#acquirement of humanity against your will

[error-space-2]

Pretty

Choso x Reader

NSFW fem!hot!reader // choso

warnings; dry humping, choso is bad at feelings, slightly clueless choso, dub-con? (everything is consensual, but choso doesn't completely understand everything), reader is hot, kinda long, premature ejaculation.

Note; posted this on my main, but I'm pretty sure it's shadowbanned so I'm reposting it here lol. If you like my writing, you can read more here!

Enjoy~

It surprised you that you were not part of the incident in Shibuya, seeing as you were a special grade sorcerer, you'd have assumed they'd want to tag you along somehow.

They did not, and you ended up being one of the last to learn about Gojo's imprisonment. It came as a surprise, and a part of you almost started to worry about what was going on in Tokyo, so naturally you found yourself offering to help out, even going as far as to move back to help with Jujutsu high.

What you didn't expect, is for the higher ups to dump an ex-curse user on you with no explanation besides 'make sure he doesn't relapse or something'.

It baffled you how unprepared they were, but you weren't one to complain. Not when your new half-human half-curse roommate was so... cute?

When you were told to keep an eye on him, you weren't expecting this to be what you'd be dealing with. You'd expected some super scary, weird curse thing, but Choso was surprisingly chill.

Socially inept, sure, he definitely wasn't used to living in human society, and definitely the quiet type, but he was easy to get along with and for the most part followed along with what you did.

If anything he seemed lost. You didn't really question why he split from his curse friends, but it was pretty obvious that whatever it was must've been intense enough that he's willing to go along with all of this.

You chose not to dwell on it too much, instead shrugging at the fact you now have an indefinite companion and moving on to live life as you normally would. The higher ups didn't really inform you what they wanted you to do with him, and seeing as you had no new missions assigned to you, you found yourself left with quite a large amount of free time.

Which you chose to spend getting acquired with Tokyo once again, having been away for a while, you had somewhat forgotten how it was. How did you choose to do this? Shopping, bar hopping, markets, social events, that kinda thing.

Basically all the things you used to do back when you used to live there.

And who was your designated victim of these adventures? Your new friend of course!

You found it endlessly entertaining to drag him around and introduce him to things he's never experienced before, which he (surprisingly) seemed to find tolerable.

He never really argued with you. Want to go shopping? Ok. Let's go hit the club? Alright.

In a way, he almost found himself enjoying doing those things with you. It was certainly better than being completely alone, though there were still things he didn't understand.

Why did you need new things so often? The old ones hadn't broken, and the new black dress you got looks awfully similar to the one you wore last week. Why do you need new shoes? He could've sworn he's seen those exact heels in your apartment.

Clubs confuse him even more. Why would you want to surround yourself with drunk people and loud music? He can't even hear what you're saying, but it feels nice when you lean against him like that so he doesn't mind, and you look so good in your black dress, whichever one it is (he can't tell the difference), that he feels his cheeks heat up.

It's an unfamiliar sensation, but he brushes it off as nervousness (is that what it's called?) of being in an unfamiliar environment.

He doesn't really understand why everyone in the club is eyeing him like that, majority of the men at the club giving him weird looks, which he wants to ask you about the meaning of, but he's not sure how, simply ignoring it as he watches you effortlessly down another shot.

He tried one last time, it tasted gross and felt weird in his throat, leading him to question how you were drinking them without even making a face. Are all humans like this?

He doesn't really care enough to investigate, not minding just sitting as you have your fun, trying desperately to not appear rude as you try and tell him something that he literally can't even hear because of the music blasting in the background.

You do look really nice though, and he finds himself staring at you pretty often. Not just at clubs but in general, which you catch most of the time but don't bring attention to, finding it cute.

He doesn't even notice he does this, or understand why he shouldn't do it anyway. You're pretty, why shouldn't he look?

When you finally get a mission assigned, he tags along as your partner. There is another group on your mission, two of the guys give him strange looks (similar to the ones he got at the bar), and he tries to search for any form of explanation inside his mind, once again contemplating whether to ask you for an answer. You were good with people, he was sure you'd know.

He was about to ask but you seemed so involved in your discussion with one of the girls, that he decided against it, awkwardly hovering by your side waiting for you to finish, wondering why your laugh makes him feel all weird inside.

Once the mission was over, he wasn't surprised that you dragged him along with you to celebrate with your sorcerer friends.

The gathering itself went pretty normal, but a few things caught his attention. You got complimented a lot, which he hadn't really noticed before, both on your skills and your looks. His expression must've looked strange enough for one of the girls to chime in and say "what, don't tell me you weren't aware that you're partnered with like- the hottest female special grade sorcerer to date!" which earns her a laugh and a small nudge from you.

Choso spends the rest of the night thinking about that.

He'd never really thought of it that way, but now that it was mentioned to him, he couldn't help but agree that you were hot. And that was strange.

He was never really one to ogle women, having never felt the need to before, but now he found his gaze wandering more often. It's not even that anythings changed in his behaviour, he just started noticing it more.

It felt weird.

He didn't like the feeling.

It felt wrong noticing these things. The way dresses hug your waist, and shorts show off your ass, and the way the tank tops you wear around the apartment make your boobs look really good. He feels almost ashamed when he notices, but a part of him doesn't want to look away, urging him to admire you as he feels strange sensations pooling inside him.

He finds himself thinking about you a lot, whether you're around or not. Sometimes he'd think of you at night, not understanding why he felt all hot inside and sleep seemed to escape him on those nights.

As you got closer, he'd find that he liked being around you in general. Enjoying the tingly feeling he got whenever you leaned against him while watching movies on the couch, or the way you'd hold his wrist when guiding him through crowds in whatever route you'd deemed the 'fastest'.

Over time he started to speak more too. Not much more, he was still pretty non-talkative, but he'd talk now instead of simply nodding in reply.

You also found yourself growing to like him more. You thought he was pretty interesting to begin with, not only because of the whole half-curse thing, he just seemed pretty cool.

And he was adorable, can't forget about that.

I mean, what's better than a hot guy who's slightly clueless? It's definitely way better than the men who can't seem to keep it in their pants, wanting to slot it in at the mere sight of a pretty girl showing a bit of cleavage that's for sure.

And the thing is, he didn't even seem to realise he was hot.

Upon getting to know him, he was just as oblivious and awkward as he seemed. It was honestly so cute how he'd blush when he'd realise he was staring, and how he seemed so confused about what it was he was feeling, and how the way he felt seemed to be obvious to everyone but him.

It was clear as day that he liked you. There was no hiding it, though you'd wager he probably didn't even realise what that meant.

But you sure did.

So you'd make it a game, flirting with him constantly, getting more touchy than necessary, just to see how long it would take for him to question it. Except you knew he probably wouldn't.

Why would he? It's not like he can even put a name to what it is he's feeling. And he certainly can't tell what the stiffness in his pants is when you lean on him, hand drawing small objects on one of his thighs as your eyes are fixed on a movie.

He can feel it, he just can't name it.

Once again, he wants to ask you, but in this case it's him who stops himself from doing so. How is he supposed to ask about something like this? Wouldn't you find it weird? What even is this??

His thoughts are disrupted when you look up at him through your lashes, lips slightly glossy from the lipgloss you were wearing that day and the reflection of the light from the screen, hand still resting on his thigh as you ask if you can sit in his lap.

The request is strange to him, but he doesn't deny you, feeling a small pang of excitement when you bring it up.

When you shift into his lap, hips pressing down on his as he suppresses a gasp, back to his chest. He doesn't say anything about you blocking the screen, afterall, is the view of your back not better than a movie he doesn't even understand the plot of?

He remains silent as you make yourself comfortable in his lap, acutely aware of the way the tightness in his pants seems to intensify as you do so, the familiar feeling of heat pooling within him coming making itself present.

Almost on instinct, he spreads his legs slightly, causing your ass to press closer to the bulge in his pants, causing him to let out a small groan.

"you alright Choso? I can get off if you'd like"

Your words are said teasingly, though there is a hint of sincerity in them, you wouldn't want to make him uncomfortable afterall.

"no... it's fine. It just- feels weird"

"weird how?"

He contemplates for a second, hands resting idly on your hips as his thumbs mindlessly draw on the exposed skin above your waistband.

"it's like- all warm. hard to explain, it's just... strange. I've never felt this before" he pauses before adding, "it feels good though, you don't have to move"

You hum, shifting slightly closer to him, hearing the way he swallows behind you, the twitching in his pants not going unnoticed by you.

"are you getting worked up?"

"if that's what this is called"

His response is pretty blunt, not even trying to deny the effect you have on him as he blushes slightly, realising that you probably felt the commotion happening beneath you.

He was about to apologise before you interrupt him, leaning back against him, head resting on his shoulder.

"I can make it feel better if you want"

"please do"

His voice is soft, but it doesn't lack certainty. You honestly were expecting him to be a bit more flustered, but you weren't gonna complain about this.

You let out another hum, beginning to gently grind your hips against his hard on, relishing in the way his breathing stutters and soft noises start to make themself present.

"keep- keep doing that... it feels nice..."

You let out a small laugh, pressing a kiss to his jaw, one of your hands moving to run through his slightly messy hair, earning you a small sigh that grows into a moan as you press down on his hips harder.

"ok ok~ I'll keep going~"

You purr, grinding your ass against him through his pants, not at all surprised when you feel him throb beneath you, hands gripping your sides tighter, pressing you against him a bit harder almost instinctively chasing after this very nice new feeling you're gracing him with.

You smile when you hear him hiss, breathing getting heavier as he get's closer.

"feels really- weird-"

He huffs out, head falling to rest on your shoulder, breathing getting more erratic as the rhythmic press of your hips against his becomes more and more insistent.

"good weird?"

"yes."

You nod, pressing your lips to the side of his head as his hips shift slightly under you, breathy moans turning into louder groans as he reaches his high.

It wasn't surprising that he finished pretty fast, seeing as he's never done this before, and you ease him through it. His hands move to wrap around your waist, holding you against him as he catches his breath.

"how was it Choso? better?"

He doesn't answer straight away, but after a few short moments he nods.

"can you... do that again?"

Now that surprises you, but who are you to deny?

Masterlist

[theresattrpgforthat]

Thinking about solo or GM-less games, I found myself wondering if there are any TTRPGs that are sort of like Vampire Survivors, or that genre of run-based autoshooters where you collect semi-random power-ups/weapons and face off against hordes of enemies and work to level up/evolve the powers/weapons that you have. It's maybe a bit specific, but do you know of any games like that, or with systems similar to that?

THEME: Vampire Survivors.

Hello friend,

I tried to learn a little bit about Vampire Survivors, but I'll be fairly candid here when I say I'm not sure if I nailed this assignment or not.

Vampire Survivors appears to be a rogue-like shoot-em-up game with special abilities and bonuses applied to your character using upgrades acquired by opening chests.

I tried to spread as wide a net as possible, so I hope you still find something that suits your tastes!

Blister Critters, by stillfleet.

Take the reins of radiation-blasted animals known as Critters starring in an eco-apocalyptic Saturday-morning cartoon show in this goofy and exciting tabletop roleplaying game (TTRPG) from Odd Gob Games and the Stillfleet Studio!

Using the innovative Grit System, Blister Critters drops players into a bizarre post-human world of Blisters (mutations), physics-bending Nonsense powers, dangerous feral Beasts, and a near-infinite amount of human Stuff.

Blister Critters is all about getting new stuff, but Stuff in this game is a rather broad category. This includes loot that is mechanically helpful, or loot that is more descriptive, and adds interesting flavor to the world. I think post-apocalyptic games in general can have a lot of fun narrative flavor added just through the gear you can pick up.

That being said, the most common benefits Stuff can give you is either additional damage, or additional protection from damage, so that tells me this is a fairly combat-friendly game. The design aesthetic is also so inspirational, and I think you could get a lot of fun ideas just flipping through this game.

Escape from Hades, by only1marek.

Escape From Hades is a roleplaying game inspired by Hades from Supergiant games which uses a card-based twist on the LUMEN system kit. This game follows the escape attempt of Condemned trying to ascend through the underworld in opposition of its Master.

Condemned players are the could-have-beens of Greek myth, favored for greatness by the Gods but condemned to obscurity by Fate; a warrior who trained under Achilles but died of plague before seeing battle, or an oracle who learned the secrets of Delphi just as prophecy was deemed forbidden.

The Master player holds Hades’ authority, and is divinely charged with deploying the hordes of the underworld's greatest soldiers, criminals, heretics, beasts and monsters to stymie the Condemned's escape from their assigned place in the underworld.

Escape from Hades is a LUMEN game, and I wanted to recommend at least one LUMEN game in this post, because this system is so very good at replicating the feeling of video games, and also provides a very satisfying game loop. This particular game is inspired by the Hades video game franchise, and so the items are inspired by the divine power-ups that you get from various deities.

As written, the power-ups aren't very random, but I think some small tweaks from the game master might be able to replicate randomization if you really want it. Finally, leveling up your powers to feel more and more competent is definitely part of these kinds of games: each upgrade to your character can enhance abilities you already have, making future runs more and more effective at taking out some of the higher-level obstacles.

Blood Neon, by Radmad.

Show no mercy because you will be shown none. Bash and shred your way to glory, and become the one thing the fearless fear. The 11th Realm’s elected monarch has reached into another dimension for profit, creating a golden age of consumerism in the material world. That greed has cost the 11th Realm dearly. Now monsters from a plane only known as the Neon tear through into our reality and wreak havoc on the citizens of the land. The only thing standing between us and annihilation are heroes like you, Neon Hunters who become living weapons. Devastate the enemy, die, and die again, and ascend to new heights of power.

Blood Neon definitely has the feeling of fighting large numbers of enemies at great effect. It's also designed to allow your character to meaningfully progress. However, if you really want to get the feeling of variety and surprise, I think you'll also need to check out the supplement called Atomic Shock. It has new mechanics and rewards, new gear, and new enemies. Probably a good addition if you're looking for powerful gear!

Decree, by Phantom Limbs.

The Demiurge is slain, and the Lords of Sol have vanished. Now, we only have each-other, and the ruins that lie beyond our walls.

Decree is a roleplaying game in which you and your friends play as a party of post-human adventurers, who have set out to delve into the great ruins of our solar system far into the future, in search of lost technology and ancient knowledge. It features a simple and intuitive 2d6 resolution system inspired by Classic Traveller and Chainmail, fast and lethal combat, a wealth of character creation options, and a bounty of tools and gadgets to aid you in your delves.

This game is still fairly early in play-test, which means that it's free to download. Each class in character creation includes a d10 table that you can roll on for gear, so you already start out pretty randomized. The game also has an artifact list that the GM rolls on when the players pick up more loot; some artifacts provide mechanical boosts, while others give you money for purposeful power-ups.

At the end of the day however, the gear in this game doesn't hold nearly as much relevance as the narrative, and the focus of the game is primarily exploration, although I feel like combat might come in at a close second.

Sweet Revenge, by World Champ Game Co.

You may be dead but you’re not quite done living. Journey downward through spirals and circles of Hell, laying waste to any demonic beast that stands in your way. Use the method you died to inform your inventory and abilities on your violent quest. Face off against a trove of fallen angels, giants, infernal beasts, and more on your way to confront the devil and demand your final wish be answered… if you don’t succumb to your darkest traits along the way.

Sweet Revenge is a tabletop roleplaying game for 2-6 players including a Grave Master (GM). The Dead make clever use of their wonderful cabinet of items, the fragments of souls they claim, and the powers of the 7 Deadly Sins in lieu of stats to dive into the depths of hell. Each region is controlled by a powerful demon with whom The Dead face off (if they survive long enough) to make their demand.

Your starting inventory is determined by the method by which you died, which feels very unique and helps Sweet Revenge stand out. You're fighting the forces of Hell in this one, which I think is on par with the overwhelming forces you face off in Vampire Survivor.

Sweet Revenge indicates that it pulls much from OSR-style games, which means that your inventory and items (which are dropped randomly) will be about as useful as the players can make them. A lot of things you find in the game won't have concrete mechanical bonuses - instead your players will need to rely on their own creativity to make the most out of what they find. What I'm really interested in is how the game replaces character stats with the seven deadly sins, which you need to lean into if you want to use your dark powers.

Sweet Revenge comes with a couple of circles for you to get started in, including some enemies for the players to face off against. If you want not just a game but also a guiding scenario to help you learn as you go, you might like this game.

1000 HP Planet, by Sandy Pug Games.

Last week, the planet turned evil and killed every single person on it except for you and your friends. Every ocean became a crushing fist smashed against the cities of the world, and every volcano was a loaded gun pointed right at a cowering humanity.

You and your buds are heroes. Super powered beings with near godlike powers. You’re wizards who have unlocked the secrets of the universe, martial artists who can control every atom in their body, and genius inventors who’ve broken the limits of science. And you’re gonna kick the planets arse for killing everyone you’ve ever met.

But you have a dark secret.

You know why it happened.

Maybe you are why it happened.

Play to find out.

TEN MILLION HP PLANET IS COMING FOR YOU!

10 Million HP Planet is GM-less and fast-paced, with damage to your own character abstracted and damage to the planet counted meticulously. You can leverage pretty much anything that you describe on your turn to improve your dice rolls, and deal massive damage to the gigantic, terrible planet.

This game is about dramatic anime-style fights, with mooks who fight for you to provide ambient damage, conditions that you can fill to multiply damage or add dice, and power colours that synchronize to provide combat currency to buy or activate special powers.

One caveat: the game as written was originally meant to be a little bit unplayable. That doesn't seem to have stopped fans, judging by this fan-made Google Sheet to help you keep track of your die rolls. If you want a big, dramatic, larger-than-life game that's primarily one big fight, you probably want 10 Million HP Planet!

You can also check out…

My Hellbusting Games Recommendation post, which might have some overlap.

I have yet to find a game that does randomized power-ups like Numenera, whose Cypher System consistently gives players interesting short-term abilities that are very effective.

Lancer has character development that is very purposeful, but as you build your mech you can do a lot to make your character very effective at one or two things, which can feel so so so rewarding in play.

Plasmodics focuses a lot on mutation, which is something that I think can be really fruitful if it's randomized. The game page also mentions uncovering artifacts, which can change the world if you find them. Artifacts won't be common, but I think they're probably very impactful.

If you like what I do, you can always leave a tip at my Ko-Fi!

[5-htagonist]

meruem ;_;

[bunny-jpeg]

hibernation

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, bear!price, size difference/kink, breeding kink, hibernation, shifter au, established relationship, living room sex, doggy style, rough sex, pregnancy

hefty lover, that was the only way you could describe your lover. the bear shifter known as john price. and you were his lovingly perfect mate.

price's paws were big, he was well over a head taller than you and when he showed you how strong he was, it made your knees wobble a little. "c'mere, lovie. come to your big bear." and like a moth to a flame, you got into your lover's arms. you held onto his hairy, strong forearms and felt protected by your grizzly lover.

you knew when the leaves started to change colours that your mate was going to get ready for the hibernation months. it meant being out in the woods more and acquiring a healthy diet of salmon and berries. fatty foods to bulk up during the long sleep.

you had your own food from the grocery store in town, you couldn't live off the diet of a bear. but, your mate happily fished and made sure he could make it through the winter. as a result of the bulking and the heart diet, your mate got much heavier and harrier. that didn't help your sexual attraction to him.

he started to notice your neediness when he kept catching the scent of your wet pussy. it only made him need you more. the attraction was mutual.

he knew soon he was going to be in a deep sleep, and he wanted you as much as he could get before the hibernation started. it all came to a head a week before his sleep started when he needed his mate more than anything.

"c'mere, lovie. come to your big bear." he palmed himself through his sweatpants. he was in a tank top and flannel bottoms. you could see the bulge in them and how hairy he was all over.

he looked like a protector, a provider. your big bear.

price soon had you over the solid wood coffee table that was your mate's project over the summer. he was painfully hard as he carefully took off your own sweatpants and your panties (they had little bears printed on them) and he admired your cunt.

he like his mate's pussy, a little fuzzy like him. he didn't need you plucked, shaven or waxed. he needed you the way nature intended. he cooed, "there she is, the showstopper." he cupped your warm cunt for a moment before he went to pull down his bottoms and get out his cock.

his briefs were under his heavy balls. he stroked his cock, he knew he was big. he could scare any man and make any woman drool with what was between his legs. but you weren't scared of anything, and only you were allowed to touch his cock.

you took your mate perfectly.

he rubbed his length up against your slit and chuckled, "ah, they're kissing, petal." he smeared his precum up against your needy sex.

you moaned, "please, honey." you felt the pleasure race up and down your body. his lust was infectious. his love was addictive.

only a wild woman could love a bear, and you were more in love with price than anyone else could be.

"mmm, you feel amazing and i'm not even in, beautiful." he licked his lips, he was hungry for you. his darling missus. when he sank into you, you felt heaven splash over you.

you gripped the edge of the table for support, some kind of support to hold onto while your larger lover moved against you with heavy thrusts.

price had been holding out on breeding you. it was wasn't easy for a human to carry a shifter baby, especially a bear one. and keeping up with price along was a task in itself.

but with you bent over the table, he couldn't help himself. he wanted a reminder of him as you got through the winter. he continued to thrust up inside of you. he was encouraged by your sweet moans, it made him hungry for you. he moved you up and down his cock, he needed you with a heated want.

you were a perfect little thing, his little human. his delicate little mate that he needed to protect. to love. to breed.

"that's it, love. you take me so fuckin' well. made perfect for me, you have the most beautiful cunt i've ever had the pleasure to fuck. you're heaven sent, a gift from mother nature herself. my personal goddess." he groaned while his mouth ran like a motor.

you whined in response as you felt your mate press his hairy chest against your back. he got his shirt off because he really pressed you up against the table. no wonder he spent the summer making sure it was strudy enough. a good place to lay out his mate and fuck her until she saw stars.

"that's my beautiful, girl." He said, "you look great under me. next time, i take you, we'll be face to face so i can watch you as you cum. my fuckin' angel, all mine." he continued to fuck you. he watched your ass bounce with each of his movements.

"please, john! ah! fuck, your cock feels so good." your eyes squeezed shut from the rush of pleasure in your core. he knew exactly how to make you feel good.

no other man ever made you cum before you met john price. on his first try he made your back arch and your toes curl.

your pulse quickened as the pleasure continued to build in your core. you loved being price's mate. to love him was a journey that you enjoyed. your pussy wetness drenched your thighs as price continued to fuck you from behind.

price knew how to be gentle, but where was the fun in that? not when he could bounce you on his hard cock at a feverish pace. pleasure bubbled in your soul as you felt on cloud nine.

such a rough lover, using size, experience and age to his advantage. he had you under his mercy. but that didn't matter to you, not when the shocks of pleasure bloomed in your head. not when you found the ache for your lover being filled. the bear shifter knew how to make heaven on earth. you held on tightly to the edge of the table as the movements grew faster. his cock hit against the softest parts of you.

"I love you."

"i love you too."

you whined a little and your feet dug into the patterned rug under the table. you bit your bottom lip to try and not be too loud. but price loved it when you were loud.

he wanted to hear every noise you made, it only turned him on further. price loved everything about you. you made him feel more wild than anything else, including turning into a bear. your allure had him on his knees begging for more. with you he could always be greedy, he was a possessive bear with you. territorial.

you didn't last much longer. not with such a heat pumping through your body. you were gasping with an insatiable want as he made sure you came before he did. you held onto the table tightly as you came. the clench in your body as you felt the inferno of lust around you.

price maintained his pace and fucked you through your orgasm. your heightened noises only sent him over the edge as his pace started to stagger. with a few heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. he held your hips up with his large hands to make sure it got all the way into your womb.

when he stropped, he wasn't finished. he had less than a week to make sure you didn't forget your mate over the long winter months.

-

price made a gruff noise and turned over onto his back. his eyes open, it wasn't quite spring yet. he raised his head and scratched his beard. he looked around the quiet bedroom with bleary eyes and noticed you not in the bed next to him.

even though you couldn't hibernate, you had been away from the nest for too long. he heard a small crash from the kitchen and he was up on his feet. he lumbered over and saw you by the oven with a tray of brownies in your hand.

you looked almost guilty at the sight of your mate standing there. you said, "sorry, big bear."

price smiled sleepily, "it's alright. you eat up for you and the cub." he came over and gave your soft bump a nice rub, "come back to bed soon. can't sleep without you." and gave you a kiss on the top of your head before he lumbered back to bed. back to sleep until the snow melted <3

[nanaminokanojo]

MASTERLIST

After constantly meeting with Sukuna for several months, he invites you over to his place following an early dinner and you found out that he has a cat. It was grumpy just like him with black fluffy fur and luminous eyes that seemed to follow your every move with human-like intelligence as if it was judging you. It stayed close to its owner, slinking its body against his leg and later sitting on his lap like nobody's business as if to tell you, "He's mine. Fuck off."

It didn't like you.

At least the cat was clear about its feelings towards you. Its owner, you couldn't be too sure. You don't even know why he invites you out, his intentions as vague as how this whole thing between the two of you started. One day, you met through a common friend who was obviously setting the pair of you up, and when you thought you wouldn't see his face again – a fair assumption after he behaved rather rudely, saying he wasn't interested – he somehow got your number and eventually asked you out.

You chalked that up to him being apologetic after you called your friend out for subjecting you to Sukuna again, the choleric jerk that he is, but then promised on his mom's grave that he only gave your number to Sukuna and that was it. Everything he did was of his own volition, and you were torn about it. Maybe he found you attractive, just that he didn't like the idea of being set up. Maybe he wasn't really absolutely rude and wanted to make it up to you for giving you that impression. Who knows? You weren't that much interested, but you gave him a chance.

Well, he was attractive in an acquired taste kind of way, built impossibly tall and broad, hair in short, wavy tendrils that was the color of rosy dawn, rough around the edges, almost brutal in the way he says and does things. Strangely, you liked looking at him enough to actually spend time with him.

None of your speculations were proven. Ryomen Sukuna wasn't apologetic, not even remotely. He invited you to dinner, didn't put up much of a fight when you insisted to split the bill in half, and he wasn't overly polite either. He spoke in that same uncouth manner without putting up much of any pretense in front of you, not that you were offended. He's a potty mouth, you already knew that, but you'd rather have him speaking his mind in all honesty.

You didn't think he was all that attracted to you. Interested, probably, but that was difficult to decipher, too, at least the manner in which he found you interesting. Your so-called meetings were rather quiet with either of you refusing to say more about yourselves. It was torture for the first three times with your longest sentences to each other being three words long. You would say hello to each other, eat in silence with occasional comments about the food and then he would walk you to your car and bid each other good night. Everything felt forced and it was torture.

But to your surpise, he would invite you out again just when you thought there wouldn't be a repeat to whatever it was that you had going on. Why? You didn't know. Until it became a routine. And then you found yourself spending more time with him, mostly over meals on random days or just convenience store coffee when it's too late in the night to do anything. Both of you were busy after all.

Which brings you to your current situation. In his high-rise apartment that didn't look lived in. On a Saturday night. With his very possessive, very grumpy cat.

But you saw a very different side to Sukuna with his little pet. He didn't smile, he smirked. But with his cat, which he fondly called Ume, he did just that, gently scratching at its belly and talking silly with it. You sat there awkwardly, feeling like you've intruded on something private.

"You can pet her," Sukuna told you, making you go stiff on your spot when he looked at you as if you were an afterthought. He seems to be in a playful mood even prior to the whole cat scenario, smiling more, acting more gentlemanly, not that he wasn't on most times you spent together. It had you confused even if it had been going on for the last several times you've met with him. Or more precisely since that day you started saying more than three words to each other, conversing normally.

"I...don't think I should," you told him, eyes intent on the black fluff on his lap. Ume sat up as if it understood what you were talking about, eyes narrowing into slits from how they've been round and wide from its owner's attention.

Sukuna scooted closer to you, close enough for you to see cerise flecks in his dark irises. "You don't like cats?" He asked that question as if you were a walking red flag if you responded incorrectly according to his standards.

You shook your head. "No, it's not that. Ume doesn't seem to like me."

He looked at his cat then at you, brows furrowing. "Well, that's a problem," he deadpanned.

Was he fucking serious? You didn't want to delve into the intricacies of his statement as he continued to run his fingers through Ume's fur. But to say you were offended was an understatement, and you wanted nothing but to get the hell out of his house. So much for warming up to the idea of progress where your odd relationship was concerned.

Without thinking, you stood up from the couch, trying your best to keep your expressions neutral albeit taking herculean effort. "I think I should go."

Sukuna solemnly nodded, looking down and biting his lower lip, making you frown. He looked contrite, but you did see a ghost of a smile there, or perhaps you just imagined it. "I'll go get my keys."

"I can call a cab," you stated, your petulant mood seeping through your words, but he didn't wanna argue about that and insisted on driving you home. Why you didn't drive separately like you usually did was beyond you. What were you expecting anyway?

The drive had been quiet and you were annoyed that he was grinning, even letting out a chuckle here and there even if you were blatantly ignoring him. You just endured it until you arrived in front of your apartment complex.

But instead of getting out of his car, you just sat there. You glared at him when you saw how he was suppressing a smile as he reached over and undid your seat belt for you.

"What's so funny?" you demanded.

"You are."

Oh, okay. You scoffed. This was definitely the last time you were going out with him. You pursed your lips, trying to keep your frustration at bay. "I guess this is it."

Sukuna arched a brow at you, looking pissed yet oddly more charming that way. You hated that about him. "What?"

You rolled your eyes at him, not having any intention to lose to his temper. "I'm going. Bye –" You managed to open the door, but he reached out and closed it again, trapping you on your seat with his muscular arm.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he stated, looking amused of all things.

"Sweet— Let me out."

"No."

You shrugged, lacking the energy to argue. "Go back to your cat, Sukuna."

He smirked at you then. "Are you jealous?"

"Offended is more like it."

Silence followed your words as you just watched Sukuna pushing his tongue against his cheek before chuckling again, his deep voice filling the car. "Damn, if I knew it would be this easy to see this side of you, I would have taken you home sooner."

You spun on your seat, shooting him a dirty look. "What?" You were beyond confounded. You wanted to reach out and smack him on the head, anything to release the sudden burst of emotions you didn't even imagine you would feel towards Sukuna in all those times since you've first met, let alone in a span of minutes and a few choice words.

"I don't get why you kept taking me out despite the fact that we couldn't fucking communicate properly with each other —"

"You agreed—"

"—and you think the fact that your cat hates me is a major problem?" you finally exploded. "And you're doing this on purpose, too!"

At that, he burst out laughing.

"It's not funny!"

He sighed, letting up on his mischief as he tried to reach out and touch you, but you slapped his hand away. "Come now. Don't be mad, sweetheart."

"I'm not your sweetheart."

Sukuna took your hand in his, placing it against his cheek. You flinched, feeling his warmth against your palm, but he didn't let you pull it back. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help teasing you all this time."

"Trust me, you did more than that." You made a face at him.

"It's just so hard to get any reaction from you. You're too damn quiet and I can't get a read on you. I can't even tell if you like being with me or not."

You let up on the barb, your anger fizzling to slight annoyance at the thought that he was puzzling about your intentions towards him as much as you were about his.

Sukuna gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "At least now I can tell you care enough to be offended at the prospect of me rejecting you because my cat dislikes you." He then tucked your hair behind your ear. "I want to see more. See what makes you tick. See more beyond my precious arctic sprite."

You were flustered by his words, the possessive way he addressed you, making you squirm on your seat, but in a good way. "Well, you'll get more ice if your tactic to get to know me better is to piss me off."

Sukuna cupped your face with both hands. "Knowing what you don't like makes it easier for me to know the opposite."

"You're a jerk."

"I know, baby. But you don't dislike me, do you?"

It was your turn to keep a serious face as you looked away from him and said, "That depends on my dog."

He smirked at you. "You have a dog?"

"No."

"So..." He scratched placed his hand at the back of his neck and you understood it as embarrassment from small talk, belated after months of knowing each other. "Do you like cats or dogs?"

"Spiders."

Sukuna looked taken aback but he just nodded. "Cool."

Suddenly, and for the first time in front of him, you started snickering much to his astonishment. You were giving him more than he's asked for in one go, and it was overwhelming him in ways he didn't imagine.

And then you said, "I like cats, too."

Just then, he placed an arm at the back of your seat and leaned towards you. "There's something else I want to know whether you would like or dislike."

You turned your head towards him. "What's that?"

"This." He closed the remaining gap between you, his lips dipping to find yours in a kiss, albeit quick was enough to hot-wire your brain and for blood to rush under your cheeks. "So?"

"I don't –"

Kiss. "How about now?"

You're much to dazed to say anything.

Kiss. This time, he lingered a tad longer, moving to coax your lips to respond, but he pulled away much too quickly, grinning when you moved forward to chase his lips, your hands shooting out to hold him in place, savoring his warmth and the way he felt against you.

Safe to say you liked it. Very much.

A/N: This has been in my drafts for who-knows-how-long and I just found it again.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240601]

PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[simping-overload]

ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴡɪɴɢᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ

a/n: the wings take inspo from maleficent. Colors, and other details are left vague! Feel free to send an ask for any other god for pt 2!

tags: wings, fluff, romance, human? reader, gods, headcanons format. completely gn reader! no gender ever mentioned. Not proof read!!!

characters: zeus, hera, ares, aphrodiate, hephaestus, hermes

Disclaimer: this combines the world of the og Greek texts, blood of zeus, epic the musical, hades game, and my personal view of the gods. this can contain improper or ooc information. I have favorites if it's not obvious.

if you wish to support me please consider donating to my kofi or requesting a commission so I can help feed both my cats and colony cats of my neighborhood!!!

ᴢᴇᴜꜱ

-> loves them, finds that they add on to your beauty. teh strength of your wings impress him greatly, and he'd love to watch you fly. he sometimes likes to fly with you, turning into his bird form so you can race. yes, he will get upset if he loses and zeus tantrum ensues.

-> kiss, kiss, kisses them all the time. not an each of wing is left untouched. he knows where all of your senstive bits are and will use it to his advantage. the spot between your wings is teased relentlessly and often found to be covered in hickeys.

-> he has a painting of your wings and has them placed somewhere on his palace walls and likes to look at it frequently. he makes sure to get one that involves both him and your wings eventually as well. he's adamant that you have your wings around him as your sleep regardless of the position. he enjoys the feeling of your feathers against his skin greatly.

ʜᴇʀᴀ

-> finds your wings to be beautiful. She appreciates them for their appearance and their strength. she can often find herself captivated at the way they move even when idle. she loves flying with you, not to race but to simply relax. she likes to go sight seeing with you, pretty areas you find are often new vacation spots you use to get away from everyone.

-> she likes to touch them, where they connect with your back. the feathers are the softest there, and where your the most sensitive. somtimes she likes teasing you via letting her hands ghost around that area. she also likes to kiss your wings. she often does collect your feathers, adding them to her daily appearance since she wants to both look good(she always does) and have something to constantly remind her of you.

-> she finds it comfortable to be wrapped up in your wings. so please, let her rest against your chest safe in each other's arms as your wings are wrapped around her. blocking the rest of the world from reaching her.

ᴀʀᴇꜱ

-> he's indifferent about your wings, but he's worried about their fragility. at the beginning, he refused to spar with you on this pretense, but that changed when you managed to slap somebody with your wing and send them flying. when you spar, he's still careful and makes sure not to damage your wings intentionally.

-> just like his mother, he also likes to touch them, can quite find them therapeutic when he needs to calm down. he used to be and still is scared of breaking them, he's witnessed how easily his hands can break things and he doesn't want to break you. also because he accidentally pulled a feather out and didn't touch your wings willingly for a while. he doesn't kiss your wings but he smothers his face in them and just chills there.

-> the feathers that shead from your wings get collected for his helmet crest/plume(it's the brush looking thing on greek helms) when he finally acquires enough he'd have them condensed and into a newer helmet that he'd wear to battle.

ᴀᴘʜʀᴏᴅɪᴀᴛᴇ

-> she loves them! quite obsessed with them, actually. she makes sure they're taken care of and beautiful at any hour of day. she usually has a servant take care of them as she watches, making sure they're up to standard or she'd do it herself.

-> she collects your feathers, adding them onto the clothing she wears to show off who she's with. any feathers she can't put into clothes are tucked away in a box for later. don't bother worry the amount of feathers you'd eventually end up with and possibly hiding them. she will always end up finding them and will get upset with you.

-> she likes to sleep in your arms already and the wings are just a bonus. and even when you aren't in bed sleeping, regardless if your simply going about with your day doing whatever. she likes to hide in your wings to avoid her any duties and people.

ʜᴇᴘʜᴀᴇꜱᴛᴜꜱ

-> finds them quite beautiful and interesting. He doesn't worry about the fragility since he has a handle on his strength already. regardless of if you are a warrior or not, he wants to create armor for you. he almost reminds you of a strict seamstress when he takes your measurements.

-> he doesn't really do anything with your feathers aside for using them for a fidget. When he's looking over blueprints or paperwork, he lets himself twist it between his fingers and runs his fingers through it. like he does with his pencils he subconsciously tucks the feather into his ear or into his hair.

-> he doesn't mind being wrapped up into your wings but prefers when you lay on his chest/against him with your wings spread out across the large bed. he likes to run his fingers against the thick bones and feathers as he finds it easier to fall asleep.

ʜᴇʀᴍᴇꜱ

-> wants to race you and is quite impressed if you can keep up but even if you can't, he appreciates the effort. he likes to be held by you and fly with you on his breaks, enjoying your company and the view at the same time. he also would help you take care of them, preening is a new favorite pass time of his.

-> hands and lips are all over the wings. running his hands through them any chance he possibly has as he relaxes. he steals your feathers, he has no use for them but he likes to have them on his long messenger trips to help him feel less home sick. the feather helps him keep his head on his shoulders when he's all stressed out.

-> wrap him in your wings like you'd roll a cat into a burrito. He likes them, and even if he suffocates, he wld be content it. Just like aphrodiate he'd use your wings as cover for when he's hiding away from his duties or people, forcing himself into your arms and having you hide him in your wings as discretely as possible.

[servicpop]

kinktober week 1 — shower / bath adrien ( deliquent oc ) x bttm m reader

That Saturday afternoon glow of light orange and yellows filtered through your curtains and into your room. It was a sign to turn on your light since it was getting dark. As usual, you were hunched over your desk finishing off any work you had from your classes, pen in hand and music blasting through your headphones.

Your music cuts off and out of confusion you pick it up from its position faced down on the table; its Adrien, of course. He's sent you a rather cryptic message of just emojis, no text, just "🧍‍♂️👉🏡👍💒💦💞💞💞. You don't have half the mind to decipher it but you do understand that he's most likely heading to your house. Per usual.

You don't bother sending him a reply, you seeing it is enough for Adrien to take that as a yes.

Your parents aren't home tonight, but that's never stopped Adrien from sneaking into your room through your window, even if the front door is free. You hear rattling and that's when you know Adrien has so kindly graced you with his presence. To make things easier for him, you decide to slide the window open and peer down at him.

Just like rapunzel, he's scaling your 'tower' like it's nothing. You sometimes question if Adrien is even human, and how he's acquired knowledge to safely climb your two story home. You notice that he has his gym bag slung over his shoulder and he tilts his head up to you with a grin, "Catch this!" He shouts, throwing his bag up to you and you shakily catch it, placing it down on the floor.

The next second, Adrien is hauling himself into your room and brushing off the dust from his clothes. "The front door is... open you know?" You huff, shaking your head disapprovingly. You glance over at him, and you see beads of sweat dripping down his temples and how his chest rises and falls quicker than usual.

"Are you—" "I went to training." Right, Adrien trains basically every second day of the week for a sport you never thought to ask about. Basketball? Football? Hockey? You never asked.

"Can I use your shower, prez?" The question comes off too casual; you've never really let any of your friends take a shower in your house let alone come over regularly. But since Adrien is already here, all sweaty and hot, you can't find a reason to say no. "Fine, everything you need is in there," you nod, walking back to sit at your desk.

"You're not gonna show me where it is?" Adrien places a hand on your desk, leaning his weight against his arm as he looks down at you. You just assumed he knew where it was given he's broke into your house multiple times but your assumptions were wrong. You get up and start walking, not bothering to look back to see if Adrien was following. You knew he would.

You reach your bathroom, stepping in so you could show him where everything was. Before you started speaking, you heard the faint click of the door shutting.

"Adrien—" "How am I supposed to know which knob is hot or cold?" he's so blatantly playing with you. He walks right up to you, only a hair away as he looks down at you. A stupid grin is plastered across his face and his fingers are gripping at the edge of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. "I'm all sweaty, prez, I need help washing my back," he sighs dramatically, fanning his face.

You take a moment to just stare. He's glistening in a sheen of sweat, droplets trickling down the curves and dents of his muscles, even his hair is slightly tousled. You keep quiet, unsure of what to say. That grin on his face never seems to lessen; it only grows wider by the second.

You can't even utter out a word before Adrien is pulling off his pants, letting them fall to his ankles. Your head instinctively darts to the right, trying to shield your eyes. "What? You act like you've never seen my dick before," he snorts out, tugging at your shirt, "it's been inside you too," he adds, successfully pulling your shirt off. "Oh shut up," you groan, grimacing at the way Adrien says it.

You don't stop him from completely stripping you down before taking off his own boxers, you just have the decency not to stare. He pushed the shower door open and ushered you inside before following you in. His chest his flushed against your back and the feeling of his sweat against your skin made you shiver, "Sorry," he mutters with a small chuckle.

He does know which knob is cold or hot because he immediately turns them to a desirable temperature. It's a little bit cooler than your preference though, but you don't mind it.

Adrien wastes no time in feeling your body, his hands moving straight to your hips like a moth to a flame. "You've been eating good? Not overworking yourself, prez?" He murmurs against your skin, his lips dragging along your shoulders as he clutches your body. "Yeah," your response is quiet and short, almost breathless since Adrien is all up on you at the moment.

His fingers trace the lines of your hip bone to your front, patting the skin where your leg meets your hip, slowly dipping more into your inner thighs to rub that area. His hands are so close. You can feel him spread your flesh, and he slots his cock in the free space. "Adrien," you scold, trying to pry his hands away but Adrien just ends up pushing you against the wall, your palms flat against the glass.

"You've been treating yourself well?" He hums, and you can tell from his tone he's half-mindely asking you these questions just to keep a conversation. He moves his hips back, sliding against the underside of your dick before meeting your hole, rubbing shallowly. "I haven't seen you in a week," from gentle caresses to harsher groping, Adrien's hands are now squeezing your hips.

Adrien nips at your neck, biting gently since he knew how you felt about visible marks, "It's so hard to avoid you" He borderline growls in your ear, pushing up into you. Adrien groans quietly at the feeling of you stretching out around him. His breathing becomes more and more audible as he caresses your torso.

Your small whines are muffled by the sound of water hitting the shower floor and the feeling of the cold glass along your chest gets you squirming. Adrien lifts your hips up a tiny bit, giving your ass a small tap before pushing in fully. Your fingers twitch and clench on the glass, trying desperately to hold onto something before Adrien's own hands meet yours, slotting a finger inbetween the gaps of yours.

"Just want me to hold your hand?" You wanna bite back at him but you lose your voice the moment he pulls out and thrusts back in, forcing a yelp out your throat instead of words. He squeezes the plush flesh of your ass a few times, and his eyes are trained to your hole, watching as it sucked him back in everytime he moved his hips back.

Adrien was getting overly worked up right now and the water didn't help either. Seeing the droplets decorate your spine like clear crystals rolling down the curve of your back made his mind go blank. You really brought that side out of him. He couldn't help but imagine that was his semen painting your back instead.

"Fuck you're too cute," He grunted, squeezing your hand a little tighter. Everytime Adrien pushed his dick in further, you felt the water push into you as well like it was wetting your insides. It was a weird sensation, nothing like lube, but it served to heighten your arousal from the fact that the water made the sound ofbyour skin clapping together alot louder.

It wasn't long before Adrien had moved in a way where he could hit your prostate directly and he knew he found it the moment you let out a strangled cry. Hearing that, Adrien pushed your body more against the glass, pinning you between himself and the wall. Your neglected cock was feverishly rubbing against cold wall with each thrust, smearing your pre-cum all over the glass.

"Does it feel good? Shit, maybe I gotta experiment with temp-play later," Adrien chuckled and you just let out an agitated groan that came out more like a needy whine. "That's where you're weak, isn't it? The underside of your dick?" You hated how he knew these things by now, but he wasn't wrong. Everytime you rubbed along the cold glass your body would jolt away from it and into Adrien which would result in him pushing you back into the wall as he fucked you from behind.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you heave, squirming relentlessly as your dick twitched against the wall. Adrien just let's out a strained chuckle as he grips your hips tighter, pounding into you even faster. He leans his head down to your shoulder and sinks his teeth into your skin, forgetting about the fact that you would definitely scold him for this afterwards. The feeling of Adrien's chapped lips and sharp teeth piercing through your skin made your vision go white and your ears ring.

Your previously clear shower walls are now splattered with white and your knees buck as Adrien holds you up, forcing you to stand as he orgasms into you. He laughs breathlessly as you ragdoll in his arms like a baby deer who's trying to stand up. "Right, right I'll clean you up baby just relax, and then we'll get out," he chuckles, rubbing soap inbetween his hands before cleaning you off,

"I think I'm gonna dry up like a raisin if I stay here any longer..."

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles - Leona Kingscholar x Reader

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

Series Masterlist

You're just an average person, doing normal human things like eating, sleeping, and, of course, staring at your poster of Leona Kingscholar for three hours straight. Totally healthy behavior. People have hobbies, right? Some knit, some jog, and you…? You defend your fictional lion husband from slander on the internet. You’re practically a digital knight in shining armor.

The story that has consumed your very soul? Oh, just your typical Cliché Villainess Academy Novel: Revenge Edition™. The plot is so by-the-book, it’s basically a war crime against creativity. Female lead? She’s been in love with the male lead since he gave some boring welcome speech that apparently hit her so hard, her brain rewired itself into a romantic mess.

The villainess? Obviously in love with the male lead too, but her one and only goal in life is making the heroine’s existence a never-ending trainwreck of public embarrassment. And the male lead? Sweet summer child. He just wants to get his degree and avoid eye contact with all of these lunatics.

Enter: Leona Kingscholar, the second male lead. The man, the myth, the walking sarcasm machine. He’s there purely to fuel jealousy in everyone else’s love story, but for you? He’s everything. The brooding, lazy, hot second male lead who rolls his eyes at every plot point like he’s just as done with this novel as you are. He has better things to do, like nap, but here he is, dragged into this mess by proximity.

If it were up to you, he and the male lead would run off together, leave the heroine and villainess to start their own hobby club about emotional devastation, and the two guys would live happily ever after in matching beach chairs somewhere.

But no. Instead, you’re stuck reading about her fawning over him while Leona is just… there. Existing. The only thing keeping your interest alive.

And now? Now, your loyalty to Leona Kingscholar is about to pay off. The fan event of the century is just days away. It’s going to be glorious. A whole day dedicated to Leona—merch, fan contests, life-sized cardboard cutouts (which, let’s be honest, you’re ready to risk it all for). You've cleared your schedule, mentally prepared yourself for the inevitable squealing, and created a battle plan for acquiring the best merch before everyone else.

But fate? Fate’s cruel.

You’re casually defending Leona’s honor online as usual, battling some no-name troll who dares to claim that the male lead is "better written." (HA! You laugh in their wrong face.) But then—what’s this? A an likes your tweet about Leona! And not just any author. THE ONE YOU LOVE. The serotonin shoots through you like an adrenaline shot straight to the brain.

Your heart’s racing. You’re vibrating at a frequency only dogs can hear. You leap out of your chair like some majestic gazelle—or at least that’s what you tell yourself as you promptly trip over the plushie army that guards your floor.

Before you know it, you’re tumbling, body flailing like a noodle, bouncing down the stairs in what feels like slow motion. The world spins. Your merch shelves mock you from the distance. You land at the bottom in a heap, your soul floating just above your body.

"Is this… how it ends?" you wheeze, gasping for breath, more in shock than pain. As your vision starts to fade, all you can think is: I never made it to the Leona event….

And with that, you die. Crushed under the weight of fandom.

You wake up, and your first thought isn’t the usual, “Oh, I’ve been isekai’d into a new world, how fascinating, I’ll have time to adjust in a moment of peace and reflection.” No. You wake up and it hits you like a brick: Oh no. Female lead.

But then, a beam of hope breaks through the clouds of despair and shines down on you like a heavenly spotlight: Wait. Leona Kingscholar is here.

Before you can even revel in the thought of being in the same universe as your broody lion crush, reality smacks you upside the head. Loud voices are pulling you back to the scene unfolding right in front of your very eyes.

You blink. Hold on. This is not a bedroom, and this is definitely not a private moment to gather your thoughts like in every other isekai novel. Oh no, you’ve been thrown directly into the group project scene.

You know, the one where the villainess is sharpening her claws on the heroine while Leona watches from the sidelines like he’s two seconds away from a permanent nap? Yeah, you’re smack in the middle of it.

The villainess, looking as pissed off as usual, is glaring daggers at the trembling heroine, who is staring at you with those wide, teary eyes like you’re supposed to swoop in and save her from this verbal smackdown.

And that’s when it hits you: you’re the male lead. The original goody-two-shoes, justice-loving male lead who always stepped in to defend the heroine. The one who got suckered into every cliché moment, complete with sparkles and heroic speeches about morality and blah blah blah.

Not you, though.

You take one look at the heroine. She’s giving you this look like you’re her knight in shining armor, expecting you to throw yourself in front of her and deliver some dramatic monologue about kindness and decency. And you? You're mentally checking out of this scene faster than the speed of light.

Nah. You’re not about that life.

Your gaze drifts to Leona, sitting on the far side of the room, slouched over like he’s wondering why he’s being subjected to this emotional soap opera when he could be napping. His face screams "done," and honestly? Same. He meets your gaze, eyes half-lidded and bored, probably hoping you’ll do the usual male lead routine and put an end to this nonsense.

But oh no, today’s different.

You casually stroll over to where Leona is sitting, ignoring the drama unfolding behind you. With the swagger of someone who knows exactly what they’re about to do is going to blow some minds, you hold out your hand to him. "So, uh… you want to ditch this disaster and go take a nap? Or maybe raid the kitchens? I’m thinking we play hooky and pretend this never happened."

Leona’s eyes flicker with surprise for half a second. The male lead? The goody-two-shoes-moral-compass of the entire plot? The guy who literally lived to stop drama in its tracks? Is offering to blow off this whole mess? He raises an eyebrow, smirking like the cat who caught the canary.

"Didn’t think you had it in you," Leona drawls, but you can tell he’s already down for this. "Alright. Let’s go. If anyone asks, I’m gonna say you dragged me out."

"Deal," you say, trying not to look too smug. And with that, you turn on your heel, and with Leona at your side, you head for the door, leaving behind a shell-shocked villainess and a teary-eyed heroine who’s probably still processing the fact that her supposed knight in shining armor just dipped.

As you and Leona stroll out, you hear the villainess mutter, “What… just happened?” and you can’t help but grin. You may have just turned the plot upside down, but at least you’re doing it in style.

"Hey, Leona," you say, nudging him, "think we can find some of those fancy desserts in the kitchen? I’m starving."

Leona snorts, shoving his hands into his pockets. "If you’re buying, sure."

And just like that, the male lead and the second male lead walk off into the sunset—or rather, the campus courtyard—hand in hand with a new mission: Avoiding all future plot nonsense at all costs.

You’re not sure how you got here, staring at the over-the-top ball decorations like you’ve stepped into a bargain bin fairytale, but hey, life has taken a weird turn lately. You, of all people, are living out the plot of a novel so cliché it makes your head hurt.

But you guess that’s what happens when you get isekai’d into a second-rate villainess story. The only thing missing is a glass slipper and some woodland creatures to sing with.

And of course, surprise! The ball isn’t just some casual evening of sipping punch and avoiding the villainess’s death stares. No, if you don’t nail the ball, you don’t graduate. Because nothing says "academic achievement" like knowing how to waltz while dressed like a background character from Bridgerton.

So here you are, in ball lessons, where everyone is nervously pairing off while you’re trying not to roll your eyes into another dimension. The heroine, with her usual doe-eyed sparkle, gets paired with you first. And let’s be real: she’s either terrible at dancing, or she’s using this as an excuse to get you to hold her close.

But you? Oh no. You’ve read enough of this garbage to know where that’s going, and you have zero interest in playing out the “close embrace, sparks flying, almost-kiss” trope. Absolutely not.

As soon as the music starts, you decide it’s time to act. You let your feet stumble—deliberately, of course—and flail around like you’ve never seen a ballroom floor in your life. The heroine, bless her clueless heart, giggles like she thinks you’re just being cute, but you’re not about to humor this. When the instructor’s eyes lock onto you, you seize the opportunity.

"Oh no!" you say dramatically, throwing a hand over your forehead like you’re in some kind of soap opera. "I’m so bad at this. Could someone please teach me how to dance?"

You pause, glance around the room, and then lock eyes with Leona Kingscholar.

"Leona!" you shout, loud enough that the whole room freezes. "You’re the second prince! You must’ve had etiquette lessons, right? Teach me how to dance!"

The room collectively loses its mind. The heroine looks like you’ve just slapped her with a glove and challenged her to a duel. The villainess is staring at you like you’ve lost your marbles. And Leona? Leona’s expression is somewhere between utter confusion and why me.

Leona leans back, crossing his arms, visibly annoyed. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mutters, but there’s no denying the faint twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth when he sees the heroine and villainess get shoved into an awkward dancing pair together.

Despite his clear irritation, Leona steps forward, because let’s face it, he’s the kind of guy who’ll humor you if it means avoiding worse drama. You slide into position with him, and honestly? You’re in heaven. You can barely focus on your feet, too busy trying to hide your grin while you imagine all the drama this is causing behind you.

Meanwhile, the heroine and the villainess are floundering around, tripping over each other like they’ve got two left feet each. The villainess is grinding her teeth, and the heroine keeps stepping on her toes. It’s a glorious disaster.

Leona, despite his annoyance, is surprisingly good at this. He’s leading with the kind of effortless grace that makes you wonder how someone so lazy can still be so competent at everything. You’re definitely not staring at his sharp features while he dances, not at all.

"You do realize this is a waste of time, right?" Leona grumbles under his breath, his eyes flicking to the chaos unfolding behind you. "Why me, herbivore? You could’ve asked anyone else."

You just shrug, trying not to sound too smug. "What can I say? I have excellent taste in dance partners."

Leona’s brow twitches like he’s torn between smirking and rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night." But the smirk wins out, especially when the villainess and heroine fumble yet again, nearly toppling over each other.

You glance up at him, beaming. Leona Kingscholar might be annoyed, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. And you? You’re just here for the ride, watching the heroine and villainess self-destruct from the safety of Leona’s arms.

Ball lessons? Piece of cake.

You’ve been doing everything humanly possible to avoid the female lead like she’s a carrier of the medieval plague. You thought you’d be safe here, hiding behind your “I’m too busy and mysterious for romance” persona, but no—somehow—the more you avoid her, the more she’s convinced that you’re the dark, brooding, irresistible male lead she’s always dreamed of.

You know, the type who avoids emotional connections but secretly harbors a heart of gold. But the truth is, you’re just a guy trying to get through the day so you can swoon over Leona Kingscholar in peace.

It’s not like you’ve been subtle about it either. You’ve been dropping hints left and right, hoping the universe would give you a break and let the female lead fall in love with literally anyone else. But no. Somehow, everyone is ignoring your very obvious affection for Leona.

It’s like you’re stuck in a tragic comedy where the female lead falls harder for you the more you try to disappear, and Leona just… well, he’s just living his best life, completely unaware of your internal screaming.

Take the latest tea party, for example. You were just trying to enjoy some pastries, maybe steal a glance at Leona from across the table, when the heroine decides to make her move. She picks up a delicate slice of cake and holds it out to you, eyes sparkling with that innocent-yet-hopeful look that says, “This is our moment.”

You? You’re not having any of that. Nope. No way. You’re not about to be part of this rom-com narrative. So, without missing a beat, you casually take the cake from her and, in one smooth motion, turn and offer it to Leona, who’s lounging lazily next to you, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

Leona raises an eyebrow at you, clearly baffled by why you’re holding out cake like he’s some sort of royal who expects to be hand-fed. “What are you doing?” he mutters, looking suspiciously between you and the cake.

“Just thought you’d like some,” you say with a straight face, ignoring the heroine’s stunned expression. She’s sitting there, fork still poised in the air, blinking rapidly like you’ve just committed the greatest betrayal of the century.

Leona huffs, looking mildly irritated but mostly confused. After a pause, he shrugs and leans forward, taking a bite of the cake without even bothering to lift his own hand. “Whatever,” he mutters between chews. “Tastes fine.”

You nod, satisfied. Meanwhile, the heroine looks like she’s on the verge of tears, and the villainess is smirking in the background like she’s about to take out popcorn and enjoy the drama.

Later that day, you find a nice, quiet spot under a tree to relax. You’ve managed to avoid any major incidents so far, and for once, you’re not being dragged into some dramatic showdown. You lie back, close your eyes, and just let yourself chill. But, of course, the universe doesn’t want you to have peace.

Enter Leona.

Without a word, he flops down next to you, takes one look at your position, and decides—out of all the places he could sit—that your lap is the best pillow option available. You feel his head plop down on your lap like this is the most normal thing in the world. You stare down at him, completely dumbfounded, while he just closes his eyes and lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“Leona?” you start, voice half bewildered, half amused. “You good?”

“Shut up,” he mutters without opening his eyes. “You’re more comfortable than the grass.”

You blink at him, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Meanwhile, the villainess strolls by, spots the two of you under the tree, and comes to an immediate halt. Her face contorts into a mix of disbelief and confusion, like she’s just witnessed something unholy. You can almost hear her mental scream of, what the hell is going on here?!

She doesn’t say anything, though. Just stands there, hands clenched, before turning on her heel and storming off. You don’t even care. You’re too busy reveling in the fact that Leona chose your lap as his personal resting place. If that isn’t a win, you don’t know what is.

And then, of course, there’s the infamous hallway incident. The heroine—who, by this point, you’re pretty sure has developed some kind of radar for finding you—comes running toward you. She trips over something (the air? her own foot? you don’t know) and launches herself straight into your arms in what is clearly an attempt to trigger some rom-com, slow-motion embrace.

But you? You’re not here for this.

With the reflexes of a seasoned avoider, you sidestep her dramatic fall, and she goes face-first into the floor. There’s a stunned silence as she lies there, unmoving, probably processing how she ended up eating dirt.

You glance over at Leona, who’s watching the whole thing with a lazy smirk, clearly enjoying the trainwreck. You give him a slight nod of approval, and he just rolls his eyes, a small grin still tugging at his lips.

The villainess, standing a few feet away, is laughing her head off. She’s doubled over, clutching her stomach, while the heroine’s dignity is scattered all over the floor. But you? You’re just staring at Leona, completely ignoring the chaos around you.

Somehow, despite all the madness, you can’t help but think: this is fine.

The day of the big spelldrive match arrives, and the heroine has never looked more confident in her life. She’s decked out in her team’s colors, standing tall at the edge of the field, waiting for you to join her in your usual spot. You know, like a loyal dog. A loyal, obedient dog who always does what she expects.

But not today.

Today, you roll up to the game decked out head to toe in full Savanaclaw merch. We're talking a custom jersey with Leona’s name on the back, a headband, face paint, and—just to really emphasize the point—a Savanaclaw banner tied around your neck like you’ve decided to cosplay as Captain Lion Fang.

You take your seat in the Savanaclaw section and immediately start hyping up the crowd like you’re getting paid for it. The heroine spots you from across the field and stares like she’s watching a crime scene unfold in real-time. Meanwhile, Leona’s already spotted you, and the smug smirk on his face tells you he’s LOVING the attention.

The game kicks off, and with each goal Leona scores, you’re going feral.

You’re screaming your lungs out, waving your banner around like you’re auditioning for some weird mascot gig. People are looking at you like you’ve lost your mind, but you don’t care. This is YOUR moment.

Leona, on the field, is living for it. Every time he glances your way, he adds a little extra flair to his plays, just to make you scream louder. He scores, and you’re on your feet, jumping up and down like you’ve won the lottery.

At this point, the heroine is practically catatonic. Her world is crumbling before her eyes. You can practically see her brain struggling to process what she’s witnessing: you, her loyal supporter, decked out in Savanaclaw gear and cheering for her rival.

“I... I don’t understand…” she whispers, her voice trembling like she’s been betrayed by the universe itself. “Why aren’t you cheering for us?”

You turn to her with all the nonchalance of someone who’s just ordered fries at a drive-thru. “Uh… Leona’s hot?”

It’s like you slapped her across the face with a wet fish. She stands there, frozen, her eyes wide, like she’s witnessing the fall of an empire. "B-But... you're supposed to support me!"

Before you can reply with another devastating truth bomb, Leona casually strolls over after winning the game, looking like he just walked out of a perfume ad. His hair’s tousled, a thin sheen of sweat making him look even more annoyingly handsome. He stops in front of you, smirking like he’s been planning this moment his entire life.

"Didn’t know you were my biggest fan," he drawls, voice low and lazy. “Gotta say, I’m impressed with your enthusiasm. Screamin’ my name like that… kinda hard to ignore.”

You open your mouth, ready to fire back with something witty, but what comes out is more of a high-pitched squeak, followed by, “Hahaha, Y-Yeah… you’re welcome?”

And then, the words that break you: “How ‘bout we celebrate with a nap?”

Your brain freezes. A nap? You? With Leona? Your heart is doing cartwheels while the rest of your organs are busy melting into a puddle. Your mouth is moving, but all that comes out is an unintelligible “Uhhuhmm.”

Leona chuckles, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. He reaches out, grabbing your wrist, and starts dragging you off with him—right in front of everyone. He doesn’t even care that the entire field is watching. He’s already made up his mind.

The heroine, meanwhile, is standing there in stunned silence, her brain fully blue-screening as she watches you and Leona disappear. She’s still processing the Leona’s comment when the villainess, who has been observing this whole disaster unfold, finally chimes in from the sidelines with a shrug.

“Well, as long as it’s not the heroine,” she says, flicking her hair back with an air of satisfaction. “This is fine.”

And off you go, being dragged to a nap date you’re definitely not mentally prepared for, your face burning hotter than the sun. Leona glances back at you, that smug smirk still plastered on his face. "You’re lookin’ a little red there. You sure you’re up for this?"

You sputter, tripping over your own words. "I-I’m fine! Totally fine! Nap? Cool! Casual napping! No big deal!”

Leona just chuckles again, clearly entertained by how much you're floundering. “If you say so. Just don’t pass out before we get there.”

Yeah. Don’t pass out. Easier said than done when the man of your dreams is casually dragging you off to nap like it's no big deal while your brain screams at you in ten different languages.

This is fine. Totally fine. You’re fine.

Maybe.

You were sitting with Jack and Ruggie at the cafeteria, chatting about nothing in particular—well, Jack was chatting. Ruggie was there purely because you promised to pay for his lunch. Still, you’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, he stuck around because he actually enjoyed your company. Maybe.

“So, any tips on how to deal with midterms?” Jack asked, ears twitching as he looked at you with that wide-eyed eagerness that only first-years ever had. He was honestly like a giant puppy, trying so hard to be good.

You leaned back in your chair, doing your best impression of a wise and worldly senior, which mostly involved pretending you weren’t sweating about your own midterms. “My advice? Caffeine. And if you have the chance to sleep, take it. Oh, and don’t forget to eat. I learned that one the hard way.”

Jack nodded seriously, committing it all to memory like you were passing down sacred knowledge. Meanwhile, Ruggie was on his third helping of food, barely acknowledging the conversation.

"Hey, if you're handing out wisdom, how ‘bout you tell me how to get free food more often?” Ruggie said between bites, shooting you a cheeky grin.

“Isn’t that already your specialty?” you shot back, eyeing the mountain of food in front of him.

He just laughed. “Can’t argue with that, but having backup plans never hurt.”

Before you could respond, you felt a shadow fall over the table. You looked up, half expecting it to be the heroine or some random classmate, but nope. It was Leona. Leona, who you were 99% sure had skipped class because he always skips class. And he looked… annoyed?

Oh no.

He ignored Jack and Ruggie completely, his sharp gaze zeroing in on you like you’d committed some grave crime. “Oi, herbivore,” he drawled, hands in his pockets like this wasn’t weird at all. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” you asked, blinking up at him. Leona never approached people unless he wanted something.

“To the tree,” he said flatly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“The tree?” Jack echoed, ears perking up in confusion.

Ruggie, on the other hand, was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Oho~ Someone’s in demand.”

Leona shot Ruggie a look that could’ve curdled milk. “Shut it, Ruggie.”

Your brain was still trying to process the situation. You were sitting here, minding your own business, giving sage advice about caffeine and survival, and now Leona was dragging you off to his tree like it was completely normal?

He didn’t wait for an answer. He just grabbed your wrist, yanking you up from your seat as if this was some kind of kidnap situation, and started walking toward the courtyard.

“Uh—Leona? What’s going on?” you asked, doing your best to keep up without tripping over your own feet.

Leona didn’t even look back. “You’re talkin’ too much. Need some peace and quiet.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused but not necessarily mad about being dragged off. It’s just… “Why am I involved in your nap plans?”

“’Cause I said so.”

Wow, cryptic. You were about to ask again when you reached the tree. The infamous Leona nap spot. He plopped down against the trunk and, before you could protest, pulled you down next to him. Without another word, he stretched out and—because apparently boundaries didn’t exist—rested his head on your lap.

This was… This was happening.

You glanced around, half expecting to see a camera crew pop out and tell you this was some elaborate prank, but nope. Leona was lounging on you like it was the most natural thing in the world, eyes already closed, arms crossed behind his head.

“Uh, Leona?”

“Shut up. M’ tryin’ to sleep.”

You stared down at him, your brain short-circuiting. This was the third time this week he’d done this. Just… kidnapped you for a nap. What was his deal? Was your lap particularly comfortable? Did you radiate some kind of sleepy aura? What was going on here?

Meanwhile, from the distance, you spotted her. The villainess. Watching. For the third time in as many days. And you could see it. You could see the moment she put the pieces together. Her eyes widened in slow realization, her lips twitching into a smirk. She knew. She finally knew.

When Leona finally woke up—after what felt like hours of you sitting there, too dazed to move—you were free. For now. He stretched lazily and gave you a casual “Thanks,” as if this wasn’t the most bizarre situation you’d ever been in, and you quickly scrambled away, making your way back to the dorms with your head spinning.

And that’s when the villainess cornered you.

Oh no.

There she was, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing look, her sharp gaze trained on you like a predator sizing up its prey. You swallowed nervously. She was about to confront you about the heroine, wasn’t she? This was it. This was the moment. Was she going to declare some rivalry? Challenge you to a duel? Confess to you? Make this whole thing painfully awkward?

She smiled, and it was not the evil grin you were expecting. “I’m on your side.”

You blinked. “…What?”

She pushed off the wall, stepping closer, her eyes gleaming with a new kind of intensity. “Leona. I know you’re after him.”

Your heart stopped. This was it. She was going to call you out and—wait, what did she just say?

“I’ll help you confess to Leona,” she said, matter-of-factly. “On one condition.”

You were staring at her like she’d just sprouted wings and started speaking in tongues. “You… will?”

She nodded. “Yes. If you help me become more influential than that heroine, I’ll help you get Leona to notice you more.”

You blinked again, processing her words. She wanted your help to outshine the heroine, and in exchange, she’d be your wingwoman? Wingwoman?!

You grinned, holding out your hand for a dramatic shake. “Hell yeah.”

She clasped your hand, her smile mirroring yours. "Consider it a deal."

And just like that, you walked away from the most unexpected alliance of your life, fully equipped with a villainess-turned-wingwoman and a new plan to win over Leona.

Honestly? Life was getting weirder by the day.

“Okay, so just to confirm,” Ruggie’s eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head. “You want us to sit through this poetry reading,” he said, drawing out the word like it was some cursed phrase, “and cheer for the villainess. And in return, I get all the food left over?”

“Yup,” you nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“And Jack’s here because…?”

“I asked him nicely.”

Jack shrugged, tail flicking behind him. “I’m just here to help.”

Ruggie snorted, glancing at you with a grin. “This better be some damn good poetry then. And the food better be worth it.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said, patting Ruggie on the back. “It will be.”

Little did you know, this was going to be a disaster of epic proportions.

The poetry reading started as expected—with the heroine striding up to the front of the room, practically glowing under the dim spotlight. She cleared her throat, clasped her hands dramatically, and began.

“It was a night… much like tonight…”

Your first instinct was to cringe, but you held it in, glancing sideways at Jack and Ruggie. Jack was doing his best to stay stoic, but you could see his ears twitching in discomfort. Ruggie had his hand over his mouth, clearly biting back laughter.

The poem continued, painfully dragging on about stars and roses and something about “destiny’s kiss.” By the time she reached the end, there was a collective sigh of relief from the audience. You weren’t even sure what you had just listened to, but you knew it wasn’t good.

Jack… Jack was crying. You stared at him, horrified. “Are you okay?”

“It’s… it’s so bad,” he sniffed, wiping his eyes. “I didn’t know poetry could be this bad.”

Ruggie had his face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “This is better than I thought,” he wheezed.

You shot him a look, but even you had to admit, this was pure comedy gold. Poor Jack had no idea what hit him.

The villainess, bless her heart, was watching all of this unfold with a look of shock and confusion, but when it was finally her turn to read, she stepped up like a queen. Her voice was smooth, the words flowing like silk, and you couldn’t help but be genuinely impressed. She absolutely killed it.

The plan was working perfectly. You and your crew started clapping, cheering like you were at a rock concert. Jack, who was still recovering from the emotional trauma of the heroine’s poem, clapped too, albeit more quietly.

But just as you were about to get even louder, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “Oi, sit down,” Leona grumbled, pulling you back into your seat.

“What—?”

He didn’t offer any explanation, just kept you firmly seated next to him, his face set in a bored expression. You blinked in confusion but decided not to argue. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy sitting next to Leona… it was just weird.

And by the grin the villainess was sporting, it seems like everything went exactly according to plan. Both for her and you.

After the poetry reading wrapped up, you gathered the leftovers like you promised. Ruggie was already hovering around, practically drooling over the spread.

“Here, take it all,” you said, handing the basket over. “Deal’s a deal.”

Ruggie beamed, clutching the food to his chest like a treasure hoard. “Pleasure doing business with ya!”

Jack was much more polite, bowing his head slightly. “Thanks for the notes. They’ll be a big help.”

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile, watching the two of them head off. Ruggie was already halfway through a sandwich, talking a mile a minute, while Jack followed along, still looking like he might need therapy after the heroine’s performance.

That left you alone… with Leona, who had been standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you asked, half-expecting him to complain about something. He always had something to complain about.

“You mind explaining what the hell that was?”

“Uh… what do you mean?”

Leona’s tail flicked in irritation, his eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about you, whispering and giggling with that villainess all the time. What, you after her now that you ditched the heroine?”

You blinked at him, utterly baffled. “What? No, of course not. Why would I be after her?”

Leona’s jaw clenched. “You tell me. All I’ve seen is you hangin’ around with her, whispering, plottin’... I’ve seen how you look at her.”

It took a moment for your brain to catch up, but then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

Oh my god. He was jealous.

A slow grin spread across your face as the realization sunk in. Leona, Leona Kingscholar, was jealous. And over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re jealous~.”

Leona froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. “What?”

“You’re jealous,” you repeated, giddiness bubbling up inside you. You could barely contain your excitement. “You’re jealous of me hanging out with the villainess!”

Leona’s lips pulled into a thin line. “You’re imagining things.”

“Oh no, no, no,” you grinned even wider, poking him in the chest. “You’re totally jealous!”

Leona growled, looking thoroughly annoyed now, but before he could snap back, you quickly explained. “Look, I made a deal with her. I help her become more influential than the heroine, and she helps me… confess to you.”

Leona blinked, taken aback, his tail flicking behind him as if processing the information. Then, in true Leona fashion, his expression shifted from irritation to smugness in record time.

“Oh?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Yeah, so you don’t have to worry about me chasing after anyone else.”

Leona stepped closer, his voice dropping low, that usual lazy drawl making your heart do a little flip. “Good. But just so you know, cheek kisses aren’t real kisses.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Leona leaned in and kissed you—properly kissed you. Your eyes went wide for a second before you melted into it, feeling the heat of his lips against yours. He pulled back after what felt like forever, a smirk on his face as he watched you try to catch your breath.

“There. That’s a real kiss,” he murmured, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

You stared at him, dazed, and then a sudden realization hit you.

You left your entire life behind, all for this moment.

And you were so, so glad that stupid plushie was on the floor, because this? This was totally worth it.

The heroine’s voice was as sweet as it was grating, like sugar poured directly into your ears. She fluttered her eyelashes at you, her smile stretched painfully wide. “So, I was thinking,” she began, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “You would make the perfect knight for my family! Don’t you think so?”

You blinked, trying to figure out a way to escape. “Uh… I’m kind of busy with, you know, my own life?”

“Oh, but imagine!” she gushed, not hearing a word you said. “We’d be so close all the time—like, so close. You could protect me, and maybe… we could have a picnic under the stars? Very romantic, right?”

Your soul was trying to leave your body. You were pretty sure Jack’s ears twitched somewhere nearby, sensing your pain telepathically. And then, like a gift from the heavens, the villainess—your beloved accomplice in all things anti-heroine—made her appearance.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, stepping between you and the heroine with the grace of someone who had seen this movie before and knew exactly how to cut to the good parts. “But I need them for an urgent matter. A very important, not-at-all-romantic-but-very-necessary mission.”

You shot her a look of pure gratitude, but before she could fully rescue you from the heroine’s death trap of unwanted flirting, a shadow loomed over the scene. A very familiar shadow.

Leona.

Without saying a word, he strode up behind you and casually wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest with an ease that had your heart skipping a beat. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his sharp green eyes fixed on the heroine.

“Oh no, carry on,” he said lazily, but his tone was anything but. “I’m just here to see what my mate is up to.”

The heroine blinked in shock, her hands hovering mid-air as if she had no idea what to do with this development. “Y-Your mate?”

“Yeah,” Leona said, tightening his grip around you, his smirk downright feral. “So whatever little fantasy you’re cooking up about romantic picnics or whatever—cut it out. This one’s mine.”

You felt Leona’s lips brush against your temple before he leaned in and, in full view of the now-utterly-horrified heroine, kissed the side of your neck. Slowly. Possessively.

You could almost hear the villainess muffling a laugh behind her hand.

The heroine’s face turned several shades of red as she stammered. “B-But I—”

“You,” Leona said, his tone dripping with amusement, “can fuck right off.”

The heroine gasped, her hand flying to her chest like she’d been physically struck. “You can’t just say that to me!”

Leona raised a brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m literally the second prince. I can say whatever the hell I want.”

The heroine opened her mouth to argue, but then realized that, no, actually, she couldn’t argue with the literal second prince staking his claim. She sputtered for a moment before storming off, no doubt to sob dramatically about her dashed romantic hopes.

Once she was out of sight, the villainess finally let out a snort of laughter. “That was beautiful.”

Leona ignored her, his grip still firm around you as he leaned down to whisper, “Next time, you won’t need her to help you out. Just say my name, and I’ll be there to deal with the pests.”

You stared at him, a little dazed from the whole whirlwind of possessiveness, public displays of affection, and telling someone to ‘fuck right off.’ “You really went for it, huh?”

Leona smirked, leaning in for another kiss. “Damn right I did. And don’t you forget it.”

Somewhere behind you, the villainess was still giggling. You were pretty sure this was going to be gossip for weeks.

But honestly? Totally worth it.

Graduation day—the moment where everyone’s future plans would be declared, and all the chess pieces would fall into place. Or, in your case, the moment where you’d cause absolute chaos.

The grand hall was filled with eager anticipation. Everyone was dressed in their formal graduation robes, students buzzing with excitement over their new titles and responsibilities.

Leona, as expected, lounged at the back like a lion who had better things to do, half-asleep. Villainess stood tall and composed, already plotting her return to her family's estate. Heroine was in full glowing mode, ready to take her place as the beloved of the Grand Duchy.

And you? You stood at the podium, trying not to laugh. You knew what you were about to say would flip this graduation upside down.

One by one, people made their announcements.

When it was finally your turn, all eyes turned to you. The entire hall seemed to hold its breath, knowing the original male lead—you—was supposed to be the retainer of the heroine. It was all set, all according to plan, right?

Wrong.

You cleared your throat, glanced briefly at Leona who smirked lazily, and then made the declaration that would throw this script straight out the window. “I’ve decided to serve as Prince Leona’s right-hand man, personal secretary, and...well, whatever he needs.”

The silence that followed was glorious. Pure, dumbfounded silence.

King Falena, sitting in the front row, visibly blinked. Once. Twice. He tilted his head slightly, confusion written all over his usually composed face. “What?” he muttered, looking like someone just told him a desert hyena had enrolled in ballet school.

Leona, however, didn’t even open his eyes. He just smirked, crossing his arms smugly. “Told ya he’d choose me,” he murmured, almost too casually for someone who’d just stolen the original male lead’s entire plotline.

Falena’s gaze flicked between you and Leona, still processing. Then, slowly, realization dawned. He saw that look on Leona’s face—the one that said “mine, and I dare anyone to challenge it.” King Falena’s confusion morphed into surprise and then, with the subtlety of a royal diplomat, resignation. “Oh…” he whispered, finally understanding. “He’s down bad.”

Leona cracked an eye open just to catch his brother’s expression and grinned wider, like a cat who knew exactly what kind of bird it had in its claws.

Your parents, bless them, were in the crowd with expressions of supportive confusion. Your mother was squinting as if trying to work out if this was some sort of royal prank. Your father leaned in toward her, whispering loudly enough for the entire row to hear, “It’s a royal job, right? That’s prestigious?”

“Yeah, but… Leona?” your mom whispered back.

At this point, the heroine stood up, ready to throw a wrench into the works. “Wait! You’re supposed to be my—"

Before she could finish, the villainess, in all her dramatic glory, made her move. With the grace of a queen and the audacity of a mastermind, she stepped right up to the heroine, flipped her luxurious hair, and said, “Actually, I was going to ask you out.”

You blinked. Wait, what?

The entire room gasped. You could almost hear heads snapping toward the villainess like a collective whip crack.

Heroine’s mouth opened and closed like she was a fish drowning in air. “I—what?”

“Dinner. Candlelight. Maybe a picnic. You and me, a date. Sound good?” The villainess winked with such charm that even the professors in the back were wide-eyed.

Heroine blinked rapidly, as if trying to reboot her brain. “Uh… sure?” she squeaked, still reeling from the fact that her entire romantic arc had just gotten hijacked.

You stared at the villainess in pure confusion. “What just happened?” you whispered, looking at her for an explanation.

The villainess simply turned to you with a mischievous grin, giving you a sly thumbs-up like this had been part of her master plan all along.

You were still processing the fact that you were witnessing the greatest plot twist of all time. You returned a half-hearted, bewildered thumbs-up, unsure if this was a win or not.

Meanwhile, the professors up front were clearly on their last thread of patience. The head of the academy rubbed his temples, sighing deeply as if this whole day had aged him a decade. “That’s it,” he said, voice strained with exhaustion. “Everyone’s graduated. Just...leave. Please.”

And with that, the ceremony abruptly ended. You couldn’t help but laugh at the professor’s exasperation as the crowd started to disperse, still buzzing with gossip.

Leona slid up next to you, his hand casually resting on your waist as you walked out of the hall together. “So, my right-hand man, huh?”

You shrugged. “Figured I might as well make it official.”

Leona smirked, leaning down to murmur in your ear, “Just don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And then he kissed you. In front of everyone.

King Falena, witnessing this public display of territorial claims, just shook his head with a resigned sigh. “Well, as long as it’s official…” he muttered, casting an approving glance toward you. “Congratulations, I guess.”

Your parents were still in shock, but when they saw that it was a royal seal of approval, they immediately switched gears. “A royal job!” your mom whispered excitedly. “That’s so prestigious!”

With that, Leona tugged you away from the chaos, his arm never leaving your waist as you walked toward the exit. You glanced back one last time to see the heroine still staring blankly at the villainess, who had now looped her arm around her like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The head of the academy, now red in the face, shouted after you as you reached the door, “I SAID EVERYONE GO, FOR THE LOVE OF THE GREAT SEVEN!”

You walked out into the sunlight, trying not to laugh, while Leona leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured smugly, “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was a day like any other, except you were meeting the villainess in her newly acquired estate. She had officially taken over as the head of her family, and the new title suited her all too well. The whole place screamed, I am in charge, with a side of don’t even think about challenging me unless you want to cry in public. You admired the aesthetic.

The villainess greeted you with her usual regal flair, sweeping into the room like she’d been born to dominate it—which, to be fair, she had. She offered you tea, which you politely declined, sensing that this wasn’t just a casual catch-up.

"So, what's new with you, Lady Villainess?” you asked, leaning back, fully expecting some grand declaration about her political conquests or business victories.

She smiled—a dangerous, knowing smile that made you immediately suspicious. "Well, I wanted to tell you something rather... unexpected."

You raised an eyebrow. Unexpected? Coming from her? That had to be good.

"I'm dating the heroine," she said casually, sipping her tea as if she hadn't just dropped the biggest plot twist since the whole 'villainess takes over' arc.

You nearly choked on absolutely nothing, mouth hanging open in sheer disbelief. "Wait. What?"

She smiled serenely, her expression the perfect picture of innocence—which made it all the more ridiculous. “Yes, darling. The heroine and I are officially a couple.”

You blinked. “The same heroine who couldn’t tell a poisoned apple from a regular one if her life depended on it?”

“The very same.”

“The one who gets lost in her own estate if she turns too many corners?”

“Yes, that one.”

You couldn't help it. The sheer absurdity of the situation hit you, and you burst out laughing. "Oh, that is rich. How in the world did that happen?”

The villainess leaned back, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. “Oh, it was simple, really. I realized I was always drawn to her... naiveté. And once I stopped trying to sabotage her every move, well, things just fell into place.”

You were still laughing, shaking your head in disbelief. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you two, but this is the best thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

The villainess gave you a mock glare. “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve always had impeccable taste.”

“Oh, impeccable taste, huh?” you teased. “I just didn’t expect it to lead you straight to a walking ball of sunshine.”

“Well, someone needs to keep her from wandering into traffic.”

Still snickering, you stood up. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re a saint for dealing with her.”

“I know,” she sighed dramatically, “but love makes us do ridiculous things.”

"Tell me about it," you muttered, still amused. You waved goodbye and promised to catch up later, your mind reeling from this new, absolutely hilarious development.

When you got back to the palace, you found Leona lounging in his usual spot, sprawled out on a couch like a lion that had just taken over the whole savannah. He barely glanced up as you walked in, already sensing the amused energy radiating off you.

“You’re grinning like an idiot,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “What happened?”

You plopped down next to him, barely containing your laughter. “You won’t believe this. The villainess is dating the heroine now.”

Leona’s eyes flicked open, and for a split second, he looked like he didn’t believe you. Then, slowly, a smirk spread across his face as he processed the information. “You’re messing with me.”

“Nope. Dead serious. They’re a couple now. In love.” You leaned in, grinning. “The villainess—ice queen herself—is head over heels for Miss Pure Sunshine.”

Leona actually chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, I’ll be damned. Never saw that one coming.”

“I know, right? It’s the most chaotic thing ever, and I am living for it.”

Leona’s smirk turned into a full-on grin, which was rare enough to be considered a national treasure. He shifted, sitting up slightly. “You think we’ll get an invite to the wedding?”

You snorted. “Oh, you bet. I’m going to be front row just to see how she manages to keep the heroine from accidentally setting her own dress on fire.”

Leona’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, and he reached out, grabbing your wrist. “Come here,” he ordered, tugging you toward him.

“What? No, I’ve got work to do,” you protested weakly, but your protests didn’t mean much when he effortlessly pulled you into his lap.

“Work can wait. This is more important,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around you in a possessive hug that made it very clear you weren’t going anywhere.

You sighed, leaning into him. “You just want to cuddle, don’t you?”

“I want you to stop running around and actually relax for once,” he retorted, resting his chin on top of your head. “Besides, it’s not like the kingdom’s gonna fall apart if we take a break.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “I should get a promotion. I’m basically doing all the work around here.”

Leona chuckled again, his grip tightening just slightly. “Yeah, well, don’t let Falena hear that. He might actually make you his advisor, and then I’ll never get any alone time with you.”

You snorted. “Oh please, you’d just kidnap me from work if that happened.”

“Damn right,” he muttered, his voice low and satisfied. “You’re mine, remember?”

You felt your heart do that annoying flutter thing as Leona’s possessive tone settled over you. Even when he was being a lazy lion, he made you feel like the most important thing in his life. It was comforting—and kind of hilarious, considering how little he cared about everything else.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, and for once, you actually allowed yourself to relax, leaning into Leona’s warmth. His arms tightened around you again, and you could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest as he started to drift off into a nap, his grip never loosening.

As you closed your eyes, you couldn’t help but think that, despite all the absurdities in your life—from slipping on a plushie to your best friend falling in love with her former rival—you wouldn’t trade any of it. Not for the world.

And as Leona’s breath slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep, you allowed yourself a small, contented smile.

Life was chaotic. But it was also perfect.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Idia won the previous poll! Now for the next,

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Contained Monstrous Family  

Thinking about being born into a monstrous family

You, a baby human lovingly in the arms of a vampire man and his werewolf husband 

“Aw isn’t our little peony just perfect!”

“Another gorgeous cub, in our pack. Good job hon!”

“Thanks!”

Inside your opulent crib with a bone ladden mobile above you and the heads of two of your eldest siblings show

“They haven’t got nearly enough fur!” your moth brother says 

Your basilisk sister scoffs,” Or any scales for that matter!”

Life is lovely for awhile 

You’re the apple of everyone’s eye as the youngest of the family

But it’d be early on when you’d discover that wasn’t all that made you different

If they had been more careful perhaps you wouldn’t have discovered what the family hunts were all about 

Chasing humans–creatures just like you–for sport

Who could blame 5-year-old you?

The school lessons you’d sneak to listen to always said to call the authorities if something was wrong

You can vaguely recall the events that followed your brain clearly walling off the memory out of guilt

Time has passed and you are a partially thriving adult

Able to support yourself and devote your time to your study of the mythical

In a movement that had recently come to light, plenty of creatures spoken about in folktales were appearing

And your place of work was housing them

Housing was a strong word

maybe detaining and experimenting were better

As part of the maintenance crew, your job is to upkeep the creatures by their specified scientists demands

Occasionally offering your observations about whatever habits they have when it comes to eating, cleaning, etc.

As someone who’s been working with the facility for a long time so long you may not remember when you’ve become the experienced lead of your department

But you do still interact with the creatures specifically the most high-priority or high-maintenance ones

And like any other, you’ll report for duty with the newly acquired vampire 

Apparently, they’ve been talked about for their violence and intelligent ramblings

Claiming it was married to an earlier capture and the father of some others

So far it drained forty of your employees 

So now it was time for you to come face to face with this menace

You’ll wave off the security guard as you come up to the window

“Your file says your name is Villar? 

“GRAAGRH!!!”

“We won’t get very far if you keep lashing out like this. I’m in charge of making sure you eat, I suggest you get it in gear if you want to ever to see your husband again.”

At the mention of his husband the blonde vampire deflates

His black scleras morph into white 

He tiredly rests his head against the silver bars despite the skin burning

“You…will let me see him?”

You tilt your head sympathetically,” If you can comply with some of our tests. It’ll be a lot easier to make it a necessity for you two to meet if you cease killing so much of our staff.”

He growls tearing himself from the bars to glare 

“What do I have to do to see him?”

You smile flipping through your clipboard

“There’s three blood tests, four endurance tests, and intelligence quizzes for a start. That sound like a plan?”

The vampire reluctantly nods 

You look back at the camera and begin to walk out 

“Hey! What’s your name so I’ll know to tear your throat out if they lie to me?”

You smile again on your way out hushing the security guard

“I’m (Y/n). Pleasure meeting you Villar.”

The black-haired vampire loses his vitriol as he’s reminded of the little bundle he’s agonized over losing so long ago

“WAI–”

“Doctor (Y/n) your absolute genius has saved this company again.”

“I appreciate the thought, but I’m just someone trying to have a peaceful work environment.”

As planned you handle the older werewolf man

Violent, giant, and usually rotting in his corner 

He hasn’t moved much until you got involved

*knock**knock*

“Hey bud, I’ve got good news for you.”

At the sound of your voice, the werewolf Rod is at the silver bars, practically grazing them as he gets as close as he can to your little window

“Hello (Y/n), have you been eating well today?”

“Sure did but I have an update about your husband.”

He stills but looks interested

“He’s going to work with us so he can see you.”

“That is…what you want?”

“Yes and for you to do the same.”

He stands tall for once, taking an unusual air of authority

“I refuse to do anything if my conditions are not met.”

“Even if it means not seeing him again?”

He growls and turns away from the window

“Look my Uncle is not going to let me go in alone for your tests. Even if you’ve been peaceful so far, he just doesn’t want to take that chance.”

He snarls at the mention of your uncle 

“Fine. Then come in with twice as many guards but I will only agree if it’s you.”

You thank him for his time, “we’ll have to see what Uncle says.”

When you leave the werewolf man slinks back into his corner 

You’ll have to negotiate with your uncle about the most prized pieces of his collection his facility

Not to count the latest editions claiming to be related to the vampire and werewolf 

The real obsession starts because every member of the original family realizes just who you are 

And using your job as a mediator to piece together how you managed to slip out of their grasp

When Villar and Rod finally meet they nuzzle and kiss each other as they whisper to one another

“That’s them! Isn’t it? Our baby’s okay!”

“I know, now we just have to take them far away from here.”

Thus chaos is bound to ensue as they balance escaping with their long-lost human child 

With promises to pay back your abductor and all these scientists back ten-fold for the pain they’ve brought their little family

Part 2

[lani-sun]

☆ ritualistic ☆

synopsis: jake reminds himself it’s just biology. just the instincts of his newly-acquired form urging him to take, to claim, to keep. and maybe, just maybe, he could’ve controlled it. (had you not made everything so damn difficult, of course.) avatar!jake sully x fem!scientist!reader

warnings: there's no plot here friends i am SORRY, kind of dark!jealous!jake if you squint, slight enemies to lovers, graphic, descriptions of lust bc imagery goes wild here, explicit sexual content [18+ MINORS DNI], dom/sub dynamics, dubcon, dirty talk, slightly sacrilegious?, dacryphilia, major major size kink, biting/marking, jake sully being himself should be an inbuilt warning, let's pretend (for the bio minor stem girly in me) that the lab is somehow perfectly clean and non-contaminated after this pls

☆

jake finds you in the lab, your eyes scrunched into crescent moons underneath scuffed safety glasses hooked loosely behind your ears. his own pin back against the underside of his head instinctively, attuned to the rhythmic, near-silent reverberation of your breath. in. out. in. out. your gloved hands (ancient latex, he notes with a disgruntled twitch of his nose) shake incrementally as you peer into the microscope you're hunched over, adjusting the brilliance of the light painting your petri-dished specimen in a silvery glow. the sound you release when you get it just right—faint, pleased, unfairly absentminded—is enough to send a spark of something foreign down his spine. something delirious, fervent in nature. something that grits his teeth on instinct, clamps down on his jaw like barbed wire, like an insatiable beast clawing at the bars of its enclosure, crying out for the feeling of your flesh (futilely human, extremely off-limits) in its hands. and god, he's not supposed to think about you like that. not supposed to want you the way he did. not when his body isn't meant for you, not when he feels the chains of his forced entrapment in a life confined to a wheelchair coming undone at the sight of freedom. at the sight of you. in this form, he could take you. hell, he could have you. bite into you. he swipes his tongue across his top row of teeth, feeling for the elongated hooks of his canines. yeah, he'd like that.

he settles on making himself known. as his low hum of greeting fractures your reverie, your gaze snaps harshly to his, ricocheting of the surface of his skin. (and he likes it, the aggravation simmering under the surface of your composure. he's always had a soft spot for brats. for an animal to tame.) he swears he can hear the startled hitch in your breath, can sense the shaky, half-jump in your heart rate. "mornin' doc," he chirps, lips quirking up at the sight of the exasperation already etching itself into your features. you rip your safety glasses off, shoving them into a pocket of your lab coat before yanking your mask down with an irritated huff.

"i cannot with you today, sully." a muscle in the delicate column of your neck bounces under his unyielding stare as you reach underneath the metal tabletop to grapple for a pipette, balancing it in the junction between your thumb and index finger. sticky, cloying heat gathers in his veins, a tangible ache hunting for purchase in between his temples. take, it begs. take her.

you continue, oblivious. "and i told grace to change the code on the damn door—"

he clears his throat. reminds himself that fantasizing about you while you're within arm's reach of him is a decision better left unmade. "aw, c'mon, don't be like that. 'm not gonna stay long. not smart enough t'be a scientist like you, pretty."

you huff. "that's an understatement. go out and do—other things, then. stop bothering me." you yelp when his hands (heavyset, gorgeously sea-blue) meet the slim neck of your microscope, slapping them away with a flick of your wrist. "jake!"

a chuckle rumbles in the back of his throat as he backs away, arms raised mockingly in surrender. "show me what you're workin' on." his tail flicks across the backs of your thighs as he stalks around the table, diminishing the space between you. inch by inch. breath by breath. prowling. you track him warily, but a sharp gasp—low, so low he swears he's imagining it—slips through your gritted teeth when his palms flatten against the counter on either side of your waist, your shoulder blades nearly pressed to the junction of his navel and thigh. you jolt when his tail curves downward to wrap around your ankle (fragile, he thinks, so breakable) and squeeze.

"hey—" you warn, the force with which you grip the lab bench beneath you burning half-circle indentations of your fingernails into your palms. "what are you—"

"show me," he coaxes, voice like honey down the curve of your spine. "teach me, if you wanna. 'm not complainin'." his face goes slightly slack when you shift your weight, the cotton of your coat brushing against his tensed lateral muscle. your proximity is stifling. suffocating. he nearly tackles you to the floor when your hand tentatively encases his wrist, the illusion of distance accompanied by an empty threat of resistance. (he just can't help himself, you see. hunting prey is in his biology; he has to do it to survive. and you understand that, don’t you, sweet girl?)

"teach you?" your voice is erogenously breathless, spine fleetingly rigid. ramrod-straight, enraptured in the suggestive slide of his skin against yours. he resists the urge to outline the arc of your back with his knuckles. with his tongue. "not a service i offer, sully. not for you."

"who's it for, then?"

you shoot him a dark look over the incline of your shoulder, a brooding lilt scripted in the slant of your brow. an unavailing warning to his wandering hands. "why does it matter?"

the scent of you floods his senses as you shift, and his focus momentarily gives way to antiseptic and dampened soil, lemon and fresh chamomile, pine and vanilla-tinged sweat. a lingering body lotion, perhaps, or a coveted perfume. (and oh, are you trouble. trouble in the form of gentle hands, soft eyes, fragile bones. trouble in the way your defiance bleeds like a salted wound, roving gaze shirking under the weight of his shadow. it is raw, the way he longs to sink his teeth right into your godforsaken throat, apologies already teasing the tip of his tongue, just waiting for him to extinguish the fire he started—).

"just wanna know who's been spendin' time w' my girl." jake's chest vibrates with amusement against the dip of your nape, but the salacious slip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth betrays him. the heat of you burns through his layers (well, layer) of clothing, akin to an open flame. taunting him. tempting him. his gaze drops to the flex of your neck, the hypnotic flutter of your pulse thrumming dangerously close to the surface; the involuntary twitch of his fingers is only customary. only natural. "you're in 'ere too much, baby. gotta get you out."

"here's where the money is, jake," you counter, and his stomach seizes when your elbow brushes the braided cords of his tewng [loincloth]. "all the samples from the valley still need to be cataloged, and norm brought me a—"

jake's voice slices through the air, crackling roughly with unbidden contempt, an edge of resentment he can't quite bring himself to swallow. "you're gettin' samples from that asshat now?"

you crook a brow. "well. he offered." (he battles the depraved urge to clasp his hand around the dainty column of your throat, to press his chest flush against the arch of your spine. to school you in the art of possession, of ownership, of instincts that slither through bone marrow, of urges that writhe beneath his skin like a sickness, ravenous and unrepentant.)

his jaw flexes lazily, tongue pressing heavy against the inside of his cheek. his restraint is a brittle thing, straining beneath the weight of something starved. something venomous. "'s that right?" his teeth flash pearly-white. "doin' a lot for you, isn't he?"

you whirl on your heels to face him, snaring his gaze in yours. your vexation rises, fiery and unmistakably overeager, but a viscous want accompanies it, swirling in the whites of your eyes. it grows bolder under his earthy stare, a mere captive to the deepening hunger stretching wordlessly between you. it lingers, needlessly persistent in its provocation—the constant standoff of shallow breaths and locked jaws, of tongues bitten raw and fists clenched around unfulfilled promises of restraint. his stare tumbles downward to the wicked curve of your mouth, and he swears he can taste the startled exhale of breath that leaves you. gotcha.

"ever heard of overstaying a welcome, sully?" your expression dissolves into schooled imperturbability.

his braids follow the movement of his head as it tilts, azure skin glimmering aquamarine in the lab's sterile lamplight. your eyes track the slow sway of each woven strand, the way the beads threaded into each end collide sharply in sync—hypnotic, deliberate. erotic, almost. "careful, doc. keep talkin' like that and i might just start thinkin' you don't like me very much."

"i don't," you respond swiftly, but a flicker of suspicion contracts his pupils. he doesn't believe you for a single damn second. (and you're so pretty when you lie, aren't you? pretty girl, so resistant to an orbit your body is meant to sustain. saliva coats his mouth. the things he thinks of doing to you are despicable. downright lewd, even. he thinks of folding you in half. he thinks of molding you to his pleasure until you can't tell his name from your own. he thinks of making you cry. and he should feel guilty. he should chain himself to contrition. but he doesn't. he never has. he never will.)

he leans in. grins in wolfish pride when your pulse skips one, two, four beats. "you're a good liar, pretty. gotta give you that."

you jerk forward instinctively when one of his hands slides to your stomach, forcing the arch of your spine to coalesce with the unforgiving edge of the table. the other dips under your coat, captivation evident in the way his palm stretches effortlessly around the fullness of your waist. it is nearly consumption, an unfurling desire hell-bent on catharsis. on bitter-blooded ecstasy. (it is only nature, he reminds himself. it is only his new body, adjusting to the unfamiliarity of want for an object he cannot have. cannot attain. he's not himself. he's not thinking straight.)

"jake." a tinge of nervousness colors the syllables of his name as your mouth parts around them. he drops onto his haunches just as you reach for him, eluding the desparity of your touch. your hand flexes in midair, barren. "what are you—"

"bet norm's thought about this." his voice is a rasp against your skin, curling warm in the crook of your neck. his nose brushes the tender slope of your pulse point as his words wash over it, savoring the frantic thrum of your heartbeat against his lips. "bet he's wonderin' what you feel like under all these—" a pause. intentional, drawn-out. with an arbitrary flick of his wrist, he slides your lab coat off your shoulders, his fingers ghosting across the expanse of bare skin he can see. "clothes."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" there is no bite to your bark, a weak imitation of pious resolve hovering in the air between you.

"y'don't think so?"

"jake, stop."

he heeds the urgency in your tone, leaning back on his heels. (he knows you're fighting it. fighting him. stubborn, sweet girl, ankles deep in quicksand. so damn eager to play the ethical upper hand. so devoutly attached to your cool-blooded composure. so resolute in slipping from his grasp. flighty. he grits his teeth. then again, he's always liked butterflies. they look so pretty on their backs.)

your shudder of breath betrays you. "this isn't—we can't."

his eyes narrow—watching, knowing. he can smell it on you, the quiet betrayal of your body, the want fused to the rhythm of your pulse. it pools in your gaze, a laceration bound by silence. his fingers trace idle patterns along your thigh, evocative of ink kissed into parchment. a silent mantra hums beneath his touch—mine, mine, mine. "don't you want it?"

"jake."

"it's a yes or no question, pretty."

"that's not fair." your lower lip juts outward, crowned by the swell of your trembling inhale. "you've don't even like me. and you're a pain in the ass. i'm not letting you take my clothes off just 'cause—"

"who says i don't like you, huh?" he presses his nose to your sternum, grinning viciously when you choke. "i like you tons, baby."

"you didn't let me finish. i'm not letting you take my clothes off just 'cause—"

"who says i was gonna take your clothes off?"

your fingers sink into his hair, curling along the sharp cut of his jaw, thumbs hooked around the curves of his ears. controlling, captivating. taking what is already yours. he is gold wrapped in skin, inescapably sweltering beneath your touch. liquid longing fills the void of cloying stillness, his gaze dragging lazily over your lips, your throat, the shell of your ear. your echoed stare is a live wire, leaping frantically from feature to feature. "you talk too much." the words ghost from your lips like silk. like a promise of calamity, of disaster.

his ears twitch, tracking the staggered cadence of your breath. "you keep lookin’ at me like that,” he drawls, smirk broadening, "and i’m gonna start thinkin’ you wanna do somethin’ about it."

and for once, you do.

you yank him forward, crushing your mouth to his with enough force to bruise. his answering groan reverberates down the channel of your throat as his teeth catch your lower lip, eyes eclipsed by the storm-black of his pupils. he does not hesitate to lay claim. does not hesitate to anchor your body against his, swallowing your startled yelp. it is animal, the festering in his chest. lust. it makes devils of good men. makes massacres of soldiers.

"'s this what you wanted? huh?" his hands palm the outline of your chest, marveling at the artificial ribcage his fingers provide. (he resists the urge to nip at the indentation of your collarbones, at the dainty bone lining the column of your throat). your hands scramble for his biceps when he slots an arm underneath your thighs and single-handedly places you on the counter. "yeah, y'did."

"shut up," you whimper, and oh, fuck, his teeth ache. there is no bite to your bark, a weak imitation of resolve hovering in the air between you. "j-just shut up."

"nah." jake stands as he slots a thigh between your legs, parting them around the intrusion. his mouth moves south to taste the damp skin of your pulse point, salty musk exploding on the base of his tongue as he sinks to his knees. (and he'd pray to you, if he could. would bring you trinkets at an altar made of gold. would stroke his cock right there, at the edge of your world and his, begging for you to touch him.) "i think y'like it when i talk." his nostrils flare. "can smell it on you."

the cotton of your shirt doesn't stand a chance; it tears like aged paper beneath his hands, splitting stitches merely rendered a casualty of his need. your entire body jolts, mouth poised in a soundless gasp as his name tumbles out of your mouth, caught in a dangerous balance of shock and rapture. his grin widens. "could fit all of you in 'ere," jake breathes in wonder, fingers unfurling against the expanse of your ribcage, cyan thumbs hooking under the padded fabric of your bra. "in my hands."

"god." the word rips from your throat, breathless, a prayer to something holy. something sacred. your head drops forward in surrender, forehead pressed against the sharp curve of his collarbone. his hands are everywhere—everywhere, everything, all at once—as the clasp of your bra gives way and his tongue draws forward to trace agonizingly slow circles against the side of your breast, just an inch from the growing tightness throbbing beneath your skin. "someone—someone could see us—"

"let 'em." it is sacrilegious, your little whimper, the way it escapes from the corner of your mouth. it instigates sin. calls upon forces beyond his better judgement, beyond plain, good common sense. beyond right and wrong. his fangs graze your nipple, and a harsh breath catches halfway up your throat, the hand in his hair tightening around his kuru {braid} instinctively. he chokes roughly, slicing through the silence with a drawling inhale. (careful, pretty.) a shameful blush paints your cheeks in mahogany as your hands trail downward, tracing the corner of his mouth with the pad of your thumb. (there is but a single strand of mangled control holding him together, and the second he snaps—).

all it takes is one, broad palm flat against your sternum for your shoulder blades to kiss the cold metal of the table underneath you. pinned. (trapped). he tears into you like scripture. devouring not with mercy, not with patience—but with reverence. with ecstasy. it is simply a testament to the ruinous want stitched into the carbon-fiber of his bones, a hunger that has kept him starving, aching, waiting. your breath stutters, wrecked and disparately shallow, slipping from your lips in uneven waves. (he has never wanted anything the way he wants you. has never even known he could want something this damn much. and yet here you are, in front of him, his pretty little girl—). you lift your hips obediently when his hands slip under your leggings, earning a low hum of approval as he tugs at the panties clinging wetly to your cunt, leaving both in a haphazard tangle around your ankles. his thumb presses into your pulse, feeling for frantic jump in your heartbeat.

"look at you," he drawls, tone akin to that of a drawn-out prayer. his entire frame shakes, an embodiment of fraying restraint. "so pretty f'r me. fuckin' wet, too."

you only realize he's dipped inside you when the tip of his middle finger brushes the silken, pulsating center of your core, a stretch so deep it borders on cruel. your entire body jolts as your mouth falls open in in a soundless cry, fingernails clawing uselessly at the table’s edge. his groan bleeds through your ribs, settling into the hollows like a symphony only your bones remember. en echo of something long buried. "jake. jake, oh, fuck—"

"that's my name, baby," he mutters, thumb smearing through your slick, cautious circles gathered methodically around the tingling bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. (your arousal smells like rain, like velvet rose, like a hazy memory of a garden at dawn gnawing at his fraying conscious.) "jesus fuck, can't even get two fingers in 'ere, pretty. how're you gonna take my cock like this, huh?" the sound that rips from your throat in response is nothing human. his fangs flash crystal, scissoring hand devastatingly carving out space to fit himself in between the thighs of a body not meant to hold him. a body not meant for his hands to touch. (but it would take divine intervention to stop him now. he is a hound, an animal spoiled rotten by the scent of flesh. your flesh.)

your hips jerk at the unexpected sight of his middle and ring finger sinking into his mouth, leaving your empty cunt clenching around nothing. your pupils blow wide as he hums against the sweetness of you on his tongue, swiping the muscle downward to catch the droplets of milky white lingering across his knuckles. (he finds himself wondering if your tears will taste as good as your cunt does). his name escapes your lips in a whisper, trailing gently over the softness of your skin. your pulse is a wreckage beneath his palm as his mouth crashes over yours once more, the prickling rhythm erratic against the rounded edge of your ribs.

then—he moves. presses his weight over you, drags his mouth down the line of your jaw, your throat, the shallow depression of your clavicle. "been thinkin' about this," he rasps as your hands flutter uselessly at your sides, scrambling for purchase against the line of his torso. he ruts his hips ever-so slightly forward, harshly reminded of the painful hardness throbbing under his tewng {loincloth}. "for so long. fuckin'—jerked off t'you. had a real nice dream, once."

your voice is unbearably soft, enslaved to single-minded pleasure. "you d-dream about me?"

jake's breath hitches, heat grazing the sweat-slick line of your throat. "yeah, baby. tons." his steady stare brushes yours, sapphire flush painting his freckles in a shade of liquid ivory. "gets worse after seein' you. can't sleep for days w' you patterin' around in 'ere." he raises a hand in a slow arc, fingers wandering along the tender line of his temple as the other works the strings of his tewng {loincloth} loose. it falls, forgotten, and—oh. oh. your lips part around a soundless gasp, any sense of decorum failing you. the sight of him eclipses language itself, glowing pre-cum slathering his length in a starry sheen, flushed tip carved from material far more primal than skin. than muscle, than bone. you swallow, pulse skipping, and his cocky-eyed grin only grows.

shameless, he nocks the dripping slit against the tender mess of your folds, coating himself in your slick with an unbidden groan. "wanna take samples? 's better than norm's, i promise."

"jake—oh my god." he swallows your exclamation as his mouth claims the expanse of yours, hands branding heat along your ribs, your waist, the soft, trembling flesh of his thighs. his fingers wrap around your hips and pull, the blunt, aching weight of him nudging at your entrance. you whimper, dizzy with desire. "g-go slow," you slur, clambering for his shoulders, arching your back in an effort to appease the burn pulsating under your skin. light explodes behind your closed eyelids as he slowly—slowly—sinks the first inch inside; you seize, lower stomach contracting around the foreign intrusion. the stretch sings through you, the thick head of his cock cradled between your legs, and yet jake forces himself still, a vein pulsing in his forehead.

"lemme in, c'mon, pretty," jake pants, exhaling roughly through his nose. his cock throbs restlessly inside you as instinct claws at his spine, shaking with the urge to chase the relief of being fully sheathed, of simply forcing you down the rest of the way. he grits his teeth when you mewl, glimmering tears clinging to your waterline.

"'s not gonna fit," you howl, and guilt lances through him. (that's what he does with pretty things, isn't it? he breaks them. it's in his nature, written in the code of his biological being. he can't help himself, he's so sorry, pretty girl—)

"fuck," he chokes, languish enshrining the syllables in agony. his tail wraps around your calf, soothing. easing. "fucking shit, i'm so sorry, pretty—"

"hurts more when you stay still," you whisper, eyelashes damp where they flutter against the heat of your cheeks, and jake's breath pans over your throat in a sinking shudder. your vision spotlights as his fingers pull upward, reaching between your parted lips to gather the saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth. he kisses the shell of your ear as he strokes your spit lazily over his length, whining lowly at the lewdly-wet squelch. "d'you hear that?" his voice is enthralled. "that's you and me, baby."

your gaze flickers skyward, unfocused and glassy. mindless. (always thinking, aren't you, baby? he's happy to help you turn it off, if you'd let him. happy to strip you down to something soft, something malleable in his grasp—something that belongs only to him. it’s only fair. it’s what you deserve). a dark chuckle rumbles from his chest, sharp with satisfaction. (yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you?).

he gives you no warning before taking hold of your hips, molding your lower body in a high arch, and sinking the rest of the way in.

"jake—!" his name leaves you in a breathless sob, a prayer, a curse, a requiem. you're nearly catatonic, twitching like you’ve been electrocuted as you spasm beneath his hands, the girth of him infiltrating the marrow of your bones, the lining of your ribs, the edges of your lungs. the dull ache in your stomach intensifies as his hips rut up, your head smacking against the ground as his ridged cock rams lecherously into the spongy entrance of your cervix. jake punches out a strangled laugh as your stomach mounds obscenely (frighteningly, if he were being honest with himself) to accommodate the sheer size of his length, a shaky hand reaching forward to feel for himself underneath your layers of quivering muscle. you jolt with a sharp cry, feet kicking helplessly in midair as tears spill in shimmering rivulets down your flushed cheeks. “so-“ he cuts himself off when your cunt, unable to squeeze around the girth of him, flutters achingly. begging for release. "tight. knew you'd be so fuckin' tight—"

he doesn't wait. can't. his hips roll forward, dragging another devastatingly thick thrust through the vice-like grip of your cunt, the sensation of him rearranging you from the inside out. his hand slips between your thighs (greedy, insistent), feeling for the slick heat pooling there, brushing over the tender, swollen knot of your clit. he drinks your shaky squeal, chest rising and falling in rapid succession as he folds forward, tongue swiping across your upper row of teeth. "jake,” you sob, a wrecked little thing, hands fisting in his braids, grasping for something, anything. "'m gonna cum—oh god, i wanna c—please, can i, jake, please—"

"w'me," jake manages to hiss, tongue swirling patterns into the wounded skin of your clavicle. the blunt tip of his cock twitches as his thrusts shallow, a moan purred into the junction between your neck and shoulder. the tightness in his stomach ebbs as the wet slap of your pelvis against his reverberates in the air, a symphony of noise escaping your throat as he fills your womb in thick, unrelenting waves of searing warmth. you sob raggedly in relief, convulsing under the weight of his palms, cleaving lines of deepening crimson in his back. (pretty little thing. so good for him. you'd let him do this every night, wouldn't you? would let him bury himself to the hilt until he flooded your cunt with his seed, would let him turn your pristine skin a splotchy, bruised shade of fuchsia.)

he thinks with his teeth, lovely girl, and you've got such a pretty neck.

note: WOW WHY DID THIS TAKE ME FOREVER?! i was so smut-stumped for whatever reason, so i apologize for the rushed ending and for the fact that i forgot to include jake taking sips of CO2 while he was in an oxygenated lab LOL (the stem girl in me is screaming at them having sex IN THE LAB). this one's for @pandoraslxna!! love always from lani!!

[earlgreylatte]

Returnee

(Justice League Various x Reader) After centuries of surviving in a world without another human in sight, you return and find the heroes you once admired to be the only interesting things around, besides beating the shit out of monsters, of course.

Implied sexual content ahead, minors DNI.

You would describe yourself to be the pinnacle of mediocrity, your life consisting of drowning in course readings and dealing with people’s bullshit in your customer service job. You existed. You may not have been wholly content, but you got by.

And, sure you, like millions of other desolate young adults, had fantasies of escapism, being strong, being someone special. But you ultimately knew your place. You were no hero; no alien or chosen human that could answer to a greater calling. You were just you, average in every way. So unlike the heroes and villains that occupy your world. You’ll never make an impact that’ll even come close to the likes of them.

The only thing you can hope to do is try to make your parent’s suffering of starting a life here worth it. That all the money and work invested in you would have some sort of pay off. Even if it means you had to traverse a path you’re still uncertain about.

You knew your limits, and maybe that rigid acceptance is what led to your own self destruction.

You find yourself in a desolate world void of humans but occupied with beasts unlike anything you have ever seen before, with sharpened talons and razored blades for teeth. No matter how much you cry and scream you do not wake up. The only communication you get comes in the form of ‘tabs’ that resemble something out of a video game. It’s gives you quests to adhere, reminders to keep things interesting, notifications you’re being watched by deities that watch your struggle like a show to tune into. Every moment, no matter how humiliating, is spectated.

You want nothing more to return to the life you had, answer the messages you never got the chance to respond to, try the things you never got to even attempt. You curse your inaction, your own spoiled thoughts from a lifetime ago, your parents for even giving birth to you if this is the reality you have to face.

Your survival hangs on a thread at first, you only being able to run away from the larger beasts. Eventually your tears dry, you fight back against the ones smaller than you. These Outergods sponsor you with a game like currency. You level up. You acquire gear better than a makeshift bone shiv. You consume. You sleep. And you do it all over again for the next couple centuries in this world. You do not age, but you grow taller, strengthened by the creatures you slaughter. Eventually, you don’t need a blade to slay them anymore. Then the beasts try to avoid you. You still kill them. They’re never ending. The least they can do is give you something to do in their infinity.

You stop feeling fear, sadness, indignation, and even hatred. You exist. You somewhat remember the life and name you had before. You don’t really feel one way about it or the other. Your family, obligations, and old identity are all null and void to you now.

Clearly your spectators grow bored as they send you back to the world you once called yours. Apparently barely a year has passed since you were taken, even if you might be the oldest human to walk Earth now.

For the first time in a long time, you’re struck with uncertainty. A world that isn’t stuck in time, one loud with the presence of people, and yet you feel no relief or sanctity in the safety of your old home. No, you’re struck with how just like in that beast world, you’re still horrifically, agonizingly bored.

Until you notice a hoard of androids terrorize the street. You can feel the blood thrumming in your veins, and you realize with renewed vigour that it wasn’t bloodshed that you had yearned for, but the thrill of battle, not knowing if you’ll live, and putting everything you had left on the line after abandoning the softness that once defined your modern life.

And so you fought. You were barely grazed with a laser, but you could appreciate the adrenaline rushing through your body, the uncertainty of a new adversary. You paid little mind to the screaming civilians trying to evacuate the streets, all you cared about was tearing about these metal beings before they could even try to do the same to you.

You’re broken from the euphoria of battle when you feel a whoosh of air behind you, and a dozen androids deactivate before you.

“Hey there, don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” what appeared to be living electrical energy clad in crimson spoke to you, in a tone you could almost recognize as friendly. “Not that I mind the help! I’m always happy to meet—!”

You can feel your pupils dilate as every inch of your body screams that this man is dangerous. Powerful. Different from the fodder you faced before.

“—so, what do you go by?”

Summoning your broad sword, you swiftly slam it into the ground below, watching the man get tossed back by its force as the concrete crumbles beneath him.

You toss your sword to where he lands, but he quickly recovers and disappears before reappearing before you.

“Woah, what are you—“ you interrupt him by throwing a punch but he dodges again, “Can we talk about this sudden aggression—!?”

Tiring of his evasion, you recall your sword and prepare to strike the ground again before pausing as a sudden rush of memories strikes you.

“Ah,” you hum, before stretching out your hand, halting the approaching speedster that stares at you confused. “You’re that one hero…Bolt, or whatever. Speed guy.”

Yes, a hero. Not a warrior. Not a survivor. And certainly not a killer. You feel the apathy rush back as you stare at him. No, you wouldn’t get a real fight out of him. He’d sooner try to subdue you. Non-lethally. Honestly, he was way too nice.

“Flash? I mean, I’m the Flash, hero of the city you’re in!” The speedster fumbles for a second, starting at you in puzzlement.

“Yeah, let’s just call it here.” You sigh before walking away. You definitely forgot heroes were a thing for a second. And takeout.

You’re stopped in your tracks when Flash blocks your path.

“Woah there, you can’t just leave!” He protests.

“Why not?”

“You took down like hundreds of androids, attacked me, and-and you haven’t even introduced yourself!”

“Hmm, I think I forgot my name,” you reply, bring a hand up to your chin in mock contemplation.

“What-?”

“Do you want to have sex with me or something?” You ask. “Because you’re being a bit clingy, man.”

The hero states at you with his mouth agape, and you can see the red flush growing around his cowl.

“I get it, it’s pretty easy for arousal to mix with thrill in battle. I won’t say I’m not attracted to you, but I’ve got things to do, people to fight, and I doubt I can get what I need from you,” you explain nonchalantly. “But hey, keep your head up, man. There’s some charm in being the fastest man alive. I’d test it under different circumstances, really.”

You back away as Flash remains still as a statue, exposed skin now matching his suit as he blankly watched you leave.

“What just happened…?”

Honestly you don't have anything against heroes. You pity them, really. They remind you of your own inexperience once upon a time, fighting against the inevitable. But you can't deny that there are some with years beyond even yours, continuing to fight in their crusade.

Some more interesting than others.

Hawkgirl, who you recall to have been a member of the Justice Society of America, was someone that made you look like a babe in comparison to the lifetimes held in that strong body. Good fighter too. You're almost disappointed your battle was interrupted by another invasion and she apparently found you to be an ally rather than an opponent after that. You just wanted to see if those aliens were worth a damn.

Wonder Woman also stood out for the same reason, encountering her when you arrived at Themyscira for a duel with their strongest. And boy did she deliver. But sadly you could see that she adopted a non-lethal style, fighting only till first blood rather than to the death.

At least their bathhouse was luxurious even if it was communal. Diana said that it was for bonding. You think she was totally checking you out.

You could say that you were becoming increasingly familiar with the growing Justice League, encountering its members every so often.

You didn't pick a fight, aware it would be more trouble than it was worth. You doubt you'd be too satisfied either.

So when you find yourself encountering the Bat in Gotham after subduing Clayface, you're not surprised.

You're also not surprised when he recites your name and missing status.

He drones on about the circumstances of your disappearance, your return as a much stronger (and hotter) individual, and your dubious intentions.

You throw you sword at him, and he ducks out of the way, throwing you a glare just as sharp as your blade.

You explain that he's not a great speaker, and he should invest in some interpersonal communication courses. And that's coming from you. You then add you'll leave after you try the recently opened batburger.

He gives you a ride in his Batmobile.

Superman was a bit of an irritating figure. A boy scout, despite his godlike abilities. Staring at him, you wonder how much kinetic force it would take to burst the blood vessels beneath that impenetrable skin.

"We would really like for you to visit the Watchtower! We understand if you may not want to commit to being a full time member, so if we could call on you—!"

He pauses when you outstretch your hand and stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He places his hand in yours, almost as if it was instinct, blushing when you brush your thumb across his skin.

You hum in thought before departing.

"Uh, wait! Was that a yes!?"

You're pretty sure you're about to bed Green Lantern. You had come to Coast City, curious to see if any disasters would occur to alleviate your boredom, but had instead ran into a man with swoopy hair and an nice aviator jacket in a bar. He was pleasant. He seemed charmed by your Superman/Lex Luthor conspiracy theories. And he talked about flying with a passion unfamiliar to you.

So when you ended up at his place, back against his door as he kissed and nipped at your neck, you pulled him back by his brown hair to look at you.

"I'm a virgin, by the way."

He stares at you incredulously with a touch of concern. "Are you sure this is how you want your first time to go? We don't have to do this."

You doubt you'll get a fight out of him. He'd probably just trap you in a construct, but there are other ways for you to get physical.

...and you needed the experience for the next time an Amazonian propositions you.

"I like you well enough. And I've waited a long time to actually do something like this," you reply, still playing with his hair.

"You really want to do this with an older guy?"

You laugh, "I'm definitely the older one here."

His lip twitches as he shoots you an amused look, "And I'm Batman."

"Do you really want to talk about him before we-?”

The lantern silences you with another hot kiss that you grin into.

Yes, this Justice League certainly made things interesting, even if some of them were obnoxious do-gooders.

Hal: So, what's your name?

Returnee, with jumbled memories: Demonic Blade of Slaughter

Hal:

Returnee: Do you want to have sex?

Returnee: So, yeah, I was trapped in a monster world for presumably centuries with these outer world gods being the only other sentient beings and they only made contact via stream chat donations. And the only thing that even elicits any emotional or physiological response in me is violence.

Batman, internally dying:

Returnee: Don't worry, I don't fight street tiers like you.

Diana: It's been a while since l've last had such an invigorating bout, I would love to spend more time testing how far we can push each other to... our limits.

Returnee, who spent the last centuries off Earth as a virgin: I hear the glory of battle calling, must be off, let's fight again soon!

Outergods: Okay, so the human has definitely cleared this world, so how about we return this bloody thirsty heathen back to their original world and see what entertainment we find in the chaos—!

Outergods: Okay, so they're just having sex with all these superpowered individuals. And is that—-Oh my god, is that Constantine!?

Outergods: Yeah, no, this is hot, I'm donating 10k coins for that.

Clearing out my drafts! I really love the whole system in ORV and I found the returnee concept so interesting. Masterlist

[maeintree]

pillow kingdom | s. reid

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid may have three PhDs and an IQ of 187, but when it comes to battling his two tiny, chaos-loving children in an all-out Pillow Kingdom war, he never stood a chance. Pairing: father!Spencer Reid x fem!mother!Reader Word Count: 600 (oh.) Author's Note: genuinely wasn't thinking when i wrote this, saw my nephew and immediately got baby fever and just remembered spence being so good with kids and this is extremely mgg coded, so enjoy this fluffy 'lil one shot <3

You weren’t sure what was funnier—the fact that your two children had built an entire fortress out of couch cushions, blankets, and stuffed animals, or the fact that your genius husband, Dr. Spencer Reid, was dramatically attempting to “storm the castle” like a medieval jester on too much caffeine.

“You think you can defeat me? The all-powerful Dr. Spencer the Fearsome?!” he bellowed, holding a wooden spoon like a sword.

From the depths of the pillow fort, two pairs of eyes peeked out. Your daughter, Lily, narrowed hers suspiciously. “You don’t look fearsome.”

“Yeah,” your son, Max, added. “You look like you need a nap.”

You snorted into your coffee from your spot on the couch. They weren’t wrong.

Spencer gasped, clutching his chest like they’d just insulted his entire PhD collection. “A nap? A nap? Do you know who I am? I have an eidetic memory—I once stayed up for eighty-four hours straight during a case! I can outlast any of you!”

Lily pointed a tiny finger at him. “Then why did Mommy say you got cranky and cried over a vending machine that wouldn’t take your dollar?”

You nearly choked.

Spencer’s mouth fell open. “I—that’s slander! Your mother is a liar.” He turned to you for backup, but you just smiled innocently and sipped your coffee.

Max, meanwhile, picked up a stuffed T-Rex and threw it at Spencer’s head.

“ATTACK!”

The war was on.

Spencer ducked and rolled—dramatically, of course, like some kind of action hero who had absolutely no reason to be this extra—before lobbing a pillow right back at them. Lily shrieked and launched a plush unicorn in retaliation.

“You’ll never take our kingdom!” she declared.

“Oh, we’ll see about that!” Spencer bellowed, grabbing a blanket and spinning like a deranged superhero. “I have acquired the Cloak of Infinite Wisdom!”

Max squinted. “That’s just the throw blanket from the couch.”

Spencer gasped again, pointing at him. “You have your mother’s skepticism, and frankly, it’s terrifying.”

You grinned. “Taught them well.”

Just as Spencer lunged forward, Lily leaped from the fortress and wrapped herself around his leg. “I got him! I got him!”

Max charged next, full toddler-speed, ramming into Spencer’s side like an overenthusiastic linebacker. Your husband crumpled like a science nerd hit by reality.

“Oh nooooo,” Spencer groaned, flopping onto the floor. “My one weakness! Small, adorable children!”

“Victory!” Lily cheered, standing triumphantly on his stomach like she had just slain a dragon.

Max clambered on top of him next, sitting on his chest. “Now you’re our prisoner!”

Spencer groaned dramatically. “Curse you, tiny overlords.”

From your cozy spot on the couch, you smirked over your coffee. “See, this is why I married you. Not for your three PhDs, not for your genius IQ—but because you lose every single battle against two tiny humans.”

Spencer tilted his head up from the floor, where he lay pinned beneath his children. His curls were a mess, his glasses were slightly askew, and he looked utterly betrayed. “I don’t lose. I let them win.”

Lily gasped. “Traitor!”

Max grabbed another pillow and smacked Spencer square in the face.

And that was the day Dr. Spencer Reid was officially overthrown as ruler of the household.

this was soo rushed, and i'm sooo ughh. hope you enjoyed!! aha

[legalmente-loca]

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink (little), lactation kink, breeding kink, somnophilia mentioned, missionary, Dean being pathetic

A/N: I don't have idea what came over me.

Something unusual had happened to Dean after having the baby. An aura of lust filled him every time he watched you feed his child. He was proud of you, your body giving birth to such a magnificent, healthy human and then feeding him once he was out of your womb.

But what he thought was pride turned into something deeper for him.

He always loved your breasts. Like… A lot. But during and after the pregnancy, that taste only increased into something wilder.

Dean had acquired a taste for your milk.

It started out as something that happened only when you were asleep. You would wake up later feeling your breasts less heavy and somewhat sore. And then it escalated to something Dean brought in at the time of having sex. His mouth against your breasts as you rode him. You could feel your juice leaking out of you as his tongue licked up the rest. You realized that Dean also reached orgasm faster this way. And you enjoyed it too. Every time your breasts hurt he would massage them and then suck and bite them lightly.

Now he was here, on top of you with your legs firmly around his hips. His mouth was attacked to your breast, his lips around your nipple as he bit lightly. He would mumble every now and then against your skin, saying how beautiful you were and how much he loved your body. You tried not to make too much noise so as not to wake the baby.

“Th-that’s it, sweetheart… Feed both daddy and baby.”

You moaned lowly, your hands running through his hair as his hip thrusts were slow, but deep. His cock grazed every part of your walls as the tip caressed your cervix.

“D-Dean…”

“Shhh, beautiful… I’m not done yet.”

He moved his mouth to your other breast, lightly biting your nipple and purring like a kitten that had just been fed milk. In a way, that was what was happening.

“You’re so good to me…” He whispered, tugging at your nipple before letting it go, looking up at you with wet puppy eyes. “Feeding me so well. I could live off of you alone.”

Your milk wet his lips, no matter how much he licked them, you knew they wouldn’t last long until they were wet again.

He brought his face closer to yours, his hips moving rhythmically against you.

“You’re so beautiful…” He murmured before kissing you softly on the lips.

His wet lips moved over yours, his tongue darting out to play with yours, one of his hands that held your leg slowly moving up your body, gently squeezing your breast. He moaned pathetically against your mouth as he felt the liquid stain his fingers. Only then did he pull his mouth away from yours and bring it back down, drinking fervently from your breast. You stroked his hair as he increased the speed of his hips slightly.

“You want me to give you another one, huh, darling? To fill you with my cum and give you another child?” He purred against your breast. “You would be a lovely mother of two, feeding three.”

Your orgasm blossomed inside you, more milk escaping from between Dean’s lips and running through your body. He moaned and ground his hips against you, his white liquid, distinct from the liquid he was milking from you, flooding your insides.

He drank the last of your breast and pulled his mouth away, running his tongue over his lips. His slightly panting breath mixed with yours and he left a kiss on the tip of your nose.

“Well done, baby.”

He stayed inside you and held you close, settling you both down for sleep. A part of him was already ready to fill you with his child again. After all, he wouldn’t let his milk supply run out.

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[kathaynesart]

Frankly Sir, the whole procedure was a joke.  For all their power they’re just a bunch of undisciplined runts.  The leader was the only one halfway decent at lying to my face and he broke upon seeing the Key.  

Were you able to gather any further information in regards to the Key’s whereabouts?  

None yet.  However, it’s obvious that these mutants were involved somehow…

…Do you suspect they had a hand in acquiring the Key for the enemy?

I… can’t say for certain yet.  However, I doubt any sort of intentional collaboration occurred. 

And what of their origin?

Obviously falsified.  But to what degree I can’t say.  The DNA samples however have been far more enlightening. 

How so?

They’re different from other mutants, human or animal.  They’re completely free of the usual abnormalities.  It’s almost as if… they were designed to be what they are. Instead of just some freak accident.  

…Your final assessment, then?  Given the information you’ve gathered it appears they should be immobilized and transported for further testing.

With all due respect, Sir, I wouldn’t dare hand them over to the labs.  I’m not about to let those coats dissect the only edge we now have against the Krang.  Frankly I don’t care if they’re turtles or humans or even more aliens. They’re the best chance we have at winning this war.  Given the state of things I feel they will side with our cause.

…Then, so long as they prove useful, I shall defer to you, Agent Bishop. Keep in mind that it is EPF‘s job not only to protect the people of Earth from threats such as the Krang but from those within our own walls.  It will be your job to keep them under constant surveillance.  And should they step out of line in the slightest…

I understand, Sir.  

~~~

I wasn't going to post this, but I have been receiving a number of questions in regards to the interview / interrogation. While I don't think this scene is necessary reading material, it does shed some light on what to expect for the Holiday Special and the boys' place within the Central Park Colony. I have way too much stuff in my head that will never see the light of day, so here, have a snippet.

NOTE: also... I may have realized that I accidentally put the wrong colony name in the interview comic >_< It should be the CENTRAL PARK COLONY that's interviewing them, NOT the LIBERTY COLONY (which is the better, less racist one that they create years later). 5,000 likes and reblogs later and it has now been corrected, oops. Ehehe I apologize for any confusion this may have caused.

[witchesverse]

ur droolin' for a squeaky

pairing: vampire!wanda x human!femreader

summary: you've been distracting wanda's mind for weeks. she needs to deal with you before you ruin everything for her.

content: noncon, blood drinking, pain, clit rubbing, running from wanda, face slapping, on the verge of tears, begging, stalking.

a/n: shoutout to my awesome gf helping me write this (writers block sucks)

masterlist

When Natasha suggested Wanda acquire a human pet, she laughed in her face. It was the most bizarre thought. A powerful, high-ranking vampire does not need an idiotic, useless blood bag.

That was until you. Everything about you reeled her in, making her obsessed. She would zone out in important meetings or events because her mind was filled with violent and pornographic images of you.

"Wanda." Another high-ranking vampire, Carol Danvers, snapped at her. "What is going on? You have been distracted for the past few weeks."

Natasha sneered. "She's obsessed with a little human."

Wanda scoffed; a lie smoothly following. "Humans are below me. I would not become obsessed with such a weak creature."

"I don't care what your problem is, but you need to work it out," Carol sternly said. "I will not have you ruining this for us. Do you understand?"

Wanda nodded. She wasn't going to let a pathetic human ruin this.

-

Your heart was pounding and your legs ached with each step. You were exhausted but couldn't stop running; she would catch you. The trees had gotten thicker causing the sunlight to barely shine through, making it difficult to see.

So, naturally, you had to fall over a rock.

"Shit." You scrawled to your knees, ignoring the throbbing pain of your newly exposed skin and blood trickling down your knee.

There was no point in running anymore. She was already here within the time it had taken you to stand. You squinted, trying to find her in the shadows of the tree.

You couldn't find her.

Some people would think that was a good thing, but you knew it wasn't. You felt her hungry eyes raking over your body. Over the past few days, it had become a game for her. She would have you on a paranoid edge, pushing your fear to the limit, then pounce.

"I know you're watching me." You wanted to sound brave, but you didn't.

Silence.

"You're fucking sick, you know that?" You screamed, hoping that your rage would pull her out of the shadows.

Silence.

"Please," Your voice wavered with emotion. "Stop doing this."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as she emerged from the shadows. Her brown hair was tied in a tight bun and her bright red eyes complimented her pasty white skin.

She glanced at your bleeding knee and licked at her fangs. She smiled as you stumbled backwards, trying to create space between each other.

She was quick to fill that space. She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at her and placing her other hand on your hip to keep you close.

"Are you scared, little one?"

"Does being a monster damage your brain cells?" You snapped, irritated by her stupid question.

Her hand collided with your cheek; her strong and painful slap made your skin go hot and sting. You tried to pull away from her but she kept her grip tight on your hip.

"Are you scared, little one?" She sternly asked again.

"Yes," You answered honestly.

You were fucking terrified. For many days and nights, she followed and hurt you. You tried going to the police, begging for their help, but who in their right mind would believe that a blood-sucking monster was following you? Her saliva would slowly heal a wound so you didn't even have the bite marks to prove it.

She grinned. She pushed her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in deeply and moaning at the scent of your blood. Her fangs lightly brushed against your skin.

"What do you want from me?" You sniffled, trying to contain your tears.

"You." She replied. "You're mine and I want you."

You shook your head. "You don't own me."

She laughed. "Oh, I think I do."

A sharp pain that was like an uncontrollable fire spread across your neck and chest as she dug her fangs into you. You squirmed in her hold, trying to break away from her but her inhumane grip kept you close.

"No, no."

The pain was unbearable until her venom was pumped into your system. You sighed in relief, slumping in her hold. Vampire venom can be used for many things, sex being one of them. The venom makes a human incredibly sensitive and horny, basically turning your brain to mush.

She pinned you against a tree. One hand held onto your waist whilst the other slipped into your panties and rubbed small circles on your clit.

Your blood filled her mouth and dripped down the sides, staining her shirt. She groaned, her grip tightening on your hips and fingers moving faster.

"Please." You whimpered.

Her laughter was muffled. "You don't even know what you're begging for."

You were overwhelmed with pleasure. The venom made everything feel more intense and powerful, even the slightest touch made you squirm.

"Stop." You weakly pushed against her.

She snarled and dug her fangs further into you. She would only stop when she was finished, not when you were.

"Please...” you beg, giving up on physically fighting back. “I can’t-”

The wicked pairing of blood loss from Wanda’s fangs in your neck with your blinding climax washing over you rendered you limp, and you felt your weight drop as your knees buckled beneath you.

Your thighs clamped around Wanda’s fingers, still steadily rubbing circles on your swollen clit, and your stomach began spasming. The little strength you had left was put towards an involuntary whine, your voice full of air as you arched away from her touch. A wince falls from her bloodied lips into the curve of your ear at your blunt fingernails digging red crescents into her pallor skin.

Just as quickly as it came, though, the pleasure melted from your body, and you were reminded of your achy limbs, exhausted from weaving your body through the woods. The edges of your vision began to fade to black, and your mouth went dry.

"Sleep well, little one."

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

A guy doing marine research into phytoplankton is far out to sea and waiting for the samples to be ready when he spots a fast-moving ripple in the water up ahead.

Fully aware that this spot is home to a migratory orca pod, he assumes he's stumbled across an orca hunting a seal and settles against the railing to watch, because it's not every day you get to see that.

The ripples get closer, the shadows in the water more defined, the water choppier, and suddenly the orca and its unfortunate prey are zooming directly towards the boat and he's waiting, breath held, for them to duck right underneath--

When the water breaks, the ocean sprays, and he's suddenly smacked fully in the face by a very wet, very confused, and very pretty merman, throwing them both down onto the deck while the boat rocks as a confused and now quite hungry orca dives beneath it.

The merman, it turns out, thought that the boat was an ice float and didn't realise his mistake until it was too late. But he's very thankful for the impromptu rescue, and wow don't you have nice arms, and holy shit you've got legs, can I touch them? Is that weird? Can I touch them anyway? And your hair--

So of course they get to talking because they're both utterly fascinated with the other, and soon the sun has set and the samples are long-since ready and the moonlight is making the ocean look black and they part with the knowledge that they'll never meet again, and a kiss, and a lingering look over the shoulder for all the things that can't be...

And the researcher gets back to land, moors his boat, readies his samples. He packs up his things, shoves them into his bags, and prepares to go home. He steps onto the jetty boards and thinks of the merman and the solid wood beneath his feet seems to sway for more than one reason.

There's a splash. He turns, pulled as if by the tide, and there's a ripple in the water. A face. A pair of eyes made black by the moonlight.

And this is how the researcher acquires a merman boyfriend who helps him find samples and the merman acquires a human boyfriend who rescues him from whales.