#having a good grasp on the characters and their relationship is all you need to make a good ship

[felassan]

David Gaider on Fenris, under a cut for length:

"Fenris. Now, DA2 is a story all on its own but I'm not going to go there other than to sum it up as "we had just over a year and a half to make this". It's why I only wrote one follower, Fenris, and although it'll make his fans mad: I probably shouldn't have. Let me explain. The way we'd approach making the followers is brainstorming a list of concepts covering first the array of gameplay classes (and sub-classes) and then making sure they each have some skin in the game when it came to the story's conflicts - ideally having characters on both sides of the major ones. Why? You can't make a player care about the world, but you can make them care about characters who care about the world. It's the easiest way to provide hooks into a conflict, outside of it knocking on the player's door. Heck, it's probably better than that. Players will burn the world for approval. After that, we'd decide things like romances/sexuality. Then the writers would pick who they'd write. I always let my writers pick first. I figured they do their best work when it's something they're inspired to write... and they got so few chances at ownership, I wanted to give it whenever I could It's why I (reluctantly) let Patrick wrest Cole from my grasp in DAI, a character I'd created in Asunder. It's also why I let Jennifer take Anders in DA2, who I'd started in Awakening. In this instance, it meant I was left with the angry elven warrior character who nobody else appeared to want."

"It should have been my first clue that something was up. The second was how the artists had zero clue what to do with him. The art concepts were all over the place - from mages to crows to... well, even weirder. No matter how hard I tried to explain the idea, the artists simply didn't seem to get it Does this mean he was a bad character? Not exactly. Just an idea that probably deserved some re-examining. You can tell when an idea has a certain spark, and part of that is being easy to communicate. Sadly, there wasn't time for any re-examining even if it'd occurred to me. And it didn't, not yet. If it had, if I had time, maybe I'd have re-booted him as a templar. Someone pro-templar rather than anti-mage, who could give a personal hook into Meredith and give the templars some badly-needed humanity. But this falls into the shoulda-woulda-coulda category. I had a follower to write. Quickly. I struggled, at first. It was hard to get away from "Fenris hates everything, all the time". It felt very one-note, and I didn't know where to take him. My third clue, I guess. I also wasn't sure if I was the right person to write a former slave. I did know that couldn't be the center of his story. I did know trauma, however. How it can eat you up. How the hate and resentment is like drinking poison and hoping the other person dies. How it can infect your relationships. Fenris's trauma isn't my trauma, obviously, but here I dipped into a more personal part of myself than I'd ever done before."

"It gave me the center of his story I was missing, but wow was it uncomfortable. In a good way, maybe. I likely wouldn't have, if I hadn't been so desperate. In a way, I think DA2 had some of our best writing *because* of the timeline. It was raw, with little time to sand down the interesting parts. I wouldn't have done the "Fenris doesn't talk to you for three years" thing if I'd known we were going to cut all the reactivity initially planned for the time jumps. When that call was made, I campaigned to cut the jumps to a year, but there was no time for the revisions it'd need. So, um. Awkward. I used to get asked where the name came from, and I... don't remember? Obviously it's derived from Fenrir, but I don't recall why we picked that. Someone pointed at Fenris the Feared from Joe Abercrombie's books... and I did read them, so maybe the name lodged in my head? Wouldn't be the first time. Casting Fenris turned out to be easy. He was the first time I requested a specific VA and got him. (The other times were Merrill and then Solas, my two "I want these specific Welsh actors, please".) Why? OK, if you must know, I'd played a bit of Final Fantasy XII. I heard Balthier. "Yes, that." 😅 And Gideon Emery was a delight, as it turned out. Consummate professional, and that lovely gravel in his voice... good god. Bite the knuckles. There was a struggle to find the voice at the outset where I did my best not to say "just pls do Balthier" but he found Fenris on his own and it was amazing. Overall, Fenris turned out better than he had any right to, considering the rocky start. He had a lot of soul, a vulnerability forged by pain that struck a chord with a lot of players, and I'm glad. Do I regret anything? Probably having him live in a corpse-filled mansion that would never update. That's a hindsight thing, though, as again the cut to reactivity over the time jumps came late. Outside of that, maybe letting the player give him back to Danarius? Poor shock value and a waste of resources because almost nobody took the option. Good evil options are ones that are tempting to take. And the lyrium tattoos. Interesting concept, but they're probably why you'll never see Fenris in a future DA. He requires a custom body, and the tattoos make that expensive. It's why I put Fenris in my 4th DA novel - the cancelled one. Don't fret, though. He died in it, so this way he lives on. 😉"

[source thread]

User: "Wait wait how does he die in [the cancelled novel]??" David Gaider: "Gloriously, after taking up a cause he didn't believe in at first but then made his own, one that allowed him to rediscover what it meant to be elven." [source] David Gaider: "I’m not sorry about the novel cancellation. I’m the one who cancelled it. I am kinda sad we couldn’t make it work, though. Considering it was after I left the DA team, it would have been my final DA hurrah." [source] David Gaider: "From my perspective, it was kind of "well if you're never going to use him again, let me at least give him a proper send off" and the story required a glorious death... but I get that's not the story his biggest fans would want (which is Hawke + Fenris 4ever), so it's just as well." [source]

User: "You all did some incredible work with such a tight deadline" David Gaider: "I'm of the opinion that even if we'd had only another six months to bake, DA2 would be remembered as a classic and not either a flawed gem or underbaked sequel, depending on who you ask." [source]

[flowerandblood]

The Last Drop (2/?)

[ modern • vampire • Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: kissing, description of blood drinking and bleeding in general, sexual tension, angst, toxic relationship with Alys ]

[ description: Encouraged by the information that the town he has landed in is not known for having the most vigilant police in the world, he decides to go on a little hunting trip to finally quench his burning thirst. However, not everything goes according to plan. (A lot of sexual tension, grumpy, gloomy Aemond). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He was only supposed to stay in this town for three days, eat to his heart's content and return by train to one of his flats a few hours away.

Or at least that was his plan.

He didn't know why he was standing outside a nerdy club where, from what he understood, game and board enthusiasts ate popcorn and nachos while sipping drinks.

Admittedly, he worked on a laptop and using a computer made his life a lot easier: he didn't have to show up at the company as he did his tasks remotely, but he was still far from a fan of modern technology.

He felt that it was killing something, although he wasn't sure what.

She told him that she worked there and that he should come visit her on her shift. She said something about drinks with an extra element, which surely was blood, that she wanted to prepare especially for him.

He was unable to grasp neither the full absurdity of the situation nor why he was just standing outside the entrance like an idiot, instead of returning to his quiet, well-ordered life.

To Alys.

He sighed, glancing down at his phone, seeing that she had sent him another two new messages, several missed calls showed that she was starting to get impatient.

He swallowed hard reading the last message, recognising that he didn't feel like letting Alys play with her at all.

He wrote back and tucked the phone into his pocket, running down the stairs to the premises which were twinkling with lots of coloured lights and neon.

As he stepped inside, he immediately heard 80s electronic music – the Depeche Mode track I just can't get enough was pounding from the speakers around him. The club's clientele was mostly very young, dancing in front of large monitors following the instructions of some character, singing karaoke, playing at a PlayStation or bent over large boards, planning the entire game.

"Hi!" He heard a cheerful voice from behind the bar – when he looked there, he saw her and her wide smile, her hair pinned up in a ponytail on top of her head.

He didn't understand why her eyes sparkled with joy at the sight of him, and why he felt a pleasant warmth at the thought.

Was he so desperate to be noticed and needed?

He thought he was pathetic, but still his feet carried him further to the counter behind which she stood.

"I'm so glad you're here. Would you like to try the drink I mentioned yesterday?" She asked immediately, while her shift mate started to serve another customer.

He just nodded, for some reason embarrassed and overwhelmed, sitting down on one of the high chairs just off the bar.

He saw that she had gone to the back room and then returned with a bottle in which he was sure there was blood.

He looked around anxiously, but no one took any notice.

"I'm going to make a drink for my friend with rum, ice, cherry and apricot juice." She said aloud, pouring something that was certainly not cherry juice along with the other ingredients into a shaker.

He couldn't hide his surprise at the fact that he didn't see any sign of discomfort or fear on her face that someone would discover what she was doing – on the contrary, she seemed delighted to share her next treat with him again.

Although he didn't admit it out loud, fuck, her blood jellies were so good.

She poured the contents of the container into a nice tall glass and put a cardboard straw in it, placing the whole thing right in front of his face.

"I hope you will like it." She said lightly, immediately moving on to attend to the customer behind him.

He reached for the glass, raised it to his lips and hesitantly took a sip from it. He had to bite his lower lip to hold back a smirk of amusement.

It was delicious.

For some reason, being with her made him feel like a human again and maybe that's why he came back.

Maybe that's why he couldn't leave.

"What do you think?" She asked aloud, preparing an order for a second customer, already with completely normal ingredients.

"Very good." He admitted, throwing her a drawn-out, satisfied look.

For some reason, he was smiling.

Her shift ended an hour later so, as per her request, he waited for her at the exit. As she came out of the back room, one of the guys, similar in age to her at least in appearance, clearly drunk, approached her.

"– hi – shit, I know I'm drunk and – you know – but – fuck, will you give me your number? – sorry if I'm imposing –" He mumbled, clearly stressed and filled with emotion.

He saw that this confession had impressed her and did not make her uncomfortable, however, he knew she would refuse.

She, unlike him, was not playing with her food.

"Forgive me, but I already have someone." She said and looked up at him, surprising him completely.

He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

"– oh – I'm so sorry – I thought –" The boy began to babble, clearly embarrassed, wanting for sure now to erase from her memory what he had said and just disappear.

"– it's okay – you're really sweet –" She assured him warmly and walked past him, throwing him a horrified, apologetic look.

"You already have someone?" He sneered, walking up the stairs at her side, stepping out into the fresh night air at last.

"Sorry, I didn't know what to answer. Don't be mad. Otherwise he'd be getting his hopes up." She said with sincere concern, grabbing his coat sleeve, clearly wanting him to accept her explanation and look at her.

"Nevermind." He said, not knowing what he was doing here.

I should go home, he thought.

"If you want, you can rest in my apartment." He heard her voice and swallowed loudly, thinking that he shouldn't.

He shouldn't, but he ended up lying in her bed anyway, with his fangs sunk into her fragrant neck, snuggled into her soft flesh. Her fluffy pyjamas, consisting of trousers and a shirt buttoned up the front, smelled of some pleasant, delicate washing powder.

He had to undo a few buttons to reach the hollow of her neck, or at least that's how he explained it to himself – his hand, as he drank her blood in slow, lazy sips, brushed her plump breast under the material, founding itself there completely by accident.

Every time his thumb, also by accident of course, rubbed her hard nipple, something on the edge of a sigh and a moan left her lips: her body tensed like a string, vulnerable and responsive to his every move.

It occurred to him that what he was doing, as well as the reactions of her own body, were a surprise to her – she was certainly not as experienced in these matters as he was, if at all.

That thought aroused him even more.

When he finally pulled away from her, he wanted to take his hand from under her shirt, but her fingers stopped him, pressing it back against her skin. He sighed as she turned with him, when, trailing her knuckles along his long jaw, this time it was her moist lips that reached his neck.

He licked his mouth and flinched, feeling the dull pain and sting as her fangs dug slowly into his flesh. He closed his eyes, focusing on the softness of her breast under his hand, kneading it gently in his palm, feeling the wonderful, intimate scent of their blood all around them.

Sip after sip she quenched her thirst, cuddling up to him like a small child – he couldn't help the pleasant shiver that ran through his lungs as she threw her leg over his hip, pressing her body against his.

When she finally pulled away from his neck, she laid her head on the pillow right next to his – their lips, chins and cheeks were all sticky with blood. When she leaned towards him, they simply kissed: he grunted with delight, feeling their mingled taste melt on his tongue, and pressed her tighter to himself, clasping his free hand in her hair.

It doesn't mean anything, he repeated to himself, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, rolling with his hips back and forth, rubbing his swollen erection against her lower abdomen.

He was simply tired and she was a break from the monotony of his life.

He would get bored with her quickly, as he did with all the women before her.

He opened his eyes as she pressed her forehead against his, listening to their loud, raspy breaths. He gasped as her fingers ran down his cheek, as the tips of their tongues brushed invitingly, clicking with each lazy lick, sending a delicious, hot shiver down his spine.

It was one of the most perverse sensations he had ever experienced in his life.

He was unable to contain the pleasant, warm feeling that spread through his heart as she combed her fingers through his short hair – to his displeasure, she broke the caress and kissed the tip of his nose.

He was fully hard, but he had no intention of taking more from her than she was willing to give him.

"Why did you come?" She asked in a whisper, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

He simply looked at her for a moment, wondering what he should answer.

Why he had actually done it again.

"I don't know." He replied finally. "I don't know the answer to that question."

His words did not discourage or sadden her, as she smiled with understanding.

"I see. Rest now. I will too." She said softly.

They both lay on their stomachs, embracing each other with their arms around each other's waists – their foreheads still touched as they both closed their eyes.

For some reason, he wanted to feel her close.

They weren't friends, just some strange kind of lovers, he realized with pain, but he felt a strange discomfort at the thought, indicating that he himself wasn't sure he believed what he was trying to tell himself.

What had he really come for?

What was he expecting?

Was he simply curious about how her drink tasted?

How their night would turn out?

Would he drink her blood again?

Will they have sex?

Will they fall asleep next to each other?

He closed his eyes, recognising that it didn't matter.

For the first time in many years he had fully quenched his hunger.

The thought that this was surely the last night he would spend with her filled him with a strange kind of sadness and regret – he held her close in his embrace, knowing that he would eventually have to tell her that he didn't live here at all.

That he had lied to her.

When she woke up and lifted her head, she saw his face – she smiled sweetly in a way from which he felt a sting in his heart.

Although all sticky with blood, she looked so innocent.

"I lied to you." He said.

She blinked and shook her head, surprised and horrified, her expression one of complete consternation.

"What do you mean?" She muttered.

"I didn't move here. I just came for a while. You know. To eat." He explained, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding in his chest like crazy.

Why was he scared?

"Oh. I understand. We don't know each other well yet, you had every right to act like that. Don't worry." She said reassuringly, making him feel an uncomfortable tightness in his throat, a wetness under his eyelids that he hadn't felt in years.

What was happening to him?

"There's someone out there waiting for me. And I don't want her to find out about you. It would be dangerous for you. I'm leaving today." He whispered with surprising difficulty, hearing, shocked, that his voice broke at the last sentence.

He saw her eyebrows arch in pain, her nose twitched as her eyes turned red with tears, the request and plea for him to stay written on her face so clearly that she didn't need to say anything.

Instead of stopping him, however, she let him go and pulled away slightly.

"Your friend?" She asked, not looking him in the eye, but at his chest.

He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would cry.

He let his broad, pale hand raise – his fingers ran gently across her cheek in some hopeless attempt to comfort her.

"If I could, I would take you with me." He said with difficulty, hearing, embarrassed, how pathetic it sounded.

She laughed, but it was a chuckle full of sadness and disappointment, from which he felt a cold, unpleasant shiver.

"Is that how it is with you? Do you play separately and then come back together?" She asked.

He swallowed hard, feeling as if a stone had fallen to the bottom of his stomach, dragging him down.

He felt ashamed at the thought of how accurately she had judged him.

"Go back to her, but don't mention me. I don't need any more problems, much less a jealous woman on my mind." She said, rising from the bed at last, leaving him with emptiness and coldness all around.

"Of course. I'm not going to expose you." He muttered, raising himself up on his elbow, stupefied, feeling like he'd woken up from some deep sleep.

It wasn't real.

"Do you need blood? I can give you a few bags." She said calmly, standing with her back to him, pacing the kitchen as if she were preparing to make herself breakfast.

"No. No need."

The sky outside the window was cloudy, exactly as his thoughts – he was sitting in a train car filled with people, and although he usually struggled to control himself, he felt no hunger.

Her blood satisfied him.

He lowered his gaze, wondering why he didn't feel like he was coming home at all. Usually after such a journey he was tired and discouraged, relieved to return to what was familiar to him. Now, however, he felt like he was sinking deeper and deeper into the dark, damp underworld of his heart.

What was really waiting for him there?

He got the answer as soon as he crossed the threshold of his flat.

Alys was waiting for him with candles all around her, which she must have lit beforehand. She looked very good: an elegant knee-length black dress perfectly accentuated her physical assets, her long hair falling loosely over her shoulders.

He didn't know why, but the sight of her made him feel uncomfortable.

Is this how it is with you?

Do you play separately and then come back to each other?

It's not like that, he thought.

It's just that when I go home, she's already waiting for me there.

Always.

"What's that face? Did you kill someone?" She asked with a hint of amusement, rising from the couch, a pretty, ornate goblet filled with blood in her hand.

Fresh blood.

He didn't want to know where she'd gotten it or who'd paid for it.

"No." He replied wearily, putting the keys down on one of the shelves in the corridor.

I don't have the strength for this, he thought.

"I've missed you. This city is so boring when you're not around." She said softly, combing her long nails through his short hair.

He felt an unsettling shudder when she did this: unlike her touch, in which there was first and foremost a desire for comfort, there was pure sexual intent in Alys's.

She wanted to get straight to the point.

He closed his eyes as she embraced him from behind, as her lips placed a kiss on his neck, as her free hand slowly slid down his torso between his thighs. She froze, not finding there what she had clearly expected.

He wasn't hard.

"What's the matter? Aren't you in the mood? Didn't you miss me?" She asked, and he sighed, taking her hand from his crotch.

"No." He replied again, pulling his coat off his shoulders.

He felt the atmosphere around them grow thicker, knowing that her momentary silence was not a good sign.

She was preparing to attack.

"Are you in love with some poor human girl again? You'll get over it, as you always do. She'll eventually grow old and die, and you'll come back, seeking comfort from me." She muttered with a kind of certainty in her voice that annoyed him.

"What are you doing in my flat?" He asked dryly, knocking her off guard.

She looked at him, wrinkling her eyebrows, increasingly frustrated.

"I came to say hello to you. I was hoping for a warmer welcome." She replied coldly.

Welcome, meaning wild sex full of blood?

"I don't recall inviting you. I want to rest." He said dryly, sidestepping her, feeling some kind of frustration and regret.

Because of you, I had to leave her behind.

She needed me.

But if I had stayed with her, she would have found out what a jealous monster you are.

Alys was able to reconcile with his female human lovers because she knew they would eventually disappear – she herself did not shy away from such excesses, fucking young, handsome boys whenever the opportunity arose.

A female vampire, however, would be a threat to her.

"Ah, yes. You only need me when you cry and miss your mummy. When the remorse and memories of how you killed your father come back. But don't worry. I know you better than you know yourself. Have fun, and when you're done, come and we'll forget this conversation." She said dispassionately and grabbed her coat, putting on her high-heels on the way, leaving his flat with a loud slam of the door.

He rested his hands on the countertop and leaned forward, for some strange reason feeling relieved.

He was alone.

He sat down at his old oak desk and opened his laptop – he sighed heavily as he saw 46 new emails from work, knowing he would have to wade through them all one by one.

He had always loved reading, and over his far too long life he had read so many books that he thought he might be able to make some money from it. He therefore became an editor and translator for a publishing house that released volumes of poetry, but also books on history and philosophy.

He liked this job: he received assignments by email, and could discuss them over the phone. His employers were happy with his work, and his readers praised the fidelity of his translations and revisions, so in the end he managed to live on that alone.

He used an alias and false documents so no one has yet realised that he has been several other people in different countries over the past decade.

He could, of course, like other vampires, simply kill rich people and steal their life savings, however, he knew that in the long run such a life was very miserable: for obvious reasons it is then easier to draw attention to yourself and you still have to hide.

He had enough of that.

Maybe that's why she made such an impression on me, he thought.

She lived as if nothing had happened.

He sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling nothing but remorse at the memory of the expression on her face when he told her he was leaving. He didn't understand why those three days had affected him so much, why she, a stranger, had made him doubt himself completely as a person.

Maybe it was because he had touched her even though he shouldn't have: she had no obligations to anyone, he knew, however, that by entering into any kind of intimate relationship with her, he might be exposing her to Alys' wrath – and even though nothing but a kiss had actually happened between them, he had the feeling that they had had sex at least a few times.

This kind of unforced, intense intimacy, this touch full of desire and need for closeness, was so painfully sincere that it went beyond what he was usually familiar with: what he had done was not only out of his physiological needs, but out of something much deeper.

Something more sad, more pathetic, more real.

Some part of him wanted to be human again.

[hecksupremechips]

Honestly though I think it’s really a bad sign when I look at Shin Tsukimi and literally feel like he’s a self insert 😩

[anantaru]

GENSHIN + BREAK UP, MAKE UP

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — you fuck your ex boyfriend and shocker, you love it ᰔ

— ꒰ including ꒱ — alhaitham, ayato, heizou, wriothesley x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — ex boyfriend trope, slightly toxic & mean boys, bratty! reader ??? dirty talk, oral (male! receiving), fingering, cowgirl position, cumming inside, lots of cum lol, dom characters

— ꒰ ALHAITHAM ꒱

"hey, don't insult me now," alhaitham looks at you with a prized confusion in his eyes— while also taking care of your bodies needs and desires, his cock pressing deeply in you. "what's with the attitude i hear?" his voice was clearly hinting at a hazed tone as he pants against your wet cheek, your tits flushed against his solid chest.

you gasp at him, curving your fingers into his hair to pull it, "w-what attitude?" your hips involuntarily buck into his cock so he would hopefully get the hint and continue to move, more so stop being so annoying for once in his life.

"you're hiding it from me," he whispers cruelly, "don't act stupid now, aren't you so smart?" as his hips begin to grind through your tight hole, a warm press slowly distending in your cunt and swelling in your belly.

"you hide your moans from me, fuck, you brat, you know what that does to me," under the cover of a shaken exhale, he shoves you into the mattress even further— no mercy, no signs of previous affection, only a raw and pleasuring handle.

archons, how much you loathed the way he always had you figured out this quickly.

how, just how.

but well, it's not like you were a couple anymore, correct? so why would you give him the pleasure of hearing you? knowing full on well he finds it to be the best part whenever he fucked you.

just so he could pride himself again? scrap that, he doesn't deserve it, nor to indulge into every drop of desire you give him.

"hah, you're so weak alhaitham," you bite back a whimper, "still so weak for me," as your hole clenches, throbs and milks against his awfully hard cock before you look at him through a wet expression, his hair soused and messy sticking all over his forehead, pressed into the light sheen of sweat across his face, "or maybe you aren't doing a good job,"

it's dangerous— playing that game with your ex. but it's also worth the gamble.

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

like a puppy, you preciously kneel between ayato's legs, slightly leaning against one of his muscular thighs— one hand proudly holding his cock in your grasp to stroke him, your wet tongue circulating over the leaking slit just how he liked it.

but that familiar infatuation from months ago, when you were still considering yourself a team, that disgustingly known taste of your tongue on his cock made the yashiro commissioner twitch in your hand— is it desperation in his movements? or longing?

it reminds him all too much on how things used to be.

when you were in a relationship, of course, "in love", and where fucking you wasn't just fucking to neither of you, it was making love.

a longing that filled the whole breast with its mad virus.

it was much, much. he could never argue against the fact that you were the only one who could make him fall to his knees.

you flick the tip of your tongue back and forth over the inflamed head, teasing the slit and making him shudder, finding it more and more satisfying to have someone within such position under your grasp, the constant press of need and attention on your cunt only coming second.

"y-your mouth feels so fucking good," he heaves and embarrassingly coughs out right after— well, it's not that deep? because hey, a commissioner doesn't curse now, does he? but he did it for you, always.

how were you able to always coax that out of him?

your hand tightens around his erection, adding shallow yet precise pumps over his shaft as you cup his balls roughly, massaging them in your palm and wetting them with your saliva.

he's already wet of both his pre and your spit, yet you do not waste any chance to spit on his tip again, again and again until your cheeks and chin where littered with filth, finding it rather enchanting whenever ayato moans disgustingly hot.

chest rising, falling again, groans hitching at the feeling of your saliva sliding down his tip.

"i want to touch you too, come on now, don't you want me to touch you?" he begins to whimper, stroking over your head affectionately as you look up at him, flexing your throat, grabbing at his shaft more firmly.

he continues, although it gets harder to breathe, "don't you want my fucking hands on you, come on, admit it," fuck, ayato was so pent up— from work? from going through a messy break up? from being alone?

archons who was he fooling besides himself? it's due to how much he has missed you, missed this, missed your scent all around him.

— ꒰ HEIZOU ꒱

"oh your so wet, well look at this, look at this all over my hand,"

"some things never change, hm?" heizou moans softly and parades his glistening fingers to your blinking eyes as you whined out, trying to shift from his body hovering on top.

it's futile— not because you actually want him to stop, but because you really wanted this, despite him being so embarrassing and blunt about it.

what little movement you managed to coax from your hips merely aroused you further as heizou stuck his fingers back into your cunt— two slippery digits scissoring you hard, reaching deeper and floating inside you like inside water before rubbing his thumb back and forth your clit.

your thoughts were sluggish, and you found yourself overwhelmed due to the fact that your body enjoyed it, and so did your mind.

you knew this was wrong, this shouldn't happen, this wouldn't make it easier for either of you in the long run. but you couldn't think beyond that when all you thought about was his next touch and buck of his hands thrusting into your cunt.

your skin tingles, ever hot as he presses and rubs and strokes until every inch of your being was shivering in need and regretting ever breaking up with him.

no matter how often you try to act like he isn't setting a fire along the slopes of your skin, the detective will never stop seeking you out for this, conquering your sinful spots until you're fucked out of your mind, only then he will get close to your ear and ask you to say that you regret ever letting him go.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

"do you still fucking hate me?" there was a rumble emitting from wriothesley's chest, and for one long moment, he was consumed by nothing more other than your tight cunt riding him fiercely, "do you still refuse to admit that you secretly like this?"

if only he could shut up for just a damn second, just one.

"do you?" your eyes flew open to him in anger, your gaze aggravated in its entire embrace, how dare he mock this— but an expanding shock of his hips bucking into you forced a new bodily reaction from your shuddering frame, enough to override the otherwise enticing anger you were about to spit like venom into his proud face.

your back arches as you shoot him a dangerous glare— one that could easily get confused with a please please do fuck me harder, instead of hold your tongue you asshole.

because you see, don't act out on anger, instead luxuriate in the crushing weight of his cock between your legs, hard and heavy throbbing as you ride him, pleasure and fuck him hard— still pondering about how difficult it always had been to fit his entire length inside of you.

you let your legs shift apart more as your tits bounce in combination with your movements, your back arching as your pussy began to milk him fiercely, squelch and squelch as the deep, bloating throbs of his shaft scrub over the bends of your walls, until reaching your swelling belly.

you turn sensitive, he knows it, the duke can feel it.

"oh, come on now baby," pride gushes from his mouth as he tilts his head, tightly holding your waist before thrusting up. you wouldn't let him bath inside his confidence any longer as you lightly punch his chest upon hearing him use a damn petname.

"oh? you don't want me to call you that?"

"obviously not," you shake your head, wetting your lips, despite that, he could hear the arousal in your voice, "why are you clenching when i say it then? baby~" as he maintains his ardour, refusing to allow you to control your little get together as he mercilessly thrusts up into you, thick and heavy cock slipping in and out, your arousal running down his balls.

your moans are a little more breathless now, shaken as the pumping motions of his erection slapping against your pussy only grew needier.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ambrosiagourmet]

I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).

However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.

She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.

And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?

Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.

So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.

Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:

It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.

Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:

Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.

And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:

That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.

It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone

So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.

Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.

But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.

And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.

Izutsumi...

is a foil to Falin.

Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.

Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.

And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.

In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.

She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.

[icanlife]

Very tired of people who continue to argue that Bill destroying Euclydia was completely on purpose and he didn’t care about anyone at all because he’s just trying to garner sympathy in The Book of Bill, despite all the supporting evidence outside of Bill’s words that allude to how deeply traumatic it was, (so many, many things about) how he loved and misses his parents, how much of a sore spot the topic is for him, how much he wants to return home but can’t, etc. in addition to how perfectly Alex and co. crafted a parallel narrative between Bill and Ford, including how they hurt the people they love out of carelessness and blind pursuit of their dreams, justifying to themselves that the people they hurt just couldn’t understand

Yes, Bill is an unreliable narrator, and that includes all the very obvious posturing that he did it all on purpose and it was actually a very good thing, that everyone loved him, that he’s NOT incarcerated or anything and that he’s still a really all-powerful being, etc etc etc. To fully believe that EVERY vulnerability he reveals is an evil manipulation tactic, and not actual character writing, you have to interpret his very prevalent denial of weakness, which continues into the conclusion of the book where he already knows he’s lost the reader and is still denying any emotional needs or trauma, as itself a lie.

There’s a reason why the Pines family cracked open this book and laughed at Bill, calling him a fractured, pathetic mess.

The Book of Bill has a plot, a great plot, and great character writing. It’s a crazy companion to Journal 3, Ford’s story. Parallel stories, but where one ends with someone healing from their trauma, coming to terms with one’s mistakes and accepting the need for human love and relationships, the other ends with one stuck forever in their layers and layers of denial, never acknowledging their own trauma, never acknowledging their need for human companionship, grasping in desperate need at their continued facade of hating to love and loving to hurt.

Bill isn’t an always-in-control sly master of the mind, he’s a delusional and desperate man, fractured by his own trauma, who will continue to hurt others to prove that he’s in control. I’m tired of the false narrative that abusers can’t have trauma, aren’t people, giving them this otherworldly status above all humanity. Aside from not being narratively or societally productive, it undermines the ending and message of the book. Acknowledging Bill’s brokenness gives his victims POWER over him. The fact that Bill needs Ford, but Ford doesn’t need Bill is powerful. Them laughing at his desperation is powerful. Looking at someone who once seemed untouchable to you and realizing they’re just a suffering meat sack like any other human being is powerful.

The ending of The Book of Bill is the demystification of Bill. The book is a real look into his mind, telling a story that’s actually very tragic. It’s a very real story, a cautionary tale. You’re not being manipulated or tricked if you feel bad, it’s a very intentional writing decision that this ending elicits that dark pity, as he desperately fades away (arts and crafts materials confiscated) saying that he’s FINE.

So yeah, The Book of Bill and the website are a masterwork of the character, I love them, they’re incredible, and I don’t want to see such a tight character story discredited as “you can’t believe ANY of it!”

[ldknightshade]

morality: a character creation guide

creating and understanding your oc’s personal moral code! no, i cannot tell you whether they’re gonna come out good or bad or grey; that part is up to you.

anyway, let’s rock.

i. politics

politics are a good way to indicate things your character values, especially when it comes to large-scale concepts such as government, community, and humanity as a whole.

say what you will about either image; i’d argue for the unintiated, the right image is a good introduction to some lesser discussed ideologies… some of which your oc may or may not fall under.

either way, taking a good look at your character’s values on the economic + social side of things is a good place to start, as politics are something that, well… we all have ‘em, you can’t avoid ‘em.

clearly, this will have to be adjusted for settings that utilize other schools of thought (such as fantasy + historical fiction and the divine right of kings), but again, economic/social scale plotting will be a good start for most.

ii. religion + philosophy

is your oc religious? do they believe in a form of higher power? do they follow some sort of philosophy?

are they devout? yes, this applies to non-religious theist and atheist characters as well; in the former’s case… is their belief in a higher power something that guides many of their actions or is their belief in a higher power something that only informs a few of their actions? for the atheists; do they militant anti-theists who believe atheism is the only way and that religion is harmful? or do they not care about religion, so long as it’s thrust upon them?

for the religious: what is your oc’s relationship with the higher power in question? are they very progressive by their religion’s standards or more orthodox? how well informed of their own religion are they?

does your oc follow a particular school of philosophical thought? how does that interact with their religious identification?

iii. values

by taking their political stance and their religious + philosophical stance, you have a fairly good grasp on the things your character values.

is there anything they value - due to backstory, or what they do, or what they love - that isn’t explained by political stance and religious and/or philosophical identification? some big players here will likely be your oc’s culture and past.

of everything you’ve determined they value, what do they value the most?

iv. “the line”

everyone draws it somewhere. we all have a line we won’t cross, no matter the lengths we go for what we believe is a noble cause. where does your character draw it? how far will they go for something they truly believe is a noble cause? as discussed in part iii of my tips for morally grey characters,

would they lie? cheat? steal? manipulate? maim? what about commit acts of vandalism? arson? would they kill?

but even when we have a line, sometimes we make exceptions for a variety of reasons. additionally, there are limits to some of the lengths we’d go to.

find your character’s line, their limits and their exceptions.

v. objectivism/relativism

objectivism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “an ethical theory that moral good is objectively real or that moral precepts are objectively valid.”

relativism, as defined by the merriam-webster dictionary, is “a view that ethical truths depend on the individuals and groups holding them.”

what take on morality, as a concept, does your character have? is morality objective? is morality subjective?

we could really delve deep into this one, but this post is long enough that i don’t think we need to get into philosophical rambling… so this is a good starting point.

either way, exploring morality as a concept and how your character views it will allow for better application of their personal moral code.

vi. application

so, now you know what they believe and have a deep understanding of your character’s moral code, all that’s left is to apply it and understand how it informs their actions while taking their personality into account.

and interesting thing to note is that we are all hypocrites; you don’t have to do this, but it might be fun to play around with the concept of their moral code and add a little bit of hypocrisy to their actions as a treat.

either way, how do your character’s various beliefs interact? how does it make them interact with the world? with others? with their friends, family, and community? with their government? with their employment? with their studies? with the earth and environment itself?

in conclusion:

there’s a lot of things that inform one’s moral compass and i will never be able to touch on them all; however, this should hopefully serve as at least a basic guide.

[exuvianen]

dating hc's with dr. ratio, aventurine + blade!

headcanons about what these hsr men do in a relationship witth you <3

cw: x reader, gn! reader (no physical descriptions), mostly fluff, sfw, headcanon style

notes: hsr brainrot… ahahaha... i hope i have a fairly good grasp on these characters and wrote them well. 

wc: ~1050 words, around 350 words per character. all under the cut!

feel free to drop an ask or to add on to my thoughts! likes + rbs are appreciated  <3

✎ Dr. Ratio:

He likes parallel play, or being alone together with you. He works on his own projects, like grading papers or writing a new thesis while you’re doing your own thing, like playing video games or reading. Occasionally, he might ask you for your input, such as ideas about his next thesis or what pose he should sculpt himself into next. 

He has a spare desk and chair for you in his office. You can choose to do work or entertain yourself there when you visit him and he’s still teaching a lecture, but feel free to take a nap on the plush sofa he bought just for you. 

He will nag you about your health but in an annoyingly endearing way. He fusses over you, telling you about appropriate attire for today’s weather, offering you an umbrella, and reminding you to drink water. 

He entertains all your ideas, no matter how silly or illogical. He’ll hear you out on anything you say, though he might have some very strong disagreements or objections to your ideas, especially if they are silly or completely nonsensical. However, he never turns you away when you bound up to him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes - he just sighs and prepares himself mentally to hear whatever goofiness comes out of your mouth. 

He’s your biggest cheerleader, supporter, and advocate. Though he may come off as intimidating, he is always willing to help advance your career or work. He has many connections and vast knowledge of the universe after all - why not utilize them for his beloved? 

He’s very good at dispelling any irrational thoughts in your head. If you’re panicking and your mind is disoriented, he’ll sit next to you and hold your hand gently, but firmly to ground you. He doesn’t speak at all when you vent out all your frustration, confusion, or anger - rather, he’s silently contemplative and then asks questions when you finish talking. He’ll indirectly guide you to a solution while gently calming you down as he dispels those pesky thoughts from your head.

He makes a custom alabaster head for you. 

♤ Aventurine:

A big fan of matching accessories and clothing. You don’t need to wear the exact same outfit, but he likes wearing complementary colors and jewelry to yours.

If you’d like, he’d be more than happy to bring you to casinos and public events with him. He wants to show off to you and let you witness his wit, talent, and skill like a peacock presenting its colorful feathers. 

He likes it a lot when you trace his skin through the spade-shaped hole in his outfit.

He hates the feeling of being vulnerable, but he likes being around you. This creates conflicting emotions inside of him. Oftentimes, he doesn’t know how to deal with it and just lurks by you. Pull him into a hug to quiet the voices in his head. 

He will send you packages or luxury items from the planets he’s visiting. You’ll be greeting a disgruntled Topaz or IPC soldiers at your door as they hand you various gifts ranging from limited-edition jewelry to flowers that bloom only once every 200 amber eras. He gifts extremely grand things, but he always knows how to find things that suit your tastes.

He’s a big spender on you. If you’re unused to the amount of money he’s willing to throw at you, he’s going to give you a lot of “exposure therapy” with his generosity. He’ll invite you to private auctions, lavish galas, luxury boutiques, and high-end jewelry stores. He’ll start filling your wardrobe with tailor-made clothes with the excuse that you should match his outfits when you attend formal events together, but his clothing contributions eventually infiltrate your closet pretty deeply. 

He enjoys being pampered and pampering you. Self-care nights are a must - as a representative of the IPC and one of the ten Stonehearts, he has to keep himself presentable and looking sharp, and that goes for his partner too! He’s more than happy to spend money to fund your trips to the salon or buy you any beauty products to use at home. He’d love to put on face masks together and share a drink or two with you. 

☠︎︎ Blade:

If you want to, and Elio’s script permits, he will bring you along on missions to safer planets. He’ll drop you off at a commercial district - feel free to go shopping or try out some novelty food while he wraps up his Stellaron Hunter business.

He likes getting his hair brushed. One of his favorite activities is sitting down and letting you comb through his hair after he cleans up from a mission. It’s an activity that leaves him vulnerable, but he doesn’t mind if it’s with you.

He’s an acts of service kind of guy. He moves to take your bags before you even say anything, holds open doors, and pulls out chairs for you. Brings you a cup of water and some fruit when you’ve been working for too long, and silently drapes his jacket over you when you shiver.

Tell him you like a certain pastry and he’ll show up every day and bring some. Show him a picture of a pretty flower and he’s boarding a spaceship to bring the flower to you personally. If you want something, he’ll do his best to get it.

He’s pretty quiet, but he’ll remember everything you say, what your preferences are, and what you like. He secretly writes it down in case his memory gets murky, and he’ll often reread his notes to remind himself.

He gives simple but traditional gifts to you, such as jade bracelets and pendants, and combs and hairpins if you have longer hair to wear or use them.*

He’ll treasure anything you gift to him. If you make an accessory for him, he wears it at all times. If your gift is small enough, he’ll stow it safely in his pockets and take it everywhere with him.

If family is important to you, he’ll send funds their way and ensure that they’re taken care of. 

As someone who’s often dead and then undead, his body can get stiff. He’ll enjoy it immensely if you massage him, and accompany him for his daily stretches and calisthenics. Even if you just hold him for a while, he finds that his muscles will relax from the warmth emitting from your body. Therefore, he quite appreciates having you physically near him.

* Combs, hairpins, Jade bracelets, and pendants were given as tokens of love and affection in Ancient China. These gifts have a deeper meaning/symbolism, but for the sake of post length, I did not write them all out. 

[jesuistrestriste]

thinking about college!art inviting patrick to spend the night at his campus apartment

and when patrick arrives and sees you (art’s roommate) on the couch, he’s completely bewildered by how fucking hot you are.

“how could you not hit that?” he murmurs lowly and cheekily into art’s ear as the blonde shows him around the apartment unit

art just scoffs and shakes his head and pushes patrick’s shoulder roughly

“don’t. she’s nice and we have a good thing going. she does the dishes and i take out the trash,” he explains, “i’m not gonna ruin that.”

but patrick can’t stop thinking about you and your body and the way you waved to him when he walked in and set his bags down.

it’s all muddled in his head. and he slowly but surely coaxes art into divulging more information about you throughout the afternoon and early evening.

“yeah, she’s single.”

“yeah, she’s openminded.”

“yeah, she’s adventurous.”

somehow the night ends with the three of you on the couch in the living room; drinking and watching a stupid horror movie.

you all laugh and point and make comments about the main character’s faults. and then patrick’s hand is on your left thigh, and art’s is on your other. and then you’re all kissing; a clash of tongue and teeth and heavy breathing. and then they’re both messily grasping at your shirt and your pajama bottoms, tugging them off and tossing them aside as they groan into your neck and your mouth.

in the next instant, patrick is flipping you over and positioning you on your hands and knees on the cushions, your head facing art’s crotch while your ass is being grinded against by the front of the brunette’s tented shorts.

one torn-open wallet condom later, and patrick is actively thrusting into your sopping cunt while he holds your hips and watches your hands fumble with the tie of art’s sweatpants

art’s hips lift as he pushes his bottoms down, along with his boxers, and then he’s gently coaxing your head down to suck his cock while his best-friend fucks you senseless from behind

you’re moaning around the precome and aching flesh throbbing in your mouth, but you suck art until he whimpers and comes down your throat with a sharp, shaky moan; hips jolting and accidentally forcing more of himself inside as he gushes and you swallow

patrick finishes in the condom not even ten seconds later, spurred on by the sound of art’s release and the way your core clenches around him, and he’s groaning heavily as his length floods the latex. his body curls in forward, his chest against your back, and he reaches down to squeeze your tits in his palms as he shudders out the last waves of his high

art had potentially changed (ruined?) his platonic roommate relationship with you forever, but patrick had gotten his fill. and art had too, even if he didn’t want to admit it. he’d been pining for long enough, and all he needed was a push from his former doubles partner to give in.

art thinks it was worth it.

[forsworned]

It’s said canonically that simon riley has trauma around intimacy from torture 😔 If you feel comfortable writing it, can I please ask for a short fic of an Afab reader body worshipping/lovingly pleasuring Simon after they both work through his trauma and he’s getting all soft and emotional and babbling about how good reader is making him feel and how much he loves them and can’t believe someone cares about him this much? I always liked the idea of Simon being portrayed as vulnerable and soft and not this dom sex god a lot of people portray him to be. I really love your work and would love to see your take on this request :)

Soft ft. Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Author's Note: So I do recall someone making a post about this and I have to say I do not agree with everything. Men definitely process trauma, specifically sexual trauma a lot differently than women do. While women experience guilt, men experience anger. And maybe it's not all men who experience it that way, but after reading the comic and making my own assessment, I can say that Simon does have lingering anger. Of course, he is hell-bent on avenging his dead family, but all that pent-up energy could be going toward trying to even the score. He is pretty level-headed and able to compartmentalize. He has support from his comrades as well as undergoes mandatory rigorous mental health assessments because that's military protocol. He needs to be able to perform his duties on the field without putting himself or others at risk. He also most certainly gets mandatory counseling. Although he may be reluctant, his superiors are very much aware of the possible impact that it has on his mental health. So all that to say that Simon is not without help. He is not as "damaged" as people may perceive him to be. He's not a broken individual. As seen in the remastered MW's, albeit reluctant he can clearly put his trust in others. He develops relationships with the people who he works closely with meaning he is capable of change. SIGH. I just wish people would break this down a little more, but I do get what you're saying. His masculinity, trust issues, and the type of secret operations he goes on can lessen the effectiveness of the therapy. He's definitely a very complex character with layers to him, but I just don't think he's as weak as you may think he is. It's also important to note that it hasn't been confirmed that this current Simon went through the same thing. He could have a completely different background. Honestly, Activision is so fucking inconsistent but ANYWAYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I hope you enjoy this. Also if you read this all the way through, I applaud you. But thank you for enjoying my work, I didn't mean to critique you and your request, but I just couldn't let it slide LOL

Warnings: PnV sex, AFAB!Reader, Some Canon Simon Lore, Sexual Content, Mentions of Sexual Trauma

"Si—Simon..."

You sigh out in pleasure with every roll of your hips as you grind down on him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, and his cock stretches you out pliant. Fingers dig into his shoulders, marking half crescents into his pale, scarred skin. But something feels off.

His hands loosen their grip on your hips, and upon opening your eyes you find him his half-lidded gaze distant in a familiar haze. He isn't present.

"Simon." You halt the rutting of your hips, cupping his stubbly cheeks. "Are you alright?"

His onyx hues fixate on you. He is clearly readjusting his withdrawn eyes to refocus on you. You didn't want to say it yet, but you had felt him go a little soft a few seconds prior. "We can stop."

"No, no." His fingers squeeze your middle as he sits up a bit. You shake your head, but he's not letting up. "Why stop?"

You firmly grasp his face and his blonde lashes flutter up at you with a seemingly unreadable expression, but you're no stranger to Simon's detachment. Although he loathes to admit it, it happens. The relearning of being intimate is tumultuous for him.

"Because you're not mentally here, my love."

He frowns. "But I want y'to finish."

You exhale sharply. He doesn't even deny it. "No, Simon. I'd feel disgusted with myself if I finished while you weren't here with me."

He struggles to reply. In all honesty, he doesn't know what to say. It's not exactly a common occurrence, but he's not too keen on having a conversation about it. You never pry though. His therapy sessions are his own, unless, of course, you join him if he so desires.

Couples counseling is mandatory. A rule you established when you first decided to tie the knot. If you had problems that were beyond just a sit-down talk, a professional would have to intervene. And Simon agreed. No fuss, no muss. To preserve the sacredness of your relationship, he'd do anything.

He sighs. "'m sorry, dovie." He caresses your sides, feeling the gooseberries on your skin rise. A small smile adorns his lips and you giggle at his smugness.

"Stop it." You begin to get off of him, but Simon holds you firmly. You feel his dick harden inside of you, now kissing your cervix. A little gasp escapes your chest as you readjust yourself.

"Y'like tha'?" Simon's grinning now. It's his confidence gleaming through the abysmal darkness of his mind. The life in his eyes feels revitalized, and you now feel his vigor—literally.

"Yes, but..."

"'m here, love." He reaffirms, squeezing your waist again. "'m here. Please, 'm achin' for you."

He groans a bit and bucks his hips when he feels you pulsate around him. You return your own moan, leaning forward but his fingers thread through your hair and he brings you into a sloppy, heated kiss. His hips thrust into you slowly and deeply, earning a guttural moan from him.

For a moment as you withdrew from the kiss, your gazes meet and Simon's eyes soften and become glossy with tears that brim over his oculars and spill over the corners of his eyes.

"Oh, baby." You coo, holding him close as you kiss his face. His sadness is silent, yet palpable. You're now babbling sweet, sweet words to him as you pepper him with kisses, and Simon holds you as if you're going to slip away. You gently guide him through the double inhale technique you learned from your therapist, and with the sweetness of your voice, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch, he feels at ease.

"I dunno how y'put up with me."

You grin, kissing the corner of his lip. "It ain't easy."

"Oh?" He flips you over on your back, pressing you firmly against the mattress and you giggle into the nape of his neck. "Wanna say that again, love?"

You thread your fingers through his sandy blonde hair and kiss the tip of his nose. "You're not hard to love, Simon."

His eyes soften once more and he kisses you deeply. Simon has never cherished anyone more in his life. You were always so patient and kind from the jump. You were truly the "greater woman" behind the "great man".

He rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes as you gently card your fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, lovie."

[killerpancakeburger]

Bluebeard's wife

SUMMARY: On a visit to your boyfriend, you end up having to deal with a creep on base, but Soap and Ghost's methods of resolving your problem are... far more drastic than yours.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (and BFF!Ghost)

TAGS: Dark content, Badass!Reader, Established relationship, Dark! a bit yandere! Soap, Dark! a bit yandere! Ghost.

WARNINGS: Canon violence, blood mention, sexual harassment, insults. Soap and Ghost are acting creepy but not towards Reader.

WORDS COUNT: 1,1k words.

A/N: Was thinking about how high the risks of sexual assault are in the military for women + about how much the Task Force could get away with (Soap's mohawk is NOT standard issue lol), but it turned out kinda dark. Not my usual kind of content. This is my first time writting those characters, pls be indulgent.

Your elbow connects with the man’s nose with a satisfying crack.

Immediately he howls, pressing his broken nose with one hand, blood dripping between his fingers.

“FUCK! What the fuck! You broke my nose, you crazy bitch!”

This. This is why you didn’t want to meet the Task Force on base. There was always one brainless fucker who didn’t get the memo that, no, despite having breasts, you weren’t here as a comfort woman.

The private is glaring at you with a hatred as deep as it is sudden, one that screams murder.

The only good side of the situation is, with how loud he’s being, you won’t even need to call for help. Already most of the soldiers nearby are staring at you, muttering among themselves. Not that you can’t beat this guy up on your own, but the military tends to frown upon civilians roughing up their members, you learned it at your expense quite early. On the other hand, soldiers settling accounts between each other was… well, not exactly authorized, but it was way less trouble for you.

He grabs you by the collar, his rage only exacerbated by your composure. The action stains your clothing with his blood. You mentally grimace. You’re no stranger to blood, but the idea of this repulsive individual’s bodily fluids being anywhere on your person is disgusting. 

“Are you listening, you dumb bitch!? I’m gonna fucking kill-”

The venom-filled verbal onslaught stops dead as a hand takes hold of your assailant’s wrist.

“Now, now, at ease, soldier. Ya making a spectacle of yourself.”

The thickly accented voice of your boyfriend sends a wave of warmth in your chest. 

Your harasser hesitates a second too long, so Soap makes the decision for him, tightening his grasp until the soldier winces, and finally takes the hint, letting you go and taking a few steps backward. Johnny immediately positions himself between the two of you, shielding you.

He’s been smiling the whole time, but it’s the kind of dangerous smile you wear when you’re about to give an asshole a righteous beating.

The private looks partially sheepish, but not defeated, indignation burning in his eyes. He lets loose a torrent of justifications and excuses, actively painting you as the villain, not caring if he contradicts himself in the process. You don’t pay attention to the details of his speech. It’s always the same “she was asking for it” kind of diatribe. The fact that he sincerely believes that there’s a chance that Soap will take his side instead of yours is laughable, but not surprising. 

You wonder how long this will go on, until the private notices something next to you, and all blood seems to desert his face as his voice deserts his vocal cords. 

You turn your head and, to no surprise to you, Ghost is there. He stands so close to you that your arms are almost touching. Clothed entirely in black, which brings out the white skull on his mask, his presence is as menacing as ever; all he needs to do is scowl at lesser soldiers to make them cower in fear. He doesn’t look back at you, but his support for you is so obvious through the rest of his behavior that he doesn’t need to.

Soap takes advantage of the newfound silence to turn to you.

“Ya good, yeah?” He asks, cradling your cheek tenderly, and stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. 

The question is futile - if you were hurt, he would have noticed right away. But it’s still cute to see.

“Yeah. Not a scratch.” you smile.

“That’s my girl”, he smiles back. “So, what the bloody hell happened here?”

You glance at the private behind him. He’s shaking, and the look he sends you back is begging for mercy. Remembering the first words he addressed to you earlier, you realize you’re all out of mercy for today. Thus, with a sadistic little smile, you recount the events.

“This man came to me complaining that I was unfairly privileging Sergeant Mctavish and that he wanted his turn. Then when I explained that I wasn’t some kind of free-for-all buffet, he took it the wrong way and put his hands on me. That’s when I exploded his nose.”

By the time you finish your explanation, Soap’s expression has darkened considerably.

“I see.” is all that leaves his mouth. Anyone familiar with him would know that for him to start talking by monosyllables like Ghost, something must be very wrong.

Pivoting again, he faces the private and, as the latter opens his mouth to plead for forgiveness, punches him right in the face. Blood gushes, drops of it landing on his face. You mentally count until three, one for every blow, and when Soap still doesn’t stop punching, you frown, disturbed and worried by his conduct. He’s never been one to remain impassive in the face of injustice, easily riled-up even in critical situations and despite his superiors’ orders, but you’ve never seen him go this far. 

You’re about to intervene when Ghost beats you to it, putting a hand on his sergeant’s shoulder. That’s right. Ghost, the voice of reason, the paragon of self-control, their cold-hearted leader, will fix everything.

However when you hear the next words that leave his mouth, it’s like the world tilted on its axis.

“Not out in the open, Johnny.”

The words are whispered low enough that only Soap and you would have heard. They send a cold shiver down your spine. Rattled and unsettled in a way that they never made you feel before, you contemplate the situation in silent incredulity.

“Aye, L.T.”, replies Soap with an abnormally monotonous tone.

Before you can ask what the fuck is happening, he proceeds to punch the soldier so hard in the stomach that the latter collapses without a sound, except for the muffled noise of someone winded. The scene makes you increasingly uncomfortable. You feel like Bluebeard's newest wife, having stumbled upon the one room you were forbidden from entering, having witnessed something you weren't supposed to see, and now you can never go back to how things were before.

You counted on Soap and Ghost’s intervention, sure, but you expected them to put an end to the fight, maybe intimidate the guy a little, and ultimately end things here. You didn’t expect… whatever this is.

Staring in shock at the two Special Forces, you shake your head to get a grip and come closer.

“Alright guys, I think he’s had enough-”

Ghost interrupts you with a hand on your shoulder. The Ghost touching two people in less than five minutes? Yes, something’s seriously wrong. Looking at him, you try to convey urgency with your gaze…

“Simon, this isn’t-” 

…but his next words make you lose hope of winning this argument.

“Easy there, love. Johnny’s takin’ care of it, ya don’t need to worry ‘bout a thing.”

The next thing you know, he presses a hand against your lower back, making you leave the premises, completely ignoring the way you stare at him in utter disbelief… and growing apprehension. 

He had never called you “love” before.

[malachiexists13]

CHARACTER/S: Kinich [He/Him]  MC/READER INSERT: Y/n [AFAB - She/Her]  PROMPT/S + GENRE/S: Kinktober Day 20: Cunnilingus  ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP: Dating  REQUESTED BY: N/A DATE WRITTEN: Sept.15.2024  DATE POSTED: Oct.20.2024 WORD COUNT: 379 words

//TW:  - Cunnilingus, Praise, Desperate/Pussywhipped Kinich, Possibly OOC Kinich, Cussing, Slight Hair Pulling,

DISCLAIMER: This is smut written by a minor; someone under the age of 18. If that makes you uncomfortable, then please DNI.

NOTES: I need to write this shit faster, my god. Kinich may be OOC because I wrote this September 15th, like two days before his banner drop so uhhh– Past Malachi sincerely hopes Kinich wanters became Kinich havers. Also this one is short because my motivation kept dying and I could not force myself to write more than this.

SUMMARY: Something felt like it snapped inside Kinich, and his own grasp on her legs tightened even further. “Do it then. Cum all over my face, princess… I need to taste it,” he rasped out. She whined softly, her legs trembling as that coil in her abdomen threatened to snap with his every touch against her cunt. And just like that– it did.

AO3 LINK: [Coming Soon]

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“Fuck, pretty girl…” Kinich groaned against her, enjoying the weight of her legs over his shoulders as he desperately pressed his lips to her cunt. The way she squirmed from his touch only served to set his need for her ablaze even further. The way her fingers pressed against his scalp as she gripped his hair. The way her arousal tasted on his tongue. All these sensations felt as if they served to drive him insane. 

Kinich pressed closer, causing her to whimper as he took her clit between his lips. Lapping with need at the sensitive bud. He grasped her thighs– his grip tight enough to likely leave marks. But she didn’t care. Not when he was making her feel so good. His every touch felt mesmerizing, entrancing her in his passion. 

Suddenly, he slipped his tongue inside her wet yet soaked hole. Lapping desperately at her taste and drawing moans from her– a groan leaving his own throat. She was too good… too good for him. 

As he continued to eat her out, he could feel her body shudder against his lips. Squirming under the delicious pleasure he was giving her. And then her grip on his dark hair tightened further, pulling a quiet groan from his lips. “K-Kinich–” she gasped out, “I’m– mm… please. C-close…” she whimpered. 

Something felt like it snapped inside Kinich, and his own grasp on her legs tightened even further. “Do it then. Cum all over my face, princess… I need to taste it,” he rasped out. She whined softly, her legs trembling as that coil in her abdomen threatened to snap with his every touch against her cunt. And just like that– it did. 

Her orgasm spilled over in an intense yet euphoric feeling. Kinich lapped up her arousal with a low groan, and slowly sat up to meet her gaze– she was panting. And had an utterly blissful yet fucked out look on her face. Kinich’s face had a light sheen to it from sweat or her release, and there was a subtle intensive lust in his eyes. He chuckled at her expression, “Mm… Sorry, Y/n– but…” he moved to position himself on top of her, resting his forehead against hers. 

“...I need more of you. Is that okay?”

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Notes: I don’t have a Natlan section in my Masterlist yet because I don’t want it to only be Kinich, in case anyone was wondering. So I’m gonna wait until the Natlan Archon Quest concludes to add that section into my Masterlist. But yes, he is available for requests <3

To: Kinktober 2024 Masterlist || Alternative Day 20 || Day 21 || Main Masterlist

This work was written by and belongs to Malachi Exists. It is only posted to Tumblr and Archive of Our Own. Any other reposts to other websites are likely stolen and should be reported as such. Reblogging/sharing this work via links is fine. But permission to repost, even with credit, will never be granted.

[regardtheinnocent]

Contains: SoftDom!reader, Sub!Blade, Gentle sex, Established Relationship, Reader is has a cock or a strap on, Penetration (Character recieving), Pretty fluffy overall, porn little plot.

Ahhhh first post !!!!

\ \ \

Blade wasn't used to this.

He was used to the harsh punches, the cruel words and the deafness to any he needs he might have had—

not this.

Your hands gently rubbed over his scarred skin, taking care to run those fingers of your's along each dip and scrape in his body, or so you called it— "each perfection".

It was true that you never allowed him to feel sourly about his scars— nor any part of himself, in all honesty.

"Beautiful." You'd whisper, your voice only audible to him. And he listened, oh did he listen.

Every soft and comforting word that split your lips was like a warm caress to the bone-tired immortal.

Despite everything, Blade found himself unable to resist melting into your hands.

The stellaron hunter swallowed thickly instead of allowing himself to let out the breathy gasp that had pushed against his lips. He had nothing to hide from you, he knew.

But it was just so embarrassing.

You didn't seem to mind, though.

You happily indulged in your naked intimacy with him, hips keeping a pleasing and slow pace.

Blade couldn't help but turn his face away, unable to hold your intense gaze any longer.

His cheeks were too red, the heat that pooled in his belly was too hot— you weren't even doing anything.

He shouldn't feel this pathetic— not at all.

But Blade couldn't help it, he had been robbed of this for much too long.

And at long last, there was nothing holding the both of you back from each other.

A sharp gasp burst from the man's lips as his rough hands grasped onto your bare back, nails threatening to dig into your skin at any moment.

You chuckled softly, not being able to resist giving another, deeper thrust, letting yourself hit Blade's prostate perfectly.

He couldn't help it this time, there was no way for himself to control his sounds when you were sweet to him like this.

So he didn't.

Blade let out a weak moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he held onto you, feeling your thrusts continue to hit deep inside of him.

“That’s it, angel.” You murmured to him. Your voice sounded so soft, so tender, so loving. It drew an almost shy moan from the stellaron hunter’s lips, which of course was a sound that you reveled in.

“Don’t— M’not an angel- Ah!” Blade tried to protest against the sweet term of endearment, though it was a lost cause. After all, it was if your purpose in the universe was to shower the immortal with more praise than had ever been uttered in the history of existence.

You knew that it would only take a little while longer for your lover to stop resisting your pet names, after all it was clear that Blade’s mind was melting.

“You’re my angel, Blade. All mine.” You whispered back as a heavy breath left your lungs. Your hips lurched forward, allowing you to once more hit Blade’s prostate.

“Fuh—Fuck!” The stellaron hunter nearly sobs, his blunt nails scratching at your back in a desperate bid to ground himself. A useless one, but one nonetheless.

Blade’s cock would sway upwards, nearly hitting his tummy with every deep thrust you did. The poor thing was nearly red with neglect, and pre-cum gushed from the tip in an unending stream.

Your hand that had once been holding Blade's hip, drifted to the side in order to take hold of his cock.

You synced your motions, your hand would move downwards when you thrusted in, before moving back up. Your thumb would rub over Blade's tip when you stilled yourself in him for a moment, then the action would repeat all over again.

It was driving Blade mad.

"Good... you're getting close, aren't you?" You ask in that tender tone of your's. It wasn't as if the man could lie to you, so he nodded his head up and down as he screwed his eyes shut.

You gave Blade a sharp thrust and a quick stroke of his cock before murmuring to him once more.

"Words, darling." Ah.. but he could barely even speak. It was cute to see him try, though.

"Mhm— hngh! Close, close— can I?" Blade babbles almost nonsensically, though you're lucky to have experienced this sort of talk from him enough times to have a good understanding of what he was trying to convey.

His scarred back arched beautifully as you deepened your thrusts, hitting places that Blade didn't know existed inside of him.

"Go ahead, sweetheart... You've been so good." You whisper to him, your voice is gentle, coaxing even.

And Blade can't help but feel safe for once, with your body hunched over his and your breath on his neck.

Its more comforting than it really should be.

Without much warning, cum shoots out of his tip, staining his muscular tummy and even some of his chest. Blade also tightens around you, hard, making you let out a groan of your own.

The poor stellaron's thighs tremble with his aftershocks, and his eyes remain rolled back in his head for a few seconds before they slide shut.

You still your hips, instead focusing on kissing away the tears that still wetted your lover's cheeks.

"Come back to me, dear." Those words leave your mouth in a hushed murmur as you bring yourself to lay beside your lover.

Without much thought, you wrap your arms around Blade's quivering body, bringing the large man close to you as he comes down from his high.

You've since pulled out of him, though that does little to ease the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling.

"...Mngh." Blade presses his face into your chest, wordlessly letting you know that he was fine. It was common for him to be quiet after sex, though that didn't stop the stellaron hunter from acting like a big teddy bear.

You chuckle softly and brush some of his hair behind his ear.

"I love you." You coo to him.

"...love you." He slurs back.

[bunniesanddeer]

Heat: Part One

Part Two

This was my first attempt at smut, so you will all get to see it now. I hope you'll like it. I originally posted it on AO3. If it is terrible, I apologize. This is also set in the same universe as "Bound to Hell" and "Going Straight to Hell", but it is NOT canon to the official multichapter fic which will be posted when it is half done. So it is the same characters, with a much more developed relationship.

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader

Warnings: References to abuse, going into heat, no a/b/o, female anatomy, Rosie being a good friend, references to Soul Bonds, something you can ask about haha. Minors DNI. This part is not explicit, but the next is! Alastor speaks French.

Word Count: 3,690

Alastor knew something was wrong very early on. He hadn’t been able to identify what it was specifically, but it had been unsettling. His shadow had quaked and quivered at something he couldn’t see, and his skin had felt tight. When he had left his room, the sound of crickets in the swamp fading behind him, the feeling had grown worse. It had made the Overlord not quite jumpy, but definitely uncomfortable. Then he saw the cause, stumbling from their room.

His little lamb that was slowly carving out a spot for themself in his cold, dead heart, was the cause. Their wool was disheveled, nearly matted. Their eyelids were drooping low, as if they hadn’t slept. He watched them stumble for a bit before he caught their scent. Due to their bond, and proximity, he was quite attuned to their scent. Normally, they were faintly sweet with a hint of florals, but now? All he could focus on was the deep, heady smell of them. Alastor wasn’t sure what had happened, but it was clearly drastic.

“My dear,” he called. The sound of his voice had made the little demon perk up. They whipped around, and nearly sprinted to his side. They were often enthusiastic to see him in the morning, but this was new. 

“Alastor!” Their voice was filled with joy, their eyes full of unwarranted excitement. The exhaustion that had painted their face only a moment before, was gone. Their hands wrapped around his lower arm, and they nuzzled into his side. They cooed, “I missed you.”

Alastor’s brows furrowed. How very peculiar! His little lamb never initiated contact without asking first. He didn’t mind their touch, it was rather pleasing. He enjoyed the softness of their skin, and the gentleness of their hands. They still liked to ask, though, some strange need to make him feel comfortable. (He thought it was unnecessary, he was an Overlord, and he owned their soul; if he wanted them off, they’d be off of him). Not to forget, they had ‘missed’ him? The two had been separated a handful of hours at most. What was going on?

“My dearest, are you feeling alright,” he asked, lifting their chin with his other hand. “You seem a little out of sorts.”

Their eyes wavered, and the exhaustion leeched back into them. The grasp they had on his arm tightened. “I’m sorry, Al. I feel really weird.” Their eyelids fluttered, and they released a strangled breath. “I feel like I’m burning up. Which is weird, it’s winter still.” 

Alastor could feel his smile wavering. He hadn’t heard of sinners getting fevers for anything other than strange illnesses. No one else in the hotel was sick, so how could they have contracted anything? He looked them up and down, noting the flush to their cheeks, and the sweat building up on the back of their neck. They were sick. 

“Hey, can… can demons get colds?” They asked, almost as if it was a joke. Before Alastor could muster a response, they collapsed. He deftly caught them, his surprise showing on his face. 

“Oh, dear,” he muttered to himself. Who would know about these kinds of things? Perhaps Charlie? But she was supposed to be rather busy that day. Perhaps Rosie would know! She had been in Hell for quite a long time. She was bound to know something. 

Alastor arranged his little soul-bond in his arms, and stalked back to their room. Their room was full of that smell that had thrown him off just before. It made his skin tingle, and his head feel full. He couldn’t account for it, but it wasn’t something he disliked. The discomfort came from the confusion that was growing in his breast. What a strange sensation!

Alastor wrapped them up in their blankets, hoping that perhaps getting warmer would help their fever. Before he stepped away from their bedside, he stroked their cheek with the back of his fingers. How soft their skin was! He stared down at their little face, taking in every detail. The white freckles that looked like stars against their gray skin, the way their lashes fluttered in their sleep. Their plush lips, just barely open, and the sharp teeth he knew lay behind them. His chest tightened, something aching deeply, as he looked at them. His smile tightened. Alastor decided it was time to go. 

On the way out of the hotel, he called for Husker. The cat-demon was clearly disgruntled at being called on earlier than he’d prefer, but Alastor didn’t care. 

“My little lamb seems to be sick. They’re in bed right now. If they don’t stir before noon, wake them up and make them eat something.” Alastor let the underlying threat color his words. He wouldn’t have their situation get worse just because Husker wanted to be lazy. They would eat, before he got back, and then he would help them get better. But first, he needed to know what was wrong.

“Alastor! My good friend! What brings you in on such a fine day!” Rosie’s fervor was nearly infectious, but Alastor had a mission. The feather on her hat bobbed as she tilted her head in question.

“Ah, I seem to have a problem,” Alastor replied. “Do you mind if we perhaps have a conversation in a less, public space?”

The deer-demon glanced about, as if to remind her of their location. Rosie nodded, still smiling happily. She gestured with a flick of her wrist, and led the way to the back of her store. 

When the two had finally settled into their seats, Alastor sighed. Rosie went about pouring some tea for them as he worked on his words. He conjured his microphone, idly tapping it. Something heavy weighed in his chest, and the feeling wouldn’t go away.

“Oh Alastor! You know you’re my favorite pal! Just tell me what’s on your mind. You look all twisted up!” Rosie sat back in her chair, sipping from a teacup that she held delicately. Her smile was welcoming and patient, and it soothed Alastor minutely. 

He was thankful for her breaking the silence, as it forced him to finally speak. “Do you know what might cause a sinner to get sick? Even if they have not been exposed to anything?” 

Rosie hummed to herself, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “Oh, this is about your little paramour, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s smile twitched, faintly. Of course! Rosie would be able to tell immediately. She was intelligent, and she was better at reading people than even himself. Not to mention, the two of them had been friends a long time. She could read him like an open book. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “They seem to be sick, and I don’t know what it could be. I’ve never seen nor experienced such a thing, here.” His claws tap at the armrest of the plush chair, as he props his chin up with the other hand. “They looked positively dreadful this morning! Claiming that they felt hot, despite the cold.” 

Rosie set down her teacup, letting a hand cover her smile as she laughed. “Oh dear! That is quite something.” She laughed again when Alastor let his annoyance show. “They’re a sheep, are they not?” 

Alastor nodded, not quite knowing what that aspect of his little soul-bond had to do with it. 

“And they are female, yes?” Alastor nodded again, his confusion growing. “Oh dear. You said some time ago that they had reciprocated the soul-bond, yes? And they’ve been down here for several months now.”

Rosie trailed off, as if expecting him to suddenly understand what she was implying. Alastor couldn’t think of how any of that had made them sick. Rosie picked up on how deeply confused he was, and sighed.

“My, my. You really don’t know about how demon manifestations work, beyond what pertains to yourself, do you?” Rosie waved a hand. “As you know, the form we take in death often have something to do with our life. The way we died, the way we lived, all of it contributes in one way or another. Lambs, sheep, whatever you want to call them, tended to have harder lives where they had no control. Often dealing in their bodily autonomy, or lack thereof.”

Alastor’s smile shrunk. Well of course, he had known what their life had been, but seeing that their new form was a reminder of that, each day? It made him uncomfortable. He hoped that his little lamb didn’t know why they were a lamb. 

“Yes, I see that you have connected some of the dots. They’re lambs to the slaughter, all of them in one way or another. Their forms, because it’s Hell, often come with some terrible side effects that don’t show for a while. Their stress needs to level out, and they need to feel comfortable with the demons they are frequently near.” Rosie raises her brows, waiting for him to get it, but he doesn’t. “When they’ve settled, and they’re around demons they like, or they bond, the side effects kick in. Your little lamb, is experiencing that now.”

“So, they will get sick, because they’re comfortable?” Alastor feels mildly bamboozled, as he tries to clarify.

“Alastor, no,” Rosie sighs. She rubs her forehead, carefully avoiding cutting herself with her claws. “They’re in heat.”

Alastor shifts in his seat, that uncomfortable feeling tingling in his brain again. “Heat? Like, like an animal?”

“Yes, like a ewe, Alastor. They will seem sick, for about a day, then they will be clingy with you for the next, and then it will happen.” Rosie leans back in her chair, again. Unlike Alastor, she seemed entirely comfortable with the topic of discussion. “They will have the strongest drive for sex that they will have ever experienced. Going without is said to hurt terribly, like their whole body is on fire. They’ll seek out comfort in you, or by themself. Whatever quells the urge.”

Alastor felt like he had been shot. Never in all his years, alive or dead, had he heard of such a thing occurring. How tedious! How disgusting. His nose scrunched up at the thought of having to deal with such a thing himself, but the thought of his lamb… Heat rushed down his chest and into the pit of his belly. His skin was itching. The thought of his soul-bonded needing him in such a way… Alastor could not tell himself that he disliked such an idea.

He was deeply aware of how much he had grown to care for them. When he had finally relinquished some control in their relationship, offering to tie their little string tight on his end, he knew it was cemented. Alastor had a bizarre, and new, kind of love for the sweet thing he had made a deal with. They were his, and for the first, and only time, he could say, he was also theirs. He still owned their soul, but it was different. Their relationship had shifted over time. There were no more orders, and there was no more fear. His little lamb had grown comfortable, happy even, and this ‘heat’ was the proof.

Something akin to pride ignited in his chest. Yes, they were happy with him. What a delightful thing to know for sure! 

“What should I do? I am not ready for anything of that nature, and I don’t want to risk them. They have had far too many choices taken from them,” Alastor says. His hands clasp together as he gives Rosie a moment to think. He didn’t want them forced into such an awful thing again. The realization that their experiences in life had caused this…anger was a word that barely described his feelings on the matter. He wanted to tear whatever being was in charge of such transformations into pieces. 

“They will need something, at some level. Tomorrow, bring it up to them, ask. Let them know everything you know, and give them a choice. They can try and ride it out alone, or you can be beside them. How you handle it beyond that is between the two of you.” Rosie stands, a gentle smile on her face. “You should get going, my friend. You should get back to them. You’ll want to feed them well over these two days. They’ll need the energy, no matter what happens.”

Alastor stands, thanking her, almost absentmindedly. His trip back to the hotel is spent in silent pondering. He needed to plan. He wasn’t sure if sex was something he desired for himself, but he knew, deep down, he would do it for them; he’d give them that pleasure, that joy. Alastor could also feel something possessive growing. The idea of anyone else getting to commit themselves to such a task made him grit his teeth. No, if anyone was going to touch the sheep-demon, it would be him. 

Angry flames licked at the bottom of his belly, something in his thoughts igniting them. They were his, and his alone. He would be the one to drive them to pleasure. (He ignored the memory of Richard and his deeds. None of that changed anything about what they deserved. It just meant that he needed to more carefully heed their wants and needs. He would give them the bliss that no other had). 

Alastor smiled widely when he returned to the hotel. Now he needed to sit by their side for the night, and then speak with them tomorrow. Perhaps a quick discussion with the others as well? The two of them would not be available for the next few days, and he needed to make sure they would remain undisturbed. Perhaps a different location would be ideal.

When you woke, all you could focus on was the smell of food. Alastor was a very good cook, and you knew from the lovely smell of spices, that it had to have been his food. When you finally cracked your eyes open, you were delighted to find yourself right. The demon was sitting on the edge of your bed, a steaming bowl cupped in one of his hands.

“Good morning, dearest,” he said. There was something akin to apprehension on his face, but you were far too hungry to immediately comment on it. “I figured you would be quite hungry, when you awoke, so I took the liberty of making you something hardy.”

You smiled widely in thanks. How sweet he could be to you! It was new, in your relationship, but you loved it. You held out your hands, thanking him as you did, but he didn’t hand you the bowl. Alastor merely gestured for you to sit up, and scoot back. You did so, hesitantly, your back settling against your headboard. You held out your hands again, but he settled himself close to you on the bed. With his legs swung over the side, he started spooning the stew.

“No, hey, wait a minute! I can feed myself!” You glared at him, confusion and a tinge of anger mixing together. 

Alastor sighed, affection leaking into his words. “I know, my love, but I need to tell you something quite…hmm, difficult might be the best word here. I want you to just listen, and focus on eating. Plus, I just love taking care of you.” One of his hands edges towards your face, claws softly stroking your cheek. He pulls it back, and spoons some more stew. “You can ask questions when I am done, but for now, eat.”

You grumble to yourself before opening your mouth to accept the spoon. Although you were loath to admit it, the stew tasted great, and him feeding you only felt slightly patronizing. 

“Do you recall how you felt yesterday? You said you felt like you were burning up. Well, when you fainted, I went to find out what could be the cause. I went to my good friend Rosie, you remember her?” He lets you nod before feeding you another spoonful. “I came to the conclusion that she would know enough about Hell, to know what was causing your sudden illness. 

“So I described it vaguely, and she realized I was talking about you, dearest. And she said some things that upset me, more than I had been willing to admit at the time.” Alastor sighs, static, that seemed ever present in his voice, fizzling out. The room was quiet for a moment as he let you swallow your food. “The way we manifest in Hell, has to do with the way we lived, and died. The things we experienced. I know you know some of this, but I also found out something more specific about your form.”

Alastor goes quiet, and you frown. Whatever could he have learned to cause the demon that never stops talking to go quiet? 

“Sheep demons are often the result of lives lived that had very little control over themselves or their situation. You are a sheep, because you had such little bodily autonomy in your life, my love.” He feeds you another spoonful as your eyes widen. He snorts to himself. “It made me so incredibly angry, to have that confirmed to me. It only got worse when she finally told me why that had anything to do with your illness.

“You aren’t sick. You are experiencing a ‘heat’, as she called it. It’s a side effect of being a sheep, or more specifically a female, sheep demon. It occurs when the individual has been comfortable with the demons in their vicinity and stress-free for a time. Soul-bonds can trigger this too.” 

Your brows scrunched up, and you swallowed the food before you had finished chewing. It hurt your throat, but the urge to grimace was too strong. How fucking terrible. It felt like you couldn’t escape anything from your life. Your eyes drifted to the wall. You couldn’t even make eye contact with Alastor. His gaze felt heavy on you, and all you wanted to do was hide. 

“I’m sorry, dearest. You need to know what ‘heats’ are, though. Then we can talk about what you would like to do about it.” Alastor sets the bowl down on your bedside table, taking the hint that you couldn’t eat right then. One of his hands tugs at yours, large claws wrapping around your whole hand easily. “Yesterday, the fever and the exhaustion, was the first day. The second, which is today, it’s common for the affected individual to be clingy, especially with a bonded pair.” His thumb stroked the back of your wrist, as he continued. “Tomorrow, the actual ‘heat’ occurs. You will be driven to-” 

Alastor cuts himself off with a cough, and it draws your gaze. “Sorry, my dear. I’ll continue. You will want to have sex. The desire will become a need, and it will consume you. I have been told that it can hurt, to go without, but that it is possible to handle alone. This is what I would like to talk to you about.”

Your nose twitches, and your lips quiver. Of course, this would be thrust on you. How could you deal with this? The idea of sex still unsettled you. However, he mentioned that it could be handled alone. Did he mean masturbation? Would something other than penetration work? Your thoughts whorled in your head, when one stuck to the forefront. 

The image of Alastor holding you tightly to his chest, hand cupping your navel and exploring lower, made your brain halt. The thought of his fingers rubbing at your clit, and his wonderful voice whispering in your ear. Him touching you gently, talking you through the whole ordeal, and bringing you to orgasm, lit up your mind. You suddenly wanted it more than anything. You didn’t need penetration from him, but you so desperately wanted to be touched.

Your cheeks flushed, and fluttering erupted beneath your navel. Alastor’s eyebrows raised as he took in your appearance. You were so glad that he couldn’t read your thoughts. How embarrassing, especially because he wasn’t the biggest fan of being touched.

The heat subsided as you remembered that detail. That would complicate things. The idea of being left alone, right now, made you want to cry. You hoped he didn’t want you to handle it by yourself. If all he could do was be in the same room, you would take it over being alone. 

“I know that neither of us are at the point where…sexual intercourse would be the best action. However, I don’t want you to deal with it alone. As new as this will be for me, I would like to be there for you. To help you with it, if you so desire.” Alastor leans in towards you, one of his hands cupping your face. “I would bring you pleasure, and help this ‘heat’ end for you, my love.”

Your eyelids flutter closed, letting his breath fan across your face as you think. You want him with you, badly. 

Alastor chuckles, making you look at him. “I can do that, my dear.”

Oh. You had spoken out loud. (Your brain feels like it's melting. It feels hard to think, but you push through). Your cheeks flush again. 

“Please, stay with me. I don’t want sex, but I would like your help, if you would give it to me.” Your eyes shift off of his face, shame curdling in your stomach. “I don’t know how to help myself very well, as it is. I would like to learn, with you, if I could.”

Alastor suddenly grabs both sides of your face, his own getting closer. “Look at me, my little lamb. You are deserving of such pleasures, and I would gladly help you. We can learn together, dearest. We can stop if you are ever uncomfortable, I swear it. I would never take advantage of such a situation.”

You smile at him. “Same for you, Al. If you don’t wanna touch me, or vice versa, just let me know. I can figure something out.”

Alastor’s smile softens, and his pupils expand. “Oh, love, worry not. The desire to touch you in such a way has been growing, and the thought has been stuck in my head all night.” His thumbs rub your cheeks, gentler than you had ever felt him be.

Your chest aches, and the sudden need to cry grows within you. You love this strange demon, despite everything that had happened in the last months. He was growing to be so good to you, and it made your heart hurt. 

“Can I kiss you,” you ask, your volume barely above a whisper. 

Alastor answers by molding his lips to yours. His skin is cool to the touch, but compared to the fire you were bathed in the day before, it was Heaven. One of his hands clutched the back of your head, brushing by your sensitive ears. A sound breaks free from your throat, and it makes him press into you harder. You clutch at his suit jacket, your lungs starting to burn. Before you can grow lightheaded, (although you definitely were from just kissing him, just not suffocating), he pulled back from you. 

“That was splendid, ma chéri.” His voice dips lower, his fake radio accent slipping. 

You bask in his presence, as you think over what tomorrow will entail. Although he feeds you a few more times that day, and you talk more about how you feel about it, nothing could prepare you for the full force of the ‘heat’. When he transports you to a room that you haven’t been before, you let your curiosity numb your anxiety. Worrying about it wouldn’t help you, anyway.

My asks are open! Feel free to make a request or reach out to say hi! :)

[scented-morker]

Enha when their actress partner films with a hot actor

jealous boyfriend enha! established relationship, actress reader, 1164 words, requested!!

Heeseung

He pretends he's not phased at all

He knows you love him obviously, you spend like four hours a week crying and telling him how pretty he is and how much he means to you

But that was before he knew it was THE Song Kang

"Baby, he's literally the prettiest person ever!"

"You think he's prettier than me?" You pout

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to"

Homeboy is SWEATING watching you guys film

Literally saying a hallelujah when there's no romance between your characters

But when you come back and tell him he was right that it was the prettiest person ever he gets mad about it

LIKE YOU SAID IT FIRST ???!

But he wants to be the only boy you think is pretty 😔

Won't let you escape his grasp for the next week

Jay

Listen he likes to act all confident, but deep down he is a little bit insecure about his looks

So when you tell him you're filming with one of the actors who made "worlds most beautiful" list

😐 he is not impressed

On the outside he's all "oh that's cool"

But on the inside he's screaming crying throwing up

Wears the outfits he knows make you weak the whole week leading up to it

I'm talking turtle necks, rolled sleeves, rings, all of it 😵‍💫

His masterplan is working, and you get so affectionate you don't even want to leave him to film

He lowkey feels so silly about being jealous when on a film break you bring your costar over and introduce him to "the love of my life Jay"

Jake

Literally SO POUTY

"Noooo, baby do you haveee to??"

Acts like it's the worst thing to ever happen

"What if you just quit your job as an actress?? I can take care of you!! I'll pay for everything!! You'll never have to work again!"

"Jake, I like my job"

"But I thought you LOVED me!"

Insists on going with you to set (also leaves a hickey on you that your makeup artist is very mad about 😭)

You have to ignore him the whole time you're filming because you know he's making those injured puppy dog eyes and you just can't handle it

He literally is hanging out with the actor during one of his breaks tho so ???

He's all "yeah bro you're awesome" so you think it's all good now

But then you go over to them and he gives you the most mind melting, earth shattering, blush inducing kiss ever right in front of your coworker

You will never recover

Sunghoon

Tells you he's more attractive than the other guy 🤪

You tell him because you want to be open and warn him

But he's all "okay and? He's not better than me, why should I be worried?"

You're like wow my boyfriend is so mature and cool

But you realize very quickly that he is, indeed, worried

"Hey y/n, be honest. Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?"

"Hey y/n, do you think idols or actors would make better husbands?"

"Hey y/n, do you think onscreen chemistry ever transfers off screen?"

"I prefer whatever color is currently on your head, you over anyone of any profession, and I wouldn't know because I don't need to worry about that seeing as how I'm in a very happy relationship."

He grumbles at your answers, mad you caught on

He's not one for pda but he does bring you a bouquet and your favorite drink to the film sight <3

Sunoo

The guy was one of his favorite actors!!

He was so so excited for you to work with him, until he found out he was your love interest 😐

"YOURE GONNA KISS ANOTHER MAN?!?"

"Sun, he's married." 😒

"YEAH UNTIL HE FALLS IN LOVE WITH YOU AND GETS A DIVORCE!"

He boycotts the actors other shows 😭 whenever you guys hang out and watch dramas together he'll turn it off if the guy comes on screen

Eventually gives up on drama nights and makes you watch a bunch of enhypen performance videos instead

"Wahhh he's so handsome! Even more handsome then that actor, don't you think?"

"Yes Sun, you're way more handsome."

He's fishing for compliments but you don't care, willing to give him all the reassurances you have

You think he's gotten over it by the time filming comes up

But lo and behold... he's sent you an entire coffee truck with pictures of the two of you and messages about your relationship 😭

Jungwon

He wants SO BADLY to be okay with it 🥹

He was so supportive, celebrating with you when you first got the role and now coming to every filming that you have

Except he's noticed the slowly developing love story between you and the hottest guy on the show

So when you get the script for episode ten and read it to him he knows it's coming

"Oh, so you're like... gonna kiss someone else?"

You literally want to burst into tears, he's so precious and he looks like a little sad cat and just- 😭😭😭

"Yeah, but we've both been very open that we have partners! His girlfriend is on set all the time too! And you can totally be there when we film it!"

He shudders, "I'm not sure I want to"

But he goes anyway, and you introduce him to your costars partner

So now they're standing together, making small talk and looking away every time they say action

"I'm gonna need a drink," she mumbled after her boyfriend has to get his makeup fixed because of your lipstick on him

"Yeah, me too"

Riki

Listen, he is your number one fan

He’s seen every episode and won’t let you read him the script because he wants to find out with everyone else

He checks Twitter about it all the time too

So when soompi reports that there’s a new, very attractive guy on set— he sees it immediately

“Hey ynie~ can I come to filming with you?”

You’re so suprised, because he never wants to come with you

“Really? You’re not freaking out about it being spoiled for you?”

“I just want to be with you 🤷🏻‍♀️” he says it so nonchalantly like you’re not literally turning into mush because of it

“Okay!”

So fast forward, your hair and makeup is done, costume on, and you’re finally getting ready to film

You’re on set while the scene before you is shooting, and your boyfriend lets out a gasp

“Who is that shirtless man over there?”

You look over and shrug, explaining the new character

“Why is he shirtless??” Man is so fixated on this

“He’s always like that.”

“WHAT?”

There’s been a shirtless actor walking around you all days of the week and you hadn’t said anything

Steps up the pda immediately, holding your hand during off times and loudly cheering for you during shooting

By the end EVERYONE knew you were dating

[lynnie-ee]

Inktober Day 3; Regrets.

╰┈➤"A relationship with Vil was all you could ever dream of, perfect and loving, but it seems like he doesn't want that anymore. Either way, he'll have to deal with the consequences of it; at some point, you had to move on, didn't you?."

╰►Gender neutral reader, oneshot, 1.6k words.

╰►Note: The prompts are based on words I found interesting and then I put them on a roulette to decide when I would write about them, lol. English is not my first language, so please let me know if there are any grammatical mistakes <3. Not proof read, I haven't written in a long time, so I apologise if anything is out of character.

╰►Masterlist / Inktober Masterlist.

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⤿

Loving Vil was like staring at the moon on a starry night. Beautiful, elegant, gracefully glimmering above anything or anyone, surrounded by stars but never being outshined by them. A gentle light that kept them on the right path, and that took care of them tenderly.

But cold, nevertheless. Distant, stern, perfect; a chill running down their spine when they were in his presence, as if they weren’t worthy of admiring him so closely.

The Prefect was well aware of their own flaws, as they were sometimes clumsy, sometimes impulsive, and sometimes too tired at night to worry about a night routine. Seemingly out of place next to Vil, the personification of magnificence, always sharp and confident.

Even so, (Y/n) was able to discover a new side of him, something that wasn’t possible to see through movie premieres and Magicam posts.

They got close after VDC; with the entire situation of his overblot and all of his issues, the Prefect offered their support to him one day, casually offering to listen to him if he ever needed it.

At first, Vil didn’t reach them, but then, on a bad day, he unconsciously walked all the way to Ramshackle. The housewarden of Pomefiore realised that (Y/n)’s kindness was genuine; they hadn’t been in his world for long, they didn’t realise the amount of power and success he had, and instead they saw him for himself. Maybe that was what encouraged him to pursue them in more ways than he intended at first.

He found himself falling in the arms of a magicless human, grasping every new part of them he got to know and cherish each of the sincere compliments they gave him with adoration and care. Holding them close, kissing their worries away, making sure they were healthy and content.

They were doing good, together.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

No matter how much (Y/n) tried to find him, there was always an invisible wall between them.

“We should break up.”

“…What?”

“We won’t work out; you know it as well as me.”

It all started a few days ago. A call from his manager, asking him if he planned to reveal his relationship at some point. Actors with partners lose popularity. They lose roles more often. They lose followers. It usually lasted for a few months, of course, but could Vil risk his downfall? Shouldn’t it be more difficult for him to ever think about leaving the Prefect? Shouldn’t he feel a pang on his chest at the mere thought of not waking up next to them? Shouldn’t he be able to picture himself sharing a future with them?

‘Perhaps this is just a silly romance that will forgotten in a few years. They’ll come back to their world and I’ll continue working as diligently as always.’

“I don’t understand.” The Prefect muttered, looking into Vil’s eyes, searching for doubt or hesitation, a wave of sadness invading them when they found none of it. They felt dizzy, the air of Vil’s room suffocating them as his words settled in their mind.

“It’ll be the best, for the both of us.” The housewarden stated, his words sharp but his voice compassionate. “You have always trusted me, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” They replied immediately.

“Then trust me on this, too.” Vil replied, one of his hands cupping the cheeks of the Prefect. “Let’s be honest, we’re both tired-“

“I’m not.”

“(Y/n).”

“I love you.” They muttered, their voice breaking. Vil was wonderful, supportive, patient, someone they couldn’t image themselves living without, at least in that world where they had no one else. When did they lose him…? “Don’t you love me too?”

“Perhaps that’s not enough for us.”

“It can be, Vil, just let me in. Let me understand you.”

Vil observed them briefly, (Y/n) standing before him as a complete mess that he didn’t find himself capable of fixing. He didn’t have time to play around, nor to introduce them into his world. He had decisions to make.

“I’m not sure you’ll be able to. We’re…different.”

“Are you saying I’m not enough?”

“I’m saying we may be better on our own.”

The Ramshackle student removed his hand from their face, now standing to gaze into his eyes, his message clear in their mind as they realised Vil just didn’t want to deal with them anymore. They weren’t some kind of famous singer or a wealthy artist, they were just themselves. And Vil was Vil.

‘It was bound to happen, at some point’, they thought to reassure themselves.

“I’m not going to beg you for anything else, then.” They stated as firmly as they could, even if the tears on their cheeks could indicate something else. “But I love you sincerely, and you won’t find that easily. I hope you can find what you’re looking for by yourself.”

“I wish you well, (Y/n).”

“I don’t believe in your words anymore, Vil.”

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⤿

Loving (Y/n) used to be like a bright morning on a sunny day. Warm, inviting, tender towards anyone who could turn towards them, never rejecting the opportunity of lending a hand to whoever needed it. A gentle light that kept him away from the darkest days.

Suffocating, at times, making him wish for the night to arrive just to find solace in the familiar cold.

He believed it’d be more comfortable, going back to his usual starry nights where he shined as brightly as always. The memories of his time with the Prefect going away in no time.

Except that it never happened.

He found himself waking up and looking around for them. At night, he kept in mind to remind the Prefect to clean their face and take care of their skin, only for him to remember that they weren’t staying with him anymore. At school, he didn’t have anyone to hold hands when no one else was looking. At work, he received multiple compliments about his efforts and looks, but none as sincere as (Y/n)’s words.

And (Y/n) seemed to have disappeared from every place he was in.

They were still in Night Raven College, of course, but no matter how much he looked for them or how many times he asked Epel about them, they seemed to do an excellent job at avoiding him.

“You were the one who did this, don’t go after them now.” The first-year replied to him on a particularly stressful day.

He couldn’t believe it; Him? Missing someone he took out of his life by himself? Wishing to be with a person who didn’t belong to this world? Who couldn’t understand him- No, who he didn’t allow to understand him?

Then the holidays began. He went back home, and worked as usual, doing campaigns and assisting events, as glamorous as always, never showing his pain.

“I heard you got the role of the main character for your next role! That’s amazing, you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” An older actress congratulated him in the middle of a charity party, as she seemed to be the best person to spend time amongst so many wealthy people and royals.

“Indeed. I’m very grateful to have this opportunity.” He answered politely.

“I’m excited to see how it’ll turn out- Oh, isn’t that the Prince of Sunset Savana? I haven’t seen him at an event in years.”

“What?”

Vil turned around, easily spotting Leona among so many people, but his attention was soon dragged to something else, or rather, someone else. Someone who walked along him, hand in hand. Someone who used to hold his hand before.

“(Y/n)…” He mumbled unconsciously.

They looked stunning, but it wasn’t as if they were ever bad-looking in the first place. They looked happy, peaceful even when they were surrounded by strangers who seemed as curious as him to know what was his relationship with the prince.

Perhaps Leona’s arm around their waist calmed down in such an unknown environment for them. Or maybe it was the words he whispered in their ear when they seemed to get uncomfortable.

Vil couldn’t even imagine that Leona could be attentive to someone else, but there he was, looking at (Y/n) with love, taking great pride in presenting them as his partner to anyone that asked him, no matter who was it.

“Prince Leona! It’s been so long, how have you been?” The actress that accompanied him asked the beastman as soon as they approached.

“I’ve been doing great, as you can see.” He replied, proudly holding (Y/n)’s hand.

“It’s so nice to know you have found such a beautiful partner, what’s your name, darling?”

“My name is (Y/n), is such a pleasure to meet you.”

“I can say the same! Vil, Leona is your classmate, right? Have you met his partner before?” The woman asked innocently, oblivious to Vil’s irritated mood, even though he tried to mask it.

“Well, we-“

“We meet briefly at Night Raven College, but we’re not really close.” (Y/n) interrupted, as Leona grinned quietly next to them. “And it’s been a nice conversation, but it’s getting quite late, isn’t it?”

“Do you want to leave?” Asked Leona with his regular tone, but even Vil was able to catch a certain fondness that was unusual in him.

“Yes, if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course, Herbivore, let’s go home.”

“Goodbye then.” The Prefect spoke politely, gazing for the last time at him, his eyes now more confident than the last time he was able to look at them. “I hope you’re doing well, Vil.”

‘Well, perhaps I’m still stuck in the role of the villain, after all.'

⤿

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