#key part of his character is just the drip

[cherryite]

overthrown - interlude. the lake

summary. in the aftermath of your encounter with the oracle, you and the rest of the heirs search for answers, and you find yourself... 'dreaming', a bit too vividly (word count. 7.6k)

content. princess!reader x prince!mark grayson, fem!reader, strangers to lovers, slow burn, angst, yearning, hurt/comfort, fantasy au, saving the world, war time activities, found family

warnings. MDNI!!, depictions of violence, blood/gore, and injuries, loss of family, death, grief, rex being a dickhead lowk, survivors guilt, anissa (because she deserves a warning), eventual smut (not this part)

author's note. oh heyyyyyyy, i know a lot of you don't read this fic but it's literally my labor of love. i hope you all enjoy, shit's getting real from here on out lol. as always, i love to chat about my fics! so don't be afraid!! (i listened to i bet on losing dogs while writing this and also the power of prophecy from hotd s1 so!!)

taglist. @pickledsoda @heartfully10

previous/next

plot/ world info character index

Candles flicker in the dark.

Wax drips down the tapers, pooling on the table like pools of thick tears from a crying eye. Everyone is still half dressed, sleep clothes the only thing worn, bags under their eyes. Cecil paces at the head of the table, his tunic is ruffled and his face is contorted in deep thought. He’s muttering under his breath, running a weathered hand along the length of his jaw as he thinks.

Rex slumps in his chair between Eve and Rae, arms crossed, his lower lip slightly puffed out like a child denied a treat. “I can’t believe I woke up for this,” he mumbles.

Eve hardly even glances at him as she gives him a swift ‘wack’ to the back of his head. He groans. Rae smiles to herself. “You woke up because she was screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night,” Eve hisses lowly, her tired green eyes glaring at him, “consider being useful for once instead of complaining.” 

You sit hunched in your seat, your knees drawn to your chest near the foot of the table. Your arms have wrapped themselves around your knees, you aren’t sure if it’s for warmth or to comfort yourself. Mark sits in the chair nearest to you and he thinks he’s being subtle about how he keeps peeking over at you to make sure you’re okay. He’s been hovering since he barged into your room after the Oracle visited you. You shiver, the cold of the night cloaked castle floors seeping up through your feet and nipping at your skin, the thin fabric of your night clothes doing little to help. Your heartbeat still echoes faintly in your ears. You haven't entirely left that moment; that figure made of starlight, the voice that made goosebumps run along your arms. It clings to your skin like static.

Cecil finally ceases his pacing, his eyes drawing to look at you. “So,” his voice is rough from sleep,  “what exactly did the Oracle say to you,” Cecil leans with his palms on the large oak table, looking at you expectantly.

You swallow, albeit a bit nervously. Your mouth feels exceptionally dry. “It said that Thala’s Blade would be the key to defeating the Dark God’s army,” you say, your voice low as you explain, “that we’d find it where the God’s used to rest their heads. And that hope needs to wield the blade.”

The room is eerily still, the occupants of it processing quietly to themselves. The silence is not comfortable.

Rex scoffs, “But the Blade’s just a bedtime story, it’s a myth. My grandfather used to tell me that story at bedtime. We may as well be looking for a dragon.” Rae shoots him a look, her wild chestnut hair swishing around her as she turns, “well obviously it’s real, why would the Oracle waste its time lying to us?”

Eve is contemplating to herself, “‘Where the God’s used to rest their heads’... what do you all suppose that means?” She steeples her fingers in front of her mouth as she leans forward. You can practically see her mind working.

Cecil sighs, “in the stories, the God’s had a temple here in the Realm. They used to stay there when they visited mortals or had business down here. It was a convergence point, where the realms touched. I’ve never heard of it being real, or any mention of where it’s located.”

The room is tense. The past month has been rough. The prophecy doesn’t exactly say how to beat the Dark God. Meetings have been filled with collecting armies, making allies where they can, preparing for potential attack. But now they have a clue, something to go off of and it may not even be real. 

Mark drums his fingers against the hard wood of the table, his brows drawn in thought, “If the Blade does exist, and the Oracle wants us to find it…” He trails off, hesitating before he regains his train of thought, “The Oracle said Hope must wield the Blade. Do we know what that could mean?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Rex scoffs, motioning to Mark, “who else would it be? Mark’s the strongest of us. He’s the heir of Viltrum and he’s the best fighter we have. If anyone’s going to take on the Dark God and his army with a legendary sword, it’s Mark.”

Mark suddenly seems a bit uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. “But it didn’t say my name.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Rex says, waving a hand tiredly, “the Oracle didn’t say any of our names directly when it told you the prophecy. I’m just placing my bets early that it’s you.”

“Honestly, I think that's the point. That’s what it wants us to figure out,” Eve murmurs, still thinking, her fingers steepled under her chin. “The Oracle didn’t give an answer. It gave us a path and we should follow it.”

“Our best course of action is to see if there's any clues or documentation in any written sources in the library,” Rae suggests, “at least that's how I see it.”

Cecil huffs, his brows pinched together. “Good thinking.” He turns, running his hand down his face tiredly. “Start searching, tonight if you can. We’re sitting ducks right now. And without the upperhand Thala’s Blade could give us, I’m running out of ideas on how to win this war.”

The whole table nods, and your stomach feels queasy. Mark’s fingers have stopped drumming against the table now and you can tell he’s watching you again. You can feel his gaze, warm and steady, even as your own eyes remain fixed on the dark wood of the floor beneath your bare feet. When you raise your gaze to look at him though he quickly looks away when your eyes meet his. There’s a slight flush at the tips of his ears, his jaw tightening as he picks at a thread on the sleeve of his tunic. His hand rests near yours on the table, close enough to touch with just a twitch of your hand. You don’t, but his presence cloaks you in a comforting feeling.

Cecil rubs his temples, already muttering to himself about war plans and temples and gods as he scans the large map of the Realm on the table. You can hear him continue to mumble about how he hates magic, and how this is all one massive divine headache.

Eve pushes her chair back. “Well. No sense sitting here like idiots.”

You glance up at her, broken from your trance. Her green eyes flick toward you with something akin to determination. “Come on. We’re going to the library.”

Rae rises as well, smoothing the green silks of her dress. “I’ll help too. Besides, it’s either that or I’ll stay up all night thinking about how Rex could actually be right about something.”

“I am always right,” Rex calls after her with a wink, followed by a yawn as he slumps further in his chair. Eve scoffs without even looking back at him. Rae attempts to hide the smile that creeps onto her lips. 

You rise to follow them, your frame a little shaky from the night's events. Mark is standing up as soon as you are up and out of your chair. You turn your head to glance at him, your eyes finding his own, almost like a silent communication of assurance between you both. The way he looks at you then— soft and a little helpless— makes something twist in your chest. You just nod to him, whispering a quiet ‘goodnight’ as you brush past him to catch up with Eve and Rae. They’re already halfway to the door, Eve is muttering something about how there has to be something somewhere. As you catch up with them, you spare a glance over your shoulder.

Mark is still watching you.

And you realize, as you follow Eve and Rae out of the large oak doors of the council room, that it’s not just your place in the prophecy that has you afraid. It’s the feeling growing in your chest every time you look at him. And you don’t know what to do with it.

~

The palace library is still this late at night. Eerie shadows line the walls, candle fire waves as a soft night breeze drifts through the tall rounded windows. The air smells of old books; slightly musty and earthy, a faint hint of what can only be described as vanilla and worn parchment. Tall, looming bookshelves fill the space, nearly touching the high ceilings, crammed full to the brim with texts far older than any soul still breathing. 

You, Eve, and Rae are tucked away in a quiet corner, sifting through so many different texts it makes your brain feel like it’s melting out of your ears. Reading through sources so old the pages could disintegrate if you're not careful enough. A hefty volume sits in your lap, your legs folded beneath you on the thick woven rug. The skirt of your dress fans out around you, flowy light blue fabrics cloaking your figure as your fingers trial delicately across lines of faded ink.

Eve sighs, her brow knit together as she shuts the book in her lap with a quiet thump. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing about where the sword could be.” She rises, brushing her hands on her skirt as her simple magenta dress swishes at her feet. Pink magic glows from her fingertips, soft and shimmering, as she returns the book to its place with a flick of her wrist, slotting it back amongst the other texts. Her eyes scan the shelves, already reaching for another.

Across from you, Rae grumbles, adjusting her glasses on her face and rubbing her temples, a similar expression on Eve’s. “This is hopeless,” she mutters, “I think I’ve read nearly every book in here about the sword, the God’s, the temple, the Realm’s geography… and still nothing.” 

“Rae’s cracking,” Eve mumbles as she continues to scan the shelves.

Rae looks up, deadpan. “Cracking? My brain is shattered. My mind is a soup.”

“Same,” you mumble, your fingers rubbing at your temples. “Sword soup.”

Eve slides another ancient tome from the shelf, fuzzy pink particles curling lazily in the air around her hands. She hums to herself, eyes scanning the faded title, shrugging as she brings it over to where she was sitting. Eve flops into the chair, tossing the book on top of the ever growing stack of them between you all. 

“We should probably rest soon,” she mumbles. “If the Oracle said we’re meant to find the Blade, maybe we’ll stumble across something eventually. Or maybe it’ll find us.”

“Maybe,” you echo, your voice laced with quiet and tiredness. Your fingers ghost over the page of the book in your lap, but you aren’t really reading it. Your mind drifts like a boat lost at sea, back to Ephia, to your brother’s easy laughter, to his sharp mind and stubborn heart. Aaric would’ve found the sword by now, whispers a dark voice you try your best to ignore. He was always so smart.

Before the thought can truly sink its claws in, Eve shifts her body toward Rae with all the subtlety of a cat about to knock a goblet from a table. 

“So,” she starts, drawing the word out. “Rae.”

“Oh no,” Rae says immediately, but Eve hardly pays any attention and continues on.

“You and Rex,” she teases, drawing the words out slowly, as if savoring them.

Your brows rise, curiosity stirred. “Rex?” you ask, genuinely surprised. It’s difficult to picture it in your mind. Rex is brash, just as fiery as his magic, and unapologetically loud. While undeniably skilled, his complete lack of tact often grates on your nerves. Rae, by contrast, is thoughtful, sharp, and fairly competent. You can’t even imagine Rae having an interest in him.

Rae’s face goes red instantly. “It’s not like that.”

“Are you sure?” Eve pushes, her eyes sparkling, “Because when I spoke to him yesterday, he said he thought you were pretty.” Your eyes flicker up to watch the interaction, just catching the way Rae fidgets .

“I do not care what Rex thinks,” Rae says quickly, a little too quickly, the tips of her ears turning an unmistakable shade of red. She grabs the nearest book and flips it open without looking at the cover. “He’s loud and cocky and annoying.”

“Yes, yes, yes, all true. Trust me, you get to know someone very well when your parents arrange a betrothal when your barely six years old,” Eve says, flopping her head to the side, her red hair gleaming in the candle light, “and yet I still catch you looking at him at every council meeting, and at training, and when he-”

“Eve, I think I would rather talk about anything else right now than talk about Rex,” Rae interrupts, pushing her glasses up her nose with a strained sigh. Eve grumbles to herself, crossing her arms as her head rolls back against her chair. Eve turns her gaze to you, studying you like you're a puzzle she’s trying to crack.

“How’s Mark,” Eve asks, the question obviously directed at you. You pinch your brows together, looking up from the tome in your lap again.

“He’s… as fine as he can be, everything considered,” you respond, flipping the book closed slowly, “why?”

Eve shrugs nonchalantly, her magic twisting from her fingertips, wrapping itself around a book amongst the stack between you all. It drops into her lap, a quiet plop amongst the silence. 

“He just seemed stressed at the council meeting. I figured that you would know what's up, considering all the time you two spend together.” You finally look up to meet her eyes, but she’s sifting through the book in her lap nonchalantly. Your heart thumps uncomfortably in your chest as you think back to a few hours prior, Mark sitting beside you, his dark hair ruffled, bags underlining his brown eyes. How he got uncomfortable about being the first choice of the five of you to wield the sword. 

The weight of the world is crushing him and it’s easy for you to see; the loom of his father’s ghost over him, the pressure to assist his mother in matters of the Realm, the stress of controlling powers he hasn’t even fully discovered the extent to. And you can’t even begin to think of the implications of the second half of Eve’s words. So you just shift, your face neutral despite the way your mind wanders to matters surrounding Mark.

“He just has a lot going on, just like the rest of us.” You fiddle with the corner of the closed time in your lap, the parchment smooth under your fingers. “Between the prophecy, the Dark God’s army, and the aftermath of his father’s…” You trail off, the word death catching in your throat. You don’t finish the sentence, cutting yourself off. Your eyes start drifting off towards the pale moonlight shining through the stained glass of the library. 

Eve doesn’t push further after that.

Eventually, Eve yawns and sets her book aside. Rae begins gathering the tomes you’ve already read into a pile. The sound of worn leather and rustling parchment fills the quiet night air. And you sit for a moment longer, gazing at the dancing shadows on the walls. 

When you finally get up to leave, Rae loops her arm through yours, squeezing gently. You try to offer her a faint smile in return. Eve leads the way out, her steps slow and unhurried, her magic dimming at her fingertips as she tugs the library doors open with a quiet creak. The scent of old paper and candle wax lingering in your wake. And so does the quiet ache beneath your ribs.

~

The halls of the palace are quiet at this hour, cloaked in the kind of silence that feels more uneasy than still. Moonlight seeps in through the stained glass, casting fractured light beams across the stone floor in deep hues of violet and amber. Mark walks slowly, lost in thought, Steelsworn at his hip, though he hasn’t needed it since training the morning before with you.

He should be asleep. That’s what William would tell him, anyway. Probably accompanied with a tired laugh and a half-hearted jab about bags under his eyes, how they don’t suit a prince of the Realm. But sleep hasn’t come easy in weeks for him. He finds that his magic thrums too loudly when the world goes quiet. His mind won’t let him rest. Especially not after earlier.

He pauses at the end of a long corridor, glancing through a nearby window. The gardens below are cloaked in silver, still and quiet in the dark. Somewhere beyond them, tucked away in the castle’s east wing, he knows the library was occupied not long ago, the candles only recently snuffed. 

The image lingers in his mind; you hunched over a book, the blue of your dress spilling around you like seawater, fingers curled lightly over the fragile edge of a page. He had barely even noticed Eve and Rae were there with you. He hadn’t meant to stop by on his way back from talking with his mother and Cecil post council meeting. Hadn’t meant to look in through the half-open door when he’d passed.

But he had anyway, something stirring in his chest as he did.

He hadn’t gone in, though. Just peeked in for a heartbeat too long, long enough to feel that pull again. The one he doesn't know how to name yet. The one that keeps haunting him when he does get sleep, the one that makes his fingers twitch whenever you, the princess of Ephia, is near.

He’s still not used to thinking of you that way, not really. Sometimes you feel too distant, too out of reach for someone who talks about your brother like he was still in the room with you. For someone who paints late at night and leaves clay under your fingernails. For someone who’s kind in a quiet way, not because it’s expected of you as a princess, but because you don’t know how to be anything else but that. For someone who lets him talk about his father, how he misses him, about how he feels the crushing weight of his legacy constantly.

He saw the way you looked at him today, when Cecil brought up the Blade. The way your lips parted like you might say something, but didn’t. The way your hands curled in your lap. The way you listen when he talks, like what he’s saying matters, like you’re hanging on every word.

Hope must wield the Blade.

He doesn’t know what that means and that in itself makes his head spin. 

But he does know this: the moment the Oracle appeared in your room and spoke of Thala’s Blade, the way it looked at him and called out to him with its sickening voice—Hello, Gods’ Born—it felt like a hot brand on his skin.

He can tell everyone thinks it should be him, that he should wield the sword of hope against the people who killed his father. He’s the strongest. The prince of the Viltrum Empire. The one born from powerful blood, his father’s blood, even if that blood feels like it’s eating him alive sometimes.

But strength and worth aren’t the same, Mark knows that.

And when he looks at you, he wonders if maybe the Blade was never meant for someone like him at all. The thought stirs in his head, like a bug buzzing in his ear, that it should be you.

Mark leans his head back against the stone wall, closing his eyes for just a moment. The air is cool, sharp. His shoulders ache from training, from holding himself together in front of the council, in front of his mother, in front of you.

He wants to say something. He just doesn’t know what.

He wants to be someone who can help the ones he cares about. But how can he do that if he can’t even help himself.

~

It’s been a couple of days of searching for information on the sword. When you aren’t buried in books with Eve and Rae, your time is spent in the training yard with Mark. Sleep has been finding you easily these days despite it all, your body weary and slack, your muscles sore. 

Tonight is different though.

You're sleeping, or at least you thought you were. At least you had been. There’s no clear line between rest and waking. Only a slow, syrupy pull upward, like you’ve been drifting in a warm sea and now something tugs you to the surface. Your thoughts are soft and smudged, like charcoal rubbed too hard into parchment. Your mind is hazy, fuzzy. The bedsheet beneath you doesn't feel the same, but it did at the same time. Climbing out of bed, your bare feet touch the ground, stone cold against your feet. 

The air feels wrong.

You can hear sounds in the hallway, muffled voices, quick footsteps, a strange, electric hum that crawls beneath your skin. You move, though it doesn’t feel quite like walking. Your steps are light, almost weightless, like your body isn’t real. The torches along the corridor flicker low, their flames dimmer than they should be. The walls seem to shift in the corners of your vision, blurring, warping. Stone and smoke woven into one. 

A figure rushes past. A boy, small but swift, disappears around a corner and folds himself into the shadows. You follow, your pace slow and uncertain, drawn forward as if you’re a puppet on a string. You are inclined to think it’s Oliver until you see he’s obviously older, perhaps eleven or maybe twelve. The sound of heavy breathing and an odd buzz fills your ears as you approach the boy, curled with his legs to his chest. You crouch down, your hand reaching out to comfort him. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, your voice sounds unreal, like you yourself are just a dream. It echoes around in your skull, warped and unreal.

The boy tilts his face up to you and your heart stops. His face is younger, but still unmistakeable. You recognize his deep brown eyes, nearly black as they shimmer under thick lashes. His raven hair is flopping in his eyes a bit, tousled and wild. Tan skin is flushed as tears run down the apples of his cheeks.

“Mark…” you mumble, your heart lurching. Your thoughts spiral. What is happening? Where are you? But the dream refuses to clarify, the edges of it too soft to grasp. Mark’s smokey figure looks at you, his brows furrowed. He looks so young, so sweet, too sweet to be crying alone.

“Dad wants me to attend the council meeting,” he sniffles, his hands shaking on where they grip at his knees, “But I can’t, he doesn’t understand.” It’s his voice, but pitched higher, still wrapped in childhood.

“Why can’t you,” you say, your voice just a murmur, moving of your own accord, wishing to comfort him in this strange dream. Your fingers brush over the soft skin of his cheeks, her thumbs brushing away the tears that flow. He looks panicked, he looks scared.

“She’s there,” he says quietly, filled with hesitation. You stiffen and your heart sinks. 

“Who’s there Mark?” you prod, your voice distorted and your heart pounds against her chest.

His voice is small as he speaks. “Anissa.”

Her brows furrow. Anissa was High King Nolan’s Master of Ships. She was not only a feared magic user, but well known for her house’s fearsome fleet of ships. A name whispered sharply across council tables. Feared. Powerful. Unyielding. Your parents hated her with the kind of cold disdain reserved for those who weren’t just dangerous, but too clever. Your father hated her, your mother even more. Your mother said she was power hungry. You vaguely remember your parents  fussing over the fact that Nolan didn’t see how dangerous she truly was one night when they thought you and Aaric were asleep. Crowned in ambition, your mother said once. Aaric was told never to be alone near her if they visited the Empire, but those sentiments were never extended to you. She hasn’t been seen since Nolan’s death.

A sickenly sour feeling curls in your stomach now, stronger than memory.

“Can you tell me why she upsets you?” you ask, your hands resting on his shoulders gently. His eyes widened, shaking his head. His frame tense and suddenly panicked. You withdraw a bit, nodding, “Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his tunic and he speaks again, “I want to go see Mom, but I have to walk by the council room. I’m scared.”

You stand, unsure what you're even doing in your foggy state. You reach out, “I’ll walk with you.”

He takes it, his hands shake as you lead him towards Debbie’s quarters. The world around you pulses with fog, thick and unsteady. The walls ripple, like the castle itself can’t quite remember what it is, solid or smoke, memory or dream. Each step is muffled, the ground beneath your feet barely there. But his hand stays in yours, and you don’t let go.

Time passes slow, but also so fast at the same time, you have no idea how long you walk with Mark, until the fog dissipates a bit, a door half cracked, warm flickering light shines out. Hushed voices drift into your ears as you stop just before the door. Mark grips your hand, tightly as you quietly press your ear to the door. There’s maybe two deeper voices, one more feminine one. Something compels you to listen as you pick up words, their voices low and urgent. 

“... it is not the right time. The Dark God isn’t strong enough yet.”

“We must act soon, or the Hand will grow suspicious over time.”

“Then we kill him if he notices.”

“Your ambition will get us killed, Anissa.”

“And ambition doesn’t tempt you, Conquest? War does not tempt you?”

“Enough bickering. We wait. Disposing of the King will not be easy. We have to wait for the exact perfect time. Or it will be far too suspicious.”

“Preferably when the Dark God is at his strongest.”

“The boy must go too. He’s already powerful. That power cannot fall into the wrong hands.”

Mark tugs at your hand, drawing your attention as you look down at him. His eyes are wide, uncomfortable. 

“We shouldn’t stay here. It’s not safe,” Mark whispers, “we need to keep going.”

“One moment Mark,” you respond, trying to focus more, even though he continues to tug at your hand. 

You peek around the door, just slightly. Around the council table you know all too well, stands three figures, basked in the light of a few flickering candles. A woman with short cropped hair and sharp, angled brows—Anissa. Beside her stands a grizzled older man with white hair and a heavy mustache—Conquest, the Master of War. The third is tall and stone faced, dark hair cropped close to his skull—Thragg, former Grand General of the Empire. Thragg, he used to visit your father often, another council member. You barely have time to process what you’ve seen before Mark is pulling you away, yanking you into the mist of the castle walls.

“Mark, wait–,” you say, hushed as you strain your neck back, trying to hear more of the discussion happening in the council room. But when you turn back, you no longer feel the hold of Mark’s hand. The fog thickens around you. You’re alone.

Only a fuzzy feeling, surrounded by a thick fog as the castle walls melt away around you. Your breathing picks up, your heart slamming in your chest as panic sets in. Your mind is a mess as you run into the swirling haze where Mark disappeared in, scrambled and confused. But the mist swallows your voice whole.

Suddenly, the floor shifts, reality shifts. The dream moves on.

The disorientation fades and you find yourself amongst familiar bricks, the air thick with dust from crumbled walls. You know these halls, you’ve walked them so many times as a child it’s hard to forget them. Spreading your fingers out against the crumbling stone, you find your house sigil etched into the center stone of the hallway. A pretty blue fish, with long flowing fins. 

Home, you’re home. But how? 

But it’s wrong. Muffled screams ring in your ears, the air crackles. Screams echo throughout the grand halls. Magic surges, dark, violet light streaking across the sky. And then, much to your horror, you hear your own voice. Screaming for your mother. For Aaric. You look up reluctantly and see the wall. The one that crumbled between you and them. 

Familiar voices tear your eyes away, coming face to face with someone you’d thought you’d never see again. Aaric, his face contorted in pain, staring at the walls that once protected them, the walls that now separated them. It all happens so fast, your brain is barely catching up, because your heart thumps painfully in your chest, hazy tears drip from your cheeks. 

Aaric is standing poised, your mother behind him as magic ebbs from both of their bodies. Your mother looks so determined but so frightened at the same time. She was a healer, not a fighter. Your mother wasn’t built to fight.

In front of them, Descending through the air, wrapped in ribbons of shadow, comes Anissa. She looks a bit older than when you saw her in the council room, her dark hair is still cropped short, her eyes still narrowed and mean. Lean, powerful, and terrifying. She’s clad in typical Viltrumite wear, white and grey metal, a sword almost as big as her clutched in her hand.

“Shallan,” Anissa says, her feet touching down on the rubble, her voice creaks in your ears like rusted metal, “Still lovely, even under such grim circumstances.”

Your mother tenses, shifting uncomfortably. “Wish I could say the same,” she says bitterly, her voice raw from screaming. Her face is twisted up, like how it would when you or Aaric broke something in your youths.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” Anissa says, wind curling her brown hair, her face sour. “Your family would have lived, had you bent the knee. Married Aaric to me.” Your mother grips Aaric’s shoulder, her eyes void of anything other than despair. 

“And I would rather die than let you touch my son,” she spits, her voice cracking, tears, angry and hot run down her face, “I would rather die than bend the knee to the traitors that killed Nolan. You have forsaken him for a deep evil.”

Anissa just tilts her head slightly, her lips quirked slightly. Her smile is thin, cruel. That sour feeling in your belly returns. “Oh Shallan, how little you understand about the Dark God.”

Aaric holds his stern expression, despite all that's being said he doesn’t even flinch. But you can see the way his throat bobs, how his powers thicken the air around him. He’s scared, he would never admit it but he is. Your heart is in your throat as you watch the interaction, frozen as if your veins have been filled with ice.

“One more chance,” Anissa says, her voice low and serious, “bend the knee and the Dark God may find use for you.”

She barely even finishes her sentence before Aaric advances, a blast of magic surges from his palm, hitting Anissa squarely. The air erupts in a crackling roar. Anissa skids backwards, her head snapping towards your brother.

“I will never kneel to the likes of you, traitor,” Aaric spits, his gait steady, confident, and powerful. Anissa just regains her balance, cracking her neck, before advancing on Aaric. They clash, a flurry of magic shoots through the air, the sound of sword metal colliding.

You pull yourself from your daze to run to grab for your mother, to pull her out of the way of the fighting, but your hand goes right through her, like you’re a ghost. Your limbs move so slow it’s like you’re moving through honey, because you could touch Mark in your last ‘dream’. But you can’t here. This has to be some cruel trick, to watch your mother, to watch Aaric die and be fully unable to help in any way. Tears prick your eyes as frustration sets in, attempting to cling to your mother, even though you continue to phase through her. Your eyes are trained on Aaric and Anissa. 

They continue to exchange blows, a flurry of swords and magic twisting around them as they fight. Aaric lands a heavy blow on Anissa, knocking her in the nose with the hilt of his sword, curling his magic around her ankle to slam her back into the ground. He’s breathing heavily, watching her still form, turning to look at your mother, to look at you. 

“Mom– Mom are you okay?” Aaric shouts, making his way over to your mother, his shoulders heaving from the fight. It happens so fast, the misty dream state barely hides the way Anissa surges up behind him, so fast you could blink and miss it. Your mother screams. You scream. Aaric doesn’t, because his empty eyes are staring at you, his head rolling on the ground as his body slumps a few feet away. Anissa lowers her sword, coated in Aaric’s blood, glaring down at your mother. 

“Aaric!” your mother cries, her eyes wide and terrified as his name tears from her throat. Anissa rolls his slack head under her foot, as if he was nothing more than a bug under her shoe. A horrifying sickness seeps through your body, unable to take your eyes off of your twin. Your baby brother. His jaw slack. His eyes vacant and dull.

“All who oppose the Dark God must fall,” Anissa speaks, her voice a hiss, “I’ll reunite you with your husband and son. And when I find your daughter, her blood will stain my sword. Your family will be whole again. My final kindness I’ll do for you, Shallan.”

Your mother, tears in her eyes, rage surging below her stare, is strong in her final moments. “I may die here today, but you will not win. One day you will find yourself at the end of the road, Anissa. And you will have no one to save you, not even your God.”

Anissa simply stares at her, the breeze ruffling her hair, her face splattered with blood. Aaric’s blood. 

“Whatever brings you comfort, your Highness,” she says, her voice cold, a horrifyingly emotionless expression on her face. Anissa’s sword swings down swiftly, lodging directly in the front of your mother’s skull. You screech, scrambling forward as if you can save her. But you just fall, suddenly floating through the air, as if you fell through the floor. Your eyes squeeze shut, begging for this to stop, your heart breaking, your stomach plagued with a sickness you don’t know you’ll ever be able to get rid of.

You feel like you're on the ground again when you open your eyes. The grass beneath your bare feet is bright, the scene laid out before you is a sprawling lake, the sun beating down on your tear stained face. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t all fake, an evil twist of your mind. You find yourself squinting, your shaky legs pulling you towards the lake as if you’re just a puppet on a string. Before you is a woman, tall, gorgeous, ethereal. Soft features and deep beautiful skin that glows with divine warmth, staring out at the lake, water lapping at her feet. She doesn’t turn as you approach.

“Oh sweet dreamer, you’re quite a far way from home.”

You freeze, her voice ringing in her ears like she’s in your head speaking. The figure radiates warmth, basking in a feeling of what can only be described as a yearning for something better. 

It shakes you then, your mind mush and your heart squeezing in your chest. This is Thala. This is the Goddess of Hope. 

“Thala,” you whisper, a shake coating your voice.

“I need help,” you find yourself saying, as if you don’t have control of your own words. Thala hums, her gaze still fixated on the lake. The sound is soft and sorrowful.

“I know. That’s why you’re here.” 

A thick quiet falls over you both.

Thala stands, still has a statue, her gaze fixed on the water as it ripples. She’s draped in robes that ripple like liquid starlight, the crease with every brush of the wind. Her hair coils down her back in long, intricate braids. The lake laps gently at her feet, the water so clear you can see every stone that lies underneath it as it reflects the blue sky.

“I assume you mean to ask about my Blade,” she murmurs.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry. “Yes. The stories aren’t quite clear…” you say quietly, as if you speak too loud then she will disappear. Thala finally moves, tilting her head, the faintest but saddest of smiles of her lips. “I find stories are often where truth is stored when the world is not ready for it.”

On shaky legs, you step forward as your bare feet sink into the soft Earth. “Can you help us? Help us find it.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine as Thala’s eyes meet yours, shimmering with a sadness that is ancient and deep. “This place,” she says, half ignoring your question, lifting a hand toward the lake, “once bore witness to the sorrow of a thousand lost things, of betrayal, my loss of hope. Here, the world thins.”

You follow her gaze. The lake stretches endlessly before you, calm and unbroken. A mirror of the sky. Your reflection does not ripple on its surface.

“But I don’t see anything,” you whisper, eyes searching the blue water for anything. A temple. A sword. A sign.

“You won’t,” Thala says. “Not yet.”

Your chest tightens, confusion infecting every cell in your brain. “Then how—?”

“The Blade does not wait for command. It answers only to those who carry hope like a torch through the dark.” She pauses, then steps slowly into the water, the ripples gentle around her ankles. It’s as if the lake welcomes her, like she’s coming home. “It will not show itself to the bold, or the strong, or the brave. Only the worthy.”

The word rings in your ears like a bell toll. Worthy. Because who decides what is ‘worthy’. The vagueness of Thala’s words, the vagueness of the Oracle’s words. Too much left to chance, too much unanswered.

“Worthy of what?” you ask. “The prophecy? The fight? Of your sword?”

Thala turns her face toward you, and her expression is impossibly kind but also filled with what you can only guess is regret. “Worthy of bearing light when all seems lost. Of protecting the Realm not for glory, but because it must be done.”

“I’m not like the others,” you murmur, the reality of what's happening is setting in. Your mind is a mess of grief, fear, and confusion. “I don’t have magic. I’m not the strongest. I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“But you are here,” Thala says simply. “And that matters more than you know.”

You look at her, tears clouding your vision. You don't understand, this shouldn’t be happening. How can this be happening? “Why me? Why are you talking to me?”

The Goddess turns back toward the lake, ignoring your question again, her voice fading like morning mist. “When the time is right, it will rise. But only for the one who walks with hope in their blood.”

She raises her hand, and the surface of the lake shimmers, glowing faintly, the light pounding like a heartbeat pulsing just beneath the water. 

“And what if we fail?” you ask, breath hitching.

Her voice softens. “Then the Realm will fall. But hope... has a stubborn way of surviving. Just like you five.”

And then—

The wind changes.

The sun dims.

And you’re falling back into the dark.

~

When your eyes snap back open, you’re gasping. 

The first thing you feel is cold, a bone chilling feeling that seeps through your body. Water wraps around your lower half, ending at your waist, soaking your nightdress. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the sleepy haze that still clouds your vision. The gardens around you are the same as you have walked plenty of times before; you’re awake this time, not in bed, but in the pond by the patch of flowers Oliver favors when he picks you flowers for your room. 

Pink streaks of dawn crawl slowly across the pale blue sky. The surrounding grass shines as dew drops cling to them. A warmth anchors you, cutting through the chill of the water. Hands grip your arms, firm but gentle, holding you in place. One arm cradles the small of your back, holding you steady as your balance threatens to give out.

Still in a daze, you turn your head to the side, meeting Mark’s brown eyes, filled to the brim with worry. He’s standing in the water with you, the sleeves of. He’s just as soaked as you are, the water lapping at his hips, fully clothed. His tunic is dark with pond water as it clings to his stomach, his eyes wide as his hands grip at your arms.

“Hey, hey— you’re awake,” he says, breathless. “You were,” he swallows thickly, his eyes frantic but tinged with relief. “You were sleepwalking. My mom and I saw you roaming the halls. You just walked straight outside. I didn’t know what to do. You wouldn’t stop.”

You stare at him, his voice a foggy blur in your mind.He’s rambling, his hands gripping your arms in an attempt to ground you. His fingers are tight on your arms, like he’s afraid you might slip away again. They’re the only warmth you feel as the morning breeze and chilly water washes over you. You think. You think about the lake, the vision, Thala and her words. It hits you then as you imagine the map of the Realm that you’ve all been staring at for days. The large lake that sits smack in the middle of the Realm. Middle Man’s Lake. Where all the borders meet. It must be there, the rolling hills, the way the water reflects the heavens above. It all washes over you suddenly, determination crawling through her cold blood. All the stories make sense, the place where the two Realms touch.

“I called your name, but, you–you didn’t answer. Mom said not to startle you, but then you came out here and walked into the pond I couldn’t–”

You cut him off, your voice soft but gasping. “I know where it is.”

Mark freezes, “What?”

“The Blade,” you gasp, your hand desperately reaching up to curl into the fabric of his tunic to steady yourself, “it’s in a lake—the lake. Middle Man’s Lake. Thala showed me—she was there, I saw her, Mark.” Your words rush out of you like a waterfall, your mind racing to catch up with your mouth as you speak.

His brows draw together, concern flickering behind his eyes. “Wait—slow down. What do you mean she showed you?”

“It wasn’t a dream, not fully. It was so real, Mark. It was like—” your breath hitches, heart racing. “It was real. I could feel her. Thala. She spoke to me. She told me where it is. Said the Blade only reveals itself to the worthy.”

The two of you stand there, soaked in pond water and pale morning light. For a moment, it’s quiet again. Only the rustle of early wind through garden hedges and your heaving breaths. The hush of water lapping at your legs. Mark doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes roam your shaking figure, taking in the waterlogged fabrics that cling to your body like a second skin.

Mark’s eyes rise again to search yours, his hand still braced protectively on your back, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Do you believe me?” you whisper, suddenly self conscious. You sound crazy, like a grieving girl who’s real life has invaded her dreams. “This doesn’t sound—Gods, I sound—”

“Yeah,” he says, voice soft. “I believe you.”

The tension in your body melts, causing your knees to wobble as your body trembles in the cold morning air. Mark shifts you in his grasp, pulling you closer to steady you. 

“You’re shivering,” he murmurs, half to himself and half to you, he’s close enough that you can feel his breath brush your temple. Your chest constricts, the sudden realization blooming in the space between you, the space that’s barely there. You hadn't noticed the way your body leaned into his until now. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed him there. How you clutched to him like you were afraid you would be pulled back into a dream. 

You blink rapidly, pulling in a breath as you step back slightly, the water rippling around you.

“I need to tell the others,” you say quickly, shaking the fog from your thoughts. “We need to go there. We have to go there. Soon.”

Mark’s mouth opens like he wants to say something, but just nods. As you let him guide you out of the pond, water trailing behind you like a cape of waves, your mind races. Because now the war begins. Things are getting very real, very quickly, but the path forward is clear.

Get the Blade.

Win the war.

Save the Realm and those you’ve come to hold most dear.

[styllwaters]

Long time no Vreaz. Here's a fancy shrimp for your troubles

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[crushmeeren]

heyy idk if this is where we put requests but by any chance could you do the mha boys reacting to you putting on the pheromone perfume and you smelling hella good possibly resulting in something freaky ( denki, shinsou or bakugo) or anyone is fine🙏🏾

⋆⋅ I love this idea! I did twist this a bit, it’s basically the love potion “amortentia,” from Harry Potter but as a perfume. Why the fuck it’s so hard for me to shorten things down when I write, I have no damn idea. So here, have this. (.づ◡﹏◡)づ.

All characters aged up/18+. ❲ ̽ ⋆ FEM READER ̽ ⋆❳

⋆⋅ Between the ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ symbols are memories of reader and whichever character!

Thank you @pastelbakugou for helping me figure what to write for Shinsou. ( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶)

⋆ ft. kaminari, shinsou, bakugou, todoroki ⋆

..⃗. master list link

The sickly sweet scent of vanilla ice cream infused with honey is what overwhelms Katsuki’s senses first when he leans in and hugs you in greeting. You squeeze him back just as affectionately and he’s in the middle of nosing at your throat when he’s hurtled back in time through his memories.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Katsuki mutters hotly. He’s trying, key word trying, to wipe the sweat covering his phone screen onto his tank top but it fails miserably, seeing as how his shirt is soaked fucking through. He’s more or less just smearing it around and he’s debating on just obliterating the useless piece of shit phone.

He curses whoever the fuck is up there and uses sheer willpower not to tear his hair out from the roots because of this scorching heat wave.

Finally, he’s able to read his latest message from you. It tells him to meet you at the ice cream stand nearby his patrol route on his next break.

Katsuki wipes the back of his forehead with a glove free hand, but it slides right across his sticky skin and then sweat drips into his other eye with a harsh sting and goddammit, he’s royally fucking pissed off now.

For your sake, he swallows his swelling rage and makes his way to you swiftly. The two of you have tried to make it a habit to meet a couple times a week when Katsuki has time during his shifts, he gets so busy that sometimes it gets hard to see each other as often as you’d like.

As always, his heart stutters when he lands a few feet from you. The tension drains from his shoulders even as he witnesses drops of sweat being flung off his jaw from the impact of landing and coloring the light gray pavement darker.

You look so, so pretty in your sundress and Katsuki’s stomach swoops when a sweet smile lights up your features. You reach out a cup of ice cream for him to try, teasing him for looking like he’s just taken a shower but he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and takes a bite of the treat. Katsuki practically moans when cool cream melts on his tongue. He feels infinitely better.

The sun beats down harshly on you both, but it brightens your eyes and the playful way you blow a coy kiss at him when you part ways leaves him with fingers crunching the empty cup and pants that fit a bit too snug. God, he’s disgustingly in love with you.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Kat?” Your concerned tone brings him back to the present. Katsuki can’t stand another minute with your clothes on and hauls you up with a rough grip to the backs of your thighs. You yelp in surprise and scramble to hold onto his shoulders as he strides towards your bedroom.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to smell this way, but you’re gonna keep your eyes on me and I’m fuckin’ you until you pass out. Understood?”

How could you ever hope to say no?

When you’re both naked and tangled in the sheets, Katsuki pushes one of your legs to your chest, curls his fingers around your throat, and pushes his forehead against yours as he stretches your tight pussy out completely with his thick cock. He stays true to his word, hand gripping your jaw and forcing your eyes to stay locked with his own ferocious stare when you grit your teeth and cum.

Then he kisses your forehead afterwards when you’re fast asleep.

Muscle memory tilts Shouto’s head to the side as he leans closer to sniff you curiously, an adorable habit that he’s never been able to break when he wants answers to something.

“What is that?”

“What is what, Sho?”

“You smell like the end of a campfire. Why?”

You raise an eyebrow and saunter closer to where he sits at his desk, his office quiet with most heroes currently out of the building. You step around the corner of his desk and hop up on the edge to sit next him, feet kicking gently.

“That’s important to you? A campfire? Huh I would’ve thought you’d smell something like soba,” you comment with a shrug, half smile tugging at your lips.

Now Shouto’s thoroughly confused.

“I don’t understand. Why would you smell of soba? Are you alright?” Shouto sounds as deadpan as usual, if not slightly concerned. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, staring at you as if he could find the answer by checking out your body. It makes you laugh.

Animatedly, you explain to him about the new “perfume,” Mina let you try. Apparently, whoever wears it prompts the object of their affections to smell whatever scent is important/attractive to them. And suddenly Shouto gets it

“Oh, I see,” he says with an understanding nod. He can narrow it down specifically as to why you smell of a campfire on a cold night.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Sho, are you sure we can’t just use your quirk to roast these marshmallows? It’s so much faster!” You protest halfheartedly, but you’re already stabbing one of the fluffy sweets with a stick, assembling a second one for Shouto.

“No. This will be more fun, I promise. I watched Touya-nii and the others do this once, it seemed as if they were very happy afterwards.” Shouto flicks his hand and fire shoots towards the pile of sticks, engulfing them until a decent fire roars.

This sobers you considerably, and Shouto sits down next to you, accepting the offering of marshmallow on a stick happily and oblivious to the depressing sentiment he just offered.

So, you roast marshmallows. You tease each other and laugh as you assemble the s’mores and then lean into Shouto’s left side to fend off the chill of the autumn night afterwards. The stars are brighter away from the city and Shouto has always enjoyed the quiet of the countryside. His heart is close to bursting from his chest every time you laugh and he blurts what’s on his mind.

“I love you.”

It comes out of nowhere and Shouto only feels nervous for a few seconds before you return his feelings. Shouto’s dragging you into the tent before you can blink.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

In hindsight, at least to Shouto, he understands exactly why you smell like a campfire. With slightly rosy cheeks and a matter of fact tone, he recounts the memory for you and he’s sure his hair’s about to catch fire from the way you’re looking at him.

Without caring to lock the door, the two of you end up reliving part of that memory.

Shouto pushes you until you’re flat on your back on his desk, sliding your pants off and making sure your ass is on the edge of it. He drops to his knees and eats your pussy until your thighs squeeze his head.

And when you beg him to fuck you, he bends you over the desk and presses his cock inside you roughly. The snaps of his hips are frantic, and when there’s a knock at the door, all Shouto does is cover your mouth with one hand and keep going until you’re seeing stars.

“Denki!”

Said blonde whips around at the muffled call of his name. Denki feels his smile aching in the apples of his cheeks as he watches you weave through the crowd of people on the dance floor to get to him. You grin in return and wave warmly, which makes his pulse run overtime.

“Baby!” Denki almost squeals, yanking you in for a crushing hug when you get close enough. “You made it! I thought you got lost,” he says teasingly against your ear and you lean back to laugh and punch him in the arm. You crowd into his space once again so he can hear you but an overpowering and delicious scent of coffee and rain pushes up Denki’s nose.

He startles, head jerking back and brows shooting up. Your expression turns questioning but Denki cuts you off before you can speak.

“Holy shit baby, you smell super good. Like, fucking amazing! What are you wearing? It makes me want to rip your clothes off,” He says enthusiastically, tangling your hands together in the process.

“Oh! It’s this new perfume. Well, technically it’s not a perfume but honestly I didn’t think it would work! I assumed it was a scam.” You give him a run down of how it’s supposed to work and he suddenly comes to the realization of why you smell like coffee and rain of all things that could be important to him.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Oww,” Denki whines, sticking his tongue out and fanning it quickly.

“Did you burn your tongue?” You bump his shoulder playfully, taking care not to spill your own coffee. “I told you it would be hot, it’s a latte Denki,” you scold him good naturedly, trying not to laugh. He pouts at you, blowing into the lid in hopes to cool it off.

“Well I didn’t expect it to be the surface temperature of the sun!” Denki protests, gingerly taking another sip and humming in contentment when he finds it’s cooled off enough to be drinkable. You laugh again, but then Denki almost runs into your back when you stop abruptly in front of the glass door exit.

“It’s raining! Shit, I didn’t bring an umbrella. How are we supposed to make it back to the station?”

Denki studies the way it’s pouring cats and dogs, before making a noise of triumph and pointing to a bench under an awning not too far away.

“We can go wait for a bus over there!”

You side eye him. “Fine, but if I spill my coffee, you’re buying me a new one.”

The two of you take off, and in true Denki fashion, he trips and spills his coffee everywhere. By the time you both make it to the awning, you’re both soaked to the bone and breathless from laughing.

“Here,” you offer Denki your coffee with a grin, water dripping from the ends of your hair.

“You don’t have to share baby, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah I do. I love you, Denki.”

Your boyfriend short circuits.

“Dammit Denki! Those were the only two lampposts on this street, now I can’t see anything!”

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Denki blinks the memory away and spins you, pulling your back flush to his chest. His body is a long, lean line of muscle as he moves your bodies to the beat and murmurs in your ear.

“Let me take you home and show you just how well this perfume works on me, my dick is hard as a fucking rock baby,” Denki giggles, squeezing your hips when you shove your ass back into his pelvis.

The two of you abandon your friends quick enough to race home, stripping carelessly in your living room until Denki can bend you over the armrest of the couch. He guides his cock inside you unhurriedly, pushing until his pelvis is nestled snug to your ass.

A breathy moan escapes him, and then he’s fucking your pussy as if he could never get enough.

He never will.

Hitoshi’s exhausted when he gets home from work late that night. Being an underground hero is rewarding, but it certainly comes with its downfalls.

He closes the front door delicately and toes off his shoes by the door. It doesn’t take long for him to make his way down the hall and into your bedroom, a tiny half smile worming its way into his expression despite his bone aching weariness when he spots you sound asleep in bed. He pauses to stare at you for a moment.

Hitoshi then showers as fast as humanly possible before crawling under the blankets and curling an arm around your waist, tugging you close until he can nose at the back of your neck. You sigh in your sleep and smuggle closer into his embrace.

Hitoshi trails his nose down the side of your neck and he freezes once he gets to your shoulder. You smell….good. Insanely fucking good, and he can’t quite pinpoint the specific scent but it’s soft and warm and maybe even a little musky. It sends warm blood rushing south and his cock twitches with interest.

He wracks his brain and the only thing he can associate with the scent is your cat, Kiko, when she was a kitten and you first brought her home.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Hitoshi’s in the middle of playing a game when you return home that day, calling out for him to come to the living room for a second.

“Why?” He yells back. He’s just about to finish this round.

“Just come out here you dick!”

Hitoshi rolls his eyes, but is amused nonetheless by your slightly frustrated tone. He pauses his game and makes his way to where you wait, but stops in his tracks, lips parting in shock and eyes going wide when he sees what you’re holding.

You’re cradling an itty bitty, all black, fluff ball of a kitten in your arms. You grin delightedly at his shocked expression and hold her out almost as if you’re offering her to him.

“You wanted a kitten right? An all black one, like the one you had as a kid at Aizawa’s.”

Hitoshi manages to close his mouth and nod, cautiously reaching out to take the small creature and cradle her to his chest.

He…can’t believe you remembered. You remembered how much his cat had meant to him and went out of your way to find this kitten.

“Thank you,” he says softly, petting the purring kitten’s head with one finger. You step closer and do the same, scratching under her chin until she meows.

“What should we name her?”

“Kiko,” Hitoshi responds with no hesitation, glancing at you for approval and you smile back at him.

“I love it.”

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Hitoshi blinks back to the present, the fond memory lingering at the edges of his mind. He remembers how his heart squeezed against his rib cage in the best kind of way that day and how he knew then he wanted to marry you.

“Baby,” Hitoshi whispers lowly as he kisses your cheek. You stir enough to lazily flip over and hum in question. “I love you, so much.”

“Mm, love you too Hitoshi,” you mumble, sleepy rasp coloring your voice.

Hitoshi bends down to kiss you sweetly, encouraging you to throw a leg over his hips and straddle his waist. He settles you on top of him and wiggles a hand between you to shove his briefs down, cock stiff since he first smelled you, and slides your panties to the side.

Your limbs are still laced heavy with sleep when Hitoshi helps you sink down on his cock. You melt into his chest, face buried in his throat and arms locked around his neck.

He bends his knees and grips your ass to help you sensually ride him, rocking up into you at a leisurely pace until the warmth finally bubbles over the edge and you cum with a shiver and he follows right behind you.

When he asks you about it the next day, it all clicks into place when you give him the watered down version of how the “perfume” works.

He hums noncommittally before asking you to wear it again.

[monstas1ut]

Characters when they’re breeding you :)

SASUKE UCHIHA, SATORU GOJO, EREN YEAGER

Contains

__ +18 black coded reader, female reader, Squirting ,creaming, the word slut, impreg, breeding, size diff, teasing, pussy eating, talk of getting reader pregnant, unprotected sex

___brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous

a/n

__ I’m so sorry I didn’t post in a year I think lmao. Idk what happened. Forgive me :(

Sasuke Uchiha

It’s not unknown, everyone has heard his preaching about his clan and he wants to restore it. However, most people are more of speaking behind his back. How can he restore a clan when he is the only one left and yet he’s cold, frosted and lonesome? Where is the woman of his dreams? It’s merely the fact of his life, and frankly, even he knew it. Appearing to everyone in Konoha, he’s lonely, an outcast, forlorn.

That truly wasn’t it. The male simply didn’t want to settle for a woman that wasn’t worth his while. This man came from a family filled with talent and ruthless power. Indeed, he could’ve easily rushed into a relationship, however he would like more of a stable relationship. Now, justified, he is fucking a woman that bared no ring on her finger yet, but she was still his.

How could anyone not tell? The second she decided to move into the village, Sasuke found himself staying longer rather than going out on ventures. Everyone figured he’d just gotten tired, and that’s when women of all different shapes and sizes would line up. Unfortunately, they just didn’t understand… They didn’t get it.

“How come you’re so strong, but you can’t give me more..” Those words were like a black feather running down your back. All you could feel were your knees giving out, your body seeping into the bed. But Sasuke wasn’t having that… no.. he needs you to cum again. He needs you at your most neediest, he needs to warp your mind. Maybe it was manipulation, but you enjoyed his dick so much.. how come you weren’t trying to give him a baby already?

Okay.

“Sasukeee, shit~! Stop- gonna make me squirt..” Your words fell on deaf ears. Truly, the Uchiha couldn’t care or give a damn. Besides, you didn't taste bad at all. The male’s tongue was not afraid to slip into regions nobody has ever been before. Your pretty, glistening, brown lips were dripping in juices and saliva. It was a mess, and Sasuke purely enjoyed you in such a state. He’s not known to be with many women but he knew what he was doing. Seeing how you were slipping right through his fingers from pure ecstasy, seeing your pussy gush from just a bit of sucking on that clit… It was easy… But Sasuke would’ve been curse you if you weren’t so damn beautiful.

“There it is.. Don’t make it difficult next time.”

This man couldn’t hide it. He was entranced, he was deeply in love. If you could see him right now, your pussy juices dripping from his face, his right eye was now a deep red that showed the uchiha’s purpose. Red, menacing and ruthless.. while the other stayed that pretty purple. His senses, they were all on you. His eyes half lidded and his lips almost parted from each other as his fair colored cock slipped right back into you. Right after slurping on that pussy like a good smoothie.

It turned your world quick. He slid in like a key, it was perfect. Those veiny hands touched your shoulders, causing you to shiver as he ran down your shimmery brown arms, right to your wrists. Your pretty, fucked out face was pushed firm into the bed as you had no leverage to keep yourself up. Drool seeped out of your mouth onto the sheets as your eyes yelled with hearts.

You loved this man. Should you give him children? No… yes? Your mind was all over the place, but it stayed stuck in the gutter.

Sasuke kept both your wrists, pulling them back as he watched you give in. He could physically see it happen to you. It actually made his eyes widen just a smidge as the blood continued to run to his cock. Fuck. Were you really giving up? He noticed your tone, how your moans were more like chirps, whines. He didn’t stop. His thrusts were rough yet so slow and dangerously addictive. Each thrust gave a flutter to your insides, the ripples of your ass got more intense with each one. Sasuke damn sure didn’t take his eyes off of that, he loved the way that brown mound of an ass slapped against him. It was so far from ugly.

“What are you going to do for me…” His voice was grazing your skin, his breathing only getting louder as he held back each moan… The mattress was poor, all of the convincing, the pleas.. the mattress was just as broken down as you. Your walls were so nicely abused by this man that you had to thank him. You truly did! And as your next orgasm began to fall, you did too.

“Oh-oh-.. fuck! M-Imma’ give you a baby.. my- fuck Sasuke! Imma have your baby-..” it was so hard for you to speak, and yet you spit it out. Oh, you got to hear the pathetic groan of Sasuke.. just continuously diving deep into you as he let go of your wrists unwillingly. It’s like his hands got weak. You noticed this and practically gasped before lifting your upper body and he just knew his time was done.

Sasuke uchiha took pride in himself, but this? You were such a little sex demon.

“Yeah.. imma give you all your fuckin babies.. get me pregnant.” Now sass revealed, and Sasuke was trying to bite back his words and imagination. It was going wild while he noticed you bouncing back on his cock. It was disappearing every second, your pussy just swallowed it up with each bounce. He couldn’t even keep up… no, he kept thinking about that round belly.

His fingers were digging so hard in your hips they may leave marks. That’s how you knew he was so close.. he was right there. It was true, Sasuke’s breathing was getting heavier, quicker.. and his grip on you was tight.. but not as tight as your pussy.

“Too fucking tight.. take it… take it all then.” Although his voice was deep, he couldn’t hide that sharp, whistle of a moan that slipped by when he pushed forward, just balls deep in your brown pretty pussy. You couldn’t breathe, but you felt the warmth and splash of cum in your pussy. It was so much, it happened so quickly..

And all you had to say was that you’d have his babies…?

“All that cum…” You whispered as his head was resting on your upper back. You could feel his breathing all hot on your back as he was actually rubbing his thumbs gently on your hips. He was such a meanie but sometimes he just knew when to be nice. He was going to have to be nicer when you’re plump with his kids…

Satoru Gojo

You merely believe he’s joking. Literally, you didn’t blink an eye. Perhaps that sent a terrible message to the jokester. Fanning your hand at him, watching a shitty little documentary about something boring. The clocks in your head just weren’t turning correctly. But seriously, how could they when this grown man was pouting?

“Y/n… I want a baby. I wanna dress him up in identical clothes.” He said, you remember it clearly when he said this. He was not serious, couldn’t be. That little laugh that came from him, his animated expressions of demonstrating having a child. “Yeah okay Gojo” you spit out, only to turn back to your phone without having another thought about it.

You literally signed your name on the dotted line.

“You promiseeeee?”

“Yeah yeah..”

That’s what you said, and Satoru nodded. Now why did you believe that was the end of it? Probably because your boyfriend is a jokester and he plays too many games. You could tell when he was joking or being serious right? Or maybe you just weren’t looking at him and taking him seriously? It was the latter.

The whole day was filled with normalcy , nothing said of a baby nor a child. It was supposed to be a joke.

“Na ah ah… Keep them just~ like~ this~… Makes ya’ look even prettier this way” The male was piercing you with his words, they dug right in you just like his cock. He was just simply admiring his work, watching you fold your legs in a pretzel by his command. He really took a liking to this position, especially since he could hold onto your ankles.

All you did was shakily breathe out, your eyes filled with gloss and regret. Why didn’t you believe him? Now your pussy was getting all ruined and messy. And he was chuckling about it!

“Atta girl..” he spoke, the steam of his words burning right through you as you squeezed your eyes shut. Embarrassed by your gushy noises coming from your needy cunt, you decided not looking at Satoru would suffice. However, he just wasn’t having that.. first you don’t believe him, now you didn’t want to look at him? You were going to be teased today, you deserved it.

“Look at me, pretty. Watch me put a baby in you, since you thought I was jokin’..” Satoru didn’t miss a beat, his cock going in and out and in and out. You were forced to stare at him now, but you got butterflies looking into his deep, light blue eyes. They glowed with intent on getting you full with babies. But you couldn’t look at his cock going in and out. If you did, you’d see your lower stomach just bulging out ever so slightly. He was so juicy and big. His cock was as pale colored as him, veiny and had an ever so slight curve that would tease at your g-spot. And the tip of it was so pink, just as pink as your insides.

“S-Sat-…”

“That’s not my name.. Say it full out for me” His smirk was laced throughout his words as he watched your eyes roll back. Those pretty russet colored breasts were bouncing so much he could internally laugh at your predicament… Sure, you looked beautiful but sometimes it’s funny when you’re wrong. And you were wrong about it all. “Satoru… Satoru baby..” you choked out, your legs slipping from the pretzel position as you became tired.. but he just gave a little shrug.

It was alright, because he pressed his lanky fingers and his palm against the underside of your thighs and he pushed forward. You were folded up again, yet in an entirely different position as you watched him concentrate. He couldn’t stop, not for a second. Those burly arms of his were flexing as his pretty blue eyes watched your pussy eat his cock up. He was enjoying the show… and he enjoyed it even more when your eyebrows were all furrowed. He only looked up at your face once to experience heaven.

“Satoru-… O-Okay~… J-Just dump a baby in me- fuck.” You finally said it, and you threw your head back as he sped up his thrusts. His white locks of hair looked like the sun up above as he had a daring smirk on his face before he got serious. That pussy was talking to him, and he’d be dumb not to respond.

The bed was making noise with each thrust, and Satoru gripped your thighs tight. He tightened his core and gave it all he had, turns out that was just a bit too much for you because you were already creaming on his pretty dick. It was an artistic expression.. just coating his cock in your cum, it made him chuckle.. a moan following it.

“Messy…” Satoru muttered before the thrusts ceased and he slid out of your pretty little gaping hole before gently slipping two lanky fingers into you. It made you jolt with pleasure and overstimulation. It made you look at him with confusion, but you were too late. His cock slid right back into you, and his fingers slipped into his mouth.. just tasting every bit of your naughty substances.

“Oh my god-..” you moaned loudly, feeling like you were going to cry from the deepest sex you’ve ever experienced. But you weren’t the only one. Tasting your sweet cum while digging in your pussy with his tip was the best feeling ever. And Satoru was not one to keep his moans to himself. He made sure you knew your pussy was the best.

“Gonna have my baby right?”

“Yess-.. all of them…” you cried out, gripping the bedsheets and damn near tearing them.. that’s before you heard the prettiest, deepest moan. His blue eyes were filled with intense energy and warmth, that’s before you were filled with the same things… warmth and his energy.

“Damn right”

Eren Yeager

“You think I’d look cute pregnant or would I look ugly?”

Eren looked at you while you had stuffed clothes under your shirt. You shaped it so it looked like a belly, and to be fair.. you looked cute. Not saying that because you were his girlfriend, but just in general. He kind of rolled his eyes though. “Cute. Why would you look ugly” his tone sounds like he’s uninterested, but his heart thumped in ways he couldn’t explain. He never really thought of you pregnant.. and why the hell not?

“Dunno. I just can’t see it.” You added as you removed the clothes, only adding fire to the already burning house that was laying on the bed as it watched you in the bathroom mirror.

That’s when said house stood up and with a sigh he and his tall form was now behind you. His long, brown hair tickled your head while his hands grazed against your ass before stopping at your hips. He was bare at the top… scars and battles from the war on his chest that showed his strength.. truth be told, it made you wet.

“Can’t see it? Well maybe cuz’ it’s not real. See.. women get a glow from pregnancy.. not sayin you ain’t already got that.. but it’s a different glow.” Eren explained gently as you felt the cold touch of his chain behind you.. just whispering against the back of your neck. You stared at him in the mirror as he smirked with those pretty white teeth. “And how do you know all that..” you purred, almost teasing him.

“It’s a real thing.. some women get it. But you’re so gorgeous, I just know you’d turn even more heads than you do already, baby” He stopped to look at you, but not in the mirror.. from the side of your face before he kissed your jawline. “Eren… you don’t know that though-..” “wanna bet?”

The little sex fairy put an arrow right through the both of you. Had you not looked at him in a sultry manner, Eren would’ve probably let it go. He hasn’t thought about babies.. but the second you say something about pregnancy and he’s all over it like white on rice. To be fair, it was quite pathetic in a way, and he’ll admit it.. but he got weak thinking about you just all chunky with his kid.

Eren’s imagination was bright and sunny, and his determination was just that much bigger.

“R-Right there….” You sharply breathed in as you watched the man in the mirror. His veiny, scruff hand around your throat with ease. He was treating you like a puppet, making sure you stayed in the same position, and moved to his heart's content. “I know baby.. I know..” he practically cooed, his other hand caressing your thigh that was up on the sink counter. It was jiggling just as much as your ass was as he gave slow and soft strokes inside of you. This was one of Eren’s soft days.. Free from anger, free from frustration.. he has been like this for awhile now.. maybe after being discharged he’s calmed down.

Sex with him now is like a sweet sensual melody… and as of right now, he needed it to be.

“What am I doin right now, baby..”

“Y-You m-makin love to me..” you slurred out, eyes slowly rolling to the back of your head as you choked back a moan.

“Thats right… and why am I going so deep..”

“So I can give y-fuck… so I can give you a baby..” you moaned out sharply as the once cold, marble counter was now filled with the warmth of your body heat and the warm sex you two were taking part in.. The floor beneath you both was a bit wet, Eren didn’t care… He never did care for mess. Especially now.

“Thats right… Give me that reward for beating this pussy so good.” The words Eren spoke were like vibrations to your clit. It shook you to your core, like it was on the highest setting. He knew what to say and what buttons to press in your mind. Not only that, but he knew this position was so deep. You were opened up like a slut, and the way your pussy was gurgling on his cock was just embarrassing.. but that showed just how open it was.. how stretched it was for him and him only.

Eren loved it, let alone your tears falling down your face. It made him speed up. The small little decor on the sink’s counter was pushed off by accident, and your body was now being lifted from the floor a bit as his thrusts were now close together. You couldn’t feel the floor with your foot.. and the other was perched on the counter still.

“Eren!.. oh- fuck me..” your mind was spinning. It’s like you could feel each vein of his cock on your pink walls. You could feel your pussy crying for release, your orgasm at the tippy top. It was like a waterfall, your body trembled, but you could tell you weren’t the only one reaching that high.

Eren got quiet. And everytime he gets quiet, he starts biting that bottom lip of his.. he gets all red in the face and his brown hair starts to stick to his forehead a bit. His eyes spark focus, and he will then drop his head back. You watched it in the mirror, his every move.. that’s before he looked at you in the mirror once before a husky chuckle left his lips.. a moan escaping from his throat.. it was from the depths of his heart..

And his cum straight from his heavy balls went straight into your wetness. Your body took in every drop, every single one.

“I-Ion know if that did it or not..lemme try again”

ⓒ Monstas1ut .do not copy

[naughtyjjk]

nanami kento nsfw headcanons

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, general mentions regarding sex notes: i saw this A-Z list of prompts and thought it'd be fun to imagine nanami in these scenarios! let me know what you think of it

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

he fully understands the importance of aftercare and will do everything he can to give you the best treatment. communication is key, so he'll ask you what you prefer and follow through with 100% effort including things like cuddling, whispers in your ear about how good it was, running a bath for you, etc. the more rough he is during sex that day, the more he'll make up for it after. he is truly the best at aftercare and goes above and beyond to make sure that you feel loved.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

the reason nanami works out is so that he can be strong enough to protect you, so his favourite body part is his arms and hands. he loves wrapping them around you in a hug or being able to lift you up, manhandling you and throwing you on the bed. he likes being able to pin you down, one hand holding your wrists together above your head while he pleasures the rest of your body.

on you? if you ask him, he'll get all blushy and shy about it. what he says aloud is your eyes, your smile, something safe even though he does really like those aspects of yours. but privately, he's a boobs guy, and he just loves how your breasts look when you wear slim-fitted clothing, the way it outlines your curves. if you're riding him, he's for sure staring at your breasts and how they bounce every time you move. and he loves to grope them, massage them, feel how soft they are in his hands, the reaction he gets out of you when he flicks at your nipples.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

the two of you don't have sex super often because you're both busy people, so when you do, he always comes a lot. you can feel it when you fondle his balls, how heavy and full they are with all his pent up desire. you can feel it when he thrusts his cock into your pussy and comes deep inside you with a loud moan, releasing everything he has. and it always takes a long time for him to finish coming just because there's so much of it, his cock twitching and spurting out ropes of come for what feels like forever. and then it's nanami's favourite part: pulling his cock out of you and watching his come drip out of your pussy, hot and white and sticky, all overflowing as it spills from between your legs. the sight of it alone is almost enough to get him hard again.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

before you two officially got together, he would have wet dreams about you almost every night, and he'd wake up painfully hard every time. then he would jerk off while imagining you in his head, creating his own fantasy of how he would fuck you if you were there with him. this happened so often that he would get embarrassed when he saw you in person because he didn't know how to act around you anymore.

after you started dating and you found out about this, you definitely took advantage of it. you told nanami to masturbate and get himself off while you watched him, and he had to narrate one of his fantasies to you. so he would stroke his cock while telling you exactly what he imagined and whenever he got shy, you'd tsk at him, who said you could stop? it turned him on so fucking much even though he never admitted it. and then, of course, you would recreate that fantasy with him, and when he finally orgasmed, it was the hardest he'd ever come.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

nanami's not the most experienced in terms of how many people he's slept with because he only has sex with long-term partners rather than hook ups. he's had a few previous relationships so he's not completely inexperienced either. but what nanami is good at is learning and figuring out what works for you because that's the only thing he cares about. he wants to make you feel good and he's a quick learner, always watching your reactions carefully to see what you like and how to get you to come. he becomes so good at it that he can have you falling apart within seconds, and it's something that he's very proud of.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

this one is obvious but of course nanami loves when you ride him. it's a great time for him when he's able to lean back and watch as you bounce on his cock while he admires every inch of your body. sometimes he'll tie your hands behind your back and that turns him on too, seeing you ride him with only the movements of your hips, making you work for it. if you get tired, he'll be so generous and help you out, holding you up so that he can thrust up and pound his cock into you. he loves it when your mouth falls open, moaning uncontrollably, and when you throw your head back in pleasure.

missionary is another favourite of his because he really likes the intimate aspect of it, being able to see your face and kiss you. he's in full control here with his body above yours as he thrusts his cock in your pussy as fast or as slow as he wants. and if you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in deeper—fuck, that really gets him going, and he'll fuck you even harder, cock throbbing with need.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

he's pretty serious in the sense that he's not like cracking jokes in the middle of sex or anything. but he loves to tease you and he's not subtle about it at all. it's his favourite thing to get you more and more riled up, all horny and frustrated, because it makes him aroused to hear you desperately beg to be touched, beg for his cock.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he cares a lot about personal hygiene so he's always well groomed. maybe not fully shaved all the time because the hair grows back too fast and he can't be bothered to keep it entirely spotless, but it's usually trimmed and well maintained.

in other areas, he also has some hair on his chest and a happy trail that makes you absolutely feral. he knows it too because sometimes he'll push down his pants a bit so that it's partially visible and he smirks at the effect it has on you, how it gets you almost instantly turned on.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

it depends. there are times when the two of you go slow, making love to each other, and it's the most intimate and romantic thing you've ever experienced. other times, maybe when he's had a particularly stressful day at work, he'll be rough almost like he's taking out his frustrations on you, and he pounds his cock into you without mercy. he knows you can take it, knows you'll be good for him, and all you can do is moan and moan...

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

i wrote about this here.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

some light bondage really gets him going, like using his tie to restrain your hands or some rope to loop around your breasts and spread your legs for him. this doesn't happen too often, but he likes dominating you and you like being dominated by him. with the bondage, your movements are restricted and you can't touch him so he's in full control over how much you get (you want to be touched? you want to come? only good girls deserve my cock) and how much you're forced to take (yeah, that's it, take my fucking cock, look at how badly you pussy needs it).

another thing is semi-public sex or a small degree of exhibitionism. this is just him getting turned on by having sex in taboo places, like when he brings you to work and closes his office door and fucks you over the table where all his important documents are laid out. he'll say, shh, don't make so much noise unless you want everyone to hear you moaning on my cock and the forbidden aspect of it gets him off even more.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

in bed when he's feeling intimate and romantic. against the wall in the living room when he's too fucking horny to wait any longer and he can't make it to the bedroom in time. at his office when he wants to relieve stress from work. the closest private space that he can find when you tease him in public and get him all hot and bothered, knowing that all he can think about is how he needs you right fucking now.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

nanami gets the most turned on when you're tempting him but he can't do anything about it at that moment. such as:

you wearing revealing clothing and purposely bending over so that he gets a glimpse of your cleavage. or you sending him naughty photos while he's at work and he has to hide the growing boner in his pants. or when your touches linger on him for a few seconds longer than usual, hands brushing past his nipples and palming at his erection for a brief moment. or when you whisper something dirty in his ear in a public space like i'm so wet right now... want you to fuck me right here, bury your cock deep in my pussy and then walk away as if nothing happened. all of those things will have his cock stirring between his legs, planting the most obscene thoughts in his head.

you can tell that it really gets to him when he starts clenching his jaw and he's breathing harder and his cock strains against his pants, twitching helplessly. if you keep it up, he'll become so horny that the minute you two are alone, he'll push you against the wall and fuck you right there, not caring about whether other people can hear or not.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

if you two haven't talked and agreed on doing something, he won't do it. he wants to make sure that both of you enjoy the sex. and probably nothing too hardcore in general.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

he likes to give more than receive when it comes to oral, and he's so damn good at it too. he's an expert at eating you out, knowing exactly where to lick and how to drag his tongue to have you writhing and squirming above him. he revels in the sounds you make, your gasps and moans and whimpers. it gets him so aroused when you come from him swirling his tongue around your clit or thrusting his tongue into your pussy. your hands clench around the bedsheets, grabbing at his hair, thighs shaking at what he's doing to you. his cock is so, so hard as he licks your pussy, feeling it throb and pulse as you come on his tongue.

when it's your turn to give him a blowjob, nanami cock twitches just at the sight of you sinking down and kneeling between his legs. it's the best kind of torture when you start with gentle kisses up his shaft and licking all over. he sees heaven as your swirl your tongue around his tip and swallow him down all the way, bobbing your head on his cock. you take him so well and he goes a little crazy at how his cock disappears in your mouth. his horniness is off the charts now, and he always tries to resist, but he can't help thrusting his hips, fucking his cock in and out of your mouth. you suck him off, flicking your tongue under the crown of his cockhead, and he explodes in your mouth with a guttural moan. you keep going even as he comes and it drives him wild, reduced to a moaning mess, his mind hazy with pleasure. he's panting when you show him all of the come that you've collected on your tongue and that makes his cock twitch again. fuck, he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of this.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

listen, nanami has the range. it really depends on the day and circumstance, but he's definitely capable of going at any pace. on mornings when you've just woken up, he'll be slow and sensual. if you've been apart for a while, it'll be a heated reunion like you can't get enough of each other. if he thinks that you've been a brat and need to be punished? get ready because it's going to be rough and he won't take it easy on you at all.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

not a fan of them. he likes being able to take his time with you without feeling rushed. of course, there are instances where he's just so horny that he needs a quick fuck right now, but if he had a choice, he would prefer a slower pace.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he's pretty open to trying new things if you express interest in them, and sometimes he surprises himself at how into it he gets. he would be willing to do spanking, choking, hair pulling... anything that makes you turned on will turn him on, too.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

oh boy, nanami seems to have endless stamina so you can only hope to keep up with him. it takes a lot to get him to come, or rather, his self-control is unmatched and he's so good at holding himself back to draw out the pleasure even longer until he absolutely can't take it anymore. sometimes he even ends up edging himself multiple times simply because he doesn't want it to end yet. he uses this skill to focus more attention on you, and he almost always makes you come before he does. you've tried to outlast him before, but he's too composed, too good at breaking you down.

not only that, but he can go for multiple rounds, as many times as you want. it takes him a while to get hard again after he comes, but when he does, you better believe that you won't be able to escape while he fucks you over and over until you can't think anymore.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

not much, and if he does have toys, it's usually to use on you, like a vibrator. you fall apart so quickly when he uses a vibrator. it's fun with the different settings too, because he gets to control your pleasure. he'll have one hand with the vibrator pressed to your clit or thrusting in and out of your pussy while his other hand jerks himself off to the sight of you trembling on the bed. if he times it really well, he can have both of you coming at the same time, moaning together as the pleasure peaks.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he teases you, but usually in retaliation to you teasing him first. you enjoy getting him all riled up at inappropriate times like the time you were kneeling under his desk while he had a business meeting. or accidently grinding your ass on his cock when he's spooning you. it's fucking hot to see him try and hold back, to resist the temptation when he's clearly aroused. and he always gets his revenge, teasing you relentlessly and not letting you come until you're completely wrecked, pussy so sensitive and throbbing, aching to be filled. he rubs the tip of his cock by your entrance, taunting you, feeling how wet you are. he says, you don't seem like you want it badly enough. maybe i'll just leave you here. you beg him, beg him for his cock, for him to stuff you full, promising not to tease him again. when he finally fucks you, properly, he stops right before you're about to come and it's so cruel. so fucking cruel. he pulls out, watching your hips buck up desperately and pussy pulsing in his absence. he does this again, building you up to your orgasm only to deny you at the last second. you're going to lose your mind. he leans in to whisper in your ear, this is what you wanted. you love it when i tease you. and you do, you do, but you also want to come.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he's not loud but his moans are the sexiest sounds you've ever heard. with his deep voice, especially if he moans right by your ear, it'll send waves of arousal through your body and make you clench around him just to hear it again. every noise he makes feels like a reward, a way for you to know that you're making him feel good. he grunts when he thrusts in and out of you. he groans when his hips start to stutter, cock throbbing as he gets close. sometimes you'll get a whine or whimper out of him and those make your pussy so fucking wet, hearing how desperate he is to come. and of course his moans—low and drawn-out, broken, lost in pleasure. moaning your name, moaning about how good it feels, a choked out moan as he fucks you full of his come. his moans are the hottest sounds you've ever heard.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

he loves to see you dressed up in lingerie, any kind of clothing that shows off your curves and exposes your skin in a scandalous way. he'll often buy you sexy lingerie sets for you to try on as foreplay before you have sex. his favourite is a bra that's pretty much see-through with an opening for easy access to your nipples and a thong that comes with a garter belt to wrap around your thighs. and if you give him a lap dance in that outfit, oh he'll get hard so fucking fast and his hands will be all over you. the fabric is so thin that grinding against his erection feels so good, feels almost like you're fucking him right there. the lingerie stays on when you finally have sex, and it makes nanami absolutely feral, like it unlocks something in him and he snaps.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

oh, he is big. definitely bigger than average in terms of both length and girth. if he's wearing tight pants, you can see the outline of his cock so clearly between his legs. and when it's hard and leaking, his bulge is obvious to anyone who looks, like his cock is fighting to break free.

unzip his pants and his cock will spring up, curving toward his abdomen, flushed red at the tip and drooling with precum. it twitches and throbs, hungry and desperate for your pussy. if he takes a dick pic and sends it to you... oh man, you better free up your afternoon because you'll be either masturbating yourself to his picture or finding him right that moment to have his delicious cock inside you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

fairly average overall, though it's funny because he thinks he has his desires under control... then you send him a sexy photo or say something suggestive to him and suddenly his cock is stirring, arousal rushing through his body. it's easy to get him in the mood, especially since he finds you so attractive.

and his sex drive is definitely higher than the public perception of him. the way he presents himself is so put together that people tend to think he's boring in bed. but the first time he brought you to his office, everyone saw how he looks at you and how he's always finding excuses to touch you and they realize that he gets it more than he lets on. they quickly learn that nanami kento fucks.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

it's very rare for him to fall asleep before cleaning up both of you and making sure you're comfortable. he doesn't like the mess and much prefers going to sleep with a clean set of sheets. but there are times when he's so fucked out and in a state of bliss that he just falls asleep right away and that's when you know the sex had been really good.

.

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(comment to be added)

[httpvomitello]

Only One Bed" Trope with Bucky Barnes:"Relax, it’s just a bed, Barnes.* I’m not gonna bite you… unless you want me to. Btw I didn't meant it sexual *

I hope you like it ~ ☆

(I know you said you didn't want anything sexual, and even though there was nothing like that, I decided to write something a little more spicy between the characters' relationships)

Just a Bed, Barnes .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: A mission gone wrong strands you and your boyfriend Bucky Barnes in the only available room. One bed. One night. You tease, he tries to stay cool—but when the tension finally snaps, there’s no going back.

bucky barnes x f!reader

WARNINGS: little NSFW

You were soaked.

Rain pelted the tiny gas station motel as you and Bucky stood at the check-in counter, dripping onto the floor and trying not to murder each other with sheer exhaustion. The mission had gone sideways somewhere between the intel drop and the Hydra ambush—and now you were stranded in the middle of nowhere with one duffel bag, two bruised egos, and exactly zero patience left.

“Room 4B,” the clerk grunted, tossing over a key. “One queen.”

Bucky blinked.

“Sorry—one what?”

“That’s all we got,” he said, already turning back to his TV. “Take it or leave it.”

You shrugged. “I’ve shared worse.”

The room was... not the worst you’d seen.

Still, the bed took up 80% of the space, and the dim yellow light overhead flickered like something out of a horror movie.

You dropped your bag and toed off your wet boots.

Bucky started unstrapping his gear in the corner—slow, methodical, and way too good-looking for someone who’d just thrown a guy through a wall an hour ago.

“Relax,” you said, flopping onto the bed with a dramatic sigh. “It’s just a bed, Barnes. I’m not gonna bite you… unless you want me to.”

His head whipped around.

Your grin widened.

“Don’t do that,” he muttered.

“Do what?” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He tugged off his soaked jacket, revealing the cling of his black t-shirt stretched over muscles and scars and all the things you knew a little too well by now.

“We’ve been dating for six months,” you said sweetly. “I think we’re past the whole awkward-roommate stage.”

“I’m not awkward,” he said, clearly lying.

You crawled to the center of the bed and sat cross-legged, watching him with open amusement.

He was trying so hard to be a gentleman.

You could practically see the internal struggle—Super Soldier Decency vs. the part of him that very much wanted to throw you down onto that mattress and forget every rule.

The flickering light gave the whole room a warm glow, and when he finally turned around—barefoot, hair damp, jaw tight—you felt the shift in the air like a storm rolling in.

“You done staring?” he asked.

“Nope.”

He sighed, moved toward the bed, and lay stiffly on top of the comforter, as far from you as physics would allow.

“Oh, come on,” you laughed, scooting closer until your thighs brushed his. “You’re really gonna do the 'sleep on the edge of the bed’ thing?”

“Trying to be respectful.”

“You already sleep with me,” you pointed out. “And we’ve done a lot worse than sharing a bed, Bucky.”

His jaw ticked.

You leaned in.

“Unless you’re scared…”

He looked at you. Really looked at you.

In the next second, he was on you—one hand braced beside your head, the other sliding up your thigh as your breath caught.

“You wanna play?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.

You grinned. “Always.”

The kiss started slow—controlled, deliberate.

But then you tugged his shirt, and he growled against your mouth, deep and rough and needy.

His metal hand gripped your waist like he couldn’t get enough of you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging until he hissed against your neck.

You felt the shift in him.

From restrained to reckless.

He pushed you down gently, kissed along your jaw, your throat, the hollow of your collarbone—taking his time, worshiping like he had all night to learn you again.

“Bucky,” you breathed, arching into him.

“You talk too much,” he muttered.

You laughed—cut off by his mouth covering yours again, hungrier this time.

He kissed you like a man starved—like he’d been waiting hours, days, to touch you like this again.

When he finally peeled your shirt over your head, his eyes went dark.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

You tugged at his belt in response, and he groaned, catching your wrist.

“Wait.”

You paused, heart thudding.

“I don’t want to rush,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not tonight.”

Your breath hitched. “Then don’t.”

And he didn’t.

He took his time—touches slow and reverent, kisses placed with the kind of care that made your stomach twist in the best way.

When he finally moved over you, skin to skin, you felt everything all at once: the love, the tension, the months of dancing around moments like this.

And when it was over—when your body was still trembling and he was brushing damp hair from your forehead—he kissed you again, softer this time.

“Still just a bed?” he murmured.

You smiled sleepily, curling into his chest.

“Nope,” you whispered. “Best bed ever.”

[wchswift]

꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ 18-C

꒰ 18 ꒱ “it’s just one night- surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us.” ꒰ C ꒱ ecstasy ꒰ 𓃗 ꒱ a skeevy motel just off the highway

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: you and dean are hit by a curse during a hunt and now you're in a motel with only one bed and pining for each other thanks to a witch.

word count: 1k

notes: hii, tysm for sending it :) Since you didn't specify which character and didn't send me another ask saying which one, I wrote this with dean. hope you and everyone else likes it <3

build a fic

"Alright, sweetheart," Dean mutters, glancing your way. "You see anything that screams witchy?"

You roll your eyes but scan the area. The graveyard is overgrown, vines snaking around tombstones, crickets humming in the silence. But there's something off. The air feels charged, humming just beneath the surface.

Then you spot it—a circle of blackened candles, wax dripping into the dirt. A set of bones, arranged carefully. A hex bag lying in the center.

Bingo.

"Dean," you call, motioning toward it. He strides up beside you, his jaw clenching.

"Well, that ain't good."

"No kidding," you murmur. "Looks like the witch was in the middle of something before we interrupted."

Dean wastes no time. He kicks over the candles, grabs the hex bag, and tosses it onto the flames of his lighter. The second the fire catches, the air shifts.

A cold gust rushes through the cemetery, howling between the trees. The sensation is instant—something sinks into you, wrapping around your chest, curling through your veins. Your breath hitches. Your knees nearly buckle.

Dean staggers beside you, his hand flying out to grip your arm. "You feel that?" His voice is rough, strained.

You nod, swallowing hard. Your skin is buzzing, burning with something you can’t explain. An ecstasy, an excitement just from being close to him. The fire crackles as the hex bag turns to ash, but the feeling doesn’t leave. If anything, it intensifies.

Dean curses under his breath, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. "Damn witch must’ve hit us with something before she went down."

You don’t answer. Because suddenly, you’re too aware of him. Of the warmth of his hand still on your arm, of the way his chest rises and falls a little too fast. Of the scent of leather and gunpowder clinging to his jacket.

You take a shaky step back, and it feels wrong. Like stepping away is a mistake.

Dean notices it too. His jaw tightens. "We need to get the hell outta here."

The ride to the skeevy motel isn't that long. But it feels like an eternity.

The neon sign flickers overhead, buzzing like a dying wasp. It's a cheap, run-down motel, but the only place within twenty miles that isn’t the backseat of the Impala.

Dean slaps cash onto the counter without even waiting for pleasantries. The old man behind the desk barely looks up as he hands over a key.

Room 12.

You make it inside before the weight of the night crashes over you. The walls are yellowed with time, the carpet worn down to its last thread. The air smells like stale beer and cigarette smoke, with a hint of something moldy underneath.

But none of that matters.

Because the second the door clicks shut, the heat returns. Stronger.

Dean is standing too close. Or maybe you’re the one leaning toward him. It’s hard to tell.

He rubs a hand down his face. "Damn heat's broken in here too?"

You shake your head, pressing a palm to your chest, feeling the way your heart slams against your ribs. "It's not the heat, Dean."

The realization dawns in his eyes. A slow, dawning horror mixed with something else—something darker, something unspoken.

"Son of a bitch," he mutters. "It’s the fucking curse."

Your breath is coming too fast. Your skin needs something, but you don’t know what. When you take a step back, it feels like a mistake—like moving away from him is stripping away something vital.

And the worst part?

Dean feels it too.

You can see it in the clench of his jaw, the way his hands twitch at his sides. Like he’s fighting it. Like he’s holding himself back from doing something reckless.

"We just need to ride it out," he says, voice rough. "Figure out how to break it in the morning."

He moves toward the bed, and your stomach sinks. One bed. Of course.

Dean notices it at the same time you do. His mouth tugs into something that might be a smirk if it weren’t so damn tense.

"It’s just one night," he says, but there’s something strained in the way he says it. "Surely sharing a bed for that long won’t kill us."

Won’t kill us, you think. But it might damn well ruin you.

Still, you force yourself forward, kicking off your boots, pulling back the covers like it’s nothing. Like you don’t feel like your whole body is going to shake apart.

Dean does the same. Lying on his back, arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

Neither of you speaks.

The air is thick with something heavy, electric. You can hear his breathing, slightly uneven. Feel the heat radiating off his skin.

Minutes pass. Maybe hours. Your body refuses to settle. Every nerve feels like it's on fire.

You turn your head to look at him, and he's already looking at you.

"Dean," you whisper.

And then the ecstasy feeling is back again, and Dean doesn't wait another moment before he acts.

He's moving before you can think, rolling onto his side, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that steals the air from your lungs.

It's desperate. Starved. Like he's been waiting for this, like he needs it as much as you do. His hands slide over your hips, tugging you closer, and you melt into him, fingers tangling in his shirt, anchoring yourself against the heat of his body.

The curse burns through your veins, but this—this—feels real.

Dean breaks away, forehead pressed against yours, breathing heavy. "Shit," he murmurs. His voice is wrecked, raw.

You swallow hard. "I—"

"Don't," he cuts in, shaking his head. His thumb brushes over your jaw, something aching in his gaze. "We'll figure this out tomorrow."

His lips graze yours again, slower this time. Like he’s memorizing it.

Tomorrow.

But tonight, neither of you move away.

(I didn't really like my writing on this one but I hope it's good enough lol)

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist (some special moots tagged too): @lyarr24 @blossomingorchids @bettystonewell @rositaslabyrinth @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @freeluigihesbae @soldiersgirl @maddie0101 (if you want to be removed or added let me know <3)

[daisyjonesgf]

midnight rain // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: finnick had pulled the plug on your relationship long ago, when he could no longer keep from you what he'd been forced into. but after you've returned victorious from your games, he knows you need him as the nightmares come for you each time you close your eyes.

chapter two

masterlist

warnings: descriptions of gore, violence, character death, hurt/comfort, allusions to trafficking, secrets, inaccurate timeline, finnick might be ooc idk I'm not good at telling lmao, part one ??, unedited, ANGST, fluff, no use of y/n, pet names like angel and my love, the title will make more sense when I get all my ideas out in the possible next part, so long, I'm so sorry

2.9k words

Waking up in his arms is what saved you, every night when you were thrown back into that arena shivering in the cold, the warmth of him wrapped around you would guide you back to safety.

Safety.

Did you even have that? Comments made in passing by former victors and my Finnick’s attitude made your stomach turn. What truly lay ahead for you post the games? You couldn't focus on that yet though, right now you'd just have the muster up the courage to finish up the grand Victory Tour. Your reward for losing your humanity, for the blood staining your hands.

Finnick grumbled into your shoulder as he began waking from his own so-called rest, which you could only imagine became more torturous as time went on. Or not, maybe you'd become more numb to it as the present forced itself onto you rather than the ghosts of the past. Sunlight streamed down on his bronze skin, he nearly shimmered. It was as if the gods knew he deserved to be blessed with something for all the tribulations he faced.

“I'm supposed to be the one watching you sleep." His saccharine voice filled your senses like honey, the sound of sleep adding a rasp, in the mornings he was like honey and toast.

“Sorry I couldn't resist your charms and I didn't want to disturb your rest, golden boy." You smiled as he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Your rest is much more important, it's your Victory Tour. You've got people to face and impress, be the Capitol’s Princess." He said it with a smile you could melt for, but behind his tone you could sense bitterness. Unsaid words he wasn't ready to reveal to you, something that had broken you apart one, and then led him back to you, into his warmth.

“Finnick-" It was a hidden tone that terrified you. What had he been keeping locked behind those honey-dripping, sweet-talking lips for so long? When would he hand you the golden encrusted key to his secrets?

“Come on you need to get dressed, angel. You have impressions to make.” He didn't want to talk about it, he knew when you were trying to pry and wasn't ready to reveal what he kept hidden. You did need to get ready though, today was District 7, the allies you'd had to betray. Just the thought of it made you want to retreat further into the warmth of the bed, the blankets, of his arms but he was unwrapping himself from you without another word.

Maybe if he couldn't tell you were trying to make him reveal things he would be slower and gentler about preparing you for what lay ahead, but he didn't want to stare into your pleading eyes and spill his secrets. Which is why he'd torn himself from your love in the first place.

"Stay on the script, you did what you had to do to survive. Charm, but it's not the families you're doing it for, it's them.” Them, the Capitol, eagerly awaiting your filmed performance. You nodded as Finnick wrapped his robe around himself. He made no eye contact as he left the train car and you felt yourself running cold. You were alone again, with your thoughts, soon your Capitol assigned team of designers would be here to dress you up like a paper doll.

You were frail and delicate, but lethal when it came down to it. Your tears were iconic for fragile femininity, but manipulation to win against those with stronger senses. An image you still needed to abide by, even if you'd rather lay down and fall into your head for eternity, punishing yourself for it all.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

There he stood, face firm as he readied the hatchet to slice straight through your brain.

“Birch, you don't really want me dead. We don't have to turn on each other, we can talk about it." You reasoned, tears brimming your eyelids.

“Why? Like how you were planning to talk to him about it too?" Birch nodded to the lifeless body nearby.

“He attacked me!" You defended, that would be the argument. The sweet tribute who had such a big heart, but did what she needed to survive.

“Because he knew you were trying to use him, sorry we couldn't all fall for your charms. All of us have homes, families to go back to. Of course I don't want you dead, but they need me.” He was pleading too and if you looked hard enough you could swear he was about to cry. Before you could say another word the hatchet flew from his hand and you dodged it just in time. Birch began sprinting towards you. If he got his arms around you there was no doubt he could snap your neck in a split second. His strength was one of the reasons he was such a good pick to ally with.

You were unsteady on your feet as you ran away, fumbling for something to throw, to block his advances. The hatchet had lodged itself into the ground not far from you, he knew you were going for it and the adrenaline was speeding him up. You grabbed it, stumbling forward as soons as it was within your grasp, turning forward. He was so close and paused a second. You'd be more dangerous close by then at a distance now, he'd helped you practice throwing different weapons in training which you were decent at. Decent enough to be a threat, decent enough that he regretted it, decent enough that you regretted it too, using his kindness to win against him.

But this was all too slow, he needed to either win or lose. So he gave up on the reason and barreled forward. You barely had enough time to think as you pounded forward as well, slicing into him, not deep enough to kill, but enough to injure, for him to stumble back a second. You didn't have time to take a second and thrusted the hatchet straight into his chest, definitely deep enough to kill. The sight of the blood trickling down his bottom lip as he fell backward blurred your vision. She was still left, you didn't have time to feel guilty yet you did.

“Mom, Laurel-” He choked out before he went completely stiff and the cannon rang out. Flashes of his mom and his little, 10 year old sister, shivering and shaking by her mother and his image stared with cold eyes at you. Giving your grand speech about his bravery and next thing you knew you were screaming.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Hey, hey it's okay. You're not there, you're right here. I've got you." Warm hands shook your shoulders as you woke with sobs wracking through your body.

That's the problem you thought your mind was racing awake, he had people to take care of you had selfishly picked your family over his, over all of there's.

“I know, I know, I've got you." Finnick enveloped you within his arms as you let your tears streak down his shoulder.

“How am I supposed to look at them, Finnick? How am I supposed to congratulate them for their child’s bravery when I took their babies away from them?” Your voice was creaky and louder than you'd expected.

He pulled you off his shoulder, facing you, his sea green eyes pouring into yours. “With a smile, this isn't about them, or for them. This is for Snow, you're still playing the game. I can't tell you it gets better, but you have to remember he's watching and you need to follow his rules." You nodded robotically, the old Finnick would have comforted you more. But, this Finnick was still recovering too and he was doing his job as a mentor. Keeping you safe from the vultures and their outrage if you didn't play the Capitol’s Princess good enough.

“Can you stay?" You whispered, even though he always did.

“Of course, angel." He pressed his warm lips to your forehead, engulfing you within his arms. You lay with him knowing if you fell back asleep with images of her family would echo within your soul, haunting your dreams. Finnick would ground you back, his comfort would stop you from screaming in the real world, keep your protected, but not the flashes of what you'd done. “You need to sleep, you have to do it all again tomorrow."

“I know." You wiped down a stray tear streaking down your face. He looked serene in the moonlight glow even if his eyes spoke a different tale. One of worry, one wondering how much longer until the waterfall poured himself out to you. “Finnick, I know things aren't the same between us, they haven't been, and I don't know if you even want them to be. But please, please don't ever leave me. I need you, to keep me from just floating completely away. To remind me why I won."

Your choppy voice broke his heart even more, he didn't know how much longer he could do this to you. He wanted to be as he had been for you, but the chains bore too heavy right now. There was too much on your plate to add more brutality to it.

“I would never even consider it, angel. I felt selfish for it, but you keep me grounded too. I'm sorry I'm doing this to you." His voice was softer than usual, wasn't as teasing, it was so pure, so lost.

“You're not selfish, Finnick. I know you've always just wanted to keep me safe, even if I don't know from what and you can tell me in your own time. I'll wait for you to come back to me."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. You were so sweet, so in need of his protection. He couldn't let them do to you as they did to him, but there was nothing he could do to protect you except keep it away as long as possible.

“You need to try and rest, sweet girl." You hummed in response, knowing that wouldn't happen.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Just you and me then." Her voice was always so rich, accented and friendly but strong. It was like dark chocolate, with a hint of caramel and raspberries. But now, it was exhausted. You'd trusted her more then anyone else, related to her even if your tactics were different. Even when the men had tried to split up as if it was District against District. Really they'd just been trying to get the two “weaker" girls out of the way so they could fight it out amongst themselves. Marlowe had been much too smart for that though. She'd fled from Birch the moment she sensed his demeanor change.

You'd both silently hoped the other would be dead, so that it wouldn't come to this. You and Marlowe fighting for your lives, your families, all as a silly little dance, a pageant for the rich.

“Just you and me." You repeated back, voice so soft it could be caught in the wind and drift away, feathery.

“I'd say we should just split up and wait to see who dies out first, but we both know you're much more popular than I am." She smirked with sadness twinging her features.

“They like you, Marlowe. You're fierce."

She laughed harshly, “So are you, but you've balanced it out. Anyways I'm sure if we did do that they'd send something out for us. It's all for the show, isn't it?" Marlowe wouldn't cry but you could feel the exasperation, the anger, the tears that would never spill in her wavering voice. “Isn't it?" She shouted into the sky. You could tell she was giving up in a sense, not scared of angering the Capitol. But that didn't mean she wasn't still a threat, if anything her wrath made her more of a danger in the moment. So as she started into the sky you made a run for it, grabbing the spear left by Conway. Oh, Conway.

There was no time to dwell on Conway or Birch. Right now you need to focus on your plan, gaining the upper hand. You needed to be in the water. Which wouldn't be hard, this was a marshland after all. Spear in hand you ran as fast as you could, enough distance would give you enough time to think of a more solid plan. Marlowe shouted your name, but you ran until your legs tumbled into the warm water, sweat ran down your face as the mugginess clung to your skin. You whipped around to where her footsteps headed towards you, gripping for dear life onto that spear.

“Was this your plan all along? That's what Birch always said, you'd play the part of a darling, of a ready to cry her heart out sweetheart just to stab us all in the back, especially with that training score.” She shook her head, dismayed. " But I get it, I really do. This is what they do, pin us against each other. If you wanted me to die you would have thrown that at me, but you haven't. But I can still win this thing.” The tears were burbling up again and before you could throw the spear into her she'd tackled you from the side.

Your lungs filled with the muddy water and you gasped for air that wasn't there. How ironic it would be, you ran for the water to have the upper hand and it would be the end of you. Your grasp had loosened on the spear and you desperately tried to find it in the water. Your arms failed, you kicked forward, but Marlowe was just as strong as Birch would have been. For a second you were able to lift your face out of the water and take a gasp of air before her hands plunger you back into uncomfortably warm water.

You saw images of Finnick, how disappointed he would be in you. How heart wrenchingly broken he would be to know he pushed you away to ‘protect you’ and there you were dead in the dirty marsh water. You wanted him back desperately, for him to trust you again, let you back within the walls of his mind. Suddenly your hands finally wrapped around the spear you'd been desperately searching for. With all the energy you had left in you, eyes searching through the murky water you aimed as much as you could.

Suddenly her rough fingers holding you down loosened and you forced yourself up, gasping for air. Hands still on the handle of the spear and you felt the warmth of a thicker liquid falling down on you. Straight from her neck, you'd gone straight through her throat. The cannon rang out, a voice proclaimed you the victor of the annual Hunger Games, but all you could do was bawl. Mumbled apologies, she didn't deserve this, nobody did.

Pictures of her mother and father glaring into you for taking away their only baby as you announced your loyalty to the righteousness of Panem. You weren't screaming yourself awake.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick hasn't fallen back to sleep, but your sniffles and the feeling of your hot tears on his arms made him glad he hadn't. That he could be here for you when you woke up once again, needing to know there would be no more death. Other things like ahead, but there would be no more arena.

“Angel, it's okay. Let it out, I'm here for you." He spoke with so much confidence that your drowsy self simply nodded as you cried and tucked yourself into his arms even more.

“Finnick?" You mumbled out through your groggy mind and tear filled throat.

“Yes, my love?" Even when your vision was blurred he looked ethereal, a god send in your time of need.

“Can you just tell me something happy, just whisk me away, please?" Finnick kissed the top of your head.

“Of course." The begging way you said it, pumped his veins with guilt. He's been too harsh, too much of a realist. Which wasn't how your relationship operates, he couldn't just talk to you like a mentor when you'd always meant so much more than that.

“Angel, after we get through this we're going to live in a beautiful house overlooking the beach. I'll annoy you but dragging you out to fish-” He began before you interrupted him.

“You could never annoy me, Finnick." You said softly and he pressed his finger to your lips.

“Shhhh, just listen and rest. I'll annoy you and boss you around it, as you like to say. I'll collect sea glass to make you beautiful things, we'll dance in the sand, and every second I'll think about your hands in mind, your soft hair wrapped in my fingers, your lips on mine. We’ll be so drunk on our own pleasure all of this will be a figment of your imagination, I'll cook for you, and we'll get dressed up to go nowhere before we just end up swimming the night away." Maybe he was lying maybe if Snow had his way it would break you like it had broken him, but maybe with your kindhearted way you'd simply build him back up and your bond would be stronger than ever.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Sorry this is so long, but I left out so much I was thinking about. Especially about the games so maybe there'll be a part two if y'all want. Thanks for reading, likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated.

[kimberleyjean]

Good Omens S1 Parallels - 1/?

Saturday Morning Funtime is a particularly interesting episode for me, because it suggests something about the structure of parallels Season One. Also, it's easier to start with a single episode than trying to cover the whole show at once. I'm going to show you six different scenes from Saturday Morning Funtime and how they link together.

Let's start with the pun pointed out by Danny Motta in his video (link here to relevant timestamp if you haven't seen it). Danny made the link between this scene near the start of E4, where Aziraphale gets exercise:

And this scene at the end, where Aziraphale was exorcised (according to Shadwell, at least):

Cool, seems like a funny pun. But there's no way to know it was intentional right? Well, I think I can argue it was. Let's look at another scene.

We have this scene where Hastur destroys 3 Erics on the plains of Megiddo. Since each demon has a corresponding animal, I'm going to go ahead and place bets on the Eric's being rabbits, and Hastur destroys 2/3 of them.

And then later we have this scene where Hastur again destroys 2/3 rabbits, but this time they're cartoon bunnies - the first one he beheads like a costume, the second he rips out it's throat.

Ok, but again, why am I linking these two scenes? No deep character insights, or thematic elements are being displayed here... Except that's a key reason I'm pointing them out - they're seemingly pretty pointless, so why bother to make them? Well, maybe the sum is bigger than the parts. One more example and then I'll show you how this comes together.

Here's a scene which I think is pretty good foreshadowing of something that will happen later in the episode - Hastur and Ligur talking about the dripping pipes down in Hell. Hastur has a little bucket he's collecting water in, which he uses in a toast:

And later, we have this particularly gruesome scene of Ligur becoming toast at the hands of a bucket full of (holy)water:

Ok, so six scenes, three sets of parallels... now's where the magic happens... I take E4 as a whole... loop it over on itself like a piece of trick rope from Goldstein's magic shop and....

Tada! Here's the episode laid out in 2 minute increments.

Some pretty interesting places to have parallels, no? That two minute block at the start is a lead in before the opening credits, so the Exercise and Exorcism scenes are coming directly before and directly after the open and close sequence (shown above in blue).

I'd be lying if I said it didn't remind me of the overall chiastic structure that some people have worked on, such as this one by @drconstellation, just on a smaller scale.

It's also interesting to note that each of these parallel pairs relates to someone getting discorporated - Eric, Ligur and then Aziraphale.

What's the point?

So, I promised that I would share a little on why this might be important. In my opinion? It appears like there is some detailed structure to Good Omens, at least in S1.

It should also be noted that these scenes were added only for the show in order to produce this effect - Aziraphale exercising with Gabriel, Hastur and Ligur talking about the pipes, the three cartoon rabbits in the theatre - they were all newly created for the show.

Why go to the bother of creating these little parallel moments at corresponding points along a mirrored structure? Especially when these don't necessarily have ramifications for characters or plot? Is it just good story telling or is it something more? These are all questions worth asking in my opinion. I think it relates to how this show treats words and language in a very Pratchetty fashion. The whole show is a dedication to Terry, after all.

Of course, if things were so simple, I think we would have figured it all out long ago. Parallels, puns, wordplay... they're all quite slippery things. There are things I would consider to be parallels which don't line up with this same structure. For example, the scene from earlier with Gabriel and Aziraphale exercising? The "lose the gut" gut-punch foreshadows this other gut punch scene in E4 too:

Despite examples to the contrary, the presence of parallels and wordplay that do line up along a mirrored structure makes me want to explore this further. If you're also interested in this and want to collaborate, please let me know.

This will be a continuing series, as and when time allows, because parallels seem to be absolutely everywhere. Future posts will look at parallels at different levels (within scenes, across episodes, and across seasons).

Let me know if you spot any others - I'd love to hear about them. They might be hidden in the visuals, wordplay, puns and more...

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

With thanks to all the detectives for keeping me clue hunting @embracing-the-ineffable, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, @noneorother, @somehow-a-human, @komorezuki, @maufungi, @lookingatacupoftea, @havemyheartaziraphale, @251-dmr, @dunkthebiscuit, and @ghstptats <3

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I read the post where you answered why you didn’t like Malleus and remembered that you placed Leona really highly on your favs list, and Leona is my favorite so do you mind me asking why do you like Leona?

[My TWST character tier list is here.]

[Anon is also referencing this Malleus post.]

THERE’S A REASON WHY L*ONA IS IN “Unfortunately Enjoy” TIER 😭 I think for like... over a year (2020-2021)? Probably closer to 1.5 years?? I really disliked him and swore up and down that I'd "never in my life simp for the fake cat". This was largely in part due to book 2, which to this day I believe did Leona a HUGE disservice and made him look very unintelligent and uninteresting. Then I was drip fed new Leona content as it steadily came out (vignettes, voice lines, event stories, his return in book 6) and my opinion of him vastly improved. Book 2 was just a really bad introduction to him and it greatly soured my first impressions. sjfyofqebfeiafns B-But now I'm too embarrassed to openly declare, "Yeah, I like a sad muscular l*on man. So what?" Some would say that's tsundere behavior... BUT I SAY I'M COMPLETELY JUSTIFIED FOR ACTING THIS WAY BECAUSE IT ISN'T EASY TO CONFESS WITH YOUR WHOLE CHEST THAT YOU LIKE KINGSCHOLAR OF ALL TWST CHARACTERS

... Anyway! For a much more expanded explanation, I'd recommend this post! It already states a lot of my thoughts, and I don't want to repeat them in yet another lengthy lion-related post. What I'll do instead is summarize the key points for you, plus add some commentary about Leona and Malleus at the end.

Admittedly, he is pretty. VERY pretty. I'm saying this as someone who normally really dislikes hair longer than shoulder length, the "wild"/bad boy aesthetic, and kemonomimi. Leona breaks ALL the rules and still somehow manages to wear everything and anything well because of his sheer confidence and natural grace. His physical features are also very striking... The sharp bright green eyes, the small waist and large chest (there's NO reason why he HAD to be built like that), his stupid smirk, etc.

His pettiness and sarcasm. Leona has, hands down, some of the funniest lines 🤡 I love that he has the balls to speak callously to everyone, including fellow dorm leaders and royalty. His best moments, however, are when he whips out the sarcasm on statements which are so patently untrue--like when he says he is a 'delicate prince' and a 'lost child', both moments from book 6. It's also hilarious whenever Leona speaks in a formal way, showing that he does have the education and the knowledge of how a prince should present himself, but just actively chooses to not make the effort and only does so mockingly or when social grace calls for it.

HIS BIG BRAIN FOLDS, HOLY COW (err, book 2 aside). Leona works smarter, not harder!! He's always one step ahead of everyone else, even if he appears sleepy or disinterested at the time. He figured out the trick behind the "indestructible" golden contracts, he sussed out Jamil WAY before book 4 ever came out (saying that Jamil has "eyes that always glare" and implying that Jamil poses a threat to Kalim's life; this is from Jamil's School Uniform vignette), he takes what he learns in textbooks and so easily translates it to real-world experiences (ie advising the first years on how to more efficiently mine magestones in Vargas Camp), etc. Additionally, Leona knows when to step in and when to be hands off. It's not done out of cowardice or laziness, but rather because he's thinking strategically. For example, he could have resisted capture at the hands of the Ferrymen, but he didn't because it would be smarter to just go with them willingly. It saves everyone a lot of time and energy, and it’s this kind of intelligent thinking that makes Leona really stand out.

He knows how to lead. There are many different types of beastmen, each with own beliefs, values, and traditions that are unique to their own group. As a result, it is very difficult to unify all beastmen within the Sunset Savanna under one rule. Guess who doesn't have this problem? THAT'S RIGHT, IT'S LEONA. There's a variety of beastmen in Savanaclaw, and he effortlessly rules over them and commands their respect.

He actively thinks about how to improve the Sunset Savanna. Leona's ideas are not always the best (like, yeah, you could introduce new technology to the country but expect significant social pushback from the people, who prioritize living in harmony with nature). However, I can really appreciate that he did not entirely turn his back on the people who feared his powers and talked him down. I think he eventually realized the flaws in his way of thinking and actively chose an energy and mining lab internship in hopes of researching ways to slowly implement changes that will benefit the Sunset Savanna while also remaining respectful of the people's beliefs. He is concerned about Falena's lax way of ruling and consistently brings up ideas in various voice lines about how they can improve the Sunset Savanna and its relationships with other countries and tourists. In spite of everything he went through, Leona never wants to hurt those who hurt him with their comments and comparisons to his elder brother. He does not ever want to tear down the system that kicked him down again and again, only wants to challenge it by proving his own merits and the merits of the other downtrodden that he leads.

As much as he wants to deny it, he cares about his underclassmen and goes out of his way to help them. There are sooo many examples of this that it cannot possibly fit in one bullet point. (I would really recommend reading the elongated post linked above, as I go into more detail on this.) Suffice to say, Leona has been shown guiding, instructing, and mentoring many other characters including, but not limited to: Epel, Ruggie, Jack, Jamil, and various Savanaclaw mob students. This really hits me in the heart because I love reliable big brother characters 😭 EVEN THOUGH LEONA IS TECHNICALLY A YOUNGER BROTHER...

He understands his strengths—and he understands others' strengths too. This man is fully aware of his magical might and powerful presence. He uses every last bit of it to full effect and to attain his goals, whatever those may be. One of my favorite uses has to be In Fairy Gala!! He distracted some pixies by simply demanding water and their attention so his partners in crime could escape—and what’s more, this was a plan he came up with on the spot because their mission was being jeopardized by unforeseen events. Leona is also good about pinpointing people’s best attributes and then helping them hone it. This happens a lot during club practice, bur it also occurs in book 6 between him and Jamil. Speaking of…

THAT WHOLE BOOK 6 CONVERSATION WITH JAMIL DESERVES ITS OWN BULLET POINT. This part was peak mentor mode Leona 😭 Sure, maybe he wasn’t the kindest with his wording, but I felt this was the wake up call Jamil needed to hear. What really got me though was the part where Leona tells Jamil there’s still hope for him… “unlike me”. (I believe this part was translated differently in EN to make Leona’s ego sound more inflated (ie “I’m not like you”) which saddens me immensely.) It paints the image that Leona is still struggling to believe his efforts will amount to anything and that he believes more in his juniors than in himself :(( (which informs my headcanon that Leona mentors younger students so that they can have the bright future he doesn’t think he can have for himself).

Emotional complexity. When you get down to it, what started off as a very basic story of jealousy and inferiority complex actually resulted in a deeply flawed, traumatized, and scarred individual who continues to doubt and put himself down but is slowly recovering. Leona is smart and charismatic—he is everything a leader should be, but he doesn’t truly see his own worth. (Ironically, the only people who do are the ones who look up to him and follow him.) And now… Leona’s actually got his eyes set on graduating! He has his internship plans set! I think he’s made such big strides since book 2, and it’s been so rewarding seeing him regain his willingness to try and succeed return to him.

Looking back on it, it’s so ironic how things ended up working out. Initially, I was totally on Lilia’s side when he insulted Leona and said he would never be the kind of leader Malleus is. Now I’m realizing how Leona does many of the things I don’t see Malleus doing (despite Lilia claiming Malleus is more fit to be king than Leona is).

Malleus isn’t harming his people by any means, but it’s more like he’s… stagnant? Complacent? He’s satisfied with the status quo and is comfortable resting on his laurels. And because of that, Malleus doesn’t really seem to consider what he, as a leader, can do for others, be it for his dorm members or doe his country. (Part of this is also how isolated and opposed to change Briar Valley is, of course! That kind of culture definitely shapes Malleus’s thinking.) He tends to avoid situations which involve navigating social complexities rather than dealing with them himself. Think of Ghost Marriage, when Sebek proposes in his place. Think of Fairy Gala, when Silver is the one that ultimately resolves the conflict between the diurnal fae (who have historically not been friendly with nocturnal fae) and NRC. Malleus is so sheltered that has not truly been put in situations where he has to make tough decisions or where he has been challenged. He has never had to claw and scream and beg for people to see his worth.

Leona has been through that emotional wringer, and though he’s been hurt so badly, he still came out the other side. In running from the shadow of his family—of his older brother—Leona found solace in this new kingdom, Savanaclaw. It’s a place to build himself up, to stew over the ideas he has that have yet to be realized, all with a safe mental distance from home. It’s through the many hardships he has experienced that has refined his wit and given it a place to practice, to be used.

When it comes down to it, Leona and Malleus are two sides of the same coin. Both arrogant princes, the second born and crown prince, respectively, wishing for the other’s circumstances. Leona desperately wants that respect and recognition that Malleus has. Malleus longs for the intimacy and camaraderie that Leona is so easily able to cultivate and command. Leona has been forced to adapt, to learn, to grow from his scars. Malleus struggles with the concept of change (understandable, given his background) and actively denies reality if he finds the truth to be unpleasant. He’s not used to facing dilemmas that cannot be solved with magical strength, and has not ever been challenged in such a way. Malleus doesn’t know how to deal with that, which is partly why be panics and loses himself to emotions in book 7. (By the end of it, I’m sure he’ll be given the chance to see the error of his ways though 💦 or at least I hope he does??)

Their characters are very different, and that’s not a bad thing!! If anything, it makes their dynamic so interesting to observe and it offers varying interpretations of the same “prince” trope. I definitely know which of the two I prefer 🤡

[kafkaeya]

chained - part two

character: wriothesley

request: Wriothesley x Prisoner reader 😏This kind of enemies or poles opposing each other, but in secret they love each other but do not dare to confess because of their pride or status, I like to imagine the tense and charged atmosphere they make together.

tw: restraints (reader is chained in solitary confinement); minor injury and blood detail.

an: part two!! eee i love when enemies go "oh no im looking at you and don't entirely hate your guts" hehe. can confirm that there will be one more part/chapter!

the next few days blurred within the dim confines of the cell, measured only by the brief and infuriating interruptions of wriothesley’s presence, and the occasional sipping of tea. it was on the final day of your confinement, the day after the rather breezy risk assessment, that wriothesley slammed open your cell door, punched your cobble wall, and turned to you.

“hold out your hands,” he said, rattling a key in his pocket.

“why? chopping them off?” you taunted in retaliation.

“not the time. hold out your hands.”

even you knew when to quit, so you held out your hands rather rapidly once the imperative was used again. wriothesley unlocked your chains, and you both watched as they fell to the floor. your eyes then averted to his right hand, blood trickling from where he'd hit the wall.

“you’re a day early,” you stated the obvious, eyes still on his hand.

wriothesley knew of your fixation, but chose to avoid it. “i have a deal.”

you tilted your head, and for the first time finally got to sit on your bed. “what deal?”

“you help me; i help you.”

“i don’t need he—”

“shut up for one second. i need you to gather some information for me.”

“what kind of information?”

“i’m getting there. if you talk one more time, you’re back in the chains.”

you were… pretty silent for a while, while wriothesley was pacing in your cell explaining to you.

“you need to gather information for me, alongside me. today. there’s been a string of contraband smuggling, someone clearly using the lower levels of the prison – the production zones, most likely – to move goods. i need the following: who is leading the operation; who is responsible for moving the goods, as they are likely to be different people; how they are getting through my security systems, and what contraband they are moving specifically. if you can help me get me all of that, i’ll shave a few months, maybe a year, off your sentence. it depends on what you did: that kind of information, i’m not privy to.”

“i killed a shopkeeper.”

“so if you do—huh? a shopkeeper? you killed a shopkeeper?”

“long story. so you’re probably looking at getting me a few months less as opposed to a whole year.” despite your quick resignation to the fact that the benefits weren’t too positive in this scenario, the idea of a few extra months of freedom was too tantalising to ignore.

“explains solitary… anyway...” wriothesley shook his head, the mental image of you committing murder now painted in his mind eternally. “do we have a deal?”

you asked pretty promptly. “if i fail?”

“you die.”

a fatal pause.

“i’m joking. you just end up being hated by all the other prisoners for prying in their business.”

“you’re setting me up to be the laughing stock of the whole fortress.”

wriothesley smirked; you stood up, and approached him, your finger pointing aggressively in his face.

“i. hate. you.”

“do we have a deal?”

the two of you shook hands, and wriothesley headed for the cell door. the sudden feeling of freedom overwhelmed you, and it took his taunting, irritating voice to break your severance from reality: “you coming or not?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the lower levels of the prison were colder, darker, quieter than the rest of the fortress. the sounds of your’s and wriothesley’s footsteps echoed against the stone walls and floor, broken only by the occasional drip of musty water from somewhere overhead, out of view. the production zones were out of bounds at this time, all the other prisoners on the next levels up eating their dinners. you were trailing behind wriothesley, the tenuous and dubious nature of your relationship weighing you down just as much as the chains once did.

“okay back there?” wriothesley asked, without turning around. his tone was light, with a hint, as always, of teasing.

“sure. the ambiance is… rather pleasing,” you replied. your sardonic tone was not missed by wriothesley, who chuckled softly but did not respond. instead, he stopped at a heavy set of iron doors, leading down to a further level unknown to most of the prisoners.

“this is a suspected route; it runs to the entrance to the fortress – you know, the part you came in through?”

“i know what an entrance is.”

wriothesley laughed once more at your retort, then returned to a serious and morose tone. “no guards patrol this area, as it’s deemed unsafe—”

“you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“shut up. anyway, we’ll find some traces here, i’m sure.”

“you may call me your pup, duke, but i’m not a bloodhound.”

“oh i know, you already told me you weren’t one to roll over and obey.” wriothesley’s response to you was laced with annoyance – his aggravation still apparent from when you first made those remarks a few days prior.

without another word, he opened the doors.

it did not take long to find a trace of the contraband.

“there,” you said, pointing to a few scuff marks on the cobble floor: unnatural, caused by wood. “someone’s been moving stuff, by the looks of it.”

“good eye, pup.” wriothesley knelt down to inspect the area, fingers caressing the marks left behind in the stone. in his ring finger, he found himself with a splinter – a confirmation of the wooden item not permitted in this area. a box, of some kind, most likely. then, his fingers landed on an unnatural area of the cobble. “hey, help me with this. looks like a latch or a trap door.”

you knelt beside him, pressing your hands against the disjointed part of cobblestone. together, you pushed against the floor, the cobble suddenly falling to the bottom of a hidden tunnel.

“smart…” wriothesley commented to himself, before turning his attention back to you. “coming?”

you jumped down first, wriothesley chuckling before following you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

the tunnel stretched on and on and on, twisting and turning and twisting some more like a series of vines in the forest. the two of you, yourself ahead of wriothesley, moved in silence. it was wriothesley who spoke first.

“you’re quiet. feels boring when you don’t make fun of me, or threaten me, or threaten me by making fun of me.”

“focusing,” your response was curt, frank, as you scanned the ground for any sign of a path already trodden.

silence once more, then a faint noise echoed in the tunnel. a sound of hurried, quick, frantic movement.

wriothesley straightened instantly, his right hand moving to your arm – gripping tight. “stay close.”

you muttered in response, “like i was planning on wandering off…”

“shut up.”

the two of you looked around, wriothesley’s grip tightening on your arm. it was not painful, quite frankly it was uncomfortable, yet you didn’t dare tell him to let go right now. then, you saw him – face to face, you stood looking at one of the smugglers in the eye.

his skin was pallid in the dark air of the tunnel. the smuggler stood tall, lean, but had enough muscle to protect himself. once his eyes locked on to yours, he realised he needed to run - and quickly.

wriothesley, feeling movement behind him, turned his body – now also looking on at the smuggler. dropping your arm, he surged forward, with movements that were fast, efficient, reflective of his skills as a boxer. you found yourself standing still, frozen to the spot as if unsure how to contribute – in fear of making the scenario much, much worse.

wriothesley hissed as he tackled the smuggler to the ground, pinning his arms with his hands, and the smuggler’s legs with his knees.

squirming, the smuggler soon relented – and allowed wriothesley to cuff him, fighting back deemed futile when against the duke.

panting, wriothesley spat, “you need to fess up. tell us who else is involved, why, what you’re moving… tell us everything.”

“wait…” you murmured, but wriothesley ignored you.

instead, he continued talking to the smuggler, taunting him, mocking him for being so careless. his words were methodical yet provoking, promising a longer sentence, a lifetime of work in the production zone, meals of bad luck for life.

"duke..." you whispered, once again ignored.

wriothesley ensured the cuffs were tight, restrictive, and continued to expose the carelessness of the smuggler, until he was interrupted.

“step. away.” a voice, unknown to wriothesley, rung out in the tunnel.

turning only his head, his body still facing the smuggler cuffed on the ground, wriothesley was standing face to face with a scene he did not anticipate nor consider the solution for.

a newcomer, a second smuggler seemingly, was standing beside you, with a dagger to your neck. the second smuggler was tall, imposing, with his face obscured by a hood and his body covered with a black cloak – akin to a reaper of some kind, or an abyss mage almost.

wriothesley’s grey eyes, normally pale and piercing, darkened.

“step away from deakin, and get out of here.” the figure commanded, a presence of authority rivalling that of the duke of the fortress of meropide.

“let them go,” wriothesley commanded back, taking a step towards the two of you.

“nobody is leaving here alive until you let deakin go,” the figure replied.

you chuckled, feeling the cold of the dagger’s blade at your neck. “kind of you to assume i’m a good bargaining chip.”

“shut up,” the figure hissed.

wriothesley’s fists clenched. “considering you’re outnumbered, i’d watch what you say to my prisoner.”

the figure dropped his boldness a mere moment to scan his surroundings, upon hearing wriothesley’s claim of being outnumbered. and it was then that the duke lunged, knocking the dagger aside to the cobble floor and tackling the figure to the ground.

you stumbled back against the wall when wriothesley bumped your body free, watching with your fingers to your neck as he hit the figure again, and again, and again…

“stop, stop!” you cried out, the figure bloodied and bruised on the ground. “you’ll kill him… please, stop.”

your hands wrapped around wriothesley’s shoulders, prying him off the unconscious body of the mysterious smuggler.

silence haunted the tunnel, until wriothesley turned to look at you – his voice, for the first time ever, was completely gentle, taunt-free. “are you… are you okay?” he asked, a delicacy to his tone.

“y-yeah.. i’m fine.”

“your neck… can i check?”

you nodded, humming as you lifted your head up. a simple, small graze left by the blade – nothing more.

“i’m sorry…” wriothesley murmured, his fingers brushing the blood off your skin.

you moved your head back down, gazing into wriothesley’s eyes as they returned to the piercing grey you had grown rather used to. “you didn’t cause that, so it’s fine.”

a fleeting glimpse into each other's eyes, a moment that passed by in slow-motion...

then, wriothesley’s bravado returned. “don’t expect me to save your neck – literally – next time.”

“i’ll save your neck and make it even,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

wriothesley tilted his head, a glimmer of something unreadable in his silvery eyes. “i’ll look forward to it.”

[noowayybroo]

Give the dog a bone (Part 2) (NSFW)

Characters: Dogman!Leon Kennedy, F!Reader (Part 1 is SFW GN! Reader)

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS: Smut and NSFW, Young people DNI. Dogman Leon. Dead dove IG?? p in v. Porn with some plot. Reader is female (sorry) breeding, pregnancy mention, (these tags might be all wrong I havent started writing yet) Leon and reader are initially friends / colleagues. Set after RE4. Lazy writing because I'm too busy and hate writing no cap. dogman anatomy. Hunnigan exists but is irrelevant. Nipple/ breast play / suckling. F Receiving oral. this fic is really slow and boring, shower, Leon washes, you, then you guys fuck. It's like slowburn but like it's not a burn just a bemusing fizzle. ..... knotting. LEON GETS A BIT MEAN AT THE END BUT HES STILL KINDA GENTLE AND ITS NOT EXACTLY CONSENT BUT I THINK IF READER SAID NO HE WOULD STOP LMAO YOU FEEL??? some name calling like "slut" toward the end, mention of puppies and brain numbing and stuff.

SORRY GUYS ITS A LONG ONE I DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE SO IT JUST GOT LIKE LONGER N LONGER AS I PANICKED.

I feel so gross for writing this. I'm so happy you don't know who I am.

Rushing under the shelter of your roof, you fumble with your keys in the lock so you can move to make room for Leon on the doorstep. Leon hadn't had an umbrella this time, and the both of you were sopping wet, not able to run home fast enough.

Panting, you finally stumble through your own front-door, Leon crowding onto the doorstep behind you to cower from the rain. You turn back to face him, and your eyes are snagged by his own piercing ones as they gaze attentively at you. Cold rain soaks and matts the short fur on his ears, and drips down his dark fringe onto his face as his wide eyes only leave you to search your hallway.

Recently, Leon had taken to breathing heavily through his mouth when physically exerted. His jaw lazily hung open, revealing unusually sharp teeth and what seemed to be a much longer tongue as he panted. Occasionally, it would flick up to lick at his lips or fangs, but he was bashful about the matter. Catching your gaze, he slams his mouth shut and seems to bully himself into breathing through his nose.

He looks away, too, glancing past you into your home, desperately avoiding contact with your possibly judging eyes. His lids hang low as he adjusts to the bright light you flick on and his ears sit low to his head. Now you're aware of his tail, you can see it straight though his sweat-pants, though he may try hide it. The thick, bushy, and perhaps a little damp appendage clings to his leg in silent apology as he awkwardly glances between you and the interior of your home.

He eyes the space in which your hallway becomes a room; a place he'd never before set foot. There's a subtle hint in his eyes. They're almost pleading, puppy dog eyes as he gazes at this uncharted territory, but he refuses to look you in the eyes, as if he wouldn't dare ask you to allow him into your space. Rain hammering just centimetres behind him, still splashing at his back, you decide it'd be rude to just send him on his way now. Besides, you could do with some company. He wasn't just man's best friend now, he was yours.

laugh rn

"Leon, I don't want you getting sick." His ears perk up, head tilting to the side again and mouth slightly ajar. With the warm light from your home flooding past you, you probably did appear slightly angelic to him in this moment. His mouth opens, just as he's about to protest to save face, but you cut him off. "You don't have an umbrella, and we don't have work tomorrow. Why don't you come in and dry off?" His alert expression eases a little and he gives you a sheepish smile, bowing his head a little.

"You sure? It's fine, I really can just go-"

"Leon, come here." you giggle, stepping further into your home after you've kicked off your shoes and hung up your coat. Your words his command, Leon eagerly follows you, but makes sure not to move far from the door until he's removed his shoes and hoodie, placing them respectfully. Shy and gentle in his actions, his posture is bowed again, watching you nervously for any signs of discomfort. He was aware of the position he was putting you in. He knew he could scare, or even worse, hurt you, and he was very careful to prevent it.

You'd seen, over the last few weeks, Leon's tail slowly become more long and bushy. You'd watched the ears on his head darken a little in colour, and you'd noticed his nails and hands appearing a little larger and stronger over time. Whilst there were some changes in mannerisms and his personality you could pick on, there were things you simply did not know:

As he sat with you, Leon could smell you. He could identify your emotions and even that you were about to get ill before it hit you. He could hear your heart quicken and slow in different situations. He felt so connected to you now, he felt so nosey, because he could sense things he wasn't meant to be able to pick up on. He knew things he wouldn't dream of asking you. Leon swallows thickly as he watches you. His newfound primal senses kept him on his toes. He began to see you more of a partner, though he tried to fight it. Whilst his change kept him fearing virginity, a gnawing part of him identified you as the one for him.

You were the one he wanted. He wanted to test his new senses on you. He wanted to display his newfound strength to you, to impress and protect you. He wanted to be close to you. He wanted to use his newfound lust to please you. Woah, woah stop there. He shakes his head and looks away from you, face blank. He wasn't going to just take you. Sure, he wanted you, but he was no monster. All you had to do was say no, and he'd leave, tail tucked between his legs. Just the thought had him cowering in the corner.

Lost in his thoughts, in your scent, in your home, Leon realises how wrong all of this is now.. He can't have these thoughts about you, his friend. His best friend. This must be such a betrayal to you. It would terrify you, wouldn't it? You'd hate him. He should leave now and never let you find out how he feels.

Despite his hesitance and nerves, something within Leon rips his thoughts away from rationality as the scent and warmth of your home bombards him. Door now closed behind him, you surround, and he can't help but sniff the air. Addicted to the information that flowed into him. He could tell what your last few meals had been. He knew where your bedroom was, he could smell your exhaustion, and he could sense your confusion as you watched him stand, pressed against the door, turning eagerly, looking around, and consuming the smell of you. Then, his brows furrow as he notices your glare and he freezes.

Eventually, you get him to follow you into your home. You lay some warm blankets down on the couch and get things ready for a comfy night in as Leon explores your home. Before you can finish, though, you decide you have to make him more comfortable. With some encouragement, he removes his sweatpants and shirt and you replace them with the largest set of pyjamas you have. He's grateful, his fluffy tail wagging and standing to attention as you tend to him and dry it off.

Just as you're patting Leon's face dry, something comes over him, and he shakes his head hard, flinging water all over you and nearby parts of your home. He goes still, eyes wide, realising his mistake.

"Y/N, fuck, I am so sorry-" he stammers, reaching out to place his hands on your shoulders to ground one of the two of you. His hands are wet too and further soak you, and upon realising this he jumps away, tail cemented to his legs as he backs away, eventually calming down to the sound of your soft giggles and insistence that it is in fact alright.

You leave Leon on the couch with some snacks as you'd both eaten at work, and after popping to your room to freshen up and get dressed yourself, you return to him. His eyes never leave you from the second you leave your room to that when you sit next to him on the couch, just touching. His gaze was so prompt, so intense that you wondered if he'd somehow been watching you while you were in your room.

Hours pass of you watching your favourite films, as Leon had insisted he wouldn't have it another way, and the both of you have drifted significantly closer to each other over time. The sky was pitch black outside, and, whilst it had stopped raining, there was no way you'd send him home now. No, you were going to be a little selfish, you thought to yourself as Leon leaned up against you, snuggled into your side, nose buried in one of the blankets from your bed as he held it to his face.

His tail had been non-stop wagging for hours, eyes wide as he watched the screen, occasionally glancing back at you, checking up on your expression. His ears sat flat to his head, content, and he only freed his face to give a gentle yawn. You'd never been this close to Leon before, but even now, you thought something else had changed about him. Maybe it was the soft whimpers and whines he very quietly gave off or the way he juddered and shook with excitement beside you. Perhaps it was his smell... It definitely was strong, but not unpleasant.

Perhaps it was the way he lifted his head as you thought, ears perked up and turned to you, as if he could sense you thinking about him. He watches you, face only inches from yours as he sniffs the air softly. This time, he doesn't glance back at the screen, he just watched you, eyes locked onto yours until you duck away bashfully.

"S-sorry..." he mumbles, realising his mistake before leaning his head down on your shoulder like your very own pet dog might do. His face is almost touching your cheek, his breath hot on your neck as his gentle huffs turn into intrigued sniffs. He proceeds to investigate you further, squirming a little to get closer to you, one arm holding you close as he more-or-less lays on you.

You certainly notice the change, his warm front pressed up against you, pinning you down slightly. Yet, glancing down at his face makes you feel as though it's all unintentional. He seems so content and happy, in a world of his own, gazing up at you as if you'd just given him a home. "L-leon.... are you alright?" you whisper softly, watching as, again, his ears stand to attention.

"I'm... I'm uhhh..." he mumbles, lost in his thoughts, or lack thereof, as he almost purrs deep in his throat. He's half way through yet another greedy, deep breath of your scent when he realises that maybe you're not enjoying this as much as he is. His eyes shoot open and he scrambles to use his arms to relieve some of the weight on you "I-I'm sorry... Are you alright?" "I'm fine" you whisper, gently cupping his face, trying, and succeeding, to soothe him "just tell me how you feel, please?"

He pauses for a moment, eyes fluttering shut either to allow him to think, or in response to your touch. He nuzzles into your hand for a while before humming "I think I'm really hyper..."

Before now, throughout the night, you and Leon had been talking about his changes. He'd opened up to you a little about how worried he was. Before Leon went to Spain, you'd spoken to him about his issues with dating.

He told you that, to his dismay, many of the women who approached him were either spies or simply deterred by how busy and dangerous his work was. He had confided in you that now, now he was somewhat freakish, now he had the mind of a dog, and the partial anatomy of one, nobody would approach him.

You could do nothing but simply assure him that that was not the case. You told him he was wonderful, you reminded him that he was a hero, and you assured him that anybody who got to know him would swoon in an instant. And then, the conversation died there.

Until now.

There was a short silence once Leon, with your guidance, had slowly relaxed back against you. "Y/N?" He sighs softly against you.

"....Yeah?"

"W..." there's a silence again, but you know not to push him. Instead, you gently pat his shoulder, soothing him into visibly easing up. His muscles relax over you and eventually, he speaks again "Would you...?" he whimpers, burying his face in your side to hide his pretty eyes from you.

"...Would you... like me?" he whispers, hands instinctively cupping you as he wraps you into a firm hug "Would you... mind me?" Taken aback, you pause for a moment.

Was he asking if you'd date him, despite his condition, hypothetically? Sure you would, he was your best mate, and you kinda liked him. You didn't believe he had a bad bone in his body. So, you decide to be honest, thinking nothing more will come of it. You gently continue to pat his head.

"Yeah, Leon, of course, you're the best" you hum absent-mindedly. Again, it's not like you were lying, but you didn't really expect him to go for you. You just stayed honest with the hopes of making him feel a little better about himself. And... perhaps it worked, because suddenly, he shuffles further up you, tail thumping loudly against the couch as he begins to nose into your neck shyly. He nuzzles into you, sniffing softly, thrilled, tickling your neck and making you giggle.

"h-hey!" You exclaim shyly, "quit that!" you try and pat him to encourage him to leave off, but he only gets more insistent and playful.

"Y-you mean it?" he chuffs into you ""You like me?" his words are a muffled mess, disappearing into your jaw as he noses further along it. Once you give in, confirming with a gentle nod and a breathy 'yes', it's all over. He's on his knees above you, pinning you down chest-to-chest. Occasionally, his tongue darts out slightly, puppy-lapping at your skin, soon becoming a trail of hungry, loving kisses as he approaches your ear.

He moved so quickly, nipping your lobe softly, playfully before burying his head into you bashfully. He snuggled close, happy, soon becoming restless again and leaning away to gaze in awe at you. The black of his pupil devours all that innocent blue you're so used to seeing stare back at you so often, and the red flush in his cheeks is oh-so-pretty.

You feel strange. Guilty, almost. You knew something was affecting him but it's not like he was drunk or anything. This change of heart was permanent, it'd live with him forever, and so, probably, he wouldn't try and take it back in a hurry. Just to stop him doing so even if he tried, you grin mischievously "Yes, Leon. I like you." you laugh.

He dives into you, kissing your lips with soft insistence until you let him in, at which point, the taste of you drives him crazy. Greedily, he licks into your mouth, repeatedly alternating again and again between sweet kisses and hot, needy groans as he devours you. He rests his weight on his knees as he leans over you, hands caressing your sides lovingly, softly squeezing and feeling whatever he can reach, loving the sensation of you.

You thought it'd be absolutely gross to have a grown man lick you. All of your instincts, and probably all of your friends, would tell you that is NOT how you kiss, and that this man has no skill. However, this man was Leon Kennedy, and... something about it in this scenario just felt right. (He was a dogman now LMAO)

You sigh, in much more of a cuddly, wholesome mood than his energetic, frisky one. Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him close. He groans softly again as you begin to kiss him back, massaging his back and scalp with your hands and writhing your body into him.

More desperate, whining a little, he cuddles into you, gyrating hips moulding with yours in desperate search of friction. Leon moves on instinct above you, gentle but persistent as he unknowingly moves to feel as much of you as possible.

Large and strong hands roam your smaller form beneath him, one gently kneading the soft flesh of your breast through any clothing that remained, whilst the other cupped your face with intimacy. He couldn't take it anymore, being nestled in your warm neck where he couldn't see you. Sitting back on his haunches, his weight on your hips, Leon admired the sight of you below him, still unable to tear his hands from your soft breasts.

Realisation hits him eventually, and his heavy lids and blissed-out expression suddenly fade a little.

"Oh my God, Y/N" He whines, throwing his head back, sighing as he looks back down at you again. "I'm so sorry, you're just so-" Despite his words, he can't seem to break away from you, one hand still kneading at your flesh, teasing at your nipple, the location of which he's deduced from your breaths and sighs. He takes one of your hands in his and holds it close to himself, treasuring your touch. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't ask you-" he blabbers out, clearly feeling guilty.

His insistent squeezing stops for once as he waits for a reply, pleading eyes watching you with bated breath. He fell still, heavy breaths parting his lips, thick tail stilled and resting on your leg. You knew Leon would take 'no', for an answer, at least you really hoped he would, but really, you just wanted to see how far he'd go.

All it took was your soft smile and another nod, before his face lit up, eyes wide, ears perked and tail beating at your legs. He buries his face back into your neck, softly kissing and nibbling and licking at any exposed flesh. His body-weight cages you once more. Smothering warmth. An arm reaches down to position your legs, encouraging you to wrap them around him as he presses his core into yours greedily.

Throwing a blanket over the both of you to keep you warm, Leon proceeds to work his way gradually down towards your breasts, leaving goose bumps and saliva in his wake. Initially, he tries to nuzzle at your garments, absent-mindedly willing himself beneath them, but when that doesn't work, he has to tug them down, pouting and grumbling until he finally removes them in order to proceed. Despite his desperation, the movement is smooth and caring, and he further tugs the blanket over you to keep you warm.

The further Leon lowers himself across your body, the more needy and whiny he becomes, drunk on you. His face never leaves your hot skin, breath and lashes tickling you as he glances lovingly between your body and face. Once Leon reaches your breasts, deft and large hands finally reach them once more. He traces the edges of them before kneading them together, toying with them, admiring their unique shape and softness. He gropes and admires them before longing kisses become needy suckling.

He groans deep in his throat, body collapsing onto yours as his lips latch onto one nipple, tongue tracing over the sensitive bud. Eyes fluttered shut, Leon hums and whines as he kneads your flesh absent-mindedly, only responding to you. Depending on your precious sounds and expressions, he either works harder on you, slows down, or switches nipples entirely until you're sighing and writhing deliciously below him.

Leon seemed like a master to you. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and whilst slightly rough, did not hurt you at all. He was loving, and you believed just how much he wanted you with every desperate grind of his hips against you. He was perfect and sweet, even when desperately horny.

In his head, however, he was a nervous wreck. He loved this, he loved you, you enthralled you, just by laying there, and each time he glanced up at you, his body shivered with excitement. You were perfect, and whilst his usual introverted self would like to observe you from a safe distance, afraid of upsetting or hurting you, his mind had become more feral, more primal. He wanted to please you, to impress you, all because he loved you. Undeterred by his painfully hard cock, he continued to worship you, part of him afraid you'd never let him do it again.

You squirm against his hips, just getting comfortable, but it reminds Leon that much, much more interesting parts of you exist. With some soft, parting kisses to your breasts and a breathy "Fuck, you're so perfect" he moves down, gently kissing and gripping at your stomach, until he's on his knees at the far end of the couch, a little further from your spread legs. Carefully, he removes your underwear, sliding it from each leg respectfully, and after gently nudging your legs to allow him access to your core... nothing happens.

Curious, you lift the blanket a little to peak at Leon. His face is blank, jaw ajar as he stares longingly at your pussy. A long tongue hangs from his startled face as he takes deep huffs of your scent. Transfixed, he doesn't seem to have noticed you watching him, nor does he register the thick glob of drool that's made contact with your couch.

He's well aware that he never asked you for your permission. He never asked how far this could go, however, something within him drew him to you. You smelled so good, you looked so good, and, he wouldn't admit it but you were the first pussy he'd eaten (he worried you'd probably decipher this instantly through his lack of skill.) To you, though, it seemed as though Leon might not want to do this afterall. Concerned, you gently reach to pat his head, hoping to focus his gaze back on you, but instead, he takes this as confirmation.

Like a salivating dog being told 'Eat', he buries his face into your pussy, ravenous. His thick tongue licking an apprehensive stripe from top to bottom, and instantly, his eyes light up. Leon screws his eyes tight, returning to eagerly lick at you, each breath a moan as he shoves his face as far as he can into you. He doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making of himself, or about you, lost in a world of his own as he begins to devour you.

Leon snuggles close, tail thumping hard against the couch as his ears stand to attention, absorbing any sounds you make. Licking into you now, he eagerly slurps up your juices, alternating between lapping at your folds, slick with his saliva, and giving gentle kisses and nudges to your clit (which he's just remembered was a thing.)

You can't help but release breathy moans as Leon consumes you, his hands now softly grabbing and kneading at your soft thighs, sometimes pulling away to kiss and nibble at them. Your sounds and small movements, grinding shyly against his face, only egg him on, and before long, a calloused thumb finds your clit, resting there for a while before rubbing small, fast circles, sending you reeling into his touch. You can feel Leon breathe a smirk onto you as he continues to lap and suck, swiftly building a pleasurable warmth within your belly.

Peering up at you, Leon senses your release and begins to work harder, the couch beginning to sway a little as he grinds and humps down into it desperately. His groans and whines vibrate deep within you, working with each hot and heavy breath to please you.

Eventually, that tightness into your core becomes intense enough to have your back arching, and in response, Leon's hand leaves your thigh to softly caress your stomach, soothing you. Seemingly a master of multi-tasking, he continues his skilful ministrations on you until your release. A hot buzz of pleasure rushes through you, eyes screwed shut as you shake and moan beneath him. Leon, panting heavily, slows his movement, still lovingly sucking and licking at your pussy, occasionally toying with your clit, until you come down, stilling in his hold.

You feel warm and sweaty, gross. You know the couch is probably coated in slick, and if not, definitely in his saliva. Expecting Leon to desperately come up for air, or part with you, you're surprised to feel him rest his warm face on your stomach, gazing up at you lovingly as his tail brushes over your legs repeatedly. He rocks the sofa with his excited, playful shivers as you smile down at him, a little nervous.

He licks his lips, entirely black eyes staring back at you. You feel a little guilty, seeing how coated he is in you, and not even his new long tongue can seem to clean up the mess you made. Leon doesn't seem to mind.

"How do you taste so good?", he rasps, large hand lifting your blanket nonchalantly so he can get a good look at you. His question has you squirming awkwardly, trying to close your legs, but finding them innocently pinned down by his weight. Absent-mindedly, the dogman pins his head up on one arm to gaze at you lovingly, whilst, his other hand mindlessly toys with your clit once you take hold of the blanket for him.

Shocked, you let out a small squeal and tell him to leave off, which, eventually he does. Apologetic eyes turn to dumbfounded ones as you suggest maybe helping him out. He stutters a little before finally finding his words. He seems surprised you'd even mention performing any sexual act on him.

"Y-Y/N -", he breathes, shocked, "You don't have to do that... it's fine. I-"

"Leon, it's alright. You helped me so maybe I can-"

"I already came...."

"...Are you sure? I want to-"

"Twice..." he groans, letting his head fall against your belly in shame, hot breath fanning you again as he lets out a long, miserable sigh. Lost for words and surprised, all you can do is gently pat his head as he lays there, motionless, seemingly mulling things over. You feel the need to reassure him. I mean, honestly, you were more than flattered.

"Is it normally that easy for you?" You choke out. Okay, that was NOT what you were meant to ask. Leon raises his head, eyes meeting yours, defeated. "I mean- wait look, Leon, I'm flattered" you chuckle "There's nothing wrong with it... Let's chill for a bit and then we can get cleaned up..." You soothe him, gently rubbing his ears, running your free hand through his hair.

In all honesty, you were spent, more than satisfied. You wouldn't mind chilling with him for a few hours, maybe sleeping together. Leon seemed utterly defeated too, the second you started toying with him, his head fell back onto your belly, resigning there, basking in your warmth and touch. A few minutes later, he lets out a wide-mouthed puppy yawn, exposing his sharp teeth, and that devilish tongue to you once more. Maybe you should both go for a wash now, he seemed tired.

"...Could go again..." a lazy, sultry mumble makes its way to your ears.

"...again?", you cock an eyebrow down at him, somewhat impressed by his stamina. "W-wait... eat me out again?" You don't know if you're ready for that-

He looks up at you, tilting his head as if debating what to say next. His face scrunches up and he almost cringes at himself before whining, "Gotta come again..." there's a short silence "I-if that's okay with you-" And then he shuffles backward and nuzzles his face into your cunt again, surprising you.

"Woah, woah, no no it's okay!" you shuffle away, breaking free of his weak hold and lifting his head to look at you "Let me help you this time, Leon." In response to your words, his eyes drift away, avoiding contact with yours. His face becomes a little more red, and his voice a little shaky.

"I don't think it's a good idea, actually.... M-maybe we should get you washed first..." Leon was acting a little strangely now, clinging to you needily, but refusing to look at you, just like a dog who'd done something wrong. This was the first time he'd taken his eyes off of you, but he was still fidgeting. He shook slightly, as if overcome by some great surge of adrenaline. He continued to sniff the air every now and then, looking away shyly. He knew you knew he could smell you. He was ashamed to be obsessed with you.

He kneels before you, ready to get up to give you space. "I don't understand why, Leon. Why are you so nervous about it?" You ask softly and his whole posture falls. His shoulders go limp as he looks back at you, crushed. After a moment of stillness, he stands up properly, ensuring he doesn't disturb the blanket atop you, keeping you warm.

"Look... I'm not a human anymore" He warns, gruffly. His gait becomes serious as he peers down at you. "It might not be safe." Suddenly, Leon's gone from loving, pussy drunk puppy to safety obsessed, matter-of-fact guard dog. His tail is still behind him, but authoritative in its stance, and his ears are stuck up and guarding. Half way between the two, your eyes glue themselves to the mess he's made on his shirt, almost entirely soaked through with your essence. And he doesn't seem to care at all.

"We can try-" you sit up eagerly, only to be met with Leon pinching the bridge of his nose, looking away and sighing.

"You don't get it. I've changed. E-even eating you out made me feel... strange. A-and my cock, it's-" you cut off his rambling by standing before him, naked. It's clear he wants it. You can tell by the freakishly large bulge and wet patch in his pants. You can tell by the way his eyes soften and his lids droop as they settle on your form. What a pervert.

His stammering is cut short as you approach him, and, once you reach him, you tell him sternly, "I don't care what's changed about you, Leon, I love you. So now, we're going to go and have a shower. And then, we're probably gonna fuck." Mouth hanging open, Leon can only blink at you. He swallows hard once you reach him, wrapping your arms around his neck and staring up at him oh-so-enticingly. He can't help himself. Cheeks burning, he leans down and gives you a soft, hungry kiss.

Strong biceps envelop you, and without warning, he lifts you into them. Once you're secure, he peppers your neck with kisses, hands roaming you as his legs auto-pilot him towards the direction you'd glanced in before. If he was lucky, he'd find your bathroom. If he were really lucky, he'd find your bedroom. Leon groans into your neck as he carries you, wrapped up in your senses again. Something about you bossing him around really did something for him, and he jostles you a little higher in desperate hopes of you not feeling just how solid he is.

Soon, Leon's letting you down on your bathroom floor, gazing down at you as if you're the most beautiful, elegant flower he's ever-

No time for that, you tug his shirt off, muscular arms lazily lifting themselves to allow you to manhandle him. That is, until, he has to crouch down as you're too short to remove his clothes all the way. You both giggle, joy easing the nerves somewhat. Leon's body tenses as he strips his own pants off, chucking them to the floor. His face apologetic as he scans yours for your reaction to his... development.

You never thought cocks actually sprung free from clothing in real life. You'd certainly never seen it before outside of fanfiction or animated porn, and you were astounded when it did just that. Not only that, but his cock was huge. Much more red than normal, it was certainly beautiful to look at. The shape was almost perfect, with a noticeable girth the closer it got to his body. It seemed to stare back at you with just as much lust as you it as it stood to attention, dribbling precum slowly, some of which had been flung to the floor.

Eventually tearing your eyes away from your new challenger, you notice that Leon had, again, torn his from you a while ago. He stood staring at the wall just past you, shyly facing your inspection of him. So... whatever he had contracted... had done THAT to his cock? It must have been at least two or three inches larger than you'd expected and whilst yes, it was intimidating, it was a challenge you would not shy away from accepting.

The only problem now was, you think to yourself as you turn to run the shower, there was no way you'd be able to give him head and call it payback. You definitely were going to fuck. "It's amazing" you breathe, looking up at Leon and then down at his cock, twitching in response to your words. His tail starts to slowly sway back and forth.

"You're just saying that-" he flushes, cock bouncing again as he finally looks you up and down again. His ears stand alert, and as steam slowly fills the room, he begins to pant. Following you into the shower, Leon waits for you to hand him some shampoo and soaps to use before cleaning himself down as you do. To no surprise, Leon's finished long before you are.

This becomes apparent when two large hands gently nudge yours aside, massaging your shampoo into your scalp for you. A soft, commanding grip on your chin guides you to look up as he wipes any remaining suds from your forehead before getting to work. Each of his fingers draw smooth, deep circles into you. His touch is like magic and has you completely unwinding.

Just as you reach the false illusion that he can't get better, he moves to a spot of your head that neither of you had yet and you stumble back into his toned form. His hands reach out to gently grasp you, holding you securely until you find your legs, and then he continues to clean you.

As he massages your back, you feel him pressed up against you. His excitement evident in the way his cock kicks against your ass. As he tends to you, you can't help but relax and soften, feeling so warm and secure, both inside and out. He's so sweet, and kind.

Once Leon finishes, he pulls away to allow you to rinse off, and, as you turn to face him, he tenderly looks down at you. His fringe is soaked, messily clinging to his face, partly obstructing his eyes. Ears and tail a damp, matted mess, he grins nervously back at you, seeking your approval as they perk up questioningly. Despite his cute act, you can tell that he is utterly downbad for you!!

Leaning in softly and pecking the gentle giant on the lips, you butter him up before leading him by the hand from the shower. Obediently, he follows you, armed with a towel each, to your bedroom. You dry yourselves off half-heartedly as he chases you along the corridor. Reaching your room, Leon follows shyly, closing the door carefully between the two of you.

Turning to face him, you notice how it takes him a while to register your gaze, forcing him to tear his eyes from where your butt was only seconds ago. He seems transfixed, mouth slightly ajar before he wakes himself up with a violent head-shake, flinging water everywhere. He smiles goofily at you. Almost distracting enough for you to forget about his angry red cock and the way it bobs and twitches, almost begging for your touch.

You weren't really sure what to do for Leon, so, you wanted to encourage him to do as he pleased. You hang your towel over your chair, prompting Leon to copy, and by the time he's turned back to face you, you're lying back in the middle of your bed, legs spread, holding your arms out to him. From 0 to 100 in seconds, his tail begins to wag. Eyes light up as your friend's ears stand to alert, and slowly, he approaches.

Waiting with baited breath, you're startled to see the man slowly stalk towards you. He's enamoured with you, eyes trained on your body, flickering between your breasts, your thighs, your face... Heck -every part of you. Meanwhile, legs on autopilot towards you. He still wears a small smile, despite his loose jaw, and as he reaches the edge of the bed, he pauses. He seems nervous, unsure of how to proceed.

Leon bites his lip, taking a deep breath. His eyes meet yours, begging for permission before his knee sinks into the bed. The bed shifts below you as he gently crawls up you, head hung low, eyes worshipping you from below once more. He seemed to enjoy that, being below you, or perhaps it was his new way of showing care and respect.

Anticipation grows within you. Sure, he hadn't exactly given you a strip-tease earlier, but now, with how slow his movements were (and how slowly i'm writing this fic), you spent far too long wondering how things would actually feel. You didn't miss the way his nostrils flared subtly as his face brushes past your abdomen, leaving small kisses along your delicate skin. Nor did you miss the way he gently suckled on one of your nipples, peppering the area in small kisses.

He didn't want to make either of you wait any longer, and so, kept things a little shorter than he'd liked. As his lips landed on yours, he promised himself that he would eat your pussy again, one day. A strong arm props him up as one of his hands gently cups your face, mindlessly gripping your jaw as he greedily swallows down any breaths and sounds you make. Groaning into you, he pulls away. His eyes instantly find yours.

"Are you sure?" He warns, voice hoarse and husky, eyes crafted with concern. When he sees the way your eyebrow raises, his ears quickly droop as he ducks down a little. "o-okay fine, but don't say I didn't warn you, okay?" his words are soft, the end of his sentence lost in your mouth as he kisses you hard. With one last shuffle and dip of the bed, Leon's hips are pressed up against yours. His cock fits perfectly within your folds as he bucks up into you slowly. At first, he simply wants to coat himself in you. And then, it starts to feel a little too good.

He almost loses himself already, groaning loudly into your mouth as his hips rut up against you, kissing you sloppily, eyes screwed shut. Meanwhile, you're shivering. Everything about him: His sounds, his smell, his huge cock, it's all intoxicating. His cock teases at your entrance and clit at the same time, having you rocking into him. You were almost hoping it'd accidentally slide in, but part of you was more than worried about whether he'd fit.

"Okay- I'm gonna...." Leon hisses, sitting back on his haunches as he watches himself gently guide his cock towards your hole. His pupils are wide, staring on as you feel the stretch just his tip provides. About an inch or two in, Leon stops. He sees the look on your face, and promptly licks a puddle of drool into his hand before dousing it on his cock. Then, eyes back on you, he slowly slides in some more.

It doesn't hurt. His precum and drool do a good job of helping you slide open on his cock as he inches deeper. Satisfied by your lack of discomfort, Leon leans in, kissing you once more as he bottoms out inside of you. The stretch is insane. You feel so full, and yet it isn't necessarily uncomfortable. You never thought he would fit, letting your head roll back with the satisfying sensation of him deep in your guts. You feel lucky that Leon is so kind and considerate, and despite his hips rolling into you soft and slow, he hasn't properly started to move yet.

After trailing soft, loving kisses up your chest and neck towards your face, and murmuring sweet nothings about how hot you are, how cute, how much you turn him on and how good you feel, he begins to slowly move. He pulls out about half way before gently pushing back in. Eyes trained on you, he repeats his motions, hips becoming a little more confident, grinding and rolling into you with each thrust. Already, you begin to feel all fuzzy inside. As he picks up the pace, Leon gently places his hands either side of your waist, kneading and gripping the flesh there as softly as he can as he fucks into you.

Within seconds, you're lost in the heat of the moment, literally. Body tingling all over wherever his meets yours. Your room no longer silent and peaceful, now orchestrated by lewd sounds of skin-on-on skin, soft whimpers and pornographic moans. Before long, the sound of a creaking bed joins the mix as Leon loses himself further in you. Groaning loudly, he throws his head back as his hips piston into you. Still doing his best to please you, there's an element of playful roll and dance in his movements, but it's clear Leon is chasing his own forsaken pleasure as he pummels deeper and deeper into you.

Unable to help himself, he begins to whine: "Oh fuck, you're so perfect"

"You're so hot, you're so cute."

Choking out a particularly violent moan, Leon wrangles his head back down to stare at you. He's a mess, hair clinging to his forehead, ears flopping comically as he fucks you deep. His eyes are dark with desire, flickering again from your breasts to your face, prompting him to lean down to kiss you once more. It's messy and breathy, mainly consisting of Leon moaning and licking into your mouth, his tongue wrestling yours for dominance as his hands move elsewhere. Fondling your breast in one hand, the rough digits of his other land on your clit, drawing small, fine circles with an almost practiced ease.

"Ohh god you're so tight", he sobs.

You whine and quiver, bucking into him, and whilst he doesn't seem to mind, his hips only pound you harder back into the bed. Back beneath him, where you belong. Breath heavy and rugged, he sounds exhausted, but his hips never slow or threaten to stop. Whatever affected him must have given him an insane, inhuman drive, you reckon, as he continues to hammer into you with each long, drawn out thrust. Each slap of his hips sees him pulling out at least a good 5 inches before sliding right back in as if it were where he too belonged.

"Is it good?? You like it??", he whimpers, voice strained between thrusts. His throat was thick, breath echoing desire.

Eventually, you can feel it coming: release. And you can tell by the way Leon's moans grow in volume that he is too. Eyes screwed shut, his head falls back again as this time, he grips you by your thighs. He marvels at the way you dimple between his fingers, drool falling from his chin onto your abdomen as he props your legs high, over his shoulder, so he can hit so much deeper into you. Your moans and whines only egg him on, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper and more aggressive as he almost snarls, burying his face as close to your neck as possible given the position.

Leon begins to groan softly as he feels you tightening around him. You know he might cum soon, and so, you begin to toy with your clit (or don't, its fine) as you reach up to cup his burning face in yours. The second you touch his face, his snaps and growls turn into desperate, whimpering moans as he pulls back to look into your eyes. He begins to shiver, yelping into your ear, trying to warn you. The stutter of his hips tells you exactly what he wants you to know, that he's close. Your touch on his face seems to have reminded him just who he was fucking, and that really, he should have warned you.

"I-I'm gonna cum" he whines in your ear "I'm s- I'm gonna-" he chokes out between moans and sighs. He was about to tell you he was sorry. He was about to pull out. But something inside told him he shouldn't. No, something told him he couldn't. It was in this moment that Leon decided he had to cum in you. Everything was so perfect right now, his cock buried in your hot cunt. The sounds of his skin slapping yours, the sounds of his dick ploughing through your wet folds. He needed it. He needed to be with you, to feel this all the time. He had to cum inside. He had to claim you.

"G-go on Leon..." you moan softly. Leon wanted badly to do exactly as you said. Mind swiftly fleeing him, Leon feels his body go shiver and shake, hips only now losing their rhythm slightly. His vision is clouded with images of you, overlapping the only real sight of you below him. Zoning in on your sounds, your blissed out face. Addicted to your soft skin and warmth, he reaches the his limit. With a guttural moan, Leon commits to a series of short, deep thrusts, snapping his hips into yours seemingly in rhythm with his cock as it spurts thick ropes into you. He closes his eyes, collapsing onto your chest now, moaning and whimpering into your breasts as his hips continue to gyre into you.

You were fortunate that Leon, despite his braindead state, possessed the primal urge to continue fucking his load into you, because as he did so, combined with the violent kicking and throbbing of his cock, he continued to edge you closer and closer to your own orgasm as you harshly rub your clit, desperate to give in before his hips do. Glancing down, you note his blissed out expression. Happy face, red cheeks, tightly shut eyes. He looks as though he could sleep any second, drooling over your breasts as his large, flat tongue laps up the mess, licking messily at your nearest tit.

You begin to notice his thrusts becoming extremely short now, not caring to pull out at all before grinding against you. And all of the above combined with his incessant grinding on your clit brings you over the edge, joining him.. Spasming a little, you clamp down on his cock, back arching into him and shaking. Leon's ears perk up and he quickly rises to attention again, sensing your change in pulse. He begins to lick and groom you all over, softly lapping at your throat and collarbones. He tastes your skin and your sweat and nibbles at your pulse points, as, shaking, you come down from your high slowly.

"Fuck... you're so tight... squeezing me so good" he whines, eyes shutting again as if you've sapped every ounce of his energy. "I had no idea ladies... came like that" he sighs against you, nibbling your ear passionately now, slowly starting to still his hips inside you. He was right... You were so tight against him. It felt as though he was getting bigger. Maybe it was just the stretch of his cum? You try and reason with yourself.

Glancing down at Leon, you realise he, too, is confused. He groans against you, now laying above you, his tail wags hard behind him as his hips autopilot themselves deeper suddenly. You start to panic a little. What's going on? "L-leon" you whimper, feeling yourself stretch even more, eyes squinting as you realise that he probably hasn't pulled out because he can't "'s too big... what's happening?" you groan, throwing your head back. In response, Leon is silent for a while. He's gone back to nibbling at your pressure points, hands greedily kneading the flesh of your breasts before he reaches down and, to your surprise, toys with your clit again.

"Leon... what-"

Cutting you off, suddenly, Leon rolls onto his back, bringing you with him. He stares up at you tenderly as he kisses into your mouth again before replacing his tongue with two of his fingers. They rest on your tongue, pinning it down, silencing you. His actions are dominant and unexpected, but not too rough as his hips continue to lazily roll into yours. Combined with the stretch and his ministrations on your clit, you almost feel like you could cum again like this, being used to nurse his cock.

Then, he leans down to whisper in your ear "Please, babe, don't be scared. Just stay nice and pretty for me, okay? Gotta knot you and pump you full so it takes, okay?" You whine around his fingers, not in protest, but in reaction to his words, which only has him pressing his fingers down a little harder onto your tongue, threatening to slip them down your throat. "Shhhh" he soothes, his voice a little more rough and less playful "Gotta make sure I fill you with lots of pretty puppies, okay?"

Dumb, all you can do is nod. You wouldn't want it another way. You'd never wanted kids before, but something about having your entire body spent, laying on his chizelled tone as he holds you close, rubbing into you sends you reeling. Before long, Leon's ministrations on your clit and tits have you grinding against him, whimpering softly until you release once more. To your excitement, the contractions of your spent pussy have Leon's dick throbbing once more, painting more of your womb. Only some of your combined juices manage to escape past his knot. The rest serving to swell your abdomen.

With excitement, he occasionally prods at your belly,, humming in delight as he kisses and licks you all night, obsessed with you. Only a small portion of you brain is even functioning now. And it's going over the amount of times you dismissed Leon's worry about intimacy. He seemed to have this very correct hunch that something would go... wrong. Or that you might be displeased.

Was him passively forcing you to serve his cock, stuffing you full of cum and barely allowing you to make a sound wrong? You couldn't tell. All you could tell was how good it felt to be ontop of him, to have his huge cock inside you. To get knocked up with his seed.

All you could tell was how good it felt to cum for him many more times that night. How good it felt to hear his gentle words and praise about how good you felt, how hot you'd be once you take, and how much of a dirty little breeding slut you were, just for him, until you both dozed off to sleep, shrouded in eachother's warmth.

Hi guys I didn't really write about the reader's reaction and stuff because A) I found it hard and B) I can't like say how you react??? like I always find it sad when fics are like "you're so wet" "your nipples are hard" etc because like I cant relate n then I feel dysfunctional??? Anyway. Thanks for reading I hate this fic sorry it took 2k years I love you guys thanks for being here and reading this.

also WOAH THAT TOOK A TURN FOR THE HORNY GODDAMN. sorry anout that idk what happened LOL and sorry the fic is so shit n slow I hope u enjoyed it ilysm

Sorry, I gave up on like... bold and italics half way through. And this isn't proof read lol. Thanks for the support guys. Don't worry about reposting and folllowing, especially following, cuz I'm a ghost on here tbh so there's no point. Any comment,s likes etc are much appreciated. Huge ego boost i love you all

stay horny

[kikyoupdates]

Indebted ⭑˚🥀⭑ 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, isekai

Following your mother’s recent passing, you are visited by a group of men claiming that your father abandoned all his debt and obligations, leaving you to take his place.

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The car ride was unsurprisingly tense. You were crammed inside the same vehicle as Ryu, with his broad shoulders pressed up against yours in the back seat. He’d said that he intended for you to work and pay off your father’s debt, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he changed his mind and decided to kill you instead.

And yet he still had the nerve to try and make small talk with you.

“Oh, I suppose I should apologize for how sudden our visit was,” he commented offhandedly. “I am sorry for your loss. You must still be in the process of grieving, but life goes on, as they say.”

His tone was dripping with insincerity, and you had every right to want to knee him in the balls, but you also had no desire to accelerate your death. So, you stayed quiet. Avoided eye contact, avoided his questions. You just stayed as still as possible and tried to keep from breaking down.

After a little while, the car parked right outside your apartment. You couldn’t even pretend to act surprised. They’d looked into your family’s background and tracked down the location of the funeral; it went without saying that they had an idea of where you lived too.

Well, not for much longer, by the sounds of it.

“Pack a few belongings, and then leave your keys with one of my men,” Ryu instructed. His dark eyes narrowed. “And don’t even think about trying to run away. You don’t want to find out what happens when you test my patience.”

You nodded briskly. Two of his subordinates followed you up to your apartment and waited as you grabbed some clothes, your laptop, and a few other valuables. You didn’t want to drag this out too long. Ryu had already hinted that he wasn’t a particularly patient guy.

Once you were finished and had everything packed up in two suitcases, you looked back over your shoulder. It was a small, cheap one-bedroom place, but you’d been living here for a while now. Leaving so suddenly just didn’t feel natural. Well, not that any part of this arrangement was natural to begin with.

One of the men extended his hand out. “Give me the keys,” he ordered. “We’ll make sure the lease is settled.”

“What are you going to do? My contract isn’t up yet.”

“None of your business. All you need to do is listen up and keep your mouth shut. If the boss says to do something, you do it.”

They didn’t seem to care much for your company. Then again, you hadn’t really expected for a group of yakuza to be all that friendly.

Keeping your gaze low to the ground, you stepped out of the apartment, dragging your luggage behind you. They loaded all your belongings into the trunk, and then you were back in the car again, right by Ryu’s side. Much to your immense dismay.

“All good?” he asked.

You nodded.

“What, are you mute all of a sudden? When I speak to you, you’d better answer properly.”

“Everything’s good,” you affirmed, swallowing uncomfortably. Ryu stared at you for a few moments before eventually scoffing in your face. You didn’t really know what he expected. Your mother had just recently died, and you were scared for your life. It was taking all your strength not to cry in front of these people again.

The drive took a while. You had no clue where you were heading, but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyways. Ryu’s lackeys had taken the liberty of confiscating your cell phone, so you couldn’t call for help even if you were willing to take the risk. Ironically, the most frustrating part in all of this was not that you were being taken against your will, but that your father’s words from all those years ago were playing in your mind on a loop.

“Those men are going to take care of us. Once I become a fully-fledged member, things will turn around.”

What a fucking joke. In the end, he couldn’t even commit to the group he’d chosen to abandon his own family for. He’d messed everything up and destroyed your life in the process. He wasn’t even around anymore, and he was still ruining things for you.

Your expression shifted into a scowl without you even realizing it. Beside you, Ryu let out an amused chuckle.

“There’s finally some life in your eyes,” he hummed. “You look upset, sweetheart. Are you upset with me?”

“No. Not with you.”

“Really?”

“You’re only taking care of business,” you reluctantly admitted. “I know it isn’t personal. It’s just about money. And I… don’t have any money to give you.”

His lips curled into a smile. “Who are you upset with, then?”

“My father. He was a terrible person back when I knew him, and it seems like that still hasn’t changed.”

“It looks like that’s something we can agree on. It’s good for you to have someone to direct your anger towards. Anger, resentment—those are all things that will make you stronger. But don’t direct those emotions towards me,” he warned. “Never towards me.”

You pressed your lips together. You hadn’t exactly been completely honest. You did resent him, but he was a criminal to begin with, so you couldn’t expect for him to do the sane, rational thing. It didn’t matter how you felt about him, anyways. He was the leader of a group of dangerous, violent individuals. You didn’t stand a chance against any of them.

The trip dragged on, to the point that you were starting to feel quite groggy. All of the adrenaline that had kept you going until now had just about run out. It was late in the night, and you were exhausted. You just wanted to lay down and sleep, wherever that may be.  

“We’re here,” Ryu finally said. “Get out of the car.”

You did as you were told. The area didn’t look too familiar, but you tried not to panic immediately. You were in front of a large, traditional-style home. It was possibly one of the biggest you’d ever seen.

“Are we still in Yokohama?” you asked.

“What did I say about asking questions?” one of the men snapped.

“Yes, we are,” Ryu mercifully answered. “It’s a ways off from your old apartment, but we haven’t left the city. Come on. Let’s go inside.”

You grabbed your suitcases out of the trunk and followed behind him. It would be your first time staying in a traditional home. Most of your friends had gone on vacation to seaside inns and hot springs, but you’d never had the money growing up to take any trips like that. If nothing else, you would at least get to see what you’d been missing out on. Disregarding the fact that you’d basically just been kidnapped.

It looked even bigger inside than on the outside, and you could already predict that you would be getting lost trying to navigate the long hallways and countless sliding doors.

“In here,” Ryu gestured, sliding one of the larger doors open. He looked back over his shoulder, addressing his subordinates. “Wait around for a while longer. I need to deal with her first.”

“Yes, sir.”

He patted you on the lower back and roughly pushed you inside the room. You yelped a bit, nearly tripping over your own feet. Ryu slid the door to a close behind him.

It was just the two of you now. Granted, the place was very big, but you didn’t much like the idea of being left alone with him. At least in front of the rest of his group, you could tell he was acting out the part of a leader. Now… there was something eerily sinister about his expression. You didn’t like it one bit.

“This will be your room,” he said. “Mine is right next to yours. There’s still some stuff I need to clean out, but it should be more than big enough. Any concerns?”

You shook your head. “No. You’re right, this is plenty of space for one person. Thank you.”

“Thank you?” he repeated, laughing a bit. “You’re thanking me? After I basically told you that you have no choice but to work for me in order to pay off a debt that isn’t even yours in the first place?”

“I just meant… thank you for giving me this room. It’s a nice room. I’ve never had such a big place all to myself before.”

“Hm. Well, it’s certainly easier than having you struggle and try to make things needlessly difficult. We still need to figure out how exactly you’ll be earning my money back, though.”

“I have two part-time jobs,” you perked up. “It’s not a lot, but once I pay off my loans, I should be able to send you my earnings.”

Ryu stared at you in disbelief. “Seriously? You think two measly jobs that a university student qualifies for are going to be anywhere near enough to cover your debt?”

“I-I’m not sure. How much did he steal?”

“You don’t want to know, doll. I can guarantee it’ll only freak you out even more.” He brought his hand to his chin, dark eyes scanning you over from top to bottom. “Well… come to think of it, you’re very cute. You have a pretty face, and your figure is also nice, from what I can see in that dress. I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who’d be willing to pay a nice sum to get better acquainted with your body.”

At first, you were dumbstruck, but the gravity of his words quickly set in.

You stared at him in horror. “Y-You want to pimp me out?”

“I’m considering it. Granted, it may be somewhat of a hassle given your lack of experience, but we could have someone show you the ropes. Get you settled in real nice.”

“No!” you cried out, easily the loudest you’d spoken since being kidnapped. You thought of your mother, who was still fresh in her grave. If she was watching over you from a better place right now, her poor heart would break to see you selling your body out. “Please,” you begged, dropping to your knees before him. “Anything but that. I’ll work as many jobs as you need—I’ll go without sleep, without rest. Just please… please don’t make me do that.”

Ryu stared down at you, eyes filled with mirth. “You can be really adorable at times, you know that? Look at you, already so docile and submissive. That’s a good selling point. The customers will like that.”

“Please,” you cried, “please don’t make me…”

“You seem to be forgetting something. It’s not for you to decide. From this moment onwards, I own your life. You can either do as I say, or I kill you.”

“I would rather die,” you told him defiantly. And you meant those words. You were no stranger to hard work, sleep deprivation, struggling not to buckle under all the stress. But this? You weren’t going to cling to your life only to live on in humiliation. You would rather go out with your dignity still intact.

Ryu gave you an unimpressed look. “You say that now, but that’s only because you haven’t looked death in the eyes yet. You don’t know the pain of torture, the fear of fading into nothingness. So, don’t get smart with me. Whatever you do, it’s my call, not yours.”

You dug your fingers into the fabric of your dress. You felt so small before him, so insignificant. Even more so when you were kneeling. It was true that you knew nothing of the world of the yakuza. But even as misinformed as you were, you weren’t completely ignorant. You saw full well the cruelty in Ryu’s black eyes. That wasn’t the look of a man—it was the look of a beast, a predator hunting for its next kill.

You were nothing to him. Absolutely nothing. He could kill you in a heartbeat and forget you’d ever existed the very next day.

“Relax,” he said, crouching down before you. He reached his hand out towards your head, and you involuntarily flinched, but held your ground. Ryu smiled coldly, running his fingers through your hair. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do. If you work hard, maybe you’ll change my mind. As long as you obey, I have no reason to hurt you.”

You were full-on glaring at him now, no longer trying to hide your animosity. He chuckled, clearly amused at your little show of defiance.

“Unpack your things and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll show around our main office.”

He turned away from you, and you felt a small sense of relief knowing that he was finally about to leave you alone. He didn’t leave, though. At least, not right away. His eyes scanned the corner of the room before he reached over and withdrew what looked to be a yukata.

Without warning, he began changing out of his suit. Your eyes widened, and you hurried to avert your gaze. He probably didn’t even care. As far as he was concerned, you were just an object to him, not a real human being. Still, you waited for some sort of signal that he was done changing, but that signal never came.

Cautiously, you peered back over your shoulder, just in time to see him pulling the yukata up over his shoulders. His back was exposed for a few moments, long enough for you to make a very big, discernible tattoo. It was a dragon, in black and green ink, coiled around itself as if it were dancing through the air. Bright dashes of crimson stood out amidst the dark ink, snaking around the dragon’s body and burning as vividly as a flame.

Ryu tightened the belt of his yukata and stepped out of the room without another word.

The next morning, Ryu stayed true to his words and brought you along to the group’s offices.

As members of an organized crime syndicate, you’d always known that the yakuza didn’t really bother with hiding from the public. If anything, it was a thing of pride for them to display their organization’s identity on nameplates outside the buildings. They skirted on the wrong side of the law, but were able to get by through their connections and the sense of fear they instilled in the authorities.

Still, you were surprised to find out just how normal everything looked.

The offices were no different than what you would see in any ordinary corporate building. Dressed in their suits and working at desks, they almost gave off the air of your day-to-day salarymen. Of course, you knew better than that. You couldn’t say for certainty, but you had a strong feeling that the majority of the members had killed someone before.

Everyone bowed as they greeted Ryu. You had to admit that the respect he commandeered was impressive. He walked with a quiet, strong sense of confidence. You could tell by looking around the room. No one would ever think of opposing him.

Except for your shithead of a dad, apparently.

Ryu eventually stopped in front of a desk. “Here we are. Yuki. I’m putting you in charge of [Name] for now. Show her around the place and teach her how to file all the paperwork. And make sure she doesn’t get any funny ideas. I don’t need another headache to deal with.”

The young man he’d just addressed stood up in a hurry. “Of course, boss. I’ll take care of her.”

“Good. Get to work.”

Ryu walked away, heading to what appeared to be his own private office near the back. You were relieved to know that he wouldn’t be supervising you himself. It felt you could finally breathe again.

“You’re [Name], right?” the man said. He turned towards you and extended his hand out, smiling pleasantly. “I’m Yuki. Maeno Yuki. It’s nice to have you on board.”

He looked to be around your age, much more boyish than the majority of the members. He had wavy golden hair that was practically shining, and pretty emerald eyes. You knew first impressions could be deceiving, but for now, he was definitely much more welcoming than the scary, buff middle-aged men that were all glaring you down.

He looked normal. You liked normal.

You shook Yuki’s hand and forced a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ll do my best to keep up.”

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Kinktober 25

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: I low key kinda cheated with this one lol. I had this little drabble written for months already, but it never really felt like the right time to post it until now. It's a little something different, but I still hope you guys enjoy it! All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: Masturbation (F), Secret Pining?

Even though the Sully kids came by the lab pretty often with Spider, Neteyam was rarely ever with them. It was no secret or surprise that he inherited his mother’s disdain for humans. Not like you can really blame them given the history. So it was a surprise when Neteyam came by himself to your room. Everyone always hung out in your room, but it was never just the two of you like this.

The tension is thick in the air while you play one of your playlists to try and fill the space. Neteyam makes small talk with you and you try to not focus on the lingering question of why he was here. Did it really matter? You were thankful to spend any time you could with him, but now that you’re alone with him, you have no idea how to act normally anymore.

Neteyam lays back on your bed with his hands behind his head. He seems perfectly content. So much so that he actually starts to purr. You can’t help but to giggle at him finding it quite adorable.

“What is so funny?” his voice is like velvet.

“You are. That purring sound you make. You remind me of my cat back home.”

“What is a cat?” he sits up and raises one of his not-really-there eyebrows at you.

“Well, it’s an Earth animal, but it kinda looks like how the na’vi do.”

His face screws in confusion trying to decide if that was a compliment or not.

“Here, I’ll show you.” You grab your phone that was still playing music over the speaker and scroll through your gallery to find a photo to show him. You land on one of your cat perched on top of his tower and turn the screen to face him.

He analyzes the photo, “I look nothing like this thing!” his voice gives the impression that he’s offended, but he’s laughing while he speaks.

“Are you kidding me? Look at the big eyes, the pointy ears, the tail, and he makes the exact same purring noise that you were just doing!”

Neteyam grabs your phone from your hands to look closer at the picture. In the process, he unintentionally swipes across the screen and pulls up a video instead.

Wet, squelching noises play through the bluetooth speaker and obscene moans hit his ears. When he looks at the screen, it’s a video of you. Completely bare and your fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping wet cunt. Stroking in and out while your other hand gropes your breast and twists your perked nipple. His eyes are transfixed on your pleasure-screwed face and your parted glossy lips.

Your body goes entirely still as the shock and bone-chilling horror set in. The whimpers that were supposed to be small mewls were now booming loudly in your room.

Your head thrown back in ecstasy, your hair a tattered mess on your head and your face flushed with a deep red color. Pants and whines spilling from your lips. Your fingers dripping with slick and glistening even in the low light of the video. Thighs spread far as they can go and your toes curled into the sheets on your bed.

“Ahh…yes, Neteyam….” Your voice calls out through the video.

Neteyam’s ears are standing straight up and his eyes are glued to the screen.

“Oh my God!” Suddenly, your muscles remember how to move and jump into action. You scramble to snatch the phone from his grip and put an end to the sounds filling your room. You hurriedly pause the video and focus your eyes on the floor. Heat flickers on your face feeling mortified.

Neteyam blinks a few times trying to determine whether he was in a dream or not. The room is slowly starting to feel like it’s spinning from all his blood rushing from his head to under his tewng.

You attempt to glance over at Neteyam from the corner of your eye only to find him already with his eyes on you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His lids were low, and his lips slightly parted while his tongue snuck out to slide over them. His pupils were blown wide while he stared at you.

He leaned closer to you and you tried to back up feeling your breathing get heavier in your chest the closer he got. But the more you backed up, the more he moved in front of you with his large frame completely caging you in until he backed you up all the way against the headboard. His eyes flickered back and forth from your eyes to your lips and lower.

“I want to see the rest.” His voice was smooth and his accent thick with lust.

“W-well you see, you weren’t supposed to see that. I didn’t even know that I took that video. I think I might just delete it.” You try to grab your phone, but Neteyam grabs your wrist to stop you.

“I wasn’t talking about the video.” He raises your wrist to his lips and softly kisses your pulse point, “I want to see it in real life.”

His piercing amber eyes watch you through lidded eyes and it feels like there’s literally no brain in your head when you nod making him smirk.

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RW&RB MovieAlex vrs BookAlex: A Rant

I'm late to the party on Red, White, and Royal Blue for a dumb reason and now I'm obsessed with it. OMG I WAS SO WRONG.

I love the book. I love the movie. I also love the difference between them that I find myself obsessing over: the lack of June.

I love June. I'm also not mad that they removed her from the movie, because I honestly don't think they had the time to do her justice. The important thing is that when they removed her, they split her personality and scenes between Nora and Alex. And the result is fascinating.

Combining June with Alex gives us a calmer, more emotionally mature, competent version of Alex. He is definitely not the hot mess that BookAlex is. (Don't get me wrong here: BookAlex is my favorite character.) But now it's implied that MovieAlex is better at keeping his temper, handles his shit without being micromanaged, advocates for himself more, and I'm pretty sure the speech he gives is his own. Probably with help, but still. Also not having divorced parents means MovieAlex doesn't have BookAlex's abandonment issues. It's never said that his parents' relationship is perfect, but it's implied that he's had a stable family background. MovieAlex still has flaws and he's not Nora Levels of Competency, but he's definitely a lot more balanced. And this actually changes his relationship with Henry, just a little.

Namely in reference to my two favorite scenes:

1) Storming the Castle.

BookAlex is a ball of rage in this scene, and it's GLORIOUS. Yelling at the windows, aggressively dripping everywhere trying to ruin the rugs, making rude comments about Henry's ancestors. He is defiant. He yells, Henry yells back. It ends in tears, but there's a lot of anger.

MovieAlex by contrast is quieter, more hurt. He hardly yells at all. (I rewatched this scene like 20 times for Repeat to be sure.) He's determined, and he doesn't back down, but you get to see that split second of fear in his eyes that Henry is asking him to leave. There's a lot more emotion and tears in this version. It's ... sweeter isn't the right word. Bittersweet, maybe.

Downside: The lack of transition in the morning from the book. I miss Alex expecting to be dumped, and Henry realizing he doesn't want Phillip's life before deliberately making the choice to be with Alex. Also the comment on Alex's hair, which made me giggle.

2) The Museum Scene

I know a lot of people are disappointed with this scene, and I feel the need to argue about why it's brilliant the way it is.

In the book, they go to the museum because Henry has made his choice, and now he's showing one of his favorite places to Alex. He's the one who brings up the music. He chooses to fulfill his fantasy with Alex there, and he chooses to play a song that embodies the romanticism of their situation, about being in love and not being able to let anyone else know. Your Song.

In the movie, they go to the museum when Henry's still trying to decide if this is something he can have, and he's sharing a part of himself with Alex when he talks about his fantasy. Alex is the one who chooses to fufill it, so of course he chooses a different song. For him, it's a song about how easy it is to love Henry. I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.

I also love that they changed Henry giving the ring to Alex to Alex giving Henry his key in return. I love the symbolism of Alex keeping Henry's ring safe for him, of their two homes side by side. But I also love the idea of exchanging parts of themselves. I love that they have those pieces of each other when they're separated and the emails are exposed.

The book tells the story better overall because it has the time to, and the bickering and friendship between the boys is everything. The movie makes me melt over the flirting and affection between them. I can't pick one over the other because both versions of this story are wonderful.

But emotionally mature MovieAlex and how soft he is with Henry, making sure Henry's taken care of? I am WEAK for that.