#magically had a skin details glow up!!!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus Draconia: Made Up

… Why does Malleus continue to have some of the most “hey are u lost bbg” facial expressions + poses ever on his initial birthday card artworks… 💀

He really looks like his mom when his hair is all pinned back like in his alt and Groovy look. xbjsbsjww The makeup products he’s using… They look like Giorgio Armani 💰

Rise and Shine!

Humans were blessed with two hands with which to do all of their work. Malleus Draconia had no need for either of his.

Lipstick, liquid eyeshadow, and finishing powder lifted into the air, glowing an eerie green. They uncapped and began applying themselves, gliding easily across his lips, painting his lids, and patting down his pale skin. Already, a cloth was busy polishing his horns, and a brush ran through his hair. A mirror, magically suspended before him, displayed his regal visage--a work of art slowly coming into its peak form.

You had heard Scarabia's vice dorm leader mention that he used magic to do his hair--a complex, precise process--but had never in your life witnessed a show like this. You clapped for Malleus, as if a spectator that had just seen a most wonderous trick.

He cut you a curious look. "May I ask why the applause, child of man?"

"It's just so cool seeing you use your magic," you replied truthfully. "There's so many things happening at once, it's hard to know where to keep my eyes. You're really amazing!"

There was a sound akin to a stifled chortle. These, you had grown accustomed to.

"You never cease to surprise. This is but a modicum of what I am capable of." He almost seemed to pout as he said it, as if itching to demonstrate the full extent of his powers. Wanting praise for something more.

"Oh, trust me. I know you are--but it's nice to see the Malleus Draconia using his magic to do normal, everyday stuff too." You grinned, ducking behind him to peek into his mirror. Your gazes met in the sparkling glass. "I wish everyone could see this."

"It is hardly a matter of importance to share the details of my morning routine with the masses. Besides, Grandmother would no doubt grant me a thorough scolding for allowing myself to be seen in such an improper state.”

He yawned, and a hand moved to cover his mouth, where you caught a glimpse of pointed canines. A rare moment of cuteness, of vulnerability. A side of himself kept private. Such a mundane thing--it reminded you that he, too, was but a student, preparing to tackle another day.

"Maybe not, but then again… maybe they'd see what I see too."

You quirked a brow. "And what is it that you see?"

"That you're not as scary as whatever scary made-up version of yourself they have in their heads. It's not all doom and gloom, wrath and lightning. You're someone that laughs and cries too."

"... Do they have that impression of me?" Malleus brought a hand to his chin. "Odd. When I last conversed with a peer of mine, they were so elated to be in my presence that they fainted on the spot. Lilia commended me for making such a strong impression on them."

"Erm... Lilia might not be the best judge for that." You poked at the corners of your mouth. "You have a nice smile, so how about showing it more? That might draw people to you."

"Hmmm. Like this, perhaps?"

He attempted to imitate you. The result was an awkward facsimile of your smile. Not quite the same curve, and with the tips of his fangs poking out. His eyes, still ominous.

Clumsy, but a little dangerous.

Your heart sprouted wings and fluttered. “It’s a good start! You’ll get the hang of it with more practice.”

Malleus sighed, and at once, the items that had been hovering around him collapsed along with his breath. “This is a conundrum. As a public figure and representative of my country, it’s imperative that I maintain my reputation.”

The fluttering in your chest settled like a stone sinking into the bottom of a lake. A sudden weight, a sadness, sitting in your stomach. He cut a gallant figure--but without the fairy lights and fire, he was but a pitiful creature trapped within stone walls.

Lonely and misunderstood.

Without a word, you slipped a hand into his. Malleus felt cold to the touch, like some long-forgotten relic dug up from some ruins.

His eyes shot wide open with alarm. "What are you..."

"Let's walk to class like this," you suggested softly. "I know you wouldn't harm me. If everyone else can see that... they'd understand, right?"

Shock flooded Malleus's face. Then, like a flash of lightning and a fleeting bellow of thunder, it was over, replaced by the faintest chuckle.

"... Very well." He squeezed your hand, the motion sending sparks of electricity through you. "I would not be opposed to this. If they are to weave tall tales, then all we must do is flip the script and write a story of our own to combat theirs."

[malleleothreesome]

Azul Ashengrotto x afab Reader - Aphrodisiac + Breeding

💜 summary: After an alchemy accident, you and Azul end up covered in an aphrodisiac potion ༶༶༶ 💜 warnings: afab reader, smut, LOTS OF BREEDING KINK, pregnancy mention, porn with plot??? ༶༶༶ 💜 word count: 8.4k words I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED ༶༶༶ 💜 song: Vapor - 5 Seconds of Summer "I wanna feel you in my veins I want to breathe you in like a vapor I want to be the one you remember I want to feel your love like the weather, all over me" ༶༶༶ 💜 inspired by: this ask thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

As a magicless human, Alchemy had always been your favorite class at Night Raven College. Despite lacking an innate aptitude for spell-casting, mixing and crafting potions was an artform that didn't require magic in order to bring spectacular effects into the world. Alchemy classes provided a refuge—a safe space with no barrier for entry where you could excel instead of feeling singled out for being an oddity in a sea of talented mages. You relished in the opportunity to learn about new components and elements, excitedly observing as volatile chemicals bubbled in heated pots to produce glowing, glittery pastes.

Much to your suspicion, Azul had always been particularly enthused to help you with potions, boasting how he was the most adept in the class due to his academic proficiencies, and that he was certain you'd find success with his aid. He took special interest in mentoring you, watching your delicate, nimble movements as you worked, walking you through procedures and detailed steps, and speaking knowledgeably about the ingredients in a tone that oozed expertise. His tutelage had helped you reach impressive grades on even the most challenging assignments. It wasn’t long before you found yourself spellbound by his charming intellect, deceivingly sweet demeanor, and the addictively intense gaze of his unique blue eyes.

There was always a subtle mischief hidden behind the smiling eyes and the easy charisma that suggested an ulterior motive lurking beneath his silver-tongue. Based on your observations of his interactions with other students, you assumed this was a ploy in hopes that if you had taste of the sweet, intoxicating elixir of power and success, you'd become desperate for more of his help, consequentially making you subservient and open to the idea of contracting yourself to him. In defiance of your paranoia that his motivations are not entirely altruistic, you did always feel an odd prickle in the air when he stood right behind you to monitor your actions. That sensation, a fiery buzz that hummed in your lower abdomen, always gave your heart flutters and kept you on edge as Azul's calm breaths ghosted against your hair and sent ripples of warm pleasure tingling through you. Your breath hitched in your throat as his large, gloved palms gently guided you through your motions, brushing over the bare skin on your knuckles or arms, leaving electric jolts where you felt his warmth. He smelled crisp like ocean breeze, an inviting fragrance that enveloped your mind and wrenched you out of reality and into his heady fantasy—a scene in which all you can taste are the thick, sweet notes of his dark intentions, and all you could do was choke on his cloying, dominating allure. He didn't ask permission to touch you or indicate an appropriate method to teach—no, his hands simply snaked around your waist and ran along your curves, slowly learning the feeling of your soft flesh through his gloves. Each time, you couldn't help but sink a little closer to his chest, instinctively chasing the seductive ambience radiating off of him, drowning in his captivating presence as though he was the tide pulling you under. There was no denying it—you wanted more of him.

Today's lab was no different, the air was tense and thick with charged attraction, filled with sexual tension so palpable it could be cut with a knife. The assignment was to experimentally combine various liquids, mixing and adjusting for better consistency, until you found a formula to concoct a viable, bountiful healing potion that would greatly ease the effects of injury. This assignment was a notoriously difficult, energy-draining procedure that required extreme vigilance to avoid an adverse chemical reaction that would result in a completely different type of potion, although Crewel didn’t elaborate on the exact details. After carefully pouring two compounds—one a milky white, and the other a vivid magenta—into a tall, cylindrical flask, Azul cautiously peered over your shoulder to check your concoction's progress as you stirred them. With one arm outstretched against the table to secure a good vantage point, he rested his other on your waist and leaned in closer as he studied the bubbling pink mixture. After adding an infusion of ground powder, a burst of sparkles clouded the interior of the flask, a telltale sign you were on the right track. This is the portion of the experiment where you needed to take extra caution to mix the elements together in perfect precision without faltering or taking your eyes away from your project, a delicate operation requiring the utmost concentration. Suddenly, Grim barges in and jumps on the lab station in excitement, yapping about how he wants to help, despite you and Azul explaining multiple times he has a proven history of destroying your projects.

The moment the little cat-monster attempts to extend his claws into your precious potion, Azul reacts automatically with surprising speed, his hands fly in a frenzy to scoop Grim away from your chemistry equipment. "Get off that this instant, Grim! You have no business here! Get your little paws out of that glassware this instant before you ruin another assignment! Do not interrupt us! Get away from there immediately!" Azul scolds him repeatedly while chasing him around the room, attempting to steer him to the door. "Why you foolish beast! You're far more of a liability than an asset! This experiment requires extreme care and concentration to avoid failure—a common result of your erratic, clumsy behavior!" His expression hardens with anger, eyebrows drawing into a line as Grim hisses defiantly. The little monster still hasn't relented, his hind legs clumsily scrabbling and slipping in Azul's grip as he tries desperately to cling onto the edge of the lab table, hoping for a quick paw-hold. A heavy, frustrated sigh escapes Azul's nostrils, his face morphing into one of desperation, pleading with the troublesome cat-creature to just leave you to focus your project in peace.

"How very annoying... To think he would willingly place himself in danger without even stopping to consider the consequences... what a foolish and irresponsible creature," he exhales irritably, struggling to wrestle Grim from his precarious position as his composure begins to slip, agitation creeping through his voice and shattering his typical polished and suave illusion of unflappable equanimity. He continues to scold Grim as he chases him around your station, gritting his teeth and losing his cool as the monster's cries of distress and denial ring through the entire room. Grim is an unrelenting little bastard who won't quit squirming. There isn't the slightest semblance of remorse or pity on his stupid, feline face, and Azul feels his resolve crack as he becomes utterly fed up with this spoiled brat's behavior. Grim continues to kick and howl his way through Azul's grip, determined to aid with your Alchemy project, but his clumsy movements start causing your potion to bubble and ripple in an unsettling manner. You shriek his name, begging him to just settle the hell down and be a team player.

It happens in a matter of seconds—a fizzling sound grabs your attention. You turn back around quickly and notice your reaction beginning to froth violently. Your eyes widen in horror and your mouth drops in disbelief. Azul notices your fear-wide eyes and immediately stops his futile efforts to reprimand Grim. In an instant, his gaze reflects the alarm in yours and the blood drains from his already pale cheeks. Grim runs out in a screaming huff as he exits in a frenzied flurry, knowing when to take a hint and make a clean getaway. At this point, the compound is pouring heavily from the top of the flask, spewing out onto the heating device and coating the table below. The chemical reaction is completely beyond your control now, its speed increasing exponentially, bubbling and exploding, kicking out thick, unmanageable clouds of murky pink and purple fumes. Within seconds, it covers the lab tables in an almost misty haze as you choke and sputter in a coughing fit, Azul gasping and choking right alongside you, panic flashing across his face. An eerie glow seeps through the thick liquid as a swirling mist appears from inside the glass. Without warning, it erupts directly toward the two of you before either of you have time to take cover—shattering the flask and showering the fronts of your faces and bodies in its noxious, intoxicating fluids. Both you and Azul choke out muffled yells and groans, the sticky, glittering mixture clinging to the fabric of your clothes and the exposed skin on your faces.

The next thing either of you register is Crewel's obnoxious bark as he spits out sharp commands to open the windows and clear out all the air from the room. Coughing, you gasp for fresh oxygen, suddenly becoming very aware of how fast your heart is racing. It thumps so hard and so forcefully inside of your ribcage that the noise reverberates loudly in your ears, overwhelming your senses. However, no amount of labored inhaling can free you from the toxic, vaporous gas; every molecule in your lungs has already been bombarded and completely overcome by the potion’s effects. As its intoxication takes hold of you, a wicked fever seems to roar within you, followed by a horribly slow heat that makes your limbs ache. Every orifice of your body is saturated by the miasma—liquid slips between your lips, gushing down the front of your body to coat your exposed neck and chest. You taste the surprisingly sweet potion on the inside of your mouth; its taste lingers sweet and tacky on the flat of your tongue, coating your throat. You'd panic that you just consumed some horrific cocktail with traces of corrosion or stomach-rotting acid, if it weren't for the fact that Crewel seems more frustrated than concerned for your well-being. Rather than damaging you, whatever substance was expelled seems to be having quite the opposite effect; you feel your body becoming more energetic, your head becoming lighter, and a bubbling rush of warmth seems to radiate all over from the inside out, changing your physiology into a fertile garden in need of sowing. Adrenaline rushes through you and awakens your basal instincts, forcing you to acknowledge every excruciating detail of your body in an erotic manner. Arousal slithers through your veins like venom, poisoning all remaining thoughts and rationality, as a throbbing, almost blinding wave of pleasure overtakes your body. You become intensely, achingly aware of your physical needs, and all those needs center upon an impassioned desire to be filled, stretched, and seeded full—the frantic urge to be bred nearly splits you in half and makes your lower belly cramp in a hot flash of want. For a second, you hear Azul stutter something to you, his voice wavering on the verge of cracking with the desire that the aphrodisiac had triggered. You lock eyes with Azul, pupils blown wide as lust makes his oceanic gaze shimmer. The front of his slacks have grown embarrassingly tight with the straining girth of his aroused cock. You meet his clouded eyes, almost embarrassed by your wanton thoughts and the desperate throbbing between your thighs.

It is only a split second of recognition, a blurry, sweaty haze of unfathomable passion, before your shared moment is interrupted. Crewel shouts at you to look him in the eyes, snapping you out of your sexual frenzy, even if only for a split second. He stares at you, his gray-streaked hair framing the contoured features of his face as he cocks an eyebrow. The elder gives your flushed skin and trembling body a once-over.

"Just as I thought. It's a dopamine-based aphrodisiac. At least nothing fatal or life threatening, but enough to send you both into a delirious, euphoric-fueled rut," he assesses calmly, unfazed. "What's more, the way the explosion altered the structure of the compound has made its properties even more potent and uncontrollable. In terms you incompetent pups will understand, we're past the stage of antidote or reprieve, and you both have mere moments before the hormones will reach maximum capacity and you two will need to find some private location to release the effects..." He trails off. From his expression, you can tell there is more he would like to add to the situation, yet a worrisome crinkle furrows his brow as his eyes remain on Azul, as though assessing whether the situation is really as under control as he wishes. "Both of you bad dogs listen carefully. Do not even dare to even breathe a word of what transpired here—you are to wait in isolation for five to eight hours until its effects wear off. Under no circumstances should you share physical contact with anyone else for the remainder of the day." He holds Azul's gaze longer than necessary, silently threatening him not to take advantage of this situation—but Azul seems far too caught up in the spell and too infatuated by the burning image of you, sweating, panting, and splayed before him.

"Should anyone at all realize that the two of you have taken any sort of love potion or been afflicted in this manner, it could create a massive scandal, and I'll punish you both so mercilessly for causing such an indiscretion, you'll be licking my boots in front of the entire school!" his deep voice booms in threat. "Have I made myself understood, dear pets?" Crewel snaps, the sting of his whip making both you and Azul wince and nod profusely. He leads you and Azul to the decontamination area of the lab, ushering you two into separate stalls so you can change into fresh, dry garments and wipe off the evidence of the explosion from the potion. When you both emerge, it takes Crewel less than a second to glance from the massive bulge straining against Azul's clothing, to where your heaving, quivering chest is spilling over the low neckline, your nipples hard and pressing obscenely through the thin fabric. He glares down his nose at the two of you in distaste.

"Five to eight hours," he hisses, eyes narrowing, almost sizing you and Azul up like he's waiting for one of you to give in to the pressure of the aphrodisiac. He throws open a back door, gesturing for you and Azul to disappear. Azul leaves first, a flushed, jumbled mess of conflicting emotions that are only intensified as he can feel every agonizing beat of his aroused heart pulse in the heat of his hard dick. You follow closely behind, but before you can cross the doorway, Crewel shoots his hand out to grip you by the upper arm, turning you to him as he towers over you, giving you an intense glare before sighing and pulling a small vial of bluish, iridescent potion from his bag and thrusting it into your hands.

"Since I know you won't be able to resist such a delectable temptation from that damn fishy bastard," his words drip with annoyance as he continues, "at least be safe, Pup. Go have a nice screw if that's what you really desire. The serum I just gave you is a contraceptive—just one sip and you will have full reproductive control, in case Azul isn't a decent man about his desires." You blink up at him in utter bewilderment. "Under no circumstances will I allow my star pupils to fall prey to the temptations and consequences of unprotected intimacy in the midst of this reckless hormone rush... I can't allow something like this to affect you or your ambitions. My students can only go to greater places." You feel his eyes burning with concern as he brushes your cheek, sending you a warning in his eyes and urging you to please think it through and consider it. "You are interested in Azul, are you not? I won't allow you to get involved in anything you don't consent to. If you don't feel safe, I can escort you straight to Ramshackle dorm and I will handle Ashengrotto myself." His stare, once cold and imposing, is now warm with protective care, as he looks you up and down with a gentle softness you didn't expect from your professor. The paternalistic expression on his face strikes your soul and pulls on your heartstrings a bit. After all, it's the type of support you feared was lost to you once you found yourself trapped in Twisted Wonderland with no hope of ever seeing your family again. With all the gentleness of a father, he squeezes your shoulder and gazes deeply into your eyes. You assure him that it's okay, you trust Azul. Nodding, your professor finally allows you passage out the door.

You had barely made it beyond the courtyard doors before Azul approached you with a sickly sweet, almost giddy look on his face. His steel-blue irises burned bright with anticipation, accompanied by a hint of something dark and salacious flickering in the shadows. The corners of his lips pulled taut, curling upward in a devious smile. A tremulous shudder passed through you and prickled up your spine at the thought of those hypnotizing eyes studying you while you lay enraptured beneath him, completely at his mercy. As he takes a few tentative steps toward you, his right hand glides and rests softly on your hip, making you gasp with surprise, your heartbeat fluttering and pounding deafeningly in your ears. Azul leans close to your ear, his breath coming out in hot, rapid pants, a carnal excitement that threatens to spill over and devour you whole. You swallow in nervous expectation, hardly daring to look into his lustful gaze. With his elegant index finger, he lifts your chin up and you are left gasping and flushed beneath him, lips parted to beg him for more as his gentle caress lingers. He flashes a devilishly handsome smile before tracing your lower lip with a seductive slowness. "Please, allow me to escort you back to Octavinelle where I can properly tend to you and your condition," the breathiness of his voice and his lack of composure cause your clit to throb, your inner walls pulsating, pleading to be stretched and ravaged. His lecherous advances and insinuations combined with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins is making you so aroused, even standing close to him is threatening to make you cum. The very fabric of his essence seems to burn a shade darker—there is a terrifying intensity to his ardent desire for you, yet also a rawness and exposure you hadn't seen on his usually suave and polished facade.

Your whole body flushes when your gaze lands upon the size of his aching erection, an impressive tent straining tightly against his immaculate slacks, begging for attention through the dark material of his trousers. There is a manic, primal gleam that's spreading rapidly across his entire visage; he looks rabid with uncontainable greed, and you shudder at the thought that Azul will use your body to satisfy his own dark and twisted curiosities. "Please... It's the least I could do. After all, our most unfortunate situation is all due to my own recklessness," Azul pleads. His tone of voice is unwaveringly convincing in its sweet charm, yet you cannot escape the licentious twinkle that betrays his intentions, eyes ablaze with passion and lips quivering at the thought of making you his forever.

"Please... Just let me serve you and tend to your every whim," he begs. Even though the tone of his voice suggests innocence, you're reminded once more that Azul Ashengrotto believes the true intent in a plea is only to benefit his own ambitions—how ironic, then, that you find yourself overwhelmed with the desire to listen to the velvety cadence of his whispered sweet-nothings until you orgasm multiple times around the girth of his hard dick. Before you can speak, he reaches out and threads his fingers between your own. It was impossible to say no to the lilting honey of his tone, nor was there any will to fight as his firm and commanding hands ushered you towards the teleportation door. He practically pulls you into the mirror with him, and with a twinkly, delighted laugh, his covetous hand grasps you harder than ever as the portal draws closer, his eyes and touch almost reverential—eager, desperate, craving. The surface of the mirror swallows both of you up as the shadows distort the edges of your vision. The whole world spins around you both before the smell of the sea overwhelms your senses—the crispness of ocean air fills your lungs, and a feeling of cool relief washes over your flushed skin. In seconds, Azul is shoving you into an elevator and hitting the button to his suite. When the metal doors slide open, he gently shuffles you forward as he urges your body closer and closer toward his bedroom.

After his dorm door slams shut, your bodies mindlessly work to free the other's of their pesky and offending clothing, eager and restless fingers tearing and ripping at each article as though your lives depended on it. As each piece of clothing is discarded on the floor, new heated skin presses desperately into another as your erotic moans reverberate through the air. It feels electric, the way your sensitive, exposed bodies seek each other out, pawing and grasping at any available flesh and kissing any naked skin you can reach. Your hot, yearning mouth hungrily seeks Azul's for an urgent, feverish kiss—it is sloppy, desperate, almost savage as you share the intensity of your lusty feelings, gasping into each other's mouths, sucking, nibbling, tasting the sweet and sticky aphrodisiac concoction still lingering on both of your tongues. When Azul finally sheds his trousers, his painfully erect member juts out, throbbing and eager, bouncing happily and proudly as it quivers with eagerness. His knees weaken at the sudden release of the tension he'd suffered since the accident, the air a bit brisk against the heat of his erection, which begs to nestle itself securely into an inviting heat and fill your womb with the lusty seed it desires to spurt forth. His cock is ruddy and reddened, and his sack hangs swollen and tight with pent-up pressure. He doesn't think it possible for it to throb and swell even larger, yet its angry head and veins grow dark and twitch from his hot blood pumping. His hand mindlessly falls to his cock, and at the first stroke to his aching member, a needy whine catches in his throat. There is no time for shyness or apprehension. Whatever spell you were both under was driving you forward—like two planets caught in the gravity of an irresistible force, each gravitationally pulled toward the other with no means to stop. The rational part of his brain has been overwhelmed by an urgent instinct. Azul knows without a shadow of doubt that the only cure for this overwhelming haze of sexual depravity is to thrust himself deep inside the hot, velvety cunt of his precious lab partner.

Next thing you knew, you were pushed roughly, falling backwards before connecting against the smooth, luxurious blankets covering his mattress. He follows eagerly, letting his entire weight drop against your form and trapping your supple body beneath his. It was then, right then, when Azul found that the feeling of his aroused cock pressing against your thigh was unbelievably divine—a warm and pleasant tingling sensation spreading all over his hot, hard shaft and emanating out from his loins. With a contented hum, Azul can't resist the urge to buck his hips against your warm skin, stroking his arousal a little further, groaning at the exquisite friction. What a delicious sight you are—all nude and aroused—splayed and exposed across his bed. The effects of the potion have left you looking thoroughly wrecked, legs open, dripping and hot with an aroma so alluring, it nearly knocks the air out of his lungs. You are positively lovely, just as he'd always dreamed, with your petals unfurled and beckoning, enticing him further and drawing him in as your soft moans coaxed his cock in closer. To see you writhing and panting, the flush of your skin as you burned with longing for him...it was exactly as he'd always wanted it, almost as though someone had crafted the perfect image just to fulfill his darkest wishes. A surge of erotic fantasy comes upon him, and Azul's breath hitches in his throat as he ponders, briefly, about your womb filled with his seed, his beautiful angelfish round with child. He wants nothing more than to unceremoniously bury himself as deep within as he can, to push his thick, pulsating shaft as far as you could manage and stay buried to the hilt for days. His body quivers with excitement as a particularly vulgar dream reenters his mind. He had longed, always, to possess a most lascivious power over you—the power to make you writhe and squirm in bliss, and more importantly, in total and unbreakable dependence and submission for him—the neediest, sluttiest mess imaginable. Perhaps he'd have to thank Grim later for consequentially bringing about this fortunate chain of events.

Azul begins stroking himself fully, unabashed in his view of the sight before him. You don't protest the show. In fact, a high pitched, whimpery moan escapes you as you bite into your thumb to stifle the volume, but the sound is not missed, the harsh pang in his cock proof enough. After some thought, he realizes that he much preferred when you had been writhing and moaning quite uninhibitedly a moment earlier. You shift uncomfortably underneath his heated gaze as his eyes drink in every little curve, every little wrinkle and fold of your dripping pussy. Your toes curl inward and the ache deep within you demands attention. "You're so perfect, my little angelfish. Your body is exactly as I imagined," his saccharine voice admits as he leans forward, letting his fingers dance across the swell of your breasts. His left hand cradles your jaw and throat as his right continues its delicate massage across the plush pillow of your breasts, toying with the perked nubs of your nipples as his thumbs swirl small circles against the delicate flesh.

Azul's gentle touch ignites flames under his fingertips that follow his descent down to the juncture of your legs. The first brush against your swollen bundle of nerves and slit has your spine arching upwards, making his cock throb even more painfully, stiffening under the visual of your trembling body. A whine escapes and your hips grind involuntarily, the heat building intensely as his fingers begin to experimentally spread your folds slowly, running the tip of a finger from your core to the hood of your pearl. Without warning, Azul swipes upwards, expertly pulling back the hood and exposing the raw, sensitive flesh of nerves underneath, pinching down on the fleshy bud and causing you to yelp loudly in shock. With a satisfied grin, his forefinger begins to toy and tweak the hardened bud, rubbing gentle, rhythmic patterns over and over against the bundle as a chorus of delightful, high-pitched squeals fill his dormitory. After a few more ministrations, his hands continue down, delving his fingers straight into the moistened and heated opening, swiping up the slick mess you had coated his palm in. Two long fingers deftly slip right between your folds, caressing their way around your labia, your wet walls clenching around his fingertips desperately. "This wetness, for me?" Azul chuckles wickedly, crooking his fingers upward and brushing your g-spot with a knowing curl of his fingers, sending you spasming, gasping, and writhing in ecstasy, eyelashes fluttering wildly. "Oh, my dearest—so precious, my angelfish. That's it, so beautiful, just for me..." His voice drips with lecherous intent, his body moving without even the slightest hint of hesitation as though you were merely an extension of his own and not even a separate entity. Your wetness coats his fingers easily as Azul keeps sliding his fingers into your wet heat until the pads of his fingers touch all your deepest, hidden places, causing more sweet moans to fall from your lips and echo through his room. He scissors and curls his digits inside, stroking you slowly as though wanting to feel every bump, crease, and ridge along your walls, claiming his ownership over your deepest parts with a sinister delight.

A pressure builds and teeters precariously right at the precipice—the curling of his digits work feverishly to milk every drop of pleasure he can from your shuddering body, the warm flood of wetness drenching his eager fingers and making his head fall back with a sensuous moan. He continues with his relentless assault against your pussy, whispering filthy compliments about how badly he wanted to fuck you and how sexy it is when you take his fingers so well. Your legs flutter open wider, inviting his slim and nimble digits deeper within you, fucking them vigorously as your release begins to pool, rising closer to the boiling point. The aphrodisiac grips its poisonous talons deeper into your mind, warping and bending everything into an unshakable desire to submit yourself and your pleasure to the hands of the devious sea creature above you. He leans down, his silvery eyes roving over your face in an intense appraisal, his features drawn in with concentration, mapping out how to unravel you—there wasn't an emotion or micro expression that slipped past his vision as he carefully considered all the factors of how best to please and overwhelm your body with incomparable rapture. There isn't anything else beyond the present—no outside forces, nor worries about the consequences of being intimate. There's simply no room in your mind to think at this point, the cloudiness of the effects rendering your body vulnerable—you give yourself up entirely. He drinks up every breath, every shake and shiver, as he continues calculating your climax, relishing in each tiny noise or action he drew from you, meticulous with the acquisition of your bliss.

"Yes. Give in." he laughs maniacally, his face fully consumed in the intense madness of his lustful insanity. "Give in to every sensation. Let me drive you wild... Do as I command and cum," Azul demands you through his laughter, his breathing rapid and heavy as he watches your eyes rolling back. He moans in awe as the loud, slick sounds of his hand filling your soaking cunt meet his ears and a deep flush travels across his collarbones. His own needy cock leaks, eagerly anticipating what's next as its engorged state bulges obscenely, its every vein throbbing with virile desperation. Your high-pitched moans continue for some time as his pace stays fast, until you can finally feel your entire body tensing up, the fire coiling inside your gut ready to explode any moment. Everything builds higher and higher to the peak, every muscle and nerve fiber in your body primed to receive that last push that would send you catapulting over the cliff. As he feels your walls tremble, Azul moans along with your high-pitched wailing. A deranged smile stretches across his face and his silver eyes fill with amusement and fascination. 

Azul leans into your ear, whispering sweet nothings mixed with commanding, demanding words to finally succumb, "That's it...Let go..." He twists and digs deeper, stroking the perfect places inside you, hitting the correct spots relentlessly in an overload of mind-bending, debauchery-fueled, electric-spark pleasure, forcing your senses to dissociate from reality. His thrusting hand matches the frantic racing of his own heart, unable to keep the carnal fever down. "Give in... submit yourself fully, and surrender that orgasm. It's mine. I've worked for it, and now it belongs only to me." He whispers in a devilish growl, nibbling on your ear as his strokes become rougher, harder, faster—you can hardly stand the overwhelming force of your pleasure before its sweet relief crashes like waves. A broken moan leaves your mouth, a pure exaltation of uncontrolled passion. Noises come tumbling out and spilling over until you finally dissolve into a messy orgasm, shrieking his name in pleasure as his hand slows its motions but doesn't stop, keeping its pressure steady and rocking the whole of your existence until your mind goes blank. "Such a good, obedient angelfish, giving me all of your sweet, succulent cum... all for me, yes?" Azul hums sweetly, teasingly. "Oh, this is so precious," he sighs, feeling the quaking and trembling of your fluttering walls. His expression melts into one of deep satisfaction and pride.

"There you go, my lovely angelfish. Just as I said I would," Azul croons. Without another word, his hand, wet with your desire, abandons its ministrations, pulling from your depths with a slick pop, leaving your empty cunt to tremble from his absence. Azul brings his fingers to his mouth for a lewd taste test, licking the juices from his hand as a self-indulgent smirk plays upon his lips. As he rolls the digits around his tongue, sampling the essence of your cunt, a sharp groan rumbles deep from within his chest, the vibration coursing down his spine and directly into his throbbing member. Even as his breath grows heavy from the feeling of his needy cock, the smug, triumphant smirk doesn't disappear. He enjoys the honeyed, tangy sweetness and savors the lingering sensation on his taste buds—another string attached, making it utterly impossible for him to let go. A low chuckle is heard from deep in his chest, dark and hauntingly mirthful. From his pleased sigh, you could easily read the insatiable hunger growing within his gleaming eyes—clearly the lust in his loins has only been ignited further—a starving, manic beast hungry for even more from your yielding form, an insatiable craving that can't be satiated so easily. His cock visibly twitches, begging for him to mount you and thrust his painfully aroused length as far as he can manage deep into your eager, spasming pussy. The aphrodisiac courses through his veins with all the potency of a tropical storm, whipping every nerve into a frenzy as the instinct takes hold in Azul's most primordial thoughts and drives all those cravings with an irrepressible urgency—he simply has to get your pregnant. Azul's cheeks flush with a reddish-pink shade as he fixates on you, the hunger in his gaze absolutely feral, filled with a single-minded lustful determination to breed you.

When your eyes meet his maddened, love-struck stare, you are overcome with the same desperation radiating from your womb, urging to be stuffed and claimed by his thick load. At last, the two of you had connected in this all-consuming fire—a conflagration of desire so severe and a love so encompassing that both of you could do nothing more than dance on the ashes and burn with the flames. In that moment of recognition, an irresistible, bewitching aura emanates from him and mesmerizes you as the air of mystery dissipates from his visage, the eroticized specter of the fearsome and dangerous, devious mogul melts away to reveal the raw intensity of the young man underneath, exposed in all his ardent, unfettered passions. Here stands Azul, naked with vulnerability, desiring only a love that no other has been able to truly give. He's always tried to prevent access to his real emotions, afraid of the kind of cruelty they would reap upon him if they were found. He didn't believe himself to be worthy of their regard, let alone capable of receiving someone's genuine affections. With you, though, there were none of his signature theatrics, no polite deflection, nor charming evasiveness; he gave you full permission to view him and all of his repressed feelings on full display. An open book, Azul trusts you enough to expose his heart fully, so transparent in his neediness. Since he brought you to his bedroom, there was never the slightest hint of deception in his tone—not once had he attempted to distract you, nor used a tactic or trick. Perhaps his true intentions for getting close to you were more admirable than you thought, his desperation to get close to you was merely just a pining for your love rather than a sordid trick. His earnest, loving gaze, combined with the grip of your desire, makes something finally shift within, like the turning of the tide—a sense that it was fated for you to fall and crash so desperately, madly, and completely for him—a long-awaited inevitability, just as he had already done for you long before this Alchemy accident. Azul was an adoringly gentle yet brutally powerful force, a pillar in your life you can lean into without hesitation. All of your fears, worries, and frustrations are suddenly null, evaporating into the thin air of Octavinelle, carried into the gentle waters outside the window and disappearing into the seas.

Nothing is more erotic than seeing his carefully maintained veneer crumbling before you and letting himself fall apart at the seams. No longer hiding his desires or his ambitions for you, Azul's lusty hunger has you excited, aroused, and turned on like never before. You return his lustful, hazy expression and Azul is drawn right into the softness of your inviting stare. Your mouth parts to allow a needy moan to pass as you buck your hips slightly, inviting him to finally claim your body as his, a beautiful sacrifice you're eager to make for a beautiful siren such as him. With a deep, lewd groan, Azul pushes off your trembling body, propping himself onto his knees and groping at your chest, making you mewl. There's no trace left of the smooth businessman persona, not even a hint of it lingers when his wet mouth kisses at your mounds and his large hands explore the contours of your curves, his fingertips desperately memorizing the way you're put together, tracing every bit of available flesh. His eager tongue swirls at your peaked nipples, moaning in appreciation and delight. Your mind is being swallowed by a bubbling wave of bliss that has no end as his hand trails across your hips, his touch is as gentle as a ripple in the water. With a shyly embarrassed flush and a sigh of wanton abandonment, you surrender entirely to him—letting the sea creature drown you in ecstasy, deeper and deeper, into the endless ocean. He caresses your stomach gently, the calloused pads of his fingers exploring the sensitive skin where he knows your womb lies. Your heart stumbles as his lips twist upward in an impish smirk at the thought of all the cum he's soon going to pump straight into the cavity. He palms your belly, which would soon carry his progeny as an inevitable result of this union, imagining his angelfish's stomach rounded and taut with his unborn child, perhaps, even more than once—Azul's thoughts are full of fantasies about filling you and fucking your pretty little womb over and over until he succeeds and you're blessed with his babies. Azul hums at the image of your pregnant body, worshiping the slope of your thighs and rubbing his hands up your waist and the undersides of your breasts. Azul knows that even if it doesn't work right away, he is more than prepared to breed you again and again as many times as necessary. He is more than certain you'll eventually give him a consortium of little octopus-human hybrids. After all, you'd offered yourself up in the end. Who was he not to take what was freely given?

He grasps the back of your knee to prop up your leg in the air, shifting closer. In one fell swoop, your tender thighs are flung open, revealing your glistening cunt. Azul moans, running the rough pad of his finger right up the slit of your lips. You're already a mess, his slick hand had not been able to satisfy your heat at all, it only created a further yearning deep within that could only be satisfied by his aching cock. Azul settles against the fronts of your thighs, letting the stiff heat of his bulging erection nestle against the dripping lips of your cunt, already poised and eager for insertion. The anticipation causes the two of you to tremble slightly at the intimacy, your lips wet and sticky as they run against the length, his cock drooling freely from the tip and leaking beads of sticky, precum fluid right across your folds. With one more affectionate, sweet peck against the corner of your lip, and another one right upon your forehead, Azul slowly glides inside. A shared cry of euphoria leaves your mouths simultaneously as Azul buries the full length of his throbbing cock into your sopping entrance, thrusting powerfully to hilt balls-deep. The pure, erotic rapture of finally consummating your love floods both of your veins. His dick is filling you in the most indescribable way and stretching your cunt so deliciously that stars appear behind your eyes. A glorious symphony of relief sings in your blood while his hard girth massages your innermost walls as though he were meant for no other—like he was perfectly made to be the puzzle piece filling your immaculate pussy. You both gasp sharply in unison as the sensation sends tremors down his shaft. Every vein, ridge, and inch of his length drags deeply with each thrust as he grinds you thoroughly, bringing your clits into tantric connection and rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth in perfect time with the rocking motion. Each snap of his hip makes the two of you share a joyful sob as he pleasures you in the most divine manner.

A low and sinful groan passes through your lips as your hands grip him tighter, begging him to increase his momentum and pace. Azul's hands clutch you in a tight embrace, his chest to yours with every inch of his hardness fully embedded into your velvety passage, sending white-hot sparks of pleasure shooting to the deepest recesses of your innermost being, triggering the sudden rush of a climax that is starting to rise to its precipice. Azul groans as your juices run down his balls, pooling around his sack and providing more lubrication for his relentless drive inside of you. You clench and flutter around him, squeezing your inner walls with every desperate urge for friction and movement, drawing Azul's eye right up to yours in a lusty daze. His body is coiling for release, ready to cum, and there's a glitter of utter happiness in his expression. His lips quiver with desire and he smirks as he feels you clamping and spasming around his rock-hard dick, begging him to breed you like the little slut that he secretly knows you are, all while knowing deep down you'd get so unbelievably plump and swollen with his hatchlings, he'd hardly be able to move his tentacles with all the kids crawling over him.

It's more intense, and far more electrifying than the filthy fantasies that had invaded his sleep every lonely evening whenever he gave in to his insufferable yearning for you. He'd envisioned this, over and over—what it would feel like to make you orgasm, just how satisfying it would feel to cum with you at the same time, and how heavenly it would be to stretch your cunt so snugly—and yet, in this moment, it surpasses his imagination exponentially, eliciting a complete flood of sensual pleasure all throughout his senses. Not even his wildest wet dreams had prepared him for the heady intoxication and undeniable high he experiences with you—being passionately and physically intertwined, wrapped around the most sublime euphoria that was possible—a wave so dizzying that there's absolutely no going back to life without the other once your bodies have succumbed and reached that ultimate, highest peak.

When Azul hits the point of no-return, his legs start shaking as though his limbs were going to fall off. His fingers tangle roughly in your hair as he drags your mouth closer to meet his. With each heavy thrust, he swallows every moan that erupts from your throat. His movements become less coherent, rougher, and disjointed as the strength of your cunt's embrace pulses tightly around his shaft and urges him toward the edge. Suddenly, an intense wave of satisfaction takes hold and shoots to the tip of his cock, pulsating violently in need to release its seed. Azul can't help but groan loudly into your ear as he slams his cock into you with ferocious strength, fucking the life and soul right out of your being while a high-pitched scream accompanies the splash and squelching noises of your pussy. Your mouth has gone slack, jaw dropping as you cry out his name and climax with such power that it whips you into a complete frenzy of desperation, sending your vision dancing with lights. You quake and shiver under the force of his fervor and ecstasy, writhing on the mattress and throwing your head backward to soak in your overwhelming, toe-curling rapture. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pounding you fiercely as you wail and shatter with a rush of emotions so intense, you don't know if you will ever put yourself back together. A strained whine and a few sharp pumps later, a surge of hot, wet euphoric heat shoots from Azul's balls and spurts out in ribbons of his own spent climax as he spends his load of pearly cum directly into your waiting womb, splashing your tight channel with a continuous stream—painting every crevice of your silken, fluttering, vice-like depths a glossy white. Azul is unable to help himself as his hips start grinding into yours with slow rolls, fucking and stuffing every drop of his sticky cream deeply and ensuring it remains securely nestled in your folds. Every remaining bit of sexual tension floods out as though you'd been submerged in the most heavenly waterfall of pleasure imaginable. Azul whines weakly into the pillow and your moans join, eventually dissipating into a heavenly silence as you sink heavily back to reality.

Time slows to an almost stop and your vision gets a bit hazy and bleary as the aphrodisiac magic completely pulses away. You two lay side by side on the soft blankets, still in the bed and soaked with sweat. Neither of you move for quite some time. Just in the wake of your post-orgasm, everything becomes intensely surreal. You try to breathe quietly so Azul doesn't hear and as his head rests on your breasts. He, too, is heaving with difficulty, each inhale is a conscious decision. He clings tightly against you, hands threaded together like a lifeline, afraid to let go. One last sentence leaves his mouth—a whisper that could have easily been missed by anyone except for you. It was a question.

"Are we both in love?" Azul asks with such hesitance, you think maybe you've misheard his inquiry. He is lying right by your side. His face is dangerously close to yours, and the way his stormy, ocean azure eyes reflect every emotion swirling inside allows you to see the years of hurt that's plagued him. He's absolutely enchanted, like you are the perfect dream come true—everything he'd ever imagined in one living, breathing, precious human body—a lover so magnificent he could hardly comprehend. He studies your expression with awe and reverence. A look so intensely raw it burns right through your heart and lights up the space in your soul that you never before realized was reserved just for him. "Because I love you... Truly and deeply. So much that I don't know how it was possible, even," Azul admits freely, without the least hint of apprehension or nervousness. You can feel the intensity and honesty of his words radiate through his trembling fingertips, through the places where his naked skin touched yours—he doesn't try to mask the pure unadulterated warmth and delight that leaks through the shaky but firm expression on his flushed face.

A wide, cheerful and genuine grin breaks out against your features as you nod enthusiastically, and it is almost as though a heavenly, soothing light has poured over his entire world. It feels like a dream, a fairytale that is too good to be true. Yet here you both lie, doused in the magic of the concoction, clinging to each other and to that euphoric elation after giving in to the passions and the chemical bonds. It felt incredible, it felt natural and familiar and right. This wasn't anything artificial, rather the long overdue acknowledgement of feelings that were there all along—a kindling of romance that was never forced, but rather fanned to life after many days spent as Alchemy partners. After seeing each other every day, getting to know each other's quirks, and learning of each other's daily habits, the intimacy had bloomed and nurtured into something tender and real. The closeness the potion provided simply allowed the two of you the confidence needed to step across a boundary and pursue things.

"This won't be something short lived... you understand what I am saying, yes?" His tone has a tinge of fear creeping in and you can't help but stroke the outline of his cheekbones. This feeling will not end with a simple fuck, you knew that deep in the marrow. There will be more of that to come. In fact, the thought of it has your cunt pulsing, your sex aching at the idea. "I simply won't have you anywhere else but with me, and here in my dorm. I just won't be able to be happy otherwise..." Azul's voice quivers as the vulnerable sincerity flows.

"Yes, Azul. Yes, I understand and I feel the exact same," you chuckle and cradle his head. His blue eyes crinkle slightly from the beam across his lips, and Azul can't resist pulling you in for a feverish kiss, groaning from the rush. That familiar, sinfully blissful high is starting to take hold again, the rush of the aphrodisiac stirring something fiery back into a pleasant burn. The chemical’s grip on the two of you continues. After all, nothing will stop the magic from bringing you closer together. He murmurs a seductive promise into the curve of your throat that he won't stop until his load drips and slides right out of your swollen cunt—he's going to breed you the rest of the night and spill as much of himself deep within as he can. He has no doubt you're going to give him a child that will cement this loving bond permanently.

Listen I don't know HOW this HAPPENED, I DON'T understand how I wrote this much. I am DELIRIOUS and I need to go pick up some pizza for dinner, so I wish I could say more here but I can't right now. I'll update this part when I get back home. I just needed to get this out into the UNIVERSE. THANK YOU ALL!!! HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!! <3333 Erica Malleleothreesome

[lowkeyerror]

Always There

Agatha Harkness x Vampire!Reader x Rio Vidal

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Non-major character death, depictions of violence, graphic violent content (blood, mob violence/torture, detailed wounds), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, small mention of suicial tendencies, italics=past

Summary: Vampire reader has had a casual relationship with Agatha and Rio, but eventually too many years pass since their last encounter, the vampire starts to wonder if they still cared for her.

An: Posting this immediately after I finished writing it. Hope you enjoy. Likes, replies, reblogs, and all of that are appreciated 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Edit: Not me saying itallics and forgetting to actually put them lol

Masterlist

You’ve had a casual fling with Agatha and Rio for as long as you can recall. There’s a stereotype about witches coming and going as they please, and you find it to be frustratingly true.

It's easier to get ahold of Rio than Agatha, which is ironic considering that Rio is literally Death. With the title comes the job, so all you truly needed to get a glimpse of her was a body. Perhaps you could arrange the carcasses in a way that said ‘stay with me forever’.

As a vampire, you had time to wait. There was no rush, which is how you believe things got so casual. You could never forget how you met the pair.

At the time angry mobs were running rampant, looking for anyone to persecute. You were a known vampire living not to far from a village. They hunted you for sport. There were many of them that you killed, but eventually they were able to ambush you. When they did, they used wooden spikes to pin you to a large ‘X’ that they built. The scars from were they impaled your flesh still present today.

They tortured you; punching, spitting, stabbing, you had eventually lost track of time after a few hours. The need for blood weakening you enough to where breaking free was nearly impossible.

They’d come in shifts for the torture and leave only one person to watch you in the night. That was their only flaw. You didn’t expect anyone outside of the village to come across you, but someone did.

Your head was hung low, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. You raised it slightly, to see the guard that was supposed to be watching you, dead on the floor.

“You don’t look too well.”

It had been days since you had tried to speak, so your voice was hoarse, “I wouldn’t think so.”

“What are you? Only someone different, is worth all of this trouble,” a different voice spoke.

Your eyes look to where the voices are coming from, but you only see shadows. Your tongue is dry as it passes over your bloody chapped lips.

“Vampire,” you mumbled.

“Help me get her down.”

When they approached, you finally got a good look at them. You couldn’t help but stare at their features. Both youthful with rosy cheeks. Rio’s large brown eyes caught your attention immediately, warm yet hiding something. Agatha’s features were sharper, her cheekbones, her jawline, even her eyes.

“This will hurt,” Rio examined the wood embedded into your skin.

“I know,” you spoke weakly.

You expected them to pull the spikes out with their hands. Instead your eyebrows furrowed when purple and green tendrils of magic worked around the spikes. Instead of 4, painfully slow, agonizing moments, there was only one rough pull, before your body fell off of the ‘X’. Only your knees hit ground as Agatha and Rio held up the rest of your body.

Your full weight pushed against them as your head rested in between their shoulders, “Thank you.”

“Hungry?”

Your eyes glowed a dim red, “I could drain a village.”

“Bloodthirsty, even in this state?” Agatha teased.

“Especially in this state,” you corrected.

You could hardly move, but you attempted to stand on your unstable legs. You grunted in pain as you put one foot in front of the other. Your focus was on the dead guard. His heart was no longer beating, but blood still filled his veins. It was calling to you, it had been too long since you had fed.

Your fangs snack into the man’s neck viciously. You had no remorse for the corpse as his body began to lose color as you drank. He wasn’t a large man, which was unfortunate, but he sufficed for the moment.

Harsh breaths and clearing of your throat, were indicators of how much you needed that. You wiped the blood off of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Your wounds were slowly closing, but it was taking all of the energy you had just gained.

“I can heal you faster,” Rio said tentatively grabbing your forearm.

She extended it so that it’s flat, before quickly running her tongue over the spot. You looked at her as if she was crazy, but then back at your wrist. The hole from the stake was gone, in its place was only a scar.

If you had a pulse, you were sure that it would be beating wildly.

You glanced at Agatha, who watched on, “Do you do that too?”

She shook her head, “Earth witch specialty.”

“How long did they have you like that?” Rio’s eyes have examined your body, noticing the extensive damage. Her finger trailed one of the nastier slashes across your stomach.

“I don't recall,” you spoke honestly.

Rio was careful as she healed the larger wounds on your body, you told her not to worry about the less significant ones. Even when she was done you were still caked in dirt and mostly your own blood.

“Let me help you out doll,” Agatha waved her fingers swiftly, and soon you were clean as a whistle.

Your tattered clothes replaced as if they were new, dirt and blood alike removed from your body. Ugly scars, now covered except for the few that littered your face.

“Why help me? We are only strangers, I don’t even know your names.”

“Abominations to humanity must stick together lest we want them to wipe every one of us out . You can call me Rio.”

“Agatha Harkness, pleasure to save you beautiful.”

One of your eyebrows raised, “Witch killer, Agatha Harkness?”

The woman chuckled, “I see my reputation supersedes my community. Does my aura scare you…”

“Y/n, and it does not. There are no rules when it comes to preservation of self. I’ve killed my own kind for good reasons and some not so good reasons. Bodies just seem to pile up when I’m around.”

“That why they nail you up like that?” Rio questioned.

You shrugged, “I suppose, a mixture of that and fear.”

“People fear death,” she spoke.

You shook your head as you corrected her, “Mortals fear death. I know people who are thousands of years old, who run from ailments of morality. They are foolish, death cannot be outran. Though it may take longer for her to come, she will eventually get all of us.”

“You aren’t afraid to die?” Agatha questioned you.

“No, there’s no point. She’ll come for me when it’s my time, but until then what is there to fear besides a wasted life.”

Rio had a small smile on her face, “Quite the philosophy you’ve fostered. Just one question, if you feel that way, then why kill anyone in the first place?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “If someone was meant to live, they simply would. I’m not stealing life, simply gifting death to those who have decided that it is their time.”

“How do you know that they’ve decided?” Agatha counters.

“Well you see, many people are weary of vampires and they should be. They let their guard down, they get comfortable, they play with their food instead of finishing the job. Those actions have consequences and I like to deal with those consequences personally. So I suppose when they choose to wrong me, they’ve chosen to die.”

“And the villagers who did this to you?” Rio pondered aloud.

You eyed her cautiously, “Do you stand to stop me?”

Rio shook her head, “I keep a witch killer in my company, you think I’m above a rightfully earned massacre?”

“Well you spoke of solidarity amongst-”

“Think of it this way, we can do what we want amongst each other, as it is our business. The humans have no right, to do what we do.”

You nod, “I agree.”

“So, you’re going to destroy the village?” Agatha questioned.

“My goal is to drain every last one.”

After that first encounter you were drunk on the thought alone of Agatha and Rio. Finding out Rio's true identity only made you lust for her even more. You knew that both had bonded with each other in ways you hadn’t understood, but that didn't stop your feelings from developing.

It didn't take long for them to fold you into their relationship, at least partially. They weren’t always around, but when they were everything seemed to fall back into place.

However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn't been getting restless these last few years. It was feeling like you saw less of them, especially Agatha. It felt like a game of cat and mouse. Somehow you had ended up chasing after them.

Tonight you walk the streets bored, part of you looking for trouble. Rumblings of new age vampire hunters in the area had piqued your interest. So you’d have a chance to have some fun or at minimum find your next meal.

Your fingers play with the rings they had gifted you, centuries ago. In the past you could feel both of them signaling you through the jewelry. It was a faint buzz, something like a hum, through the ring. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in ages. You longed to feel it again, to feel them.

Alleyways didn’t scare you, hardly anything scared you these days. Yet as you take a step into this alley, you sense something immediately. You feel eyes on you, as you walk.

“Has anyone ever told you to be mindful of where you settle demon?”

You continue walking, the empty threat meant nothing to you.

“I know what you are, I can smell it on you,” the voice echoes against the walls.

Your ears twitch, and soon you’re holding a frail man against one of the concrete walls in the alley.

“If you know what I am, you should be more mindful of how you approach me,” your strength speaks for itself.

You don’t give him the pleasure of seeing your fangs or glowing red eyes.

“Ah, you’re one of the older ones. This will be quite fun,” he says gleefully.

“What are you-" the question dies on your lips as you feel a needle being jabbed into your neck.

Your hand instinctively shoots over the spot, and your growl in frustration. You drop the man against the wall, turning your attention to the person who stuck you from behind with the needle.

This man was much bigger than the other. He was about twice your size, but it did not matter. You bare your fangs, hissing at the muscular man.

“Why isn’t she dropping?” He yells, fear laced through his voice.

You take the moment to pounce on him. Your teeth wasting no time, sinking into his neck. The man convulses under you, but you’re stronger than him. Even when he grabs your neck you don’t relent.

“Impossible,” the frail man, whispers from his spot against the wall.

“Nice try, but-”

The sensation hits you like a truck. You feel your vision get blurry and your muscles weaken. You blink a few times trying to will yourself against the late acting sedative.

The frail man nods excessively as you begin to lose consciousness, “Slower than usual, but captured nonetheless.”

You’re jolted back into consciousness when you feel the stake being driven into your skin. You attempt to shoot out of whatever position you are in, but it only causes you a familiar pain. Unlike the first time you were nailed to something, this time it was straight up rather than ‘X’ formation. Your arms hung up straight above your head and your feet were slightly spread underneath.

One spike was used to pierce both of your hands in place while you had one for each foot. Your breathing only quickens even more upon noticing you are in a forest. This couldn’t be happening.

“Glad you could finally join us,” the frail man from earlier want alone this time. He had a group of people with him.

“Let me go, and I’ll consider sparing you one I'm free,” you say, yet no one moves.

“You hold no power here, demon,” the man walks around you. “I am doctor Helsing, you may be familiar with my ancestors.”

Your jaw twitches, “ Van Helsing.”

He chuckles, “What a smart creature you are?”

“What do you want from me?”

His chuckle turns into a boisterous laughter, “ You can't offer me anything that I don't have the ability to take.”

You glare at the people in front of you, eyes turning a vicious shade of red, “The last group of people that tried something like this, paid for their sins with their lives. I hope you’re prepared to do the same.”

“They did quite a number on you, I can tell by your markings. Their only mistake was letting such a beautiful thing like you go,” Helsing says, his hand sliding across the scar on your abdomen.

“They didn’t let me go. I got out.”

His eyes had a glint as he leaned in, “And then you killed them all, how sad.”

He stabs you in the scar. Carving harder and deeper than the previous person. You grunt, but try to steel yourself under the knife. Yet you squirm finding the sensation to be more unpleasant than you had recalled.

“Silver cuts a little different doesn’t it?” He says watching the cut pour blood.

“You’re going to regret this.”

He turns his attention to the people, “Empty threats mean nothing when a beast is tied up. Would anyone else like a turn?”

People in his crowd begin to circle around you. Some with weapons, others cracking their knuckles. You're being attacked from all sides. The pain makes you tear up, but you avoid crying.

Instead you left out a bitter laugh, “That’s all you’ve got. Come on if you're gong to torture me at least put some passion behind it.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. I want to hear you beg for your life, I want to see you broken, beaten, defeated. I want you to ask for death and then I'll award it to you.”

You spit at Helsing, “I’m not scared of death.”

He wipes your spit off of his face, a scowl now present, “For centuries my family has been driving your species to extinction. The failures may eclipse the successes, but don't think that we were never successful. You will fall at the hands of Van Helsing, creature.”

He has a device in his hand, he shoves it into your mouth. It forces your mouth open and your fangs out. He stares at them in awe. You try to clamp your mouth shut or retract your fangs, but you are unable to. You start to panic.

“Just like a snake, de-fang the vampire and a lot of that fear is gone,” his smile is sadistic.

You feel your adrenaline sky rocket as you shake violently. Your eyes wide in terror. The wood stake ripping your skin, but the pain was nothing akin to the fright.

You don’t remember the last time you were truly this scared.

He laughs and some of the crowd laugh along with him, “Are you afraid now, demon?”

Tears fall from your eyes and he coos. You flinch at his hand touching your face. His fingers were rough and callused against the swollen skin. You move your head as if to attack him and he stumbles back.

He grabs your jaw roughly, “This is the power of man.”

“Looks like someone is having a party and forgot to invite us.”

You know that voice. It makes you close your eyes in relief. The panic you felt in the moment begins to dissipate.

Everyone looks to the sky following the sound of the voice. It’s there that they see Agatha and Rio floating in the sky. Most of the crowd has their mouths agape, not believing what they are seeing.

“Should we offer them mercy, Agatha? Maybe our invites got lost in the mail?”

“This matter does not concern you foul wenches, be gone,” Helsing says, his voice trembles a bit at the end.

It’s Agatha that cackles looking down at the man, “See that’s where your wrong because…”

Rio appears behind the man, her skeletal form on her face, “If it concerns her, then it concerns us.”

Her dagger lays on his neck and he looses his composure.

“Anyone want to be brave?” Agatha questions the crowd, who screams when she shoots her magic at a nearby tree exploding it.

“What happened? A second ago you were lining up to torture her, but now you’re scared,” Rio adds pressure to her dagger.

“Don’t get shy now, doctor. Nothing to say?” Agatha gets closer to him.

The group tries to scatter but she traps them in a circle full of fire. They’re forced to gather close to each other. Their screams make you smile.

Agatha pulls the device out of your mouth carefully. Her hand caresses your face gently. You lean into her touch.

“We have to stop meeting like this doll,” Agatha mumbles only for you to hear.

“We wouldn’t have to meet again if you stopped leaving,” you shoot back.

Agatha casts her gaze away from you and over to Helsing. She and Rio switch places. The Green Witch, uses her vines to pull the spikes out of your body. It’s a feeling that never gets easier to experience.

You land on your feet ignoring the burning sensation. With your back tall you walk over to Helsing. You crouch in front of him, despite your own agony.

You hold his eyes, “Funny, I recall you telling me I’d beg for death. Well now she’s here for me, just not in the way you expected is it?”

Rio wiggles her fingers at the doctor, “I loved dragging the souls of your family to eternal damnation, can’t wait to reunite you with them.”

“Humans are all the same, always playing with food that’s not yours,” you stand towering over the man.

“Hey I like to play with my food,” Agatha pouts.

You smile, “When you have power you can do what you want.”

You open your hand and Rio drops her dagger into your grasp. The crowd watches in panic behind the flames as you approach the man.

“However, I’ve never been one to play with my food,” in a swift motion you slit his throat.

The gasps and screams of his followers sounds like music to your ears. He gargles his own blood reaching for his neck.

“Your blood isn’t worth drinking,” you watch as he collapses. You turn to address the crowd, “None of you have worthy blood. Cowards, followers, miscreants, I hope it was worth it. The price is your life, now burn.”

Agatha waves her hand dismissively and the crowd of people are quickly evaporated. Ash and burnt grass the only remnants of the aggressors.

Upon their destruction you crumble to the floor. Your body screaming at you for the abuse you endured.

Rio starts with the wound on your stomach before healing the spiked points. Your body still aches when she’s finished, but it’s substantially less than before.

“Déjà vu isn’t it bunny?” Agatha opens the floor for conversation.

“Now isn’t the time Agatha,” Rio scolds the woman, who raises her hands in defense.

“I was just reminiscing, is that a crime?”

You stand, “Well, good seeing you. Same time��� in the next few centuries or…”

“You’re hurt,” Rio argues.

“You healed me enough,” you shrug.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “What’s with the attitude princess?”

You place a hand on your hip, “When was the last time we saw each other, Agatha? Rio, you only come when I leave bodies in my wake. So sorry if I’m not thrilled it takes me being captured and tortured to get some time together.”

“It’s always been this way,” Agatha argues back.

Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically soft tone, “I know and I’m tired. I don’t want whatever this is. I need something more, something tangible. It’s fine if you don't want to give that to me, but I can't keep waiting.”

You try to keep calm as you pull the rings off of your fingers, hand out stretched to give them back to their original owners.

“Y/n…”

“Take them… please. Free me, from whatever this is. I’m grateful that you saved me on our first day and maybe the same thing happening again is fate telling me that this is our last day,” you get the courage to look at them with teary eyes.

“You don't even believe in fate,” Agatha tries to reason with you.

“How would you know, you haven't been around. Things change, people change,” you tell her.

Agatha looks to Rio for help, but The Green Witch, just keeps her eyes on you.

“That’s bullshit! If change is so real, how’d we end up right back where we started hmm? Poor little hung up bat, in need of saving and here we are like always,” Agatha’s theatrics peak through her words.

“Like always?” You repeat, in disbelief.

“Look sweetheart, I know that-"

You ball your fists at your side, “What could you possibly know Agatha? Tell me, I’m interested in hearing. Did you know I spend all my time waiting for either of you to tell me if you want me or not? I don’t sleep, I just think and think and think about finding a way to end it all without having to see either of you. Hard to kill yourself with Death keeping tabs on you, even without a heartbeat. I knew this guy was tracking me, I knew what he wanted to do, and I said fuck it. I don’t care, what’s there to live for anyway?”

“You can't be serious?” Rio doesn’t want to believe what you’re saying.

“Of course I’m serious, part of me thought that after all these years humans would be over torture, but that was foolish of me. Why would I think that you'd come to save me? I still don’t understand why you did.”

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!” Agatha shouts at you.

You scoff, “Do you really? I couldn’t tell by the hundreds of years apart.”

“We were protecting you,” Agatha gets in your space.

“What could have possibly been protecting me? Oh no, a loving and caring environment? How ever could I have managed such domestic delights and pleasures,” your voice drips sarcasm.

“You do realize that Rio is Death, right? Her job is literally to reap souls, you aren’t the only one that doesn’t get to see her often. And me… I’m all trouble, doll. There’s not a pleasant bone in my body.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, “Did you forget who I am? Have you had a head trauma recently, or maybe you need a refresher? I’m not the greatest either, cupcake. I just slit a man’s throat and had his followers executed.”

“By me,” Agatha points out.

“Ok and you want credit for the villages I killed too? The vampires I murdered? The people I lied to? The whores I fucked? I’m not some sweet innocent thing you picked up off of the side of the road. My ledger has had blood on it since before you killed your original coven.”

Your eyes are red as they stare into her blue ones.

“We were scared,” Rio interrupts the rising tensions between you and Agatha.

“Scared of what?” You glance at her.

“Of committing to you. Hell, Agatha and I can’t even fully commit to each other. This game of cat and mouse, it’s all we know. You’re right, you deserve more, so much more, but we don’t know how to give it. We don’t know what a domestic life looks like, we aren’t domestic people. I didn't think there would be any doubt in your head that we loved you, and maybe that just shows how fucked up we really are,” Rio monologues.

Her words hit you harshly. They make you want to start crying all over again. You cast your gaze to the floor.

“I guess that brings us back to the original point then, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s better if we just, end it here,” you can’t look at them.

“If that’s what you want?” Rio nods solemnly.

Agatha looks between the two of you, “Are you two stupid or something? You have to be if you think I’m just going to agree to this.”

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. I love you, both of you. I don’t want this to end and if that means changing the way things operate, then I guess things just have to change,” Agatha speaks seriously.

“What are yo-”

You startle when Agatha grabs your hands in both of hers. Her eyes locking fiercely onto yours. She doesn’t blink as she speaks, “Move in with me.”

“What?”

“You want time together, we can have time together. We’ve basically been together for centuries, come live with me.”

“Agatha, I think you've lost the plot,” Rio says, cautiously.

“You too Dr. Green Thumb. Let’s all move in together,” Agatha nods her head.

“That doesn’t fix everything,” you focus on her hands over yours.

She doesn’t hesitate to raise her hands to cup your face, “There’s obviously a lot to fix, but you can’t tell me this isn’t a step in the right direction. Y/n, I don’t want to- I can’t lose you. I’m not willing to let you go without a fight.”

Your face heats in her hands. Her eyes are ablaze with passion as they keep contact with yours.

You sigh and rest your forehead against hers, “I don’t know Agatha.”

Rio joins the moment, carefully wrapping her arms around your torso, “I don’t think any of us really know, but I think we’re supposed to find out together.”

“Please,” Agatha’s breath hits your lips. “Just a chance to make up for lost time. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t, but please don’t give up on us yet.”

Hearing Agatha beg like this tugs at your heart. You don’t want to give in this easily, but you’ve already wasted so much time.

“Ok.”

As the word falls from your lips, Agatha surges forward. You can recall the last time her lips were on yours. The warmth that they were able to send through your body. How firm she was in her kiss, not scared or uncertain as your lips moved together. She knew what she wanted and it was hard to picture a world in which she’d kiss someone she wasn’t interested in the way she was kissing you. You were the one she wanted.

Your legs grow weak, but Rio holds you steady. Her shifting grip, makes you turn to face her. Unlike Agatha she hesitates. She takes a moment to admire your features, she wasn’t in a rush. Neither were you. Rio’s kiss is softer than Agatha’s, her plush lips, move experimentally against yours. It’s not like she’s forgotten, more like she’s re-exploring. She's playful, as her teeth nibble on your bottom lip. You laugh at the sensation.

Rio rests her head on your shoulder. She extends her hands, motioning for the other witch to get closer. Agatha wraps her arms around the both of you. Her front to your back while her hands rest on Rio’s back. You’re encased by them, a feeling that is welcomed yet foreign to you.

“Promise that you'll keep me close” you say to both of them.

“Until the road ends, my love,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“I’ll hold you even after the road ends,” Rio kisses the base of your neck.

“Do you always have to one up me?” Agatha says to Rio.

Rio chuckles, “Sounds like a skill issue sweetheart.”

“Oh, we’ll see who has a skill issue later, when you’re begging me for help because my fingers are longer than yours,” Agatha says smugly.

Rio pulls back from you to glare at Agatha, “If you don’t want to ‘help’ me, I’ll just ask Y/n. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You blush at the innuendo.

“Nuh uh, bunny. I think I recall you liking my treats better, because someone has a skill issue,” Agatha sticks her tongue at Rio.

You turn an even deeper shade of red.

“You can never let an emotional moment be,” Rio says.

“Well you’re always trying to out ‘emotional’ me,” Agatha replies.

“It’s not my fault you’re not as smooth as me, mi vida,” Rio counters again.

Agatha throws her hands up, “I know Spanish and Latin too, you’re not special Vidal.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, “And who taught you?”

The back and forth makes you laugh, “Are you sure you don’t do domestic, because you bicker like an old married couple?”

They both huff at your statement.

“We’ll continue this at home,” Agatha points at Rio.

The brown eyed woman puts her hand over her heart in faux-fear, “Oooo, I’m terrified.”

Agatha opens a portal to her house and both women step through. Not stopping their bickering for a second. You smile as you watch them, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“The portal isn’t going to stay open forever, bunny, come on,” Agatha reaches her hand to pull you through.

You take it, stepping into your new beginning.

[solxamber]

The Fairest of Them All || Vil Schoenheit

You've chosen Vil!

Navigating the chaos of Night Raven College, you somehow end up stealing the heart of Pomefiore’s untouchable Housewarden.

w.c: 5.3k

1k Masterlist ; Prologue

It’s the night of the opera, and you’re anxiously adjusting your outfit for what feels like the hundredth time. Vil had invited you—Vil Schoenheit, the epitome of elegance and poise—and you’d spent hours ensuring you looked halfway decent next to someone so effortlessly perfect.

When the knock at the door comes, you barely manage to keep yourself from sprinting to open it. And there he is.

Vil stands on your doorstep, dressed in formal wear that could kill a victorian child, his golden hair tied back with precision that seems almost unfair to the rest of humanity. A soft scent of bergamot and cedar follows him, making your brain stutter.

Your jaw goes slack, and you freeze, blatantly staring like a deer caught in headlights. You’re trying to say something, anything, but the only thing leaving your mouth is the sound of air escaping your lungs.

Vil’s lips twitch into the faintest smirk. “Good evening,” he says smoothly, clearly noticing your state. His eyes sweep over your outfit, and he nods in approval. “You’ve done well. You look rather lovely tonight.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to squeak, still staring. Internally, you’re screaming: What do you mean rather? Lovely?? Have you looked in a mirror recently?!!

He gestures toward the waiting car. “Shall we?”

You nod dumbly, closing the door behind you before following him to the sleek black vehicle parked outside.

The interior of the car is as polished as Vil himself, the soft leather seats and faint glow of the dashboard making it feel like you’ve stepped into another world. You try to focus on the excitement of the opera, but the quiet presence of Vil next to you is making that exceedingly difficult.

As the car glides through the city, your hands brush accidentally, a fleeting touch that sends a little jolt through you. You glance at him, expecting him to pull away or comment, but he doesn’t even blink. If anything, his expression softens, his gaze fixed out the window.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage, and slowly slip your hand into his.

Vil raises an eyebrow ever so slightly, but his grip tightens around yours, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Excited, are we?” he murmurs, the corners of his lips tugging upward in that signature, knowing smirk of his.

You nod quickly, your heart pounding. “Yeah! I mean, it’s my first opera. I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice a touch softer. “You’ll appreciate it more than most.” He pauses, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “And… it’s refreshing to share it with someone who isn’t afraid to show their enthusiasm.”

You smile at that, feeling a little less nervous and a lot more giddy.

The grand opera house is breathtaking, its towering marble columns and gilded details glowing under the warm lights. You almost trip on the stairs trying to take it all in. Vil’s hand at your elbow steadies you.

“Careful,” he says lightly, his lips quirking in amusement. “I’d rather not have our evening interrupted by a sprained ankle.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, your face heating up as you let him guide you to your seats.

The opera begins, and it’s as magical as you imagined. The singers’ voices soar, weaving a story so full of emotion you feel like you’re holding your breath half the time. But despite the beauty on stage, you find your attention drifting.

To him.

Vil sits beside you, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the stage lights. He’s transfixed, his violet eyes glittering as they follow the performers. He’s utterly ethereal, and you’re entirely doomed.

When he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, your gaze snaps back to the stage so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. But you can still feel him looking at you, and when you sneak another glance, you catch the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

Your heart does a little flip.

It's time for the intermission and you slowly stretch out your legs.

“Let’s take a walk,” Vil suggests as the lights come up. You nod, following him out of the auditorium and into the grand halls of the opera house.

The murals lining the walls are stunning, vivid depictions of myth and music that seem almost alive under the flickering chandeliers. Vil walks beside you, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back to guide you through the crowd.

It’s subtle, effortless, and completely unfair. You’re hyper-aware of the warmth of his touch, the gentle pressure that somehow manages to make your brain short-circuit.

“Relax,” he murmurs, leaning closer so only you can hear. His breath brushes against your ear, and you nearly trip over your own feet. “You’re walking like you’re in a dream.”

“I feel like I am in a dream,” you blurt, before immediately regretting it.

Vil chuckles, a soft, genuine sound that makes your stomach flutter. “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He pauses in front of one particularly grand mural, his hand lingering at your back as he studies it. You glance up at him, catching the way his eyes soften as he takes in the artwork.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, though you’re not entirely sure you’re still talking about the mural.

“It is,” he agrees, his gaze flickering down to meet yours. “Though not nearly as much as some things.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by the amused glint in his eyes, he’s thoroughly enjoying your reaction.

The show ends, and you’re still buzzing from the experience as you climb into the car. You hum the aria under your breath, the melody still fresh in your mind.

Vil sits beside you, one arm resting casually against the window as he watches you with quiet amusement.

“You enjoyed it, then?” he asks, though it’s clear he already knows the answer.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!” you say, turning to him with a wide grin. “I mean, the costumes, the singing, the—”

You stop mid-sentence as Vil leans in, his face so close you can feel the warmth of his skin.

Your heart skips a beat. “W-What are you—?”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. “You’re a mess,” he says, though his tone is far too fond for the words to carry any bite.

He leans back, smirking at your flustered expression. You can practically feel the heat radiating off your face as you bury it in your hands.

Vil walks you to your doorstep, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his features. He looks so effortlessly regal, so infuriatingly perfect, and you know you’re going to be replaying this night in your head for weeks.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say, turning to him with a smile. “I had a great time.”

“The pleasure was mine,” he replies, his voice smooth as ever.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you take his hand, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it. “Goodnight, Vil.”

You dart inside before you can see his reaction, but as you peek through the curtains, you catch him standing there, a small, genuine smile on his lips.

And just like that, your night feels even more magical.

The evening starts peacefully at Ramshackle, with you sitting on the couch, Grim sprawled on your lap, and a carton of apple juice in hand. The tranquility is shattered by what sounds like a battering ram hitting the door.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

“HENCHUMAN!” Grim screeches, bolting upright and scrambling toward the door. “Somebody’s tryin’ ta demolish our house!”

“Calm down, Grim!” you shout, rushing to the door. As you open it, you find Epel standing there, out of breath, his hair disheveled like he’s been running for his life.

“EP—”

“I NEED SANCTUARY!” Epel cries, practically diving inside before slamming the door behind him. “Please, hide me! Don’t let him find me!”

You blink at him, baffled. “What—who—huh?”

Grim squints up at Epel, unimpressed. “What’d ya do this time, farm boy?”

“I didn’t do nothin’! Vil’s gone mad again! He wants me to do some eight-step skincare ritual with somethin’ called snail mucin!” Epel flops onto the couch dramatically. “SNAILS, Prefect. SNAILS. I don’t wanna look like no slimy critter!”

You try to keep a straight face, but it’s impossible. “Epel, you know he’s just trying to help, right?”

Epel grabs a carton of apple juice from the table and downs some of it like it's vodka. “Help? Help turn me into a snail, maybe!”

Grim nods sagely. “Yeah, I dunno what a ‘mucin’ is, but it sounds slimy.”

The atmosphere is almost cozy again as the three of you sit around, sipping juice and joking around. But then it happens.

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

This knock isn’t like Epel’s desperate pounding. This knock is sharp, precise, and terrifyingly composed.

Grim lets out a dramatic gasp. “IT’S HIM!”

Epel pales. “Don’t open it. Please don’t open it!”

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you cautiously crack the door open. Sure enough, there stands Vil Schoenheit, looking like he just stepped out of a photoshoot, his expression as serene as a summer lake—but with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Good evening,” Vil greets you with a polite smile. “Would you kindly return my wayward dorm member?”

You glance over your shoulder at Epel, who is shaking his head violently and mouthing, “Don’t you dare!”

“Uh,” you begin, already feeling trapped. “I mean… what if—what if he just stayed here for tonight?”

Vil raises an elegant brow. “I see. Is that how it’s going to be?” He steps inside with the grace of a cat, his gaze shifting from you to Epel. “I’m sure you think you’re very clever.”

“Lemme be free,” Epel whines, hiding behind the couch. “I ain’t ready for snails on my face!”

Vil’s smile turns sharp. “Snail mucin is a highly effective hydrator, but if you insist on being dramatic…” He turns to you, his eyes narrowing in thought. “You. Are you willing to try the skincare regimen in his place?”

“Me?” You blink, startled.

Epel perks up from behind the couch. “YES. TAKE THEM!”

Vil tilts his head. “If you’re willing, I’m confident I can achieve better results from a subject who isn’t fighting me at every turn.”

You shrug. “Sure, why not?”

Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, Vil has looped an arm through yours, gracefully pulling you out the door. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

Epel waves dramatically from the window. “Bless ya, Prefect! I owe ya big time!”

Grim just yells after you, “DON’T LET HIM TURN YA INTO A SNAIL!”

Pomefiore is somehow both intimidating and gorgeous at night, much like Vil himself. He leads you to a lavishly decorated room that smells faintly of lavender and something you can’t quite place but know costs more than your monthly groceries.

Vil gestures for you to sit, and you do, feeling slightly like a sacrificial lamb.

“This won’t hurt,” he says smoothly, rolling up his sleeves. “Now, sit still.”

You expect him to just slap some moisturizer on your face and call it a day, but no. Vil moves with precision and care, his fingers brushing gently over your skin as he applies cleanser, toner, and a series of serums that feel more expensive than anything you’ve ever owned.

“This feels… nice,” you mumble, your eyelids growing heavier.

Vil hums, clearly pleased with himself. “Of course it does. Skincare is an art.”

Somewhere between step five and six, you lose the battle against sleep, dozing off in the chair.

You stir awake to find Vil leaning over you, his gaze soft and almost… fond. He’s saying something about your skin glowing, but you’re too distracted by the feeling of being watched so intently.

“Vil?” you murmur groggily.

“Yes?” he replies, his voice softer than usual.

Your eyes narrow slightly as you sit up, noticing something on your cheek. “Uh… did you kiss me?”

Vil freezes for a fraction of a second, but it’s enough. His usual composure slips, and he hurriedly swipes at your cheek with a handkerchief. “Don’t be absurd,” he says, but his tone is unusually flustered.

Except.

You glance at his lips, where the faintest smudge of lipstick is visible. “Riiiiiight.”

Vil notices where your gaze has landed and turns away, busying himself with the jars on the counter. “You’re imagining things.”

You smile, a teasing glint in your eye. “If you say so.”

But as he ushers you out of Pomefiore with a distracted wave and a faint blush dusting his cheeks, you know you’ve won this round.

The morning starts off with a buzz of activity at the botanical gardens. Vil, ever the professional, has arranged an elaborate photoshoot in the serene greenery. Props were meticulously placed, outfits were prepared, and lighting setups were already stationed. Vil even allowed himself to feel something akin to satisfaction.

That is, until afternoon rolls around.

Unbeknownst to Vil, the chaos trio (Ace, Deuce, Grim) and Jack had wandered into the gardens earlier for what they dubbed “a little harmless fun.” What they actually managed to do was:

Accidentally tip over a giant fountain while trying to see if Grim could swim (spoiler alert: he can’t).

Start a “friendly” game of tag that ended with Ace tripping over a prop table, sending vases and floral arrangements flying like shrapnel.

Release a flock of doves intended for Vil’s grand finale by opening the wrong cage ("I wanted to see if they could do tricks!" Ace insists as Deuce facepalms).

Grim, somehow, set a bush on fire. Jack put it out, but the smell of burnt shrubbery lingers ominously in the air.

By the time Vil arrives, the scene looks like a tornado hit. The once-pristine gardens are a disaster zone. Props are broken, flowers are trampled, and there's a trail of muddy footprints leading in every direction.

Vil steps into the carnage, his designer boots squelching in mud. His expression is eerily calm at first, but the sharp inhale he takes speaks volumes. He surveys the devastation with a look that could wilt the few surviving flowers.

“My vision,” he whispers, his voice tight with suppressed rage.

You stand beside him, trying not to laugh because you’ve never seen him this close to a meltdown.

“Vil,” you say cautiously, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s not that bad—”

“Not that bad?!” he snaps, whirling on you. “Look around! This isn’t a photoshoot location; it’s a war zone!”

From the corner of your eye, you spot Cater peeking in, phone out, clearly recording the unfolding drama. You make a mental note to confiscate it later.

Vil pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself, “I should have known better. Trusting anything to others. Utter folly.”

“You’re gonna burst a blood vessel,” you warn him, earning a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

“Alright, alright,” you say, rolling up your sleeves. “Stop sulking and help me salvage this.”

Vil blinks at you, incredulous. “Salvage? You can’t possibly—”

“Watch me.”

With that, you march into the chaos. You grab what props can be salvaged, rearrange a few backdrops, and even craft makeshift decorations out of the remaining flowers and ribbons.

Vil watches in stunned silence as you hustle, barking orders at a very confused Sebek, who you dragged out of the equestrian club to help.

“Sebek, I need that saddle cleaned now!” you shout.

Sebek grumbles, muttering something about “desecrating noble horse equipment for frivolity,” but obeys when you glare at him.

Within the hour, you’ve transformed a patch of ruined garden into a new set: a rustic, equestrian-inspired photoshoot featuring horses. Vil looks around, stunned, as you pat one of the horses on the neck.

“Well?” you say, wiping sweat from your brow. “It’s not the flower themed you started off with, but it’ll work, right?”

Vil stares at you, a strange softness in his eyes. “...It’s perfect.”

The photoshoot goes off without a hitch. Vil looks flawless as ever, draped elegantly across a horse in one shot and holding its reins with regal authority in another. You even manage to convince Sebek to lend Vil his equestrian jacket for a dramatic flair.

As you predicted, the photos break the internet. The combination of Vil Schoenheit and majestic horses sends fans into a frenzy. “A SUPERMODEL AND HORSES??? THE WORLD ISN’T READY FOR THIS!” one comment reads.

But what really goes viral isn’t the official photos. It’s a video Cater secretly took of Vil watching you as you worked to save the shoot.

In the video, Vil stands in the background, holding a bouquet prop. His usual composed expression is nowhere to be seen—he’s looking at you with undisguised fondness, like you’re the only person in the world. The caption?

“The real shoot is happening behind the scenes #VilSmittenheit”

When you show Vil the video later, he groans and buries his face in his hands. “Of course Cater would...”

But you just smile, because even Vil can’t deny the truth caught on camera.

The potionology exam looms like a thundercloud, and you’ve made the questionable decision to study with the first-year gang. It feels like babysitting a tornado of chaos.

You’ve got your notebook out, ready to tackle the mysteries of potion ratios and ingredient compatibility. Then you look up.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim are locked in a heated debate over whether it’s morally acceptable to substitute powdered phoenix feather with breadcrumbs.

“Grim, breadcrumbs aren’t even magical!” Jack groans, rubbing his temples.

Grim huffs, waving a paw dismissively. “It’s got crunch! Everything’s better with crunch!”

“Breadcrumbs in a potion?!” Sebek barks, slamming his fist on the table. “Such idiocy would never occur in Lord Malleus’s presence! Do you know the kind of potions he could make? Far superior to this nonsense!”

Epel, slouched in his chair, mutters, “What’s the point of potionology when you can just punch your problems or fly away?”

“Guys,” Jack says, his patience clearly thinning. “We need to focus! We’re all going to fail if we don’t—”

“I’M NOT FAILING!” Sebek bellows.

“Then stop talking about Malleus for five minutes!” Ace snaps.

You close your notebook. You know when to admit defeat. You’re getting nothing done here.

Plan B: The Vil Schoenheit Method

You march straight to Vil in Pomefiore. He’s seated in his lavish lounge, sipping tea and reading a book on advanced alchemical techniques that makes your brain hurt just by looking at it.

“Vil, help me,” you say, dropping dramatically to your knees like you’re auditioning for a tragedy. “I’m going to flunk potionology, and I can’t rely on Ace, Deuce, or Grim because they’ve got the collective intelligence of a soggy paper towel.”

Vil arches an eyebrow, clearly amused. “And why should I help you?”

“Because you’re the best potionologist I know,” you plead. “And because I’ll owe you one. A big one. I’ll even—” You pause for dramatic effect. “—tell you where Epel is when he runs away.”

Vil narrows his eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but your desperation is mildly entertaining. Fine. But I won’t go easy on you.”

You gulp.

Vil is intense. He doesn’t just teach you potionology; he micromanages your existence.

“Back straight,” he snaps, tapping your spine with a ruler. “You’re hunched over like a gremlin. And stop stirring like you’re mixing pancake batter. Precision is key!”

You mutter something about gremlins under your breath, but Vil hears it. “I can make this more difficult if you’d like,” he says with a sweet yet menacing smile.

He quizzes you relentlessly, correcting every little mistake with the sharpness of a dagger. “If you confuse Mandrake extract with Mandragora root one more time, I’ll have Rook carry you back to Ramshackle while reciting a poem about your incompetence.”

But by the end of it, you’ve actually learned. You’re tired, your hands smell like sulfur, and your posture is permanently straightened, but you’ve learned.

You ace the exam. You don’t just pass; you get one of the highest scores in the class.

“THAT’S MY HENCHHUMAN!” Grim crows, puffing his chest out like he took the test himself. “We’re unstoppable!”

Ace and Deuce, however, are staring at you like you’ve just revealed you’re a double agent.

“You went to Vil for help?!” Ace squawks. “That’s betrayal! Treason! You’re a traitor to the First-Year Study Group™!”

“You think you know someone,” Deuce adds solemnly, shaking his head.

“It’s not my fault you two were trying to use breadcrumbs in a potion!” you fire back.

“That’s not the point!”

Ignoring their melodrama, you bolt to Pomefiore to thank Vil.

Vil is sitting by the window, gazing out at the gardens with a cup of tea in hand. He looks up as you burst in, all smiles and gratitude.

“Vil!” you exclaim, practically skipping toward him. “I passed! Thank you so much!”

He raises an elegant eyebrow. “Of course you did. I wasn’t about to waste my time on a lost cause.”

You throw your arms around him in a quick, impulsive hug. “You’re amazing, seriously. I’ll thank you properly later, but for now—” You lean up and kiss him on the cheek. “You’re the best.”

Before Vil can react, you’re already sprinting out the door, leaving him sitting there with a stunned expression.

Moments later, Rook appears, materializing like the cryptid he is. “Ah, Roi du Poison,” he coos, his smile wicked. “You’re absolutely smitten, aren’t you?”

Vil sighs, shaking his head, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “Be quiet, Rook.”

“Ah, silence is the language of love!” Rook declares dramatically. “But your face says it all! Mon dieu, how adorable.”

Vil doesn’t even bother denying it. He simply takes another sip of tea, thinking of your smile.

It’s 4 a.m. The witching hour. You’re blissfully cocooned in your blankets, dreaming of peaceful, non-chaotic things, when a sharp tap tap tap jolts you from your slumber. At first, you think it’s your imagination, but the tapping persists, growing louder and more insistent. You crack open one groggy eye, then the other. You blink at the sound’s source.

Your window.

“Window?” you mumble in confusion, still half-asleep. Then you see him. Rook Hunt. Perched precariously on the ledge like some kind of medieval gargoyle but with better fashion sense. He’s waving at you with such enthusiasm you’d think he were auditioning for a cheerleading squad.

Your brain, still booting up, goes: Of course. This is perfectly normal.

Then, a second later: WAIT A MINUTE—WHAT?!

“Rook?” you hiss-whisper, stumbling to the window. “Why are you—” You stop mid-sentence because his face is a mask of sheer panic. “What’s wrong?”

He places a dramatic hand on his chest, his voice trembling with urgency. “Mon amie! It is an emergency of the highest order!”

Heart pounding, you throw open the window. “What happened?! Is someone hurt?! Did something explode?! Is Vil—”

Rook nods gravely. “It is Roi du Poison.”

Your stomach plummets. He doesn’t have to say anything more. If something’s wrong with Vil, you’re going to help. You’re his friend, his confidant, his designated earplug during Rook’s poetic soliloquies.

You don’t hesitate; you grab your coat and shoes and sprint out the door, trailing after Rook, who somehow manages to make a full-on run look like a choreographed ballet.

The journey to Pomefiore is a blur of panic and adrenaline. You’re preparing yourself for the worst. Was Vil poisoned? Did he collapse during some over-the-top skincare ritual? Is it gasp the end of his perfect reign? By the time you burst into Vil’s room, you’re practically on the verge of tears.

“Vil!” you cry, rushing to his bedside. “Are you okay? What’s happening?!”

Vil, propped up against a mountain of silk covered pillows, looks up from his tissue box, pale but undeniably still Vil. His expression is unimpressed, though there’s a faint red tinge to his nose that he’d probably die before admitting to.

“I have a cold,” he says flatly, voice slightly nasal.

You blink. Once. Twice. You slowly turn to look at Rook, who is leaning dramatically against the doorway, one hand over his heart like he’s auditioning for Hamlet.

“A cold?” you echo.

Rook nods solemnly. “Oui! But what is a mere cold to a shining star like Vil? Even the smallest ailment feels like a tragedy!”

Without breaking eye contact, you grab a tissue from Vil’s nightstand and throw it at Rook’s head. He catches it mid-air with a flourish.

“I thought he was dying!” you snap, your voice somewhere between exhausted and hysterical.

Vil sighs deeply, like you’re all inconveniencing him. “Well, I feel like I’m dying,” he mutters, reaching for another tissue with the elegance of a dying swan.

Despite wanting to throttle both Vil and Rook, you stay. Because deep down, you care about Vil (and because Rook is lurking in the shadows, making escape impossible). Armed with tissues, herbal tea, and the resolve of a saint, you declare yourself Vil’s official nurse.

“Do you need anything?” you ask, pulling a blanket higher up his shoulders.

Vil sniffs. “I need… another pillow. This one is too flat.”

You grab another pillow and fluff it to perfection. “Better?”

“No, this one is too fluffy.”

You fight the urge to scream. But you adjust the pillow again. And again. And again.

Moments later:

“This tea is too hot.” You cool it.

“This tea is too cold.” You reheat it.

“This lighting is too harsh.” You dim it.

“This lighting is too dim.” You—wait, what??

For hours, you cater to his every whim with the patience of a saint. Vil complains about the temperature, his blanket, the angle of his tissue box. He’s fussy, demanding, and dramatic, but you take it all in stride.

Why? Because deep down, you know he’d never ask for help unless he really needed it. And because Vil, even at his most irritating, is still someone you care about. Maybe even have a crush on but that's a problem for future you.

Rook occasionally pops in to offer poetic encouragement. You ignore him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Vil falls asleep, his perfect features soft and peaceful. You, however, collapse on the couch in the corner of the room, absolutely spent.

The next morning, Vil wakes up feeling… better. His fever has broken, his headache has subsided, and for the first time in days, he doesn’t feel like his body is actively rebelling against him. He sits up and looks around, finding you passed out on the couch, still clutching a crumpled tissue in one hand.

He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the way you’re curled up in an awkward position, the slight shiver in your frame from not having a blanket. And for the first time, Vil feels something unfamiliar. Guilt. And a deep affection.

As the morning light filters into the room, he glances at you one last time, his expression softening. “Once I recover,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, “I’ll tell you.”

And with that, Vil Schoenheit makes a silent vow. The next time you nurse him through anything, it will be with him as your devoted partner—and not because of a misunderstanding orchestrated by a certain overdramatic huntsman.

It hits you like a truck in the middle of class: you’re in love with Vil Schoenheit.

Not a crush, not admiration—you’re down horrendous. Butterflies are doing pirouettes in your stomach every time he talks to you, and his slightest smile makes you feel like you’ve been hit by a blinding spotlight.

You try denial. (“It’s just his aura. He does this to everyone!”) You try avoidance. (“If I don’t look at him, I can’t fall harder, right?”) But none of it works. Every time he critiques your posture or gives you that sly smirk, it’s game over.

Finally, you give in. “Okay, fine! I’ll confess!” you announce to Grim, who’s lounging on the couch.

“Good luck,” Grim snickers. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I am about to be sick!” you shriek. “This is Vil! What if he laughs? What if he just… stares at me in that terrifying way he does when Epel says something stupid?”

“Then I’ll eat your dinner as consolation,” Grim says, ever supportive.

You prepare like your life depends on it.

Step One: Flowers. You pick out the most gorgeous bouquet, ones that practically scream, I’m hopelessly in love with you, please don’t let me die of embarrassment.

Step Two: A handwritten card. You pour your heart onto the paper with the eloquence of a poet. “You’re incredible,” you write. “Not just because you’re beautiful, but because of your strength, your kindness, and the way you inspire everyone around you. I… I love you.” You almost combust just writing it.

Step Three: Look your best. You pick an outfit that’s just shy of trying too hard and hope it’s enough to make you look like someone worthy of confessing to Vil Schoenheit.

“Alright,” you say, holding your bouquet like it’s a shield. “Here goes nothing.”

“Don’t trip and fall on your face!” Grim calls after you.

You’re halfway to Pomefiore, sweating bullets and trying to remember how to breathe, when you see him.

Vil is walking toward you, dressed impeccably as always, carrying… a bouquet of his own?

Your heart skips several beats, and you’re suddenly extremely nervous—the kind of nervous that makes your palms sweat, your knees weak, and your brain do somersaults. You feel like a malfunctioning automaton.

“Oh,” Vil says, his gaze locking onto you. He stops a few feet away, his eyes flickering between you and the bouquet in your hands. “Out for a stroll?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer, gripping your flowers tighter.

Vil tilts his head slightly, and you swear he looks… annoyed? “And the flowers?” he asks, his tone calm but sharp, like a scalpel. “A gift for someone special, perhaps?”

You freeze. “Uh—”

Before you can answer, Vil’s gaze shifts to the card sticking out of your bouquet. He reaches out and plucks it before you can stop him. Your soul briefly leaves your body.

He reads it silently, his face betraying nothing, until—

“Oh.”

His tone is quiet, and you’re horrified to see a flicker of heartbreak in his expression. “I see.”

“Wait! It’s not what it looks like!” you blurt, waving your hand like a maniac. “The flowers are for you! The card is for you! I just… forgot to sign it.”

Vil blinks, his lips parting slightly in surprise. Then, to your immense relief, he chuckles—a soft, melodic sound that sends your heart into a frenzy. “You forgot to sign it?” he repeats, amused.

You nod vigorously, clutching the bouquet like your life depends on it. “I was too busy panicking, okay?!”

Vil shakes his head, his smile widening. “Of course. Only you would confess in such a manner.” He steps closer, his own bouquet now visible. “It seems we had the same idea today.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he means. “Wait… those flowers…?”

“For you,” Vil says simply. “Though I’ll admit, for a moment, I thought they might be unnecessary.”

You stare at each other, the absurdity of the situation sinking in. Then, Vil takes your bouquet from your trembling hands and replaces it with his own.

“They suit you better,” he murmurs.

Before you can fully process what’s happening, he leans in and presses his lips softly against yours.

The world seems to blur around you, and all you can feel is Vil—his warmth, his scent, the tenderness of his touch. When he pulls back, he’s smiling at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

“Let’s not wait so long to be honest with each other next time,” he says softly.

You nod, dazed and giddy. “Y-Yeah, totally.”

As he intertwines his fingers with yours, leading you back toward Ramshackle, you realize one thing: The first year gang is never going to let you live this down.

But to be honest, you really don’t care. Not when Vil Schoenheit is looking at you like you're the only ones left on the planet.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

[kdyq]

The start of a new beginning

Ambessa x Fem!reader

Part one of a my mini series

Context : As Ambessa steps into a new role one of fierce protector and tender caretaker. While navigating the delicate early days of potential pregnancy with the help of Hextech IVF.

The lab was quiet except for the soft hum of Hextech crystals glowing faintly along the walls. Piltover’s finest alchemist stood before you a meticulous mixture of science and magic in his hands. Within the small vial he carried was the culmination of countless discussions, hopes, and dreams shared between you and Ambessa a mixture of your genetic material prepared for implantation through the marvel of Hextech fertility.

Ambessa stood beside you her imposing figure like a fortress of strength. Her golden eyes usually so sharp and calculating flickered with an emotion she rarely allowed herself to show… hope. “This is it” you said your voice quiet but steady as you reached for her hand.

She took your smaller hand in hers, her touch surprisingly gentle. “This is the beginning of something greater than either of us.”You smiled up at her warmth spreading through your chest. “You sound more optimistic than I expected.”

Her lips quirked in a rare soft smile. “Let’s call it confidence. We’ve fought for this and Medardas don’t lose battles.”The alchemist cleared his throat reminding you both that this moment was more than just words. “Shall we proceed?”

You nodded and Ambessa gave your hand one final squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll be right here”she promised her deep voice grounding you.

The process was not painful but it was deeply intimate. Lying on the sterile table you felt a strange mix of vulnerability and strength. The alchemist worked with precision the glowing Hextech apparatus buzzing faintly as it did its work.

Ambessa sat by your side her chair pulled close. She had insisted on being present for every second refusing to leave your side even for a moment. Her large hand rested on yours her thumb tracing soothing patterns across your skin. “Does it hurt?” she asked her voice uncharacteristically soft.

“Not really” you replied glancing up at her. “It’s just… strange. Knowing this could change everything.” “It will change everything” she said firmly her golden eyes locking onto yours. “And I’ll be here for every step of it.”

The procedure concluded without complication. The alchemist stepped back his expression one of professional satisfaction. “The implantation is complete. Now we wait for confirmation.” “How long?” Ambessa asked her tone calm but commanding.

“Two weeks” the alchemist replied. “ I’ll provide instructions to ensure the process is as smooth as possible. Minimal stress plenty of rest and careful monitoring.”Ambessa’s jaw tightened slightly but she nodded. “Understood.”You knew from that point own you wouldn’t lift a single finger until that conformation.

From the moment you left the clinic Ambessa transformed into a one woman security detail. She insisted on carrying you into the estate despite your protests.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking!” you said laughing as she scooped you up effortlessly.“Humor me” she replied her voice tinged with rare amusement. “You heard the alchemist minimal stress. I don’t take chances.”

Over the next few days her overprotectiveness became both endearing and slightly irritating . She refused to let you lift a finger but you know this is a love language for her she just doesn’t wanna tell you that. She’ll be reorganizing your usual routines with military precision.

“Ambessa I can pour my own tea” you said one morning as she carefully placed a steaming cup in front of you.“Not while I’m here” she countered her tone leaving no room for argument.

“oh my god your gonna drive me crazy” you teased though the warmth in your voice betrayed how much you appreciated her care.She leaned down her golden eyes locking onto yours. “Good. It means you’ll stay put.”

One evening as the two of you sat in the estate’s sprawling garden you finally managed to coax her into relaxing. The stars above were bright and the soft hum of the estate’s wards created a comforting background noise.

“You’ve been hovering “you said, leaning your head against her shoulder.“And?” she replied her smirk audible in her voice.

You laughed softly. “And I love you for it. But you don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile.”Ambessa shifted slightly, turning to face you. Her large hands cradled yours, the contrast between your smaller fingers and hers a reminder of her strength.

“You’re not fragile,” she said, her voice low and serious. “But this…. this life we’re creating…. it’s the most important thing I’ve ever done. And I won’t take any risks with it or with you.”The intensity in her gaze left you momentarily speechless. You reached up, cupping her cheek and she leaned into your touch.

“I know love” you said softly. “But you don’t have to carry it all on your own. We’re in this together.”Her expression softened and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’ve always been better at balancing strength with softness. Maybe I could learn from you.”

As the two weeks stretched on your interactions grew even more intimate. Ambessa was a constant presence her protective instincts balanced by moments of vulnerability she rarely showed anyone else.

One afternoon she found you curled up in the library flipping through a book of baby names.“Already planning?” she asked her tone light as she sat beside you.“Just… imagining,” you replied, leaning against her. “Do you have any preferences?”

She took the book from your hands, flipping through it thoughtfully. “Something strong. Something that carries weight.”You smiled. “That’s very you.”

She looked down at you, her golden eyes warm. “And something that honors you.”The day of the follow up appointment arrived and Ambessa’s usual composure was replaced by a quiet tension. She held your hand tightly as you both awaited the results.When the alchemist finally returned holding the glowing test tube that signaled success, you felt tears well in your eyes.

“It worked”he said simply his voice filled with warmth. “Congratulations.”You turned to Ambessa your heart full. She stared at the test tube for a long moment before pulling you into her arms.

“You’ve done it” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “We’ve done it.”In that moment, surrounded by her strength and love you knew that this child would be born into a world shaped by both power and tenderness a legacy built on the unshakable bond you shared.

“THE END”

AN/ This took me so long to jus think about how im gonna do this whole story but im just about done with the part 4 ish I just wanted to have all or most of this mini series done so it wont be a long time between each “chapter”. Next one shot is Ambessa and then Sevika 🥸

[dark-moonlust]

Bound by the Rose Mark

This commission is owned by Kate Hart. As the original writer, I strictly forbid any form of reproduction, replication, or translation of my stories without my explicit consent.

Pairing: beast oc (Alaric) x f!reader

Summary: This is a story with Beauty and the Beast vibes. You live in a grand castle with a beast named Alaric. One day, you accidentally touch him and a glowing rose tattoo appears on your skin. Alaric explains that the tattoo is a sign of a curse that binds the two of you together. You can't get more than a few steps away from him without feeling pain and arousal. Forced to stay close, you both succumb to your feelings and the deep connection between you.

Warnings: 18+, mid-eighteenth century story, true love curse, beauty and the beast vibes, magic tattoo bonding, virgin reader, oral (fem receiving), foreplay and stimulation, p in v sex, big 🍆, belly bulge, knotting, lots of 💦.

I completely forgot to post this commission! Enjoy!!

Château d'Azay-le-Rideau, France - 1750

“Make it stop!” you groaned, wide eyes on the Beast, who stood calmly by the fire, his large, furred form casting long shadows over the walls. “Please, just… make it stop!”

“I cannot do that.” Came his voice, steady and infuriatingly husky.

The moonlight shone through the castle's grand windows, pouring glittering beams across your body as you paced back and forth, the tap of your boots echoing on the sleek floor. Your fingers moved nervously against the mark on your wrist, the delicate rose pattern twisting and developing, shimmering softly against your skin. With each passing second, the flower vines extended further up your arm, emitting a sweet warmth.

It all began a year ago with a professional agreement. The Beast was Lord of the Castle and needed someone to govern it. You were that person. You lived in his huge fortress and worked as his chamberlain. But what began as a rigid work agreement quickly turned into closeness. 

In the past months, you’d grown used to his company, you were after all, alone in a huge castle with no one but a few servants to talk. He’d gifted you his enormous library, a beautiful haven of literature. He also spent time with you every day, taking you on walks to the gardens, organizing big dinners, music nights, and theatrical nights. You’d been foolish to allow yourself to get comfortable, to hover close enough and be tempted to touch him.

But his fur had appeared so silky and inviting. What was one touch?

You'd succumbed to the temptation and touched him, curved your small palm over his massive arm. 

A moment later, all order unraveled. 

A weird tingling sensation had begun to emerge from your wrist, and as you looked down, a red rose began to light softly, its delicate petals winding up your wrist, its thorny vines snaking out, tracing your skin with intricate detail. The tattoo was enchanted and even now— it continued to spread on your arm.

Oh, how foolish and naive you had been! To approach him so carelessly, hovering so close that his mere presence seemed to draw you in. It was foolish to give in to your curiosity, reaching out to touch him despite the warnings. And now, this—this thing—was strangely connecting you to him in ways you couldn't fathom.

The Beast—no, Alaric, as he was once known—kept staring at you like an idiot, his sharp features unreadable. He didn’t even look troubled. Why would he be? For once, he wasn’t the one in trouble. He rather enjoyed it, wicked Frenchman that he was. Yet as you glanced at him, you felt another spark, a liquid warmth in your belly. His form, massive and imposing, stood out against the moonlight, making the entire hall feel smaller, more intimate.

Alaric had been cursed long long ago, cursed to find misery, coldness and no love. His face was no longer that of a beautiful Prince but of a beast with horns, sharp teeth and lion’s mane. He was massive and muscled, with strong legs and a wolf-like tail. His clothing was still royal, tailored to fit his form. He looked as elegant and well-groomed as possible.  

With an exasperated groan, you stroked your wrist harder, the glow intensifying with each stroke of your fingers. "Damn! Why doesn't it stop?! Please, stop it!"

He spoke with a long sigh, his voice low and rumbling. "I told you I cannot do that."

"You can't or you won't?"

"It's the mark of the curse…" His glance swept across your wrist. "There is no undoing it."

Your heart sunk at his words. You were aware of his curse but had no idea it could be transmitted through touch. Damnation! And damn the warmth of the mark, affecting your whole body. It felt warm and wet between your thighs as if a fire was spreading beneath your skin, connecting you to him. Every pulse of fire reminded you of your error.

“I… I didn’t ask for this!” you protested, rubbing at the mark as if you could wipe it away with sheer willpower. “I was just—just curious! I did not want to be cursed.”

“You touched me, therefore now you will pay. You are bound to me.”

You shot him a sharp look, waving your pulsing wrist in the air. “You could have warned me that I’d get cursed just by touching you!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “But I did warn you not to touch me, didn’t I? You were simply too curious.”

“I thought you were goading me, challenging me! You didn’t mention the part where I’d be magically tethered to you like a pet on a leash,” you snapped despite the lingering warmth in your chest. 

“You are wild and untamed. Always speaking back to me, always doing as you please. It’s your fault, little one.”

“Still…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”

“Where would the fun in that be?”

“Oh, yes, this is so hilarious. I’m cursed with a pulsing tattoo— it glows like a freaking beacon by the way—and you’re not in the least concerned.”

“The mark will stop glowing once you accept it.”

“I’ll never accept it!”

Alaric sighed. “The curse cast upon me ensured I would never be loved. I was cursed to live as a beast, hated and feared... alone."

You gazed at him, the weight of his words hurting your heart. His formidable, imposing frame suddenly appeared fragile.

“However,” he continued, “there is a way… for the curse to wane. Not to break it entirely, but weaken its grasp. The curse weakens—forever— when I am touched by someone who genuinely loves me.”

“So… this mark…”

Alaric nodded. “It means you are the one fated to love me. And because of that, the curse has loosened its grip on me. Though I can never return to the man I once was, I can have love.”

Your eyes welled with emotion, but you refused to cry in front of him. “So… this is permanent?" 

Alaric hummed and stepped close, his towering frame suddenly feeling much too close. “I’m sorry… but you are now bonded to me, my thorny rose,” he purred. “Alas, you could have worse company, no? And the mark… I think it’s quite beautiful.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Beautiful? It’s so big and so… damn hot!”

“That temper of yours…” he sighed softly, in a way a beast like him never would. “Of course it makes you hot. The closer we are, the more it will affect you. It’s a sign that our bond is… flourishing.”

You blinked, rubbing your thighs together at the effect of his deep voice, presence and scent. “Flourishing? My wrist isn’t a garden, Alaric. This is my skin. And I assure you, it’s not supposed to glow.”

“We are connected. The curse… it has tied our fates together. The more we fight it— both of us— the more painful it will become."

You swallowed hard. “And if I… don’t fight it? Will it stop and leave my skin?”

“No. Never, little one. The mark will just settle there, binding you to me, fully and irrevocably. But… I’m afraid we cannot stray far from one another without feeling pain.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

His lips curled, showing just the barest flash of sharp teeth. “Immensely.”

Stupefied, you spun around, intending to get some fresh air but the moment you moved away, a sudden, scorching pain went through your chest, making you gasp. He was there instantly, steadying you with a large, clawed hand. You curled into his body, sighing pleasantly at the feel of his fur against your skin. It felt so good, warm and inviting, his musky scent tantalizing your senses. You hadn’t realized it but your hands were buried in his forearms, holding him to you.

“Foolish one,” he muttered, his breath warm against your temples. “What did I just tell you?”

“Alaric…” you sighed, meeting his eyes with reluctant acceptance. “Make it stop, please, make this ache go away.”

A low chuckle escaped him as he rubbed your wrist, feeling the warmth pulsating beneath your skin and tracing the delicate rose mark. The rose's delicate vines had wrapped themselves around your forearm, growing faintly. You bit back a moan, despite everything, you felt the pull—the odd bond that bound you to him, pulling you nearer to him with each breath.

“Ah, yes… it can be intense. Every step you take away from me will only bring more pain, more desire pooling deep inside.”

“Deep inside?”

Alaric raised a brow, a glint in his eyes. “Hmm, deep inside your cunt. I can scent your sweet arousal. Always could scent your need for me.”

You looked away. His words made you wet. Tenderly, he turned your face back to him. There was no hiding your blush or emotions.

“The curse bound us together. Two halves meant to be one. And if we give in…” he trailed off, his huge palm framing your face. “Would it be that bad?”

The tension in the room shifted as he stood there, with you in his arms, the strange pull between you palpable. Were you truly the one for him? Your heart stuttered. The idea of being physically and emotionally bound to Alaric—a beast of both grace and power —was captivating.

And the more you thought about it, the more your heart and body betrayed you. Oh dear… Yes, you wanted him. You wanted him with every ounce of your soul. Right on cue, the tattoo—its once glowing petals and vines now settled into a permanent black design that curled up your forearm. Becoming a part of you.

You didn’t resist when Alaric scooped you up, carrying you through hallways to his private chamber— a huge, opulent bedroom with polished wood and velvet furnishings, tapestries hanging on the walls, and a stone fireplace crackling in the corner. The bed was the largest piece of furniture in the room; it had a dark purple canopy covered in silk and velvet covers making it appear incredibly soft and inviting.

Alaric lowered you on the plush bedding and he came to rest beside you, his body half-looming over you, massive yet tender and protective. His eyes, golden and intense, settled on you then down to the rose mark. His fingers, clawed but surprisingly gentle, traced the rose before his tongue brushed a petal of the tattoo, feather-light, sending a shiver of electricity racing up your spine.

You watched, breathless, as he nuzzled and licked every petal, every vine, every thorn, his muzzle soft against your skin. The heat of his breath warmed you as he worked his way up your forearm, his mouth following the intricate lines of the rose, savoring every inch of it. With each kiss, your pulse quickened, your body shamelessly hot, your pussy dripping slick.

“Alaric…” you said in a sultry voice you could hardly recognize.

“Easy. We’ll take it slow, my thorny rose.”

As he said that, his lips hovered just inches from your collarbone. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate indentation at the base of your neck. A sweet gasp escaped you as he licked a slow, tortuous trail down the round tops of your breasts, pulled up by your corset and your bodice. The laces on your bodice came undone, the corset disposed of in seconds as he skillfully drew the fabric down your waist, exposing your breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze.

Your body arched closer to his, your nipples hardening into tight, aching buds. His eyes locked onto yours before he bent down and let his tongue trace the underside of each mound. You whined, burning so fiercely with desire as he licked the around your areolas. Teasing and exploring. Never quite getting to your sensitive nipples.

“Alaric,” you warned, thrusting your chest to his mouth.

“How I love it when you call my name.”

And with that, he licked one tiny bud, causing your body to shiver with want. Your hands gripped his horns, keeping him in place as he lapped one nipple, sucking wetly, his saliva and scent mingling on your skin. He did the same with the other nipple, and your body melted into his, hips arching up, breasts thrust sweetly into his lips.

You were lost in passion and he was only touching you.

You craved more. You wanted to touch, feel, and own every part of him.

Boldly, your hands slid up to his jacket, tugging at the heavy fabric, feeling its weight between your fingertips. You dragged his jacket away and he helped you remove it along with his shirt, without quite taking his tongue and hands off your breasts. Furry broad shoulders were revealed and a powerful, sculpted chest and stomach.

Large hands encompassed your tits as he growled softly and angled his head, his tongue trailing the curve of your neck. His fingers pinched your nipples, careful of his claws. Your breath hitched and you tilted your head back, offering him more.

“Oh god… yesss,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Blindly, you brought his mouth to you, needing to feel his kiss. But he hesitated, pulling back slightly. His golden eyes met yours, darkened with desire but shadowed with worry.

“I’m afraid… of hurting you,” he drawled. “I have no lips and my teeth… they’re sharp. I don’t want to—”

“Use your tongue,” you whispered, breathless, gone was the shyness in you. “Please.”

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, but then, as though unable to resist any longer, he surged forward. His mouth opened, and his tongue, hot and insistent, swept across your lips before plunging deeply. Deeper still. He tasted you, swallowed your breaths, and pressed his moist and burning tongue against yours, sending sparks of ecstasy shooting through you with each stroke. You gasped into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the sheer intensity of the kiss, your hands grabbing his shoulders.

The sound of fabric tearing and garments hitting the floor was the only indication of what was to come.

The flickering light in the room danced across your flesh, both naked and unashamed. His body enveloped yours, his weight pressing down on you, his thighs spreading your legs apart. The sheer size of him caused your pussy to clench. His shaft was a massive veined rod of flesh, long and thick, with a knot at the base. His cock throbbed and leaked moisture, and his balls thick and heavy, hung like ripe fruit.

You couldn't help but reach out, a little bashful as your fingers stroked the silky warmth of his shaft. It was both firm and tender, as hot as touching a blazing flame. Alaric snarled and watched your small hands. You trailed the protruding veins and bulbous head all the way down to the bulging sac. He growled, his entire body tense.

“Such soft gentle touches. But I can’t—little one. I need to taste you, have you.”

You opened your mouth to protest but whined instead when his tongue licked the delicate folds of your pussy. Your body ignited, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Spine arching, you opened your legs obscenely wide, his head buried in between, wet tongue consuming your depths. He thrust his appendage inside, snarling primitively, and you sighed delightfully, your cunt pressing against his mouth as you shut your eyes tightly and surrendered to the passion.

“Mmmmm, so breathtaking,” he drawled, his tongue gracing your cunt. “I love the rose mark on your skin but even more so the petals on your wet cunt… so lovely and wet. I love to tease and lick them.”

Eyes holding your own, he hooked his large hands around your thighs, bringing them around his furred torso. His dick, massive and twitching, stroked against the wet petals of your cunt. He lubricated himself; you were soaked and ready to receive him. You wiggled and squirmed, impatiently attempting to guide him inside. Finally, with a gentle nudge, he growled, and the broad popped in.

Cupped your ass, he pushed inside, his cock gliding into you in one smooth thrust. You were incredibly tight, untouched and you gasped at the slight discomfort of the invasion. Despite his size, he somehow fit, his body seemingly designed to mold itself to yours. Your cunt was stretched wide, only his knot showing, and your belly bulged slightly, revealing the curve of his shaft beneath your skin.

Alaric caressed your belly lovingly as if marveling at the sight. “Yes, mine. It will be alright. I promise you. Does it hurt, little one?" 

You shook your head. “Not anymore. Please… hmmm—move. Need to feel you so desperately.”

“As you wish, my rose.”

His eyes never left yours as he thrust out of you, all the way out before slowly filling you up. This time there was no discomfort, only building intensity. His shaft slid in and out of you, the friction reigniting your desire. Your body flexed, your walls squeezing around his dick as he increased the pace. His thrusts became faster and more urgent, and you held him, rocking against him as his tongue stroked yours, making you dizzy with desire. 

Alaric was unstoppable, unrelenting and soon you were both shuddering in climax. He thrust one final time, bottomed out inside you till his swollen knot had popped inside. You whined, muscles contracting around him, your cunt snug around his knot, tying you together. You saw stars, thrashed wildly in little aftershocks as he released, a flood of cum filling you up. It didn’t help that he let out those delicious growls, tongue devouring your mouth.

Time seemed to stand still. You lay there, with him atop you, his dick still pulsing within you, his knot throbbing with a slow beat. It had been minutes and he was still spurting, though slower this time. You basked in the afterglow of your passion, felt so utterly at peace. Your bodies had become one and the tattoo on your wrist had never felt so right.

You were his, completely and utterly his.

“How are you feeling, my thorny rose?” he asked after he’d rolled over so you were draped over his chest, his knot still hard inside you.

“I feel loved,” you said as you rested over his chest feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the fur. “I have never been kissed or loved by anyone like this before—have never felt anything like this before.”

“There is no going back now,” he said possessively. “You gave yourself to me. What I feel for you is raw, primal. It cannot be stopped or contained.”

You grinned. “So, what? I’m just stuck to you for the rest of eternity?”

“Figuratively and literally, I’m afraid,” he said, groaning at the feel of his knot tucked inside your warm cunt.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

Alaric’s eyes softened. “I will never be the charming Frenchman I once was. That man’s appearance is gone, replaced by this… beast.”

Smiling, you let your hand reach up to touch his face, tracing the firm lines of his jaw, his fur silky beneath your fingers. “The appearance might be gone,” you whispered, “but your heart isn’t. Besides, I think I’m past wishing for a handsome prince on a white horse. French or not.”

A low chuckle vibrated through his chest. “You’ve got a strange way of looking at things.”

“And you’ve got a strange way of doubting yourself,” you shot back teasingly. “You might not be the Prince you once were, but you’re more than enough for me.”

“Don’t you regret it?” he asked quietly after a few seconds. “Mating with me? That I’ll always be… like this?”

“Oh, I am surprised but this is so lovely,” you murmured, hands caressing his shoulder. “It’s so lovely because I always wanted you to be mine. I've always felt attracted to you but was frightened to admit it. I was also scared you would reject me heartlessly."

“Never. I could never do that.” He took your hand, kissed the rose tattoo on your wrist.

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love. “You are thoroughly mine, Alaric.“

For a moment, he stared at you and a soft, almost amused rumble escaped him. “You really are something,” he drawled, his free hand brushing the curve of your ass. “You’ve given me something I thought I could never have again." 

“I am yours,” you whispered. “I love you. All of you, my Beast.”

“I love you more, my thorny rose,” he said, his eyes dark with lust.

Smiling, you kissed and made love again —harder, hotter, and wetter.

THE END

[hazymoonlinh]

Tracing the sun

Phainon x reader.

(Reader is mage this time. Gender neutral.)

I can’t help but screams Kevin when he was released 😔

Phainon sat in silence, leaning back against the cushioned chair, his shirt discarded and his well-built form illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern in the room. You straddled his lap, the pointy mage hat tossed carelessly onto the nearby table, forgotten in the moment. A jar of medicine sat in your hands, its faint herbal scent mingling with the warmth of the room.

He had gotten hurt again, and though he had insisted he was fine, you had seen the wince, the tightness in his movements. And so, despite his protests and teasing smirks, you’d pulled him aside to tend to his wounds.

His chest rose and fell with an easy rhythm as you gently dabbed the ointment onto the cuts on his shoulder and abdomen. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, and you tried not to get too distracted by the defined lines of his abs or the way his muscles tensed slightly under your touch.

“You’re lucky I’m nice enough to do this,” you muttered, trying to maintain some sense of composure.

“Nice?” Phainon’s deep, playful voice was tinged with amusement. “You’re enjoying this far more than you’re letting on.” His blue eyes sparkled mischievously, and that signature playful smile tugged at his lips.

You scoffed, though your face betrayed you with the faintest flush. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Once the medicine was applied, you reached for a clean cloth to cover the deeper cuts, but your gaze lingered. Your fingertips hovered over the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin, and before you could stop yourself, they traced a line along his abs, following the curve of muscle.

Phainon didn’t move, though his gaze grew heavier, more intent. His smile remained, but it softened, watching you with an expression that made your heart flutter.

Your touch wandered further, brushing over his chest, the smooth expanse of his collarbone, and finally the sun tattoo on his right neck. You lingered there, the intricate design catching your attention.

“Does this mean anything?” you asked softly, your voice almost a whisper.

Phainon tilted his head slightly, giving you better access. “It’s the mark of light—a gift that I have been born with. But right now,” he said, his tone laced with humor, “I’d say it means ‘please continue.’”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing, but your fingers didn’t stop. They moved to his face, tracing the curve of his jaw, the sharp edge of his cheekbones, and finally his eyelids, as if trying to memorize every detail of him. His blue eyes, so clear and bright, stared back into yours, unwavering and almost… mesmerized.

“Your hands are softer than I expected,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge replaced with something gentler.

Your fingers paused for a moment, resting lightly on his cheek. “Phainon, you—”

Before you could finish, his hand came up, gently covering yours, holding it against his face. “I know, keep blushing.” he said simply, his teasing smile returning, though this time it was softer, warmer. “And I like it when you fuss over me, even if you’ll never admit it.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your flustered expression. “You’re impossible.”

“And….you’re perfect,” he countered smoothly, leaning slightly closer. “You’re also stuck here, straddling me. So, are you going to kiss me or just keep tracing me like I’m one of your magical artifacts?”

You let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, your hand dropping to his chest again. “Maybe both,” you muttered, though your voice wavered just enough to betray your emotions.

Phainon’s grin widened, and he leaned back further, hands resting casually on your hips. “Take your time, my little mage. I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Don’t push your luck, deliverer.” You quietly mumbled, smirking at him yet cannot hide the pink on your cheeks.

After a moment of playful silence, Phainon’s hand gently glides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading softly through your hair.

“You’re so mesmerized by me,” he teases, his voice a low murmur, “should I be flattered… or concerned?”

Before you can reply, he pulls you closer, his face mere inches from yours. His intoxicating blue eyes search yours for a fleeting moment before his lips capture yours in a tender yet confident kiss. It’s unhurried, like he wants to savor the moment, his other hand resting lightly on your waist.

When he finally pulls back, his smile deepens, softer this time. “You’re such a dangerous distraction, you know that?” he whispers, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

The air feels warmer, the tension between you both charged with something undeniable yet comforting. It’s a moment you wouldn’t trade for anything.

.

.

.

(Changes will be made if I see new lore about the tattoo on his neck.)

(Requests are open.)

[rosylix143]

dress | ot8

pairing: ot8 skz x fem!reader (separate)

genre: suggestive, light smut

synopsis: their reaction to you wearing an appealing dress

cw: MDNI, minho’s is pretty light smut (like nothing in ultra graphic detail but ya know), minho is very rough and he calls you kitten (hehehehehehe), mention of public sex in han’s (woopsie, but no one sees them), seungmin’s also a little smutty, seungmin mad jealous teehee, seungmin calls you pup/puppy, grinding in seungmin’s, all of them are touchy lol

let me know if i’m missing anything!!

———————————・❥・———————————

bang chan

it was another one of your classic date nights, and chan was wearing a casual black dress suit with matching pants.

he was waiting in the living room for you, and bless his heart, nothing could have prepared him for the outfit you chose to wear for the night.

a slim maroon dress that hugged your curves perfectly and had the right amount of cleavage. there was even a large slit for your leg to pop out.

not to mention the jewelry and matching heels that brought everything together.

you were so gorgeous that time stopped. chan couldn’t help but stare at everything. and you looked at him with your cute doe eyes, it made his heart beat so much.

“i’m ready to go, hon,” you said, “chris? you okay? you’re spacing out on me.”

chan immediately shook his head when you called out to him, heat rising in his skin.

“it’s nothing, baby,” he lightly chuckled, as he leaned in to kiss your neck, taking in your sweet floral scent. “come on. let’s go before someone takes our table.”

he wrapped his arm around your waist, his palm right on your ass (he couldn’t help it), and you both carried on in your date night.

lee minho

oh he’s down.

he’s so down that he had to skip the dinner.

he’s so down that he needed to be down in your thighs for a long while.

you didn’t think he’d go feral over the velvet violet mini-dress you bought the other day, but you were sorely mistaken.

now you’ve got yourself pinned down in minho’s bed, dizzy from all the highs he’s been giving you for the past hour.

your dress was still bunched up around your waist, the lace underneath ripped in half by now, and the neckline is now sitting right underneath your now bare, swollen breasts.

your dress magically became a belt basically.

minho bit down on your shoulder again, coaxing a whine out of you. another purple splotch was added to the gallery on your skin.

“minho, please!” you mewled, gripping onto his bare bulging arms. “it’s too much…i don’t think i can do another one—ahh!!~”

he groaned and rocked his hips up against you more, making you cry out another moan. it hurt so much that it felt so good.

“you can take it, kitten. i know you can,” he said huskily, his pace relentless. “you were always able to do more….”

suddenly, minho’s phone started to ring for the 15th time that night. another missed call from chan. all minho could do was hit your sweet spot harder, making another wave crash over you both.

“fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving above yours. “i can’t believe you were going to wear this in front of the members….you should’ve known better, kitten.”

seo changbin

he was filling up a picnic basket with a bunch of cheesesteak sliders, fruits, and some lemonade.

he was expecting you both to wear the most casual of clothes ever: a tshirt and jeans.

but no of course you didn’t know what the word casual meant.

you decided to say fuck it and be extra cutesy.

you walked in the kitchen wearing a ruffled pink dress that reached to your upper thighs. it was covered in bows, and it had a sweetheart neckline.

changbin.exe stopped working.

“i’m ready, binnie,” you said as if you weren’t looking absolutely gorgeous.

he just stood there. amazed and it was like falling in love again.

changbin immediately grabbed you by the waist and kissed your sweet glossy lips. your cheeks glowed red and you kissed him back.

“god, princess, you look gorgeous!”

his hands traveled up your thighs, and he lifted you up before he sat you on the kitchen counter and kissed you more.

he kept asking you if you still wanted to do the picnic because plan sexy time suddenly became more appealing.

hwang hyunjin

it was milan fashion week, and he wanted to bring you along for the versace show.

you, of course, weren’t sure what you were going to wear, so hyunjin asked the one and only donatella versace to pick something out for you.

and donatella did not disappoint.

hyunjin was checking himself out in the mirror, running his hand through his shaved head (crying lol), and he was digging the purple silk jacket he was given.

but his eyes immediately widened when he saw your reflection.

you were straightened out your black mermaid dress that was a little poofy from the waist down, but still kept the mermaid shape. the dress was accented with gold, and your luscious hair was tied up in a bun.

donatella was generous enough to give you matching versace gloves, jewelry, and a fluffy scarf to go around your elbows.

you looked like an old hollywood star.

“how do i look, hyunnie?” you asked shyly. it’s not often you wear a custom made designer dress.

hyunjin walked up to you and gently lifted your chin, so his eyes could meet yours.

“like a work of art,” he smiled softly, leaning in for a sweet but searing kiss. you kissed him back, and hyunjin’s hands ran over your body, feeling up all your curves. he even tasted the sweet strawberry on your lips. his favorite.

and just like that, you and hyunjin went to the event, and the whole time, he couldn’t keep his hands off you at all.

his arm always had to be around your waist, his lips always had to be on your skin, and you got no seats other than his lap.

and you didn’t complain one bit.

because nothing made your heart more full than hyunjin showing off his beautiful goddess to the rest of the world.

han jisung

han’s eyes were wide open the whole time.

he couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole time you both walked in the park.

the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and you were standing in a cute floral pink milkmaid dress.

you just looked so cute in it.

so cute he could eat you up.

be prepared for han’s arms around your waist constantly throughout the whole walk.

he’ll get whiny if you move a little away from him.

“noooooo babyyyy stay with me pleeeaaassseee” he begged with his pouty lips and boba eyes.

“hannie, please i can’t breathe—”

“i’m sorry, just let me hold you please….”

his grip on you was indeed very tight. plus, his kisses were very ticklish.

he tried his best to behave the whole time he swears. but you knew that he couldn’t help it. whenever you wear anything remotely cute or sexy, han can’t help but want to glue you to his side forever.

so you decided to tease him back. you both were in a small secluded area in the park. not many people would walk by. han decided to sit on the vibrant green grass, and you decided to sit on his lap, fanning out your dress so that your legs and his were covered.

naturally, his hands were on you, but since there was no one around you, han took more liberty with his touches.

han nuzzled his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. you smelled like the sweetest of peaches. he didn’t even think he’d love peaches that much until that very moment.

he was also pretty shameless with his sloppy kisses on your overheated skin. his hands were….everywhere.

like everywhere

you were actively making sure that no one saw when his hand slipped under your dress, lightly touching the soaked fabric of your panties.

you lightly gasped, and han couldn’t help but go further.

long story short, you were on top of him, you both were breathless and hotter than a summer’s day, and your cute dress was ruined.

lee felix

felix brought you to paris, and he wanted to take you to a fancy dinner (courtesy from his friends at louis vuitton)

he was in the hotel lobby with the driver, patiently waiting for you to come downstairs.

he was wearing something simple: a black coat, matching dress pants, and a white buttoned shirt, along with some louis vuitton jewelry to add some pizazz.

meanwhile, you were wearing the most stunning dress he’s ever seen: a long shimmering navy blue mermaid dress that accentuated your curves perfectly, and had loose off the shoulder straps. the whole piece was even studded with cute little gems.

felix had to blink twice.

you descended from heaven as far as he’s concerned.

you walked straight out of a fairy tale.

“hello, princess,” he smiled before pulling you close. you felt extra good in his arms with the dress on. “love the dress.”

“really?” you asked, “isn’t there too much glamour tho?”

“ain’t nothin wrong with glamour, angel.”

he planted a sweet kiss on your forehead before taking in all your beauty once more. you really did look like a princess. so soft and so beautiful.

suddenly, you gasped when you were in his arms. because if you gonna walk outside looking like a princess, he’s gotta treat you like a princess (such a prince :3)

“felix!!” you held onto him tight, and he laughed a little.

“come on, honey, let’s get in the car.”

kim seungmin

you were blushing when seungmin had you pinned up against the wall. his hand was tightly wrapped around your wrist, and the other was on your waist.

he narrow eyes traveled up and down your body, taking in the black minidress you thought was a good choice for wearing to dinner.

it wasn’t so heavy on the cleavage (at least that’s what you said), with its long sleeves covering your shoulders, but again, it is a mini-dress. you bend over, and your ass is out.

the only thing covering your thighs was the black lace stockings you believed added a sexy touch to the whole look.

not to mention, the sexy black heels that made your legs a little longer.

you definitely looked very cute, and you were excited to show it to seungmin.

little did you know he’d react this way.

“you think i’d let you wear that outside?” seungmin said sternly, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“is it not cute, baby?” you pouted.

“it is, and that’s the problem,” he leaned in closer, his hot breath against your neck. “you look so damn good, pup, and i want to be the only one who gets to see it. no one else….especially not jeongin.”

a breath got caught in your throat, immediately remembering the other day when you and jeongin spent the whole time laughing and joking together. you both had similar humors, so that moment felt natural to you.

if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t even pick up on the possibility of jeongin liking you. sure he was cute, but you saw him more as a friend.

you knew that seungmin watched the whole interaction, and you knew that he was jealous. you wanted to ask him about it, but you also thought he’d forget about it because you’ve been nothing but a good pup.

apparently, he hasn’t forgotten.

“but, min, jeongin doesn’t even like me like that,” you explained, your voice a little higher and breathier than normal.

“maybe, but i can’t help but think just how close he was to you that day,” seungmin pressed you up further against the wall. you let out a soft gasp, feeling his knee right in between your legs. “never trust a fox, pup….i’ve always told you that.”

fuck, he was hot when he was jealous.

your face was all rosy red, and you felt some hot stickiness in your panties.

“what’s the matter, pup? getting all hot and bothered?” he darkly chuckled and kissed your neck, slightly rubbing his knee against your core to coax a whine out of you. “it should be me who gets to fuck you in this dress. not him.”

“please, min,” you begged. you sounded pathetic, but you couldn’t help it.

you used your free hand to grab onto his arm, as you weakly grinded up against his knee to relieve some of the ache in you.

“please what, pup? let jeongin see you in this dress? want him to fuck you?”

"seungmin!"

"or....i could just video this and send it to him. see how he likes it."

seungmin let out a low growl and bit your earlobe, coaxing another whine out of you.

"you sound so good, puppy...bet jeongin can't make you do that."

suddenly, seungmin lifted you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he carried you to the bedroom.

his phone was buzzing with the missed calls and unread texts, but he didn't care.

yang jeongin

jeongin picked this dress out for you on a whim.

it was an emerald green corset dress.

it didn’t have much added decoration on it, other than the corset’s outline. it was rather simple.

but jeongin bought it because he wondered how it would look on you.

obviously, he knew you’d look good in it.

you always looked good.

but he didn’t expect you to look smoking hot.

you walked out of your closet, showing him how the dress looked.

“this dress is cute, innie,” you said, doing a little twirl to show jeongin more. “although, I don’t know how good the corset looks…”

jeongin grabbed you by the waist. he loved how easy this dress made it, especially with the way it hugged your body in the right places.

you blushed and giggled more when his lips were on your neck. his hot breath was right up against your ear, sending chills down your spine.

“you look perfect, my vixen,” he said, “you should wear this everyday.”

“you say that about all the clothes you buy me,” you chuckled.

“and i mean it. you look stunning.”

jeongin probably spent the next thirty minutes or so kissing your skin, leaving a couple of bite marks and hickeys.

they made the perfect accessory.

———————————・❥・———————————

a/n: another ot8 imagine hehehehe. ig this is my first light smut on this account lol. anyways, leave a like and reblog if you liked it, and comment all of your thoughts <3

masterlist | taglist

[sacr1ficialang3l]

my back arched like a cat.ᗢ⋆˚࿔

DEAN WINCHESTER X CATGIRL!READER

SUMMARY: A witch hunt gone wrong leaves reader with some unexpected furry features. dean wonders if the hentai gods have finally answered his prayers. 4.1k

WARNINGS: smut (MDNI). cat-hybrid reader. which means mentions of animal ears, tails, meowing, etc (do not read if you don't likd that kind of stuff). piv. unprotected sex. dean is a nerd and a freak but we knew that. one (1) mention of tentacles.

NOTES: i can't stop thinking about dean watching "cartoon smut" so here it is. the author is a virgin so there might be unrealistic details but reader is a catgirl so actually anything could happen. as always, english is not my first language. enjoy<3

Focused on using your last witch-killing bullet before the old woman in front of you finishes chanting a spell that’s apparently sucking all the air out of Sam’s lungs, you don’t notice the black cat behind you.

The case had been simple enough. Another witch causing mayhem in a small town, leaving hex bags scattered around for you three to find. You spoke with the locals, identified the suspect, and followed her to the small abandoned house she used as a lab. It looked almost like a real lab—petri dishes everywhere, concoctions bubbling. The smell of spices and herbs would’ve been overwhelming if you weren’t so focused on fighting for your life.

The black cat, apparently not too fond of you shooting its mistress, sinks its teeth into your ankle with a strength no normal house-cat should have. You shriek and try to step forward just as the cat tries to dart away. You do your best not to step on it—the animal might be the familiar of an evil witch, but you still refuse to hurt a kitty—which only causes you to trip. You and the little feline end up rolling away in a tangle of claws and limbs. You stumble into one of the lab tables, and because your luck is the worst, a sticky liquid spills all over you. Thankfully, it isn’t one of the bubbling concoctions, so there’s no third-degree burns. Instead, you’re drenched in a purple, syrupy substance that smells like… candy?

You spit out the cat fur that somehow made its way into your mouth, while the source of this whole disaster hisses at you, as if it’s all your fault. The cat walks off, offended, head raised high and tail flicking in the air. Then, suddenly, the sharp crack of a gunshot makes both you and the cat turn. Dean had regained consciousness after being knocked out by a blow to the head and had finally killed the witch. You and the feline both make noises of displeasure, but for very different reasons.

The cat runs off, meowing in sorrow for the loss of its guardian. You groan, because with the witch dead, it’s going to be a hundred times harder to figure out exactly what the hell you’re covered in.

So now you are in the bunker, all three of you reading any book you can find on magic and candy-scented potions. You leave Rowena a voicemail, but you doubt she’ll get back to you anytime soon.

The substance had absorbed into your skin a few minutes after the accident, not even giving you time to try and wash it away. It had basically disappeared, only leaving a faint glow and a sweet smell on your skin as proof of the whole ordeal. 

After hours of finding nothing useful, you drag yourself into the kitchen to make your third batch of coffee. Something feels off, but in a weird, unfamiliar way. Everything smells stronger, sharper, and more complex. You suddenly have the urge to stretch and lie down in the sunlight, even though you’ve always been known for your vitamin D deficiency. And for fuck’s sake, you still can’t get rid of the sensation of cat fur in your mouth.

“Stupid witchy cat.” You grumble as you wait for the coffee maker to finish its job.

A snicker coming from behind you makes you jump, and you quickly turn around to find your boyfriend leaning on the kitchen island. Dean gives you one of his signature grins, but you can see the undercurrent of worry in his eyes. He’s just as desperate as you to figure out exactly what’s happening.

“Are you done pouting at the coffee? I think Sam is about to pass out.”

That only makes your pout deepen, and Dean chuckles lowly before he starts to walk around the island.

But suddenly there’s a pressure on your head, and your vision gets a little blurry. You lean back against the counter, blinking slowly until the dizziness fades. Once you’re able to focus your eyes again, you turn to Dean.

Your boyfriend is frozen, staring at you with wide eyes and his jaw dropped. You start to get a little worried. What if the potion gave you some horrid, irreversible mutation, and now you have to be sent to the middle of a labyrinth like the Minotaur?

“Dean? Dean!” But he doesn’t even blink, he doesn’t move, he just stares at you. But no, he isn’t looking at you, per se, his gaze is laser-focused just a little higher, right into the top of your head.

That’s when you feel the pressure on the sides of your scalp, and then something twitches. Dean lets out a choked sound, and your hands shoot up instinctively, finding two furry triangles nestled in your hair.

“What. The. Fuck?”

You turn around and find your reflection in the glass of the microwave. Indeed, there are two black cat ears sticking out of your head, the same color of your hair and— the same color of the familiar’s fur. 

“That son of a bitch!”

Something behind you stiffens, then shoots upward in response to your anger, and this time Dean curses loudly. In the reflection, you can see it sticking from behind your shoulder, a long black—something—that twitches at the same time your new cat ears do. You hope it’s not what you think it is, but it looks a lot like…

“Are you fucking kidding me? A goddamn tail?” 

You turn your head around to look, and there it is, sticking from under the black skirt you had changed into when you got home from the hunt. Same color as your ears, and swinging slowly, lifting your skirt a bit.

“Holy shit.”

Your head snaps up, locking eyes with Dean. His expression is frozen somewhere between awe and disbelief, but there’s something else too—something heated lurking beneath the surface. You’re too busy panicking to dwell on it.

“Guys! I think I found some– oh.”

You’ve locked yourself in the bathroom for what feels like hours. Turns out, the ears and tail weren’t the only side effects of that unfinished shape-shifting potion. No, you’ve also grown fangs—which, okay, you have to admit, are kind of pretty— and you are feeling a little… kittenish? 

Like, you have to fight the urge to hiss every time Dean yells through the door for you to come out. You keep catching yourself wanting to rub your side against random furniture—scenting, Sam called it. And worst of all, you’re battling an overwhelming impulse to knock every delicate object in the bunker straight onto the floor.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can’t stay in there forever.”

You sigh, ears flattening against the top of your head. Dean’s right, if you want to fix this you have to leave the bathroom. With a defeated huff, you finally unlock the door.

He’s waiting on the other side, smirking, but he immediately tries to hide his amusement when he catches sight of your frown. You swallow down another hiss, striding past him and into the room you two shared, head high, tail flicking in clear offense.

But as soon as you brush past Dean, an overwhelming smell hits you. You admittedly liked the way Dean usually smelled, like whiskey and motor oil, something musky but sweet at the same time that you had grown to associate with home. But now, with your newly developed sharp senses, it is intoxicating.

“Baby, wait–” Dean tries to stop you from walking away, but you’re already moving, pressing yourself against his chest before you even think about it. “Uf. What…?”

You bury your nose in his neck, sniffing. Dean makes a small, strangled sound when the tip of your nose brushes behind his ear, but you ignore it. 

“You smell good.” You mumble, hands pawing at his chest and keeping your face pressed to his skin. 

“Thanks?” Dean huffs out, his hands wrapping around your waist. Your boyfriend smells like heaven, but something is missing. A deep, instinctual frustration wells up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, you start nuzzling against him, rubbing your cheek against his skin with frantic determination. He tries to pull you away, and a loud whine rips itself out of your throat. 

The sound makes you snap out of it, and you’re suddenly jumping back. You press your back against the wall while you try to catch your breath. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will away the heat crawling up your spine.

“Sorry.” You whisper after a long moment. “I don’t know what happened.” 

Dean blinks at you, still standing where you left him, hands half-raised like he’s not sure whether to reach for you or give you space. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

“Uh. So it is that bad, huh?”

You don’t answer, still pressed against the wall, mortified.

Dean scrubs a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “Look, sweetheart, no need to freak out, okay? You’re just, uh—adjusting.” His lips twitch. “Though, gotta say, not used to you being this eager to cuddle me in the middle of a crisis.”

You groan, dragging your hands down your face. “Dean, please.”

“I’m just sayin’" He lifts his hands defensively. "if this is a side effect, I’m not exactly complaining.”

Your glare sharpens, but Dean just grins, eyes flicking to your still-twitching ears. His smirk falters for a second, though, when he remembers that sound—the desperate little whine you let out when he pulled away. His fingers flex at his sides.

“But, uh… you’re okay, right?” His voice is softer now, eyes scanning your face.

You nod, still rattled but slowly coming back to yourself. 

“As okay as you can be after being physically-modified without your consent.”

Dean watches you for a beat longer, then huffs out a breath and shakes his head.

“Alright. Well, if you feel the urge to, y’know, scent-mark me again, maybe give a guy some warning next time.”

The words ‘scent-mark’ make you grimace, and you cover your eyes with your hands again.

“I will murder you, you know I can.”

The threat only makes him laugh, and you sigh in defeat. You will never live this down, that you are sure of.

“Did Sam find anything about how to fix this?”

You hear Dean shift closer, and you drop your hands, meeting his gaze.

“Rowena called back while you were locked in there.” He hesitates, pressing his lips together like he already knows you’re not going to like what’s next. “Since the potion wasn’t finished, the effects are temporary. You’ll just have to wait it out, baby.”

“This is a fucking nightmare.” You scoff, leaning back against the wall in resignation. 

Your cat ears flatten, tail curling low around your thigh. The kitten fangs feel too big in your mouth, and the sheer overload of sounds and scents is driving you insane.

Dean steps closer. It’s only then that you notice his pupils—blown wide, dark with something unreadable. You frown, about to question it, but before you can, he moves.

And then he’s kissing you.

The kiss is hot and sudden, stealing the breath from your lungs before you can even react. It is a little rougher than Dean usually is with you in moments like this, but you’re not complaining. His hands find your waist, pulling you in as he swallows your surprised little gasp.

His palms roam your sides, fingers pressing in like he needs to feel every inch of you. Your hands clutch his shoulders as he leans in closer, deepening the kiss until your head spins. It’s only when your lungs start to burn that you break away.

“Dean, w– ah!” As soon as you pull your lips away, he starts kissing down your neck. “What’s gotten into you?”

He hums against your skin, warm and insistent, sucking softly just below your collarbone. His teeth graze you, and a sound slips past your lips. 

A. Literal. Mewl.

Dean groans like you just wrecked him. Before you can even process your own humiliation, his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly.

You yelp, arms flying around his shoulders as he holds you against him. 

Next thing you know, your back hits the mattress.

Dean looks possessed—breathing heavy, eyes dark. You glance at the door, which was already closed. Your eyes return to Dean when his hands slide under your skirt. You’re about to ask what’s going on again, until you notice the way his eyes are locked on your kitten ears.

Your tail sways, slow and deliberate against the sheets. Realization hits you suddenly, and you grab Dean’s shoulders to stop him from leaning in again.

“You’re into this shit.” It is more an affirmation than a question.

And suddenly, everything makes sense.

Dean’s weirdly specific interest in anime. The late-night “cartoon smut” Sam always rolled his eyes at. The alarming amount of Japanese erotic magazines you’d found in the Impala’s trunk that one time. His utterly feral reaction to your new feline features. 

You inhale sharply, scandalized. “Dean. Do you have a catgirl fetish?”

He scoffs, but a blush creeps into his cheeks. For the first time in your life, you’re seeing Dean Winchester flustered.

He tries to straighten up, but you stop him, still gripping his shoulders. Your grin stretches wide, ears perking up with curiosity.

You just stare, eyebrows raised, as Dean struggles to compose himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His comeback is so lame you can’t help but laugh. Just like that, the stress of the potion incident vanishes now that you had an opportunity to tease your boyfriend. 

“You little freak!” You slap his shoulder, still a little embarrassed by the whole situation. “Oh my god, I can't believe this.”

“Shut up.” He grunts.

You open your mouth to tease him again, but he shuts you up with another kiss.

Your tongues tangle as Dean tugs your skirt down in one swift motion. You let him, arms lifting when he starts to pull your shirt over your head.

Sure, you’re still freaking out a little. And yeah, Dean being into the catgirl thing is mortifying.

But the heat pooling in your stomach drowns out your embarrassment. Your chest rises and falls, breath hitching as Dean’s hands roam your bare skin—every touch heightened by your new, razor-sharp senses. 

Your panties are soaked through in seconds, and you wonder for a second if it is a cat hybrid thing. Your little fangs brush against Dean’s tongue, and he breaks the kiss with a groan. 

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, baby.” Your underwear is gone in seconds, and you moan when his fingers slide in between the lips of your swollen cunt. “You’re so wet, shit.”

Your back arches off the bed when his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles while his fingers press lightly against your entrance. You spread your legs, giving Dean more room in between them. The sound that comes out of you when his middle finger finally buries itself inside of you is so kitten-like that it makes you flush. 

“Dean, please.” You mewl, not sure what you’re asking for.

The moment you open your mouth, Dean’s eyes lock onto your little fangs. His thumb brushes over your upper lip before tugging it up, eyes going wide.

"Son of a bitch." He mutters, running his finger over the sharp point of one. "Look at that. So fucking cute."

You brush your tongue against the pad of his thumb. The sensation has you drooling, your mouth forced open, and before you can process it, Dean shoves his middle and ring fingers inside.

You suck on his fingers, your head bobbing and tongue curling around them. Dean groans, pushing his digits deeper into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He only pulls away when saliva spills down the corner of your mouth, wiping his hand on the sheets before kissing down your neck.

“So damn messy for me, kitten.” He licks and nips at your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You push your hips down, trying to get him deeper inside you. “You’re so needy, baby. Like a kitty in heat.”

Dean’s words are hushed, a little rambly—you’ve never heard him like this. Mr. Confident and Nonchalant, completely unraveling. He’s so crazily into this crap, it’s almost funny.

Your laugh comes out breathy as Dean presses his thumb a little harder against you. That makes him pause, eyes flicking up. He looks as disheveled as you expected him to be, but he is now frowning. 

“What are you laughing at?” He grunts, settling between your legs.

“I should’ve known your hentai-ridden brain would be into this shit, but I never imagined you’d get this—hot and bothered over a pair of cat ears.”

You wait for Dean to yank off his shirt before leaning in, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Are you into tentacles too? Or maybe—”

You are silenced by Dean slapping your pussy.

The smack echoes around the room, and it makes you choke on your words. 

“You better shut that pretty mouth before I shut it up for you.”

The “don’t threaten me with a good time” dies on your tongue when two more fingers enter you. You were loose and wet enough for it, throbbing with the need to have Dean inside of you. 

Maybe you are in heat.

You whine when the digits suddenly pull out, but then you’re being turned around into your front. Dean helps you positionate on all four, face low against the mattress and ass raised high, back arched in a perfect, flawless curve. 

You almost get knocked down when Dean suddenly presses against you. The blunt tip of his cock brushes up and down your slit, collecting the obscene amount of slick that is steadily dripping out of you. He slowly presses against your entrance until only the head is inside. Dean waits a few seconds, making you whimper desperately before he buries himself to the hilt in one swift motion.

You let out a high-pitched moan at the sudden feeling of fullness. 

“Hell, look at you.” Dean starts to thrust immediately, hips rocking mercilessly against you. “Look at your pretty tail, fuck.”

That makes you turn your head around, and you catch sight for your tail swinging in contentment at being fucked. Your blush worsens and you hide your face against the covers. 

“You feel so good, kitty. Such a tight, warm cunt, just for me.” 

Dean’s hips shift and suddenly he is slamming against that spot that makes you grip the blankets for dear life. You mewl helplessly, ears twitching and pussy tightening around Dean.

“Yeah, Dean. Ngh- right there.”

Dean keeps thrusting into you at a brutal pace, and the only sounds your enhanced hearing can pick up are your loud whines and Dean’s rough moans. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hope Sam is reading away in the library, far enough not to hear.

Amidst all the burning sensation, you almost miss the way Dean’s hand curls around the base of your tail. It makes your shoulders tense up, and then he tugs at it.

The sensation that runs up your spine is like nothing you had ever felt before. Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back. You let out a yowl of pleasure, totally overwhelmed by it.

The way you tighten around Dean makes him still for a second, surprised by your intense reaction. You whimper and rock your hips back.

“Again. Dean– again.”

There’s one more second of stillness before Dean resumes the roll of his hips with new-found vigor. It is almost violent in the best way, and it makes your nails drag down the blankets, your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

“You like that, baby?” Dean whispers, and he sounds wrecked. His voice is strangled and the hand that is not on your tail is gripping your hips so hard you just know it will leave marks.

“You like having your tail pulled? What a needy little thing.”

You nod as best as you can while being rocked back and forth insatiably, and you are rewarded by a harsh tug to your tail. You moan and mewl repeatedly, asking for more.

Dean keeps pulling at your tail, his other hand leaving your hip and sliding around your body until he finds your swollen clit. He starts rubbing it and tugging your tail at the same time, making you throw your head back and scream.

“I’m close.” You cry out. “Fuck, Dean. Gonna come.”

“Cum for me, kitten.” The head of his cock keeps hitting that sensitive spot, and you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. “You’ve been so good for me, get this cute little cunt all messy for me.”

You let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a meow as you cum, wetness dripping out of you and running down your thighs. 

Your boyfriend keeps fucking you through your orgasm, thrusts now sloppy and desperate.

“That’s it. So goddamn tight, fuck. Fuck.”

He grunts loudly as he comes inside of you. Thick ropes of cum cover your inner walls, filling you with warmth. You hum in satisfaction at the feeling. Dean stays deep inside you even after his climax ends, panting and stroking your tail softly. 

You whine, ears going flat against your head when he slowly pulls out. It makes him chuckle, and you pout. It quickly disappears when Dean lays down next to you, pulling you against his chest before draping a blanket over your naked bodies. 

“You like getting your tail pulled.” He breathes out, like he is still marveling at the discovery. 

Still recovering from the most intense orgasm you have ever had, you hide your face against Dean’s neck and groan. 

“Shut up.” You grumble. But after a second, you end up whispering. “It felt good.”

“Yeah, I could tell.”

That earns him a slap on the chest. He just laughs, pulling you closer. Too fucked out to care, you nuzzle your cheek against his skin—scenting him. He already smells like you after everything that just happened, and the thought fills you with a deep, lazy satisfaction.

Then, suddenly, a low, rumbling sound vibrates deep in your chest. It rolls through your whole body, making you melt further into Dean’s arms. His hand, still tracing up and down your back, abruptly stops.

He calls your name, voice tinged with shock.

“Are you… purring?”

That makes you pause.

You are fucking purring, from getting railed.

You’re about to die from embarrassment when Dean curses loudly, his forehead dropping against the top of your head. Your kitten ears twitch and brush against his cheeks, making him groan again. 

“God fucking damn it. There’s no way—this has to be some messed-up fever dream.”

If you’re being honest, your boyfriend being so affected by it makes all the shame wash away. You giggle, still purring. 

“You fucked me so well you made me purr.” You whisper in his ear, and he looks like he’ll combust. 

“You can’t say shit like that.” He grunts, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Just saying the truth, love.”

You stay like that, wrapped up in each other, chests pressed together. The steady rumble of your purring fills the space, low and soothing. At some point, your tail curls around Dean’s arm, and he just chuckles, tracing lazy shapes along your back with his fingertips.

You scent him one last time for good measure, this time dragging your lips along his neck, leaving little bruises and imprints of your sharp teeth all over.

He lets you, exhaling softly, his other hand finding your kitten ears. The gentle scratch behind them pulls a sweet, contented sigh from your throat.

“Y'know,” Dean murmurs after a long stretch of silence, mischief lacing his voice. “There’s one more thing we should probably check before the potion wears off.”

You hum, too relaxed to question it.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

"Do you have a rough tongue?"

You turn to him in disbelief, catching the way his eyes darken.

"We already kissed, dumbass. Your fingers were literally in my mouth. You know I don’t."

You shove at his chest, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, that cocky grin only widens as he leans in further, voice dropping to a whisper.

"Maybe… but we should make sure. Plus, y’know, cats love milk—”

"You absolute perv!" You push him again, harder this time, and he finally falls back against the mattress with a chuckle.

You shake your head, laughing at his audacity. “Shut up before I tell everyone big bad hunter Dean Winchester is a fucking nerd with a catgirl kink.”

By morning, all kitten features are gone. You celebrate while Dean mourns the loss, But you already know—eventually, you’ll be asking Rowena for a similar potion. 

You simply like making your boyfriend feel good, even if it includes some weird hentai shit.

It had nothing to do with how good the tail-pulling felt, of course.

NOTES: yes, i had to watch catgirl hentai while researching for this (no other reason). I can't believe this is so long but I am unable to shut the fuck up. anyway, hope you liked it!

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

not so secret identity | m.g. x gn!reader

“if you could have any powers in the world, what would you choose?” asking the random question while you and mark are laying in his backyard, just staring at the sparkling stars. you stretched an arm up, like you were trying to touch them. “i’d like to be like atom eve. her powers are almost god like, or just anything kinda mysterious slash magical. looks more fun than just brute strength.”

your free arm was pressed against mark’s chest, his fingers just mindlessly rubbing over skin and bone. “strength is good though, you know you’ll always be able to protect yourself and those close to you.” turning his head to the side, admiring you. someone he wants to keep safe and happy from this darkening world, but you don’t know that other side.

a smile spread across your lips, “with these new muscles you’ve suddenly developed i can see it.” now turning to rest on your side, hand propping up your head. “i’d definitely would have posters of your superhero persona on my walls. ‘oh he’s just so dreamy’.”

mark smiled shyly, “and you’d be a bombshell for anyone with eyes. but i’ll know that i’m the one you love, so i’m not bothered by some guys. but i’ll still protect you from creeps if you had the powers and i didn’t.”

his words made you feel mushy. leaning closer towards mark’s face, your puckered lips pressed into the cooling skin of his cheeks. dotting along his jaw leading to his nose, higher up leaving sweeping caresses on his eyelids. bits of your hair fanned over your profile, “wanna watch a movie? getting a bit cold and sleepy out here.” whispering to him.

he immediately moved from the ground, taking your outstretched arm and then effortlessly throwing you over his shoulders. you couldn’t help the loud surprised yelp leaving your mouth, “mark!” playfully hitting his back.

and mark retaliated by smacking your ass, the sting making a warmth grow in your stomach. “still wanna watch a movie?” he cockily remarked.

-

“look at you hottie! got a nice glow about you more these days.” william commented after you hugged him in greeting then sat across from him for your lunch hang.

digging your teeth in your bottom lip you had to withhold all the…intimate details from the night before. even if you do like having someone that also thinks your boyfriend is extremely sexy, but boundaries. “random mark related question, but do-do you think he’s gotten bulky lately? i swear he’s twice the size then he was about three months ago. not that i’m complaining though.” subconsciously thumbing over a blooming bruise on your thigh.

william shrugged, “he’s a straight guy with a girlfriend. probably just decided to really hit the gym one day, not that he was scrawny before, but you know.” and that ended mark related conversation for now. both of you just dived into work gossip or something either of you heard in the halls, trying to set up future plans with eve and amber also involved.

while you were laughing at a joke william made, you felt a sudden shaking. both of you went silent to tell if there was gonna be an after shock, but it was worse when someone was violently thrown into a building just across the street from the cafe. you and william ducked to the ground, legs turning to jelly at the sight of something so horrific just an arms length from you.

“we gotta go!” someone yelled in your ear followed with a yanking on your arms. your knees scraped the gravel as you tried to steady your self, barely taking a step before you were shoved to the floor causing an agonizing pain shooting through your muscles. “william!” calling for your friend who wasn’t in your sights.

what was in your sights was a mangled human, blood and spit dropping from their lips to the ground. a deep panting causing their chest to puff, huffs of thick air almost cartoonish from their nostrils. they reared their head then started rushing like a bull, it was like a horror scene where you want to run but just can’t take your eyes off the assailant. you thought this was the end, you just closed your eyes, waiting for any impact.

but it never came. your heart started pounding faster, eyes slowly fluttering open to see that monster straining against the resistance of invincible. you couldn’t see the hero’s full face due to the bright yellow mask disguising him, but you could see how his teeth were gritting together so hard they could crack. it was a tug of strength, invincible’s feet were planted firmly on the ground as he pushed most of his upper body forward.

“g-go! now!” he yelled out. he groaned due to the sudden distraction, grunting when the criminal tried pushing him off and he just pushed back. his jaw was flexed and you couldn’t help tilting your head to the side, a bit of curiosity seeping in.

“mark?” speaking your boyfriend’s name.

he looked down at you for a moment, “run!” then grabbed the monster’s head and rammed his knee into its face. he threw a fast punch into the chest causing him to create a bit of distance for the two of you. he gripped your upper arms, made sure your legs were okay, and gave a quick peck to your forehead. then he returned to the action.

watching a moment longer, fighting the conflict in your chest, turning on your heel you made your way towards the police barricade. looking over your shoulder you tried to catch sight of mark again, but two hands held your shoulders and turned you away from the destruction. “oh thank god,” william sighed as he pulled you in tight for a hug, your own arms taking a moment before wrapping around his waist and gripping his red shirt in your grasp.

“do you know about mark?” whispering into his ear. william jerked his head back, a furrow on his brow. “what about mark? did something happen?”

“mark and invincible in one sentence, what do you see?” trying for a different route. you took note of how his eyes kept darting, going from you to the conflict, and it was like you almost can see wheels turning in his brain.

“no, no there’s no way.” he stook his head, “you’re just stressed and there’s adrenaline running around. let’s get you home and we’ll call mark to check on him.” steering both of you further away, you sneaked a peek over your shoulder, barely a standing figure there invincible was. watching you walk away.

-

you just laid in your bed, eyes burning a hole in your ceiling while you rubbed your fingers over your elbows. small things were starting to piece together in your mind, new cuts and bruises popping up every other day, those dumb excuses of ‘oh forgot to grab my umbrella be right back’ when it was a sunny day. god the new build, how he’d somehow manages to find amazing authentic food in your boring town.

you were just blinded by mark. sure you never thought he was cheating or something like that, but sometimes yeah, you never really thought about his behavior. mark’s always been awkward.

a knock at your door filled the silent room. you didn’t bother responding since the door slowly creaked open, looking over just as mark meekly poked his head through the crack. those sad puppy eyes observing you, “can i come in?” his voice soft, patient.

“yeah,” a tiny crack on the a. mark moved slowly, trying not to startle a baby deer. he sat beside your hip, the bed dipping slightly from his added weight. a large hand hovering in the air before retreating back to his side, not sure what those turn of events caused.

“how’d you get home?” his first question. a deep sigh through your nose, “william drove me. funny how he parked further away cause there weren’t any spots.” barely a huff at the stupidity.

“do-do you want to talk about…invincible?” his second question. you stayed silent longer this time, out of anger or frustration or any other emotion you could be feeling at this moment. a laughed bubbled from your chest when you suddenly remembered yesterday’s conversation.

“what?” mark leaned in closer, inspecting you. tears gathered at your lash line, “we were freaking talking about if we had powers last night. that honestly could have been the best time to casually bring it up.” giving a half assed swat to his bicep.

the tension seemed to dissolve a bit since mark laid down behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you back to fit snug against his toned chest. you easily intertwined your hands together over your stomach.

mark pressed a kiss to the base of your neck before setting his chin on your shoulder, “you know how it’s pretty common superhero’s don’t flaunt their identity, even to close family.” you hummed, already understanding why he wasn’t screaming this news from the rooftops.

“it would’ve been nice to at least know. it would be the same amount of anxiety without or with your powers, i get anxious when you disappear or-or just make terrible excuses.” barely sending a glance behind you, “you may be superhuman, but you still have a heart and brain, and those two organs are vital to your breathing. so if you just died one day out there i wouldn’t know or hear the real reason.”

your throat was getting choked up, it just hit you. he could die, every time he goes out there in that costume, he might not come home one day. “i can’t lose you this early, mark.” closing your eyes, wet tears kissing your cheeks in silent empathy.

“hey, hey.” there was a bit of shuffling then a hand to your face. “sweetheart, look at me please.” a scrunch of your features before fluttering your reddening eyes open to see mark peering at you. you brought your own hand to his left cheek, thumb rubbing under his eye and along his nose.

“i’ll always make it out a fight alive. will i look pretty? probably the complete opposite, but as long as i feel my heart beating and feel my chest moving, i’ll come crawling back to you.”

two pairs of eyes stared into the windows of their souls, simultaneously grieving all the unknown pain yet to come, all the joy that’ll make up just a fraction of your life. mark leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, you could feel a healing cut along his bottom lip. it caused a few more tears to spawn, but you chose to ignore them, you only wanted to focus on the now.

[skreebat]

The OUAW brain rot continues.

I love their designs! And I wanted to have a little fun figuring out how I want to draw them, with my own little tweaks and self indulgent details. :)

Originally, I only meant to draw Frost, to figure out what kind of body type I wanted to give him. Then I ended up drawing the whole part, partially as a reference to myself. Also got their canon heights on a chart and put them all together for fun and for reference. c:

Some design tweak notes under the cut, if anyone’s curious! These aren’t redesigns or whatever, I just had some ideas in mind while sketching them in a way that fits my art style.

Design notes copied directly from my server:

🔥Gid THICK BOY. He's not really a bodybuilder but he exercises and is very muscular. And he eats! A lot. So, thick boy. Scars from all the fighting. The wrists and ankles are because of his past.

I like giving his hair and beard a lot more fire. Body hair also glows fiery, it's just less bright.

🐊Kremy I figure he's the skinniest of the group after Torbek. Most of what I did is a happy medium between references of alligators, the official art, and just my art style. Mostly game him scale patterns, more alligator-like feet, and changed the tail a bit, but it's hard to tell from this angle. Not much body definition because he's a squishy magic user and a gator lol

🐯Frost Fit but not defined. Kinda thick-ish, since he's a tiger, so there's loser skin and thick layer of fur. Digitigrade because I say so.

☹️Torbek Not much changed, mostly gave him more tubes, gave him bald patches where they connect to his skin (and didn't make those are infected looking as I imagine tbh), made him fuzzier, and gave him bigger ears because I like em. Also you can't see it in this angle but I like giving him a small fuzzy tail.

🐾Gricko Fit arms, but he doesn't exercise, so he gets a bit of a tummy. Scars because of his interest in monsters, and his various accidents. Wilder hair. Freckles and moles because I say so. Decorated hair (including feathers from Hootsie!)

🍄Twig Not much really?? Went by her description, the plushie and an emote of her that exists. Made her chubbier because I wanna. Originally made her hair all curls…might go back to that. Also freckles because cute.

Do you have your own headcanons for details of what they look like? :)

-- [BTW I do commissions]

[unintentionalseductress]

Hi! I had a request if it's okay and I thought I'd send it to your inbox like you asked me to :))

The vision I kinda had for it was ultimately inspired by the fanart and now that I actually think about it, perhaps it's something like rafayel's an outlaw and she's the future queen or sm and they're having a secret affair and ultimately they're caught one day and so her father's furious cs like as you said in the Nanami one, she's supposed to be absolutely pure until marriage so when she's caught with Rafayel doing the dirty, it's absolutely js like 😨😡🤯 for her father, I didn't know how else to explain it srry 😭😭 but yh and so now her father's in a rush to marry her off without further embarrassment but then her and rafayel elope but they go through the deserts, like in the fanart, so nobody can chase after them and uh yh 😭 the only smut I envisioned would be at the beginning of it cs personally, I can't see them doing it in a hot and sandy desert 😖 so uh yh

But tyyy 🫶🫶🫶

-📚

Promised Sands

Warnings: MDNI, sex, angst, mentions of death and violence, reader experiences depression and thoughts of taking her own life briefly A/n: Book anon and I had a chat about this fic, and after getting more details, she said she wanted it loosely based off the Aladdin AU I wrote for Nanami . I am still writing the Zayne and Dawnbreaker fic but inspiration somehow found me and this ended up being written quite quickly. And this is only my second oneshot for Rafayel, like WHAT?! I don't write enough for him.

You sit miserably on your bed, staring out of the barred window at the silhouette of the city in the distance. The bars were a recent addition, placed to discourage you from trying to pull a Houdini a few days before your wedding. 

Your future in-laws were already at the palace, no doubt being shown the lavish grounds and amenities they could expect once their son officially became your husband. The thought made you sick to your stomach because you neither asked nor wanted this wedding. The setting sun cast long shadows across the palace grounds and painted the sky various shades of gold, tangerine, and magenta, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to last week, when you had been unburdened by the prospects of marriage and your heart had been full of love. 

You supposed you should have known better, but how was one expected to resist the natural pull of desires coming alive when your loved one was near? The longing of wanting to be tucked into their embrace, of feeling their lips on yours, and the press of your skin coming together as passions overflowed, the magic of it all glowing like embers from a fire, rising and disappearing into the air.

No one had suspected the Lemurian initially. It was well-known he was a gift to you, and that due to their unwavering loyalty bond, he would never be able to take advantage of you. But what the royal family hadn’t anticipated was that you would consent to being taken advantage of by the Lemurian.

Rafayel had been your steadfast companion for years, since you were a child and he had been presented to you on your birthday. And although you had given his freedom, he returned to visit regularly, bringing back gifts each time; bangles for your wrists, fancy hair ornaments, and little glass figurines that littered the small tables all around your room. No one had suspected that as both of you grew older, that you’d develop feelings for each other that went beyond master and servant. No one thought the princess with the blessed heart would choose him, someone that they had considered less than human, unfit to be your romantic companion in their eyes. But how wrong they had been, and when the king had discovered the extent of your affair, his wrath was terrifying. 

When Rafayel had been discovered in your bedchamber fully clothed, while you lay naked on the bed with nothing more than a bedsheet wrapped around you, the king had demanded his life as retribution. You had screamed, begged and pleaded, and the memory of the king’s look of disgust was burned in your mind as you kneeled at his feet, clutching the bedsheet like it was armor. It had taken 4 men to restrain Rafayel, and as they dragged him away, you could still hear his grunts of pain as the guards had kicked and punched him as they took him away to the jail underneath the palace. 

It had been a week since then, and you had trailed pathetically behind the king ever since, until he had coldly informed you that Rafayel had been beaten to death. There was no remorse in his tone, not even a slight offer of comfort. In the same deadpan voice, the king had informed you that your marriage to the prince of a neighboring kingdom had been arranged, and that no one needed to know you had been “ruined” before your wedding night.

Shortly after, he had hired some servants to put bars on all the windows in your bedchamber, and security constantly patrolled the wing where your living quarters were. It wasn’t necessary; you had lost the will to fight after learning about Rafayel’s demise. 

You cried, feeling like your heart was breaking into pieces, bleeding, yet cruelly refusing to stop beating. Why couldn’t it halt, just give out and end it all? You’d considered taking your own life, yet each time you eyed the small dagger that you’d hidden under your mattress, an overwhelming bond held you in place; perhaps your self-preservation instincts were too strong. And thus, you fell into a trance, a state of being on autopilot. Dutifully, you had presented yourself to the prince, had allowed your handmaidens to preen and fuss over you, dressing you in fine silks, painting your lips the reddest of reds and patting rouge onto your cheeks to give you the look of a blushing bride besotted with her betrothed.

Internally, you were screaming, but your body felt too exhausted to muster the energy to match the rage boiling inside you. You had looked in the mirror, not recognizing the reflection that stared back at you. There were bags under your eyes, a grief-stricken droop in your posture, yet all your ladies in waiting tittered on about how beautiful you looked, and that once you were married you’d have more dresses than your wardrobe could accommodate. You felt ashamed. If any other person had been as close to you as Rafayel had, you’d be wearing the standard black gown that signified mourning. It felt like a smear on Rafayel’s memory that you were lamenting his loss so keenly, yet unable to show it in your attire. 

Now with two days left to your wedding, you had resigned to your fate. Dusk had fallen, yet you can hear the cacophony of voices from the balcony. A pre-weddng celebration. Delicious smells wafted into your bedchamber, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and music. Everyone was celebrating your upcoming nuptials except you. Your handmaiden had attempted to get you dressed for the evening but you had been so uncooperative and listless that she’d given up, settling for the reassurance that at least you weren’t trying to escape anymore. 

Suddenly, your stomach roiled, feelings of deep disgust welling up inside you and bubbling out like molten lava. You slammed all the windows shut, making no effort to hide your disdain for the sham of a welcoming party the king had put together for your supposed fiancé. You locked the door and began to tear apart everything in the room. You knocked over lamps unflinchingly as the delicate glass shattered onto the floor. You threw the fairytale books from their shelves, ripping out pages from some of them, tearing the pretty illustrations depicting princes and princesses getting their happy ending. You dipped your calligraphy brushes into various pots of ink and dragged them along the walls, haphazardly stroking chaotic lines of color into the walls. And you screamed all the while this happened. Tears flowed unrestrainedly down your cheeks. If they refused to let you honor him quietly in black, then you’d do it loudly, in the most violent shades you could find. 

This was your grief. It was not theirs to control, and you felt the dam of emotions you had been holding back come flooding through. You allowed yourself to remember everything; nights spent on the balcony whispering your fears and secrets to him, using little henna cones to trace patterns onto his hands, and letting him do the same for you, marveling at how much bigger they were than yours, with those long, slender fingers. You remembered the softness of his hair and how the wind messed up his bangs and how his eyes turned into the most breathtaking shade of lilac as the sun caught them. The way his eyelashes rested like fans on his cheeks while he was sleeping, and the gentleness of his lips as he kissed you. 

You didn’t care about the purity laws. You had done nothing impure, nothing worthy of the scorn the king had been giving you the past few days. What was revolting was the way everyone else was behaving, acting nonchalant like your childhood companion hadn’t been beaten to death within the very walls of this palace you had called home. So you kicked, your voice calling out his name like a wild animal, holding yourself to prevent your being from falling apart at the seams, your fingernails leaving little bloody marks in your sides as you did so. 

When the rage finally quieted down, the room was in shambles. It brought you a great sense of satisfaction, your throat raw from your lamenting. Exhausted, you collapsed on the bed, and the anguish turned quiet. You could feel it still crawling under your skin but the cathartic destruction of your bedchamber had dulled it. 

You knew you’d never love the man who was to be your husband. How were you to sleep with this man? This person who hadn’t even questioned the circumstances under which this marriage had been proposed? 

Shivering from the adrenaline withdrawal, you bury your face into your pillow, desperately recalling all the times Rafayel had made love to you. Your hands start to wander, softly touching yourself, cupping your breasts, and sighing as your fingers wandered to the space between your legs.

Rafayel’s lips were cool against the heat of your bare skin. You were blushing from your lack of experience. There’s a playful mischievousness in his eyes as he trailed kisses down the column of your neck, coming to the valley between your breasts.

“Is your highness pleased?” He had teased, looking up at you slyly, enjoying the way your cheeks turned pink. You had averted your gaze, trying not to make it obvious how much he was affecting you, which had only amused him. 

“It pleases me when you’re pleased, ya know?” His mouth had closed over a pert nipple, suckling with the perfect pressure that had made you whimper needily, feeling moisture gathering in your core. Heat gathered in your belly and your toes kept curling into the sheets as he pleasured you. 

When you dared to look at him again, his eyes glittered with dark desire. 

“Tell me my lady,” he had whispered as he’d pushed your knees apart to settle in between them. “Are you in need of my services? All you need to do is ask.”

Your breath had caught in your throat as his fingers gently spread your wet lips apart, revealing the little engorged bud in between them. Rafayel’s tongue gave it a wet lick and your back had arched in pleasure, a wanton noise escaping you. You had waited for him to continue but when you felt nothing, your eyes cracked open for a second only to see him gazing intently at you.

“I await your command my princess,” he had said patiently even though desire was eating away at him. 

“Rafayel, please,” you had gasped. “I’m yours.” 

Relief had flooded your system as his tongue found purchase between your folds, his spit gathering onto the swollen membranes as he tasted you. Your body felt like it was in heaven, becoming lighter and alive under his ministrations. The room had filled with the lewd, moist noises of his tongue lapping away at your slick folds, sucking your clit with care until your mind was a mess of hot need. You had struggled to reach the peak, almost losing concentration until Rafayel’s hand had reassuringly held yours and your fingers had interlaced with his.

The thoughtful gesture had been the thing needed for you to find the courage to tip into the abyss of desire where all that existed was him and the desires of your own body. You felt all the senses leave you as you orgasmed, your clit spasming in ecstasy as your hole fluttered in urgent need. Your thighs trembled and you moaned his name as he licked through the aftershocks. 

After every last drop of your pleasure had been drawn, he’d held you against him, helping you come down from the intensity of the high. You could feel his erection pressing hotly against your thigh, barely contained by the thin fabric of his underwear. Boldly, your hand had slipped into it, grasping his length and stroking, drawing a hiss from him. 

“Impatient princess?” he had asked with a lilt, trying to fluster you again, but his teeth were gritted at how good your small hand felt on his cock. He’d guided you, showing you how to hold him, how much pressure he liked, and once you’d mastered the movements, he’d allowed himself a brief moment of indulgence, surprising you when he stilled your hand.

“I won’t last long if you keep this up.” His hand brushed your cheek and he’d kissed you before rolling you under him. 

“I promise this won’t hurt too much.”

Your body tensed when you felt his thick, rounded head probe your entrance, carefully notching into the tight space.

“Don’t worry.” Rafayel snuggled your body close to his, peppering your face with little kisses. “I’ve got you. Just keep breathing. Nice and deep.” His hands cushioned behind the back of your head and you trained your eye to focus on the fine ring of inky black that surrounded his mesmerizing irises. Your body stretched around him, the tightness almost unbearably painful, and Rafayel had paused several times to let you adjust, gently sheathing himself inch by inch, kissing away your tears. He’d stilled when he had finally bottomed out, and you realized your body no longer felt like it was being split apart. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, and everything inside you changed.

Rafayel gave a testing roll of his hips and when you clung to him moaning, he’d picked up the pace, thrusting into you, merging your bodies into one. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and you held on tight as he pushed into new realms of discovery. 

You withdraw your sticky fingers from your cunt, skin slick with sweat, glowing with the effort of giving yourself that orgasm. They could marry you off, tell the world whatever they wanted, but they couldn’t take away what Rafayel had shown you. You would play the obedient, meek, little princess for now. But someday, you didn’t know when, you would leave. You would find a way to escape from this gilded cage, and never look back. 

This newly found resolve calms you, and you manage to fall into a fatigued sleep. 

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

There’s a tapping noise on the glass of your window, and you awaken abruptly, eyes blinking to adjust the darkness of the night. You find your heartbeat quickening as you spy a shadowy figure lurking outside the glass. Who had managed to get up there? You glance around your room for a weapon, then freeze when an achingly familiar voice calls, muffled through the closed window.

“Open up!”

You blink, looking wildly at the blurred stranger. It couldn’t be. He was dead. You scramble to your feet, trying to calm your frazzled nerves. 

A ghost? Had he come to say goodbye? 

With a trembling hand, you reach out to undo the lock, not daring to breathe as a tall man dressed in black leather pulls out a strange looking tool, cutting the iron bars in one go before swiftly entering your room. 

“Rafayel?” Your voice is unsteady. You can tell he’s injured. His wrist had been splinted and his beautiful face bore bruises. 

“Yeah, who else did you think it was?”

“They told me you were dead!” The words were a broken whisper.

“What, did you think I’m that easy to kill?” Rafayel tries to smile but his lips bear a half-healed cut and he winces as he does so. “Princess, I could never die so easily. Didn’t I promise that I’d get you out of here someday?”

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. Needing confirmation that he was indeed whole and human, you cup his uninjured cheek with an unsteady hand, feeling the heat of his skin, and the soft expulsion of air as it left his nostrils. Rafayel’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight hug, reassuringly patting your hair. 

“I’m here my love.” He presses a kiss to your hair. “But we have to move. Quickly. My comrades said they’d keep watch, but it won’t be long until they give the signal. We need to leave as soon as they do so.” 

He looks around the room, inspecting the havoc. “What happened here?” 

You manage a watery smile, dashing away a tear. “A funeral.” 

No sooner had you said the word than a sudden flash of light burst into the sky. Peering outside the window, you see it ascend into the sky, before exploding like a firecracker, the lights arranging themselves to form a fishtail. Screams erupted from the palace grounds which had otherwise been peaceful.

“We’re under attack! Call the guards!” Voices echoed from the din, panic setting in amongst the citizens. 

“That’s our cue.” Rafayel looks at you and there’s a hint of uncertainty in them. “Unless you’d rather stay?”

“Never.” You quickly tiptoe to plant a kiss on Rafayel’s lips. He’s startled for a brief moment, then breaks into a wide grin. 

“Time to go my beautiful bride.” 

He takes your hand and helps you out onto the narrow ledge of the window. It was pitch black outside, the fishtail signal’s brightness engulfing all the stars glimmering in the background. 

“We jump.” He holds your hand firmly. “One, two, three!”

You wisely hold in your scream as you leap off the edge with cold nothing underneath your feet, plummeting a few feet before you suddenly bob up into the air. Looking down, you realize you’re standing on something soft and fluid. A flapping noise can be heard as whatever it is rises into the clouds and whisks you away from the palace. Night air wipes your hair as Rafayel holds you tightly to his side. 

Once you begin to sail through an unbroken patch of moonlight, you glance down to see your vehicle was a giant manta ray, its flat, pancake-like membranes lazily undulating in the sky as it carried you into unknown lands. 

Rafayel helps you sit on the massive creature’s back and joins you, protectively pulling you against him to shield you from the wind. You glance up at him. 

“So you heard about the wedding then.” You probe and Rafayel nods, but you notice a flicker of rage in his eyes when you brought it up. Hastily, you add, “I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it. I only asked because you called me a ‘beautiful bride’.”

He turns to look at you, lowering his hood as he does so. “If I recall, I called you my beautiful bride.” The intensity of his gaze makes you blush and you quickly avert your eyes to the starry sky. 

“What do you mean?” you ask shyly, then your breath catches in your throat as Rafayel digs into an inner pocket of his garb and pulls out a ring of gold, with a large sapphire set in the middle. 

“My beautiful bride,” he repeats, and wordlessly slips the ring onto your finger. You look at it with tears in your eyes, then sniff as you’re pulled into his loving embrace. It was almost presumptuous of him not to ask, but wholly unnecessary in your opinion. You didn’t want to be anyone else’s but his. 

Very little was said for the rest of the journey, but words weren’t needed. You knew there would be plenty to talk about once you got off this ride, once you were presented to Rafayel’s entourage, wherever they were. Instead you settled for the knowledge that he was alive, and that you were free from the expectations of the palace. 

It was uncertain how much time had passed, but the manta ray began to descend, the air growing warmer as it got lower to the ground, casting a long shadow as it did so. You look around and sense the dry quality of the air, seeing the sand dunes that were everywhere and realize you were in the middle of the desert. The area was still and quiet as your ride landed with a soft thump on the sand. You and Rafayel disembark, and the creature vanishes into thin air. 

“Where-?”

“Back to the sea. A god never forces a creature of the deep to remain on land for too long.” 

You glance around and squint, seeing silhouettes in the distance that seem to be heading your way. 

“That’s our party. Right on time.” Rafayel offers his hand to you, smiling.

“Let’s go say hi. I want to properly introduce them to the future queen of Lemuria.”

Your heart swells with affection, remembering all the times you’d talked about marrying him, about being completely his for all of time. Holding onto his entwined fingers, you take your first step into a life of beautiful freedom. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

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[w1w2]

The (Not So) Fearless Movie Night

Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 6k 

Synopsis: When Sana invites Y/N over for a cozy movie night, Y/N chooses a horror film to impress her, determined to hide her fear and appear fearless. There’s just one problem: she’s terrified of horror movies.

Requested by Anon

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The chill of the evening air brushed against Y/N’s skin, but she barely noticed it. The streets were quiet, glowing softly under the amber light of the streetlamps. A few leaves skittered along the pavement, stirred by a gentle breeze, as Y/N made her way toward Sana’s apartment. Despite the serenity around her, her heart felt like it was hosting a full-on concert, thudding with a mix of excitement and nerves.

She shifted her bag higher on her shoulder, glancing down at her reflection in a shop window as she passed. The pastel pink sweater she’d chosen earlier still looked pristine, soft and  cozy, its delicate hue complementing her favorite fitted jeans. She’d spent far longer than she cared to admit agonizing over what to wear, wanting to strike that elusive balance between casual and cute. It wasn’t that she expected Sana to notice every little detail, but... well, a part of her hoped she would.

The thought of Sana brought a faint blush to Y/N’s cheeks. That was the thing about her, she had this uncanny ability to make Y/N’s world tilt off its axis. It wasn’t just her radiant smile, though that alone could make the grayest day feel brighter. It was everything about her, from the way she tilted her head when she was teasing, to the way her laugh could ripple through a room, drawing everyone’s attention like moths to a flame.

Y/N felt a rush of warmth just thinking about it, her lips curving into a small, wistful smile. How had someone like Sana, a person so effortlessly charming and magnetic, ended up being a part of her life? More than that, how had she become someone Y/N felt so deeply for?

Not that she’d say that out loud.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the strap of her bag. She could picture it now. Blurting out some half-formed confession, her words tangling into an incoherent mess while Sana tilted her head with that curious, amused expression she did so well. The mere thought was enough to make Y/N shake her head, willing herself to stay grounded. No, tonight wasn’t about grand confessions or dramatic moments, it was about spending time together. About making memories.

Still, Y/N couldn’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach as she thought about the text Sana had sent earlier that day.

"Movie night at my place? Bring snacks if you want!"

It had been such a simple message, yet Y/N had read it over at least five times, as if the words might rearrange themselves to reveal some hidden meaning. Sana had a way of making even the smallest gestures feel special, as though inviting Y/N over was the highlight of her day. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Y/N couldn’t help but hope.

She glanced up at the sky, where the stars were faintly visible against the backdrop of the city lights. Tonight felt like it carried the promise of something more, a quiet sort of magic that only existed in moments shared with Sana.

And then there was the movie.

Y/N’s pace slowed slightly as she thought about it, her earlier resolve flickering. She wasn’t oblivious, she knew Sana loved horror films. The last time they’d talked about movies, Sana had rattled off a list of her favorite scary titles with a gleam in her eye, her enthusiasm as captivating as it was intimidating. Y/N, on the other hand, had always avoided the genre like the plague. Creepy music, dark corridors, jump scares? Not exactly her idea of fun.

But tonight was different. Tonight, Y/N wasn’t just watching a movie, she was watching it with Sana. If it meant earning one of those radiant smiles or hearing Sana laugh at her “fearless” reactions, she’d sit through whatever nightmare unfolded on the screen.

Y/N let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What’s a little terror when it’s for her?” she murmured under her breath.

The apartment building loomed ahead, its windows glowing warmly against the night. Y/N felt a fresh wave of nerves wash over her as she climbed the steps, pausing briefly at the door to smooth her hair. Was she overthinking this? Probably. But when it came to Sana, overthinking felt almost inevitable.

The moment she pressed the doorbell, the world seemed to pause. For a second, she considered bolting, her mind spinning with irrational worries, what if she tripped over her words? What if she said something stupid? But then the door swung open, and all those thoughts vanished in an instant.

There she was.

Sana stood in the doorway, dressed in an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She looked so effortlessly adorable that Y/N almost forgot to breathe. Sana’s eyes lit up the moment she saw her, a bright, playful grin spreading across her face.

“Y/N!” Sana said, stepping forward to pull her into a quick hug. She smelled like vanilla and something faintly floral, a comforting combination that made Y/N’s heart stutter. “You made it!”

“Of course,” Y/N managed, her voice coming out softer than she intended. “I wouldn’t miss movie night with you.”

Sana pulled back, her grin turning mischievous. “Good answer. I hope you’re ready, I picked a good one.”

The teasing lilt in her voice made Y/N’s stomach flip. She could already tell “good one” was Sana-speak for “something that will have us both screaming.” But instead of admitting her trepidation, Y/N mustered a bright smile, nodding as she stepped inside.

Whatever the night held, ghosts, monsters, or jump scares galore, she’d face it. For Sana, she’d face anything.

Y/N stepped inside Sana’s apartment, and it felt like being wrapped in a warm embrace. The first thing she noticed was the light. Soft, golden hues spilling from strings of fairy lights that lined the walls. They cast a magical glow over the room, making everything feel cozier, like stepping into a little bubble of comfort that existed outside the world.

The scent of vanilla lingered in the air, subtle but unmistakable, mingling with something sweeter, maybe the chocolate Sana had laid out on the coffee table. Y/N’s eyes wandered, taking in the space that so perfectly reflected Sana’s personality. There were little quirks everywhere, small touches that only Sana could pull off. A collection of plushies neatly arranged on a shelf, their wide eyes and bright colors peeking out from between stacks of books. A potted plant wearing a tiny knitted hat sat in one corner, its leaves stretching toward the light. Photos were scattered throughout the room, some in frames, others pinned to a corkboard near the couch.

Y/N’s lips curved into a soft smile as she stepped further in. The couch caught her attention next. It wasn’t just a couch, it was a masterpiece of coziness. An array of throw pillows in mismatched colors and patterns were scattered across it, accompanied by a thick, knitted blanket draped casually over the back. Above it, Sana had strung lightweight fabric in soft whites and pastels to create a canopy effect, weaving more fairy lights into the folds. The result was magical, almost ethereal, as though she’d transformed the living room into their own little movie-watching haven.

“Wow,” Y/N breathed, her voice tinged with awe. “You really went all out.”

“Of course,” Sana said, beaming as she shut the door behind Y/N. “Movie nights deserve maximum effort.”

Y/N turned to face her and felt her heart skip. Sana was dressed casually, an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, but she somehow looked effortlessly adorable, like the living embodiment of comfort itself. Her glossy hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, a few stray strands framing her face in a way that seemed perfectly imperfect.

“It’s amazing,” Y/N said, genuinely. “The blanket fort, the snacks, the lights... you didn’t miss a single detail.”

Sana’s grin turned a little smug. “I told you, I take movie nights seriously. Now you have no excuse to be anything less than completely comfortable.”

Y/N chuckled softly, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease a little. Being in Sana’s presence always had a way of calming her, even when her nerves were tied up in knots.

Sana’s gaze drifted over Y/N, and for a moment, Y/N felt like her sweater had become ten times more noticeable. “You look cute, by the way,” Sana said, her tone casual, but her eyes holding a teasing glint.

Y/N’s cheeks warmed instantly. “Oh, this? It’s just—” she waved her hand awkwardly, “something I threw on.”

“Sure it is,” Sana said, her grin widening. “Totally effortless, huh?”

Y/N tried to roll her eyes but ended up laughing instead, feeling both flustered and secretly pleased. Sana had a way of saying things so casually, yet they always left Y/N feeling like she was glowing from the inside out.

She seized the opportunity to change the subject before her blush became permanent, gesturing toward the coffee table. “You really went all out with the snacks. Popcorn, chocolate, and... is that sparkling lemonade?”

“Only the best,” Sana said, grabbing one of the glasses and holding it out to Y/N. Their fingers brushed as Y/N took it, and the brief contact sent a tiny jolt through her, her heart thumping just a little faster.

“You’re trying to spoil me,” Y/N teased, taking a sip of the drink.

“Obviously,” Sana replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You deserve it.”

The sincerity in Sana’s voice caught Y/N off guard. She glanced away, hiding the soft smile that threatened to bloom across her face.

Sana plopped down on the couch, patting the space beside her. “Okay, enough chit-chat. It’s time for the main event. Movie time!”

Y/N joined her, sinking into the cushions that seemed to envelop her in warmth. The blanket Sana pulled over them was impossibly soft, and when their knees brushed underneath it, Y/N felt her breath hitch slightly. Sana didn’t seem to notice, already scrolling through the streaming menu with a look of determination.

“Let’s see,” Sana mused, her thumb gliding across the remote. “There are so many good options, but I’ve been dying to watch this one.”

The screen lit up with the poster of a horror movie. A shadowy figure loomed in a dimly lit hallway, the title scrawled in jagged, blood-red letters. The tagline beneath it read ominously “You can’t escape the darkness.”

Y/N’s stomach sank. Her gaze flicked from the screen to Sana, whose excitement was practically radiating off her.

“Horror?” Y/N asked, forcing her voice to stay light.

“Of course!” Sana said, her eyes gleaming. “It’s supposed to be super creepy, lots of suspense, tons of jump scares, the works.” She turned to Y/N, her grin almost mischievous. “You’re okay with horror, right?”

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. She could feel the weight of the question, the unspoken challenge in Sana’s tone. She wanted to suggest something lighter, maybe a rom-com or a feel good animated film, but one look at Sana’s eager expression made her decision.

“Yeah, totally,” Y/N said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Bring it on.”

Sana’s face lit up with delight. “I knew I could count on you to be brave!”

Y/N managed a weak laugh, gripping the edge of the blanket as Sana hit play. The room dimmed further as the opening credits began to roll, the eerie music immediately setting the tone.

“This is fine,” Y/N whispered to herself, trying to ignore the growing knot in her stomach. She stole a glance at Sana, who was already focused on the screen, her face bathed in the flickering light.

And despite her nerves, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. As scary as the movie might be, sitting here beside Sana made it all feel worth it.

Sana hit the play button, and the screen flickered to life with the film’s logo. Dark, jagged letters etched across a blood-red background. An ominous hum filled the room, setting the tone before a single frame of the movie had played. Y/N shifted slightly under the blanket, feeling its soft weight draped over her lap. Her hands clutched the edges tightly, her fingers curling into the fabric for a sense of security she desperately needed.

Beside her, Sana was the picture of ease or so it seemed at first glance. She tossed a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth, her legs stretched out under the blanket as if they weren’t about to endure two hours of psychological torment.

“You know,” Sana began, her voice light and teasing, “I’m really impressed. Not many people can handle horror movies as well as I can. I figured you’d be more of a rom-com kind of person.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to match Sana’s easy confidence. “Oh, no, I love horror,” she said, her voice just a touch too enthusiastic. “The suspense, the adrenaline, it’s, uh, thrilling.”

Sana turned to her, eyebrows raised in playful disbelief. “Really? Thrilling?”

Y/N nodded quickly, doubling down on her bluff. “Totally.”

A sly smile crept across Sana’s face. “Well, then you’re in for a treat. This one’s supposed to be extra terrifying.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her resolve wavering. She gave Sana a tight-lipped smile, hoping it passed as fearless. But as the opening scene began, a picturesque suburban house bathed in warm sunlight, she felt her nerves begin to coil tighter.

The calm, domestic setting on the screen was too perfect, too serene. Y/N had seen enough trailers to know that the more idyllic the opening, the more horrifying the fall. The characters went about their mundane lives, talking about work and dinner plans, but the subtle shift in the soundtrack—an almost imperceptible hum beneath the cheerful dialogue—hinted at the chaos waiting just around the corner.

“See?” Y/N whispered, trying to sound casual. “Not so bad.”

Sana giggled softly, her eyes never leaving the screen. “Give it a minute.”

The minute didn’t last long. A loud bang shattered the quiet, the sound of a door slamming shut with no apparent cause. Y/N’s body jolted, her reaction so instinctive that she accidentally tightened her grip on the blanket.

Sana turned her head, an amused glint in her eyes. “Jumping already?”

“I’m fine,” Y/N said quickly, forcing a laugh that sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

Sana smirked, leaning back against the couch with a confidence Y/N couldn’t help but envy. “Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

The movie pressed on, the once-peaceful house now shrouded in unease. Shadows began to stretch longer, doors creaked open on their own, and the camera lingered on dark corners just long enough to make Y/N’s heart race. The characters, oblivious to the warning signs, wandered deeper into danger, their flashlights cutting through darkness that seemed too thick, too alive.

Y/N tried to focus on anything but the screen. She grabbed a handful of popcorn, pretending to be engrossed in the snack rather than the growing dread building in the pit of her stomach. But every time the music swelled, every time the screen darkened, she couldn’t stop herself from bracing for the inevitable.

When the first jump scare came, a figure darting across the background with an accompanying shriek, Y/N’s body betrayed her, flinching so hard she almost spilled the popcorn in her lap.

Beside her, Sana jumped too, letting out a startled squeak before covering her mouth with her hand. She tried to stifle a nervous giggle but failed miserably, her laughter spilling out into the room.

“Okay, that one got me,” Sana admitted, still laughing as she shook her head.

Y/N joined in, though her laughter was more strained. “Yeah, same,” she said, her voice tight. “Totally saw it coming, though.”

Sana raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Oh, you saw it coming, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N said, hoping her overconfidence would sell the lie. “It was so obvious.”

Sana didn’t press further, but the amused look she gave Y/N spoke volumes.

As the movie progressed, the tension in the room became almost unbearable. Y/N’s grip on the blanket tightened with every scene, her fingers twisting the fabric as though it might shield her from the terrors on screen. But she wasn’t the only one cracking under the pressure.

Sana, for all her earlier bravado, was beginning to show signs of strain. She shifted in her seat every time the music hinted at a scare, her nervous energy palpable. When a character screamed, Sana jumped so hard that her knee bumped against Y/N’s under the blanket.

“Sorry,” Sana muttered, her cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s fine,” Y/N said quickly, though her heart skipped at the unexpected contact.

A particularly tense scene began, a character creeping through an abandoned attic, their flashlight flickering ominously. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse thundering in her ears.

Don’t do it. Don’t turn around, she pleaded silently.

The character turned.

A face appeared on screen, accompanied by a deafening scream. Y/N yelped, instinctively clutching Sana’s arm as her body jerked in fright.

Sana screamed too, her hands flying up to cover her face. For a moment, neither of them moved, their fear suspended in the air like a tangible force.

Then Sana started laughing, high-pitched, shaky laughter that broke the tension just enough for Y/N to join in.

“This is insane,” Sana said, wiping at her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. “I don’t think I can handle this.”

Y/N laughed nervously, still clutching the blanket. “Same. I mean... it’s not that bad, though. Right?”

Sana shot her a look, her expression half-amused, half-exasperated. “Not that bad? You literally just screamed louder than the characters.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, another scare made them both jump again. This time, their laughter was immediate, a shared acknowledgment of how ridiculous they both were.

Their knees touched under the blanket, Sana’s foot inching closer to Y/N’s. Whether it was deliberate or not, Y/N didn’t care. The slight contact, the shared warmth, it was enough to make the terror of the movie almost bearable.

Almost.

The movie had reached a fever pitch, dragging its characters and its viewers, through a relentless series of scares. On screen, the main character crept through an abandoned house, the air thick with tension. A flashlight beam flickered against cracked walls and shattered mirrors, the only sound the creak of floorboards under careful footsteps. The soundtrack had dwindled to an almost unbearable silence, amplifying every small noise to an echo that seemed to rattle the room.

Y/N could barely breathe. Her grip on the blanket had tightened to the point where her knuckles were turning white, and her heartbeat was pounding in her ears like a drum. The anticipation was unbearable, each second feeling stretched, like time itself was holding its breath.

The flashlight illuminated the edge of a doorway, its faint glow spilling into a dark, empty room. And then it happened.

A figure burst out of the shadows with an ear-piercing shriek, face filling the screen. The sudden, blaring noise shattered the silence, and Y/N’s composure completely crumbled.

She screamed, loud, high-pitched, and utterly unrestrained. The sound was so abrupt and panicked that it startled even her. Her body jerked back instinctively, and in her panic, the bowl of popcorn in her lap tipped over, spilling its contents across the couch and floor in a messy cascade.

“AHHH—!” Sana screamed too, jumping so hard she nearly knocked her drink over. For a split second, the two of them were frozen in mutual terror, their wide eyes glued to the screen.

But as the scene faded and the tension eased, Sana let out a shaky laugh. “Oh my God, Y/N, that was—” Her words dissolved into giggles as she gestured toward the scattered popcorn. “You—you absolutely lost it!”

Y/N, still clutching the blanket, flushed bright red. “I… It caught me off guard!” she stammered, her voice tinged with embarrassment. She scrambled to gather the fallen popcorn, her hands trembling as she scooped handfuls back into the bowl.

“You think?” Sana teased, her laughter bubbling up again. “You sounded like you were being murdered.”

Y/N tried to laugh along, but her cheeks burned with humiliation. She kept her head down, focusing intently on cleaning up the mess as if it might distract from how much her hands were shaking. She could feel Sana’s gaze on her, sharp and curious, and it only made her more self-conscious.

“Y/N?” Sana’s voice was softer now, the teasing edge replaced by concern.

“I’m fine!” Y/N said quickly, forcing a smile as she sat back, the now half-empty popcorn bowl perched awkwardly on her lap. “Really. It’s nothing.”

But Sana wasn’t buying it. She tilted her head, studying Y/N with those perceptive eyes of hers, the ones that always seemed to see straight through every layer of pretense. “Are you sure?” she asked gently.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. For a moment, she considered doubling down on her “fearless” act, brushing it off with another nervous laugh. But the weight of Sana’s gaze, so kind and genuine, made her pause.

The truth was, she was exhausted. Exhausted from pretending she wasn’t scared, from trying to impress Sana, from hiding the way her heart had been racing since the moment the movie started. And now, with popcorn scattered around her like the aftermath of her fear, it felt impossible to keep the façade intact.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay,” she admitted quietly. “You got me.”

Sana’s eyebrows lifted. “Got you how?”

“I’m… not exactly a fan of horror movies,” Y/N confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Actually, I kind of hate them. They freak me out.”

Sana blinked, clearly surprised. “Wait, what? But you said—”

“I know what I said,” Y/N interrupted, her cheeks flushing again. She avoided Sana’s gaze, staring down at the blanket pooled around her legs. “I just… I didn’t want you to think I was boring. Or lame. So I said I liked horror because I thought it’d impress you.” She let out a weak laugh, shaking her head. “I’m sorry for lying. I just… I wanted you to think I was cool.”

There was a beat of silence, and Y/N braced herself for Sana’s reaction. Maybe she’d be annoyed or disappointed. Maybe she’d think Y/N was ridiculous for going to such lengths just to impress her.

But then Sana laughed. Not a mocking laugh, but the kind of full-bodied, uncontrollable laughter that left her clutching her stomach and wiping at her eyes.

“You what?” Sana managed between giggles, her voice high-pitched with disbelief.

Y/N blinked, startled. “Why is that so funny?”

“Because!” Sana exclaimed, trying to catch her breath. “I’ve been doing the exact same thing!”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Wait. what?”

“I don’t like horror movies either!” Sana admitted, her laughter spilling out again. “They scare me to death! I only suggested this because I thought you liked them, and I didn’t want to seem boring.”

Y/N stared at her, completely dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” Sana said, grinning.

The absurdity of the situation hit Y/N all at once, and she burst into laughter, the sound bubbling out of her uncontrollably. “So we’ve both been sitting here, scared out of our minds, trying to act brave for each other?”

“Exactly!” Sana said, her own laughter mixing with Y/N’s.

For several moments, the room was filled with the sound of their shared hilarity. The tension, the fear, the embarrassment, all of it melted away as they laughed together, the ridiculousness of their situation too perfect to ignore.

Y/N wiped at her eyes, still giggling. “I can’t believe this. Here I was, thinking you were totally fearless.”

“And here I was,” Sana countered, “thinking you were the brave one!”

They both dissolved into laughter again, leaning against each other for support.

When the giggles finally subsided, Sana turned to Y/N with a soft smile. “You know,” she said, “you didn’t have to pretend. I already think you’re pretty great.”

Y/N felt her heart flutter, her cheeks warming for an entirely different reason. “Thanks,” she said quietly, meeting Sana’s gaze. “I think you’re pretty great too.”

Sana grinned, nudging her playfully. “Even if I’m a scaredy-cat?”

“Especially if you’re a scaredy-cat,” Y/N replied, laughing.

“So, what do we do now?” Sana asked, grabbing a handful of (remaining) popcorn. “Keep watching, or call it quits?”

Y/N hesitated, then smiled. “Let’s finish it. But no more pretending to be brave. Deal?”

“Deal,” Sana said, grinning as she threw a piece of popcorn into Y/N’s lap.

As the movie continued, the room filled with the sound of their occasional screams and constant laughter. For the first time that night, the fear felt far away, eclipsed by the warmth of being together, exactly as they were.

The room was alive with shadows, flickering against the walls as the TV screen glowed ominously. On screen, the main character stumbled through a crumbling house, their flashlight casting long, jagged beams of light across grotesque shapes and dilapidated furniture. The soundtrack had dialed down to near silence, save for the faint, tension-building hum that seemed designed to set hearts racing.

Y/N’s heart was practically pounding out of her chest. The earlier bursts of laughter had given way to silence as the movie tightened its grip on them, pulling them into the unfolding terror. Her hands clung to the blanket like a lifeline, and though she tried to focus on the steady rhythm of Sana’s breathing beside her, it wasn’t enough to stop the chills that ran down her spine.

“This is bad,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Terrible,” Sana muttered back, her wide eyes glued to the screen.

The scene dragged on, the camera lingering on an open door at the end of a long, dark hallway. It was too quiet, too quiet, and Y/N felt her breath hitch as the main character took hesitant steps forward.

“Don’t do it,” Y/N pleaded under her breath.

“Seriously,” Sana whispered, her grip tightening on the edge of the blanket.

As if in defiance of their protests, the character pushed the door open. The camera crept inside, the flashlight’s beam sweeping across empty furniture and peeling wallpaper. And then, in the corner of the room, a shadow moved.

The scare came fast and loud. A monstrous figure lunged into the light, its face twisted into something, and the sound of its inhuman scream practically rattled the walls.

Y/N screamed too, her voice panicked as she instinctively buried her face into Sana’s shoulder. At the same time, Sana let out her own startled cry, clutching Y/N’s arm like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The screen had gone quiet again, the jump scare fading into the next scene, but the two of them were still frozen in place, their hearts racing.

Y/N finally lifted her head, her face burning as she realized just how tightly she’d been clinging to Sana. “I…uh, sorry,” she stammered, sitting up straighter and smoothing the blanket over her lap as if that would erase the moment.

“Don’t apologize,” Sana said quickly, though her cheeks were flushed too. “I think I just bruised your arm with how hard I grabbed it.”

They stared at each other for a beat, the tension breaking as they both burst into nervous laughter.

“This movie is insane,” Y/N said, shaking her head as she tried to catch her breath.

“No kidding,” Sana replied, her voice still a little shaky. “I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack.”

Despite their laughter, the movie wasn’t about to let them off the hook. The next scene was already ramping up, the main character now descending into a dark basement. The creak of the stairs was deafening, each step reverberating like thunder, and the flashlight flickered ominously.

“I can’t watch this,” Sana whispered, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Me neither,” Y/N muttered, though she couldn’t seem to look away.

When the inevitable scare came, a hand shooting out from the shadows to grab the main character’s ankle, they both screamed again. Y/N practically leapt into Sana’s lap, her body colliding with Sana’s as they both clung to each other in pure terror.

“Oh my God!” Sana cried, half-laughing, half-panicked as she buried her face in Y/N’s shoulder.

“Why are we still watching this?” Y/N wailed, though she couldn’t help but laugh too.

“Because quitting now would feel like admitting defeat,” Sana said, her voice muffled against Y/N’s sweater.

“Defeat?” Y/N repeated, laughing as she pulled back to look at her. “I think we already lost the second we screamed at the popcorn bowl tipping over.”

Sana snorted, nudging Y/N playfully. “Fair point.”

Their laughter grew, spilling out into the room and drowning out the tension of the movie. The once ominous shadows on the walls felt a little less oppressive, and the faint flicker of the TV seemed warmer now, softened by the sound of their shared amusement.

As the movie pressed on, the scares came in waves, each one eliciting a mix of shrieks and laughter as they huddled closer together. Every jump scare had them clutching at each other instinctively, their hands brushing under the blanket or their legs bumping together as they scrambled for comfort.

Y/N found herself leaning into Sana’s side, their shoulders pressed together as they peeked cautiously at the screen. She could feel the steady rise and fall of Sana’s breath, a calming rhythm that dulled the edge of her fear.

Sana glanced down at her, her lips curving into a small, teasing smile. “You comfortable down there?”

“Very,” Y/N replied with a grin, though her cheeks warmed slightly.

The closeness between them felt natural now, as if the night had stripped away all the awkwardness and left them with something quieter, something warmer.

The movie finally reached its climax, a chaotic flurry of screams, shadows, and flashing lights. Y/N could barely keep up with what was happening, her hands gripping Sana’s arm tightly as the main character faced off against the monstrous antagonist. Sana, meanwhile, had half her face buried in Y/N’s shoulder, peeking through her fingers like a child watching a scary cartoon.

When the final scare hit, a sudden, jarring image of the monster lunging at the screen, both Y/N and Sana screamed at the top of their lungs.

The credits began to roll, accompanied by a low, haunting melody that underscored the names scrolling across the screen. The TV cast a soft glow over the room, its flickering light making the fairy lights strung across the walls feel even warmer by contrast.

Y/N let out a long, shaky sigh, sinking deeper into the couch as the tension in her body finally began to ease. She hadn’t realized just how tightly she’d been gripping the blanket until now, her fingers uncurling from the fabric. “We made it,” she murmured, half in disbelief and half in relief.

“Barely,” Sana replied, her voice thick with exhaustion as she leaned back, draping an arm over the back of the couch. “I think I screamed more tonight than I have in my entire life.”

Y/N glanced over at her, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You mean I screamed more than you,” she teased lightly, though her voice carried no malice.

Sana shot her a playful look, a hand pressed dramatically to her chest. “Excuse me, I think we were equally loud. And let’s not forget who spilled the popcorn everywhere.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me. I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Absolutely not,” Sana said, grinning.

Despite her embarrassment, Y/N found herself laughing, the sound soft and unrestrained. The heaviness that had hung in the air during the movie was gone now, replaced by a lightness that felt almost euphoric. It wasn’t just the relief of surviving the film, it was the shared experience, the connection forged through every jump scare and nervous giggle.

For a while, they just sat there, letting the tension melt away as the credits continued to roll. Y/N’s gaze wandered to the empty popcorn bowl on the table, the faint sparkle of their drinks still glinting under the glow of the lights. She thought back to the beginning of the night, when she’d walked into this apartment determined to impress Sana, convinced she needed to be someone fearless and bold to catch her attention.

How silly that felt now.

Sana shifted beside her, breaking the silence. “You know,” she began, her tone thoughtful, “tonight didn’t exactly go how I expected, but… I think it turned out even better.”

Y/N turned to her, curiosity flickering in her tired eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Sana said, tilting her head slightly, “we spent the first half of the night pretending to be these fearless horror movie experts, when really, we were both terrified out of our minds. It’s kind of hilarious when you think about it.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, nodding. “Yeah, I guess it is. I just… I thought if I didn’t go along with it, you might not want to do this again.”

Sana’s expression softened, a mixture of affection and amusement dancing in her eyes. “Y/N,” she said gently, “you could’ve told me you hated horror movies, and I still would’ve wanted to spend the night with you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, smiling shyly. “I guess I just overthought it. I wanted to seem cool.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Sana teased, nudging her lightly. “You’re very cool. Especially the part where you screamed into my shoulder.”

“Oh, come on!” Y/N groaned, her laughter bubbling up despite herself.

Sana grinned, her voice softening again. “But seriously, I’m glad we stopped pretending. This, you being real, being vulnerable, it’s so much better.”

Y/N looked up at her, her chest tightening at the sincerity in Sana’s gaze. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I like this better too.”

Sana smiled, the kind of smile that lit up her entire face and sent warmth spreading through Y/N’s chest. “You know what’s funny?” she said, leaning back against the couch. “I spent all day trying to psych myself up for this, thinking, ‘Don’t be scared. Don’t embarrass yourself in front of Y/N.’ And then I was the one hiding my face half the time.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh, I noticed.”

Sana gasped in mock offense, covering her face with her hands. “Noooo, don’t call me out like that!”

They both dissolved into laughter again, the sound filling the room and chasing away the lingering echoes of the movie’s haunting soundtrack.

As the credits finally came to an end, Sana reached for the remote, shutting off the TV. The room was quiet now, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the fairy lights.

“So,” Sana said, stretching her legs out and turning to Y/N, “next time, we’re watching something happy. A comedy. Something with absolutely no ghosts or creepy basements.”

“Agreed,” Y/N said immediately, her tone firm. “My heart can’t take another night like this.”

Sana laughed, leaning her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “You say that, but you’ll be back. You can’t resist movie night with me.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head lightly against Sana’s. “You’re probably right,” she admitted.

For a while, they just sat there, the quiet hum of the room wrapping around them like a blanket. Sana grabbed the remote again, scrolling through the streaming service until colorful thumbnails of lighthearted movies filled the screen.

“Let’s at least pick something for next time,” she said, her voice soft but teasing. “Something to look forward to.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes growing heavier as the comfort of the moment settled over her. She wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from the night or the warmth of Sana’s presence, but she felt herself relaxing completely, her body leaning into Sana’s side.

Sana glanced down at her, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Hey, you okay?”

Y/N nodded, her voice barely audible. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m good. Really good.”

Sana smiled, her head resting lightly against Y/N’s. “Me too,” she said softly.

The night stretched on, the TV played softly in the background, though neither of them paid much attention. They stayed like that, their fears forgotten and their hearts a little fuller, knowing that whatever movie came next, they’d be facing it together.

[clarkeyhill]

Interests | ChrisMD

Fluff

The room was bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the TV screen as the opening notes of The Lord of the Rings soundtrack played. The familiar orchestral swell filled the space, creating an almost magical atmosphere. I was curled up in Chris’ lap, his arms loosely wrapped around my waist, his fingers occasionally tracing gentle patterns against my skin beneath the thick blanket draped over both of us.

“This,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, “is cinema at its peak.” There was a quiet reverence in his voice, like he was sharing something sacred with me.

I smiled, my head resting against his chest, feeling the deep rumble of his voice as he continued. “Every shot, every line of dialogue, every piece of music—it’s all intentional. It’s all… perfect.”

I tilted my head to look up at him, catching the way his eyes glowed with excitement as he spoke. He was utterly in his element, lost in the world of Middle-earth before the journey had even truly begun.

I hummed softly, shifting in his lap to get more comfortable. “I love how you talk about this movie like it’s a religion.”

Chris chuckled, tightening his arms around me playfully. “It is a religion. I mean, look at this opening sequence. You have Galadriel’s narration, setting the stage with this haunting, beautiful music. Ugh, it gives me chills every time.”

I smiled against his shirt, listening as he continued. He went on about the deep lore behind the forging of the Rings of Power, how Sauron’s rise to power was meticulously adapted from Tolkien’s writing, how even the smallest details—like the way the Elvish script glowed on the One Ring—had been carefully designed to stay true to the source material.

The longer he talked, the more animated he became. His hands moved subtly as he gestured, his fingers sometimes brushing against my arm or my thigh in the process. His voice carried this infectious passion, his words spilling out with the kind of excitement that made it impossible not to be drawn in.

“You see that shot?” he pointed at the screen as the scene shifted to the battle against Sauron. “That���s one of the best practical effects ever done in film. They used forced perspective, scale doubles, and digital compositing just to make it look seamless.”

I didn’t even have to say anything—just being there, listening, was enough to make him keep going.

As the night went on, I barely moved from my spot in his lap. Occasionally, he would absentmindedly stroke my back, his fingers trailing slow, soothing patterns against my skin. Every so often, he’d shift slightly, adjusting the blanket around us or pressing a small, affectionate kiss to my temple before returning to his excited rambling.

And I just sat there, listening.

It wasn’t just the movie that made this night special. It was him. The way he felt so comfortable letting this side of himself show. The way he didn’t hesitate to nerd out around me, to get lost in something he loved without fear of judgment.

“You know,” I finally murmured, my voice soft as I nuzzled against his neck, “I think my favorite part of this movie night is just listening to you talk.”

Chris paused for a moment, his arms tightening around me in a gentle squeeze. “Yeah?” His voice was quieter now, almost shy.

“Yeah,” I whispered, pressing a small kiss to his collarbone. “I love seeing you like this.”

His response was just a warm chuckle, followed by a kiss pressed into my hair. “You’re kinda perfect, you know that?”

I only smiled, sinking further into his embrace, the sound of his voice blending with the epic soundtrack of Middle-earth as the night went on.

-

🫶🏻

@themdera

[sweetflanfiction]

Assymetrical Symphony - Part 12

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: Still on vacations!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10

• ··········· • ············ •

In a very proficient succession of moves, Viktor had grabbed his keys from his bag, locked the front door—something he wasn’t supposed to do because of the council’s shenanigans, but Viktor hardly ever did what he was told—and had opened the door, holding it open for you.

Shaking your head at his antics, you made your way to the room and short of going inside. A butterfly had flapped its wings somewhere down the space and time lines, and what was once a spacious room was now nothing more than a broom closet.

“I know it is not ideal, but…it’s this or the hexcore room.” You heard behind you and cleared your throat.

“This is… um… fine…” You nodded and walked to the back of the room, which was exactly a small step forward, and turned back to the door.

Viktor walked behind you and closed the door, leaving both of you in darkness. He shuffled to get himself in a comfortable standing position, his cane leaning on the shelf behind you.

You knew if you could see anything but the soft glow of the room outside from under the door, you’d be face to face with his chin, having to still tilt your head up to look at him whenever you were in close quarters. You shook your head and cleared your throat to get your mind back on track. He took half a step back, completely oblivious of your thoughts, and you did the same, the shelves behind you carving a dent into your back. 

“Alright. The baseline for your starlight rune is about fifteen minutes.”

“Starlight rune?”

“I told you I wasn’t good with names…Do the rune with the new variant.”

The glove came off with a practiced tug, and the small room was slightly illuminated by the blue glow. You saw Viktor's hand immediately shoot up to touch it again, his never-ending curiosity getting the best of him. Your hand twitched in anticipation of the contact, and he stopped short of actually touching it.

“Sorry, it’s not you…it’s…” You started but couldn’t finish when you realized that it was in fact because of him.

“Don’t worry. It’s my fault…Learn not to touch anything before checking it’s safe... Truly, it’s the worst... I have a few scars to show for it.” He used the glow of your hand to touch a few small scars on his palm.

SVRCINA - Astronomical

You laughed quietly, tracing the rune for the tiny lights in the air, adding the small symbol on the top right of it. A flick of the wrist and up they went. Viktor tapped his fingers on his thigh, counting the time, his neck stretched up to look at the ceiling.

The endlessness of darkness is hovering. The sound of the silence is deafening. Ten billion decibels shattering

The opportunity presented itself to look at him in detail. On the forefront of your mind was the need to find any difference from your Viktor. On the back of it, the hope that there was none. 

The shimmering lights gave his already pale skin an even white tinge, but you could see the small freckles and skin marks he had running behind the collar of his shirt. His jaw was still sharp and angled, and his cheeks high; you peeked at the beauty mark under his eyes, and he still chewed on the inside of his mouth when he was thinking hard. Your eyes shifted down to take notice of his breathing. Closing your eyes, you listened to it. Clean, no wheezing, no strain. 

I'm drawn to the unknown where shadows hide. A slave to the powers that magnetize There's something inside of me I can't fight.

The smell of mint and cinnamon filled your nostrils. You had forgotten the height difference, the gentle way his breathing would make his chest rise and fall on his better days. You’d forgotten the time before he became consumed with legacy. You’d forgotten he was once flesh and blood and warmth.

You heard the shift in breathing before you heard the quiet laugh and looked up at him. True to his word, he had a hand outstretched, touching the tiny specks of light floating above you.

Weightlessness forsaking me. This pull is astronomical.

“Fascinating.” He murmured, his long fingers swirling around the shimmer. “It’s cold, but…not unpleasant.”

Viktor’s smile never faltered, a pleasant sound coming from his throat. The floating orbs just floated around the tips of his fingers, like smoke around a tree branch.

He moved his fingers to grab one of the lights, and your breath got caught in your throat. You really should stop him, but the gentleness of his long fingers as he swirled them around the smoke, nudging the smaller nodes away to grab a bigger one, left you hypnotized and mute.

Viktor’s fist closed around a glowing marble, and it burst like a soap bubble, breaking into tiny wisps of glitter and regrouping again after they passed his fist.

Can anybody... Anybody... Can anybody stop me?

You looked at his face; the usually warm golden eyes have taken a paler palette with the white cold light reflecting on them. His lips were curled up in a soft, wondrous smile that reminded you of a child; his long neck was stretched upwards, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed his amusement. It was new... this was new...

It hit you like a ton of bricks that even though you’d seen this man in almost any state of mind, this childish wonder was something you never noticed. You were far more preoccupied with keeping him alive than finding something that gave him this type of feeling. Even if in the end, whatever feelings he had were gone.

Ooh, this pull is astronomical.

“You’re staring again…” He snickered, and you nodded.

“You remind me of someone…” 

“Hopefully a good someone…”He looked down and smirked at you.

“Heh…He had his moments... You cleared your throat. "Shall we test the other theory perhaps?”

Viktor nodded and had once again craned his neck upwards. You did the rune and added the coda symbol on the same corner as the infinity symbol and flicked your wrist up.

The rune disappeared, but the stars stayed. You both locked eyes with each other and then looked at your hand, as if it was to blame for the lackluster results.

“Maybe it’s the symbol? Or the intention?”

“Perhaps…what have you been setting as the intention for this one?”

“Just…light up. The first time it appeared, I was in a dark room, so light seemed the best option.”

“Maybe think…dark…or…off.”

Shaking your shoulder to release some tension, you drew the rune, drew the coda, and set it free with a very defined 'turn the light off' intention.

“Rune… intention… push forward…” Viktor repeated, his eyes darting around the darkened room. “Rune…intention…push forward…”

“I could try other symbols…”

He nodded, and you started to add symbols to the rune. An exclamation point, a dot, two dots, an X, the actual word STOP. But nothing seemed to be the floating little light from floating.

“You push it forward…” He raised a hand and placed it next to yours, palm up. The glow of your hand casting a light on the side of his hand

He drew the rune with his index and middle fingers and flicked the wrist up. By the third time he did it, you mirrored his movements, you drew the rune and the suffix you had initially given it, and flicked it up. Nothing.

The small blue brush strokes grew in brightness as you finished the drawing. The rune itself was a dainty thing, swirly with a loop and a dash. It was your favorite rune to draw, you thought at that moment.

“Rune…intention…push it forward.” You both whispered in sync as your hands danced in well-choreographed movements.

“Of course…” You heard Viktor exclaim and looked up at him, but his eyes were still on your hands.

He turned his hand so that it was hovering on top of yours without touching, his long fingers by your wrist, yours under his own joint. He drew the rune, like he was stroking your wrist. A shiver ran down your arm, but you mimicked him like before and drew your own rune. When you flicked your hand up, your fingers touched his wrist with a soft thud, but his hand did the opposite movement; instead of moving downwards—since he was mirroring your movements—he pulled back, his hand arching back.

“It makes sense…you speak the rune…” He made the motion again, you repeated. “You set the intent and…”

You both snapped your hands backwards. The rune shimmered, and the floating lights shot towards your hand, leaving the room in darkness in a blink of an eye, the only sound the slight heavy breathing from the sudden shift in brightness.

"You pull it back." Viktor whispered. 

"That's..." You thought about saying smart, but this was Viktor, one of the most intelligent people you've met.

"Unlike words, once you speak the runes, you can take them back, and everything goes back to normal."

"Words can be taken back." You said, moving your hand up and feeling his wrist still hovering there. 

You let your fingers touch his wrist, gently flattening them against his skin, your thumb softly grasping his forearm. You felt his own hand rest on top of yours. You could see the blue light engulfing his hand.

"They hurt all the same." He softly whispered.

"Pains and aches, eh?" You heard him chuckle. "The mending rune... I can sustain it now. Imagine being able to keep something from breaking."

"You have to be careful. Magic is not free. There will be a toll to pay.” His voice shifted and something mechanical. 

“I’m actually doing this…I’m learning... and adapting... and”

“Evolving…” A mechanical low voice came from where he was, but you didn’t feel it like last time.

“What?” Your eyes snapped up to where his should be.

“What?” He looked at you confused, and you shook your head, dismissing it.

A second of silence until you heard a quiet laugh come from him.

“This is... real magic. It’s just like we thought. Exactly like we thought. The books were right. The hextech is an almost exact copy of what actual magic is.” 

“Viktor…breathe…”

“I’m breathing…I’m breathing..." He moved his hand away, pushing a hand through his hair. "We are finding ways to control wild runes.”

“Don’t look wild to me. That one actually looked like it was meticulously drawn.”

“They are wild because they are natural, not because they are unpredictable.” He grabbed the door handle with one hand, his cane with the other, and pushed the door open. “I need to write this down.”

He was halfway out the door when he stopped abruptly, and you managed to stop just in time by placing your hands on his back, almost throwing him off balance and to the floor. A hand on his elbow balanced him out.

“Good gods, Vik… What the..." You started but then looked at what—or who—was staring at.

“You two kids wanna to tell me why you were inside a dark closet?” Jayce inquired, his lips curling up on one side, his eyebrow going up on the same side.

Viktor straightened up quickly, and you did the same, more flustered about the almost tumble than Jayce’s questions. 

“Nothing.” Viktor quickly answered

“Magic.” You said at the same time, with the taller man’s face snapping to yours, mouth agape at your nonchalant tone.

“What?” You shrugged as you walked past him to the table.

“What kind of magic?” Jayce’s eyebrows wiggled suggestively. 

“Jayce!” Viktor, whose gaze had been following you around the room, snapped to Jayce.

“The actual magical kind.” You pulled the glove back on your hand. “The rune one.”

“Oh…eh…that’s fun too, I guess.” The broader man shrugged.

“How’s Mel?” You retorted.

“Magical…” He sighed and then winked at you.

You looked at him, face blank, and shook your head; he gave a goofy lovesick smile, and you groaned dramatically to emphasize you were joking.

“She does have some news for us about the council…shenanigans…” Jayce straightened up and leaned on the table.

“No…no…nonono.” Viktor shook his head and strode towards both of you, a small scowl of confusion on his face. “We are not just going to breeze by this… What is happening…? When did this happen?”

Jayce looked between Viktor, you, and then pointed to himself.

“Kid who jumped places because a mage decided to save his life…” He pointed at you. “Actual Mage.”

You were happy that he didn’t add the rest of his sentence about you.

“Wait…they know about the…happening?” Viktor looked at Jayce with wide eyes.

“They do.” Jayce nodded, and Viktor turned his eyes to you.

“And he knows about the runes?”

“He does.”

Viktor looked at the ceiling of the lab, taking a deep breath, while these pieces of information all fit in his head. When he was satisfied, he looked back down to you and Jayce, nodding. 

“All right… all right…” He walked over to where Jayce was leaning on the table and you were seated on a stool. “What did Mel say?”

“They have a date for the council meeting.”

• ············ • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat

[sturnlsstuff]

⸻ GHOSTFACE!MATT MEETING SWEET!READER FOR THE FIRST TIME.

— warnings: mentions of murder, stalking, matt being kinda a perv. . .

requested by anon. sorry this took ages 😭 divider credits. @anitalenia

the music thumped through the walls, vibrating the air in time with the bass. a haze of laughter, conversations, and clinking glasses filled the room as the crowd swirled like a single, pulsing entity. matt stood at the edge of the room, a drink in hand, watching it all unfold. he didn’t belong here, not really, but today he was on a mission.

the city had recently been terrorized by a ghostface killer, but apparently the teenagers didn't take it seriously if they were having so much fun at the party. it was amusing to matt, knowing that tomorrow morning, they would all wake up hungover for breakfast and find out that one unfortunate person had been murdered last night— the person who had been at that party. and the first thought that will pop into their heads will be that it could have been them.

it makes the corner of matt's lips twitch, a deep sigh leaves his mouth as he pushes through the crowd of people to get to the kitchen. scanning the room, he notices a couple making out in the corner and a few guys drinking beer. he rolls his eyes and goes to pour himself more vodka. matt hated not wearing his mask, it made him feel strangely safe and like a completely different person, and he just couldn't wait for the end of the night where he would finally choose today's victim, and be the last person they would see.

"oh, fuck—" he hears behind him, turning around and seeing a girl who had just spilled all the juice on the kitchen island. he watches you try to wash the liquid off with paper towels, his eyes roaming over your entire body and something clicks in his head.

you were giving the vibe of a rich, popular chick, judging by the clothes you were wearing, and the way you carried yourself around. was he crazy for getting this from just one look at you? probably. but if matt chose you as his next victim, people would get more terrified— no normal person attacks innocent, beautiful young girls, right? his name would be on everyone's lips for months.

you were perfect.

"...hello?" a snap of your fingers brings him back on earth, a small smile playing on your lips.

he blinks confused, not expecting you to talk to him. "uh, what?"

"i asked if i could have some of this," you pointed at the apple juice in his hand. "i spilled the other one and there's only orange juice left, but i don't fuck with them." you look at him through your long lashes, then adding when he doesn't reply, "if that's not a problem."

matt stood there like an idiot, feeling a wave of heat washing over him at the eye contact. your voice was soft, melodic, like a gentle breeze on a warm afternoon. each word you spoke wrapped around him with a kind of magic he hadn't expected. it was effortlessly smooth, just the right mix of warmth and playfulness that made his heart race. for a moment, he forgot everything, lost in the sound of it, his thoughts scattered as he tried to process how perfect you seemed, his eyes slowly noticing more details.

you were stunning. cheeks flushed, the warm glow of the party still lingering on your skin, and your lips, glossy and perfect, shimmered with a hint of pink. a loose strand of hair had fallen across your face, a little messy from dancing, but it only made you look even more sweet, as if you didn’t care about perfection. your eyes sparkled with a kind of lightness that made you look almost untouchable, like you belonged in a dream. he couldn’t help but get lost in the sight of you, everything about you just too perfect to be real.

"huh? the— oh..." he stuttered dumbly, feeling blush spreading across his cheeks. "yeah, sure, you can have it..." he gives you the juice, mentally slapping himself for being so shy out of sudden, but god, weren't you just a piece of art.

matt was sure you would give him a weird look at his behavior, but no, your sweet smile widens as you take the bottle from him and thank him. while you start preparing yourself a drink, his thoughts run wild.

"i despise vodka," you put the juice down after pouring the red cup, turning around to face matt again.

you were talking to him? why the fuck?

a frown appears between his eyebrows, "but... you're drinking it?"

"yeahh," you chuckle, looking down at your drink then back at the guy in front of you. "i never said i'm not a hypocrite."

your eyes roam all over him, he was impossibly handsome, his jawline sharp, eyes intense, and there’s something magnetic about the way he carries himself. but it’s his tattoos that draw you in. you can’t help but stare at the intricate designs wrapping around his arm, the ink like a story written just for him, each one adding layers to his already intriguing vibe. it's almost as if the tattoos have a language of their own, one you desperately want to understand. you catch yourself before you stare too long, but it’s too late— he’s already caught your eye.

the way you looked at him sends shivers down his spine, the attraction he felt for you at that moment almost made him forget about his plan to choose you as his next victim.

"can i know your name?" your head tilts to the side.

damn it, you were so fine, the way your eyes looked him up and down just seconds ago makes his pants grow a little tighter.

"i'm matt."

you introduce yourself, taking a sip of your drink, his eyes falling down at the way your lips press against the cup. he feels a slight panic at how much his body is starting to react to the sight of you.

"...and i wasn't really feeling like going here, but my friend broke up with her boyfriend, and she clearly needs some support, so how could i just say no? like, i'm not a bad friend, y'know, so of course i came here with her, if that's the least i can do to take her mind off that guy, then...."

you were yapping like crazy, immediately. talking about stuff matt didn't really cared about— he had a feeling you were just talking to talk, but it looked as you enjoyed it as well, completely unbothered by the fact that he's some stranger, you just met.

as you continue to talk, he finds himself staring at you— how perfect you are. the more you spoke, the more his stomach twisted uncomfortably, almost as it was... pity? which was insane, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. he wasn't supposed to feel something like that for a random girl, that would be perfect as his next victim. but damn it, your smile made his insides tighten in a way he hadn’t experienced in... well, ever.

he quickly tries to push the thought aside, trying to focus. you were just supposed to be his next target.

but he could feel the desire taking over his body. no one affected him so fast and so intensely before. matt shifted on his feet, trying to regain his composure, while you changed the topic to how bad the music in the house is and you'd play something better.

he was clearly mesmerized by you— you were kind and sweet, and the longer he stared at you, the more he wanted to hear you say more, to hear your laugh. his face is getting flushed, mind racing as his body reacting to you wasn't the part of the plan. he came here for a reason, he had job to do. it was the first time he's ever hesitated about choosing his next victim.

"...and it was sooo crazy, i always wanted a tattoo, but i just can't bring myself to do it." matt blinked, focusing back on what you were saying, when he felt your fingers on his arm. his heart skipped a beat as he looks down. "did it hurt a lot? i really want one, but i don't know what to expect—"

"no, it's, uh... it's not that bad, really," he mutters, taking a sip of his own drink.

focus.

but the slightest of your touch made his dick twitch.

he was screwed.

right now he wasn't sure he could hurt you— hell, he didn't even know if he wanted to. but he also felt like he has to get away from you as fast as possible, before you notice the visible bulge in his pants.

"oh, really? what is it l—"

"sorry, i have to go," he cuts you off, and with a slight panic leaves the kitchen, a clear confusion on your face as you watch him disappearing in the crowd of people.

but all matt could think of was how desperately he needed a release, and at the same time how you managed to mess with his head in a few minutes.

⸻

matt gave up on choosing a victim for that night. he couldn't bring himself to kill you, when the confusion of how his body was reacting to you kept on him. he had to find a release in the bathroom just right after talking to you, still feeling that light touch of your fingertips on his skin. he felt stupid when, even a week after that party, he was still thinking about you, knowing that you had surely forgotten about a loser like him. he couldn't even talk to you, he was mesmerized by your beauty, by your plump pink lips that he'd love to feel on his, and see if they are as soft as they looked like. the way you looked at him through your long lashes while yapping his ear off. his imagination carried him away, on nights when he couldn't sleep, he wanted to feel your touch again, but in different ways, most likely with your hand wrapped around his dick, while he had his mask on, so you couldn't know his identity. he was sure you wouldn't do anything with him without the mask, so in his mind he only saw himself dressed up as the ghostface, pleasuring you while you trembled beneath him and moaned his name.

no, you couldn't know his name.

he craved you so bad, but he knew you can't know who he really is. so that was a problem.

not being able to take it anymore, he started gaining informations about you, checking your socials and, oh, how beautiful you were.

somewhere in the back of his mind he knew how wrong it was, but he couldn't stop himself. he tried to find out anything that would make him change his perception of you, and make him finally do what he planned to do at the party. however, with each day and each new piece of information, matt became more convinced that you were even sweeter than he thought you were, and that made him lose his mind.

still convinced that he was only doing this to finally make you his next victim, he first started observing you almost two weeks after the party. it started innocently enough, just waiting in his car parked near your house for you to finally go outside, and go do whatever you felt like doing. usually it was meeting your friends at some cafe— which he now knew was your favorite.

one day, he saw a guy approaching you at the bus stop, clearly making you uncomfortable. he explained stalking you as looking for any reason that would help him decide to kill you. and it was getting hard to find it. so instead of you, that man became his next victim. this happened a few times, whenever matt saw someone giving you trouble— he chose to get rid of them instead of you. at some point he realized that he wasn't watching you to finally kill you, but because he couldn't go a day without thinking about you, without craving you. he didn't want to make you scream out of fear, but out of the pleasure he would give you.

one night, when you were at your friends house, and your parents weren't home, he found himself doing something he wouldn't think he would do.

matt stood in the silence of your room, the air thick with the faint scent of lavender. he hadn’t planned on being here. not like this, not without you knowing, but somehow, with the key you thought you 'lost', he found himself inside, as though he belonged.

the door closed softly behind him, the sound swallowed by the stillness. his pulse thrummed in his ears as he looked around, taking in the soft colors of the room, the personal touches that spoke of you, of a life he wasn’t part of but craved to know. a framed picture of you smiling with your bestfriend, carefree, sitting on the edge of your bed. a half-read book on the nightstand, the soft hum of the distant city outside barely reached him here, in this intimate space— your space.

he walked further in, his eyes scanning your belongings like a treasure map, each object a clue to the mystery that was you. his fingers brushed lightly against the soft fabric of your sheets, the touch sending a shiver up his spine. his breath quickened, the temptation to sink into your world overwhelming, the urge to feel closer to you— a closeness that was almost too much to bear.

matt hadn’t meant for this to happen, not for this obsession to creep in. he tried to convince himself, that he's just trying to get to know more about you to finally make you the next victim, but there he was, unable to stop, unable to deny the pull, the ache that consumed him. the walls around him felt smaller now, like the room was tightening in on him, as if it knew what he was doing, knew how badly he needed to be close to you.

the silence felt louder now, the reality of what he was doing crashed over him, but it was too late to stop. the craving for you, for everything you were, wrapped itself around him tighter with each passing second. he was here, and somehow, in this space that wasn’t his, it felt like he was closer to you than he had ever been.

and he got addicted.

not even a week later he returned to your room again, when the house was empty. he made himself a key, now able to walk in and out whenever he wanted. was he a little insane? maybe. did he care? not really.

matt stood at the foot of your bed again, the silence swallowing him whole. he hadn’t planned to return so soon, but here he was, back in the very same room, the key in his pocket a constant reminder of the choices he’d made. his heart pounded in his chest, an anxious rhythm echoing in his ears. he didn’t know what he was looking for.

but he couldn’t stop himself.

the drawer was ajar as he stared at it, the air in the room felt warmer, heavier now, as if it too was aware of what he was about to do. his hands trembled as he reached inside. at first, it was just a slip of fabric— a soft, delicate piece he didn’t recognize. his fingers hovered over it, caught between shame and desire. the fabric was light, soft, and when he picked it up, the smell of you lingered on it—faint but unmistakable.

his stomach twisted in knots. what the fuck was he doing? he wanted to put it back, to walk out, to forget this ever happened. but his mind raced, and his body betrayed him, his dick twitching in his jeans as he holds your underwear.

goddamn it.

matt looked at the delicate lace in his hands, imagining you wearing it. the thought gripped him, suffocating, yet oddly intoxicating. he knew it was wrong— hell, it felt wrong even thinking about it. his breath caught in his throat as the shame spiraled, and for a fleeting second, guilt gnawed at him.

he dropped the fabric back in the drawer and left the room as soon as possible. he was embarrassed doing that.

so next time when he came in into the room again, he had his mask on, feeling much better and more confident now. whenever he was wearing it, it felt like it wasn't him doing that, like it was someone else.

the urge to linger, to be near your belongings, became a quiet, gnawing need. he shouldn’t be here or want this, but he did. he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. he didn't want you to be his next victim— he wanted to hear your moans and fuck you on your own bed, until you can't think straight anymore. he knows he has no chance doing that without his mask— but what would happen with the mask on?

matt walks around, eyes darting around the room, searching for something to focus on. he knew he had no right, but this didn't stop him from putting a small camera in the corner of your room, and then in your bathroom. he was preparing himself to call you soon, slowly tired of craving you and not being able to have you. so he decided to give himself time to know more about you, before finally deciding to speak to you.

he makes sure the cameras aren't visible, his gaze fell again to the drawer, to the clothes you had left behind, and to the things you'd left unseen. his hand hovered near the drawer once more, trembling, but he stopped. he had to stop, this wasn’t right.

you won't know though.

the craving gnawed at him from the inside, and the shame only made the desire grow stronger, and before he could realize what he's doing, he steals one of your underwear, leaving the room as soon as possible.

the next weeks matt spent in the dim light of his room, the soft glow of his laptop illuminating his face, eyes fixed on the screen. your room was laid out before him, the cameras he had hidden allowed him to watch you whenever he wanted. at first, it was just curiosity, the thrill of being close to you, even if you didn’t know it, but it started being more, soon enough he found himself jerking off to the sight of you.

your laughter, the way you moved, the soft touches of your hands brushing through your hair— it drove him wild. it felt like a drug, a constant craving, and each time he watched, the need for you grew, the ache deep inside him became unbearable.

and finally one day he's had enough of just watching.

the temptation, the obsession— it had to stop, one way or another, it was time to speak to you, to finally claim you.

it was time to make himself known.

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