#Soup Symphony

[spacetrashpile]

god i love when ttrpg campaigns haunt a song every time you ever hear it

[perrybearwaks]

Everyone bopping in sync to A Ghost's Pumpkin Soup is my favorite

[silvermittt]

Chinese Coconut Pork Soup

[bamfkeeper]

Blue Helpers.

RQ: 'Can I request reader (established relationship with night crawler) where reader is sick and the barmfs get so worried and try to take care of her, along side hurt' - @lillycore

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | warnings: Sick/illness themes

a/n: Doing quick little requests because I've been busy, I'm sorry 💔 I hope you enjoy this little drabble. Unedited. ;; wc: 1.0k

You coughed violently, your body shaking with each forceful expulsion of air.

As the fit subsided, you sank back into your bed, pulling the comforter tightly around you in a desperate attempt to find comfort. The pressure in your sinuses was relentless, a constant ache that seemed to radiate through your entire skull. It had been years since you'd fallen ill like this, and the sudden onset of sickness a few days ago had caught you completely off guard. You thought it was maybe food poisoning, but there was no way food caused you to be this sick.

Since then, you'd been confined to your bed, your body too weak to do much more than sleep fitfully and endure the various symptoms plaguing you. The combination of fever, congestion, and overall malaise left you feeling utterly gross, as if your own body had betrayed you.

Your persistent coughing didn't go unnoticed. The little blue imps were curious and concerned, cautiously making their way into your bedroom. They climbed onto the bed, their large yellow eyes blinking rapidly as they observed your weakened state. Their usual energy subdued with worry as they saw just how weak you were, radiating illness from your body. They stretched out their tiny arms towards you, but maintained a respectful distance, unsure of how to help or what to do. The bamfs huddled together at the foot of the bed, their gazes never leaving you as they tried to make sense of your condition.

It was clear to them that you were unwell - your pale complexion, the sheen of sweat on your brow, and your labored breathing were obvious signs. In their limited understanding, they couldn't comprehend why this illness had rendered you so completely incapacitated, so unlike your usual vibrant self.

One of the bamfs chirped softly, its tiny feet pattering across the bed as it approached you. It nuzzled against your cheek, its velvety body held a comforting warmth that provided a momentary respite from the discomfort of your fever. The gesture brought a weak smile to your face, despite your illness.

"Ach, kleine Schätze...bitte, give them some space," Kurt gently admonished, his voice a soothing murmur as he entered the room carrying a steaming bowl. He placed the bowl on the nightstand and lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress. His golden eyes met yours as he spoke softly, "Liebe...you must be feeling dreadful. Your temperature is quite high."

He reached out, his cool hand brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture. A reassuring smile played on his lips as he continued, "But fear not, I've brought something that should help."

Kurt lifted the bowl, wisps of steam rising from its contents. "I've prepared some Kartoffelsuppe for you," he explained, his voice warm with nostalgia. "It's a special recipe, freshly made and piping hot. My mother used to make this very soup for me whenever I fell ill as a child. It always seemed to work wonders."

You lifted your head weakly, mustering a faint smile despite your exhaustion. "It does smell good..." you murmured, the aroma of the soup tantalizing your senses. With some assistance from Kurt, you managed to sit up a bit more, your body still feeling fragile and unsteady. Kurt adjusted himself to sit closer, carefully holding the spoon out for you, his movements slow and deliberate to ensure your comfort.

As the spoon touched your lips, you savored each small sip. The soup was a symphony of flavors, each taste bud awakening to the rich, comforting blend. The warmth of the liquid spread through your body, contrasting to the chills of your fever. You knew you probably shouldn’t be eating hot soup with a temperature, but the soothing heat of the soup in your belly felt like a balm to your ailing body. You couldn't help but appreciate the deliciousness of the meal, a small pleasure in your current state of discomfort.

"Ugh, it's delicious, Kurt..." You sighed, savoring the food and relieved your stubborn stomach was accepting of the meal instead of instantly making you vomit it all up.

The bamfs huddled around you, their large eyes filled with concern as they observed Kurt feeding you. Their tiny forms pressed close, offering what comfort they could through their presence. Their simple minds grappled with the concept of your weakness as they witnessed Kurt carefully spoon feeding you.

If you were too frail to feed yourself, how could you possibly manage anything else? The sight of you in such a vulnerable state clearly distressed them, their usual playful demeanor gone as they made soft whining sounds against you. Their attachment to you was evident in every worried glance and gentle touch, they had become so needy for you ever since you and Kurt became an item, and they hated seeing you hurt in any way.

After finishing your meal, Kurt excused himself to fetch some medicine, leaving you to rest and recuperate. The bamfs remained gathered around you, their concern evident in their actions. With an eagerness to assist after seeing Kurt giving you food, they took it upon themselves to tend to your needs in his absence.

Their tiny hands struggled but managed to lift the large glass of water, offering it to you for a refreshing sip whenever you tried to reach for it yourself. They replaced the cool, damp cloth on your forehead after the rag had become too warm, splaying it on your forehead perfectly each time. The sweet things even attempted to massage your aching muscles with their small, three-fingered hands.

These loyal little imps refused to leave your side, their presence a constant and unwavering. When Kurt returned, he found you curled up on your side, surrounded by a protective cocoon of blue bamfs. They had nestled themselves against your belly and back, with some even perched atop you. Their warm, sleepy bodies provided a soothing heat, carefully balanced so as not to overheat you in your fragile state.

This living blanket of bamfs offered both physical warmth and emotional comfort, even with the few that had managed to weasel their way under your arm like teddy bears.

Thanks for reading <3

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight | Photos on Pinterest, Bamfs from Nightcrawler 2014

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅺ▬ ⁽ 𝓋𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓇𝑒⁾ ¹

part two

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ��˖₈ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : slightly edited, talk of past sexual assault ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : i had to split this into two parts! it’s giving very much manhwa vibes!

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : your elder half-sister is to be married to the mysterious and supposed tyrannical duke kallisto de ardelean, on word of the emperor. with your sister no longer having her chastity and being scared to lose his daughter, your father, marquis bastian, and your elder half-brother, tommen devise a plan to send you in her stead.

꒰m!vampire₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

 the sound of cutlery grating against one another makes anxiety coil taut within your belly, the emotion mischievously swimming its way upwards to form a burning mordant taste within the base of your throat; bile threatening to ascend and expel from your mouth. your nerves are strung tight like a bow, bending, pulling, hurting- waiting to be disentangled from its stretch; but to no avail. the persistent, uneasy ache pulsing through your veins causes your head to throb and pound uncomfortably - the onset of a migraine looming.

    the clinking of silverware becomes a symphony of discomfort, each scrape, and clatter adding to the cacophony that fills the room. it becomes increasingly difficult to focus on anything else, as the unease consumes your thoughts and senses. the atmosphere feels suffocating, as if the tension in the air is tangible.

  you find yourself longing for a moment of respite, a break from the relentless discomfort. but it eludes you, leaving you trapped in this sea of unease. the storm within you rages on, its intensity growing with each passing second.

      'when will this be over?' you muse sourly, stumbling to hold in a huff of frustration and discomfort; the stinging, scalding gazes of your siblings and attendants are alight with contempt and taunting humor- directed at you. the sensation sends a chill skittering down your backbone, a chill so frigid that goosebumps begin to blanket your skin like a fresh layer of december frost; intricate and icy.

  as you sit there, the weight of their judgment bears down on you, pressing against your chest and making it difficult to breathe. the room seemed to close around you, the walls closing in like a vise, trapping you in a suffocating bubble of scrutiny. the air is heavy with tension, each second ticking by like an eternity, as if time itself had slowed down to magnify your discomfort.

    and you find that removing your eyes from the bowl of lukewarm soup in front of you to meet their disdainful faces, was nigh impossible. unthinkable. so instead you remain fixated on the porcelain dish, undisturbed by the tiny grains of sand scattered at the bottom, swirling lazily in the stew.

 'this again?' you ponder silently, before being startled by the tinkling laughter that fills the room.

     for a fleeting moment, your gaze flickers upward to scan the dining hall at the soft, girlish snickering; finding the venomous eyes of your elder sister staring right back at you. your glossy eyes quickly find solace in the sandy, savory depths of the bowl of soup below you once more. your fingers weaving jointly underneath the table, nails turning pale as the vice grip of your extremities coil, trying to strangle one another. you felt like a rat trapped within a burning bucket with nowhere to go, fated to die-but how badly you wanted to gnaw your way out to freedom.

 "oh my, dear sister, you've hardly touched your food."

  your back molars clench against the tender flesh of your cheek at the attention, your body cowering back into the delicate velvet chair underneath you, praying to be devoured whole. with trembling hands, you nervously rub your dewy palms against the faded blue fabric of your dress, causing it to darken with the touch of moisture. it was as if your very nerves had been set ablaze as you could now feel the disconcerting stare of your father branding the side of your cheek.

your soft but prevalent ebbeton accent cuts through the tense atmosphere like a sharpened blade, the gazes of the room bleeding into your skin.

    "i find myself lacking an appetite this evening," you emit softly, offering a forced smile to your elder sister in an attempt to pacify her. you’re not surprised when aerith’s thin upper lip curls into a snarl, downturned eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing. anything that you did; that defied her orders, usually triggered aerith to taunt and beat you. there was no winning when it came to the girl, you had figured that out when you were just a child.

     not expecting your reply, aerith’s narrow upper lip curls into a vexed snarl, downturned eyes tightening and eyebrows drawing near to each other. 'who the hell does she think she is?' a forced, cruel smile encases aerith’s mouth, golden spirals of silken hair dancing over her shoulders as she slants her head in an opposing manner. the blonde is only aggravated further at your curt, almost blank expression. "it'd be a waste for you to not at least take a bite, don't you think?"

  she leaned in closer, her eyes boring into yours, daring you to defy her. the room seemed to grow colder, the atmosphere heavy with tension. aerith knew that she had the upper hand, that she had the ability to make your already hellish life, worse. and she reveled in it. the power she possessed, the control she exerted over others, was intoxicating. she was not one to be underestimated, and she made sure you knew it.

    the intense thrumming of your fearful heart reverberates throughout your body, anxiety substituting the boiling blood surging through your veins. you swallow the orb of tension that's wedged its way into your throat and dig your almond-shaped nails into your thighs, a flimsy smile painted onto your lips. "i simply do not feel hungry tonight, sister," you reply calmly, though your heart pounds in your ears. "surely that is not a crime."

    your sister's eyes narrow, her fury evident in the furrowed lines on her forehead. you can almost taste the outrage, mingling with the metallic tang of fear on your tongue.

"(y/n)."

    you flinch back into your seat at the boisterous sound of your father's voice, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow, shakily you pick up the rickety spoon, a far cry from the elegant silverware adorning the table. with trembling hands, you cautiously dip the spoon into the soup, the loose pieces of sand giggling at your misery. slowly the spoon ascends to your lips- before three sharp knocks echo throughout the dining hall. every malicious, joyously cruel gaze, flits to the door. your father, never one to be unnerved, dabs at his lips with his napkin and clears his throat. "enter."

    the heavy oak doors are gradually pulled open by two knights who stand guard at opposing ends. the assailant quickly waltzes into the room, his face, pale and drawn, betrays the weight of his duty. beads of sweat trickle down his forehead, glistening like tiny diamonds in the candlelight. his disheveled attire, once pristine and regal, now hangs loosely on his frame, evidence of the tumultuous journey he has endured to reach this moment. settled upon his spindly hand is a slender silver tray, which carries a letter.

“-and what is the cause for you interrupting the household dinner, boy? "

  the man choked back a shuddering breath and with a graceful yet urgent stride, he approaches the grand mahogany table at the center of the room, halting just in front of your father, lowering into a ninety-degree bow and thrusting the salver forward.

     "a letter from the imperial palace..." the boy's tentative voice trails off for a moment, hesitant to declare the rest of the announcement. your father observed the scene with a stoic expression, his piercing gaze fixed upon the man before him, before he rolls his eyes, picking up his utensils once more. "well? out with it then.”

“- it's closed with the emperor's seal, my lord.”

    all respire within the room seemed to come to a standstill, the birds did not dare to chirp and the wind was not brave enough to howl. the silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint sound of your father's labored breaths. as the seconds ticked by, the room seems to hold its breath, waiting for marquis bastian to break the silence. finally, your father gently places his utensils aside and swiftly grasps the letter, his fingers trembling with a mixture of anticipation and unease. clearly, some things could unnerve marquis bastian, you thought, as you surreptitiously returned the spoon to its rightful place upon the table.

     popping the seal, your father glides the letter from the envelope delicately, unfurling the piece of paper to allow his eyes to glaze over the contents. yet, with each passing second his eyelids draw back to showcase the whites of his eyes, his fingers digging into the paper with a mix of shock, disbelief, or perhaps even anger. you can't quite discern his emotions. your father, marquis bastian, was a man known for his unwavering composure and unshakeable resolve. his presence alone commanded respect and admiration, and it was a rare sight indeed to witness him unsettled.

   his usually stoic face contorted with a myriad of emotions, his brows furrowing and his lips trembling ever so slightly. the room seemed to grow colder, as if the air itself was affected by his sudden unease. you watched in silence, your heart pounding in your chest, as your father's grip on the letter tightened, his knuckles turning white. the seconds stretched into minutes, and still, your father remained frozen in his chair, his eyes fixed on the damning words before him. 

   tommen, your eldest brother, swallows thickly at father's silence, the hairs on the back of his neck at attention and his leg bouncing nervously underneath the table. "father, what ails you?" marquis bastian was distraught, so much so in fact, that he ran a wrinkling hand down his face, head falling into his open palm. the patriarch of the house clears his throat and sets the paper back onto the tray.

"a-aerith. your engagement has been decided by the emperor."

    tommen's heart sinks at his father's words. your elder sister, forever the oblivious blonde; and incapable of reading the room, beams happily and clasps her hands together, head tilting to the side with a whimsical, distant gaze in her eyes. "oh! who is it, daddy? a duke? a marquis?—" the girl trails off with a gasp and places a soft, small hand over her mouth, her cheeks turning a rosy pink. "could it be the prince?! oh, daddy, say something! who is it?!"

tommen's eyes follow his father's every movement, his own anxiety growing with each passing second. he watches as his father clears his throat, a sign of his struggle to find the right words. your father, still in dismay, doesn't even attempt to soothe aerith as he breaks the news to her, his gaze empty, like a vast, swarthy sea of water without end.

"duke kallisto de ardelean."

 you watch in confusion as her smile slowly fades, her pretty, sparkling jade eyes seem to dull, the vibrant hue that once adorned her rosy cheeks now fades away, leaving behind a pallid complexion that betrays the absence of her usual vivacity.

   the blonde's daze is shattered in an instant as she forcefully pushes herself away from the table, her hands crashing down on the sturdy oak surface, her nails leaving marks. "no! i won't do it, you cannot make me!" your father's lips are set into a thin line and despite aerith looking to him for answers, for hope that only his words can bring, his expression is unreadable; and for a moment, something dark and enraged unfurls within the blonde's stomach, threatening to consume her.

"daddy? say something!"

tommen, always the mediator, attempts to smooth over the situation. "aerith, sit, let father think for a moment— hm?" your eldest brother can't help but add an encouraging whirr at the end of his demand after seeing his sister's frightened gaze; a sight that tugs at his heart agonizingly. aerith reluctantly tumbles into her chair, reddened cheeks cushioned by clammy palms; her nails digging into her scalp worriedly.  "brother, do something."

tommen's jaw ticked in annoyance- frustration. there was no way aerith would survive at duke ardelean's home, particularly because of her licentious behavior and absence of subordination. with aerith's lack of chastity, she was nothing but used, damaged goods— not even a puppet to be utilized. ( she would've been better off marrying a count, someone she could manipulate and break faith with. ) sending her off to kallisto would do nothing but insult the ardelean household and bring disgrace to their family for generations to come. 

    tommen's love for his sister was undeniable, and he couldn't bear to see her endure humiliation or worse. he refused to stand idly by and witness the downfall of his family, the destruction of everything they had worked so hard to build.

   slight motion from his peripheral causes tommen's head to turn slightly in its direction, catching sight of your dingy garments and absence of etiquette. ‘ah, the bastard.' he thought to himself. watching as your back straightens immediately when his viridian-colored gaze flits to your slouched figure. there is a bottomless sea of revulsion whirling like a hurricane within its depths and you grip your right arm tightly, nails digging into your flesh; scarring it with crescent moons, a desperate attempt to maintain composure, to keep yourself afloat in the face of his disdain.

    but despite your best efforts- you seemed to drown. the contempt in tommen's eyes remained unwavering. his judgment was etched into his features, a constant reminder of the vast chasm that separated you. in that moment, you were acutely aware of your place in his world, forever relegated to the outskirts, forever branded as the outsider.

"father, if I may?"

   marquis bastian looks toward his son, lips thinned and face weary. he was without a doubt, lost on what to do the thought of losing his little girl to such a man, made his stomach churn and ache.

tommen drags his gaze away from you and locks eyes with marquis bastian; he's tentative, uncertain if the solution that he's come to would assuage his father. but, he takes a deep breath and explains.

   "aerith has been out of high society for years now, after the incident with count aslan's daughter, and there were only a few witnesses at the happening.” tommen begins gradually, making sure that his father is mindful of every little detail. "truly-she's not even talked about within social circles anymore."

   your father grunts in agreement, shooting a scalding gaze at his immature (but loveable) daughter at the reminder of the mishap. the blonde's pout deepens and she crosses her arms over her chest in childish defiance.

   “duke kallisto has never gone to any social gatherings before and he's been away at the northern border for about the same period, perhaps even longer, with his eldest son joining him only a couple of months ago. he would have no idea who aerith is." marquis bastian's eyebrows furrow deeply, producing wrinkles in-between his thick, graying brows.

    tommen watches as the cogs turns in his father's head. “'it's official only on paper and since duke kallisto has never come to any social setting and no one knows what he looks like, i doubt there will be a public wedding, especially since he's currently at the northern border leading the knights."

marquis bastian's eyes widen and he finds his son's viridian gaze. “are you saying—” tommen nods quickly, leaning back in his seat. “if we send the bastard, they'd be none the wiser."

all eyes narrow on you, calculating and cold, it raises goosebumps on your skin, hinders your breath, and makes you break out in a cold sweat. 

    a small voice inside you yearned to protest, to expose the sheer madness of their 'scheme', warning that it would only lead to the gruesome demise of the entire family for treason. but, what right did you have to speak? you were nothing but a bastard, a child conceived out of unwilling sex, brought into this world by a maid who was promptly cast aside the moment you took your first breath.

   you were raised in the shadows, hidden away from the prying eyes of society, forced to serve the family that had abandoned you. your existence was a constant reminder of their shame, a living testament to their sins. and yet, despite the cruelty and neglect you endured, a flicker of defiance burned within you. but fear held you back. fear of retribution, of being cast out into the cold, unforgiving world. fear of the unknown, of what lay beyond the walls of the only home you had ever known.

you were a mere puppet, a marionette manipulated by the hands of those who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end. your existence was reduced to a tool, easily discarded when it no longer served its purpose. it was a fitting fate, since commoner blood surged through your veins. you were forever destined to be overlooked and discarded.

     lips thinning you watch as your fathers face flushes with the color he lost while reading the letter, no longer tense as he nods his head in agreement with tommen. he lets out a deep hum before locking eyes with his son. “that might just work.” marquis bastian absently strokes his beard before giving a decisive nod. “we’ll have to start the process quickly. with how she is now…” he trails off prompting you to hastily blink back the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. 

 “hajorld, send a letter to madame kilsby.” 

  all eyes fix upon aerith as she emits a disbelieving whimper. “daddy! that’s not fair, you promised that madame kilsby would teach me! you swore,”  her voice, sharp and grating, causes marquis bastian’s face to pinch into one of anger. “had you not spread your legs like some common whore, aerith, i would not be forced to take this action."

  aerith's heart sank at her father's accusing words. she had been looking forward to learning from madame kilsby for months, only to have her hopes dashed in an instant. the disappointment was palpable in the air as she struggled to hold back tears, her rose-tinted lips pressing together as she slumps back in her seat. your father sighs deeply and picks back up his cutlery. “may the gods have mercy on us."

"chin up!"

    you wince softly at the abrupt pain that blooms bitterly across your calf, the skin puckering and swollen from the harsh, periodic whipping of madame kilsby. stiffly your chin lifts upwards. the heavy books that make a home on the top of your head for the time being, quiver- as if they are walking bare within the frigid december air; waiting to topple. 

     her aging hand presses deftly into your lower back, fixing your posture once more with a soft hum, assessing, watching. she observes as you prance forward, wobbly within your heels but nonetheless ideal, given the time frame in which your lessons had begun.

"to me."

   as gracefully as you can, you turn to face madame kilsby in all her beautiful glory and for the second time this lesson, your breath catches briefly in your throat. you gaze at her shamelessly, taking in her red tresses, which like a dancing flame, curl atop her head; her green eyes, the color of luscious green forests, are deep, enchanting, and dangerous.

    the smell of her perfume is sweet (but not too much so) and floral, with just a whiff of spice she is a woman to behold, and you do so often. with a barely-there breath, you walk back towards her, feet aching within the shoes given to you. if your form is off, it doesn't show on her face. you come to a stop in front of madame kilsby and she locks gazes with you, the corners of her mouth curl up, she's pleased— it makes her all the more inviting.

"good y/n, i'm impressed."

  an apprehensive smile caresses your lips, brightening your typical apathetic beauty, and madame kilsby, finds you charming even more so. the older woman clears her throat softly and gently removes the hefty books from the top of your head, setting them onto the table next to her with a thump.etiquette and most other teachings usually are taught to children at a young age; that way it evolves almost into a second nature for them. since you were born out of wedlock and worst of all to a maid, a woman of no noble origin- you had been cast aside, as there was no need for a bastard to learn anything.

     madame kilsby had been reluctant to teach you, the first couple of days you could perceive her ridicule, her apprehension. yet, just as quickly as it came, it went, the hostility, the backhanded compliments, every scornful thing she had done while teaching you the first three days, seemed irrelevant. 

  you, she concluded, are her most promising student. you heed her words, obey, and watch diligently. you emulate, take, and evolve her teachings to fit your technique. your unwavering, confident blank gaze and features add to the feminine, mysterious ambiance that seems to encompass you. seeing you take shape had been breathtaking for madame kilsby. 

     she had never seen such rapid progress in a student before, especially one who had been deemed unworthy of her teachings. your determination and quick wit impressed her, and she found herself looking forward to each lesson with you.

   "there is nothing left for me to teach you now. as you've soaked up every bit of knowledge that i could provide. and beautifully so." the curvature of your lips pull downward, and madame kilsby watches as your features return back to their typical apathetic look.

'i have two days left before being shipped off to duke ardelean's home.’ you think sourly,briefly escaping your anxious musings to offer a distracted smile towards madame kilsby. "thank you, truly."

     the woman inclines her head and gently rests a hand upon your cheek. "let me know if there's anything i can do for you, child, if it's within my power to do so, it will be done."

   'would it be wrong to ask her to stab me with a knife? probably.' and just like that, in two days, you would be shipped off to your death.

two days later

  the ride to the ardelean estate is hell on wheels, you believe. your body is sore from your unduly tense posture, and your bum aches continually at every hobble and wobble of the carriage, it doesn't help that the corset that you had been forced into (and not delicately either) makes it all the harder to draw breath. 

  the carriage had been riding all day to get to the estate on time, a staggering eleven-hour ride- where you most definitely couldn't get any rest even if you had tried. it feels like an eternity before the carriage pulls to a stop. 

"my lady, we're here." 

    your nerves are scorched, set ablaze with fear and unease and it engulfs your body in a flame so searing that you find yourself airing your face. the door opens slowly and you swallow down the squeal of dread that tries to claw its way out of your throat, you place your hands comfortably on your lap, back straightening despite the sting of pain it brings and face blanking.

    a large palm facing upwards comes into your peripheral and you place your own gloved hand into it, stepping out of the carriage door, on a stepping stool, and finally onto the gravel. your eyes adjust to the brightness of outside before the estate comes into focus, and it's enormous, your breath catches in your throat at the sight of it. the structure is beautiful in its own haunted way.

   "welcome to the ardelean estate, lady fureio." 

    the monotonous chorus of voices surprises you, your body jolting softly, it leaves your heart to thump laboriously in your chest; eyes finally narrowing in on the attendants of the estate, the head maid and butler stand front and center, eyes cordial and seemingly all-knowing. 

   your smile is small, reluctant— yet warm nonetheless, you tip your head downwards in greeting, swallowing thickly, palms beginning to moisten and skin warming at your nervousness. "thank you." 

  a smile brightens the head maids face, her plump but sagging cheeks flushing a soft, lovely hue of red. "my name is esmerelda, i will escort you inside my lady, to get you settled in." she watches with rapt attention as you exhale shakily, nodding, "that would be great esmerelda, thank you."

   her countenance swiftly adopts a stern expression as she directs her attention to the two knights positioned behind her. if they have a problem with carrying your luggage, it remains imperceptible upon their visage. without hesitation, they proceed to retrieve your possessions from the rear of the carriage and carefully carry them into the grand estate ahead, their armor clanking softly with each step.

   you don't own many thing, only a few dresses (which weren't much to look at) a singular pair of worn shoes, and a couple of hairpieces that were fraying at their ends. while marquis bastian had paid for your etiquette lessons and other teachings— he was adamant about not spending much else after that. which was quite foolish of him now that you thought back to it.

    the woman watches them intently, her eyes sharp. as the knights disappear into the castle, the woman turns back to you with a slight nod of approval. "they will ensure your belongings are safely stored in your chambers," she says, her voice firm but not unkind. 

   you offer a gentle smile and a slight nod, gracefully aligning yourself with her stride as she beckons you to accompany her into the estate. she trails in front of you slightly, as you two walk past the maids stationed outside for your welcoming. 

 "where is the little lord?"

 "i couldn't find him this morning."

 "young master calix skipped sword training as well."

 esmerelda's stern gaze quickly has them hushed, their chins tucking against their chests pitifully, your lips purse softly as you comb through your head for lost details on the ardelean household, following slowly behind esmerelda.

    kallisto de ardelean is a father to three boys, the eldest son: azur, who recently turned seventeen, joined kallisto a couple of months back at the frontier to help with the north's demon subjugation. he, along with kallisto, wouldn't be home for a while.

   atreyu, kallisto's fifteen-year-old middle child is learning at the academy and finishing up his second year. and because winter is coming, atreyu's company would be expected in a couple of weeks from now.

    you pause momentarily in your thoughts. not much is known about kallosto's last son, as he is too young to participate in any social gatherings, and too young for the academy, not even his name is known, well, you supposed now that you knew it. 

calix de ardelean.

 "it's been a long ride has it not? shall i have a bath drawn for you?"

    you were exhausted, eyes laden, and breath slightly shallow from the ill-fitting corset that adorned your figure. you wanted to sleep, needed it even; yet the prospect of a warm bath followed by donning a comfortable nightgown seemed even more appealing.

   “that’d be perfect esmerelda, thank you.” you can hear the smile in her voice as she responds back to you. “of course, my lady.” 

     the two of you make your way through a corridor after a long trek up a flight of stairs, it’s adorned with paintings. they're eerie yet exquisite; gloomy and desolate. the paintings seem to come alive as you walk past them, their eyes following your every move. the brushstrokes are so vivid and lifelike that you can almost feel the emotions emanating from the canvas. it's as if the artists poured their souls into each piece, leaving a lingering presence that sends shivers down your spine. the colors are so vibrant and the details so intricate that it's hard to believe they were created by mere human hands. 

   however, one catches your gaze, steals your breath away even—  as if time stands still as you lock eyes with the portrait.

“who is he?” 

   your mouth opens before you can dissuade yourself and esmerelda turns to face you, watching as you shamelessly gaze deeply at the painting, lips parted and almost breathless. you're not sure how the painter is able to capture the aura that surrounds the man perfectly— but they do and it's monarchial... terrifying. 

    his tresses are long and ebony; framing his face delicately, his lips are ruby in color- inviting; and his skin is pale as porcelain. the man's eyes are the color of freshly spilled blood, they gleam with an all-knowingness that warms your skin and strips you bare. you find it almost impossible to drag your gaze away from the painting, he's quite literally the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

  "that is duke kallisto, my lady." 

   you whip around to face her, eyebrows furrowing and heart thumping desperately within your chest, nearly pounding out of your ribcage, your ebbeton accent thickens as you speak, a look of clear disbelief in your eyes. "truly?" when she nods in confirmation you step forward and touch the portraits golden frame, trailing your fingers lower to trace over the cursive letters of duke kallisto's name. realizing how peculiar you must look, you quickly pull your hand to your chest; face warming in embarrassment.

 “shall we get going?”

ardelean estate

        the next day

calix de ardelean was a curious child. 

 his transgressions usually got him into trouble with his father more times than headmaid esmerelda had been able to count on both hands— though, that never truthfully seemed to stop calix, not for long anyway, especially since kallisto is reminded often of his late wife whenever he sees that playful glint within calix's ruby-red eyes, and folds almost immediately.     

     sometimes calix's childlike antics were simply disregarded by kallisto because the boy was just a child. a child who had never gotten to meet his mother, a child who lacked the maternal love that his elder siblings grew up with. kallisto could not be irate with his baby boy, no matter what he did.

   so it’s not surprising that calix is currently skipping sword practice. not that he despised it in any way, truly it was his favorite thing as it helped past time as he waited for his father to come back from the northern borders. 

  he hadn't been told about the marriage, only deduced it after catching wind of the rumors from the maids. he was curious, perhaps even a bit scared, he didn't like change. he would chase her out no matter what, before his father could come home. 

  now, to search for the woman who infiltrated his h- 

"ahem, young master calix- enough of these childish games."

     the boy jumps, startled by sir. fjord's deep timbre. without a word, calix quickly takes off down the hallway with a bellowing, tinkering laugh. his cheeks are flushed the cutest shade of red and his obsidian hair is ruffled at the top of his head. 

     glancing over his shoulder to look for the man, calix rounds a corner and immediately bumps into a soft, thick fabric, that sends him crashing butt-first to the carpeted flooring, hands burning. the boy whines softly and pouts, gazing up and up until he locks eyes with a woman. 

pretty. 

   with a worried frown, the woman lowers down in front of him, she smells of honey sickle and sugared lavender and it has warmth unfurling languidly within his tummy, turning him to mush underneath her soft, amused gaze.      

     "you must be calix." he nods slowly, unable to look away from her observant- filled eyes, she smiles brightly, it's welcoming and genuine. "my name is aerith fureio." 

    her fuller lips pull downward as she notices the redness that envelopes calix's hand, she reaches forward to grasp his wrist softly, angling it so that his palm faces upwards to her gaze, a nervous gasp expels from calix's lips, he's surprised to feel that ‘aerith's’ hands are slightly calloused. though from azur's teachings, a woman of noble birth never does domestic work, that's what maids are for. 

    it was difficult for women to comprehend how to wield a sword and so they weren't taught to do so. instead, they lived a life where they needn't lift a pinky. 

  so why were such warm and delicate hands, bruised as if she'd been working? 

    "you'll need some ointment for your palms." aerith glances over her shoulder to a maid who stands nearby with widened eyes. "lily, could you please?" 

    calix glances at the maid whom he hadn't noticed, too caught up in the woman in front of him. he glared at her viciously, watching as she scampered away with a small squeal. "yes, my lady!" 

   calix quickly snatches his hand from the woman and clutches it to his chest, round eyes scowling at her. 'aerith' chuckles soft and low, resting her elbow against her thigh and laying her cheek on her palm— gazing at the boy. he shuffles backwards away from her.

     "you're that lady that moved in yesterday, huh?" his gaze is sharp and unwelcoming but the woman in front of him seems to brighten at the sound of his sweet voice. she inclines her head in affirmation, it's surprisingly elegant in calix's eyes. "i am."

   it's a simple answer, not one he's expecting but it makes his heart beat fiercely. 

  the boy finds that the ire he once held for this unknown woman slowly starts to fade away, no matter how hard he wills it to remain. her eyes are like pools of warmth that beckon him to swim within them and her smile is small, but genuine- and calix swears that it's the first one that he's seen outside of his family.

    he opens his mouth to say something but there is nothing. 'aerith', seeing him struggle, cocks her head to the right and lets out a soft hum. 

  “say, i've had a hard time figuring out these halls, i just keep getting lost no matter what i do." she trails off in faux hesitancy and watches as his face lights up slowly but surely. the boy clears his throat and toots his nose up in a haughty manner, a smug smirk hugging his lips, calix finds that though her accent is unfamiliar and slightly heavy, it's not unpleasant to hear.

    "i suppose i'll give you a tour, no need to beg." calix scrambles to his feet, fixing his clothing. “i'll visit you early tomorrow morning, be ready!" before she can say anything else, the boy is off, running through the halls once more. 

"my lady? where has the little lord gone?" 

  smiling, you stand from your crouched position and turn to face your personal maid. "it seems he's run off. have the balm sent to his quarters when you have the chance."    

     lily nods and follows dutifully after you. "shall i show you around tomorrow then my lady?" you place a hand over your mouth to stifle your small laughter. "worry not lily, it seems i've reserved a guide." 

[miwsolovely]

— AN OLD SYMPHONY

𝜗𝜚 — in which, John gets sick after a mission in Siberia, never been one for the cold, that one. Good thing he has a sweetheart for a lover.

JOHN PRICE x NIKOLAI wtv the frerreeak his last name is angst — but if you blink, its gone — w comfort. john trying to be stubborn, nik being an idiot in love. 2.4k. — loved this ( my first cxc fic !!! ) — requested

“John, you’re burnin’ up,” Nik muttered, one hand on John’s forehead and the other firmly planted on his hip.

“‘M fine,” John croaked, his voice betraying him with every syllable. He was wrapped in their old, oversized knit blanket, slouched on the couch like a grumpy bear hibernating in the wrong season. His nose was red, his cheeks flushed from the fever, and his thick brows furrowed in irritation.

Nik sighed. “You’ve said that three times now. You weren’t fine when you tried to argue with me about takin’ your clothes off, and you’re not fine now.”

John grumbled something unintelligible and sank deeper into the cushions.

Shaking his head, Nik left the living room and headed to their kitchen. It wasn’t the first time that John had pushed himself too hard, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last which made his partner’s gut twist up in worry.

But Nik knew exactly how to handle him—grumpy disposition and all.

The familiar sound of chopping vegetables and the soft clatter of pots filled the house. Nik moved with practiced ease, humming to himself as he worked. John pretended not to care, but the smell of onions, garlic, and herbs slowly lured him out of his sulk.

By the time Nik returned with a steaming bowl of soup, his liver was sitting up, though still looking like he’d lost a fight with his fever.

“‘Ere,” Nik said, handing him the bowl with a knowing smirk. “Eat.”

John stared at the soup, then up at Nik, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a line. “You didn’t have to go through all tha’ trouble.”

Nik raised a knowing brow and crossed his arms. “I didn’t marry you just to let you starve when you’re sick, lyubov.”

Grumbling under his breath, John picked up the spoon and took a hesitant sip. The warmth spread through him immediately, the savory broth and tender vegetables soothing his sore throat. He hated how good it was—mostly because it meant Nik was right.

“You’re makin’ it impossible to stay mad at you.” He mumbled between bites.

Nik leaned down, brushing a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Good. Now finish that and drink some water, or I’ll make you take medicine next.”

John scowled, but the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. He didn’t mind being taken care of—not when it was Nik.

“You’re too stubborn for your own damn good.”

That earns a chuckle from John, he raises his hand and wipes the sweat from his brow.

After waiting next to the couch for an hour just to make sure John was lucid enough, Nik made John waddle up stairs—which took at least five minutes— and lay down in their shared bed.

“Put ya hand down ya idiot,” His husband says. Wringing a cold compress into a bowl on their nightstand, and placing it on John’s forehead.

Partner, lover, husband.

John never thought he’d find himself thinking, saying, those words. Before, the words had felt foreign on his tongue, icy like the snow topped mountains in Siberia.

“You were right.” John croaks out. The bed dips where Nik sits down with a hand on John’s thigh.

“About what? M’right about a lotta things, gotta be more specific.” He says with a smile.

John opens his mouth to answer but his words escape him as a cough instead. He turns his head away from Nik as he does. When he turns back, he sighs and his eyes are blown, unfocused. “Tha’ Siberia woulda gotten me sick.”

Nik huffs at that, patting the hard, soft flesh of his lovers hand sitting at his thigh. “You need to listen to me more. Might learn a few things.”

John lets out a weak laugh, his voice still hoarse from the strain of his cough. “Listening to you, Nik, is what got me up in those mountains in the first place.”

Nik smirks, leaning back slightly, though his hand remains firm on John’s thigh, grounding him. “Ah, but if you didn’t, you’d be bored out of your damn mind, wouldn’t you?”

John tilts his head, eyes narrowing as if to challenge the statement, but the corners of his lips twitch upward despite himself. “Maybe,” He concedes, his tone light and teasing. “Still, I don’t recall you warning me about how bloody cold it’d be.”

Nik laughs at that—a full, deep sound that seems to warm the room more than any blanket could. “I warned you, stubborn bastard. You just refused to listen, like always.”

The banter feels easy, familiar, like the rhythm of an old song. Nik adjusts the compress on John’s forehead, his expression softening. “Rest now, John,” He says, his voice quieter, more insistent. “I’ve got you.”

John’s eyelids grow heavier as the warmth of Nik’s presence lulls him into something close to peace. “Yeah,” He murmurs, his voice barely audible as he slips into sleep. “I know you do.”

For a while, the room is silent save for John’s steady breathing. Nik sits there, watching over him, his own thoughts far away but anchored by the sight of his husband at rest.

He stays where he is, his hand lingering on John, his thumb idly brushing over the fabric of the blanket. The quiet of the room settles over him like a heavy quilt, but he doesn’t move—not yet. He knows better than to leave, even for a moment. John’s restless sleep has a habit of pulling him back into old battles, his body tensing, his breaths coming shallow and quick as if he’s still out there in the cold, fighting ghosts.

It’s not long before John stirs, his brow furrowing as a low, involuntary sound escapes him. Nik leans forward, his voice gentle. “Easy, lyubov’ moya,” He murmurs, the Russian slipping from his tongue effortlessly. “You’re safe.”

John’s breathing evens out again at the sound of Nik’s voice, and Nik exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It’s always like this—an unspoken battle fought in the quiet moments, one where Nik’s only weapon is his steady presence. He wonders if John knows how much he gives away in these unguarded moments, how much of his strength is tied to trust.

Nik shifts slightly, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. He tilts it toward John, pressing the rim lightly against his lips. “Drink,” he coaxes softly. “You’ll feel better.”

John groans but doesn’t resist, taking a few sips before sinking back into the pillows. His eyes crack open, barely focused, but there’s something there—a flicker of gratitude, of recognition. “Nik . . .”

“Shh,” Nik interrupts, placing the glass back on the nightstand. “Don’t talk. Just rest.”

But John’s lips twitch in that stubborn way they always do. “Didn’t think I’d . . . need you like this,” He admits, his voice raspy. “Thought I was the strong one.”

Nik snorts, shaking his head. “You’re strong, John,” He says, his voice firm but kind. “But even the strongest men need someone to hold them up. ‘S what I’m here for.”

John doesn’t respond right away, his eyes slipping closed again. For a moment, Nik thinks he’s drifted off, but then a quiet, almost imperceptible whisper reaches his ears: “Love you.”

Nik’s throat tightens, and he doesn’t bother hiding the soft smile that spreads across his face. “I know,” He whispers back, his hand returning to rest gently on John’s. “I love you too.”

And as the night deepens, Nik stays right there, a sentinel by John’s side, ensuring that the past remains where it belongs—far away, outside the walls of their shared sanctuary.

The hours stretch long, but Nik doesn’t mind. His body is accustomed to waiting, to watching, to guarding something—or someone—he holds dear. The dim light of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows across the room, illuminating the lines of John’s face, softened now by sleep. His breathing is slow and even, a far cry from the earlier ragged coughs that had racked his chest.

Hours pass, Nik shifted from his seated place an hour or two ago to lay beside his sickly husband, not caring if he’d catch his fever.

He shifts slightly, careful not to disturb his partner sleeping soundly beside him, and lets his mind wander. The weight of their shared history sits with him, not heavy, but present—like an old friend who’s overstayed their welcome. Siberia, Afghanistan, countless other places that have carved lines into their skin and etched stories into their souls.

He glances at John again. There’s something grounding about seeing him like this—vulnerable, unguarded, human. It’s a stark contrast to the commanding figure Nik first met all those years ago, barking orders with a cigar hanging lazily from his lips. Back then, John Price had seemed untouchable, invincible.

But here, now, he’s just John.

Nik’s lips twitch at the memory. He reaches for the blanket and pulls it up higher over John’s chest. “You’ve always been a pain in my ass, you know that?” He mutters quietly, not expecting an answer.

But a low, gravelly voice responds, startling him. “You love it.”

Nik jerks back slightly, leaning back on his elbow to see John’s face. “Thought you were asleep.”

John cracks one eye open, a smirk pulling at his lips despite the pallor in his face. “Hard to sleep with you muttering to yourself over there.”

Nik huffs, leaning back into the bed. “Go back to sleep, idiot. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

John’s smirk softens into something more genuine, his gaze holding Nik’s for a moment longer than usual. “I mean it, love,” He says, his voice quieter now, serious. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Nik swallows hard, the words settling into a place he doesn’t often let himself acknowledge. “Good thing you don’t have to find out,” He replies, his tone gruff but warm.

John hums in agreement, his eyelids already growing heavy again. “Stay,” He murmurs, the single word holding more weight than it has any right to.

“Always,” Nik says softly, watching as John drifts back into sleep.

The night stretches on, but Nik stays where he is, unwavering. Whatever battles John fights in his dreams, whatever demons haunt him, Nik will be there—his silent promise, unbroken.

©miwsolovely do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms . likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3

[bookwormjust]

Imagine: An Accident at Dinner with the Inner Circle

Dinner with the Inner Circle was always an event to look forward to—filled with laughter, shared stories, and the warmth of being surrounded by those who had become family. Tonight was no different. The grand dining room of the House of Wind was bathed in the golden glow of candlelight, the long table adorned with an array of dishes that would make any chef proud.

Azriel sat beside you, as he always did, his presence a steady, comforting anchor amidst the lively chatter. His hand rested on your knee under the table, a quiet but constant reminder of the bond you shared. You were mid-conversation with Mor, who was animatedly recounting a tale of her latest shopping spree, complete with exaggerated gestures and laughter.

Across the table, Feyre and Rhysand were locked in a mock argument about who had won their latest training session, while Cassian was trying to convince Amren to try a new dessert. It was a scene of perfect, chaotic harmony—each voice, each laugh, blending into a symphony of camaraderie.

Feyre stood up with a smile, reaching for a large, steaming pot of soup from the center of the table. “Alright, who’s ready for seconds?” she asked, lifting the pot with one hand while balancing her plate in the other. But in her enthusiasm, she misjudged the angle, and the pot slipped from her grasp.

Everything seemed to slow down in that moment. You watched as the pot wobbled, tipping dangerously, and then—before anyone could react—it tumbled forward, the steaming contents splashing across the table. Hot soup splattered everywhere, cascading over plates, cutlery, and worst of all—over you.

The shock of the searing liquid against your skin made you gasp, instinctively jerking back in your chair. The heat was overwhelming, a burning sensation spreading from your lap down to your legs. You could hear the sharp intake of breath from everyone around the table, and Feyre’s horrified gasp as she realized what had happened.

“Y/N!” Feyre’s voice was filled with panic and regret as she reached out, but Azriel was already moving.

Before you could fully register the pain, Azriel was there, his shadows swirling in a frenzy around him. He pulled you to your feet, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and fear that you had rarely seen in him. His hands, those scarred hands that had seen so much pain, moved quickly as he tried to brush the hot soup off your clothes, his touch gentle but hurried.

“Az—” you started, trying to calm him, but his expression stopped you short. There was something deeper there, a shadow of past trauma that flickered in his gaze as he took in the redness spreading across your skin.

His grip tightened slightly, and you felt the tension in his muscles as he fought to control his emotions. You could see the anger simmering beneath the surface—not at you, not even really at Feyre, but at the situation, at the memories it stirred. Azriel’s own burns, the scars that marked his hands, were a constant reminder of pain he had endured alone, and seeing you hurt, even in this small way, pulled those memories to the forefront.

“Feyre, get some cold water!” Rhysand’s voice cut through the tension, his tone commanding but calm. Feyre nodded quickly, rushing to grab a pitcher of cold water from the side table, her face pale with worry.

Azriel guided you away from the table, his movements swift but careful. “We need to cool it down,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, as he took the pitcher from Feyre’s trembling hands and gently poured the water over your lap, trying to soothe the burn.

You winced at the initial contact but nodded, placing your hand over Azriel’s to steady him. “I’m okay,” you said softly, trying to reassure him, but his eyes remained fixed on you, his expression a storm of guilt and fury.

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt,” he whispered, his voice low and tight. “Not like this.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the tension in his grip, the way his shadows seemed to pulse erratically around him. “Az, it’s okay,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek, trying to pull him back to the present, to remind him that you were here, with him. “I’m okay.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might lose control—the shadows around him darkening, twisting in response to his turmoil. But he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as he leaned into your touch. Slowly, the storm in his gaze began to subside, the frantic edge fading as he focused on you.

The rest of the Inner Circle hovered nearby, concern etched on their faces. Cassian stepped forward, his voice gentle as he said, “Feyre didn’t mean it, Az. It was an accident.”

Feyre, standing a few steps away, looked on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean to—”

You offered her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Feyre. Really. Just a little hot soup.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand finally loosened, his posture relaxing as he took another deep breath. He glanced at Feyre, his expression softening as he nodded. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice still a little rough around the edges but calmer. “I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

Mor appeared at your side with a cool cloth, gently pressing it to the reddened area on your leg. “Here, this should help,” she said softly, her eyes flicking between you and Azriel with a worried frown.

“Thanks, Mor,” you said, grateful for the cool relief against your skin. You looked up at Azriel, who was still watching you with an intensity that made your heart ache. You reached for him again, pulling him closer so that your foreheads touched, a silent promise between you.

“I’m right here,” you whispered. “And I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Azriel’s eyes closed for a moment as he leaned into you, his breath evening out as he steadied himself. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I just… I can’t stand seeing you hurt.”

You nodded, understanding more than words could express. You knew the scars he carried, both seen and unseen, and how fiercely he protected those he loved—how fiercely he protected you.

Rhysand cleared his throat softly, his voice gentle as he broke the quiet. “Let’s take a break, give everyone a moment to breathe.” He glanced at Feyre, who nodded, still looking a bit shaken.

Azriel helped you to a nearby chair, his hand never leaving yours as he sat beside you. His shadows, usually so composed, still swirled restlessly around his feet, betraying the lingering tension in his mind.

You squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I love you,” you said softly, your voice steady and full of certainty. “And nothing’s going to change that. Not a little soup, not anything.”

Azriel’s expression softened, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice low but filled with the quiet strength that always made you feel safe. “More than anything.”

As the others began to regroup, offering more apologies and making sure you were comfortable, Azriel stayed by your side, his touch constant and reassuring. And as the evening slowly returned to its usual rhythm, you knew that no matter what happened, you and Azriel would always face it together—scars, shadows, and all.

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS More,Blood Character Popularity Poll Short Story ☽ Shuu ver.

Original title: 人気投票ショートストーリー、シュウ編 English translation by @otomehonyaku Requested by @aoi-hitomi-50 (happy early birthday to you and Shuu!) Original text can be found here.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

SUMMARY | In this short story, Yui (not mentioned by name) has been with Shuu for a while—a bittersweet feat, since the vampire is not very vocal about his feelings. One morning, Yui accidentally drops her spoon at Shuu's feet while she's having her belated dinner. Spicy events ensue, and Yui cannot help but beg for answers. Will Shuu finally tell her how he truly feels towards her?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

—Just like that, I became your captive. Even though I could no longer go back, I…

In the small hours of the morning, I was belatedly having dinner by myself when Shuu appeared next to me out of thin air.

“Shuu? It’s unusual for you to still be up this early…” I was so surprised that the hand that was carrying my spoon to my mouth unconsciously paused in mid-air, still laden with soup..

“Yeah, well…” Shuu said curtly while he sat down across from me. 

Was I only imagining it, or did he seem in really good spirits today? I thought I even heard him humming.

“...Um?”

“What?”

“Did something… happen?” I asked him gingerly.

Shuu rested his elbows on the table, still humming, and stared at me intently with a gloomy look on his face.

“Uh…?”

“...Shut up. This is Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 in G major, fourth movement. Look up the title yourself.”

I inclined my head in confusion at his profound answer. My knowledge about classical music was, unfortunately, limited. My mind drifted to the hymns we used to sing in church, and when I moved my spoon again, Shuu suddenly spoke.

“Hey… didn’t you say that I’m the one you love most in this world?

“What?!” I accidentally dropped my spoon because of his off-kilter remark. The shrill sound of the metal hitting the floor reverberated through the dining room. 

“Guess I was right,” Shuu said coolly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He eyed me curiously as I tried to regain my composure.

“W-why, all of a sudden…”

I clumsily stood up to retrieve the spoon from under the table. When I lifted the tablecloth, I saw that it had rolled over to Shuu’s feet. It was actually quite convenient that I dropped the spoon—it gave me a way out of the conversation so that I didn’t have to see eye-to-eye with Shuu.

“Ah, there it…”

Just as I slid under the table to pick up the spoon, I heard Shuu’s voice from above me. “What are you doing?”

“Huh? Um, well… I just wanted to grab the spoon…” I said, flustered. I reached for the spoon, and then, suddenly—

“Ah?!”

“Hahaha…”

Of all the things he could have done, Shuu brought down his foot on my hand. I looked up at him with a start. Our eyes met—he held up the tablecloth on his end and leered down at me kneeling before his legs, which were spread wide.

“We’re not done talking yet. Who said you could pick it up?”

“It h-hurts…”

“Of course. That’s because I’m making it hurt.”

I’d thought he was in a good mood at first, but I was at a loss at his behaviour now. I bit my lip. 

“If you want me to let go of your hand, come closer,” Shuu continued.

“Huh?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m telling you to come closer… and put your face between my legs.”

“...B-but…” I would die of embarrassment if I were to position my body between Shuu’s legs. Just when I wanted to tell him that, he pressed down on my hand harder.

“Are you saying you’re disobeying me… because you actually like it when I hurt you like this? I guess it’s only to be expected from a hardcore pervert like you.”

“That’s… not…!”

“Not true? Well, how about you hurry up and do as I say, then?”

I’d lost count of how many times I’d yielded to his will when he cornered me like this. It was frustrating, but… I knew it was pointless to go against him. No matter how much I protested, he always made sure he got his way in the end. 

“Ah…”

Feeling defeated, I did as I was told and braced my hands on Shuu’s thighs so I could poke out my head from under the tablecloth. Then, I stuck my face between his legs, careful so as to not bump my head. 

“Hahaha… You look awful.”

“You’re the one who told me to do it…!”

“Well, that’s true, but aren’t you the one who actually decided to follow my orders?” Shuu ventured, his lips curving upward in a suggestive smile. “You’re a stubborn little thing, you know. You’re so in love with me you just can’t help yourself. At least, that’s what I heard… I figured you like this kind of stuff.”

“Who told you…” My voice wavered unintentionally, my heartbeat out of control.

“You’re so red. Bullseye. It’s obviously true, so  it doesn’t even matter where I heard it. Now, come closer.”

Shuu’s unusual talkativeness and assertive behaviour overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t help but obey him. No matter the things he did to me, no matter the cruel words he said to me… I was madly in love with him, just like he said. 

It was not a matter of not being able to go against him. I just…  wouldn’t.

“Come, hurry up… I’d rather you be grateful that I’m giving you this much attention…”

“Ah…”

“That’s it. Come closer. Actually, how about you sit on my lap?”

As if he’d seen right through me, Shuu’s voice was suddenly sickly-sweet, his gaze unrelenting in his efforts to persuade me. Despite my slight hesitation, I was internally overjoyed to hear this side of him. I simply did as I was told.

Our bodies were flush. I wriggled against him to get out of the tight space. It was incredibly embarrassing, but in the end, I managed to lower myself into Shuu’s lap. I braced my hands on his shoulders, facing him directly.

“Hehe… Look at you. I knew you could do it. Complain all you want, but I know you actually love doing naughty things like this.”

“Oh…”

“You aren’t really in the position to say otherwise, you know. Well… I’ll make you do much naughtier things. You love me more than anyone else in the world, right? I like the sound of that. As your reward… I’ll let you kiss me.”

“What…?”

“I’m too tired… so kiss me already. Come here…” 

Shuu narrowed his eyes at me impatiently. 

“Mm… ah, this isn’t bad after all. Your scent… the taste of you… Mmh…”

He had me completely at his mercy. Shuu’s lips found mine over and over again, deepening the kiss, from various angles… From an outsider’s perspective, it must have looked like we were sharing an intimate moment, but I was simply unable to resist his seduction. No, rather… this was…

I actually wanted this.

“Shuu…”

“What?”

“...Does this make you happy? Or… am I just a bother?” I asked him outright in between kisses. I’d been wondering about it for a while now. 

Shuu brusquely lifted me off of his lap and sat me down on top of the table. “You’re putting words in my mouth now? Shut up.”

“I… I figured you’d say that…” 

Maybe, in my heart, I wanted to hear such a predictable answer. Was it because I actually liked his harsh manner of speaking? My thoughts were still racing, but Shuu started stroking my hair and placed kisses on my ears.

“It’s not worth worrying about whether or not I like you… that’s not what I’m interested in. However… if anything, I’m interested in your blood. I crave you… do you understand what I’m saying? You can draw your own conclusions.”

Shuu’s sadistic voice sent incessant chills down my spine. That was all I needed to hear.

“Shuu, I love you…” The words just tumbled over my lips before I could catch myself. 

Shuu chuckled. “Heh… I know. You’re such a lewd woman. I know what you want… and you think I’ll give it to you, don’t you? I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll humour you until you’re satisfied.”

I could feel Shuu open his mouth wide. I waited for his fangs to pierce my skin with bated breath. The sharp tips of his canine teeth slowly hovered over my skin. He seemed to be holding back at first, but his demeanour quickly changed—in a flash, his fangs were buried in my neck.

“Mh…”

To this day, I still didn’t know how to describe this feeling. It hurt, of course, but at the same time, there was no way to put into words the absolute assault on my senses, the numbness that spread through me.

“Ha… Mmh… What a great expression… Agh…”

“Ah…” I came dangerously close to crying out while he drank from me. I desperately pressed my lips together. 

Shuu let out a low laugh. Surely, he thought I was only writhing in agony, but I didn’t mind—that wasn’t exactly wrong, either. 

“You’re greedy for such a meek girl, but… this is a reward, so… I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Mmh…”

A reward… the fact that he used such a word for it was proof that Shuu knew exactly how he was making me feel, and enjoyed it. It made my heart swell with joy. It had probably been a bit tactless to beg him to confess his feelings outright. I was already more than happy that, slowly, piece by piece, he revealed himself to me. 

“Let’s go over here now...”

Shuu’s hands impatiently groped at my chest. A feeling of endearment surged within me at the sight of him behaving like this.

I was completely head over heels for this man. I was far beyond saving, but at least I had some self-awareness. 

My mind wandered as my fingers became entwined in Shuu’s hair, my hands stroking his head. I wanted to shout my love for him from the rooftops, but an indirect approach was more befitting of this musically inclined man. 

Then, suddenly, Shuu lifted his face from where it had been buried in my chest, and told me flat-out, “I love you. Or, rather, I love you, the girl who is completely smitten with me. Got that?”

“Ah…!”

Now I really felt like I would go mad. Unable to contain my happiness, I instinctively covered my face with my hands. My cheeks were red-hot. Shuu saying the words I’d wanted to hear for so long was, without a doubt, the best reward. 

It seemed that, somehow, this languid, young nobleman of the shadows had laid his claim on both my body and soul. There was no going back anymore. And yet…

—I found myself smiling, thinking that might not be so bad after all.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Comfort (Sebastian Solace x reader)

Notes: Part two of Home, wanted to indulge a little more in Sebastian and Painter finally living the life they wanted. Thank you all for the love on the last one! Makes me happy to know that you guys like my short drabbles, probably or probably won't make a part three

But, we'll see ;)

Credit for the divider: @cafekitsune

God, how long were you gone for you to miss cooking? The simple preparation of the dinner you were making gave you an unbelievable amount of joy, hell even the assembly of it made you excited. You could already feel your mouth water from the multitude smells wafting throughout the home, creating a symphony of flavors. Stirring the pot one last time and tasting the soup for any last minute touches, you killed the heat before bringing out two bowls and spoons.

Peaking out the window, you see Painter at their new tablet—a wire connecting the tablet to the AI—drawing the scenery around the house with such enthusiasm, such joy seen on their screen. So far, it seems like they were drawing the sunset.

"Sebastian, dinner's ready!" Ladling the soup in the bowl, you made sure to give Sebastian's extra meat and veggies before setting it at the table. The sound of distant shuffling coming from the direction of Sebastian's room met your ears, a smile spreading across your face when you heard the curses leaving the man's mouth when he accidentally hit his tail, serving yourself soup before sitting down at the table.

Emerging from the hallway, Sebastian survey's the room, taking in every detail before heading towards the table. He changed out of his iconic jacket and ruffled shirt, now donning a clean white shirt with an added sleeve for his third arm and fresh bandages. The stitches were a bit messy, but you're willing to learn how to do so properly. His scarf was currently being washed, as the piece of clothing had a stench that was so strong it nearly made you sick—no way were you going to let that smell stain the house.

You have no idea how Sebastian withstood the smell for so long, considering he has a greater sense of smell compared to you.

Oh god, that means it must have been 10x worse for the poor man.

Considering Sebastian wouldn't be able to fit in a normal chair comfortably, you dragged over your couch to the table, that way he could eat without having to sit on his tail. You could only imagine the cramps he experienced down in the facility, cramped in a small room hours on end with no room for his tail to stretch properly. He seemed to appreciate the gesture greatly, wasting no time to stretch out his tail over the edge of the couch and getting comfortable. A quiet trill of content could be heard, his eyes closing momentarily to soak in the warmth.

"How do you feel?" Picking up your spoon, you scooped up a piece of meat and a bit of the broth, blowing on it softly before bringing it up to your mouth. A burst of flavors greeted your tastebuds, starved of the warmth and flavor of actual food, a small smile appearing on your face before eagerly going back for another scoop. Sebastian seems to mull over your question, an unreadable look settles on his face as he readjusts his position. He seems . . . unsure.

"You don't have to answer if you feel like you might breakdown breakdown thinking about it." You add, using your spoon to point in his direction, "By the way, make sure to eat your soup before it gets cold, soup is never good when cold."

"I'm not going to breakdown from a simple question." A snarky reply leaves his tongue, but it's missing that rough edge. No harm in those words.

It's . . . nice, really. Nice that he can finally be himself around you. Finally breaking down those walls.

~~~

Well, dinner was eventful to say the least.

It turns out that Sebastian had forgot what actual food tasted like, since he has been at the facility since 2015, and *cough cough* had a breakdown breakdown.

It took quite some time for him to calm down in order for him to finish eating his now cold soup, tears still streaking down his face when he did so. He didn't complain how it was cold though, he still loved it, his tail gave him away. When the bowl was empty, you encouraged him to go to bed early, since he seemed to be exhausted. Begrudgingly, he agreed with your statement, before slithering back into his room, the bumps of his tail hitting the walls on his way back.

Walking around the kitchen, you cleaned up the mess left behind. Dishes washed, counter cleaned, floor broomed. Stopping before the couch, you stared at it for a bit, mulling over whether it should be moved back to it's original place or would you have to repeatedly move it back and forth every time you had to eat.

"Well, Sebastian's going to be eating here from now on, yeah?" Leaving seems like a better option than the other two, really. Sebastian needs somewhere to eat and you're not going to make him eat on the floor. Oh god you hope you never have to do that. What time is it? A glance at the clock, 9:08 PM.

You still had some time before turning in for the night, so finishing up, you decided to chill outside with Painter for a bit before going back inside. You hope the computer doesn't mind some company, they've been outside for a while now.

"Hey Painter." Stepping outside, the summer night breeze washes over you, the smell of the wild nature hitting your nose as you walked over to the bench that Painter was set on. They seemed to have stopped painting, now just watching the night sky above, fascination written all over their screen. "Do you mind having company?'"

"No, not at all."

The stars seemed so bright tonight, leaning back more to admire it in all its beauty. Silence fell between the two of you— a breeze coming by every so often to break it—the both of you looking at the specks of light above. "You like it up here?"

A simple question sparked such a happy reaction from the AI, the brightness emitting from their screen becoming brighter. "Oh absolutely! Just after you left me outside, I saw a Flame Skimmer fly by! It seemed to circle around for a bit, but it eventually went away. Fortunately I was able to get a quick sketch of it. Oh oh! I was able to paint a few scenes while you were inside, one of them has Cumulonimbus clouds! Then-" They happily showed you their paintings and sketches they made throughout the day, enthusiasm laced in every word they spoke.

A smile present on your face, listening to their passionate rant. Maybe you could bring them to that one spot in the woods you frequented before being arrested.

Yeah, you can get used to this . . .

First Part, Next Part

[perfectlyoongi]

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who has your city in the weather app on his phone. as soon as Namjoon started talking to you and felt a little flower blooming inside his heart, he was quick to add your city to his app. seeing it every day, Namjoon made sure to always remind you to wear a scarf or take your umbrella with you. whatever the weather in your city, Namjoon was always ready with little pieces of advice and reminders to make your day better. “it’s going to be quite hot there today.do you have your water bottle with you? carry a fan in your backpack and stop for some ice cream before you get home. you deserve this treat.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who swears the only music that warms his soul is the sound of your voice. Namjoon was in love with you. in a way, your presence in his life had made the world a worthy place to live. you were like a ray of light in the grayest of days. with your laughs and stories, you could warm Namjoon’s heart even if you were miles away. and it was in your voice that Namjoon knew the true comfort of existence. being an eternity away from you, it was in your voice that Namjoon found true love. and there was no music or symphony that could compare with the melody of your voice. “talk to me. tell me about your day. describe the sky to me. say whatever you want, but speak. i need the calm that your voice brings me.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who offers you a set of cards titled ‘open when…’. the world was cruel and challenging, that was a truth known to everyone; as such, Namjoon tried to make your distance less painful by writing a set of letters for you to open at specific times. from a drawing of two arms for when you need a hug, or a recipe for soup when you want comfort, an extensive array of letters were delivered to you on a blustery winter morning — and you swore the sun came out the moment you saw that set of cards. “i think i planned every possible scenario. but if you need a card and don’t find one in this set, send a text. i leave everything to write you a digital letter, just ask.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who says he already missed you before he met you. when he met you, Namjoon felt at peace. for some reason, since the day he met you, Namjoon stopped being so heavy. it was as if you had brought with you the garden of eden that Namjoon delighted in from the moment he met you. in a way, Namjoon’s heart stopped bleeding when the two of you formed a friendship. and oh, when his flower expanded into bushes and trees, Namjoon could feel, for the first time in years, what true happiness was. “meeting you was like coming home after a long day of work. meeting you was a comfort i already knew but had never experienced. meeting you was meeting me for the first time. and i missed you and your soul so much.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who writes a song about you and the distance that separates you. it was more than obvious that Namjoon would express his feelings in a song — it was the only way he knew to alleviate some of the pain he felt. but unlike all the other songs, that one was just made for you. from lyrics to melody, the song was made from scratch, always with you in mind, wanting to show you how much he loved you and how unfair fate was for having put you so far away. “i wrote this song to ease the weight of my heart. it’s a simple poem about my feelings, but i want you to know that my entire soul is forever engraved here. and only for you.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who reads to you every night. fairy tales never sounded so innocent when uttered by Namjoon’s tender lips. telling you various adventures and love stories, Namjoon read to you every night before you went to sleep, hoping that his voice would be enough to bring you some comfort even though he was on the other side of the phone. with delicate words and graceful pronunciations, Namjoon lulled you into a deep sleep at the end of an extremely exhausting day — a reminder that he would always be just a call away from you. “today i want to do something different. when i went to the cafe, i heard a conversation between two strangers and i would like to repeat it to you. it’s about a flower’s love for water.”

LONG-DISTANCE!NAMJOON who left everything behind just to be able to hug you. Namjoon was at a stage in his life where only you mattered. yes, he loved his friends. yes, he loved his family. yes, he loved his job. but, oh, how he loved you. the world only made sense because Namjoon knew you existed; all light came from you, all happiness came from you, all life came from you. you were the world to Namjoon and he didn’t mind leaving all his other loves behind if it meant having you in his arms for the first time. “my heart was begging to come home. i really needed to see you. we spent a lot of time apart. now i’m here. now i’m home. me and my heart are at home.”

[starclancy]

~ Sweet As Sugar ~

PAIRING: Fem!Reader/Sanji

CONTENTS: 🩷 - fluff

WORDCOUNT: 482

Request status: Open (PLS PLS PLS)

The scent of something delicious wafted through the Thousand Sunny as you made your way to the galley. You knew Sanji would be there, probably humming to himself while preparing yet another masterpiece for the crew.

Sure enough, when you peeked around the doorway, there he was, dressed in his signature chef’s outfit, sleeves rolled up as he skillfully chopped vegetables. His blonde hair fell into his eyes as he worked, and the faintest trace of a smile lingered on his lips.

“Smells amazing,” you said, leaning against the doorway.

Sanji’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and his expression brightened immediately. “Ah, [Y/N]-chan!” he exclaimed, dropping the knife and wiping his hands on his apron. “What brings such a lovely flower to my humble kitchen?”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatic greeting but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. “I was hoping to steal a taste before dinner. Got anything ready?”

“For you?” he said, placing a hand over his heart as though your request had been a divine blessing. “Anything.”

Sanji moved with practiced grace, grabbing a spoon and dipping it into a pot simmering on the stove. He approached you, holding it out like he was offering you a priceless treasure. “Here, my love, try this.”

You raised an eyebrow at the pet name but leaned in, letting the rich, creamy soup melt on your tongue. It was perfect, a symphony of flavors that made your eyes widen.

“This is amazing, Sanji,” you said earnestly. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

He beamed, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. “Hearing that from you makes it worth every second.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “You say that to everyone.”

“No!” he protested, looking genuinely offended. “What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t save my best efforts for the most beautiful woman aboard?”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You turned your gaze to the counter, trying to hide the blush creeping up your face. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously in love?” he teased, stepping closer.

Before you could respond, he took your hand gently in his, his blue eyes meeting yours. “But seriously, [Y/N]-chan,” he said, his voice softer now, “seeing you enjoy something I made... it means more to me than you know.”

Your breath hitched at the sudden intimacy of the moment. For once, his usual flamboyant charm was replaced by something quieter, more genuine.

“I do enjoy it,” you said, your voice equally soft. “Not just the food, but... being here with you.”

Sanji’s face lit up, his expression a mix of surprise and pure joy. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

“You’ve just made this chef the happiest man alive,” he said with a grin, his flirtatious side returning.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he said, winking, “you’re still here.”

Dinner that night tasted even better, knowing it had been made with a little extra love.

[yourstrulysylus]

Midnight kitchen

The foyer of his house smelled appetizing the familiar sounds of frying pans and the soup boiling made his mouth water after a long day of business affairs he clearly anticipated of what’s being made. Sylus sees her standing in the kitchen eyes completely focused as she chops some green onions using her favorite wooden chopping board he secretly smiled to himself as it gave him pleasure that she uses one of his gifts.

One of the favorite things about this pretty little chef of his is that she cleans as she goes he appreciated the fact that the area she worked at not a mess was in sight and the sink was almost dish-free. He adored the way she was organized without burning a single meal and how she’s meticulously careful with sharp objects.

He made his presence known by clearing his throat as she was now stirring the pot on the stove.

She looked up at his gaze and welcomed him with a smile. His heart swelled at the sight before him he closed the distance between them, standing by her side. He leaned against the counter watching her work the aroma of the food getting stronger.

“So what are we having for tonight?” he asked

“I’m making you a traditional korean dish called kimchi jjigae and dakgangjeong for dinner,” she responded with a smile “here taste this.”

He took a spoonful of the dish savoring the flavors across his palate the spicy and fermented kimchi added a rich and flavorful kick while the soft yet pungent kimchi provided a comforting warmth - back then his former chefs would prepare Sylus a medium rare steak, a veal or an italian pasta with meatballs on it to add some red meat for his diet however this one tasted like home.

“Mmm… this is delicious in fact let me try some more.” She gave him another clean spoon she liked the fact that he came back for seconds.

“I’m starving shall we go eat?” He usually doesn’t ask his chefs to accompany him for dinner and it’s the first time he saw she was holding back. “Oh, well it’s almost done sir I’ll serve it once you settle at the table.” Given her professional response he nodded but wasn’t satisfied with her answer.

He went to the dining area where he sees the table completely set for one. He frowned a little as if it’s almost reminding him how alone he was. Candle lights, table napkins, clean utensils and a clean plate all waiting for him. He went back to the kitchen immediately realizing that he should be with her eating beside him instead. He sat down at the kitchen island where she promptly prepared basic place mats.

He smiled at her once again giving her the impression that this is where he decided to dine she quickly understood as if they were of one mind. He watches as she sets the food down on the counter the bowl of kimchi jjigae and the plate of dakgangjeong looked tempting.

“Looks good, chef.” She nodded pleased with his approval.

“Dig in.”

He didn’t need to be told twice he began taking a spoonful of the kimchi jjigae first the flavors were just as delicious as the first couple of bites the spice was well balanced out with other seasonings providing the dish with a perfect symphony of taste.

“This is really good,” he said as he took a small bite of the dakgangjeong appreciating the flavor from the crispy chicken coated with sweet and tangy sauce. “You have really outdone yourself with this one.”

She giggled at his compliment, never before in his entire life felt his heart warmed more in that blissful moment.

“You really enjoy cooking don’t you?” He asked still eating

“I do.”

He nodded appreciating her passion. “It shows in your work,” he complimented. “You put so much effort into the dishes you make its impressive.”

“Thank you, Sylus.” a light blush appeared in her cheeks

Bingo.

“Why don’t you join me? There’s more than enough for one person.” He watched her take off her apron and folded it placing it neatly on the counter his gaze softened as she made her way to his side silently grateful that she didn’t fight it anymore she ate right beside him taking a comfortable silence.

He felt like this is their new beginning and when the time comes that she would let him court her he’d be more than happy to settle down in a heartbeat.

collaborated with @kindalonely-ngl 🫶🏻

[knoepfl]

Sweets Aren’t Enough

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (You)

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Slight Hurt/Comfort

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of unhealthy eating habits, stress, exhaustion, and slight depictions of poor self-care.

Masterlist

Words: 1096

Author’s Note:

Hey, lovelies! This fanfiction is for anyone who loves the idea of caring for L and reminding him that he’s human too, even if he doesn’t always treat himself that way. Expect lots of fluff, a bit of exasperation, and a tiny kiss for those romantic feels. I hope you enjoy reading this! If you relate to any of the topics mentioned in the trigger warnings, take care of yourself and remember it’s okay to need rest, food, and love. You deserve it!

---

The glow of computer monitors filled the darkened room as the hum of L’s investigation team buzzed around him. He sat, as usual, with his knees pulled to his chest on the swivel chair, black eyes glued to the screen. Empty teacups, cake plates, and candy wrappers cluttered the desk, but he seemed oblivious to the mess—his mind too focused on tracking Kira.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with concern. How long had he been sitting there, motionless, aside from the occasional flick of his finger across the keyboard? Days, probably. L's narrow frame already looked thinner than the last time you’d seen him. His face was paler, his dark circles deeper, and from the way he slouched slightly, you could tell fatigue was creeping in.

Enough was enough. You couldn’t watch him do this to himself anymore.

"L," you called softly, stepping into the room. He didn’t look away from the monitor, but you caught the slight shift in his shoulders—he knew you were there.

"Hmm?" L’s voice was low, distracted. His gaze never left the scrolling data in front of him, fingers tapping keys like a pianist lost in a symphony.

You walked closer, determined. "When was the last time you had a real meal?"

“I had cake a few hours ago,” he replied matter-of-factly, finally glancing at you with his wide, unreadable eyes.

“That doesn’t count, L,” you said, exasperated. “You can’t live on sweets forever.”

His lips curled into a small, amused smile, as if he found the concept of needing anything beyond sugar and caffeine entirely unnecessary. "I function perfectly fine like this."

You knelt beside him, resting a hand on his knee to get his full attention. "But you’re not fine. You look exhausted. And no, cake isn't a meal."

He blinked, his head tilting slightly. It was always difficult to tell what L was thinking, but you knew him well enough to notice the flicker of acknowledgment behind his eyes.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, though there was no real conviction behind his words. You sighed and stood up, brushing the dust off your knees.

"Stay here. I’m making you something, and you’re going to eat it—no excuses."

Without waiting for a response, you left the room and headed to the kitchen. You knew L could be stubborn, but so could you. He needed proper food, and you were determined to give it to him.

Twenty Minutes Later

The smell of sautéed vegetables and herbs filled the small kitchen. You kept it simple: rice, a bowl of miso soup, grilled salmon, and some lightly seasoned greens. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was nutritious—something L’s body desperately needed after days of sugar highs and crashes.

As you plated everything, you heard the familiar sound of bare footsteps padding toward the kitchen. You turned to see L standing in the doorway, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, watching you quietly.

“You left your screen,” you teased with a smile. “That’s progress.”

“I came to observe your cooking,” he said in his usual monotone, though you detected the faintest hint of curiosity in his gaze.

“Well, the food is ready.” You pulled out a chair at the small dining table. “Sit.”

For a moment, L just stood there, looking at the chair like it was a foreign object. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto it, mimicking his usual crouch with his knees pulled up.

You placed the plate in front of him, along with the bowl of soup, and sat down across from him. "Go on. Eat."

He stared at the meal as if it were an enigma, picking up his chopsticks with his fingers awkwardly pinched. L’s diet was so limited to sweets that real food seemed almost alien to him.

You smiled softly. “If you eat it all, I’ll make you dessert.”

That caught his attention. A tiny spark lit in his dark eyes, and he hesitantly took a small bite of the salmon. You watched as he chewed slowly, clearly not used to savory flavors, but you could tell he didn’t dislike it.

“See? Not so bad, right?” you said, propping your chin in your hand.

L swallowed and gave a tiny nod. "It is… acceptable."

“That’s high praise coming from you.” You grinned, relieved that he was at least trying. “Now finish the rest.”

L continued eating, albeit slowly. His hands were clumsy with the chopsticks, and his movements lacked the same precision he used when typing away on his computer. But he ate—piece by piece, spoonful by spoonful—and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection watching him.

When he finally finished the meal, L set his chopsticks down and stared at the empty plate as if surprised by his own actions. You chuckled softly, leaning over to ruffle his already messy hair.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

L tilted his head, his eyes meeting yours with that familiar, unreadable gaze. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

Your heart warmed at the rare show of gratitude. L wasn’t the kind of person to express emotions openly, but moments like these—small and subtle—meant everything.

You stood up and began to clear the dishes, but L’s hand reached out, lightly brushing your wrist. “You promised dessert.”

You laughed. "Right. I did, didn’t I?"

Later That Evening

The two of you sat on the couch, a small slice of strawberry shortcake resting between you. L picked at it slowly, savoring each bite with the kind of focus he usually reserved for cracking cases.

He looked more relaxed now, his posture less rigid, his expression softer. You nestled closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. L stiffened slightly at the contact but didn’t pull away. After a moment, his arm shifted, wrapping around you in a hesitant but deliberate motion.

You tilted your head up slightly, close enough to feel the soft warmth of his breath. He hesitated, his dark eyes flickering with uncertainty, but you gave him a reassuring smile. Slowly, L leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips—a fleeting, gentle moment that felt like a promise.

When he pulled back, his gaze lingered on yours, as if studying your expression to understand this new, unfamiliar feeling.

“Thank you,” he whispered again.

You smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “Anytime, L.”

And you meant it. No matter how brilliant he was, L would always need someone to remind him that he wasn’t alone—and you would gladly be that person.

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you so much for reading! I loved writing this soft, comforting moment with L. If you enjoyed it, feel free to leave feedback! Remember, taking care of yourself—like eating proper meals and resting—is important, even if life gets busy. Just like L, you deserve love and care too!

[luciferism]

[ "Symphony of Love & Desire" ]

Malleus x GN!Reader

Summary: It was Malleus' birthday and a party was being held at the Diasomnia dormitory. The formalities and main event of the party was done. You, Malleus' classmate and close friend, was pushed by your peers to sing a song requested by the band for further tonight's entertainment. You agreed to sing the song after a brief musing.

Tags: 18+, one shot smut, eventual smut, birthday fic (sort of), lots of kissing because I love it, porn with feelings, power play, dom/sub, slight degradation, hickeys, rough sex, pwp, creampie, multiple orgasm, brief oral sex (receiving)

A/N: I certainly have a type and Malleus is one of the addition. Yes, I'm now diving with my non-existent cock first at the LEGAL twst boys—especially Malleus. Also yes, I'm posting about another character's birthday instead of my side chick: Idia Shroud.

Word Count: 10.3K

[ Masterlist ] | [ Archive of Our Own ]

Malleus Draconia, the birthday celebrant, was seated at a table in the center of the dorm’s lounge. He looked even more stunning and regal in his white dress suit—a common outfit worn by birthday celebrants at the Night Raven College—that exquisitely hugged his tall figure and mesomorphic physique. He enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells of the festivities.

The party was nearly over, most of the important affairs having been done, most of the guests gone already and those left were enjoying the last dregs of conversation and food. The main banquet hall had been cleaned up after the main course had been served. It was a splendid feast, with roasted meats, baked sides, and an array of soups and salads. After that, there was a delightful dessert course, featuring a variety of chocolate, baked, and creamy delicacies.

You stepped through the ornate double doors of the large lounge where the party was currently being held. The band at the front of the room had begun to play a slow, melodic song. The lights dimmed for a moment, before coming up bright again as a spotlight shined on you. Everyone's eyes were on you now, and the room waited with breathless anticipation.

You took to the stage before the crowd. You were dressed accordingly and you looked composed as you clutched the microphone stand. With a deep breath, you allowed your eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting before moving forward. You had been pushed into a role of prominence that you were far from comfortable with, but you let yourself loose for the night.

Malleus had remained the majority of the evening in his seat, content with observing the room and taking note of any little tidbit that may interest him. The band had continued their soft, slow melody, setting the perfect atmosphere for your announcement.

As the first cheers of support came from around the room, Malleus also began to applaud in support. He was just as entertained by this yearly ritual as any other, even if you did not always seem to be in the best spirits.

"Sing it loud!" He was heard to say, and the room followed his example.

Inwardly cursing yourself for falling victim to peer pressure, you took your place on the stage that had been set up. Your dread was not evident in your confident stance and easy demeanor. Your voice cut through the chatter when you lifted the microphone and called for silence.

"My gentlefolk. You know who I am, and what I am here to do, of course. As tradition dictates, this evening is to be entertaining and memorable, as I have the honor of providing this night's entertainment."

You scan the coagulation of students and some teachers then spot your gaze upon your peers that pushed you on the stage at the side—cheering you on. You shake your head as a faint smile appears on your lips.

You took a deep breath when the band started to play the intro of the song that they have requested for you to sing. Some students of the crowd clapped when they recognized the instrumental intro of the song. Surely, you wonder about their song choice. Nevertheless, you know the song by heart and it seemed there was no room for negotiation for this one.

As you kept singing, you found yourself enjoying the act; and Malleus kept watching, paying extra close attention to you now. Every lyric sung and every note hit with precision and beauty. The first lines of verses were sung with the full support of the room, which sent Malleus' spirits soaring.

Even with Malleus still in his seat, he leaned in closer, his eyes glued on you as you sang. A light sweat broke out on his forehead despite how well climate controlled the room was, and he took a few quick breaths to compose himself, though this did little to help his attraction towards you.

You looked at the crowd again with a smile on your face, your eyes moving over each and every person there. Your voice was sweet and smooth, your delivery was almost perfect and… sensuous as Malleus would interpret it. For all your unassuming manner, your presence was strong and striking as you stood and moved in front of that audience.

Malleus' eyes had remained on you from the very start, and he felt as if he had been hypnotized in place by your voice. He felt like a teen boy again, his face still a slight tint of rosy, his attention focused on you. He took deep breaths, but his heart began to beat a bit faster. His eyes followed every movement of your lips, every expression that crossed your face.

As you began to sing the climax of the song, Malleus could not help but become completely enamored with the way your body and movement expressed the emotions of the song. Each motion, each word said it all; that this was no longer a performance, but something more personal.

Malleus was breathing quite heavily, and a fine sheen of glisten covered his face now, feeling his heart beat faster and harder than he had felt in years. He stared at you, eyes glued to every breath, every blink, every motion. In a moment of weakness, he even licked his lips before he realized what he was doing. Every word that came from your lips felt like a dagger to his heart, though they were quite beautiful.

You took a deep breath as the song reached its final chorus, your wandering eyes watched the crowd and your eyes met with Malleus'; and you both shared a knowing expression. Your eyes remained locked with each other, and you could feel Malleus' eyes on you as well. Not an ounce of your feelings were left to interpretation.

Malleus' breath was caught in his throat and he watched you with an almost trance-like state. As you finished the song, your eyes still remained locked, and the room seemed to disappear as Malleus remained focused entirely on you. The final chorus brought him closer and closer to the ledge of madness, as a wave of heat and excitement covered him. He licked his lips again, it is as if this entire song was written by you and with him as the subject.

Malleus felt his fingers curling as he resisted the urge to grab you by the collar or brush his fingers through your hair. The song had him in a sort of ecstasy, having played on his emotions in a way he never expected possible. The emotions played in a symphony of his senses, and it was all he could do to remain seated.

You remained staring at Malleus with the same warm, slightly mischievous smile on your face that you wore since the beginning of your singing. As you had been in the center of the crowd, you now felt Malleus' eyes on you as you shared a moment of silence.

"Thank you gentlemen, I hope you were entertained by my performance for our dear Malleus' birthday."

You held Malleus' gaze for a few seconds longer than was comfortable, and then you turned away and greeted a cheering audience with a bow, your smile never breaking. You walked off the stage to a raucous applause, your face still slightly flushed with effort and excitement.

Malleus could feel his heartbeat out of his chest, his emotions a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. He could not even hide his blush, nor turn his eyes away from your figure as you walked off stage with grace.

He remained seated for just a moment, taking deep breaths and hoping that you could not see just how excited he was at the song performance. Malleus could have sworn that you had planned for this show, and if you did, it was the most clever, well executed act of seduction Malleus had ever seen.

He took a moment to compose himself, but the images of you and the chorus kept playing in his mind. He was surprised to see how many members of the audience had their phones out and were recording the moment. Malleus took a deep breath once again and recollected himself as best he could, wanting to catch up with you before you left.

Malleus waited a few minutes, knowing that you had been performing on stage and probably needed to catch your breath and collect yourself. When he started making his way through the crowd, he spotted you off to the side in an empty hallway.

He made his way towards you, his heart beating so loudly he thought that it would give away his approach. When he finally reached the corner, he rounded the wall and saw you standing by yourself with your arms behind your back, eyes glued on the dark gothic paintings plastered on the walls.

Malleus took a deep breath and walked over, clearing his throat slightly as he approached. He hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether to tell you how he truly felt. He took a deep breath and spoke.

"I have never... I have never heard someone sing like you do," his words were quiet, his tone soft and reserved. He could feel himself beginning to blush again.

"That... that song, you really sang it. You performed it perfectly, and I can't thank you enough. I have never been so... so mesmerized, so completely captivated by a song like that. Your voice…”

You turned at the sound of Malleus' voice and smiled at him, taking a moment to look the man up and down. The look that passed between the two of you was a telling one, and it was quite obvious that you both knew what was going on.

"Well, thank you for your words of appreciation, Malleus," you began to walk over to Malleus, hands still behind your back.

"I only did what I think would entertain me and the audience as well."

Your expression was that of interest, a sly and playful smile spreading out across your face as you began to take in the well-crafted suit and the handsome face of your friend. You also caught the light blush that was creeping towards Malleus' cheeks, and the way his breathing hitched ever so slightly. The man's expression was one of subtle excitement and eager anticipation.

Malleus met your gaze as he approached, his face flushing brighter with each moment. You might have been the most attractive person Malleus had ever met, as he would now admit despite the two of you being quite closer than he is to most people; and it was quite obvious that he was just as captivated by your figure as he had been by your impromptu performance.

As you drew closer, Malleus took a deep breath and stood up straight, trying to maintain some composure despite the overwhelming emotions washing over him. He placed his hands together and looked away from you for a moment before looking back again.

"I... I wanted to say.”

Malleus let out a nervous chuckle—which is a far cry from his normal disposition—feeling your presence like a warm glow around him as your eyes remained locked. You had a way of making him feel nervous and excited in all the right ways.

"I... It was... that song hit a chord with me that... I don't think I've felt that way in ages. And the way you sang it... I have had that song on a loop in my head for days, but the way you sang..."

He took a breath and tried to calm himself, "You're... magnificent.”

You smiled, eyes remaining locked with Malleus'. You took a small step closer, leaning in and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Magnificent am I? My performance must have really hit a chord then, to make you say something so... intimate about it. I am pleased I was able to please you so, Malleus."

You leaned in just a bit closer as you looked up at Malleus' unequivocally attractive features, a slight smile graced your lips.

"And I suppose I should also thank you for being such a fantastic classmate and a friend." You gave Malleus a light wink, the two of you smiling back and forth before Malleus looked away, his face still a bit flushed.

Your eyes twinkled, your smile growing and your gaze still lingering for a moment before you tilted your head upwards and pressed your lips against Malleus' own in a slow and gentle kiss.

Malleus was absolutely caught off guard by the sudden kiss, caught completely in the whirlwind of your lips. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for him. Malleus felt lightheaded, feeling his body tremble as his body grew more flushed.

The moment was surreal, and so many emotions crashed and flooded through you at once. You could feel your feet leave the floor as your lips pressed against his own, his arms wrapped around you as you both relished in the moment. Malleus felt as if time stood still, and for a moment everything else in the world just faded away. His mind was filled with a mix of elation and confusion as his heart raced at the sheer excitement of the moment.

It was so tender and gentle, but every inch of it said "I have wanted this for a while".

Malleus had to bite his bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping him. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, and he felt completely and wholly weak. He wanted to kiss you for a long time, and he never knew how your first kiss together would feel so wonderful.

You held Malleus gently as the kiss lingered for just a moment, though to you it felt like hours. You felt yourself begin to puff, not from the act of kissing but from the pure emotion coursing through you. Malleus was more than a friend to you, more than an intimidating figure to fear, he was someone who you could not help but admire and adore.

You could feel Malleus' body tense, yet there was a warmth and ease that could bring him comfort and make him melt in your grasp. You could feel Malleus' heart pounding against his chest, and he wrapped his other arm around your waist as the kiss lingered for another moment.

Sooner, you felt Malleus' hands grip your neck and shoulder, your chest heaving with your breathing and your heart racing. You could feel the way that Malleus felt you, wanted you... it was as if you were in a dream.

You pulled away from the kiss, your hand cradling Malleus' jaw, your thumb slowly stroking over his lips. You stayed close to Malleus, still looking up at him, your eyes peering deeply into the fae's soul.

"Did you enjoy your birthday present, Malleus?”

Malleus stood there, staring into your eyes as his mind and heart were still racing. For a moment, the only sound that Malleus could hear was his heart beating, pounding so hard it felt like his chest might explode.

"I... I don't think I could have ever imagined such a... perfect gift. I... I just..."

Malleus looked down at the ground as he tried to collect himself. Then, he finally got the nerve to look down directly at you. He still felt utterly weak in your presence, and you had only seemed to grow more stunning since the kiss. It was as if you were a perfect figure, every movement a dance, every look an enticement.

"Yes, I enjoyed it more than I have ever thought possible." Malleus gave you a brief, but passionate kiss. His heart was racing and his breath was short as he stepped back. He wanted to taste your lips again and he knew that he was in too deep now.

You let the kiss linger for a moment, gently leaning your head toward Malleus. When Malleus pulled away, you smiled and nodded, your expression one of understanding and appreciation. You could see the passion in Malleus' eyes, and you knew just how smitten the man was.

Just then, your eyes sparkled with a deep sense of playfulness and mischief, your hand that was still resting on Malleus' jaw went to Malleus' collar. With a light chuckle, you leaned your head upwards once more and pressed your lips to Malleus'; and your other hand pulled the back of Malleus' head, as your lips chafing onto his.

After what felt like hours of lips pressing in the most tender graze, you begrudgingly pulled away for breath.

"I love you, Malleus. I've been wanting to tell you that for a while now," you said with sincerity as your emotions poured out in the open for Malleus.

It was a long time coming and you were given the perfect opportunity to confess the love you felt for the few years you had known together.

Malleus was speechless, his heart racing to a point where he thought it might explode. The kiss was tender, sweet, and his desire to kiss you one more time was intoxicating. Malleus felt his heart ache from the separation, his very soul wanting to join with you, and he knew that if he did not make a move quickly he would regret it.

Malleus wrapped both hands around the back of your head and pulled you back to himself. He leaned in with no hesitation and pressed his lips to yours once more.

The kiss became more deep, slow, and completely immersive. Malleus' emotions had taken full control over him as he kissed you with a passion and love he had never felt before. Malleus pressed against you, his arms sliding under your shirt and his hands rubbing your back and shoulders; and you could hear the faint rustling of your clothes. He took the initiative of this kiss, wanting to take everything he could from you and give him everything back in turn. He wanted to give you every ounce of his body, to show you just how much he cared.

When you felt Malleus take control of the kiss, your eyes flickered open in surprise. You had never experienced anyone quite so assertive and bold, and it made you feel almost like a younger teen that had their first crush touch their hand for the first time all over again—your legs growing weak and your body quaking. You had to hold on tight to Malleus to keep yourself grounded, your mind swimming so much that you couldn't put words to your feelings.

Malleus held onto you as tight as he possibly could, his hot breath wafting on your face as his heart pounded like thunder. He was completely and unequivocally in love, and there was nothing that he wanted more than to feel your lips upon his forever. The entire world could fall to disarray, and Malleus would still keep his hold strong over the person he had fallen for.

When it finally ended, you were breathless, the passion of the kiss and the heat that it brought with it being almost more than you could bear. As your eyes slowly opened you felt Malleus' hands rub your back, his arms sliding underneath your shirt as he pressed his hand against your chest, his body pressed against yours as tight as he could.

You knew Malleus' intentions and your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest and bid you goodbye.

Your throat imperceptibly bobbed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Take me where nobody can see and disturb us."

Malleus pulled you close to him as he felt your legs giving way underneath him. Every inch of your body pressed against Malleus', and the feeling of your warm body pressed against his own felt better than any drug.

He didn't hesitate the moment you asked to be taken somewhere private, his arms wrapped around you as he lifted you off the floor. His lips pressed against your ear and he whispered seductively.

"Hold on tight."

Malleus was already in the process of pulling you to a secluded corner of an empty hallway, far away from the event and away from the crowded lounge. The corners were dark and empty as he carried you close around the corner, his hands occupied with your body. Malleus' expression was of excitement and passion, and his voice was deep and heavy as he spoke.

"You have no idea how much I have wanted you.” Malleus' heart was racing, his body practically buzzing with excitement. The moment had finally come, and he was going to cherish it to its fullest extent.

Your hands were wrapped around his neck, and Malleus felt your head pressed into the crook of his neck as he held you to his chest. You made your way to his room, where nobody was nearby, the door was locked, and the mood was intimate and exciting.

Malleus leaned against the wall, pressing you against it. Malleus' free arm and hand slid down your back and down your hip, his fingers brushing against the fabric and tracing the figure beneath. His other hand stayed wrapped around the back of your head, holding you against the wall as he slowly kissed you more and more. The kiss was aggressive and Malleus was finally taking what he wanted. Malleus' mouth was a warm, deep, and tender caress as it played over your mouth and chin and cheek.

Malleus finally broke your lips apart. Your eyes locked upon one another as your hearts raced and your breath was heavy, and then Malleus' fingers wandered over your shirt and he began to slowly unbutton it. He moved slowly, his hands touching your body in all the right places as he whispered seductively.

"Take a deep breath my dear, for things are about to become... quite intense.”

You had the greatest difficulty in taking a deep breath when Malleus' fingers started to unbutton your shirt. You watched the man's lithe fingers work their way over the fabric of your shirt, and your body felt like it had been set ablaze.

"Mm... Malleus..." your voice trembled just a little as you spoke.

You had never felt someone take such control over the situation, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Your voice was breathy, and you could feel your mind trapped in a haze as the excitement only grew and grew.

Your breath went in and out in short bursts of air and your very soul practically boiling under Malleus' attention. The man before you was the epitome of power and status, your ideal of success, and you were utterly intoxicated under his touch.

"Whatever you want, Malleus, take it. I'll be yours."

This had been your dream for the longest time, and now it was going to be made a reality.

Malleus smiled as he continued to slowly unbutton your shirt. His hands felt the warm skin beneath, feeling the muscles contract and loosen as his breath caressed your neck. As the buttons of your shirt were fully undone, Malleus slid the shirt off of your body and leaned down to lightly brush his lips against your collarbone.

Malleus slipped his arms around your waist, his warm breath hitting your skin as he whispered seductively, "There is something I would very much like to do to you, my dear.”

Malleus' lips pressed back against your collarbone, his warm breath gently caressing your skin. His hands ran over your back and sides, his fingers rubbing and caressing the figure of your body while his lips began to work their way down your chest. His warm breath continued to hit your skin with each exhalation, and his hands kept moving over your body.

Malleus' lips kept on softly brushing against your skin, his hands gripping your hip as he leaned down to your ear. Your breath was ragged, and Malleus' voice had the distinct sound of dominance about it. His voice was deep and rich, and the words were slow and deliberate.

"I would very much like... to kiss... all of the parts of your body... inch by inch." Malleus slowly slid your pants down, his lips still caressing your neck as he spoke in a whisper.

Malleus paused, his lips still against your neck. The man was flushed with adrenaline, his muscles tense as his body practically vibrated with the heat that grew within.

"May I?" Malleus' breathing was short, and his body quivered with the anticipation of what he wanted to do next. His grip on you tightened as his lips slipped away and he looked directly into your eyes. Malleus looked like a hunter, and he was about to take his prize.

You couldn't contain yourself and the response was already bubbling to the surface. You were practically a bundle of raw nerves and anticipation, and the voice you heard was like that of honey on your ears.

"Please... yes... do it. Please, I want every inch of your lips on my body," you sounded desperate, your breathing ragged and your voice shaking with the intensity of the moment. It wasn't just a thought or a desire for you, it was a need, a hunger that could only be sated in this moment by Malleus.

Malleus gently kissed your neck, his lips and the breath from his words caressing your skin and you felt like your skin was burning in every kiss. Your pants were down to your ankles in another moment, and your eyes were focused on Malleus, locked onto the fae's eyes.

The atmosphere was filled with a charged tension, and Malleus could feel your eyes exploring him as well. His fingers brushed across your body as he leaned over you, his lips pressed once again on your neck. His kisses were driving you insane. You wanted the man to take you, to explore every inch of you, and to make you his entirely.

"Please, don't just say it, Malleus, do it," the words were soft and breathless, a plea from you to your friend, now lover.

This was real, you could feel it with the touch and the words of the man looming before you. Your skin continued to burn, and your legs were weak from the excitement and the passion. Your eyes flickered open and the words in your mind left your lips.

"Take what you wish, my love. I am yours." Your expression changed to one of quiet desperation, as if the very words came from your soul itself.

"Love." Malleus spoke the word as if it were honey in his mouth. Malleus leaned over you, his eyes and lips locked on yours, and he was enjoying watching your reactions. He breathed it, whispered it, and let the word linger as his lips moved down your neck, his teeth slightly biting down, and his tongue softly tasting your skin. His hands moving to your hips and holding you.

There was no more time for games, and now it was time for passion.

Slowly, Malleus took off his suit jacket and threw it onto a nearby chair. The two of you were inside his dorm room, and there was something romantic about getting close to the person he wanted so badly and finally having you all alone. Malleus' own breath was coming in short and heavy puffs as his eyes feasted on your mess of a quivering naked body.

Your eyes widened and blushed as Malleus took off his jacket and threw it onto the chair. Your breath came in short puffs, and your heart raced in your chest. Your every nerve and muscle aches for Malleus to do to you what you both had been waiting for. You saw the fae prince in a different light, and it was more intense and intoxicating than you could ever have imagined.

You felt like you were dreaming, your eyes staring up at Malleus as he went topless. His body was hot, his flesh was warm, and his skin was tingling with desire. Malleus' touch was both tender and rough, as if he was being gentle whilst preparing to pounce on you, and you let out a soft moan as the man’s hands touched you.

Every inch of your flesh tingled as Malleus touched you and his breath drifted across your skin like a fine mist. You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in the moment, to forget that you were inside Malleus’ dorm room and give your heart over the man that was making your soul sing.

Malleus moved slowly, his eyes locked on yours as his lips found their target. He kissed you slowly, intimately, in a way that showed that your moment together was not one based on lust or obsession but on a desire for something much deeper and more meaningful.

Malleus pulled you close, and his arms came around you. Malleus' tongue darted around your jaw to your ear, and your own breath was coming in short and heavy gasps as you felt the fire between them grow once more.

Malleus' fingers slowly traced the outline of your body as he kissed you more. His lips danced across your abdomen and further down your hips. Your pants were down to your ankles, and Malleus was feeling your leg shake.

He kissed your thigh as he spoke. "I cannot wait any longer.”

You found yourself unable to speak, your body reacting to the man before you and your desires overwhelming your words. You wanted to scream out in pleasure and passion. Your body was burning hot from Malleus' touch, and your own hands were slowly stroking the man's back.

"Then... take me," you whispered, your words soft and breathy. "I'm yours... in every way."

The word seemed to come from your soul itself, and you let your arms fall limp. You felt like you couldn't hold yourself up any longer. The touch in Malleus' hands and tongue both drove you crazy as you felt your control over yourself fading fast.

Malleus slowly kissed his way up once again to your stomach, and your eyes were shut tight as you felt the heat increase; and your own hands were trembling as you felt everything about your senses heightened.

There was no time for games, and no time for play. The two of you wanted each other and it was time to finally be together. Malleus slowly lifted your legs, and your fingers were biting into the mortars of the wall behind you.

"You are mine and I am yours." Malleus' voice was a husky whisper, and his voice was filled with a passion and excitement he had never been able to express or feel before.

Malleus brushed one hand over your crotch as you stood weakly on your feet, making your back pressed and rubbed against the concrete wall. Your body was twitching. It sounded and looked like your breath was escaping in short and shallow puffs like an untended fire, your eyes fluttering and closing just to open wide and stare into Malleus' own.

You felt it building up inside, this deep craving and desire that you felt only grew the longer it remained unfulfilled. Your skin felt like it was ablaze, you could feel it burning under Malleus' tongue and lips.

"More... please," your voice was soft, and his breathing was loud.

"Malleus..." you whispered once again, your voice laced with lust and a desire for more. You were almost speechless, and your head was rolling back against the wall and you mustered all of your strength to stay standing on your feet.

Malleus stood slowly, his hand sliding over your ass and down your leg as he smiled. He took the moment to enjoy the situation and the person he had his attention on. Malleus' hand slowly rubbed and teased along the inside of your thighs, and both of you were heavily breathing.

Malleus watched you and your reactions carefully, noting every small change, every twitch and movement, every look and sound you made. It was a heady feeling, knowing he was having this much effect on you, but it was also exciting. The way he felt for you was exciting, and making a person as wonderful and put together as you responded to him so readily was a source of pride.

His own hands gripped your hips tightly, as if he was going to lift you up and take you right there while you both are pressed against the wall. There was something about you that drew him like a moth to a flame, something about you that made him feel like the chase was worth it. Malleus took his time and savored every touch, every moment, every word.

Malleus brought his lips back up to your face and your eyes met once more. Malleus could feel the heat of the passion coursing through your flesh, and he could practically feel the need and want, the craving for more. He wanted to take you right here, right now, for the moment was perfect and he felt it. He wanted you, and he wanted you so desperately.

"Do you want more?" Malleus' voice was gentle and filled with love.

"Yes, please... don't stop..." Your voice was little more than a grunt, but it had the effect you desired.

Your fingers dug into the wall behind, as if trying to stay standing and Malleus' hands clutching your waist to support you. You were practically shivering and your legs were parted by Malleus' thigh. You could barely think straight, let alone speak coherently.

"You want me." Malleus' voice was a husky whisper as he spoke the words. Malleus could feel your need for him, and he felt the hunger you had for him inside his very skin. The kiss was growing deeper, and suddenly, you could feel the man's hand sliding down your spine slowly, his fingers tracing over your skin, exploring and seeking for even more pleasure.

Malleus watched you fall apart in front of him and he had never felt more excited. You were his prey, and you were now a captive to Malleus. Malleus was so excited, he could hardly keep himself from biting your flesh, but he knew better. Your flesh was delicate and he loved you, and it would take great force of will not to tear you to pieces while the hunger for you built inside him.

"I want you." Malleus' voice was filled with desire to consume you whole.

And so, he did. He lifted you up and gently placed you on his bed as if you were a precious cargo; then he swiftly removed the dangling undergarments from your ankles.

He pushed you back so that you were lying on the mattress, and he let his lips explore your body once again. He kissed your chest over and over, his lips trailing down along the line of your abdomen then back up your chest—licking and nibbling the puckered nipples. He kissed your neck with long slow kisses, and then his lips moved up to your right ear and slowly moved down to your left jaw, kissing every inch of skin along the way.

"Malleus... please... " you whispered softly, your eyes fluttering in a daze.

Malleus took one look at your body and he felt his passion and his hunger build and he was finally hungry enough to take you and not even be subtle about it.

Malleus' own pants were quickly undone and set to the side of the bed. There was the sound of passion in the room, the sound of breathing and the rustling of clothes being shed. Your body was a marvel to Malleus and he took his time in admiring it.

"What a sight to behold." Malleus' voice was a whisper as he looked over your body, and then Malleus' lips and tongue made their way back to your ear. "Such a prize, to have in my hands.”

You were a mass of quivering hips, aching muscles, twitching fingers, and shallow breaths. You were trembling, shaking, and so much more as you let Malleus have his way with you.

You were a whirlwind of excitement and you were so far in over your head, you couldn't believe you hadn't both drowned. Your breath was shallow, your eyes flutter and unfocused as you let every sensation wash over you. Malleus' body and voice and words were a spell that you had just fallen under and you were utterly powerless to break it.

"Malleus... I need you..." you whispered, letting out a small gasp.

"Please..." You begged once more and spread your thighs a bit wider, your feet planted on the soft sheets of Malleus’ bed.

"Shhhhhh..." Malleus' voice was a husky whisper as he finally gave in to his own hunger.

He kissed your belly, licking and swirling his tongue along your flesh as he spread your legs even more, his tongue moving deeper down your body and his touch finally finding the place he was desperate to find.

You could feel your body shaking and you couldn't stop it. Your breath hitched and your body was tingling from head to toe as Malleus laps the flesh between your legs. And yet, Malleus felt no pity or concern for you. All he felt was excitement and hunger.

"Oh, Malleus..." your voice broke as Malleus gave in to his own passion.

Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as if to keep from being pulled deeper into the experience. Malleus' tongue and lips worked over your genitalia with abandon, pushing you further and further over the edge until you could do nothing but let go and let Malleus have what he wanted.

As the pleasure perpetually cascaded along your flesh, your hands mustered the dregs of your strength and grabbed Malleus' hair and pulled him back to your face. You wanted nothing more than to feel Malleus inside you like you had never wanted anything your entire life.

"I need you, I want you inside me." You grunted from the pain and pleasure as your flesh grew more aroused and screamed for more intense stimulation.

Malleus made a husky, excited sound as your hands grabbed his hair and pulled him back up. His lips were wet and sloppy from the kisses and licks he just gave you and he was quite visibly shivering now. The moment was pure heaven, and he was desperate to claim what was rightfully his and to make this moment last.

He climbed on top of you whilst spreading your legs. He held your shoulders and your arms, pushing his body down, and making sure that the two of you were close together. You had nowhere to go, no way to escape.

"You want me to take you?" Malleus almost growled the words, his voice a deep husk, and his fangs glistened against the dim lights of his room.

Malleus leaned in closer to your face as he lifted your right leg off the mattress. There was an unspoken question in his eyes, and you could see the hunger in his gaze for him.

"Tell me... " Malleus whispered the words, his voice full of desire and hunger.

You were trembling all over but you didn't feel cold at all. You felt hot like your skin was set ablaze by Malleus’ touch.

"I'm more than ready." Your voice was a breathless sigh as you looked up at Malleus.

Your genitalia was leaking with your slick from all the stimulation. You were a mess. Your hair was a mess and you were a mess of feelings too. You were ready to give yourself to Malleus, and there was no fear in that choice. It was the right thing, the only thing, that you needed right now.

"Yes," you whispered with your voice quivering in his excitement. "Oh my… god..." You let out a heavy sigh before you spoke again, "Please... please!“

Malleus was grinning as you whispered the words, as if it was the hottest, most seductive thing he had ever heard. He was a proud man, and to hear his prize say these things about him made his day.

Malleus let your legs move closer together, and his right thigh moved in between your own, slowly spreading you open wider before him. He saw the hunger in your eyes, and he saw the need in your face. He saw you open to him as you lay on his bed and begged for what you wanted.

"Good…" Malleus' voice was filled with delight. He leaned down atop your body and grabbed you by the hips, sliding his body closer to yours. His mouth slid to your ear, and his tongue was teasing one of your sensitive ears as his hand caressed your thighs.

"Ready, dear…” His eyes met yours, and the two of you looked at each other, both desperate for more after this long moment of longing. Malleus licked his lips and his smile was mischievous and cruel.

You gasped and shuddered as Malleus teased your ear, your eyes fluttering, your face flushed pink as you tried to stay in control, but you knew that there was no way he would last much longer.

"Yes! Yes, oh my god yes! Please take me. I want you, I NEED you, and I'm ready!" you were desperate, you couldn't wait another minute.

Your body was shaking with nervous excitement, and there was no fear in you, just pure, unadulterated need. You heard your own breath coming in shallow heaves, and you felt your own body's hunger as you watched Malleus move towards your entrance. You can feel Malleus' tip hitting and rubbing your pulsing core ever so slightly.

“I want you as well…” Malleus' voice was a husky whisper, his teeth gritted and his tongue working the edges of his mouth as he spoke to you. His eyes were heavy as he puffed, his warm breath hitting your skin as his desire for you grew with each word that left his lips.

You were right where he wanted you, completely vulnerable, totally exposed, completely open to him. Malleus' hands and feet slid around you, as his tongue worked over your neck, chest and arms. He was completely and utterly prepared to take everything you had to offer...

Malleus leaned closer to you once more until you were chest to chest, as his hand left your thighs and moved up your body to grip your waist. His mouth stayed glued to your ear, and he whispered softly in your ear as his body slowly slipped overtop of yours. He made sure to keep his eyes on you, his gaze firm and dominant, with a hint of desire in its glint.

"I know," he growled softly as he felt you shake with excitement. "Hold onto me... “

Your answer was a groan, a loud, lustful moan as Malleus moved over your body. Your eyes closed tightly as your body quivered, trying to contain yourself. You could feel Malleus' body against yours, and your own stomach churning with gleeful anticipation.

"Oh... oh Sevens, I..." your voice trailed off.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as Malleus’ tip started to push inside. Your eyes shut closed, all your attention was poured into the sensation of Malleus' shaft tearing its way inside you and stretching your flesh.

Malleus' mouth was right in front of your ear as he whispered to you. "You're mine, you… are completely mine."

And with a slow motion, with the speed of moving glaciers, Malleus started to thrust deliberately inside your walls.

He moved with determination and a cold hunger, for he knew how close you were to being his. He knew how much you wanted him and he knew it was only a matter of time. It was time to end this, to put the finishing touches on the perfect night.

"Hold onto me..." Malleus' command rang out once more, and his voice was a growl as he made himself clear.

He was in charge and you would know it. Malleus did not want to hurt you and he did not mean to hurt you. But, it was part of the game, and you would be fine by the end. Malleus let his movements be measured and slow for the first few seconds as he eased himself in, and then he slowly increased his pace. He wanted you to feel it, to feel every inch and every moment.

You were breathless, completely frozen in shock as Malleus claimed you in the most intimate way possible. Malleus was right on top of you, his manhood pumping fast and deep inside you, and you were helpless.

You tried to keep yourself together, but you were completely under Malleus' power and it seemed Malleus was in no rush at all to finish. Malleus moved with a confidence that matched the hunger in his eyes and the cold, dominant gaze he was giving you.

You let your hands move to Malleus' shoulders as you gasped out in the final act of surrender.

"I won't run away so claim me as your own," your words were punctuated with a low moan.

Your body shook involuntarily and your legs slowly spread even further apart to make sure that Malleus was able to move his hips faster and deeper. You let your mind go and you let his body take over. You were Malleus’, completely.

That moment of surrender was exactly what Malleus needed. He moved slower now, but his eyes never drifted off of you. He pushed his shaft fully inside you, and he stayed there for a beat, just to let you feel the force of his presence.

"I claim you," Malleus' words were a whisper, but there was no doubt as to their meaning or to his intention. After the man spoke, his hands began to slide back up your body, and his mouth was going to explore every inch of your neck.

Malleus moved slowly, but it was a steady rhythm. He was completely in control of the situation, and of you, and he was certainly going to take advantage of that situation. He wanted to enjoy every moment of this experience, and he wanted you to enjoy it as well.

You can see Malleus' face tightened as you shifted your body underneath him. You accepted the gift, and welcomed Malleus into you by bucking your hips against the fae’s. Malleus' body was moving with a slow and consistent pace, giving you enough to feel it, to build the intensity of the moment, each moment and every inch of it.

"Right there! Ah..." You whimpered breathlessly as Malleus' tip hit a sensitive spot inside your flesh despite the deliberate and tender thrusts of his hips.

Malleus' lips slowly worked their way down your neck, leaving small kisses in the wake of Malleus' mouth. He kept a slow pace, letting his motions carry your mind and body away with them. He slid your legs further apart, forcing you to move your thighs even further down the mattress, opening yourself up even more to Malleus. He was enjoying this and he was not going to be finished so quickly.

Malleus whispered in your ear once again, his voice a soft but cold voice that spoke of his pleasure…

"Enjoy it." Malleus whispered into your ear again, the words sent shivers down your spine. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he knew he wanted more than just this.

He was a man of control, a man who kept calm in everything he did... except tonight. Malleus' focus was entirely on you, his words and eyes sharp and cruel, but they were a mask for the hunger he had for you. He was moving deeper now, forcing the tip of his manhood even further in.

Your mouth was open as your breaths were shallow. Your mind was lost to Malleus' body. You were his toy, one of his possessions and you belong entirely to him. You swallowed a low, lustful sound that escaped your body as Malleus' shaft kept on tearing its way inside your tight and slippery flesh. Your body tremors with anticipation, your voice was a breathy moan that you could barely get out.

"Ah... I... Malleus... " you quavered as you stumbled with your words. Instead, you responded with a moan, letting your head fall back as you gave it completely over to Malleus. Your eyes were closed and you felt your mind drifting away.

Malleus' pace was picking up slowly now, moving back and forth, back and forth, and pushing himself deeper and faster. He felt the insides of your body clenching and pulsing around his shaft in every thrust of his hips.

He whispered into your ear, "You are mine."

The words were like a wave, moving over you, the feeling of Malleus' ownership over you. It was a cruel thing, that ownership, but it was also a powerful thing. Now Malleus would have his way.

Malleus' tongue was working on your neck; licking, moving, and whispering to you the things he knew you wanted to hear. His mouth was a whirlwind of motion. Each part of your body was being worked to perfection. He knew you would enjoy them all.

You could feel every deep movement, every moment of being stretched out. Your thoughts were cloudy and you were breathing heavily. Each thrust by Malleus was a new experience. Your words came out in broken sentences, your mind was in a vortex of pleasure.

"I am, I am yours..." With each word from your mouth, Malleus' pace grew faster, and he drove deeper, faster, harder.

Malleus' voice had grown harsh and was more demanding by the second. He felt you giving way completely and he knew it was only a matter of time. He was in the driver seat and he would keep the pedal to the metal.

"Oh, you! What a mess you are..." Malleus' voice was a purr, one that carried a hint of amusement with it. It was like he was seeing you through a fog of lust and desire, of unadulterated excitement.

"Are you ready?" His voice was quiet and it carried just enough menace, just enough warning that you were close to the edge. But you also knew that the question was not a request for permission, it was a question of Malleus' curiosity.

You had taken Malleus at his word, and you were giving into every sensation that was coursing through you. Your mind was losing itself, and each moment was getting even closer to losing control.

You could feel his manhood pumping in and out of you mercilessly. The way it throbbed and twitched, how warm it was, and the way it hit so deep inside that it gave you a burning sensation. His deft hands grope your flesh with a vice grip, leaving reddish traces of nail marks here and there; and how those hands leave handprints on the back of your thighs from his harsh spanks and grip. How the pleasure and pain mixed together to drive you closer to the edge. You felt the pressure accumulating by each passing second.

"Yes!" You felt like you were in a dream, like your body was completely removed from your mind. Your body responded instantly to the harsh voice of Malleus, it's every cell moving to please him. Your voice was a mix of pleasure and agony, as if you were struggling to hold on to yourself, to hang onto life.

"More... please.”

It was like he was punishing your body. Keeping you wanting, keeping you desperate. Malleus was going to hold you right there on the very border between submission and denial, of pain and pleasure that he inflicted on your body. All the while he was making it perfectly clear that these decisions were his alone.

Malleus' voice was a growl as he pushed himself deeper into you. He wanted you to feel every inch of him from every stroke. He wanted you to feel his possession, his dominance, his power. His words were a demand, not a request. He had been patient with you the entire time, and he had enjoyed the process. That patience was beginning to fade slightly now and every single word out of his mouth was filled with a sharp edge.

"More? You want more of me?" Malleus asked, and then his fingers curled firmly on your waist, digging their nails on your supple flesh.

Malleus smiled as he heard your mumbled words and desperate moans. He knew he had you at the edge of the cliff, and with the words he just heard, he knew it was time to push you over.

"Moan for me as much as how you pant like a dog in heat," Malleus' voice was low and demanding, and his tone had shifted to a more cruel edge. “Like how you are desperate for me to fill you with my seed.”

His hands were running up and down your body, and his face was just inches from yours. He was pushing and pulling, he was taking and he was giving... he was playing with you to his heart's content. He was going to get as much pleasure as he could out of you. He was going to push you over the edge into the abyss of sensation without remorse.

"Yes, please. I want more of you. Please!" Your plea was desperate, a desperate voice of a person pushed past their limits and into a realm of sensations beyond anything you had ever known before. Your body was shaking, your legs were wrapped around Malleus, your back was pinned to the bed and your head was thrown back in surrender.

"Oh god, please Malleus! Push deeper! Faster! Please, please!" you cried out loudly in a fit of passion and submission. It was as if Malleus' body was a lock, and Malleus' voice and words were the key.

"Yes... yes... give it to me... More!" And with that utterance from you, Malleus knew that the game was over. Malleus' voice was a purr as he pushed himself even deeper, and your voice was a rasped mess of pleasure, pain, and ecstasy.

Malleus knew that you just crossed the bridge into surrender. You had no words left and your body was doing all the screaming. Your eyes were closed and your breathing was ragged.

Just as your body was wracking with waves of pleasure, Malleus pulled himself out of you, just to plunge in with a force he had reserved for very special occasions. Malleus knew that this was where it ended, and he was ready to take that step too.

Malleus' pace was frantic now, as if he had held himself back all this time just to reach this moment of pure pleasure. He moved deeper, he moved faster, he moved harder. His grip on your body was iron and his voice was cold, harsh and demanding. No man was going to take what was his. Malleus was in control. The pace and heat were increasing as you both prepared yourselves to climb the pinnacle of pleasure. His body was the paint and your body was the canvas.

"Oh you... Oh..." Malleus' voice was heavy with lust and utter pleasure.

Your body was in perpetual tremor and your legs were wrapped around Malleus, unable to let go of the fae. You were quaking so hard and was almost unable to breathe. You weren't really in control of your body at all anymore as though your body was acting on its own.

You were in a heaven of pleasure. You screamed and your back arched so much that if Malleus let go, you might snap in half. It felt like a fire that was consuming every inch of you, every nerve in your body was set ablaze. It didn't feel like a fire of pain, no it felt like a fire of lust, a fire that was spreading from inside of you and consuming you entirely. You couldn't hold it in any longer, it was impossible.

"Yes... Oh, Malleus... Yes! " The scream was enough for Malleus to know it was finished.

And with a final powerful thrust of Malleus, you gave everything you had in a final act of lust. Your voice was a loud, dragged out guttural moan, and the words left your mouth slipped in a breathless whisper. You moaned Malleus' name over and over again. It was a pure, immaculate, physical release.

There it was, that single moment. Malleus could feel it too, you were giving yourself to Malleus and that was just the beginning. He had been patient but now he was pushing for more. Malleus had found a sweet spot and he refused to let his prize slip away. His own pleasure had been growing and he would not be denied any longer.

"My dear... I am still inside you." Malleus' voice was filled with heat, with the promise of more.

Your moan was broken and raw, every bit of your energy seemed to leave you with that final release only to be replaced almost immediately with shame. Your body was still shaking but your voice was broken. You could feel Malleus still inside of you, you knew that Malleus had no intention of letting you off the leash quite yet. Your eyes were closed, your face was flushed, and you were breathing as if you were being suffocated.

You managed to find your voice, albeit barely. It was not the begging words, it was not the strength of the voice you had been using so easily a moment ago. It was the voice of a person completely overwhelmed by a pleasure you never knew existed.

"I... Yes, I need more." Your eyes fluttered open and you turned your head just enough to look up at Malleus. Your hand reached out and grasped Malleus' buttocks trying desperately to keep him close as you let the fae find his own release.

Malleus was holding back no longer whilst he chased his release as you begged for more. His pace was growing more frantic than ever before. His voice was a murmur and his grip on you was a vice. His voice was becoming an endless cascade of his own pleasure, and his hands were moving in circles, kneading your body as all the while he was growing closer towards climax.

Every push of his hips sent your body into further spasms of pleasure, each moment had sent you to another intense climax. It was as if your souls were meeting somewhere in the middle, as if your bodies were two halves trying to become one.

His voice turned into a yell and he gave out one last mighty push to bring him over the edge. Malleus' voice was hoarse and it was ragged, it was a sound that seemed to echo throughout the room. He let out a final loud breathy moan and then he collapsed down on top of you as his semen filled you to the brim and flooded out of your clenching hole.

"Oh… my love." He groaned as he found his breath again. "You were perfect." He breathed out.

Malleus was laying on top of you. Malleus' breath was heavy and he was completely out of air. Your body was still wracking with waves of pleasure, as if it was still trying to adjust to the sensations that had been unleashed within. Your eyes were clenched shut and your body was shaking slightly as if you were in a dream and trying to wake yourself.

You were still struggling to find your words. There was no breath left in your body. Your voice had given out and your body was completely exhausted. The only sound that came out of you were a few gasps and a broken, hoarse moan.

Your whole body was shaking and you could barely move. You had given Malleus everything you had and you had nothing left anymore. There was nothing in your head either, your senses were all overwhelmed and you were not even sure you were still in the same reality. You were just a broken mess, utterly spent.

After what felt like an hour, although you're still breathlessly in a daze and exhausted, you managed to let out a hoarse chuckle and spoke.

"That was amazing, it was the best I've ever felt."

Malleus raised his head and looked down at you lying beneath him. He was looking at you still feeling his own sense of euphoria from the experience. He felt as if he was still high from the sensation, as if his entire body was awash from head to toe. His voice was still husky, still rough, and every breath he was taking was filled with the after effects of everything that had come before. He could not describe just how good he felt.

"You were perfect." Malleus smiled down at you, completely unable to wipe the grin off his face.

He turned his head around, his eyes locked onto yours. He leaned in as close as he could get to you and he whispered:

"The best you've ever felt, so far. " His voice was a warm growl, the kind that only promised more of what you just had.

"Oh, my dear, this is only the beginning.”

[goblinontour]

This Love Starved Heart Of Mine

he’s tired…

warnings: dad!alex, fluff, talking, eventual smut, handjob, fingering, fucking

word count: 8.6k

The stains on his slacks were a mystery he had neither the energy nor desire to solve. A smudge of something pale and sticky on his thigh could’ve been formula. His knee was streaked with something brown — coffee, maybe, though it was too far down for that to make sense. He wouldn’t dwell on the rest, the older stains faded into the fabric, their origins forgotten or ignored. He couldn’t remember. He didn’t care. The smattering on his shirt, though — that was fresh. A pale orange, probably from the mashed sweet potato Poppy had decided belonged anywhere but her mouth.  

He stared at the mess on his chest as if it were an accusation. He’d wiped it earlier, hadn’t he? Or maybe that was yesterday. God, he didn’t even know anymore.  

What he did know was that he couldn’t do this. Not alone. He’d thought he couldn’t do it at all, but this — this endless symphony of crying, cooking, cleaning, existing — was definitely impossible solo.  

The hum of the range hood over the stove grew louder, like a dull roar against his temples, even though it had been on for barely five minutes. A pot of something — a soup he was loosely following a recipe for — bubbled on the back burner, the spoon lying crooked in the pot like it was waiting for him to do something.  

But he couldn’t.  

Alex’s hands trembled over the cutting board, the knife clenched too tightly in his grip. He was halfway through dicing carrots — well, maybe a third of the way, if he was being honest. The pieces on the board were uneven, some chunks too big, some practically shaved. He didn’t care. None of it mattered.  

Because from the baby monitor propped precariously against the salt shaker, Poppy’s cries sliced through the air. Loud and clear. He didn’t need the video feed to know what it looked like. She’d be on her back, her face red and scrunched, little fists flailing at the unfairness of the world.  

The sound stabbed through him, sharper than the knife he was holding. He’d always thought it was supposed to get easier, that eventually, he’d adjust to…to everything. But it hadn’t. If anything, it felt worse. More oppressive. More constant.  

He set the knife down — or tried to. Instead, the blade sank into the cutting board, embedding itself with a soft crunch of wood. His chest heaved as he leaned forward, both hands gripping the edge of the counter.  “I can’t do this.” he muttered, his voice shaking as he stared blankly at the baby monitor. His reflection glared back at him in the dark screen, overlaid with the grainy image of her squirming. His words came again, quieter this time, barely audible over the din of the kitchen. “I can’t- fuck, I can’t-”  

None of it felt like enough. He wasn’t enough.  

And then, faintly at first, he heard the familiar rhythm of your footsteps in the hallway.  

“Sorry it took so long, baby.” you murmured, your voice drifting into the kitchen like sunlight after a storm.  

Alex straightened instinctively, though his body still felt stiff and leaden. Relief hit him in a wave, so fast it almost made him dizzy. The mere sound of you was enough to pull him back from the edge. You stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off your coat and tossing it toward the back of a chair. Your gaze landed on him, and you froze.  

“Hey, Al.” Your tone shifted immediately, soft and careful in a way that made his throat tighten. “You alright?”  

He nodded too quickly, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to meet your eyes. “Yeah…yeah.” His voice cracked on the second ‘yeah’ but he didn’t stop. He needed to say something, anything, to deflect. “You should-” He gestured vaguely toward the baby monitor, holding it up in one hand like it was a lifeline. “She’s-”  

You didn’t wait for him to finish. “Yeah.” Kicking off your shoes, you crossed the room in three quick strides. He watched as you disappeared up the stairs, your voice softening as you murmured something — maybe to Poppy, maybe to yourself. He couldn’t tell.  

His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, tugging lightly at the strands like it might help clear the fog in his brain. The wailing had stopped. Just like that, the silence felt louder than the crying ever had.  

Fuck, Alex, you can’t think the world’s gonna end every time, he thought, the words landing sharp in his mind. He took a shaky breath and forced himself to push — push past the weight, push himself up, both figuratively and quite literally. His hands braced the counter as he straightened, his legs stiff.  

The knife still stuck out of the cutting board, its edge caught in the groove it had made. He reached for it, his grip careful, and plucked it free with a soft scrape. For a moment, he just stared at the mark left behind, his thumb running over the shallow scar in the wood. He could fix it, probably. Sand it down, oil the surface — make it like new again.  

Maybe.  

Maybe it didn’t need replacing. Maybe things could be solved and not thrown away so easily.  

He’d fix it.

Before he could linger too long on the thought, he heard your voice, soft and full of that almost-laughter you got whenever you talked to her.  

“Say hi to Dada.” you murmured.  

It wasn’t quite the over-the-top baby voice you’d both sworn you’d never use. You’d laughed about it, once — vowed you wouldn’t be those parents, with their ridiculous high-pitched cooing and singsong nonsense. But then she had arrived, and somehow, somehow, you both caught yourselves doing it. Even Alex.  

She cooed back, her little voice bubbling like carbonation in a glass. His chest still felt tight, the remnants of earlier panic clinging stubbornly to him, but he moved toward the sound. Slowly, carefully, like it was fragile and he might shatter it if he got too close.  

Her arms flailed, fingers curling and uncurling in something that looked almost purposeful. Joy, he thought. She was happy. Not just generally, but specifically. Happy to see him.  

“Where’s Dada?” you asked her, like she might actually answer.  

And she did.  

With an awkward jerk of her chubby arm, she pointed directly at him. Her smile grew impossibly wider, her face lighting up in a way that still caught him off guard every time. It was a real smile, a choice, not just a reflexive grimace. His breath hitched, his throat tightening as the thought hit him harder than it should have. He never got used to it — the way she could do something so simple and make him feel like the floor was falling out from under him.  

He reached for his jaw, grabbing it and tugging, trying to snap himself out of the trance. His fingertips pressed hard into his skin, the roughness of his calluses grounding him.  

“Hi.” he said, his voice cracking a little. 

“She missed you.” you said gently, your gaze flicking between him and Poppy. You weren’t teasing, not like you might’ve been on another day. You knew exactly how fragile he was in that moment.  

Alex swallowed hard, willing himself to keep it together as he stepped closer. He reached out, his hand brushing her tiny fist before letting her grab his finger. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so small. She tugged, babbling incoherently, her gaze fixed on him with such intensity that he felt like he might unravel.  

“I missed you, too.” he whispered, his words directed at her but meant for both of you.  

Poppy let out another happy noise, a gurgle that morphed into something closer to a giggle, and she leaned forward, her little arms reaching toward Alex, fingers curling and uncurling as if she was trying to grab him through the air.  

“You wanna go to Dada?” you said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Say daaaa-daaa.” you coaxed, drawing out the syllables in that sweet, singsong way.  

Alex’s lips curved upward, though he tried not to make a big deal of it. He crouched down slowly, the strain in his lower back making itself known with a sharp twinge. His already misaligned spine didn’t thank him for it, but he pushed through, lowering himself until his face was level with hers. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her little body, to smell the faint powdery scent of baby lotion and something vaguely milk-like clinging to her.

“Come ‘ere, Pop.” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, as though speaking too loud might scare her off. “Come to Dada.”  

“Da-da.” you repeated, nodding encouragingly at her as if she might mirror your enthusiasm.  

Instead of saying the word — or lunging into Alex’s arms like some moment of cinematic perfection — she smacked him square in the face.  

Alex froze, his mouth slightly open in surprise, the sting of her palm radiating across his cheek. She’s got a mean right hook for someone who can barely hold her own bottle, he thought. He blinked at her, and then at you, his hand coming up to rub at the spot, which hurt only faintly, not as much as the blow to his pride.  

“She gets that from you.” he muttered, casting you a sidelong glance.  

“She does not.” you said, though your laughter betrayed you. “Don’t take it personally.” you said, trying to sound serious. “She slaps me all the time. It’s how she says ‘I love you.’”  

“Great. So instead of words, we’re raising her to communicate through violence?” She was grinning wide, her chubby cheeks pink with delight, completely oblivious to her crime. “Well, maybe I deserved that one.” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he reached for her again. “Come ‘ere, you little gremlin.”  

He kissed your cheek, a quick, grateful press of his lips, before turning his attention to her. “Hiya, Pop.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, warm and impossibly soft, before nuzzling his nose against her temple. She let out a happy squeal, her hands finding his face again. This time, instead of slapping, her fingers grabbed at his nose, her little nails scratching lightly as she babbled something unintelligible. Her eyes were wide and bright, her gummy smile so wide it made his chest ache.  

“She loves you, you know.” you said, leaning against the counter as you watched them. 

He glanced up at you, his brows furrowing slightly, though his lips stayed pressed to her cheek. “Yeah?”  

“Yeah.” You smiled softly, crossing your arms as you tilted your head. “You’re her favourite person. I’m a little jealous.”  

“Yeah.” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “She’s mine too.”  

“Dada.” you said softly, testing it again as you smiled at the two of them.  

Alex raised a brow, looking down at her. “What do you think, Pop? You gonna say it?”  

Her face scrunched, lips parting as if she were about to make some grand declaration. There was a tiny pause — just enough for Alex to feel a flicker of hope. Then she let out a loud, enthusiastic noise that was more of a squawk than a word, clapping her little hands against his chest as if to punctuate her babble.  

“Close enough.” he said, his voice soft with amusement as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  

But you weren’t about to let it go.  

“Daaa-daaa.” you tried again. You leaned in a little, your hands gesturing toward Alex like he was the most exciting thing in the world. He was, even if he couldn't see that. “You can do it, Pop. Say Dada!” She blew a raspberry, the sound wet and loud, making Alex snort. “She’s close.” you insisted, crouching down beside him. “Come on, baby.”  

Alex sighed, shifting Poppy in his arms as her attention drifted to his shirt collar. She grabbed a fistful of the fabric, tugging at it like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. He glanced at you, a faint crease forming between his brows. You always had this unshakable belief that she was on the verge of something amazing — every coo, every wave of her little hands filled you with anticipation. He admired it, that optimism of yours. But today, it made something heavy settle in his chest.  

“Say it, Poppy.” you encouraged, wagging your fingers at her. “Daaa-daaa.”  

He rolled his eyes but didn’t stop you, though he felt the faintest pang of guilt as you kept trying. You were so patient, so persistent, and he didn’t want to rain on your optimism. Still, after the god knows which round of those exaggerated two syllables, he couldn’t help but interject.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he mumbled, almost to himself.  

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.  

“She’s not gonna say it.” he repeated, his voice quiet but firmer this time. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t know what we’re saying.”  

“She’s so close.” you said gently, your smile faltering just a little.  

“She’s not.” he replied, shaking his head as he looked down at her. “She’s just…she’s not there yet.”  

You glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “But-”  

“Love,�� he interrupted, tilting his head toward you, “she’s probably tired of us pestering her. Let’s give her a break.”  

You frowned slightly, watching him. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the floor now, his shoulders tense.  

“Alex.” you said softly.  

He didn’t respond. He shifted Poppy in his arms, holding her a little closer, though he couldn’t shake the weight pressing against his chest. Why do I care so much? he thought, annoyed with himself. He couldn’t stop the spiral — thoughts tumbling over each other, picking apart every small failure.  

Maybe I’m not doing enough. Maybe she doesn’t know because I’m not around enough. Maybe she doesn’t…

“Alex.” you said again, firmer this time. Your hand found his shoulder, snapping him out of it.  

He looked up at you, his brow furrowed, and you saw it then — the faint sheen of worry in his eyes, the way his jaw was set too tight, like he was bracing for something.  

“She’ll get there. You know that, right?”  

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

You sighed, your shoulders drooping slightly, but you nodded. “Alright.” you murmured, brushing your fingers against Poppy’s cheek. “We’ll stop, Pop. No more pressure.”  

But just as Alex opened his mouth to thank you for relenting, a small, hesitant sound broke through the quiet.   

Both of you froze.  

Alex’s eyes widened as he stared at Poppy, who was now grinning up at him like she knew exactly what she’d just done.  

“Did she-?” His voice trailed off, his heart pounding as he glanced at you.  

“She said it.” you whispered. “She said it.”  

Alex barely heard you, the words sinking into his chest like pebbles dropped into a still lake. She said it, the syllables echoed faintly in his mind. He wanted to laugh, to smile, to do something to match the moment, but his body didn’t seem to know how to react. Afraid to breathe too deeply in case it all shattered.  

“Dada!” she said again, louder this time, her tiny voice wobbly but unmistakable.  

That broke him.  

Alex felt something catch in his throat, a sharp mix of disbelief and joy. His chest tightened, his heart stuttering before kicking into overdrive. Slowly, as if afraid of startling her, he looked down at her, her wide, shining eyes staring back up at him. His smile spread slowly, unbidden and unstoppable, until it felt like it might split his face in two.  

“Good girl.” he whispered. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her warm cheek. “That’s my girl.” he murmured, barely audible as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths.  

“She’s a genius.” you said, half-laughing, half-crying. Your voice snapped him out of the trance just enough for him to notice you were leaning into him, your head resting lightly against his shoulder.  

He should’ve been relieved. He was relieved. But the edges of the moment started to fray as his mind looped back on itself, until his hand twitched against Poppy’s back, his fingers moving in a restless, uneven rhythm.   

“Alex.” you said softly, your voice cutting through the noise in his head.  

He blinked, looking up at you with wide eyes, like he hadn’t even realised he’d drifted away. “Hmm?”  

Your brows knit together just slightly as you studied him. “She said it.” you repeated, more gently this time, as if trying to coax him back to the present. “You heard her, right? She said it, and she’ll keep saying it.”  

He nodded, his lips twitching upward in an attempt at a smile. “Yeah. I heard her.” 

“It’s okay to let yourself enjoy it, you know.”  

Alex let out a soft, shaky laugh, his head bowing slightly. “I’m trying.” he admitted.  

You gave him a small, knowing smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I know you are.”  

Then, with the same quiet authority that always managed to steady him, you said, “I’ll take over dinner.”  

He hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the stove where the pot still bubbled quietly. “It’s almost done.” he said automatically, his voice trailing off.  

“Seriously.” you interrupted, your hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. “Go sit down. You’ve earned it.”  

He looked at you then, really looked, and saw the understanding in your eyes. Not pity, not impatience — just a steady reassurance that he didn’t have to carry everything on his own.  

Alex exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening as he nodded. “Alright, alright.” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint, grateful smile.  

“Good.” You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek before stepping toward the stove.  

“Alright, Pop.” he said softly, turning toward the living room. “Let’s go relax, yeah?”  

Alex settled onto the couch with a quiet groan, leaning back into the cushions as he adjusted Poppy in his lap. Her bright eyes met his again, and he smiled despite himself, the heaviness in his chest beginning to lift.  

“You’re a little genius.” he murmured, brushing his fingers over her curls.  

Poppy responded with a loud, cheerful babble, her tiny hands smacking against his chest like punctuation marks. Before he realised what was happening, one of her fingers poked at his cheek, then slid up toward his nose.  

“Hey, what are you-” Alex started, but his words cut off with a muffled grunt as she, determined as ever, managed to wedge her little fingers into his nostrils. “Christ, Pop.” he muttered, squirming as he tried to gently guide her hand away. She giggled in response and shoved harder. He groaned, his face scrunching comically. “You’re relentless, aren’t you? Just like your mum.”  

Despite the discomfort, he didn’t make her stop right away. He let her tug and poke and prod because…well, because she was his. His little girl, with her impossibly tiny fingers and her boundless energy and her smile that made his chest ache in ways he still didn’t fully understand.  

“Alright, that’s enough now.” he said softly, finally grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You’re gonna rip my big nose off, you little gremlin.”  

She squealed in delight, her legs kicking against his lap as she laughed. Alex couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking his head as he adjusted her so she was sitting more comfortably.  

“Are you hungry, Pop?” he asked, tilting his head to look at her more closely. “Hmm? Is that why you’re trying to dismantle me? Did you miss dinner while I was busy mucking about in the kitchen?”  

Poppy tilted her head in response, mimicking his gesture with such accuracy that it caught him off guard.  

“You missed Mama, didn’t you?” he said, his voice softening as he brushed a hand over her hair. “You always get a bit grumpy when she’s not here, huh? Me too, you know. Yeah? You missed her loads, didn’t you? I get it. She’s the best, isn’t she?”  

She clapped her hands in agreement, her face lighting up.  

“She’s clever, that one.” Alex continued as he leaned in slightly. “Always knows what to do. Keeps me from completely losing it most days.” He sighed, his thumb gently tracing circles on her little hand. “Don’t tell her, but I missed her too.”  

She made another noise, high-pitched, and Alex chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you? Don’t need words when you’ve got that smile. You know,” he murmured, “you’re kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”  

Poppy didn’t respond, of course, but the way she rested her head against his chest — her little fingers curling into his shirt — felt like answer enough. 

You called him over, your voice warm and light but tinged with that familiar sense of knowing. “Alex, come here. Dinner’s ready.”  

He shifted Poppy in his arms and stood with an exaggerated groan, the sound somewhere between playful and genuine. “Getting old, Pop.” he murmured, glancing down at her. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”  

“Is it okay?” he asked as he approached the table, nodding toward the pot on the stove.  

“Yeah, it’s good. Smells amazing.” you said as you sat down. “Can’t wait to eat, I’m starving.”  

He smiled faintly at your words, placing Poppy in her high chair before lowering himself into the seat next to you. “Eat, eat. I’ll try to get her to eat something too.” he said, nodding toward the little one.  

“You need to eat too, baby.” you replied as you placed a plate in front of him.  

Alex didn’t respond. He was looking at you, his gaze quiet and intense in a way that made you pause. There was something in the way he watched you that felt almost fragile, like he was trying to memorise the moment before it slipped through his fingers.  

“Alex.” you prompted gently, but he still didn’t look away.  

He blinked, as if suddenly realising he was staring, and shifted his focus to Poppy. She had taken one of his fingers into her mouth, nibbling on it. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t mind.  

“I know,” he said softly, “but can we just…”  

He trailed off, his free hand brushing over Poppy’s curls as his jaw tightened.  

“Alex-” you began, but he cut you off, his voice trembling slightly as he turned back to you.  

“She said it.” he whispered, the words barely audible. His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, met yours, pleading and vulnerable. “She…don’t start that now, please.”  

Your mouth opened to respond, but his expression stopped you. There was a rawness in his face that you recognized too well — a deep, unspoken fear that if you brought it up, you’d ruin the delicate balance of the moment.  

“Okay.” you said finally.  

Dinner was quiet. The kind of quiet that settled in like a heavy fog, where the occasional clink of cutlery against a plate felt unnaturally loud. Poppy babbled here and there, filling the silence with her tiny, nonsensical words, and Alex smiled at her, like always. But his energy was flagging. He was tired, worn thin in a way that even you could feel across the table. You knew he was trying, trying for you and for her, trying to keep the atmosphere light. And it worked, sort of, enough to make it through the meal. But you could see the strain beneath it, the cracks that threatened to show when he thought no one was looking.

That smile didn’t follow him when the day finally wound down and the two of you climbed into bed. Under the covers, where the quiet wasn’t tempered by the background noise his face fell into something harder. That look you’d come to dread, his “mad kitten” look, as you’d called it, where his lips pressed into a tight line, like he was physically holding himself together with sheer will.

The dark made it worse. It always did. Shadows obscured the warmth in his features, leaving behind that stubborn jawline and the glassy glint of his eyes when he didn’t blink fast enough.

“Al…” you whispered, trying to coax him out of it.

You could feel him debating it, using the dark as a shield, letting the silence stretch between you.

“I’m fine.” he said finally.

“You-”

“I’m fine.” he repeated, cutting you off quickly, but not sharply. “I promise.”

There was a note of insistence in his tone, as if he needed to convince you, or maybe himself, that it was true. Before you could press further, his body shifted. He moved toward you, wrapping his arms around your middle and twisting you into his grip with that quiet urgency that always made your chest ache. His chest pressed firmly against your back, the heat of him bleeding through the thin fabric of your shirt and you could feel his breath against your shoulder like he was trying to regulate it but failing.

“I’m just…tired.” he murmured, the words muffled as his face found the crook of your neck.

His sigh followed, long and drawn-out, like it was pulled from somewhere deep. His arms tightened around you, his hold becoming almost unbearably heavy. It wasn’t just physical — you could feel the emotional gravity of him, like he was sinking into you, clinging to you to keep himself afloat.

“You don’t have to hold onto it all by yourself, you know.” you said, your voice a quiet plea in the dark, placing your hand over his arm, your fingers tracing slow circles against his skin.

“I’m not.” he whispered after a long pause, his voice barely audible. “I’ve got you.” Bittersweet and honest in a way that made your throat tighten. You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to see the edge of his face.

“I’m here.” you said, your hand moving up to brush against his cheek. “I’m always here.”

Alex closed his eyes at that, his head dipping slightly as if the weight of those words was too much. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder, his grip on you never loosening. “I know.” he said again, softer this time, almost like a prayer.

“Baby?” you called softly. Alex’s body was pressed so firmly against yours that you could feel every rise and fall of his chest. The way he rubbed himself against you sent a subtle shiver down your spine that you tried, and failed, to hide.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response, his voice thick with exhaustion but carrying a gentle warmth. He pressed his face into your neck again, nuzzling you like he couldn’t get close enough. “You smell nice.” he murmured.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “I missed you today.”

His palms roamed your body, spreading warmth wherever they touched. He wasn’t in a hurry — it was almost absentminded, the way his hands explored. Slowly, they began to search for the hem of your shirt, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin — hesitant, like he was trying to go unnoticed, unsure of himself.

You knew what that meant — he was testing the waters, weighing his own energy against his desire, afraid to disappoint you or himself if he couldn’t deliver. 

“Alex?” you asked gently, your hand brushing against his side.

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice quieter this time, muffled by the way his face stayed buried against you.

“Do you wanna…?” you suggested, leaving the rest unsaid but entirely clear.

His breath hitched, just for a second, and then he groaned softly, twisting himself further into you. His face ducked lower, pressing into your shoulder like he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “Yeah, but…I’m so fucking tired.” he admitted, almost apologetic.

You felt him stretch his legs, his body shifting as he intertwined them with yours, wrapping you up in his warmth and his weariness all at once. He sighed again, though this time it was more of a soft, frustrated mewl, a sound that broke your heart a little.

“Can we do it in the morning?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I’m better in the mornings…at night, I just…I get too in my head, and I can’t…” His words trailed off, lost somewhere between exhaustion and vulnerability.

You didn’t need him to finish. You understood.

Your hand found its way to the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair, scratching lightly at the roots. It was oilier than usual, and you knew that detail alone was enough to bother him, though you wouldn’t dream of holding it against him. You could feel the weight of the week, of the day, in the way he leaned into your touch.

“I have to go to work again early for some-” you began. The sentence was interrupted by a deep stretch and a groan, his body shifting again to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. 

“How early?” he asked, his voice still groggy.

“Early.” you said, the word carrying a hint of regret as your fingers continued their soothing motions.

“Fuck…” He sighed, the sound dragging out as he let himself sink deeper into you. “Okay.” His hands slid back under your top, the roughness of his palms contrasting with the gentle way he touched you. They skimmed over your ribs, fingers spreading wide to take in as much of you as they could. Slowly, he began to push the fabric upward, revealing more of your bare skin, but he hesitated just short of pulling it completely off.

“It’s fine, Al-” you started, not wanting him to feel pressured. Your hand came up to gently push him away, but he caught your wrist lightly.

“No, no…” he murmured, shaking his head. His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the base of your throat. “I can- I want to. I just…” He trailed off, exhaling shakily as his eyes dropped to the space between you, as if his body wasn’t cooperating the way he wanted it to.

“Need a hand?” 

He let out a breath, half a laugh, half a sigh, and nodded. “Yeah.” 

You reached for the hem of your top, tugging it over your head and letting it fall to the floor beside the bed. Alex’s eyes lifted, softening instantly as they took in the newly bared skin. He swallowed hard, his lips parting as his hands reached for you again. His lips followed the curve of your chest, pressing slow, reverent kisses to the soft swell of your breasts. His stubble scratched against your skin, and you couldn’t help but gasp when his teeth grazed and nibbled on the delicate skin just below your collarbone.

“Fuck…” you murmured, his grunt in response muffled against your chest. He kissed the same spot again, as if trying to chase away the faint sting with warmth.

Your fingers slipped down then, over the planes of his stomach before slipping to the waistband of his boxers. He tensed slightly, almost imperceptibly, but didn’t stop you. Slowly, you slid your hand inside, fingers brushing against him. He was soft beneath your touch, his body warm but still reluctant to respond. You stroked him gently, giving him time, your movements slow and deliberate. He twitched slightly, but not as much as you both hoped.

“Shit.” he muttered, voice strained and tinged with frustration. “I’m sorry…I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head against you. “I just- I’m sorry. I’m so fucking tired, and I-”

“Hey.” you interrupted softly, your free hand coming up to thread through his hair again. You scratched lightly, feeling the tension in his body as you worked to soothe him. “Don’t apologise.”

“I just can’t get my head right.” he said, his voice tight. He sighed heavily, his breath shuddering against you. “I want to- fuck, I really want to, but…”

“But nothing.” Your fingers continued to stroke him lightly, not to pressure him, but to reassure him, to remind him you weren’t in any rush. “It’s okay, Alex. We’ve got time. It’s not a race.”

He let out a soft groan, half from the sensation of your hand and half from the weight of his own thoughts. “You’re too good to me.” he muttered, pressing another kiss to the top of your chest.

“I love you.” you replied simply. “That’s not gonna change just because you’re tired. You’ve been running yourself ragged all day, Al. Your body’s just trying to catch up.”

He let out another sigh, this one softer, and tilted his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted as if he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

“You’re allowed to be tired.” you added, your thumb brushing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, but I wanted to…I wanted to be good for you.” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly on the last words.

“You are good for me.” you said, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You always are.”

As if testing himself, his hips shifted slightly against your hand. “I’m trying.” 

“I know.” you replied, kissing him again, this time on the lips, reminding him that this wasn’t about performance or expectation but the two of you. His lips trembled against yours, but he kissed you back, his hands finding their way to your hips. He held you firmly but tenderly, his thumbs stroking small circles into your skin.

“I’ll get there.” he murmured, his voice thick but steadier now. “I’m gon’ do my best…” his lips brushing the curve of your neck “to fuck you good.”

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Promise.” 

He let out a low, shaky groan as his hand squeezed your arse, pulling you closer against him. His lips returned to your chest, latching onto the soft flesh with a warm, open-mouthed kiss that sent a shiver through your spine. His hips bucked gently into your hand, still soft but slowly responding, the friction encouraging him more than he might have expected. 

“Talk to me.” he murmured against your skin, punctuating his words with another kiss, this time right over your heart.

“About what?” 

“Anything.” he gasped, his breath catching when you tugged just a bit harder. His head tilted back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to stay focused. “Anything to distract me from thinking too hard.”

“Okay, let’s see…” you started, the rhythm of your hand unbroken as you searched for something that might pull him out of his head. “How about the fact that she said her first word today?” you offered, your voice lifting slightly as you rubbed your thumb along his length.

Alex let out a short laugh, half-gasping as his hips moved with more intention now. “You think I forgot?” he asked, his tone teasing despite the breathlessness. “I’ll be telling everyone about that for years, love. Even strangers in the queue at Tesco.”

“Yeah?” you grinned, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Bet you’ll exaggerate it too. ‘Oh, she looked right at me, so serious, and said ‘Dada’ like she was delivering some grand speech.’”

“She did though. You saw her. Our girl was bloody profound.”

“She had food all over her face.” you countered, laughing softly.

“That’s just charisma.” he replied, his voice softer now, though his hips bucked again, more firmly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” you teased, your fingers sliding down further to cup him gently, eliciting a groan that vibrated against your skin.

“More,” he mumbled, his voice husky.

“More talking or more touching?” you teased, your hand giving him a firmer stroke, feeling him start to harden properly against your palm.

“Both.” His hips moved in small, involuntary motions against your hand, but he still wasn’t quite where he wanted to be. “Something else this time. Anything- just not…”

“Not what?” 

He let out a shaky laugh, his head shaking slightly. “Not about her.” he admitted, his voice low and embarrassed. “Feels weird…when you’ve got your hand on my dick.”

You laughed and Alex groaned again, though this time it was out of exasperated affection. “Fair point.” you teased, giving him a soft squeeze that earned you a sharp inhale. “Okay, let’s think…”

“Yeah, think of something good.” he muttered, his lips trailing a line of warm, lazy kisses down the side of your neck. “Something sexy or ridiculous, just…”

“Alright,” you said, “remember that time we got locked out of the old flat because you thought you could ‘jimmy’ the door with a credit card?”

“Oh, come on, don’t remind me.” he groaned, though there was a smile in his voice. “I was just trying to impress you.”

“You were trying to impress me by breaking into your own flat?” you teased, your thumb brushing over the sensitive underside of his cock, drawing a quiet gasp from him.

“It almost worked.” he said, mock-defensively. 

“It really didn’t.” you replied, laughing softly. “We ended up waiting outside for two hours until your mate showed up with the spare key.”

“Yeah, and you still went out with me after that.” he shot back, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin.

“Only because you bought me chips and promised never to try anything that stupid again.” you countered, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw.

He hummed in response, his lips seeking yours for a lazy, lingering kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. “I’d buy you chips every day if it meant I’d get to keep you.” he murmured against your lips.

“That’s very sweet.” you said softly, “but you don’t need to bribe me with chips. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good…because I’m not sure what I’d do without you.” he whispered. “Morning’s overrated anyway.” he mumbled with a smirk, his confidence finally peeking through, making you laugh softly as he pulled you even closer.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. The first tentative stroke of his fingers over your folds pulled a quiet sound from your lips, a soft sigh that made his chest tighten. “Yeah? Mhm…you’re real wet.”

He hooked a leg over your waist, tugging himself closer and shifting his weight to make it easier to manoeuvre. With a grumble, he raised his arms over his head, his eyes flicking down at you with a playful tilt to his brow. “Help me take off my shirt.” — somewhere between impatient and endearing.

You chuckled softly, reaching up to grip the hem and pulling it up and off. His messy hair stuck up at odd angles from the friction, and you couldn’t resist brushing your fingers through it as he leaned back down, his lips grazing your jaw.

With the shirt discarded, Alex’s attention shifted back to you. His hand pushed your panties down just enough to free his wrist, not bothering to remove them entirely as he slid his middle finger into you. The stretch was perfect. His hips rutted gently against your thigh, seeking friction as he worked his finger deeper into you, his cock hot and heavy, twitching with every little noise you made. 

“That’s good, Al.” you moaned again, your hips moving against his hand, trying to take more of him.

“Yeah? You like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, his voice strained but steady. He added a second finger, the stretch making you cry out sharply, and he groaned in response. “Mhm…so tight.” he said, his hips jerking reflexively, his arousal growing harder to ignore.

“Just…more.” you gasped, arching into his touch as his thumb pressed against your clit, circling.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he whispered, his words muffled against your skin as he kissed and nipped at the flesh, his scruff leaving a warm, tingling trail in its wake. His fingers moved faster now, just enough to drag a broken moan from your lips.

“Alex…” you breathed, the sound of his name on your lips making his hips jerk harder against your thigh.

“I’ve got you.” he whispered, “I’ll take care of you, love. Just let me make you feel good.”

You arched into his touch, your hands moving to push his boxers down over his hips. He groaned softly as the fabric slid away, freeing him entirely. His cock was still firming, enough to feel hopeful again.

“Yeah…” he breathed, his voice low and thick as he worked his fingers deeper into you, the sound of them going in and out suddenly louder. “That’s my girl…all wet for me. Missed this.” he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled and hazy. “Missed ya.”

You nodded, unable to form words as his pace quickened, the rhythm of his fingers a barely restrained desperation. “Fuck…you’re perfect.” he whispered, his lips grazing yours in a fleeting kiss that left you aching for more. 

Despite the ache in his shoulders and the subtle burn building in his forearm, Alex kept his focus on you. The way your body moved, the sounds you made — it was all the motivation he needed to push past the weariness settling in his bones. His jaw tightened briefly, a hint of exhaustion flickering across his face, but he blinked it away before you could see. He made sure you didn’t. Every time his movements faltered for even a second, he redirected you — his thumb brushing over your clit with just enough pressure to steal your breath, his lips peppering your neck with kisses that made your body shudder.

Your hands slid down his back, your nails grazing lightly over the curve of his spine, and he hissed softly. “You’re gonna make me come before we even get to the good part.” you teased, your voice shaking slightly.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he kissed you again, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl. “This is the good part.” he muttered. He curled his fingers inside you just right, and your body tensed, your breath hitching audibly.

“Alex…” you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillow as his thumb pressed harder.

“That’s it.” he murmured, his voice steady despite the faint tremble in his arms. “Let me hear you, love.” You gasped again. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered, “That’s my girl. Let go for me.”

And you did. Your body arched into him as you came, your moans filling the room as he worked you through it, fingers slowing but never stopping. He kissed you softly, his lips lingering against yours, letting you ride it out at your own pace.

“Beautiful.” he murmured, his voice thick with awe as he finally withdrew his hand. His fingers glistened in the dim light when he brought them to his lips, his eyes locked on yours as he licked them clean. A low groan escaped him at the taste, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned back in.

“Alex.” you whispered, your voice still shaky as you reached for him.

“Shh…” he said softly, shifting his weight to pull your panties all the way off. His movements were just a fraction slower than usual, his body heavier as he repositioned himself between your thighs, but he masked it. 

When he slipped inside of you, a soft gasp escaped him, his breath hitching as his shoulders gave the faintest shiver. He paused for a moment, his forehead dropping briefly to your collarbone as he adjusted to the warmth of you, the closeness. It was almost as if he needed a second to collect himself, to process the way you fit around him so perfectly. His focus seemed inward, like he was trying to keep himself tethered, to keep from drifting too far into his thoughts, the drag of him inside you unhurried, as if the intimacy itself was enough to sustain him.

“Al…” you whispered, brushing your hands through his hair, tugging gently to pull his face closer to yours.

He didn’t respond, just shifted forward until his chest was flush against yours, his arms wrapping tightly around your back. His movements grew lazier, his thrusts almost absent-minded, and then he stilled entirely, buried deep inside you as he pulled you tighter against him.

“C’mere.” he murmured and hooked his leg around your waist, the strength in his arms holding you securely as he twisted his body, rolling the two of you onto your sides. The shift was gentle. You went willingly. He kept you close, his arms curling tighter around your back, and when you settled, he pressed his forehead to yours. His gaze was soft but so heavy with unspoken truths that it made your chest ache.

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek in your palm.

He nodded, but the movement was subtle, barely more than a twitch, and tightness in his jaw told you there was more. Instead of answering, he leaned forward and kissed you softly, the press of his lips lingering.

“Just wanted to hold you.” he finally said. “Needed to feel you close.”

“You’ve got me.” you whispered back, your hand stroking the back of his neck as you pressed your body closer to his. “Always.”

He sighed, the sound heavy but full of relief, and began to move again, his hips shifting slowly, almost cautiously. Your legs tangled together as his thrusts became a gentle rocking motion, his forehead still pressed to yours.

“Is this okay?” he murmured after a moment, his voice low and husky, the words almost lost in the sound of your breathing.

“It’s perfect.” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth as you reached down to grab his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

His free hand slid down your back, holding you to him like he was afraid you’d slip away. There was an edge of desperation in the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his hips stuttered slightly before he found his rhythm again. He wasn’t rushing, though — it wasn’t about chasing an end. He was savouring it, savouring you. The way he kissed you between each slow thrust, spoke louder than any words he could’ve said. 

Alex groaned softly, burying his face in your neck again as his pace quickened just enough to make your breath hitch. “Fuck…you feel so good.” he mumbled against your skin. His hand slid down to your thigh, lifting it higher around his waist to bring you even closer.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back even now, and you pressed your lips to his temple. “Let go, baby.” you whispered, your voice a soft encouragement as your fingers slid down his back. “I’ve got you.”

His breath hitched, and his pace faltered for just a moment before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His movements grew more instinctive, his restraint slipping as he finally let himself sink, hips jerking forward in a way that felt less controlled, and then he stilled, deep inside you as his body trembled against yours.

“Fuck-” he whispered, the word drawn out as he let himself go.

It was with a quiet groan against your skin, his arms tightening around you as he held you close.

You held him through it, your hands smoothing over his back as his breathing slowly began to steady, face pressed into your neck, his body still pressed flush against yours, before he finally leaned back just enough to look at you.

“I love you.” he murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“I love you too.” you whispered back, holding him tighter, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours as the world around you fell quiet.

Alex exhaled another deep, shaky breath, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away as he settled. “You’re everything.” he said quietly, the words almost lost as he buried his face in your hair.

He stayed there, his breath fanning against your skin in slow, warm exhalations, your bodies still connected in a way that made it feel like you were sharing the same heartbeat. His arms remained draped over you, heavy and firm, holding you close in a way that felt both protective and desperate. You thought he was just catching his breath, trying to calm the storm that had been building all day. But then you felt it — his grip loosened.

It wasn’t gradual, like he was letting go consciously. It happened all at once, his hands slipping from their secure hold to rest limply against your sides, the weight of them going heavy in a way that immediately caught your attention.

“Baby.” you whispered. You tilted your head to try and get a look at his face. He didn’t stir.

“Aly.” you tried again, brushing through his damp hair, pushing the strands away from his forehead. He didn’t react, not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Instead of responding, he shifted slightly, his body curling even closer to you. He made a small, soft noise — barely audible — as he burrowed further into you, pressing his face against your chest like he was trying to disappear there entirely, seeking refuge, breath tickling your skin.

Your heart softened as realisation dawned. He was asleep.

He made it ache too, all at once. You had seen how tired he was. The exhaustion he had carried — the tension in his shoulders, the weariness in his eyes, the quiet hesitations in his voice — had finally claimed him. You let your fingers continue their path through his hair, marvelling at how peaceful he looked now, his features slack and unburdened, his lips slightly parted as his breaths fell. It was such a stark contrast to the tension he so often carried.

“Sweetheart.” you murmured softly, more to yourself than to him, not expecting a response this time. You traced the line of his jaw, your thumb brushing lightly over the roughness. There was something different about it now, something softer, like sleep had stripped away all his worries and left just…him.

He shifted slightly when you moved, but he didn’t wake. Instead, his arm tightened around you — just for a moment, a subconscious reflex, like his sleeping body refused to let you go — before going slack again.

“Okay, okay.” you whispered, smiling to yourself as you adjusted under him. “I’m not going anywhere. Sleep, love.” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

The room was so quiet now, the faint hum of the heater and the occasional creak of the house the only sounds besides his breathing. You felt the rhythm of it, how it matched yours, slow and steady and calm.

You let your fingers drift lazily along his back, tracing patterns you weren’t even aware of. Every now and then, he’d shift slightly, almost imperceptibly, like his body was adjusting to make itself even closer to you.

It was a long time before you let yourself relax fully, but eventually, the warmth of him, the heaviness of his body pressed against yours, lulled you into a kind of peaceful stillness. You stared at the ceiling for a while, your hand still tangled in his hair, and wondered how he had managed to hold so much inside himself all day without breaking.

“I love you.” you whispered into the quiet, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you.

a/n: I’m a very sad lonely woman as you can see. Jus’ a girl. He’s just a baby. Lil’ bebe. Inspired by some reel I saw but I'm too lazy to get the link now.

[darkstar225]

Kid Y/N feels under the weather, what is gonna happen? ft Wanda and Natasha 

Rain pelted against the large windows of the Avengers compound, a symphony of nature's melancholy to accompany the drama unfolding within. Y/N, a young child with an inclination for mischief, which made her seem like Loki's daughter sometimes (she may be...), and two extraordinary guardians: Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, found herself feeling under the weather. The cold had crept into her small frame, bringing with it a storm of sneezes and sniffles.

In the heart of the Avengers' home, the living room was a battleground. Y/N lay on the couch, surrounded by a fortress of plush toys. The television played some animated movie, forgotten in the background. Natasha was still donned in her Black Widow uniform after returning from a mission with Wanda, her fiery red hair cascading in waves, was the epitome of calm. She knelt beside the couch, worry etching lines on her face as she touched Y/N's forehead with the back of her hand.

Y/N - Mama, I don't wanna take those yucky medicines! 

Whined the little girl as her raspy voice showed her clear discomfort.

Wanda, also in her Scarlet Witch attire, floated into the room with a tray of steaming soup and a small bottle of medicine. Her expressive eyes softened as they met Y/N's defiant gaze. 

Wanda - Sweetheart, it'll make you feel better. Just a spoonful, okay? *frowns*

The girl's eyes narrowed and a pout formed on her lips. 

Y/N - No! It tastes icky.

Natasha sighed, her stern look softened by a smile. 

Natasha - Come on, kiddo. You'll be back to causing chaos in no time.

Y/N's eyes welled up, a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. 

Y/N - I don't wanna be sick, Mommy.

Natasha's heart melted at the word. Y/N had walked into her and Wanda's life like a burst of sunshine, and now, seeing her curled up with illness, it felt like the sun had been clouded over.

Natasha exchanged a glance with Wanda, who was now floating in the air, her green eyes filled with concern. 

Wanda - We just want you to feel better, little one. *soft voice with a motherly smile*

But Y/N was having none of it. With a sudden burst of energy, she sat up, sending the plush toys scattering like leaves in the wind. 

Y/N - I don't want the yucky medicine! I hate it!

Natasha's eyes met Wanda's, both sharing a knowing look. Parenting, even for two superheroes, had its challenges. But they were up for it. Wanda floated down to Y/N's eye level, a playful smile on her face. 

Wanda - How about a deal, little rebel? Take the medicine, and Mama will read you a story. A magical one.

Y/N eyed Wanda suspiciously, her small brain working through the proposal. 

Y/N - A really magical one? *head tilt*

Wanda nodded, her fingers conjuring a spark of Scarlet energy. 

Wanda - The most magical story you've ever heard. 

Y/N contemplated this for a moment before finally nodding with all the seriousness a child could muster. 

Y/N - Okay, but no yucky medicine next time. *scrunches nose*

Natasha handed Wanda the medicine with a smirk. 

Natasha - Of course, princesa.

Wanda poured the medicine into a small spoon, casting a glance at Natasha. Natasha nodded subtly, understanding the silent question. Wanda approached Y/N, who was still eyeing the spoon with scepticism.

Wanda - Open wide, little one. *cooing*.

Y/N opened her mouth reluctantly and Wanda administered the medicine. The kid grimaced at the taste, but she swallowed it down with a determined expression.

Natasha - Good job, honey! 

Natasha praised, ruffling Y/N's hair.

Wanda - Now, for the magical story... 

Wanda settled on the floor near Natasha with Y/N nestled between their chests.

As Wanda began weaving a tale of enchanted forests and talking animals, Y/N's eyes sparkled with wonder. The room echoed with Wanda's melodic voice, each word painting a vivid picture in the child's imagination. Natasha sat back, watching the scene unfold with a smile. The storm outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of the family huddled together.

As the story reached its climax, Y/N's eyelids grew heavy. The pair shared a glance, silently agreeing to transfer the dozing child to her cosy bed. Together, they lifted Y/N, who mumbled something about flying with Mama and Mommy in the magical forest.

In her room, surrounded by plush toys and soft blankets, Y/N slept peacefully. Natasha and Wanda lingered for a moment, marvelling at the small, slumbering figure. Parenthood was an adventure, one they embraced wholeheartedly.

As they tiptoed out of the room, Natasha began to whisper. 

Natasha - We make a good team, don't we? *smirks*

Wanda nodded, her eyes reflecting the love and contentment they both felt. 

Wanda - The best. *winks*

And with that, the two superheroes, mothers to a special little girl, ventured back into the living room. The storm outside had quieted, leaving behind the soft hum of family and the promise of many more magical stories to come.