#being ‘his descendant’ kind of means nothing

[frau-line]

I don’t feel like drawing

(Reference)

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 — squirting

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: shy!reader (not "innocent" or inexperienced, just a little more reserved). penetrative sex.

Chrissy didn't know what she was doing.

It was an innocent question — as innocent as the questions being raised could be, that night. The conversation had quickly descended into more risqué subjects after Steve had gotten a little too tipsy and started complaining about his lack of luck on his latest escapades.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really. You were all used to talking about sex in one way or another. Eddie was famously loud about it, always having a story to tell, his or otherwise. Stories that made you imagine yourself on the receiving end of, guiltily wanting your friend to do those same things he was describing to you.

You kept those fantasies to yourself, though. Not wanting to be teased by the girls, maybe even worse, have them try to set you up with him. You wouldn't be able to live with yourself if Eddie ever rejected you, or dated you out of pity. There was no scenario where this would work in your mind, no "you and Eddie", just you and your thoughts of him, where he would never hurt you, where all he did was make you feel good, imagining it his hands on your body, roaming until they found that place between your legs, instead of your own.

That night, it was no different. After Steve started the conversation, there was no stopping it. You often listened more than talked — not due to lack of experience, you were just a little too shy to share too much, even among close friends — but when the talk switched to Robin commenting about making her girlfriend squirt, you slipped.

"Good for her."

Your reply may have sounded a little more bitter than you'd anticipated, because, one by one, all of your friends looked at you. Maybe it was the scoff that has left your mouth, maybe it was the alcohol that had loosened your tongue. 

"What was that?" Nancy asked, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you.

"Yeah. What was that?" This time, it was Eddie who repeated her question. He sat on the opposite couch with his legs spread, tight black jeans stretching on his lean legs, making you wish you sat between them. You avoided his eyes.

"Nothing. I mean…", you signed, already regretting having said anything, "it's good! Good for her. Robin is good to her, that's a good thing."

You cringed even before you could finish all those convoluted sentences.

"Honey, have you ever… you know," Chrissy asked from her place on the floor, sitting as delicate as a fairy. "squirted?"

"No." You said, simply. Scared to run your mouth even more. "It's not a big deal. Doesn't happen to everybody."

"Have you tried?" Steve asked from behind his beer. He got a myriad of answers ranging from "that's not how It works, dingus!" from Robin, "it's not a matter of trying" from Nancy and "don't ask that, dude" from Eddie.

"I don't even know where to start, Steve. And before anyone asks, yes, I have cum from sex. Just not… like that."

You wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. It was even worse when you could feel Eddie's eyes on you, like he could see right through you. He tilted his head, and you weren't able to handle the kindness in his brown eyes. You looked away.

Your friends' opinions diverged again, making questions and trying to get you to speak, but you couldn't deal with their scrutiny anymore.

"C'mon, guys. It's fine! Can we change the subject, please?" You tried to swerve them. "Like I said, it's not a big deal. Maybe I'm just broken like that."

They shrugged. You shrugged. They moved on — but Eddie's eyes stayed on you for the rest of the night.

You're on Eddie's passenger seat, right in front of your apartment building, later that night when he brings the subject up again.

"I don't think you're broken."

The two of you had spent the entire ride silent, which was odd since Eddie was the chatterbox between the two of you, always filling the gaps with anything that would cross his mind. Neither that, nor his music filled the silence between you.

"What?" You looked at him, still not believing what you'd heard.

"You said that maybe you were broken like that. That's not true, you're… you're perfect."

That feeling of wanting to hide came back tenfold, making your eyes fill with tears. "Eddie, forget about it, please."

"Hey," he brought your gaze back to him with a finger to your chin, delicately turning your head. "I meant what I said. You're perfect, it's just that no one's taken the time to treat you right. It takes patience, from both sides."

"Yeah, and?"

"I was thinking that maybe I could change that. If you'd let me."

One thing you'd always admired about Eddie was his strength of conviction. He never said anything he didn't believe in, and backed it all up. His voice never faltered, he doesn't shy away from speaking his mind — and you hated that you were forcing yourself to disbelieve him.

"Eddie…"

"Look at me." He pleaded, and in spite of your concerns, you did as he told. His eyes bore into your with a sincerity that was so painfully him. "You can say no. I'll go home and we'll forget about everything I just said. But, sweetheart… I'm dying to prove you wrong."

Eventually, he did.

After you'd gotten up the stairs to your floor kissing and tugging at each other's clothes, letting Eddie's tongue taste yours over and over, stopping to let yourself be cornered against the wall by him. Getting lost in the feeling of his solid body against yours, the smell of him — a strong, masculine perfume, cigarettes and beer — making you dizzy, his lips on your neck making you even dizzier.

After he took your clothes off halfway down your living room, reverencing your body with his rough hands, kneeling between your feet in the middle of your halfway. He made you cum for the first time that night with his mouth, kissing your pussy the way he kissed your mouth, sucking on your clit the same way he sucked on your tongue. You came as you pulled his hair, his strong arms around your hips preventing you from falling.

After he guided you to your bed, still craving a taste of you. Hands not knowing where to sit still while he pulled another orgasm from you, his fingers deep within you, curling and stroking your walls, his mouth still not leaving your clit. Your ears buzzed with the force of your climax, not being able to hear Eddie's praise. "That's my girl," he said, head resting on the plush of your thigh, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, "doing such a good job, but I'm not done with you yet."

After he made your eyes blur with pleasure when you finally entered you, rubbing the head of his cock on your sensitive bundle of nerves, once, twice, three times before putting it in, slowly bottoming out. Leaving kisses all over your face, shining with sweat. You didn't think you could take it, curling your toes and hugging his narrow hips with your spread legs, feeling each thrust with a tenderness you never did before.

After he filled and stretched you to the brim, pulling out only to push it all in again. Uttering against your skin, broken whimpers, your name on his lips like a prayer. You were beyond the point of forming words, kissing him to stop yourself from screaming. You could feel yourself dripping down your pussy, and into the sheets, soaking Eddie's cock.

After he pulled your thigh higher up his waist, and stood on his knees, pounding into you with measured speed. He hit your spot over, and over, and over — you grabbed the sheets with both hands, repeating his name like a broken record, music to his ears.

"Yeah? That feels good, baby? Am I making you feel good?" Eddie looked like a god above you. Wild hair down to his shoulders, pale skin slick with sweat, eyes drilled on you. You made the mistake of looking down to where your bodies met, watching his thick cock drenched with your juices, going in and out of you. His pubic hair, also matted with your wetness, creating a delicious friction against your clit. "Tell me. Who's making you feel this good?"

"You, Eddie." You whimpered. "You, you, you. Always you."

"That's right, baby. That's" a hard thrust, "fucking," a a squeeze of your thigh, "right."

You felt your orgasm approach with a  deep pressure on your navel, building and building until you couldn't keep It down anymore. You let yourself go, the ringing in your ears louder and cleared, cumming with Eddie's name on your lips.

That's when you felt it. You were limp in your bed, with Eddie above you. You'd felt him cum too, dropping his weight above you, but still keeping himself steady by his elbows. but everything was distant, like it was happening in a dream. Slowly, you came back to yourself — to Eddie, gently coaxing you with sweet words, and to the warm wetness coating your thighs, your ass, and Eddie's lower half.

"Did I…?"

"Fuck yeah, you did." His boyish smile, so different from the confident smirk you saw not moments ago, made you smile too, weakly and still a little embarrassed, but too satisfied to care.

"Happy now?"

"Only when you do it again." 

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWO

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, kidnapping, 141 are mean pirates, brief mentions of gore/death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The time you spent in the brig was frigid and isolating. Despite it being summer, the cold gusts of the sea had crept in through the thin cracks of the wooden ship, rising goosebumps on your skin and sending shivers wracking through your body. You were in no attire to accommodate the chill, only dressed in your barest of summer garments, thin and dirtied from the poverty your village lived in.

Silence became your new friend, while also your enemy. As much as you were one to appreciate the quiet of the world, the waves crashing along the sides of the ship were far too loud, taunting you with a grim reminder that you were lost at sea with no home to return to.

Your home was burned down to ash, surely with no survivors, given the state of havoc you’d returned to when Ghost told you to fetch your things. Your home didn’t treat you kindly, but it was still the place you’d grown up in and planned on dying peacefully. Now, you were a prisoner to pirates, ones only told about in silly fairy tales.

The stories of pirates had scared you when you were a young child. The elders had grouped together all children on summer nights such as this one, feeding them useless fables of the dangerous men and women that ruled the seas. They were ruthless, showing no remorse for the ones they tormented, uncaring of the bloodshed they splattered along native lands of the innocent.

That’s all they were when you were a child. Stories. Only meant to keep the youth away from the seas as not to witness them fall in and succumb to a painful death of drowning.

Now, though, it was your cruel reality. A nightmare. The pirates from those tales had been plucked straight out of the book and planted right into your life, erupting it into living hell.

Nobody had come to check on you after Ghost left you locked up in the cell. It had been hours since, the only telltale sign being the peek of sunlight poking through the small brig window and illuminating the room enough to shower you in a faint glow. There was nothing but a cot in the cell, the lower deck bare of anything useful.

Your escape would be fruitless. You’d thought about squeezing through the tiny window, but even if you managed, where would that leave you? Captured in the waves of the sea until you’d sink to the bottom in exhaustion.

You had to play it smart. Staying awake for hours alone had left you with plenty of rapid thoughts, some irrational. The best thing you’d decided in the end was to play along, gain their trust, and fulfill your role. As much as a part of you wished you were dead, it would be betraying your village, betraying Mary.

They needed to be caught. These pirates needed to pay for their crimes.

Gain their trust. Get off of the ship. Inform the nearest guard station.

When daylight fully broke, the sound of a creaky door caught your attention. More sunlight poured through the open doorway from the top of the stairs, showcasing one of the pirates. This time, it wasn’t Ghost, but instead, the one who had tossed you over their shoulder like a weak sack of potatoes.

Gaz said nothing as he descended down the stairs. In his hand was a steaming bowl, swirling around him like an ominous mist. His eyes locked on to yours, hardened from years of thievery and slaughter. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in them, nor indication that he was anything besides a sailing machine designed to follow Captain’s orders.

You watched keenly as he approached your cell. He stood over you like a brewing storm cloud, shadowing you from the stretch of light behind him.

For a moment, the two of you sat there frozen. You, terrified and cautious. Him, off putting and brooding.

Breaking the tension, his free hand scrambled for the keys latched on to the loops on his trousers, inserting one of the keys into the lock. He paused, eyeing you as a warning not to pull a brainless move. When he was satisfied you wouldn’t dare, he tugged the cell door open before stepping inside.

“Here,” he muttered, crouching down to place the bowl of food in front of you. Upon further inspection, you realized it was porridge. Bland and colorless.

You had no appetite after the horrors you’d seen. The sight of food had your stomach twisting, filling with rotten bile that begged to escape you and paint the floor beneath you.

Brimming with rage and seethe, you did the first thing that came to mind. Your hands picked up the bowl, carefully guiding it up to your mouth in attempts to seem starved. Gaz watched carefully, face set in firm lines that bristled a resentful itch inside of you.

With a turn of your hands, you tossed the porridge directly at Gaz, coating him in the piping liquid, chunks of vegetable that had been carelessly tossed in for flavor slipping down his front. His shirt and trousers were drenched, staining with the lifeless meal.

His face morphed into one of surprise before quickly shifting course. Instead, he was angry, eyebrows pulling taut, scowl curling on his lips. His eyes darkened impossibly more, filling the warm pupils with a menacing black.

“You fuckin’ wench,” he hissed, standing from his crouch to angrily swipe at the food that littered his clothing. It fell to the floor in a mushy mess right in front of you. Due to his aggression, a few stray chunks splattered back on to you in retaliation.

Realizing what you’d done, you tensed up, shuffling back from your place on the floor until your back hit the splintering walls of the ship. Gaz let out a roaring groan in irritation, sending a daggering glare your way.

“You are not hungry?” he asked tauntingly. He stepped out of the cell, slamming the door shut and locking it up tight. “Starve then. You will learn soon enough.”

Watching with widened eyes, he left the brig, grumbling angry curses to himself. When he shut the doors of your escape, you were met with sickening silence once again. The sound of waves taunted you, whispering insults in your ears for being such a stupid girl.

The pact you’d made with yourself was already in ruin. Befriending the pirates would be a difficult task if you couldn’t swallow down your enmity, and now you’d gone and made a foe.

Nobody returned to your cell for the rest of the day. It was punishment, that much you could figure out. Your stomach grumbled with desperate pleas, yet you could do nothing but wallow in your own acrimony for the remainder of the night.

When morning rose, you were awakened by the sound of the door once again. The light was blinding as it invaded the room, temporarily blocking your view of the person who’d stepped inside. When your eyes adjusted, you were faced with another pirate, the one who had held Mary down while you pleaded with him to release her.

Gaz stood beside him, arms crossed to appear larger. His face was unreadable, but you could feel the tease of resentment fluttering in his eyes.

“Not goin’ to toss yer breakfast on me, are ye?” the other snickered, eliciting a glare from Gaz. The pirate stepped forward, unlocking your cell and slipping inside. This time, he held the stale porridge while Gaz remained a pace behind him. “I know yer starvin’, so don’t be a prude. Eat up, aye?”

He set the bowl in front of you, just as Gaz had done. Remaining crouched in front of you, he made a gesture of his head towards the steaming meal, a toothy grin on his face.

You knew better than to feel relieved at the kindness. He was a pirate, just as the others, and he was cruel and unruly. Though, thinking back on your plan, his youthfulness may be a much easier one to befriend.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly with a respectful bow of your head. You reached for the bowl, gathering it in both hands. Gaz and the other studied you, seemingly waiting for a repeat of dirty laundry. It never came, though, and you lifted the wood spoon to your lips, swallowing down the first bite.

Just as you thought, it was bitter. How one could even make porridge bitter, you were unsure, but your stomach made no protest to the grainy oats. In fact, it was rather appealing, having been starved for two days.

“Take it ye like it, then?” the one pirate hummed, cocking his head at the display. “Get used to it, birdie. It’ll be yer meal for majority of yer time here.” He shot you another grin, resembling a mangy cat.

The reminder of your permanent stay was a difficult one, but your plan played over in your head. You wanted to go home, though it was no more, and you wanted your freedom back. Neither would be possible if you didn’t show kindness in return.

“What’s your name?” you questioned, making a poor attempt at conversation.

“Soap,” he introduced proudly. You didn’t mean to, but the name made you snort, triggering a light cough from the porridge you’d been in the middle of swallowing down.

“Soap is an… interesting name,” you grimaced. Soap didn’t seem to mind the back-handedness, only keeping that signature grin that was beginning to grow a bit hard on the eyes.

“Aye, got the name from bein’ a bit too rowdy. Price wanted to wash my mouth out.” His own words had him cackling, loud and boisterous in the cramped brig. Gaz had no reaction, opting for the hardened look that was practically piercing into you like thousands of knives. “What’s yer name, birdie? Got to learn who our new medic is.”

You wanted to remind him that you weren’t a medic. Not a professional one, anyway. You knew the bare minimum of proper medical etiquette and your medicines Ghost had told you to bring with were simply experimental mixtures. But you also knew that he wouldn’t listen nor care.

“The village called me dove,” you explained, swallowing down more porridge. It was warm in your mouth, coating your throat with gooey goodness. “Though, I don’t think it was much out of kindness.”

Soap hummed in acknowledgement, shooting a lopsided smile and a nod of his head. “Not quite a pirate name, dove, but it’ll do.”

“I’m not a pirate,” you defended with a frown.

“Ye are now,” he reckoned mindlessly, shrugging a lazy shoulder. Soap stood from his position, straightening up next to Gaz. “I’ll give ye some advice to be a part of this crew, dove. It’s not nice to throw porridge at a poor lad like Gaz.” Soap clapped Gaz on his shoulder, earning a scowl, which he ignored.

Your eyes shifted from Soap to Gaz, taking in the pure annoyance radiating off of him in waves. It was undeniable, practically filling the room’s atmosphere with black mist.

“I apologize,” you forced out, though that bitter part of you denied it. You wouldn’t feel sorry for these pirates. After all, they didn’t feel bad for the innocent lives they ruined.

Gaz’s nose twitched at your faux remorse, staring at you for a beat too long before turning away. He made no move to talk to you, but it wasn’t a blatant refusal of your apology. Perhaps he was just a tough nut to crack with a soft sweetness on the inside, even for a pirate.

The two men left you alone in the brig once again, only returning to give you meals as needed. It was terribly lonely the more the weeks went on with no move to release you from your cell. It was as if none of them trusted you, despite them being the ones to kidnap you. They burned down your home, slaughtered your people, and yet, wouldn’t allow you a chance to taste a sliver of freedom.

It was agonizing to wait, but you kept up your facade as much as you could, dripping with poisoned honey every time Gaz or Soap entered the brig with means to feed you.

Price or Ghost hadn’t made an entrance to see you. For the most part, you were grateful for it. In just the couple of weeks Soap and Gaz had been feeding you, they were warming up to you, slow and steady — Soap more than the other.

Gaz still had his reservations about you. He was reclusive, always standing on guard as if the shadows in the wall were prepared to attack at any given moment. It was better than before, where he had treated you like a burdening dog who he couldn’t rid himself of, but the progress was dwindling.

Soap was much more gracious. While he was obnoxious, he was much more welcoming company. You had no desire to truly befriend these pirates, but if any were to be the most tolerable, it was Soap.

Price and Ghost, though, were a mystery. Their absence made crucial falters in your meticulous plotting. You wanted out of the cell so you may roam the creaky decks of the ship, but the dream simply wouldn’t be possible without their trust.

It wasn’t until the fourth week of your imprisonment that the storyline had shifted. Rather than Soap bringing you your meal for the night, it was the Captain himself, standing tall and brute in front of your barred enclosure.

Unease rattled through your bones at his sudden appearance. You weren’t expecting him, nor were you prepared to face the very man who had slain your village with the help of his men.

He observed you like a lab rat, studying every movement like a variable in his experiment. It was prodding and exposing, leaving you sitting in your cell with a heavy lump in your throat.

“Soap tells me you’re warmin’ up to him,” he claimed, breaking the thick silence that smothered the air. He paced back and forth in front of your cell, eyes focused in on you. “Figured I’d properly introduce myself, seein’ as we’ll be spendin’ a lot of time together.”

You swallowed the rock in your throat, unmoving from your position on the floor. It was far from comfortable, but the cot was worn and dirty, so the floor became your only friend in the midst of all your dispair.

“I see,” you managed, clearing your throat. Price continued his relentless pacing, hands crossed behind his back in a formal manner. Ironic, really, considering his ruthless occupation.

“Dove, was it?” he asked. You nodded wearily. “A shame, really. Doves are lovely things, beautiful creatures made up of the purest white. Yet your village had called you it in ridicule. Or so I heard.”

Price was a man that spoke in riddles. He spouted conversation in the form of poetry, only tainting its beauty when angered. It was both unnerving and intriguing for a pirate. He wasn’t dirtied like you’d heard in childhood tales.

“I suppose they did,” you agreed with a small frown. The anxious pit in your stomach only grew, triggering alarm bells telling you that this man was an enigma. He wasn’t to be trusted.

“And why is that?” Price questioned. He ceased his pacing to face you properly, and you wished he’d return to it. His stature was that of a behemoth, overpowering and menacing, much like Ghost had been.

“Why did they call me dove?” you responded in confusion.

“Why did they ridicule you,” he corrected.

The statement made you pause. You hadn’t really thought about your townspeople dumbing you down to a mere crazy girl with too much ambition. You were the talk of the village within your age group as well as the occasional elder who tsked at you for never marrying.

The relationship between you and your people was one of complexity. While you loved them as your own, they battered you every chance they had. Hell, even Lucius himself had outed you to a group of pirates without care in the world. The very man who had spent countless months in attempts to make you a pretty village wife had sent you to your early grave to save his own ass.

“They thought I was different,” you explained woefully. “It is not normal for a woman to partake in medicine, let alone education. Doves are beautiful, yes, but they’re also adventurous. It is a dangerous conviction to be compared to as a woman.”

Price cocked his head to the side, filling the air with silence. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to explain yourself to a dingy villain such as him, but you feared that if you weren’t honest in your conversation, he’d be able to sniff out your deception from miles away.

“Who has told you it is not normal?” Price asked, and once again, he had stumped you.

“It is not a difficult thing to digest, Captain. Women do not involve themselves in ambition.”

“They quite do,” he retorted. You stared up at him through the bars, your own head cocking. You didn’t trust his word, but a shriveled piece of you was curious. “Sure, it is not acceptable in certain places, but it is quite popular.”

You blinked at him, before staring at the wooden floor, pondering.

You had been expecting the Captain to treat you with hostility, to throw nasty words your way with the excuse of being a pirate. That was what you had been told in adolescence, how dirty they could be, but he was calm.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Price said. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the bars of your cell, standing over you with only that barrier separating you. “I am not a cruel man. You may think differently, and for that, I do not care. But I will say that I believe you will have a much better life upon my ship.”

His words were a mix of sweet venom being spat at you. While they could be perceived as kind, there was an underlying message, one you couldn’t decipher.

“You burned down my village and killed my people. You kidnapped me to be your medic on your ship,” you defended, unable to hold back the taste of lingering resentment.

You had nearly forgotten why you were there with Soap and Gaz visiting to shift your mind elsewhere. You almost dismissed your own plan of escape. Price had reminded you without realizing, and now, your heart felt heavy once again.

“Ah, yes. The people that willingly sacrificed their own in effort to save themselves,” Price mused mockingly. The words stung. “Yes, we took you against your will. I will admit that. But your people treated you far worse.”

“You do not know a thing, Captain,” you spat.

Price cocked his head once more, resting his forehead on the forearms that lay upon your cell. “Aye, I do not,” he admitted. “But I know a bird with clipped wings when I see one. Perhaps you’ll be grateful when you learn to accept things as they are.”

You wanted to retort, wanted to get the last word in, but he was right. You barely knew the Captain and yet, he had read you like a novel, flipping through your pages and memorizing them from one single look through.

It felt dehumanizing. He was cruel and vicious, as were his men. They were nowhere near saviors, yet he spoke to you as if he was. It sickened you to the core, but there was no denying his brutal honesty.

Price offered you a lazy smile before standing straight, arms falling to his sides. “I suggest gettin’ used to your new life. You’ve got no home to return to anyway.”

He retreated from your cell as if he hadn’t slapped you in the face with a dose of reality. His boots were heavy and aggravating as they trudged up the stairs towards the upper deck, where he promptly shut the door on you, leaving you alone once again.

Your escape plan was falling into shambles before it had even began to fester. 

[nocreativityfornames]

Everything we know about Barbatos so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He lives in the Demon Lord's Castle with Diavolo and works as his loyal butler. (swd: 2-13)

➤ He's one of the demons who share a pact with Solomon. (swd: 2-A)

➤ According to Mammon, he has a secret torture room beneath the castle from where you can hear the screaming of his victims at night. The other brothers and Diavolo were in the room when he told this to MC but none of them batted an eye or tried to deny it. (swd: 6-19)

➤ Before, citizens of the Devildom were allowed to easily travel to the Human World whenever they wished through passages placed in certain locations in the kingdom, but now those passages are blocked and the only way demons can use them is by getting permission from the few other demons who are still allowed to use them freely first. Barbatos is one of said demons. (swd: 11-4)

➤ He has the ability to time travel thanks to his powers that allow him to create a portal to any place, time and reality he wants. (swd: 15-17 and 53-11)

➤ He was the one to take MC back to the past when they made a deal with Diavolo to figure out who had opened the attic door and released Past!Belphegor in exchange for Present!Belphegor's freedom from being imprisoned for conspiring against the exchange program. (swd: 15-17)

➤ He looked into MC's bloodline under Diavolo's request once the prince realized there was something special about them, and it was then that he found out that they were Lilith's distant descendant. (swd: 16-15)

➤ In response to MC asking him if he knew everything that would happen with Belphegor getting out of the attic before it occurred Barbatos said that no, he didn't know, and even further said: "Imagine for a moment what it would be like to know everything that will happen from now until the end of time. Why nothing could possibly be more boring, wouldn't you agree?" (swd: 15-17)

➤ His main way to use his powers to "space travel" is through the many doors in his room in the Demon Lord's Castle. (swd: 15-17)

➤ He was never a child. (swd chat: The Royals, “That's What I Mean”)

➤ He met Solomon a long time ago when the sorcerer risked death to summon him (swd: 53-16), desperately needing his powers to control time for reasons that are still unknown. (swd: 49-A)

➤ He gave Solomon his grimoire out of trust and respect for him. (swd: 53-16)

➤ It's a big rumor around the kingdom that he's powerful enough to rival even the Demon King himself. (swd: 54-1)

➤ He met Diavolo when the prince was still a child and Diavolo got Barbatos to work for him by luring him into the castle with the promise of very rare tea and then telling him that he wouldn't let him leave unless he agreed to be his butler, getting to the point of even threatening to not assume his position of king in the future if the older demon refused to. And telling this story to Thirteen, Barbatos confessed to having found the whole thing very cute. (swd: 58-A and nb: 15-A)

➤ When it hit the news that he had sworn allegiance to Diavolo the whole kingdom was in shock and it was THE THING everyone was talking about. (swd: 54-1 and nb: 15-1)

➤ He has been around for a long time and shows up in historical records under multiple different names. Rumor has it he was alive even before the Devildom took shape. (nb: 15-1)

➤ When asked about Diavolo in a conversation with MC, he told them that the prince is the very reason for his current existence. (swd: 54-5)

➤ Narrated by Solomon in the Nightbringer Prologue Movie we hear the story of a certain demon, it goes: “Once upon a time, there was a demon who could see both past and future. With a flurry of trumpets from his king, the demon appeared. Finding a lost human the demon whispered: 'I can take you to where you'll be happy.' Through their tears, the human spoke: 'Thank you, o kind one. If you save me from this dark path, I will pray to you every night. Please, tell me what they call you!'" But before any reply can be said Barbatos is shown making a shushing sound, which was largely perceived as him not wanting the viewers to know that he was the demon from the story. Later, the human was revealed to be Adam, a man who came to the Devildom looking for his lover and met a demon named Nightbringer, who he immediately went to begging for help. (nb: 8-16)

➤ He was the one to give Solomon the title of “the Witty Sorcerer” when he brought him to the Fountain of Knowledge for the first time while Solomon was on the verge of death. Barbatos attended the sorcerer's wounds there and declared him the new protector of the spring. (nb: 11-10)

➤ He's to blame for how much Solomon has changed, according to Thirteen. The reaper told MC that Solomon used to be very loveably innocent when he was younger, but that Barbatos let him experience whatever he wanted and now nothing scares or fazes him anymore. (nb: 11-10)

➤ The reason he had been so irritable towards Solomon in the past was because when visiting the sorcerers' home he found a list of demons he wanted to make pacts with and noticed his name was placed 8th. (nb: 25-1)

➤ Before meeting Diavolo he used to use his powers freely to travel through time and space whenever he wanted without a care for how his actions could affect others, and they ended up terribly affecting Diavolo and Solomon, and Barbatos sees his devout servitude to the prince as a way to atone for those past actions, but Diavolo doesn't know that. (nb card: Barbatos, "Tea With You")

➤ Although he accepted to work for the prince for the sake of atonement, he ended up enjoying his time with him and found that he felt a sense of belonging working for him. (nb card: Barbatos, "Tea With You")

[chosopie]

FLUNK OR FUCK - SATORU GOJO

Gojo was the popular kid in college who often attended frat parties and was known for his pretty face and athletic abilities. He had numerous girls up on his shit who would desperately beg him for a chance, but no. His eyes were set on you.

A lot of people didn’t understand why he was so fixated on someone like you. You were a STEM girl—the complete opposite of him. You two came from different crowds that didn’t get along.

Gojo was tempting. You couldn’t deny the fact that he was hot. He had a nice toned figure and angelic facial features. It was like he was sculpted by the gods and descended straight from Olympus. You had nothing against dating him, but you had standards. The kind of man you wanted was someone who was responsible and intellectual. You couldn’t stand the thought of being with a guy who had shits for brains.

“Y/N! What could I possibly do to make you date me?” He whined into your ear. He had been pestering you for 45 minutes now while you were busy summarizing your notes for tomorrow’s upcoming math test.

“Please, just one chance!”

“Ugh,” you groaned, finally turning away from your notebook. “One condition.”

“Anything!” He exclaimed.

“Pass tomorrow’s math test and I’ll let you hit,” you proposed.

“Too easy! It’s just basic math,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Sure,” you rolled your eyes. “Good luck.”

-

It was the day of the test. Gojo was comfortably sat on his chair with his legs crossed, his mind thinking about how close he was to getting some pussy—yours, which made it even more exciting. The professor started distributing the papers to the students in the front row. After all the papers had been given to those students, they started passing the papers backwards. You were one of those students in the front and as expected, you were already leaning over, your back slouched and your forehead close to touching your table while you started solving the problems.

Gojo looked at his paper, carefully analyzing the first equation.

“This ain’t so bad. Y/N taught me this. You just gotta use that one formula,” he thought.

Done. Next problem.

This one wasn’t a challenge either since it was relatively similar to the first problem. Gojo triumphantly smirked and started writing his answers.

Next.

“Guys, what the fuck is that…” he mumbled to himself, his hands clutching his hair. “I’m fucking cooked.”

-

“Do better.” The professor sighed as he handed Gojo his paper.

“Don’t play with me like that,” Gojo nervously laughed. He had to have passed, right? He answered most of the questions. It was just that one question he left blank.

11/30.

The red writing on the top right of the paper stared at him.

“Gojo!” You called, walking over to his seat. He was slouching, quickly putting his paper away the moment he heard your voice.

“What’s your score?” You asked.

There was no response.

“Gojo?” You worriedly asked, then you looked at his stiff face. “So, you failed?”

“Please. Pussy….” he softly pleaded.

“Seriously? That’s the last thing you should be worried about right now,” you sighed, rubbing his back. You suddenly heard sniffles.

“Fine! For fuck’s sake, Gojo! Just come by my apartment at 5 and we could fuck. I’ll teach you too so you better pass the next test.”

“Thank you,” his voice quivered. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

: ̗̀➛ part 2

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hello! I saw that your requests are open so I thought, I'll shoot my shot

So, it'll be SAGAU with Impostor and Isekai trope. The reader is a real Creator, while the fake one is on the throne. But! What if they look completely different? Characters don't hunt reader because well, they don't look like their beloved grace and they're unaware that their sweet creator is in fact a real impostor.

But when you look at reader and the fake creator, you can see a total difference in their surroundings. The real Creator - Reader, is connected to the Teyvat, right? The flowers bloom everywhere where they stand, the trees are more green and lively, while there's nothing like this with the impostor in the throne.

So! To the idea- How about Zhongli and Kaeya's (or any other characters you'd like to add here) to see their Reader cut themselves and suddenly bleed gold - while they saw their beloved Grace bleed red and suddenly, they connect the dots?

Ooh, this is certainly interesting, @ilumin! I'll see what I can come up with :)

Zhongli & Kaeya Find Out The Imposta :)

You weren't gonna lie—you kinda freaked when you realize the isekai and sagau trope thing happened on you. Reading fanfiction from the internet, you knew how things were gonna go down. You read the signs.

Safe to say you were not expecting you yourself to be the "lucky winner" of this entire thing. Nu-uh. Not one bit. You knew this was gonna be a hellhole.

That is, of course....you realized that the Imposter did not look like you at all. You were kinda stoked about it—that means you weren't gonna get ratted out, or killed, or hunted—so yay you! Time to chill with some bros! Time to free ball it while you still can!

And thennn... one night you were hanging with some ppl, and you accidentally nicked your finger.

You guessed it right, fellas, you bled gold. And that did not go unnoticed.

Good luck.

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Zhongli

When he first met you, Zhongli thought you were like The Traveler—you were someone who passed the Celestial Atmosphere above, and descended down to traverse the world.

With Their Grace present, their world has prospered and Zhongi is proud to say that Liyue was doing well under their rule. But when you came, he was a little surprised to see how the earth seemed to connect with you. Flowers around you seemed brighter, precious rocks seem to surface at your presence..and you somehow manage to always be able to get the most freshest fruit anyone can come across.

You were truly an interesting enigma that Zhongli is curious to learn more of. He commits every detail about you to memory. The day the wind conveniently came to the rescue when the days were boiling hot. The time where you managed to restock your food stalls even though so many Liyueans were nabbing them and almost leaving you nothing. Everything Zhongli saw, he noted down in his mind.

You eventually became acquainted with him the moment he walks up to your food stall. It wasn't that packed in the morning (somehow), and it allowed the two of you to get to know one another better. Safe to say your relationship was solid.

And then you bled gold that one night. Zhongli eyes your blood with wide expressions, before immediately excusing the both of you out of the situation.

He cannot believe that the person that sits on the Creator's Throne was not the Creator. He's constantly being bombarded with the "Creator" and their meetings, while you were just selling goods on the streets of Liyue.

"...Your Grace..." Zhongli looks at you as he puts a bandage over your finger. "...Truly, we have all been deceived." And while you're glad that he wasn't suggesting you start up a riot, you were kind of worried about what he'll do to the Imposter the next time Zhongli sees him.

Safe to say he did have a "Chat" with them that consisted of a meteor and a lot of "I will have Order!" voicelines repeating over and over again.

Kaeya

When you got plopped into Mondstadt, somehow, the winds started becoming more gentle and a lot more carefree. Everyone saw this as a sign of Barbatos, you saw this as a sign of the world trying to rat you out or something.

You decided to get a job at the Tavern to get info, and boom you meet Kaeya. You should've expected this when you got a job at Angel's Share, because this hottie bro is very much interested on your merchandise.

Safe to say, though, Kaeya was very interested in you. Like Zhongli, he takes note of your every move. But, unlike Zhongli, Kaeya's trying to see how your...unique superpowers work, and how they can be used to help protect Mondstadt—assuming he manages to convince you to join.

Kaeya is very talkative in the Tavern, so he usually talks to the bartenders. Diluc is pulling his hair out to see how much info Kaeya's spilling to you during your shifts, half of which are just boasting about the Knights of Favonius.

When you nicked your finger, though, you knew things were going down. It didn't help that Kaeya noticed. His eyes widen for a fraction, before he stands up and suggests that you both should take a walk around the streets of Mondstadt when your shift was done.

You agree, seeing as there's no way out of this, and quickly grab a bandaid to patch up the scratch. Once you were both out, Kaeya speaks first, in a low tone.

"My...I never knew the Almighty Creator could be this sneaky, to have an imposter sit on the throne while they serve cups at my favorite tavern." You look at him incredulously. He took the situation to praise you to make himself sound like he was blessed?

Good sir, this was the opposite of how your life got thrown upside down when you entered Teyvat. Then again, this sounded a lot better than getting killed, so you'll take it as a win. For now.

Kaeya promises to keep this a secret, but safe to say Diluc is rubbing his temples when he hears the Calvary Captain himself trying to offer you a position in the Knights of Favonius, saying you had potential and whatnot.

Honestly, he just wants to spend more time with you outside of the tavern.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Why the heck did this take SO MUCH LONGER than I expected sobbing. Sorry y'all—istg life is hitting me like Truck-Kun.

Also one more thing: Furina is my new child now. She and Fremmi are my Fontantian Children. Love 'em both too much ppl will have to pry them out of my cold-dead hands.

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[shaevilux]

People knock on Rhoam for being a bad dad cuz he's distant and stern to little Zelda and say how Rauru is the goat (heh) for taking her in like his own daughter. Like Zelda had her real parental connection with Sonia and Rauru. But frankly that's a little reductive.

Rauru literally descended from the heavens, married a priest, started a kingdom. Man didn't really know much strife yet. There's no looming threat of calamity or prophecy yet. Things are peaceful. Things are fine. Things are great. Zelda dropped in during this time, talking about a doom that's going to happen tens of thousands of years in the future.

This sad, lost princess.

Of course any reasonable person would take her in and calm her and tell her she is fine and listen and support her.

Rhoam not being able to be this kind of figure for Zelda is tragic. Just read this poor man's journal entries:

"It has been a year and three months since her mother passed. Perhaps she is held back by heartache too deep to heal. If the Ganon prophecy wasn't looming over our heads, I would tell her to take her time... To wait until she is ready. But our situation is dire and leaves no room for weakness—even on behalf of my beloved daughter. My heart breaks for Zelda, but I must act as a king, not a father. I must order her to train relentlessly at the fountain." Pg 4.

"In truth, I understand Zelda's feelings. Painfully so. She lost her mother, her teacher, before she could learn from her. Ten pointless years of self-training, without so much as a book or note to help her find her way... Those in the castle talk behind her back. And I, her only family, scold her for her shortcomings. No wonder she wishes to hide away in her beloved relic research. I'd love nothing more than to console her... But I must stay strong. She MUST fulfill her duty, just as we all must. Even if she comes to despise me." Pg 6.

"I have been told my Zelda went to the Spring of Wisdom... This will likely be her last chance. If she is unable to awaken her power at Lanayru, all hope is truly lost. If she comes back without success, then I shall speak kindly with her. Scolding is pointless now. I forced 10 years of training on her... and after all that, it seems her power will stubbornly awaken some other way. Perhaps I should encourage her to keep researching her beloved relics. They may just lead her to answers I can't provide. For now, I sit anxiously, more a father than a king in this moment. I sit and await my daughter's return." Pg 7. (He fucking dies and never gives Zelda this bit of closure uuuugggghhhhhhh Zelda I'm so sorry Rhoam I'm so sorry)

It sucks because most people remember the cutscenes (duh it's more immersive and important) and in the cutscenes of the first game Rhoam was mostly shown as being stern and mean to babygirl Zelda, who is closed fists explaining herself to him at the verge of tears. And in contrast everyone in the first royal family of hyrule in the second game treated her with such kindness and we can see how happy she was being there with them.

Rhoam was shackled by duty. By prophecy. By the looming calamity. And from the day he named his daughter 'Zelda' he shackled her as well.

And what does Zelda do with these shackles? She accepts them. She tolerates them. Because she loves her father and her kingdom and knows there's a power dormant in her that can stop the calamity that she must do her best to unlock. She does this dutifully. She does all the training, she does everything that is required.

But it still doesn't unlock. So she tries other ways. She isn't just going after the 'relics' because she's scholarly and nerdy and wants to learn about them. She does it because she's pragmatic. She knows her sacred sealing power isn't present in her. She knows she might not be able to control it or even unlock it in time.

So she tries this alternative approach. The Divine Beasts, the guardians. Ancient tech that was used to prevent the calamity of their time. And she awakened the tech. And her father chose the champions for each divine beast. And they were all prepared. And it's all thanks to Zelda.

And then... Fucking tragedy again. Ganon probably learned his lesson from the last time he was thwarted and immediately went for the tech, corrupting it and turning it against the new users. Against Zelda.

It's never really stated how fast it all turned to shit when the tech betrayed them (or maybe I don't remember) but every account points to it being almost overnight. The champions died. Rhoam died. And suddenly, suddenly Zelda unlocks her sealing magic.

I always always hate the literary trope of using tragedy to unlock a great power that could've actually stopped the tragedy from happening in the first place.

And it's no different in BOTW. I hate that Zelda had to go through all this to unlock her powers.

And then what happens next?

She's stuck in limbo (in an almost mocking parallel to Rauru in the next game with his imprisoning arm) holding Ganon back. For a hundred years.

This young woman had gone through so much only to be trapped with a calamity seeking to destroy Hyrule for a century.

Does she know her father died in the war? Does she know the champions died in battle? Would she know Link would survive in the Shrine of Resurrection? Would she know how long it would all take? The century she would have to wait?

I think she didn't. I think it all happened too fast. I think ultimately, she decided a stalemate with ganon was an agreeable outcome. I think in her mind she probably thought she failed Hyrule. When the divine beasts turned she must have been distraught. Distraught might not even cover it tbh. But at least... At least when the kingdom was brought to it's knees by the corrupted tech and was waiting for the final blow, she had the ability to ensure the final blow never came.

And oh boy I have a looot more to talk about regarding Tears of the Kingdom. But I do want to have a couple of more playthroughs of it to really formulate what I want to say.

[lexsssu]

Naive (Alhaitham)

TAGS: Alhaitham/F!Bunny!reader, friends to lovers, pining, yandere, possessive behavior, obsession, mating cycles/heats, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Why do we have to learn more math even if our major has nothing to do with it? At this rate, I’m going to flunk and take it again next semester…”

Alhaitham’s fingers twitched unconsciously as your pair of long ears drooped down, hanging by the sides of your face almost as if they were pigtails instead of actual appendages.

“What the heck am I going to need calculus for when I’m trying to develop improved cultivation tools and methods? It’s not like I need to find out the value of X while I’m plowing the fields or something…”

His heartbeat is delayed for a single second at the mention of ‘plowing fields,’ and he has no one else to thank other than the hormonal male Akademiya students who’d made one or two passing unsolicited remarks about Amurta’s only female beastkin student.

He made sure to memorize their faces and names for him to deal with at a later date.

“Alhaitham, help meeee…!” 

Despite being a proud descendant of the Taguel, the way you so easily beg and plead so submissively at him with large watery eyes and a pout formed by a pair of luscious lips has him wondering if you were unconsciously using some sort of secret seduction techniques passed on through your clan. Perhaps you were even secreting some sort of pheromones that made him calmer, more relaxed, and susceptible to your whims…

“Knowledge always comes at a price. I’m willing to tutor you, but you’ll owe me a single favor that you can’t refuse and which I can redeem at any time of my choosing,” bright turquoise orbs darkened as he leaned his head against his curled right fist. “Are you still willing to pursue this knowledge despite the costs?”

“Of course! I trust you, Alhaitham. So why would I be scared about the favor I’ll be owing you for this? Knowing you, you’ll probably make me do some paperwork or help with your research,” you giggle, the fluffy cotton ball of a tail you had wagging at how silly your friend was. 

Why would you ever be afraid of him when he’d been nothing but honest with you? Alhaitham wasn’t some random cur that tricked hapless maidens into his slimy grasp.

If only you knew just how depraved he truly was when it came to you. 

Then again, it is his luck that his adorable little bunny was such an innocent creature that only saw the best in him.

It’s up to him to make sure no one ever takes advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Even if it means he has to carefully plan and wait for the right time to finally express his true desires, he is willing to be patient. Especially when he knows that you are what awaited him at the end.  

You remain blissfully unaware of his thoughts and intentions, not even questioning him or thinking how odd it was for him to have you sit on his lap as he taught you your most dreaded subject.

Alhaitham is a good man and an even greater friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both graduate within the same year with, as expected, flying colors, much to the joy of your respective families. It’s a solemn yet joyous affair, one that you invited him to because how could you not when it was with his help that you managed to even graduate with honors?

There is sure to be some teasing courtesy of your family once you get home, but that is the last thing on your mind as you leap into Alhaitham’s strong arms.

Even through the layers of your graduation attire, you feel the wall of solid muscle that is his body, something that always amazed you when he was one of the most brilliant scholars in Sumeru.

“Thank you, Alhaitham. I wouldn’t have been able to get this far without you always having my back,” you don’t notice the way his sandstone-colored irises seem to dilate as you curl around him, your entire body supported by a single arm around your soft waist while another hand settles upon the plushness of your bum.

Being so close to you like this allows him a whiff of your scent, a mix of soft floral and woody notes with a hint of fruity and citrus underneath. He feels his body heating up from the inside as his senses are assaulted by your voice, your body, and even your smell.

He won’t be able to last long if you keep this up.

Don’t you know how much you drive him crazy?

Rational thoughts come second to instincts when it comes to you, something your kind is very much familiar with.

If there aren’t so many people right now, he’ll throw you onto the grassy ground and mount you right here. He’ll put a whole litter of kittens in your belly and take care of you and your new family for the rest of his days—

Somehow, he manages to keep himself from making a scene by fucking you right in front of your family and the entire Amurta faculty, namely your master, Sage Naphis, whose short temper was legendary throughout the Akademiya. 

However, each day that passes and each small action you make only wears his thinning patience and self-control. It’s not a question of ‘if,’ but rather a question of ‘when,’ and only the Archons know when that will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So…Acting Grand Sage, huh? I always knew you’d go on to do great things, but Sumeru’s de-facto leader? Makes me wonder why you’re even hanging out with a country bumpkin like me~” Sticking your tongue out playfully and winking at him, you miss the way he swallows seemingly nothing but air.

“Don’t be absurd. Who I associate with of my own volition is no one’s business but my own.” 

Although he may look and sound cold at first glance, you have known Alhaitham long enough to know for sure that he simply has his own ways of showing he cares. He wouldn’t let Kaveh stay at his place if he didn’t care about his friend after all. And even if the scribe wanted to be stubborn about it initially, you simply offered to house Kaveh instead, which ended up with the architect staying at Alhaitham’s in the end.

It’s honestly downright adorable how contradictory he could be at times, seemingly wanting to maintain an unbothered and uncaring attitude when you knew full well how good of a friend he was.

If only you knew that the real reason why he allowed Kaveh room and board was that he’d sooner gut the other man than let him stay in the same house as you. 

He’d gouge the architect’s eyes out if they even settled too long on you.

It’s one of the reasons you’ve come to harbor feelings for him.

He is handsome, he is brilliant, but most of all, he is kind even when you have nothing to give him in return aside from your time and friendship.

You repeatedly stamp down the warm bubbly feelings within you that try to rise to the surface, repeatedly telling yourself that there is no chance that such a fine specimen as Alhaitham would return your affections.

Archons know just how many times you’d fingered yourself to thoughts of him during your heats. How you imagined scenarios of him coming to you in the dead of night, whispering sweet nothings and promises of breeding you full, just as nature had intended.

But there’s no way that could ever happen…right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"'m sorry…didn't know…it'd come early this…year…!" 

You are a pitiful mess as you lie on the grassy ground, your body overheating from the inside as the symptoms of your heat swiftly overtake all rational thought. According to your calendar, it wasn’t supposed to happen for another few days!

He memorized the exact dates of your cycle, so he knows full well just when you’ll be perfectly ripe and ready for the taking.

Had you not forced his hand in the first place, he’d have gladly waited for your regular heat.

“Don’t l-look at me…Haitham…!” 

How can he not look upon the stunning sight of you looking so hot and disheveled because of your need to be mated and bred? It is a sight he will commit to memory for the rest of his life.

You desperately force down the beastly instincts that urge you to submit to the nearest virile male and present your soaked cunt that begged to be bred. It is humiliating, especially because Alhaitham is forced to watch your lewd and debauched display. 

It brings him such glee at the knowledge that no one will ever get to see you like this. 

Whether it was your upperclassman Tighnari, your friend Cyno, or even Kaveh, none of them will ever have this privilege.

You don’t even want to think about how you’ll face him after this.

Because why would he ever want a mere beast like you?

It is his misfortune that he wasn’t born a beastman like you were. However, he’ll make sure to make up for what he lacked tenfold.

You sniffle, feeling small tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body and mind fight one another. Your hands move to cover your face, unwilling to let him see any more of the pitiful sight you made.

There’s no need for you to look for a mate from the other beastkin clans.

He’d rather burn Gandharva Ville to the ground than hand you over to the likes of Tighnari. 

Just because the other male was your senior and studied under the same sage didn’t mean that he’ll let that damnable fox sink his claws into you. 

“No. I believe I have a better solution for your plight,” with one hand, he pins both your wrists above you as he settles himself in between your legs.

“Mate with me.”

His words send a shock through your body, floppy bunny ears standing ramrod straight as you gaze up at him with large eyes, heart beating like a drum as the weight of his statement registers in your mind.

“Don’t you see? It’s simply because our bodies are compatible with one another that your heat opted to arrive earlier than expected. Your body already knows what your mind has yet to even comprehend,” Alhaitham’s turquoise orbs seemed like they were almost glowing in the dark as they gazed down at you like a predator eyeing its prey.

You were always the only one meant for him, even if you didn’t realize it at first.

And yet, you don’t feel a single ounce of fear.

Rather, you want to be devoured by him.

You want him to stuff you full with his cum again and again until his seed takes root in your awaiting womb and bears fruit.

You want him and will gladly take everything he’ll give you.

“Alhaitham…mate with me, please?”

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 10 - ( c.s )

part nine

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- a little angsty, swearing, comfort as well i guess, idk??? nothing crazy

a/n: i liedddd i lied i’m splitting the last part in two bc this became a little longer than anticipated. i hope u are all doing fantastic and i stg i will get the rest of this story out if its the last thing i do LMFAO (next part will give u goblins what you’ve been waiting for hehehehe)

the knocks on your front door start at around six pm the following friday. it’s surprising, because it’s rare that anyone shows up unannounced, especially right before the weekend festivities.

in fact, the last time someone did that was when chris arrived on your front porch with a bouquet of flowers to ask you on a date. you try not to think about it too much as you descend the stairs, focusing on not tripping over your feet instead.

the knocking grows louder, making it clear that whoever is waiting is rather restless.

“i’m fucking coming!” you shout as you make it to the landing, closing the final distance and yanking the door open with a huff.

when you see who it is, you’re even more out of breath. ben and connor stand before you, concern written all over both of their faces. neither of them say anything; they just exchange sheepish glances with one another like they’re unsure where to begin.

“oh—uh…hey guys. what’s up?” you try not to sound too disoriented, even though you are.

“hey…sorry to barge over here like this, i’m sure we’re not really the people you want to be seeing right now.” connor starts, shoving his hands in his pockets as he speaks.

you stay silent, because he’s not really wrong. you know that they have nothing to do with the situation, and you refuse to take it out on them, but seeing chris’s friends is a painful reminder that he still exists.

even though each week becomes a tiny bit more bearable, that doesn’t mean you’re suddenly fine and back to normal.

ben clears his throat, taking over for his friend and cutting to the chase. “look, we really need your help. i swear we wouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t serious.”

your eyebrows furrow further, and you’re somehow even more confused than you were when you opened the door. an anxious feeling settles in your stomach, like it’s only going to get worse from here.

“what is it?” you ask hesitantly, because you’re not sure you actually want the answer.

“it’s chris,” connor starts, eyes darting over to their house as he says it, “he’s…i don’t know, he’s just messed up. ever since things ended between the two of you he’s been completely out of it, and now he’s throwing hockey away too.”

you tilt your head to the side. “wait, what do you mean throwing it away?”

”the team confronted him after we lost on sunday and he didn’t want to hear it, so he walked away. we thought he was fronting, that he’d realize he was being an idiot, but he didn’t show up to any of our practices this week and coach is fuckin’ pissed. he won’t talk to us, or listen to anything we’re saying.” ben explains further, waving his hands around in aggravation as he speaks.

horror washes over you when you realize that they probably spoke to him about you, and that the whole team was in on it. you can feel your cheeks heating up in shame just thinking about how that conversation went, which makes you angry.

your voice comes out a lot sharper than intended when you respond. “no offense guys, but i’m not really sure what this has to do with me.”

“kind of, like, everything.” ben shoots back, though he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth once he realizes how he sounds.

connor rolls his eyes and elbows him in the hip, earning a muffled grunt. “what he means to say is that the only person that kid listens to is you. if he doesn’t snap out of it soon and go to the game tomorrow, he's gonna be kicked off the team for good. and as much as you’re on shitty terms, i don’t think you want to see him do that either.”

he’s spot on once again. you’re still hurt, but you can’t bring yourself to truly hate him. hearing that chris is taking this just as hard and is actively fucking up the rest of his career at the most critical time makes your heart feel like it’s suffocating.

you rub your eyes, letting out a long sigh as you begin to mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to do.

“fine, i hear you, and i’ll talk to him. but i'm not making any promises beyond that.”

they both look so relieved that you actually feel kind of bad. you’re not sure if this is actually going to work, but they’ve clearly been stressing out over their friend for a while now.

you wonder if your own roommates feel the same way about you. they’re out together for happy hour after you insisted on staying home, still not in the mood to socialize. you’ve been trying not to burden them with the massive pressure you‘re feeling all of the time, but they’ve also known you for over three years now.

it’s hard to hide from the people that really know you, which chris clearly understands.

“thank you, seriously. we both owe you major, anything you want for real.” ben praises, hands pressed together as if he’s worshiping.

“yeah, we really appreciate you doing this. i’ve always known you were the best, but you somehow only get better.” connor smiles, a small glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

he straightens up after a moment, nodding over at their place as they begin to retreat. “ben and i are headed out to the bars, so if you’re not up to anything tonight, he’ll be in his room. front door’s open.”

you already feel like you’re floundering, but you nod at the two of them as if you’re just great anyways. what else can you do when you just made a vow to throw your healing out the window?

ben lingers for a moment, staying just close enough so that he can whisper under his breath. “for what it’s worth, you're the best thing that ever happened to chris. and i hope one day he can prove that he knows that too.”

you feel yourself tense up immediately. you have no idea how the hell you’re supposed to respond to that, so you don’t. he gives you a small wave as he finally turns, joining his friend so that they can make their way up the street.

you watch them until they’re gone, still frozen in place. the shock has finally kicked in, and you can’t move.

all you can think about is chris; having to look him in the face again, and listen to him say things to you that you know are going to twist the knife even deeper. it’ll probably undo all of what little progress you’ve made.

but you can’t let him mess everything else up too, not when you still love him so much. there are some things that are worth throwing yourself on the blade for, and this is one of them.

unfortunately or not, you’re going over there, and you’re going to shake some fucking sense into him like you always do.

even if it kills you in the process.

when chris hears the soft tapping on his door, he assumes it’s one of his roommates trying to persuade him off of his war path once again. he’s sprawled out in bed as if there’s not a care in the world, playing endless rounds of fortnite like he has been for the past week.

“i’m not interested in chatting.” he snaps, narrowing his irritated eyes at the tv screen in front of him.

it’s locked anyways, so they can’t get in regardless. and yet, despite this fact, the door swings open a moment later. chris is about to spiral into a complete rage until he actually looks over to see who it is.

you’re standing there with a bent paperclip in hand, a self-satisfied expression plastered on your face.

“so it actually does work, huh?”

for a second he thinks he’s hallucinating. there’s no way that you’re actually here, in his room, cracking a joke about the time that he broke in to talk to you. but he can smell your signature perfume in the air, which convinces him that this is in fact real life.

chris shoots up in bed, messing with his hair self-consciously. a furious blush is creeping up his face, because his room is a fucking disaster zone of clutter and it’s embarrassing. he wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not you.

“um—hi?” it’s more of a question than an actual greeting, even though he didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

“hi.” you reply awkwardly, eyes shifting around his room as you continue to stand in the doorway.

“you can, uh, sit. if you want.” chris stutters, moving his legs so that they’re hanging off his bed.

he straightens his comforter to make room for you, still red with shame about the mess. he has no idea why you’re here, he’s just praying that he doesn’t say anything that’ll scare you away. he wants this moment to last as long as it possibly can.

luckily enough, you actually do end up making your way over, settling on the very edge of his bed. you’re practically falling off it, trying to make sure that you keep as much distance between the two of you as possible. it breaks his heart, but he can’t say he doesn’t understand.

“i’m sure you’re confused, so i’ll just get right to it.” you start, picking at your fingernails so you don’t have to look at him.

the lump in his throat is growing by the second, but instead of showing that, he nods and attempts to choke it back down.

“your friends came over. they’re really worried about you, you know.” you continue carefully.

he barely contains an eye roll, opting to close them for a moment instead as he lets out a small breath. but he understands, seeing as he’s gone completely off the rails.

“i don’t know what to say to that.” chris replies honestly, since he’s apparently lost the ability to talk to you too.

“well, i guess you could start by telling me what the hell is going on, because you pretty much live and breathe for your team.” you’re putting it bluntly now, because you know it won’t get through to him if you don’t.

he rubs a hand over his face, trying to think of the right words. they’re not really there, but it’s been too long of a pause, and he needs to fucking speak like a normal person.

“i…my heart just isn’t in it. i’m playing like shit and it’s better if i don’t bring them down with me.”

you shake your head, completely astounded by the attitude that you’re hearing. “so you’re just going to turn your back now? when you’re weeks away from selection show and so close to a contract?”

he’s defeated; chris doesn’t know what else to do besides throw in the towel, and he also has no idea how to get you to understand that. his shoulders slump slightly as he stares at the floor.

“yeah, i guess i am.”

it’s silent for a moment, which makes him incredibly insecure. then you nudge him with your foot a little, forcing him to look over at you.

“listen, if you don’t want to play hockey anymore, that’s your decision at the end of the day. but i have to be honest with you before you do that.” you start off strong, facing him fully so that you can meet his eyes.

“the first time i ever came to your game, as someone that you actually invited, i saw you. i’d been to games before, but that night i was solely focused on you, as stupid and fucking embarrassing as that is to admit. you were electric out there, chris, and you’ve got so much talent it’s actually a bit ridiculous. i mean, you literally made me fall in love with hockey all over again,” your voice wobbles slightly—barely enough for him to notice—but it’s there.

your eyes are full of an emotion he can’t comprehend. maybe it’s because you’re feeling every single one of them, just like he is right now. he’s beginning to cry, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“you’ve been putting in the work, and i know that you’d get an AHL contract from one team or another. you want it so bad it kills you, and you’re so damn close. i can’t let you give that away because of us.”

the words hit him hard, and even though his first instinct is to get defensive, there’s no point. you can read him like a book, and you know just as well as he does that his terrible performance has everything to do with your relationship.

slowly, he reaches for your hand. he can’t help it; being this close to you makes it feel like every single one of his nerves is on fire, and he has to actually feel you.

your fingers tangle together, resting on your leg. you’re stiff at first, but you relax into it as his thumb grazes your lower thigh in a calming pattern. it feels so natural, almost domestic, even after being apart for so long.

his other hand goes to your neck, pulling you forward so that your foreheads press together gently. you can smell him, feel his slightly callused palms, hear his soft breaths. it’s so overwhelming that the tears you’ve been shoving away spring to your eyes.

he knows he only gets one chance to say it, so he does.

“i love you. i love you so much that i can't focus on anything else, not with the way things are between us. and i am so, so sorry that i ever did that to you, or that i put myself in that situation in the first place. it was my own insecurity taking over, as much as that sucks to say, and it was pathetic. but i want to be with you, only you, and i always have. i mean, fuck, i’ve loved you since the moment you moved in next door, when you yelled at me out your window to put on a shirt that night.” chris chuckles slightly, sniffling a bit as he continues to brush his thumbs along your skin.

you can’t help but huff out a small laugh as well, thinking about that day. you were already frustrated after it took hours to build your dresser, and him teasing you was just the final nail in the coffin.

“the point is that i love you, and i’m sorry. i just needed you to hear me say it.” he breathes.

everything in him wants to lean in and close the rest of the space, because he misses his mouth on yours so much. teardrops roll down your cheeks slowly, and he can feel you shaking just a little bit in his grasp.

“i fucking love you too, chris, but i just…i just don’t know.” you sigh, biting down on your bottom lip hard to keep them from colliding with his.

you place a hand on his chest, pushing him away just a little bit to try and set a boundary. it’s almost worse, because now you can really see him, his face inches apart from yours.

his eyes dart down to your lips for too long, puffy from you gnawing on them, and he can feel himself slipping into that same trance he’s always in whenever he’s around you. especially after hearing those three words, whether you were cursing at him or not.

but he nods and lets his fingers fall from your neck, because he refuses to force this on you if you’re not ready. he still keeps a hold of your hand, though, for at least a little longer.

“i get it. i’ll fucking wait, i don’t care. if there’s any chance, i’d wait forever, do you understand that?”

you can’t meet his eyes as you push some of your hair over your shoulder. “i’m not sure that i do.”

“i can’t do this without you, and i don’t want to.” chris feels like he’s repeating himself, but he doesn’t care.

he squeezes your hand just a bit, and you use your free one to brush the tears from your cheeks. you finally meet his gaze again a moment later, eyes shining slightly. he can see the hesitation in them from a mile away.

“please, just come to the game tomorrow. i’ll swallow my pride and beg for forgiveness until coach lets me back on the team if you can do that for me.” he pleads, the faintest of ideas forming in the back of his mind.

you blow out another breath, but your body betrays you and you’re nodding your head before you can actually respond. he’s surprised by this, naturally.

but you knew the second the words came out of his mouth that you would say yes, so you verbalize that fact. “i’ll go. if you show up and play like you mean it, i’ll go.”

he feels himself laugh again instinctively, just because of how wrong he was. you’ll always have that fiery personality; it’s just you. he figured you’d eventually move on and find some really great guy, but he was pretty sure that he would always stay right here, dreaming of you.

“i’ll play like it’s the last game of my life, i promise.” he places his hand over his heart, knowing full well now that he’s going to put on a real show.

you pull your own from his so that you can stick your pinky out, forcing him to swear on it. you’re well aware that it’s silly, but you’ve always believed it was a little deeper than just saying it.

“pinky?” you challenge.

he smiles, linking his finger with yours without batting an eye. “pinky.”

@fawnchives @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi @snowysosturn @secretfangirly @scarlettbitches @satvisfavetoodles @x0x0bunny

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 2: Free Use

Beefy!Mean!Gross!Pervert!Roommate!Bucky x Agent!Fem!Reader

Summary: Being used by your awful roommate because you owe it to him.

Warnings: 18+ smut, dirty talk, degradation kink, rough unprotected p in v, creampie, bucky puts his foot on reader’s head

You hate him. With every fiber of your being. In every sense, of meaning and of every syllable of the word—you hate James Buchanan Barnes.

You thought you’d done right by offering to take in the former winter soldier, wanting to apologize on behalf of your late great-grandfather for his involvement in the HYDRA experiments. Bucky was clearly down on his luck still searching for purpose and feeling undeserving of his peers assistance.

That’s when you’d came along. A friend of Steve Rogers who just so happened to be a direct descendant of a evil HYDRA scientist. You humbly confessed this tragic secret, suggesting to Steve that you’d gladly be the closure Bucky needed to feel okay again. Hell, you’d do anything to help him long as it meant saving your own morality and pushing away whatever labels the public has placed on you.

And you could tell yourself everyday that it’s for the greater good and that he’ll repay you someday when he amounts to the superhero he’s building himself to be.

BUT…

When you come to a home that is beyond a pig-sty after a long day’s work then having to clean up said mess and also cook DINNER…well that just about makes you want to plan a murder.

He knows what he’s doing. Clearly, he wants to get a rise at you either to make you pay for your great-grandfather’s crimes or to slowly break you until you become just as wicked. But you’ve yet to buckle under his pressure. Whenever he treats you like scum, you turn the other cheek.

So, of course, here you are cleaning yet another one of Bucky’s preventable messes. You’re on your hands and knees furiously scrubbing away at the linoleum tiles until you can see your own reflection. Meanwhile, he’s just sitting on the coach in nothing but white undershirt and boxers mindlessly flipping through the television.

You’re scrubbing near his feet and just when you think he’s being kind enough to raise them out of the way, he rests them on your ass.

You seethe, teeth grinding but continue with no protest. You desperately try to ignore him but his heated gaze on your ass is so distracting.

“Think you could make me a sandwich when you’re done with that, dollface?” He says, bored.

You feign a saccharinely sweet tone and smile. “Of, course, Bucky! Whatever you wish.”

“Whatever I wish.” He says, voice lowering a couple octaves.

“That’s what I said,” You said through gritted teeth, your innocent act weening. You bat your eyelashes dearly up at him from behind you. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“So if I said I want some pussy, you’d give it up to me willingly,” He rasps. “Whenever I want.”

That’s odd. Bucky has never made things sexual. Not that you haven’t thought of this yourself the first time you offered to help him. Sure, you always thought he was quite handsome and that hulking body of his pouncing you has been a thought more times than you can count. But steadily you’re fury for him began to develop once he’d made you out to be like his little servant rather than a friend.

And yet…why is it that you find yourself soaking wet whenever he treats you this way even though it’s absolutely repulsive?!

“Yes, Bucky, you can have me. Whenever you want.” You reply.

“And you mean it?” He says, lowering on his knees behind you and shoving his boxer down his thick thighs.

Your eyes bug out of your head in horror at the sheer size of him. The girth, the length—this was going to be brutal. He’s leaking from the ruddy tip and looks so angry with the throbbing veins branched out around it like a tree. You swallow the hard lump in your throat, wordlessly nodding before answering. “Yes, I mean it, sir.”

Bucky groans deeply, shoving your head down with his foot. He puts enough pressure against the side of your face to where the other side of it smushes up against the sparkling floor. Before you can even register it, he’s flipping your dress up, pulling your panties to the side, and sinking in with some resistance.

You release a choked sob. “F-uck.”

“You’re so tight, princess,” He moans, biting his lip as he continues to bully his way into you. After some back and forth, your walls latched around him like a vice, reaching all the way to hilt. The small pudge of his belly rests just above your ass as he awaits you to fully adjust.

Your still in the awkward position with you ass up, face down and his foot pressed against your head to keep you from squirming away. Like hell you would. Something must’ve finally snapped within you because even if it hurts, even if you were being used—you’ll happily take it. You fucking surrender and it only to some dick for Bucky to own you.

He starts hammering into you, the sound of this skin clapping together take over the room with your guttural moans soon to follow. Bucky’s quiet at first with his moans which quickly turns to whines when he feels you dripping down his heavy balls.

“So that was all it took? I just had to claim you and now you’ll stop that fake good girl shit. Huh, babygirl? Bet you don’t hate me as much now.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” You mewl. “Love being used by you. Just please don’t fucking stop, Buck!”

He’s hitting so deep inside you now that it’s as if he’s found a rebooting button within you. Your eyes roll back, drool streaming from your lips and your mind’s completely black. All you can do now is make throaty “uh, uh, uh” noises as you get pushed to the brink of bliss.

“When I ask you to do something, I won’t be seeing any of that negative attitude, will I?” He continues to taunt using a firm parental tone. His mechanical arm sneaks its way between your legs, skillful fingers toying with your puffy clit.

You yelp, tears mingling with the sudsy water beneath you. “No, sir. I’ll be good. Forreal this time. I’ll do whatever you want, for as long as you want. Let me cum. Pretty please, sir.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” He smacks your ass with his flesh hand at the same time as a really forceful plunge. “Cum.”

You whine so loud that there’s no doubt a neighbor will be filing a complaint for you. You’re small frame wriggles beneath his large stature as you cum so hard that you understand the meaning of why an orgasm’s called ‘a little death’. You pant against him as he contiues to hammer into you, forcing your juices out of you in a gush.

In final punishing thrusts, he cums hot and sticky inside you much to your chagrin—or so you claim until you noticed the way your hands reached for him from behind, taking fistfuls of the fabric of his boxers that pooled around his knees; you keep him locked in place within you. And you don’t let you go until you’re satisfied that every drop has been milked out of him, clenching around him for added measures.

“Fuck, babygirl,” He growls at this action giving you a few more languid thrusts before pulling out and watching his hot spunk spilling out of you. He pushes his metal finger into you, stuffing you with the escaping essence. “Phew, that worked me up a mean appetite. Think you could make me two sandwiches, hot stuff.”

You remain sweaty and panting on the ground, completely boneless but more than satisfied with being his little toy.

You don’t hate Bucky Barnes after all.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Yandere Tom Riddle Headcanons

Pairing: Yandere Tom Riddle x (female) Hufflepuff Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

You’re a direct descendent from the Hufflepuff bloodline, something that definitely stirs up Tom’s attention. That means you’re the true heir of the Hufflepuff House, just like he is with the Slytherin House. 

Even though you’re both the heirs to your own bloodlines plus the fact that you are a pure-blood, he’ll never consider you to be equal to him. You’re undoubtedly superior to the rest of the peasants, but not him. 

After all, Hufflepuff is ridiculously kind and mundane, every Hufflepuff is a weak thing in Tom’s eyes. Always disgustingly nice and ready to help others. Truly abhorrent.

But desperate times call for equally desperate measures. 

However, he’ll also consider that you’re both equal in a twisted way given that you’re both the last of your kind. Descendants of the noble and pure-blood families that had once created Hogwarts.  

Therefore, you must bond yourselves into an unbreakable union. You belong together. Tom has complex and ambitious plans to conquer the Wizarding world and he imagines that with you by his side. 

You’re 2 years younger than him, so he tries to get closer to you by pretending to help you with your studying. He’s already studied whatever you’re currently studying, not to mention that he is one of Hogwarts top students, if not the best. He often offers to let you borrow his scrolls of notes. 

As a Prefect, he would often give you a free pass whenever you and your stupid friends created some trouble, pretending to be a nice person as he knows how much that’ll mean to you. You do have a sweet spot for kind people, after all. 

He developed a rather stalkerish habit of coincidentally appearing wherever you are, his eyes always discreetly following you. And if he’s busy with other duties, then he’ll have the members of his tight circle of friends to keep an eye on you. 

He keeps up the facade of being an absolute gentleman and an exemplary student in front of you, often trying to start a conversation with you and treating you better than others, mentioning how you’re far superior from the rest of the students. 

However, he’s not able to fully convince you of his “kind” nature. There’s always an implicit hesitance in you whenever you interact with Tom, maybe it’s nothing but you’re always having a bad feeling when you’re around Tom. 

Like he’s not being completely truthful towards you, almost as if there’s something wrong with him. You try not to dwell too much on those thoughts, preferring to offer him a hand of friendship for him to prove himself to be a good human being. 

As you get older, his behavior also changes. He becomes different, more mature, more committed to his plans. 

One day, he reveals to you in great secret that he is the heir of the Slytherin House and of all the plans he has for the future. On how he expects you to join him and take your place by his side. 

You can’t decipher whether he’s joking or being delusional, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll have to play along with it, Tom is too dangerous for you to reject him. 

But if you prove yourself to be incapable of being loyal to him and his cause, Tom will be forced to make you submit through the Imperio spell. 

That way you won’t be able to rebel up against him. You’re meant to be his Dark Lady and you’re no one to stop that from happening. 

[after-witch]

Indulgence [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Title: Indulgence [Yandere Feitan x Reader]

Synopsis: Just Feitan wanting to touch your nyloned feet.

Word count: 774

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, forced footplay, brief tickling

Feitan's grip on your nylon-clad ankle is not especially tight. His fingers do not press into your flesh, ensuring small printed bruises that will last for days.

Instead, he holds your ankle like it’s something precious and sentimental. Like you held your grandmother’s porcelain figurines when you were little, and she’d told you again and again that she loved those figurines so much that if you were to crack a single one, it would break her heart.

But, taking in the look in his eyes, perhaps sentimental is the wrong word. He looks more fascinated than anything else.

“Feitan?” You ask, shifting yourself on the worn cushions of the sofa. You don’t dare pull your foot away--he’d stop you, if you were stupid enough to try.You’re not that stupid anymore.

He doesn’t acknowledge you at first.

You curl your toes, unused to the stretch of the thin nylon material over them--and his eyebrows actually lift up. Seeing any expression on him that wasn’t irritation or disgusted glee while he tortured people was almost astonishing enough to make your own eyebrows raise.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low, almost husky.

It’s the question you wanted to ask him.

“Nothing,” you say. Right? You’re just sitting here. He’s the one acting odd.

“You curled your toes.” His answer is short. Factual.

Because well, you did curl your toes. But… you didn’t mean anything by it. They were stiff, you’ve been sitting here so awfully long, and Feitan hasn’t explained a thing.

He didn’t respond this morning when you asked why there were nylons on the bed with the outfit he’d picked out--a short white nightgown that you’ve had for ages, worn in the armpits, with a lace trim that needed a good bleaching--or where your socks had gone.

He didn’t give you a reason when you told you to sit on the sofa, or when he grabbed your legs and yanked them up, forcing you to pivot around to avoid an uncomfortable twist in your hips.

Nor did he offer up any explanation when he’d taken your ankle in his hands and placed your foot on his thigh and simply… held it there--is still holding it there.

“I… I didn’t mean to?” You lick dry lips. “I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just going to ask you why you’re…” You trail off as his eyebrows go from high to furrowed. 

Slowly, his other hand moves from its spot on his thigh and hovers above your foot. Your heart begins to beat faster--you weren’t disobedient lately, or at least he hadn’t said so.

He wouldn’t break your foot without telling you the reason, surely. The lecture he’d given after he broke a few of your fingers the first (and last) time you’d ever slapped him was a testament to that.

His fingers descend--one, two, three, four, five--but he doesn’t break your foot. Instead he begins to massage it.

That should make your heart slow down, but instead it only speeds up, even as his fingers begin to press down harder, a firm pressure down the length of your arch, then up your sole, ending just underneath your toes.

The nylon material shifts under his fingers. It feels strange, like some kind of thin second skin that heightens the sensation of being touched. It feels warm from the rubbing, despite the vague undercurrent of ticklishness that makes you want to yank your ankle away.

His fingers begin to lightly massage your toes, which stretch and curl instinctively. It’s too light, too ticklish.

Your breath hitches.

So does his.

“Ticklish?” He asks.

You nod. Lying had been trained out of you long before this.

He hums. There’s a pit in your stomach that begins to eat itself as you watch emotions play out on his face. It’s harder with the cowl up, but his eyes can give enough away, if you know how to look. You’ve had lots of practice.

He’s delighted by something.

Which is rarely a good sign.

Still, you know better than to try to yank your foot away, even as his fingers return to your toes, pressing down harder. It still tickles, but there’s more to it, now. The warmth is back, an unexpected, unwanted pleasurable feeling.

He stares at you the whole time, gauging your reaction.

Your fingernails dig into the sofa, digging into the already frayed threads. You bite your lip. You don’t want to give him anything. But he’ll just take it anyway, won’t he?

It’s going to be a long evening, you think. And judging by the expression on Feitan’s face--he thinks so, too.

[slut4evanpeters]

WitchBitch

james patrick march x fem!witch!reader

song i recommend listening to: spellbound by siouxise and the banshees

warnings: slow burn smut, master kink, overstimulation, fingering, obsession, mind tricks, smut at the very end and im sorry it ends abruptly🙁

summary: you are a rival witch of cordelia and her coven. To play mind games with her, you deicide to hold queenie in the hotel under a spell.

word count: 7.2k

notes: i came up with this in the shower.... i kind of rushed the smut im so bad at writing smut im sorry guys.. AND im so sorry for all the build up💀 when i write i cannot stop.

MDNI 18+

At the center of this forgotten palace of despair stood James Patrick March, poised in his fine three-piece suit. His sharp jawline and slicked-back hair framed a face that had not known the passage of time in decades. His dark eyes flickered with excitement, a glint of amusement dancing within them as he surveyed his kingdom. He leaned against the desk stood in the lobby, inspecting the tarnished silver of his pocket watch. Time, after all, had little meaning here, and yet, for James, the ticking of the clock always held a promise of something. Usually chaos.

“Darling,” came a voice from the grand staircase behind him, silky and soft, yet edged with a power that made the air hum.

He turned, a wide grin spreading across his face as he beheld his wife descending the staircase with all the grace and presence of a queen. You moved with an ethereal elegance, your long black dress trailing behind you like a shadow. Lock of hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a face that was both beautiful and formidable, eyes like obsidian and sharp as a blade. You were every bit the rival to the Supreme of the coven that now sought you out, yet you moved as though nothing and no one could ever challenge your dominance.

“My love,” James purred, straightening from the desk and walking toward you with a swagger that was both dangerous and playful. He reached for your hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing it reverently. His eyes never left yours, and the fire that burned in their depths was matched only by the one that coursed through your veins. “You grow more enchanting with each passing moment.”

You smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of your lips that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. “And you, my dearest James, ever the flatterer. But we both know you’re simply excited for the evening’s new guests.”

“Ah, yes,” James sighed dramatically, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “The witches. It’s been far too long since we’ve had such promising prey wander through our doors.” His eyes gleamed, and you could practically hear the wheels of his mind turning, already plotting the wicked games he would play with them.

You glanced toward the large, iron-bound doors of the hotel, sensing the approach of powerful magic. The coven was close now. Their magic thrummed in the air, sharp and clean, an affront to the ancient, dark energy that permeated the Cortez. They were intruding, bringing their light into a place where it had no business being.

“You do realize, my darling, that these witches are not mere mortals,” you said, your voice low and sultry, a warning laced within. “They’re Cordelia’s, and she is not one to be trifled with.”

James’s smile widened. “Oh, I do hope so.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head at his eagerness. Despite his boundless enthusiasm for torment and chaos, you found his charm irresistible. It was that very dark charisma that had drawn you to him so many years ago, when your paths had first crossed in the shadows of death and magic. While most saw him as a madman, a murderer, you saw the brilliance in his madness, the artistry in his destruction. He was your perfect match, and together, you had created a life within the Cortez. An empire of secrets, blood, and eternal devotion.

“Don’t let your games get out of hand,” you murmured, resting your hand lightly on his chest. “Not yet, at least. There’s much to be gained from this encounter, and I’d rather not have it end too quickly.”

His expression softened, his hand coming up to gently cup your face. “Of course, my love. For you, I shall practice…restraint.”

You arched a brow, knowing full well how long such promises lasted with him, but you trusted that his loyalty to you would hold. It always had. His devotion to you was absolute, just as yours was to him.

“I’ll handle Cordelia,” you continued. “She knows I’m here, she’ll come for me first. The others are less important. Let them wander, let them think they have the upper hand.”

James’s grin turned predatory. “And then, we shall give them a proper welcome.”

The two of you stood in the dim light of the lobby, a portrait of dark elegance and dangerous power, ready to face whatever came next. Together, you were unstoppable.

Cordelia Goode had always been cautious, but there was a grim determination in her eyes as she stood outside the Hotel Cortez, flanked by several members of her coven. The hotel loomed before them, an imposing structure of iron and stone, its windows like hollow eyes staring back at them. The air around the hotel felt wrong, thick with malevolent energy.

“I can feel Queenie,” Cordelia said, her voice quiet but resolute. “She’s trapped in there. But there’s something else. Something darker.”

“Is it her?” asked Zoe, glancing nervously at the building. The younger witch had heard the stories about the infamous rival of their coven, the witch who had once stood toe to toe with the previous Supreme, Fiona Goode, and lived to tell the tale. A witch whose power was said to rival even Cordelia’s.

“Yes,” Cordelia confirmed, her lips pressed into a thin line. “She’s here. And she’s the one who holds Queenie’s soul.”

The coven exchanged uneasy glances. They knew what this meant. This wasn’t just a rescue mission, this was a confrontation with a force as old and powerful as any they had faced.

“We go in together,” Cordelia said firmly, “and we do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Our goal is to find Queenie and get out. Understood?”

The witches nodded in agreement, though there was an undercurrent of fear beneath their bravado. None of them knew exactly what they would face inside the Cortez, but they trusted in their Supreme’s leadership.

As they pushed open the heavy doors of the hotel, they were immediately engulfed by its oppressive atmosphere. The air inside was thick, suffocating, and the very walls seemed to pulse with a dark energy. The witches instinctively huddled closer together, their magical senses heightened, every nerve on edge.

“Stay close,” Cordelia whispered, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of life or death.

They moved cautiously through the lobby, their footsteps echoing in the silence. There was no sign of anyone, no indication of the horrors that lurked within. Yet the magic here was unmistakable, a heavy blanket of darkness that threatened to smother them with every step.

And then, a voice rang out, smooth and elegant, laced with a dark amusement.

“Cordelia Goode, the Supreme herself. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

You stepped out from the shadows, your presence commanding the room in an instant. The witches stopped in their tracks, their eyes widening as they took in the sight of you dressed in black, your eyes glittering with power and amusement.

Cordelia’s expression hardened. “You know why we’re here.”

You smiled, a slow, predatory smile. “Yes, of course. The poor little witch, trapped in my hotel. You’ve come to retrieve her.”

Cordelia stepped forward, her voice unwavering. “Let Queenie go.”

You tilted your head slightly, considering her. “And why would I do that? She came here of her own accord, after all. It’s not my fault she couldn’t handle the…atmosphere.”

Behind you, James appeared, his expression one of gleeful anticipation. He was clearly enjoying the tension in the room, his eyes flitting between you and the witches like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Now, now, my love,” he said, his voice a dark purr. “Let’s not be too hasty. I think our guests have only just arrived.”

You remained still, your gaze never leaving Cordelia’s. The Supreme witch’s determination was palpable, but so was the unease rippling through her coven. You could feel the raw tension in the room, the fear of the unknown, of a place that fed on souls.

James stepped forward, his stride confident and languid, almost like a panther stalking its prey. He cast an amused glance toward the witches, his hands clasped behind his back as if he were about to address guests at a grand party.

“My dear ladies,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet, “you’ve wandered into my humble abode, and yet, you haven’t even introduced yourselves. Quite rude, wouldn’t you agree?”

You raised an eyebrow at Cordelia, your amusement matching James’s. “James does so love proper introductions.”

Cordelia’s lips pressed into a thin line, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough games,” she snapped. “We’re here for Queenie. We’re not leaving without her.”

“Ah, yes,” James said, his smile widening as he looked up toward the ceiling, as if recalling a fond memory. “The one who thought she could wield power here. A futile endeavor, really.”

“She belongs to my coven,” Cordelia said, her voice steady, though you could see the flicker of frustration in her eyes. “And I will not leave her here to suffer in this wretched place.”

James tilted his head, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Suffer? I don’t know if she’s suffering, dear, but she certainly isn’t going anywhere.”

You watched Cordelia closely. You could feel her power, her strength radiating from her in controlled waves. She was no fool. She knew what she was up against, and yet she had come. That kind of courage, or perhaps it was desperation, made her dangerous. But you had been waiting for this confrontation, this inevitable meeting between you and Cordelia, two witches on opposite sides of magic, each vying for control in their own way.

“You’re a fool if you think you can walk in here and demand anything,” you said, your voice calm but lethal. “This hotel is not a place for your kind. Magic here is twisted, corrupted. Your light will do nothing but feed the shadows.”

“I’m well aware of the darkness that lurks here,” Cordelia said, her eyes flicking from you to James, and then back to you. “But I won’t leave without her.”

A tense silence followed her words, and you felt the coven shift behind her, preparing themselves for whatever might come next. James’s smile was almost gleeful now, his eyes lighting up with the promise of chaos. He took a step closer to Cordelia, but before he could speak, you laid a hand on his arm, stopping him.

“Patience, my love,” you said softly, though your voice carried a warning. “There’s no need to rush.”

He looked down at you, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes, something only you ever saw. Devotion. In all his madness, his bloodlust, there was one constant: you. He would burn the world for you, but he would also restrain his hand at your command.

He nodded slightly, and you turned back to Cordelia. “I’ll make you a deal, Supreme.”

Cordelia’s eyes narrowed. “I’m listening.”

“Find Queenie, if you can,” you said, your voice smooth as silk. “If she truly wants to leave, I’ll allow it. But if she’s chosen to remain…well, that’s another matter entirely.”

Cordelia’s jaw clenched, but she nodded. “Agreed.”

You smiled faintly, knowing that she had no idea what she was truly agreeing to. “Good. I’ll even give you a head start. This hotel has many secrets, after all. You may find that time slips away from you faster than you realize.”

With a wave of your hand, the air in the lobby shifted, the dark energy of the hotel pulsing with newfound intensity. The witches tensed as the walls around them seemed to ripple, and the very atmosphere became heavier, more oppressive.

“Good luck,” you said, your voice low and laced with amusement. “You’ll need it.”

Cordelia gave you one last hard look before turning to her coven. “Stay together,” she ordered, her voice firm. “And don’t trust anything you see.”

The witches moved cautiously, their eyes darting around the room as they made their way deeper into the hotel. You watched them go, feeling the pulse of the hotel’s malevolent energy feeding off their fear, twisting the corridors ahead of them into a labyrinth of confusion and dread.

As the last witch disappeared from sight, James let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, they have no idea, do they?”

You turned to him, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “Not in the slightest.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “Shall we watch them squirm, darling?”

You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with dark delight. “Oh, yes. You know me so well.”

Cordelia led her coven through the dimly lit hallways of the Cortez, her senses on high alert. The walls seemed to close in around them, shifting and warping as they moved, but she kept her focus on the faint magical trace that lingered in the air. She could still feel Queenie’s presence, but it was faint, as though something—or someone—was deliberately obscuring her.

“This place is a nightmare,” Zoe muttered, glancing nervously at the flickering lights overhead.

“Stay close,” Cordelia said again, her voice steady. “This hotel plays tricks. It’s feeding off the darkness within it.”

“Do you really think she’ll let Queenie go?” Madison asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. “She didn’t exactly seem eager to bargain.”

Cordelia didn’t respond immediately. She knew the witch who ruled this hotel—knew her power, her cunning. The woman was dangerous, and whatever hold she had over the hotel made her nearly invincible here. But Cordelia couldn’t afford to show doubt. She had to believe that she could bring Queenie back, no matter the cost.

“She’s stalling,” Cordelia said finally. “But that doesn’t mean we won’t find her.”

The witches moved in silence for a while, the oppressive air of the hotel making it hard to think clearly. The corridors stretched endlessly before them, each one seeming to lead deeper into the maze-like structure. Cordelia could feel the hotel’s magic pushing against her, trying to disorient her, but she held firm. She had to.

After what felt like hours, they turned a corner and came face to face with a tall, dark door at the end of the hall. Cordelia felt the pull of magic behind it—strong, twisted magic that made her stomach turn.

“She’s in there,” Cordelia said, her heart pounding.

The witches exchanged uneasy glances, but they followed Cordelia as she approached the door. With a deep breath, she pushed it open.

Inside, the room was vast and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and decay. And there, in the center of the room, sat Queenie.

She looked different, her eyes hollow, her skin clammy. She stared straight ahead, unmoving, as though she hadn’t noticed them enter.

“Queenie,” Cordelia whispered, stepping forward.

But as she approached, she felt the familiar pull of magic around her, a trap.

The door slammed shut behind them, and the lights flickered out.

In the darkness, you and James watched from the shadows, your smiles hidden but unmistakable.

Let the game begin.

The room plunged into darkness, and the oppressive weight of magic bore down on Cordelia and her coven. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the very walls of the Hotel Cortez were alive, breathing and shifting around them. Cordelia’s heart pounded in her chest, but her voice remained steady.

“Stay calm,” she commanded, though she could sense the rising panic in the witches behind her.

“Queenie,” Cordelia called again, her voice carrying through the heavy shadows. She could still see Queenie, seated in the center of the room, her figure faintly illuminated by the dying embers of the flickering lights. Yet, the silence from her was unnerving—no movement, no response. Something was terribly wrong.

Madison, always quick to lash out when threatened, raised her hand, a burst of energy erupting from her fingertips to light up the space. The dim glow revealed the eerie stillness of the room, but as the energy crackled toward Queenie, it dissipated against an invisible barrier, fizzling out before it could even reach her.

“Damn it!” Madison hissed, frustration evident in her voice. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s not her,” Zoe whispered, her voice shaking as her eyes darted around the room. “It’s a trap.”

Cordelia took a step closer, her hand outstretched toward Queenie. Her instincts screamed for her to pull back, but she had come too far to hesitate now. The closer she got, the more she could feel the distortion in the air, the unnatural magic wrapping around her friend. Something was holding Queenie in place, something ancient and powerful.

Just as her fingers brushed the edge of the barrier surrounding Queenie, the room shuddered violently. The lights flickered back to life, casting the room in a sickly, yellow glow. And then, with a low, menacing chuckle, the shadows shifted.

James Patrick March stepped out of the gloom, his eyes gleaming with predatory delight. He was the picture of calm elegance, his three-piece suit immaculate as always, but there was a madness in his grin that sent a shiver down Cordelia’s spine.

“My, my,” James said, his voice dripping with amusement. “You’ve made it so far, Supreme. I must say, I’m impressed.”

Cordelia didn’t flinch. Her eyes remained locked on James, her expression hardening. “Where is she?”

James raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. “Who, darling? The witch trapped in her own mind? Or the one you call Queenie?”

“You know damn well what I mean,” Cordelia snapped. “Let her go.”

James’s smile widened, his gaze flicking between the witches. “But why would I do that? You see, Queenie has made herself quite…comfortable here. In fact, I daresay she rather enjoys her time in my humble hotel.”

From the shadows behind James, you emerged, your figure as graceful and commanding as ever. Dressed in your flowing black gown, you looked like a dark queen reigning over a twisted court. Your eyes glittered with dangerous amusement as you took your place beside your husband, your hand lightly resting on his arm.

“She’s ours now,” you said, your voice smooth as silk. “This hotel has a way of holding onto those who don’t belong. Your precious Queenie is no exception.”

Cordelia’s fingers twitched at her sides, but she held her ground, her gaze never leaving you. “Queenie doesn’t belong to anyone,” she said, her voice cold and firm. “I’ll bring her back, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

You smiled, a slow, knowing smile. “You still don’t understand, do you, Cordelia? This hotel… it has its own will. Once you step inside, it doesn’t matter how powerful you are. The Cortez decides who stays, and who leaves.”

“And Queenie,” James added, his eyes alight with dark pleasure, “has already made her choice.”

Cordelia took a step forward, her magic pulsing in the air around her. “You’re wrong. I can feel her. She’s trapped, but she’s fighting. I will free her.”

You and James exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between you. Then, with a slight nod from you, James stepped back, giving you the floor.

“Very well, Supreme,” you said, your tone mocking but laced with undeniable power. “If you believe you can free her, then try. But know this—once you start, there’s no turning back. The Cortez doesn’t like to be challenged, and neither do I.”

Cordelia squared her shoulders, her determination unwavering. She knew this was a battle not just against you and James, but against the very fabric of the hotel itself. But she wasn’t going to back down, not with Queenie’s life on the line.

She raised her hands, and a soft glow began to emanate from her fingertips. The air around her shimmered as she channeled her magic, directing it toward Queenie. The witches behind her tensed, readying themselves for whatever might come next.

But as soon as Cordelia’s magic made contact with the barrier surrounding Queenie, the room erupted into chaos.

The walls seemed to bend and twist, the floor beneath them rippling like water. The lights flickered violently, casting long, distorted shadows that seemed to move on their own. And then, the laughter started—low, menacing, echoing from every corner of the room.

James’s laughter.

Cordelia’s magic surged against the barrier, but it held strong, feeding off the dark energy of the hotel. Queenie remained frozen, her eyes wide and glassy, as if trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

“You can’t win,” you said, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “This hotel is alive, and it’s hungry. It won’t let her go.”

Cordelia’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t stop. Her magic intensified, the glow around her hands brightening as she pushed harder against the barrier. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she refused to relent.

“Zoe, Madison,” Cordelia barked, her voice strained. “Help me!”

The two witches immediately stepped forward, joining their magic with Cordelia’s. The air crackled with energy as the combined power of the three witches surged toward Queenie, pushing against the dark barrier that held her captive.

But for every inch they gained, the hotel fought back, its malevolent energy twisting and warping around them. The shadows writhed, the walls groaned, and the very air seemed to close in, choking them.

James watched, his grin never faltering. “Oh, how delightful,” he mused. “Such

determination, such power. But it’s all for nothing.”

You stood by his side, your arms crossed, watching with cool detachment. Part of you admired Cordelia’s strength, her refusal to give up even in the face of overwhelming odds. But you knew how this would end. The Cortez had claimed Queenie, just as it had claimed so many others before her.

Still, there was something intriguing about watching Cordelia fight, watching her defy the will of the hotel and push herself beyond her limits. You wondered, briefly, if perhaps there was more to her than you had given her credit for.

And then, with a deafening crack, the barrier around Queenie shattered.

The room fell silent.

Queenie slumped forward, gasping for breath, her body shaking as the dark magic released its hold on her. Cordelia rushed forward, catching her before she could collapse to the floor.

“You’re okay,” Cordelia whispered, her voice hoarse. “I’ve got you.”

For a moment, it seemed as though they had won.

But then, the floor beneath them began to tremble.

James’s laughter returned, louder, more manic than before. He clapped his hands together, delighted by the unfolding drama. “Oh, how marvelous! You broke the barrier! But I’m afraid it’s far from over.”

You stepped forward, your eyes locked on Cordelia. “You may have freed her from the trap,” you said, your voice soft but deadly, “but the Cortez is not so easily defied.”

The room around them began to warp once again, the walls bending and twisting as the hotel itself reacted to the break in its hold. The shadows grew darker, more oppressive, as the malevolent energy of the hotel surged to reclaim what it had lost.

“You’ve only made it angrier,” you continued, your gaze never leaving Cordelia’s. “And now, it will take everything from you.”

Cordelia’s heart raced, her grip on Queenie tightening as the room around them seemed to collapse in on itself. She had freed her friend, but at what cost?

The hotel was alive, and it was hungry.

And it wasn’t done with them yet.

The floor trembled violently beneath them, the Cortez reacting like a beast enraged. Cordelia’s breath caught in her throat as she held Queenie close, feeling the suffocating darkness around them. The hotel wasn’t merely a structure anymore—it was a force, something ancient, malevolent, and entirely beyond her control. It roared with fury as if the very act of defying its will had triggered a primal hunger that could not be quenched.

Queenie gasped for air, her eyes wide and terrified as she clung to Cordelia’s arm. “We… we have to get out of here,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from the ordeal.

Cordelia’s eyes darted around the room. The shadows were thickening, growing darker and denser, creeping along the walls like living tendrils. The witches could feel it too, the oppressive force pressing down on them, threatening to engulf them.

���We will,” Cordelia promised, though she wasn’t sure how. “Madison, Zoe, stay close.”

Madison’s usual bravado had vanished, her face pale as she looked at the twisting, warping shadows. “This place is alive,” she muttered, her voice barely audible. “And it wants us dead.”

“Queenie’s free,” Zoe added, but her voice was shaky. “We did it. We can get out.”

“You think this is over?” you said softly, your voice cutting through the rising tension like a blade. There was an eerie calmness in your tone, but the power behind it was unmistakable. You took a few steps forward, the dark fabric of your gown trailing across the floor like a wave of shadows. “The Cortez doesn’t just let go, Cordelia. You should know that by now.”

Cordelia met your gaze, her determination still burning, but she knew you were right. She could feel it—the hotel wasn’t done with them. It wouldn’t stop until it had claimed something. The darkness was closing in fast, and even the combined magic of the coven felt like a flickering candle in a storm.

James stepped forward as well, his smile never faltering. He relished the chaos, the fear, and the power that swirled around him. “You’ve broken one little spell, Supreme,” he said, tilting his head. “But now, the hotel is awake. And it’s hungry. You’ve only made things… more interesting.”

His voice dripped with excitement, as if he couldn’t wait to see how this would unfold. His dark eyes glittered with madness as he stepped closer to you, his arm casually slipping around your waist. There was something so grotesque yet elegant in the way he moved, like a spider closing in on a fly caught in its web.

You allowed him to pull you closer, your eyes still on Cordelia. “This hotel is more than just brick and mortar,” you continued, your voice low but commanding. “It’s a living entity, sustained by the souls it consumes. It’s bound to us now. James and I are its caretakers… and its rulers. You can’t fight that.”

Cordelia clenched her fists, her magic crackling in the air around her. “I’ll fight for her, for all of them,” she said, her voice unwavering despite the rising panic. “I’ve faced worse than you.”

But deep down, Cordelia knew you were right. The Cortez was a labyrinth, designed to disorient and ensnare those who wandered its halls. Every inch of it was saturated with dark magic, and even with all her power, she wasn’t sure if she could get them out. Not without losing someone.

“Zoe, Madison,” Cordelia said, her tone sharp, urgent. “We need to find a way out. Now.”

Madison glanced at the walls, which seemed to pulse and ripple like the surface of a black sea. “And how exactly do we do that?” she snapped, her usual snark barely concealing the fear in her voice. “The hotel’s turned into a nightmare.”

“It was always a nightmare,” you said, your lips curving into a knowing smile. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

Zoe tried to focus, reaching out with her magic to feel for a way out, a path that wasn’t sealed off by the hotel’s will. But every hallway, every exit, felt wrong, twisted. The hotel’s presence was everywhere, smothering and relentless. It was like trying to navigate through quicksand.

Cordelia’s mind raced. There had to be a way. She wasn’t about to let this place trap them forever. She glanced toward the faint light at the far end of the room, where the corridor led deeper into the hotel. It was risky, but it was the only option she could see. They had to move, and fast.

“Follow me,” she ordered, pulling Queenie to her feet.

But before they could take a step, the ground beneath them shifted violently, sending cracks spider-webbing across the floor. The walls groaned as if the hotel itself was coming to life, ready to swallow them whole.

James clapped his hands together, laughing with wild abandon. “Ah, darling, it’s glorious! The Cortez is truly showing its teeth tonight.”

You watched with a detached sort of amusement, but beneath it, there was a deeper understanding. The hotel’s power had always been great, but this was different. Cordelia’s defiance had stirred something ancient within the walls, something that even you and James could not fully control.

“I’d move quickly if I were you,” you said, your voice calm but edged with danger. “The Cortez has no patience for witches who think they can bend it to their will.”

Cordelia didn’t need to be told twice. She darted toward the hallway, her coven right behind her. The hotel groaned and shifted around them, the walls elongating and warping, but Cordelia kept her focus ahead, refusing to let the disorienting magic of the place deter her.

You and James watched as they fled, knowing full well the Cortez would not let them escape so easily. The hotel had a way of twisting time and space, trapping its victims in an endless loop of horror and madness.

“Do you think they’ll make it out?” James asked, his tone light, as if discussing the outcome of a dinner party.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing as you watched the witches disappear down the corridor. “Perhaps. But even if they do… they won’t leave unscathed.”

James chuckled, pulling you closer as he gazed into your eyes with that adoring madness only he could embody. “I do love when you’re right, my darling.”

You smiled, the dark energy of the hotel swirling around you. “And if they manage to survive, well, they’ll know that the Cortez leaves its mark on everyone who dares to challenge it.”

Cordelia and her coven ran, the hallway stretching impossibly long before them. The hotel was fighting them, twisting reality to keep them trapped. Every door they passed seemed to lead to another version of the same corridor, looping endlessly.

“We’re running in circles!” Madison shouted, her frustration spilling over.

“Keep moving,” Cordelia commanded, though she could feel the walls closing in, the magic warping around them.

Queenie stumbled, still weak from the spell that had held her, but Zoe caught her before she could fall. “We’re not leaving without you,” Zoe said firmly.

Cordelia tried to focus, tried to find a break in the hotel’s magic, a weak point they could use to escape. But the energy of the Cortez was overwhelming, seeping into her bones, clouding her mind. It was as if the hotel itself was alive, hunting them, savoring their fear.

But then, just when all seemed lost, Cordelia felt it—a faint flicker of light, a thread of energy that didn’t belong to the hotel. It was a small opening, a chance.

“There!” she shouted, pointing ahead.

The witches rushed forward, following Cordelia as she led them toward the faint glimmer of hope. The hotel groaned around them, resisting, but Cordelia pushed through, her magic flaring as she reached for the thread of energy. With a final burst of power, she tore open a rift in the fabric of the hotel’s magic.

A door appeared before them, glowing faintly with the light of the outside world.

“Go!” Cordelia ordered.

The witches didn’t hesitate. One by one, they stumbled through the door, back into the cold night air beyond the hotel’s cursed walls.

Cordelia was the last to pass through, her heart pounding in her chest as she cast one final glance back at the Cortez. The darkness inside seemed to ripple, as if the hotel was watching her, waiting.

As the heavy door of the Cortez sealed shut behind the fleeing witches, the hotel's energy hummed with satisfaction, like a predator content after a brief but thrilling hunt. The dark magic of the place settled back into its familiar rhythm-watchful, patient, knowing that no one ever really left the Cortez. Its halls would call them back, just as it had done countless times before.

You stood beside James, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer.

The witches had escaped for now, but their connection to the hotel remained, and that was enough. The thrill of the chase had rekindled something in you-a reminder of the power and control you wielded in this place, alongside James. It was intoxicating.

James, ever observant, noticed the shift in your demeanor. He turned toward you, his dark eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and admiration. "Ah, my darling," he purred, stepping closer to you.

"You were magnificent, as always. Watching you wield the hotel's magic like that, there's nothing quite as exquisite."

You arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I could say the same for you, James. You do have a flair for theatrics." Your voice was laced with affection, though beneath it, there was something more, a simmering intensity that had been stirred by the night's events.

He chuckled softly, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you into his embrace. His touch was familiar yet electric, a spark that always seemed to ignite whenever the two of you were close.

The twisted elegance of his presence, the madness in his eyes—it matched the darkness within you, and together, you were an unstoppable force. A perfect pair.

James leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke, his voice low and velvety. "The way you command this hotel, the way you ensnare those who dare challenge us... it makes me fall in love with you all over again."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head slightly, allowing your lips to graze his neck. "Oh, James,' you whispered, your voice a soft purr. "You know as well as I do that this place, this power-it belongs to the both of us. We rule together, and thats what makes it so powerful. It belongs to both of us. We rule together, and that's what makes it so... intoxicating."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was dark, intense, filled with the same hunger you felt coursing through you. "Indeed, my love. We are bound, not just by this hotel, but by something far deeper." His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheek as if memorizing every detail.

"You're mine, and I am yours. Forever."

There was something possessive, almost primal, in the way he said it-like a vow that transcended time and death. And in that moment, you felt the full weight of your bond, the dark and beautiful connection that tied you and James together in ways that few could understand. It was a love forged in blood, in madness, in power. It was both your strength and your obsession.

Your breath hitched as his words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. You could feel the pulse of the hotel around you, as if it, too, recognized the depth of what you shared. Slowly, you leaned in, closing the space between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was soft at first, but quickly deepened into something far more intense.

James responded eagerly, his hands tightening around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His lips were fervent, his kiss filled with the passion and madness that always simmered just beneath his polished surface.

The world around you seemed to blur, the only reality that mattered was the feel of his lips on yours, the way his hands roamed over your body with the same possessiveness that echoed in his words.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging gently as the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate. It was as though the two of you were trying to consume each other, to merge completely into one.

The intensity of your connection, your love, had always bordered on obsession, and tonight it felt even more heightened, charged by the dark energy of the hotel and the thrill of the night's events.

James broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your lips, his voice ragged with desire. "You drive me mad, my love.

Every time I look at you, every time I touch you... I burn for you."

You smiled against his mouth, your own desire mirroring his. "Then burn, James. Burn with me."

With a low growl of pleasure, he captured your lips again, the kiss deeper, more demanding. His hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting every nerve. You could feel the heat between you building, the air around you crackling with the raw intensity of your shared desire.

James lifted you effortlessly, and with a graceful spin, pressed you back against the nearest wall, his body pinning yours as he kissed you with a fervor that bordered on desperation. His lips left yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as

he whispered your name like a prayer.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, urging him on as your own need consumed you.

The world outside-the witches, the Cortez, everything-faded away, leaving only two of you, bound together in this intoxicating dance of passion and power.

James's mouth found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slow, deliberate, a contrast to the frenzied energy of moments before. It was a kiss filled with promise, with the dark love that had sustained you both for so long. The Cortez was your kingdom, but this. This was your sanctuary.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you were breathless, your bodies humming with the shared intensity of the moment. His hand gently cradled your face, his thumb brushing across your lips.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "For now, for always. You are my queen, my everything."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depths of his devotion, the madness and love that mirrored your own. "And I love you, James," you murmured, your voice soft but filled with the same intensity.

"We are eternal, you and I. Bound by blood, by power, by love. Forever."

His lips curved into that familiar, wicked smile, the one that always sent a thrill through you. "Forever, my love," he echoed, before capturing your lips once more in a kiss that sealed the vow between you-two souls bound together in darkness, for all eternity.

And as the Cortez hummed softly around you, it, too, seemed to recognize the power of the bond you shared. You and James were the heart of this place, the rulers of its twisted halls.

Later that night.

The sound of skin connecting with moans and loud huffs of breath is lost in the air, leaving nothing but the feeling of your pleasure in its absence as James fucks himself into your cunt.

Each time his cock pressed into you, slick dribbled out of your chubby cunt, staining the once clean sheets. He failed to put a towel under you like he usually does, too desperate to get inside you to care about something as silly as dirtied bed sheets.

Your legs were spread wide on the bed, each ankle hanging over the side of the bed. You rested your head on the pillow underneath you, arms resting under the cool side of the fabric.

He has no mercy, almost ruthless in the way he fucks you. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you cum at this point, and what’s funny is he hasn’t even came once, leaving you in a puddle of pleasure that seems to never end even when you start crying.

James's back was arched harshly downwards, legs over yours, keeping them flush to the bed. His hips started to move faster, the once quiet sounds becoming loud and sloppy. Heavy balls slapped into your folds, making you moan out in needy pleasure.

A soft hand went down to your cunt, thumbing your lips apart to rub at your throbbing clit. His forefinger moved in quick, small circles, pressing against it hard.

"Oh, darling, yeah, just like that, clench your pussy just like that, clench that little cunt nice and tight around your masters cock." James groaned in your ear darkly, sucking a deep purple hickey into your hairline. "Always so fucking good for your master hm? Just Ravishing, aren't you, Dear?"

Your hips bucked hard into his hand, making his cock slip further inside of your sloppy pussy. "James-Ma-Master! B-Big, s-s-so so big! Fuck, fuck, it's so good James please!" Your cunt throbbed around him like it had its own heartbeat, slick sliding down from your hole onto the exposed part of James's cock. "Need-Need you to fuck me-!" Your voice broke off into a high-pitched whine when James started thrusting again, each thrust hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you.

James doesn't stop thrusting, even when you beg and moan to tell warn him that you're close. He wasn't going to stop until he had you shaking and crying out for mercy underneath him. His hands move from your shoulder blades to your waist, pulling them up to meet his hips. James started using you like a glorified fleshlight, hips meeting yours halfway every time he pushed back inside you harshly. Quiet grunts came from him, matching up with the slapping of his hips.

"Master, Master, Master, Master-! C-Can-Can't!"

"Aww, that's it, that's it, sweetheart. Cum all over your Master's cock. That's it, my good fucking girl." You clenched around him tightly, throbbing and pulsing as you gushed all over him. "That's it, there you go, cumming for your Master like a good little princess." James moaned in your ear, biting and tugging on it as you quivered. "What'ta slutty little girl, so needy for me."

The consistent clenching around his cock drove him to the edge, his face scrunching up when his orgasm finally hit him. Thick ropes of cum shot inside of you, forcing a sultry, drawn-out moan from your lips. He pushed his cock deep inside you, ensuring that all of his spunk stayed inside of you. "That's it, good girl, what'ta good girl. Keepin' all my cum nice'n warm for me." James pressed on your abdomen gently, smirking when a small amount of cum leaked out of your cunt.

"Aww, it's leaking out of you, Darling. Guess we're gonna have to go again to keep you filled."

[trust-goes-both-ways]

I rewrote Descendants: The Rise of Red. Tell me what you think

Songs are in bold, names are not correct

Open on Uma informing us she’ll be reaching out to other lands for their children

They still have the Carlos bit but now it'll pay off

Introduce us to Red in Wonderland being absolute chaos

RED song

Establish Maddox as the son of Mad Hatter and he’s the cool older brother/tutor. He shows her the timepiece but not as a gift more as a plan to understand history.

Also give Jack of Diamonds something else to do, PLEASE

They receive the invitation and the QoH surprises everyone by letting her go

When packing Red reveals she stole the time piece, the voice over about the dangers of changing the past plays but she still pockets it

Chloe’s character- still cute and naive with a belief that love is the most important thing because love and being a good person changed her mom’s life. Shethinks love conquers all and is very by the book because Cinderella always did as she was told and believes it was her good attitude and perseverance that helped

Love Aint It is the same but without the stupid assembled voices

Altered LOVE AINT IT

Queen still takes over, Red and Chloe still accidentally travel back in time

They still have a fight song but a better one

Better fight song

They still meet Merlin, still pretend to be transfer students. 

They go to class and meet Bridget and Ella. 

Bridget is so kind and sweet and accepting

Ella is still hard working but cautious towards all royals, because her stepsisters are friends with the royals

At Merlin Academy, there’s a tradition of playing pranks that leads into social acceptance

Prank is played on Aladdin (who transferred in the year before, pretending to be a Prince when he wasn’t but he and Jasmine fell in love anyway) symbolizing his acceptance into MA social scene

CRUELLA  is now the main villain kid. Dara Renee can still play her. 

Life is Sweeter song plays, goth kids are introduced, and establishes Cruella as the mean girl because she feels like she has a lot to prove since she doesn’t have powers or a thing, just a desire to rule the fashion world. 

LIFE IS SWEETER, mostly the same but with different characters and dancing

She adheres to a strict code of modern, sleek fashion and she hates Bridget for her Wonderland style and Ella for her shabby-chic look

Gets embarrassed (maybe her outfit is ruined) and vows revenge

Red and Chloes visit Ella and that part goes mostly the same

Chloe breaking the vase gets Ella grounded from Crowncoming

They still travel to the goth kids hangout and discover Cruella has enlisted Morgie and Maleficent to come up with a way to humiliate Bridget

VILLAIN SONG

They still go to Bridget's room

Shuffle of love bc why not

Red looks in the looking glass and still sees the dark princess future

Chloe doesn't see anything bc she's accidentally erased herself so now they have two missions

Red pockets the Looking glass so they can keep checking in on the future

The two still fight about what to do next, with Chloe insisting her parents would want her to be a rule-following person and Red telling her goodness without action is nothing

Chloes goes back to Ellas and they have essentially the same talk where Chloe realizes her goodness isn’t all-inclusive

GET YOUR HANDS DIRTY

They still have a break in, Red using her epic heisting skills

They confront the goth kids and stop them in much the same way 

After they steal the book, they still have to get Ella to Crowncoming

Red, Chloe, and Bridget convince Fay she needs to help them get Ella to Crowncoming, all 5 of them get gorgeous dresses

Ella and Charming still dance because he does something to prove he's a good guy

SO THIS IS LOVE REMIX

Crowncoming happens, all goes well then BOOM, Bridget still gets pranked/turned into monster as her ‘acceptance into the cool kids club’ prank but she’s too humiliated to care

Red goes after Bridget to convince her its okay. She tells her the anger she's feeling will fester and grow and she’ll become something she hates

Chloe has to go get Ella to go help her friend. She realizes her parents will have to earn their love like everyone else bc true love doesn't just come easy, and if it’s meant to be one dance shouldnt change anything

Red forces Bridget to look in the looking glass, showing her both of their futures. Bridget is confused and horrified

The four of them end up using the watch to go back to the (unchanged) future

Bridget has to confront the QoH and reminds her why she used to be kind and that it didn't make them popular but it got them Ella

Ella confronts Cinderella about how could you let your friend go even for love

Uma talks about her friend Carlos, and how he believed it was never too late to change, and even though his mom spent her life pursuing fame and style above everything, he still believed with patience and understanding she could be good. After he died Cruella realized no amount of fame mattered as much as him and asked Uma to expand the VK program in his honor

Red and QoH make up AS THEMSELVES. QoH tells Red she loves her and everything she’s done has been out of fear of her being hurt like she was.

Sends Ella and Bridget back and we have a BIG transformation

End with a real song and dance number about new beginnings

A REAL SHOWSTOPPING END SONG

[lavenderprose]

"Would you love me if I was a crab?"

The responses are immediate and exactly what Ed should have expected: Stede's eyes go big, he offers a wide smile and his voice goes high and indulging as he says, "Of course! I would make a special little tank for you--"

Izzy, on his other side, rolls his eyes and says nothing at all.

There are a few crabs scuttling along this stretch of beach, washed ashore by a storm last night. They're still trying to get their bearings and make their way back to sea, presumably. Ed has counted four of them as they walk. He doesn't know if they're the kind of crabs you eat. He doesn't know if there's such a thing as crabs you can't eat.

Stede is still talking.

"Of course, we would have to make sure that the water is of the right salinity, and it might be hard to communicate, but perhaps we could invent some form of semaphore involving pincers--" Here he forms his hands into two approximations of claws and snaps his thumbs against his fingers repeatedly. "Snap snap. Something like that."

"No way to live," Izzy says then, and when Ed looks at him it seems like even he's surprised he spoke. He looks uneasy with it, like the thought had escaped rather than being released. He's been walking somewhat separate, his pace matching that of Ed and Stede but several feet further up the beach where the sand isn't so damp. Stede has had his arm looped through Ed's and they've been walking in lockstep, murmuring to each other about the lovely bright morning sun and the crisp smell of the ocean, and about Stede's newly-bought swim-cover he's wearing and about lunch. Come to think, this is the first time Ed has heard Izzy speak all morning.

"What's that, dear?" Stede asks, still distracted by his own hands. He mutters something to himself that sounds like And this could mean I'm hungry as he pokes his pinched hands towards his stomach.

"In a tank," says Izzy. His arms are folded against his body, he's turned towards Ed and Stede and the calm surf washing up the beach. The sun hits his eyes and makes them look brighter, green like seaglass. "If you were a...crab."

"Say I wanted to live in a tank?" Ed mutters, feeling weirdly defensive. "If Stede wanted to put me in a tank and keep me safe--"

"No way to live," Izzy says, shrugging. "Might be nice for a little while, but you'd get bored in a tank. You'd start trying to escape, try to wedge your pincers through the lid of--" He moves his hands for a moment, almost as though to pantomime like Stede, then scowls at himself at stops. Shrugs again. "We couldn't keep you."

"Would we know it was you?" Stede asks then, like this is crucial information. Ed doesn't know why the conversation has taken this turn, even though he was the one to ask, but he feels like his heart might break a little if they can't come to a consensus about what to do with Crab-Ed.

"Yeah," says Ed, "You'd know it was me because it would be like...a sea-witch curse or something."

"Oh! Well then we would just find a way to break the curse." Stede nods, smiling sagely and confident in his wisdom.

"You can't," Ed says, hurriedly and suddenly nervous. "It's permanent. Can't break it, I'm gonna be a crab forever."

"Would you still think like you?" Stede asks. Izzy, utterly quiet, stares towards the horizon like if he glares hard enough, the sun will descend from the sky and end the conversation.

"Yeah, yeah. Ed Teach brain, tiny crab body."

"Well that complicates it--"

"Why are we talking about this again?" Izzy mutters, still squinting towards the sun like it's personally insulted him. "If Edward were a crab, he'd have to do crab things. We'd do human things. End of."

Stede frowns. "Well the question wasn't about what we would do with our Ed-crab. It was would we love him."

Izzy snorts, and Ed feels a strange spike of dread right up until Izzy mutters, "Of course," in a way that says he thinks the answer is very obvious, and the question very redundant. When he realizes that Ed and Stede are both staring at him, he shifts his stance and cards a hand through his hair. Slowly, with obvious difficulty, he says, "I couldn't keep him in a tank. Wouldn't be fair. Of all people, I should know that." His eyes flick to Ed for a snap moment. Ed doesn't know what his face does, but whatever it is it's enough to relax the line between Izzy's eyebrows. "He'd have to go. But I'd remember him. I'd hope he was...happy. Doing crab things. I'd love him."

From somewhere next to Ed, the inelegant sound of Stede's sniffles breaks the moment they might have been about to have.

"That's such a sweet sentiment, Izzy," Stede says, wiping under an eye. "I was going to say that we could ask the sea-witch to turn us into crabs as well. That way we could all do crab things together."

"There's an idea," Ed says enthusiastically. "We could make a crab house and eat crab food and have crab se--"

"I'm not turning into a crab," Izzy says, and turns back to face the direction they'd come. "Are we done with this? I'm fucking starving."

He marches off, leaving Stede and Ed to walk in his now-determined wake. Obviously trying to escape the sentimentality of his own words. Ed exchanges a knowing, saccharine expression with Stede as they follow.

"Izzy?" Stede calls up to him, paces ahead and legs pumping. Izzy barks out a vague response. "Would you love me if I was a crab?"

Izzy stops and turns completely around. There is a smirk on his face and hidden laughter in his eyes.

"If you were a crab," Izzy says, "I would have a crab fucking boil, Stede Bonnet."

[schoenpepper]

Chivalry Should Die!

Intro: Or, how to kill chivalry in five steps, featuring Idia Shroud!

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread I got lazyyyy, mentions of hentai lmao, reader is not yuu, idia highkey being a loser

A/N: This is a request from an anon. Not sure if this is actually what they wanted, but if you're reading this I hope you like it. Kinda short idk I was really busy with that Jade songfic.

Masterlist

Opening the door

As the heir of a kingdom, you've long since been trained to be respectful, etiquette and decorum seared into your flesh and carved into your bones. Perhaps with such an upbringing, Royal Sword Academy would have been for you.

But the invitation is black.

Your first day in Night Raven College is nothing too interesting. You're sorted into Ignihyde (ha!), your housewarden is a floating tablet, and some magicless folk with a rabid cat crashed orientation, starting off the year with a literal bang! You're unphased, a polite smile on your lips as you gather your things and your wits and line up to head to the dorm. You go through the mirror and up the stone stairs that led to the building in its weird mishmash of ancient architecture and blue triangles and holograms.

You, being the very kind person you are, open the door for the tablet.

It stops in mid-air.

"What...? Did you just open the door for a tablet? Lolz! Wtf you're such a weird freshie lmao. Imagine being that person, idk couldn't be me ig."

You keep on smiling.

(But the urge to punt the tablet all the way back to the hall of mirrors is strong.)

Carrying items

"Oh, let me help you, senpai."

"Huh? No, I'm okay..."

You glance at the large box, clearly heavy and stuffed to the brim by whatever was inside it and your senior slash housewarden who was doing his best to lug it up the stairs as he panted. "Are you sure? You look like you're having trouble." You watch him carry it to the second step.

"Totally fine, yep, nothing weird here, nope, nuh uh, I don't need help."

Idia avoids your eyes. The tips of his hair are turning a faint pink, and the fact that Ortho wasn't the one doing the heavy lifting was really the very first giveaway that something was wrong.

You narrow your eyes and step back.

"If you say so, Idia senpai. But why don't you just use—" he accidentally drops the box back onto the ground, watching, horrified, as its contents spilled out, "—magic to...carry it..."

"No, Y/N, don't look!"

You pick up a thick book from the pile on the ground to help him gather it all. Manga, was it? Upon accidentally reading the title, you give him the most disgusted look you could ever muster.

Idia screams until Ortho comes by to help him put his hentai manga back into the box.

Always be on time

You and Idia had agreed; 4 p.m. Not too early, not too late to work on that essay you needed to pass by tomorrow. He's a good friend and upperclassman if nothing else, so he offered to help you with the topic, which was included in his wide range of expertise. The catch is that you had to do it in his room.

You knock on the door at exactly 4.

No answer.

You take out your phone and send him a quick message. When he doesn't immediately answer, you call Ortho instead.

"Hello, Y/N!"

"Hey Ortho, do you know where Idia is? He promised to help me with an essay and he's not in his room."

"Older brother and I are in the Shaftlands!"

You smile (instead of cracking your phone into pieces). "Really? And when did you leave?"

"We left this morning because there's a comic convention that brother wanted to go to."

"I see. Thank you, Ortho."

Help getting down from a carriage

You hop down the carriage and hold out a hand to Idia. He looks at your hand weirdly, hair pink as he murmurs something you couldn't quite understand (you just know it's something annoying though). He gingerly puts his hand on yours and carefully descends from the carriage.

And by carefully, you mean, of course, that he lets go of your hand halfway and trips on the stairs before faceplanting into the dirt.

You sigh and carry him in your arms.

"Eek! Is this a limited edition SSR CG?!"

"What?"

"I mean, where are you taking me?"

You look at him dead in the eye and press on his left ankle.

"Ouch! Oh...okay..."

Paying for a date

First date! You don't know how, but you managed to convince Idia to eat out in a fancy restaurant with you (if only because you know that he will never agree to anything like this ever again). The food is nice and the ambience is tolerable even though the two of you are in a public space (you chose a private room but to Idia it's still a public space apparently). At the end of the night, the waiter puts the bill on the table and leaves.

"I'll take the—" When your hand reaches for the check, Idia grasps onto your wrist.

"No."

"No?"

He shakes his head.

"I'll pay for it because...you asked me out so...it's only fair..."

"No, it's unbecoming of a royal to not even pay for their partner's food."

He is weirdly competitive about this.

Anyway, at the end of the night, the check accidentally rips in half (the waiter wonders why) and you successfully pay for the full meal.