#nose-biting teacups

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Day

@wolfstarmicrofic January 1, word count 809

Opposite - Night

It was the day before the full moon, and Remus was antsy. His skin itched, and his hair stood on end all over his body. He felt feverish, and his joints ached. 

He could deal with being a werewolf if he only felt the effects when the moon was full, but the run-up to it just made it all that much worse. 

He needed to take his mind off it. As though Sirius had read his mind. He came sauntering in with that wild look in his eyes that could only mean one thing. Sirius had a prank ready to be played out. 

Instantly, Remus forgot how bad his body felt. Sirius gracefully flopped onto the sofa next to him. He leant back, folding his hands behind his head. Looking completely at ease. Remus waited for Sirius to ask. He knew he was going to ask. Oh, how he needed Sirius to ask. 

“Moony?” Sirius finally spoke, somehow managing to keep his face serious. 

“Yes, Padfoot,” Remus replied, slightly breathlessly.

“I have a plan, but I need some help to pull it off.” He turned his head towards Remus. “Would you be interested?” 

“Yes!” Remus said, unable to contain his excitement. This close to the moon, the wolf made it hard for him to control his emotions.  

Sirius’s grin illuminated his face. 

“Knew I could count on you, Moony.” He moved closer conspiratorially. “Third years are starting tea leaf reading in Divination this afternoon, and I have a rather large supply of nose-biting teacups…” He trailed off, not needing to say any more for Remus to understand. 

“Yes! Sirius yes! Can we watch? I wanna watch!” He was vibrating with energy. That wicked glint flashed in Sirius’s eyes again, stronger than before. He pulled the corner of James’s invisibility cloak from under his robes. 

“Way ahead of you, Moony, my old friend.”

The plan went off without a hitch. They vanished the ordinary teacups and replaced them all with the nose-biting ones. They picked a good spot at the back of the attic classroom where no one would accidentally walk into them. 

The trapdoor was pushed open as the Divination Professor climbed into the room, followed by the small group of third-years. 

“Settle down, settle down.” The crone-like witch called to the already quietly sitting class. “Everyone go and grab a teacup, and I shall bring around the tea.” The students each took one of the teacups from the shelf. Remus had to stuff his fist into his mouth to stop himself from laughing. He felt Sirius nudge him warningly. He tried to calm himself down before he gave them away. 

“Make sure you drink all the tea before you start trying to read the tea leaves. Do not make the same mistake as my class last year. Poor boy scalded his legs trying to read without drinking any of the tea.” She shook her head solemnly.

“Poor, Pete,” Sirius whispered into Remus’s ear, then had to add his own hand to help cover Remus’s mouth as he shook with laughter. 

The room was mostly quiet as the students all waited for the tea to cool enough to drink. 

“Alright, class.” The Professor announced, “Your tea would be sufficiently cool enough now to drink from.” She picked up her own cup as the 15-third years all lifted theirs. 

There was a moment of slurping and then Bedlam. People screaming, chairs flying and tea cups smashing. The class fled, trying to get away from the snapping china. The Professor was having a terrible time removing her cup from the end of her nose. It seems to be a particularly vicious one. 

The chaos was more than either Remus or Sirius could have hoped for. Within minutes, the classroom was empty. The screams and shouts grew quieter as the third years ran from the tower. 

Sirius pulled the cloak off them. They looked at each other silently and straight-faced for a second before they both fell to the floor, rolling around in peals of laughter.

“Godric, that went better than I could have ever imagined.” Sirius gasped between laughs, brushing the tears leaking from his eyes from his face. 

“Sirius, that was perfect. I love your brain.” Remus choked out, an arm wrapped around himself as if he needed to hold himself together. 

“Right, come on,” Sirius said, trying very hard to pull himself together, “Before someone comes to see what’s going on.”

They managed to climb back down the ladder without hurting themselves. Once at the bottom, Sirius threw the invisibility cloak back over them. 

“Don’t want anyone seeing us coming out of the tower, or they’ll know it was us,” Sirius murmured to Remus as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower, bursting into howling laughter when they pulled the invisibility cloak off, safe in their dorm room.                

[goldenstring6123]

HIIIYAAAYAYA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH AND I LOOK FORWARD TO EVERY SINGLE PIECE YOU RELEASE!!! YOU HAVE ME CHECKING YOUR PAGE 24/7 IM OBSESSEDDD 🫦🫦 ANYWHO ignore my fawning but how do you think the lads boys would react to a suuuuper clingy gf??? idk but if i were mc i would NOT be leaving their side and would literally be glued onto their body like mc is a strong soldier for resisting (especially rafayel my HUSBAND 😩) literally wanna just curl up in their lap and carve myself into their ribcage so they can never escape from me tehe. ALSOOO U DON’T GOTTA RESPOND IF UR BUSY OR UNCOMFY!!!! JUST KNOW I LOVE YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITING 🫶🫶

Lnds: Sticky little lover

Warning: vaguely suggestive, mentions of hickeys, fem!reader, clingy!reader, reader may or may not be the mc, there might be spelling mistakes, I haven't proofread yet.

Author's note: Awieee thank u sm pookie! I understand the feeling of wanting to latch onto the LIs~

Zayne:

Zayne wakes up with you on his chest, your leg over his crotch, and your arm across his stomach. To him, you were like a weighted stuffed toy and a weighted blanket, all at the same time. He wasn't complaining; maybe it was an excuse to stay in bed for another half an hour.

The bathroom is big enough for the two of you, with two wash basins, a separate shower, and a bathtub. There are three bathrooms in the house, but you always choose the one he uses. He's complained once, but you said you didn't like the interior design of the others. Side by side, you brush your teeth and comb your hair while he shaves and flosses. If you wake up earlier than usual, maybe he'll let you moisturize and exfoliate his face. It's no surprise Zayne leaves the bathroom door open for you. It's just normal for both of you to cross paths in the large bathroom.

When he leaves for work, you never miss a day to kiss his nose and give him a quick peck. You embrace him with two arms, but he hugs you back with one, the other hand holding his bag. You don't mind.

Your message gallery is filled with pictures of your mundane life: a snapshot of a book you're reading, the new coffee you tried, the little teacup Maltese that reminded you of him. Even though he's busy, he always finds time to react, and if he doesn't, he brings up the picture when you pick him up at the end of the day. He never forgets.

Calm days are spent in each other's presence. You always cling to him in one way or another. While he's reading a book, your feet are on his lap, and his fingers unknowingly knead your ankles. While watching a movie, your shoulders touch, and your hands are intertwined. When you react to the film, his hand, still holding yours, follows your movements.

Dates are always fun. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do as long as Zayne's in your company. Cafe dates are cute, but Zayne always calls you out for staring at him with a weird look in your eyes—you were admiring him. Whenever you walk, you cling to him, wrapping yourself around his forearm while playfully weighing him down. He stumbles for a second but smiles.

You love leaving hickeys on him, even bite marks if he allows, but the rule is never above the collar of his shirt. You oblige 97% of the time. The other 3%, you sneak in a light hickey that passes off as a mosquito bite, just peeking through the collar of his dress shirt. Sometimes, there's one behind his ear, barely visible. He never knows, but the doctors and patients at the hospital do.

When you're apart, you always call him and go about your day. At night, you video call and try to stay awake, only to snooze off. Zayne chuckles at your attempts to wash the tiredness away, but sometimes, he falls asleep with you. In the morning, both of your phones end up overheating and out of battery.

Zayne loves your company, to others it may seem trouble some but with you, it was adorable. It's through your clingyness that he experiences feelings he never once did before, and those little things always brighten his day. You actions with him makes him feel more loved and he knows he has a hard time expressing them but with you around, it had become more and more easier.

Rafayel:

They say opposites attract, but you and Rafayel are the universal exception.

Rafayel doesn't like it when you're late. Even for a home-date, he fusses about being left alone too long and feeling abandoned. You laugh at his whining over text and enter his door. When he sees you, he jumps off the couch and pouts, "Finally, it took you long enough."

You're like magnets to each other. Wherever one goes, the other follows. If you're cooking ramen in the kitchen, Rafayel sneaks behind you, hugging your back and sniffing your hair. If he's watering flowers in the greenhouse, you sit nearby and watch a ladybug on a leaf. If he's painting, you're reading on a nearby couch. Rafayel's residence is too big for one person but just enough for two.

Rafayel whines when you do something without him, especially if it's something he wants to do. You once took a flower arrangement class without him, and he sulked, "Wow, you didn't even think to tell me? I wanted to do that with you." Even watching movies is hard because you need to pause and wait for him whenever he leaves the room. One time, you finished a mystery series without him, and he ate the tiramisu you were saving for dessert in revenge.

Matching clothes is a thing. He avoids tacky prints but opts for complementary outfits. Because of this, Rafayel buys clothes with you in mind, often choosing items with a feminine counterpart. His shoe closet and yours are practically the same, and you don't complain because Rafayel has good fashion taste.

You love cute matching items. You once bought a two-piece mug set with a heart design, and he took the other one without you knowing. He also took a keychain from your collection, matching the one you have in your wallet.

"Are you tired of me now?" he asks when you keep your distance, avoiding a hug. It's the middle of summer, and the AC is broken. You reek of sweat, and the last thing you want is to be touched. You sigh and pat his back, "After I take a bath, I'll give you all the hugs you want."

He asks about your plans every morning, almost as a ritual. You've gotten used to replying while getting ready. If both schedules permit, he joins you for grocery runs, laundry, or whatever mundane tasks you have. You make good use of him, letting him carry the bags even if you could do it yourself.

When Rafayel is at an exhibit, you bombard him with texts: jokes, articles, or random thoughts. He replies quickly, hiding from the audience, bored out of his mind. In return, he sends you pictures of his artwork, which you threaten to sell online as digital files. He blocks you for a good five minutes.

You're each other's wallpaper. Surprisingly, Rafayel asked to do it. You spent hours finding the perfect pose and recreating trending ones. Rafayel insisted on multiple retakes.

You were rafayel's missing piece. To him, you were the only thing that he has ever wanted in his life. He loved you dearly and a part of him was terrified that you don't reciprocate the same level of love as he does to you; but lo and behold, fate has given him a blessing after all those years of loneliness. His heart swoons at the very sight of your actions. You were clingy, that was factually true but the same goes for him. Nothing makes him more fulfilled than seeing you both think and love in the same wavelength.

Sylus:

His base has become your home. On days off, you often find yourself in one of three rooms: his bedroom, where you lie on his bed, tapping away on your phone or laptop; his kitchen, where the chef cooks whatever you want in exchange for listening to his stories from his little village; or the lobby, where Luke and Kieran update you on the most boring things in the building. Sylus doesn't mind at all; it's less work for Mephisto, and he can keep an eye on you.

Sylus's sleep schedule is the same as that of those in Linkon City. His days begin in the evenings, often leaving you lying in the big bed alone. Sylus is nearby or at his desk if he's not out on the streets. You like hugging his pillow because it smells like his 3-in-1 shampoo. If he's out on late-night trips, you selfishly steal his shirt from the closet, wear it on the pillow, and hug that to sleep, forcing yourself to be satisfied with what you got.

His lap is your chair. It doesn't matter where he's sitting; you always find yourself on him. Sylus sometimes complains about his thighs going numb, but when you leave, he yanks you back, positioning you between his legs, with your butt on the chair instead of his thigh. He goes back to his work as if nothing happened, occasionally sparing you a kiss on the forehead or rubbing his face against yours. If not, you shower his chest and neck with light pecks before snuggling into the crook of his neck.

His biceps are nice to the touch. On dates to the city, while waiting in line, you squeeze his muscles for entertainment, even through his thick leather jacket. He flexes for a minute before relaxing, amused at how easily you entertain yourself.

The boyfriend shirt phenomenon is common. You don't leave the base wearing his clothes, but you certainly walk around the area in them. Whether a turtleneck, a black blouse, or just a plain shirt, you're always wearing his clothes, even in his company.

You're an eccentric one, thats for sure. Sylus never truly got ahold of how you managed to change from being so distant to practically being glued to him. It was like he partnered up with a whole new different person. He wasn't complaining at all if anything, he found it admirable and a part of him was quietly relieved that time did all the adjusting between you and him. Despite being a bit too fussy at times, he'd be more than willing to compromise if that's what makes you happy.

Xavier:

You always steal his hoodies. They're big, soft, and smell like him, so you have two or three at home. Xavier scratches his head when he notices bare hangers in his closet. When you visit, he finally sees what's missing. No matter how many hoodies and jackets he buys for you, you always get your hands on his, almost becoming a problem. Now, he rotates his jackets, giving them to you on schedule.

Xavier's hair is too soft to be human. When he's on your lap, you massage his scalp and fidget with the ends of his silver hair. If you have hair elastics and a cute clip nearby, he ends up with his hair tied up or braided. He needs your help to take it off because it's too painful for him to do alone. Oops?

You prefer sitting beside him rather than across from him at a table. He didn't understand at first because he wanted to face you when eating. But when he's beside you, he slowly gets it. You like touching him one way or another. You enjoy your elbows touching or your thighs grazing each other. It's also convenient to lean slightly and rest your head on his shoulder.

Xavier loves bathing with you. The bathtub in his apartment is big enough for both. He likes the smell of your bath bombs and is sometimes fascinated by the toys or mini jewelry inside. Your back always presses against him, and he willingly holds you. On more stressful days, you light candles and open some cheap wine to enjoy in rose-covered water.

He's riddled with bite marks, even when not having sex. He's dozing off when you suddenly find his arm or leg appetizing. He jolts awake and tries to shake your grip, but it's too tight. When you've had enough, he stares at your work of art and wipes his saliva-coated limb. You grin, watching him wipe your fluids. Because of the frequency, he rarely lets his consciousness drift away when his bare arms and legs are around you.

When bathing alone, you use his shampoo instead of yours. It's surprising he doesn't use all-in-one shampoo and body wash; he uses baby shampoo. When confronted, he shrugs, saying it does the job, and recalls you like playing with his hair. His perfume and powder are also for babies.

In the eyes of Xavier, you were adorable even if your actions were questionable. You were cute, and he never once thought that your actions were a burden or suffocating. The things you do, the way you speak they were all precious in his eyes and Xavier understands that this was you way of showing your love for him. Because of that, he tolerates you every time you bite him.

Your gallery is full of his pictures. Candid photos you secretly take daily. Your favorite is when his cheeks are full of food, resembling a hamster. You take pictures when he's asleep, using you as a pillow. Sometimes, you're both looking at the camera, making random faces.

Author footnotes: I'm sorry if these were pretty general. I'm not the clingy type so I don't know how these type of people act but I wrote it with the things I observed from films and tiktok lol

Layout by me, using Canva premium | Do not repost |

[augustinewrites]

cw: suggestive content

“the fortress of meropide takes full responsibility for the beret society incident,” wriothesley states, heaving a sigh. “it was…an unfortunate oversight on my part.”

“it’s not entirely your fault,” clorinde tells him. “don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“thanks,” he grins, slightly surprised by her attempt at comforting him. “never thought i’d see the day—”

“don’t push it.” 

“come on, just admit that we’re best friends!” 

neuvillette clears his throat, like a parent would before lecturing a child. “what steps have you taken on behalf of those affected? many families of the victims have written to my office, requesting indemnification. it’s been explained that the court of fontaine holds no jurisdiction over the fortress. the matter falls into the hands of the warden.”

“i’ve moved some funds around to properly compensate everyone who was affected.” he answers, handing over a report outlining the details. “i’ve also compensated the doctor you sent to the fortress quite generously, as she’s taken on the responsibility of overseeing their continued care.” 

neuvillette chuckles quietly as he reads the report. “is ‘compensate’ new slang for 'intercourse?'”

one beat of silence. then two. clorinde snickers behind her teacup. wriothesley briefly considers swan-diving into the primordial sea. 

“why— why would you ask that?” he sputters instead.

the chief justice simply continues on reading, oblivious to the scandalized reaction of his companions. “oh, calm yourself, your grace. i was merely jesting, no need for anyone to be embarrassed.”

“yeah, if you’re him,” clorinde scoffs, jerking her thumb in his direction. “but if you’re the doctor in this situation…” 

“okay, your best friend status has officially been revoked. and you, chief justice! since when do you jest?”

“since it’s come to my attention that you both hold great affection for one another. sigewinne corresponds quite frequently with the other melusines here at palais mermonia. we know all about you and the doctor’s whispers of desire.”

clorinde chokes on the pastry she’s eating as wriothesley rises abruptly, his face suddenly hot. he swears the tea they’d been sharing is laced with something. “okay, you have my report, this meeting is over.” 

_____

“i got bullied by the chief justice and a champion duelist today,” your boyfriend pouts as he joins you in bed.

you bite back a smile as he pushes his head against your chest, snuggling contentedly against the silk of your chemise. 

“i’m having a hard time believing monsieur neuvillette would do such a thing.”

he releases a long, dramatic sigh as your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp. “can you do me a favour and tell him, in explicit detail, just how well i’m ‘compensating’ you?”

wriothesley yelps when you pinch the shell of his ear. “oh, hush,” you laugh, kissing the top of his head. 

not one to be outdone, the duke sits up, effortlessly trapping you beneath him and nosing at the column of your neck. you shudder as his teeth graze your ear in retaliation, your hand gripping the soft strands of hair at the base of his neck. 

“wait,” you gasp as you feel his lips form the beginning of what you know will be a very visible hickey tomorrow. “do you hear that?”

your boyfriend draws back to look down at you, concerned. “hear what?”

“it sounds like…a whisper of desire.”

“hey!”

[absdoll]

Hi bee:3 requesting for Abby eating out or playing with readers 🐱 with her fingers while reader is playing a game

It's all I've been thinking about lwjeuvesivdsi

hi qt ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა i luv this idea ! ty for requesting 🎀

cw : pervy!abby <3 my beloved ♡ // reader is playing animal crossing new horizons !

“abs! guess who just came to my island?!” you squeal as abby lifts her head from her book to meet your sparkling eyes. “hmm let me guess, the weird looking red dog?” she asks, quite genuinely.

“wh-… oh! cherry? she’s so cute! you’re mean.” you furrow your eyebrows at her, offended she called one of your favorite villagers weird looking.

your girlfriend smirks, a sigh leaving her mouth. abby gets a rise out of making her sweet doll-face frown and pout. abby knows it’s wrong to think such dirty thoughts about how innocent you are. the way your cute little butt peeks out of the bottom of your cotton shorts when you try to reach the top cabinet. when you’re all doe-eyed and curious asking her what she wants for dinner. how you sit crisscross applesauce in the big comfy living room chair, looking so small and fragile. and right now, the way you’re so giddy about a silly animal video game. she takes a deep breath as she moves over to where you’re lounging.

“i’m sorry baby, can i see?” abby rests her head on your shoulder, her right hand settling on your bare thigh. you giggle when she gives your soft flesh a little squeeze.

“it’s chai! i’ve wanted her to move to my island since i started playing!” you ramble on about your beloved blue elephant. “she’s just like cinnamoroll, look!” you tilt your nintendo switch screen in abby’s direction, biting your bottom lip in excitement, so happy you get to share this moment with your favorite girl.

abby glances at the game for a moment, then looks up at you, your eyes glistening. she looks back down at the screen, noticing your small fingers toggling with the knobs of the device. she takes another deep breath.

“mm so cute angel, i love the little teacup on her head.” abby kisses your shoulder. “i’m gonna get something to drink from the fridge, you want anything?” she inquires. you shake your head no, too focused on trying to make a good impression on your new guest.

the tall blonde stands to walk to the kitchen, stopping to stretch her arms above her head, letting out a long sigh. she turns around to give you a sweet look before she leaves the room, but her eyes fall somewhere else.

as you sit with your legs in the butterfly position, your pretty pussy on half display. abby clenches her fists, she’s resisting the urge to pry your game out of your soft dainty hands, pin them above your head, and fuck you dumb. she can’t hold back much longer.

“baby,” abby breathes, she walks back over to you, kneeling before you, elbows on your knees. “just keep playing, okay? don’t mind me.” you’re too busy cleaning up your island and making small talk with your digital neighbors to give abby any more than a “mhmm! okay bibi!” and she knows it.

abby begins planting gentle kisses to your cold thigh, humming against your skin as she sees goosebumps rise up your legs. you shiver a little when her face gets closer to your half covered heat. you move your game slightly to the left, looking down at her. “what’d i say pretty girl? hmm? eyes on the screen, don’t look at me again.” abby softly speaks through her pebbled kisses. you frown, confused, but decide to listen and be the good girl abby wants you to be.

abby’s mouth is nearing your pool of slick, you can feel the warm breeze of her breaths tickling your entrance. she uses her nose to reveal your wet pussy from your shorts.

“abs!” you attempt to close your legs around her head, but she knows you, she knows your movements. she knows that you like to play this little game where you say “nooo abs! don’t wanna! too sensitive!” and then a few seconds later, you’re spread wide open, desperately waiting for her skilled tongue to plunge into your aching hole.

“cmon princess, i don’t have to tell you again, do i?” abby coos. “spread.” her voice a little huskier.

you nod and relax your legs. you resume playing, eyes glued to the screen again, quickly getting distracted by the singsong isabelle is putting on outside town hall.

abby’s tongue now inches away from your puffy pulsating clit. all she can think about is devouring every last ounce of you while you sit there, so innocently focused on something far less disgusting than what she’s doing.

your perverted girlfriend watches as your cute hole tightens around nothing, a smile forms on her freckled face. she extends her wet pink muscle and licks a gentle zigzag from fold to fold. “mm-aahh!” you let out in a high pitched moan. abby shoots you a glare, a warning, that if you acknowledge what she’s doing again, she isn’t gonna be so sweet and soft anymore.

she’s drinking your pussy, tongue circling your sensitive nub, slurping every drop of white cream that’s sticky all over her chin. abby glances up at you, “good girl, so proud of you angel.” you bite your lip so hard that you wince a little at the sudden taste of blood, but you know better than to look at abby, let alone let her know how good she’s making you feel.

abby slides one finger into your pussy with ease, your drenched entrance practically sucking her in. “so wet for me.” she’s making out with your thumping clit, curling her index finger up, the pad perfectly tapping your g-spot.

you can’t breathe, you can’t think, you’re trying to move the controls of your game, your hands shaking. all you want to do is buck your hips up to her face, shoving her tongue so deep inside of you that feel her nose touch your clit over and over and over. “you’re close princess, i can feel it.” abby hums.

she’s going so agonizingly slow, the soft sensation of her saliva mixed with the unhurried pump of her finger, you’re dying for her to pick up the pace — and that’s exactly what she isn’t gonna do.

“cum slowly for me baby, ride it out.” abby continues lapping up your slick, using her free hand to hold your legs open. “that’s it sweet girl, riiight…. there.” you’re cumming all over her face, from her nose to her chin, her face is buried in your juices.

“let me hear that pretty moan of yours.” abby’s eyes fixated on your blissed out face. finally granting you permission, you scream out in euphoria, “uug-uuuh aahh aaa-bby-y-y!”

abby removes her finger, plopping it in her mouth, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she sucks your cum off.

sliding your shorts back up your legs and kissing the top of your head, she starts to walk towards the kitchen. “you want something to drink now?” she teases.

a/n : i loved writing this ପ૮๑ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ๑ აଓ hehe if u don’t love pervy!abby then idk what to tell u , ur missing out ! 😵‍💫💕 hope u enjoyed bbs <333

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆ @whore4abby @hersweetheart @enbesbians ♡🧁

[spdrvyn]

TSUNDERE MIGUEL O'HARA THAT IS DENYING HIS FEELINGS FOR READER WHILE HE ACTIVELY THINKS ABOUT THEM 24/7 AND KNOWS ALL THEIR CUTE LITTLE QUIRKS (READER CAN BE SPIDERMAN OR NORMAL PERSON YOUR CHOICE) PLEASE I NEED TRUNDERE MIGUEL SO MUCH IM DYING IM STARVING *sob sob cry sob*

love, your best friend Dre <3

i won't say i'm in love — MIGUEL O'HARA

(( uhhh .... i have no clue who this motherfucker is! jk lol hi tommy [ you slut ] here is your severely in denial miguel fic, spoiler free. ))

"Lyla, arrange this mess."

Miguel waved his hand at the AI, eyes focused on the glowing screen in front of him. He always had the habit of keeping a messy desktop, though it wasn't a big problem for him considering his trusty artificial intelligence assistant.

To which the trusty artificial intelligence would poke and tease Miguel in response. At times, he really wondered if Lyla was secretly being controlled by a human. A pesky, occasionally annoying, childish human that constantly pushed his buttons.

"What's the magic word, Miguel?"

He groaned bringing his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, massaging the stress lines that have formed from constantly being teased and played with.

"...Please."

Lyla lets out an electric hum, her avatar glitching into a thinking pose. She stares at Miguel with a confused look through her heart-shaped sunglasses. "Sorry. The signal in here is so bad. What was that?"

"I said, please, Lyla. Get to work."

"Oh, don't worry. I heard you the first time."

The man lets out a defeated sigh, he's given up on trying to defend himself against Lyla. Even when he's old and withered, this charade will continue like a never-ending circus show.

Multiple screens pop up in front of the AI, to which Miguel bashfully averts his gaze. He's normally organized enough, in the workplace but he's also very busy. Little things like putting files in the folders they belong simply evades his mind sometimes.

However, one file in particular stood out in front of him from the corner of his eye. It was a drive, among all the others that are colored in the regular shade of blue and labeled accordingly, this one was highlighted in pink with a little heart symbol at the end.

"Lyla, what's that?"

Her avatar glitches again into her in a sitting position, a little teacup in her hands as she takes a fake sip. "Hmm? I don't know, I don't see anything. Which one are you talking about?"

"Ay dios mío... The one in pink, Lyla. What is it?"

"Ohhh..." An obviously fake display of surprise makes itself present on Lyla's face, she opens the file. "This is a drive of all of the times you talked about that recruit. Lovingly, might I add."

Miguel's eyes darted around the screen, folding his arms over his chest. There were many, many videos of him. The scroll bar just kept going like there was no end.

Hesitantly, he pointed to one among the sea of videos and Lyla opened it. The playback goes as follows, the 'recording' is from her perspective, it seems.

Miguel is hunched over his desk, mumbling nonsense to himself until it becomes more coherent as Lyla approaches him.

"Whatcha' got there?"

The camera shifts and zooms over to Miguel's hand, to where he's holding a small tupperware. Filled to the brim with baked goodies, a small sticky note is pasted to the top of it however the writing is too tiny to make anything of it.

'They got me a gift.'

'That's the third one this week.'

His chest heaves as he lets out a deep sigh.

'...I know.'

A small moment of silence before Miguel continues speaking.

'Esto es tan tonto. I don't why they keep bringing me these... these things! I don't know why they keep smiling brighter than sun when they give them to me!'

Miguel frustratingly opens the tupperware, brings one of the pastries close to his mouth and takes a big bite. A small groan escapes his throat.

'I don't know what they're putting in these things to make them so delicious! Giving them to me, of all people. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So smart they are. Agile, strong, and capable and— and kind...'

Another bite.

'You know that you've gotten them gifts before, right?'

'But they all look idiotic next to this. Made with their precious time and care. Putting in the effort to make sure that they actually taste good and they do,'

Miguel closes the tupperware with a loud snap.

'¿A quién estoy engañando? They're amazing.'

"Miguel?"

That wasn't part of the recording. Miguel swipes at the screen and it fades out of existence, little pixels hovering in his sight before it completely disintegrates. Lyla disappears too as you swing onto the platform of his office.

He tenses up once he sees you, leaning a hand against his desk. God, he definitely did not want to look at you after what he just watched. He especially did not want to look at you because of the blush that stained his cheeks. Thankfully, mostly hidden by the darkness of his chambers.

Of course, you greeted him with the same warm smile.

"Haven't seen you all day today. Are you doing alright?"

"Fine. Doing fine. Just cleaning, why are you here?" Says Miguel, he despised how his heart pounded in his chest so loudly right now. Whenever he was around you.

Being so composed was what he was known for, what he was respected for. Yet, everytime you even look in the same direction as him, his exterior just melts.

"I just wanted to check in on you, was all. I noticed you haven't come out in a while, I brought you an empanada from the cafeteria just in case you were hungry."

You toss the small container to him and he catches it in one hand, he could hardly comprehend what was going on right now. Staring mindlessly at the box. "Thank you."

"Of course. Take care of yourself for me, I'll... head out now."

He watches over the edge as you fall off the platform, landing onto ledge that separates his desk from the rest of the room.

"Can you start ranting now? I want to get this drive up to 600 videos."

Miguel grumbles, opening the box and biting into the delectable snack before going back to organizing his desktop.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hii ivy!! i was thinking for the 1k celebration, the prompt "I'm not cute" "sure, keep telling yourself that" for James??

I love your thinking very much, love! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ Thank you so much for requesting <33

ivy's 1k celebration ❄️ navigation ❄️ prompt list

ˋ°•*⁀➷ JAMES POTTER #48: "I’m not cute." "Sure, keep telling yourself that."

It was a regular weekend, and you and James had somehow ended up at Madam Puddifoot’s. Not by choice, mind you, but because Sirius had practically shoved the two of you through the door, cackling as he held it shut from the outside until you resigned to staying put.

You glared at James from across the small, heart-covered table, wrinkling your nose at the frilly pink tablecloth. “This is your fault, you know.”

He grinned, dimples out and completely unbothered by the absurdly decorated café. “How is it my fault?”

“You’re the one who made me come to Hogsmeade with you. If I’d known we’d end up here, I’d have stayed in the common room.” You huffed, crossing your arms as he laughed. “I am not cute enough for this kind of place.”

“Oh, really?” He cocked an eyebrow, leaning in with that smirk that was just begging to be slapped. “I think you’re very cute, love. In fact, the cutest.”

You shook your head, scoffing as your cheeks flushed. “James, I am not cute.”

“Mm, sure.” He leaned back, crossing his arms and looking you up and down like he was challenging you. “Keep telling yourself that.”

You groaned, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response and instead busied yourself with your teacup. “No, really,” you said, setting it down with a soft clink. “I’m a Black. Black sisters don’t do cute—they do cool, mysterious, edgy.”

James snorted. “Oh, yeah, definitely edgy. When you fell down the stairs last week, that was really mysterious.”

You swatted at him across the table, your face heating up at the memory. “That was a one-time thing!”

“And when you tried to hex Snivellus and ended up accidentally hexing yourself?”

You pursed your lips. “My wand slipped.”

“Mhm. And when you spilled pumpkin juice on McGonagall?”

“I slipped again,” you mumbled, crossing your arms tighter as he dissolved into laughter.

“Oh, love,” he said, reaching over to grab your hand, his thumb tracing circles along your knuckles. “You are the cutest, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You scowled at his hand over yours but didn’t pull away. “Stop calling me cute. I’m intimidating.”

“Yes, absolutely terrifying,” he agreed, nodding seriously before cracking a smile. “I mean, look at those fierce little eyes and that tiny, scrunched-up nose. Positively horrifying.”

You sighed dramatically. “I’ll hex you if you keep this up.”

“Sure you will.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I mean, you’ve done it so successfully before.”

You lifted your chin, doing your best impression of a dignified, aloof Black sister. “I don’t need your cheek, Potter. I am not cute.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Right. So if I said, ‘Merlin, you’re adorable,’ you wouldn’t blush?”

“Exactly,” you said firmly, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Merlin, you’re adorable,” he said instantly, eyes trained on your face.

The color rushed to your cheeks faster than you could stop it. James laughed, squeezing your hand as he watched you squirm.

“You know what, Potter?” you muttered, feeling like an absolute fool.

“What’s that, darling?”

You leaned in, narrowing your eyes. “I think you’re cute.”

“Oh, now she’s trying to dish it back,” he said, beaming at you. “Sorry, but cute’s your title around here.”

You pouted, biting back a smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. It was enough to make your heart do an embarrassing little flip.

“Keep pouting, love,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. “It only makes you cuter.”

You groaned, but this time you couldn’t hide the grin. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re cute.”

“Stop calling me cute,” you said, leaning forward to poke him in the chest. “Or I’ll start telling people you sleep with a stuffed lion.”

James gasped, feigning horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

“You wouldn’t expose Leonard like that,” he whispered, clutching his chest.

You blinked. “You named it?”

He colored slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well—uh—what do you expect? I’m not a monster.”

Unable to keep up the act, you burst into laughter, nearly doubling over as James turned a charming shade of pink.

“Alright, alright,” he said, laughing along with you. “Maybe you’re a little mean.”

You smirked. “Thank you.”

“But still cute.”

“James!”

“Sorry, love,” he said, leaning over the table to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Can’t help the truth.”

You sighed, finally giving up. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re cute,” he repeated cheekily. “But don’t worry, it’ll be our little secret, yeah?”

You fought the smile that threatened to take over. “Fine. But if you call me cute one more time, I’ll tell Sirius about Leonard.”

He chuckled, resting his chin in his hands and looking at you with adoring eyes. “Worth it.”

[willalove75]

Alcina request - reader does labor while she watches from the shadows (or maybe her balcony) + nsfw thoughts of reader. Y/n is cutting wood for the fireplaces so the maids can keep the castle warm for the daughters <3

Love this!! Thanks so much for the request!!💕💕

Lets get into it!!

Warnings: masturbation

18+ Only Minors DNI

The morning sun was low in the sky on this chilly Sunday afternoon. Fall has begun to give way to winter so the Dimitrescu girls have been locked inside of the castle until spring.

Lady Dimitrescu is sitting at her vanity wrapped in one of her robes fixing her hair. In her head she's going over all of the things that need to get done, deciding which tasks on her to-do list can wait until tomorrow. It's not often where the Countess gets a day to relax so when the opportunity arises, she does what she can to take advantage of the situation.

*THWACK*

The Lady is pulled from her thoughts when she hears the sound. Pausing for a moment she goes back to the list in her head.

*THWACK*

She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm.

*THWACK*

Bringing her fingers to the bridge of her nose she prays that the noise outside her bedroom window stops. She doesn't hear the noise for a few seconds and picks up her teacup.

*THWACK*

Lady Dimitrescu all but slams her teacup down and walks over to the windows.

*THWACK*

Unable to see where the sound is coming from, she steps out onto her terrace and looks down. She's taken aback when she sees you raising an axe over your head driving it down and splitting a piece of wood.

*THWACK*

"What on the black gods green earth is she doing?" She mutters to herself.

Unless you work in the kitchens or are assigned to other important roles, usually all maids have off on Sundays to do what they please. Most make their way down to the village or spend time in the maids quarters. Some venture out to the library but for the most part the maids keep to themselves and relax. Watching you outside, in the cold, splitting wood on a Sunday morning was definitely out of the ordinary.

The cold air felt good on your heated skin as you chop the wood. You noticed that the wood pile was running low and the temperature was supposed to drop pretty drastically tonight. The girls, Bela, Cassandra and Daniela, can be hurt by the cold, killed even. It was something you learned early on when you started working at Castle Dimitrescu. In the late fall and winter all windows are to remain closed and every fireplace must be attended to. There's a few maids who are assigned the task but when you mentioned it to them this morning they waved it off and said that it was a problem for tomorrow and headed out to the village. It was something that rubbed you the wrong way, first of all, their tasks weren't complete. Secondly, it's not like running out of firewood would be harmless, it could kill the Countess' daughters. Yes, they were a lot to handle, a lot, but you couldn't understand why the maids thought it was okay in the least to even risk running out of firewood, especially when it's supposed to get so cold outside tonight. So you took it upon yourself to chop some wood, it's something you've done before, but haven't had to do often. You know you're going to be sore tomorrow but in your eyes it's worth it.

Chopping a few more logs you start to sweat more. Glancing around quickly you don't see anyone around so you pull your long sleeve shirt off and toss it aside leaving you in your pants and your camisole. For a moment the cold air bites at your exposed skin but the chill cools you off so much that it's refreshing.

Alcina watches you as you lay the axe against the stump you've been chopping the wood on. She's relieved for a brief second thinking that you're finished until you pull off your long sleeve shirt, wearing just a camisole underneath it. Watching you as you wipe the sweat from your brow, you grab the axe, put another log on the stump, raise your arms and swing.

*THWACK*

When the Countess was looking for a new handmaid you were in the running for the position. She ended up choosing another maid but now she can't quite remember why she didn't chose you. She is captivated as she watches you, she watches the muscles in your back and shoulders move with each swing, how the beads of sweat make your skin glisten in the morning sun, your strong arms, your delicate wrists. She pictures herself pinning your wrists above your head with your back against the wall. She lights a cigarette and closes her eyes, deeply inhaling, exhaling through her nose with a low growl.

*THWACK*

She opens her eyes again and watches you toss the logs onto the pile you've made so far. You've managed to chop a decent amount of wood for the short amount of time you've been out here. Deciding that a few more should do the trick, at least until tomorrow when the person who is supposed to keep the pile stacked refills the rest.

Lady Dimitrescu's attention is pulled away from you when she hears a small knock on her door.

*THWACK*

She turns and goes back inside, the door closing behind her.

Tossing the wood into the pile you see something out of the corner of your eye. Looking up you see the door to the Lady's terrace shut and movement in the window. The morning sun rays are reflecting off of the window too much for you to be able to see inside but you could have sworn that it was her. You begin to pick up the logs and bring them to the pile. Stacking logs in your arms, you go inside and start placing small piles near the fireplaces that are running low.

"Enter." Lady Dimitrescu says, taking a seat at her vanity.

Her new handmaid, Maria, comes in. A tray in her hands with a fresh pot of tea.

"Good morning my Lady."

"You can leave it over on the table." She says, waving in the direction of the table.

*THWACK*

"Is there anything else you need from me, my Lady?"

*THWACK*

Turning her head towards the sound once more Lady Dimitrescu takes a moment before she responds.

"Why is that maid chopping wood outside? I don't believe that is her assignment."

Walking over to the window Maria sees you.

"Oh, yes I saw her speaking to the maids this morning about that. She was gathering wood to tend to the fireplace and noticed that the pile was running low and when she talked to the girls that are responsible for keeping it stocked, they brushed her off and went down into the village. They said that's a 'tomorrow problem.'"

Lady Dimitrescu's eyes narrow at Maria.

"Do they know how cold it's supposed to get tonight?"

"Yes my Lady, y/n had mentioned it."

"And they know my daughters are susceptible to the cold? That it could very well kill them?" She says through gritted teeth.

"I'm not sure my Lady," Maria says nervously. "I don't want to assume, but given their assignment and the fact that every maid is made aware of that, I don't know how they don't."

A growl erupts from Lady Dimitrescu's chest, an anger bubbling inside of her. How can they not care about her daughters safety? About their lives when they were assigned to do the one task that keeps them safe.

"When the maids left, y/n took it upon herself to restock the wood pile, to at least have enough to last through the night." Maria says.

"Very well. That's all." The Countess says, dismissing the maid.

Lady Dimitrescu goes back to the window to find the axe laying against the stump, the logs you cut and the shirt you discarded gone. Her mind wanders back to the sight of you chopping wood. Your glistening, blemish free skin, how she would love to sink her teeth into it. How strong your back and arms looked as you wielded the axe above your head. Your beautiful face, your strong legs. A familiar feeling begins to develop between her legs deep in her core.

She's not sure if it's because of the fact that she hasn't been satisfied in a little while or because of how you looked out there, or because of how you went out of your way to make sure her daughters were safe. Or perhaps it was all of the above. All she knows is that if you were in front of her right now she would throw you onto her bed and ravish you.

The ache in her core grows so she decides to take care of herself before it gets too out of hand.

Making your way through the castle you replenish the wood in the library, the sitting rooms, and each of the girls bedrooms. You decide to take the last stack to the Lady's chambers since you had extra and her room was nearby.

Laying on her bed, her nightgown tossed aside, the Countess works her fingers in and out of herself, replaying the image of you in her head over and over again. Her other hand massages her breast, rolling her hardened nipple between her fingers. Just as she's beginning to feel her orgasm build there's a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" She asks, annoyed that she was interrupted.

"It's y/n, my Lady. I have extra firewood if you need for your room."

Lady Dimitrescu gets up and pulls her robe on, loosely tying it around her waist so she's covered, but open enough to leave little of her chest to the imagination.

The door opens and you look up to see the Countess. You have to snap your mouth shut when you look up to see her in her robe, her large breasts barely covered.

"Enter." She says standing aside. You walk into her room and place the wood next to her fireplace. The click of the door closing gets your attention and you turn to see the Countess slowly walking towards you, like a predator stalking its prey.

"Was that you I saw outside chopping wood this morning?" Her voice is stern.

You stare at her speechless. She did see you. You're not sure if you're afraid or aroused or both.

"Speak pet. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Y-yes, my Lady."

"I heard you alerted the maids whose responsibility it is to keep the wood pile stocked that it was running low and that the temperature was going to drop significantly tonight, when they did nothing, you took it upon yourself to do another maids work. Is that correct?"

You're fucked, she's pissed, you know it.

"Yes my Lady." You say, your voice barely a whisper.

"Why?"

"Be-because I know the cold can be dangerous to the Ladies of the castle and I-I didn't want any harm to come to them."

You're convinced that she's going to end you right then and there.

"How sweet of you, my little pet." You're taken aback when you realize how soft her tone is. Expecting her to be condescending, you don't sense a hint of it in her voice. She steps up to you, her golden eyes boring into your soul. "Would you like your reward?"

"Reward?"

"Of course, you spent your day off doing physical labor to keep my daughters safe. What kind of Lady would I be if I don't offer you a reward for all of your hard work and dedication?" You stare at her blankly, unsure of what to say. "I'll give you a few options then. You can either take extra vacation days, receive a monetary reward, or, another special reward." Her long fingers dance along the edge of her robe, down her sternum, between her breasts. She pulls the robe open just a touch more and her fingers come to rest at the loosely tied knot at her waist. "So pet, what will it be?"

You feel like you're hallucinating, there's no way this is happening. Of course you've admired the Lady from afar, almost every maid has. But to have her offer you herself as a reward? Did the axe smack you in the head?

Lady Dimitrescu leans forward, her face just inches away from yours. Your eyes flicker to her breasts hanging in front of you, barely covered by her robe anymore. Her gold eyes steal your attention and you notice her pupils dilating.

"Which reward pet? I already told you once, I don't like to be kept waiting."

"Sorry my Lady." You say quietly. "Um," you want to say the special one but suddenly you feel horribly embarrassed. "I-I" Your cheeks turn a dark red that rivals the lipstick painted across her full lips.

"Cat got your tongue?" She teases, her voice low and velvety. The only thing you can do it nod. "Is it the vacation you want?" You shake your head "no." "The money?" Again, you shake your head "no." She smirks, analyzing your face. "Is it the special reward?" You shake your head "yes" this time. "Use your words little pet."

"Y-yes, my Lady. Please."

"Excellent."

She places her hand on your chest and pushes you against the wall in one swift motion. The air gets pushed out of your lungs when you're slammed against the wall. Lady Dimitrescu wraps her hand around your neck and lifts you up against the wall until you're eye level with her. To your surprise, she hasn't cut off your airflow, holding you tight enough to effortlessly lift you, but not enough to choke you. Her knee parts your legs and she presses it up into your core, a whine escaping your lips when you feel her push into you.

She releases your neck, keeping you pinned against the wall with her body weight and her leg. Grabbing your wrists, she pins them above your head against the wall with one of her hands, her other hand firmly grasping onto your waist under your shirt. Her lips brush against yours, you can feel her hot breath on your face. You feel your core begin to throb and hope she doesn't feel it against her leg. Lady Dimitrescu closes her eyes and inhales deeply, she can smell your arousal. Her pupils are blown out when she opens them, the corner of her lip curling just a little.

Her hand under your shirt leaves your skin and she brings two fingers to your lips. Parting them, she slides them into your mouth. Your eyes widen when you taste them, something on them, were you tasting her?

"I was in the middle of something when you knocked on the door. As disappointed as I was to be interrupted, I was happy to see that it was you. I'm sure you can taste what watching you out there did to me. How lucky am I that now I get to have you all to myself?"

She pulls her fingers from your mouth. You're only able to let out a small whine before her fingers are replaced with her tongue. She pulls back with your lower lip between her teeth, pulling a moan from your lips as she does it.

"Now I get to do all of the things I fantasized about."

[queserasora]

IZOU X FEM READER / NSFW WC: 4.7k CW: soft dom!izou, sub!reader

PART ONE

Why don’t I show you what my mouth can do?

Although he recognizes it as his own voice, although he knows the words jumped off his own tongue and past his own lips, Izou still struggles with believing that he is here like this–with you.

He had dreamt of this for so long, wondering when you’d give in to his honeyed words, his gentle manners, the calculated moments of attention. From the moment he had seen you he had wanted you; you in your blinding glory, curls around your face like a halo–a crown of untamed wilderness. Under the sun you were incomparable. Its rays fell upon your bronze skin like they knew nowhere else to go; like they had no other home but the curves of your cheeks, the wide bridge of your nose. Sunshine would go to rest on the hollow of your cupid’s bow. 

Izou wondered if he could taste it there–its warmth; the light that gave life.

There’s an amused snort that blows through his nose. He was behaving like a lovesick teenager. How could he waste time drowning in his melodramatic emotions when he had your lovely leg in his possession? Izou drags the pads of his fingers along the width of your calves. He grips the meaty flesh there, enjoying the sensation of his fingers sinking into your heat and muscle. When he looks up at you through his lashes, his own lids heavy with desire, your relaxed expression melts away any remaining apprehensions. 

There had been shadowy doubts, touching their frigid fingers to the back of his mind. Izou never had any qualms about how he presented himself. He was who he was, and he loved every part of himself. What others thought of him, did very little to undo his confidence. Yet, there were moments of his life, where he’d meet someone whose acceptance he’d unknowingly long for.

Like you.

You had always made him feel comfortable. He could always be himself with you. Just one more thing he adored about you.

His large hands massage your calves slowly. He works the tense muscles, doing away any knots that have the misfortune to find themselves underneath his fingers. In the back of your throat, a soft moan dies out, muffled by the warm sweet tea that gently coats your throat. It was doing wonders for your soreness, soothing any rawness Izou’s roughness had caused before. Now, as you nearly consume half the contents of the teacup, he was setting other fires on your skin. You try not to be devoured by the flames, focusing instead on the velvety feeling around your tongue, the sweetness of it, the light herbal scent that wafted from the cup in between your hands. The pads of his fingers are calloused, and rough. They scratch pleasantly down your skin as he moves his attention to your feet.

“I like your nail color,” he tells you in a velvety voice, using his thumbs to massage deep into the arch of your foot. You bite back a whimper, nose wrinkling. “Sorry, darling. Am I too rough?” he asks, one of your feet on his lap. Izou leans down with parted lips, taking your breath away. He firmly kisses the arch of your foot as he brings it up to his face, and the inside of your ankle, leaving red lipstick marks on your skin. “Forgive me. I guess I don’t know my own strength.”

There’s a shiver that runs along your spine. It dies on the ends of your curled toes. Your skin feels bumpy under your yukata as you watch Izou poke his tongue out. He drags the flat of his tongue from your ankle all the way up to the inside of your calf. You gasp when he hikes your leg higher as he slides closer to you, angling your limb on his shoulder.

“You’re sensitive,” he murmurs against the back of your knee. You smell divine even there. The rich and full scent of cocoa butter floods his mouth, inspiring him to dream of devouring you, piece by piece. Starving, his tongue runs along the crease behind your knee and you gasp, a hand shooting out to grab his hair to steady yourself. You nearly spill the tea as the cup shakes in your free hand. Izou’s hand is warm on top of yours as he frees your fingers from his hair. 

“These hands,” he says, voice growing even deeper. “They’re being so naughty right now. Finish your tea, don’t leave a drop.”

He looks up into the warmth of your eyes, and is lost for a moment. He finds his way back when you blink, when your pretty lashes make lewd promises with every flutter. Izou finds himself temporarily embarrassed at how quickly he has reached this point of desire. Just how could you bewitch him with one heated look down your nose?

“Make sure you keep drinking,” he tells you, a newfound determination brewing in the darkness of his eyes. You sense the incoming storm in the way he lowers himself slowly between your legs. There’s a change in the air–electricity sizzles between the two of you. When Izou presses his cherry colored lips against the inside of your thigh, your senses fray. You feel a jolt go through your leg. Heat pools at the center of you, as your own arousal starts to once again slip from between your folds. 

“Spread your legs, darling,” he asks you, gently pushing your knees apart with his hands.

There’s a little noise you try to muffle with the remaining tea, something between surprise and arousal as he continues his streamlined assault on your thighs. When you look down, cheeks bulging, Izou has covered your skin with lipstick marks. He looks up as he drags his tongue along your thigh, making eye contact as you watch him with your heart hammering in your chest. Izou licks his lips, thrilled to have your taste all over his mouth. 

“Did you finish?” he asks you, nipping at your flesh. You almost spit out your tea, and swallow with a shake of your head. “No? Very well, I’ll try to be patient.” 

Izou licks up the spot he had nibbled before he opens his mouth. He sucks with force, persistence causing his brows to furrow. You watch with slightly trembling hands, making the tea in your cup spill slightly on your yukata. When Izou finally relents, there’s a dark red bloom taking residence on your skin. Now that he’s tasted your skin, now that your scent seems to be filling up inside him he can’t get enough of you. 

His mouth is hungry, leaving open mouth kisses as he works his way higher between your legs. You pant, leaning against the bed where you sat on the floor. You tilt your head up to stare at the ceiling, mouth falling apart as Izou digs his teeth into the tender flesh between your thighs. He bites down and you cry out, clutching the teacup for dear life. He is painfully close to your sensitive core. You can feel his heavy breathing against the crease of your thigh and hip. 

His nose grazes your underwear as he shifts to take in the smell of your arousal with an open mouth. He breathes in noisily, then breathes out, his hot breath clashing against your clothed pussy. Your breathing is irregular, barely controlled as you feel yourself dying from anticipation.

Izou drags his hands up your thighs, his palms warm against your skin. You hum, and try to remind yourself to drink the tea, to finish it before you spill it all over yourself; and you almost do when Izou gives your fabric covered cunt an open mouthed kiss.

“Oh, Izou!” you cry out, your tummy contracting from pleasure, as he moves slightly higher to suck at  your clit through your panties. His tongue presses against your sensitive nub, teasing the bundle of nerves with precise quick licks. His touch is firm, and rhythmic–at a toe curling pace that has you whimpering against the edge of the ceramic tea cup. “Nng, I can’t take it,” you whine, your whole body shivering from stimulation. “I need–”

Izou cuts you off by nipping at your erect clit through your underwear. You give a yelp. Tea spills again, this time on your chest. You feel it ooze between your breasts as it soaks through the yukata; warm and slightly sticky.

“Did you finish your tea like a good girl?” he mumbles against your pussy, rubbing his face against it as he takes in your scent. He uses his tongue to trace the shape of your slit. “Well?” he asks again.

“No,” you reply reluctantly with a defeated whimper. The inside of your thighs are shaking, and they spread wider before you can even stop yourself. You feel Izou laugh against you, his breath hot and tantalizing against your sensitive puffy pussy. 

“No?” he sings back at you, humor coloring his words in bright seduction. “Then you don’t get to make demands, darling.” Izou pokes at your entrance with his tongue, pushing the panties into you slightly. He continues to thrust into you, giving you pleasure that took you just to the edge. It just wasn’t enough. You curl your toes, determined to finish your tea even if it scalds your throat. You chug as best as you can, fighting your own moans to avoid choking. 

Izou ignores your plight. Instead, he goes back to sucking on your pussy fully, opening his mouth as wide as he can. Your panties are so soaked. You’re not sure what’s the reason for it; whether it is Izou’s spit or your own arousal from wanting him so much.

“I-I’m done!” you stammer quickly, desperately. “I’m done. Please,” you plead breathlessly as Izou drags his tongue along the elastic of your underwear that is biting into a part of your ass cheek. “Please take them off.”

Izou finally pulls away. He emerges from between your legs, his head poking away from under the yukata. You shudder at the sight of him. His eyes clouded with lust, lids so heavy you can barely see the beautiful dark brown of his eyes. His lipstick smeared against both cheeks, lips tinted red, including part of his pale chin. There’s a glistening wetness all over his mouth, on his chin. You can even see a trail oozing down his neck. Izou wipes at that with the back of one hand.

He brings it to  his mouth slowly. Izou opens his mouth to lick it up: “Show me,” he murmurs, sucking the back of his hand clean. There’s a wicked smile that follows after, one that hooks a corner of his lips high until a dimple forms. You start to shove the cup at him but Izou raises a finger. 

“No,” he interrupts. You bring the cup back towards you, as if you had just been chastised. Shame floods your cheeks, feeling your face heat up. “Over your head,” Izou instructs. “Turn it out. If even so much a drop falls,” he pauses to raise a perfectly groomed brow at you. “You’re in trouble my darling. Is that clear?”

Panic seizes you. There was a dangerous sparkle behind Izou’s eyes that you’d normally challenge; however, you had taken enough of his teasing. If he planned on depriving you from orgasm some more you wouldn’t know if you could survive it. You were desperate to feel his mouth closer to you, you wanted to feel his tongue slip inside your entrance, for him to stretch you open with his fingers, until he was satisfied; until he couldn’t wait to fill you up with his cock.

You’d do anything to fulfill that fantasy playing in your head in a loop.

You throw pride away. You cast inhibitions to the ground as you bring the cup to your mouth. Your tongue swirls around the inside of the teacup, licking up every bit of liquid you can find. 

Izou watches you with dark satisfaction. Your tongue, berry colored and adorable, swirls inside the ceramic tea cup. His eyes take in the hungry glint in your eyes. You are determined. Your brows furrowed together as you turned the cup around and around, licking up the walls. Izou’s own tongue dips out to lick the corners of his lips. His cock is stiff between his legs as he watches you. He grunts as he palms himself, his fingers curling beneath his shaft to grasp his balls. He squeezes them tentatively, biting down on his lower lip.

It isn’t until you’re satisfied you’ve cleaned the teacup with your tongue enough for it to look as if it never held any liquid in the first place that you bring it up over your head. Izou watches as you hold it there, upside down over your messy hair. Not a single drop falls. Izou smiles.

“Very good,” he tells you with a voice so sticky and sweet you feel him cling all over you. He moves towards you. Izou’s hands slip under your yukata as he slides his palms up your thighs. He stops to kiss the corner of your mouth, and whispers against it: “I’ll take them off for you, but still, I have something I want you to do.”

Your heart picks up a neck breaking pace. You bite down on your lip to keep from saying something embarrassing. The scent of Izou’s cologne is making you dizzy. His mouth is so close to yours you feel like dying. If he doesn’t kiss you. If he kisses you. Either way you think it would end in your death. 

Izou moves away, and he squeezes your hands. He pulls you up as he stands. 

“On the bed darling,” he instructs, and helps you sit on it. You watch him from the edge of the mattress as he fiddles with his obijime. He unties the string at last, and slides it through his fingers repeatedly. His dark gaze is on you, his smile crooked once more. “Lay down. We’re not using our hands again.”

You do as you're told, and lay down on the bed. Your pillow is slightly uncomfortable underneath your hair but you don’t dare complain. After all, the bed dips when Izou joins you. He throws a leg over you, straddling you. 

“Arms up,” he orders, and starts tying the obijime around wrist. “You’re being such a good girl. I never knew you were this obedient.” His tone is teasing, if not mocking. You feel embarrassed and aroused. You rub your own legs together, feeling slick make the inside of your thighs slippery. He loops the obijime around a metal bar of the headboard before he ties the other end around your other wrist. “That should hold,” he says quietly, touching the knots tentatively. “Why don’t we test it out?”

He looks down at you and can’t help but smile. Your chest is heaving, your lips parted with want are red and puffy. He would love nothing more than to kiss you, once, twice, a thousand times tonight. He’d kiss you like he had imagined countless times before but that would be too easy.

Izou kisses your cheeks instead, slow and tender. He kisses up the line of your jaw, and your ear. He follows the shell of your ear with his tongue, his breath hot against your sensitive cartilage. His soft little pants floods you with desire, a pleasurable pull at the pit of your belly makes you delirious.  Izou goes back to your face. He kisses you all over. You move your head, trying to catch his mouth with yours but he continues to evade you, a light grin on his lips. 

The tip of his tongue touches your bottom lip. You gasp, thinking this is your chance, but he runs it along the outline of your lips instead, tracing the shape of your mouth. Izou licks your bottom lip. His breath comes out in puffs, dying in the back of your open mouth.

“Touch me,” he pleads breathlessly. You move to touch his face, to run your hands down his broad back but they go nowhere. The string tightens around your wrists. You try one more time, groaning in frustration. The headboard rattles, the metallic noise blending in with Izou’s laughter.

“Sorry, dear,” he murmurs as he kisses your cheek. “I couldn’t help but tease you a little bit. You’re just too cute to resist.”

Izou kisses your jaw, your neck. He leaves sloppy kisses there, his saliva cool against your heated skin. His hands fondle your breast over your yukata, squeezing without much gentleness. There’s a wrinkle on your nose he misses, when you hold back from crying out. Izou moves down lower, ignoring your yukata. You try pulling at the string agains, increasingly frustrated at the barriers between your skin and his. You want nothing more than to be naked; nothing more than for Izou to explore every inch of your body but he was determined to edge you into insanity.

He is between your legs again, pushing your yukata up slowly over your thighs. Izou brings his face closer to your entrance, takes another loud sniff. You wiggle your hips testily. Izou grips one with a rough hand. 

“Behave,” he growls before he grips the elastic of your panties with his teeth. Izou starts pulling, and you help him by lifting your hips. He drags them down over your plush thighs, and all the way down to your ankles. Izou hooks them off your feet. He holds it one hand, his thumb brushing over the half soaked underwear. “You were practically drowning, darling,” he tells you with a grin, tucking the wet panties into the inside of his yukata as a keepsake. “You poor thing. Let me make up for it.”

You watch him with burning lungs, barely able to breathe. Your vision is cloudy, but you still see him slip his arms out of his yukata. He makes a grand show of it, slow movements that accentuate every ripple and stretch of his shoulder and chest muscles. His large pecs captivate you as the yukata spills away to pool around his waist. His shoulders are so wide, your legs immediately spread open, as if your body wanted to make room for him immediately.

Izou laughs softly.

“Greedy girl, I’m going now,” he lowers himself in between your legs. Your mouth drops open when you finally feel his tongue lap at your folds. You look down, little moans dying in your throat as you catch sight of his muscular back. The large tattoo that reminds you of what crew he belongs to looks back at you–a silent witness to your undoing. 

“Nng, Izou!” you cry out, your back arching, as he sucks on your clit with force. “Yes, yes. Just like that. Yes, finally!” 

Izou laughs against your puffy pussy. Your voice sounds so thin, needy and desperate he can’t help it. He teases your entrance with one fingertip, circling around it repeatedly, while he licks at your sensitive bud. Your hips jolt as you try to guide him to enter you.

“Please,” you whine, the metal headboard rattling with every involuntary jerk of your body. “Please. No more. Please.”

“Such a needy little thing,” he growls against your hip, biting down until you cry. “Beg more. I want to hear you beg even more.”

Izou slips a finger inside you, groaning as he feels you tighten around him. He pumps his fingers lazily, slurping a lip into his mouth. Your moans entice him, remind him of his hard earned reward. You were finally here, underneath him, at his mercy. He had wanted this for so long and never knew how to approach the matter without scaring you away. Had he known it would be this easy he would have acted sooner.

The more you cry, and whimper, the more he wants to hear you. He covers your pussy with his saliva, sloppy wet kisses that never stop. Your clit is so sensitive, it is almost painful when he sucks, when he flicks his tongue over it again and again. You feel a familiar hot tightening sensation inside you, one that becomes even more intense when he starts sucking and pumping two fingers inside you at the same time. He curls his long fingers, searching for that spot that will make you cry.

He brings you dangerously close to the precipice, the rattling of the headboard is drowned out by your own cries, by you shouting his name.

“I’m so close, Izou!” you beg, your hips pushing up against his flicking tongue. “I’m so close, please. Yes, right there, ah!” You shut your eyes tight as your legs kick out, as you feel the muscles in your thighs contract, and just when you think you’ll finally get there, that you’ll finally feel that relief you’ve been chasing this whole time, Izou pulls his mouth away.

There’s a sob you weren’t ready for that strains your throat. You cry, tears falling down the sides of your face, as you pull at your restraints. 

“Goddammit, Izou!” you cry, shaking your tied arms, and kicking your legs. Izou kisses your cheeks, then licks up your tears, one by one.

“There, there,” he whispers, shushing you like he would a child. “I’ve really gone too far, haven’t I?” His voice is soft, gentle, and just the right amount of remorseful. You forget your anger, and try to regulate your breathing.

“Izou, please,” you beg one more time, turning your face towards him. He kisses you at last, pressing his lips firmly against yours. You taste yourself on his lips, musky and a little bit sweet. His tongue brushes against yours softly. He strokes the roof of your mouth, and the insides of your cheeks, moaning, as his hips push against yours. You feel the bulge under the yukata, and feel a slight sense of vindication.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly against your swollen lips, his hand tenderly cupping one cheek. Izou brushes his mouth against yours. “I just really wanted you to cum on my cock instead.”

You blink, taken aback by his honest admittance. Before irritation can settle in at his sheer audacity, you feel Izou fiddling between your legs. There’s a rustling of cloth that fills your ears, and you feel something hot and hard pushing against your entrance.

You gasp and clutch your fingers tightly, your nails biting into your palms.

“Mmm!” you moan, lips pressed tightly together. The tip of his cock pushes into you, stretching you out. He is girthier than you thought. Izou’s mouth drops open as he pushes into you slowly, feeling you stretch around him.

“Nngh” he groans, brows knitted together. His hands are on the bed, caging you in his frame. Izou looks at you, a frown still in place. “How are you still so tight? Come on baby, spread open for me.”

You cry out, spreading your legs wider as if that would let him go in deeper. Your body shudders as he bottoms out with a groan. Izou begins moving his hips slowly at first, feeling your heat wrap around him. You were so wet, he could feel you coating him all the way down to the base of his shaft. He continues to push into you, feeling you adjust to his size. He increases the pace of his thrusts, his hips slapping against your own. The wet sound of his balls against your ass spurred him to go in deeper, rougher.

You cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. You were so sensitive everything felt like too much. Every time he’d groan and push in deep, hold himself inside you to feel you flutter around him, you’d thought you’d die. The dark hairs around his cock would brush against your sensitive clit, making your toes curl repeatedly. It is madness, you’re sure, that makes you wrap your legs around Izou’s snapping hips. 

It is also madness that leads you to say your next words: “Fuck me harder, Izou,” you pant out, as he bites and sucks up the column of your neck. His hands gripping the soft flesh of your hips. “I want you to do it harder. I want you deep inside. I want you to make me lose reason.”

Izou pulls away from your neck, he observes the bruises blooming there, the crescent shape of his teeth, all with a smile. He watches you for a moment, slowing down the movement of his hips. Then, he laughs.

“You really are a greedy girl,” he coos, shifting his hands from his hips to your thighs. Izou moves your legs, he holds them by the back of the knees as he folds you over. “You just don’t know what’s good for you, do you?”

You were so beautiful underneath him. Your exposed brown skin glistening with sweat. You’d shimmer under the dim lighting of the room. The bright colors of the yukata were stunning on you, even with your lipstick smeared, even with your hairstyle in disarray. 

You were so gorgeous as you were now, and he’d love to ruin you even further.

No noise comes out of you when he slams his hips against you, so hard it takes your breath away. You shut your eyes so tight, you think you see stars. The noise of the bed creaking, the headrest slapping against the wall is jarring compared to before. You think it’ll break under the weight of Izou’s determination.  Finally, you find your voice, as he picks up the pace at a brutal speed. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes in the room, only outshined by your intense cries of pleasure.

“Is this what you wanted?” Izou enthuses with grunts between his words. “Is this what you wanted, love? You wanted me to pound into this pretty pussy until you’re a sobbing weeping mess? Oh,” he breathes out with a wide smile and a hoarse chuckle. “You naughty girl.”

He loved it. He loved the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He loved the sight of your mouth not closing, how you were unable to barely catch your breath between every moan and every scream and every cry. He loved feeling you around his thick cock, how wet you were, how tight your gummy walls were milking him as if you were desperate to get every last drop of him.

He pounds into you, his grip on the back of your knees bruising. You can’t bring yourself to care, or care about how you feel your legs falling asleep, your arms tingling and numb. You just want him to keep thrusting into you, you’re so close again, you scream as the coil tightens deep inside you. 

“Izou!” you cry out, spit dripping down your chin. “I’m so close!”

He nods, hips never stopping.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” he asks you. He smiles against the inside of your knee, and he kisses the spot softly. “Alright, cum then. Show me how beautiful you can look.”

You fall apart around him. It’s the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. You hear yourself scream, feel your body twitching as pleasure courses throughout your body, relaxing every tense muscle. It doesn’t take Izou long to join you. He cums quickly after you, spilling all of himself in your pussy. He slows down his movements, thrusting into you gently as he looks down proudly at the ring of milky cum around his shaft.

Satisfied, he leans over to kiss you, gently lowering your legs. They feel weak and shaky as they drop to the bed. Izou peppers kisses all over your face as he works the knots on the restraints with his fingers. Once your wrists are free he brings them to his mouth, and he kisses the marks left behind by the strings with tender kisses. “You did such a beautiful job, my good girl,” he murmurs against your wrist. Izou kisses the palm. “I can’t wait to see what else you can do.”

[lulublack90]

Prompt 1 - Spring

@jegulus-microfic April 1, Word count 542

The first of April was the Marauder’s favourite day of the year. They spent weeks coming up with pranks for April Fool’s Day. They not only pranked their fellow students, but they pranked each other. 

James had placed a sticking charm on a little toy rat that he’d stolen from Lily’s cat to follow Peter wherever he went. 

All the mirrors that Sirius looked into burped rudely at him, and he’d transfigured all of Remus’s books into copies of Cassandra Vablatsky’s Unfogging the Future. James knew better than to mess with Moony’s chocolate supply, which meant his books were the next option on the list. 

So far, though, the only one not to be pranked was James. Lunch passed, and nothing, not even a nose-biting teacup. He was feeling more and more on edge. He kept flinching whenever one of the others came near him. Sirius took great joy in this and found a multitude of reasons to lean over or brush past him. 

They were walking out of potions together at the end of the day when he was suddenly yanked backwards into an empty classroom. 

“Hey, what the hell?” James yelled before he realised it was his friends. “Oh, what the hell?!” He knew this was it. Instead of them all pranking him separately, they were working together.

“Petrificus Totalus” Sirius flicked his wand, James’s legs snapped together, and his arms stuck to his sides. He was completely frozen in place.  

Peter transfigured James’s robes into a clown costume. 

Sirius performed a much tricker spell. Using the effects of the petrifying jinx, he transformed James’s legs into a giant spring. He and Peter had to grab ahold of him to stop him from falling on his face. 

Remus finished the prank off by sinking what would have been his feet into the stone floor. Sirius unfroze James, and they watched as James wobbled forwards and backwards like a jack in a box without the box. 

The rest of the Marauders left him there, yelling after them as they went to dinner, raucous laughter bouncing off the close corridor walls as they went. 

He yelled himself hoarse, trying to get someone’s attention. He called out again, and the heavy wooden door creaked open, and Regulus’s head popped around it into the room. 

“I thought I could hear your voice.” He said, his brow screwed up in concern. “Are you alright?” 

He came further into the room and caught sight of James’s predicament. The usually stoic boy snorted with laughter and ended up on his hands and knees, gasping for air he laughed so hard. 

Eventually, he composed himself enough to wipe the tears away and stood before his slightly bouncing boyfriend. “Did my brother do this to you?” He asked, stroking James’s cheek.

“And Remus and Peter.” James pouted. “Can you help me?” Regulus took a step backwards, biting his bottom lip. 

“I can, but I’m not going to.” A wicked glint flashed in his eyes as he raised his wand. James’s face was covered in gaudy clown makeup before he could utter a word. 

Regulus pecked a kiss on James’s lips before he left him again. “Happy April Fool’s Day, love.” He cackled as he shut the door behind him.   

[helplesslypurple77]

~AU Week: Historical AU(Fyodor/Reader)~

Summary: But to be engaged to Fyodor. A small part of you was thrilled.But a much bigger and more practical part of you was worried.

Because he had always been a perceptive man. You were in danger of him very quickly figuring out your feelings and rejecting you, or even worse simply leaving you alone to your misery. You were sure to die a metaphorical widow.

Warnings: Smut, kind of mildly dubious consent??~

Notes: ok so uh this story is set in some ambiguous country in the regency era, so that kind of fashion. Please don't look too hard at the historical inaccuracies…

Also about the midly dubious consent in the warnings. It's kinda there?? The tiniest bit?? Dub con?? Not rly, the consent is muddy?? But reader is clearly really into it. Ok so there's a slightly dub con kiss, but no ones protesting at all

...

Lady Caroline was a total bitch. She stuck her button nose in the air and scoffed at all the other ladies at the tea party with the scorn of the only child of a new money family. You sighed, never losing your perfect poker smile.

“You see,” Lady Caroline continues, never one to measure her words. “My father had sent a letter to the Duke of Silverwall. He is sure to accept my proposal, as my family is known for our exceptional breeding.” She leans close, her obnoxious bright fan fluttering. “We have sired two former queens.” 

She says the words conspiratorially as if they're a secret. As if she doesn't say it every chance she gets. You roll your eyes with a sigh. It's a bright sunny day, and several ladies are sitting around a small table filled with delicate desserts and colorful drinks. Autom has fully arrived, and the trees on Lady Cecilia’s estate are full to bursting with dry leaves. Red, oranges, and even some greens fall gently to the ground, covering the green grass with a crunchy carpet of fall colors. It's sunny, but a slight breeze floats through the air, the temperature pleasant. 

The group of ladies are dressed finely, in browns and beiges and even some bright oranges and reds. Laughter and the clatter of teacups fill the air around your table. You take a dainty bite of a small fruit pie and savor the delicious flavors on your tongue. The desserts are the only reason you come to these. And the gossip. You do love gossip.

Your brown gloved hand reaches for another tart, and Lady Caroline looks at it distastefully. 

“You’re so lucky Lady Name, I could never eat that much.” She says, her beady eyes shooting you a fake smile. She simpers, taking a sip of her tea. You sigh. Silence falls again.

Lady Caroline is an unpleasant woman, jealous and spiteful and sure of her own worth in life. And not to say anything unkind, but she’s a bitch. She puts other people down, throws her family’s newfound status around, and wears yellow. You hate the color yellow. It's unpleasant and far too cheery for such a gloomy woman.

Lady Cecilia, seated to your right, speaks up. “Well ladies, are you excited for the autumn ball?” Exited chattering fills the air at the change of topic. You shoot her a small smile. Lady Cecillia is a kind woman, with long blond hair pinned up into a fashionable updo, and pretty gold charms sprinkled throughout. Her dress is a gorgeous burgundy that compliments her blond hair and the golden accessories. Her father is a Marquess, so higher than Lady Caroline's father, a mere earl. You don't believe in status until Lady Caroline starts throwing her status around like it's something impressive. Then you are happy to flex your own high status. 

Your father is the Duke of Somerset, standing opposite Lady Caroline's ill-fated crush the Duke of Silverwall. One of the only two Dukes in the country too. Lady Caroline likes to forget that in favor of her father, a mere earl. She’s annoying. 

“Lady Name, you are to attend with your brothers right?” Lady Irina says, a breeze dancing in the cute pin curls that hang around her heart-shaped face. She’s wearing a lovely shade of deep brown, which highlights the brown pigments in her eyes. Apples and leaves and other things are embroidered throughout, catching the light in brilliant gold threads. You smile. 

“Yes, that is the plan. I have set a tailor to come tomorrow.” You say. “My brothers are all without partners this year. I cannot imagine why.” 

Lady Cecilia titters, hiding a blush behind a gloved hand. Lady Irina smiles. Lady Caroline simpers quietly behind her teacup. 

“Yes, your brothers.” Lady Caroline starts. She’s dressed in a gray-blue, pretty silver accessories scattered throughout her hair and around her neck. The dress is the only pleasant thing about her. She continues, flicking that gray fan back and forth. “I hear they are still looking for finances, is that true?” She finishes, sounding less curious and more excited to say something snide and unpleasant. Her hair is done in an undo as well, but she refused to use the popular pin curls. You were sure she thought she was too good for them. 

“Yes, that is correct.” You say, taking another lovely pie from the tray. “Although they have received several offers. Father says he is entering talks for me as well.”

The ladies at the table perk up, and Lady Caroline gets that expression on her face where she hones in on something, ready to pounce. 

“Oh, how exciting!” Lady Cecilia says, looking sweetly, genuinely excited for you. Lady Irina nods, taking a bite of a small French pastry. 

“Yes, I still remember when my fiance was chosen.” She says, getting that look on her face. Everyone knows the story of Lady Irina and her fiance. How they hated each other at first but fell madly in love soon after. You can't help the smile that carves its way across your face. Although you've heard it a thousand times, you still appreciate that Lady Irina has found someone she loves. 

Lady Irina shakes out of her daze, taking another bite of her pastry. “These pastries are simply wonderful Lady Cecilia! I must have the recipe.”

“Oh yes!” You agree. Lady Cecilia nods. “Oh course, I'll send it home with you.” The three of you trade smiles. Lady Caroline coughs.

“So Lady Name, tell me. Who are you to be engaged to? It must be a lovely viscount I'm sure.” She says, her voice dripping with insincerity. You roll your eyes so far back into your head that you fear for a moment that they might simply get stuck there. Lady Irina joins your eye roll, but Lady Cecilia frowns. She opens her mouth, ready to speak but you raise a hand as you see your coachmen coming towards you. 

Your coachman hands you a letter, the envelope a plain cream. The seal is familiar, however, your family's crest. You smile. 

“Oh, it's from my father.” The ladies around you look up curiously, Lady Caroline grinning widely. She looks thrilled, like a vulture who just landed on a large dead carcass and is about to dig in. 

“It must be news of the engagement. It seems they have completed talks already.” You say, using a butter knife to slice open the envelope. The paper inside is heavy, and your father's familiar handwriting greets your eyes as you skim. It only takes a few minutes to find the words you knew were coming, and while you personally aren't very thrilled with the outcome, you're still going to use it to your advantage. You place the letter back into the envelope, slipping it into your small purse. The three ladies look on curiously.

“Didn't go well huh?” Lady Caroline simpers. Her fake kindness makes you wince. You can barely hold in your anticipation as you start, schooling your face into a small smile. 

“They went quite well, the engagement will be announced at the autumn ball in a few days.” You say, shooting the other ladies at the table sincere smiles. Lady Caroline's face falls slightly, but she recovers startlingly fast. “Well, I'm sure he’s a lovely viscount. Who is he?” She says, smiling insincerely. You bite back a grin.

“Oh, I'm not supposed to tell yet.” You say, pretending to be worried. Lady Irina leans forward curiously. 

“Oh Lady Name please. We’re starved for gossip.” She says. Lady Cecillia nods excitedly. You give a decisive little nod. 

“Oh fine then. You ladies aren't allowed to spread this around all right?” You say, just as a precaution at this point. They all nod. You do trust Lady Cecilia and Lady Irina, but you know Lady Caroline will blab the moment she gets the name out of your mouth. You would be stupid to unknowingly tell her information. But you're sure someone will find out anyway, you don't really have anything to lose. 

You lean forward. “All right. Well im engaged to—”

“Name, it's time to leave.” your fathers familiar voice interrupts your words, and the ladies sink back in defeat. You stand, taking the small package of recipes Lady Cecilia hands you gratefully. 

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait a couple of days then.” You say with a wink. 

⚔⚔⚔

Your opinion of your fiance, the Duke of Silverwall could be better. Duke of Silverwall Fyodor Dostoeyvsky was, on the outside, a perfect fiance. He had succeeded his father at the early age of twenty, and had been running his entire estate for two years now. He was smart, handsome, and very, very wealthy. 

You’ve known the man for ages, as your fathers were good friends and you had core memories of him pulling your hair and pretending it was your younger brother Philip. He almost got away with it but your other brother Ivan tattled on him. He had been a smart boy, he was always the one who came up with the mischief the four of you got into. He was also sneaky, always subtly shifting the blame to Ivan or Phillip when you guys got caught. 

To his credit, he had never shifted the blame to you, but you were sure that one day you would have to take the fall. And while you weren't furious that he was your fiance(there were much worse options), you weren't thrilled either. Because you knew he would never love you.

You have loved him since a young age, an innocent crush that had developed into a deep love that you could never quite shake. But you knew that he simply saw you as a childhood playmate. He saw you almost as he saw your brothers, friends to go riding with, or to engage in philosophical discussions, but never as a woman. 

You still remembered when he had accidentally seen you changing a couple years ago. You had hoped for a blush or something but he had simply left, closing his eyes the entire time. Your heart had broken, and you had simply accepted that he would never see you that way. 

But to be engaged. A small part of you was thrilled. For you had dreaded seeing him with another woman for years now. You had awoken in a cold sweat from nightmares involving them dancing, kissing, or worse.

But a much bigger and more practical part of you was worried. Because he had always been a perceptive man. You were in danger of him very quickly figuring out your feelings and rejecting you, or even worse simply leaving you alone to your misery. You were sure to die a metaphorical widow. 

You did your best to convince your father, of course not mentioning any more embarrassing facts, but he was steadfast. There was simply no convincing him. So, you put your other plan into action. Convincing Fyodor.

⚔⚔⚔

“Convince your father to dissolve the engagement.” You say. Fyodor raises an eyebrow in your direction as he escorts you around an especially muddy patch on the path. You're walking in the park, down by the duck pond that's always surrounded by wildflowers and away from prying eyes. There are no wildflowers this season, the grass is covered in leaves of different colors. They crunch under your feet as the two of you speak under your breath.

“Well hello to you to, Name.” Fyodor says, chuckling in your direction. “Yes, I'm in exceptional health, thank you for asking.” 

You roll your eyes, pinching his arm beneath his white coat. You're wearing white today as well, a pretty white chiffon that hovers just far enough above the ground to avoid staining. A white fur ruff covers your shoulders. It's cloudy out today, the temperature nippy as the days before the Autumn ball shrink. The autumn ball is the day it's all irreversible. The day society becomes privy to the engagement between the two dukedoms. The day your fate is sealed.

“Can you please convince your father to dissolve the engagement, Fyodor?” You ask, your voice a whisper. Although the surroundings appear to be empty, you never know who’s servant is hiding in the bushes, on the hunt for gossip. 

Fyodor heaves out a little sigh, as the two of you turn the corner of the pond. “Why Name?” He chuckles a little. “Is it that unfortunate a fate to be my duchess?” 

It's not, in fact it's a dream. But not in this way. You dodge the question. “Well, you don't want to be engaged to me right?” You chuckle, pulling him to a stop as you stare out across the pond. A few ducks alight on its surface, ripples flying across the formerly pristine surface of the lake.

Fyodor chuckles, notably not answering your question. “But in all seriousness Name. Our fathers are quite set on this engagement, and the unification of the two families under the crown will be huge news.” He says. “Your brothers are now free to marry below their status and our substantial family resources are now pooled under one estate.” 

You frown, disliking how correct he sounds. “I know.” You say, as the two of you leave the duck pond behind. “Fine, I guess my fate is sealed then. Oh yes,” You continue, an afterthought occurring. “Come over tomorrow, the tailor's coming. Father says we need to match.” 

Fyodor gives his assent. And your fate sealed, you clutch his arm tighter and finish the rest of your walk in companionable conversation. You always have gotten along so well.

⚔⚔⚔

“Congratulations my lady.” Your head Maid Olga says, twisting your hair into a complicated style with her sure hands. Olga is a kindly older woman who has been your maid ever since you were a baby. She was your mothers maid before you. You smile at her in the mirror, applying light makeup to your face and cheeks. 

“Thank you, Olga.” You say, lightly swiping some rough on your cheeks. Your maid nods at your dress in the corner. It's a brilliant white, silver and lavender thread embroidered the length. Your family's crest, along with birds and fruits and other things. A silver tiara set with amethysts sits to your left, and Olga braids golden threads into your hair as well. You put on your silver and amethyst matching earrings as your maid speaks again.

“You’ll be able to buy a wealth of dresses, mistress.” She says, winking at you. You giggle with excitement. “I know, that's the best part.”

“And of course Mistress.” Olga leans forward, whispering the next part into your ear. “Finally get to experience the pleasures of married life.” She winks at you through the mirror, and you blush, giggling.

As much as you wish you could, you're sure he won't touch you. You had learned of those types of pleasures from the forbidden section of your parents library. You had been back there playing hooky from your math teacher, when you had stumbled on the hidden erotica section of your family's plentiful library. You hated to admit it, but you had indeed had fantasies about your fiance. Dirty fantasies that warmed your body and made a strange feeling build in your stomach. 

You were no longer a virgin. It was not such a big deal anymore, and you had lost your virginity at seventeen to the handsome butler your parents had employed for a while. And while you came with a cry you had imagined Fyodor, imagining clutching his shoulders and screaming his name to the heavens for mercy. But you knew it never was to be. You just resigned yourself to being an old maid, alone and sexless for all eternity. You sigh, and hold your gold mesh shawl close to your shoulders, heading downstairs.

You hate how handsome Fyodor looks. His long hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, strands falling around his face in a flattering way. The white suit compliments his dark hair and pale skin, the lavender and silver accents glowing under the light. He’s wearing a circlet, matching one to your large tiara. 

The coach ride is loud. Your entire family is sitting on one side, and Fyodor’s mother and father and little brother sit on the other. You're sitting next to your fiance, smashed against the wall of the carriage and his warm body and absolutely combusting. Every so often he whispers in your ear, the words hardly mattering. All you can feel is his hot breath on your neck, tickling your ear. You shiver each time and are far too excited as he helps you exit the carriage. 

You're practically vibrating with excitement as you and Fyodor stand behind the grand entrance. You're late, on purpose. For today is the announcement that seals your fate, but also the day you get to metaphorically punch Lady Catherine directly in the face. And because your fate is already sealed, you're looking forward to the pleasure Lady Catherine's shocked face will bring you. 

The grand doors open with a slam, and the chattering in the ballroom below ceases as the two men by the door announce your arrival. 

“Duke of Silverwall, and his Fiance, the Her Grace of the Somerset Dutchy.” The men shout, their voice bellowing out over the hall as you stand there, face smiling, back tall and proud. 

You start down the long staircase, your train trailing behind you, your hand on Fyodor’s steady white-clothed hand. The mix of faces below you is just as satisfied as you had hoped. Shock, some faces scream it. Others seem to say ‘i knew it’ while you receive the jealous stares of some prettily dressed ladies. Your white gown stands out among the sea of reds and browns, and the telling matching suit your fiance is wearing is also a dead giveaway. It takes a minute or two to get to the floor of the ballroom, and by then the rest of the people have turned away, and the music has resumed. Everyone still eyes you discreetly, however, and you know they're waiting to ambush you with questions and interrogations. You can't erase the grin from your face.

“You look very happy indeed my dear,” Fyodor whispers to you, as he leads you onto the dance floor. It's a waltz, a slow dainty one that you know by heart. 

“Did you see the look on Lady Cathrine’s face?” You whisper, your feet stepping the familiar pattern of the waltz you know by heart. You learned this dance with him, two teenagers being yelled at by your scary dance instructors, your first true dance as fiance’s should be this one. I'ts quite fitting after all, although your sure he's forgotten those dance classes. You try not to read into it at all.

Fyodor chuckles, leading you into a spin. The white of your gown spins around you, a cloud of spinning white and brilliant silver. You know you look stunning, a lily in your pale white among the autumn roses. The air of the ball is starting to affect you. The bright lights and the stares, jealousy and admiration alike, fill your heart, making you more tipsy, more risky than the fine wines ever could. You can feel his eyes on you, those dark, brilliant eyes. Intoxicating and luring you into their depths. You feel risky, and just the slightest bit horny. His hands are on you, around your waist, his gloved other clutching your own. Perhaps that’s why your lips are loose.

“I was so thrilled when I heard about her little crush on you.” You say, hands winding around his neck. You're closer now, closer than proper. You don't feel the stares around you. “She’s a truly unpleasant woman you know.”

Fyodor smiles, humoring you. “I have heard you say so only a thousand times my dear.” The nickname makes you dizzy with love, cheeks delightfully flustered. You pull away, bowing as the waltz ends and you come down from your strange high. 

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” You start. You can see Lady Cecilia and Lady Irina waving you over frantically out of the corner of your eye. “I have some catching up to do.” and then, in a moment of boldness you stand on your tiptoes, pressing a short kiss to his cheek and whirling away. You will not stand beside him long enough for him to bring it up.

⚔⚔⚔

It was a long night. When you weren't being interrogated by Cecillia and Irina you were being passive-aggressively insulted by jealous mothers, or congratulated by families, or taking a toast from the pleased queen or avoiding dance requests from other men.

The only men you dance with are your brothers, your fiance, and your very close friend, the Viscount Perry, who everyone knows is your good friend. 

You barely speak in the carriage, leaning against the window tiredly but you're wide awake as Fyodor leads you inside his castle. You forgot. Tonight was the night the two of you moved in together. You calm your face as you walk through the familiar halls, heels clicking on the marble floors. The pretty arched ceilings of the main entrance halls, the gorgeous artwork and stained glass in the main hallway, it's all very familiar scenery you know from your childhood. You would run these halls with the boys, until you were older and didn't want to dirty your dresses. You had always been a so-called ‘girly-girl’.

Your fiance has been strangely silent, and it's not until you're sitting at your new vanity, carefully stowing your earrings and tiara that he speaks.

“Who was that man you danced with?” He says, his face turned away from you as he hangs his coat. You start undoing Olga’s complicated hairstyle as you speak.

“You mean Viscount Perry? Oh he’s a good friend.” You say, scratching your scalp as your hair tumbles down around your bare shoulders. You're clothed only in your shift, and you would be flustered but you know Fyodor doesn't see you as a woman at all. You hate how it hurts you, that fact.

“So he was the reason you were so…” He pauses, a certain quality in his voice when he finishes his sentence. “…Hesitant to marry me.” The end of his sentence is nothing like you were expecting. He almost sounds, well, jealous. 

All your wasted thoughts, your sureness that he could never like you like that, all of it is breaking apart, much akin to a shattered mirror. Suddenly you can remember stuff, stuff you had missed. The fact that he had never thrown you under the bus like your brothers, his constant pestering when you were younger. And even his red ears as he exited that room, the room you were changing in. and even just the other day, as he masterfully dodged the proposition you had thrown at him, the demand you had said. ‘Ask your father to dissolve the engagement’. You're practically vibrating with joy as the revelations pour over you. He likes you, just like you like him. 

Your mind is running a mile a minute, but Fyodor, blind in his jealousy, takes your silence as an acceptance. And as you turn, you find him standing next to you, gripping your arm tightly. 

“Is that why? You love that man? You wish to marry him instead of me?” His usually immaculate poker face is gone. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth curved into a sneer, the anger and jealousy carved clear across his face. You find it dangerously attractive. Your dazed silence is again, taken as an affirmative and before you can actually get out an emphatic no, his grip slides from your wrist, and then he’s kissing you.

It's a brutal kiss, the possessive bruising of lips that ruins you inside and out, driving you mad with arousal and a strange kind of happiness. You melt into his frame, and his big hands grip your lightly clothed hips, the heat of them sinking into your skin. It heats your insides, that familiar cocktail of heat that is arousal. You love it.

“Fyodor.” You try, panting around searching kisses. “Fyodor—”. His hands get rougher, searching for purchase on your hips, hands gripping and tugging naughtily. You moan into his mouth as he sucks your tongue, naughty slurping sounds filling the walls of your chamber. He kisses to dominate, and you easily surrender control with a moan, your poor cunt clenching under your silk chemise. He channels his anger and possessiveness into the kiss, as if aiming to suck your soul and love out through your mouth so that Viscount Perry can never have them. 

“Fyodor.” you say, your voice a moan as he noses at your neck, sucking possessive hickeys into it, trailing down to the low neck of your chemise. You whimper and he chuckles.

“That's right, say my name.” Fyodor says, a hint of his accent coming thickening his words. The accent he had possessed for many years had faded four or five years ago, but never quite faded away completely, always lining his words. It sometimes became thicker when he was angry. It came back in times like these too. You whimper, gripping his dark hair in your hand, fingers weaving into the locks, tugging it gently. He chuckles against your collarbones, getting dangerously close to the neckline of your chemise, and the wealth beneath it.

“Tell me name, did that Viscount Perry ever see you like this, undone and moaning?” Fyodor says, breath ghosting across your collarbones. You shiver, moaning out a response. 

“No, oh god, of course not.” Your voice is a whimper, underlines of tight sexual tension lining all the words. He chuckles proudly against your chest, mouthing at your nipples over your chemise, leaving a wet spot behind him. 

“He never gets to see you like this.” He sounds so proud, so vindictive, so attractive. “You're my wife, never his. Mine.” The possessiveness should not turn you on, but it does, and you rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. You want him, more than you think you’ve ever desired anyone, let alone him. 

“Fyodor,” You speak his name as a whisper, a prayer to your god, begging to feel him inside you, running you with his possessive corruption. “Oh god Fyodor, I need you so bad.” 

Your hands tear at the loose fabric of his shirt, yanking it over his head and discarding it somewhere, anywhere, you don't care. His skin is pale, thin with just a bit of muscle tone, and you mouth at his collarbones. Fyodor hair has been knocked from its neat ponytail, and it falls around his face, a sexy mess. His pale skin bruises easily and everywhere you kiss you leave a trail of red behind. You love the marks you leave upon him. He grips the silk of your chemise, yanking at the delicate fabric until it rips, falling into pieces around you. You grip his shoulders with a groan as he hoists you up, laying you on the bed. Your feet hang off the edge, your ass in the air, your toes just brushing the ground.

You feel his hand on your ass, smoothing over the cheeks until they find their way between your legs. 

“You're so wet.” Fyodor says. His voice is a tease, a taunt. And yet as his fingers spread your pussy lips and play with your clit, you can hear the pride in his voice. You grip the silk sheets in a death grip, your mouth opening in a moan, drool collecting on the sheets. Fyodor chuckles, his voice rough his arousal as he slips a finger fully inside you.

“We were always destined to be engaged, you know.” He purrs, his accent deep and thick and deliciously sexy. You love his accent, his voice, the way he twists his words, taunting you, praising you, rejoicing you. He continues with his words, scissoring his fingers inside of you as you moan into the silk sheets. “I knew you loved me, and I loved you too my darling. I thought I could be complacent, I could await the days when we would be married. And yet, you were stolen from me.”

The anger in his words, combined with the thick fingers scissoring your hole open, drive you nearly insane. But you're still able to process the words. He knew you loved him, and he loved you in return. You were destined, predetermined by fate. Your heart clenches with joy, even as the walls of your pussy clenched around his fingers. He chuckles, a light slap hitting your ass. 

“A mere viscount has stolen your affection.” Fyodor’s words are low, angry, possessive. He accompanies it with a slap, a harsher one on your pussy. You whine as he removes his fingers. 

“Oh god Fyodor, want you. Fuck me!” The profanities are not befitting of a lady, but you could care less. The man behind you, the man you have loved for years and years, has informed you he loves you back, and he is reducing you to aroused tears on the mattress you will sleep on for the rest of your life together. You want him, want his hot cock ruining you, draining away the rest of your sanity.

“You beg for me.” Fyodor says, the statement full of pride and arousal, and thick with that accent. “You beg for me over this viscount. And I shall obey your every command, my wife.” The sentence is whispered, almost reverent, and full of so much awe and yet equally measured with arousal that you nearly lose it right there. You're a mess, panting and quivering on the mattress and as his hot cock penetrates your insides you cum with a cry on the mattress.

Your walls clench, your hands gripping the silk until it crumples, your cries muffled in the silk of the sheets. Fyodor shelves himself inside you in one fluid stroke, his cock bullying your walls apart with equal parts pain and pleasure. You're soaking wet, your arousal dripping out of your pussy and soaking a ring on your thighs, but Fyodor is big, biggest you’ve ever taken by far, and tick to. 

It takes a while for the orgasm to subside, but Fyodor gives you no rest, fucking your through the overstimulation reletlessly as you moan his name helplessly, hands still tangled in the sheets. 

“You're such a pretty slut for me.” Fyodor coos the praises leaking into your ears as the pleasure returns, as you move back and forth on the mattress, your toes just brushing the ground. He leans over your prone back, balls slapping your ass with each hard thrust inside of you. The words are degrading, the word ‘slut’ not befitting of a lady, but you love it. You love the way he says it, the possessive nature of the words, ‘for me’. That's right, you're his slut, his slut forever. His wife.

You can feel another orgasm welling up, and you cry it into the spit-soaked sheets beneath you. Fyodor returns the cry with the same words, the promise that you’ll come together. And as you reach your peak, as you tumble over the cliff with your soon to be husband right behind you, you let the words slip past your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Oh, I love you, Fyodor.” You moan, as you fall over the edge. His hips stutter, his cock filling you up one more time as he hears the words, the words he was longing to hear so desperately. And he returns them, whispered in your ear as if they are forbidden. 

“I love you, my darling,” Fyodor says, flipping you over and shoving his cock right back into your hole, the squelching sounds of his cum and your arousal mixing as he fucks it deeper inside you.

...

Endnotes:

whenever i write au’s the characters tend to run away so sorry if this is ooc. Also man, Fyodor and Ranpo are so annoying to write because their a little like all knowing gods…so they always end up a little more dumb in my fics, or maybe dumb to emotions

Dazai’s a little easier because he actively acts like a dumbass all the time

[twstbookclub]

Slowly, Surely, Sadly

Summary: Who would've thought one smile could make you like someone? Of all people, you never expected to fall for Riddle—not after his overblot. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Slow Burn, Minor ADeuce Shenanigans again, Unrequited (maybe not, who knows?) Feelings, Spoilers for Book 1 if yall haven't finished it Word Count: 3, 304 This is my first time writing full-on angst. I already had this plot in mind last April, but this was my only chance to finally write it all down. I hope I did my job, and I'm sorry also not sorry for the feels. I was running on 5 hours of sleep and a hopeless romantic playlist when I wrote this. I hope yall enjoy, though 💕

Whenever you looked at Riddle, the memory of his swollen cheek and tear-brimmed eyes overlapped with his stern expression. Even with the constant lectures and helicopter parenting becoming less frequent, you could never forget his ruthless reign over Heartslabyul. His first impression was that of a tyrannical and merciless ruler, and you’d never forget that.

Yet, you could never forget how he looked like a lost child in a garden of roses when Ace punched him that day.

“Would you like to sample one of our teatime treats, Prefect?”

Riddle’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts. Your eyes darted from your teacup to the housewarden. An expectant yet patient smile curled his lips, which was a stark contrast to his natural frown. Your eyes lingered on the smile on his cherubic face.

“Sure,” you answered, somewhat in a daze. You took a sip of your tea, before your nose scrunched a little. Before Riddle noticed your grimace, you put the teacup down and dropped three sugar cubes in your drink.

You didn’t miss the amused twitch of Riddle’s lips from the corner of your eyes. This action would have earned you a reprimand and a lecture on one of hundreds of Heartslabyul’s rules. After his overblot and the incident in the rose garden, Riddle was becoming more lenient.

“You should mind your sugar intake—” Well, he’s still working on the leniency, but he’s trying— “Do you prefer a tart, a cupcake, or a cookie? Maybe you’d like to try a slice of today’s cake?”

You gave Riddle your preferred dessert, then you watched him reach over the table. Dainty, gloved fingers curled around the dish, before he brought it to you. You gave a brief nod and a mumble of thanks, before you took a bite of the treat.

“...!” You quietly moaned from the sweet taste that melted on your tongue. With a hand on your cheek, you slowly chewed to savor the sugar that graced your tastebuds. Your eyes seemed to sparkle as you dug into more of the dessert.

“It’s so good!”

You didn’t miss the satisfied smile on Riddle’s face, still cherubic and radiant. Amidst the chatter and raucous noise in this week’s Unbirthday party, you somehow heard the hint of pride in the red-haired sophomore’s words.

“Of course, that’s to be expected. Trey’s baking skills are the best in Heartslabyul—possibly in the entirety of Night Raven College.” Riddle paused, before softly adding, “I prefer his strawberry tarts, though. It’s a shame he couldn’t make any for today.”

The wistfulness in that tone of his made you pause. As Riddle took his own sip of tea, you couldn’t look away from him.

One afternoon, you marched through the silent corridors of the arcane academy. Heavy footfalls echoed in your ears, as if to mock you. The reminder of why you were wandering the halls alone made you frown.

“Where the hell are you, Grim?” You mumbled, head turning left and right, as you stomped. All the doors were closed shut, and voices could be heard through them. You doubt this area had an empty classroom at the moment.

Professor Crewel’s scowl and his whip flashed in your mind. As much as you loved Grim and his snark, you’d rather not face the wrath of the dog-loving professor. Brows furrowing, you grumbled again, “If he skips alchemy lessons again, I’m going to wring his neck and—”

“Prefect?” The gentle voice forced you to a halt, and you blinked at Heartslabyul’s warden in front of you. Riddle looked at you with a raised brow, before he crossed his arms and tapped his heel on the floor.

“It’s a pleasant surprise to see you, but…” He paused, eyes roaming your face. “You don’t seem to be in a good mood, and your class is about to start. I passed by Ace and Deuce heading towards Professor Crewel’s classroom earlier.”

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and sighed. You were already on good terms with the housewarden, and you’d rather not get collared for misdirecting your annoyance.

“Hi Riddle,” you greeted with a small, strained smile to be polite. “I’m actually looking for Grim. I lost him in the crowd during the lunch rush, and well…”

You tried so hard not to curse the lovable, annoying puffball. Another heavy sigh left your lips with a shake of your head. The strained smile became an apologetic one. Riddle stared at you, most likely scrutinizing something about you. Maybe he was judging you for letting Grim get away.

“I shouldn’t be keeping you here. It’s nice to see you, though—”

“Hold on,” Riddle stepped closer and reached for your tie, “your tie is crooked. Let me fix it for you.”

You held your breath, biting your tongue to stifle any surprised noises. The red-haired sophomore was too focused on fixing your tie to notice your reaction. His knuckles brushed your chest as he tightened the knot, and you tensed. He didn’t even ask for permission. He just took initiative, and it reminded you of a doting yet strict mother for some reason.

“You should be more conscious of your appearance,” Riddle reminded kindly while smoothing the creases of your uniform coat. He stepped back and seemed satisfied with his intervention. His lips stretched into a satisfied smile again, and you couldn’t look away.

“Now, off you go. Professor Crewel isn’t forgiving when it comes to tardiness.”

“R-right,” you stuttered with a faint warmth on your cheeks. You were tempted to slap yourself for losing composure like this, but you wanted to keep your dignity. Riddle would think you lost your mind if you did.

“Thanks, Riddle.”

His smile softened, yet it grew wider. The sharp and scrutinizing gaze melted into one of appreciation. Your heart skipped a beat. The air was knocked out of your lungs. Something fuzzy and warm filled your chest as you stared at Riddle. Your fingers twitched, as if longing to touch Riddle in some way.

It was ridiculous, but you didn’t dislike the feeling either.

“You’re welcome. If you’ll excuse me, I should be heading to my own class. I wish you luck, Prefect.”

He skirted around you in one, fluid motion. The click of his heels echoed in the empty corridor as you watched him go. His short figure carried a sense of dignity and pride, something that used to terrify and annoy his wards in Heartslabyul.

It used to intimidate you, but you couldn’t look away from him now. Even when Riddle turned a corner and disappeared, you couldn’t stop staring.

Ever since that day, you couldn’t stop noticing these things about Riddle. His entire face brightened, eyes glittering and cheeks flushing pink, when presented with a strawberry tart. Whenever he smiled, his gray irises seemed to hide behind the chub of his cheeks. He always looked red in the face whenever he was embarrassed, but the addition of a scowl and wide eyes showed his anger instead. His voice always raised in pitch, becoming less gentle and more crazed, whenever he became agitated and enraged. He even lost his formality and courteousness at that point: language becoming more crude yet still refined.

One day, while preparing for a game of croquet, you pointed out how happy Riddle seemed when he took care of the hedgehogs. Ace shot you a weird look. Deuce looked perplexed, lost even, when his eyes darted to you.

“Really?” He asked, looking between Riddle crouched on the ground and you who looked surprised. “He doesn’t look any different. How could you tell?”

Brows furrowed in confusion, you told them, “It’s not obvious, but he’s smiling. See? His eyes look brighter when he looked at the hedgehogs, too. Oh, and there’s the fact that he gently pets their heads with a finger. He’s avoiding touching their quills, and he’s trying not to agitate the tiny things.”

There was a long, uneasy stretch of silence that followed your answer. After a moment, Ace’s stunned look shifted into a mischievous grin. Deuce mirrored his expression, and it reminded you of that one time he lost his composure and beat up a pair of upperclassmen.

“Huh, really?” There was an intrigued and knowing tone in the redhead’s voice. Meanwhile, Deuce turned to look at Riddle as if to verify your observation. Although, the ravenette was still grinning, as if he knew something you didn’t.

In that moment, you realized you were screwed—so, so screwed.

Upon seeing your confusion warp into a crestfallen and horrified realization, Deuce clapped a hand on your shoulder with a snicker.

“Looks like the Prefect has a crush,” he teased, but you wanted none of it. Ace followed with an incredulous yet amused, “Really? Housewarden Riddle? Strict and overbearing Housewarden Riddle? Oh, your standards are buried six feet under, Prefect.”

A hand smacked Deuce’s own off your person, and you began to stumble over your words. Both lovable yet annoying idiots laughed it off, while you half-heartedly threatened them with a raised fist.

“Shut up, or I swear to the Seven—!”

Ace and Deuce laughed louder, nearly howling and sniggering in delight. As they clutched their stomachs and you grabbed the collars of their uniforms, Riddle’s confused and curious stare was left unnoticed.

Riddle continued to invite you to their weekly Unbirthday parties as an honorary guest. He still offered you desserts with little to no comment on your sweet tooth. He still fussed over your appearance whenever you two passed each other in the halls. He always gave you a subtle smile, despite his stern demeanor. The more you spent time around the housewarden, the more dread weighed in your stomach.

You couldn’t ignore the flutters of your heart, how it flipped and did cartwheels whenever Riddle treated you kindly. No matter what he did, you always felt like you were floating and walking on clouds.

You still longed to touch him—maybe brush back a stray strand that fell over his forehead. You wanted to know how it felt to hold his hand. Maybe even take a stroll in Heartslabyul’s rose maze with him, hand-in-hand and talking about anything. You wanted to spend teatime alone with him. You wanted to see him smile after taking a bite of a strawberry tart you made for him. You wanted to gaze at the moon and the stars with him in the comfort of Riddle’s dorm room, just sitting together in that window alcove with pillows and blankets.

You wanted to do so much more with Riddle, but the large mirror before you spelled the end of your hopes and dreams.

“Well, Prefect,” Crowley began with a jovial tone, which was a stark contrast to the despair that gripped your heart, “I found a way for you to return to your world. After long, grueling hours of searching for the solution, I fulfilled my promise to you, and I even gathered your friends here for a heartfelt farewell.”

You called bullshit on that, but you still appreciated Crowley’s effort. True to his word, all of the people you befriended surrounded you in the Mirror Chamber. The occasion was treated as a formal one, if their dorm uniforms didn’t make a statement already. Everyone had varying degrees of restrained emotion, as you stood before the mirror that led to your home dimension.

Grim stood behind you with clenched paws and glassy eyes. You spotted Ace and Deuce grinning, but there was a hint of a strain in their smiles. Kalim was close to bursting into tears. Leona stared at you with a neutral look and a hand on his hip, but the harsh dig of his fingers told you otherwise. Azul wore his usual smile, one reserved for business, and Jade had a polite smile as well. Floyd didn’t share the same sentiment. The more capricious Leech brother scowled as if he ate Lilia’s cooking after being promised a tasty meal.

You didn’t dare look at Riddle. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You can’t.

Crowley spread his arms with a self-satisfied smile that both irked and endeared you to him. “Aren’t I a magnanimous and gracious headmaster to do something like this for you?”

He made a show of spinning on his heel and walking towards the doors to the Mirror Chamber. With a flamboyant wave of his hand, he exclaimed, “I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes and well-wishes. However…”

Crowley looked at you from over his shoulder, and your throat tightened at the soft smile that curled his lips.

“It was a pleasure to have you here, Prefect. I would’ve loved for you to stay until graduation, but alas. I wish you all the best once you return home.”

The last thing you saw was a swish of his cape, before a heavy weight nearly toppled you to the ground. Tan, bejeweled arms hugged your waist as a loud bawl harshly rang in the room. You didn’t even need to look to see that it was Kalim blubbering through his tears. Jamil’s alarmed voice echoed in your ears, and that seemed to be everyone’s cue to surround you.

Tearful farewells, wistful wishes, and unfulfilled promises filled the enclosed space. Grim clung to you all this time, all the while mewling and whining about how he’d lose his henchman.  Still, he was crying his eyes out. The large mirror was obscured from your sight, as if the unusual group of friends you made during your time here intended this. You couldn’t help but laugh—a bittersweet sound—as everyone tried to get a word in with you. Even Malleus came to say his goodbyes, though he seemed more reserved than usual.

Then the dreaded moment came: Riddle approached you with that same smile, the gentle and subtle one he always graced you with. Everyone who noticed the shift in mood somehow left space for you and the Heartslabyul housewarden to talk. You almost giggled when you overheard Jade scold Floyd for whining about this.

You forced your smile to widen, even if your eyes stung and your throat tightened again. Your voice cracked at the end, but that could be mistaken for holding back tears.

“Hi, Riddle,” you whispered as you felt your throat tighten more, “I guess I’m leaving before I could have another Unbirthday party with all of you. I was so excited to try the macarons, too.”

The gentle smile became forlorn, and it reminded you of that time he lamented over not having strawberry tarts in that one Unbirthday party. A twinge in your heart made your breath hitch, but you hoped Riddle wouldn’t notice.

“It’s a shame, really,” he told you with a falter in his smile. The corners of his lips hitched up, as if that never happened in the first place. “I wanted you to try some tea from the Queendom of Roses as well, but… that may never happen now.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, finding it hard to breathe. The sting in your eyes worsened. Some invisible hand squeezed your heart, as if threatening to puncture the fragile thing with its talons. You maintained your composure as much as you can.

You couldn’t help but admit, “I wish I could have more time with all of you.”

I wish I had more time with you.

“I wish I could watch the third-years graduate. I wish I could see all of us graduate here, even if I don’t have magic.” You chuckled, and you found yourself with loose lips around Riddle.

“I want to have more Unbirthday parties with everyone in Heartslabyul. I want to have lunch with everyone in Mostro Lounge. I want to watch the next interdorm Spelldrive tournament and cheer for your guys. I want to spend Christmas and welcome the New Year with everyone. I want a lot of things, but… Well, I’m going home.”

Riddle’s smile slipped, and you watched him visibly swallow with a subtle frown. Even when he wasn’t smiling, he still had a gentle look on him.

“Who knows, Prefect? Maybe there will come a time when we find a way for you to visit and vice versa.” Riddle sounded so unsure, so hesitant, in his reassurance. Still, you appreciated it.

You ignored how much your heart hurt and your jaw clenched when he said that.

“I hope so.” Chuckling, you kept your arms to yourself as you smiled at Riddle. He was becoming a blur of red, white, and gold. Warm tears already spilled down your cheeks, before you even realized what was happening.

You couldn’t see his reaction, but you raised a hand to wipe away your tears. While the heel of your palm rubbed your cheek, you mumbled, “Sorry. I just…”

A white handkerchief was offered to you, and you took it with murmured gratitude. Your eyes were drawn to the embroidered initials of Riddle’s name on the corner. The cloth felt soft on your skin, and you found some comfort in that.

“Keep it,” Riddle told you with that smile again, “so that you would remember me every time you see it.”

Your mind blanked at his words. Riddle referred to himself rather than everyone in Heartslabyul, even everyone in NRC. Heart fluttering and throat tightening, you resisted the urge to sob. Hope came as a surge of warmth and the weight of dread in your chest.

Not now. Not when I’m leaving.

With a smile, melancholic yet bright, you dabbed away the last of your tears and tucked the handkerchief into your uniform pocket. A burst of courage let you wrap your arms around Riddle in a hug with a whispered, “Thank you. I’m going to miss you—all of you.”

I’m going to miss you more.

Normally, Riddle would be flustered at the sudden gesture of affection. You expected a loud stutter and an indignant scolding, but he simply returned the hug. His face was buried in your shoulder, and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“You’re welcome.” You heard him whisper, followed by a faint sniff. Something warm and wet soaked through the coat and into your shoulder. You hugged Riddle tighter, as if to hide him from the rest of the world at that moment.

Too brief for your liking, Riddle pulled away with that same smile. His eyes appeared to be glassy, reflecting your tearful expression and wobbly grin. Your heart twinged again, and your jaw clenched.

It was that smile that damned you the moment Riddle fixed your tie for the first time.

“I’ll see you sometime soon, yeah?” You asked, laughing off your dread and despair. Riddle seemed to hesitate, as if he wanted to say something. Your heart stuttered as you watched him open his mouth with reluctance.

Something held him back. He shook his head and merely smiled at you again.

“Of course,” he murmured, eyes hiding behind his cheeks again. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again, Prefect.”

In that moment, you’d have stolen the stars from the sky if Riddle wanted to make a wish. You’d bake tarts and cakes in the Heartslabyul kitchen, even if it ended in a mess of flour, if he wanted sweets. You’d stay past curfew in his dorm room to stargaze, if he was willing to break the rules just this once. You’d shower him in kisses, hugs, and cuddles if he hesitated to spell out his desire for affection.

You’d stay in Twisted Wonderland if he asked you to.

Swallowing your heartache, you forced a smile—bright and brilliant, putting the sun to shame. Your gaze never left Riddle, while unspoken feelings laid heavy on the tip of your tongue. Reality crushed your daydreams and wishes, reduced to rubble and dust. The next words felt final and absolute.

“Goodbye, Riddle.”

What remained was the handkerchief with his stitched initials in your pocket.

[pop-roxs]

woah, water remembered a draft from ages ago and decided to finish it. this has never happened.

(this fic is on ao3!)

categories: fluff ♡ word count: 569 ships: cheshire!grelle x neko!reader warnings: none !!

"Well, what's a little kitten such as yourself doing here all alone?~" An ominous, yet feminine voice spoke up, causing your head to turn in its direction. There was nothing. "Picking up scraps, are you? That's not very courteous."

Your gaze snaps to your left, and you're now eye-to-eye with a red haired woman. You jump and back away, only to take in her appearance, now that she's not so close.

She's quite attractive, a long, slender body donning a loose-fit shirt and striped pink scarf. Tied neatly around her neck is a pink and white striped bowtie, and as your eyes travel down, you notice her unbuttoned vest and hanging suspenders. Her black pants cut off early to reveal striped socks, and long heels with pink fluff rimming them. She has pink cat-like ears and a tail. You take note of the reccuring theme of pink and stripes.

"Are you just going to stare, dear, or will you cease my curiosity and tell me your name?" the woman spoke again.

"Um... Y/N," you answer, although cautiously.

"What a darling name you have!" she chimed affectionately, resting her elbow in her hand to tilt her head against her palm. Her tail swayed as she continued. "Oh, but you are so meek and quiet. You're like a mouse, not the predator of one, my love."

Love..? You had just met this woman, no? Why is she being so affectionate? "You're acting so... familiar. Have we met before?"

"Non, my dear, I'm afraid we have not." She sighed wistfully, leaning a hand against the table and twirling her hair between her index finger and thumb. "It's a shame. I wish to know a kitten such as yourself."

You doubt that. The red lady had just caught you sneaking bites of leftovers from a tea party recently held, and now she's saying that she wants to get to know you? She must be mad.

"You have a problem with staring." You snapped out of your trance. "I get that I'm beautiful, but honestly, it's quite—" She walked forward to boop your nose as she spoke her last word. "—impolite."

You blinked, eyebrows furrowed. You opened your mouth as if you'd have a quip ready to bite back, yet you didn't, and the woman smirked at that.

You made the mistake of blinking and suddenly she was gone.

"Such a quiet thing you are." Your head flipped and suddenly she laid across the table in front of you, her stomach against the clothed surface, with her chin digging into her palm. "I'm here pouring my heart out to you, and you've barely even bothered to answer me!" Despite her implied annoyance, her legs kicked behind her.

"W-Well, it's hard to talk to someone who's name I don't even know," you spoke cautiously. She gasped, exaggerated.

"Oh, well, pardon me, dear! How unladylike for me to be so impolite myself. But, what can I say, I like having a veil of mystery. It is exciting," she purred. Before answering, she propped herself up on her hands and knees, taking hold of your chin. "My name is Grelle Sutcliff, darling. Be sure to remember me." She planted a kiss onto your lips and disappeared.

You looked down into an abandoned teacup to see your reflection, your cheeks seeming a darker shade in the drink than what it should've been. What the fuck just happened.

[forthetwins]

george weasley — solace and sobby secrets.

out of any place, george weasley knew you would choose to be by the lake, under a tree. it was your sanctuary, a place where you sought solace in moments of distress. letting tears stream down your face.

without a word, he made his way over, a silent understanding passing between the two of you as he settled down beside you.

he didn't speak, knowing that sometimes words fell short in moments like these. instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate napkin, offering it to you with a gentle gesture.

you stopped crying and looked at him, your eyes red and swollen. accepting the napkin, you nodded your thanks and began to wipe away your tears, the simple act bringing a sense of relief to both of you.

in the quiet stillness of the moment, as you sat together by the tranquil waters of the lake, george finally broke the silence.

"got made fun of?" he asked softly.

you nodded, unable to hold back the emotions any longer, "yeah," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the leaves.

george clenched his fist, his jaw tensing at the injustice of it all. "did you tell the head girl?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

"i did," you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment, "but she said there's no proof and besides, they won't get punished for something that small."

george shook his head, a determined glint in his eyes. "don't worry," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

you opened your mouth to question him further, but he cut you off with a mischievous grin. "i've taken care of it," he said cryptically, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

confused, you furrowed your brow in confusion. "what do you mean?"

george's grin widened as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "let's just say, they'll be in for a surprise when they reach into their bags," he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

there was a moment of silence before more tears streamed down your eyes, which you wiped away with the napkin. "why do you care?" you asked softly, your voice shaky and confused.

george scoffed lightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "because, you foolish, that's what friends are for," he said sincerely, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

you wiped away your last tear and smiled at him, a warmth spreading through your chest. george returned your smile with one of his own before getting up from his spot.

"i gotta go," he said, brushing off his robes.

you frowned slightly, curiosity piqued. "where?"

"professor mcgonagall might be looking for me," he replied nonchalantly. leaning down to place a quick kiss on your cheek.

"why?" you question.

george grinned mischievously. "probably because she wants to give me detention for putting nose-biting teacups in their bags."

[neongreenllama]

Prompt: Blush

@wolfstarmicrofic - 324 words

Sirius looked beautiful – no, ethereal.

Sirius always looked ethereal; Remus had had enough time to get used to that fact. But this he was not prepared for. This he hadn’t seen coming. This was, frankly, uncalled for. This was foul play.

Because a blush had creeped up Sirius’s cheeks, tinting them rosy. Which was impossible because Sirius Black did not blush. Except for when it was cold, apparently.

The blush, paired with the puffs of visible breath and the warm lighting from the Hogsmeade Christmas lights, painted the most beautiful picture of a person Remus had ever seen. Remus could not stop staring, and then Sirius threw his head back to laugh at something James had said.

Remus wanted to die.

Maybe he was already dead. Maybe this was what angels in heaven looke –

“Moony?”

His trail of thought was interrupted by Sirius looking expectantly directly at him. When Remus didn’t reply Sirius raised an amused eyebrow.

“What book-world is your mind at today, huh? Are Frodo and Samwise in trouble again?” He could have said it to mock him, but he didn’t. Sirius never mocked his books, even if he preferred non-fiction.

“Uh, no, they’re … they’re fine.” They were, of course, not fine. They were trying to get to Mordor, after all, and they had yet to cross the Dead Marshes.

“You coming?” Sirius then asked but didn’t wait for an answer before he started walking. “I wanna get Prongs something from Zonko’s and you need to help me decide between the Frog Spawn Soap and the Nose-biting Teacups.”

It was only then that Remus realized the others had left, leaving only the two of them. He hurried to catch up with Sirius who had kept talking about the endless possibilities of what they could do to Snape with said acquired products.

Of course.

Sirius was his friend. His friend, not an ethereal creature. Not an angel. And definitely off limits.

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Blind Love Ending Epilogue

Blind Love Chapter 25

♡———♡

Several seasons have passed since we started living in Crown Castle.

Occasionally, we have days like this--when we can't get out of bed.

Kate: Mmm... Lord Elbert... we should go eat soon...

Elbert: ...No.

When I try to gently remove the arm that's hugging me from behind, my already limp body is rolled over, and he hugs me from the front again.

Elbert: ...Today, I'm not taking a single step outside.

Kate: Ah, ah--

Elbert licks and bites all over my body, leaving marks as proof of his possessiveness and obsession.

--The trigger is always trivial and sudden.

In a locked room, we made love until we were both drenched in sweat, then dozed off and woke up to eat in bed. As we chatted about silly things, before we knew it, we were melting into each other again – as if losing the contours of our bodies.

Kate: Wait, Lord Elbert...

Elbert: ...No?

He lifts his head from my chest and tilts it.

His blue eyes waver anxiously beneath the smooth sway of his golden hair, and the depths of my chest tingle sweetly.

Kate: ...No, I don't dislike it...

Elbert: I see... That's good.

Kate: But...

Elbert: ...But?

My face grows hot, and I hug Elbert's head tightly to my chest.

Kate: When we spend time like this... my body feels strange for a while after...so it's a bit troublesome.

Elbert: ............

Elbert: ...You're cute even when you're troubled.

Kate: Oh my...That's the one thing that really troubles me, you know...?

Elbert: ...Ah, I apologize.

Elbert: But... you're still cute even when you're angry.

Kate: ...

Elbert: ...hehe.

His shapely lips kiss the tip of my nose, leaving me speechless.

--Elbert, smiling happily, is the most beautiful person in the world.

-

William: Elbert has become more of a "greedy queen" than before, hasn't he?

After dinner the next day--after seeing off Alfons and Elbert, who had been called away by Victor, William raised his teacup to his lips and laughed cheerfully.

Kate: Is that so...?

William: Yes. Perhaps it's because he's learned to desire for himself... not for the sake of gaining someone's approval.

His hand reaches out and brushes away the hair that had fallen on my shoulder.

His fingertips touch the exposed nape of my neck.

Kate: ...William?

The memory of Elbert's lips leaving a mark of obsession there resurfaces, and my cheeks heat up.

William: This is a cute mark.

William: But Elbert's desires, from now on--may even consume your hands, feet, eyes, and ears.

William's red eyes narrow as if testing me.

The mark Elbert left tingles sweetly.

Kate: ...I understand.

Happiness, love, heart, body, life... fleeting things slip through our fingers no matter how tightly we cling to them.

I know the urge to capture, bind, consume, and not lose them burns within him.

(But Elbert... is a strong and gentle person.)

I know he suppresses his desires day and night so as not to hurt or sadden me.

I know the reason he occasionally locks me in that room is because the suppressed desires reach their limit and overflow.

(So... even if Elbert's kindness is one day consumed by desire--)

Kate: ...If it satisfies Lord Elbert,

Kate: I'd be happy to offer my arms and legs...

My whispered voice was, even to my own surprise, dreamily ecstatic.

William: ...Elbert truly found a wonderful jewel.

His fingertip traced the red mark and then left my skin.

William: I look forward to seeing where your love will lead.

Elbert: --Kate.

Kate: Ah, welcome back Lord Elbert...

Before I could turn around at his call, he pulled me closer.

Elbert: ...Come.

(Ah, there it is again.)

You look at me with such longing, covetous eyes.

I will gladly bear the sin of your greed once more.

-

As soon as we returned to his room, Elbert embraced me.

Elbert: ...I apologize.

Elbert: I try to restrain myself, to not take you away like this so you won't suffer...

Elbert: But...

His fingertips trace the spot where William touched.

Elbert: ...I couldn't.

His blue, ocean-like eyes are moist with a dim obsession, filled with pain.

(The happiness and pain Elbert feels right now)

(It's all my fault.)

Along with the guilt, a tingling pleasure runs down my spine.

He looks so pitiful, so adorable... so lovable, seeking me as if drowning in pain.

Following the feelings welling up in my chest, I kissed his lips.

Elbert: ...Kate?

Kate: You don't have to restrain yourself.

Elbert: Then... why do you look so pained?

Kate: ...Because I'm happy.

Kate: I'm happy that you desire me... that you're suffering.

Kate: I'm so happy that my chest aches...

Elbert: ...

Kate: I'm the one who should apologize, for being happy that you're suffering...

Elbert: ––Quiet.

Kate: Mmm...

Our tongues entwine deeply, our kiss stealing each other's breath, sending a tingling sensation through my head.

Elbert: ...If I don't have to restrain myself,

Elbert: I want to make you forget the feeling of being touched by anyone other than me... right now.

Kate: ...

His gaze, dark and burning hot, falls on the nape of my neck, and once again, my heart trembles with joy.

(I want to be branded with all of that possessive love--)

Kate: Please... paint me all over with you.

Elbert: ...Kate.

Elbert's hand rougly sews my wrists to the wall.

Kate: Nngh--!

I felt a sweet pain as he bit my neck, crucifying me like a butterfly.

The body that had made love in a sloppy manner just yesterday only picked up pleasure from the pain, overflowing with nectar.

Kate: Ah, ah....Nnn.....

Elbert's soft, hot tongue brushed the deeper red marks, caressing my throat, collarbone, and chest, making a watery sound.

Elbert: ...Let me expose you even more.

Elbert: Let me touch you deep inside, where only I can touch you...

My wrists were released, and I was about to collapse, but I was still standing with my back pressed against the wall. Elbert wet my entire body from top to bottom with his lips, tongue, and fingertips, opening my blouse, and removing my skirt and underwear.

It was as if he was carving my entire body into his own.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

Elbert: Hm...What...?

Kneeling at my feet, Elbert looked up at me, running his tongue along my trembling thighs.

His ocean-blue eyes, stirred as if to churn up the obsession lurking in their depths, melted into a muddy pool. The deepest part of my body, a place only Elbert could touch, ached madly for him.

Kate: ……I love you.

Elbert: …… Ah……

Elbert: I love you too.

Elbert: My –– my only, Kate.

Avaricious love erodes the gentle him.

While I cherish his kindness, I dream of the day when I will be robbed of everything by his greedy love.

That day will surely come, someday--

It will be the best happy ending for us.

-

Roger: Hey …… What do you think about El's fate?

Roger asked the man next to him, watching Kate from a distance, groaning while looking at the flowers wet with morning dew.

Alfons: El's fate …… "To die without gaining or fulfilling anything," was it?

Alfons, who was asked, leans languidly against the pillar and looks towards Roger's line of sight.

Alfons: I interpreted it literally to mean that nothing would remain in his hands……

Alfons: But if it means suffering from an endless desire for love……

Alfons: I think it's too romantic to call it a curse.

Roger: ……Are you envious?

Alfons: I'll hit you.

Another figure appears in the garden.

A man with golden hair that is dazzling even from a distance and a beautiful appearance like a bisque doll finds Kate in the flower garden and calls her name in a voice sweeter than any flower nectar.

Elbert: Kate.

Kate: ! Yes, I'm coming.

Picking a flower, Kate runs.

A fluttering butterfly, as if lured by a flower.

Roger: Haha, she looks happy just being called by her name.

Alfons: …… If I could smile like that.

Alfons: The pain of love would be just a little spice.

-

Elbert: That flower is ……?

Kate: I was looking for a flower that suits you, Lord Elbert.

I gently decorate the pure white rose I found in the garden on his hair that looks like it was spun from gathered light.

Elbert, adorned with roses, blinked his eyes.

Kate: Look ……It's very beautiful. As a thank you for the flower crown the other day.

Elbert: ……I have more things to decorate my room with again.

Kate: Shall we make it into pressed flowers?

Elbert: That's a good idea. ……Put it in a frame so it doesn't break.

Kate: Hehe, then I have to buy a nice frame.

Elbert: ............

Kate: ……Lord Elbert? What's wrong?

Elbert: ––Nothing.

Elbert: I was just admiring you again.

Elbert: You are the most beautiful in the world today, smiling happily.

Let's stay together until the best happy ending.

While embracing the joy and pain of loving each other ––.

----

Both Ending Clear Epilogue

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[Return to Ikevil Masterlist]

[sweeter-than-teafood]

Sitri Attacker Card - Chapter Six (Finale)

TW: Oh, we’re getting angst again, Morax being a wholesome bbygirl, MC comes clean about her motives, A whole lot of crying and confiding

——————————————————

Paradise Lost

Once the trio reached Paradise Lost, Sitri and Ra-On were led into separate rooms. Marbas set about getting Ra-On an antidote for the aphrodisiacs, before letting her have some rest.

Meanwhile, despite Sitri’s protests, Morax had used his healing powers to absorb the deep scratches and bites that littered his upper body.

“There! All done! How are you feeling?”

Sitri couldn’t help but inwardly grimace at the kind-hearted devil. He took on too much of Hell’s pain in this war, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t take it too far.

“Feeling a lot better, thank you. Where’s Solomon resting?”

Morax paused to glance at a clipboard on his desk, bandaged fingers tracing down rows of patients until he found the line he was looking for.

“Ah, she’s in Room 49. Would you like directions?”

Sitri shook his head, not wanting the constantly injured devil to exert himself further.

“I’ll manage by myself. Thank you again, and please, take care of yourself.

Sitri quickly left the room, teacup in hand. The smell of disinfectant stung his nose as he paced the corridors, until he reached the room where Solomon was resting. He opened the door quietly.

Ra-On was laid in the pristine hospital bed, blanket pulled up to her armpits. She flicked through a book, unaware of the company she had.

Sitri crossed the room, before sitting on the edge of the bed. Something had been plaguing his thought since he arrived in Paradise Lost, and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Solomon?”

Ra-On’s eyelids flickered upwards, greeted by the sight of the blue-haired devil before her. She set her book aside and was about to speak before Sitri cut to the chase.

“Solomon, I have a question for you.”

The human shuffled to sit upright, curiosity marking her features. She nodded, a sign for Sitri to continue.

He took a second before enquiring, curiosity with a hint sadness obvious in his tone,

“I recall that you said earlier that you took that medicine to fake your own death, to see what would happen. What did you mean?”

Ra-On swallowed hard and glanced away, to hide the tears that brimmed on the corners of her eyes. It was time for her to confess, though she was afraid of the consequences that would spark from her words.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous but I… I wanted to see who you would mourn…”

She choked out a sob, unable to stop the tears now.

“I thought that if I had passed away, who would you mourn? Me? Or Solomon? 

Everyone has been so nice to me since I got here, but I feel like no-one is trying to get to know me, they just want to play catch-up with Solomon.

I was afraid that my existence means nothing; that I’m just an extension of the man loved by all.

What hurt the most was… You… You called his name over and over, even during sex…”

She couldn’t look Sitri in the eyes now. Her soul was exposed to him, her emotions in a state of vulnerability that she never thought she’d experience.

But the devil’s actions surprised her the most. 

Sitri pulled her into a tight hug, allowing the human to seek refuge in the warmth of his firm chest. Her cries vibrated through his body as she returned the embrace just as tightly.

“Solomon… No. You’re Ra-On. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. Please forgive me.”

His chin settled on the top of her head, while his hands comfortingly rubbed her back.

“It’s been hard for all of us, you see. Your ancestor may have been gone since 931 BC in your world, but for us devils, it’s only been 100 years.”

Tears started falling onto the top of Ra-On’s head as Sitri recalled the loss of Solomon.

“I know that 100 years is a lifetime for you and other humans. But most of us devils are centuries old. It… For me it only feels like a short time ago when I last saw him alive. I’m sorry Ra-On.”

The human tilted her head up to look at him. She couldn’t help but quietly marvel at how pretty the devil looked, even when tears streamed down his face. Without thinking, she reached up to wipe his tears away.

“Hey. It’s okay. I can’t begin to understand how you feel, I’ve never known the loss of someone who could have been my ‘forever’. Although I lost my parents a few years ago, and it pains me to know that they’ll miss out on so much of my life. I still miss them greatly, they’re always in my thoughts.”

Sitri gazed at the human in his embrace, biting his lip slightly. Now it was his turn to confess, as he leaned into her hand.

“Sol- No. Ra-On. I really like you. More so than just calling this a friendship with sexual benefits. I…I’m trying to love you for who you truly are, and not the man I lost, who you painfully remind me of…

…I just need you to be patient with me. Please.”

Ra-On settled her head against his shoulder, grasping him tighter than before.

“It’ll take some time, Sitri. But I’m here. I promise.”