#sorry this just cursed my brain

[comfortless]

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

[starstruckodysseys]

diversity win! the staff members manipulating children for the past three years and trying to overthrow if not murder the principal are in a homoerotic relationship!

[soapsbaby]

☆ Day 1 // First time // Leon Kennedy ☆

Summary: You're his first.

Characters: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Themes: NSFW (18+), oral (both receiving), PIV, virginity

Word Count: 1.5k

Leon quietly moaned into your kiss, hands tangled in your shirt as if he was desperate to have something to hold onto. 

His hair had fallen into his face, a smile on his face as you pulled back for a second to gently swipe it away so that he could see. 

The reaction to your makeout session was hard against your thigh. 

You pushed your hand between your two bodies, running over his erection, smiling as he let out a quiet moan.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

You gave him a quick kiss again.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“What is it, hm?”

“I… I have to tell you something.”

His hips bucked into your touch, almost involuntarily, an embarrassed whine escaping his throat as he realized the way his desperate body had betrayed him.

His pale cheeks were now bright red and you could tell that he was struggling to even look you into the eyes.

“I’ve… I’ve never done this before.” 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“I’ve never… Slept with anyone.”, he said so quietly that you could barely understand him. 

You hid your surprise well, luckily. 

You gently cupped his face, he eased into your touch immediately. He was so receptive, so eager for any of the attention you could provide him. 

“Do you want me to be your first?” 

He nodded, still bright red.

“Yes. I’d… Really like that.”

Your hands slipped under his shirt, fingers exploring the ridges of his muscles under his soft skin.

His lips found yours again, kissing you needily.

“Please be my first.”, he whispered, a certain sense of desperation in his voice.

“I want to take off your shirt.”, you said softly, watching his reaction closely, hoping he wouldn’t feel any type of discomfort by your request, but beyond blushing a little harder, he seemed eager.

He pushed himself up from the mattress to give you access to remove his shirt, pulling it over his head. 

The flush on his cheek went all the way down his neck, across his pale chest. 

“You’re so beautiful.”, you said quietly, your hands roaming his chest still, taking in all of him. 

He tugged on your shirt until he had removed it as well, tossing it to the floor.

His eyes scanned your body, gaze falling to your breasts, then jumping up to your eyes again, as if there was any shame in how he wanted to look at you.

"It's okay. You can look. You can even touch if you want, you know?"

You unclasped your bra with a smile, baring your breasts to him. 

"Are you sure?" 

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your chest, smiling as you could feel his inexperience in the way that he touched you, awkwardly kneading your flesh.

Your body tensed as one of his thumbs slid across your nipples, feeling it harden under his touch. 

"Do you like that?", he asked, looking up at you with those puppy eyes of his. 

You nodded, now you were the one to blush.

He hesitated for a moment, then he leaned in, his lips closing around your nipple, tongue darting around it.

His hand moved to the small of your back, anchoring you as your body arched into his touch.

"Fuck… Leon…", you muttered, sighing as his other hand came upward to massage your other breast with a new found confidence from the way you reacted to him.

His hands were so gentle on you, as if he was afraid he'd hurt you otherwise.

"I want to taste you.", he said quietly, lips still pressed to your chest, but slowly working up to your neck.

The hand on your back traveled forward, the tip of his index finger slipping into the waistband of your shorts.

You could see the eagerness in his flushed face, he genuinely meant it. 

You didn't answer, instead just pushing your hips upward, letting him undress the rest of you. 

"You're so beautiful.", he said softly, carefully pushing you back on the bed so he could get easier access to you.

He pushed your legs apart with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine, kissing across your parted thighs as he worked his way closer to your core.

His eyes fluttered shut as he dragged his tongue across you for a first, almost hesitant taste.

You ran your fingers through his hair, biting back a moan.

"You taste so good.", he whispered, before he leant back in, shorter, quicker licks around your clit now.

Even though his inexperience was obvious, he read you like an open book, interpreting your every noise until he had learnt how to work you, where you needed his tongue, his lips.

"Why are you so good at this?", you panted, feeling yourself slowly build up to your release, your breaths coming in stutters.

He didn't answer, his arm wrapping around your thigh a little tighter as he devoured you.

The moment he sucked your clit between his lips was when you lost it, arching yourself against his face, riding out your orgasm against his lips.

"Fuck… Fuck.", you quietly moaned, grabbing him and pulling him upwards so you could kiss him again.

Your taste was on his lips and you could feel the desperation on him. 

"You did so well.", you muttered as you slowly regained your composure.

His hips grinded against your hand as you palmed him through his pants, he was rock hard.

"I'm sorry you got so little attention.", you said quietly, but he immediately shook his head.

"No. Don't apologize. I could do that forever."

He licked his lips with a grin as if to drive the point home further.

"Still. It's your turn."

He nodded obediently, moving his hips off the bed so you could take his pants off, dragging his boxers down with them.

His erection strained against his stomach.

He bit his lip as you wrapped your hand around him, giving him a gentle first stroke.

His eyes followed you as you bent down before him, kissing along the V lines of his hips.

“Please don’t tease me.”, he whispered breathily, his hand gently in your hair, but not pushing you.

The desperation in his little moans made you try even harder, doing your best to draw even more noises out of him.

He groaned quietly as you took the tip of his cock into your mouth, his body tensing at the new sensation.

“Please…” He didn’t finish his plea, but you knew what he wanted, taking him further into your mouth, tongue swirling around him. 

“How’s that?”, you asked quietly, licking up his shaft with a smile, replacing your mouth with your hand for a moment.

“So good.” He looked at you with a look on his face that you could only interpret as awe, his eyes glazed over in desire.

“Do you want to fuck me, then?” 

“But fuck… I don’t know how long I can last like this.”

There was something akin to embarrassment on his face, but you shut it down immediately, sitting up so you could put a kiss on his lips, gently reassuring him.

You climbed onto him, grabbing his hands and placing them onto your hips, giving him something to hold onto.

He nodded eagerly, even though you could see the nervousness on his face. Your choice of words flustered him even more.

“Hey, there is nothing you can do wrong, okay?”

You kissed him again, gently, passionately, until you pushed him backwards onto the bed.

He whined quietly as you grabbed his cock, lining it up with your pussy. 

You gave him a questioning look, he just answered with a nod, so you slowly lowered yourself on him.

His lips parted with a gasp, grip tightening on you as he took in the feeling, overwhelmed by your warmth and wetness.

“So fucking good.”, he repeated.

You leaned forward, kissing him hungrily, drowning out his quiet moans with your lips as you slowly lifted your hips before moving downward again, giving you a few slow, first movements to adapt to his size.

“You feel so good.”, he panted, his eyes finally opening again, watching you in amazement, eyes wandering down to the spot where your bodies met.

You slowly picked up the pace, always keeping watch of him and his reaction, but there was nothing on his pretty face other than adoration.

His body fit against yours almost perfectly, the way his hands were grabbing you, your chest against his, his cock inside of you.

“I think I’m close already.”, he said, almost apologetically.

You stopped your movement for a moment, gently cupping your face.

There were beads of sweat on his forehead, his hair damp against his forehead.

“Do you want to try to be on top?”

He nodded. He grabbed you without slipping out of you, pushing you to be the one on your back.

He pounded into you quicker than you had ridden him earlier, panting heavily next to your ear, lips pressed against your neck.

“I’m so fucking close.”, he muttered, his voice breathy.

“Keep going, then.” 

You grabbed his face, pulling him in for another kiss as you could feel his thrusts start to stutter, hands grasping the sheets next to your head.

He pulled out of you, leaving you almost painfully empty as he shot thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, moaning desperately against your lips.

With a final groan he collapsed on top of you, easing into your embrace as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“That was perfect.”

[coolsvilleprincess]

Everybody give it up for more cleaned up sketches!! This time it's characters that I have simply been thinking about recently that are not the main gang, yes I did get distracted while cleaning up my Shaphne sketches, yes this is the result now I must return to the caves to finish them.

[incesthemes]

considering each episode as an allegory for sam and dean's story has done irreparable damage to my psyche. if bugs is about cursed land and if bugs is about sam and his relationship to his father, his family, then bugs is about how sam's body (his "land") has been cursed, later even confirmed to be by his ancestors just as oasis plains was cursed by its ancestors. mary sacrificed sam's body to azazel, poisoned him, sent him to the slaughter. you can't break a curse, you can only outrun it. the fact that sam and dean were stuck within the curse only solidifies the connection: they're fruitlessly fighting the literal curse while sam fights the metaphorical curse within him. it's an episode about sam and his anger at john, about dean and his loyalty to john, about how they're both wrong in different ways. it's an episode about family and ancestors and killing your children, making your lands infertile so no future generations can survive on them. it's an episode about sam.

and it comes right before home, the episode which presents with full, explicit confirmation that sam has developed psychic powers. there's evil inside him and he's scared—"what's happening to me?"—and he's uncertain about himself, his past, and his future. the episode that reveals his psychic powers is the episode they return to their childhood home, is the episode where mary's ghost makes an appearance. sam was cursed by mary and their home was made inhospitable; she forced them out like the white man forced out the euchee.

and it comes right after hook man, the episode which wraps sam's feelings of being cursed in sinful, evil, religious language, which shows his deference to the christian god, which implies there's something evil within him that's hurting the people he loves. sam is evil, sam is cursed, sam is harboring something bad within him and the way to absolve him of his sins is to pray for divine retribution and punishment, for death, because the thing inside of sam is inextricable from himself, is bound to him.

all three episodes are about family and repeating curses, the echoes of harm carrying through generations. all framed through sam's relationship to john, to his past, to the people who came before him he knows nothing about. all culminating in the revelation that sam's fears are coming true and the curse he mentioned two episodes ago is real and it's getting worse and no one knows how to stop it.

but you can't break a curse. you can only get out of the way.

[oceandiagonale]

(btwwwww I'm alive I'm aliveeeee I live..... I graduated from the program and passed my test to get employment and have some potential jobs lined up for this fall, and I've been drawing a lot of comic stuff,,,,)

[b4kuch1n]

hi! birthday. which means it's finally time t

yo what the itch store is fixed up now

damn what? I don't know where this came from. look all the comics I put on g*mr**d a year ago are back here again with all the formatting and typesetting by @fireflysummers as well as the exclusive bonus art wtf who did this. my werewolf comic on here too what the hells!! that one also got re-toned for printing if u want to AND an exclusive cover spread !!! what the fuck!!!!! come see for urself I can't make this shit up

[macaro-mochi]

was explaining the Drake-Kendrick beef to my mum when it suddenly dawned on me that the chances of the dndads cast parodying one of the songs released by Kendrick Lamar is low, but it’s not zero

and this realisation will probably haunt me for the foreseeable future

[3gremlins]

not to keep having astarion thoughts but i was thinking about how it really would be a curse to be a vampire if you're already an elf. like for humans, it might be okay b/c we don't canonically live that long (relatively) and are squishy/underpowered af compared to the other peoples of faerun, so the win/loss of being a vampire isn't quite so bad (tho generally i feel like in the dnd universe there's way better ways to achieve durability/immortality if that's what you want).

but he was already a high elf- elves already have super long lifespans (up to 750 years per the wiki), can see in the dark, don't actually need to sleep and have inborn magic usually. like being a vampire really would be much more of a curse for an elf -esp a vampire spawn versus a full vampire since you've essentially got most of the bad and little of the benefits and are now beholden to someone else forever. so you go from being a creature with all the freedom in the world to one with very little.

[kinokoshoujoart]

silly devouring his salad

my twitter mutual drew a BUTCHER VANITY Rock and caused me to irreparably have a cannibalistic rock living in my head, this is but one escaped consequence of that

[wildstar25]

G'raha looked so serious while he pleaded his case to venture into the World of Darkness with the Warrior of Light. The sudden conviction in his tone had Arsay at a loss for words. Still, she did not hesitate to meet his request with an accepting nod. He was an important friend and in the passing moons that they'd come to know each other, a strong fondness for him had taken hold of her. The prospect of helping G'raha find the truth behind his mysterious inheritance made Arsay's heart pound. It was the perfect venture for them to embark on. The first of many, she hoped. The two turned towards the impossibly tall spire that dared to pierce the heavens above. Arsay's resolve strengthened in its presence. When they next find themselves gazing at the tower -with their quest completed and the world no longer under threat of total destruction- she'll properly ask G'raha to be a companion in her travels. A grin crept its way onto her face as her gaze shifted to him. If Arsay could find it within herself to bare her heart to others so readily just as he does… perhaps their future adventures will find them together, hand in hand.

[sirvinter]

Yegor Sokolov, Royal Physician.

[s1llydr3amscape]

been so busy with personal life but finished some refs for artfight!!!! Idk if I'll manage to finish the others but the old refs should suffice!!! Come fight me hehehe!!!

[harrylights]

[omppupiiras]

👁👄👁 ohoh i completely forgot i did these doodles the other day before i lost my mind to cornpea käärijä

[chloeseyeliner]

(via @henry-fox-biggest-stan -and like she said, STOP IT)

red white and royal blue is not. just. porn.

disclaimer for what is about to follow (which I am not sure why, but I thought would be a good idea to show that I am not biased?? I am not sure): I am a person on the asexuality spectrum, 95% sure sex-repulsed (maybe 100%). I read smut, too, on ao3. I have liked books or fics that contain smut in my life as a reader, ever since I have been allowed to read them at 16. I have not liked some too, have found them 'too much' or something else- of course there are people who enjoy reading them and that's more than fine by me.

so, when I say (personally, not speaking for others in the fandom, of course) that this book is not just porn, I don't mean that I am offended that you think it contains smut. what I mean is that I am kind of disappointed (is that the right word?) that booktok (I assume, since I don't have a tiktok account, but I have seen stuff on reels) has limited this book to just fucking smut.

sure, it's not the deepest book you will read in your life; it's not, let's say, the book thief or ocean vuong. still, it does not mean that it is swallow or pure porn. at all.

(which, I'll say again, is totally okay if it's your cup of tea)

and sure, there are many scenes, especially in the beginning, where the two protagonists have sex, but it's implied most of the times, not graphically described. it has its part to their love story, as well- correct me if I'm wrong, but for example, from what I understand after reading it quite a few times, alex is helped to let his real feelings as regards henry come to the surface through them having this kind of relationship, like when he lets some of them escape the carefully locked cage he has put them into and he thinks that that's why they hadn't done something specific yet after that night at the karaoke bar. from what I have understood after all these times, too, alex and henry kept blocking their true feelings because of a variety of reasons, and kept holding onto the only piece of the other they were able to, and they found that through sex.

(again, correct me if I'm wrong, I just like reading between the lines and I am sure I may have missed something- anyway)

reaching the main point, red, white and royal blue is much more than just the "porn on paper" booktok etc. is making it to be.

it's love. love on your own terms. platonic love. sibling love. parental love. romantic love. second-chance love. heartbreak.

it's mental health in genereal but more specifically, it's anxiety; coming from your parents' divorce and your different reactions to it; coming from expectations, from your crippling fear of disappointing the whole world; from your own family. it's depression and someone being there for you, holding your hand even when all the blinds are closed. it's (paralysing) grief from losing a parent, a partner, your only supporter and your hero and how different it is between you and your own sibling or parent even though you live together and it's the same person you've lost. it's addiction and ways you can always come back to the surface from drowing in each one of them's deep ocean, because you are not alone. it's (undiagnosed) neurodivergency, maybe causing more anxiety to add to the basket.

it's picture-perfect posture and smiles until your breaking point- and protective arms around you.

it's politics- again, not the deepest political analysis you will ever read, but there are other sources if you want that. it's, more specifically, maybe a happy note through all the darkness surrounding the political world nowadays like a cloud. maybe... it's hope. wanting to fight for what's right.

it's emphasis on the importance of privacy, espeacially during these times, when everything and everyone can be posted everywhere without their consent or permission, and how it can be traumatic for the person or people exposed.

most importantly, this book is liked, loved even, by a great number of people around the world. and in my opinion, that's what counts the most, right?

also, one last note- it's heard a lot that it's just written by a white woman fetishing mlm relationships and mexican people. casey uses they/them pronouns and is definitely not doing any of these things, if we have read the same book.

so, um, let people enjoy maybe their next favourite queer romantic book, with very good humour and various themes, without throwing your prejudice at them; I won't hide that at first I was skeptical, too, after hearing and reading all of that here and there. but I was 17 when I selfishly found a comfort I have been searching for years through these pages for the first time.

(I won't elaborate further on that last one, though, it's personal)

oh, and before someone says yeah, but it's just rich people having sex ,okay, I am with you at this rich people part- I am not myself a part of this "upper class", not even close to it (laugh track). but I think that you'll find some great passages that leave you wanting to search for more class and sociological issues after reading it carefully. and you'll find that alex wearing his key to his texas home is not random. and you'll find that one does not develop a life-long love for star wars not to know an empire is not a good thing. I hope this make sense.

all in all, I am not attacking anyone here. I just wanted to defend it against these... distorted, may I say, statements as regards its content, and this post gave me the push I needed. if my tone seems off or mad or something similar, I honestly apologise, it's just a tone button hasn't been invented yet (I think. I hope I haven't missed anything. again).

take care and read whatever you enjoy- as long as it doesn't harm others, of course. yes.

<3