and chatting about everything under the sun. By the time you both concede to taking a break, your feet are sore, and your energy is depleted. You nestle into a comfy corner of a café, where you order a couple of steaming lattes and pastries, ready to unwind and catch up on life.

Despite your constant communication, there's always a treasure trove of new topics to dive into. Today, though, you’ve been brooding over how to drop some major news, and after much mental wrestling, you decide to take the plunge.

You're not sure how she'd react to the news about mingyu, so you decide to rip the bandage off all at once out of nowhere after hours of contemplation.

Jiwon’s eyes perk up immediately. "HE? YOU? Oh my god, stop! I’m going to pass out! YOU GUYS? Y/N?" Her shock and disbelief are palpable, reflecting your own feelings when you first wrapped your head around it.

You nod, a smile playing at your lips. "Yeah, I was just trying to figure out when and how to tell anyone."

Jiwon leans in, her face a mix of excitement and disbelief. "Well, now that we’re on this topic… how was it? Was he… you know… well-endowed?"

You laugh, feeling a flush of embarrassment mixed with amusement. "To sum it up in one word: heavenly. And yes, he’s definitely… well, impressive."

“Oh my god, this is amazing!” Jiwon’s eyes widen. “Honestly, I kind of saw this coming. He's always looking at you like he’s about to fall over from adoration. And even though you play it cool, it’s clear that you both have this crazy thing for each other but are too scared to admit it—probably because of the whole ‘maintaining the friendship’ thing.”

You cringe at how spot-on she is. “Okay, I won’t argue with your assessment. But you can’t deny that he’s seen me at my best and worst. He’s the best guy friend I’ve ever had, and it would be strange to end things since we share so many mutual friends.”

“Whatever’s meant to happen will happen, Y/N. Just do what feels right. I think that means letting whatever started with Mingyu last night continue.”

“Ugh, I agree. Thanks for being my moral compass, Jiwon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” In a spontaneous gesture, she grabs your hand.

You expect her to say something sentimental, but instead, she surprises you with her usual boldness.

“Cute. Now let’s go get you some lingerie to celebrate with your boy toy.” Jiwon’s lack of a filter never ceases to amuse you.

[ august 7th 2023 ]

Mingyu's at your apartment, finally able to hang out together like you decided on the last you met.

You're both on the couch, keeping fair distance whilst you watch 'Crash Landing On You' for the second time with him.

Halfway into the second episode, mingyu slides himself closer to your end of the couch, breaking the invisible barrier between the two of you.

"i miss you" he pouts, seeking your attention.

"i'm right here" you can't help but giggle at how stupidly adorable he looks.

He places a hand on your waist, reeling you closer to him. "I have an idea of something more fun we could do"

"Mhm, and what is that?' you inquire.

"Let me show you" he lifts you like you weigh nothing more than a feather, settling you on his lap allowing you to straddle him.

"Remember what i said about sitting on my face? Can you do that for me pretty girl?" his fingers dance on the elastic of your underwear, waiting for your permission before he goes any further.

"Yes i can, but can i taste you today instead, gyu?" your reply catches his off guard.

"Anything you want baby" the pet name sends shivers down your spine, encouraging you to act upon your urges and pulling him into deep kiss.

You get off of his lap, knees against the hard wooden floor, ridding him of his jeans whilst he tugs his shirt off. He's so fit.

His dick bulges through his calvins, fighting against the fabric. "Look at how hard you make me pretty"

You take his cock out of his boxers, almost salivating at the sight of it. His tip is crimson, begging for relief.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, drawing it closer to your face. You lick a long strip along it, coming back up and stopping at his tip and taking it into your mouth.

Once he's past your lips, he's a groaning mess. "Fuck, you're doing so well, keep going."

You take him in further gagging around him when he's all the way in, stuffing your throat. "Good girl. So good for me, shit"

His hands pull your hair into a loose ponytail, using the light grip to guide you. You bob your head, thrusting him in and out of your mouth at a steady pace.

It doesn't take long for you to find a rhythm, but it's not enough for him. He really just wants to be inside your cunt, so to speed up the process, "Can I fuck your throat baby?" his voice drops a few octaves down, losing himself in pleasure.

You nod in response, and that's all the confirmation he needs to push your head closer to his pelvis. He stands up to angle his dick better, thrusting in and out of your mouth, gradually reaching his climax.

Your eyes are full of tears, mascara running down your face tipping him over the edge. "Can you handle swallowing?" he asks through broken moans making you nod again. He holds you in place, reaching all the way down your throat where he releases his load.

He reaches out to hold your hand, pulling you to your feet, flush against his body into a kiss. "You're unreal".

He sits both of you back onto the couch in your previous position. "Please fuck me" you whimper out, too horny to care about how desperate that must've sounded.

"So bold" he smirks "Well, as my lady wishes"

He works on removing your bottoms while you unbutton the silk pajama shirt you're wearing. When you're finally stripped out of your clothes, he's in awe at the revelation of what you'd been hiding underneath.

"You're gonna be my demise" is the last thing he utters before yanking your panties to the side, lifting you to align your cunt with his cock, and slowly sinking you down on it.

You moan in unison at the feeling of the initial stretch. It feels like he's breaking you in two in the most divine way possible.

"Fuck, y/n nobody else can ever feel you like this."

"I'm yours mingyu, fuck!" you manage to whine out.

He holds your hips to slam you onto his dick. His free hand creeps up to your neck, choking you slightly as he fucks into you. It drives you insane, feeling him all the way inside you near your cervix. At some point, his cock really does kiss your cervix, causing you to sob out from the overwhelming pleasure mixed with that unfamiliar pain.

He doesn't fail to hit the spongy tissue in you even once. He changes position, laying you on your back with his hand still on your throat. Your vision suddenly blurs, a mix of white and stars clouds your mind with your eyes sealing shut.

You're squirting. All over him at that.

"Holyyy fuck," Mingyu groans out. "Y/n, fuck you're gonna make me cum" "Cum-" Youre interrupted by a wave of your orgasm crashing through your body "-in me"

And so he does. This might have been the hottest thing mingyu has ever experienced.

"You're clenching down on me so hard, fuck. oh fuck-" The overstimulation from his relentless thrusts sends you both over the edge.

"The couch" he says followed by an airy laugh, but you couldn't really care less about the mess right now.

"You have officially ruined me" you whisper with a fucked out smile.

"Good." he smiles back. his eyes linger on where you connect, pulling out of you and admiring the sight of his cum dripping out of you. "Fuck, can I take a picture of this?"

"Sure, just dont show it to anyone" his eyes sparkle at your response.

"It's cute that you think i'd share you" he uses two fingers to plunge into your tight, dripping hole and fucks his cum back into you. "so pretty" he pulls his phone out, snapping a picture of the image he's already embedded into his mind.

"Let's go clean you up"

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

A/N: this is a rewrite of one of my most popular one shots :] i intend to turn this into a series and the first version of it felt a little to scrappy for a chapter one! i hope you enjoy!

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© all rights reserved soobibabe on tumblr. do not cross-post, copy or translate etc.

[stormhearty]

Paring: former Azriel x Reader

Triggers: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, cursing, a lot of bold and italicize

Word Count: 3K+

Summary: The High Lords called a meeting to discuss the Death-God’s resurrection. However, with the death of their Seer, tensions run high between Day and Night Court, Helion outraged by the loss of your life. Truths are revealed and lies are exposed. And what happens when the High Lords realize that they have all been too late?

Note: I thank you all for all the love you have given to my one shot!! I had never thought it would have been so well received by fans and writers! I am very amused by everyone's reactions and thoughts on the one shot — everyone is wanting blood and redemption for our poor reader. And she will! This chapter is a segway/filler chapter — but still important. It's still angsty, don't worry. This one shot will probably become a 3 part series. I know in that voting poll I had done asked if you guys wanted a 5k chapter, rather than a 2- 2k chapters, but I wanted to leave you guys with one more chapter to look forward to! Please look forward to it!

Part One | Part Three | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“You had abandoned my emissary, disregarded her sight and had her take her own life in your Court… And for what? Your mate’s sister’s powers?!” Helion was fuming, amber eyes staring the High Lord of Night down, “And that her mate — - “a growl escaped his lips, as he glanced at the Spymaster next to Rhysand, “Had cheated on her for said sister?!”

The High Lord of Day’s voice echoed throughout the throne room, shaking its very walls at the allegation of what had happen within the wards of the Night Court. Helion’s fingers gripped the edge of the large round table, his claws causing the wood to splint underneath his fingertips.

“And now… you are telling me that her body disappeared?” his voice deathly low, “That your Spymaster’s shadows had whisked her body away to — God-knows-where… That, that child, never had never had a proper burial?!”

Rhysand couldn’t utter a single word against the claims placed against him and his Court — he couldn’t when everything that Helion had roared was true.

“… Show me…” Helion hissed, focusing at his old friend, “Show us what had happened that day…”

Rhysand gulped, staring at Helion before glancing around the table towards the High Lords of Pyrthian. All of them staring him down before all felt the claws of Rhysand's power creeping in their minds, images of that day of your death playing in their minds — all of them watching the confrontation between the Inner Circle and you — on how you were cornered and betrayed, leading up to your very death.

He hated it. Rhysand not only relived that that multiple times during his dreams — where he had failed you. He now had to relieve it while he was awake. Hearing your pleads and cries for him to listen to your visions, and seeing your body dying on that marble floor — to watch it be taken away by tendrils of shadow.

Once the memory came to pass, sobs echoed throughout the room. Helion being the loudest as he ran a hand down his face, his form shaking in his seat. Rhysand glanced towards his Inner Circle, watching his family relive that moment as well; eyes focusing on Azriel, who gripped the arms of his chair as his face wrinkled in anguish at the memory.

It had been a month ever since your death, a month since the sliver of shadows that once served the Spymaster had taken your body away — unknown to even Azriel on where they had brought your body to. And a month ever since more and more whispers of Koschei’s resurrection echoed throughout the Courts. The Death-God’s power vibrating throughout all of Pyrthian — it was difficult to not miss.

The High Lords gathered in Day Court to strategize on the impending danger of the Death-God. However, it was no secret on what had happened in the wards of Night Court. The loss of your light present throughout all of Pyrthian — every High Lord felt it.

Especially Helion.

He wanted nothing more to hurt and maim every member of the Inner Circle; but that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting — though he wanted it to be.

Helion reigned in his emotions, trying to calm the rage that boiled in his blood. Trying to clam the sadness he felt for the loss of you. He straightened up in his chair, letting out a shaky breath, looking back at the Night Court High Lord.

“… I regret that I ever had sent (Y/N) to your Court, Rhysand,” his tone small and disappointed, “Her powers were wasted on you and your Court. A Seer taking their life, being betrayed by the people she called her family,” His head shaking, a laugh, one so loud and so sarcastic escaping his chest that it echoed in throne room, startling the other High Lords, making Rhysand flinch in his seat. “What a damn found family you made. Betraying one’s mate, betraying a person who had served you for five-hundred fucking years over a female who barely has control over her own powers.”

Amber eyes darted to Elain, as he watched her flinch back, hiding behind the eldest Archeron sister, “What prophecy have you seen now?” the sarcasm very evident in his tone, “Have you seen what (Y/N) has seen? Have you seen the resurrection of Kosechi, as well? Your powers are nothing compared to (Y/N)’s.”

“How dare you talk to someone in my Court like — -” Rhysand started.

“You have no right to challenge me in my own Court, Rhysand!” Helion bellowed, hands slamming on the table, standing up as he glared at his once-called friend, “Do you realize what you have done?! Do you realize why there hasn’t been a Seer in millennials? Why (Y/N) has been the only recorded Seer in the history of Pyrthian? Because Seers have been hunted — by Fae, humans and Gods alike. They are so sought after, for their power, for the knowledge, for their sight. Seers have the power to uncover what is hidden, lurking in the darkness. They are the very light that unveils the darkness. They have been hunted to be exterminated for that very power…”

It had been the very reason why Helion had taken you in when you were a child, guarded carefully in the Day Court. To ensure the prosper of your power, the prosper of your light.

Amber eyes darted around the table, eyes staring at the High Lords that had situated themselves in this very room, listening to his tale before they stared back at Rhysand, “You, being the powerfullest High Lord if all of Pyrthian should have known that. And now, her body, one filled with Unknown-God-and Cauldron bound powers is missing…”

A huff escaped his lips in exasperation as he sat down back into his seat, “Her body should be buried here, in my Court, where she rightfully belongs to. But, no. And none of us could properly pray respects for the loss of her light…”

It was no secret that Helion had a soft spot for you. You were like his child, raising you since you were small, watching you grow and become a bright light within the Day Court. He knew how your light felt, how he basked in it as if it was the sun that radiated overhead.

And so when he had woken up that night in cold sweat, feeling the vanishing of your light — he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“… — Helion…” Feyre tentatively called out to him, “You said her body is Cauldron bound? What do you mean by that?”

The Day High Lord glanced at the High Lady, staring her down before he nodded his head once. Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, “That’s what both myself and (Y/N) believe. (Y/N) is one the strongest Seers I have met in my life, those few Seers that I have encountered, ones that have wanted to remain hidden, are no match to (Y/N)’s powers. Your little Cauldon-Made Seer is no match for her either,” he sneered at the middle Archeron sister.

"There has been little records of Seers in Prythian, we all know that. Not even my libraries had enough information about them and their powers. But, despite that, (Y/N) was able to hone into her powers with little instructions… You know that she doesn’t just see the future, she was able to see what was happening now. She was able to focus on parts of Pyrthian and tell me what is and what will happen.

“But during the war with Hybern, much like when Nesta felt the Cauldron, (Y/N) felt it too. We didn’t know why, but we realized she and the Cauldron were somewhat connected. Whether it be the Cauldron was reason why she has her visions or if the Cauldron was the source of her power, they were bound. A natural connection between the two of them. And when the Cauldron broke, (Y/N) had told me she felt the Cauldron’s power sought refuge with her, as if the Cauldron sought her light.

“After the war, she had asked for my opinion — she felt the remnants of the Cauldron’s power tingling through her. She told me she saw more visions, visions of the far off future that she had no idea when would happen, and that her powers were starting to become out of her control. She was starting to lose herself in her powers, lose her mind to it… I didn’t know how to help her…”

The Inner Circle remembered, weeks after the end of the war, (Y/N) had asked if she could return to Day Court for a few weeks. Rhysand had let her, thinking it was not important. Azriel, too, didn’t question on her reason why she wanted to leave.

It was when they started to not care. When they started to focus their attention to Elain — the Seer that had defeated the King of Hybern.

Helion let out a broken laugh, staring at the Inner Circle, “I’m sure you never knew, did you? On how broken she started to be after the war. You never knew how her sleep was plagued with visions, that she couldn’t even close her eyes without images flashing behind them. Of how she sobbed in bed, wondering if she was in a dream or reality. She couldn’t differentiate anymore… And you…” eyes focusing on Azriel, “You never felt her pain because you put up a wall between your mating bond. Did you know, Azriel…”

The Day High Lord’s tone was seething, remembering those day.

“Did you know, how she cried for you? She begged down the bond for you to come and help. Wanting your protection, wanting to help sooth the pain she had felt? Wanting you just to be there? But all she could feel was the wall you placed, ignoring her… abandoning her when she needed all of you the most…

“I sent her back, hoping that all of you would help. I sent her back with sleeping tonics, hoping to help her with her sleep. Hoping that her family and mate would help her through her toughest time. Hoping that you all would see her. But I can see that never happened. That no matter how much she begged for you all to listen to her visions, to see her in pain, you ignored,” his voice was laced with anger, disappointment.

No one said a word. The air in the room tense and dense at the revelation that Helion lamented. No one knew of what you had gone through.

Azriel felt his his heart burn in his chest, as if his siphons were burning his skin — he felt the remnants of the broken mating bond in his chest, aching more at Helion’s words.

He didn’t know, he didn’t see, he didn’t feel the pain you were going through. He had ignored the tug of the bond when he had that wall up. He had been too infatuated with the middle Archeron sister, wanting her to feel belonged in their Court — all the while alienating the person who had been with him through thick and thin.

And, yet, he couldn’t do the same for you.

Bright blue eyes closed as Feyre silently mourned and apologized to the Heavens, to the night sky where you might have been.

But she realized on the implications of what had Helion had told them — that you might have been the Cauldron-bound object that Koschei needed to escape that lake.

She looked up at Rhysand, and he to her as they communicated down the bond. Both of them realizing what could happen.

The gesture wasn’t missed by Helion as he watched them, waiting for them to explain what they might have discovered. However, when they did not say anything, a growl escaped his chest.

“What is it?”

Feyre and Rhysand looked at the Day High Lord, hesitance shown in their features, “… It’s about what (Y/N) had told us. You all saw it in that memory…”

Helion thought, playing the memory back as he watched remembered your face, the anguish of your features shining through his head, listening to your words — your vision of what might pass.

“… That Koschei needed something from the Cauldron to be released from the lake,” Lucien pointed out from his spot next to Helion, the russete eye looking at Elain before back to Feyre.

“What if…” Tarquin mumbled, “…Koschei found (Y/N)’s body? If you and (Y/N) knew of the connection to the Cauldron, that the Cauldron sought her power. He could use her body to be freed from that lake.”

Helion looked at the Summer High Lord, amber eyes wide at the realization, “… If that were to come to pass, we would be doomed. (Y/N)’s body is probably soaked in Cauldron powers. It would be so easy for Koschei to be freed, and no one would ever notice. It is not impossible, but since (Y/N)’s body has disappeared, it is possible for her to have fallen into his clutches.”

Kallias, in the mist of the conversation, was watching, observing, the only remaining Seer in the room. He leaned forward, bright blue hues staring the Made-Fae, as he rested both arms on the table, “Have you had any visions?”

Heads turned towards the High Lord of Winter at his question. It did not phase him, as he continued, ”I heard from your High Lady that you rarely said anything about your visions, since the Cauldron broke. So do tell us, what have you seen about the Death-God?” If she had her powers still, a Seer would be still useful in this situation.

Elain visibly swallowed, as all attention was on her once more. Brown eyes frantically glanced around the table, over to her sisters and then to Azriel who both looked at her expectedly.

A heartbeat later, and the Middle Archeron sister knew that she couldn't lie.

She shook her head, “I have not seen anything… since the Cauldron broke…” her words nothing but a whisper in the wind.

It was as if a pin dropped on marble floors, the silence in the room was penetrating.

A laugh broke the silence. Eris’ shook his in disbelief on the drama they were hearing, “So you’re telling us, you have been lying about having your powers. And that (Y/N), who has actually seen those visions had taken her life?” he glared at the middle Archeron sister, “For what? Because you needed a position in the Night Court? So that you can gain the Spymaster’s affection? To bed him?”

Elain shook her head again, brown eyes desperate as she tried to catch eye with her family, with Nesta, who just looked away, brows furrowed with anguish, “… I just wanted to be useful…” she whispered in fear, slumping down in her chair, “My powers… were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged… But I didn’t have them, and… I just, didn’t want to lose my family.”

“And yet, you were willing to let (Y/N) lose her family, her mate… and her life. Just to keep your own,” Thesan expressed, "That selfishness will be the downfall of Pyrthian."

Elain flinched at the truth thrown onto her face, eyes down-casting, silence taking over her form.

Before anyone could reprimand Elain for her actions, the grand doors slammed open, a dark mist blowing throughout the room. Frightened and confused screams echoed through the room.

Helion stood up, using his power of light to dissipate the darkness that tried to cover the room. Amber eyes glowed as he watched as a cloaked figure float into the room.

Eyes watched the cloaked figure as it settled its form onto the floor, bare pale feet touching the marble.

“… I would think… that if the Pyrthian High Lords would gather… they would invite a God to their meeting. But I guess, manners do not exist in this world…” the voice was grating and brittle.

The hood swept, as if eyes inside were looking at all the High Lords that were now standing up, all attention to him.

A eerie chuckle escaped the hooded figure, spiny fingers grasping the edge before slipping it down. White hair and black eyes were revealed, pale, sickly skin glowed underneath the darkness that had surrounded him.

The figure bowed, a mocking gesture to the High Lords.

“It seems, that you are unaware of who you are being greeted by…” a boney finger raised up and pointed towards Nesta, the eldest sister stiffening, “Though I’m quite sure you do, dearest sister…” he grinned at her.

Nesta gulped and looked at the uninvited guest. She knew who would greet her like that — only the Death Caver has echoed the same words, “You’re Koschei… aren’t you…”

Koschei grinned wider, head tilting to the side as he stepped forward, laughing as the High Lords ready themselves for a battle with the Death-God.

“Oh don’t be so tense, my High Lords…” he mockingly commented, sweeping a hand, “Please sit… Do not stop your meeting for dear little old me. Though it is such an honor for you to do so.”

He rounded the table, eyes making contact with each of the High Lord, black eyes sweeping over their forms before he stopped before Rhysand.

Violet hues and black sockets stared at each other.

“Though I do have to thank you, High Lord of the Night… You have gifted me the precious gift of life. Though, it was through the loss of one of your own… You might have known her. Cared for her… Loved her…” Koschei looked at Azriel whose hazel eyes burned at the Death-God.

He let out a low laugh.

Tarquin’s assumption was right — the Death-God had used your body to free himself from the lake, right underneath their noses. No one felt it, no one knew. And it had been too late to do anything about it; months too late to prevent the resurrection, months too late to find your missing body, months too late of not listening to you.

Koschei looked behind him, far past the grand windows, the familiar cry of the bird of fire and ash echoing through the lands of Day Court, heading towards them — Vassa had come to stop the sorcerer-lord from his destruction.

However, before she landed on the balcony, an arrow, made of shadow and darkness struck her, causing the great bird to plummet to the land beneath her.

Lucien gasped and ran towards the balcony, peering down to see if the mortal queen had survived the fall; but there was no sign of the cursed queen anywhere below.

“What a dramatic entry by Vassa, as always…” Koschei said with a sigh, before another chuckle escaped his lips, dark eyes boring into the empty spot beside him, “Don’t you think… (Y/N)?”

All heads snapped towards the Deathless God, your name slipping from his lips, as they watched a swirl of darkness materialized a familiar figure. Azriel watched, hazel eyes wide as he took in your form, whisps of shadows that had whirled around you — his shadows, one that had abandoned him ever since your death.

“…(Y/N)…” Azriel whispered in disbelief, his voice shaking.

There you stood, next to the Death-God, very much alive.

Very much like a Death-God yourself.

And it echoed in your outfit — tendrils of shadow made up your dress, covering you from head to toe, fluttering near your feet as if a gown swayed by the wind. In your hands, a bow and arrow made of those shadows — the very bow that had struck Vassa down from her flight.

That was where Azriel’s shadows had gone to — leaving him, following you to your death, and making you someone completely different.

Someone that was going to be the downfall of Pyrthian itself.

Tagging: @cleverzonkwombatsludge, @setayeshmohseni, @kindasleepycryptid, @f4iry-bell, @woodland-mist, @kalulakunundrum, @topaz125, @thelov3lybookworm, @hnyclover, @harrystylesfan2686, @anuttellaa, @ithan-holstroms-girl, @judig92, @venuseuripedis, @fairywriter-oracle, @thehighlordishere, @acourtofbatboydreams, @willowpains, @historygreekqueen, @dr4g0ngirl, @ayme301, @kemillyfreitas, @crazylokonugget, @abysshaven, @michaelharrypotter, @naturakaashi, @kittenbi, @namelesssav, @guiltyreader, @awkardnerd, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @quackitysdrugdealer, @thesunloveschips, @brieflyclassymortal, @justdreamstars, @isa1b2h3, @himesuedi, @fxckmiup, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @t0uch-starved-h0e, @mybestfriendmademe

[diejager]

bro make a fanfic about the reader and the ghost/konig WHEN THE READER WAS SHOT IN THE BUN ON THE MISSION AHAHAHHHAH LMAO (in the military helicopter when they were supposed to return, the reader was holding her butt, moaning, writhing in pain and trying to hide the pain)

That is a funny thought…

Shots Cw: gun violence, bb shots, tell me if I missed any.

You yelped when you were hit is the ass, flinching forward and raising your arm just as you turned to glare at whoever landed the shot. Your right cheek exploded in soreness, tingling from the sharp pain of a BB shot.

“Hit!” You called it, letting your rifle hang from your shoulder as you rubbed your right cheek, grumbling about the bastard, “On my fucking ass of all places.”

You walk towards the respawn with your arm up, still cussing out whoever shot you in the ass. You had a hunch about the shooter: Soap, who else had enough courage to shoot you in the ass. You doubted Gaz did it, he might’ve been tempted, but he preferred other type of pranks, more mischievous ones like tampering with the washer or drinks, harmless but hilarious. Soap, however, rarely knew the limit, going as far as stealing and hiding your stuff, tapping you in the ass or messing up your head while he cackled away, speeding off to Ghost or Price to escape your wrath.

You reasoned that this was a staged scenario, a small group activity Laswell came up with that landed your Task Force somewhere in France for game of airsoft, a Free for all in the reserved location. No one had complained, thinking it a good activity mixing fun, training and awareness —everyone agreed to it enthusiastically once Ghost had voiced his grumpy acceptance, seeing this as a moment to be able to training without the prying eyes of others or the presence of strangers. Once you reached the spawn point, your jump back in to land a few shots at Soap to see whether or not he liked getting his ass bruised by a BB. You walked off determined, mind narrowed down to a single goal, your retaliation—

Until you yipped a second time, a pellet bouncing off your second cheek. You whipped around, yelling as your eyes scoured the tree line and the openings in the buildings behind you, the windows, the roof and behind pillars. You couldn’t find Soap anywhere, he wasn’t hiding behind the trees or in the buildings, but you did catch the glint of a scope —a familiar sniper scope.

“Ghost, you son of a bitch!” You screamed in outrage, feeling how both cheeks throbbed with pain. You bared your teeth, hissing at your Lieutenant who seemed smug and comfortable in his high perch on the roof of the building, “Why’d you do that?! I was already out!”

”Big target, luv,” his amused voice cracked in your comm, the low rumble of sadistic pleasure ringing out in your headgear. He cocked his scope, his white mask standing starkly in his dark gear and broad figure, “Impossible to miss. Quit moaning.”

“Big target? Are you-!” Huffing at his continued laughter, you glared his way before you turned to hurry back to the respawn, “Let’s see who’s laughing later, you ass.”

“Fuck- Hit!”

Your shoulders shook with restrained laughter, admiring the way Ghost jumped from your perch, hidden in the darkness given by the cement wall. You listened to him hiss and swear, massaging the place you aimed for: the pronounced curve of his ass, his jeans rarely doing him the pleasure of hiding what he had.

“Quit moaning, Ghost,” you cackled as you parroted his words, telling him the same thing as he told you, but you had more to add, more to taunt and tease him as revenge, “Couldn’t miss it, Lt, it was a big fucking target.”

You watched him stomp off, retreating to the tree line for his spawn point. It filled with a sense of elation and ugly smugness, and all that was left now, was to find Soap.

“Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny’s yelp felt more exciting than Ghost, something you could devour over and ove without regret.

“Not so fun, is it, Johnny?” You smirked, replying with a gleeful tone.

He looked red-faced, the tip of his ears turning a bright shade of red from the way you spoke to him, utilising his known weakness and playing him to watch him stutter and flush brightly.

“Awa’ a bile yer heid! That hurt, lass!” His voice had taken a whinier tone, face screwed in embarrassment and something that you couldn’t put your finger on at this distance.

“I know, shouldn’t have shot me in the ass then.”

Gaz tapped you on the shoulder, a smile threatening to break into chuckles. He’d known what happened to you and knew what you did in retaliation, finding amusement after siding with you, sitting beside you and peering at two frowning and mumbling men.

“Heard you had a lot of fun.”

“Not enough.”

You thought you heard Price sigh tiredly.

taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx

[maythevoidnotscreamback]

My outrage given voice: Stop saying Usagi can still be Queen of Earth when you don't have her marrying or loving Mamoru!

Like, seriously people!

The way I see it, the reason the Great Freeze or whatever other disaster(s) that resulted in Crystal Tokyo, because something else might cause it in different timelines, comes about is because when Usa and Mamo marry with love binding them, not obligation or fate telling them so, it causes a knock-on effect. The two willingly coming together for so powerful a reason causes some form of upset in the universe/cosmos, kind of like how hurricanes are formed, it's no one's intention or fault but it still happens, and when all is said and done it causes them to become King and Queen once everything has been 'fixed'; because it's their love for one another and what they know each-other cares for combined that helps them 'fix' whatever had been broken.

But! What I'm talking about is when people don't want to pair her with Mamoru and she still becomes Queen of Earth, either because 'that's her fate' or because she still marries Mamoru but loves someone else. I am of the opinion that if Usa and/or Mamo don't love one another when they get married, or simply not get married at all because they want to be with someone else, (because I have no doubts whatsoever that Setsuna would let either be unhappy if they didn't have to, especially when she can just as easily tell them that it's their true and pure love for one another that brings it about, if not in so many words) then whatever caused CT is just not going to happen. Like, at all.

And regarding those few who imply she'll still be Queen of Earth early in fic despite not marrying Mamoru at all, with the caveat that she's marrying another Senshi like StarFighter or Royal like Kakyuu to 'save Earth from its inevitable destruction', well I find that annoying. Why? Because she's the Lunarian Princess becoming Queen of Earth without having married the Terran Prince, (having instead married/fallen for a foreign entity/being to the planet) who actually has proper claim to the Planetary Throne as said by Helios to become King. Like, unless the guy's dead and he's given instructions to Helios that he is bequeathing his Throne to Usagi/Serenity and/or her Line until his reincarnation's rebirth, or the planet itself providing its own Heir, to which can be a kinda Sword in the Stone scenario by using the Golden Crystal, there's no way she'd take over as Queen without being called a Usurper or Pretender to the Throne by the people, especially when she doesn't have to. Simply say that SM did her part to save the planet for the last time, so don't waste your second chance. The only other example I'd accept, which one would think implausible since there is Helios unless he has Rules to follow not unlike Pluto with the Gate of Time, is when they don't even know about Mamo being the reincarnated Prince because that specific reveal hadn't happened for whatever reason, like what happens in "Even Miracles take a little time" by Queen Risa over on FFN.

"But what about ChibiUsa!" I hear you cry. 'What about her?' I'd reply. I'm not saying she's not important, as much as I've always hated her in general, some of the things the Senshi had been through only happened because of her presence, but I'm also not saying she'll be killed off or become non-existent. She started to disappear in the 90's anime when the possibility that Mamoru, her Papa's past self, would be forever under Nehelania's spell and Usagi, her Mama's past self, killed off was a thing, right? But! Hear me out. What if she was disappearing not because she wasn't going to be born but because she was now in a past she couldn't be in as an impossibility? It hurt her so much, not because she was becoming unborn but because Time itself was trying to forcefully put her where she's a possibility and she was fighting to stay right where she was, a past that wouldn't result in her conception or birth. And she returned because she'd been fighting to stay when she 'disappeared' that Time had no choice but to put her back when she became a possibility again.

Again, if Usa and Mamo don't marry out of love, but out of obligation or 'for ChibiUsa', then whatever disaster that resulted in CT's formation isn't going to happen. As such, she cannot, should not, be called Queen of Earth. Like, ever.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 8

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The next day, the headlines dominated the news:

"The Barnes Brothers' Hidden Scandal Exposed"

"Shawn Barnes: The Untouchable Elite Dodging Justice"

"Political Candidate’s Family Ties to Corruption Unveiled"

At the campaign headquarters, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The usual hum of activity was replaced by silence, only broken by the sound of phones ringing off the hook.

Steve stood near the table, crumpling a newspaper in his hands, frustration written all over his face. Bucky stood by the window, his posture rigid as he stared out into the distance, lost in thought.

Steve let out a heavy sigh, massaging his temples. "I didn’t expect they’d bring up Shawn at the debate."

Bucky turned slightly, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "You know Brock. He always hits below the belt, always makes it personal."

Steve glanced out at the campaign team, who were scrambling. The room beyond was a flurry of chaos: phones ringing non-stop, staff members anxiously typing responses, pacing as they fielded questions from the press, all trying to extinguish the flames of the scandal. Steve ran a hand through his hair as he watched, feeling the weight of the situation.

"The numbers are tanking," Steve muttered, his face grim. "After this, the public’s furious. Voters won’t back a candidate whose family used connections to dodge the law."

Bucky’s jaw tightened as Steve continued, "People hate it when those with power think they’re above punishment. That’s the real damage here. It’s not just about Shawn—it’s about what it represents."

The trend #CatchShawnBarnes was everywhere, climbing to the top spot on social media. The timing couldn’t have been worse. The firestorm had erupted, fueled by rumors and bots likely hired by Brock and Edgar’s teams, intensifying the outrage.

Bucky broke the silence with a quiet, "I’m sorry."

Steve looked at him, shaking his head. "Don’t be. This isn’t on you, Buck." His tone softened. "Besides, it’s not your fault."

Steve had known the Barnes family long enough to understand the full story. Shawn, the eldest son, always had an ego, fed by the wealth and privilege of his upbringing. With everything handed to him, he acted like the world owed him, seeing himself as untouchable.

In truth, it was Shawn who was supposed to enter politics. But unlike Bucky, he lacked the charisma and leadership qualities. Caroline, their mother, had long since given up hope on her eldest son, who had failed to live up to expectations.

Back then, Bucky had been a quiet presence, almost invisible in his own home. Caroline had never even heard his voice much, even though they lived under the same roof. But everything changed when Bucky entered law school. There, he shone.

He joined clubs, became student president, volunteered, organized demonstrations, and eventually graduated as valedictorian. Every trait of a leader was there, clear for everyone to see—especially Caroline. She shifted her attention to Bucky, molding him into the perfect candidate, ensuring he stayed on the path to success.

Shawn, once the golden child, watched as the spotlight shifted to his younger brother. The attention, the purpose he had once enjoyed, slipped away. He felt lost, purposeless. That’s when the spiral began. The drugs were his escape, his way of coping with the emptiness.

At first, it was subtle. But soon, it became public knowledge—Shawn Barnes was a cocaine addict. In an attempt to save face, Caroline and Julius sent him to rehab. But the real disaster struck when Shawn escaped, driving under the influence. That’s when the accident happened—the night he hit someone with his car.

Steve didn’t know the full details after that. What he did know was that Shawn had paid bail and was sent to another rehab, the entire incident hushed up. The Barnes family had buried the scandal deep, hoping it would never see the light of day.

But as Steve thought to himself, no matter how deep you bury something, eventually the stench of rot seeps through.

"I’ll fix this," Bucky said, his voice low but determined.

Steve raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "How, exactly?"

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Barnes household felt colder than ever, the tension suffocating the room. Shawn sat in the corner, hunched over, hugging his knees. His fingernails were chewed down to the skin, his pale face etched with panic.

"Shit... shit..." he muttered under his breath, eyes darting around the room like a caged animal.

Across the room, Caroline and Julius were in a quiet panic. Caroline paced, wringing her hands, her face pale with fear. Julius stood by the window, his jaw clenched, staring out as if searching for answers that weren’t there.

You sat on the sofa, watching the unfolding chaos like a distant spectator. It was almost theatrical—the Barnes family, once so composed, unraveling before your eyes.

Just then, the door creaked open, and you turned to see Bucky walking in. His face was a mask of determination, his eyes dark and unreadable.

You rose from the sofa and approached him. Before you could speak, he cut you off with a low, firm voice. “I want you to stay out of sight. Away from the windows.”

You frowned but nodded, sensing the weight of his words. He brushed past you without another glance and made his way toward Shawn.

Shawn looked up at Bucky, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He seemed so small in front of his younger brother, almost shrinking under the weight of Bucky’s presence.

“Get up,” Bucky ordered, his voice hard. Without waiting for a response, he reached down and pulled Shawn to his feet.

Shawn stumbled but didn’t resist. He followed Bucky like a lost child.

“Where are you taking him?” Caroline’s voice trembled as she rushed forward to stop them, but Bucky didn’t break stride.

“What he should’ve done years ago,” Bucky answered coldly, dragging Shawn along.

Caroline hurried after them, her heels clicking against the floor. “Bucky, wait! What do you mean?”

Bucky led them outside, the sound of the door swinging open making Caroline stop in her tracks. She froze as her eyes widened in shock. There, right outside their home, were TV station cameras, police cars, and flashing lights.

Caroline’s heart pounded in her chest. “Bucky,” she hissed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “How could you do this? This is a public execution! You’re putting a guillotine to your own brother!”

Julius stepped forward, his voice tired but stern. “Son, is this really the only way?”

Bucky turned briefly to look at his parents, his expression cold. “We have to set an example.”

Caroline’s face twisted in fear, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Bucky, please... don’t do this.”

Before Bucky could respond, Shawn’s voice rang out, shaky but clear. “Stop!” he shouted.

Caroline flinched, her eyes locking with Shawn’s. His face was pale, but his eyes, for the first time in years, looked determined.

“Mother,” Shawn said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been free from jail, but there’s been a shackle on me ever since. Guilt has haunted me every day. I’ve been hiding, running, pretending it didn’t happen. But it did. And I need to face it.”

Bucky gave his brother a nod, and Shawn took a shaky breath before turning to him. “Let’s go.”

They walked toward the press together. Cameras flashed as Bucky led Shawn to the bouquet of microphones, the press shouting questions over one another. Shawn took a deep breath and stepped forward. His hands trembled as he gripped the podium.

“I made a mistake,” Shawn began, his voice cracking. “I was reckless... I hurt someone. I ran from it, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry—for what I did and for hiding it for so long.”

As the words left his mouth, you could see the weight of guilt lifting from his shoulders, though his face remained heavy with regret. He glanced at Bucky, who stood beside him, stoic but supportive. Bucky knew how much the accident haunted Shawn, how it had eaten him alive from the inside out.

After Shawn finished his confession, he stepped away from the podium and voluntarily walked toward the waiting police car. The press erupted with questions aimed at Bucky. One reporter shouted above the rest, “Why did you expose your own brother like this?”

Bucky met the reporter’s gaze, his voice steady and firm. “Because no one is above the law.”

As Shawn was driven away, Caroline stood frozen in the doorway, her face a mask of fury. She didn’t want to look at Bucky, not now, not after what he’d done. Julius said nothing, too exhausted to protest or intervene.

Once the commotion had died down, you walked up to Bucky, your voice low. “You don’t feel guilty? Sacrificing your own brother like that?”

Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "I'll do anything to get that position. It’s all for you too, babe." His voice was low, dangerous, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity in his gaze as his lips hovered just inches from your skin. The closeness sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something intoxicating in the way he said it, like a promise that left you both thrilled and unnerved.

You met his gaze, your pulse racing. "You’re crazy," you muttered, though the words felt weaker than you intended.

Without another word, you pulled away, leaving him standing there, the charge of the moment lingering long after you had gone.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day you returned to the campaign headquarters, where the atmosphere was thick with tension.

So much had happened in the past 48 hours. The campaign team buzzed with a frenetic energy, fueled by the fallout from Shawn’s confession. Despite the chaos, there was a flicker of optimism; his admission had managed to regain some trust from the voters.

Yet, you could sense the undercurrent of anxiety. Everyone was on edge, aware that the storm wasn't over. Phone calls rang out, strategy meetings were called, and you could see the weight of the situation pressing down on each team member's shoulders. You felt a mix of relief and dread—relief that there was hope, but dread about what might come next.

Your brother, Tim was still focused and serious as he poured over the reports, his usual calm replaced by a quiet intensity. You watched him for a moment, feeling a strange pang of guilt in your chest. But you couldn’t linger on that.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else.

The streets were busy, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in the chaos of everything that had happened. The scandal, the press, Bucky. It felt like everything was unraveling. The nearest café was only a block away, and you pushed through the door, grateful for the brief respite.

That’s when you saw him.

Ian.

He was leaning casually against the counter, a cup of coffee in hand, but the moment he spotted you, something changed in his expression. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it was far from friendly.

You froze in place, staring at him for a beat too long. “Are you spying on us?” you asked, your voice low but sharp as you crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Ian's smirk widened as if he’d been waiting for this. “Isn’t it obvious?” he replied, his tone almost teasing but dripping with bitterness. “I work with the other side now.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but more than that, something inside you twisted—an old wound reopening. You took a step closer, your eyes narrowing.

“We’ve worked together, Ian. We’ve seen injustice and unfairness in the world. But this…” You hesitated, searching his face for any trace of the person you used to know. “This feels personal.”

Ian’s smile faded, replaced by something darker. He snapped his fingers, and in an instant, everyone in the café left, leaving just the two of you inside.

You were taken aback, a chill running down your spine as the door swung shut behind the last customer.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You got that right,” he said, his eyes burning with something deep and unresolved.

“The person who died in that car accident? The one your dear Bucky’s brother killed? That was my twin brother.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the world around you narrowing to just Ian and the heavy weight of his words. “Your twin…” you whispered, the realization hitting you like a punch to the gut.

Ian’s expression hardened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yeah. My twin brother. Both of us were put up for adoption. I didn’t even know he existed until I was fourteen years old.”

He turned his gaze away from you, the memories clearly painful, but he didn’t stop. “I was adopted by a British couple. Grew up thinking I was an only child. It wasn’t until I did some digging into my adoption records that I found out about him. My twin.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you listened, unable to speak. Ian’s voice was tight with emotion, but he pressed on.

“I was so damn happy when I found him. We bonded right away, as if we’d never been apart.” His voice softened, but the pain was unmistakable.

“We stayed in touch. Became close. We had so much to catch up on, and it was like I finally had someone who understood me in a way no one else could.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “But then…” He looked back at you, his eyes blazing with anger. “Then Shawn Barnes took him away from me. He killed him. And your husband family covered it all up.”

You flinched at the venom in his words, your heart pounding in your chest. You had no idea. You hadn’t known the full story, and now it was staring you in the face.

Ian stepped even closer, invading your space, his eyes searching yours for something—maybe regret, maybe guilt. “They buried it. Buried him. And now you’re standing by their side, supporting the man whose family let my brother’s killer walk free.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You felt frozen, torn between your loyalty to Bucky and the weight of Ian’s grief and anger.

You knew about the cover-up involving Shawn, but who were you to uncover the truth, especially knowing it would be futile to fight against Caroline?

Now, guilt washed over you for having ignored this. It turned out the victim was closer than you had ever realized.

Ian’s voice softened, but the intensity didn’t fade. “Tell me,” he said, his gaze piercing into you. “After all of this… after everything you know… do you still trust him?”

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[feirceangel]

Asks are open you say? Well how about a dynamic flip? Feyd is the proud warrior but is unexpectedly bartered away in a deal his brother makes to humiliate him. Surprised and furious he fully intends to conquer his new "brides" family and kingdom only for them to recognize his strength and be met with the satisfying challenge of warrior/ farming planet.

So, I kinda went in a different direction with this, but I hope you still enjoy it, Anon!!

Imagine | A Match (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd is given in marriage to a wealthy House in order to gain an alliance. His new bride is not what he expected.

Word Count: 1,737

Warnings: arranged marriage, attempted choking/stabbing, non-sexual nudity (reader), Powerful! Reader.

"What?" Feyd's voice is barely concealing his rage as he stares down his uncle and smug brother.

"It was necessary, my darling," the Baron's voice is rough, his tone placating. "We need this alliance more than you know."

Feyd finds his teeth clenching, hands forming fists at his sides. "Why not Rabban?"

"You know why," the Baron glares. "They would not accept Rabban as a suitable match. You are to go and wed their daughter. And in return they give us whatever we ask."

Feyd growls, "I outta slit your throat, uncle."

The Baron laughs, "This is for your benefit as much as it is mine, dear nephew. Now go."

Feyd storms out of the room, a hurricane of rage sweeping through the halls. He has never felt an anger this severe in quite some time. He should have known something like this would happen eventually. And, knowing his uncle, there is another scheme at play.

Always plans within plans within plans.

It's not the worst situation, he muses later when he has calmed and steadied his mind.

House Wallach would be a formidable ally, an asset that shouldn't be taken lightly. With control over three planets and being the largest horticultural power in the Landsraad, they are powerful indeed.

The leaders of House Wallach has birthed only a daughter, which leaves them without a male heir. All manner of eligible men have tried their hand at a marriage to their daughter. None has been successful.

Until now, apparently.

A feral grin spreads across Feyd's face as he thinks of the possibilities.

He will have no issue wedding the daughter and taking control of House Wallach when the time is right.

And, perhaps if he plays his cards right, take control of House Harkonnen as well.

He cares not who he has to marry, even if he'll be mad about it for awhile. After all, he can dispose of her eventually.

~~~

Feyd arrives with much fanfare, as befitting the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

Bright sunshine surrounds those gathered to greet him, people who are swamped in bright greens, yellows, and browns. All around the envoy are orchards of all kinds of fruit trees. A vibrant sea of green.

So much more colour than Feyd is used to.

His expression remains neutral as he greats the Lord and Lady of the House. They appear cautious of him, perhaps overly so. It seems they know House Harkonnen’s reputation.

"It is an honour to be here," he says, bowing slightly. The lie slides easily off his tongue.

"We are pleased to have you in our home, na-Baron." The Lord says, returning the bow. "Our daughter is so pleased that you accepted the match."

Feyd's lips quirk up. Surely he's lying, no noble lady would hold any desire for a creature like him.

"As I said, it's an honour."

His gaze sweeps around, searching for his wife-to-be. All he finds is diplomats and soldiers.

"Where is Lady Wallach?" He asks, unimpressed at her absence.

"Forgive us, your arrival coincided with an event she could not miss," the Lord replies. "She is attending a Munus Ceremony."

This catches Feyd's attention, "A fight?"

"Yes, if you come this way, we may still witness part of it."

Feyd follows Lord Wallach, silently fuming.

His betrothed is watching other men fight to the death instead of welcoming him? His outrage is unparalleled, yet he remains collected.

They lead him up to the viewing tower of an outdoor coliseum, with vines growing on every available surface.

The viewing box is empty.

"There my lord."

Feyd's attention is brought down to a figure in the ring who brandishes a dagger with a graceful air.

"Our daughter,” Lord Wallach smiles, the action appearing forced.

He hadn't expected this.

Feyd was picturing a regal noble lady, demure and pitiful. He had not once pictured this creature before him, fluid in her movements as she battles her opponent.

She blocks attacks with ease and avoids ones that would cause serious damage all while attacking just as fiercely. Her opponent is skilled, to be sure, but is no match for the ruthlessness of her attacks.

He falls to the ground, unmoving. Feyd’s bride-to-be lifts her arms in victory, grinning as blood drips down her blade.

“We honour!” She shouts, and the crowd responds with deafening cheers.

“We know she is not exactly… How can I put it? Traditional, let’s say.” Her mother frets, “But she will be a good wife, na-Baron.”

He barely hears her, eyes transfixed on the beauty in the arena as she battles another opponent. Yes, this is an interesting turn of events indeed.

“Of course she will,” Feyd replies. “I must meet her.”

He watches as she disappears into the building, no doubt going to change and bathe after her match.

“Certainly. She’ll be out to give you a tour in no time. Meanwhile, a guard can show you to your room.”

Displeased, Feyd nods and obediently follows the man to his room. As soon as he’s alone, Feyd opens the door and stalks out with determination.

He cannot wait.

There is surprisingly little security surrounding your change room, Feyd notes as he quietly opens the door.

Your piercing gaze meets him immediately. Instead of being frightened, like he had anticipated, you smile warmly.

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, I was not expecting you here. I’m afraid you have caught me unprepared to greet you properly,” you say calmly as you continue to unbutton your fighting tunic.

He doesn’t know what to make of your reaction. You’re not put off by his presence at all.

“I couldn’t wait,” he replies honestly.

You hum, “Excited to see me, na-Baron?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

The sound of your laughter is unexpected, “Of course not. I doubt I was what you were anticipating.”

His gaze lingers as you remove your clothes and retrieve a washcloth and bucket.

“Don’t you have servants?” He finds himself asking, motioning to the washcloth.

“I prefer to do it myself.”

He frowns, “You don’t seem very noble.”

“I assure you, Wallach blood flows deep in my veins,” your voice has taken an edge.

It seems he’s struck a nerve.

“I meant no insult, my lady,” his grin says otherwise, his voice rough and teasing. “It just appears you have odd taste. Fighting and doing the work servants should be doing.”

You return his even gaze, “I am not some snivelling noble who cannot take care of herself. Feyd, it seems you do not remember me.”

Your last statement has him pausing.

“What did you say?”

Lathering suds onto your bloodied skin, you barely spare him a glance.

“I said you don’t remember me. We met once, you know.”

He does not remember such a thing.

“Don’t toy with me,” he snarls. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you roll your eyes. “Feydie, I can’t say I’m not hurt you don’t recall.”

Your bastardization of his name brings a memory to the front of his mind.

A young girl bearing the Wallach crest getting angry with him over something and punching him clear across the face. He naturally returned the blow and they broke out into a fight right then and there.

He’s shocked he forgot it.

You watch as recognition filters through his eyes. Smiling, you rinse the suds off your body.

“Now you remember. To be honest, I don’t know why I was so angry with you.”

“You’ve always been a fighter,” he acknowledges with an inclination of his head.

“And I knew you could not be satisfied with a weak wife.”

He’s coming to realize this match may not have been a scheme of just his uncle.

“You wanted this match,” he phrases it as a statement as if he already knows the answer.

You smirk, “Does it not please you?”

“What makes you think I would want you as a wife?” He sneers, crossing his arms.

“I know you planned on controlling me, or killing me - whichever suited your needs best. You want power, Feyd. I can give you that and so much more. Is it too much to ask for you in return?”

He cannot find words, mulling over your proposal as his eyes study your every move.

You’ve certainly grown from that little girl who could barely throw a proper punch yet had the rage to carry through a fight.

Feyd observes as you dry yourself off. He leans over before you can, and grabs your fresh shirt from the table.

“Allow me, my lady.”

Surprised, you nod and present your back to him. A foolish mistake, to turn your back on a potential threat. He contemplates disposing of you right now, but finds himself frowning at the idea.

You’re so much more interesting than he first imagined.

Despite himself, he wants to know you better, to find out when you had your first gladiatorial fight or when you realized you could be so much more than wedding fodder for your parents to make a match with.

“So many suitors have tried to win your hand,” Feyd rasps as he guides your arms through the sleeves of your shirt. “Yet you denied them all.”

“None were you, my lord.”

“Why chose me?” He leans into you, pressing his chest to your back as he slowly starts buttoning your shirt.

You lean back into him, “You are a fighter, a warrior. You can wield blades and talk politics. And I know you can treat me right.”

“Why would I treat you any different than a common whore?” He suddenly presses his arm against your throat, cutting off your oxygen.

He looks at your expression, surprised to find a wide grin. A flash of pain goes through his side. Your eyes flicker downwards and Feyd looks down to find the tip of a blade piercing his skin.

He releases his hold.

“You will treat me differently, Feyd. And do you know why?”

You turn to face him, placing your hand on his bleeding wound.

“Because I will make you.”

Feyd cannot stop the smile forming on his plush lips as you bring your hand to his cheek.

He doesn’t say anything as you continue place a kiss to his lips before shoving him away.

“We must ready ourselves for the dinner tonight, there is much to discuss about the wedding.”

“Of course, my lady.”

[Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!]

[reminiscingtonight]

Vending machine, Jammed, Disbelief - Leah Williamson

Late Night Adventure (Leah Williamson x Reader)

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s quiet in the hallways as you try to make your way to the lounge. It’s quite late, and you know if any of the staff catch you you’ll be in big trouble. But all you wanted was some hot water for a lovely cup of tea. And given that the electric kettle in your room was broken…

The last thing you expected was to stumble across a very familiar looking blonde staring quite crossly at a vending machine on your journey for tea. 

Leah hasn’t seemed to notice you yet, angrily muttering under her breath as she kicks at the box in outrage. 

“Woah there, careful with that golden foot of yours.”

Blue eyes look up frantically, relaxing slightly when she realizes it’s you. “What are you doing out of bed so late?”

You raise an eyebrow, not at all fazed by the hostility in Leah’s voice. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Your captain sighs, dejectedly thumping her head against the glass of the vending machine. You have to muffle your laughter at the whine Leah lets out. “It ate my five and won’t give it back.”

“Do you mind if I…” you trail off just as Leah huffs and steps back, not really expecting to get her money back or her snack, but not seeing much harm in letting you take a shot at it either.

Humming, you peer through the glass. Sure enough, Leah’s packet of crisps is sat diagonally, resting between its slot and the glass. Your want for tea is all but forgotten, the task at hand seeming much more intriguing than your inability to fall asleep. 

Leah tsks when your fingers trail to the buttons, randomly pressing at the coin return in hopes that it might magically treat you better than the blonde. 

“I already did that,” she sighs, frowning when you seem to ignore her. 

You muck around for a little longer after that, fiddling with buttons, randomly seeing if your hand could fit through the chute. Everything you do is met with an equally as loud breath of impatience by your captain. Despite being a calm head on the pitch, it’s obvious that her patience didn’t translate well off the field. 

In the end, all it takes is a well placed whack by the heel of your palm dead center of the glass. 

Leah stares in disbelief as a whirring sound rings out, her packet of crisps dropping down the chute as distinct clinks of coins could be heard.

You fish out her snack and money like it’s nothing, smugly grinning her way. “Feel like I should take a finder’s fee, but I guess I’ll be generous this time.”

Leah rolls her eyes when you drop her things into her hands. “Gloating takes away from the actual feat, you know.”

“What? A hero can’t revel in their success?”

“‘Hero’ is pushing it.”

“Your white knight in shining armor?”

She doesn’t even bother with a response.

“The Spiderman to your Mary Jane?”

Leah’s eye twitches. 

“The Superman to your Lois Lane?”

“You do realize the more you talk, the less attractive you become?”

Your grin widens. “So you think I’m attractive.”

Leah sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose before turning on her heels. “Goodnight.”

“Hey! Where’s my thank you kiss?”

[etheries1015]

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

[hayleythesugarbowl]

spencer agnew where his partner is visiting shoot day and Spencer flirts with reader in his chosen outfit 🤭

I Choose You || Chosen!Spencer Agnew x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: when you come to visit smosh, where your boyfriend spencer works, he surprises you by showing you one of his favorite characters

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none

a/n: ahh i hope you enjoy this my love 🤭 this worked perfect for a short lil fic and i hope it’s what you wanted

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Can I ask why you’re wearing a jester hat?”

     You looked up at the woman in front of you.

     “This?” She said, “It’s part of my character. Though what character I don’t exactly know yet.”

     You shrugged. It wasn’t the weirdest thing you’d seen since you arrived at Smosh.

     You’d just arrived a few minutes ago, finally making your way to the right studio. Spencer hadn’t given you exact directions and you’d had to ask multiple people which way it was.

    �� “So are you new here?” The jester-hat woman asked. “I’m Amanda, by the way.”

      “No, I’m just visiting,” you gestured to your lanyard, “I’m (Y/n), Spencer’s partner.”

      Amanda cocked her head to the side. “Huh, so you are real. There goes my 20 bucks.”

     You chuckled. “Yeah, Spencer invited me to come watch the shoot today. He said he wanted to show me something, but I don’t know where he is.”

     “Found him,” Amanda said, pointing in the direction of Spencer 

     You watched as he walked towards you. You took in his attire. He was wearing a black wolf-themed t-shirt, khaki shorts, and dark sunglasses, a sword at his hip.

     “Oh boy,” Amanda patted your shoulder, “Good luck with that.”

     She stepped away leaving you alone, before Spencer arrived in front of you.

     “Hey Spence,” you said. “I—

    “So,” he interrupted. He put on a voice, completely in character. “You must be the new visitor here at Smosh.”

     He indicated the visitor’s lanyard you wore around your neck. You were only confused for a moment before you realized. This must be what he wanted to show you—a character. You decided to sit back and see where this went. 

      “This studio is a freaking hellscape,” he continued, “If you wish to survive here, you must listen to these instructions, and listen carefully.”

     You raised an eyebrow, stifling a laugh. 

     Spencer pulled his sunglasses down, breaking character for a moment “(Y/n), this is serious. Never laugh at the Chosen.”

     “The Chosen?” 

     “Yes,” Spencer said, becoming the character again, voice and all. “The Chosen. Master of wit and combat. Downfall of all my enemies.”

     “Right,” you nodded your head, an amused look on your face, “Got it. Continue.”

     “As I was saying,” Spencer—the Chosen—kept going, “listen up if you want to have a rat’s chance at walking out of here alive.”

     “Number one. Never ask Angela about the chronology of any important historical events.”

     “Hey!” The woman who must have been Angela shouted in outrage, overhearing.

     “It’s ok, Ange,” Amanda consoled her, “I get my ones and elevens confused too.”

     “Moving on,” Spencer continued. “Number two. If you ever need to coerce Shayne into doing your bidding, use a La Croix. Some might say it’s his life force.”

     You nodded, playing along with the bit.

     “And finally, there are many aesthetically pleasing males here. More aesthetically pleasing than I. An epidemic, if you will.  However, even though you may be tempted, pay no attention to any of them under any circumstances. They are all intellectually my inferior, trust me.”

     You giggled, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend.      

     “I doubt that,” you said.

     “I am always correct. And I assure you, my IQ is that of an—”

     “No, I meant you know I think you’re the most attractive one here.”

     “Have you heard of the warrior known as Damien?”

     “Doesn’t matter,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around Spencer, “Because I only have eyes for you.”

     “Well in that case, I’m not going to argue with you.”

     “I thought you were always right?” You shot back. 

     “Ah, I see you’ve unlocked my one weakness: beautiful people.”

     You blushed, placing your hands on his chest. “You have a weakness?”

     “I know, surprising. But even Hercules had his own form of kryptonite.”

     “Let me guess, you fought with him,” you teased, taking a step back. “What is it, clubs? Anvils? Some mythical monster?”

     “No, it was Megara’s love. Did you even watch the Disney movie?”

     You laughed. “So, beautiful people, huh?”

     You looked into Spencer’s eyes. “I seem to have that weakness too.”

     “Then you’ll know how serious it is,” he said, “And you’ll know what the only way of defending yourself against its hold is.”

     You looked at him expectantly.

     “We must kiss.”

     “Only if it’s absolutely necessary,” you played along.

     “Very,” Spencer mumbled, leaning in to kiss you.

     Your lips met his and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you in, his hand tight around your back.

      “Spencer!”

      You pulled apart slowly and both looked in the direction of the voice. 

      “Make out on your own time, we need you on set!” Amanda called.

     “Well,” Spencer said, turning back to you. “It seems I must begin another mission—one with significantly less hot babes.”

     You rolled your eyes at him.

     “I’ll see you later then,” you kissed him gently, “I’ll try to survive as long as I can.”

     “Best of luck. And remember, I may be the Chosen,” he said, “But I choose you.”

     He bent down and kissed your hand slowly, before tipping his non-existent hat to you and walking back to set. 

     You sat down on a chair towards the back of the room, reflecting on the interaction you’d just had.

     You loved Spencer so much. It was things like this that reminded you why. 

     You watched the whole shoot, enjoying seeing some of what Spencer did as a living.  You knew he was talented and funny and dedicated—but watching him work just renewed that knowledge.

     You were more in love with him than when you got there. 

     The shoot ended and Spencer walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you and giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. 

     “Well, what’d you think?” He asked, back to himself.

     “I thought you were incredible,” you answered, trying your hand at the Chosen voice.

     Spencer smiled, “Not bad, babe. But maybe you should leave the Chosen-ing to me.”

     “You are the master,” you saluted.

     There was silence for a moment.

     “So,” you began, tracing your finger along one of his arm tattoos, “Do you think you could, um, bring some of that Chosen stuff home?”

     “Really?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

     “Yeah, I don’t know,” you said, “I think it’s kinda sexy.”

     “You do?” Spencer looked shocked and a bit flustered before clearing his throat and covering it up.

     “I mean,” he said, his voice deeper, “Of course you do.”

     You laughed, beginning to walk towards the door, grabbing Spencer’s hand as he followed you.

     “So,” he said, putting back on the Chosen voice as you giggled, “You’ve become enamored with the Chosen?”

He paused.

     “Impressive.”

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope y’all liked this one. stay tuned for more spencer fics coming soon 🫶