#beni-draw-ikemen-please

[scummy-writes]

Scum talks about OCs

In this I'm just going to go over my Ocs in sections of their own. I'm not really using a special Oc template, I'm just talking about them and what fics they appear in, because to be blunt, I do write 'reader inserts', but some fics are written with these ocs in mind even if they're not detailed out specifically.

I'm just chatting about for fun, this will not change how I write currently. I would not expect fanfics about these characters specifically.

Amélie - Drawn by @beni-draw-ikemen-please. (Full picture is her in a chair with Isaac sittin on the arm of it, and Arthur resting his head on her lap <3 I love it)

Anju, made with a Picrew here. I think her expression is a bit too gentle here, and she would mainly wear warmer yellows or cool toned blues, not the shirt in the image.

SS from Prince of my WIP OC for it, since she's fuckin impossible to make on picrews. Her current name is Constance.

I am honestly surprised people showed some interest in this, so bear with me through my bumbling please. A lot of these say 'mc' but they are 'reader insert' fics still. Previous fandoms had 'mc' interchangable with 'reader' so...

If you have any questions, feel free to ask, just know I might not have all the answered.

╰❧ Amélie

Amélie has been around for a few years, and Beni has been a saint for letting me comm her to draw her. Because of this, I was able to make a character profile for her Here. Additionally, a much older one Here that details some vague things about her past, and including her past with Sebastian (Childhood friends).

-> Fanfics she has been 'in': Breathless Discoveries (Isaac/Mc), Mental Gravity (Isaac/Mc), Blessed Accidents (Isaac/Mc), Exercise in Restraint (Isaac/Mc), Temptations (Arthur/Mc), A Helping Hand (Arthur/Mc), His (Theo/Mc), Playful Punishments [vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Midnight Impulses [Vaguely] (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Musings (Isaac/Mc), Oral Prompt with Isaac, First Steps (Isaac/Mc), The Talk (Isaac/Mc), The Shirt Thief (Isaac/Mc), Isaac Overworking (Isaac/Mc/Arthur), Awkward Dates (Isaac/Mc), and likely some other small drabbles I have missed...!

─❧ Summary: (Brief mentions of abuse/SA/Trauma but not explicit details)

A lot of her general background is covered in the second character profile I linked above. It sounds vague, and well! That is because it is a bit traumatic. I don't want to gloss over the fact that she has been through a lot, primarily SA, but I don't like focusing entirely on it to where that is the Only thing about her. Her previous job was ... an 'idol'? I never fleshed it out fully, due to self embarassment, but I wanted her to be a singer with a 'small' following, who got connected with shitty producers and signed a contract way too young without understanding the full implications of it, which caused most of her money to not actually be Hers. Due to her parents strongly against her career choice, going as far as rushing a contract ended up having her cut off from her family. With Sebastian gone, her support network disappeared completely.

She Vaguely goes over this in Patchworked Pieces (be mindful of tags), which was supposed to be a full fanfic detailing her story, but I am not meant for long fanfics at all so I posted what scenes I had typed enough with. on the chapter On Failed Attempts, she details a bit more of her experiences.

How she met Comte was through the normal opening of visiting the muesuem. She did it under distress and wanting a distraction, she was weighing options and considing some pretty awful things! I like to think Comte could tell she was beside herself and trying to calm down a little. I like to think he could sense the distress and the thing she was contemplating, and led her back to the mansion.

Which! Is rocky. She's terrified of everyone, until she sees Sebastian, and he helps ease her into her mansion life. She never tells Sebastian what she went through, due to worries and fears that he would manage to blame himself. So in her story, he never finds out.

Isaac is the primary person who knows some details, but not everything. She'd tell both him and Arthur some bare minimums, just so that when things got intimate, her panic attacks for 'random' reasons wouldn't make them believe it was because of them.

As for how they all entangle with each other? Well... Amélie is not what brings them together, necessarily.

Before she arrives, Arthur attempts to get close to Isaac. It is platonic at first, perhaps he had a crush on him but waves it off. But alcohol is introduced, they start 'drinking' together (Isaac is still a lightweight so he barely builds up his tolerance, mostly keeps Arthur some company), and...They get too tipsy and adventurous with each other. Arthur gets ashamed immediately. Not out of doing things with another man, because it was clear he was using Isaac to get over some trauma. So he avoids, hides, and their friendship crumbles.

And after that is when Amélie stumbles into the mansion.

Her friendship with Isaac is the most prevelant. And after getting on a better start with Arthur, they end up slowly getting entangled with each other. Isaac, unfortunately, deals with the brunt of her panic attacks. Finds scars, attempts to heal them.

It's through healing that they all twine together. Helping each other face their traumas, face what happened between them all.

Ironically, her love for singing was bounced in and out of the story. I wanted a few scenes where she tries to play in one of the many secluded rooms in the mansion- finds an old piano while cleaning, places a few notes. But I don't think she'd be able to any time soon. I think she would need a break for a year or two, before she started exploring music again. Or anything super creative.

I like to imagine that she is friends with a majority of the residents. When she is faring better, she paints with Leonardo and Vincent. She listens to Mozart play, reads what Dazai and Arthur write, so on so forth. I want her to live in a house with Arthur and Isaac, later on, visiting the mansion weekly or every two weeks, happy with her new life.

Sometimes I pair her with Theo, because I think they could help each other, but I think she is fated to be with Isaac and Arthur.

In AUs, I like to imagine Anju as her older friend. Anju does not tolerate a lot of bullshit with Amélie, and would be a bit like a guard dog. But. an unassuming one. She would treat Arthur very harshly until he proves himself. (I am unsure if I ever posted it, but I wrote a few chapters to go with This Au Fic for Isaac week. The second chapter, Anju was supposed to be a witch to help Amélie out after some events [was gonna have Isaac die and then it turn into a reincarnation au thing where they meet again in modern day, and in modern day Anju was gonna be around], and Anju has to help her move forward.)

I've been typing this on and off for a few hours and I am struggling with some details HAHA for now, I will stop here. She's the one OC that has a lot out there for her.

Oh. Amélie is not her 'real' name, but it is now. I am unsure if it is in poor taste or not, but in an attempt to heal she abandoned a lot of her old life. Not Herself, but trying to let go of the past until she could confront it more. She goes by Amélie until the end of her days, and only Sebas and likely Comte know her old name.

╰❧ Anju

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Training Theo (Theo/Reader)

─❧ Summary: (Vague mentions of parental issues)

OoooOOoooOh Anju....anju....wails.

She is such a complicated Oc for me. She was originally for Shingen in ikes*n (i dont want this on the tags on accident). I still debate if the character she is now still stems from that relationship or not. Because if so, that means she left the past and came back to the present because her and Shingen didn't work out. Not in a TERRIBLE way but probably a sad mutual understanding.

It's either that, or she's just pretty sour from general past relationships not working out.

I like to imagine that she is in her thirties, and that she lives in a neighborhood where everyone knows each other in friendly ways. She is a 'seamstress' just due to how Sengoku has that set up for the Mc. I decied that her grandmother taught her how to sew, and her grandmother owned a small shop to repair peoples clothes and sew clothes for commission as well (i know nothing about how this works so). She would help her grandmother at her shop, and later on when her grandmother passed, she would take over the shop.

As for her parents, I never fully fleshed them out. I just know her mother was constantly comparing herself to other children/people around her, and that their relationship dissolved to the point of Anju refusing to aknowledge her as a mother any longer. The crux of this would cause Anju to move the shop to a different location completely to sever ties. (not move physically, but open another shop elsewhere after funds were saved with the same name).

For Vamp, she relocates her ass to France for Reasons. And here is where it is... well. I don't think a shop like this could exist, but i wish it would. pls spare me from laughs HAHA

The shop I always imagined is the type where the ground floor is the shop, and upstairs is where Anju lives. So upstairs would house her kitchen, living room, and Bedroom and bathroom, a balcony connected to the kitchen would be. great. Lower floor would have the shop, her sewing area, a room to hang up comms and etc, and the 'front' of the shop. Front of the shop is the porch and the actual like...foyer area....of the shop.

She spends a lot of her time sitting in the foyer area at a desk, if she is not actively working on sewing. .....I like to imagine she has a small sitting area set up there for people (children, family, friends, partners, etc) waiting while whoever she is working on measurements and etc with is getting their stuff. With....a lil coffee/tea area....very very small like a coffee maker and some stuff....but cozy vibes... (and she wanted a coffee machine near her while working).

She'll sit on the porch often in the mornings while waiting for customers or going through shop bills and whatever, and that is how she meets Arthur in a modern day setting. By him taking 'Vic' (or whatever pet he is on now) on a walk, Vic escaping, and running up to Anju because he wants pets HAHA.

For first meeting, Anju thinks Arthur is cute, but recognizes the fuckboy tendances. However, i feel like at this point of living as a vampire for so long, Arthur wouldn't be how he is in the game currently. As in, not entirely as self destructive and a smidgen more at peace with himself, but still has the tendencies. She doesn't think too much on the meeting, loves Vic though, and goes from there...

But Arthur doesn't. He gets hung up on her a little, and finds excuses to run into her a bit more. Nothing crazy, but primarily just walking Vic by there and seeing if he can catch her on the porch again, waving, exchanging greetings and pets for Vic. It would turn into him eventually finding an excuse to get some clothing mended, which she can very easily tell is bullshit, but she entertains it because... he's respectful the whole time. She enjoys the company and the innocent flirting.

It comes to a clusterfuck when they spot each other at a bar though. Where he sees how differently she's dressed, where it's clear she's looking for one night stands and nothing else. (He is also alarmed at her smoking HAHA). Arthur doesn't do much with this information, but she immediately tries shutting him out because. Well, she isn't ashamed to have casual sex with others, but she doesn't want the fuckboy tendancies to come back for him. She doesn't want this fake relationship to delve into sex and nothing more. So she puts up walls, and Arthur has to slowly take them down. And it is a rocky thing, because Anju is so independant and refuses to rely on anyone else, so it's a LOT of trouble HAHA a lot of dramatics.

They do fuck, because well they both enjoy sex so why not!!!!! but ah. it's complicated. I think I have a scene of that somewhere. I cannot remember if I have that happen before or after him visiting her home/shop at night when he's drunk. I think it was before.

But Arthur was supposed to go to her place, drunk, because she has such a schedule with her shop/hobbies that it's easy to piece together that she's home, and she essentially lets him stay over in pity because he's wailing about messing up his friendship with Theo.

From there it turns into awkward, more up in the air things. I played with her getting with Arthur only, Theo only, Arthur and Theo, or even Vincent! But the Arthur/Theo subplot would have been too similar to the Isaac/Arthur one in Amélie's story. (Sorry for causing you so much distress, Arthur).

I like to imagine her in her shop. Arthur flirting with her while the neighborhood granny laughs at her attempts to ignore the flirting.

╰❧ Constance

-> Fanfics she's been 'in': Sinking (Gilbert/Reader) [Descriptions of Self Harm], First Time (Gilbert/Reader), Chev comforts Mc

─❧ Summary: (Mentions of self harm, abuse)

Constance....! Is still a running name. I may change it, I may not. I'm unsure about her appearance, I know I want her to have the split hair and to dress in similar colors though, but her eyecolor I am so conflicted on...

But...! Her story is still being fleshed out, and she has changed a lot. She is now strictly for Gilbert, whereas she was supposed to be a flexible oc for either Clavis or Gilbert. (Maybe she still could be?)

So far, her story is still like Emma's so far. her and Rio friends for years, Akatsuki taking her in, etc. In my mind, she doesn't know who her parents are and is somewhat in peace of that.

I've bounced around a lot with her though, to where the Rio and Akatsuki being in her BG makes little sense. i've wanted her to be someone who writes and sings, but does not preform and instead has a friend that preforms for her. Where they have private sessions of Constance singing and exampling some of the dancing to her friend, and later on watching her friend preform the songs and bringing her visions to life. (i like this a lot but it feels...odd.)

I want her carrying a notebook around the palace, filled with her drawings and songwriting. Far in the journal, there is drawings of Gilbert- not because she knows him, but because long before she saw him slinking around Rhodolite and drew him out of facination of how he looked (did not piece together he was a Scary Dude). (would add a lot of fuel to fire if anyone saw those drawings COUGHS)

In another bouncing, I have her as a secret wrtier/artist that writes songs that are never preformed. I thought it would be funny if she wrote the erotica that Jin apparently reads??? I can never fgure out if thats canon or not because i never see it Mentioend in the game.

In both possible backgrounds for her, she is still a quiet and reserved person who suffers from a lot of depression, and struggles with herself a lot. The two toned hair was for fun at first, but now I'm realizing it would probably be a good symbol for her inner issues. How she has a lot of 'darkness' inside of her, that she feels disgusted by and upset with, while there is a purity she wishes she had (but fails to come to terms with how that is unreasonable).

To be paired with Clavis, she was supposed to be much more shy, and his antics were supposed to draw her out of her shell more.

But now it's more solidifies that she will be primarily paired with Gilbert due to the purity/darkness thing. She is a little dramatic in her thoughts with that, and is now a bit more serious toned rather than her shyness being played for antics.

She believes Gilbert over his refusal to 'lie', and that draws her in a lot.

Discussion of self harming/SA, when text is blue I am finished.

Something I am struggling with is that with many Ocs, i often have them go through some sexual trauma just due to it being an outlet for myself (i have also had sexual trauma). This may be why you see some themes of this in some fanfics I write, where there is something the reader is struggling with sexually and the suitor is extremely patient with them- it's usually tied to stuff like this (unsure of how obvious that is since no one ever says anything! which feels like an act of kindness, if it is obvious).

For her, I am struggling with adding that into her background as something that is fairly recent with her. Rio doesn't know, she refuses to tell him, and his fondness of her and constantly...hm...i don't mean this poorly, but building her up to be so 'perfect' sometimes causes a lot of issues when she reflects on herself, and she uses those words against herself often.

I don't know if the self harm would be. Due to that SA event or not. I don't know if this is soemthing that has plagued her for years, or if it spiked as her emotions got out of control.

Gilbert would not know. I don't really care if JP spoilers suggest otherwise, as there are already hints that make it clear he doesn't know Everything (he just knows a Lot). A lot of their relationship would be them struggling with self harm and the SA. A lot of her trust gets put into him (even if she dislikes it), because he doesn't lie to her like others do, and it is a comfort. (blah blah gilbert does lie blah blah)

It's hard to explain their relationship. I assume i'll have more figured out as his route comes out. Right now, she's who I imagine when I write some stuff with him, but not all of it.

With Clavis, the relationship would have been more healthy, and so would she. I think she would still struggle with both things, as it could be used as a mutual understanding when they discuss needing to be loved fully and not half-heartedly.

That is a rough gist of what I have for her? I have been typing this for hours and I am running out of steam.

Annnd....That is that! At least for now. Another detail I will share for all of them is that they are all bi :) All my ocs are always bi.

Again, you guys are free to ask questions. I may update this over time as well. I don't really want criticisms for my ocs though since you guys don't actually deal with them past them popping up as the voice for some reader insert fics. they just sorta rot in my brain and I get comms of them at times.

[not-krys]

Seasonal Vibes Meme

So, saw a prompt on twitter about what seasonal vibes a character/ship gives off, so I think it'd be a fun question for here and a good writing exercise:

What seasonal vibes does your OC / squish / ship give off? Are they like spring or winter? Can also include not so traditionally thought of seasons, like the rainy season, harvest season, winter/spring thaw, a local holiday season, bug season, etc.

For those that wanna do this too, you can do your OC (fandom or original), or even just your favorite fictional squish at the moment.

For those that wanna do ships, sky's also the limit. MC x canon, OC x canon, canon x canon, selfship x canon, romantic or platonic, doesn't matter, just whatever the seasonal vibe is with a lil blerb as to why that is.

No pressure tagging: @lorei-writes, @kissmetwicekissmedeadly, @scummy-writes, @honeybyte, @batteryrose, @drachonia, @limonzu, @tsundere-mitsuhide, and anyone else that's wants to play.

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Houki/Mitsunari (IkeSen): Spring, Sweet blossoming beginnings. Both are discovering new things around them (Houki quite literally as she's from a different world all together, Mitsunari learning about love and confidence) and while there may be storms along the way, they help each other blossom into themselves.

(plus it doesn't help that @beni-draw-ikemen-please drew them surrounded by cherry blossoms a while back, so I'll always think of them with the springtime vibes)

---

Ophelia/Kennyo (IkeSen): Late Winter/Early Spring Thaw. Times of deep turmoil coming to an end so that something new and wonderful can grow. They both have troubling things happen to them in the past, but as time passes, they learn to grow as people and to put the harsh times behind them so they can have hope for the future.

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Thea/Theo/Arthur (IkeVamp): Summer. Time of high heat and fun adventures. They bicker and tease each other a lot of the time, but they never turn down having an adventure together. Whether that adventure consists of solving some small mystery in town, walking hand in hand in hand through an art gallery they helped set up together, or challenging each other in cards or arm wrestling in the gaming room, they never forget that doing it together is the best part of any adventure.

---

Abby/Vincent (IkeVamp): Autumn. Change and reflection on the times of the past. Abby goes through a lot changes in her life, Vincent being present for a lot of her later changes, sometimes even triggering them himself. But he always wants to be a part of her life, especially after he lost her the first time, putting a change in him that rippled across all the lives they had connected with before.

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Maddie/Harr (IkeRev): Early Summer. Not as young as they used to be to be like spring, but still want to have the fun they had/didn't have in their youths. Harr is a hardened academic at his core and Maddie is discovering magic for the first time, three decades into her life. They have insatiable curiosity despite not being spring chickens anymore. Their lives are shaped by their pasts yet they still want to explore the world and discover more of its mysteries and wonders.

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Clara/Nokto (IkePri): Rainy Season. The sun after the rain is much more beautiful than the sun before the rain. At first, Clara hated Nokto. She hated him for taking advantage of her and for putting her in situations she felt she had no business being a part of. However, once his masks were washed away, as it were, she saw who he was underneath. How much this man actually cared, about the kingdom and about her despite his wicked ways. How tightly he held her when he opened up about his insecurities, about how much better everyone else was compared to the jester he made himself out to be. How he didn't deserve the ray of sunshine she was, how jealous he was about her open and honest ways. How much he wished he could be like her. And once the rain stopped and the sun came out again, they found the other much more beautiful drenched but smiling. That though they went through some hard times, they still came through the storms to see light again.

---

Miri (Obey Me): Spring, She doesn’t have a set suitor yet, but the ones that I have romantically shipped her with (and with all her platonic ships too), she has the aura of spring: sweet, innocent, blossoming love, sometimes a little unpredictable in the newness of everything. She wants to be kind to everyone, even if it sometimes is a detriment to herself. She wants to do right by the three realms, even if that sentiment maybe a little naïve compared to others who have lived through harder times than she has. Yet her newness and fresh outlook has changed some of even the toughest of opponents and has helped heal and soothe even the bloodiest wounds of the past. She's bringing about positive change in a world that doesn't want change but desperately needs it.

[krys-does-art-stuff]

inspired by @beni-draw-ikemen-please's instagram story about posting your art from 2013 (and curling up at the realization that that was 10 years ago), and I wanted to do it too, so here's my stuff 2013! Love the colored pencil work from this era!

Anatomy is kinda sus tho, lol.

The comment of hands and adding more curls still stands tho

Various months, 2013

[yanderepuck]

HERE ME OUT

His belt unbuckled

@beni-draw-ikemen-please 👀👀

[redheadkittys]

...my gamer room is finally done🥰and i'm very happy how it turned out 😚...

...a very big thanks to @beni-draw-ikemen-please bc looook how good mitsuhide and leonardo (Pic above) look on my wall🥰...and also at @meowlayn-art♥️do you spy tobias and gael there😉

...and always a big 😘😘😘 for @lydskisses bc i'm buying things for years now at her little store and it was always a pleasure😍...so if you search for otome merch go to her blog...

[loptyrs-moved]

I commissioned @beni-draw-ikemen-please to do my little meow meow oc, Leona Flores, and her significant idiot.

She did such a beautiful job I'm still emotional over it. Thank you so much Beni🧡

[dear-mrs-otome]

Quand on Parle du Loup - Ikevamp (Jean, AU)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Jean x female MC Warnings: ANGST. Blood, slight gore, horror, character death Summary: When a small village in 18th century France is stalked by a beast, at what price is peace bought? (~4k words, angst, historical/horror AU) Author’s Note: Hey everyone, this was my piece for the @ikevampzine​ - the theme of the zine was ‘mythology’ and so I opted to play around with the idea of the historical folklore surrounding the story of the Beast of Gévaudan. (If you have never heard of it, go google it! It’s a fascinating little interlude in history!) I was nervous because angst isn’t my usual playground but I had a lot of fun with this. I was also blessed enough to collaborate with @beni-draw-ikemen-please​ for some amazing art to go alongside it as well, and I thank her for being such a fantastic inspiration! Please see her full piece in all its glory at the end of this story!!

It slunk between the tables and conversations, stalked on silent paws the wisps of woodsmoke that curled from the blackened fireplace, and growled in the echo of every unsettled laugh that bounced back from the oaken rafters overhead.

Not here, not in the sense that mattered, but omnipresent. On everyone’s lips and hearts and minds.

La Bête

The Beast.

“I heard it took another shepherd last week, ‘round La Besseyre-Saint-Mary,” a snaggle-toothed man said quietly to his benchmate as she walked past, laden down by a heavy tray of food and drink. “Saints preserve us.” He crossed himself, and then spat on the tacky floor as if for good measure. 

“Saints indeed. The Lord knows we need all the help we can get,” his companion agreed with a rueful twist of his lips. “I thought it was gone for sure, after the marquis’ men caught that big ‘un and showed it off. It went quiet for awhile…but the past couple of months haven’t been so quiet, have they? They must have had the wrong wolf.”

“Did you ever notice though…” The first man broke off, casting his eye about suspiciously, before leaning towards his companion conspiratorially, his voice dropping low enough that she struggled to listen in. “Things really only seem bad around the full moon? Unnatural, I tell you. They say it’s just a wolf, but I’m not so sure.”

Shaking her head at their superstition, she breezed past, angling for the darkness of a corner sequestered far from the light and liveliness of the fireplace. The table she finally stopped at was occupied by only one man - unusual at this busy hour, but no matter how many times she’d seen him come in he always sat alone. Perhaps it was the heavy air he gave off, the way his thoughts seemed walled away behind the tooled leather of an eyepatch. Or perhaps it was the gleaming sword strapped to his hip, and the fine cut of clothing above it. Far finer than any rough homespun worn around these parts.

Everyone else had given him a wide berth since he’d rolled into town some six months back in the employ of the Marquis d’Apcher - as some sort of sellsword, they all had assumed. That hadn’t stopped him from coming to the tavern regularly though, despite their disdain, a pattern that screamed of perpetual bachelorhood.

“Monsieur Jean.” She set his usual beer and bowl of stew down in front of him, along with her usual smile.

He offered her his usual reserved reply. “Please. Just Jean is fine.”

“Very well…’Just Jean’.” It was a ridiculous joke, the same exchange they had nearly every evening, and yet she continued to toss it at him because it never failed to bring a spark of something to his dark eyes. Like summer lightning folded deep within bruised thunderheads. A secret swift flash that brought her inordinate pride.

At a nearby table, voices raised again, cursing the evil that stalked their town, and she caught a wince tightening the lines of Jean’s mouth.

“They’re talking about it again. I mean, what else do they ever talk about?” She shifted her weight and leaned a hip against the scarred tabletop so that she could bend enough to keep their conversation close. “Said someone disappeared the next village over. But you’ll find it,” she told him. She was certain that hunting the beast that terrorized their land was the only thing that would bring a man like him to a sleepy village like this - and was certain he was as frustrated as the rest of them with the lack of progress.

“Perhaps.” His soft murmur of agreement barely carried over the din, and she wondered if she had only imagined the thread of melancholy stitched within it.

Unthinking, she laid her hand over his to squeeze it reassuringly, and then froze when she realized what she had done. Waiting for him to pull his own back and brick himself once more behind the bulwark of silence he always sheltered behind. There was a faint flex, the dance of tension in his fingers…but to her utter surprise he didn’t move. He didn’t turn his hand over to receive her gesture - but he didn’t reject it either. 

She looked up from their layered fingers to find his gaze, for once, fixed squarely on hers, and it was dizzying to be the unwavering subject of that midnight intensity.

“Tomorrow is the Sabbath,” he began, almost hesitantly. “After church, are you free?” There was an awkward beat where she wondered what his intentions were exactly in asking, before he seemed to sense her confusion and hastened to fill the loaded silence, slipping his hand from beneath hers to wrap them both around his mug. “I noticed you often walk alone. It’s not safe, least of all now. I thought...perhaps…I could show you a few ways to keep yourself safer.”

“You’d be willing to do that?” She blinked, taken aback by his unexpected offer. 

His gaze shifted back to the ale between his hands, the barest ripple of a shrug moving across his frame. “It was just a thought. You are free to refuse.”

“I’m not saying no,” she hurried to answer. “That’d be very kind of you. To be honest, it is terrifying. But I also wish there was something I could do too, if I came across the beast. I know it’s ridiculous to think that one tavern wench could-”

“I’ve seen stranger things.” His interjection cut her self-depreciation off, and when she searched his face there was no mockery there. Only an earnest, fervent sort of frankness that humbled her. “It takes only a single grain of sand to tip a scale. One soldier to win a war.”

She had to duck her head then, to keep him from seeing the pleased smile that plucked at her lips. “All right, then I accept. Thank you.”

------

The sun had climbed high by the time church let out, pressing down on her shoulders like the weight of a hot heavy hand. Against the golden backdrop of an autumn field, Jean stood dark like a drop of ink, as cool and composed as ever where he leaned against the low stone wall.

“You came again.”

She had to wonder at the way he sounded almost surprised. This was the third week they had met like this now, after his first offer nearly a month ago.  “Of course I came. There’s too much going on for me to just...not.” 

He made a small noncommittal sound and then crossed towards her, his long legs eating up the distance. “Do you remember where we left off last time?” he asked, immediately all business. In his hand was the spear that had rested beside him and he offered it to her, haft first, the keen edge of its spade-tipped head winking coolly in the hot sun. 

She nodded and took it hesitantly, adjusting her grip on the grain of the handle until it felt comfortable in her hand. “I think so.” The spear is the weapon of the humble, he had told her on that first day. It is the great equalizer.

There was a stack of hay nearby and she turned to it, setting her jaw as she ran over their past lessons in her mind, Jean’s calm voice echoing in her recollections.

Set your feet.

Keep your weight toward your toes.

Bend your knees, hands shoulder-width apart. 

She drew a breath that carried the sweet smell of drying grass with it and lashed out with the tip, slicing a few of the nearest blades neatly off.  

“Your balance is good. You’ve been practicing. But -” He stepped behind her, arms braced alongside hers for support, hands resting atop her own until they were cradling the spear in their shared grip. “Always keep your lead arm steady.”

He guided her again into a careful stroke to illustrate, and she was reminded that this was a man who had made a life of war. In the muted strength of his grip, in the tensile musculature of the frame that bracketed her own, was the testament to a body flayed by battle into something pure of purpose. 

Beneath their combined hands, the fluid arc of her swing trimmed another few inches from the hay bales effortlessly.

His tiny grunt of exertion brushed over the sweat-clung curls at the nape of her neck, warm and cool at the same time, and she was abruptly aware of how close they were. The slightest turn of her head brought his face into view, scarcely more than a murmur away from her own, and she froze.

His skin was flawless, almost porcelain in its perfection save for whatever flaw lay behind that eyepatch. His features classic and refined. When she had first seen Jean, in the low light of the tavern, she had mistaken him for a woman - a mistake only corrected when she had heard his mild baritone. 

Yet even under the unflinching midday sun, he was still something undefinable. Beauty freed from the restriction of labels. As transcendent and timeless as the faces of the angels she saw in church every Sunday, carved of marble and of stained glass, perched on windows and above the pews watching over the parishioners. Divine and touched by God.

Her heart forgot how to keep its own time as the dark lashes on his good eye swept up, and the night sky of his gaze warmed ever so slightly as it met hers, like the slow break of dawn.

They both stalled, and the hand curled above the flare of her hip suddenly seemed to burn her through so many layers of cloth as the thought occurred to her that all she had to do was lean and she would finally know what those elegant lips felt like against her own.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked to distract herself from the temptation, her half breathless words giving voice to the question that had plagued her the past few weeks. “Why teach me all this?”

He dropped her hand and took a swift, safe step back, raking unsteady fingers through his long hair. For long moments she thought he wouldn’t answer at all, before he finally spoke. “Have you heard of the loup-garou?”

“A man, that becomes a wolf.” It would have been impossible not to, given the wild stories that passed through the lips of drunken men. “Surely you’re not saying...” She began on a laugh, but it withered away to nothing when his face remained impassive.

“The loup-garou is a scourge. A wolf but not, a man but not. Smarter, stronger, faster than any beast framed by the hand of God. It is the devil’s work.” Jean practically spat the words as he prowled a deliberate step forward, and she had to fight the urge to take an answering one back. His eye fixed on hers, hard and dark and cutting as a flake of obsidian. “A wretched cursed thing, damned to crave flesh. They say -” He broke off, almost as if wrestling with something, before finishing his thought. “They say it kills those it loves first.”

She licked dry lips, and tried to find her voice. “How do you stop it?”

He gestured toward the weapon in her hands with a rueful lilt to his words. “A sharp blade, and a lot of luck.”

“I don’t believe in monsters.” She shook her head vehemently, as if she could wish the idea away if she only denied it hard enough. Wish away all those dark grumblings that swirled around the tavern each night. “A wolf is a wolf is a wolf. God would not be so cruel as to damn a soul like that.”

A smile crossed his face then, quick and fleeting and full of something so akin to despair that it seemed more a grimace to her. “Humor me then, mademoiselle. Believe it or don’t, as you see fit.” He pressed the spear into her lax hands, until she was forced to grip it tighter. Cold and ominous, like a length of ice in her curled fingers. “But let us both agree that God helps those who help themselves.” 

------

The moon hung high when she left the tavern late the following night. Round and pendulous, it stared at her from between the trees as she waved a goodbye to the tavernkeep and tugged on the leather gloves she’d had tucked in a pocket. 

Shadows crawled across the dirt track that led toward her house on the fringe of the small village, in time with the swaying of the trees overhead, and the breeze they danced on waltzed with the ends of her hair as well, loosened by the evening’s toils. As she turned to pick up the stave leaning beside the back door, a far-off owl let out a melancholy trill.

It was all very tranquil, and she felt more than a bit foolish as she walked, armed to the teeth with weapons she scarcely knew how to use and jumping at every sound. 

Then, in the distance - a sound that raked cold claws down her spine.

The cresting ululation of a wolf’s howl.

Even without Jean’s fanciful tales, the sound sank a quarrel of panic into the base part of her brain, the one still firmly rooted in a time where mankind was decidedly prey and not predator. She tightened her grip on the haft she held so that she wouldn’t notice her own trembling fingers, and pressed on.

Then it came again, from the next rise nearer. Echoing down the gully and wood, as if funneled straight to her. 

As if whatever dreadful throat had borne that sound were coming straight toward her.

Her footfalls turned over faster, racing the occasional scudding cloud overhead as fear prodded her on, her heart squeezing out beat after frenzied beat from within the confines of her throat. The leather of her gloves grew slick inside with sweat from her palm, and she switched her grip on the spear to her other hand, flexing away the clammy dampness as best she could. 

Almost home, almost home...she clung to the little litany, as the howling drew closer and underbrush crackled off in the distance.

She saw the eyes first.

Flickering between the bushes like flames, the faint dry-bone rasp of dead brush accompanying it as it paced her effortlessly. A time or two it disappeared and she was left running alone, her heart pounding so hard it scarcely felt as if it had unclenched enough to take another beat - only for those ghastly twin fires to reignite, moments later, on the other side. Back and forth, back and forth, until a sudden realization had the prickles of a cold sweat break out on her back.

Mother of God...it was toying with her. As if it were some great cat rather than a wolf, amusing itself with her attempts to escape. Feeding off her fear as if it were an amuse bouche. The delectable prequel to a feast.

This, more than anything, convinced her that Jean had been right. This…this beast...was no creature of God. 

This was something born of hell. Nature marred by the devil’s own fingerprints.

Maybe that was the realization that finally turned her spine to steel. Jean had been right about the wolf - and that meant perhaps he had been right about her. He knew she could handle herself.

A single grain of sand.

Her feet scuffed lightly on the dirt of the path as she skidded to an abrupt halt, the sound of her own ragged breath the only thing filling her ears. Whatever the creature was, wherever the creature was, it seemed to be content to simply watch. And wait.

"Show yourself." She hated the tiny tremor that wove itself into her voice. Hated more the ridiculous inexplicable feeling that the creature might somehow understand her. 

It came, after a breath held so long her lungs began to ache. Parting the underbrush like a leviathan breaching the sea, black as sin with brimstone eyes. A mouthful of bristling fangs and a growl that scraped painfully deep on the ears, like the slow crumble of a mountain. It paced forward until the watery light shone on it fully, and she couldn’t have stifled the gasp that left her if she tried at the sheer size of it.

Against the inside of her ribs, her heart bruised itself painfully, and the fingers that clutched at her stave gripped it ever tighter, fighting against the terror that numbed them. The first few syllables of a Hail Mary tumbled from her lips, unbidden, to spill between them.

The beast paced the liminal wash of moonlight restlessly, dappled by shadow. A step toward her and then a turn back, pausing on occasion to sway its great shaggy head. The faintest of whines escaped the cage of its teeth, its ears pinned back flat to its skull as it met her eyes and stood, nearly motionless, fine tremors quaking its back as if shaking away the irritation of invisible flies.

She held that monstrous gaze, and it felt like walking into an open flame. Scorching and breathless as if the gates of hell swept themselves open to usher her in.

“What do you want?” she asked. It remained motionless, and the repetition tore itself from her throat, her voice breaking lest her nerve did. “What do you want?!” 

It didn’t answer, of course. The only thing her voice did was to snap whatever indecisive spell it had seemed to linger under. 

In a blink, the wolf leapt, and time seemed to perch on a glassine pedestal. So many things whirling at once until the moment shattered into countless shards, past and present and future all splintered and shuffled, like a broken mirror at her feet. Offering tiny refractions without answers.

The dark shape of the beast, blotting out the moon.

A howl, mournful and defiant, raking ragged claws across her concentration to shred it.

A slavering maw gaping open like the summation of all her misdeeds, snarling and ready to swallow her whole.

Then. 

A hand over her own, firm and steadying.

The sweet hot waft of hay in the sun, and a voice like clover honey in her ear, saying -

Set your feet. Set your feet.

Set your feet.

She did, and the rest of the motion flowed unquestioningly, earned over so many late-summer afternoons. The hard wood biting into her ribcage, nearly knocking the wind out of her as she took the brunt of the beast’s pounce squarely on the point. A strange sort of resistance that shivered up the shaft she held, until it punched through on a sucking, wet-clay sound, grating nauseatingly against bone as it went. Crimson bloomed and ran down the wood onto her arms, dripping from the beast and her own elbow, red-black as the secret heart of an unfurling rose. Splashing and scattering about like crushed petals to pit the dusty ground beneath her feet.

Teeth snapped shut inches from her face, pink and frothed with blood. And above it all, the tip of the spear gleaming proud and defiant, coated in gore and fur where it sprouted from the back of the beast.

With her hands slick, she couldn’t keep her grip against the weight of the wolf, and she and the spear crashed to the ground. She rolled over onto her knees in a rush and found the wolf lying nearby, panting as it strained and thrashed, great claws gouging furrows in the dirt as it fought - for freedom from the weapon that pierced it, perhaps. For purchase, as it still strained towards her. For life, as it railed against the slow dim of that feral light in its eyes.

She watched, transfixed, as its great bulk seemed to fold in on itself. Fangs blunting, claws shrinking, limbs stretching and fur receding until in the road, gasping against a spreading backdrop of scarlet, lay the truth she knew she’d been running from this whole time.

“Thank God. Oh...thank God.” The words left Jean on a broken sigh, soft as the brush of an angel’s pinfeathers.

She crawled to his side, heedless of the pebble strewn dirt that bit savagely into her palms and knees. “Jean, I -”

She what? There were a hundred ways to end that sentence and not a single one managed to rise out of the maelstrom of emotions that gripped her, twisting hot and tight in her chest, surging to beat at the back of her eyes. Her hands fluttered insecurely above him, unsure of where to land or what to do, before she lifted his head onto her lap and brushed sweat-matted strands from his face. 

There were stars in his eyes, she saw, as his gaze struggled to find hers. Not just a reflection of those wheeling overhead, but tiny flecks of pallor in the twilight of them that she had never noticed before - constellations trapped within his unfocused stare. 

“Forgive me.” His voice was the barest tattered thread of sound, and even that small effort set him coughing, blood bubbling around the shaft still impaled in his chest like the ghastliest of blooms. “Forgive me for saying this but...I am so glad it was you. I knew it would be.”

His hand shook and tried to reach for her, falling weakly back against his stomach until she snatched it up and clenched it tight within her grasp. Heedless of the heartsblood that coated it like a glove, far warmer than the chilled flesh beneath.  “How did you know that?”

A full smile graced his lips, the first she had ever seen, achingly beautiful despite the agonized clench of his teeth. “I knew exactly who his prey would be.”

The slick fingers tangled between her own tightened, squeezing meaningfully, though the gasp that tore through him belied how much even that small motion cost - and the pain that lanced her heart at the implication of his words made it feel almost as if it were she that had been run through. 

He shivered, though the night wasn’t cold, and the pulse at his wrist fluttered faster against her fingertips. Erratic, like the shake of a fledgling's wings before flight. “If God is merciful..” His clear eyes slowly clouded. “M-may He grant we meet again.”

Before she could answer, he sighed one more breath - and then stilled.

“No. No, no, no…” But there was no denying the truth, no matter how bitterly it sat on her tongue. Mixing harsh with the salt of the tears that ran down her cheeks. She held a dead man, in wretched mimicry of a lover’s embrace, and wept a pieta over the clay that had bound him to this nightmare - the unblinking moon above the only other witness to just what price his freedom.

[nikkipettt]

Hey! 💘💐 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome (っ˘ω˘ς )♡

HAGDSHSHD BENI THANK UUU!! 🥺 right back at u bb ♥️♥️♥️

[datenoriko]

If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog! (we're all stuck in quarantine right, let's bring this fun chain-mail shit back, why the fuck not?)💕

aaaah yes it’s back!  💕

1. I just got my diploma last Friday and can consider myself a graduate now, yay!

2. I have a dog who decided to pick his own name; he is initially Chopper, but will only respond to any of us if we call him Chapchap and so the name sticks (he’s hella smart)

3. I sneeze and has light footsteps like a cat :3 legit kitten

[girlierest]

Hey! 💘💐 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome (っ˘ω˘ς )♡

sdkfhskdfsd thank you Beniiii ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤💕💕💕🙏🙏

[mythicamagic]

Hey! 💘💐 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome (っ˘ω˘ς )♡

Aww, thank you, bud!

[scummy-writes]

Fandoms often have sour spots like anon hate and such eventually, and while I know it is inevitable, instead of letting myself get too annoyed about it, I'd like to try and say some positives about some folks I enjoy seeing around in the cybird fandoms while recommending their blogs as well.

If you'd like, I strongly encourage others to reblog and mention folks that make you happy as well! Maybe I will find some new folks to check out too.

@not-krys is one for me, and encourages me to explore Ocs a lot more through the way she always shares her ocs and their relationships. (I may not post said Oc exploring, but it does happen in my freetime). I like her writing and I love how sweet it can be. She's also sweet as a person and I enjoy her company a lot.

@xxsycamore is another! Her positivity makes me feel more comfortable with trying to talk to others in the fandom as well, and makes me feel less anxious fandomwise. Her writing is great, to the point where I'll read characters I don't know or have no interest in just because the story idea she made appealed to me so much.

@beni-draw-ikemen-please was one of the first cybird related fanartists I followed. She doesn't draw for cybird games really anymore, and I miss her a ton, but I am so happy for the times I got to talk to her and was blessed to be able to buy some of her prints! I'm still trying to decide which ones to hang up in my new home, hehe. She was also very sweet, but now she's off to try new things and I hope she's doing well!

@pathofcomets has some of the best Isaac fanfics I've read. I even remember one every winter because of how much I loved it! She writes for other fandoms now, and I love her writing style so much. In private she's also been very encouraging of me in general, and I'm happy I got to meet her due to these games.

@writer-akihiko has angst that makes me cry, and others cry. I think he has a lot of great ideas, and writes for a few fandoms. If you enjoy angst, and some good smutty hcs, I do rec lookin at his blog.

@alby-rei is a sweetie and I love her writing, and the cute game she made (a wholeass game!!!!!) that is a Ikevamp rpg game made me so happy when I was playing it. I'm always happy to see her around and whatever new thing she is making!

There are some other folks that I am thankful for, or have been very inspired by, but I am too anxious to tag them! So I am going to link to their blogs instead so I do not bother them, while I also tag some more folks in a way that does not make this a miles long post:

Batteryrose, @ndoandou , @mrsmorgenstern, Atelieredux, arthotsglasses , @aaviav , rierru , @honeybyte , and many, many others!

(Lately I have also been very thankful for caffedrine , queen-dahlia , and viatagrinner for their translations with Gilbert's route/events!)

[yanderepuck]

FAUST???!!!

WHAT ALL DID YOU SEND ME @beni-draw-ikemen-please

[beni-draw-ikemen-please]

Ahh~ tongues ( ￣ω￣)~

P.S I draw spicy and sweet boys boys boys up on my patreon(dot)(com)/onibeni

[qaanngi]

3, 5, 21, 22 (´ ∀ ` *)

Thanks Beni <3

3. Least favourite things to draw?

idk yet tbh when I draw I enjoy trying new things, and I always try to.

5. Anything you haven’t drawn yet but want to?

Got a lot of ideas but they're all slow going. Ice is the first thing that comes to mind offhandedly.

21. Weirdest thing you’ve ever drawn?

some smut.

22. When is your prime time to work on your art?

Saturday. A bitch is broke and works every other day of the week.

ty again Beni~

[janumun]

Among The Wild (General NSFW Headcanons - Leona Kingscholar)

Game: Twisted Wonderland Rating: NSFW/18+ Warnings: oral sex, (mild) overstimulation, body worship, slight D/s themes, penetrative sex, polyamory, double vaginal penetration, breeding kink

Author's Notes: Written as a surprise (HAARDDD TO KEEP QUIET) for my thirst sister-in-arms, @beni-draw-ikemen-please and because I was clown enough to miss giving her some love on her birthday. And also, all my appreciation for her general goodness, her judgement-free attitude, just pure hornin' and ikemen love she brings into my life, for our shared favorite fictional interests. I hope this makes you smile Beni and I hope you enjoy my pick of Leona's wildcard head-canons because I know how much you dig those ~ideas~ ;)) in particular. ILU 2 da🌙 'n back!!

Leona has lived his entire life within gossamer luxury; envy to most. On the surface: an esteemed prince of Afterglow Savannah, swaddled within the comfort of royalty. None aware of the disgrace and contempt slathered upon his every move, every breath within those castle walls. That glorified façade — no more than a gilded cage.

Feared, loathed; they don’t whisper of their derision of his cursed magic to his face, they never do, the cowards.

The ‘respect’ he does receive, a mere sham he sees through… sycophants genuflecting to curry specious favor with royalty, in hopes of garnering the attentions of King Farena, it seethes and sickens him to his core.

But you.

He might never admit it out loud, might never utter words to affirm the weight of your affections — deep and true — what they do to him.

Leona’s approach to sex is physicality at its very root. He will touch and adore you, as is to be bestowed by Savannah’s Prince upon his Beloved — make love to you with the entirety of his being. Not a spot left untouched, not a sound he doesn’t wrangle out of your aching throat. Your body inside and out: heart, soul… that place he settles himself deep in between your legs, all his.

But when you make it your goal to showcase your own pride within your love for the man…

Set to worshipping him — just him — within the bedroom; the way Leona’s cock tightens at the sensation of you dusting gentle kisses across his hair, his face. Reverence within your posture as you move to sink in between his legs, those eyes never leaving his as you do, glittering in joy and so very loving, as if you hail him alone, as your Monarch.

Berries fused onto cheeks so ripe, he could bite into you, watching as you request permission to love him entirely. And when he utters it on a low grunt, the pull of your mouth into a happy smile before it moves to slip across the tip of him and his mind blanks. Your soft thank you for your benevolence amidst other thank yous you litter right against his length in between kisses: for letting you taste, for letting you love him and how you desire him terribly. Your treatment of him, as if he might've laid the universe's very stars at your feet. This kind of devotion is entirely too much and not enough, all at once, he has to have you.

And he does, cock throbbing harder at the prospect of being settled deep in between your legs as he wrenches you off of your feet and onto his lap. Covetous digits, sharp nails sheering panties apart to sink you down onto him in one swift stroke. Continuing throughout the night to praises and screams of my King.

Your King alone.

Not much is as sexually arousing as the scent of you…

Your clothes when they’re strewn about, courtesy of the previous night. Your hands when they reach to cup his face, the delicate scent of hand lotion, soap and you. Your hair as he drops his head against you when he has you wrapped within his arms. Your neck, your breasts, your belly. Leona’s going to be exploring all over and enjoy it.

The intoxicating scent of a human’s arousal, different than a beast’s, but it wafts over pleasant for him. Face buried in between your legs as he noses across your drenched opening, powerful arms gripping you to stillness, try as you might to squirm away from the sensation. And then…

Leona absolutely relishes the experience of letting you flood his senses; a hungry tongue follows that scent to its source before dragging that bundle of nerves in between his lips. Suckling; broad tongue swiping to gather the dew you spill, not a single drop he lets go to waste.

Let the Second Prince enjoy his meal of you, for as long as possible, rocking eager hips upon his face, even if he does not let you stray far, kissing, licking, biting his territory in between your legs, your thighs blossoming in pink. The flare of your hips marred in red from how hard those nails dig into your flesh, heightening that sense of pleasure, until you’re falling.

And yet, he’s not done, tongue working to slide gentle strokes across your oversensitive sex as he laps you up entirely for his own.

His oral fixation extends to any and all parts of you; as do his marks across your skin, your breasts, the back of your neck, across your ass, some of his favorite parts of you along with your pussy.

Leona has never been particularly interested in having children of his own; his own heat and desires he takes care of, often pumped and blown into a fist.

He’s in no hurry for a stranger to nurse any waif of his; not ready to bear the burden of raising a starry-eyed mtoto, to throw them in to discover ugly politics and subterfuge from their tender years. To have them know of envy, to have their place decided due to order of birth. He’s seen and knows enough of it to steer clear of Farena’s constant pleas to make his own family.

With you, that boundary in between desire and instinct blurs each second he finds himself within you; swollen walls clamping around him, a vice, heavy with your slick and his, he grapples to breathe through the sensation. Fingers tracing jerking patterns across the expanse of your stomach as he draws back slow, only to regain his place within, hard. Thumbs pressing in tight at your belly as if he could feel for himself against the entrance to your womb. A womb where you’d bear his child.

The thought’s enough to wrench a mangled snarl from the depths of his throat. Caught in between the desire for family with you and rebellion against royal duty…

He requires time, to work and relax into this relationship, to speak of what he wishes from the two of you, together. To realize, with you, his family needn’t be chained to age old customs, to the fate he seems so adamant to punish himself with.

“Don’t think any young’un could go wrong with you as its mother, kidege,” uttered with an uneven pull to that smile he angles at you; sweetly amused verdant gaze catching yours before he sinks to catch your lip in between gentle teeth. Gloved hand slipping across the expanse of your abdomen and straight in between your legs to worry at your warmth above panties, damp with slick. “Hey, bear my children.” The lightest of pressures, two fingers curve to brush into your slit and you shudder. “…Take me in here, won’t you? Ha… and don’t waste any of it.” He growls.

[Two] Wildcards

Warnings: contains exploration of sexual dynamics with Leona/Reader/Jade and Leona/Reader/Overblot Leona. Please do not read past this point if you think this might not be your cup of tea. 🙇🏽‍♀️

1. (If) A Polyamorous Relationship with Jade…

…is not easy; just as hard won. Leona does not care to associate with Azul nor any of his slithering, scheming eel bastards. And to know you harbor affections for one of them; the more dangerous of the twins, is not something he’s ready to accept for a long, long time.

However, if the price for the elder Leech’s disposal from your life is your smile and your happiness, fuck that. It’s a pain in the ass and he’s not willing to pay that high a penalty. And giving you up, now that he has you is not even an option he’s considering. Carnivores are territorial beasts, after all. He’s yours entirely, as much as you are his. Polygamy is not uncommon within the Afterglow Savannah and if you truly wish to love him along with the Leech…

That dominance to rule and protect does however manifest within the bedroom and to say these dynamics are just a little too hot is an understatement.

The Leech may not be as easily deciphered, but Leona witnesses that low burn of affection and possession burning within Jade’s eyes as he looks down upon you — for it is exactly the kind that breeds within him. That taut pull of a smile he rewards you with makes you so entirely happy, your jaw held within pale, nimble digits as if inspecting you before leaning down for a kiss. Jade’s style of love-making is far ruthless, pushing and edging you to your limits to follow each and every single one of his low commands, pain mixed within that pleasure but at its core, just as devoted to having their favorite human lose their mind within his embrace. A sentiment Leona shares. Leading to the establishment of a gradual, begrudging truce within the bedroom.

2. (If) Sex with Overblot Leona in the mix…

A King rules with a Queen at his side, his royal half and his lover is who he seeks, even in overblot.

The dark half of Leona — still yours, lost as he is — is all ferocity; verdant gaze fixated upon your ass raised in supplication of him. Liquid blot, dark and thick, gathered within a palm as it drips down across tapered digits he propels into your pussy, hot and slippery. Your strangled sound of surprise lost within your Leona’s mouth, lying beneath you, the press of his length you feel brush your thigh.

“Stop fretting,” you hear the darker being behind you speak. “I’ll have you wet enough to take me soon.”

And he does, as promised, slamming his hips into you on one swift stroke, you see stars. Before your Leona beneath moves to drag his fingers against your clit, having you whimpering in his embrace. "So damn tight, little herbivore." Moving to slip himself, inch by inch, into you, your insides so incredibly full of him as they set a punishing, to-and-fro sawing motion in between them. Never leaving you empty.

The dark one’s low grunts, his ominous growl coils low within your ears, “Take my seed, Torkwase and be mine, you hear me? Don’t waste a single drop.” Claws digging painful into your hips just as the constant thrust of them into you, slowly making you release your grip on consciousness.

Dreams so vivid, you can only flush in deep embarrassment when you awaken the next day.

*kidege= little bird mtoto= child Torkwase= Queen

[All Google, so if there are any discrepancies in translation, please feel free to correct me, friends.]