#just talking about whether or not it fit the show

[coco-loco-nut]

High Flyer - Part Two

pairing: charles x reader

summary: no spoilers 🤭

masterlist part one requests open

—————————

You stayed a week extra in Abu Dhabi, not needing to return to Maranello quite yet. You could say that the allure of Ferrari World was too much, and Carlos talked it up to you. It was perfectly silly and probably the best second date you ever had.

The photos of you and Charles post-race were popular among fans, trying to figure out who he is. Then the video dropped, and you found yourself trending in the community once more.

“They are just as fascinated with you as I am,” Charles has said over a video call when talking about it shortly after becoming official.

It takes a lot for you to make the relationship work, strictly timed video calls, staying positive during the periods of time when you don’t get to talk to him, even sending letters back and forth. Somehow it works for you, and you cherish the moments when you get to talk face to face.

The glittering Monaco harbor is behind you as you put your earring in, preparing for the prize giving ceremony. Thankfully it’s not far from your apartment, and you only have to be there for your second place award. You hear a knock on your door and grab your phone, just in case it’s a crazy fan who snuck past the door guards.

“Charles?” you gasp, looking at the man in a suit in front of you, a small suitcase in tow.

“Bonsoir, ma cherie. I heard you are in need of a date tonight?” he smiles as you practically throw yourself on him. Charles holds you tight, savoring the moment.

“How are you here?” you ask in disbelief, the shock distracting you from how good he looks in his dress uniform.

“I got a couple days off. Max helped coordinate the surprise,” Charles reveals, your neighbor and friend pulling through for you.

“I’m so glad you are here,” you catch him off guard by pressing a kiss to his lips, melting into his arms.

“I’m glad I am here too, you look beautiful, and I’ve missed you so much,” he says softly, taking in your Ferrari red dress that fits you perfectly.

“I missed you too, this is much nicer than a video call,” you sigh, not wanting to step out of his embrace, fearing that if you do he will disappear. You know that his assignment is almost up, but you learned that ‘almost up’ means a year.

“I know, but I wouldn’t miss this for anything. I get to celebrate my incredibly talented girlfriend,” he pulls back slightly, aware of the time and that you need to leave soon.

“What if we just don’t go and stay in?” you suggest. Any desire to go flew out the window when you opened your front door.

“No, we will go, you will give your speech, and then as soon as it’s over we can leave. You have me for a couple more days,” Charles kisses you once more, not really helping the whole wanting to stay thing.

You rarely lose physical contact with him on the way over to the ceremony, whether it’s holding his hand, his hand on your waist or leg, or you holding his arm.

“Don’t you two look happy,” Max smiles, proud of himself for the surprise. You and Charles make for a much better looking pair than the fan ship of you and Max. Not to mention, Max is like your brother.

“Thank you,” you whisper as you quickly hug Max. Charles shakes Max’s hand after.

“You may have chosen the most boring event to make your first appearance as a couple at,” Max chuckles, leading the two of you to the bar.

“Well, they wouldn’t let me skip it,” you grumble.

“What are you grumbling about?” Carlos approaches your small group.

“That she couldn’t skip this,” Max says before you can reply. Charles squeezes your hand as you roll your eyes at Max. You take a glass of wine, needing something other than champagne.

“And miss a chance to show off her new boyfriend? I doubt it. Aren’t you glad that the PR team chose me to go to Ferrari World instead of you?” Carlos smiles, knowing that he’s right.

“No,” you lie, “I had to pay to go myself after the race. Charles was the only good part about the media duties,” you slightly lean into your boyfriend.

“Sure. We can both go to the amusement park next year and I’ll pay,” Carlos chuckles, grabbing his drink from the bar.

“Let’s find our seats?” Charles suggests, kissing the side of your head. You quickly find your table, Fred already there to represent the team in the Constructors Championship.

“My sometimes favorite drivers,” Fred jovially greets you and Carlos as if he didn’t see you in Maranello a week ago for a sim session.

The ceremony drags on, you take every opportunity to converse with Charles and your table, but you are subject to hours of awards and speeches. When the night is finally over, you turn down every afterparty invitation thrown your way.

“I am not going to place in the top three next year,” you groan as you slide your heels off. Charles is immediately drawn to the piano that sits in your living room.

“Do you play?” he asks, looking natural behind the keys.

“Not well or often enough, the former renter left it here. I keep it maintained though,” you hum, sitting beside him gently. Charles runs his fingers across the ivory keys, trying to recall a song.

“Well then, let me to the honors,” he smiles, fingers pressing down, easily gliding up and down the keyboard.

“That was incredible, you are incredible,” you say softly afterwards, you’ve never been serenaded before and it’s a turn on.

Charles leans in, capturing you in a kiss. His large, calloused hand rough against your cheek. When you pull away, you lead him to your bedroom, craving all the contact that you missed since you last saw him physically.

The air is charged as he unzips your dress, fingers brushing your bare skin sensually, making you arc into him. Charles brushes your hair off your shoulder and neck, pressing featherlight kisses to the area. Your breaths are shallow, breathless from everything.

“Charles,” you whisper, his name like a prayer on your lips, asking for anything and everything.

“Let me take care of you, ma reine,” he replies, nudging you back towards the bed as your red dress slides off your body. You hands slide up his chest, pausing to push off his suit jacket before they rest on his neck and in his hair.

After a long night, you spend the morning rotting in bed. Charles holds you close as you talk about anything and everything. You take him out on your yacht later in the day, a nice change of scenery.

“I don’t want you to leave tomorrow,” you admit as the sea breeze pushes your hair around.

“I don’t want to either, but I’ve been reassigned to southern France. I’ll get to see you more often,” Charles reminds you. You nod, fighting any tears back at the thought of separating again.

“I know, I just love you,” you bittersweetly smile, a pang in your heart as he pulls you close.

“And I love you,” he says softly, savoring the feeling of your embrace.

You see him a few more times before pre-season testing, visiting him off base and vice versa. The visits were short but worth every moment. Charles calls you when you are leaving dinner after the first day of testing.

“Mon amour, how was testing?” he asks, sweaty from a flight.

“My body is sore, but it was good. I just had dinner with my kids,” you smile, a small pack of drivers behind you.

“Oh, Oscar and Logan are there? Tell yhem hello for me,” Charles smiles.

“Hi Dad, Logan isn’t here,” Oscar smiles, popping into the frame and stealing your phone. You carried the loss of your son deeply, but you don’t blame Charles for forgetting that Logan wasn’t on the grid anymore since you said you were with multiple grid kids.

“You haven’t told him?” Ollie asks, large brown eyes looking sad at his exclusion.

“I just adopted you, kiddo. It’s hard to break the news that he’s now a father to twins and a grandfather,” you laugh, pulling Ollie into a hug. It didn’t take you long to adopt more grid kids, in fact as soon as you got to the paddock Ollie and Kimi came up to you calling you mom. It’s like the cat distribution system. Oscar adopted the new Australian on the grid, citing the Alpine connection, meaning you are a grid grandma. Oscar comes back to you and hands your phone to you.

“We are grandparents?” Charles asks, a little bewildered.

“Yes, funnily enough our grandchild was born at the same time as our twins,”

“Twins?”

“Hi Dad!” Ollie and Kimi say at the same time when you turn the phone to them.

“Hello?” Charles is confused but he does love how you take in the rookies and make them feel at home.

“Sorry, Charles, why don’t I call you when I get back to my hotel?” you smile apologetically, wanting to have time for both of you.

“Of course, call me when you get back,” Charles agrees, no trace of disappointment in his voice. He doesn’t have much to share about his day, especially since he doesn’t have a scheduled flight for a while. Charles watches as the call ends, thankful that he didn’t spoil his surprise.

Testing passes and suddenly it’s the first race of the season. You walk into the paddock, your brood with you. You, Ollie, and Kimi are deep in conversation, confusing Oscar and Jack a bit as you speak in Italian. You’ve already had movie nights that ended with them strewn across your hotel room, and you just know that they will be in and out of your room this season. F1TV already caught Ollie leaning against you taking a nap as you hugged him last season, and they captured Kimi doing something similar during testing.

“Papà,” Kimi says suddenly and you furrow your brows. Jack taps your shoulder and points ahead. Your smile grows as you notice Charles standing ahead, waiting for you. You take off, practically jumping into his arms.

“You’re here,” you grin, barely waiting to kiss him.

“I had to fulfill my WAG duties and meet our children,” he smiles, not letting you out of the hug yet. He utilized his brother Arthur, your reserve driver, to get a pass. Your face was priceless when you first connected the two, it was quite funny how long it took. Apparently sharing a last name and resemblance wasn’t enough until he mentioned it on the phone shortly after Abu Dhabi.

“Get a room,” Oscar makes a face that causes both of you to laugh.

“Oh we will,” you lean into your boyfriend, content to never leave.

“Ewww,” Ollie gags, disgusted at the idea. You and Charles laugh, like proud parents embarrassing your kids.

“That’s Ollie, this is Kimi, our grandson Jack, and you know Oscar,” you point to each boy.

“Nice to meet you all officially,” Charles smiles as he keeps an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Alright kiddos, time for you all to get to your teams. Drive safely,” you part ways with them, itching to get to Ferrari for some private time. Charles insists on getting a coffee before going to your drivers room, and the two of you barely get a second alone before there is a knock on your door. You pull away from Charles, irritation laced in your voice. “I just got here, go away,” you call out before pulling your boyfriend back in.

“I know you are hiding my brother from me,” Arthur’s voice responds causing you to pull away, a slight pout on your lips. Charles quietly laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before he gets up to open the door. Arthur struts in, sitting between you and Charles. You did have the chance to spend time with the Leclercs in their home.

“You know, brother, if you wanted to get with Y/n earlier, you should’ve just asked me. You are lucky I suggested that the media team send her instead of Carlos,” Arthur says and you gasp.

“YOU ARE THE REASON HE GOT FERRARI WORLD INSTEAD?” you practically yell, causing Charles to stifle a laugh. You aren’t mad, well you are but in more of a joking way, sorta.

“She really did not like flying,” Charles clarifies, stretching an arm behind Arthur to play with your hair, a comforting touch.

“At least you met eachother?” Arthur suggests sheepishly.

“He was going to be at the race anyway,” you narrow your eyes.

“You trauma bonded?” Arthur suggests again and your eyes light up.

“Have you ever seen the video of Charles during his hot laps?” you ask, wickedly smiling. Charles looks at you, a mix of panic and curiosity in his eyes.

“No, show me!”

“Nope. That blackmail belongs to me, since you so kindly took away my fun,” you shake your head, locking your phone. Charles lets out a breath of relief, he trusts you completely, but he was worried for a second.

“You’re no fun. You never even adopted me into your grid family,” Arthur pouts as you and Charles lock eyes, shared amusement between you.

“Arthur, why would she adopt you? You are my brother,”

“I don’t know, because she’s the most sought after grid parent. Plus, it’s not like you two are engaged,” Arthur says and you flush with embarrassment and flattery.

“Arthur, you are basically my brother, you don’t need to be my grid kid. You are on the same level as Charles and Carlos,” you are starting to feel like a parent describing something to a young kid.

“I guess that is better. You better mention that when making a family tree video,” Arthur concedes.

“Why don’t we go out for dinner after the second practice session?” Charles suggests, hoping to kill some of the awkwardness.

“I think that’s a great idea. Speaking of, I should start getting ready,” you catch Charles’ unspoken message, hoping to get Arthur out of your room.

“Right, I should do my job too,” Arthur stands up, half expecting Charles to follow, but isn’t surprised when he stays. They can catch up while you drive.

“Finally a moment alone,” Charles grins moving closer to you.

“I wasn’t lying, I do need to get ready,” you say between kisses.

“You need to undress first, and I can help with that,” Charles murmurs against your lips as his hands slide underneath your shirt.

“We are working on limited time,” you point out, brain fogging.

“We go fast for a living, we can do it,” you were a few minutes late for your prep meeting. Arthur gave you a weird look, one that told you he knew what you were up to.

Both Charles and Arthur were glad to have the weekend together, spending time as a family while you raced. Before you knew it, Charles was kissing you goodbye at the airport as you both went to your next stops. His France and yours Saudi Arabia.

What you didn’t expect was Arthur banging on your driver room door as you are prepping.

“I’m in, I’m driving,” Arthur seems to be freaking out a little bit as you let him in, dressed in a Ferrari suit.

“Carlos is out?”

“He’s in the hospital getting surgery. I’m driving a Formula One car,” you process it beside him, remaining much more calm than Arthur.

“Did you call your mom?” you ask, knowing the answer is likely no since he would’ve been in team meetings since he found out. Arthur shakes his head no, so you squeeze his shoulder and grab your phone.

“Y/n, what a surprise. Is everything okay?” Pascale’s voice rings out over the phone.

“I’m sending a jet to you right now, and I’ll send the flight details in a bit. Arthur will drive his first F1 race and you should be here,” you tell her over speaker phone, working everything out starting with the flights.

“Is Arthur with you?” she asks as Arthur peers over your shoulder.

“Hello Maman,” you tune out their conversation as you send her the jet details and start working on hotel rooms for her, Lorenzo, and Charlotte as well as paddock passes. You only really get out of your planning zone when Arthur grabs your phone to hang up and hug you.

“You okay?” you finally ask, knowing he is probably emotionally drained already.

“I can’t wait for you to officially be my sister, and I can’t wait to drive alongside you this weekend,” Arthur says, you gently rub his back to ground him.

“You will do a great job. Let’s get through free practice three and then we can talk about some tricks to make it work for you,” you stand up, grabbing your gear to head to the garage.

You try to help him out as the team gets him adjusted and tested for approval, but you have your own driving to worry about too. It’s very clear to the team that you are looking out for Arthur and want to help him learn the ropes. But when it’s time to get into the car, he is own his own. You do well in your program running, but check in on Arthur periodically via your engineer.

Arthur qualifies well for a rookie, and you start the race second row at P3. He is the first person to greet you in Ferrari after you return from the media gauntlet.

“Congrats on P3,” Arthur smiles, showered and ready to go back to the hotel.

“Thanks! You did pretty well for your first time. Give me like 20 minutes to shower, yeah?” you ask, ready to get some sleep.

“Thanks again for helping me get through today, I see why everyone wants you as their grid mom,” Arthur says, not protesting when you hug him.

“Of course, I want you to succeed,” you reply, excited to see his reaction when his family is waiting at the hotel for him. The team covered their hotel rooms since you booked flights before they could.

“I can’t wait for you to be my actual sister one day,” Arthur yawns, your face Ferrari red at the thought. Of course you thought about it, but having him say it is different, it’s more real.

“Maybe one day,” you say, sliding into your chauffeured car. Arthur gets in beside you, and finds himself as your pillow. You accidentally fell asleep as the car left the circuit. Arthur takes a selfie and sends it to his family group chat as your soft snores fill the car. He scrolls on instagram, killing the rest of the time on the drive, when he sees an edit that the F1 account posted. It is the free practice three timesheet with your last name changed to Leclerc. He sends it to you, knowing you wouldn’t want to be awakened for it even if it is funny.

“Y/n,” Arthur pokes you as you arrive at the hotel.

“Hmm, sorry. You should’ve woke me up once I fell asleep, you don’t have to be my pillow,” you yawn, slightly stretching before getting out of the car.

“Maman,” Arthur hugs Pascale, who is patiently waiting at the entrance for him.

“I’m so proud of you,” she says before stopping you from slipping past. Not that you were going to avoid her, you just assumed she would want privacy with Arthur. “And you, thank you for today. You are a part of this family,” she wraps you in a hug, making sure you know how much your effort was appreciated.

“Of course, you couldn’t miss Arthur’s first race. I’ll let you guys catch up,” you smile, hugging her one last time.

“Can’t have you falling asleep again,” Arthur teases, your smile deceives your joking irritation.

“You won’t let me live that down, will you?” you say, shaking your head. “I will see you in the morning for breakfast,” you bid them goodnight, ready to collapse in the plush hotel bed.

It’s a sight to see, you walking into the paddock with the Leclerc’s (minus Charles) behind you. It’s clear to fans that you have been easily incorporated into the family. Charles watches from afar, having the day off from officer duties. He sends a couple texts, wishing you luck and a few memes from fans based on the post made by F1. You reply when you can, but it’s sporadic.

“Ready to lose?” Max asks you during the drivers parade.

“I should ask you the same. But if it means I don’t have to sit through prize giving again, then yes I am ready to lose,”

“It’s not that bad,”

“You won your third championship, you are used to it. Plus, you hate those events more than me, don’t lie,” you laugh.

“Alright, that is fair,” Max relents. He ends up winning, but you climbed a position and took P2. You won’t hear the Italian anthem this week, but you sing it in your head on the podium as you get your trophy. The teams energy is infectious, even for P2. Arthur meets you in the motorhome, holding a phone to your face.

“Congrats, mon amour,” Charles says, a proud smile on his face.

“I drove okay, Arthur drove well though! Points in his first race,” you smile, accepting hugs from Lorenzo and Charlotte. Pascale stole Arthur’s phone, taking Charles away from you.

“Any recommendations for dinner?” Lorenzo asks, ready to celebrate.

“A few. Will you two come out tonight to celebrate?” you ask, adjusting the suit that hangs at your waist.

“Someone has to stay with Pascale, but I know Arthur will party tonight,” Charlotte politely turns down the offer.

“I will, I heard Max always sets up good parties,” Arthur is excited to celebrate with the grid.

“Expensive parties, you are lucky I’m picking up the tab for you,” you laugh, Arthur’s phone being placed in your hand.

“You look tired, call me when you get to your room,” Charles smiles sympathetically.

“Will do, love you,” you smile back, handing the phone to Arthur as you make your way to your driver room. True to your word, you call him once you shower and change. It takes another twenty minutes on the phone for Arthur to bang down your door, reminding you that you have a family dinner to get to.

“Enjoy dinner, I love you,” Charles says before hanging up.

The season flys after that, especially when Ferrari begins to get very competitive again, putting more pressure on you and Carlos.

Charles got leave approved to go with you to the prize giving, both of you deciding to make a mini vacation out of it. The night before, you go to a small Parisian restaurant for an early dinner then a sunset walk along the Seine.

“What was your favorite part of the season?” Charles asks, wrapping an arm around you.

“Hmm, maybe winning Miami, or finally getting more consistent at the end of the season. The PR team would want me to say the trip in Abu Dahbi they arraigned for Carlos and I since I publicly complained that only he went to the Ferrari World last year,” you ponder the question, not having thought about it. You and Carlos had a blast, and it made both of you think of taking trips to amusement parks during winter break. “What was yours?”

“That graphic of you with my last name,” Charles reveals with a smile, he still makes you blush like a schoolgirl.

“That was a good choice,” you see something on the other side of the river and take a step away to get a close look.

You turn towards him to point it out and that’s when you find him on one knee.

“I’ve been waiting since the start of the season to ask you this. I knew during testing that you were the one and that I would marry you, then when everything in Saudi Arabia happened, it confirmed it more. You are my everything, and my forever. Will you marry me?” Charles asks, watching you tearfully nod.

“Yes,” you nod, watching him slide on the ring. Charles is beaming as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“Forever,” you whisper your promise against his lips.

“What if we get married tonight?” Charles asks, the thought springing into his mind.

“Tonight? Why not,” you grin, a rush of adrenaline going through you.

“We will have to wait for the paperwork, but I’m sure we can find a priest,” Charles kisses you, as he mentally plans it.

“Let’s find the nearest church, maybe the priest is a Ferrari fan,” you wink. The priest was, and was more than happy to marry you despite no wedding certificate. Your families were ecstatic, especially when you both promised to have a formal wedding during summer break.

instagram

y/n_leclerc husband appreciation post 🥰❤️

comments are limited

carlossainz55 when did this happen???? we are discussing this tomorrow at prize giving (congrats i guess?)

y/n_leclerc we will tell you everything then!

charlesleclerc Je t'aimerais pour l'éternité ❤️

y/n_leclerc pour l’éternité❤️

arthurleclerc getting engaged and married on the same day is so you coded, proud to be your brother

charlesleclerc we will celebrate when we get home

y/n_leclerc proud to have you as my unofficial official brother 🫶

scuderiaferrari congrats! (admin is sad that we weren’t invited)

maxverstappen1 👍

y/n_leclerc 👍

oscarpiastri no invite 😭 congrats mom and dad

jackdoohan ^ getting eloped 🙅‍♂️ cool

olliebearman ^ he finally did it though!

kimiantonielli ^ i guess sometimes your soulmate isn’t a car

y/n_leclerc you all are grounded

logansargeant congrats! come visit soon!

y/n_leclerc we will try! you are welcome here anytime too 🫶

f1 we so manifested this in Saudi Arabia 👀

[akirathedramaqueen]

CBT and Exposure Therapy: Blitzø Showcase

An important (really, don't skip) disclaimer

If you are contemplating whether or not you would benefit from any kind of therapy, consider consulting with your medical provider first. While I did my best to validate all the points made using publicly available resources, I am not a medical professional. At the very least, I strongly advise that you do your own research and not take some amateur's opinion about a character from a silly demon show for granted.

"Everyone in this show needs fucking therapy STAT!"

We hear fans screaming into the void every now and then. Me too. I plead guilty and I willingly put myself in custody. But I am not taking these words back.

Especially often it is being said with Blitzø in mind, who, as hinted earlier and clearly shown in the latest episode, Ghostfuckers, is not doing okay. Not in the slightest.

Which is . . . yes. Indeed, trauma-ridden Blitzø is a major problem for both him and those around him. Yes, we see him reaching his lowest point now exactly because he left these gaping wounds untreated for so long.

But the tricky question is—how, though? What to do? Will a good talking to a confidante help? Or, maybe, some kind of shock would snap him out of the spiral?

I've been pondering on this topic for more than 4 months, and, as the Ghostfuckers came out, I finally got all the data I need to prove a point. The show did all the job for me and effectively made Blitzø go through improvised versions of two popular therapy techniques. And, before I even start, I want to say—I am so glad with what we ended up with. What they did, and, more importantly, didn't do, aligns well with how it would likely happen in real life.

So buckle up, and let's see where it gets us!

Therapy # 1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, or CBT

This is, in essence and with some corrections, your good old talking. Here you can find more information about it, so, if you're not familiar with the topic, I recommend following the link first.

But, very shortly: CBT is an extremely common approach to be tried while you're dealing with anxiety, depression, and a number of other mental disorders. What it aims to do is to help you get past unhelpful thinking (distortions) and learn not to act on it.

Looks like it fits the bill, right? Blitzø has a lot of issues with self-fulfilling prophecies, infuriatingly stupid assumptions, poorly thought-out actions . . .

But he's not like, you know . . . w-we're not, like . . . we're not doing a . . . w-we . . . what's betw— It's a transactional fucking, you see.

If you don't feel like coming, that's OK! I'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his matress! It's nothing, ya know . . . it's nothing else.

You . . . no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me . . . You are— you are free of me.

He sees things which aren't truly there.

It's not Stolas giving him space after the disaster in the 'Ozzie's.' It must be Stolas not needing him anymore, getting tired of him.

It's not Stolas caring about Blitzø. He is a royal, why would he care how an imp's day he happened to be fucking was?

It's not Stolas setting Blitzø free and putting an end to a problematic transaction they had with the hope for it to grow into something more. It's him getting rid of Blitzø.

As a result, he ends up hurting himself and the relationship he had with that one sad gay bird he happened to fall deeply for but literally trashed in his own house twice, acting on nothing more than frenetic fear of losing Stolas, but in reality, driving him away even more . . . for good.

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You get off getting plowed by people you look down on!

And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick! Everyone, but you . . .

So, the case's closed? Let someone—say, Millie—talk to him and tell him how wrong he was about himself and the others?

Well, here's the thing. Despite him being infinitely wrong about Stolas's intentions, we can't deny the fact that every one of his beliefs was not, in fact, a distortion. It'd led him to wrong conclusions, yes, but it was built on the information he received and legitimate experiences he had in his life. Here are only some of the facts connected to only this situation with Stolas, but there are other problematic behaviors and other reasons for him acting the way he does.

Fact # 1. The circus fire did happen, and Blitzø was the reason for it. Unintentional, and of course it wasn't his fault, but it still ruined the lives of many people—him included. Blitzø cannot act like it never occurred.

Fact # 2. Hell is divided by class and race. Their situationship with the grimoire was an embodiment of that inequality. A lot of Blitzø's outburst during the Full Moon and later in the Apology Tour was connected to it, to his beliefs that Stolas is the same as the rest of the privileged circle. Beliefs, I stress, justified by the real world. Stolas is more of an exception, and even then, his behavior is only different when it comes to Blitzø. He still acts the same toward other imps.

Fact # 3. We knew about Stolas's intentions all along, but before that fateful Full Moon, what Blitzø saw was Stolas avoiding him and not communicating the issue the Ozzie's date had raised. And before Ozzie's? Stolas did act entitled and inappropriate. He was baby-talking to Blitzø and used derogatory terms while addressing him. The dude literally called him an impish plaything in the Truth Seekers.

Fact # 4. Blitzø's heavily implied (though not officially confirmed by the show) existing conditions—ADHD*, BPD**, PTSD, and dyslexia/dyscalculia***—do affect his life, and while Hell seems to be somewhat receptive of neurodivergence, he still has to deal with it every single fucking day. He is going to be avoidant and afraid to be abandoned at the same time. He is going to hate himself. His learning disabilities are going to make his life harder. No way around it.

Note: *, **, and *** contain links to separate meta-analyses from @timkontheunsure and @tealvenetianmask about the respective conditions and how they show themselves in Blitzø's case.

And my beef with CBT here is exactly that. CBT's goal is to gaslight you into believing your distortions hold no water and suggests you just ignore them. And, as I've shown with Blitzø, these reactions and assumptions aren't baseless. They are legitimate, and, in fact, sometimes help to get by. Even though it's a crooked crutch, you can't learn to walk properly by just throwing that crutch away. You're still going to limp, and oh, will it be painful.

This is oversimplistic and dismissive. Anxiety and depression don't come out of the blue, and with mental disabilities, it's even deeper. The class/disability stigma is alive and strong, and just slapping a "you're fine" bandaid on your traumatized self isn't going to help.

Therapy # 2. Exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is another approach commonly used while dealing with traumatic past and its aftermath—PTSD, anxiety, phobias, and such. Again, if you're not familiar, there's the link for you, but very shortly—the therapist puts the patient in a safe environment and 'exposes' them to the feared object in question for limited periods of time. The goal is to eventually get rid of the targeted fear and decrease avoidance.

And Blitzø has got some phobias for sure.

The fear of letting everyone down. Again.

And the fear of abandonment. Again.

All of it is a result of self-hatred, sitting so deeply it rules his life and his vision of how others perceive him. Said it himself. Almost.

So, where and how does the show expose Blitzø to his traumatic past?

First, the most recent, and the most obvious one—Rolando and his slideshow of all traumatic events Blitzø ever had in his life.

Second—Blitzø's drug trip in the Truth Seekers. While it does not contain the events of the past as they were, it does force him to face his fears.

Are you worried I might have enough of it one day as well? . . . You're going to die alone! . . . You're going to die alone, Blitzo!

With some stretch, the third one is Verosika's 'Blitzo sucks' party. Where Blitzø was forced to see the consequences of his avoidance and rejection.

Note: to be clear, I do think the party does not show the true extent of Blitzø's actions and how much he'd hurt people. It was exaggerated by Verosika, and here I explain why this is the case.

So, what gives? Or, rather, what gives it not?

It might sound funny now, considering I brought it up myself, but I, once again, say this is not therapeutic, just as CBT kind of 'talking.' If anything, all these three events did more harm than good.

The D.H.O.R.K.S.'s goal in the Truth Seekers was to torture the information out of Blitzø. He was not supposed to overcome it. He was supposed to crack.

The Verosika's goal was to ruin Blitzø's reputation. She was working her ass off to prove he's just a heartless freak.

The Rolando's goal was to fucking kill Blitzø.

And okay, their motivations had nothing to do with helping him, but maybe it did, in its own twisted way?

No. The writers added this to push Blitzø past the breaking point, not to heal him, and to show us more of his lore. Each time he was forced to face his past or fears or consequences, he was only spiraling more.

The only thing which did him some good was . . . well, Millie finally seeing his bravado mask falling off. But the cost of it was way too high. Not worth it.

To the therapy's defense, some points why it would never work in the way it was done in the show:

Blitzø had never given his consent and was not ready to face it. I might be very rude right now, but go and try producing some explosion-like sounds in front of war veterans without letting them know first and see what happens.

The amount of fearful experience exposed was way too overboard. He couldn't possibly digest it in a healthy way.

The environment was not safe. It was straight-up retraumatizing, an intentional one.

So there's that.

But what helped then?

We've briefly brushed over the fact Millie did talk to Blitzø. While I did imply this might be an example of CBT, here are some key deviations from the classic therapy which made all the difference.

Millie didn't sugarcoat all the shit Blitzø did. He was hurting their business. He didn't pay her. He was reduced to Bethanie. It showed her opinion can be trusted.

Millie apologized for not being there for him sooner. She admitted she relied too much on Blitzø being bulletproof, unbothered by everything. She admitted she didn't support him in a way he always did.

While proving she could never hate Blitzø, she used their common story, one he knows and can recall. She used evidence to prove him wrong, not a "it's all in your head" bandaid. And more than that, later she proved it with action—not for one second did she believe Rolando and his shittalk about what Blitzø supposedly was thinking about her. Her unwavering faith spoke more than any words ever could.

Getting back to exposure therapy . . . Metaphorically, she reminded Blitzø he can handle a beating or two. And physically beat the infestor demon out of him, which, as we can see later, didn't really affect Blitzø that much. He wasn't even battered. So, apparently, when the said exposure is done by someone who genuinely tries to make you feel better and knows your limits well, it might just work?

And finally, Millie acknowledged Blitzø's pain. She didn't brush it away. She validated him.

What all of this is about?

Like every treatment, too much of a medicine can become poisonous. So are CBT and exposure therapy.

They might help, and lots of research shows they do in certain cases. But there are limitations to what they can and cannot achieve, and they have to be adjusted to each individual story, to each trauma, and they should not be applied as a way to mend the outcome of the trauma without taking into account the story it comes with. Again, legitimate concerns and experiences cannot be brushed away or ignored.

Actualy . . . we've seen where it leads in the show too. In the beginning, Millie was quite dismissive of Blitzø's worries—all of this over a . . . breakup?

And here it comes full circle.

Only when Millie started taking Blitzø seriously, did it help them progress. And look how quickly we've switched from a complete despair to a glimmer of hope! Isn't that a beautiful closing scene?

As a closing note—we do not need to 'fix' Blitzø. After all this shit he went through, there won't be a day where he wakes up and be like, "Hey, I don't hate myself anymore! And look, I'm not afraid to be abandoned or misunderstood!"

I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is a lifelong battle. Being mentally whole, healthy, and constantly happy is no more than a myth, and everyone has their own demons and skeletons to deal with.

What Blitzø needs is some good support system to pull him back when he's down.

And boy, do I hope that one particular owl will fill in that role of unyielding pillar for Blitzø each time our lizard will fall into that pit again. Look, I love Millie, but there's only so much she can do. She can't be always present, she has her own life . . . and her own disaster of a husband to look after (affectionate <3). Here and here @lost-romantique talks about Stolas's capacity of loving, with me occasionally nodding, ha-ha. But to be short—it's fucking immense. And since he loves words, I do believe he has all the energy to tell again and again and again how awesome Blitzø is. Even if Blitzø wouldn't believe it himself.

[hetalian-veteran]

Art Styles I Personally Think the Hetalia Characters Looked Their Best In (and Why) Part 2

Link to Part 1, Link to Part 3

Please note that I am referring to the show and not the webcomic. This is primarily because I didn't always have access to the webcomic and thus the show is what I've always been most familiar with. I will also refrain from talking about characters that have only appeared in one season.

Also, please keep in mind that these are just my opinions. And if you have any different ideas of what designs looked better, that's totally okay. At the end of the day, I'm just here to have fun.

America: Seasons 1-4

It was kind of hard to choose which design was best for America, seeing as they are all very similar to one another while also having different qualities that I liked. But I ultimately settled on the one from the first four seasons. I adore the WWII bomber jacket, as well as how the character in general was animated back then. Not to mention that the older art style just fits him so well. A lot of Americans have an "if it ain't broke don't fix it" attitude about things, so I find it fitting that, at least in my opinion, this also works for aph America. He looks great everywhere else, but I won't deny I have a nostalgia for the original. This was an exceptionally close tie with his design for season 5. Not to mention I once drew aph America fanart for an art project in middle school and got an A on it.

England: Season 5

Okay, I'm gonna be real here. This all came down to the eyebrows. Well, not entirely, but it definitely played a large part. I never had a problem with England's design in seasons 1-4, but those eyebrows though. They were so distracting. I understand wanting to give characters a prominent feature that makes you go, "Yep this is (insert character here)." But I think England's eyebrows were too overdone in the previous seasons. However, I also believe they were far too thin and lightened up in seasons 6-7. Season 5 had a good balance. Not too thick but not too thin. Also, I feel like his facial structure and design made him look kinda weird in season 7.

China: Season 5

So... I'm gonna be honest here. All of the other designs for China make him look like a young girl to me. Yes, he still looks sorta feminine in season 5, but not like he appears in seasons 1-4 and 6-7. In season 5 he actually looks more like an adult man to me. Not to mention his hair. Because holy crap that is some of the most beautiful hair I have ever seen put to animation

Russia: Season 6

This was a close tie between all his designs, but it ultimately came down the hair. Yes, I know, I talk about the characters hair a lot. But that really was the deciding factor for Russia. All his designs look great in that the long coat and vertical lines throughout give me the impression of a Russian nesting doll. Now, whether that was intentional on Hima's part or not, I cannot say. But it's a cool detail that I always notice whenever I see him. When it comes to his season 6 design, I like not only how innocent he looks (which is an important part of the design Hima intended from the beginning), but that his hair has some more fun detail too it. It looks so soft and fluffy, not like the previous designs that made it look like he had water dumped on his head.

France: Season 5

What can I say about this design that hasn't been said already? The only other character who had a bigger glow-up than France was Spain (who you can see my opinions on in a previous post). Literally everything here is an upgrade from his design through seasons 1-4. His hair looks so silky and soft, not like that yellow plastic we had earlier. Also, the hair ribbon tying it back looks so elegant and refined, fitting perfectly with the character. I also love the small detail of the ribbon being the same color of his eyes. It's a nice touch. His outfits this season are great as well. They are very simple, but still elegant, with soft, curved lines and balancing both warm and cool colors. Especially in his outfit during the Joan of Arc episode.

Canada: Season 5

I think I'm starting to have a favorite season in terms of character designs here. Canada just looks his cutest here, primarily because of his outfits. He has one of the most adorable and cozy wardrobes this season, and I want to raid this man's entire closet. I love the flannels and cozy jackets and hoodies that he has. As someone who grew up most of her life in northwest Montana (which, if you ask the rest of the US, is basically just lower Canada), I think I have to be a little biased here. Canada's design gives me the feeling of home in a way, and this is definitely a wardrobe that I embrace for a time growing up.

Austria: Seasons 1-4

The hair curl in his cowlick hits harder here, just getting that out of the way. There's more of a curl to it, which is more reflective of Himaruya's art style. And even though his wardrobe in the latter seasons is great, this one all around looks better to me. I like the royal blue lined with the deep red. And the cravat is just a fabulous detail that I love. Now that I think about it, everything about this design just feels very Himaruya. Like, this is one of his best character designs. There's also the placement of the mole on the bottom right-hand side of his face. In other designs, it's not as prominent. But here it's easier to see. I feel like it makes the design all the more unique.

Hungary: Seasons 1-4

THIS. This design for aph Hungary is top tier, and nobody can convince me otherwise. Something that has always intrigued me about Hungary is that she was raised primarily around men. So much so to the point where she saw herself as one growing up. But when she got older and realized she was actually a woman, she ended up adopting more feminine clothing and characteristics. Aph Hungary is a female character who balances both feminine and masculine traits. And her design from seasons 1-4 emulate this balance perfectly. Her long hair is a pale brown color, and her eyes a dark green. Unlike later seasons where she's given long, shiny, elegant hair and sparkling eyes. She's often found wearing either military uniforms or pretty dresses. We even see the evolution of her fashion from child to adult, where she goes from wearing her hair shorter to wearing it longer and with a flower. Her design encapsulates the idea that, yes, she is a woman. Yes, she is feminine. But at the same time, this is someone who has seen war and battle. (I might have to do a separate post about Hungary, because her design and character are honestly fascinating).

[snowmoonwrites]

Virus: Chibify! Chapter1

Tokyo Debunker fic. General audience, Full Fluffy crack. Let's put the ghouls into onesies! First victim? Lyca!

A new Curse have been going rampant in the Academy. No one knew how it started, who was the perpetrator, or what was the reason for it all. What everyone knew is that it left people as toddlers for 24 hours. Not more, not less. Given that it was not malicious in nature, at least it didn’t seem to be so, the Academy said it is an anomaly virus that will have to run its course.

That is what you all have been told, at least. You thought that the ghouls, just like usual, will be immune to this as well. At least, that was what you thought. Until you stepped into Obscuary’s dorm to get a signature from Lyca on one of the forms. When asked, Rui told you Lyca hadn’t left his room that day left, and feel free to barge in. While uncomfortable with the idea, after several minutes of futile knocking you opened the door. And what welcomed you was a sight you weren’t ready for. Instead of the grown-up Lyca, in the bed was a small child, curled up into a ball.

As you went closer, the boy’s eyes snapped open, turning to face you. A growl left his throat, but it immediately died out when he saw you. He probably retained at least some part of his memories if he recognized you. Or maybe your scent was familiar. Either way, he tilted his head to the side, looking positively like a puppy. Oh, my! That is exactly what he was after all! OH NO! You shook yourself, this is not the time for this! You lifted him up, bundling him into too-big clothes, and ran out. 

“Rui!” When his head appeared at the other end of the stairs you showed him Lyca in your arms. “I don’t think you all are immune to the virus.”

“Clearly not,” he replied letting you pass by. “I don’t think we have anything that would fit him.”

Oh, yeah, you can’t make Lyca go through the day butt naked. Clearly, that would not be wise. But you also couldn’t let him bi in his oversized clothes either. You knew from experience that asking the Academy will do you no good.

“I’ll manage it somehow. I’ll bring him back when he is back to a reasonable age.” You nodded to Rui while walking out of the dorm. While walking through the garden you opened your phone and called the one person you knew will be able to get you onesies in less than an hour. 

“Yes”

“Umm… Not to sound strange… But would you be able to get me onesies for children around…” You looked at Lyca in your arms. “How old are you now?” When the answer was a confused face you let it go. “Two? Maybe three years old of age?”

“The virus?”

“The virus. It turns out you ghouls are not at all immune to it either.” Maybe your voice showed a bit too much of glee as you could hear a long-suffering sigh on the other end of the line.

“How many do you need?”

“Around 21?” 

“Got it. Come pick it up in an hour.”

The phone call ended without any more words exchanged. It was typical, you just shrugged and made your way towards Frostheim. You looked down at Lyca, bouncing him a bit in your arms.

“How about we go see Subaru-kun after we get you some new clothes?”

Lyca’s ears perked up, it seemed like he wasn’t fully able to control his transformation. Whether it was an age thing or the Cursevirus, you didn’t know. He looked up at you, very excited as his tail wagged in a furious rhythm. You would have bet your entire life that Lyca knew who you were talking about.

When you stepped into Frostheim you were greeted by several students tending to small toddlers. They sent you sympathetic looks. At least theirs aren’t ghouls. You are still afraid what will happen with some of the others when they get turned into toddlers. Will Ed become a human again? The virus was too confusing for you, and even Yuri said he knows next to nothing about it. Which clearly hurt his pride to admit.

Well, given the situation, you decided to focus on the task at hand. You walked up to Jin’s room and knocked 5 times as usual. When your phone vibrated, you walked right in, knowing you got permission to enter. Or at least you thought that was what it meant! But clearly not! Jin was half naked, pulling up his shirt. You squeaked and put a hand before the small Lyca’s eyes.

“You should read the message.” Jin drawled, not in a hurry to hide his naked torso. And you felt no shame at looking. Well, one of your arms was holding Lyca, the other covering his eyes. You had no free hand. What were you supposed to do? Turn around? Maybe? Walk out? Possibly. But you didn’t care at all. 

“Where are the onesies?” You looked over the room, looking for a big pile of children’s clothing. You spotted a box next to the bed, nodded towards it. “Is that it?” 

Jin grunted in an affirmative. Finally finishing buttoning up his shirt. “I did not choose them. I take no criticism for them.”

“Got it.” You set down Lyca on the bed and opened up the box, lifting out the nicely folded onesies. They were all animal themed… Hmmm… You looked through them. Some of them, you instantly knew which ghoul should wear when they get infected. Some, you were hesitant about. You fished out the wolf one and helped Lyca into it. A cheesy choice. But he looked so cute! 

Your phone’s folder will be full of cute ghouls! You snapped a quick photo before helping Lyca down from the bed.

“Let’s go surprise Subaru-kun, hmm?” You reached out, and Lyca grabbed onto your hand, pulling you towards the door.

“Go! Let’ go! Let’s go to Suba-kun!”

“I’ll pick up the clothes on my way home.” You called out to Jin as you let Lyca pull you towards the door. He stepped in front of you two, eliciting a growl from Lyca’s throat. 

“I’ll make one of the brats bring it to your dorm. The child might not turn back till much later.” He patted your head then stole a kiss onto your forehead before moving out of the way and letting the kiddified Lyca pull you towards Hotarubi. Clearly following his nose rather than basing anything on his knowledge. Thankfully the onesies came with protective shoes, so you won’t have to carry all the boys around all day.

During your walk you wrote to Subaru to let him know that you are bringing a virus affected Lyca. He wrote back about his willingness to host you both till Lyca got better. You thanked him, telling him you two are on your way. 

When you arrived at the edge of the dorm, where sunny weather turned into everlasting rain, Subaru stood there waiting for you with a spare umbrella. Lyca made uppie hands towards him. Subaru instantly took him into his hands.

“Ah, let me hold the umbrella so you won’t get wet.” You took the umbrella and put it over them. While you got a little wet, at least the small Lyca got through the rain without a speck of raindrop. All the while he was talking off Subaru’s ear about all the things with the enthusiasm only small children have.

As you walked into the room, Haku threw a towel on your shoulder, scolding you for not taking care of yourself better. You let him and Zenji fuss over you, keeping an eye on Lyca, who seemed to be an energetic child, who liked to talk off Subaru’s ear. He totally had favourite persons. He didn’t even spare a glance at Haku, but pulled you closer so you all could listen to his tales about chasing squirrels in the forest. Whether these were such fond memories that they stayed with him, or if they got clearer due to the virus, you didn’t know. It was certainly cute.

What made your day perhaps was the way Haku got a carton box out of nowhere, and put the small Lyca into it, who immediately claimed it as his new den. And if Haku tried to go even an inch closer that Lyca deemed safe, his ears would perk up, a growl leaving him. But then he would look at Subaru, waiting to be chastised and he would take out his best puppy eyes to look pitiful.

Your phone’s gallery held new pictures, a folder dedicated to smol ghouls now. You were looking forward to gathering more.

ALSO Guys. I made a Kofi. So feel free to send me your love over there too <3

[ninawolv3rina]

Sometimes reddit makes me wonder of the average SOA fan even knows it's Hamlet

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

so i'm writing an 8th year fic and h&d are taking a muggle studies class together in which they read one of shakespeare's plays, and i'm trying to write a final project (for which they are partners) but like. hogwarts academics don't seem all that uhhhhh rigorous to me (like we see the students complaining about having to write a foot of parchment which is essentially ONE PAGE HANDWRITTEN) and i'm a little worried that my assignment is too rigorous.

it involves a lot of like. thinking analytically and using your imagination wrt the motivations of people unlike yourself, and that's not rlly something they do much at hogwarts as far as i can see. BUT it is muggle studies, and like. they could definitely all use some practice at those skills, following the recent implosion of their society.

[flufflecat]

omg I'm going to nycc

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 57

Chapter Highlights (most of the chapter is the highlight lol)

An hour before dawn, the keep and two armies beyond it were stirring.

Rowan had barely slept, and instead lain awake beside Aelin, listening to her breathing.

That the rest of them slumbered soundly was testament to their exhaustion, though Lorcan had not found them again. Rowan was willing to bet it was by choice.

It was not fear or anticipation of battle that had kept Rowan up—no, he'd slept well enough during other wars. But rather the fact that his mind would not stop looping him from thought to thought to thought.

He'd seen the numbers camped outside.

Valg, human men loyal to Erawan, some fell beasts, yet nothing like the ilken or the

Wyrdhounds, or even the witches.

Aelin could wipe them away before the sun had fully risen. A few blasts of her power, and that army would be gone.

Yet she had not presented it as an option in their planning last night.

He'd seen the hope shining in the eyes of the people in the keep, the awe of the children as she'd passed. The Fire-Bringer, they'd whispered. Aelin of the Wildfire.

How soon would that awe and hope crumble today when not a spark of that fire was unleashed? How soon would the men's fear turn rank when the Queen of Terrasen did not wipe away Morath's legions?

He hadn't been able to ask her. Had told himself to, had roared at himself to ask these past few weeks, when even their training hadn't summoned an ember.

But he couldn't bring himself to demand why she wouldn't or couldn't use her power, why they had seen or felt nothing of it after those initial few days of freedom. Couldn't ask what Maeve and Cairn had done to possibly make her fear or hate her magic enough that she didn't touch it.

Worry and dread gnawing at him, Rowan slipped from the room, the din of preparations greeting him the moment he entered the hall. A heartbeat later, the door opened behind him, and steps fell into sync with his own, along with a familiar, wicked scent.

"They burned her."

Rowan glanced sidelong at Fenrys. "What?" But Fenrys nodded to a passing healer.

"Cairn—and Maeve, through her orders."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fenrys, blood oath or no, what he'd done for Aelin or no, was not privy to these matters. No, it was between him and his mate, and no one else.

Fenrys threw him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. "You were staring at her half the night. I could see it on your face. You're all thinking it—why doesn't she just burn the enemy to hell?" Rowan aimed for the washing station down the hall. A few soldiers and healers stood along the metal trough, scrubbing their faces to shake the sleep or nerves.

Fenrys said, "He put her in those metal gauntlets. And one time, he heated them over an open brazier. There…" He stumbled for words, and Rowan could barely breathe. "It took the healers two weeks to fix what he did to her hands and wrists. And when she woke up, there was nothing but healed skin. She couldn't tell what had been done and what was a nightmare." Rowan reached for one of the ewers that some of the children refilled every few moments and dumped it over his head. Icy water bit into his skin, drowning out the roaring in his ears.

"Cairn did many things like that." Fenrys took up a ewer himself, and splashed some into his hands before rubbing them over his face.

Rowan's hands shook as he watched the water funnel toward the basin set beneath the trough.

"Your claiming marks, though." Fenrys wiped his face again. "No matter what they did to her, they remained. Longer than any other scar, they stayed."

Yet her neck had been smooth when he'd found her.

Reading that thought, Fenrys said, "The last time they healed her, right before she escaped. That's when they vanished. When Maeve told her that you had gone to Terrasen."

The words hit like a blow. When she had lost hope that he was coming for her. Even the greatest healers in the world hadn't been able to take that from her until then.

Rowan wiped his face on the arm of his jacket. "Why are you telling me this?" he repeated.

Fenrys rose from the trough, drying his face with the same lack of ceremony. "So you can stop wondering what happened. Focus on something else today." The warrior kept pace beside him as they headed for where they'd been told a meager breakfast would be laid out.

"And let her come to you when she's ready."

"She's my mate," Rowan growled. "You think I don't know that?" Fenrys could shove his snout into someone else's business.

Fenrys held up his hands. "You can be brutal, when you want something."

"I'd never force her to tell me anything she wasn't ready to say." It had been their bargain from the start. Part of why he'd fallen in love with her.

He should have known then, during those days in Mistward, when he found himself sharing parts of himself, his history, that he'd never told anyone. When he found himself needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces, yes, but he'd wanted her to know. And Aelin had wanted to hear it. All of it.

They discovered Aelin and Elide already at the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit. No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.

Rowan came up behind his mate and pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his new claiming marks lay.

She hummed, and offered him a bite of the bread she'd already dug into while gathering the rest of her food. He obliged, the bread thick and hearty, then said, "You were asleep when I left a few minutes ago, yet you somehow beat me to the breakfast table." Another kiss to her neck. "Why am I not surprised?"

Elide laughed beside Aelin, piling food onto her own plate. Aelin only elbowed him as he fell into line beside her.

The four of them ate quickly, refilled their waterskins at the fountain in an interior courtyard, and set about finding armor. There was little on the upper levels that was fit for wearing, so they descended into the keep, deeper and deeper, until they came across a locked room.

"Should we, or is it rude?" Aelin mused, peering at the wooden door.

Rowan sent a spear of his wind aiming for the lock and splintered it apart. "Looks like it was already open when we got here," he said mildly.

Aelin gave him a wicked grin, and Fenrys pulled a torch off its bracket in the narrow stone hallway to illuminate the room beyond.

"Well, now we know why the rest of the keep is a piece of shit," Aelin said, surveying the trove. "He's kept all the gold and fun things down here."

Indeed, his mate's idea of fun things was the same as Rowan's: armor and swords, spears and ancient maces.

"He couldn't have distributed this?" Elide frowned at the racks of swords and daggers.

"It's all heirlooms," said Fenrys, approaching one such rack and studying the hilt of a sword. "Ancient, but still good. Really good," he added, pulling a blade from its sheath.

He glanced at Rowan. "This was forged by an Asterion blacksmith."

"From a different age," Rowan mused, marveling at the flawless blade, its impeccable condition. "When Fae were not so feared."

"Are we just going to take it? Without even Chaol's permission?" Elide chewed on her lip.

Aelin snickered. "Let's consider ourselves swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees that need to be paid." She hefted a round, golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made, judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the Lord of Anielle— the Lord of the Silver Lake. "So, we'll take what we're owed for today's battle, and spare His Lordship the task of having to come down here himself."

Gods, he loved her.

Fenrys winked at Elide. "I won't tell if you don't, Lady."

Elide blushed, then waved them onward. "Collect your earnings, then."

Rowan did. He and Fenrys found armor that could fit them—in certain areas. They had to forgo the entire suit, but took pieces to enforce their shoulders, forearms, and shins. Rowan had just finished strapping greaves on his legs when Fenrys said, "We should bring some of this up for Lorcan and Gavriel."

Indeed they should. Rowan eyed other pieces, and began collecting extra daggers and blades, then sections from another suit that might fit Lorcan, Fenrys doing the same for Gavriel.

"You must charge a great deal for your services," Elide muttered. Even while the Lady of Perranth tied a few daggers to her own belt.

"I need some way to pay for my expensive tastes, don't I?" Aelin drawled, weighing a dagger in her hands.

But she hadn't donned any armor yet, and when Rowan gave her an inquiring glance, Aelin jerked her chin toward him. "Head upstairs-track down Lorcan and Gavriel. I'll find you soon."

Her face was unreadable for once. Perhaps she wanted a moment alone before battle. And when Rowan tried to find any words in her eyes, Aelin turned toward the shield she'd claimed. As if contemplating it.

So Rowan and Fenrys headed upstairs, Elide helping to haul their stolen gear. No one stopped them. Not with the sky turning to gray, and soldiers rushing to their positions on the battlements.

Rowan and Fenrys didn't have far to go.

They'd be stationed by the gates at the lower level, where the battering rams might come flying through if Morath got desperate enough.

On the level above them, Chaol sat astride his magnificent black horse, the mare's breath curling from her nostrils. Rowan lifted a hand in greeting, and Chaol saluted back before gazing toward the enemy army.

The khaganate would make the first maneuver, the initial push to get Morath moving.

"I always forget how much I hate this part," Fenrys muttered. "The waiting before it begins."

Rowan grunted his agreement.

Gavriel prowled up to them, Lorcan a dark storm behind him. Rowan wordlessly handed the latter the armor he'd gathered. "Courtesy of the Lord of Anielle." Lorcan gave him a look that said he knew Rowan was full of shit, but began efficiently donning the armor, Gavriel doing the same.

Whether the soldiers around them marked that armor, whether Chaol recognized it, no one said a word.

"Ready now," Chaol called out to the men of his keep.

This would be it—today. Whether that hope remained or fractured.

Already, the awakening sky revealed two siege towers being hauled toward them. Right to the wall. Far closer than Rowan had last noted when flying overhead last night. Morath, it seemed, had not been sleeping, either.

The ruks would remain back with their own army, driving Morath to the keep. To be picked off here, one by one.

"We have minutes until that first tower makes contact with the wall," Gavriel observed. A scan of the battlements, the soldiers atop them, revealed no sign of Aelin. Lorcan indeed muttered, "Someone better tell her to stop primping and get here." Rowan snarled in warning.

"Archers!" Chaol's bellow rang out. Behind them, down the battlements, bows groaned. Fenrys unslung the bow across his back and nocked an arrow into place.

Rowan kept his own bow strapped across his back, the quiver untouched, Gavriel and Lorcan doing the same. No need to waste them on a few soldiers when their aim might be needed with far worse targets later in the day.

But one of them had to be noted felling soldiers. For whatever it would do to rally their spirits. And Fenrys, as fine an archer as Rowan, he'd admit, would do just fine.

Rowan followed the line of Fenrys's arrowhead to where he'd marked one of the bearers of a siege ladder. "Make it impressive," he muttered.

"Mind your own business," Fenrys muttered back, tracking his target with the tip of his arrow as he awaited Chaol's order.

If Aelin didn't arrive within another moment, he'd have to leave the battlements to find her. What in hell had held her up?

Lorcan drew his ancient blade, which Rowan had witnessed felling soldiers in kingdoms far from here, in wars far longer than this one. "They'll head for the gates when that siege tower docks," Lorcan said, glancing from the battlements to the gate a level below, the small bastion of men in front of it. Trees had been felled to prop up the metal doors, but should a solid enough group of enemy soldiers swarm it, they might get those supports and the heavy locks down within minutes. And open the gates to the hordes beyond

"We don't let them get that far," Rowan said, eyeing up the massive tower lumbering closer. Soldiers teemed behind it, waiting to scale its interior. "Chaol brought the tower down the other day without our help. It can happen again."

"Volley!" Chaol's roar echoed off the stones, and arrows sang.

Like a swarm of locusts, they swept upon the soldiers marching below. Fenrys's arrow found its mark with lethal precision.

Within a heartbeat, another was on its tail. A second soldier at the siege ladder fell.

Where the hell was Aelin—

Morath didn't halt. Marched right over the soldiers who fell on their front lines.

The pulse of human fear down the battlements rippled against his skin. The cadre would have to strike fast, and strike well, to shake it away.

The siege tower lumbered closer. One glance from Rowan had him and his friends moving toward the spot it would now undeniably strike upon the battlements. Close enough to the stairs down to the gate. Morath had chosen the location well.

Some of the soldiers they passed were praying, a shuddering push of words into the frigid morning air.

Lorcan said to one of them, "Save your breath for the battle, not the gods."

Rowan shot him a look, but the man, gaping at Lorcan, quieted.

Chaol ordered another volley, and arrows flew, Fenrys firing as he walked. As if he were barely bothered.

Still, the whispered prayers continued down the line, swords shaking along with them.

Up by Chaol, the soldiers held firm, faces solid.

But here, on this level of the battlements ... those faces were pale. Wide-eyed.

"Someone better say something inspiring," Fenrys said through gritted teeth, firing another arrow. "Or these men are going to piss themselves in a minute."

For a minute was all they had left, as the first siege tower inched closer.

"You've got the pretty face," Lorcan retorted. "You'd do a better job of it."

"It's too late for speeches," Rowan cut in before Fenrys could reply. "Better to show them what we can do."

Rowan steadied his breathing, readying his magic to rip through Valg lungs. He'd fell a few with his blades first. To show how easily it could be done, that Morath was desperate and victory would be near. The magic would come later.

The siege tower groaned as it slowed to a stop.

Just as the wall under them shuddered at its impact, Fenrys whispered, "Holy gods."

Not at the bridge that snapped down, soldiers teeming in the dark depths inside.

But at who emerged from the keep archway behind them. What emerged.

Rowan didn't know where to look. At the soldiers pouring out of the siege tower, leaping onto the battlements, or at Aelin.

At the Queen of Terrasen.

She'd found armor below the keep. Beautiful, pale gold armor that gleamed like a summer dawn. Holding back her braided hair, a diadem lay flush against her head. Not a diadem, but a piece of armor. Part of some ancient set for a lady long since buried.

A crown for war, a crown to wear into battle. A crown to lead armies.

There was no fear on her face, no doubt, as Aelin hefted her shield, flipping Goldryn in her hand once before the first of Morath's soldiers was upon her.

A swift, upward strike cleaved the Morath grunt from navel to chin. His black blood sprayed, but she was already moving, flowing like a stream around a rock.

Rowan launched into movement, his blades finding their marks, but still he watched her.

Aelin slammed her shield against an oncoming warrior, Goldryn slicing through another before she plunged the blade into the soldier she'd deflected.

She did it again, and again.

All while heading toward that siege tower. Unhindered. Unleashed.

A call went down the line. The queen has come.

Soldiers waiting their turn whirled toward them. Aelin took on three Valg soldiers and left them dying on the stones.

She planted her line before the gaping maw of that siege tower, right in the path of those teeming hordes. Every moment of the training she'd done on the ship here, on the road, every new blister and callus—all to rebuild herself for this.

The queen has come.

Goldryn unfaltering, her shield an extension of her arm, Aelin glowed like the sun that now broke over the khagan's army as she engaged each soldier that hurtled her way.

Five, ten—she moved and moved and moved, ducking and swiping, shoving and flipping, black blood spraying, her face the portrait of grim, unbreaking will.

"The queen!" the men shouted. "To the queen!"

And as Rowan fought his way closer, as that cry went down the battlements and Anielle men ran to aid her, he realized that Aelin did not need an ounce of flame to inspire men to follow.

That she had been waiting, yanking at the bit, to show them what she, without magic, without any godly power, might do.

He'd never seen such a glorious sight. In every land, every battle, he had never seen anything as glorious as Aelin before the throat of the siege tower, holding the line.

Dawn breaking around them, Rowan loosed a battle cry and tore into Morath.

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message.

Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she'd picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance.

They'd made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower's entrance.

"To Lord Chaol! To the queen!"

How far they both were from Rifthold.

From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks. A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower's mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he'd fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself. Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She'd bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she'd unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan's army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior.

Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan's. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they'd dislodge the tower, she didn't know. Didn't think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[tonycries]

A Million Dollar Baby! - N.K.

Synopsis. Turns out, rent can be paid in much more than one way.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, landlord! Nanami (kinda), oraI (male + fem), cúmplay, reader’s a tease, unprotected, creampíe, down bad FERAL Nanami, spítting, bréeding, messing up his glasses, pantý-stealing, he’s sweet but fúcks so MEAN, mentions of Higuruma, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.8k (wild)

A/N. Decided it was high time I feed my Nanami girlies hehe.

“Just get the money and go.” Nanami deadpans, like a mantra. Giving a rapt knock on your apartment door, “I swear m’making him buy me lunch for this.”

Now, it wasn’t that Nanami was exactly upset about taking over Higuruma’s landlord duties for the day - no, in fact, he was the first one at his friend’s door with a bag of prescription medicine for the other man’s fever and the suggestion to take the day off.

But it was the thought of finally coming face-to-face with you - that mysterious new tenant that’d just moved into his building. The one that had Nanami wondering whether you were really as “sugary sweet n’ irresistible” as Higuruma raved you were. 

Though, he can’t imagine you’d be particularly happy about being woken up at 10am on a Sunday for overdue rent - he certainly wasn’t.

Seriously, he had no idea how Higuruma managed to do this every-

Click!

“Higu- you’re not Higuruma.”

Oh, and suddenly, Nanami gets it.

If he got to see this view, too, then he might just become the landlord himself.

It’s as if you knew you’d be playing with his sanity as soon as you opened that door, dressed in a fitted t-shirt that did absolutely everything to show off every bit of skin he shouldn’t be looking at. Your lips curving into a sinful little smirk when you notice his eyes dancing off that excuse of fabric you call “shorts”.

“Um…” you hum, after a few moments of silence. Leaning against your wooden door frame to give the tall man an appreciative one-over, “Nanami, right? You’re Higuruma’s friend?”

It’s as if the sound of his own name jolts Nanami right back into his senses, clearing his throat as he readjusts his glasses. “Y-yes. Nanami Kento.” And he winces, fuck he’s never stuttered like this. Never, even in the toughest of board meetings. Yet, here he was - making a fool out of himself. 

Knowing he’s completely fucked when your delicious grin only widens, he bows politely, “Apologies for barging in like this, ma’am. But Higuruma’s sick n’ m’here to collect the rent in his place.”

You wave off his formality, introducing yourself. “Ah, of course. I’ve seen you around, always been too nervous to come up and say hello, though.”

And, suddenly, Nanami’s glad you never came up to him to talk out of your own volition, he thinks he’s rather put off embarrassing himself for later. Coughing softly, “I apologize, s’my fault. It was rude of me to not introduce myself first.”

“Well, better late than never, right?” you continue in your smooth tone. Before your eyes catch down his broad shoulders, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the clipboard held between his long, long fingers. “Right- the overdue rent. I swear, Higuruma’s always such a sweetheart, he doesn’t bother to remind me.” Opening your door wider to give Nanami a good look inside your cozy apartment - something forbidden. “Come in come in, I seem to have lost my wallet somewhere in here though, maybe you can help me find it.”

Oh? 

And Nanami knows this is dangerous. He knows this is much more than his simple plan earlier of just “get the money and go”. He knows that little glint in your eye certainly does not bode well for him as soon as he steps through that door. 

Yet, he answers anyway, “Of course, lead the way.”

Every bit of small talk in your sultry voice has Nanami gulping, loosening his favorite yellow tie while he follows you inside. Averting his eyes from the curve of your shorts, he takes in the neat state of your apartment. 

That is, until-

“Here we are.” you lead him to a towering pile of clothes piled unceremoniously on your tv room couch. Gesturing airily at the mess, “I’m sure I left my wallet in one of my pants, so you can just sit here until I-”

“I’ll do it.” Nanami’s quick answer stuns the both of you momentarily. But before you can resist, he’s shrugging off his jacket, ignoring the heat of your gaze when he bunches up his sleeves to reveal strong, veined forearms. “It’s only fair, since m’bothering you so early.”

You chuckle, “Oh? What a gentleman, we can do it together then, handsome.”

So here he was - sat on your cramped couch, your thighs flush against his, tackling your laundry. This was definitely a far cry from getting the rent and leaving - but, alas, Nanami can’t find it in himself to complain when he neatly folds up your clothes. 

Whereas you were hastily throwing them god-knows-where, hissing, “Where- is it-” 

“Patience.” he’s humming, placing another t-shirt on your coffee table. “Higuruma’s in no hurry, he can barely get out of bed right now.”

You click your tongue in frustration, “But you, Nanami-”

“-are perfectly fine helping you out.” Nanami cuts in, flashing you a gentle smile. Your eyes widen at the sight of a soft dimple at the corner of it. Which makes him tear his gaze from that pretty pout on your lips to turn back to his dwindling half of the pile, “Besides, it would be a shame if such a nice apartment was messed up by- by-”

Fuck. 

Was that what he thought it was?

His fingers tremble, looking so fucking big wrapped around that those tiny strings of hot pink. Sinful. Obscene. Shit, if he tried he could just rip it to pieces with his bare hands right now - even if you’d been wearing it.

“Hm?” you’re gasping at the sight of the man before you, body stiff, ears a guilty red, gaze hardening at where he was holding onto one of your panties. Oh, shit. You pluck the offending piece of material from his hands, “Oh- whoops. Um- that can’t really be folded.” Throwing a wink at the flustered man - and the lingerie right back at him. “Evidently.”

It was all too much for Nanami, and he’s bringing a hand up to cover his blush - before ripping it off like it burned when he realized it was the same hand he held your panties with. 

Somehow, he manages to choke out, “Maybe- maybe we should try looking somewhere else.”

And it was true - the few messy clothes now leftover (and…Nanami couldn’t forget, your underwear) didn’t show any signs of hiding your wallet. 

“If you say so~” you muse, getting up from your seat - only to get down on your knees. Right in front of Nanami’s manspread legs. 

“Wh-what are you-”

“Under the couch.” you interrupt, enjoying this way too fucking much for the poor man’s sanity as you flash him a cheeky grin. And he smacks himself mentally for letting his imagination be toyed by your teasing whims. “I might’ve dropped it under the couch, so won’t you be a dear and help lift it while I look?”

He couldn’t get up fast enough, almost stumbling over his long legs to crouch down beside you - just anywhere away from this scandalous position. “Ready?” Nanami rasps, biceps bulging tight against his button-up when he easily tilts over your couch. 

“More than.” you take a second longer to admire him before going back to your mission.

Which - whatever’s left of the rational part of Nanami’s brain really thinks might just be to drive him insane instead finding that fucking- what was it- wallet? 

“Hmmm seems it’s not here either, right, Ken?” He doesn’t know what he’s reeling at more - the fact that you used his first fucking name or the way you were arched so teasingly like that. On your knees, spine curving into a delicious little bend that has the crotch of his pants growing just a bit tighter. And- shit he was wrong. So, so wrong. Because those weren’t a sinful pair of shorts like he’d initially thought after all, instead, they were more like underwear. Flimsy and thin, bunching up perfectly at the crease of your hips. 

You were captivating. 

At his heavy silence, you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently, “Oh? Was it the name? Sorry, Nanami, you’ve just helped me so much that it ah- slipped out. I won’t do it again.”

“No.” he grits out, the both of you surprised by the ragged hitch in his answer. Already so disgustingly missing the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. “I’d like it if you called me that- ‘Ken’ that is, if you want.”

“Well then, Ken.” you brush up unnecessarily against his sculpted body as you move to get up and dust yourself down. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my wallet’s not down there.”

Shit, he thinks, looking down at the empty spot of carpeted floor for the first time. You little tease, you knew what you were doing. 

Grinning unabashedly as you tug on his arm, “Come on! There’s one more place to look.”

As you pulled him along to the kitchen, Nanami had held out the hope that maybe - just maybe - this would be an actual attempt at finally paying off your overdue rent. Maybe he could walk out of this unscathed and holding onto whatever’s left of his dignity (and lacking the raging boner that was threatening against his slacks right now).

But every feeble hope of that was thrown out the window the moment you instructed him to hold the rickety, certainly unsafe chair propped up in front of your counter steady. 

“I swear I must’ve left it somewhere up there.” you grumble. Not wasting a moment before climbing onto it and rifling on top of your high cabinets. “No harm in trying, right?”

He gulps, palms getting sweaty on the wooden back of the chair with the effort to keep it still. “Are you sure you left it on top of there?”

“Huh? Yes yes, of course.” you answer absentmindedly. Your shirt snagging on your arms as you raise them even higher, “Think you can see something from down there?”

If Nanami could see the top of your shelves, then he didn’t want to find out - not when one glance upwards blessed him with a forbidden glimpse right up your t-shirt. All it took was a flash of skin before he was hit with the realization that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

“Ken~”

“Fuck!” he breathes, when he looks up involuntarily at the sound of his name. Face burning when you raise a brow, “U-um, m’not sure.” 

Yeah, he sure could see something - hell, he wanted to see more. 

He urgently swipes at the sweat slowly beading at his forehead, immediately regretting his actions when the chair tips ever-so-slightly. “Shit, I apologize, n’ I also apologize for what I’m about to do-” He gasps over your soft yelp, before wrapping two warm hands around the small of your waist. Searing. Soft. Planting you softly on the firm floor like some lil’ ragdoll, “-but I can’t let you put yourself in danger this way.”

Before you know it, you’re back in the safety of the ground. Stood right in front of a determined Nanami as he cranes his head up in your stuffy kitchen, backed up against the counter as he takes over looking for your wallet. 

“Let me, instead.” he grunts. 

But oh even with how genius he thought it was to look instead - even with how he stopped himself from looking at that sinful little slice of heaven - Nanami Kento had another problem. 

A problem that presented itself in the way that your body was pressed flush against his muscled chest, two of your thighs straddling his thick ones. Caged perfectly against him, exactly in the way he shouldn’t have been imagining - but did, anyway. And shit if he angled his body just right he could feel the heat of your core - the way your eager front was drawing in closer. 

“Ah-” he grunts when your soft palm glides lightly across his pecs. Jaw clenching while he tries to blink his hazy eyes back into the glaringly empty top of your cabinets, “My apologies, seems uh- your wallet isn’t- here-” 

Each word is wrenching out of his pretty, worry-bitten lips, a ragged gasp with every accidental brush of the pads of your fingers at the hem of his tight pants. 

“It isn’t there, hm?” you purr, a low honeyed tone that has all the blood in Nanami’s body rushing to his fat cock. “Well what do you suppose we do about that, Ken? Since I can’t pay the rent?”

Nanami doesn’t know whether you’re talking about the rent or that massive tent in his pants he really couldn’t explain away. Instead, he spits, “You knew what you were hah- doing, didn’t you, you lil’ minx? You don’t have your fuckin’ wallet here.”

And the air is so thick, so heady that he can only bring himself to pull away mere millimeters from where he was hovering near your face. 

But even that was too much - and in a split-second, you have your deft fingers wrapped tightly around his speckled tie. “And if I did?” Pulling close enough to ghost your lips against his, “You’re smart, Ken. So m’asking once again, what do you suppose we do about that?”

As if to draw out the answer from him, you’re giving a long, hard drag of your hot cunt along the outline of his swollen cock. You could almost feel every throb and nudge of his veins along the side, and it made you salivate.

“I suppose…” he answers, guttural, like some dark, primal part of himself is peaking its head out with each hot breath fanning your face. A large hand coming up to squish your cheeks into a pretty pout, pursing your lips perfectly for him. “That you hit me if you don’t like this, darling.”

And fuck for all how much of a gentleman Nanami acted - he kissed the exact opposite. All but ruining your lips in such a messy clash of teeth and tongue and him. Devouring you. 

“Fuck- shoulda known.” he’s letting out a humorless laugh, swiping his tongue across your glossy lower lips. “Should’ve known when you invited me in. Such a tease.” Drinking in your breathless moans, sucking on your tongue, “Such a- ngh- horny lil’ thing. This what you wanted all along?”

You hum into the kiss so drunk, “Maybe.” Dancing your hands all across where his toned muscles were fighting against the restraints of his shirt, “But you really can’t blame me.”

And maybe it was true - maybe this was inevitable. Either way, Nanami didn’t know, nor did he really care - not when you were letting out such sweet gasps when he bites down on your bottom lip - just a little punishment. Kissing his way down your heated skin, giving a languid lick at where he suspected that secret sensitive spot on your neck would be. 

“Oh! Ken.” you moan. Bingo. 

He’s unbuttoned his shirt now - or maybe it was you. Fuck, either way you couldn’t tear your eyes off of his pretty washboard abs. Curving and dipping like he was sculpted meticulously. 

And that’s all it takes for your already-dripping cunt to grow impossibly wetter, and he could feel it leaking through those flimsy cotton shorts of yours. Forming a messy sheen right at that damp spot of precum on his pants.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, my love.” Nanami murmurs, swiping a thumb down that sopping wet slit of yours through your shorts. Just marveling at the way that simple touch makes another wave of your sweet sweet juices bead through the fabric. “Hah, absolutely dripping. This all f’me?”

At your half-delirious nod, he flashes you a smile so handsome that it only makes you squirm more impatiently. “How sweet.” Giving your nose a chaste peck, “So good to me. So needy.”

“You’re the same, though.” you accuse, hotly.

And it’s true - Nanami couldn’t deny the aching need of his cock, the way he all but moans in response, “Then tell me- hngh tell me what you want. I’ll give you- anything-” Managing to get out through hot, sloppy kisses planted right on your wobbly lips, “-anything.”

But, ah, you always did manage to surprise him. And instead of an answer, you’re getting right down on your knees in front of him like you did not too long ago - though, this time, you’re reaching up to fumble with his belt. 

“Wan’ taste you.” you huff when his expensive notches prove too stubborn. “Wan’ feel you in my mouth so bad, Ken.” 

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles darkly, easily loosening his belt and his pants along with it. Rock-hard cock sensitive and just smearing a pool of precum where his fat head springs up to hit your lips. Such a pretty shade of gloss. Nanami laces his hand on your scalp to guide you forwards, slowly, “Then take it. Take it f’me, pretty.”

He was so pretty that you possibly couldn’t not - a delicate blushing red at his very tip, glistening and absolutely soaked in precum down the long path to his creamy base, his heavy balls. So girthy that it made your cunt clench in anticipation.

And then there’s no more talking. Hell, you barely get enough time to admire Nanami’s massive cock before he’s bullying it between your lips. Wetting his thick, angry tip with your saliva, just enough to eye down at the way your lips bulge so prettily around him. 

“Gonna hafta open w-wider if you wanna take me, pretty. Open hah- yeah jus’ like that.” He’s reeling your head back, all the way till you were just kissing at his thick, angry tip. “Now spit on it, my love.”

Despite being the one to say it, Nanami’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief when you’re readily decorating his swollen length with a steady stream of spit. Your soft palms smearing the saliva along his length. 

You’re slurring, “After all, I still haven’t found my wallet, right?”

And oh he doesn’t even have to ask for what comes next - doesn’t even have to make a noise. 

Immediately, you take him in inch by fucking inch. The deliciously salty twang taking over your senses, and he’s so hot and heavy over your tongue. Veins pulsing in a dizzyingly throb! throb! throb! against the roof of your mouth.

“Are you- are you sure you can-” You shut up his doubts by rubbing your hot tongue along every sensitive ridge you could reach. Bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless little pace to milk his pretty cock for all he’s worth. 

Nanami’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Was this what heaven felt like? 

“F-fuuuck, oh you-” his words are catching in his throat with each flick of the tip of your tongue against his sensitive slit. Just the way he liked it. “-ngh guess that sharp mouth of yours wasn’t just hah- good for teasing, huh?”

He’s running his mouth a mile a minute - the complete opposite of the reserved man that’d come knocking on your door. Hips grinding up into your warm tongue mindlessly, slow. Languid - like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “Oh you feel so heavenly- so fuckin’ good it should be illegal.”

You can’t help but bat your teary eyes up at him in response, blinking away the lustful haze to drink in that utterly obscene sight above you. Nanami’s neat, blond hair uncharacteristically disheveled, stray strands sticking to his furrowed brow. Only deepening with each wrecked sigh that leaves his plump lips every time his abs flex with the movement of his fat head hitting the gummy back of your throat. 

He looks so pretty it makes you moan. 

Those electric vibrations going all the way down that wet divot on the tip of Nanami’s painfully hard cock to his heavy balls. 

“Oh shit- shit shit shit feels too good.” his words are slurring together, drunk off the way you gag around him. “Don’t do that don’t-” This only makes you drag your sloppy mouth down him deeper, syrupy moans sticking to

him all the while. 

“Fuck!” Nanami shudders. And he’s pulling you down - hard - barely letting you get a feverish little breath out until your nose is hitting the neat patch of blond at his base. Rubbing up against his toned pelvis. 

Still moving in deep, relentless thrusts inside your gummy cavern. “S’real fuckin’ hard to treat you as nice as I want when you act like that, my love.”

And, of course, the only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles as you take him in faster. Cheeks hollowing to massaging his every sweet spot. Your jaw grinding against his twitching balls with each smack of his hypnotized hips against your mouth, fucking into you the way he wished he could do with your cunt. Frenzied. Sloppy. 

Yeah, this was heaven alright - but you were the fuckin’ devil. 

Of course, you wanted him to treat you like such a slut - so he does. 

Just dragging your stubborn mouth off of his twitching cock, Nanami only reaches down to place an accomplished peck on the pout of your mouth before hoisting you onto the counter. “What? You think I’d really ngh- cum before my darling girl?”

He’s groaning into your mouth, licking at the seam of your candied lips as two strong arms of his spread your legs so far apart it burned. “F-fuck, Ken-”

“Aw look. You’ve got another slutty pair, huh?” he gestures down at the drenched scrap of fabric you so proudly called “panties.” Sliding a thumb underneath to glide it underneath your puffy pussy lips. He’s echoing your sentiment from before, “Said you can’t find your hah- wallet, right?” Well, ya better start makin’ up for that now.”

In all of two seconds, Nanami’s hooking two fingers over your underwear - pulling - ripping. He was right -  Nanami takes a moment to admire your dripping cunt, glistening and needy for him - he could rip those panties right off of you. 

With just one hand pinning you to the cool marble of your counter, the other thumbing open your puffy folds, he’s giving all of your pussy a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

“Mmm fuck-” he spits into your sloppy hole. Once. Twice. Letting it form a saturated little pool of your juices, before surging back nose-deep with a pained grunt. Again. And again. And again and again- “Jus’ as sweet- as sugary sweet ngh-”

Nanami didn’t think Higuruma knew about this little treasure trove when describing you - though, if he did, then he was well and fully intent on tongue-fucking every little thought out of him right now. 

“Hngh! Shit-” you’re keening when his greedy tongue laps up every bit of your syrupy sweet slick. Alternating - methodically, indecisively - between rolling over your throbbing clit and just dipping into your awaiting entrance. “It feels so- so good, Ken.”

“Yeah that’s right.” he gasps, wrapping those pretty pink lips of his to suck on your clit. Harsh. “Say my name- no, louder. Louder.” 

It’s all you can do to not just scream out his name without your neighbors filing a noise complaint. Dragging your sopping pussy all over his mouth - glistening and obscene right down the bottom half of his face all the way up to smear against his clear glasses. 

Such obscene squelches ring through your kitchen as Nanami keeps making out so messily with your sensitive nub. Ringing in your fucked-out brain, so obscene, so addictive that you barely even register the thick fingers dipping their way around your hole. 

You jolt when the cool metal of his glasses kiss your skin, “O-oh Ken what-” 

“Shhh shhh, darling.” he soothes. The tip of his manicured index circling around your elastic muscle. Hypnotic. “M’gonna take care of you. Gonna take such good-” With this, he’s bullying his fingers inside, “-care of you.”

Tears crinkle at the corners of your eyes at the sheer stimulation. Because for how sweet Nanami was talking you through this, he was absolutely ruthless on your cunt. Not half the man he was this morning - animalistic. Feral, even.

His sharp jaw grinding against your skin, fingers almost a blur with how depraved they were pumping in and out of you. Massaging every hidden corner of your plushy walls, yet you get the feeling that they were calculated. Nanami’s darkened eyes drinking in every whimper and twitch of your body over the glasses inching dangerously downwards. Searching, waiting for that one-

“Ngh!” You worry you’d have fallen off the counter if it wasn’t for Nanami holding you down. Body jolting at sudden electricity running through your veins, “Oh- fuck fuck fuck. Oh my god Ken, there. Right there–”

But before the sentence has even left your heavy lips, he’s hitting your g-spot once more. Easily finding the bullseye that has you bucking and arching into his mouth like such a slut. 

And this time - Nanami lets you use his mouth all you want. The fingers splayed out to pin you down moves to toy with your puffy clit. Rolling between his fingers while he hisses out syrupy sweet praises, “Shit, never liked m’name that much- ngh- but it sounds so pretty on your lips. So sweet. So- oh-” 

The sight of your cunt just beading with need has him kissing it once more. All over your sensitive nub, your ravaged hole, hell, even down to the mess of slick dripping down at your thighs. Faster. Sloppier. No rhythm or rhyme anymore. 

“M’so close.” you whine, weaving your fingers through his blond hair to help ride his face easier. Jolting with each purposeful flick of his tongue. “Gonna cum, Ken.”

“Cum then.” he answers, simply, grinning a guiltily glossy grin, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, right?”

And then you do - stars behind your eyes and that little nickname you’d made Nanami in your mouth. Over and over while he tonguefucks you through your high. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–” you whine, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks eat time he swiped at your sensitive spots, dragging it out longer. Until your soft whimpers were drowning out the squelches from below. Until you were blinking your spotty vision back. Until you were squirming your hips higher up the counter to pull away from Nanami’s unforgiving tactics. “M’too sensitive- Nana-”

He tuts, interrupting your orgasm-drunk babbles, “Tha’s not what you call me.” Pulling away just enough to hum, “All I did was eat this pretty cunt out, darling n’ you already forgot my name?”

You shiver - both at his mean little tone and the absolutely sinful sight between your shaky thighs. Nanami’s lips plump and irritated, eyes foggy - glasses even more so with all the sloppy dredges of spit and your slick.

Shit, you think he’s never looked prettier. 

“Is that so?”

It’s all you hear before you’re hit with his glasses being gently placed onto your nose bridge - followed shortly by the realization that oh, you said that out loud. But Nanami basks in your sudden shyness, giving your lips a chaste, lingering peck. “You dirtied my glasses, y’know. Now you have to make up for that on top of the rent.”

And by the feeling of his thick tip kissing at your pussy lips, you had a very good idea about how you’d be making up for it. Making a mess. Sliding the curve of his head up and down. Up and down up and down up and-

“B-but don’t forget.” you manage to grit out by the time he’s nudging his divot against your clit. “You have to make- hah- make up for-” 

In a fluid motion, you’re reaching your fingers to dig into the irresistible tan skin at his hips, all hard muscle and the thick fabric of where he’d pulled his pants down just enough. You press down on his bulging back pocket, smirk growing at the familiar flash of hot pink you could spy, “-my panties.”

The moment the obscene little accusation leaves your lips, you give a soft tug forwards. Nanami’s towering body being pulled easily to push his weeping tip past your puffy folds. 

“F-fuck.” he’s throwing his head back at the feeling. “You hngh- saw, huh?”

Oh, if he hadn’t been imagining this the moment he’d stepped inside your apartment then Nanami thinks he might’ve just passed out right then and there. 

Because you were so warm, so addictive wrapped around his cock - even when he’s barely even in. That he just has to keep going - after all, it’s for the rent, right?

It’s what he likes to think.

It’s what he whispers - over and over into your open mouth as he bullies his thick cock past your gummy entrance. Letting your plush walls suck the ever-loving soul out of him with each lazy, lingering grind just to fit himself inside. 

“O-oh! Shit-” your nails leave jagged red marks down Nanami’s broad shoulders when he stuffs you full. Desperate. “Y-you’re so big, Ken–” 

At this, you feel Nanami’s girth grow even wider, stretching your walls until it felt like he was molding your poor pussy to the shape. Just reaching into your lungs. You squeal, “Wait- you got bigger- what-”

“I know I know, You got it, my love.” he’s soothing your cries with sugary kisses at the corners of your mouth. Drawing slow, methodical circles on your clit in time with his experimental thrusts. “You got it. You can take it. Shhh shh-” He’s drinking in your cute mewls, cupping your pretty face with his free hand, “You’ll take it right? All of it, like my good girl? You’ve gotta make up for it, right?” At your delirious nod, “Words, pretty.”

“Yes, please.” You buck your hips in a sultry tandem matching his, the cool frame of his glasses still kissing at your skin. “M’gonna take it all like your good girl, Ken.”

Shit, he can feel himself growing even bigger just halfway into you, “Then-” Angling your teary face down to watch the mess down below. The way your greedy cunt was trying to milk each and every inch of him like it was delicious. “-look.”

You can’t tear your eyes away as he delves into you so filthy. 

Not waiting for your pathetic whines about him being “too big” - no, Nanami’s only pulling you back from escaping like some sextoy - his favorite one. Still toying sweetly with your clit while he pushes against that feeble ring of resistance. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Ken!” you’re yelping out when he finally bottoms out. Your swollen folds meeting his drenched hilt, blond tufts of hair brushing up against your pelvis. Sighing, ”Finally.”

“Finally?” he’s dragging out his words with an already-crooked, pussydrunk grin. Eyes wild - bewildered almost at how well you were taking him. “S-seriously? Did you say ngh- ‘finally’, my girl?” Each word has him tapping more strength behind those thrusts, faster. Harder. Spitting out so contendly, “Finally- hah. Such a slut f’me, hm?”

He’s plunging into you like such an animal right now, so harsh that it was almost difficult to pull back. To dare subject himself to not be buried inside your dripping cunt for even a split-second. 

In response, you lick a long stripe up the sensitive area of his neck, splaying out a hand to squeeze Nanami’s pec - and the rapid heartbeat you felt beneath it. “You’re not- ngh- any better.”

“I know.” Nanami leers, unabashedly kneading at your sore tits now. Fucking you harder and harder into the counter. Connecting his sweaty forehead with yours to look you right in the eyes as he gruffs, “I’ve been thinking about fucking this pretty cunt as soon as you opened that door, y’know.”

You feel his cock twitch wildly at the confession, dragging against your gummy walls with his tip. Hitting - oh-so-expertly - that one sensitive honeypot of nerves. Which makes Nanami’s mouth fall slack with what a treasure you were. 

“Y-you’re such a-” you’re moans are syrupy and slurring together now. Holding onto the larger man for dear life, “such a pervert, Ken.”

Shit, you were squeezing around him so hard that it was almost impossible to pull out. Abs straining to keep up the loud staccato of skin-against-skin, and Nanami’s long, jagged rams inside your wet heaven.

Nanami’s nosing down your pulse, letting his hot tongue loll out to catch the salty drops of your tears, “Mhm, only for hngh- you. Because you’re my girl now, aren’t ya?”

So easy for him to trawl out those addictive moans with each drag of the upwards curve of his fat cock. Thick tip hitting your g-spot, your cervix - as if he was branding his name into your pretty pussy from the inside. Sloppy. 

Leaving a bruising little Kento. With his erratic fingers pinching and rolling your clit at the same feverish tempo of his cock bullying inside your cunt - Kento. With his heavy balls smacking against your ass, sending jolts of white-hot pleasure all the way up to his sensitive slit, rubbing up against your succubus walls - Kento. With the way your heels were now digging into those dimples at the bottom of his spine, sure to leave marks with the way you were pulling him impossibly closer. So needy - Kento.

Only getting sloppier. The only thing in your mind right now - Kento Kento Kento-

So, really, it makes sense when that’s the only thing you’re capable of getting out once you cum. It sneaks up on you at first, and then all at once - and before you know it, you’re cumming so desperately all over Nanami’s relentless cock. 

Over and over.

Your thighs spasming, such a slutty ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth with each wave of pleasure he’s forcing out of you by targeting your ravaged g-spot. Only a few more of those sloppy, mean thrusts left in the man himself before Nanami’s spilling into your greedy cunt. 

Painting your gummy walls white with each painful squeeze of his balls, he’s still thrusting - as if on instinct. Shoving his seed deeper and deeper down your cum-filled hole until he’s sure it’s overfilled. 

By god were you a vision, he’s thinking deliriously. Tears pooling at your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, throat to shoot to do anything but whimper when he keeps going in and out in and out in and-

And if he angled his head just right, he could see the hot globs of cum that take to trickling out from your puffy folds, pooling at a mouthwateringly creamy base around his hilt.

“Ah,” Nanami wastes no time squeezing his index into your already-bulging entrance, pumping the cum slobbering out back in. “Better- hah- better not waste any-” He could barely speak right now, cumming harder than he has in his whole life - in fact, his overworked cock was still shooting out wispy spurts of his seed. Like he couldn’t stop. “-after all, y’haven’t made up for all the overdue rent yet, my love.”

A/N. Concept inspired by this NSFW audio by IchigekiVA that my friend sent me <3

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[mephisto-reporting]

Husband?

About: How does he react when you accidentally call him your 'husband'? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are in a relationship. My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

RAFAYEL

The evening was going smoother than expected, considering Rafayel had dragged you along to one of his many gallery showings. He had made a big deal about how you should be the one showing off his work to the public, claiming he didn’t want to deal with the “art-snobs." Yet, the second you both arrived, he quickly preoccupied himself on his phone, leaving you to handle most of the small talk.

One of the visitors, a curious older woman, was admiring a painting of his, a chaotic burst of color with soft hints of golden light. You were discussing Rafayel’s "creative process" (whatever that was—he hadn't told you much before retreating to his phone), when she asked how long you’d been working with him.

“Oh, it’s been a while now. It’s honestly amazing seeing him grow like this—my husb—” You froze mid-sentence, realizing the slip just as it left your mouth.

"Husband?"

The word hung in the air for barely a second before you felt Rafayel’s presence shift. His head shot up like a bolt of lightning, his playful, cunning eyes locking onto yours. You could practically feel his grin before you even dared to glance over. You didn’t even need to turn around to feel his gaze burning into you, practically shouting, Oh? Husband, you say?

“Husband, huh?” Rafayel drawled, pocketing his phone and sauntering toward you with that signature smirk of his. “I didn’t realize we were making things official tonight. If I’d known, I’d have worn something even more dazzling.”

You flushed, attempting to stammer out a correction, but he was far too pleased to let you off the hook that easily. He leaned casually against the gallery wall, one arm crossing his chest as he dramatically placed a hand over his heart.

He gently took your hand in his, his dramatic flair dialed up to maximum as he pressed an exaggerated kiss to your knuckles, clearly relishing the moment. "I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised. Who wouldn’t want to marry someone as charming as me?"

The visitor chuckled awkwardly, clearly not sure whether to stay or go, but Rafayel was already having way too much fun. “Of course, as your loving husband,” he continued, drawing out the word in a singsong voice, “it’s only fitting that I’m showered with even more attention now, isn’t it? I expect lots of praise, darling. I mean, just look at me." He struck a faux thought-provoking pose, tilting his head and flipping a lock of his perfectly tousled hair.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but at the same time, his antics made you laugh. “I didn’t mean to—"

"Oh no, no,” he interrupted, wagging his finger playfully. “You can’t take it back now. The word’s out, Miss Bodyguard. You’ve called me your husband. That means you’re stuck with me. Forever.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Does this mean I get to cheat at board games forever too?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you playfully swatted at his shoulder. “As if you needed a reason to cheat more!”

Rafayel laughed, that familiar bratty grin plastered across his face. “Well, if I’m your husband now, I think it’s only fair I get first dibs on everything. Cards, claw machines—oh, and don’t forget, I demand the comfiest seat when we binge-watch our shows.”

Despite his teasing, the warmth in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. You could see the genuine delight he took in your slip-up, how pleased he was at the thought, even if he’d never admit it outright.

“Fine, fine,” you sighed dramatically, playing along. “But don’t expect me to let you win at everything, ‘husband.’”

Rafayel beamed, and for a moment, that bratty, carefree mask of his slipped, just a little. He tugged you closer, his voice softening as he murmured, “Deal.” Then, just as quickly, he switched back to his usual, cheeky self. “Now, let’s go, wife. You’re required to be by my side while I survive this boring night. ”

Shaking your head, you laughed, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re impossible.”

The woman, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile, laughed. “You two make quite the pair.”

“Oh, we do, don’t we?” Rafayel quipped before lowering his voice just enough for only you to hear, leaning in ever so slightly. “You’ve really outdone yourself, calling me that in front of witnesses. Now they’ll all expect a wedding invitation.”

Your face burned as you tried to shush him, but he was loving every second of it. He tilted his head, his hair catching the light as his smile softened into something more genuine, the bratty exterior fading just a bit. “Still… I can’t say I hate the sound of it,” he murmured, brushing a finger lightly under your chin before pulling back with a playful wink. “I might just get used to hearing it.”

You could only manage a huff of exasperation, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter at the way his teasing had just a hint of sincerity behind it.

Rafayel, always dramatic, and yet somehow, just when you least expected it, a little bit sweet.

ZAYNE

You and Zayne were in the middle of your usual weekly grocery run, efficiently dividing and conquering your list to save time. He’d taken off towards the produce section while you headed for the rice aisle. As you browsed the different varieties, a middle-aged man beside you struggled with lifting a heavy bag of rice.

"Need a hand?" you asked, stepping in to help. The man smiled gratefully as you hoisted the bag into his cart with ease.

"Thank you, young lady," he said, rubbing his wrist. "My arthritis is flaring up today. Getting old’s no fun."

You offered him a sympathetic smile. “No problem at all. My husband’s a doctor, actually. I’m sure he’d tell you to take it easy on that wrist."

The man nodded in agreement, offering you one last thanks before heading off. You turned back to your cart, completely unaware of the word you had just let slip—husband—or the fact that Zayne had returned in time to hear it.

You felt him step up behind you, his presence calm yet undeniably magnetic. When you finally glanced over, he was standing there, hands in his pockets, a small, amused smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Husband, hmm?" he said softly, his tone more curious than teasing. "That's... new."

You froze for a second, eyes widening as you realized what you’d said.  You opened your mouth, the words tripping over each other in a rush. “I didn’t— I mean, it just—slipped out. We’re not actually—I mean, obviously, we’re not—” You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, and no amount of backpedaling was helping.

Zayne didn’t seem in a rush to let you off the hook. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining with an ease that made your heart stutter. “You know,” he said, voice as calm as ever, “if this is your way of bringing it up, there are smoother ways to do it.” His teasing was subtle, barely perceptible if you didn’t know him well, but it was there in the gentle tug of his smile.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Zayne, I didn’t mean to—”

But Zayne, ever level-headed, merely took your hand in his, his thumb gently brushing against your knuckles. “Relax,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “It’s not like I mind the idea.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and you looked up at him in surprise. There was a softness in his usually stoic gaze, the kind that made your stomach flip. He continued, his voice measured but affectionate, “Seems like the next logical step, doesn’t it? My parents have been asking me when I’m going to take that step with you for a while now.”

His calm tone made the statement feel both casual and monumental at the same time. “Wait, your parents…?” you started, blinking as your brain processed this new information.

“Mhm,” Zayne replied, still holding your hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “They’ve been pretty vocal about it, actually. But I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

The right moment. Those words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of what he was saying. He was serious—calm and casual, as always, but serious. Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade into the background. It was just you and Zayne in that grocery aisle, hands linked, talking about a future you hadn’t even realized you both wanted.

“Only if you wanted to, of course,” he added, his thumb still tracing soft circles on your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything unless we both agreed.”

You stared at him, a smile slowly spreading across your face despite the initial shock. “You’re really suggesting this now? In the middle of a grocery store?”

Zayne smirked, his usual pragmatic self. “Well, we’re already talking about it. Might as well make use of the time.” He glanced down at your joined hands, his tone softening again. “Besides, I think it’s worth discussing what our future looks like, don’t you?”

Your heart swelled at his words, and the warmth of his hand in yours was enough to make you feel grounded, no matter how your emotions were spinning. “Yeah,” you said, smiling as you squeezed his hand gently. “I think it’s definitely worth talking about.”

Zayne leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple in a rare public display of affection. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet kind of affection that made your chest tighten. “We’ll talk more later.”

He pulled away just as smoothly, picking up the cart with a practiced ease, as though he hadn’t just suggested the two of you start planning your future together. His eyes twinkled, a subtle tease hiding behind that usual calm exterior of his.

“And for the record,” he added, as the two of you moved on to the next aisle, “I wouldn’t mind hearing you call me ‘husband’ again.”

Your cheeks heated again, but this time, you didn’t bother trying to hide your smile. “Guess you’ll have to earn it first, doctor.”

Zayne chuckled softly, that familiar, grounded confidence in his voice. “I’ll be sure to work on that.”

SYLUS

The desert sun was relentless, and you could feel its heat pressing down on you as you stood beside Sylus, waiting to be seated inside the restaurant. He had dragged you out of Linkon on one of his mysterious ventures—no explanation, no warning, just the two of you thrust into the desert with little more than his cryptic directions. And while Sylus might have thrived in the N109 Zone's shadowy world, he was decidedly out of place here in the glaring sunlight,already starting to show hints of discomfort.

You glanced over at him, squinting slightly under the bright light. His expression was carefully controlled as always, but you noticed how his hand twitched subtly as if annoyed by the heat. The two of you had been waiting to be seated inside for a while now, and you decided it was time to speed things up.

Catching the attention of a passing waitress, you waved her over, putting on your best expression of concern. “Excuse me, my husband and I were hoping to be seated inside. I’m feeling a little faint under the harsh sun,” you said smoothly, the lie of you feeling faint rolling off your tongue with ease.

The word husband had slipped out so naturally, you didn’t even realize your mistake until the waitress nodded sympathetically and promised to get you a table indoors right away. As she walked off, you felt a cold gaze slide over you, and you turned to see Sylus staring down at you, one brow raised, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face.

“Husband?” His voice was smooth, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “Did I miss a wedding, wife?”

Your breath caught in your throat. "Wait—no, I didn't mean—" You started to stammer, heat rising to your cheeks, but before you could backtrack any further, Sylus’ arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. His grip was firm, possessive, and you could feel the smug amusement radiating off of him.

“I like the sound of that,” he murmured, leaning in just close enough for you to catch the scent of the desert air still clinging to his clothes. His lips ghosted near your ear, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Maybe this is a sign I should make it official.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you tried to keep your composure. “Official?” you echoed, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended. “What—what are you talking about?”

Sylus’ smirk widened, his amber eyes gleaming in the sun. “Oh? Cat got your tongue, Sweetie?” he teased, his tone dripping with amusement as he let his fingers trace a light circle on your hip. “You seemed so sure a moment ago, wife. But now? Speechless.”

You blinked, trying to gather your wits, but the sheer cockiness in his tone was making it hard to think straight. “I…I was just…helping us get a table,” you protested weakly, trying to pull away from his grip, but his hold only tightened.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” he drawled, clearly reveling in your flustered state. “But now that you’ve set the bar so high, don’t tell me you’re going to back out on me. After all, you made quite the declaration back there.”

“I wasn’t—” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him as you regained a sliver of your usual confidence. “You know it was a slip-up, Sylus. Don’t start getting ideas.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Ideas? Sweetie, I live for ideas.” His grip loosened just enough to let you step back, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t about to let you wriggle out of this one easily. “But let’s be honest, you didn’t hate it. Calling me your husband.”

Your face flushed again, but this time, you managed to meet his gaze without faltering. “I didn’t hate it,” you admitted, folding your arms, “but don’t go thinking you’ve won. I’m not about to sign any papers just because you liked hearing it.”

Sylus tilted his head, the playful smile never leaving his lips. “We’ll see about that, kitten” he said, the threat—or promise—hanging in the air between you as the waitress returned to guide you inside.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Please, Sylus. You couldn’t handle being married to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in with that infuriating smirk. “Oh, I think I could handle you just fine, sweetheart. You’re the one who might need to keep up.”

You shot back, “Keep up? I’d be carrying you the whole way.”

“Careful, Sweetie. That sounds an awful lot like a challenge.” He chuckled, his hand brushing against yours again. “Now that’s a tempting thought.”

“Tempting? Try exhausting,” you quipped.

As you walked beside him, you felt his arm brush against yours, and the sensation lingered far longer than it should have. Sylus, of course, said nothing, though the smug expression never quite left his face.

This was clearly far from over. And judging by the glint in his eye, Sylus was going to make sure you never forgot your little slip-up.

XAVIER

The café was quiet, filled with the soft murmur of patrons and the comforting smell of fresh pastries. You and Xavier had settled in for a peaceful afternoon, your table already adorned with a delightful array of treats. He had requested a simple drink—no whipped cream. The barista returned, placing his drink in front of him with an impressive mountain of whipped cream on top. Xavier, as calm and indifferent as ever, simply blinked at it, showing no signs of complaint. He wasn’t going to say a word about it, but that didn’t mean you were going to let it slide.

Excusing yourself, you raised a hand and called over a passing staff member. “Excuse me,” you began, with a polite smile. “My husband asked for no whipped cream on his drink, but it looks like there’s some here by mistake. Would it be alright for us to get it changed?”

The words tumbled out so smoothly that you didn’t even realize your slip-up until the staff member nodded apologetically and hurried back to fix the order. It was only when you turned back around that you saw Xavier sitting there, looking unusually... stunned.

He was blinking slowly at you, his expression softened by a hint of confusion and—was that amusement? “Husband?” he repeated, his soft voice barely more than a murmur.

Your face flushed as you fumbled for an explanation. “Oh, no, wait—! I didn’t mean—” You stammered, desperately trying to backtrack. “That just slipped out! I meant to say…uh my boyfriend? Partner? Date? Not—well, not husband, obviously…”

Xavier continued to blink, his face now showing just a little more expression than usual. The faintest curl of a smile played on his lips, and he tilted his head, considering your words. “I must’ve missed that chapter in the 'Guide to a Healthy Relationship,'” he said in that calm, unruffled way of his. “I didn’t know we’d moved on to the husband-and-wife stage.”

You groaned inwardly, burying your face in your hands. “I swear, it was an accident. Just ignore what I said.”

But Xavier was clearly in no mood to let it go. “So, dear wife,” he continued, completely unfazed by your protests, “do you think we’ll have matching mugs in our future? Maybe get a nice house, with a small garden and a picket fence?”

You shot him a playful glare, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to stay annoyed. “Very funny,” you muttered, though your lips were twitching at the corners, betraying your amusement.

“I think it has a nice ring to it,” Xavier said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this far more than you expected. “I wonder how long it would take for people in the association to start sending us wedding gifts. Or perhaps they'd just send weapons... you know, as a gesture of goodwill.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t think wedding gifts are really their style, Xavier.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right,” he said thoughtfully, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you did call me your husband in public. Shouldn’t we at least play the part now?”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t resist playing along with his ridiculousness. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “But just so you know, dear husband, you’ll be the one doing the dishes.”

Xavier chuckled softly, the sound rare and surprisingly warm. “As long as you take care of meals. A fair trade.”

You were about to retort when the waitress returned with Xavier’s newly corrected drink—this time, free of whipped cream. She set it down with a smile, glancing between the two of you as if she’d picked up on the playful atmosphere. “Here you go,” she said. “No whipped cream this time, sir.”

Xavier’s eyes glinted as he thanked her with a nod, and after she left, he looked back at you with a satisfied expression. “See? Husband perks,” he teased, taking a sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile spreading across your face. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, the teasing lilt in his voice gentler now. He took your hand under the table, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But... thank you,” he added after a beat, his voice softer and more sincere. “For speaking up for me.”

You blinked at him, momentarily thrown off by the gratitude in his tone. “Of course,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “That’s what wives do, right?”

Xavier let out a soft laugh. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a rare, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat.

In that moment, with his hand in yours and the gentle teasing in the air, it was easy to forget the world outside the café. Just the two of you, playing pretend—but maybe, just maybe, something more.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[eclips-moon]

Batboys and them having a crush on you:

Let me know what you guys think!!!

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Hero Moments: Dick can’t resist showing off when you’re around. Whether it’s flipping through the air during a mission or effortlessly taking down a bad guy, he always glances your way to see if you’re watching. When you cheer him on, he gets all giddy. “Just doing my job,” he’ll say, but you can tell he loves the attention.

Jealous Vibes: If he spots you chatting with another guy, his friendly demeanor shifts. He’ll casually walk by, pretending to check his gear or adjust his mask, but you can see the twitch in his jaw. “Hey, you need help with that?” he’ll say, trying to insert himself into the conversation. He acts like he doesn’t care, but you know he’s dying to get your attention.

Awkward Compliments: Around you, Dick transforms from suave to stuttering mess. “You look… um, amazing! Not that you don’t always look amazing!” His cheeks go a shade of red, and he quickly looks away, pretending to be focused on something else. You can’t help but smile at his clumsiness.

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

Secret Stares: Jason tries to play it cool, but he often gets caught sneaking glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. His friends are quick to tease him about it. “Dude, you’re not even trying to hide it!” they’ll laugh, making him scowl and deny it, but you can see a faint blush creeping up.

Tough Guy Act: He acts all tough, but when you crack a joke or tease him, he can’t help but smile. “Yeah, real funny,” he’ll say, but his eyes sparkle with amusement. He tries to keep his cool, but the way he lightens up around you is undeniable.

Protective Instincts: Jason’s protective side really comes out when you’re around. He’ll hover just a bit closer during missions, making sure you’re safe. “Stick close to me,” he’ll say, acting like it’s no big deal, but you can sense the underlying concern in his voice. He’s always ready to jump in if you need him.

Tim Drake (Robin)

Overthinking Everything: Tim’s mind is constantly racing when you’re around. He’s always plotting how to ask you out or impress you, but when it comes time to actually talk, he freezes. You catch him staring off into space, and when you ask what he’s thinking about, he panics. “Oh, uh, just… strategizing!” he’ll say, fumbling for a way to change the subject.

Thoughtful Gifts: Tim is secretly the best gift-giver. He leaves you little surprises—a book he knows you’ll love or a custom gadget he made just for you. When you find them, he pretends it’s no big deal. “I just thought you might like it,” he says, trying to act casual, but you can see the hope in his eyes for your reaction.

Nerding Out: When you express interest in his hobbies, Tim’s face lights up. He goes into full-on nerd mode, excitedly explaining tech or comics. “So, this is how it works…” He’s totally in his element, and you can’t help but be charmed by how passionate he is.

Damian Wayne (Robin)

Awkward Teasing: Damian’s idea of flirting is to poke fun at you. “You call that a punch?” he’ll smirk during training, but you can tell he’s impressed. His teasing is playful, and it makes you laugh, even if he acts like he’s being serious.

Jealousy Fits: If he sees you talking to someone else, he turns extremely protective. He’ll huff and challenge that person to a duel, trying to show off. “You think you can impress them? Let’s see what you’ve got,” he’ll say, clearly trying to establish his dominance.

Small Acts of Kindness: Despite his tough exterior, Damian has a soft side. He’ll bring you snacks or offer to help with training, and he tries to act like it’s no big deal. “It’s just efficient to help,” he’ll say, but you know it’s because he cares.

[kalims]

⭒ㅤwith a disney princess

premise. surely there's been a mistake, cause there's no way someone out of place like you ended up at nrc, right? (spoiler alert: months later and they will fight whoever might drag you to rsa)

featuring. dorm leaders (from diasomnia to heartslabyul)

content. at best this might imply a female reader, given they're based of a 'princess' but I tried to take the gender vague and focused mainly on the qualities of them! mc has hair in the rapunzel part lol

note. no beta we die lol. I worked on this by group so i honestly don't remember if I accidentally gendered mc. I absolutely love idias part lmaoooo

malleus (aurora)

ooh intimidating x soft couple.

you look way out of place in somewhere like nrc of all places, given your mother is the infamous sleeping beauty (infamous, in the college’s standards that is.) your kindness is easily taken advantage of, even if you do realize it there is always forgiveness spared for the undeserving.

said kindness was extended to the quiet malleus.

surprise no surprise. he’s impeccably drawn to the sparkling aura you seem to exclude. malleus feels as though there are traces of familiar magic always hovering around you, like its embowed into your very being. a blessing would be a better word for it.

well, he’s just curious but if he were to ever ask he’d be met with the confirmation that you were, indeed blessed by the same three fairies your mother was blessed by (minus the curse… ironically he’s quite similar to the same lady that your mother loved and looked up to.)

he’s just fascinated. something as glittery as you, shiny like gold would’ve been whisked away to his nice tower, homey. he’d tell you. almost as if making its image seem heavenly. (lowkey highkey getting your consent for kidnapping)

animals always seem to flock around you everywhere you go, they sneak around to reach you. in your dorm, during lunch, even in class. there’s either a bird on your shoulder or a squirrel making itself comfortable atop your head. its a curious sight, critters don’t really like him much.

in short they run away, humans or animals alike are both afraid of his presence it seems.

so he’s incredibly still when you nudge an adorably round bird in his palm, peering at it with cautious eyes. tense as a statue lest it flies away.

cue staring contest.

he felt incredibly accomplished that day, and immersed him in the role of making this creature like him. leaving seeds, offering it the most sought off food from the valley, literally conjuring a small home for it. everything.

HE’S SO HAPPY.

malleus often asks of you to sing, perhaps its the blessing talking but its the most unique form of sound he’d ever heard in his life, the more he sings the more he wants to imbue his very being with the loveliness of your song.

always following you around like a lost puppy (lizard?) any evil that actually wants to take advantage of your unfortunate naive desire for peace and kindness is scared away. although malleus would never want your interactions to be reduced entirely because of him, he only starts looking like a demon one he figures out their motive is less than fitting for you.

“yeah, the ingredients were to complicated for me to remember—”

“oh! perhaps i can help you?”

spots the demon behind you (just your lovely giant staring them to their grave.)

“you know what i actually got it— sorry for wasting your time.” you watch them, confused as they dip.

you look to him, as though to ask what just happened but he merely casts you an oblivious glance and shrugs.

favorite past time → coddling you in his dragon form.

he was doubtful whether he should pull through in actually showing it to you, since you were already such an angel towards him. would it be a stretch if he let a selfish desire get in the way? perhaps you’d get scared if you see how large he is there—or if he’s—

idia (rapunzel)

okay that amazed smile on you was totally worth it.

wow your hair is fire.

he should have never made a comment about it in the first place because now you’re completely confused about his reference, were you living in like… in isolation? a cave? you’re a little less worse than the scarabia’s dorm leader when it comes to being oblivious.

just two idiots miscommunicating, he atleast is trying to make an effort to explain that he doesn’t mean it literally but his wording is so bad that you get absolutely nothing from what he is trying to infer.

okay your hair though.

“why is that person stuck in that square!?”

good thing ortho was near cause you almost charged towards a television and judging by the, pan!? in your grip you definitely would have smashed the screen trying to be righteous and rescue the character.

okay then. 1. don’t let you near electronics, specifically when its playing something.

you are a literal danger to his society. shivers

you’re always asking something like “what are those glowing balls on the ceiling?” those are lights… “why is that thing speaking?!” that’s a speaker… “why is it on fire?” oh that’s his hair, he doesn’t really know either it was just like that.

it does feel a little nice to get asked like that and he’d know the answer (its literally the most common knowledge ever but whtv)

EPIC! idia is now trying to figure out how resistant your hair is. its literally like, the most OP shield there is!

at first he had some reservations. like, used a knife once and was flabbergasted when it came back in half. your hair didn’t even move an inch. then he got motivated and tried a sharper sword, longer, and larger of course. he let ortho handle it cause he probably would have stabbed himself.

“wtf.”

flinches cause the half of the sharp end came completely off and stabbed right beside his head onto the wall.

what are the limits of it?! had some doubts before using one of the tech he came up with, it could literally cut through a diamond and he isn’t sure if its entirely safe but you’re all for it cause you were always curious whether your hair could even get cut in the first place.

anyway you’re way too happy to be near a lazer that could obliterate you and its kinda infecting him. yikes.

less than happy cause the lazer literally got reflected by your hair and hit itself so it’s just gone.

on the bright side he can use you as a scapegoat (in a good way)

alright. 2. don’t enrage you unless he wants to experience getting hit by a pan really hard.

wow. he felt that for days.

maybe its the hit or he’s just feeling a little woozy whenever you’re around.

definitely the pan.

vil (mulan)

bold x shy couple

pretty x pretty defender

he’s used to people heeding his suggestions but damn, are you a stubborn one.

not only have you not listened to his propositions for becoming a more refined person (cause the way you held yourself was too.. much for him to ignore, and it bothered him for a long time until he decided to help you.) but he can respect you, he supposes. not a lot of people can stay true to themselves.

it seems like epel, the boy himself has taking a liking to you. no wonder he’s been becoming more rebellious lately.

vil would never stoop so low to purposely direct someone advice that would change their entire self, decimate their unique traits. but all he told you was out of the goodness of his heart, if you’d be less clumsy of your ways your reputation would be better for the long run.

not being respected amongst nrc is never a good thing.

still, you’re still headstrong. never too overconfident, nor cocky. just a humble soul, that’s rare so he tends to stick by you if he ever wanted an honest opinion cause people just tell him what he wants to nowadays. vil never enjoyed the biased remarks.

more often than not he enjoys making your already pretty face, prettier than it is.

finds out you’re no bark and all bite, he never even knew you could take down someone who has an advantage over you in physical terms. come on, its savanaclaw. apparently the guy had spared him an unsavory comment and (apparently, in your defense. only told him a few words, got attacked so it was self defense.)

it came a surprise to him. seeing as you’re generally relaxed in nature, your military prowess a mystery to most since you seemed content with resorting matters with peace. though you seem to lack more restraint when it comes to your close relationships.

vil scolding you in the infirmary (you don’t have a scratch, and the guy whose pride you handed back to is in some corner lamenting cause he can hear you guys.) and you just taking it.

contrary to how you first treated to each other. you seem to be more prone to his opinions, or suggestions the more you progress with each other. he admits maybe he was too outright in his manner of speaking the first time, but it only highlights the change you’d gone through with each other.

you’re the perfect doll, in a way. not in a demeaning way or anything but its so satisfying to him to use products on your face just for the sole reason that you sit so still. his absolute favorite past time is skin care together even if you mostly just follow his lead.

you and epel must be kindred spirits, once he was on his way to retire to the indoors of pomefiore. seeing as it started raining, heavy so it meant it would stay for a while. and then paused when he spotted you both sharing words.

and planting apple seeds in the rain? both of you are stained with the rain, some dirt and mud alike. and vil had never looked so mortified. so just cause you don’t protest when he cares for you doesn’t mean you’re bothered by getting dirty he guesses.

“you both… clean yourselves up, i’ll brew medicine lest you fall under the weather.” ← disappointed sigh.

kalim (jasmine)

ended up waiting for you both to finish under the covers and ushered you both to baths.

you have a tiger!

just living char x their absolute biggest stan

wow you have a tiger.

did he mention you have a tiger?

majority of nrc knows not to mess with you haha, if it’s not obvious already with the seemingly lax tiger that behaves like some sort of overgrown cat following you around and growls at someone when you aren’t looking.

then you always raise a brow at the people who tell you otherwise. “bab doesn’t bite.”

kalim is lowkey highkey their biggest fan, i mean. jamil is having the worst year of his life dragging kalim away wherever you seem to be because the first apparent instinct of the boy is to try to pet the tiger cause it’s ‘cute’.

at some point jamil had to investigate your routine throughout the day, what you do, where you go at specific times like after classes conclude to make sure kalim doesn’t cross path with you.

well, not necessarily you but rather your… tiger. which is hard, honestly. you seem to visit scarabia a lot for a reason unknown. jamil would be suspicious you’d be planning something but all you really do is stay out on the balcony with your companion.

but alas, fate would have it otherwise.

“hi,” kalim blurts before he could remember his friend’s warning. you turn, along with your… also friend who watches him closely. you blurt out a greeting back, seeing as it’s courtesy, you seem to be amused at his fascinated eyes staring at your tiger.

“want a pet?” you offer, bab making sounds of protest.

jamil almost had a heart attack seeing the two of you attached by the hip, only calming down a few weeks later. seeing as your companion wouldn’t pose as much danger as he assumed, seeing as the tiger’s protectiveness started extending to the ray of sunshine.

rich couple ig. everyone overhears your conversations and doubles over. “i had a small statue of gold made for bab, for you.” and then a; “oh, thanks. but we already have a lot at home. hmm…”

actually it’s not really the manner of being attached, more like two following you. kalim, and then your cutie pie tiger.

your reserved nature in particular greatly contrasts kalim, yapper x listener i guess. although the object of his interest was initially because of bab, he might as well be another overgrown cat of yours cause he seems to love touch.

its concerning cause bab themselves felt challenged for your affection and when they spotted kalim’s head nestled on your lap they ‘accidentally’ kick him off.

in a way you seemed untouchable, pet included. you don’t seem to mind kalim much, people might even go as far as to say you enjoy his company. occasionally the vice of his dorm as well, the three of you have this sort of aura that screams ‘don’t approach’

said aura is in the form of a very big cat.

azul (ariel)

one time you admitted to having not much friends and three heads turned towards you. face twisted incredulously.

he doesn’t know why but you looked like you went through ten stages of grief (3 more cause the 7 definitely wasn’t enough.) when you took a glance at him, during the time you were looking around, you almost went past him, actually. but then doubled back immediately.

that’s concerning.

morally suspicious (devil in disguise) x angel

azul often asks your opinions out of habit, he himself isn’t even sure when it started but he considers you a factor in decisions. though he does prefer to keep you out certain… endeavors of his away entirely, no need to concern your innocence in his doings.

as such he often uses the twins to steer you away from trouble cause you seem to have no sense for it whatsoever, whenever there’s a fight brewing instead of walking off you stride closer. curious to whatever was happening.

and, you believe too easily apparently.

jade had held you by your shoulders and directed you away from the fight before the dispute reached you and inevitably dragged you in. “why are they fighting?”

he replied. “ah, well. they inhaled an unpleasant shroom and got affected.” your mortified face spoke you believed him. human culture! you thought.

your brain should be inspected honestly. floyd told him all about the pile of stuff you had “found” in your dorm, ranging from innocent collectibles to items that brought the question of whether or not they were really yours but you didn’t really claim otherwise, just that you found em’ so no more questioning.

azul doesn’t even wanna know why you started staring at mushrooms like they were a mortal enemy of all living forms. speaking of, the three of them didn’t even consider that you could be from the sea as well. seeing as, well. you have two feet, even if they have the same.

besides the fact you’re too clumsy for your own good you sure had no fear when you leapt overboard during a field trip cause a trinket that caught your eye fell and gave the entirety of the attendants a heart attack. floyd had patted him on the back and wishes him condolences.

also the shock of the century when you emerged, pretty tail and all. holding it the trinket up like you just found it the most fascinating thing on the globe.

since then underwater dates were a thing. which took a lot of prompting honestly, you didn’t know he was a merman either, curiously asking him what kind he was. in nature, you were persistent. like a need to sate your questions so he eventually relented.

even then, it took a while before he let you see the form. ← to his fluster you seemed engrossed in this form of his. swimming around him and asking questions.

now azul also have a small pile of items hidden in a box beneath his bed, all from you. which, upon being opened would be mistaken for unused items since its literally random stuff, and a concerning favor towards forks.

oh yeah. sometimes the tweels crash your date.

you could be in his office, going about your business. chilling on his couch and playing with one of your treasures and be completely unaware of the ominous discussion ongoing within the three about anemones? contracts?

“what are you guys talking about?”

“hairstyles for azul.”

“what—”

“ooh. i can brush his hair so you can style it!” pulls out a fork.

leona (belle)

“oh my sevens, WAIT—”

i was having a crisis trying to think of a dynamic so why not just, beauty x beast.

leona is less than pleased to admit he doesn’t like you much. or atleast, he used to. it was clear his feelings of you was reciprocated, based on the uninterested side glances you cast him. your type, well liked, pristine, proper, and informed reminds him all to well of what mold he was forced into. though it never really fit.

you on the other hand, just dislike him in general. more pointedly as to how he acted, too self righteous in your opinion. he sure spends a lot of time moping about how he could have been king when he’s acting like he’d be a terrible one. you’d say it to his face but even you aren’t too crude.

if you’re both looking at the bright side though, you’d probably prefer each other’s company above others. you’re quiet, perfect for napping around. he’s surprisingly true to himself, his morals aren’t too bad either.

as such, to your disdain he now naps in the library. which you had titled your own space, but he didn’t really just care.

relatively you’re a lot more cool headed than he is, you told him concerns about his laziness which he weaved through. after opening up with each other… well you know how it goes.

okay, fine. you no longer berate leona for napping at the public space, quickly shut up when he threatened you. “i’m gonna tell you the real reason ‘m here nowadays if you don’t calm down. and it ain’t the peace i’m here for.” he eyes you, and you shut up after that.

leona doesn’t know if he should be amused or annoyed at the fact that you stand up to whatever he says. ‘that’s rude,’ this. ‘are you out of your mind?’ that. at some point where he doesn’t wanna admit, leona had disliked seeing you upset (particularly towards him) that he started listening.

at others is a different story though. he will gladly watch you shut down someone else.

sometimes he makes weird remarks, like. “throw an egg at them, who knows might hatch into a chick and give them the company they’ve been lacking.” ← just bullies random people while you defend them. “what? don’t be stupid, eggs that are sold don’t hatch into chicks.”

you often lament in his arms, regretting ever coming near his sleeping frame cause next thing you know you’re subjected to prison, and you had accidentally dropped the book you were reading so even if you try to reach for it he’s pulling you back.

will reach for it if you ask tho lol.

just one look from you has him suddenly behaved tbh.

bothers your productive time by crashing it with his opposite word of productive idk im to lazy to check. more often than not tramples over your things, but always looks dead to life when you end up scolding him heavily.

also kicks out the animals that gravitate towards you for some reason, got jealous of a bird nestled in your hair once cause apparently you paid too much attention to it.

apparently told ruggie to fetch books for you when you’re running out, at that point you might actually milk the nrc library with how fast you burn through them.

“you’re not even from here, what do—”

“actually. originally from times before, they—”

riddle (cinderella)

got lectured about history, eugh.

easy to fluster x enthusiastic and sweet

how are you so nice.

you’ve got most of the population of nrc enamored with your natural charm alone, though some do tend to mock you. unfortunately they aren’t wrong, you really do fit in more at a different school like rsa with your personality.

i mean you fit the bill, kind, pretty, talks to animals.

good for you though. cause riddle would prefer a behaved student than a troublesome one anyway so he would definitely dig you lmao.

speaking of. he definitely goes to you whenever the hedgehogs are lost in the maze, or the flamingos just don't wanna step out the farther spot from the pond, somehow they love you in whatever you do.

as in, you spoke to the hedgehogs with a lower tone. almost like a coo, and he almost tells you to stop because that's the universal worse tone to talk to hedgehogs until... it nuzzles into you?!

flabbergasted, he can only watch.

sevens... you're just so pleasant to be around he could die.

at some point it felt like you were the epitome of being kind. riddle understand that the virtue was just embedded into you, letting others berate you for whatever... he even thought you were too kind for a place like nrc where the complete opposite traits are admired.

you are, but only to those who deserve it. riddle had the pleasure to spot you nitpicking a crude student and they looked like they were gonna burst into tears.

so... you knew what to say almost always. when troubled, he'd learn that it's best to talk to you cause you'd know what to say to ease his worries, when you're treated wrongly? sevens.. you also know what to say.

but, in a putting whoever in their place way?

(idk man I'm just rambling at this point lmao idk how to write a cinderella reader.)

riddle has grown accustomed to random critters breaking in the door. well, he was used to animals in the first place. or atleast thought he was when he opened a door in the dorm and almost yelled at the sight of a group of mice looking like they were having conspiracies.

a few weeks after that he knocked on doors before opening them.

was also very disturbed when you announced they were your friends.

I don't know. I feel like he'd lowkey be the type to write your name in a heart on the back of his notebook and straighten his face like: 'what in the world am I doing' but not erasing it anyways.

over time, your little 'friends' got used to him, and vice versa. at the very least he isn't screaming at their sudden visits, be it flying through the window or just popping out of something they climbed on.

who's screaming though are his dorm members, and he's found humors in the encounters.

"ah, thank you, myrcella." he nods gingerly, toward the very tiny white mice who seems to twirl around, touched by the thanks. the little thing was nice enough to carry the pen he'd been using to scribble down the main definitions he'd been copying from the textbook.

in the middle of reaching for a glass of water the door opens, riddle watches one of his residents striding in rambling. probably about to be exposed to the sight of a group of mice sleeping on top of each other atop a cushion he'd personally placed for them.

and maybe the birds. whom seemed comfortable by his small collection of plants.

"dorm leader, octavinelle stude—GAHHHH—"

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[gffa]

Osha's backstory episode of The Acolyte fits perfectly with a headcanon I've had forever about Force-sensitive children in the galaxy--that some children feel called to the Jedi and some do not, and that the Jedi look out for this. We see that destiny exists in the Star Wars universe, the Force calls to people to walk certain paths, but that it's still up to them to decide, you still have to make your own choices. (See: Everything about Anakin Skywalker and how the Jedi never brought that up around him, it was always about personal choice and agency. Yes, he was the Chosen One, but he had to choose his path.) From the moment we first meet her, child Osha didn't want to be a witch, she wanted to see more of the galaxy beyond Brendok, she was immediately entranced by the Jedi when they showed up during the ceremony, like a magnet pulling her to them, that she was drawing the Jedi Order symbol long before they ever got there. It wasn't just a sudden way to get out of there, she was feeling this pull towards them long before she ever even met a Jedi. She's the one who first slips out to meet Sol during the ceremony despite being told to hide, she's the one who goes over to talk to Kelnacca before the test, she's the one who fights against her entire family to say she wants this. She's the one who wants this even before she knows there will be other children like her with the Jedi. We don't see the Jedi giving Mae that same nudge, because the Jedi path wasn't meant for her, she didn't want it, and I love that both here and in The Phantom Menace, the Jedi make sure that this is what the child wants, too, that both prequels and High Republic Jedi are shown to take such care, that it's done with the parents' permission, but also getting a sense of what the Force is or isn't calling this person to do and whether they accept it. But Sol gently pushes Osha, not to tell them what they want to hear, but to tell the truth, do you want this? Do you feel like this is right for you? Just as Qui-Gon made sure Anakin knew being a Jedi was a hard choice, the Jedi want you to be sure, want you to feel called to this, because the Force exists, a mysterious destiny exists in this galaxy. It's still your choice, you have to have agency over your choices, it's not just, "What does the Force want?" but instead Sol asking, "What do you want, Osha?" The narrative is careful to point out Sol telling her about his own testing, that he knew he was different from his family, that he was scared at first, but it was clearly his choice. "But you must have the courage to say what you want." The Force called her here, the Force is something that exists within Star Wars and has a will of its own, and some people are not called to this particular path, I don't think Mae was ever meant to be a Jedi, she never wanted it, she never felt that pull. But Osha, like so many other Force-sensitive children tapping into this giant mystical energy field that has a destiny for you if you want it, they are pulled to it and the Jedi take such care with that. Some are meant to walk the Jedi path and some are not, that's something only each individual can figure out for themselves, and the Jedi do their best to honor both the Force's calling and the person's own choices. And if a child resists and pulls away, they let them go, it wasn't right, it wasn't meant for them. But when a young Force-sensitive is practically vibrating in place with how badly they clearly feel this is meant for them, that's something that exists as a thing that really does happen with the Force.

[rainrot4me]

Do You Think About Her?

Summary: Jeff liked to tease Toby about his lack of experience with women. So when coming home from a mission with the two, you decide to tell Jeff off, spurring him into a jealous fit to see how far he can push you both.

Characters: Jeff the Killer & Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Teasing, Toby is inexperienced, Jeff’s an asshole, fingering, cunnilingus, embarrassment, dub-con, blowjob, fucking in/on a truck, voyeurism, double penetration, vaginal, slight power struggle

Words: 5.0k

Jeff was known to make Toby the brunt of his jokes.

Whenever the twitching boy would stutter too much or laugh a little too hard, Jeff was always quick to jump on his ass and say something. Whether Toby took the remarks seriously or not, the pale killer never let up.

So whenever Toby accidentally let it slip that the farthest he had ever gotten with a girl was a blowjob, the whole mansion groaned with the frequency Jeff brought it up. Whenever he got a chance to embarrass the brunette you best believe he was going to, despite your belief that Toby could easily lay his ass out but just chose not to.

You had been sleeping around with Jeff for a while, the horny killer always willing to show you a good time whenever you asked for it. But that also meant dealing with his obnoxious mouth, and whatever bullshit insults he had conjured that day. So when you got wind of Jeff’s hounding on the boy, your heart ached. You and Toby were about the same age, and your backstories for how you ended up under Slender’s care were more or less the same. Bad home life turned murderous. There was a sense of familiarity in him, so you couldn’t just let your obnoxious fuck buddy run his mouth without you saying something.

“Listen, Jeff.” You groaned, curling your legs under you in the passenger seat of his old truck, heading back to the mansion after a particularly aggravating mission. Jeff eyed you, head propped on his fist as he leaned against the open window, the cool night air wafting in as he drove down the familiar back roads. Toby sat quietly in the back seat, staring out the window as his brown curls swayed in the wind. Slender had assigned the three of you together, apparently unaware of the high tensions between the two boys. It just made completing the mission that much more difficult. “You’ve gotta lay off Toby. The poor kids gonna cut your head off if you don’t quit talking about his dick.” You mumbled, staring at the dense trees flying by. Jeff groaned, sitting back against his seat as he turned a sharp curve, cringing at you. A slow rock song mumbled through the radio, the atmosphere nice besides the sour mood in the truck.

“Ain’t my fault the stutter’s practically a virgin.” He laughed dryly, looking into the rearview mirror and catching Toby’s nasty look at him, neck jerking. You were assigned some bullshit job to take out a couple of guys who vandalized the mansion, how they ever got that close and lived you had no idea. But with Toby bickering with Jeff’s snarky attitude, it was nearly impossible for them to focus. Two hours longer than it should have taken, you were finally headed back to the mansion, praying to get away from the two. 

“Don’t be acting like you weren’t a virgin before I came along.” You huffed, turning to catch Toby snickering lowly, looking back out the window quickly before Jeff could see. Jeff grits his teeth, rolling his eyes as he leans forward, staring daggers at you. “Oh, come on now. You’re talking real big for someone that begs for me to fuck them once a week.” He snarled, reaching his arm across the console and gripping your thigh tightly, glancing between you and the road. Toby was still laughing quietly, amused by the bickering not focused on him for once. But this time Jeff heard him, whipping his wide eyes around quickly to laugh at the boy. “No fucking way the virgin’s laughing!” He hollered, throwing his head back as he laughed annoyingly, just loud enough to prove a point. You slapped his arm, pushing his hand off your thigh as you hissed.

“Jeff.”

He rolled his eyes, glancing between you and the rearview mirror, snarling at Toby. The brunette just stared awkwardly between you two, back pressed flush against the seat as you turned to look back at him, nodding your apology. Toby smiled at you, his cheek twitching at the movement. But as you turned back forward, Jeff’s pale face sat shocked and angry as he glanced between the two of you. You glared at him, but that felt all too much as he faced forward quickly, shoving the wheel to the left and throwing the truck off the road, pulling next to the thick treeline and slamming on the brakes. You yelped, bracing your hands on the dash as he threw the truck in park and shut the engine off, the low rock song still beating through the old speakers. Toby cursed, groaning as he pushed himself off of Jeff’s seat and shook his head.

Before you could berate the pale killer, he was already throwing open his door, jumping out and quickly shoving the back door open as well. You watched as Toby struggled frantically against him, punching his shoulders as Jeff hauled him from the truck and onto the grass below. You yelled, throwing open your door and dodging to the opposite side of the truck. Jeff was already on top of the boy, loud grunts and curses ringing as they pushed against each other, fists flying and grappling the other. Toby was holding him off, but with Jeff holding his knee on his stomach, there was little Toby could do to fight him off. They were throwing their palms into each other’s faces, pushing their necks and nearly hurting themselves. So you yelled, instincts thrown as you gripped Jeff by his messy hair, tugging him back by the head until he was hissing. 

As you pulled him off of the smaller boy, you beat his chest with your fist, furious. “What the fuck are you doing?!” You snarled, pushing his chest back against the side of the truck with a loud thud. Thankfully this road was practically abandoned, nobody having any reason to travel back this far unless it was a hunting season, so no one just saw the throwdown that you just broke up. Toby panted behind you, your body standing between the two so Jeff had no choice but to focus on your angry face. “Fu- fuckin’ psycho…” Toby grits, spitting onto the ground as he sits up on his elbows. You still stared at Jeff, your questioning expression enough to make him groan. 

When Toby began to cough, you turned, reaching an arm out to help him stand. You gave him a once over, making sure Jeff hadn’t done any serious damage as you hauled him up. He was slightly taller than you, his goofy smile thankful as he pulled his mask down under his chin, wiping the dirt from his cheek. You sighed, turning back to Jeff and glaring, but getting caught off guard by his disgusted expression. Jeff towered over the both of you, his nasty scowl making you worried. 

“If I didn’t know better I’d think you two were fuckin’.” Jeff growled, pushing off the truck and shouldering the two of you apart, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and staring into the woods. Toby and you awkwardly glanced at each other, the brunette stepping out of the way as you shuffled to Jeff’s side. “Jeff. You’re being unreasonable.” You grit, shoving his shoulder as he glanced at you, groaning. But he turned back to Toby, glaring daggers at the boy until he glanced back at you, a small smirk appearing on his sullen face. The pale killer shuffled to Toby’s side, throwing his arm around the boy’s shoulders, making him flinch away. Jeff held his head tight against his side, making the boy stare through his messy hair at you as you nervously watched. “Tell me, twitch. You ever thought about my girl before? While you’re jerkin’ it, maybe?”

There was a nasty grin on Jeff’s face as you blushed, crossing your arms as the brunette stared at the ground. Jeff didn't appreciate the silence so he hauled Toby’s head up, gripping him by the back of the hair and making his eyes face you. “Jeff-”

“Ah, ah. I’m asking him.” Jeff cut you off, nudging Toby by his side until his shoulders twitched under the pressure. “Whaddya say, Toby?” You glanced nervously between the two, both of their eyes on you as you waited for either an answer or for Jeff to shove off. Music still thumped from the truck, the cool night air blowing your hair gently until there were goosebumps on your skin.  Toby’s eyes frantically glanced between you and the ground, his freckled cheeks a dark tint as he searched for an answer. You had no idea what had gotten into Jeff, but you were growing tired and more embarrassed by the second. Toby closed his eyes, shaking his head as Jeff scoffed, shoving him back to the ground

“I guess we’ll just find out then, huh?” Jeff smiled wildly, stepping over Toby to move to you, your body subconsciously taking a step back before pale hands wrapped around your waist, pushing you in front of him. Jeff stood flush behind you, hands on your hips as he looked down at Toby, the brunette perched against the rear tire of the truck. You pushed against Jeff's hands, protesting lightly as he hugged around your waist, nudging his face into the crook of your neck and kissing lightly, keeping his eyes on Toby the whole time. You groaned, trying to squirm away from his grasp as he nibbled on your neck, kissing small pecks up your jaw and to your ear. Your cheeks grew hot, anxiously glancing between Jeff and Toby, the brunette’s eyes having a hard time looking away from you as Jeff ravaged the side of your face. 

You stifled a groan when Jeff’s cool hands slid under your shirt, pressing light touches against your skin. You gasped, tugging your shirt down as his arms pushed the fabric up, panicking against him. “Jeff- Stop-” You huffed, tugging at his arms, but the pale killer only laughed, nibbling behind your ear as he watched Toby carefully become flustered. You glanced at the brunette, his cheeks dark and knees pressed close to his chest, unable to do anything but watch you fidget under pale arms. Jeff was making a spectacle out of you, teasing the poor boy at your expense. But there was little you could do as he tugged your shirt up, despite your protests.

When he got your shirt over your head, you could literally see the panic in Toby’s eyes. You screwed your eyes shut, whining as Jeff reached behind to unclip your bra and tug it off your shoulders. The brunette was quick to look down, finding your feet inches away from him far more interesting. Jeff didn’t appreciate that, taking your tits in his hands and kneading roughly. “Oh, don’t get shy now, twitch. You gotta own up to how much of a pervert you are.” The killer smiled, pinching your nipples until he heard you hiss, your cheeks hot and breath heavy. 

“The o- only pervert here is yo- you, Jeff…” Toby grunted, eyes glancing up quickly to your tits but back down nervously as he caught the fingers on them. You desperately tugged on Jeff’s hoodie sleeves, teeth gritted as he finally let go and ran his hands down your waist. His cool hands were quick to unbutton your jeans, pushing his hand past your waistline and down into your panties. You yelped, grabbing at his arm and begging the perverted hand out, Jeff only groaning. “Oh, stop acting like you don’t fuckin’ love this, babe.” He hissed in your ear, gripping your wrists and tugging them behind your back, his left hand securing them between his body as his right reentering your panties. You whined, hips bucking frantically as his thick fingers slid between your folds, pushing your wetness onto the digits. Jeff chuckled lowly, pressing his right knee between your legs and forcing your thighs open as his fingers prodded against your clit. 

Toby couldn’t look away now, his flushed cheeks dark as his eyes widened. He was twitching frantically, his neck jerking against the mental override he was experiencing. You stared at him through heavy eyes, embarrassment tugging at your stomach as you begged the boy to look away. Jeff was always one for proving a point no matter the expense, so as he pushed his fingers into your entrance, stretching you wide, he was quick to snap at the brunette. 

“Well look at that, twitch. You ever fingered a girl before? Ever made her squirm this much?” Jeff teased, Toby’s head shaking slowly as his lips fell open, his eyes refusing to look anywhere else. Your arms protested against Jeff, but his strong grip held both of them easily, keeping your chest out and ass pressed back against him. His bulge was already evidently, his psychotic personality getting him excited at your struggle. His thick fingers curled inside of you, pushing little whines and hisses from your lips until you were hunched over, gasping as pleasure racked your cunt. Jeff was chuckling against your neck, nibbling on the skin and leaving little red marks wherever his teeth grazed. It made you whine, your eyes growing heavy and your face hot as you were forced to face Toby, hunched over so your face was right above his. A cool palm nudged against your clit, making your hips grind down and relish in the friction. Toby was so lost in the scene, his knees rubbing together nervously as he glanced quickly between your flushed face and Jeff’s hands shoved into your pants. His bulge was evident against his jeans, his hands gripping the grass below him as he nudged his thighs together, desperately trying to grasp at some sort of friction. 

Jeff ground his hips into your clothed ass, his bulge rubbing against you as he huffed against your neck. “Come on, tell the boy how good you feel.” He grunted, slotting his thick fingers in and out of your cunt quickly, your hips bucking against his palm. He was pulling gasps from you, every curl of his fingers making you mewl your pleasure. Your embarrassment had faded, excitement coursing through you as Toby began to palm himself through his jeans, his hitched groans making you whine as you locked eyes. “Ah… Jeff…” You groaned through gritted teeth when his thick fingers pressed deep against your walls, gushing your arousal around his cool fingers. The killer chuckled, letting your wrists go to snap onto your hip, pulling your hips back so he could grind into your ass easier. You felt your stomach knotting, your hips stuttering against his fingers as you began to whine, biting your cheek. “Toby…” Toby gasped under you, eyes wide as he ground into his hand, mesmerized by you. Eyes locked, you could feel yourself close to that familiar edge, chasing Jeff’s fingers as they curled deep. 

But as if he could sense it, Jeff tugged his fingers out of your warm walls, sliding them out of your pants and chucking wickedly as you whined. You were shocked, hips still bucking as he held your hips, refusing to let you move. You were teetering on that lovely edge, so close to getting off but so quickly stripped of that feeling that you could’ve cried. 

Jef tugged your pants down, pulling your damp panties with them until you kicked them off your ankles. You were completely exposed to the cool air, goosebumps riddling your skin as Jeff bent down, hooking his hands under your knees and tugging you up quickly. Your back was pressed flush against his chest, laying all your weight as your held your knees apart, your throbbing cunt face first with Toby’s face. You whined loudly, hands reaching back to grip Jeff’s messy hair as your cheeks grew dark, eyes pleading as you stared at the boy under you. “Go on. Make her cum.” Jeff commanded, holding you up easily as he watched Toby, beckoning the nervous boy. 

The brunette sat up unsurely, climbing onto his knees as he watched your dark face. He stripped his jacket, letting it fall to the ground behind him as he pressed closer, heavy breath brushing against your sensitive folds. You whined, hips trying to buck to his face but Jeff’s hands holding you still, tsking. “Go on, twitch.” Toby nodded nervously, sliding his fingers up to press your folds apart, eyes flinching to your face worriedly when you gasped. His freckled face looked so cute under you, his goggles pushing his bangs off his forehead and letting you see the flushed skin as he pushed closer. His tongue pressed first, licking a thick stripe between your folds before his soft lips pressed in, sucking on your sensitive clit. Jeff growled, pushing your hips closer to the brunette as you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, God-” You hummed, eyes slamming shut as Toby flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud. 

Your back arched against Jeff, fingers gripping his hair tight as you rutted against the warm tongue lapping at your arousal. Toby spread your lips with his fingers, flattening his tongue against your entrance as humming against you. He pushed further, slipping his tongue into your warmth and making you groan, your hand instantly shooting down to rub your clit and push you close. Toby’s eyes stayed hooded, watching eagerly as your fingers brushed against his nose, his tongue shoved into your cunt. “Le- Let me…” He grunted, sliding his hand up to shove yours away and take its place, slowly circling your clit with the pads of his fingers. You could barely breathe through all the gasps and whines that spilt from your lips, Jeff’s fingernails gripping your leg as he watched the scene unfold. He was smiling and huffing his arousal, teeth nibbling against your ear as he pushed your hips against Toby’s tongue, pulling your knees back further to give the brunette more access. “Does his tongue feel good, babe? You gonna cum on his face?” Jeff cooed, rutting his hips up against your bare ass as Toby lapped at your cunt, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to push deeper.

Nodding frantically, you could already feel yourself clamping down, Jeff’s lewd words making your core twitch as fingers rubbed against your clit. “Toby-” You whined, bucking your hips up as you felt your orgasm crash into you. Toby was quick to hold your hips, burying his face deeper into your cunt as he soaked up your arousal on his tongue, groaning at the taste. Jeff growled, teeth digging into your shoulder as Toby’s fingers rubbed your orgasm out, your thighs trying to twitch shut. When you finally breathed deep, Toby slipped his tongue out, hooded eyes gazing at your hot face, your cheeks flushed and sweaty. He smiled goofily, fingers spreading your soaked lips as he admired your still throbbing cunt, palming himself. Jeff slowly let your legs down, hooking his arm around your waist when your knees buckled from your sensitivity. 

“Damn, Toby…” He groaned, unzipping his jeans and freeing his heavy cock, the tip already smeared with pre. The pale killer gripped you to his side, staring down at the brunette still on his knees as he began to fist his length lazily. Toby sat back on his calves, eyes flicking nervously as he watched Jeff tug you towards the truck, pressing his back against the door and holding you in front of him. Toby stood awkwardly, fidgeting his hands as he watched Jeff push you back, gripping his hands around your head and bringing your mouth to his cock. You didn’t even think, mouth opening almost on instinct as you bent at the waist, bracing your hands against his thighs and taking the twitching length in your mouth like you had done it a thousand times before. Jeff sighed, gripping your hair into a ponytail and bobbing you slowly as he began to talk. 

“You wanna fuck her?” He grinned, grunting as you moaned your approval around his girth. Toby gasped quietly, eyes focused on watching you take Jeff so easily as his cock throbbed against his jeans. Jeff spread his legs wider, pressing his shoulders back against the glass of the door and cupping your cheek, forcing you to bury your face onto his cock, gagging against him. The pale killer groaned, eyeing Toby expectantly as the brunette nodded, his nervousness fading as he watched you submit to Jeff so easily. He wanted that. He wanted you to want him that way. 

Toby had always thought you were cute, his aggravation with Jeff spreading when the killer claimed you for his use. Toby thought the guy was ungrateful for such a pretty girl as you, wishing it was him who was dragging you upstairs to his room after a bad day. The bad thing about all living in the same hallway was the lack of noise privacy, so every time Toby heard your little whines echoing against his wall, there was little he could do against his straining arousal. 

But now, with your hips in the air and your cunt so beautifully waiting, Toby would show you. Despite his lack of experience, the brunette had watched enough porn to know what he wanted, to know exactly how he needed to treat you. The boy nodded, unzipping his jeans and sliding behind you, awkwardly gripping your hips. Your back muscles twitched and pulsed as you strained to bob at the pace Jeff was wanting you to go, the killer’s dark eyes grinning as he watched Toby nervously slip out his cock. The tip was red and leaking, twitching desperately as the brunette bent his knees, angling his head to press between your soft folds and find your entrance. You gasped, immediately pressing back against him but Jeff’s hands held your head, giving you little room to move as you slobbered on his length. 

The killer was being possessive, inspecting the brunette's every move as he pushed into you slowly, watching your expressions for any sign that you weren’t enjoying it. You moaned around his cock, tongue flattening against the underside and flicking against the gaudy veins that ran up it. Jeff huffed, relishing in the way your slobber pooled at the sides of your mouth as you screwed your eyes shut, focusing on not choking on his girth. But he wanted you to. He wanted to put on a good show for the kid. 

Placing his hands on either side of your head, he thrust quickly into the heat of your mouth, head knocking against the back of your throat and making you gag. He smiled, pulling back to the head before slamming back in, trying his best to pull any noises he could from your constricted throat. 

Toby watched carefully, mouth hanging lazily as he bottomed out inside of you. You were so warm, the heat swallowing him impossibly tight as he struggled not to move. His cock wasn’t as long as Jeff’s, but fuck did it still stretch you so good. You ground your hips back, moaning at the way the boy’s nails dug into your hips desperately. You had already ruined porn for him, your cunt gripping him the way his fist never could. He was already hooked. “God… O- Oh my god…” Toby gasped, shallowly thrusting into your cunt and drooling at the way your entrance tugged against him every time he pulled out. You were so pretty, your flushed skin warm under his scarred fingers, he couldn’t help but knead your ass apart as he ground into you.

In your opinion, the two boys were so impossibly different. Jeff was an ego trip, dick thinking before his brain did and making him a cocky little bitch who loved to show off. But Toby, on the other hand, was an awkward kid whose brain ran faster than the rest of him. It made him sensitive, but so dangerously impulsive at the same time. But right now, with their cocks buried on either side of you, their differences were even more prominent. Jeff was rough and loud, even on his best days caring only if you ended up babbling his name out of overstimulation. But Toby was nervous, inexperienced and trying his best to fulfill those urges he so desperately had. It was dizzying how differently they treated you.

You ground back against Toby, arching your back against his small thrusts and begging him to dare faster. He panted behind you, neck twitching and face contorting with every stretch he could feel inside of you. “Faster, twitch,” Jeff grunted, angling his cock in your mouth so he could fuck your throat, smiling at the way you gurgled on your spit. Toby hesitated for a minute, looking at the killer unsurely. 

“She wants you to go, ah, faster.” He hissed, snapping his hips as you gripped his jeans, begging for air. After so much time sleeping around, Jeff could read your body language like a book. It was beyond annoying, especially when he could tell you were aroused despite your bickering that you weren’t. But in this case, you thanked him by pressing your head down further, pushing your nose into his pubes. 

Toby nodded frantically, spreading his feet wider so he could angle himself up, slowly snapping his hips faster. He gripped your hips, his fingerless gloves nipping against your skin until you were whining loudly, gut-clenching in pleasure as his cock nudged against your g-spot. You arched your back, letting the brunette groan and hiss his pleasure behind you as you thrust your hips back, matching his pace. It wasn’t long before he was ramming into you, skin snapping loudly as he gave in and abandoned his nervousness. Jeff was eager too, nearly matching the brunette’s pace as he forced his cock down your throat, only pulling back every so often so you could suck on the head and catch your breath. “So- So warm…”

Jeff grits his teeth, challenging the twitching boy opposite of him as he stares daggers through his hooded eyes. “You gonna cum, twitch? Gonna spill in her?” Jeff was teasing him, the killer’s own orgasm quick on his heels as he slipped out of your mouth, slapping the wet length against your cheek. You were gasping, whines mixing as Toby snapped his hips, hissing. “I- I, ah, can’t-” He whined, your walls clamping against his aching cock, milking him quickly. Jeff grinned, popping his cock back in your mouth and letting you suck on the head while he talked. “Sure you can. Had her on the pill for a while now. Get to fill her cunt full whenever I want.” 

It was true. Jeff was so insanely horny that he had opted for stealing birth control pills from the pharmacy off the highway nearby just so he didn’t have to pull out. But you couldn’t complain, cumming around a cock was heavenly. 

Toby stared wide-eyed, a new fire igniting in him as he pressed his hands around your waist and began to slam his hips brutally. You yelped, eyes rolling as the boy thrust deeply into you, his teeth gritted and grunting. Jeff laughed wickedly, tugging your chin down with his thumb as he pushed his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, grunting as he matched Toby’s pace in your throat. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight when Toby gripped your hips and hauled you up, your feet leaving the ground. He hunched over you, breathing raggedly as he fucked up into your cunt, squelching and slapping loud in your ears. 

It was all too much, so many sensations and so full your body couldn’t resist itself anymore. You buried your around Jeff’s cock as you came, eyes rolling hard as your cunt clamped down against the unfamiliar girth. Your legs were spasming, feet kicking in the air as Toby moaned, digging his nails deep. 

They both buried in you at the same time, their ragged moans and loud breathing making your gut twist as you felt warm seed spilling into you. You tried to swallow quickly, choking on the salty liquid as Jeff hunched over you, gripping your head tight in his pale hands. Toby’s cock twitched inside of you, knees shaking as he let himself spill into your warmth. Jeff pulled out first, letting his leaking head rest against your swollen lips as tears spilt down your cheeks, your mind so hazy you couldn’t breathe straight. He chuckled, hooking his hands under your armpits and tugging you up against his chest, Toby slipping out of you with a groan. You panted against Jeff’s shoulder, eyes heavy and cunt throbbing as he picked you up and snapped at Toby to grab your clothes. 

So when Toby climbed into the passenger seat and Jeff sat you sideways on his lap, tugging you close to his chest, you breathed deep. Toby’s bangs were stuck against his forehead from the sweat, his red freckled cheeks watching you so closely as he ran his hand between your thighs, your head falling onto his shoulder as he fingered his cum inside of you. Jeff grinned as he started the truck, hauling it back onto the road and speeding towards the mansion, occasionally reaching over to press his thick fingers in with Toby’s and make you cry. The brunette pressed his chin against your head, rubbing your clit as Jeff’s fingers pressed Toby’s cum deep into your cunt, tugging yet another orgasm out of you as the same slow rock music pounded against the speakers. 

You could barely think as they dressed you, pulled up to the mansion and hauled you inside, Toby carrying you to your room and setting you between them as they cleaned you up. Jeff still bickered with Toby, rolling your eyes as you slipped into sleep below them. 

But as the weeks passed and Toby began showing up at your door with that pleading look in his eyes as frequently as Jeff, there was little you could do to resist. Even when the two showed up together, scheming some new position they wanted to try and arguing the whole time, your heart fluttered.

So when their sharp words turned to breathy groans, you realized that maybe the only way they could stand each other was if you were distracting them, giving them something better to focus on.

This is a birthday present for @carmoronic! Live it up!!!!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹