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favourites-loved-by-heart · 2 days ago

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𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒙 𝒓𝒆̂𝒗𝒆𝒔

𝖵𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗑 𝖦𝖭!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

vanitas x gn!reader, brief/mild mention of insomnia, shy reader, soft vanitas, established relationship, sleep comfort, written on a 20 min time limit

You've layn silently for what felt like an eternity, the faint crackle of the fireplace the only sound in the room. You turn onto your side, your hair brushing the pillow as your gaze settles on Vanitas.

He's sprawled across the bed like a starfish, one arm flung carelessly to the side and his legs taking up far more space than necessary.

His face looks peaceful, his long lashes resting against his cheekbones, lips slightly parted as if in a dream. He looks so utterly different from his usual smirking, taunting self that you can’t help but stare.

Half of your face remains buried beneath the quilt, your pale eyes just peeking over the edge as you scrutinize him, your thoughts a muddled mixture of wariness and curiosity.

Is he really asleep? you wonder.

Vanitas gives no indication of wakefulness, his breathing slow and even.

Biting your lip, you hesitate for a moment before inching closer, your movements cautious, testing. You pause, waiting for any sign of him stirring.

When none comes, you scooch a little closer, your hand gripping the quilt tighter as your nerves begin to mount.

You stop when there are only a few inches between the two of you, your eyes flickering to his face.

His dark hair spills across the pillow like ink, the strands catching the faint glow of the firelight. He seems impossibly serene, almost unreal in his stillness.

Your brow furrows. How can someone sleep so peacefully?

Your hesitation grows, and for a moment, you ponder about retreating back to your side of the bed.

With one last glance at him, you begin to shift, your movements slow and deliberate. You turn slightly, your legs preparing to slip off the edge of the mattress—

But before you can escape, an arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back firmly.

“Ah—!” you let out a startled squeak, your breath catching as Vanitas drags you into his chest with shocking ease.

His grip is unyielding, his body warm against yours as he tucks you firmly under his chin. Your heart races, your mind scrambling to make sense of the sudden shift. He doesn’t say a word, his breathing still steady, as if he is still asleep.

“Vanitas—” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he doesn’t respond.

Instead, he shifts slightly, hooking one leg over your thighs to pin you in place. His other arm slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your soft hair.

You freeze, your body stiff and unyielding, but he doesn’t seem to care.

His other hand, still clad in a black glove with its embedded claws, suddenly slips beneath your nightgown.

You tense up, your breath hitching, but all he does is lightly dragging the clawed tips against your back in a slow, deliberate motion.

The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as the soft scratching melts some of the tension in your muscles.

He knows you like it—he discovered it once, accidentally, and had used it to his advantage ever since.

Your body betrayed you, relaxing ever so slightly against him as the claws continue their gentle path along your back.

Vanitas’s lips twitch, a faint, satisfied smirk ghosting across his face, though his eyes remain closed. He still pretends to sleep, his hold on you firm but not stifling.

You bury your face in the quilt, your cheeks burning as you whisper under your breath, “I knew you weren’t asleep, you liar.”

Again, he doesn’t respond, his breathing steady and his hands continuing their soft ministrations.

The warmth of Vanitas’s body against yours feels oddly comforting.

His hold on you is possessive, but there is also a tenderness to it that makes your heart flutter.

Vanitas' arm around your waist rests firm, the weight of his body both secure and soothing.

His fingers continue to trace gentle lines against your back, the cool touch of his gloves sliding ever so slightly against your skin, sending an involuntary shiver through you.

You close your eyes, trying to calm your breathing, but the proximity to him, the overwhelming sensation of him being so close, makes it difficult.

The steady rhythm of his breathing is almost hypnotic, and you find yourself gradually relaxing into him, your body unwittingly surrendering to the comfort he provides.

There comes a moment where your mind wanders, thinking about all the little things Vanitas does when no one is watching—things that he never admits to, but are very much clear to you.

The way he would softly touch your hair in the middle of the night, the way he made sure you were always warm enough, even if it sometimes meant giving up his own comfort.

His sharp eyes and arrogant attitude during the day, and this gentle, almost protective side that he showed only when the two of you were alone.

You shift slightly, your chest rising and falling in a soft, almost rhythmic pattern, the weight of sleep starting to pull at you.

But before you can fully succumb to it, you feel him move, his leg shifting slightly to better pin yours beneath him.

His body feels so warm against you, and the motion feels.. almost possessive. It's hard to explain, but you know it's nothing malicious.

It's simply his way of making sure you stay close.

Then, you feel the softest press of his lips against your forehead, the fleeting sensation making your heart skip a beat.

His arms remain around you, his fingers continuing their gentle caress along your back, and you can't help but relax into him.

The tension that has been building inside you for days slowly dissipates, replaced by a calm warmth you didn’t know you needed.

You don’t know when it happened, but the sound of your breathing shifts, becoming steadier, slower. You feel yourself drifting off, the heavy weight of sleep finally claiming you.

Vanitas’s voice, barely a whisper, breaks through the soft haze of your thoughts.

“Bonne nuit,” his words are barely more than a breath, but they held a warmth, a softness that you know was meant just for you. “Ma chérie.”

The last thing you feel before sleep fully overtakes you is the feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, and the way his body seems to mold perfectly against yours.

𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋𝗌 <3

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favourites-loved-by-heart · 2 days ago

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RELATIONSHIP

𝐇 𝐄 𝐀 𝐃 𝐂 𝐀 𝐍 𝐎 𝐍 𝐒 [𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽]

𝖥𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆: 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖲𝗍𝗎𝖽𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖵𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: Vanitas x Fem!Reader/Your Fem!OC

𝗧𝗪: 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍 (+18) 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗅 𝖭𝖲𝖥𝖶 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋𝗌, not beta read, 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾—𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗂 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀?

𝖶𝖮𝖱𝖣 𝖢𝖮𝖴𝖭𝖳: 9.8K

Before the Relationship

• Vanitas would likely be hesitant to even entertain the idea of romance at first

• But, ever the tease, he would likely flirt with her shamelessly before even realizing his own feelings

• She would also have to prove herself as someone he could trust first

• Apart from the fact that he fears attachment greatly, he would also just not know why the hell his heart is suddenly beating so fast whenever he sees her

• It must be sickness, or he is actively dying

• Yes, there is simply no other reasonable explanation

• He might see it as just another game—until he starts feeling something deeper and freaks out internally

• If she’s a vampire, he’s extra wary of her at first

• This not necessarily because he distrusts her, but out of caution for his past

• He might try to push her away, or he would pretend he doesn’t care

(the moment she pulls away for real, he panics)

"Don't be so naive, now."

"You have a heart of glass. That's what makes you all the more sweet, to me."

"Oh, I want to wrap it up and coddle it.."

"..but sometimes, I just can't help myself. I want to touch it!"

"Play with it!"

"Smash it to pieces, and then put it all back together.."

"Don't ever say I didn't warn you. You should be careful who you let so far into your heart."

• Their relationship might begin after a moment of vulnerability where Vanitas finally reveals his inner struggles

How Did They Actually Get Into the Relationship?

• Perhaps he unintentionally confesses to her during a moment of frustration

• Alternatively, she might confront him about his feelings after noticing his contradictory behavior (e.g., acting protective but emotionally distant)

• Vanitas would reluctantly agree to pursue the relationship

• Deep inside, he would actually feel giddy

• He would also be scared, though

• Vanitas would make it clear that he isn’t an easy person to love

• He would not admit it, but he would be surprised that she wants him despite his flaws

• Normally, people don't have any other reason to pursue him, other than his looks

First Few Weeks of the Relationship

• Absolute chaos

• Vanitas would be both clingy and distant at the same time

• One moment, likely when they are alone, he would drape himself over her dramatically

• The next one, he would completely avoid her out of fear of genuine attachment

• Vanitas would initially feel awkward and unsure how to act in a romantic relationship

• This is suddenly all serious and real, and he kind of didn't realize what he got himself into

• He would have a tendency to act like a seasoned romantic

• Deep down, he is actually wildly inexperienced in what it means to actually love

• He would constantly tease her, but the second she would turn it around on him, he would get visibly flustered

• Vanitas likes testing her patience—stealing kisses unexpectedly, whispering sweet nothings just to see her reaction

• He’d often second-guess himself, which in turn would irritate him

• Why does he even care?

• He’s secretly be thrilled at the thought of having someone who accepts him despite his flaws

Prior Relationship Experience

• It’s unlikely that Vanitas has had serious relationships before

• That at least, given his troubled past and mistrust of others

• He's still young with his 18 years

• Despite this, Vanitas might have had very fleeting flings or superficial connections

• Likely none of that involved genuine emotional connection

First Kiss

• A stolen kiss

• It would not necessarily be a romantic event at first—more of a smug, “gotcha” moment

• But the second their lips meet, something would change, and he would linger longer than intended

• If she initiate it, he would be stunned for a good five seconds before grinning like a fool and pulling her back in

• If it happens after a previously dangerous situation, he might laugh after

• He would say something like,

"If I’m going to die, I might as well die happy."

Love Language(s)

Words of Affirmation & Physical Touch.

• Vanitas flirts constantly, but when he genuinely compliments her, there’s a weight behind his words

• If he ever whispers, "I need you," it’s real

• He would always find an excuse to touch her

• Brushing her hair back

• Resting his hand on her lower back

• Tracing her lips with his thumb just to make her flustered

Public Displays of Affection

• Oh, he thrives on PDA

• Holding hands? Too tame

• He’ll always find a way to touch her

• Kissing her neck in public

• Making suggestive comments just to see her react and try to deflect

• If she gets embarrassed easily, he would absolutely make it worse on purpose

• If someone flirts with her? He’s immediately by her side, mockingly friendly

• His grip on her waist would tighten immediately

• Again, if she would turn it around on him, he would simply perish on the spot

• Suddenly, it would be all about propriety in public

"There—There's a time and place for everything!"

• He's the biggest hypocrite, actually

First Declaration of Love

• It takes quite a while for him to say the actual words "I love you."

• He would say "I adore you," or "You’re mine," but love? That’s fucking terrifying

• Even talking around it, would come rare (at least in the beginning)

• When he does say it, it’s not smooth

• It slips out in a moment of vulnerability, maybe after an argument or when he’s patching up her wounds

• The second he realizes what he’s said, he panics—tries to play it off like it was nothing

• But the look in his eyes says otherwise

Is He Dominant or Submissive? (Relationship vs. Physical Intimacy)

• In the relationship? Absolute control freak

(not in a suffocating way)

• He teases, dictates the pace, and refuses to let anyone see him vulnerable

• Then, in physical intimacy? It depends

• He likes being in control, but if she knows how to push his buttons, she can absolutely turn the tables

• All in all, I believe he would be a switch

• On one hand, when more submissive, Vanitas would be a real brat

• But he would also get overwhelmed fast, turning into a needy and whiny mess

• When feeling more dominant though, Vanitas could be straight up mean

(not always though, don't worry)

• He would enjoy degrading her very much, I fear

• This man would have a poker face reserved solely for her

• Watching her pout or complain, begging for his dick really gets him going

• He simply doesn't give a fuck (does that count as a pun?) about how much she wants to cum

Would He Let Her Drink His Blood?

• Vanitas would be hesitant to let her drink his blood at first

• If the situation first called for it (e.g., if she's injured, or her strength is waning), he would offer, but only after much internal debate

• Over time he would willingly let her drink his blood, and offer it freely

• He would realize it doesn't feel half bad

• Actually, he finds it arousing enjoys it

• After time, he’d still act all dramatic about it

"Draining me of my lifeblood already? You really are a wicked woman.. Oh—"

• Where would he let her bite him?

• Probably his neck, rarely his wrist

• If she’s feeling particularly bold, his thigh

(this would definitely make him flustered)

• Position? He’d sit her in his lap, making sure she’s very aware of how close they are

Would He Respect Consent?

• In the beginning of the relationship, Vanitas might struggle with respecting boundaries

• Not because he doesn’t care, but because he’s so used to pushing people away with his brash personality

• As the relationship progresses, he would make a conscious effort to respect her consent

• You had to knock some sense into him..

• After that, 100%

• Vanitas might flirt outrageously, but the moment she shows the slightest discomfort, he immediately stops

• He likes teasing her boundaries, but only with full knowledge that she enjoys it too

Would He Put Effort into Learning About His S/O?

• Surprisingly, yes

• He pretends not to care, but he remembers everything

• Her favorite flowers

• How she takes her tea (or coffee)

• Maybe her favorite parfum

• Or a childhood story she only mentioned once in passing

How Does He Present the Relationship to the Public?

• He makes a spectacle of it, and fully enjoys showing off his affection, especially if it annoys people

• However, if she’s uncomfortable with attention, he’ll tone it down (but he still finds ways to make sure people know she’s his)

Flaws (Mental Disorders, Bad Habits, etc.)

• Vanitas is deeply flawed, I'd say (aren't we all)

• Severe abandonment issues

• He pushes people away before they can leave him

• Depression & self-destructive tendencies

• He jokes about his own mortality too much for it to be just a joke

• Lying

• He lies a lot, often to protect himself

• His cynicism can also create tension in any relationship of any nature

Would He Distance Himself?

• Yep

• Should he start feeling too much, he’ll pull away—out of fear that she’ll leave him first

• These moments of distance are his way of protecting himself

• This might hurt her, and he will see himself forced to apologize

Dealbreakers

• Betrayal

• If she ever truly deceives him, he’d never forgive her for it

• If she tries to control him or force him to stay when he needs space

• Although he doesn't always hold himself to the same standard, he values loyalty above all else

Would the Relationship Be Toxic?

• The relationship could have its toxic moments

• Particularly so, if Vanitas’ insecurities lead him to lash out or distance himself

Would He Date Men, Women, or Other?

• Vanitas, in my opinion, is likely bisexual, with more of a preference for women

Would He Take Relationship Advice?

Dominique:

• No

• Or at least unlikely; he’d dismiss her advice as meddling

Noé:

• Maybe

• If he words it right, Vanitas might listen

Roland:

• Surprisingly, yeah

• Roland’s optimism and blunt honesty might provide valuable insight

Dante:

• Yes

• Who would have thought?

• Dante’s advice is blunt and practical, and Vanitas respects that

Nicknames for Her

• Genuine: Ma belle, Mon trésor, Ma chérie

• Teasing: Mon lapin, Ma puce, Ma crevette

(crevette means shrimp and i still find this one funny, idk)

• Obnoxious: Bloodsucker extraordinaire, fang-face, candy-brained

First Time Being Intimate

• Vanitas would approach intimacy with surprising tenderness

• Quelle surprise.. I know, I know

• It would take a loooooooong time to even get to this point, though

• Initially, he would be a bit awkward, but eventually, he would feel perfectly safe with her

• Often times, though sometimes hesitantly, he would whisper words of affection to her ear

• It would be a sense of comfort, to ground her and keep her with him

• He could never tell her how much she makes him so soft and weak with just the slightest touch

"How does that feel? Good?" he whispered as he picked up his pace, eyes entirely focused on her expression as she nodded. "Tell me what you like," he muttered in her ear as he grabbed her thigh, pulling her closer.

Him with an S/O That Absolutely Can Not Cook

• Vanitas would find her lack of cooking skills both amusing and absolutely disconcerting

• Don't women learn how to cook anymore?

(i'm considering the sexism of the 19th century)

• All disrespect aside, he really couldn't care less

• ..and still, how did she manage to set a pot of water on fire?

• Sometimes, he’d take it upon himself to cook for her

• He would then make a show of it by exaggerating how much better he is in the kitchen

"You’re lucky I’m here, or you’d starve."

• He would pretend to be annoyed, but would still be ready to help

• He might try to teach her how to cook after the 72401653928th failed attempt at preparing a simple pot of soup

• However, he’d also end up laughing should she eventually mess up

Vanitas with an Unorganized or Messy S/O

• Vanitas is definitely a tidy and meticulous person

• Her messy habits would annoy him to no end

• He’d constantly nag her to pick up after herself or organize her belongings

• Vanitas would also do this when they don't even live together

• "How do you live like this?" would be a frequent complaint

• Despite his annoyance, he’d never let it escalate into a fight

• Instead, he would resort to passive-aggressive comments or sighing dramatically while tidying up her mess himself

• Over time, he’d get used to her habits

(he lost this fight)

Would He Let Her Touch the Book of Vanitas?

• Initially, Vanitas would be extremely protective of the book

• He wouldn’t let her near it, much less touch it

• Vanitas is no dimwit, "Absolutely not, non."

• If she'd ask questions about it, he’d give vague answers, trying to maintain an air of mystery

• Over time, as their relationship deepened, he might let her hold the Book of Vanitas

• Still, he’d watch her like a hawk the entire time

• She wouldn't be able to open it, anyway

• Her genuine curiosity would soften his usual defensiveness

• Vanitas might even explain some of the Book’s functions to her

• Though, he’d carefully avoid sharing anything too dangerous

His S/O Asking About His Past

• Vanitas would immediately deflect or dodge the question if she asked about his past

• He would use sarcasm or humor to change the subject

• If she pressed further, he might grow defensive, telling her it’s none of her business

• He might reveal small pieces of his past in vulnerable moments

• Maybe when he’s tired or comfortable enough to do so

• She would have to be patient and gentle

• It would be important to show him that she's there to listen without judgment

• This would mean the world to him, even if he struggled to express it

Absolute Pet Peeve

• Vanitas has a keen eye for detail

• So, one of his biggest pet peeves would be watching her pick at her lips until they bleed

• She might does it out of stress, or simple habit

• He’d immediately grab her hands and scold her

• Despite his harsh words, his concern would be genuine

• He might buy balm for her lips himself and tell her to use it daily

• Seriously, stop it

• Other minor pet peeves might include her interrupting him while he’s focused on something

• If she were to forget details he considers important, he might also be a little soured

Would He Spend Money on Her at All?

• First of all, money doesn't grow on trees

• But, I feel like Vanitas would absolutely spend money on his s/o (moderately)

• However, he’d never make a big deal out of it

• He’d frame his generosity as something casual

"Well, I can’t have you walking around looking shabby, can I?"

• If she ever tried to refuse his gifts, he’d roll his eyes languidly

"You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Just take it."

• At the same time, he’d be annoyed if she took his generosity for granted

• He’d want her to recognize the thoughtfulness behind each gesture

Him with an S/O Who Likes Seafood but Hates Oysters (His Favorite)

• Vanitas would be delighted if she shared his love for seafood

• It's simply the best, and appreciated far too little

• It’s also one of the few indulgences he enjoys openly

• However, he’d constantly tease her about her dislike of oysters

• (Oysters are evil, there is no alternative)

"How can you say you love seafood, when you refuse to eat the best part?"

• He’d occasionally try to sneak an oyster onto her plate

Is He a Cuddler?

• Absolutely

• He's still selective with it

• Vanitas isn’t naturally a cuddly person, but in the right circumstances, he craves physical closeness

• He tends to cuddle when he’s tired, emotionally drained, or after a taxing mission

• It’s his way of grounding himself

• He prefers being the one holding her

• Vanitas finds comfort in the protective act of wrapping his arms around her

• Occasionally, if he feels like it, he’ll let her hold him instead

• He would rest his head on her shoulder or lap

• Cuddling is often accompanied by quiet moments of conversation

• Vanitas would finally feel safe enough to let his guard down

Him with an S/O Who Tends to Coddle Him

• At first, Vanitas would protest loudly if she tried to coddle him in any way

"I don’t need you fussing over me. I’m fine!"

• Was she trying to pick a fight or something?

• Or worse.. did she pity him?

• She would have to explain to him, that her 'fussing over him' only comes from a place of deep care, not pity

• Once he'd be sure that she's serious, her concern would touch a part of him that’s not used to being nurtured

• He’d eventually grow to tolerate—and even enjoy—her care

• This especially when she would offer small, comforting gestures like fixing his hair or tending to his injuries

• Every once in a while, he would allow her to pamper him

• Don't get used to it though

• If she were to show persistence in caring for him, it would slowly chip away at his defenses

• It would finally make him realize he doesn’t always have to carry his burdens alone

26 notes · View notes

favourites-loved-by-heart · 2 days ago

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𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑

𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌: Vanitas being soft, Reader struggling with something (?), Roland and Olivier briefly mentioned, established relatiobship, possibly ooc as always <3

𝖳𝖶: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾

𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖵𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗌 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 0.9K

Vanitas had learned how to open your window without making a sound.

It had taken him weeks of trial and error—nearly dislocating his shoulder once and almost falling to his death twice—but by now, he had mastered the delicate art of breaking and entering with finesse.

Tonight, however, something was off.

Yes, the curtains were drawn.

That was strange. Usually, you left them slightly open, whether out of habit or carelessness, allowing him to make out whether you were asleep or still awake. But now, they were completely shut, thick fabric shielding the interior from prying eyes.

His lips pressed into a thin line. Had something happened?

Vanitas reached for the lock. It clicked softly under his touch, and he pushed the window open, slipping inside with the practiced ease of a man who had done this far too many times.

The air was thick—stale, unmoved for hours—and the chamber was dim, barely illuminated by the weak glow of a single candle.

Before he could call out for you, the sound of rustling sheets snapped his attention toward the bed.

All but a blur shot toward him.

Vanitas barely had time to react before you crashed into him—full force, arms around his neck, legs locking around his hips. The sheer impact nearly knocked him off balance, sending him staggering back a step, but he caught himself at the last second.

“Hey—?!” His voice came out sharper than intended, equal parts startled and confused. He instinctively grabbed hold of you, his hands slipping beneath the undersides of your thighs to keep you from slipping.

For a second, he didn’t know what to do.

You were holding onto him too tightly, as if afraid he’d vanish if you let go. Your breath was uneven against his neck, your frame trembling slightly. What the hell.

His hesitation melted into a sort of understanding.

“..Did something happen?” he murmured, unsure if he was allowed to touch you beyond what was necessary to hold you up.

You shook your head. Your grip around his shoulders remained firm, but you kept your face turned away. “I just missed you.”

Your voice was oddly croaky, soft around the edges.

Vanitas frowned slightly. He wasn’t blind. You had been crying earlier.

It wasn’t just your voice—it was in the redness of your face, the slight puffiness around your eyes, the way your body still held the remnants of whatever storm had passed through you.

You had been waiting for him?

Something in his chest twisted.

For once, he didn’t argue or tease. He simply adjusted his grip, clasping his hands together beneath your thighs, securing you more comfortably against him. He wouldn’t be able to hold you up for long before his arms started aching, but—just this time—he could bear it.

He let out a slow breath. “You must’ve been real bored without me.”

You huffed against his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“It's too late for that.”

A small silence stretched between the two of you. Vanitas, unwilling to let it settle into something heavy, shifted his weight slightly, searching for a distraction.

“You missed quite the spectacle tonight,” he started. “Roland decided it was his life’s mission to interrogate me about you.”

You stirred slightly, but didn’t lift your head. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, nothing too incriminating,” Vanitas said airily. “Just that you’re madly in love with me, of course.”

Your fingers twitched against the back of his coat. “I hate you.”

“Sure, sure.”

He continued talking—rambling, really—stringing together idle stories about the tavern, about Noé passing out at the table, about some poor lad getting chewed out for dropping an insanely expensive bottle of wine by Olivier, and so on.

You said nothing at first, only listening, fingers tightening and loosening against his collar.

Then, softly—

“You’re warm.”

Vanitas stilled.

“I like that.”

For a moment, he didn’t know why that made his chest feel so stupidly tight.

Then, without thinking, he leaned his head against yours, exhaling slowly.

You really had missed him tonight.

Despite having seen him every evening for the past two weeks. But tonight—tonight, you had missed him so terribly.

His voice.

His warmth.

His embrace.

Vanitas swallowed, closing his eyes for half a second before he adjusted his hold again, this time more carefully.

“..Oui,” he murmured. “I guess I am.”

A/N: yes, i am very aware, that many of my writings revolve around the same or similar concept.

i just wanted to let anyone who reads this know, that this is me projecting my real life problems onto my silly little scenarios ☺︎︎

also, i am a sucker for writing this manz being soft okay, and idgaf how ooc it may come off as, because i love hurt/comfort (or reverse hurt/comfort) ahahahaha

ANYWAY 🩵

don't mind that this oneshot has neither backstory, nor conclusion, nor whatever the fuck i might be missing..

29 notes · View notes

favourites-loved-by-heart · 2 days ago

Note

Hey, Charlie! I hope you have a good day.

So... here's the thing. About the request you received is Vanitas alphabet—I think you maybe don't understand what that anon means completely.

I'm not being rude or anything! I just want to pointed out about it kindly!

Here's the point; anon request you alphabet things means each alphabet question you need to answers those question. You know what I mean?

Example:

Jealousy: (I don't remember the question but insert that question here.)

(And below the question you inserts your writings here).

I hope this help you a lot (please I don't mean to offend you or anything, just read this and be silence about it once you understand this)!

..Hey, so, I didn't know that.

Thanks for telling me though! Not all heroes wear capes ಠ_ಠ

I decided to make an SFW Alphabet, since honestly I suck hard at writing NSFW and wanted to spare myself the embarrassment..

Doesn't matter, I fixed it all and this time it won't be a basic blank form, I promise | (• ◡•)|

VANITAS NO CARTE

𝐒 𝐅 𝐖 • ALPHABET

A 𖦹 ATTRACTIVE what he finds attractive

• Attraction, to Vanitas, is a curious thing—something he doesn’t quite trust

• At first, he plays it off as fleeting interest

• But when it lingers, he realizes it’s more than just surface-level

• He’s mainly drawn to confidence, to people who challenge him in conversation, and those who don’t shy away from his sharp tongue

• However, he also has a weakness for vulnerability—someone who, despite their own struggles, chooses to stay by his side

• Physically, he tends to admire unique features

• Striking eyes, no matter the color

• A confident posture and poise

• Definitely a good sense of fashion

• He would likely also enjoy a unique voice or laugh

B 𖦹 BABY does he want a family in the future?

• Absolutely not

• Vanitas is convinced that he is incapable of building a future like that

• He refuses to entertain the idea of a family, because he believes he is doomed to destroy anything good in his life

• There is also this thing, in which he simply doesn't like small children

• Nor the responsibility that comes with one, the noise, etc.

• If someone were to ever bring it up, he’ll brush it off immediately

C 𖦹 CUDDLE how he cuddles

• Cuddling isn’t something Vanitas naturally gravitates toward

• When he does, it’s an unspoken plea for comfort

• He’ll act like it’s no big deal

• Throwing an arm around you lazily

• However, when sleep threatens to take him, he tightens his grip, burying his face against your neck

• He won’t say it aloud, but holding you is one of the few things that make him feel safe

D 𖦹 DATES what dates with him are like

• Dates with Vanitas are anything but conventional

• One night, he might manage to smuggle you two into a lavish masquerade

• The next, he’s dragging you through the streets of Paris, chasing some new case

• But every now and then, when he thinks no one is watching, he slows down

• He might take you to a quiet spot on the rooftops, where the city lights shimmer below

E 𖦹 EASY how easy it is to maintain the relationship

• Being with Vanitas is anything but easy

• He is frustrating, reckless, and prone to self-sabotage

• He pushes you away when he feels too much, teases when he should be serious, and hides behind arrogance

• But if you are patient—if you can navigate his walls—he will be fiercely loyal to you

F 𖦹 FEELINGS when he realizes that he loves you

• Vanitas resists the idea of love with every fiber of his being

• It sneaks up on him in quiet moments

• Perhaps, when you laugh at his antics

• When you hold his hand without hesitation

• When you simply see past his bravado

• The realization is both terrifying and exhilarating

• He won’t admit it right away, but he starts to act more possessive

• He will linger in your space and test your reactions to his flirtations with greater sincerity

G 𖦹 GENTLE is he gentle?

• He can be, if he wants to

• Vanitas doesn’t seem like the gentle type, and in many ways, he really isn’t

• He teases, he provokes, he pushes boundaries

• But there are moments—when he’s tracing lazy circles on your skin, when his touch lingers just a little too long—where his careful, reverent nature slips through

• He’s rough around the edges, but in the moments that matter, he is surprisingly tender

The dim candlelight flickered across Vanitas' face. He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, one hand braced against the mattress, the other tracing absentminded patterns along your wrist.

His touch was light, almost hesitant—so unlike the reckless, smug man who threw himself into danger without a second thought.

"You’re staring," he murmured, his usual teasing lilt softened by exhaustion.

"I'm not," you countered foolishly, watching as his fingers trailed up your arm, brushing over the pulse at your wrist.

Vanitas huffed, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. "You look so surprised." He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin. "What's that face for?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You're not usually being all soft."

His smile faltered, just for a second. A ghost of something raw flickered behind his blue eyes before he covered it with an exaggerated sigh. "What a cruel thing to say, chérie. If I answer honestly, you’ll know I have a heart after all."

You caught his hand before he could pull away, lacing your fingers through his.

H 𖦹 HAND how he holds you / Does he hold hands?

• Vanitas loves touch but pretends not to care

• He’ll take your hand in a dramatic flourish, press a fleeting kiss to your knuckles, and smirk at your reaction

• In private, though, his touch softens—his fingers threading through yours absentmindedly

The streets of Paris hummed with life as the two of you walked side by side, the gas lamps flickering against the cobblestone.

Vanitas had been particularly annoying tonight, teasing you relentlessly, his usual smirk firmly in place. And yet, despite the playful torment, he hadn’t let go of your hand since the moment you stepped outside.

You glanced down at your intertwined fingers. His grip was firm, but not constricting—like he was holding onto you without fully realizing it.

"You know," you mused, giving his hand a slight squeeze, "for someone who insists they don’t care for affection, you’re awfully reluctant to let go."

Vanitas hummed, pretending to consider your words. "Oh? Maybe I’m just keeping you from running off. Who knows what kind of trouble you’d get into without me?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Right, because I’m the one who attracts trouble."

He chuckled but didn’t argue, instead lifting your joined hands to press a fleeting kiss to your knuckles mid-stride.

It was a casual motion, with the kind of charming flourish he so often used to fluster people—but when he let your hand fall back to his side, he didn’t release it.

Instead, he held on a little tighter. A little longer.

And when you glanced up at him, expecting another smirk, you found him looking forward—silent, but unwilling to let go.

I 𖦹 IMPRESSION first impression of you

• Vanitas is a difficult person to impress, and his initial reaction is likely flippant

• Whether human or vampire, he’ll treat your first meeting as a game, testing your patience and reactions

• In both scenarios he’s wary but intrigued

• Either way, he underestimates how important you’ll become to him

J 𖦹 JOKER does he pull pranks?

• Absolutely, yeah

• Vanitas is a menace when it comes to teasing and pranks

• He enjoys flustering you, stealing your belongings just to make you chase him

• If anyone else tries to make a fool of you?

• He’s immediately on the defensive, as if only he is allowed to toy with you

You narrowed your eyes, glancing between the rows of stalls, frustration bubbling beneath your skin.

Vanitas had vanished.

One moment, he was strolling beside you, listening to your usual ramblings as he twirled an apple between his fingers.

The next, gone—disappearing into the crowd like mist under the morning sun.

You weren’t naive. This was a game.

"Vanitas," you muttered under your breath, scanning the market. A fruit vendor gave you a curious glance, but you ignored him, stepping past barrels of oranges and sacks of grain.

A soft rustle.

You turned sharply, catching a flicker of movement near a stack of crates. Your pulse quickened. "I know you’re here," you said, taking a careful step forward. "Seriously, what—"

A hand shot out, grasping your wrist.

You barely had time to react before something loomed from the shadows—a figure cloaked in black, a long-beaked mask obscuring its face.

You screamed—a sharp, startled sound that had nearby shoppers jerking their heads toward you.

And then came the laughter.

Muffled at first, then full-bodied, shameless. The figure pulled back, removing the plague doctor mask with a flourish to reveal—unsurprisingly—Vanitas, his grin infuriatingly wide.

"Oh, now," he practically purred, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "You should have seen your face!"

Your heart hammered as the initial shock faded, quickly replaced by burning irritation.

"You absolute idiot!" You yanked your wrist free, smacking him in the chest with a huff. "I thought you were gone! And then—that?!" You gestured wildly at the mask in his hands. "Where in God's name did you even get that?!"

Vanitas didn't answer as he twirled it between his fingers, looking far too pleased with himself.

"I should leave you here," you grumbled. "In the middle of the market. With no money."

He gasped, clutching his chest in mock despair. "Cruel! Heartless! How could you abandon your beloved like this?"

You glared at him. He grinned.

And, much to your own dismay, you found yourself smiling. Just a little.

"Unbelievable," you muttered, shaking your head as he slung an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back into the bustling street.

K 𖦹 KISSES how he kisses

• Vanitas is unpredictable with his kisses

• Sometimes they’re teasing, barely there, meant to rile you up

• Other times, they’re intense, desperate—as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear

• He enjoys catching you off guard, whispering something cocky before stealing a kiss

• But in his most vulnerable moments, his lips linger, his touch gentle, as if savoring the feeling of someone who truly cares for him

L 𖦹 LITTLE THINGS small things he loves

• The way you say his name

• The way you roll your eyes at his antics but still smile

• The way you reach for him instinctively, even when he tries to pretend he doesn’t need comfort

• He notices everything, even if he doesn’t always say it aloud

M 𖦹 MEMORY favorite memory together

• One night, after an exhausting day, you found him half-asleep on the rooftop of your home

• He hadn't mad himself known, but still made it to you regardless

• Instead of scolding him for being reckless, you simply sat beside him, sharing quiet conversation under the stars

• He remembers that moment vividly—not because of anything grand, but because, for once, he wasn’t alone

N 𖦹 NICKEL does he spoil you?

• Vanitas spoils you in unexpected ways

• He won’t outright admit it, but he’ll slip you expensive trinkets, pay for extravagant outings, and ensure you always have the finest of everything

• He will scold Dante for 'skinning' him when demanding money for intel, but you are worth every livre

• If you call him out, he’ll brush it off with a cocky remark—but the truth is, he loves seeing you happy

O 𖦹 OBSERVER what color reminds him of you?

• Deep blue—the color of the night sky, of mystery and quiet beauty

• It reminds him of stolen moments and whispered confessions, of something he cannot grasp but longs to hold onto

P 𖦹 PETNAMES

• Vanitas has an arsenal of flirtatious pet names—ma belle, mon cœur, chérie

• He enjoys watching you react to them, whether with amusement or exasperation

• But in rare, unguarded moments, he simply calls you by your name—soft, reverent, as if it means the world to him

• (Yes, I will spare you the goofy petnames from the old headcanons)

Q 𖦹 QUITTER who is more likely to break up?

• Vanitas

• Not because he wants to, but because he believes he must

• He would rather push you away than risk you getting hurt

• If you let him, he’ll disappear—but if you fight for him, he’ll crumble, unable to truly let you go

Vanitas is an escape artist when it comes to love. He tells himself that if he leaves first, it won’t hurt as much—so when the weight of his feelings becomes unbearable, he does what he does best. He tries to push you away.

It’s late, the gas lamps of Paris casting long shadows over the rooftops. He stands with his back to you, arms crossed.

"This isn’t going to work." His voice is light, but you can hear the forced detachment beneath it. "I’m terrible for you. I’m selfish, reckless—"

"And insufferable," you finish for him, nodding solemnly. "Don’t forget that one."

Vanitas turns, blue eyes narrowing slightly. "I’m being serious."

"Oh, I know. That’s what makes this so entertaining." You cross your arms, mirroring his stance. "Go on, tell me how you're doing this for my own good. Tell me how I deserve someone better."

He falters for half a second, but masks it with a smirk. "Well, you do."

"Oh, obviously." You tilt your head, your tone sweetly mocking. "But alas, I’m stuck with you—a stray lunatic, black cat with a very, very warped perception of himself."

Vanitas blinks. "Excuse me—?"

"What’s next? You’ll disappear into the night without a word? Leave behind a cryptic note?" You gesture vaguely. "Ooh, maybe you’ll say something poetic about how I should forget you. 'Do not weep for me, I was but a fever dream in the night!'"

"I do not sound like that."

"You do when you're being dramatic."

He clicks his tongue, turning away as if reconsidering his entire approach. You step closer, grabbing his coat sleeve before he can vanish.

"Vanitas." Your voice is quieter now, laced with something gentler. "I know what you're doing. And I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going anywhere."

He doesn’t answer at first. His jaw tightens, his usual attitude crumbling at the edges. Then, finally, he sighs, tilting his head back with a groan.

Your lips slowly pull into a small, triumphant grin.

Vanitas exhales sharply through his nose. But when he turns back to you, there’s something softer in his gaze, something vulnerable.

R 𖦹 REMEMBER your favorite memory of each other

• Your favorite memory is the night he let his guard down completely

• When, instead of teasing or deflecting, he simply held you close

• And when he admitted, in the quietest voice, that he was afraid to lose you

S 𖦹 SADNESS how he cheers himself / you up

• Vanitas deflects sadness with humor and a hefty portion of sarcasm

• Hypocrisy is also a great coping mechanism by the way

• But when it becomes too much, he seeks comfort in proximity—whether he admits it or not

• If you’re upset, he’ll tease at first, but if it’s serious, he’ll pull you into his arms and quietly remind you that he’s not going anywhere

T 𖦹 TALKING what he loves to talk about

• Theories

• The absurdity of fate

• When he’s feeling more introspective, he’ll speak of the stars

• And of the things he lost, and of the future he isn’t sure he deserves

U 𖦹 UNIVERSE a metaphor for your love

• A fleeting comet—brilliant, reckless, destined to burn brightly before it fades

• Even if it ends, even if it’s brief, he would chase it every time

V 𖦹 VIEWPOINT his thoughts about you

• Vanitas tells himself that you are a fleeting presence in his life

• That love is something he cannot afford

• And yet, he watches you like you’re the only real thing in his world

W 𖦹 WHY reasons why he loves you

• He loves you because you stay despite knowing what he is

X 𖦹 ???

Y 𖦹 YOU what you are to him

• Everything he shouldn’t have—but everything he cannot let go of

Z 𖦹 ZEBRA what pet he would like to have?

• Honestly, Vanitas gives off basic cat person vibes

• But also, he would probably wabt something ridiculous, like a fox or a raven

•

14 notes · View notes

favourites-loved-by-heart · 2 days ago

Text

Une Étreinte Sanglante

𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌: post-argument resolution, reader being a bit of a brat, vanilla sex (?), piv sex, praising, teasing, vanitas being soft, reader being touch-starved, same ending as 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒙 𝒓𝒆̂𝒗𝒆𝒔 minors dni <3

Pairing: vanitas x 𝗏𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾!𝖺𝖿𝖺𝖻!/fem!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

Genre: established relationship

𝖳𝖶: possible grammar errors, explicit language, piv sex, small argument at the beginning, possibly repeatative language, possibly ooc vanitas as usually, my first time writing smut (help)

Word Count: ~7,351

Rain drummed steadily against the glass of the tall windows, pooling in rivulets that glowed faintly in the intermittent flickers of lightning.

The storm outside cast the room in a dim, flickering half-light, the occasional roll of thunder shaking the air but failing to bridge the tense silence between them.

You had been curled up on the bed for hours now, tucked against the far side of your quarters, your back rigid, your body half-hidden beneath the coverlet.

Vanitas had remained near the window, feigning distraction with a small vial of antiseptic he was testing, but he was anything but at ease.

The candlelight flickered against his profile, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark lashes cast shadows over his cheek.

His black coat had been discarded somewhere on a nearby chair, leaving him in his turquoise waistcoat and white shirtsleeves. The top button and the blue bow were both undone, collar loose—an uncharacteristic lack of polish.

You were still sulking.

He knew it. Could feel the weight of your gaze burning into him like a brand.

He let out a long, slow exhale, swirling the vial idly between his fingers, pretending not to notice. The concoction—a rudimentary disinfectant—was truly just a weak distraction, something he often resorted to when he needed to keep his hands busy, to push down the things he didn’t want to think about.

Or in this case, the things he didn’t want to admit.

The argument had been hours ago, and yet here you were—neither speaking, neither willing to cross the invisible line drawn between them.

A sigh, soft but uneven, broke the silence. Vanitas barely had time to turn his head before he caught sight of you moving.

You had slipped from the bed, bare feet pressing soundlessly against the cold floorboards, your movements hesitant as you made your way toward him.

The thin fabric of your soft dress trailed behind you, loose but elegant, its buttons fastened neatly down the front. The slit in the coral red fabric shifted with each step, revealing the smooth line of your legs before disappearing again.

You hesitated a foot away, fidgeting, before finally forcing out his name.

"..Vanitas?"

His grip on the vial tightened slightly before he let out a slow, exaggerated groan and swiveled lazily in the chair. "Oh? She talks?"

He meant to sound unaffected. Meant to brush this off like he always did.

But then he saw your face.

Your eyes were slightly glassy, the usual warmth in your irises dulled by something softer, more vulnerable. The way your fingers curled at your sides, the faint tremor in your lip—you looked hurt.

Not angry.

Not petulant.

Hurt.

His usual smirk faltered, something uncertain flashing across his expression as he hesitated before reaching out. His hand found yours, warm and delicate against his own palm, and he tried to bring it to his chest—to settle it over his heartbeat, to ground you there.

Instead, you recoiled.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t deliberate.

But it was startled, instinctive, as if you hadn’t expected the contact at all.

Something twisted in his chest.

Vanitas clicked his tongue, fingers twitching as he pulled his hand back, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the chair with a deliberately dramatic exhale. "Come on now. If you’re going to glare at me like that, at least tell me what’s on your mind."

You fidgeted, your weight shifting from one foot to the other. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words tangled in your throat, a mess of half-formed explanations and frustrated silence.

You did not dare look at him. You felt his stare burning into you, unwavering, dissecting, peeling you apart piece by piece.

And then—soft, uncertain, like you were trying to piece together something that made sense—

"I don’t want you to hate me."

Vanitas blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Hate you?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your dress, knuckles turning white. "I don’t understand why you were so angry," you murmured.

A beat of silence stretched between the two of you. Then—

Vanitas sighed, tilting his head back as if seeking patience from the heavens above. "You're not going to apologize now, are you?"

At that, your head snapped up, expression shifting from hesitant to flustered indignation in an instant. "Apologize, for what?"

And then, all at once, it tumbled out—the frustration you had tried to suppress, the words you had been holding back.

"You told me, not so long ago," you began, voice wavering between upset and defensive, "that you wanted me to drink only your blood and no one else’s. That’s what you said, didn’t you?"

Vanitas raised an eyebrow, but you were far from finished.

"I was thirsty," you continued, your voice rising slightly as you gestured with your hands, "and I usually hold back! But this time, I—"

Your words failed you again, your breath uneven, your fingers twitching at your sides.

For once, Vanitas didn’t interrupt.

Instead, he simply stared at you, utterly still.

Then, without warning—

He laughed.

It was quiet at first, a low chuckle under his breath. But as the seconds passed, it grew—soft, amused, then warm and unrestrained, filling the space between you with something light.

You stiffened, flustered beyond belief. "W-Why the hell are you laughing?"

Vanitas smirked, shaking his head as he reached for your hand once more. This time, you let him take it.

His fingers intertwined with yours, firm but unhurried, and before you could process it, he was tugging you forward until you were standing between his knees. His free hand lifted, slipping around your waist, before guiding you down, onto his lap.

You gasped, then squirmed, twisting in protest, but Vanitas only laughed again, shifting you sideways, pulling your thighs up so you had no choice but to curl against him.

"You’re impossible," you huffed, struggling slightly against his hold.

"And you’re adorable when you sulk," Vanitas countered, his voice low as he pressed his lips against your bare shoulder.

You froze.

The touch was fleeting—barely there, just a ghost of warmth against your skin—but it sent a shiver through you regardless.

Vanitas hummed, his breath teasing the spot where his lips had been as he murmured, "Come here, give me a snuggle."

You made a choked noise of protest, your ears burning. "I—What now?"

Vanitas only snickered, pulling you closer, so his cheek could rest against your hair. He let out a contented sigh.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly—

"You were right," he admitted, his voice softer now, less teasing. "I did ask you not to drink anyone else's blood."

You stilled against him. He didn't apologize, not really. But, hearing him admit that you were right still felt good.

His thumb stroked lazily over your waist, his fingers tightening slightly where they rested against the small of your back.

You didn’t respond, but he felt you settle against him—your warmth pressing into him in a way that was grounding, steady.

Vanitas sighed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before bumping his nose lightly against your hairline.

You shuddered, and he smirked, reaching up to ruffle your hair for good measure.

"Oi—!"

"Tsk tsk tsk," he drawled, smirking against your temple. "Consider it revenge for making me put up with your sulking all evening."

You huffed. "I was NOT sulking."

"Mm. Sure you weren’t."

Your opened your mouth to retort—but before you could, Vanitas pressed another kiss against your temple, slow and deliberate.

You swallowed, your fingers curling slightly against the lapels of his waistcoat.

"..I hate you," you muttered weakly.

Vanitas only chuckled, holding you closer.

"No, you don’t."

You raised your arms and moved to wrap them around his neck, pulling him into a hug and burying your face against him. "So, you're not angry anymore?" you mumbled, voice muffled by your own arm.

Vanitas snorted. "Stop it already, will you?" he countered, a hint of amusement coloring his tone.

His hand drifted lower, tracing the dip of your spine through the thin fabric of your dress. Then, his voice lowered as he murmured, lips brushing your ear, "I rather enjoy knowing you crave me so desperately that you simply can't help yourself."

"Vanitas!"

He chuckled, the sound rumbling warmly against your cheek as he held you close. "What? It's true," he pointed out, a teasing lilt to his voice. "You're rather.. enthusiastic in your appetites, are you not?"

His thumb continued tracing the curve of your waist, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down your spine. Then, Vanitas shifted, helping you adjust your position on his lap until you were straddling him properly, your dress rucked up around your thighs.

His hands settled on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles through the fabric of your dress as he studied your face with a look of open appreciation.

"Tell me," he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, "what other.. cravings have you been keeping from me?"

"What? No, none—"

Vanitas grinned as he pulled back slightly to look at your flustered face. "None, hmm?" he repeated, voice dripping with skepticism. "Somehow, I find that very hard to believe."

One hand drifted up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over the cheekbone. "I believe you to be a quite passionate creature," he murmured, voice low and smooth as velvet. "It's one of the many things I adore about you."

His other hand slid lower, skimming over the curve of your hip before settling on your thigh, fingers splaying possessively over the exposed skin.

"Don't be shy now," he coaxed, eyes locked with yours. "Tell me what you want, chérie. I promise you, I won't judge."

Vanitas leaned in closer, until his lips were a mere hairsbreadth from yours. "In fact," he breathed, warm breath mingling with yours, "I might even make it happen."

You gazed at him, eyes wide with surprise at his sudden audacity. He had always been flirtatious with you, but never this forward.

Was he trying to catch you off guard?

Your fingers drifted down, grasping the lapels of his waistcoat once more. "I—"

Vanitas’ smirk deepened at your stunned reaction, amusement flickering in his gaze as he drank in the sight of your wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

He relished moments like this—when you were unsteady, breathless, utterly caught in his palm. The sheer power of it, knowing he could unravel you so effortlessly, was intoxicating.

"Don’t overthink it now," he murmured, fingertips trailing up your spine to brush over the curve of your shoulder. "Just say what you want."

His other hand wandered higher along your thigh, grazing the lace edge of your ridden up dress. "Or," he mused, voice dripping with velvet amusement, "are you too shy to put it into words?"

He leaned in, lips hovering just shy of yours, the heat of his breath ghosting over your skin. "Because in that case.. I suppose I’ll just have to figure it out myself."

He lingered there, letting the anticipation coil tight between you, before finally claiming your lips in a searing kiss. It was fierce, insistent—a declaration of his own desire, leaving no room for doubt about what he wanted.

By the time he pulled away, both of you were breathless, your cheeks painted in shades of rose, your gaze dazed and unfocused.

"Something like that, perhaps?"

You didn’t respond right away. Your lips remained slightly pursed—not out of defiance, but flustered hesitation. Your eyes, half-lidded, stayed lowered, avoiding the sharp intensity of his gaze. But he leaned in, pressing closer, and you instinctively leaned back, retreating until you nearly slipped from his lap.

His grip tightened, steadying you, yet keeping you trapped—with no chance of escape. Your breath hitched. Wide-eyed, you looked up at him, your chest rising and falling with the weight of the moment.

Vanitas smirked at your flustered state. It was a powerful feeling, knowing he could reduce you to a quivering, needy mess with little more than a kiss and a few well-chosen words.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice deliberately innocent as he held you suspended on his lap, "you'll fall." His grip tightened on your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he kept you balanced precariously. "Are we feeling.. adventurous today?"

His gaze flicked down to your heaving chest, lingering for a long, heated moment before dragging back up to meet your wide-eyed stare. "Or perhaps you're simply feeling.. overwhelmed," he suggested, voice dripping with false concern. "Is that it, chérie?

"Vanitas—"

He cut off your breathless objection with another searing kiss, his lips claiming yours with a hunger that stole the very air from your lungs.

One hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place as he plundered your mouth, while the other slid down to grip the underside of your thigh, pulling you flush against him once more.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were both left panting, eyes glazed and cheeks flushed a deep, rosy hue. Vanitas' expression had something triumphant to it as he took in your dazed expression.

"No more words," he murmured, voice a low, silken rasp. "Not when you look at me like that."

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing the delicate curve, before dipping inside to stroke your tongue and press down slightly.

Your pretty little whines and soft pants made any apprehension or exhaustion fall off of him, a glint of adoration sparking in his eyes at how you shivered at his touch.

His lazy demeanor melted into desire, and this became clear with the growing ache between his thighs.

"Vanitas," you whimpered his name, voice trembling with need. It was music to his ears, the sweetest symphony he'd ever heard.

He lived for these moments, for reducing you to a desperate, wanton creature aching for his touch, when usually, you were the embodiment of insolence.

A low, approving growl rumbled in Vanitas' chest as he tightened his grip on your hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh—surely hard enough to leave bruises.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours, grinding against your core in a slow, deliberate motion that drew a sharp gasp from your lips.

Vanitas' breath hitched as you imitated his motion and rolled your hips, the friction sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine. He leaned in, lips brushing the racing pulse at the base of your neck before he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin.

"Such a needy little thing," he murmured against your flesh, nipping lightly at your racing pulse.

Your hands curled tightly around the lapels of his waistcoat, your head lowering until your forehead rested against his shoulder.

Vanitas paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, as you mumbled, "..just don't stop this time. I hate it when you do that."

For a moment, Vanitas simply stared at you, taking in the desperation etched into your beautiful features, the way your chest heaved with each ragged breath. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

"Don't stop?" he repeated, voice a low, silken purr. "My, my, listen to you. Begging so prettily." His hands slid down to your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to bruise. "Such a greedy girl, aren't you? So hungry for my touch."

He rocked his hips up to meet yours again, the hard length of him grinding against your aching center through the thin fabric of your undergarments. The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making you gasp.

"Vanitas!" you whimpered, fingers scrabbling at his shirt as you clung to him. "Please—"

"As my lady commands." His voice was velvet-smooth, laced with a overt sweetness.

With a single, fluid motion, he rose and gathered you into his arms. For someone of such lean build, he was deceptively strong—though at times, lifting you tested his limits.

Not tonight, however. Tonight, he carried you with ease, cradling you in a perfect bridal hold as he stepped toward the bed. Still, the faintest flicker of strain ghosted across his face, a fleeting grimace betraying the effort.

He laid you down with care, the plush mattress yielding beneath you. For a moment, he simply watched—silent, entranced—as moonlight poured over you, tracing the soft curves of your body in silver and shadow.

Vanitas dipped his head, teeth grazing your earlobe before soothing the sting with a slow flick of his tongue.

His lips found their way down the side of your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin, each one lingering, savoring. His hands followed—exploring, learning—mapping the curve of your waist, the flare of your hips, the soft give of your thighs beneath his touch.

His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me what you need."

"..Lay me," you rasped, turning your head to the side as heat spread across your face.

Vanitas smirked at your breathless plea, a rush of excitement surging through him as he heard the desperation in your voice. "With pleasure," he purred, his tone a low, sinful rasp.

Just as you thought he was about to give you what you craved, he settled at the edge of the bed.

With calculated slowness, he began unbuttoning his waistcoat. Each button seemed to take an eternity, the soft clink of his earring accompanying every subtle movement as he glanced down at himself.

Once his waistcoat was undone, he moved on to his white spats, carefully unfastening each of the five clasps on both legs. You counted them, your impatience growing with every tug.

"Vanitas.." you whined, reaching out to grasp the blue bow that served as his belt. He felt the pull, his lips curling into a soft hum, though he didn’t meet your gaze.

Instead, he focused on unlacing his black boots, loosening them with deliberate attention before placing them neatly by the bed.

He didn’t actually give two fucks about the orderliness of his clothes—he was simply savoring the moment, dragging out your anticipation. Or perhaps he was still holding a grudge from your earlier sulking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he began undoing the buttons of his crisp, white dress shirt.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he eased it off, revealing the lean, strong muscles of his shoulders and a few scars that you had long come to love.

"Vanitas, please.." you begged once more, your fingers tugging at his belt again with quiet desperation.

In a flash, he was on you, covering your body with his own, pinning your wrists beside your head. "Patience, patience," he purred, voice a low. "Good things come to those who wait."

He leaned down, lips brushing the racing pulse at the base of your neck before he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin. "And I promise, this will be very, very good," he murmured against your flesh, nipping lightly at your racing pulse.

Vanitas' eyes glinted with mischief as he looked up at your flushed face, taking in your heaving chest and beautiful, kiss-swollen lips. "But first," he whispered, voice dripping with false innocence, "I want to hear you beg for it."

"What? No—"

Vanitas smirked at your startled protest, his grip tightening slightly on your wrists. "Oh, yes," he murmured. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you beg me to fuck you."

He rocked his hips against yours, the hard length of him pressing insistently against your core. "Go on, now," he coaxed, voice a silken rasp directly against your ear. "Tell me how much you need it. Tell me how badly you want to feel me inside you."

Vanitas leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Don't be shy now. I know you're dying for it. You were not too shy to attack me for my blood, now show some backbone."

"But I—"

Vanitas silenced your stammered protest with a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim your mouth.

He kissed you until you were breathless and pliant beneath him, until the only sound that escaped your lips was a soft, needy whimper.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark and hungry as they raked over your face. "But nothing," he growled softly, rocking his hips against yours with deliberate, maddening slowness. "I want to hear you say it, straight up."

"..Please, just—"

"Ah, ah, ah.. Please, what?" he admonished calmly. "I need you to be more specific, I fear."

He rolled his hips again slowly, the hard length of him pressing against your aching core. "Beg for it, chérie," he whispered, his voice a seductive command. "Beg for my cock, and maybe I'll give you what you need."

You sighed but gave in eventually.

Instead of speaking aloud, however, you subtly gestured for him to lean down, your voice meant only for his ear. Softly, almost shyly, you murmured the words he wanted to hear.

'Please, fuck me.'

Vanitas shivered as your soft, shy words washed over his ear, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his handsome face. "There we are," he purred, voice a low, approving rumble. "Such a pretty please from such sweet lips."

He leaned down to capture your mouth in a slow, deep kiss, pouring all of his desire and approval into the sensual slide of his lips against yours.

When he finally pulled back, Vanitas' eyes were soft and warm with adoration, even as they glinted with mischief. "Since you asked so nicely," he murmured. With that, he reached down and slowly began to untie the blue bow on his hip.

He finished untying his belt and let it fall away, along with his trousers. Then, he leaned down to capture your lips in a slow kiss that made your toes curl.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured against your lips. Vanitas groaned softly as he slowly sank into your welcoming heat, his eyes fluttering shut at the exquisite sensation.

"Oh," he breathed, voice rough with pleasure. "You feel incredible."

He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the stretch of him inside you. His forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling as you both panted softly.

This was by far not the first time the two of you had been so up close and personal, but every time anew it was exhilerating.

With that, he began to move, withdrawing until just the tip of him remained inside you, before sinking back in with a low, appreciative groan. He set a slow, deep rhythm, his hips rolling against yours with deliberate, sensual strokes.

Vanitas groaned softly as he felt your walls flutter around him, your breathy cries spurring him on. He hooked your leg over his hip, changing the angle of his thrusts slightly. With each deep stroke, he hit that special spot inside you, making you see stars.

"Vani—!" you gasped, back arching off the bed.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your wanton cries as he began to move faster, his hips rolling against yours with increasing urgency. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your ragged breaths and pants.

Vanitas barely manages to suppress a chuckle at seeing your reaction. He knows how to play you like an instrument by now. He knows all your noises. The cute ones. The needy ones. The loud ones you only make when he hits that one spot deep inside you. He spreads your legs wider with his hands on your thighs, going a bit deeper.

Your face crinkled slightly at first, then a bit more, as you slowly but steadily began climbing up the ladder of pleasure.

Vanitas descended his lips on yours immediately, swallowing your moans. His tongue explored your mouth thoroughly. He felt you clenching around him so good, and he groaned softly against your lips. He knew you were getting close. He then broke the kiss, panting softly.

Another moan.

Vanitas' smirk widens. He knew your noises, and he loved hearing them. He loved the way your body responded to his. Vanitas snapped his hips again, finding that spot. He saw your face screw up adorably, and he knew you were not going to last much longer.

He kept his slow, steady pace, his hands roaming your body—caressing, squeezing, touching every inch of you. At some point, he leaned down, gauging your reaction before planting his face in the valley between your breasts.

A small peck on your soft skin, soon another one, before he began placing hot, open-mouthed kisses there.

Feeling your body tense and quiver, Vanitas knew you were right on the edge. He gave a few more thrusts, before finally, your body convulsed. You came, your insides clenching tightly around his cock, and your mouth falling open in a loud moan.

Vanitas felt your walls clench and quiver around him as your climax crashed over you, your sweet cries of ecstasy music to his ears. He watched in awe as your body arched beautifully, your toes curling adorably.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips stuttering as your release triggered his own.

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you and stilled, his body trembling with the force of his own orgasm.

Vanitas' eyes fluttered shut as he came, your name falling from his lips like a reverent prayer.

For a long moment, he simply held you close, your chests heaving as the two of you caught your breath. Finally, Vanitas leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss.

A while later, he lay tangled with you in the aftermath, your limbs intertwined, but your bodies no longer joined. He stroked your hair, tracing the delicate curve of your cheek with a gentleness that belied his usual sharp edges.

Vanitas propped himself up on one elbow, head cushioned in his hand, and gazed down at you with an unreadable expression.

"..Something wrong?" You asked, rolling onto your side to face him better.

Vanitas blinked, his look slowly fading into a smile, which made the corners of his eyes crinkle, as he met your concerned gaze. "Non, chérie," he murmured, voice a low, gentle rasp. "Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking."

He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering on the delicate line of your jaw. "You're beautiful, you know," Vanitas said softly, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheekbone.

He slowly settled back against the pillows, pulling you closer to rest your head on his chest. Vanitas' fingers sunk into your soft hair.

His other hand continued its idle exploration of your skin, tracing the curve of your shoulder, the dip of your waist.

You snuggled into him, reveling in his soft touches, "I love you." Vanitas wasn't always this tender in his affections, but every once in a while, he would surprise you anew.

He stilled, his heart skipping a beat at your soft confession. For a long moment, he simply stared at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, slowly, a brilliant smile spread across his handsome face, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he snaked his arms through beneath your shoulders, embracing you tightly.

Vanitas wasn't actually this overt with his excitement, that you knew. But, he had this habit of exaggerating every now and then.

"Je t'aime aussi, mon bijou!" Vanitas exclaimed, his voice purposely over the top excited.

"..So, will you stay the night this time?" You asked softly, already bracing yourself for the usual decline.

Vanitas smiled softly, though from your postion, with your head tucked underneath his chin, you couldn't see it. His fingers threaded through your hair.

"D'accord, I'll stay until you fall asleep," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheekbone tenderly. "But not until morning, chérie. I'll need to go back to Chouchou at some point."

You nodded softly, despite the flicker of disappointment that sparked in your chest. Then, you felt the softest press of his lips against your forehead, the fleeting sensation making your heart skip a beat.

His arms remained around you, his fingers continuing their gentle caress along the back of your head, and you couldn't help but relax into him.

You didn’t know when it happened, but the sound of your breathing slowly shifted, becoming steadier, slower. You felt yourself drifting off, the heavy weight of sleep finally beginning to claim you.

Vanitas’s voice, barely a whisper, broke through the soft haze of your thoughts.

"Bonne nuit," his words are barely more than a breath, but they held a warmth, a softness that you know was meant just for you. "Ma chérie."

The last thing you felt before sleep fully overtook you, was the feeling of his chest rising and falling beneath your cheek, and the way his body seemed to mold perfectly against yours.

𝖠/𝖭: as i said, t𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 not gonna lie, i cringed at myself a bit while writing and i definitely still need practice..

..thus, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾! <3

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