#if they leave him he turns back into a human a little later and is like ‘well this is embarrassing. . . BYEEEEEE’ and scampers off

[neuvilette-tea-party]

I absolutely loved the Naga fic with both of the yans! I hope to see more in the future if you’re up to it! I do have a question, if reader were to escape or have a chance to leave how would the yans react? I hope you have a great day!

Oohoohoohoo... not a good idea, nononononononononono... How will reader survive such offense? Well... She just might!

Yandere! Naga Lord x Prisoner F!reader x Yandere! Naga Captain — MDNI! TW: Fantasy setting, Nagas!yandere, power imbalance, nobility and prisoner, one-sided affection, escape attempt, hybrid pregnancy

[Part 1]

“I suggest you choose your next words very carefully.” Lord Hael spoke coldly, looking down at the Naga bowing before him, forehead on the ground. 

“She escaped, my Lord.” The trembling servant says with a shaking voice. 

“And how she managed to do that, if you care to explain?” 

“I do not know my Lord...” 

“I gave you the instruction to monitor her at all times, did I not?” Hael demands with a voice so sweet, only poison could be tasted. 

“Ye-Yes, you did, My Lord...” A noticeable shiver courses the servant’s spine under the slitted gaze of his master. 

“My my, what am I to do with you, I wonder...” Hael feels his claws digging in the golden rock of his throne as the pitiful rat trembles before him. 

Awaiting its fate. 

“I am terribly sorry, my Lord” 

“I know you are. This is the least you should be after disappointing me in such a dire way.” The Naga Lord simply waves away, standing up and lazily slithering around the poor fella. 

He circles the servant slowly. 

Intently 

Menacingly... 

Hael knew... 

When he opened his eyes in his nest this morning, he knew. 

You fled 

How you managed it was a mystery he intends to discover later, for now he needed to locate you and bring you back to his lair. 

If he is right... 

If what he smelled on you is correct and you manage to escape his grip... 

“I am eager to correct my faults.” 

“I hope you are.” He snarls, “For your own survival, I really hope so...” 

His little pet... All alone and lost in the Nagas’ territory, pursued and hunted down. 

Such a fragile flower at the arm’s reach of such crude animals. 

The Lord tsks, annoyed. 

You really chose your timing, didn’t you? Escaping right on the verge of an all war against the human kingdoms, where he will be the most preoccupied. You really hoped he would have no time to give to find a poor little human help who escaped his lair. 

Too bad, you will learn he can focus on two problems at the same time.  

You are not just a help, you are his possession. 

 His  

And his alone. 

And if he doesn’t mind breaking his toys into pieces, he simply hates losing them. 

“We will detach a squad of soldiers and get her back. You will help them, and if you bring her back, I will show mercy on your soul.” 

“Yes, my Lord! Thank you, my Lord.” The servant grabs Hael’s hand to reverently kiss it, before pressing it to his forehead. 

The Lord looks down at the Naga unimpressed and is about to send him away when he smells something. Incredulous, he sticks his slitted tongue out to taste the air. 

Tssssss... Not him... 

“My Lord.” A third Naga appears at the door of the throne room, bowing to Hael in respect. 

This Naga is young and large, deadly, a prodigy on the battlefield, his long black hair framing his chiseled face. 

“Why are you here, Captain Breezeler?” He demands, his fury at the impertinence of the soldier well hidden behind a mask of indifference. “You are supposed to supervise the front.” 

“I smelled her disappearance.” The officer simply explains. 

Like her disappearance was enough of a justification for him to abandon his duties toward his people in such a way! 

“We have the situation under control, soldier.” He lets him, dismissing the incompetent fool who lost his little pet. 

“Oh? You know where she hides?” Breezeler tilts his head, scrutinizing his Lord. 

Hael turns his head to the young man, ready to berate him. But as their eyes cross, he realizes Breezeler did not mean disrespect for the only reason that he is simply too incompetent in politics to know his attitude holds so much disrespect. 

Hael rolls his eyes and looks toward the opening in the wall, observing the thick forest under them. 

“We do not. The teams have been searching the Palace and my Lair up and down all morning and just came back to me, by all evidence, she already crossed the frontier to her human kingdoms.” 

“I can find her.” 

“You.” Hael hisses dangerously, “Need to learn your place. You will return to your front and fight those punny humans. Your competencies lie in War and battles, not rescue missions. You nagged me for months to let you lead this assault and not my general. You got what you wanted, now go.” 

“How curious...” Breezeler says, holding his chin pensively, “I thought you would have qualified it as a hunting mission, not a rescue one...” 

Hael gives him a warning look, reminding him who sits on the throne and who obeys in this room. 

The Captain slithers closer. 

“My Lord, I know I can find her.” 

“Are you a hound now?” He sniggers acidly, before turning away, “Return to your troops and wait for my orders, the battle will start in two days, the soldiers will want you at their side.” 

Hael may deeply dislike this young officer, but he will always have respect for his cunning attitude and ability to lead his troop through mutual respect and not fear. 

“If I may, my Lord. I can find her today.” The taller Naga insists. 

Hael keeps his back turned to Breezeler, looking down the window regally, his hands clasped behind his back. 

“She can’t direct herself in our territories, by all accounts her advancement his minimal.” 

“I already ordered a group of guards to find her.” 

“I can find her alone. I know of her, I tasted her skin, inhaled her scent deep into my lungs, and know her heartbeat by heart.” 

Hael sighs once, pinching the bridge of his nose before spinning toward the young Naga. 

“24h.” He orders icily, “You have 24h, not a second more. If you fail, you return to the battlefront and leave my general to lead the troops. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, my Lord. Thank you.” 

And the Captain bows, slithering back into the shadows, leaving his Lord to admire his lair and contemplate what punishment would fit such a grave offense. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

You are definitely and irremediably... 

Lost. 

Every place in this forest looks alike, and you keep returning to the same small river. You fall to your knees, exhausted, and splash water on your face, desperate for some freshness.  

You are so fucked... 

You look at your reflection in the clear water, contemplating how your life derailed so spectacularly. You just went out to find medicinal herbs... And now... 

Your hand lays on your bately swollen stomach 

Now... Your menses are late… 

Worryingly late. 

You sigh... 

Lost, tears in your eyes 

If what you fear comes true, how are you going to survive? 

You bend over and dive your face into the cold water and scream all that you have. You feel each bubble rolling on your face before piercing the surface. You take it out with a huge gasp for air, panting like after a run. 

You jump, hearing a crow flying from far, far away… maybe one of them…. 

Surely even... 

You crawl back, too fatigued to run and freeze when you hit a trunk, blocking your escape. You look around and find a bush of red berries… 

Poisonous berries… 

You look toward where the crow took off and listen. 

A low hiss… 

You grab one berry and gulp. Better dead than a fiend’s mother!  

You gulp one more time and bring the berry to you mou- An arrow just comes and tears it off your grip, striking into the trunk behind you.  

You look at the berry, now exploded onto the arrow’s head thrusted into the bark. It… it did not even brush your skin! 

Such a perfect shot can only come from one man... One Naga. 

And sure enough, you see his tall frame detach itself from the shadows of the trees in front of you. 

Captain Breezeler. 

You are stuck in a freeze response, stupidly exposed to the monster that approaches you with the hardest face you have ever seen him. 

He slithers closer and closer with a low hiss, slitted flaming eyes darting on poor you, on the hunt, excited by the blood and the fear. 

“There you are, my Lady.” He greets politely, like it were a mundane meeting. 

You tear off the arrow and aim the sharp end at him, hoping it could pierce such thick skin and scales, but here you are, rabid and cornered. 

“Stop you beast!” You scream. 

The Captain stops, eyes closed like he did not hear you. He sniffs the air, taking out his slitted tongue to better taste it. 

You see his eye twitch a single time before recovering perfect control. 

He keeps moving forward, his long tail flowing among obstacles like water flows around rocks. 

“I was worried for your safety, and I was right, given your situation.” He lets you know, voice suave and placid. 

“Do not move any closer!” You insist, taking a step back. 

You bump against the large trunk. 

“Running around Nagas’ territories pregnant is like begging to get your throat slit.” He lets you know, not slowing down. 

So you were right… Your worst fear did come true… 

You switch strategy and aim the point toward your belly. 

This time 

He stops 

Deadly focused on you. 

“Let me go!” You negotiate, “I will tell nothing of what I know of the Naga’s territories and maps!” 

“Letting you go? While pregnant with our heirs?” He tilts his head at you, “Do you know what your kin will do to you when you give birth and reveal their ascendance?” 

The tone is not haughty, not even mocking. 

It is simply... serious and factual. 

Like he already seen it before. 

“I am human, like them! They will get rid of the monsters inside of me and tend to my wounds!” 

“You seem to believe in your kin as noble beings, always ready to help and extend a hand.” He counters, back straight and head high, “You should know better.” 

“We help each other!” 

“Until they see the eggs.” 

You want to throw out merely thinking about eggs in your stomach. 

“Ho… How did you find me?” you ask, terrified, hands trembling. 

He raises an eyebrow and merely taps the tip of his nose. 

“I know of your scent, of your musk… It was easy to track you down. And I so dear hoped the pregnant pheromones were from you.” He deeply inhales, eyes closed and tongue out, “Delicious… Absolutely ravishing” 

You twitch. 

Better dead… Than a fiend’s mother! 

You raise the arrow up and slam it down on your stomach…! 

Or rather try... 

With speed you never knew of them, the Naga oscillates in your direction and jumps on you. 

Before the arrow’s head could reach your tender tummy, you are slammed into the ground with such force that your breath gets cut off. 

“Ah…!” 

“What do you hope to achieve exactly, (Y/n)?” Breezeler hisses on top of you, his long serpentine tongue tasting the salt of your face’s skin, tasting your pheromone all around. 

“Leave me alone, demon!” 

“You thought I would not react when you tried to kill our heirs? Or yourself? You are with us now… Till your death.”  

His voice his that of a deadly warrior who’s seen a thousand battles and more deaths, authoritarian and deadly. But … you think you can hear the tiniest hint of a plaint in it 

Like… 

Begging 

You are hallucinating and giving him intentions he does not have. Get a hold of yourself, girl! 

You try to kick him off, punch him away, clawing your way out of his embrace. But you are nothing in front of this giant freak of nature. 

He scoops you up easily despite all your struggles, and he heads back toward your wretched prison, holding you like you weigh absolutely nothing. 

[zstartrixxx]

Out of Jack's characters what do you headcannon affection to be like in differnet phases of the relationship ( honeymoon phase, after a few years, after the movie / book / TV show, after children, etc. )?

Like Patrick during courting, then after marriage, then during the voyages..etc.

FUCKING LOVE UR MIND FOR THIS, MY DEAR.

FUCKING LOVE!!!

so let’s working in this (below the cut ofc ‘cause this will be a bit long!!!)

sorry for the late in the answear :)

Lion Kaminski

Lion loves you so deeply that he abandons his entire supposed successful boxing career just to live with you. That’s how it was after all that madness with Stan being arrested for Yates’ death, Sky’s sudden disappearance, leaving only you and him, him and you, and vice versa. Walter then proposes to you, and you marry him in the most informal way possible—the honeymoon will be too.

At some cheap roadside motel, you check in and lock yourselves in room 17, only leaving to grab food from the diner across the street or ice for the drinks in the hallway fridge. The focus is just enjoying the moment, relaxing, laughing, tangled in the sheets—you on top of him, or him on top of you, taking you passionately, kissing you like you might slip from his calloused, scarred hands at any second.

Later, things normalize… There are prison visits because of Stan, who at first scoffs at his little brother’s choices but eventually accepts you because there’s not much else he can do. With the crime earning him a good stretch behind bars—and Stan choosing to take the fall for his younger brother—you and Lion allow yourselves a fresh start: with the prize money, you travel together, buy a house, start a business, and welcome your first child. Lion is a doting, hands-on dad who insists on staying by your side every second.

For Lion, love will never end—because he’s always lacked something this pure and genuine, and he’ll always be grateful for your presence in his life. Always. The affection is constant because Lion is calm, grounded, centered—with you, he’s learned his limits, how to assert himself, when to question things, so he stays active in your relationship.

Marrying him was, by far, your best decision.

Patrick Sumner

When you said "yes" to Patrick, the first thing he did was reveal his true identity. Then came the whole tortured history of the Volunteer whaling ship, what happened after he reached dry land, and how all he wants now is peace and quiet in this new life. He suggests you both leave for the New World—South, Central, or North America—to start over unnoticed. And you agree. Out of passion, desire, hunger for the unknown. Patrick, in turn, feels safe telling you everything he withheld during those months of courtship.

The wedding is beautiful and deeply meaningful to Patrick, who feels like he’s triumphing once again. He makes sure to show you all his love (and near-clinical knowledge of human anatomy), and after the "I do," he becomes the most attentive man alive.

Oliver Mellors

This is my testament for this man.

Mellors will never tire of you. Ever. That’s not even a possibility. He loves you like a poet, like a lunatic, like a man starved for love—your love. Oliver will take all the care in the world during your honeymoon, even if it’s not your first time—because, well, it’s the first time he gets to lay with you as his wife.

Sex becomes something deeper—not just sex (even if sometimes you don’t want to be treated like a lady), but surrender, complicity, love, and passion. This man will never tire of burying himself between your thighs, licking you until your eyes roll back and your toes curl, watching you gasp under the weight of pleasure, grinning against your cunt, drunk on lust. He loves it. He’s always loved everything—your body, no matter how childbirth changes it; your face, even as it ages, because to him, you’ll always be the breathtaking person he first met.

With your children, he’s endlessly affectionate—even if terrified of bringing life into this world—he’ll care for them the way all creatures deserve: tenderness, attention, respect. He’ll carry your daughter while picking herbs in the garden, rock her to sleep while you focus on your own little tasks—reading by the fireplace, knitting a hat, or just resting after a long day. He’ll be as domestic and doting as possible.

Oliver Mellors is, and always will be, the greatest of them all. Fiercely protective and loving, he’ll wipe your tears when you’re sad and kiss you breathless when you laugh.

Roy Goode

Roy Goode will stay loyal to you, no matter the years, highs, or lows. He’ll always try to be the best for you. During your honeymoon, he’s painstakingly gentle, even with his calloused hands—rough from manual labor and reins—but his kisses and the way he takes you are soft.

He’s always watchful, almost paranoid about being easy targets, and though he’s no gun enthusiast, he keeps a polished pistol in his waistband, just to stay in control.

You take long horseback rides along the coast to explore, and he’s always the last to sleep, first to wake. He teaches you to shoot and hunt on a whim, and when you start feeling strange nausea and dizziness, he rushes you to Atascadero to see his older brother (yes, in my mental fanfic, his brother’s a prominent doctor), who delivers the news: Roy Goode will be a father.

The realization hits him like a storm—fear, joy, doubt—wondering if he’s fit to raise a child with his past. But you know he’ll be the best, remembering how he cared for Truckee like a son, teaching him values that were borderline radical for the time.

A decade later, when you’re both older and the kids are grown, Goode will sit beside you by the fireplace and reflect on his youth—how he changed, partly by choice, partly for you—and how he’s a happy man because of it.

A good man.

Remmick

Remmick will make you immortal, like him, because only then will you truly belong to each other for eternity. As a creature, a monster, something no longer human who’s wandered this earth so long he’s lost count—centuries? millennia?—Remmick craves possession. And possession, to him, means sharing his immortality with you. It’s a piece of him in you, his history spilling into your veins like wine from a chalice.

So he takes this blood marriage seriously. To be his companion is to be him, in a way.

You’ll hunt together right after the honeymoon, which is… intense. Emotions raw, blood dripping, thick saliva, two beasts entwined. Don’t expect to finish before dawn, delirious and ravenous. The first hunt will be the most sacred—and the sweetest.

You’ll travel endlessly, nomadic, lingering in towns just long enough to absorb their culture. You’ll sleep in holes, mausoleums, abandoned houses—clutching each other like the immortal lovers you are.

And Remmick will never tire of serenading you in Gaelic, worshipping you with prayers he’s written: "On your bloody lips, I find the god they told me about," and so on. He’s got that classic villainous flair for dramatic monologues, and with you, it’s no different.

He’ll adore music and how you absorb it, how you express it.

Basically, a life with him is an eternity between slaughter (how romantic, right?) and endless devotion.

[quietplace26]

Furina!MC au: Stuck in a r18 Smut Novel and the Yandere Loves Me Instead- ...Why is the Title so Long?!

Warnings: OCness, Cringe, Leviathan as pre-Neuvillette's name, dubious consent but Furina!MC grows to like it, some lewdness but nothing too ranchy 😉

It all started with a gag gift one of her friends gave her on her birthday.

An innocent little novel called "Love Within the Rain". The cover art was innocent as well, with a gorgeous girl with white hair (Focalors) smiling serenely as she danced on a stage with rain drops falling on her graceful form.

Again, it looked innocent enough... but then MC flips it open to a random page, and OH GOD, she quickly realizes it was a smut novel!

With a squeak, MC chucks the book away... only to pick it up several minutes later and slowly start to read it.

Curse her curiosity!

To put it bluntly, it was not only smut, but also HORROR, with lots of gore, violence, and other disturbing content.

Plots wise it revolved around Focalors De Fontaine, a lovely young princess of the nation of justice, Fontaine, which was currently at war with the Dragons.

One day, her mother, Queen Egeria, gifts her a special slave... a Dragon. But not just any Dragon, the strongest, the oldest, the KING... The Hydro Dragon Sovereign, Leviathan.

Focalors would then care for her new slave, helping him recover, and even returning his stolen authority to him with the promise he would stop the war for good and bring peace between both species.

...However, he lies.

He kills Focalors' whole family and takes her as his woman, doing everything possible to keep her by his side and make her love him.

This was as yandere as they come!

Of course, there was no happy ending for either of them. Focalors manages to kill Leviathan in the end, leaving Focalors broken and alone.

MC just shakes her head as she tossed the book away once again. What a load of garbage! Oh, she was so getting back at her friend for giving her this thing the next time she sees them!

Annoyed by what she read, MC settles down for the night... only to wake up somewhere different the next day and in a different body!

As for who she ended up as, she was horrified to realize she was Furina, Focalors younger twin sister. The same Furina that would end up dying by the Hydro Sovereign's claws later on in the plot!

Covering her mouth, Furina!MC holds in the urge to scream as she realizes she was destined to die. What was she going to do?!

Slowly getting used to her new life, Furina!MC spends most of the first weeks settling in and trying not to draw attention to herself.

It wasn't that hard, shockingly. Apparently, despite Focalors speaking so fondly of her sister in the novel, 'Furina' wasn't that popular in her family.

Compared to Focalors, 'Furina' was but a pebble in her presence. Easily forgotten or barely tolerated. No in-between. It was honestly saddening, in a way.

But maybe she could work with this... if she's barely noticed, maybe she could run before it got bad...

Yes, one would think Furina!MC could try to save her new 'family', but a few weeks in her new 'family' and she knew it was a failure waiting to happen.

Focalors was just too naive? Entitled? She wouldn't listen to her silly little 'sister', and there was just no helping her 'Mother', Egeria, either.

It would just be easier if she escaped on her own...

But before she could even plan her escape, her 'Mother' called for a family meeting in the throne room... and at the center of the room, laid a chained beast.

It was a Dragon. It was the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, Leviathan.

Like in the novel, Queen Egeria presents the hissing and snarling dragon to Focalors as a gift, who in turned gasped all demurely, turning to talk to her mother more, but Furina!MC couldn't stop staring at the Sovereign.

This was the one who would kill her if she stayed in this castle, so of course she felt terror... so why on earth did she also feel sorrow when looking at him?

He killed Focalors' family, waged war on the humans till none was left, and tortured Focalors to try to make her love him... but all Furina!MC could see at the moment was a hurt man, chained and humiliated.

Her sad expression must've caught his attention as the Sovereign's eyes zeros in on her face, making her squeak and glance away timidly.

She tries not to think of the odd moment too much as she returns to her room for the night, focusing on plotting her escape route before Focalors has a chance to return his authority to him, thus letting him go on a killing spree in the castle.

But of course, things happen, as she wakes up later that night to chains dragging across her bedroom floor and her bed shifting as something big climbs on it...

Furina!MC's mumbles sleepily in confusion as her eyes slowly flutter open, and yelps when she notices a large figure crouching menacingly over her smaller form.

"W-wha- Mmph?!"

A large, clawed hand quickly clamps over her mouth, silencing her startled cry, and only then does she truly see her intruder. Crouching over her was the Hydro Sovereign himself, staring silently down at her with glowing draconic eyes of lilac.

How did he get in here?! He should be in Focalors' room, letting her 'sister' tend to his wounds, so why-

Furina!MC squeaks, the sound muffled by the Sovereign's hand, as the large male buries his face into her neck, sniffing her skin in an animalistic fashion. It made her cheeks flush a dark red at not only by his closeness but also the sounds he made.

Deep, guttural growls and snarls fill her room along with Furina!MC's muffled whimpers of confusion as he continued smelling her, scenting her.

It was scary. Furina!MC had never once been in a situation like this with another man. Not even in her past life! She was as virgin as they come! So why-

Something wet flicks against her neck then, making her gasp. Apparently, the Sovereign was done scenting her and was now... licking her neck??

It was a weird feeling, being licked. So slimy... Why was he licking her?

At this point she had her fingers nervously curled into his ratty shirt that he's most likely been wearing since he was captured, not pushing him away, but just... holding on. It wasn't like she could push him away, anyhow.

And judging by how sharp his teeth felt, Furina!MC didn't want to tempt fate.

This action seems to please the Sovereign as his snarls and growls tempered off into a rough but quieter purring sound as he continues gently lapping at her neck before starting to nibble on it lightly.

.... By time the first hints of daylight start to trickle into the room, the Sovereign had removed his hand from Furina!MC's mouth, confidant she wouldn't yell for help anymore as the 'princess' panted softly, eyes teary and dazed as he finally, FINALLY pulled away from her now sensitive neck, no doubt cover in bite marks and bruises.

She was a mess, and he didn't even attempt to actually touch her her body or even rip her clothes off. He only covered her mouth with one hand and attacked her neck, nothing more.

So why did she feel so debauched? So... she felt so shy thinking this but also aroused. Her thighs clenched together, trying to fight that odd heat in her core as she watches in confusion as the Sovereign got off her bed, his chains clinking as he silently left her room...

This incident heavily confuses and rattles Furina!MC. Why, why did Leviathan do what he did? She wasn't Focalors. He should be focusing on her, not on Furina!MC, so why...

Furina!Mc shivers as she lightly traces one of the bite marks on her neck that morning as she got ready for the day. It was tender still, like all the other bite marks and bruises.

She was lucky enough to find a dress with a high enough collar to cover the marks, but she still froze when she saw Leviathan enter the dining room with Focalors.

Apparently, Focalors wanted to properly introduce her new slave to her family.

Focalors: "Everyone, this is Neuvillette. Please be kind to him, ok?"

Furina!MC barely holds in a flinch when she catches the utter rage in the Sovereign's eyes at being called 'Neuvillette'.

Well, she couldn't blame him. Being named like this showed his new position more. A slave. A pet even.

His eyes then zero in on her again, and for a split second, she swears she saw him smirk as he saw her outfit before swiftly returning to his stoic expression as he listened to his new 'mistress' talk.

Suddenly, Furina!MC plan to escape the plot and her upcoming supposed death seemed to have gotten much harder...

And it's the truth. Because after that, Neuvillette starts sneaking into her room every few nights, and then just every night in general.

And while the sane thing would be to call for anyone, Furina!MC was much too scared to do so. And would anyone believe her?

Considering how people here in this world treated her in general, they'd probably think she was trying to steal Focalors' new 'pet' or something...

Furina!MC couldn't risk being called out for something she didn't do and gaining unwanted attention. So, she stays quiet, silently praying that the Hydro Sovereign would grow bored and go back to Focalors.

But of course, that doesn't happen.

Sometimes he would just lay with in bed with her, rumbling out words in dragon tongue as he held her like a delicate jewel.

Which was odd and unnerving considering how the claws that held her so gently were the same ones destined to kill her in the future.

Other times he did what he did the first night and scented her heavily before licking and marking her neck till Furina!MC felt floaty in her head and warmth in her core.

Neuvillette always purrs when she became like this, but even still, he never touches her. At most, he just holds her but keeps his hands far away from any inappropriate spots.

It was all so confusing to poor Furina!MC. He was making her body and mind act weird...

Every time he laid with her, his larger body curled around her, holding her gently, face nuzzling into her, licking and nibbling on the tender skin there... Her mind drifts more and more.

The fear she originally and rightfully had of him was slowly but surely disappearing, whether she wanted it to or not...

And as more time passes, Furina!MC soon realizes couldn't sleep if the Sovereign wasn't with her in bed.

She couldn't even focus during the day if he hadn't done his usual scenting of her neck the night before or at least leaving a mark or two on her now very sensitive neck.

It only grew worse when he finally brought kisses to the mix. His kisses... They were so rough, sloppy... and wet.

She couldn't stop the whines that would come out if he forgot to kiss her at least once every night.

She.... She's really become a needy mess.

It was very much becoming hazard now as Furina!MC still hadn't had a chance to properly plan her escape route yet!

And it's been a few months now! Once she hit the one-year mark in this world, the true plot of the novel will begin, and she'll die!

....Or at least that's what she used to think...

"...A-ah, Neuvillette..."

Breathy sighs fill Furina!MC's bedroom along with low growls as she squirmed under the dragon. Her face flush and eyes cloudy, small, dainty hands curl into the long white hair of the Hydro Sovereign, urging him closer to her neck.

She murmurs his name again, turning her head slightly to place a shy kiss to his head.

Neuvillette growled happily at her behavior, eagerly scenting her before switching to attacking her neck with licks and bites, making Furina!MC moan softly as pressed her firmly down on the bed.

"Mm, more. N-Neuvi, more-"

She truly was a mess now. Asking for more from her would be future killer... or was that even a thing anymore?

Neuvillette spent more time with her than Focalors, or at least under the cover of night. And as far as she knew, the Hydro Sovereign didn't do any of the things he did with her to Focalors.

Yes, he acted affectionate with the other princess in public, but after all nights of the dragon sneaking into her room, Furina!MC questioned if it was all fake.

Had she somehow changed the plot somehow? Was she now his target love interest instead of Focalors?

At the moment, she didn't know. But what she did know was that she wanted more.

The nuzzles to her neck, along with the licks and bites were nice but... But she wanted more. She wanted to be touched for real.

And judging by the animalistic snarl that comes from his throat, Neuvillette had been wanting to do that since the beginning.

A startled squeal leaves her lips then as Neuvillette's hands flew under her nightgown, shoving it up to her waist, before latching firmly onto her thighs. Sharp claws dig into fragile skin, thankfully not tearing but definitely bruising.

Furina!MC whimpers shakily as he drags her closer, bringing her thighs on either side of his waist, and grinds directly against her core for the first time.

Her legs kick out and she throws her head back on her pillow, her white hair going everywhere as she mewled his name like a whore before he kissed her roughly, muffling her cries.

Ah... Maybe she bit off more than she can chew... Oh dear.

Neuvillette's Pov

It was a sloppy mistake on his part, as much as Leviathan hated to admit it.

A simple sneak attack. That's what got him. How disgraceful for him to fall for such a thing!

And look where it got him. His Hydro Authority stolen by this human Usurper Queen, Egeria, and he was about to be given as a fucking pet to one her spawn!

His pride as not on a Dragon, but as the Hydro Sovereign despised it. He wanted to kill them all, rip their hearts out-

...Hm? Leviathan was knocked out his rage when something blue and white caught his eyes.

Where... Oh, there! Behind the spawn of Egeria he was gifted to was another of the Queen's spawn.

This one looked exactly like the one he was gifted to. However, her teardrop eyes... They look at him in fear and sadness.

Everyone else in the royal family seemed to think that Leviathan was nothing but a weak slave now, so in essence, something not to fear.

And that pissed him off to no end. These damn human usurpers!

But this one human. This one little female... She looked at him in fear, knowing full well he could and would kill them all if he had the chance.

To think he would find a human with actual intelligence...

But besides fear, she was also giving him a look of sadness. her eyes flicker towards the chains around his body and her frown deepens.

She felt pity for him despite her obvious fear.

Really... What an odd little female...

She made him curious. If he was going to be stuck here for unseeable future, he was at least going to entertain himself.

So after brushing off any attempts of friendliness from his new 'mistress', he easily sneaks out the princess's room and tracks down her sister's room.

It was almost too easy... So easy it made Leviathan frown as sees how this princess had practically no guards around her section of the castle compared to her sister's.

Really, leaving a female, be it human or dragon, defenseless like this was asking for trouble... And that trouble was him.

And that's how Leviathan finds himself in the princess's room... In her bed... and crouched over her smaller form with his hand over her trembling mouth.

Seeing her pretty teardrop eyes stare up at him all afraid Leviathan couldn't help but lean in for a closer look and taste.

And by Nibelung's pride, she smelled so good!

It took every inch of his willpower not to mate this lovely little thing on the spot, but he holds back.

He wouldn't lowered himself to a rutting beast. He was a Dragon and a Sovereign. He had standards.

And he'd much rather his intended mate to not be afraid of him. Her sour scent of fear wasn't pleasing to his nose.

So, to fix the issue, he makes a plan.

First, he'll gain the trust of his new Mistress, using the crush the human princess had clearly already form on him to his advantage as a way to eventually retrieve his stolen Authority.

And if he had to deal with having be called 'Neuvillette', then so be it. At least his little treasure made the name sound pleasant.

Second, while he does the first, he'll slowly soften his intended's fear. He'll visit her every night, hold her, scent her, and mark her little neck until she realizes he wasn't a danger to her.

He wanted her. So, she should want him too.

And soon, it paid off.

After a few months, his little treasure was submitting sweetly to his nightly advances. She was eager for his cuddles, his nuzzles and kisses, his marking of her neck.

But bow on top was her asking for more. She wanted to be touched and who was he to deny his mate's request?

And if in the following future his mate's scent starts to change to something sweeter? Her body slowly but surely softening around the edges?

He's nothing if not pleased.

Of course she frets to him during their nightly meetings, scared how her family would react to the news as he gently strokes the small bump forming on her once flat belly.

But all it takes is a couple of gentle words and touches before she melts in his arms like a good mate should.

With his treasure settled in his arms, Neuvillette begins to plan his final steps.

Focalors was more than obsessed with him by now, and no doubt if he asked, she would go fetch his Authority without telling Egeria.

And once he gets his full Authority back, he'll deal with Egeria and all her spawn once and for all and return back to his kin with his new mate by his side.

Splaying a hand possessively across his treasure's belly, the Hydro Sovereign thinks an amusing thought.

What would Egeria's face look like when she realizes he was free? That her favorite spawn gave him back his Authority on the naive belief he actually loved her.

But most of all, how will she react to the news that he took another of her spawn as his mate, breeding her full of his brood?

Ah... the look of complete horror, disgust, and rage on her face was going to be glorious sight.

Tagging: @platinumrosetail, @arn9tails, @bloodytea, @esthelily

[severuwus]

Severus Snape Headcanons (NSFW)

▪︎ Severus is silent in bed. Considering he was bullied, had a terrible home situation and barely had any (known) good connections with his peers, self-esteem issues and a trauma-cocktail are a given. As a result, he's plagued by performance anxiety and shame about his own sexuality - if a sigh or a moan ever escapes his lips, he'll cringe at himself. He probably never got over it based on his unhealed self, seen in the way he deals with conflicts and strong feelings in the books.

▪︎ Because of that, I imagine him wanting to hide his face during the act, either by burying his face into a pillow or choosing a convenient position. He doesn't want anyone to see his stupid facial expressions when he feels good.

▪︎ Severus doesn't have time to fuck. How can he when there are students to teach, essays to grade, potions to brew, meetings to hold with parents, teachers conferences, and later on his work as a spy. He's lucky if he has the time to have a full night's sleep.

▪︎ The avoidance of his own sexuality in combination with his sexual frustration due to a lacking outlet create a confusing and intense mess that he ends up just bottling up. After all, there are worse problems to take care of like war, not blowing his cover, the safety of the students, and much more. But by not meeting his needs, he is setting himself up to implode eventually.

▪︎ Severus loathes letting go. He needs to stay in control of himself at all times and can't slack off. He will never be fully relaxed, his body always stiff and not responsive for stimulation, not ready to shut his brain off. So the moments where he does lose control are incredibly intense. Of course he'll reprimand himself afterwards for fucking like a madman and scream-moaning like a whore. That just comes with self-esteem issues.

▪︎ Imagine: His partner gives him a blowjob. Severus is getting closer and wants to pull out to not cum inside. But his partner is determined to make him finish in their mouth and therefore grab his ass to keep him stuck inside, and after some resistance, Severus's control just snaps and ends up face-fucking his partner.

▪︎ He knows the basics of sex due to needing extensive knowledge on the human body for potioneering. But he is no sex god, and definitely not a dark bdsm daddy top. He's a man in his 30s with a bit of experience, and still has a lot to learn.

▪︎ Aftercare is non-existent. He'll leave just as quickly as he appears out of thin air throughout the books. It'll take a dedicated and loving partner for him to learn that cuddling afterwards and cleaning each other up actually isn't so bad.

▪︎ Praise makes him melt. Severus has to learn how to take compliments first, but he'll eventually realise how seen he feels when someone praises him for his good work, and gets all hot knowing how well he is pleasuring his partner.

▪︎ Traditional masculine men are an absolute turn-off for Severus. He was the one getting assaulted and bullied by those people, he grew up watching his mother being abused by his father. The last thing he needs is a person triggering him with the little things they do that remind him of his bad childhood.

▪︎ There are time periods where sex isn't on his mind at all. And then there are times he's going insane trying to focus on grading the 3rd year's essays, but all he's able to think about is his dick rubbing against the seam of his trousers and how long it has been since he had let himself indulge in his desires. Only during those desperate times, when none of his touches are enough, he's willing to experiment. He'll either find a way to order something without any trace leading back to him, or he'll just use whatever he has (public announcement: please don't do that, save yourself from a trip to the ER).

▪︎ No headcanon I just love the idea of him kneeling upright on his bed and thrusting into a pillow, pretending he is fucking someone from behind

[matchawoozii]

tiger kisses - kwon soonyoung

pairing: bf!soonyoung x f!reader || wc: 917 || warnings: bodily fluid (blood) || an: out of my writing slump! i think!!

human sized tiger: wanna go around town? - 7:43pm

sure! - 7:44pm

human sized tiger: be there in 10 :) - 7:45pm

————

You should’ve known exactly what Soonyoung meant when he wanted to go around town. You didn’t think it involved scooters.

He rang the doorbell, and as you opened the door, he stood there holding two scooters and a second helmet, clearly out of breath. “Hi!” he exhaled breathlessly. 

“Soonyoung, are you sure we can't just drive around?” you asked softly. “Where’s the fun in that? Plus we can hit the skatepark afterwards!”

You couldn’t resist his idea of an adventure, and could practically hear the smile on his face when you agreed to go. You put on your good walking shoes and grabbed the extra helmet that he had for you.

It was the perfect afternoon–the sun was shining brightly, the wind blowing through your hair slightly, and your boyfriend’s giggling as he rode alongside you.

 The trail was relatively serene, squirrels were chasing each other in the distance as the trees swayed gently from side to side.

“I have an idea!” he turned his head to look at you for a split second, causing you both to stop. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” You playfully sighed, letting him go on.  

“Why don’t we race to the end of the street? Winner pays for dinner later!” he excitedly giggled. You couldn’t help but wince at the word race, but you were never one to turn down a challenge.

“I’ll count us off–three, two, go!” you start off unfairly, riding fairly fast alongside the sidewalk. You could hear Soonyoung going on about how you didn’t count all the way to one, but you just wanted to win. 

“Wait. Y/N, come back! You didn’t count down to one!” he complained, trying his hardest to catch up behind you. 

You were already halfway to the end of the street, as you turned your head back to laugh at him, but you didn’t see the dip in the sidewalk, causing you to flail forward violently.

“Oh fuck!” Soonyoung gasped, ditching his scooter and running to get to you since he was faster that way. 

You landed face first, thankfully your helmet kept your face from any scrapes or cuts. But your knee on the other hand, skin wrongfully exchanged with the concrete, and a trail of blood dripping down your kneecap.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you winced, trying your hardest not to cry. He helped you sit up properly as the wound seemed to sting a little harder. 

“Don't worry, I got you sweetheart.” he reassured, pulling out a small black case filled with bandages and alcohol pads. “You carry those around?” you let out a shaky exhale. “I fall pretty often myself! I wish it was me who fell instead of you though.” 

You lifted your head up at the pungent smell of isopropyl alcohol as it quickly filled the air.

“I have to disinfect it first before I put the bandaid on okay?” he stated softly. 

“OW! Fuck, give me a warning Soonyoung!” you yelped, letting out a sharp hiss at the end.

“That was your warning! Sorry about that…” he giggled, but quickly focused as he wiped blood off your knee and put the bandaid on you. 

You looked down at your knee, then back at Soonyoung.

“Tiger bandaids? Are you kidding me?” you grunted, slightly smiling. 

“It looks cute on you!” he giggled again. “One last thing though,” he paused, repositioning himself to get closer to your knee.

“What are you–” you were cut off by Soonyoung's soft lips making contact and leaving open mouthed kisses around the roughed up area. They weren't your regular kisses, they were softer and gentler, and he sealed one final kiss right in the middle of your bandaid.

“It heals faster with love!” he smiled, pressing one more soft kiss to your cheek and settling beside you.

You could tell he was still filled with worry–the way his eyes were focused on your knee. 

“Soonyoung, I'm fine now! It's not like I dislocated it or anything.” you laughed, reaching out for his hand to squeeze it.

He finally looked up to meet your eyes, “I still feel terrible I couldn't catch you or anything, and you were right–we should've just drove around town like you said.”

"Next time," he said eventually, "we'll do a walking date."

You snorted. "You'd still find a way to trip."

He grinned. "Only if you catch me."

"I'm not carrying you!” you retorted, playfully pushing into his side. 

Minutes passed as he finally helped you stand up and pick the scooters back up to give one back to you. “Are you even real? I'm not riding home on that death trap!” you complained. 

“We'll go slowly! If you stumble even one bit I'll carry you all the way home.” Your eyes lit up. “Sounds like a deal to me!”

“Hey! You just want to be carried!” he smirked. He eventually caved and leaned down for you to get on his back.

“Can't believe you almost cried…” Soonyoung teased. “Okay, put me down.” you groaned, lightly smacking his back

“Wait, I'm sorry!” he pleaded. 

The walk back home was filled with laughter, as the sun slowly started to go down and you rested your head against your boyfriend's shoulder.

You thought to yourself how grateful you were to have someone to take care of you.

You were grateful for Soonyoung. 

[farahtissaiamyloves]

I didn't mean to scare you - part 2

Lucifer Morningstar x human!reader

Guess who finally decided to write something? Me! Season 2 of Sandman was so good I couldn't not write something for my beloved retired Lucifer. BTW, contains season 2 spoilers.

One day you left them being the Great Ruler of Hell and the next, they were knocking on your door, telling you that they had retired.

In the beginning, you were feeling a little guilty because you were under the impression that they left something they loved only to be with you.

Later, however, Lucifer made it clear that they chose it for their own freedom. The ruler of Hell was done being trapped in a single realm, only being able to leave for a couple of moments for you.

They wanted to travel, experience the world like they never did with you by their side and you were more than glad to provide.

Another point that saddened you greatly was their mutilation. You loved their wings and as a matter of fact, you knew they loved them too.

However, Lucifer assured you that everything has a give and a take and in this matter, they needed to get rid of the last thing connecting them to God to finally be able to experience their freedom.

You never thought that you would sit on your couch, by your lover, watching movies or whatever violent series Lucifer chose (you were in the middle of watching Game of Thrones and Lucifer LOVED the Red Wedding).

Life with the fallen angel was hilarious. They knew that people needed to consume food to survive, but they never realized beforehand that people needed to cook the food first.

You were cooking them as many different meals as you could, even though they didn't need any nutrition, only for them to taste different cultures and tastes.

Lucifer showed a particular live for Greek, Italian and Chinese food and lucky for them, your Greek roots were more than lucky to provide.

One day, you left Lucifer sitting on a plastic chair, looking out at the uneasy sea while you went out to grab a quick drink (Lucifer saw a couple of people drinking whiskey the other day when both of you spent your evening in a bar and wanted to try it out).

When you returned, you raised an eyebrow at the sight of them.

Lucifer hasn't moved, still seated on the plastic chair while a gothic, high, black haired, extremely pale man was standing next to them, talking to them.

You looked between them. Lucifer wasn't very fond of talking to other mortals except of you yet and the sight of them talking so casually with someone confused you.

However, the more you looked at the mystery man, the more supernatural he seemed.

You bited the inside of your cheek, realizing that the man must be a fellow, extremely strong immortal because truth be told, Lucifer wouldn't be wasting their time on a nobody God.

You slowly walked towards them.

The man turned to look at you first and tilted his neck at tge sight of you approaching them.

Lucifer turned too and gave you a brief smile, motioning you to come closer.

With Lucifer on board, you walked a little faster and settled back down on your seat next to them.

Lucifer raised their one hand, accepting the bottle from your hands and opened it effortlessly.

Before you had the chance to handle them a plastic cup, the former angel took a large sip from the bottle and hummed. "Mmm. That's good." They exclaimed, feeling pleased.

The man didn't comment as his expressionless face remained perfectly stoic. He looked down at the bottle, before looking up at Lucifer and then settling on you.

Lucifer shook their head. "Dream, I would introduce my loving partner, but I know better." They spoke, knowing that Dream knew many people through their dreams, especially someone who was so close to them.

You looked between Lucifer and the man they called Dream. After fateful night, Lucifer told you everything about Dream.

And then, when they came to you in the human world, Lucifer informed you that they had entrusted the key to hell to Morpheus in an attempt to break him.

Dream wordlessly looked at you. "Being with one like us is no easy task. I admire your devotion and willpower."

Lucifer let out a chuckle at that. "Oh, little Dream, believe me, I treat her far better than your little.... Did you find her by the way?"

You noticed the Dream Lord becoming a little defensive at the mention of the woman. You assumed Lucifer was referring to Nada; his mortal ex.

Dream nodded. "I did. She is with me now."

Lucifer nodded back, half surprised and half impressed. "Good for you, Morpheus. Good for you."

Your partner turned to look at you. They placed a hand on your knee. "Thanks for the whiskey, love."

After that, they turned to the Dream Lord. "Off you go, Morpheus. And remember, only the best dreams for my darling."

Dream didn't reply but only looked with his signature, expressionless gaze Lucifer and then you before turning around and vanishing after a couple of steps.

You looked at the place he once was as Lucifer took another sip of the whiskey, eyes locked straight ahead at the waves of the sea.

"So.... His mortal girlfriend agreed to be back at him after ten thousand years of torture? I can hardly believe it." You commented, turning to look at them.

Lucifer hummed, eyes looking up at the gray sky. "Don't be ridiculous. After what that girl weng through, she probably doesn't even want to lay her eyes on him."

You nodded, still looking at them as you pulled out the plastic cup from your handbag and handed it to them.

Lucifer took it. They gave you an inquisitive gaze before understanding what the cup was for. They poured some whiskey in the cup and placed the bottle on the sand, against their chair. They took a sip and sighed in satisfaction. "Much better. Thank you, love."

You smiled at them. "Of course, dearest. I wouldn't wish to be condemned to ten thousand years of pure torture."

Lucifer laughed at your joke. "Oh, dearest, I love you so much."

[thesecond-if]

Saw this on another post...

If the Ros woke up one day and found that they had magically turned into a small and cute animal (like a kitten, puppy… up to your choice rlly!) and at first they don’t know how to turn back, but eventually they find out that the solution is getting a kiss from the Mc, how would they go about trying to communicate to the Mc that they’re themselves trapped in an animal and get that kiss from the Mc?

✝️ Father Isaac Rowe – Black Cat

Immediately hides under the nearest pew. At first, he thinks this is divine punishment. He paces dramatically. Sighs loudly. Knocks over a candle. Waits for divine intervention. When you walk in, he sits up tall. But then you ruffle his ears. And he makes a sound. A purring sound.

Eventually, he climbs into your lap and just stares at you with those deep, priestly eyes. You swear he’s judging your soul. The moment your lips brush his little cat head. Poof. Full-sized Isaac, on your lap, looking vaguely scandalized.

"...Please pretend this never happened."

🎙️ Silas Wren – Ferret

Loses his mind IMMEDIATELY. Does not process what’s happening. He’s flipping around the apartment, knocking things off shelves, squeaking dramatically. It’s giving Looney Tunes. He sees himself in the mirror and screams. Then he tries to type on his computer. Then he chews through a sock. When you finally come home, he bites your shoelace and drags you toward the couch like "DO YOU NOT SEE WHAT'S HAPPENING?!?” Eventually, he writes “KISS ME” in spilled cereal. But the moment you give his fuzzy lil forehead a kiss, BOOM. Human again. On top of you.

"...Okay but like, we can try that again."

🕯️ Sister Mercy – Snowy Owl

She perches silently and watches.Just giant golden eyes boring into your soul as you make breakfast like nothing is wrong. She starts nudging things off counters in very precise manner. Your book on demonology falls open to a page about curses. You ignore it. Eventually, she flutters down to your shoulder and nudges your cheek, then your lips. You finally kiss her feathery head and snap, she’s human again.

"You saw nothing. But thank you, my love."

🧠 Dr. Elaine Marrow – Rabbit

She hates this. She is not a prey animal. She tries to find a pen and paper. Tries to type. Fails. Tries to spell words in spilled flour. Also fails. You walk in and she immediately hides under the couch in shame. It takes a while before she hops out and gently nudges your hand. You pick her up and cradle her.

"Aw… you’re so soft. Wish Dr. Marrow were this cuddly."

Her little bunny soul dies inside. You kiss her out of affection. Flash of light. She's human again and you are now straddling a very flustered, very real Elaine.

"...I need to reevaluate everything I believe in."

🚬 Detective Jonah Redd – Big Dumb Labrador

Immediately figures out what’s going on. Just doesn’t care. This is his life now. He brings you your shoes. Wags his tail. Lays his massive puppy head on your lap and looks at you like you invented the sun. You’re like, “wow this dog reminds me of Jonah…” And he’s like YES PLEASE UNDERSTAND I AM HIM. I AM YOUR MAN. Eventually, in a moment of overwhelming fondness, you kiss his head and bam. Human Jonah. Still on the floor. Tail probably still wagging.

"…Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?"

👁️ The Second (HIM) – Fox

His fur is black. You find Him curled on your bed. Waiting. He doesn’t whine. Doesn’t make a sound. When you speak, He tilts His head, ears twitching just slightly. You swear the shadows shift with Him. You try to joke “Cute fox,” you say. “Should I name you?” He pads toward you on noiseless paws, circles once. Twice. And then settles at your feet, curling his tail around your ankles like a claim. You laugh nervously. “You’re not even trying to communicate, huh?” But later, when you're about to leave the room, you find your name scratched into the floorboards. And without really thinking, you kneel down and press a kiss to the top of His head.

You blink—and He’s human again. Sitting where the fox once lay, smile lazy and soft and sharp all at once.

"So you do love me. I knew you'd admit it eventually."

You: “...THAT’S NOT WHAT THAT WAS—”

"Too late."

[sage-nebula]

Current headcanons for Friede's and Orio's childhoods:

They grew up as next door neighbors in Vermilion City.

Orio's parents were in the shipping industry. Her father was a sailor, while her mother was an engineer down at the shipyard. (And, occasionally, the local Gym when Lt Surge blew the power again.) She had two younger twin sisters.

Friede's father was (and is) unknown. Friede was never told why his father wasn't around, only that he wasn't. His mother, who had inherited the house from her grandmother, resented that her (she felt) promising career as a trainer got cut short by her pregnancy. So as soon as Friede was old enough to be able to make cereal and sandwiches for himself (about four or five or so), she told him that she was going to the store . . . and then never came back.

Fortunately, Friede and Orio were already playmates by that time, and her parents weren't about to let him starve. Though Friede insisted he stay in his own house for when his mom came back, he ate many dinners at Orio's house, and her parents made sure that he stayed clothed and healthy.

(If one were to wonder if perhaps Friede's open door, "stay as long as you need" policy on the Brave Asagi had anything to do with how Orio's family gave that to him after his mom left, well . . . perhaps the idea is not so far off.)

When they were ten, Friede and Orio applied for (and received) their Trainer Licenses. They also received their first partner pokémon, albeit in different ways; Orio's father brought her a beldum from an overseas trip he took to Hoenn, while Friede applied for a starter pokémon from Professor Oak, who accepted his application and allowed him to choose a charmander.

The two planned to travel around Kanto together to collect badges, but Orio's mother received a job offer in Slateport City, Hoenn. Naturally, she wanted Orio to move there with the family, and Friede was invited . . . but he turned the offer down, wanting to explore Kanto first and see all that it had to offer, and promised to reunite with Orio someday.

("Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I want to investigate that haunted tower in Lavender Town. I heard that trainers who go in never come out. Doesn't that sound interesting?"

"Are you stupid?")

So Orio moved to Hoenn, where she accepted first a scholarship to the school in Rustboro City, and later an internship at Devon Corporation. That experience allowed her to get a job at the local shipyard, not because of her mother's experience there, but by her own merit. (She was actually hired to a higher position right off the bat; her mother was never so proud.)

As for Friede, well, he did collect the eight Kanto badges, though he had no desire to enter the League. (When asked why he collected the badges, then, he said, "Why not?") He did investigate Lavender Tower, and was only a little disappointed he and Char survived their sleepover. When he was sixteen, he took the entrance exam for a prestigious Kantonian university on a lark and passed with near perfect marks. He received a full ride, and it was there that he was taught and mentored by Lucca.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

[pynkhues]

Sophie, have you watched Nosferatu, yet? The topic of gothic heroines resurfaced and with it the comparison of Loustat to Orlok and Ellen. would love to read a meta/review from you of it wrt IWTV.

I haven't yet, anon! It's been a pretty hectic start to the year with my sister and nephews staying with me, so I haven't made it to the cinema this week (hoping to get there on Tuesday, although I might be wrangled into taking the boys to see Sonic 3 instead of getting to see literally anything else, haha). I was wondering this morning if something had happened with the gothic heroine interpretation though because my Byronic hero post has been getting a lot of attention in the last 24 hours. I'll try and see Nosferatu soon though - I'm seeing a lot about it, and I have a few friends who are actually gothic horror authors and they've all hated it, which has actually made me extra curious, haha.

[novaimperia]

★ asking roommate!sukuna if you can get a lift to campus

halfway out of the door, your roommate turns his head and lifts a singular brow at you, the piercing there glinting. keys hanging off his finger, backpack slung on over one shoulder, you’re glad you caught him right before he left – his long legs make him impossible to catch up to. 

“no.”

and then he leaves.

you run after him. “oh, come on. why not?”

not slowing his pace down at all, he lifts up a hand, counting down. “one, i’m not a taxi. two, i don’t want to. three, it’ll become a habit. four, you’re annoying. and five, i don’t want to.”

he’s probably not wrong; since his car is much, much nicer than the public transport available, and quicker too, you’d likely get too used to the comfort and plead to make it a regular thing. although, you’re not really convinced it’d be so bad. “please? there’s a creepy man on the bus and i don’t want to run into him.”

at his car now, unlocking it with his key, he opens his car door, throws his bag inside, climbs in, and slams the door shut in your face. shooting you the most unamused look in the entirety of humanity’s existence, you’re sure, he drawls, “so then walk.”

you watch his car disappear out of the car park.

five minutes later, you’re grumbling about how he’s the worst roommate ever and how, if given the chance, you’d gladly suffocate his irritatingly handsome face under a pillow. just because he’s rich, naturally smart, effortlessly athletic, crazily popular even though he doesn’t want to be, he thinks he can do as he pleases. and yeah, guess he can. but still!

the past couple weeks since you’ve met him, you’ve been good to the bastard. you say hi, you keep clean and tidy, never make too much noise, don’t invite yourself to any of his plans, and you don’t snoop or invite friends over. by his standards, you’re the perfect roommate. whereas he’s been rude – he doesn’t accept any of the baked goods you’ve offered him, doesn’t watch movies with you, or even share dinner at the same time. too often have you caught him walking around in just his boxers or in a towel after he’s showered and he doesn’t apologise, just smirks when you get all flustered. the monster doesn’t even look at you when you cross paths on campus; he just pretends he doesn’t know you.

“hey, sweet’art. you live ‘round here?”

oh, great, there’s a crackhead limping towards you. despite this being the main street, there’s not many cars or people passing by. it’s just you and a creepy old man ogling at your body. whether on the bus or off, it seems you attract weirdos on a spiritual level. fantastic. 

“leave me alone.”

that doesn’t go over well with him. a scowl darkens his raggedy features. his steps hasten. you stagger back. 

beep!

“fuck off, you dirty old geezer.” a familiar car pulls up beside you. sukuna sneers at the man, who backs away a little frightened. huh, it’s quite easy to forget that people tend to find your roommate’s energy off putting. that’s pretty useful. those heated eyes slide over to you. irate, he jerks his chin. “what are you waiting for? get the fuck in.”

beaming, you squeal. “thank you!”

perturbed by your cheerful disposition despite how your morning’s going, you can only assume, he mutters some half-hearted insult under his breath and pays you no mind whilst he has a hand on the steering wheel and the other on your headrest, fingers drumming. 

satisfied when he hears the click of your seatbelt, he drives off. “you finish at three today, right? meet me at the parking lot by the gym at quarter past three. if you’re even a single second late, your broke ass is getting left behind, clear?”

“crystal.”

grimacing at your sudden laughter, he groans. “fuck this year’s gonna be a long one.”

and he couldn’t be more right.

[softbabybelle]

corruption 001. 𓍯𓂃 rֶָ֢ cameron

rafe cameron x shy!reader

𝜗𝜚 Summary : rafe finds sarah's best friend sitting in her room after she sneaks out to see her boyfriend, topper, and offers to keep her busy while teaching her something new.

𝜗𝜚 words : 2.5k

𝜗𝜚 c!w : weed, smoking, drvgs, suggestive.

part 2. part 3.

by the time sarah had re-entered her own bedroom, you were laying on your back across her bed, twisting your hair above your face, absentmindedly playing with the strands.

"i have a favour to ask." upon hearing your best friend's voice, you turned so you were laying on your stomach.

you liked having sleepover's with sarah but sometimes, she wasn't all that reliable. "m'kay." though you already had an idea what following words would pass her lips.

"i just got off the phone with topper and he wants me to go meet him." she settled herself against her drawers. "but my dad'll kill me if i stay out past curfew. think you could cover for me?"

you batted your lids at the girl, frowning for various reasons. you'd brought all your stuff so you and sarah could hang out, you were getting a little tired of her using you as an excuse to see her boyfriend and you were downright petrified of ward cameron. there was something awfully frightening about your friends' parents.

but you didn't like to be troublesome. so a small "okay." passed your lips with a thin smile.

it took sarah less than twenty minutes to get ready and before you knew it, you were waving goodbye as she snuck out the window.

she left the tv on so you could watch one of your shows but you were much more inclined to reading the book in your bag. at this point, you'd grown accustomed to sarah leaving you during the middle of your sleepover's, you had to come prepared.

the reason she invited you over and snuck out was because she knew ward wouldn't dare go near her room when she had a friend over. none of her family did.

well, none aside from one.

"sarah!" you heard a familiar voice from behind the door followed by a bang against it that rafe cameron would later excuse as a 'knock'. "listen, i know you took my fuckin' charger, so give it ba―oh."

rafe was sarah's older brother, you'd seen him around plenty of times and he'd surely seen you. at this point, you practically lived in the house. many times you'd sat across from him at the dinner table or sat on the beach chairs with sarah while he was in the pool. though you didn't often speak to him.

perhaps that was your fault more than it was his, though.

"you're here." he stated, glancing around the room for the white charger he was missing.

rafe often initiated conversation with you but it was only in your shy nature to nod after he said something and use less than two words to communicate before scurrying down the hall after sarah.

this time, she wasn't here to be your human shield.

"uhm, yeah." you sort of just squirmed, hoping he didn't ask about why you were in here alone.

but you didn't often get what you hoped for. "where's sarah?" snatching up the charger. upon his question, you blinked at him, a stretch of panic flashed across your face. you didn't even need to say anything, your look gave it all away. "snuck out with topper, huh?"

your top lip snuck your bottom teeth in. "please don't tell." you weren't used to being so confined with rafe. sure, you'd been in a hallway with him before but come to think of it, you weren't sure you'd ever been in a small room like sarah's, alone, with the door shut.

"wasn't going to." he counters. his eyes pass over the room, raking down to you. you were sitting on the bed with a little book in your hands, pink bookmark sticking out from the page you left it on. "you don't need to be sittin' pretty in here all alone, though." he approached the door before turning to face you. "you comin'?"

it was as if he'd expected you to follow. you hastily stood, pink blush across your cheeks. "where are we going?"

he shrugged. "my room." as if it'd been obvious.

a nervous pit swirled in your stomach. you hadn't spent enough alone time with rafe to be invited into his bedroom. sarah was the one out of the two of you who talked to many guys. you kind of just stood idly by, a nervous look on your face as you bit your bottom lip and angled your head to look at the ground. you supposed rafe wasn't so bad, though.

after all, you practically grew up with the boy.

but that didn't make it any easier.

"so, uh, how's school?" he sniffed, inviting you into the room before shutting the door closed.

you'd been around sarah and her friends long enough to know that the smell swirling the room was weed. something you'd never so much as touched. the room also had a smell of some expensive cologne, the same one you often detected from rafe.

"it's okay." you offered, standing idly near his dresser, hands messing with the hem of your shirt. "what about you?"

a soft sort of smirk fell across his face. "i'm not in school anymore." he reminded you before taking a seat on the bed, taking something out from the beside table's drawer.

"i knew that, sorry." you felt your face flush. you hated this, always making yourself look silly when you spoke to rafe. it was why you avoided him in the first place. you wanted nothing more than to run out of the room to where you came from. but sarah was gone, meaning you had nobody to use as an excuse or a getaway.

you'd merely have to endure.

he didn't say anything, only offering a humorous huff from his lips.

"you mind?" your eyes trailed down to what was in his hands, the source of the smell you'd detected earlier. "asked you a question, sweetheart."

"oh, uhm." your eyes snapped up to meet his, head feeling floaty at the name. "i don't mind if you smoke. it's you're room."

again, he offered no response but continued to take out his pieces. he was currently in search of a lighter. "what are you standin' all the way over there for? sit down. i don't bite." but there was a quirk to his lips when he said it that made you think he did bite.

"sorry." you mumbled before shuffling to the bed to sit on the furthest edge you could.

you didn't miss the way rafe rolled his eyes. he looked back at you, studying your features. "split one with me?" he was testing the waters. he knew you enough to gauge assumptions about you. asking him? you didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't have sex. you were the type of girl who stayed in your friends bedroom reading a book while they snuck out to meet their boyfriend.

he wanted to see if you'd give in.

your eyes were watching his hands, the way he rolled paper between his fingers. "uhm, 've never smoked."

ding ding ding.

he cocked his head. "want to try?" he could see immediate panic flash across your features. in a way, it was exactly what he wanted. he wanted to soothe you into this, not for you to instantly kneel at his every command. he knew you weren't easy. "c'mon, baby, 's just me. promise i won't let anything happen to you."

"i don't know." you shook your head slightly.

you were no stranger to the names he used on you. he often spoke them in a soft yet playful voice, especially around sarah. you just thought he liked seeing his sister get angry, tossing a pillow his way and telling him to stop treating you like one of his 'notches on his belt' but if he was only keen on making sarah angry, then why was he calling you such things while you were alone, sarah nowhere in sight?

"how long have you known me?" since you were very, very young. "one can't hurt. you trust me?" you slowly nodded, eyes still wavering to his hands. "so what'do you say?"

you knew you shouldn't. if your parents ever found out, they'd kill you with their bare hands and rafe would be next in their death note journal.

but there was something about the way he was looking at you that had your stomach folding in two.

besides, you never did like upsetting people.

if you didn't say yes, rafe would think that you didn't like him. he would be upset that you'd be so mean to refuse such a kind offer.

so nonetheless, a small squeak of an "okay." left your lips.

"atta girl. c'mere." he gestured down and you blinked at him confusedly. was he asking you to sit in his lap? you swallowed thickly. "c'mere." he repeated, this time between a soft chuckle. he reached out for you, helping you to sit flush against his lap.

instantly, you swore you had never been so red in your life.

your eyes were all wide and embarrassed, cheeks flaming red hot while you tucked your bottom lip under your top one again. a habit you supposed you'd die with. to say you were shocked to feel his hand against your face was an understatement. his thumb pulled at your lip from between your teeth, securing it away from harm. "don't do that." he mumbled. "you know how to take a pull?"

awkward and embarrassed were two words you swore were forgetting their meaning. this was above and beyond that. "you just... suck, right?" you squirmed in his lap at your own words.

"inhale, sweetheart." he moved the rolled blunt up to your lips. "open." you complied and he stuck it between the two, lifting the lighter to set the top to a low burn. "don't try to keep it in, 'kay?"

you nodded, inhaling the blunt and finding a strange sensation fill your mouth.

you'd never smoked a cigarette before, much less a blunt.

it was a weird feeling but you did what he said, you didn't try to keep it in. you moved the blunt from your lips with your fingers and didn't feel the need to couch heavily. you just blew the smokey air back out.

"good girl." the soft pads of his fingers trailed softly against your bare thighs below your sleep shorts. you felt your stomach do flips at the praise. "did so well. you sure you haven't done this before?"

you nodded with a slight giggle. "'m sure."

you watched as he lifted the blunt to his lips, taking a drag, then another. he didn't seem as phased as he did. "mm, don' know if i believe you on that one, princess."

"i haven't!" your hips gently reached up against his own. "swear." before simmering back down.

he lifted the blunt to your lips. this time, he didn't need to tell you to part your mouth, you just did it. "cross your heart 'n hope to die?"

he was staring at you so intently that you swore you'd never seen anyone's eyes so vividly, never been more interested in the squiggles of blue in someone's iris or the way his pupils slowly began expanding.

all you could offer was a slow nod as he watched you take another inhale of the blunt, eyes suddenly now steady on your lips, watching you stain the end of the paper pink with lipgloss.

a smirk fell on his lips as he leaned back onto the headboard. one minute, you were too shy to leave sarah's room, now you were sitting on his lap, smoking a blunt with him.

rafe merely had a way with women.

"so what, you feel like 'm corrupting you yet?" his steady smirk and sly hand trailing up your thigh.

a giggle passed your lips as you shook your head. "no."

he hummed. "plenty of time for that." you weren't too sure what he'd meant, though you hadn't actually asked him either.

it didn't take long for you to get high. rafe realised this within less than a few minutes. your pupils had turned wide, eyes gone glassy and suddenly you couldn't stop licking your already wet lips. you were staring at him, a little too much, not that he was complaining. he'd spent too long waiting for you to shyly meet his eye. with the weed in your system, you couldn't seem to look away.

"can i ask you something?" his voice was low, hardly a whisper as he spoke now, as if afraid he'd awake something and the room would turn to dust, the moment would fade from his memory and this moment would dissappear.

"uh-huh." you were busy looking at him, downright gawking. your eyes were shamelessly staring right at his lips.

he wasn't as buzzed as you. but to be honest, he'd been doing this a long time before you. "have you ever been kissed?"

it was his turn for his eyes to advert to your lips. all glossy and wet. for the thousandth time, your tongue peaked out, wetting them again before biting your bottom lip.

he couldn't get you to stop biting it, no matter how hard he tried.

he'd merely have to train you, when the time came.

"mm-mm." you shook your head at him. finally, your eyes broke from his lips and looked up at his eyes. he could see now, how truly buzzed you were. your eyes were all red and glassy, it was almost as if he could feel you floating. you tilted your head at him. "are you gonna kiss me?"

his hands ran up and down against your skin. "do you want me to?" a hesitant nod followed his question. "say please." pulling the blunt up to his lips for another drag. it was almost out now.

it was a mindless tease but he felt you squirm in his lap again. "please, rafe." voice but a whiney murmur.

he blew the smoke out from his lips and watched it fall into your own parted mouth.

your eyes fluttered shut and he didn't give you a chance to think, his lips replacing the smoke. his were hungry, your's were soft, inviting. and he took the invite as soon as it'd been handed to him. his hand ran up your back, shoving your body as close to his own as he could. he wanted the heat to envelope him, wanted your skin against his own. wanted so badly to rip off every piece of clothing that tainted you. wanted you to be his for the taking.

but the way you suddenly pulled back, those doey, bloodshot eyes and fearful voice murmuring the words, "you're not gonna tell sarah, are you?" told rafe exactly what he already knew.

he need to be patient with you. take his time unravelling you until there was nothing left.

he shook his head, fingers soft against your face, running across your cheek.

"don't worry, sweetheart, your dirty secret's safe with me."

[multific]

In the Shadow of the Hunt

Yautja x Reader

Warning: Smut

Summary: Trained to outlast any Predator, you never expected to earn the respect and heart of one.

You were doing fine until something far worse than the Yautja entered the territory.

The creatures were not natural.

Mutations, maybe. Bloodthirsty beasts designed for something else's war.

You heard the Yautja before you saw him, you heard clicks low in the trees, that faint hum of cloaking tech.

At first, he was your death sentence.

Now he was your only chance.

It started with a standoff.

You had your knife drawn, back to the river, as he de-cloaked in a shimmer of light and metal.

Eight feet tall, heavy with muscle, body scarred and worn from a hundred battles. His mandibles clicked as he studied you with a curious expression.

You should have attacked.

Instead, you lowered the knife.

"Common enemy," you said slowly, keeping your voice low, hands spread open. "You can kill me later. But right now we both have bigger problems."

He tilted his head sharply, as if weighing your words. His wrist-blade retracted.

It was the beginning.

You learned to communicate through simple gestures at first.

Pointing. Nodding. Grunts of acknowledgement.

He didn’t speak human languages, but he understood survival, a universal tongue.

You nicknamed him R'thok in your mind, it sounded close to the snarling sound he made when introducing himself.

In turn, he began to call you a series of low clicks that almost sounded affectionate.

When you saved him, dragging his heavy body out of a pit trap, using your last medical kit to seal his bleeding side, everything changed.

He touched your wrist afterwards.

A careful touch. Not demanding and not threatening.

Grateful.

Respected.

At night, you camped near each other.

Not too close but close enough that you could hear his breathing.

He carved strange symbols into the dirt. You answered by sketching your own.

A new language bloomed between you, drawn in sand and mud.

Safe.

Danger.

Hunt.

Stay.

And sometimes he would leave you little offerings, cleaned bones from his kills, scavenged tech scraps, a strange fruit you had never seen before.

His way of caring.

You started smiling more around him.

He noticed.

His mandibles twitched into what you thought might be a grin.

The first time you touched him was after another ambush.

One of the mutated beasts had cornered you.

Its claws had ripped through your shoulder, blood hot down your arm.

R'thok tore it apart with a roar that shook the trees.

You stumbled. He caught you.

Huge clawed hands, shockingly gentle, cupped your body and kept you from falling.

You pressed your forehead against his chest without thinking, panting.

"You… you’re warm," you whispered weakly.

He made a rumbling sound, almost like a purr.

Without words, he hoisted you up, carrying you like you weighed nothing, and set you down in the shelter of a hollowed tree.

When you woke later, the wound was stitched neatly, and R'thok was there. Watching. Guarding.

Yours.

The final fight was brutal.

The leader of the beasts pinned R'thok first.

You had a split-second decision: save yourself, or save him.

You didn’t hesitate.

You drove your knife into the creature’s eye, grabbing a discarded plasma caster and blasting it at point-blank range.

The thing screeched and died.

You turned to R'thok, chest heaving.

He was staring at you in a way he had never before.

Not as prey.

Not as an equal.

As something more.

He leaned down, his clawed hand brushing your cheek. You shivered, not in fear, but at the intensity in his gaze.

When he pressed his forehead gently to yours, you understood: it was a vow.

Among his kind, that meant something deeper than any words.

A bond. A claiming.

Love.

You closed your eyes and pressed back.

Yes.

Months later, after the rescue teams came and went, after you chose to disappear from your old life, you lived among the stars.

In a hidden place where Yautja and humans met in secret.

Where no hunt ruled your days anymore.

Only him.

Your mate.

Your hunter.

Your heart.

The ship thrummed around you, metal walls glowing faintly blue with low light.

You sat on the narrow sleeping platform in R'thok's quarters — if they could even be called that. Everything was raw, functional: weapon racks, a table of trophies, pelts spread across the floor. The air smelled like steel, blood, and something warmer... him.

He stood before you, massive and still. His armour stripped away, leaving only thick, scarred skin that shimmered faintly in the low light.

His golden eyes softened as he looked at you.

You got up slowly, your pulse a wild drumbeat. You barely came up to his chest, but he bowed his head to you, patient, waiting.

Waiting for you to make the move.

You reached up, fingertips brushing the hard line of his jaw. His skin was warm, surprisingly soft over the brutal strength beneath. His mandibles twitched, a low, almost uncertain rumble rising from his chest.

"R'thok," you whispered.

You didn’t need to say more.

The bond between you crackled like a live wire.

With a low groan, he caught your hand and drew it to his mouth. His tusks brushed your knuckles as he breathed you in.

And then, so slowly it made your head spin, he pulled closer.

You felt the heat of him.

His massive hands slid down your sides, claws grazing lightly over your hips, your thighs, as if memorising every inch.

You reached for the woven cords across his chest and tugged.

He growled low, a sound of approval and need, and helped you, stripping the cords away.

He was all muscle and old scars.

A living weapon who had chosen you, knelt for you.

He bent, pressing his forehead against yours again, the sacred gesture of his people, and you swore you could feel his heart hammering as wildly as your own.

Your fingers traced the thick cords of muscle over his shoulders, his chest, sliding lower.

His body shuddered under your touch.

When your hands grazed the hard line of his abdomen, he snarled low, catching you at the waist and lifting you as easily as if you weighed nothing.

You gasped, but he was already carrying you to the furs on the floor, laying you down with impossible tenderness.

Hovering above you, he hesitated.

He brushed your cheek, your throat, your racing pulse.

Are you sure? - his eyes asked.

You answered by grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down.

The kiss was clumsy at first, Yautja mouths weren’t made for it, but he learned quickly.

Pressing his mandibles against your skin, nipping lightly, tasting you.

His scent wrapped around you, wild, electric, addictive.

Your clothes came off in pieces, discarded into the dark.

When you were finally bare under him, his gaze raked over you with a hunger that was almost reverent.

He touched you like a treasure, each brush of his massive hands making you ache.

He was careful as he explored you.

Mapping every sound you made, every shiver, every sharp intake of breath.

You gasped when his hand slid lower, between your thighs, and he paused, snarling softly in warning, in need. 

Telling you he would go slow.

You wrapped your arms around his thick neck, anchoring yourself to him, and whispered against his ear:

"I'm yours."

He froze.

Then he roared and surged against you.

The first push of his made you cry out, he was so big, you could feel every inch.

But he was gentle, trembling with the effort to hold back. Giving you time to adjust and grow used to him.

You clutched at his shoulders, at the ridges of his back, moaning into his skin.

He rocked into you slowly at first, every movement careful, deliberate. Worshipful.

But soon restraint gave way to need.

His pace quickened, driving deeper, and you met him eagerly, rising to meet each thrust.

It was overwhelming. Consuming.

You felt the bond between you ignite — something ancient, primal — not just physical, but something deeper.

As you shattered beneath him, you felt him follow, his body locking tight against yours with a desperate, broken snarl.

He didn't let go.

Not even after.

He curled himself around you, protective and fierce, his breath hot against your neck.

One massive hand covered your belly. His way of marking you.

You lay there, panting, stroking the side of his face with trembling fingers.

"Yours," you whispered again, kissing the corner of his mandible.

A deep, vibrating purr answered you, the sound of utter devotion.

You closed your eyes, safe for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

Not hunted.

Not alone.

Chosen.

Loved.

Forever.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

also sorry for the neige slander, I don't hate him but vdc broke me

[alwayssassydreamer]

Show Me Your Desire

A/N: so since I've been sick for almost two weeks now I didn't get a whole story done and only managed to scribble some short snippets down and this is the result of me experimenting. I have never done something like this before so here's to the first try. You can thank @hakiofdreams for the character selection and the idea. Its basically one scenario for 5 different characters. Oh and sorry if I messed Lucci, Mihawk and Zoro up I usually don't write for them (and please no more requests for Mihawk and Lucci)

Plot: you ate the Yoku Yoku No Mi - the desire desire devil fruit - that shows you glimpses of someones deepest desires when you touch them. Therefore you made sure to avoid touches and insight into those personal moments. But during a conference things get out of hand.

Warnings: none really, sfw, maybe some slight tinie tiny bit of angst, not proofread and I'm really sorry if it sucks 🙈

Characters: Law; Zoro; Sir Crocodile; Lucci; Mihawk (all separately) x GnReader

Crocodile:

You hadn’t meant to touch him.

The conference room was full of killers, and you had stayed quiet, unreadable as you were told because that was your strength. You were a broker one of the youngest allowed in this blood-soaked circle, not because of strength, but because you knew when to keep your damn mouth shut.

Except for when your fingers grazed his.

It had been a fleeting moment someone bumped your chair, your balance faltered, and your hand caught the edge of the armrest next to you. Except it wasn’t empty. Crocodile was already seated there, cigar in hand, gold hook resting on the table.

You touched his skin.

And everything shifted.

The vision hit like a freight ship.

You stood on a sandstorm-swept cliff, wind howling like a banshee. Crocodile was in front of you, bleeding, furious but not at you. "Don’t you dare - don’t you fucking dare leave me," he growled. You took a staggering step toward him. He grabbed your hand pressed his forehead to yours. "You’re all I have left."

And then it was over.

Your fingers recoiled like you’d been burned. Crocodile glanced at you sharply. The eye contact was brief, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze sharpened, a predator smelling a shift in the wind.

You forced yourself to look away. Pretended to jot notes but your hand, it trembled.

Later that night you were alone on the balcony of the summit villa, nursing a glass of wine and a headache. The sea below was black and endless and you were too lost in thoughts to hear him approach.

"You touched me."

You didn’t look back. “I lost my balance.”

Crocodile exhaled smoke behind you. It curled over your shoulder like a living thing.

"You saw something."

Silence.

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch but enough that you felt it. His presence was heavy, charged.

"Your Devil Fruit," he said slowly. "The rumors are true."

You turned then, eyes meeting his. "You were warned not to touch me."

His lips curled into something like a smirk but there was no humor in it. "I don’t fear little parlor tricks, little flower."

"It’s not a trick. I saw your desire."

You watched his expression and saw a flicker of tension, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.

You went on anyway. "You don’t want power. Or revenge. You want….someone."

He flicked ash over the railing. "Lust is human." he said calmly, unimpressed even.

"It wasn’t lust."

Now he looked at you fully. Dark eyes, smoldering with something far more dangerous than anger.

"Then you saw too much." Was all he said before he walked away again.

The days that followed were hell.

Crocodile made sure to stay out of "touching range", but he hovered, always in your periphery. Always watching.

You felt it in the way your skin prickled. The way he lingered too long in every meeting. The way he said your name, like it was a secret he refused to keep.

And worse, the way he looked at you now was not indifferent.

You saw it, a piece of him no one else did. Something he buried deep under years of blood and sand and arrogance.

That made you dangerous.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about that vision. Not just what he wanted, but how desperately he wanted it. How broken and raw his voice had been when he said it.

"You’re all I have left."

The breaking point came the next night in the garden.

It was late. You were alone again - or so you thought.

"You don’t sleep much."

You turned. "And you don’t leave me alone." You said glaninc briefly at him.

He looked tired. Less composed. Shirt open at the throat. Cigar forgotten.

"Why?" you asked. "Why do you keep circling me like a hawk?"

"Because you took something from me," he said vpice low as he stepped closer to you.

"What?" You asked blinking confused.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached out and this time, he touched you on purpose. Bare fingers, sliding along yours.

Another vision hit:

You, standing in the rain, bloodied, but alive. Him, cupping your cheek with his flesh hand, thumb caressing your skin. His hook protectively at your back like an oath. "I’ll protect you. Even if it kills me."

You gasped as the vision ended.

He didn’t let go. "You saw what I didn’t want anyone to know," he murmured. "That I’m tired of pretending I feel nothing."

"Why me?" you asked voice trembling, body shaking.

A beat of silence.

"Because you didn’t flinch," he said. "Even now, you look at me like I’m still a man."

"Are you?" you asked voice cracking

His lips twitched. "Would it matter?"

You didn’t answer just looked at him and he leaned in. Foreheads so close, breaths warm and mingling.

"You scare the hell out of me," you whispered.

"Good," he said. "That makes us even."

And then he closed the gap between you two. The kiss was a mistake, it was desperate, messy. Like trying to drown a fire and you pushed him away the first time. He let you, smirking, but not too far.

The second kiss wasn’t a mistake as you pulled him back giving in to the temptation, the desire, the need.

They said you tamed a monster.

They were wrong.

He was still a monster.

But now, when he burned the world, he burned it for you.

And when his enemies came too close, they didn’t face a sandstorm.

They faced a man willing to destroy the world just to keep your hands from shaking.

◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

Mihawk:

You stood in a candle-lit hall surrounded by the most dangerous men on the Grand Line, playing the part of a neutral mediator.

You didn’t expect him to be there or well maybe you did but you had just hoped he wouldn’t.

Dracule Mihawk. The Greatest Swordsman. Dressed in black and crimson, leaning against the far wall like a painting come to life.

He radiated silence. Precision. Control.

You made a point to avoid him after your last encounters with him. But fate didn’t care about your plans.

The chaos began when someone bumped into you, a minor captain, flailing, spilling wine.

You stumbled back and straight into Mihawk.

A bare hand caught your wrist. Just for a second.

And that was all it took for the vision hit you like a blade.

You, barefoot in his castle. Dressed in silk. Standing in front of a fire, wrapped in his coat. Mihawk behind you, eyes unreadable, fingers brushing your jaw. "Stay," he murmured in the dream. It was the most intimate thing you had ever seen from anyone, especially him.

And when you jolted back to reality, his gaze locked on you like he knew.

You quickly pulled away. "I-I’m fine, I’m sorry," you muttered, voice brittle.

He said nothing. But his stare lingered too long.

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the garden beneath the moonlight, trying to slow your racing heart. He found you again, silent as shadow.

"You saw something," Mihawk said, voice low and cutting. Not a question. A fact.

Your mouth went dry.

"I didn’t mean to," you admitted. "It only happens with skin contact."

"Interesting," he replied, stepping closer. "And what did you see?"

You looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. Cold, calculating… but something flickered behind his eyes. Hope? Fear? Annoyance?

"You were… home," you said carefully. "At peace."

That was not entirely a lie. But it also wasn't the whole truth.

But he accepted it. Barely.

"Keep your distance from now on," he said. "I don’t need you reading my mind."

"You think I want to?" you snapped. "I see things I never asked for. Every handshake, every shove, every accidental brush…..it’s a flood of everyone’s secrets. Do you know what that feels like?"

Mihawk’s expression didn’t change.

But his voice softened just slightly. "No. But I understand the cost of power."

He left before you could answer.

Over the next days, he avoided you. And you avoided him.

Except when you didn’t.

He lingered longer during briefings. Sat closer at the table. Your eyes met too often to be coincidence.

And then, it happened again.

A thunderstorm cracked over the island. You slipped on the rain-slick stone and someone caught you…….him again.

The vision rushed in.

You, in his castle again, dinner together, candles lit, a glass of wine before you, untouched because you were busy……kissing him, like it was the end of the world.

You jerked back, breathless, trembling.

He didn’t let go.

"Tell me," he said.

Your voice shook. "You want something you think you’re not allowed to have."

"Because it’s dangerous," he whispered. "Because I always win. And I’m afraid I’d ruin you."

You looked up, and your heart cracked open like a wound.

"Then stop touching me," you said. "Or stop pretending you don’t care."

The summit ended with deals were made and for once no blood spilled. But he didn’t leave.

He found you at the edge of the cliffside the next night. Wind in your hair. Sand crunching beneath your boots.

"I don’t know how to love gently," he said.

You turned. "I don’t need gentle. I need real."

Mihawk reached for you, slowly this time, and you let him. His fingers brushed your cheek, and the vision didn’t hit you like a wave.

This time, it bloomed.

It showed a future. A choice he had made. Not a fantasy, not a secret longing, just him, choosing you.

And for once, you saw your own desire reflected back.

When the vision ended, he looked down at you and he kissed you, it wasn’t fire. It wasn’t war. It was something infinitely more dangerous.

Surrender – him giving in to his desire.

◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

Lucci:

Lucci sat across from you now at a round conference table. He was silent, unreadable, flanked by the pigeon that watched you just as closely as its master. You kept your gloves on. You’ve heard the stories about CP0’s attack dog. Stoic. Merciless. Efficient.

Everytime you crossed paths with him you were surprised all over with how beautiful he was.

Not soft, never that. But there was a deadly grace in his stillness, the way his eyes rested like the flat of a blade on your skin. It was a look that said he knew what you were. What you were hiding.

You were extra careful. Until the second day of negotiations.

It happened fast. A flash of chaos during the midday meeting, two idiots broke into an argument, and someone flipped the table. You were shoved sideways, stumbling, and reaching out blindly to steady yourself.

Your bare hand crashed into Lucci’s wrist.

Shit.

Your world snapped away and the vision flashed before your eyes, flooding your senses.

Red silk sheets and low candlelight. Lucci was leaning against the headboard, half undressed, but it was not the lust that stole your breath, it was the quiet. You were there, beside him. Sleeping against his chest like you belonged there, his arm around you, watching you, like he was afraid you’d vanish. A calloused hand brushed a strand of hair from your face with infinite care, and in that moment, Lucci, the monster, the cipher, the assassin, looked more vulnerable than anyone you’ve ever seen. He wanted peace. He wanted you. And he’d never allow himself either.

The vision collapsed.

You ripped your hand back like you’ve been burned. Lucci’s expression didn’t change. Not one fraction.

But he knew.

You saw it.

After that you avoided him for the rest of the day. You sat far away from him instead, engaging in dry trade debates you barely heared. But Lucci was never far. Every time you glanced up, he was there in the corner, always watching. Not speaking. Not moving.

You dreamt of the vision that night. Of his hand brushing your cheek. Of a silence that felt like safety only to wake up breathless.

The next morning, he cornered you.

Not roughly, he simply appeared in the hallway outside your suite, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. The hallway was empty and the air was sharp with frost.

"I won’t ask what you saw," he said, his voice low and even, making you tense.

"But I would like to know," he added, stepping forward, "why it disturbed you."

Your throat tightened. "You touched me," you said carefully. "I don’t like that."

"You touched me," he corrected. "The reaction wasn’t fear. It was pity."

That hit a nerve. "So now you read minds too?" You asked a little harshly.

"No," he said, "just yours."

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to insult him. But his tone wasn’t cruel it was…..curious. Cautious, even.

"It’s dangerous for people to know what others want," he grumbled tilting his head, making you clench your fists. "Especially when what they want is you."

The silence between you was suffocating. Your heart hammered behind your ribs like it was trying to escape. "It doesn’t matter," you whispered. "You’ll never act on it."

He took one slow step forward. "You’re right." He said bluntly.

His presence was overwhelming, an aura of silent dominance, raw and coiled. But there was a strange gentleness to it now. A restraint that rattled you more than any threat could.

"You didn’t see a fantasy," he murmured. "You saw a possibility. That’s what’s dangerous."

And with that, he left.

The summit ended with a treaty. You should have felt relieved but instead you felt hollow.

You caught Lucci watching you again as the final ships left the port. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, those dark, unblinking eyes, held something you now understood.

Need. Not obsession, not hunger. Just Need.

You found a note tucked into your room before you left.

"You saw me unarmed. No one else ever has. That should frighten you. But if it doesn’t, come find me. I’ll be waiting. —R.L."

You didn’t sleep that night, you just sat with the letter in your lap, fingers trembling above your gloves.

You’ve always feared touch. But now? You feared the idea of never being touched by him again and so you decided to go after him.

◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇

Zoro:

The room reeked of tension, gunpowder, old grudges, and barely veiled threats. It was supposed to be neutral ground, a temporary truce between pirate factions to discuss territory lines, enjoy the rum and food and make trades and deals. You didn’t trust any of it or them. Especially not the Straw Hats swordsman leaning against the wall like he owned the air around him.

Roronoa Zoro.

You had heard the stories, demon of the East Blue, three swords, no tolerance for weakness. You even saw him once in action and after that had maybe 2 or 3 run ins with him but that was it.

You expected cold glares and muscle-bound not his eyes to linger on you.

So when you handed him some documents for his Captain, Zoro’s hand briefly met yours and you froze as the vision set in slamming into you like cannon fire making your knees buckle under the force of it:

You - bloody, breathing hard, standing between Zoro and a faceless enemy. Your back to him, a sword in your hand, and defiance in your voice. “You’ll go through me first.” His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you away out of danger not because he didn’t trust you or because he thought you were weak but because he wanted to protect you to be your shield, to keep you from harm. And then it shifted…..you, in a quiet moment, tucked beside him. Sleeping. His hand buried in your hair, body curled protectively around you, eyes closed but still guarding. He didn’t just want your body. He wanted to protect you, he wanted your loyalty. Your fire. Your presence. He wanted you – all of you.

When you blinked, the vision snapped away. The noise around you from the other pirates was still there. No one noticed, no one paid attention. Except Zoro himself.

His gaze had sharpened and you pulled your hand back fast. Too fast, causing his brow to furrow.

That night you barely slept. The vision kept replaying in your head – how rare it had been. How genuine.

It made no sense. He barely knew you. Why would his desire involve you bleeding for him? Sleeping beside him? Protecting you like you were something sacred?

The next morning you kept catching him watching you after that. Silent. Focused. Not aggressive, but intense.

And you tried to avoid him…..but he didn’t let you.

"Why did you flinch?" he asked, his voice came out of the shadows while you were walking alone, heading back to the guest quarters. He stepped out from between two buildings like he’d been waiting.

"I didn’t," you lied.

He stared at you, then tilted his head. "You looked like you saw a ghost, when we touched."

"I don’t like being touched," you explained forcing a smile.

"Bullshit," he hissed.

"Why do you care?" you asked inhaling sharply.

Zoro’s mouth opened, but he paused because he didn’t have a snarky answer.

"I don’t know," he said, finally. "But I’ve been thinking about it too damn much."

You saw the storm in his eyes and you knew you shouldn’t but he was just as confused and torn as you were and so you told him your secret.

"The Devil Fruit I ate… shows me what people want. If they touch me." You curled your fingers into your gloves. "I don’t mean surface-level stuff. I mean their deepest desire."

"So… you saw mine?" he asked not blinking.

You nodded once.

He looked away. "What was it?"

"I’m not telling you."

"That bad?"

"No. That personal."

"Then I must’ve looked pathetic." He murmured jaw clenching.

You stepped forward, a little closer to him. "No. That’s the problem. You didn’t."

He looked at you then, really looked. "Then what’s the problem?"

You swallowed hard looking at him before answering. "It made me want it too."

Silence.

"What did you see?" he asked again now more persistent.

Your heart hammered. You reached up, tugged one glove off slowly, deliberately.

“Touch me again and find out.”

He stared but then stepped forward.

His hand lifted and for once, it wasn’t a brush, it was a grasp, fingers curling over yours like he needed to hold something steady. Maybe himself.

And you shared the vision with him:

You. His. In every way that mattered. Fighting back to back. Him protecting you. Sleeping side by side. Arguing and laughing and bleeding and living. The sword at your hip matched his. The way he held you wasn’t lust, it was fierce belonging. You weren’t his weakness. You were his anchor.

He dropped your hand like it burned him and backed away a step, breathing hard.

But this time it was you who took a step closer to him. "I saw you," you whispered. "And I didn’t want to run. I wanted to be in that vision."

He blinked once. Then twice.

And suddenly almost out of nowhere he kissed you.

It wasn’t elegant or practiced. It was the kind of kiss you gave when you didn’t have words, when you had seen something terrifying and beautiful and wanted to make it real.

After that you went with him, to stay close, to make the vision, the desire a reality. You never told the others what your fruit did though. You didn’t need to. Zoro never left your side. He didn’t say much but he didn’t need to.

And he always made sure to touch you, your bare skin because he wanted you to see it, see what he wanted, see what he desired, see how much he wanted you.

◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

Law

Why the hell were you in a room with infamous pirates, locked in a tense alliance negotiation, and thought it was a good idea to be bare-handed?

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you sat at the circular table. Law was directly across from you, arms folded, sharp eyes watching everything. You had met him once before during a cargo handoff and you were sure he didn't remember that. But you did.

Your fingers brushed a silver coin on the table.

"Keep your hands still," Law said without looking at you.

You froze, embarrassed. His voice was quiet but stern, laced with a kind of quiet authority that made the others look over.

You retracted your hand and folded it in your lap.

"Don’t be so harsh," one of the other pirates muttered at Law with a grin. "The little one flinched like you growled."

Law didn’t respond. But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary.

Hours passed. The summit devolved into shouting, threats, and chest-puffing. You remained silent, observing. Calm. Neutral.

Until someone, an impatient mercenary with more ego than brains, tripped behind your chair.

You reached to steady yourself. Your hand flew out and….Law grabbed your wrist.

The world split open and your vision blurred and suddenly you saw his desire.

A cold room. Snow against steel walls. You, panting, drenched, eyes furious. He reached for you, desperate. A plea in his voice. "Don’t walk away. Stay. Just stay this time." You stood your ground, shaking your head, tears in your eyes. "You don’t need me, Law." His hand cupped your jaw. Gentle. Trembling. "I do. I just don’t know how to say it without destroying you."

The vision snapped shut like a trapdoor and you gasped, ripping your arm away, your knees nearly giving out.

Law’s brows furrowed. "What did you see?" He urged to know.

Shit. He knew.

You didn’t say anything just got up and walked out of the room.

You found him later that night on the edge of the island cliff, the ocean churning below like a storm waiting for permission.

"You didn’t answer my question," he said without turning.

You stayed back. "I didn’t think you’d actually know what my power does."

"I make it a point to know what everyone in the room is capable of," he said. "But I didn’t think you’d use it. Thought you were smarter than that."

"I didn’t mean to."

His head tilted slightly, dark hair blowing in the wind. "Then tell me. What did you see?"

You hesitated for a moment eyes shifting towards the ground. "You… asking me to stay."

He went quiet. So did the wind. And the waves in the ocean beneath it seemed.

"And what did you say?" he asked softly.

"I said you didn’t need me."

His laugh was low, bitter. "Typical. Even in my dreams, I drive people away,"

"No," you said quickly. "That wasn’t….It wasn’t like that. You… You were scared of hurting me. That’s not selfish. That’s human."

Law turned towards you, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable.

"I didn’t want you to see that," he said.

"I didn’t want to see it either," you replied, truth cutting between you. "Because now I can’t stop thinking about it."

He began avoiding you after that, making sure to keep his distance. His eyes were colder, calculations behind every word. But it wasn’t hatred, it was fear. You knew too much now. You had seen a version of him he barely admitted to himself.

And you couldn’t forget it.

You saw it in the way he stared at your hands, never touching you again.

In the way he tensed every time you stood near. He hadn’t spoken of the vision since, but you felt it constantly, the weight of possibility, just out of reach.

Until you broke first.

You cornered him one evening, at the medical bay. Just the two of you, surrounded by clean linens and the quiet hum of solitude.

"I can’t keep pretending I didn’t see it," you said. "Didn’t see what you want."

Law leaned against the counter, silent.

"You want someone who stays," you continued, stepping closer. "You want to let someone in. But you don’t know how. And you’re terrified that if you try, you’ll break them. That I’ll break."

His jaw clenched but you kept going. "I’m not afraid of you, Law. I’m afraid of how much I want to reach for you."

His head lifted, eyes sharp. "Don’t," he said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because I’m already thinking about what I’d do to keep you."

The confession cracked the silence like thunder. He stepped closer, finally, hand raised, not touching, just hovering near your face.

"I’ve spent years pushing people away because it was easier. Cleaner. You saw what I wanted… and now I can’t stop imagining it."

"Then take it," you whispered. "Just don’t lie to yourself anymore."

And for the first time, he touched you willingly.

No vision came.

Because you didn’t need to see his desire anymore.

You already felt it.

[kamospeach]

plot: yuji spends the day with unckuna and his favorite girl

content warning: lil smut to start off, mating press, more smut at the end, doggy, breeding, cum eating, choking

peachy's yap: wc 2k .ᐟ i love anything revolving around sukuna being a uncle to yuji. might do one where yuji is older ! kinda short because it's basically a crack fic.

mornings were the best time for sukuna to get a nut off. you laid next to him naked doing nothing in particular. but it was just enough for his dick to get rock hard and leak precum. he would nudge your shoulder and whisper in your ear.

"you up?" he asked pulling your eyelid up and looking at you and you sighed.

"i am now ryo..." you said with an annoyed tone and he smirked pulling the covers up.

"look how hard i am baby... can i just slip it in. i promise to be gentle," he asked and you were a sucker for sukuna asking politely. even if you did know it was a lie and 10 minutes later he'd be pounding into you. your knees on the sides of your head as his thick cock pounded into you.

"ryo y...you said you'd be gentle," you whined and sukuna hummed in your ear. you attempted to slow his thrust by pushing his thigh. but you stopped nothing as sukuna was relentlessly bullying your poor pussy.

"i can't help it ma, you look so good when you wake up," he grunted close to finishing. his dirty words pushed you closer and closer to your climax. "shit i feel you, i feel you cum on my dick." he moaned feeling your walls clench around him letting him know you were close. he made one last exaggerated thrust and you whined as you came.

"nghh ryooo~," you yelped as sukuna's phone rang. he stilled inside you as you looked at the clock and he checked his phone. it was 8 am... you both looked back at each other realization hitting you both. you agreed to babysit yuji today.

next thing you knew the doorbell rang back to back either jin being childish or yuji eager to see his uncle kuna. sukuna quickly pulled out of you, although frustrated he had to keep his promise. even if he did want a nut he loved yuji way more than his pleasure. you came so that means both people he loved would be satisfied.

you stood up slipped on a bra and panties grabbing appropriate clothing. after you slipped on sukuna's sweatshirt you ran downstairs. you wanted to say hi to jin as well so you put a little pep in your step. the two brothers sat on the couch as yuji sat on the floor wheeling his car. hearing your footsteps yuji was the first to notice your presence.

"teetee!" he yelled running to you and you picked him up playfully kissing all over his face.

"hello my baby." you smiled walking over to sukuna and his brother. sukuna gave you a nasty side eye as you played with yuji. the three of you engaged in conversation until it was time for jin to leave.

"uncle kuna, what are we doing today?" yuji asked sitting on your lap.

"for one you can get off my girlfriend," he said and yuji tilted his head to the side not exactly sure who he was talking about.

"whoo?" he said turning his head to look up at you "my teetee is your girlfriend?" he asked genuinely confused it looked like his poor head was spinning.

"you didn't know that yuji?" you asked and she shook his head. "well... anyways i was thinking we could go to the amusement park."

"yes! i want to ride the alligator ride!" yuji screamed jumping off your lap and running to grab his backpack. "i kept telling daddy but he kept telling me to wait."

"cause your uncle kuna wanted to take you." you laugh looking at sukuna whose face turned pink as he looked away.

"don't tell the brat that he'll be asking to go again," he complained knowing if yuji asked to go anywhere sukuna would take him. that's just the type of person sukuna was, he loved but not outwardly. he definitely thought he was slick.

"uncle kuna can i have a churro," he asked struggling to put on his human earthworm backpack and you helped him. (y'all weren't leaving for another hour and a half)

and just like he asked yuji ran through the park with a churro. his leash only letting him go so far as sukuna held it tightly. you looked at the two laughing at the way he gripped the handle.

"you did not need to get a leash." you shook your head and sukuna side eyed you. turning his chin up at you like a snooty mother.

"don't you see the way he's running off? you think i didn't need a leash?" he scoffed as yuji ran trying to pull sukuna behind him. "plus it's an alligator leash." he smiled at you, his canines showing which made you feel some type of way. you had to shake your head to rid your brain of the nasty thoughts.

"whatever." you waved him off as you both pulled up to the alligator ride yuji was so desperate to ride.

"i'm not riding this shit... it's childish." sukuna scoffed and you frowned not liking his attitude.

"it's not childish." you defended and sukuna didn't agree with you not one bit. "oh i get it now... you don't want to ride it because you're scared." you said in fake realization and sukuna looked at you in bewilderment.

"me? scared of a kid's ride? never. matter of fact i'll prove it." he said as you made it to the front and you all got in sitting with each other. sukuna had his arms crossed the entire time as the workers locked the seats.

"you're leaving in 3...2...1! have a good ride!" the attendant yelled as the alligator-shaped ride zoomed off. the ride went up an incline to which sukuna rolled his eyes and called it puny. arms still crossed as the ride hit the drop. you and yuji screamed as the thrill rushed through you.

unexpectedly the ride hit a sharp turn and sukuna grabbed the handlebars. out of nowhere, the ride went completely sideways and sukuna yelled.

"what the fuckkk!" he yelled as the ride stayed sideways for a while. the ride continued speeding off and sukuna yelled again. "what kind of kid's ride does this!"

"sukuna shut up!" you said as the ride finished and you stopped in the station. he was embarrassing you with his loud screaming.

"no this is a fucking death trap!" he yelled as the seats unlocked and grabbed yuji. he was acting like a mom who complained about everything. "we're never coming back here!" he yelled carrying yuji over his shoulder. yuji lifted his head and waved at the workers at the ride.

"bye!" he smiled happily not understanding what his uncle did.

"sukuna you cussed around all those kids," you whispered and sukuna snorted.

"you think i care when they almost killed my nephew," he said still holding yuji over his shoulder and storming off from the ride. yuji just rode on sukuna loving that he was upside down. while sukuna yelled about suing the park yuji had his arms out feet kicking as he pretended to be a superhero.

you were embarrassed that sukuna was making a scene because the ride scared him. yuji had fun and that's all that mattered but he swore up and down they tried to 'kill his nephew'. after some convincing sukuna finally shut up, and the three of you sat at a table eating. yuji licking at an ice cream cone while sukuna ate his chicken strips.

"they're not the best they're just alright," he grumbled his actions telling a different story as he quickly took down the chicken.

"iths okay uncle kuna because my ice cream is yummy!" yuji smiled with ice cream all around his mouth. you grabbed a napkin wiping his face as sukuna sent a deadpanned look to yuji.

"thanks, yuj' that makes me feel so much better knowing your food is good and mine isn't," he said sarcasm evident in his voice. but of course, yuji didn't notice.

"you're welcome uncle!" he giggled going back to attacking his ice cream. sukuna looked at you as you laughed with your hand covering your mouth.

"how's your food?" he asked you and you nodded enjoying your meal.

"i like mine." you smiled and he nodded staring at you.

"that's good," he mumbled resting his cheek on his palm. his eyes looked around the park now and then but they mainly stayed on you and yuji.

you guys stayed at the park for another 3 hours. sukuna finally found the fun in the rollercoasters and you all had a good time. you carried yuji out of the park and he was knocked out on your shoulder.

"he's not too heavy, is he? i could always carry him," he asked and you shook your head with a smile.

"no, he's not that heavy, did you have fun?" you asked laughing knowing the first part of your trip was iffy. surprisingly sukuna nodded his head smiling and looking at you.

"yeah, it was my first time at an amusement park." he laughed and you gasped looking at him.

"that's why you were so scared! you've never been on a roller coaster before." you pointed at him and he scoffed.

"i wasn't scared." he waved you off opening the door for you to put yuji in his car seat. you buckled him in as sukuna walked around you to open your door.

"you definitely were scared but it's okay," you said getting in the car and sukuna closed the door. when he got in the car he gave you a look that you supposed meant he disagreed with your statement. "it's okay really... you're still my big strong boyfriend."

"hell yeah i am." he scoffed nodding his head with now newfound confidence. he smiled to himself as he drove to jin's house to drop off yuji.

sukuna wouldn't tell you but spending time with you and yuji healed his inner child. whenever you all had a good time it made him feel like he was back in his childhood or his lack of one. and that's why whenever he got the chance to spend time with yuji he would.

and you? when you both got home he needed to finish where he left off of course. this time he had your face pressed into the mattress and both hands wrapped around your neck.

he was thrusting with no mercy, he was playing catch up trying to get his nut from this morning that he missed. you had already came 3 times in the last 30 minutes and sukuna had only came once.

"shit baby." he groaned as you gained the stamina to throw your ass back on him. "yeahhh like that," he said stalling his thrust and letting you do your thing.

"can't..." you mumbled into the bed and sukuna laughed.

"yes you can ma you got it." he encouraged you lightly smacking your ass cheek and you fastened your pace making sukuna smile. "that's it..." he laughed at your hips stuttering before he began to thrust into you again. your body fell limp but sukuna helped you keep your arch.

"m'cumming again ryo..." you moaned into the mattress and he never once acknowledged your words. just continuing to pound into like it was the only thing he knew. before you knew it you were cumming around sukuna's cock walls clenching while his thrust stilled. he came in you filling your hole up with his cum.

"fuck..." he panted his chest falling up and down. he let go of your neck holding himself up while his dick was still inside of you. after you caught your breath he pulled out of you. you felt his fingers slid along your folds making your body jerk from being overstimulated. "turn around."

"mmm," you whined flipping over you saw sukuna's cum on his fingers. immediately knowing what he wanted to do you opened your mouth. his fingers went into your mouth and you licked them clean.

"good girl." he smiled at you patting your cheek. as the two of you took your shower he thought about how satisfied he was with his day. he got to fuck you this morning and he got to spend time with yuji. then he got to fuck you again and spend another night with you.

[hot-patootiee]

Steve is one of those men that reads smutty romantic fantasy books. It goes something like this.

Eddie: A human prince comes across your party. He appears from the woods as if he has been waiting for you.

Dustin: Roll for perception.

Dustin: 13

Eddie: You look at him and take notice of his sharp, delicate features. He’s slender and despite the heavy gear he carries, his back fails to bend under the weight. You feel immediately at ease around his charming smile and graceful movements.

Mike: That’s seems suspicious.

Lucas: Maybe he’s a changling?

Steve from off to the side: He’s an Elf.

The entire party turns towards him, taken aback by his observation.

Dustin: Oh that could totally be it!

Eddie: How did you know that?

Steve’s face rapidly reddened.

Steve:…Books?

Dustin: You’ve never read a DnD manual.

Steve: Not that kind of book..

The party all stares as him a little confused and Eddie breaks into violent laughter.

Eddie: Those kinds of books?! Really?

Steve simply glares at him while the rest of the party stares on in confusion.

Eddie: You into role play, your highness? If you’d like I can assist you later.

Steve grumbles before getting up and leaving. Eddie later finds him reading a very explicit fantasy book.

(Disclaimer: I don’t know shit about DnD except what I searched up for this. Sorry if it isn’t correct.)