#this chapter is spicy

[chocolix76]

I'm going into severe brainrot please ask me questions about Anima Sola. Please ask me questions that will make me have a mini crisis because they're spoilers.

I'm going so crazy I need to talk about it

[choccy-milky]

insatiable clora and (barely) resisting seb from my latest chap🌡️💕

[sableeira]

sure ango may have betrayed every organization under the sun but tachihara put in the effort to build up the perfect stereotypical gangstersona and act his silly little heart out for the perfect plot twist so we all know who deserves the award for best port mafia betrayal

[s30620]

Chapter 141: Eatin' Too Many Treats

Okarun's struggle with reason and instinct this chapter was interesting. He is used to listening to reason, which is why he thought of calling Seiko to neutralize the cursed object first. However, the delinquents and their instinct to put their lives on the line and go into the game to save their friend themselves made Okarun question his reason. He would never be able to forgive himself if he just stood around while Momo gets hurt.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 1

Summary:  Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings:  language, smut

Next chapter

“And with all that said, you are now officially divorced,” the judge announced.

Y/N sighed heavily, closing her eyes.  The relief that flooded through her made her feel like she was floating, her heart soaring at the freedom it felt.  She opened her eyes and smiled as she stood and hugged her divorce lawyer, then started gathering her things.

“I guess that’s it,” Raphael, her now ex-husband, said as he sidled up to her.

“That’s it,” Y/N nodded, barely sparing him a glance.

“So um…everything is set up for you at the house.  All my things are out, and I got your car detailed as a, you know, sign of no ill will–”

“Raf, it’s okay if we don’t speak.  I’d rather we never spoke again,” Y/N said, finally facing him.  They looked each other over one last time before Y/N gave him a small smile.  “Goodbye,” she nodded at him, then walked out of the courtroom.

***

New York City felt too big.  The house was too big.  The car was too big.  Y/N felt like she was shrinking inside herself as she walked the too-quiet rooms of the brownstone.  She and Raf had never had any children, although he had pushed her many times over the years, sometimes too far.  But Y/N had been focused on her writing career, and not having children had made the divorce so much easier.  

“Y/N Y/L/N?  Oh my god it’s really you!  Can I get an autograph?” A woman approached her in the supermarket, smiling widely and slightly jumping as she rushed up to Y/N.

“Oh, um, yes,” Y/N stammered, taking the notebook and pen the woman shoved in her face and signing it.

“Could I get a picture?  The girls in my book club won’t believe it!”

“Sure,” Y/N smiled tightly, then tried to look pleasant as the woman wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in too close, smiling up at the phone raised high in her hand.

“Oh thank you!”  

Y/N managed to slink away from the awkward conversation that was about to ensue and quickly finished her shopping before running back home.  Her career had been successful, earning the top spot three times on the New York Times Best Sellers list, as well as book tours, big sequel book deals, and she was even in talks for one of her first books to become a movie.  The books were what would be considered “spicy” or “dark romance.”  She had no experience in actually having any spicy or dark romance in her real life.  Raf had been extremely simple in the bedroom, and part of their divorce stemmed from his insecurity about her stories.  

Six weeks after her divorce she had had enough.  She sold the brownstone, everything of value in it, the fancy car, and bought the car of her dreams:  a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle.  It was something she had always wanted, but seemed impractical or Raf would always talk her out of it.  She loaded what little she had left into the little light blue car and headed to Woodstock, Vermont.

Y/N had grown up in Woodstock.  It was a very small but scenic town that thrived mostly on tourism because of its quaint, old America charm, and access to nearby hills that made for great snow sports.  When she was 18 she had earned a full ride scholarship to NYU and had run from it as fast as she could.  It was just too small, too stifling, but now as she was dealing with how big the world felt after her divorce, she ran back home in fear and trepidation of what to do next.  

As she reached the city limits she heard the Beetle make a strange puttering sound.  “Oh no, come on, B!” she groaned as the car started to shake and struggle.  “So much for ‘it’s in tip top condition,’” she griped, pulling off the main street in town toward the first mechanic shop she saw.  The Beetle sputtered to a stop and let out a high pitched whine as she turned off the engine.  She sighed and got out of the car, kicking the tire before heading towards the shop door.  A bell tinkled when she swung it open and she looked around at the shop’s front desk and waiting area.  It was small, utilitarian, and very tidy.  In the corner she was surprised to see a small play area for children that had a number of children’s books, a small table and chair, some coloring books and coloring pencils, and a little tea set on the table.

She smiled at the set up and walked over to the front desk.  There was no one there and she looked around until she saw a doorbell button on the side of the desk with a small note taped to the desk countertop that read, “Press for Service.”  Y/N pressed it and heard a doorbell ring noise from the shop behind the door beyond the desk.

“Coming!” she heard a male voice yell.

Y/N waited, looking around the room again until the door swung open.  “Hey there, sorry I was working on something, what can I–”  Y/N gasped when she saw who it was, and his wide eyes and open mouth matched hers.  “Y/N?” he whispered.

“Bucky?” she whispered back.

Bucky’s shocked expression quickly changed into one of excitement as he smiled widely and threw his dirtied rag that he was holding on the desk.  “No fucking way!” he yelled, rounding the desk and reaching out for her.  Y/N gladly accepted the hug, giggling when he picked her up and swung her around as he held her tight.  

“My God, Buck,” Y/N huffed when he set her down.  “You look so grown!”

“Well, it has been, what…14 years since I last saw you?” Bucky said, looking at her with a disapproving but teasing look.  “You look great.”

“Oh, thank you.  So do you,” Y/N blushed.  “So, you work here now?”

“I own this,” Bucky said, gesturing to the shop.

“Oh!  That’s amazing!”  Y/N said happily.  

“Yeah, old man Pierce finally died and I took over it,” Bucky explained, smiling at the waiting room.  “But hey, you’re a big writer in New York, right?  I read your books.”

“Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t!” Y/N said with wide eyes.

“I did,” Bucky arched his eyebrows at her.  “Very spicy stuff there, Y/L/N.”

Y/N hung her head in her hands, making Bucky laugh.  “I want to die,” she whined.

“It’s okay, honey, they were spicy but good!” he reassured her, squeezing her arms.  “I liked them.  Especially that one about the uh, what was it, the mafia one?”

“Fucking hell,” Y/N shook her head, trying to hide her blush.  “I know it sounds stupid, but you just never really think about people you grew up with reading your stuff?”

Bucky’s head fell back as he laughed.  “Well, you’ve got a little fan club here in town,” he said.  

“How embarrassing,” Y/N laughed.

Bucky stared at her for a minute.  “Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re here…why are you here?” he asked with a frown.

“Well, uh, right now I’m here because my car broke down as I drove in,” she said, pointing to the Beetle outside.

Bucky turned and looked at the car, then looked back at her with a smile.  “Got that Beetle you always wanted, huh?”

“Well, just recently, but yeah,” Y/N smiled, appreciating how he remembered how much she loved old Beetles.

“Well you came to the best mechanic in town,” he smirked.  “Let me take a look.”  She handed him her keys and followed him out to the car.  Bucky popped the back and looked over the engine for a minute before sighing.  “Yeah, looks like these belts need replacing,” he said, pointing at something that Y/N didn’t understand.  “I’ll have to order them, or maybe dig around and see if I can find any nearby.  It’ll probably take me a while,” he grimaced as he looked at her.

“I got nowhere to be,” Y/N shrugged.  “So I’m happy to wait.”

“Great,” Bucky nodded, shutting the door.  He pushed the Beetle into the garage and started making calls as Y/N sat in the waiting room.  After twenty minutes he came in with another grimace on his face.  “So, um…those specific belts won’t be delivered here for about three weeks.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head.  “Like I said, I got nowhere to be.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.  “Don’t you have a husband to get back to?”

Y/N sighed and shook her head again, looking away.  “No, not anymore.”

Bucky froze for a moment before stepping forward and grabbing one of the other chairs, setting it in front of her so he could sit facing her.  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked gently.

Y/N snorted.  “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he replied.

Y/N smiled.  “Um…well, I was married to a very successful luxury home realtor,” she began, looking at her hands wringing in her lap.  Her naked left ring finger still had an imprint from her old ring on her skin.  “His name was Raphael.  I called him Raf.”  Bucky nodded, listening intently.  “He was…kind.  Funny.  Very ambitious, which I liked at the time.  But when my writing took off he became insecure, especially when I started out-earning him, and he felt emasculated by the stories I wrote.”

“Emasculated?” Bucky scoffed.  “Why?  He couldn’t get it up?”

Y/N laughed, Bucky joining her.  “No, he was just very…vanilla, compared to what I wrote,” she explained, making Bucky nod in understanding.  “Which I never minded, but he took some kind of weird offense to it and thought I expected too much of him in that department.”

“Idiot,” Bucky shook his head.

Y/N shrugged.  “We had a few issues over the years.  I was focused on my career, and he wanted me to have babies.  There were a few times he, uh,” she looked away again, crossing her arms over her chest.  “He was pushy about it.  We never could get over it.”

“What do you mean, ‘pushy’?” Bucky frowned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

Y/N shrugged again, glancing at him.  “It’s not a big deal, Buck.”  He gave her an unimpressed look.  “He…he tried to force me, a couple of times,” she said quietly, swallowing harshly.  “Tampered with my birth control.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, a sharp huff blowing through his nose.  His jaw ticked and he looked at his hands.  He reached forward for her hands, and she met him halfway.  He studied her hands, his right thumb gliding over her empty ring finger.  “I’m sorry, honey,” he said quietly, finally looking back up at her.  “You didn’t deserve that.  I’m glad you got out.”  

Y/N stared at his intense eyes.  He’d always had a way of looking straight into her soul with those eyes, the bright blue stunning her every time.  He was an incredibly cute teenager, and seeing him as a full grown adult now, with some patches of silver dotting his beard on his chin, the fine lines deepened in the corners of his eyes, he was even more handsome.  Bucky had been her number one when they were kids, he and his family taking her in when her parents were negligent and uncaring.  Even though they had only ever been friends, he’d been her first kiss before she left for college.  It was like their final farewell before she went off to bigger and better things, while he stayed home, unable to get scholarships or have enough money to go anywhere but a trade school.  They had lost touch, but she always thought of him and how he was doing.

“Thanks…Sugar,” she winked at him.

Bucky’s eyes widened before a wide smile spread across his face again and he hung his head as she laughed.  “Man, you’re never going to let that go, are you?” he groaned.

“Nope,” Y/N shook her head.  She squeezed his hands.  “But seriously, thank you.”

“I hope you got everything out of him in the divorce,” Bucky said, letting go of her hands and sitting back in the chair.  

“I did very well,” Y/N nodded.  “I had a great lawyer.  And it was helpful that he wasn’t very good at hiding his affair.”

“Affair?” Bucky scoffed.  “That fucker cheated on you?”

“Well, who else was he going to get babies from, Buck?” Y/N asked teasingly, raising her eyebrows.

Bucky rubbed his face harshly.  “Asshole.”

“Tell me about it,” she grimaced.  “But basically, I got to keep all my book earnings, and since we were married for a while and he out-earned me those first few years, I’ll be getting alimony.  And I sold almost everything before I drove here, so I should be set for a while.”

“Good,” Bucky smirked.  “But why come back here to Woodstock of all places?”

Y/N stared at him.  “I actually don’t know,” she frowned.  “New York just suddenly felt…too big.”  

Bucky watched her for a moment.  “Do you have a place to stay?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head.  “Is the hotel on Idalia still there?”

Bucky frowned.  “Yeah, but it’s still a shithole.  You’re not staying there.”  Y/N sighed.  “You can stay with me,” he offered.

“Oh, no Buck that’s okay, I don’t wanna intrude–”

“You won’t be.”

“What about…do you have a girlfriend...wife?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.  “But I do have a daughter.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open in shock.  “A daughter?”  He smiled and nodded.  “Oh my god!”  Y/N smiled widely.  “Is that what this is for?” she asked, gesturing to the play area in the waiting room.

“Yep,” Bucky nodded.  “Though she’s far too big for tea sets now.”

“How old is she?  What’s her name?  Wait, where’s her mom? I’m sorry, is that rude of me to ask?  I’m just curious–”

“Breathe, honey,” Bucky interrupted her.  “Her name is Autumn.  She’s about to turn ten.  Her mom and I met while I was at trade school at a party.  We were both too drunk and irresponsible.  By the time I learned about Autumn her mother was trying to give her away for adoption.  She was Catholic and hid the pregnancy from her family, then tried to get rid of the baby once she was born.”  Y/N frowned.  “I took her and her mom signed away her rights.  Haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

Y/N nodded but her frown stayed.  “I’m sorry, Buck,” she said quietly.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged.  “She’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me.  It was hard, but I wouldn’t change a thing.  My mom has been a huge help.  Speaking of which,” he leaned forward again.  “In exchange for me fixing your car, you can help babysit Autumn until I get off work.  Ma’s getting old and can’t quite keep up with her anymore.”

“You’ll…you’ll fix my car for free, and let me stay with you for the foreseeable future, as long as I watch your daughter?” Y/N scoffed.

“Yep,” Bucky nodded, his smirk returning.  “Best friends help each other out.”

“True,” Y/N smiled.  She contemplated it for a moment.  “Deal,” she said, holding her hand out.

Bucky laughed and took her hand, shaking it firmly.  “Deal,” he said.

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

Yeah, how dare Tak insinuate you guys are mates…

[tinyluvs]

⁺‧₊˚ smoke and mirrors 𖤐 swiss&mountain˚₊‧⁺

❥ summary; mountain is a little self conscious, swiss refuses to shut up about how perfect mountain really is, or mirror sex :3 ❥ warnings; anal sex, slight rimming, references to drugs, body worship (?), mirror sex, porn with feelings, idiots in love :) ❥ authors note; i don’t even know if like this anymore, enjoy !!!❥ wc; 5.4k ₊˚⊹♡⁺‧₊˚𖤐 read on ao3; ˗ˏˋ ꒰꒰ here !! ꒱꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𖤐˚₊.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

smoke and steam collide in the air in front of mountain’s face as he exits the bathroom, steam pouring out from the humid room behind him while smoke billows from between swiss’ lips where he lays on his bed, his attention turning from his phone to mountain, half lidded eyes watching him in the mirror

“hey pretty boy,” swiss hums, his voice low and dangerous like it often is when he’s high, or at least getting there. his phone drops onto the mattress somewhere as he bustles, leaning slightly on his side to continue watching the earth ghoul as he ventures further into his room

mountain had forgotten to steal clothes from swiss’ dresser before his shower, leaving him without any other option than to come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped tightly around his bottom half. of course, swiss has seen everything that’s currently being hidden but those are different circumstances. regardless, swiss shamelessly stares at him, or rather more, his reflection, and mountain starts to heat up

a blush settles over his cheeks and he wonders if there’s any air left in the room at all. clean air, that isn’t milky with steam or smoke, that can filter into his lungs, which suddenly don’t seem to be filling up fast enough. holes burn into the back of his head as he reaches swiss’ dresser, tugging a drawer open in search of boxers, sweatpants, anything he can throw onto his body

“stop staring,” he murmurs as the red under his skin starts to travel down his neck, heating it’s path as it goes. he pulls out a pair of underwear and sweatpants, leaving them in a small pile on the top of the dresser while he searches for a shirt

swiss doesn’t stop staring, the holes in mountain’s head burning deeper and bigger by the second, “but how can i when you’re so handsome,” swiss teases, light and airy around a mouthful of smoke that coils up towards the ceiling

“i’m not,” mountain mumbles, pushing a drawer shut harder than he meant to, the entire piece of furniture tipping and bumping against the wall behind it. mountain whispers his reply, like he didn’t want swiss to hear it, though he does, he always does

a gasp escapes swiss before he can stop it, incredulous and over exaggerated, like he’s heard something terrible but in his opinion, he has, a sin slipped from mountain’s lips, “oh but you are,” he finally says, watching the way mountain’s tail bats around nervously under his towel

they’ve been through this thing, this game, this conversation, several times. swiss will make a positive comment about mountain, how he looks, his personality, anything and every single time mountain will disagree with him, completely unwilling to see himself as his pack mates see him

if you were to ask any of them they’d be quick to talk, beaming about how gentle and generous he is, how helpful and sweet or how handsome he is, desired by everyone that has had the pleasure of laying eyes on him and more often than not their compliments will be wrapped up with a gentle bow of love, all of them declaring just how much they love him

but, mountain will never accept any of these things, will brush them off, never once accepting a compliment that’s sent his way and that, in itself, no one would even consider to be one of his flaws because to them, he is without flaws, a perfect being in their eyes

“i’m not,” mountain argues back to swiss again, the blush fully blooming over his chest now. his search for a shirt goes forgotten about, his fingers busying themselves in a tray of rings on top of the dresser, swirling between cool metal while he attempts to distract himself from the conversation at hand

swiss sighs, not angry or with malice but slow and upset, something that settles deep in his chest with an ache, “mount-,”

mountain anticipates what is about to happen, what is about to be said and wants no part of it, “no,” he simply says, swiping the small pile of clothes from the dresser as he turns, refusing to even look in swiss’ direction before bundling himself back into the bathroom, the door clicking shut quietly behind him

it appears that there’s no air in the bathroom either as mountain leans against the door and wills his lungs to fill just enough for him to function normally. the clothes drop from under his arm, barely missing a puddle on the tiled floor as they fall into a heap next to his feet

condensation drips down the mirror, still fogged up and hiding his reflection from him, he prefers it this way though, not being forced to see the abundance of freckles that spread unevenly over his cheeks and chest or the way his antlers are slightly lopsided, one branching outwards while the other turns slightly upwards at the end instead

he’s not sure how long he stands staring at a blurred reflection of himself but if it wasn’t blurred it would be long enough that his brain would have completely distorted the image by now, twisting his reflection into something he wouldn’t even recognise but he would be convinced that it’s correct

gentle knocking on the door makes him jump, his body jerking as his head snaps away from the mirror, “mount, you okay in there?” swiss asks, his voice is gentle, steady and even but mountain flushes with the idea he’s made the multi ghoul worried, about him of all things

“u-uh yeah, i’ll be out in a minute,” he stumbles over his words as he turns, grabbing the pile of clothes from the floor as his towel takes their place. he hurries to dress himself, tugging boxers over his still damp thighs, the feeling makes him cringe but he refuses to make swiss wait any longer, let his concern build any further

when he finally opens the door he’s met with swiss, the multi ghoul leaning in the doorway with his head tilted and resting against the frame and a soft smile tugging at his lips, “hey,” he says, barely a whisper, his eyes never leaving mountains, though he doesn’t stare this time, his eyes fluttering shut in slow drawn out blinks

“hello,” mountain mumbles, his eyes tracking swiss’ hand as he pulls it out of his pocket and uncurls in the small space between them, palm open and facing upwards, an invitation. mountain flicks his gaze from swiss hand up to his face where the multi ghoul just nods, his hand making a slight grabbing motion in mountain’s peripheral

mountain drops his hand into swiss’, tension slipping away from his shoulders as swiss’ fingertips brush at his wrist. the feeling dances a line of being too ticklish but mountain likes it, his wrist getting heavier in swiss’ hold as he melts into the movement

silently swiss pulls on his wrist, not hard but enough to guide him out of the bathroom and towards his bed and mountain lets him, even as swiss turns them and walks him backwards until his calves are bumping the edge of the bed, prompting him to sit

he sits and looks up at swiss, who nudges his thighs apart to stand between them. smoke clouds around his head like a makeshift halo, which is ironic considering the tips of his horns are piercing through the thick air, creating clean lines in between the fog

swiss’ hands settle softly on the side of mountain’s neck, thumbs brushing the length of his jaw as he shuffles closer, close enough that the earth ghouls chin rests against the softness of his tummy, just under his navel, “so pretty,”

this time swiss doesn’t sound like he’s trying to prove a point, like he’s trying to convince mountain of it but instead like he’s thinking out loud, like his thoughts have grown legs and walked right out of his mouth before he could swallow them down and stop them

mountain chooses not to argue this time, so, he stays silent. his eyelashes kiss his cheeks and his fingers pick at a loose thread on the side seam of swiss’ sweatpants, content in his mates hold. swiss’ fingers drift from his jaw, sliding back to tangle into the hair at the base of his neck,

“you’re pretty,” mountain blurts awkwardly, one too many beats of silence between them that make his stomach knot but swiss smiles when he finally opens his eyes to look up at him and the knot unravels

“yeah? you think so?” swiss whispers, still smiling as he bends. the tip of his nose brushes against mountain’s before swiss tilts slightly to his left, lining their mouths up, hovering inches apart but he doesn’t act on it, not until mountain nods at his question and tilts his chin up

something swoops low in mountain’s belly when swiss kisses him, it always does but more often than not they’re caught up in a haze of lust, nipping and grabbing at each other so mountain has never had the time to fully process the swoop but while swiss holds his face so gently, like he’s terrified of breaking the bigger ghoul somehow, mountain feels it properly

he gasps softly, lips parted for less than a second before swiss is slotting between them to kiss at his bottom lip slowly. mountain’s back straightens, electric zapping up his spine while he pushes up into the kiss, his fingers pinching and pulling at the side of swiss’ pants

both ghouls' hands start to wander when swiss licks across mountain’s lip, tasting earthy in that way marijuana does and it’s all too enticing for mountain, a soft groan spills from his mouth. his fingers slide up the sides of swiss’ thighs until they reach his hips, squeezing lightly at the same time swiss squeezes at his shoulders

swiss isn’t sure if he pushes or mountain pulls but either way he ends up in the earth ghouls lap, his thighs pressing to mountains hips while mountain tugs him closer, arms looping around the multi ghouls back

“you’re,” swiss pauses, a little breathless as he breaks their kiss, “so fucking pretty,” he finishes, spoken like a mantra against a smattering of freckles just underneath mountain’s jaw. his lips trail further south, dancing along mountain’s neck and the top of his shoulder

mountain hums in a noncommittal way, neither agreeing nor disagreeing as his head tilts back to bare more of his neck to swiss. he starts to soften with swiss’ weight on top of him, slouching until he’s toppling back and dragging swiss with him, both of them bouncing lightly when mountain’s back hits the mattress

when swiss eventually pulls back from mountain’s neck, satisfied with the few purple marks he’s leaving behind, he looks blissed out. his lips are kiss swollen, shiny with spit and his eyes, which have started to redden around the edges, are somehow lit on fire with lust and twinkly with love, both at the same time

“look, how good you look right now,” swiss hums, sitting back on mountain’s thighs. the earth ghoul is splayed beneath him, antlers digging into the bed sheets, his hair a little tousled from swiss’ fingers, hazel green eyes blinking up at him in a question, swiss thinks he looks divine, “look,”

swiss takes hold on mountain’s jaw, turning and tilting his head until he’s looking back slightly over his shoulder and then, their eyes meet in the mirror. in the back of his mind mountain thinks the mirror has been moved, repositioned just for this, but he doesn’t have time to think as his cheeks start to heat up again

gently he tries to shake swiss off of him, allow himself to turn away from the mirror but swiss holds his jaw and his eye contact in their reflection. mountain lets his eyes wander a little, taking in swiss more than himself

swiss is painfully gorgeous, his horns aren’t lopsided, both of them curling back and then up towards the ceiling, identical twins, unlike the siblings mountain has on his head. little golden charms litter swiss’ hair, always managing to catch a light no matter where he is but as mountain’s eyes travel further down, away from his face, swiss starts to smirk

mountain takes in his shoulders, broad and muscly. his chest, the little bars that pierce his nipples and further south, past the softness of his tummy and then following the line of hair that disappears under swiss’ trouser line…

only then does mountain notice the tent forming in the front of swiss’ pants, the earth ghouls head turning away from their reflection, as if it’s lying to him, to look at the real thing and swiss lets him, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his hips lightly

as he rolls his cock bobs underneath his sweatpants, a small, miniscule even, damp patch starting to darken the light grey fabric and mountain’s mouth waters. his fingers move fast, sliding up swiss’ thick thighs and just as he’s about to get to where he wants to be, swiss wraps his fingers around his wrists

“wha-,” mountain whispers, blinking up at swiss and then back at where his wrists are being guided down to the mattress, either side of his head while swiss holds them there, “swiss,” he whines, bucking his hips up and nudging his own cock against swiss’ ass

swiss shakes his head, the charms in his hair tinkling quietly, “not about me,” swiss swallows, looking down at mountain while he does everything he can to not sit back on the earth ghouls, now, very hard cock, “just let me show you,”

before mountain can ask what he means, swiss turns his head again, bringing him back to looking in the mirror. he holds mountain’s jaw for only a second this time, satisfied he’s not going to bolt away from him, or at least he hopes he won’t because swiss is on a mission now

“let me,” he mumbles, pausing to swallow thickly, “show you,” he pauses again to kiss at the front of mountain’s neck, lips curling up when mountain groans right beneath his lips, “how pretty you are,” he finishes, eyes flickering up to make sure mountain’s still looking in the mirror

“okay,” mountain practically mouths the word, barely a whisper even passing his lips. he watches swiss shuffle back on his thighs, sucking in a breath between his teeth when the multi ghoul’s ass brushes directly over his cock

“good boy,” swiss praises, a low rumble that vibrates through mountain. the earth ghoul whines high, the desired effect swiss was going for as he lowers his mouth to mountain’s collarbone, immediately worrying the thin skin with his fangs. mountain whimpers when he starts to suck though, the swoop in his stomach returning as swiss works his way over his shoulders

a path of purple bruises mark out where swiss has been, starting on the earth ghouls neck, then travelling over his shoulders and collarbones and then swiss continues down, nipping teasingly at mountain’s nipples

mountain watches as he goes, see’s his own chest heaving, his stomach clenching when swiss sucks a bruise into his hip. watches his back arch as swiss drags his fangs across the lowest part of his belly, stopping briefly to nuzzle against the light hairs there and then unceremoniously, swiss gets off of mountain all together “lift up f’me,”

straight away his hips push up enough for swiss to tug his pants down. in the mirror he sees his cock spring free, hissing when the sticky tip slaps his belly, no doubt smearing precum over his skin, though at the angle he’s at, he can’t quite see

fortunately, swiss can see mountain’s cock, thick and fat where it lays against his stomach. the tip of his cock is flushed red, leaking pre into a little puddle and swiss can’t help himself. he swipes his finger through the mess, whistling low to himself as he does and then looks into the mirror to find mountain’s gaze already locked onto him

with a smile that’s all fang and cheekiness, swiss licks at his finger, cleaning it of mountain’s slick while the earth ghoul’s jaw drops, his eyes widening, “fuck swiss,” he whines, fingers twisting into the sheets

“uh huh,” swiss hums around his finger before pulling it from his mouth with a lewd pop. his tongue darts across his bottom lip, refusing to waste even a single drop of mountain, “you gonna keep watching for me?”

mountain nods, at a loss of what to say while he’s stuck, well, he’s not really. he could get up at any point but he doesn’t want to, especially not as swiss holds his gaze and slowly sinks to his knees between mountain’s thighs

“fuck, your thighs,” swiss groans, turning his head to lick a thick stripe from mountain’s knee, all the way up, his breath fanning against mountain’s heavy balls. the earth ghoul jerks a little, his own breath held in anticipation as he watches swiss’ head dip further down between his legs

the spade of swiss’ tail cuts through the air, catching mountain’s eyes and distracting him as swiss leans in and attaches his lips to the inside of mountain’s thigh, “shit,” mountain hisses, his hand shooting down to grab at swiss’ hair

swiss smirks against his skin, opening his mouth to lick and drag his fangs, red lines streaking up and down mountain’s thighs “pretty boy with the perfect fuckin’ thighs,” swiss sighs and mountain’s cock throbs, a little string of slick connecting the tip of his cock to the puddle just underneath it

in the mirror swiss reappears, his chin almost resting on mountain’s thigh, “pretty boy,” he moans, inching closer and closer to mountain, “with the perfect cock,”

mountain keens as swiss doesn’t give him a chance to process his words before he’s licking up the underside of his cock, from root to tip in one wet movement. his tongue swirls up and around mountain’s throbbing tip until he’s dragging his tongue against his slit

“swiss, f-fuck,” mountain pants, rolling his hips up to smear his cock against swiss lips, nudging them apart just enough for swiss to suck. a shudder wracks it’s way through mountain’s body, swiss watching in the mirror as it happens, the earth ghouls eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he’s looking directly into swiss’ eyes

the fucker winks at him, swiss actually winks at him before starting to bob his head, inching mountain’s cock into his hot mouth all too slowly, the tip of his tongue tracing a vein as he goes

it’s no secret that mountain is big, in all senses of the word. his cock is thick and long, something that most struggle with. some only being able to suck him down half way, their hands jerking off what they can’t fit. but swiss always takes him to the base, opening his throat and breathing through his nose as it presses to the soft hairs around the base of mountains cock

“oh my, fuck-ing hell, swiss,” mountain chokes on his words, his cock kicking in swiss’ mouth as the multi ghoul nods his head ever so slightly, grinding the tip of mountain’s cock against the inside of his throat

swiss’ eyes start to water, a fat tear running down his cheek just as mountain pulls on his hair, pulling swiss off of his cock with a pop. drool drips from the corners of swiss’ mouth as he sucks in a breath, “y-your cock,” he all but heaves, “fills me up so fucking well,”

mountain cries, his eyes leaving the mirror as his head tilts back and his hips buck up. swiss smirks to himself in the mirror, one of his hands pressing to his own cock which, admittedly, is starting to ache. he squeezes lightly at himself through his pants while he waits for mountains eyes to meet his again

“hey,” swiss says after a minute, tapping his fingers on the inside of mountain’s thigh. the earth ghoul looks down between his thighs but swiss shakes his and nods towards the mirror, “there we go,” he chirps when mountain turns his head

the angle they’re at hides where swiss’ fingers are dancing up the backs of mountain’s thighs, pressing into his skin, “hold them,” swiss tells mountain but the earth ghoul stares blankly at him, his brain moving far to slow for verbal instructions

so, swiss helps him out. he pushes moutain’s thighs back and watches their reflection, mountain gasps and jumps, his own hands curling around the backs of his thighs to keep himself spread and presented nicely

truth be told, mountain’s neck is really starting to hurt but if he moves, swiss will move and swiss is looking at him like he’s prey, his final meal, something but swiss? swiss is watching mountain’s perfect little hole, shiny and dripping with slick as it clenches around nothing

“damn it, you’re perfect,” swiss growls, his brain unable to come up with anything softer or sweeter as he dives in, pressing his tongue flat against mountain’s rim, “so,” he pauses to pull back, just enough to spit on the ring of muscle, “fucking perfect,”

and then he dives back in, leaving mountain to wail as swiss laps at him. the tip of his tongue teases, around and around, just soaking him and getting him dripping with spit and slick. his fingers inch closer, slipping between mountain’s hole and his mouth, “fuck, give it to me, please,” mountain whimpers

“yeah? you need it that bad?” swiss teases, cocking his head to the side in the mirror but, he’s not really teasing because he’s already pressing the tip of his finger into mountain and as the earth ghoul relaxes, just like he always does, swiss’ finger starts to sink into him

“o-oh, swiss,” mountain whines, though he’s not really sure what for but swiss hums and presses his lips to mountain’s thigh gently anyway, “move or, fuck, do something, “swiss,”

swiss kisses his thigh once more and then starts to slip his finger out, right to the tip before pushing back in, both ghouls groaning over the slick wet slide of it. mountain clenches down hard, his thighs tensing in his palms as swiss starts to finger him open, a second finger already teasing to slip in next to the first

slick drips down swiss’ finger and into the palm of his hand and he groans, his cock spitting pre that soaks into his pants, “oh shit,” swiss groans, tipping his head back to the ceiling, which mountain see’s in the mirror though he can’t see why swiss is doing it

“another, gim-give me another,” mountain huffs, doing his best to wiggle his hips and press his ass into the fingers teasing around his taut rim. he’s about to open his mouth again, to beg for it but swiss gets to him first, pulling his finger out and as he slides back in, a second joins alongside the first

mountain’s cock jerks against his tense stomach at the slight stretch, his back arching a little and though he may never admit it, being made to watch himself being taken apart is curling a dangerous heat through his stomach at an alarming rate

“so good, so fucking perfect,” swiss mumbles, entraced by the way mountain’s stretched perfectly around his fingers. he twists his wrist just right, crooks his fingers just so and drags his fingertips over mountain’s prostate

a gurgle leaves mountain’s throat, his eyes pinching shut while swiss watches his reflection, his own cock throbbing at the whole scene. in theory it’s filthy but somehow between them it doesn’t feel that way in the slightest, it’s just swiss and mountain, his mountain

“please, oh fuck, yeah there-,” mountain pants as swiss taps and rubs at his prostate before starting to scissor his fingers slowly, “fuck me swiss, need it s’bad,” mountain rambles, his thighs starting to tremble, vibrate almost, in his hands

normally swiss would at least try and work a third finger in, get mountain nice and loose but swiss isn’t sure how much longer he can hold out and he imagines mountain is starting to feel the same way, judging by the endless stream of pre leaking from his cock, which has flushed a gorgeous shade of purple

“y-yeah, okay,” swiss murmurs, slowly pulling his fingers from mountain’s body, growling at the slick wet sound that comes with it. on shaky legs and achy knees he stands between mountain’s thighs, “get on your knees,” swiss rushes to say as he folds over mountain to kiss him quickly, his free hand going south to palm at his own throbbing cock

mountain scrambles while swiss shoves his pants down, kicking them across the floor before joining mountain on the bed, “no c’mere,” swiss groans and grabs at mountain. the earth ghoul had been on his knees, just like swiss had asked but he wasn’t facing the right way

it’s not quite manhandling but swiss is moving mountain to exactly where he wants him, lined up in front of him, mountain’s sweaty back against his chest, directly in front of the mirror “fuck, look at you,” swiss swallows, looking over mountain’s shoulder at their reflection

he looks a sight for sore eyes, his hair is well and truly messed up now but still, somehow, it looks right. his torso is littered with bruises and little red lines and scratches left by swiss’ fangs. his cock hangs heavy, still dripping and if swiss looks real close, he’s sure he can see it pulsing

“perfect,” swiss sighs, turning to nuzzle his nose just behind mountain’s ear, he presses a quick kiss there and then slides his palm up mountain’s spine, pressing down until the earth ghoul bends forwards, planting his hands into the mattress to steady himself. swiss grinds his hips forwards, loudly hissing when his cock slips against mountain’s ass, warm and so, so, fucking wet

mountain is once again forced to watch in anticipation, thankfully this time without an ache building in his neck. swiss grinds back and forth, one of his hands on mountain’s shoulder while the other wraps around his own cock. he taps the sticky head of his cock to mountain’s puckered rim and then lines himself up

“fuck, ye-yes,” mountain’s jaw hangs slack as swiss pushes forward, an extra stretch from the slight lack of prep but it burns just on the right side of pain. mountain’s heat overwhelms swiss almost immediately, the multi ghoul having to still with just the head of his cock splitting mountain open, “please,” mountain whines, not quite realising why swiss is stopping

“i will, just give me a second,” swiss whispers through clenched teeth but, mountain doesn’t feel very much like waiting any longer. slowly but surely he presses back onto swiss, sliding himself down swiss’ length while the multi ghoul grunts and digs his fingers into mountain’s shoulders, “fuck mount,” he nearly shouts

the wrecked sound they both make when mountain fully sits himself back on swiss is loud, rattling off all four walls in the room, “oh fuckfuckfuck,” mountain’s head hangs, his chin touching his chest while his body adjusts, thankfully he doesn’t move otherwise swiss might have accidentally cut this whole thing tragically short

swiss’ tail wraps around mountain’s torso, pinning their bodies together, forcing mountain upright against swiss as the multi ghouls hand snakes up his body, wrapping gently around his neck, his thumb and finger at mountain’s jaw, “look,” swiss whispers against his ear

with a little whine, mountain looks, immediately moaning when he does. swiss is watching him over his shoulder, eyes burning into his again but mountain doesn’t look away this time, even as a blush spreads over his face, neck and chest, “swiss, it’s bad luck to have a mirror facing a bed,” mountain points out, a little high and whiny with an attempt to grind his ass back onto swiss 

swiss chuckles against his shoulder, “well i’m feeling pretty fuckin’ lucky right now,” and then finally, he starts to move, slowly albeit, shallow thrusts that barely grind his cock into mountain but neither are particularly bothered, groaning and panting loudly at the slightest movements.

“fuck me, properly,” mountain asks after a minute, feeling maybe a little bit bold but the way his cheeks burn regardless isn’t lost on swiss. mountain wraps a loose fist around his own cock, humping his hips forwards and that jumpstarts swiss, the multi ghoul pulling back slightly before canting forwards to meet mountain’s thrusts in the middle

“you, are, so, fucking, perfect,” swiss chants, each word punctuated with a thrust that mountain feels in his chest, air being punched from his lungs every time their bodies meet with a clap of skin on skin, “perfect boy, my perfect boy,”

tears slip from mountain’s eyes, his free hand reaching back to slide around swiss’ thigh, squeezing tight and grounding himself, “yours,” he repeats with a cry, his hand practically flying over his sticky cock as he hurtles towards his orgasm

swiss tuts, shakes his head in the mirror, “my what?” he asks before sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes flickering down to watch his cock slipping in and out of mountain’s tight clutch, “say it mountain,” he prompts and sinks his weight into his knees, tilts his hips up just right and on the next thrust he nails his cock right against mountain’s prostate, “say. it.”

mountain sobs, “i-i’m yo-, oh fuck,” he trails off into a whine, panting and shaking as his hand jerks over his cock with earnest. swiss presses his fangs to the top of mountain’s shoulders, eyes burning into him in the mirror, “fuck swiss, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna fu-cking cum,”

“not until you say it,” swiss huffs, willing his own orgasm to hold off for just a minute even though it’s right there. swiss’ hand slides from mountain’s neck to his hair, pulling back enough for swiss to get his teeth dragging against his neck, “say you’re perfect, say you’re mine, then you can cum,”

“fuck!” mountain shouts, squeezing his eyes shut and letting fat tears drip down his cheeks, “i’m yours, i’m yours, your perfect boy,” he rambles through a heave and swiss growls, doubling down before he even finishes the sentence

swiss fucks into him hard and maybe a little too fast, causing mountain to hold on, his fingers digging into swiss’ thigh more than enough to leave dotted bruises, “fuck yeah you are,” swiss groans, listening to the little ruined sounds mountain’s making, “gonna cum f’me?”

mountain nods, as best he can with swiss’ hand wound tight into his hair but words are useless to him, just a myriad of garbled sounds tumbling past his lips. he clenches impossibly tight around swiss, a little close to shoving the multi ghoul out completely but swiss drives forwards, bumps the tip of his cock against where mountain needs him most and they both fall

“fucking, oh fuck, shi-t mountain,” swiss rambles when, in the mirror, mountain’s cock starts to squirt, thick ropes of cum splashing over the bed in front of them, soaking puddles into the fabric, “o-oh fuck,”

swiss’ cock twitches deep inside mountain and then the damn breaks, spilling hot and entirely too fast as he does his best to fuck mountain through it, “oh, oh fuck, oh,” mountain shudders with overstimulation, his body feeling like a live wire as swiss’ cum floods into him with each little thrust 

eventually the little humped thrusts stop, both boys spent and panting as mountain sinks back against swiss, his head rolling back onto swiss’ shoulder. little puffs of air fan over swiss’ ear as mountain whimpers quietly. a stray tear runs down the earth ghouls cheek though it doesn’t get far before swiss reaches up to swipe it away  

the tail holding their bodies together loosens and falls away, hanging limp behind swiss with little to no current purpose, “i love you,” swiss pants, his body bending as he rests his forehead between mountain’s shoulder blades, “perfect boy,”

mountain nods, doesn’t argue, doesn’t even want to as their bodies sway together, “i love you too,” he confesses what swiss already knows, quietly, while swiss maneuvers them into a sort of pile on the bed, their faces towards each other, no mirror in sight, “what?” mountain whispers when swiss smiles wide, all fang and teeth, his tongue peeking out between them

swiss takes in a deep breath and then peppers kisses all over mountain’s face, “perfect, perfect, mine, all mine, perfect,” he mumbles after every little kiss and then as swiss swoops in to kiss him properly,

“my perfect boy”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! & comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah! send prompts to my ask box!

𖤐 ghouls masterlist 𖤐 lemme know if there’s any mistakes 😅

[aster-draws]

Better Halves in a nutshell

[behindabook2807]

The final chapters of Yang Helsing are here! Enjoy this breathtakingly spicy🔥🔥scene between our Bees 🖤💛 Will Blake make it in time before Yang loses herself forever? Will they survive in the fight against Adam? Find out by reading the last chapter. I hope you enjoy!

Thank you @dae-stuff stuff for all the stunning artwork you made for this fanfic. I am beyond blessed to have had the pleasure of getting to work with you. I hope we can do this again someday soon. You are an absolute gem of an artist and person. 💜

Please give Dae a follow on here and on her Twitter: @dae_stuff

For the naughtier/uncensored version of the spicy image you can find it on my Twitter: @BehindABook2807

[my-world-my-stories]

When all you have to wear is a beach towel your small GF gave you because you're just too big for regular clothes. At least the toast with spicy jam is good.

[kaelidascope]

Midnight Menagerie Chapter 12 - The Hangover Chapter is LIVE

**SHAKES HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOGGY BAG OF TREATS**

BLASTING FANTASTICAL FANFARE!!!!!!

The most anticipated chapter of the year is finally here! Hope y'all are hungry. As my birthday gift to y'all, here's the biggest chapter Midnight Menagerie has seen to date at a whopping 26 thousand words! I've been hyping this chapter up for MONTHS and I'm so excited to finally release it into the wild!!

Be mindful of the content warnings if vomiting is something you aren't comfortable with! As the title would suggest, everyone's hungover as FUCK. Enjoy a dramatic retelling of a wild weekend I had during the summer of 2017 when I was in college <33

I want to take a moment to really just say thanks as a whole for reading, supporting, and enjoying my work. It gives me so much encouragement to continue writing and drawing content, and I love reading everyone's reviews and comments. It's my favorite part of the day getting those emails! Here's to a happy holidays and a better new year in 2024 <3

(yes I'm aware the outfits are wrong LMAO I drew this months ago)

[lunaatthezoo]

She'll Wait No Longer: Chapter 8

Summary: Azriel accidentally gets drunk and loses his mind over Elain in lingerie.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60399079/chapters/155420875

@violetasteracademic and I must have been on the same wavelength this week because this is literally just out of control feral smut. Absolutely no plot.

Featuring artwork with permission by the incomparable @cinnibelle

Azriel surveyed her again, skin and hair glowing in the twinkling faelights. He tilted his head.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” he asked, moving closer to her.

Elain blushed and smiled bashfully.

“Maybe a time or two.”

Azriel brought both her hands to his mouth and kissed across her knuckles.

“That is not enough.”

He turned her hands over and kissed the underside of her wrists.

“You are more beautiful than the sun at dawn, breaking over Ramiel’s highest peak.”

He kissed up the length of one arm, lips grazing the sensitive underside.

“You are more beautiful than fresh snowflakes clinging to dark eyelashes.”

He kissed up the inside of her other arm.

“You are more beautiful than the clearest waters of the sea, sparkling turquoise at high noon.”

Tears began gathering in Elain's eyes, chasing her blush away. 

Azriel stepped closer still and kissed the center of her throat, their fingers remaining entwined. 

“You are more beautiful than the strings of a violin playing a melody haunting and holy.”

Elain’s breath shook. 

He bent his head and kissed between her breasts.

“You are more beautiful than the darkest night sky glittering with one million stars.”

He kissed the silky upper swell of each breast as a tear slid down Elain's cheek.

“You are the most beautiful fucking creature to have ever walked this universe, that will ever walk this universe, Elain.”

[lazybakerart]

when you’ve been on the bakudeku train since 2014 when they were at their most toxic

[johnslittlespoon]

inevitable clegan bunksharing in the dog coded fic, yes, but...

can i interest you in uhh shy lovesick fumbling unintentional (until it suddenly is) mutual masturbation in the same bunk late at night with hushed voices and john's broad back shielding their movements from the rest of the sleeping men

they've kissed but somehow it feels too real and too serious to touch each other in that way so they just. watch each other

and in the morning they're all bashful and tense and awkward until something happens to break the ice and they fall back into their normal dynamic until the next time things get heated

thx for attending my presentation xx

[anartisticalniche]

"Are you really gonna stand there and do nothing?"

A bit late, but here's a fanart based on the latest upload of @gummycore and @rocket-slimes SMG34 fanfic on Wattpad "Playing the long game", aka SMG4 experiencing gay panic for the entire chapter.

[love-toxin]

Retrieval - entry I

plot: after escaping the horrors of Los Iluminados, a piece of your heart is still stuck in that desolate place. you won't truly be able to rest until you find him--or until you put him down like the monster you wish you'd saved him from.

(cws: post-canon divergence, re4make spoilers, yandere!plagas!leon, fem!agent!reader, guns & blunt weapons, blood, gore & injuries, violence, grief, funerals, pining [chapter smut cws: wet dreams, mild choking, possessiveness, unprotected]

wc: 5.3k

(future entries to come! <3)

No matter how much time passes, you're certain this place will always reek of blood and death. It will always be the place that you lost the person most dear to you, and in such a vile, cruel way that it still haunts your darkest nightmares.

It's been awhile since then, but it all still feels the same when you step down from the car and let the door shut with an unapologetic thud. The air hangs heavy and thick with humidity, and although the distant stench of rot is lesser this time around, it still lurks in the background of your senses like a shadow creeping by the windows of a house. The trees hang low and sway gently as you pass them, crows beckoning you deeper into the brush with their croaking trills echoing all around you. Aside from a pitiful line of cautionary police tape strung across an iron gate, even the entryway and the path leading into the village all look exactly as they did weeks ago.

The last time your feet hit the dirt here, only Leon had been your much-needed company in your venture. You'd walked through the mud and ran through the mist together; searching the lodge and being chased into the heart of the village had only been the beginning. His breathing had been the thing to keep you calm then, of all things. Those heavy pants when he scrambled through doors and soft puffs of his chest when it was a touch too quiet; it reminded you that he was alive, and saved you from having to glance over and pray in the seconds between that he wasn't being carved into a bloody stump by a Ganados.

But all that? That was a long time ago. It feels like a lifetime, and yet neither of those timelines are the truth–really, it's barely been a month since you and Leon had been separated, but it still feels like years since you've seen him.

The scent of charcoal pulls you away from the memory of him as you draw close to the circle of houses, your gun out of its holster the moment you cross underneath the main gate. You at least have the sense not to go slinging it around when you hear the crackle of twigs in the underbrush, though the sound that resembles a gasp has you eyeing the forest to your left…just long enough to watch the offending group of birds chitter and take flight suddenly up and away from the trees as you draw close. The policemen that had accompanied you here have long since granted you their goodbyes, their eyes dark and fearful at the sight of this village looming in the distance before they had driven off in a frantic hurry. When you think about it you can't really blame them, not with them knowing the unfortunate fate of the two men they had probably rubbed shoulders with back at the station. Knowing that both of them had been made sacrifice for no better reason than violence and power.

That would've been you and Leon once upon a time, if Umbrella and the virus and everything hadn't screwed it all up and blown it to pieces. Sometimes you daydream about what it could've been like at RPD, but most times it's too painful to even consider and you just end up drowning your sorrows in a bottle of liquor instead. Leon would be admonishing you for dealing with it in that way and he would've been a total hypocrite for it, but he hasn't been here to do so. The thought that he won't ever be again fills you with so much dread you can feel it in each step you take into this dilapidated heap of pig slop and manure.

It's been over a month since you've been here last, about 37 days if you've been marking off your calendar correctly. You had to take into account the retrieval, your hospital stay, and the few days that seemed to meld into each other when you'd slept almost every hour away in recovery, but altogether it totals 37 days since you last stepped foot on this soil. Over five weeks since you last saw Leon, and only a couple days since you gave a eulogy at his funeral. It had all felt fake and pitiful even with you having organized it yourself–most of the people there were the reasons he even came to this disgusting place, all those government agents and well-to-do politicians that ate up yours and Leon's survivor stories and demanded you join the military's special ops. They should be the ones paying the price in the grave, not Leon.

But as you look around now, there really isn't much to speak of in the first place, now that you feel the sense of urgency wane and lower your pistol in the wake of dead silence. Aside from the bullet holes, the crumbled tower, and the blasted-out windows that cake the dirt with glass, there's not many signs that you and Leon had even treaded ground here. It's getting later than you'd like based on the position of that hot, Spanish sun, though. You've got to get moving and quit moping around this ghost town if you want to make any progress on his retrieval before night falls.

This isn't a trip down memory lane, after all. You came here with your own rescue mission in mind; you're here to find Leon's body, and you're prepared to give him the mercy he deserves if your suspicions about his supposed death are correct. Because you can't keep living with that memory of him in your head, that version of Leon burdened with black veins and vermillion eyes and a pained gait as he tried to kill you. When there weren't enough injections of the suppressant to go around, he gave you his own–and when it came time for you to go under the knife, Leon insisted on you and Ashley going first even when he had a death grip on the lever, the Plagas taking over him quick enough that he knew exactly what he was doing. Leon gave his life for you, Ashley, and Luis to live–and you've taken on the job of returning the favour, whether it means dragging him home in a body bag to give him a worthy burial, or putting a bullet in his head and ending the monster you never wanted to see him become.

"La Americana!"

But the moment you take another step to climb over the rubble of the church, a voice shouting from behind you sends a chill rocketing right up your spine. You thought you would only hear it again in your nightmares–but no, as soon as you turn on your heel, your eyes scan over a mob of Ganados shambling right for you. Drooling, bloody, rotting villagers wielding their pitchforks and sickles, and in that momentary panic that freezes you to the ground, a cold feeling erupts inside your chest that you've never experienced before. Acting on base instinct alone you make a mad dash for the house on your right, but you're left skidding to a stop and backing away just as quick when another monster lunges out of the doorway and makes a swipe. You're being cornered, trapped, with nobody left to save you like they did before.

This is wrong. It feels wrong, it sounds wrong, it's all wrong. This is exactly what happened before, but that was a nightmare you fought through and survived. You shouldn't be here again. Why are you here again? Why are you being so stupid to feed yourself to the same monsters that took your Leon from you? Why haven't you learned your lesson? Why?

When the first gets close enough to strike, you barely even register the hot, vile presence of its foul breath on your skin. Your muscles tighten and you swing indiscriminately, the butt of your pistol smashing into its temple with a force you didn't even know you were capable of. The scythe in its hand is halfway to hitting the ground before you're crossing the distance to the second one, movements almost robotic as you empty half your magazine into its forehead and don't stop until you're standing over it. For some reason, the gore and the blood splattering over you doesn't disturb you like it should. It doesn't even feel…real.

You're all to blame for this. This is all your fault.

Whether those thoughts are self-inflicting or self-soothing, they plague your mind in a constant, changing loop as you stagger from villager to villager. There's no other option; either fight or die, because reason won't get you anywhere but closer to your own grave. It's not even worth running at this point because they'll just chase you down, and you want them to just leave you alone more than you even want to live.

Getting hit doesn't feel real. Watching the Ganados choke on metal doesn't feel real. Not even your gun clicking empty and burning hot in your hands feels real, even when your brow furrows and you whip it at the nearest monster with a grunt that sounds more feral than ferocious. It's a slaughter but you can't tell that time has passed, or that you've gained bruises from the beating you've taken, or even that you've been blowing off the faces of people who were probably just people once. It just doesn't matter in that short, fury-driven span of time, not until you have nothing more to attack and you blink yourself awake with a hatchet gripped in your hands, soaked from head to toe in rotting blood.

With one final, blood-curdling scream from the deepest pit of your stomach, you throw your arm down and send the weapon flying across the ground like a tempestuous child. The pain, fury, and grief have been building up inside you for long you've forgotten what it feels like to be free, what it once felt like to laugh away your troubles when they got too big to deal with. Now you've been planning your best friend's funeral on the days you don't drink yourself into a stupor, and nothing matters anymore. This was a stupid idea and all you've done is set yourself up for a bigger, stupider failure than you've already proven you could accomplish. Right now, the best relief would come if you just dropped dead.

….But it doesn't come, even after you've fallen to your knees and sobbed into your hands. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. You count each breath, but each of them are just as heavy and laboured as the last, never slowing or getting shallower. If anything, you feel more alive as your senses come back and you cringe at the blood starting to crust over your skin and clothes. Taking your hands away, all that fills them is a sheen of dark, wine-deep red, splattered with tears that sting just as much as your skin that's been hacked with small, shallow cuts and bruises. As the episode passes, your desire to get up is stronger than your want to just lay down and relinquish your strength.

So you press on. Not for want of something better, but for the simple fact that you have nowhere else to go but forward. You put yourself into this mess, and as you can hear Leon's voice in your head, "You can get yourself out of it."

So you walk. You scoop up your gun from the ground and wipe the blood from the handle with your shirt. You stumble over the chunks of stone and rubble that litter your path, weaving through the half-open doors that haven't leaned right since Leon had first kicked them in or shot them open. You just keep walking until the gate with that familiar symbol comes into view, and upon pushing it open you're met with the sight of a sea of graves and dead grass–and a murder of crows watching you through the tree branches while they await a new body to pick at.

Seeing the church looming over the hilltop is enough to give you a chill. Maybe the graves are helping with that, standing as crooked and crumbling as they were before, but whatever it is about that place just plagues you with a sense of unease. Each step up the hill has you on guard, peeking around to see whether more Ganados will come out–but it's just as eerily quiet as you expected it to be, and you don't even spot much more than the crows until you're past the gate and standing on the front step of the chapel. To your fortune, the door's still unlocked–as you hoped it would be, considering all that you and Leon had to endure to get it open the first time. You'll never forget that feeling of your stomach sinking when you watched him retch up all that blood over the side of the boat, nor the heat of his tight grip as he had grabbed your wrist and whimpered in pain before slipping into unconsciousness on your lap.

Life had been scary enough then, but in some way seeing Leon go through the Plagas infection hit you harder than any other mission you'd gone through…especially since you know now that he would never be cured. He was just so strong in the face of everything, even during Raccoon City, when he truly had no idea what he was doing. He had such a kind heart that he would do anything for anybody. Even if he could be a hardass at times, he was pure.

Thinking about Leon always ends up leading you to memories of his funeral, especially so as your shoulders relax and you step into this church that somewhat resembles the one that housed it. You drop your bag on the nearest pew and let it spill over on to its side, and when your wallet tumbles out, your eyes pass over the picture inside that makes another memory pop into your head.

"This world is undoubtedly worse off without Leon. It won't ever be the same, and I…I'll miss you, Sancho."

Luis hadn't more than dabbed at his eyes at the service, but he'd hugged you so tightly at the reception he could've broken your bones with ease. You sat at a pew just like this one and held your hands between you throughout the eulogies, quiet and empty while Ashley cried her eyes out a few rows ahead. Other than a few close friends from the academy, a couple surviving members of RPD, and a handful of people Leon got to know in the military, the rest of the service was populated by complete strangers to you. Including the president himself, whose hand you openly refused to shake when he approached you with his "condolences". Without Luis there to guide you away to go get some complimentary dinner, you might have told the leader of your country where exactly he could stuff his condolences.

At the very least you can get some healing by actually burying your best friend, you think as you check the perimeter of the church to ensure its security. If you succeed, which you're hoping might actually happen if you can keep the grief and overwhelming anxiety to a minimum.

"Mh?"

Perhaps it's a good sign already, but going unnoticed by you up until now you spot something out of your peripheral that looks out of place here–and when you step up to it to take a look, sitting at the crest of the church where the podium would be, is what looks to be a washbasin that might have come from one of the nearby houses. Peering over the lip it looks to be filled with nothing but clear water…and when you dip a finger in, a sigh escapes you when you feel how warm it is. There's even a towel hanging over the nearest pew that you could've sworn wasn't there earlier, but it's getting harder to see with all the blood caking your eyelashes. And not one to turn away a perfectly good miracle, you're all too happy to strip off your clothes and dunk your head, hair, and limbs into a clean, semi-refreshing bath.

While you scrub the dust, dirt, and dried entrails from your skin, your mind wanders yet again into another world–the one you lived in before, so blissfully unaware of how bad the outcome could truly be. You'd met Leon for the first time at his debriefing in the RPD, when he'd been quietly optimistic with that baby face and a well of enthusiasm that had come out in the strength of his handshake. Marvin introduced you first as his immediate superior because you'd been in that same position before; you had been the rookie from out of town the year prior, and aside from the beaming sense of pride at moving up a peg in the force, you also liked how sweet Leon was.

He'd greeted you with honorifics you didn't need, smiled when you gave him a tour, and not once did he ever scoff or roll his eyes when you were giving him advice before he had even started. You noticed him because he was new, but also because he respected you and pretty much everyone else with barely any hesitation. In his plainclothes surrounded by decorated officers he treated everyone he met like a friend, and although Marvin had expressed concern about him being a little naive once he went home, you remember that moment as you watched him get into his car, and you remember thinking that the world–and Raccoon City–needed more people like that. You liked to think that you always knew he was a hero at heart.

Your brow softens as the water starts running clear down your body, the basin filled with blood and muck that you've been scrubbing off your skin until it's raw. The tiredness is setting in now from the plane ride and the tension, and all you want to do is sleep–but a sudden start and pain flooding through your abdomen has you alert and gripping the edge of the basin. Easing your chest out of the way to look down, you watch in frustrated horror as your fingers brush by the opening of a much more significant wound than the scrapes and bruises just beneath your breast down towards your stomach. At only about a half inch wide and five or more inches long the cut isn't severe, it doesn't even seem like it's been touched by the filth you've been doused in as you pour a little more water over it. But now that you've noticed it the sting is much more palpable, and with no desire to have it infected and die a slow death you fumble for your pitiful first aid kit and work away at closing the wound. Strips of medical tape and gauze are about all you can do, though the process is slow and awkward with you trying not to stretch or strain it too much for it to hurt worse. Just your luck. It's only the first day. You just count yourself fortunate that Leon isn't here to see this because you know he'd both fuss over you and tease you to no end…although you do find yourself glancing around more as you fix yourself up, your mind on high alert while you're in this state of vulnerability. For some reason you do feel watched, although with no sounds or odd noises to tip you off you're tempted to assume you're relatively safe. You can only hope that you are, because rarely have you ever been so sluggish and desperate for rest than you feel right now and you'd rather not wake up with an axe in your skull.

When you're done and with your clothes still hanging wet over the pew, you've got little choice but to tug on an old shirt and thin shorts from the bottom of your bag, the spare set of clothes an absolute emergency item that you're glad you at least brought this time. The summer heat's still strong so hopefully it doesn't get too cold in the night, the darkness of which you can spot creeping over the horizon through the stained glass windows. Luckily for you the layout is fairly simple and you'd already rediscovered the upstairs room where Ashley had been kept in your search, so after pushing the pews with a grunt to block the doors, low windows, and finally the ladder to the second floor, you take your gathered things inside and set up on the thin, downy cover that will have to do as a mattress for tonight. You've certainly slept in worse, less secure places than this anyways.

But before you allow yourself the chance to drift off, your fingers stretch for your wallet again that you'd tucked back into your bag, the picture greeting you once more when you flip it open and slide it out. Leon's beaming face smiles back at you, and your gentle self stands beside him six years younger in front of the RPD's grand foyer statue. Him in his jacket and you in your uniform, waving and grinning at the camera with his arm around you like nothing bad ever existed in the world. You knew in your heart that day would be the start of something different, but just how different wouldn't occur to you until it was too late. The picture sits tightly in your hand for immeasurable moments that melt into one another, up until your eyes finally flutter closed and you drift off in neverending silence.

When sleep finally comes, so do the dreams. And in them, you get to see Leon in a much more visceral way than the pictures on your desk or the smell of cologne on his jacket. The walls behind you look to be the same as the room you'd fallen asleep in, but in smooth fashion a hand cups your chin and pulls your gaze back from the floor to the one who wants it the most.

Leon looms above you on bended knees, his chest bare and hair tousled as if he'd yanked off his shirt in a hurry–he's always like that, always in a rush to begin only to take his sweet, agonizing time when he's actually performing. His lips look bitten and flushed like he's been kissing you already, but maybe that's because he's been nibbling on it like he is now out of shyness, or maybe embarrassment.

"I missed you." Your voice comes out muffled as it usually does, and Leon shifts around, his hands dwarfing your knees in comparison as he moves them to fit himself between them.

"I'm right here, sweetheart." His smile lights up your world with a glow, he makes it brighter even though a shadow still casts itself over half his face from the lantern on the other side of the room. "I'm always here for you."

But you died. Those words play on your lips, but you don't allow them to slip out. If you do, the dream may end here and now, and you can't afford to let such a precious moment of affection pass you by. "I love you, Leon." You whimper instead, and he gasps with pure, undiluted need as he makes that push inside you that he's been waiting for all night–that soft, wet heat welcoming his stiff self in like it always does and always will. The pressure stings at first, it beats hard in your chest and between your legs where he lies, but it's a forgiving ache and not a dull pain. When Leon kisses you again, it all disappears just as quickly–even quicker when he eventually starts to move.

"I love you more. I'll always love you, even after you're gone." He whispers against your lips, breathing his sentiment in and capturing yours on every exhale back. His fingertips leave trails of searing desire up your flesh, warm hands guiding your arms higher to rest around his neck and keep him as close as you can. You wouldn't need to, you don't have to, but he wants to be closer and you know you do too. Being inside you isn't enough for him, he needs you to want him, to desire him so deeply you can't fathom being apart. And you do, you always do, but you never seem to manage saying it out loud even in the throes of a perverse dream…but he can.

"I'll love you even if you leave me again. I'll fuck you so good you don't even think of doing it to me." Your lover pants, his pace picking up while your pleasure jumbles up into a heated, twisted mess. It seems like he's just entered you but at the same time it feels long, like you've been at his mercy for hours or days on end and the pressure keeps mounting higher and higher too fast. These fantasies usually end too soon for your liking but that's always because you're the one folding first, legs shaking and nails digging blunt marks into his arms when he makes you see stars. You're getting close to that mark now, yet you've barely even started.

Leon suddenly holds his hand up to your throat, fingers splayed over your delicate neck to squeeze it with a growl low in his throat. "Don't ever leave me again. Promise me." At your absent reply he tightens his grip harder, and the stars in your eyes have you choking out an answer that isn't good enough. "Promise me I'm the only one. Swear on your life you won't choose him over me."

"I-I promise! Leon, p-please, I promise! I-I'm coming to–c-cumming, Lee!" You cry, overwhelmed as you look up with wet, hazy eyes at the man you've always loved. The black veins start spreading across his golden skin, and his own gaze grows cold and dark before a sudden pulse turns his irises to a bright, piercing red. The killing blow comes with a chuckle as his lips curl into a sinister smirk, and his hips plummet down to meet yours in a cacophony of sounds that will echo in your mind for days on end, just before he stills and a shudder rolls through his body. As tight as he says you are, he never fails to press himself deep enough that he releases that pent-up desire as close to your womb as possible.

"Mine. All mine. You promised."

In the next moment of bliss settling in and a groan erupting from his throat, the world blots out into darkness and you jolt up from the floor with a start.

"Shit!"

The curse just flies from your mouth on instinct, the heat having disappeared and the pressure of a body on top of you making way for cold, aching emptiness. An uncomfortably warm, sticky wetness pooled between your legs has your attention immediately, but you've got no choice but to cringe and ignore the discomfort for now. Your breathing labours in your chest for minutes upon strained minutes before eventually quieting, and only then do you groan and shift in your spot to glance at the time just to remember that you aren't in your bed nor at home. As you would hope not, considering how stiff your back is from sleeping on the ground.

Without windows it's impossible to tell just how long you've slept, and a glance around the empty room offers no clues either. So when you manage to get up and stretch, the only thing you notice fluttering down from where you'd let go of it is that same photo of yourself and Leon–with that dream in the back of your head, however, you can't bring yourself to look at him and shove it back into the plastic holder in your wallet.

Still, with that being a normal practice for you being around the person you've been harbouring feelings for, that dream in itself was stranger than most. The last thing you want is to dwell on it right this minute, but Leon's words still echo in your head regardless; what did he mean when he spoke those words? Did they have a shred of truth to them, or were they just the frantic machinations of your brain still trying to make sense of his death?

Either way, you don't really want to know. You just want to leave this place altogether–but with that option out the window, the least you can do is leave this church and get some fresh air. With the skill and briskness of a trained agent, you gather your things and briskly slip on your newly-dried clothes downstairs, a few bites of a protein bar all you need to sustain you at least for a couple hours.

Upon pushing on the heavy entrance doors, the crack of light between them opens up into a bright horizon with the sun beating down on the soil, the burst of morning light blinding you temporarily as you take those first few steps outside. It's just long enough for your surroundings to come into focus that you get a whiff of the humid air–and in seconds your nose scrunches up, the foul stench of decay pervading your senses in the instant that it takes for you to take a look around.

Lying in droves around the cemetery, piles at the bottom of the hill, and strung in pieces all around your feet, are the bodies of the Ganados. The sight of it strickens you immediately with shock, but then nauseates you to the point of clutching your mouth to keep what little food you brought from coming back up.

The corpses have been strewn around like some sort of macabre dollhouse; lying in pieces splayed every which way, facedown in the grave dirt or strung up in the trees for the crows to peck at. Some have been gutted and others dismembered. A few have their heads missing. Intestines and gore lie in bloody wake around the site of the massacre, sticking to the soles of your boots from one step into the aftermath, and you want to vomit. God, how can you not want to vomit at the sight of it all? What god could be so cruel, even to monsters?

It's sickening to the point of panic–run, you just want to turn tail and run far, far away, but your destination hasn't been decided quite yet. Ideally you would have sat down with your map and plotted it out, found your next objective, maybe would've scoped out the closest place to rest once you're finished your search. You would've been thorough and confident like any rescuer should be.

But the cowardice in your heart screams louder than courage. In a moment, you're rushing down the path and running out the gate, frantic in shoving it open just enough to slide yourself through but too disturbed to look back towards the carnage. In seconds the church is far behind you, and in a matter of minutes you're on a new path you haven't yet considered the danger of.

All you know is that you want out of this place, you want to go home–even though home has been within arm's reach since you got here. It's never too far away, especially when you inevitably follow the road that leads right towards that infamous castle gate, and your destiny.