#oh where is my boyfriend when i need him. lucien wake up i miss you

[restless-cadaver]

fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[vexillumalbum]

MLQC boys having a nightmare about MC part 2

Hello, everyone! As promised (although a little bit late, but still) I present to you a hcs about Lucien and Kiro from MLQC having a nightmare about MC (reader). 

I was supposed to change Lucien’s hcs a little bit but I truly have no strength to do that and because of eleven messages I've received in the past four days regarding this piece (which is awesome, thank you all for interest in my hcs!), I decided to just publish it as it is.

Still, I wanted to thank @its-mew, for her amazing support and her patience for me (I’m kinda annoying lol). Thanks to her I gained a little bit more confidence in publishing these hcs. Also, thanks to her I’m now working on a Victor series and so far it’s going amazing, so stay tuned! 

Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy.

Part one with Victor, Gavin and Shaw you’ll find here.

Lucien

It wasn’t meant to end like this. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love, not now, not ever. And certainly not with you. 

But your kindness, warmth and a heart too big for your own good attracted him to you, and after many months he found that he would never want to be separated from you

So one evening when he came home after a long day at the research center, and saw you packing your things into a suitcase and a few boxes, a part of him died. 

“Are we moving out?” He spoke as he set his papers on the table, and when your eyes fell on him, he saw nothing familiar in them - only disgust and annoyance. It almost made him shiver. 

“We? No.” You threw some of your clothes into one giant box. It took everything in Lucien not to stop you. “I am.”

“May I ask why?” On the outside he was calm and collected but inside his heart broke a little more with every word you said. Milion thoughts a minute raced through his head. For the first time professor found himself unable to properly think.

What could be the reason for your behavior? Was it something he’d done? 

“Did you really think it could work out? You disgust me, Lucien. Or Ares. Whatever you are.” You turned your back to him and laughed. “And you call me a fool. Looks like the joke’s on you.”

“Butterfly—“

“Don’t call me that. I don’t know when or where you thought that this - us - could work out but you were wrong. I don’t want you in my life. Do not ever call or text me again. Do not come to my work. The only thing you deserve, Lucien, is to be alone for the rest of your life.”

Taking your suitcase you headed for the exit not sparing him as much as a second glance. For a moment he thought about stopping you, hugging you to his chest strongly so you wouldn’t be able to leave, but a bigger part of him knew it was a bad idea. 

If you love her let her go something inside his head said.

Your figure disappeared behind the door. And with it the only color and joy in his life. Familiar pain in his chest made itself known and before he knew it he was leaning on the countertop unable to take a breath.

With sweaty palms and ragged breath Lucien woke up in the middle of the night. As he sat up, tightly clutching a hand over his heart, you stirred and tossed around a little. He was perfectly aware he just woke up from a nightmare but still he couldn’t completely shake off negative feelings. 

“Lucien?” Soft, barely audible voice came from your side of the bed. 

“Sleep, butterfly.” 

Maybe you would listen to him, if his voice weren’t so upset and distressed. You turned over and faced your boyfriend and the sight of him being in pain caused you to fully wake up. He turned to you as you sat up next to him.

Gentle hands took ahold of his face and your fingers delicately brushed the skin under his eyes. Even in the darkness of your shared bedroom Lucien was able to see the love and warmth radiating from your eyes. The complete opposite of what had been in his dream. The you here, next to him, was this kind, tender woman who he had given his heart to, you wouldn’t hurt him like that. 

“Whatever this dream was, it’s over now.” You said as one of your hands covered his, squeezing his shirt over his chest. Scooting over to him you let the warmth of your body comfort your boyfriend - it was a thing you learned from him as he would use this technique thousands of times before on you.

Lucien chuckled quietly as you fell asleep against him barely a few minutes later. Well, at least you tried

“Silly girl.” He mused lying you on top of him and covering you both with a quilt pleasantly discovering there was no pain in his body left.

Kiro

He was running in circles, he was sure about that but somehow he wasn’t able to stop. As long as he had the strength to take a breath he wasn’t going to stop. He needed to find you, talk to you, hug you, kiss you—

The sea of people now flooded the park not letting him go anywhere and he was SURE you were somewhere close. He could feel that in his bones. He was pushing through faceless people but you still were nowhere to be found. He didn't care if anyone would recognize him at that point.

The last words you’ve spoken to him were ringing in his head and he wasn’t able to properly think. Should he go to the right? Or maybe left? Where were you?! Ugh!

“It’s over, Kiro.” 

“I can’t be with someone who doesn’t have time for me.”

“It was meant to end this way. You’re no good for me.”

“There will always be something more important than me for you. I can’t do that anymore.”

Another minute passed by while he was running and running and running. Your name left his lips countless times however it didn’t matter. You couldn’t hear him because you weren’t there. You left. You left him.

“I thought you loved me, Kiro.”

“I thought you were my sun.”

Kiro fell to his knees. People kept bumping into him, touching him, rubbing their legs against his shoulders, but he remained in the same position. He was breathing heavily, blocking the tears from flowing down his cheeks. 

One last time, the blonde took a deep breath and, trying with all his might, shouted your name. But he was sure you wouldn't be able to hear him, and the name of the person Kiro loved more than life was lost somewhere in the crowd.

At the same time, people who recognized him immediately started running out of the crowd. They started yanking him, screaming his name, pulling his hair. He defended himself, but there was little he could do. His fans were ruthless. 

“Let go of me!” He shouted. 

“Let go!” 

Startled, sweaty and a little bit shaky Kiro woke up holding a pillow in his arms, clutching it tightly to his chest. Little did he know his scream also woke you up and after a few seconds you sat up, trying to get ahold of his hand in the complete darkness. You asked him what was going on but your voice didn’t get through to him because of his loud thoughts. 

When he sensed your warm fingers on his cold clammy hand, his head whipped to the side and as he was able to distinguish your features in the darkness he immediately let go of the pillow and pulled you into his arms. 

“Miss Chips, you’re here!” He beamed, his voice still a little quivery. 

“Where else should I be?” Your question stirred something inside him and he instantly pulled you away from him to be able to see your face. Even without lights on you were able to see that his eyes were watery.

“Nowhere! That’s the point! You shouldn’t be anywhere else but in my arms, you hear me, Miss Chips?” 

“Oh Kiro,” you said as your hands traveled to his hair and you started massaging his scalp - he always liked when you did it. The blonde almost purred when your nails scratched particular spot on his head. Through half lidded eyes he looked at you with admiration. “I am not going anywhere.”

“Good… That’s good.” 

“Go back to sleep, babe.” 

He fell back down on the pillows, dragging you with him while keeping your hands from leaving his hair. He pulled you to his chest with his arms, and you both fell asleep again in record time. It was safe to say that Kiro had no more nightmares that night.

____________________________________________________

thank you so much for reading!

if you want to read more of my works they are here

[op-peccatori]

a little gift | MLQC Lucien (nsfw)

Happy Birthday, Lucien! a tad later than planned, but here’s the promised birthday sex from my invitation XD Let me know what you think!

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Lucien

Rating: 18+ 

Wordcount: 5200

Summary: It’s Lucien’s birthday and you’ve got a wonderful trip planned for him  – along with an extra gift he isn’t expecting.

Warnings: explicit sex (vaginal & anal), mild masturbation, birthday sex, sex toys, established relationship

author fact: I spent so much time sitting in one place as I wrote this that my butt too, was aching by the end of it. this is the first time I’ve ever written anything involving butts, so please let me know if it’s...right?

a/n: im gonna have to come edit this once i get some sleep. i forgot how to spell laugh. 

A bite of cake and a sip of wine, with a familiar warmth nestled into his side: Lucien is dangerously content. 

Not for the first time, he thinks he will never give this up for anything in the world. He could never let go of the little surges of happiness brought on by the girl holding a forkful of cake up to his lips, and not the deep love flowing in his veins, keeping him alive. 

The second photo album you've ever given him rests beside the cake. The second roll. A collection of your memories. 

He can’t help the way he sneaks a kiss, helpless against your smiles, the way they curve your lips up even as they’re pressed to his. It makes him shudder when he feels your tongue flick against his lip, to tempt and to taste. He’s glad for the booth they’re hidden away in, that gives them enough privacy for him to lose himself for a moment. He lets the greed slip past, eager to take whatever you give it. Before the time comes when you might not get a chance.

He suppresses the heartache at the thought. There's no telling what the future holds. Danger still lurks in shadowed corners, and it's taught him fear. Not for himself, but for the one who holds his very being in her hands.

“You had some frosting there,” you murmur when you pull away, smile coy and eyes bright, fingers tracing a gentle path along his thigh. Never stepping a foot over the line, just toying with it. He wants to step over it with you, to fall over it, to fall into bed and wherever else you can and to taste you, the sweetest dessert, his lovely girl who just wants to give him a special birthday.

And you will, once you go away tomorrow, for the weekend. He remembers the way your face fell when he told you he has important meetings he can’t skip on the day of his birthday; it was subtle, but there is nothing he can miss when it comes to you. You both had to be content with brunch for today, as he would only get home at a late hour. 

“Is it going to be a tiring day for you?” you had asked, concern hiding a hint of something he can't quite identify. It would be just like you to wait up, to give him a goodnight kiss – you do it often since you haven’t had much time to yourselves for weeks. 

“Well, no. I’ll have to sit through a few meetings, review some of my colleagues’ work, but nothing too exhausting,” he had assured you. You haven’t mentioned anything about meeting him when he comes back, but he’s always had endless patience for you and your adorable tricks. He watches you as you eat carefully measured bites of cake, eyes lingering on the way you lick your lips, satisfied with the sugar and his company. He has never felt more thankful for birthdays when you let him feed you small bites with little protest and an endearing blush. It makes him think, makes him want to test boundaries. But he refuses to risk hurting you for the sake of his depraved curiosity. The time to part ways arrives all too soon, and your smile dims a little; for a moment, he seriously considers quitting his job.

“I can barely wait till tomorrow,” you mumble, arms would tight around his waist and forehead pressed into his chest. You stand outside the restaurant, packed cake in hand, waiting for the bus after you declined his offer to drop you home. He nuzzles the crown of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your favourite shampoo, closing his eyes in the face of your affection. “I want you all to myself.” 

Your words feel warm on his skin. “Me neither, darling. And you will. What time is the flight?” 

“8 am,” you answer, and again he senses something...off. Perhaps it’s the prospect of having to get up at 6 in the morning? You're not much of an early bird unless you're coaxed out of bed by the scent of breakfast. He still remembers the first time he stayed over vividly, and not just because of how soundly he slept next to you. You had to get up earlier than usual, for a meeting, and any ideas he'd had about a chirpy morning bird were shattered by the sight of your grumpy expression. It's a memory he likes to revisit when he's feeling dull; he had slipped into unexpected laughter, and you threw a pillow at him. Then he cuddled you until all thoughts of rage-texting Victor faded.

“Want me to come wake you up?” he asks after the brief jaunt down memory lane. He doesn’t bother trying to sound innocent; they both know if he wakes you up, it’ll be with his head between your legs. No danger of a grumpy ___ then. 

“...I’d like that,” you agree readily, smiling up at him. "I'm sure I'll need it. I've been so tired these days..." There's little sign of the shy desire that usually clouds your eyes when he suggests something so improper in public, even though he keeps his voice low. He would be hurt, but instead, there’s a shiver of anticipation running along his spine as you brush your lips against his, dancing away when he leans in. "Happy Birthday, Lu."

Just what is his little butterfly up to? 

The question sits in the back of his mind throughout the day, through each file he reads and every person presenting their research. He doesn’t exactly know where you’re taking him, but he has a few guesses, as you had insisted on packing not only his warmer jackets and thicker shoes, but also his swimming trunks. His thoughts race through ideas, drifting back to last month when he accidentally saw you scrolling through a cute little lingerie website.

'Oh.'

As he flips through the photos you took such care to preserve, he thinks that it's okay that he sees through most of your surprises. It doesn't lessen the delight they bring. He's eager to see what you picked out, what could have caught your fancy, and he hopes he gets to see it tomorrow. 

It will take him some time to admit it, but he didn’t expect what he really found waiting for him in his apartment. 

You look down at your collection, of new and old, with excitement curling along your mouth and a glass of water in hand. There’s some regret, for eating cake so early in the day when you have plans, but it's not like you could have skipped Lucien's birthday cake. Or even cake in general. You resisted where you could, and you think it'll be fine. You take a moment to fantasize about the sinful dessert sitting in your refrigerator before you get to work. It's 4:00 pm, which gives you plenty of time to work, but there's much to be done. 

You're trying really hard to refrain from calling Lucien. Your boyfriend's been getting melancholic again, and you've come up with just the thing to distract him on his birthday.

You shower thoroughly, shave your legs with care, scanning them in the mirror to make sure you haven't missed a spot, applying sweet-scented lotion liberally across the skin. Painful flashbacks of the Brazilian you got for today have you wincing, but you've been determined to live up to the image you painted in your head. Willow, who'd gone to get one too, treated you to ice-cream afterwards, saying it's a must after the first one. After some deliberation, you paint your nails a pearly white and decide to take a nap before you get to blow-drying your hair.

It's 6:00 by the time you scramble out of bed, fixing yourself a light dinner and texting Lucien to make sure he's eaten.

[6:03] Lu: Don't worry. Professor Collins ordered enough for the building. I suspect he feels some guilt for calling me in today.

[6:04] Y/n: I knew there was a reason I liked him! Btw, what time do you think you'll be home?

[6:06] Lu: I'll try to make it home by 12. Don't worry, I'll get up on time ;)

Mouth pursing at the reminder of his horrendous sleeping habits, you go back to your soup with a restless heart. The clock's ticking, and you're quick to finish washing the dishes, finish some last minute packing, and when there's no chore left to do, you head for your bedroom. You connect your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, settling on an upbeat song while you plug in the hairdryer. As you divide your hair into sections, you're nearly giddy with excitement. As far as you could observe, Lucien has no idea what you've got planned, and you're quite proud to have slipped this past him.

You put the device down once each strand of hair is smooth and shiny, warm to the touch. And then you undress, until you're completely bare, running your fingers over lace, giddiness giving way to trepidation. 

You're thankful there's a video on the website because there's no way you could've put on the set by yourself. 

As you tighten the garter belts around your thighs and adjust the lace collar, peering at your reflection in the mirror as you put on simple pearl studs, you decide that it's fine that it's not the most comfortable thing you've ever worn, because you look really good. And you think Lucien will like it. Especially the very convenient holes in the cloth. 

You don’t bother to put on much makeup, keeping it simple with waterproof mascara and lip balm.

You wrap yourself in a simple robe as you hurry to the living room, picking out a pair of black handcuffs, a toy you've only used a few times, all in preparation for today, and a bottle of lube. You put them in a bag along with a towel, a pack of wet wipes and grab your phone. It's 11:30, and you have a text from Lucien saying that he'll be done soon. You put on your flats and exit your apartment quickly, letting it shut behind you as you run over to his front door, tapping in his security code with ease. Before you enter, you pull out a thick white ribbon from your bag, tying it around the handle of the door.

As you slip off your shoes, you realize it's quite strange to be in Lucien's apartment without him there. The lights are off, the curtains drawn to keep the moonlight out. In the past, he's left you dozing in his bed if he has to go to work earlier, but you've never entered the place in his absence. There's no time to ponder the peculiarities of the situation, and you head to his bedroom, your steps timid as if to avoid waking up something slumbering in the shadows.

As you open the door, you peek through the slight crack even though you know he isn't home, stepping in once you're sure it's empty and letting the door close behind you with a click. You're more than familiar with his home, but something in you shies away from invading his privacy. If he knew you were thinking this after several months of dating, he would call you a silly. And get you to stay over more often.

With a resolute nod, you move towards the bed, turning on the lamp next to it. You take out the towel first, spreading it out over his clean sheets and taking a seat on it. You pull up a pillow behind you as you lean back against the headboard, slipping your robe off and folding it, putting it in the bag. You take out your tools, spreading them out in front of you, unsure how to go about this.

The scent of him is subtle, but it's very much present. It soothes your nerves, and the thought of his reaction to your presence gives you strength as you relax your shoulders. You close your eyes, resting them and your mind for a moment, acknowledging the nervousness. Whatever he might be expecting, it's certainly not this, and you can't hold back a smile at that. 

You enjoy catching him off-guard. 

Your fingers brush lightly over the side of your neck, across your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, thinking about the way he likes to explore your skin with his mouth. As you toy with your breasts, you think about how he likes to start slow, never rushing, always taking his time to draw your pleasure out. He's the biggest tease you've ever met, and you can barely keep up with the games he likes to play, but it's always worth it – he ensures it. He likes to draw out your pleasure, to take it for himself, more and more until you beg for respite.

As you begin circling your clit lightly, you think about the time you tried to wake him up and it resulted in you positioned over him, riding his face as he devoured every drop of pleasure you had in you. How tightly he'd held on to your thighs, refusing to let you move away as he ate you out with only greed and gluttony driving his mouth. When your fingers are glistening and your cheeks are flushed, you leave it there and move to the next step. 

Sitting up, you reach for the bottle of lube, pouring it generously, making sure your index finger is coated well before you turn your focus to the entrance above your sex. You’re on your back now, the soft cotton of the pillow warm from your body heat; your knees are pushed up, your arm reaching down between them. The slight trepidation you had felt the first time, at the feel of your finger dipping into the tightness is all but gone now, leaving behind slightly shaky confidence.

This is something Lucien has wanted to try for a while, but he hasn’t been too direct about it. He’s never gone beyond sliding in a finger, usually, while he’s fucking you, and you decided introducing it on this special day would be perfect. It was a good idea to try it on your own first, to see if it's something you would like, and ease into it. Still, you know Lucien's going to be at least a little difficult about it since you've kept this from him for nearly a month.

You're liberal with the lube as you prepare yourself, adding another finger once you’ve adjusted to the first and you slide them in and out steadily, pressing where it feels pleasing. The flash of your phone distracts you, and you rise onto one elbow to see it's a text from Lucien.

[11:35] Lu: I'll be home in 30 :) 

'He's being strangely cooperative,' you think absently. Once you’ve deemed yourself ready, you pluck out a wet wipe, wiping your hands carefully before reaching for the sleek toy and the bottle of lube. You coat it thoroughly before circling the tip around your entrance, then pushing it in slightly. You try to remain patient as you slide it in slowly, being gentle with your body, letting your tight heat adjust to the plug. 

You have about ten minutes by the time you’ve pushed it in as far as it can go, it’s round ring nestled between your cheeks; you lie there for a minute, breathing heavily, your walls clenching and fluttering. But you're satisfied with the familiarity of it, confident that your idea will be executed smoothly. Your walk to the bathroom is slow, and as you wash your hands you pray he doesn’t get here before you position yourself. Hurrying back into the room, you put everything except for the lube and the handcuffs back in the bag, leaving the bottle on the side table along with your phone once you’ve switched it off, hoping that Lucien will think you're asleep, in case he calls.

And then you try to figure out how he should find you.

This, like everything else, took a lot of thought. Initially, you thought you could just lounge on your front, letting him think you're asleep. But, now is not the time to be lazy. This is the time to make your boyfriend snap and bury himself inside you so deeply he forgets everything else, if just for today. And, preferably, the next three days.

And so you crawl onto the bed, letting your head and chest rest on the firm surface, leaving your rear in the air, presented with absolutely no subtlety. You struggle a little with the handcuffs, but manage to get them on safely, without pulling any muscles. Your arms are stretched over your head, it feels ridiculous, and you’re still giggling into the sheets when you hear the front door open. 

‘The things I do for love.’

You try not to squirm when the bedroom door doesn’t fly open immediately. Knowing the man, he’s probably scanning his living room. Taking his sweet time, knowing you’re in here waiting for him. 

‘This position is very uncomfortable when Lucien’s not there to distract me,’ you muse to yourself, trying to adjust your head comfortably. As if on cue, the door opens. 

You don’t even try to look at him. It won’t be possible, and it’ll only happen when he wants it to - you’ve ensured that by leaving the key on the table. Your heartbeat quickens as you strain your ears, jolting when you hear the door shut. Your back tenses as you pick up on the subtle sounds of him breathing, of light footsteps, of cloth rustling. You wonder what he thinks of the ring standing out between your cheeks, framed by delicate lace, and hope you don’t have to wait too long to find out. 

The bed dips as he takes a seat, and your heart races like a mouse, cornered and trapped, waiting for the cat's paw to fall on it. And then he speaks.

“I have to admit, I was quite disappointed when I didn’t see you outside,” he says casually. The hoarseness in his voice belies his nonchalant attitude, as does the way he clears his throat. You can hear the smile in his tone. You’re thankful he can’t see your face because you’re certain your wide grin would look out of place right now. 

“Are you still disappointed?” Your words are nearly a whisper, hushed and eager. You know he hears them when they prompt him to plant quick kisses across the plump flesh of your rear, a finger trailing across the ring keeping your plug from slipping in. 

“Darling,” he begins, his hands sweeping over your body, feeling the flimsy cloth, tugging at the garter. His touch is delicate, not meant to arouse, but you shiver from it anyway. “I don’t think I could be further from disappointment if I tried. But…”

His hand dips down between your legs, fingers pressing into your slit. You bite back a whimper, surprised that you’re this sensitive. He seems to realise it too, pushing the slender digits in, meeting little to no resistance. Your walls squeeze down, palpitating around it, and you push back immediately. 

“...but, I think I could do with a cup of tea, first. You don’t mind, do you? It was a long day.” A kiss on the back of your head and he’s gone, walking out of the room to get his tea, whistling obnoxiously. You're left staring at pristine sheets, unable to process his abrupt departure and your absolute helplessness in the face of it.

“Lucien!” you cry out, heart beating desperately. There's no space for shame here. “Lucien, please!” There’s no response. But you didn’t expect this to be easy in the first place. “Fuck.” 

And it doesn’t get better. Lucien walks in with a cup of his favourite, steaming beverage, and just stands there at the foot of the bed, sipping it and making casual remarks like he's in a museum. 

“I have to say, you’ve done a wonderful job. Did you buy this set for today?” He toys with the lace on your waist and the straps digging into your skin, his hand sliding up your back as he walks around to stand next to the bed. He, very pointedly, doesn’t mention the new toy. 

You lift your head slightly, tilting it enough to get a good look at him before you nod.  He’s in a skintight turtleneck, slim fit pants, but the dark of his clothes can’t compare to the one in his eyes. The ribbon you left at his door lies next to you. You don't miss the slight bulge at his crotch. He smiles at the sight of your teary eyes, glaring up at him even as you tremble. 

“I guess you don’t like your surprise,” you mumble, trying to fight the pout forming on your lips. The curve of his lips fades as he blinks in surprise before sitting down next to you. 

“Sweetheart, no,” he coos, placing his empty cup on the table. He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “This is...I don’t think I have the words to describe what I felt when I walked in to see you spread out for me.” 

“Was it good?” you ask softly, trying not to sound smug. You know it was good. You look like you're begging to be fucked – which you are. He chuckles at the cockiness slipping through cracks of faux sincerity. 

“I don’t know how to describe it,” he repeats. He strokes your hair gently, pulling it away from your face. “Shall I show you instead?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

He moves towards the foot of the bed until he kneels behind you, facing your ass, his warm palms a soothing balm to your starved flesh. He caresses your skin gently, squeezing it a few times before you feel his breath on your sex.  The first swipe of his tongue feels like it could ruin you, and the feeling only increases as he continues to lick into you. 

“You’ve got yourself all wet for me, haven’t you? You’re such a good girl.” The first snack of his palm against your ass is unexpected; the second stings terribly and the third painfully welcome. After the seventh one, he pauses to press his mouth to your swollen entrance again, and you’re so wet you can hear the sound of him lapping at you. “But my good girl has been keeping secrets.” 

“I-I wanted to surprise you!” you protest, arching your back further, trying to urge him to move faster. He hums against your slick flesh, his mouth enveloping your swollen clit a second later. It only takes a few sucking motions for you to come with quaking walls and limbs, sobbing in relief at the surprising show of mercy. 

“I know you did. You’ve worked so hard to give me this,” he murmurs, curling a finger around the ring resting between cheeks that flaming red. And then you cry out again when the slender object is pulled out halfway before it’s slid back in, in repetitive, curious motions. “You’re so good to me.” 

“Fuck, Lu-Lucien,” you gasp, struggling for breath. He stills at the sound of his name, a displeased sound leaving his lips. 

“While I adore the view, I do think you’re too uncomfortable like this,” he decides, reaching for the key to your freedom. A part of you suspects he just hates not being able to see your face as he makes you come. You nearly collapse once your hands are freed, and Lucien is quick to gather you in his arms and lay you out on your back.

As your arms slowly reawaken, you put them to good use, pulling him over you to press up into him, nipping at his jaw until he gives in to your silent demand and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t pull away, slipping a questing tongue through your lips, tangling a hand through your hair to keep you there as he plunders your mouth without restraint. He kisses you until you’re putty in his hands, and he whispers his affection into your ears. 

“Please fuck me, Lu,” you plead, just the way he likes it. You place his hand on your breast, arching into his touch; you're deeply aware of the extra addition in your body, pushing against your walls, keeping your feet dipped in a pool of pleasure when you want to drown in it. “Please. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” 

He inhales sharply at your words and moves away to undress slowly, letting your eyes rove across the hard planes of his torso, lean muscle flexing as he moves closer. You watch the way his cock bounces before he wraps a hand around it, giving it a few, sure pumps. He nearly succeeds in distracting you with a kiss, but you still open your mouth demandingly, widening your eyes in the way that never fails. Never one to deny you anything, he climbs over you, kneeling and bending until he can slide the tip of his plump cock into your mouth. You suck at it eagerly, swallowing more and more of him until you choke, until all you can taste is the He slides his swollen shaft out and back in, breathing heavily, groaning at the feel of your wet mouth and zealous tongue. 

You whine when he pulls away, quieting when he climbs down the length of your body to kneel between your legs. He unclasps the straps around your thighs and waist, pulling them off to toss them on the other side of the bed. After a second of consideration, he strips you of the bra as well but leaves the lace collar on. You're left completely exposed and shivering, aching with the need to feel his skin. He locks eyes with you as he wraps his hands around your thighs, pushing them up until you’re spread out, ready to be taken apart. 

“My darling girl, my heart.” His fingers curl over your breasts, tweaking and tugging, his mouth dropping down to suck at a pebbled nipple. You sigh as your fingers slither into his hair, as he rises up to press his cock to your entrance. He slides in all the way and it feels so full you could cry. “God, Lucien. I...it feels so good.” Strange, but you adjust to it. Each drag of his hips, of his skin against yours, feels like it’s setting you on fire. You scramble to catch hold of something, an anchor, before you slip; you pull him down into an urgent kiss as your hips buck up into him. 

He groans into your mouth and leans closer, swallowing your gasps; it’s unbearable, as if you’ll break, and as his thrusts speed up, you push back into him frantically, chasing after the fall, the rise, the destruction – it doesn’t elude you, he doesn’t rip it away but throws you into it instead. He leans back, reaching down for the plug and thrusting it into you, syncing its motions with that of his cock. Before you can comprehend the sudden pressure you’re coming so hard it blinds you, makes you scream, has tears pooling in your eyes.  Lucien works you through it gently, with lips quirked up at the way you babble, kissing you so, so softly your heart floods with how much you feel for this man. With a pounding heart, you watch as he reaches for the drawer, plucking out a condom and grabbing up the lube.

"Are you sure, darling?" Your response is to push your knees further until they're nearly level with your shoulders. He watches you as he lathers his cock with the liquid, using his other hand to pull your plug out. You got used to it, you realize, when it feels so empty. But he doesn't let it remain so, pressing the head of his leaking shaft against your entrance. You're treated to the full depth of his patience, as he dips in and out, getting further in with each propulsion. His eyes spark with every moan, his lips brush your mouth at every discomfited grunt. 

Once he's deep within you, in this new territory, and your head is thrown back, your mouth has fallen open at the feeling – he leans back and begins to thrust. His groans are everything you wanted to hear, and you can't help but smile up at him, unable to tear your eyes away from his bright eyes. There is no sign of the gloom, the sorrow. There's life, there's desire as he tests out all the different ways he can make you moan.

"I love you," you blurt out instead, overcome with the sudden flow of emotion. He slows as you tear up, to your immense embarrassment, and try to throw your arm over your head to cover it up. 'There was nothing sexy about that!' 

And then you nearly choke as, in one swift movement, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you up against him. He shudders, clutching you to him as you throw your arms over his shoulders, eyes rolling back into your head when he slips deeper. Your kiss is frenzied, as are his thrusts when they start anew, and then you do cry when he whispers his love, his praise against your lips, over and over again. Your nails dig into his skin, and his teeth sink into yours. You sob harder when he presses you into the bed, drilling into you like a man crazed and sliding his fingers into your throbbing sex. 

His eyes glow as he strikes where it shatters you, and you're blinded by it – completely consumed by the force of it, the way it leaves you in pieces, but even through your quaking limbs and the ringing in your ears, you feel Lucien pull out of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch him rip the condom off hastily before sliding through your oversensitive slit. He chokes out a guttural groan, clinging to you as he falters, the snapping of his hips unsteady as he comes almost violently, pumping himself into you, filling you up past what you can hold. 

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are of you two trying to catch your breath.

“Happy Birthday,” you whisper, pressing a shaky kiss to his cheek. He stays curled over you, staring down at your flushed face, your hair now far from smooth and sticking to your skin. His damp bangs fall haphazardly across his forehead, his lips are kissed red and he's so beautiful you need to look away before you cry again.

His eyes are suspiciously shiny as he kisses your forehead gently. “I love you, my darling girl.” 

As he settles next to you on the bed, you turn over gingerly. You're completely spent, sore and sweaty. Still, you aim for casualness, ignoring the slight tremble in your legs. "Excited for tomorrow?"

“Very,” he answers once you’re curled up into him, and he can play with your hair to his heart's content. “I'm glad we have the whole weekend to ourselves.” 

You gasp in mock outrage. "I do have an itinerary, you know." And you’ve also opened a new door for you both. You have no doubt Lucien will be experimenting on you until he’s familiar with every inch of this new area, and the slight fear you feel is understandable. He can be quite enthusiastic when it comes to figuring out what makes you tick.

"So do I." His smirk is positively feral and you can't help but snort. 

“Think we can shower before bed?” 

“Yes, if you’d like,” he gathers you into his arms gently, then sinks back into the bedding. “...maybe in some time. Are we actually leaving in the morning?“ 

You know your smile is a tad impish when he pinches your cheek. “We’ve got an afternoon flight.” If all goes according to plan, your boyfriend's birthday weekend will have a very pleasant start – with your mouth wrapped around his cock. You just have to make sure you wake up before him.

[rinusagitora]

The love, lead, and the undead.

Fandom: Monster Prom

Characters: Vicky Schmidt, Damien LaVey, Brian Yu, Oz, Zoe, Vera Oberlin, Liam de Lioncourt, Blobert, Scott Howl, Stan LaVey, Lucien LaVey, OC: Mungandr, 

Pairings: Brian/Damien/Vicky, Oz/Zoe, Lucien/Stan

Words: 4.1k

Summary: Canon divergent. Chapter 6/?. WARNINGS— violence, gore, drug use, major character death; Their worst nightmare comes to fruition.

Vicky had a headache the size of Manhattan and not even dope eased the rumble of her head.

“I’m dying,” she announced as she pushed a pair of heavily tinted sunglasses up the bridge of her stupidly tiny nose. “Why the fuck did you guys let me drink so much? I mean, that whiskey was expensive so I wanted to make sure we finished that, but I had six other drinks on top of it.”

“Because we were less than sober ourselves, and I, for one, wanted to see how much you could drink before you absolutely couldn’t walk.”

“Fuck you, Brian.”

“You did that at least twice. I was there,” Damien said.

“Damien. Unless the next words out of your mouth magically make my headache go away, I will carve out my colon and floss your teeth with it.”

Vicky tossed her joint out of the window when the school came into view. Brian parked and she tumbled out of the car. He was sweet enough to massage her neck at least.

Immediately, the trio was bombarded by Scott. Vicky wasn’t made with cat reflexes, so while her boyfriends deftly stepped out of reach, she was squashed in his huge arms and chest. Her arms laid by her side. At least if she suffocated, her head wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Vicky! Vera told me all about how awesome you were yesterday. You’re so awesome!” Scott cheered.

“Scott, I think you’re hurting her.”

Scott dropped her. Vicky involuntarily gasped for air. Nonetheless, she peered around Scott and beamed when she laid eyes on Blobert.

“Hey there, buddy!” Brian chirped. He strode over with uncharacteristic charm and hugged Blobert. Vicky was kind of jealous he got to hug Blobert first. “How’s it going? We missed you at the game.”

“I’m sorry. Stocking’s water broke at the shelter, so I stayed to help deliver her kitties.”

“Oh my god, do you have pictures of them?”

“I do! I’ll text them to you later today. I have something for Vicky, however.”

Vicky blinked. “For me? Why?”

“Forgive me for prying, Vicky, but I saw you running away from school the other day. Valerie told me what happened… the business concerning your uncle. I know there isn’t anything I can do to heal what he has done to you, but I hope you understand that you are loved, and I know for a fact you have many friends who will protect you.” Blobert pressed a card into her hand. “I know this isn’t much, but I hope it will remind you that you have many people who love you and will never hurt you.”

Vicky leaped onto Blobert and squeezed him. “Thank you, Blobert, you’re an amazing friend. My uncle was… an awful man, but you’re right. I have a family here with all of you. There’s nothing more I want.” Aside from more painkillers for her head.

“Anyways, I should get going. I have a quiz today. I’ll catch you guys around.”

“Bye, Blobert.”

Scott resumed squeezing Vicky. “I’m sorry I took your arm off the other day. I was so scared! You were running and screaming and I got scared, so I grabbed you. I guess I don’t know my strength.”

Vicky felt awful. She hurt Scott in her tizzy to escape, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. “It wasn’t your fault. My arm fell off because I ripped open my stitches to get away,” she explained. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Her head felt like it imploded. The Christmas she kissed Liam flashed before her eyes.

---

Oz exuded goo. Fear wheezed and whined. His head was lolled against Zoe’s shoulder as he breathed raspily, and his hair had seeped down into her lap like candle wax. It was so hard for him to keep his shape when the spear sucked out his power like soft marrow.

“Baby?” Zoe said hoarsely. Her tentacles were dry. “Are you still with me?”

“Barely,” he mumbled.

“I have an idea how to get out,” she said. Oz hummed quizzically. “You probably won’t like it.”

“Can it be any worse than this?”

“Is the spearhead on your side?” Zoe asked.

Oz lifted his head. The tip of the spear was shaped like a spade from a deck of cards. He gave a resigned sigh. There were worse fates than having that ripped through his chest, like Vicky's death. “It is. It’s pretty wide, though, so we’ll need to pull hard.”

“What? No, Oz, I need it to pick our cuffs. You’re going to have to break it off.

He was relieved. “Can you pull it closer? Slowly, I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Zoe grunted. He heard her tentacles and teeth grip it. Slowly, with enormous strain, she pulled it closer. He hissed between his teeth. Every inch it was dragged through him burned from his collar to the bottom of his ribcage.

“Are you okay?” Zoe asked tearfully.

“Keep going, just a couple more inches,” he whined. "One more pull, baby.”

Zoe gave one last heave and the spade was close enough to touch his chest. “You’re good. Lean as far forward as you can.”

Oz’s goo shuddered. He tensed it around the rod inside of his chest to cut it off, free himself, and then pick them free without the cumbersome spear in the way. He was too weak to shear it off, however.

“I can’t. I’m sorry,” he wept. “I’m so sorry.”

“I said you won’t like this. Forgive me, Oz.”

The mouth at the top of Zoe’s head opened and it siphoned the sanity from the denizens outside. Terror flooded the dungeon.

Oz's vision blurred as it seeped into his skin like poison. It rattled his bones like glass in a hurricane. A scream ripped from the mouths of Oz's phobias. They writhed and bucked and howled. Individual phobias ballooned with teeth, their eyes glowed with menace. It was worse than the spear, how his body grew and thrashed of its own accord.

The spear snapped in two with a crack like thunder when clubbed by one of his incarnations. Zoe closed her mouth, Oz fell to the floor and coughed up spongy bits of Fear.

"Oz!" Zoe screamed with fright. Freed of the spear, she unlocked their chains. “Are you okay?” she bawled. “I’m so sorry, Oz, I didn’t know what else to do.”

He grunted, “I’m fine, but Vicky needs our help. Let’s get the hell out of here before the guards find out! I don't think I can fend them off if we're discovered!”

Zoe opened a portal into the overworld.

---

Brian heard gunfire for the very first time when he was fifteen. It kind of sounded like it did in Hollywood, but at the same time, it didn't. Gunfire wasn’t like a bomb or firecrackers. It sounded more like an engine backfired next to a bullhorn. It was so indistinct, Brian's entire body tensed for a split second whenever he heard something similar.

However, over the last six years, it became a knee jerk reaction since those pops never turned out to be gunshots again, and he calmed down as quickly as he freaked out.

It wasn't until Scott and Vicky dropped like stones and their blood pooled around them like macabre halos that Brian's fears were confirmed. The screaming of his classmates hit his ear like a bat to the side of his face and he hit the deck and shook uncontrollably. His friends and lover bled out only two feet away, and yet he couldn't even move to stem the bleeding or call emergency services.

"Vicky? Scott? Oh my god," Brian croaked. Scott gurgled on the other side of Vicky. Terror had frozen him in place. Brian loathed himself for his weakness, but even as he scolded himself with the most scathing remarks, his body refused to budge. "Somebody help us! Please!"

Above Brian, a cyclonic portal opened, and Oz and Zoe, albeit bedraggled, hopped onto the sidewalk next to Brian's head.

"Oh my god!" Oz screamed in horror. He and Zoe crouched next to Scott and Vicky.

"Go! Damien is gone, he could be hurt. I'll take care of Scott," Zoe said.

"Brian, where's Damien?" Oz asked.

"I don't know," Brian said, "I think he ran after the shooters, but I don't know where they went."

Nonetheless, Oz took off.

"Brian, I need your help," Zoe said.

"I-I can't."

"They're gone. Scott needs help, or he's going to bleed to death."

Brian shook his head. "I can't. I can't look at her."

Zoe threw her jacket over Vicky's head. "There. I know you're in pain, Brian, but Scott is dying. I need your help. Please, come here."

Shakily, Brian pushed himself onto all fours and crawled over to Zoe and Scott. He gagged and swallowed bile. Bits of Vicky's brain and hair were splattered onto Scott's face, and he gurgled as he feebly pressed his paw against his torn carotid.

"Focus on me," Zoe said. "What's your blood type?"

"O-positive," he replied.

"Excellent. This is going to hurt, but this is the only thing that's going to save Scott."

Brian nodded. Zoe plunged her tentacles into Brian's neck.

---

Vicky's head sprayed over Scott. Damien had fired enough guns to have instantly understood what had happened.

He took after the black car behind them that squealed away from campus. Damien wasn't anything extraordinary, but the second of Vicky's murder, his unbridled rage pushed him harder than ever before.

Damien gained on the car even as it accelerated upwards of sixty miles an hour. Damien threw himself onto the trunk, and to throw him off, the driver spun the car and they careened into power lines. Damien howled when he collided with solid wood. The splintered pole creaked and he realized it tipped over like a tree.

He managed to push himself free right as the cables ripped. Electricity crackled, the live cables writhed like beheaded snakes, sparks flew in every direction.

Damien stormed to the driver’s seat. Every inch of him burned with unbridled homicidal rage palpable enough that the air around him shuddered with heatwaves. He grabbed the driver, a yellow manticore, by their collar and threw them onto the live powerlines. They combusted without a sound.

Finally, he pulled the passenger, a young vampire, into the street. They were unconscious and bled from their forehead. “Wake the fuck up!” Damien bellowed. He slapped them and they awoke with a yelp. “What’s your name?”

“What?” they asked.

“I asked for your fucking name!” Damien screamed.

“Fuck off!”

Damien pulled a knife from his waistband and held it against their throat. “Fine, did you shoot my girlfriend then?”

“I did!” the vampire spat with a vicious tone. “She killed my dad!”

“She had come so far! We were going to be happy together!”

“And I’ll never be happy without my dad!”

“This is your fault. Now I'm going to string you up by your fucking guts!"

Damien kicked the gun out of their hand as they reached for it. He sank his knife into their abdomen and pushed it down until it nicked their pubic bone. Damien pushed them back with a fistful of their intestines. They fell back with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Fruitlessly, they weakly stuffed their innards inside, before they fell limp.

He crouched over them as they breathed raspily. “This is the end. You messed with the wrong bitches.”

“Damien!” Oz screamed. Oz tackled Damien and they rolled across the asphalt.

“Fuck!” Damien screamed as he pushed Oz off. “Get off! I’m going to kill them all!”

“She is gone and mutilating him,” Oz flung his hand to point at the dying vampire, “isn’t going to do jackshit. But Scott barely clinging to life. He needs his friends. Please, put this behind you for your friends.”

It was like Oz kicked the wind out of Damien. Rage subsided, and he began to cry.

Vicky was gone for the rest of his life: fodder for blowflies and worms.

---

Zoe parked Brian's truck. They tumbled out and ran full speed into the Emergency Room. Vera stormed to the front desk. “We’re here for Scott Howl. I’m his Power of Attorney, Vera Oberlin.”

“Miss Oberlin, we need you to fill out some paperwork for Mister Howl,” said the receptionist.

As Vera filled out paperwork, Oz had to help Damien and Brian into chairs next to each other. The pair looked miserable. Brian’s head was in his hands, Damien rubbed his mouth with a disconnected gaze. Yet as much as it pained Oz to see his friends like that, there were more imminent threats. He needed to warn the LaVey family of the Aquino’s plan for their demise.

He couldn’t tell Damien about their plan, though. He was already put through the wringer. He needed to get Damien’s parents into the equation. A manipulative tactic, but Oz reasoned that Damien needed their support anyway, so really, it helped everyone.

Oz kneeled in front of Brian and Damien and held their hands. "Damien, you need to call your dads. You need them now."

Damien nodded with glassy eyes. “Right,” he murmured before he dug through his pockets.

Zoe pulled Oz aside. “Please, for the love of whatever you hold sacred, tell me we’re not keeping the Aquino’s plan a secret. More people are going to be killed if we keep this on the DL, maybe Vicky will be hurt worse.”

“That’s why I reminded Damien to call his parents.

"Excellent."

Before Oz could reply, Blobert and Liam ran into the emergency room. Blobert sobbed inconsolably. Oz ran over to them.

"We came as soon as we heard about Scott," Liam said.

Oz hugged them. "Thank you."

"Is he going to be okay?" Blobert asked. He sounded so desperate, and somehow, despite Blobert's gelatinous nature, he gripped Oz's hands so hard he thought they might break.

"I don't know. He's in surgery now and we haven't heard any updates," Oz replied.

"What about Vicky?"

A hush fell over their group. Damien resumed crying, Brian escaped into the nearby bathroom. Oz couldn't look Blobert in the eye.

"I'm sorry, but she's dead," he told Blobert.

"We believe Vicky was targeted by a gang she robbed the other day. Damien took care of the perps, but they got in a good shot. She's not coming back," Zoe said.

Valerie hopped the back of a chair squeezed Blobert as he sobbed. Oz waited by the doors where his cries were someone muffled.

He felt awful. He was too late. He was always too late.

Lucien and Stan ran inside as Oz internally berated himself. If only Vicky could see how many people loved her.

Oz stood. "Go comfort your son, but as soon as possible, I have an issue of utmost importance about your kingdom's security."

The two demon Kings looked between themselves. "I'll talk to him."

Oz took Lucien into an adjacent waiting room.

"Oz, correct?" Lucien asked.

"Yes."

"What is this supposed security threat?"

"The Aquino family is behind Vicky's murder. I've been having premonitions about her death, so my girlfriend and I have been looking into it in hopes we save her. However, the Aquino caught on and kidnapped us. Dahlia explained to us that she and her family plan to use Vicky as a weapon against you, and more worrisome, Damien, to overthrow your rule," Oz explained.

Lucien rubbed his face with concern. "This is a dire accusation. This is something we go to war over."

"The Aquino already plan to do that. It seems you don't have a lot of options here," Oz countered.

"What proof do you have? How do I know I can trust you?"

"Vera and Vicky have robbed three dozen banks with CCTV, guards, and alarm systems, and never once have they been even suspected, and yet a lab, where they executed the same precautions, somehow figured out their identities and location, and then killed Vicky. Do you think that's coincidental?"

"... I see your point," Lucien replied. "This is… this is awful."

"Lucien, I understand it's a lot to take in, but we need to begin preparations as soon as possible. Do you have someone who can begin something, anything, while you're here to comfort your son?"

"I do. Thank you, Oz. I need to make a quick phone call, and then I'll come back."

"Of course. Thank you."

Oz returned to his friends and paced in the waiting room as they waited for news on Scott's condition. Some hours later, they were approached by the surgeon.

"I'm glad to announce Mister Howl survived the operation without any complications. He will need to stay overnight in case there are any hiccups with his blood transfusion, but we are optimistic about his prognosis. If you like, you may visit him."

They were guided into Scott's room. He was intubated and pale, but his vitals were stable and lively.

Oz breathed a sigh of relief. At least something had gone right that day.

---

The morning of Vicky's funeral, Damien was stiff.

He rolled off of Brian and grunted as he made way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and then eat something.

"Damien, why are you up already?"

Damien looked up to see Stan and Lucien in the doorway. Stan was still in pajamas, but Lucien was fully dressed. It was unusual for either of them to be even remotely dressed at that hour.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

Stan nervously glanced to Lucien.

"Unfortunately, there's an emergency on the outskirts I have to attend to," Lucien explained.

"You're the only one going?"

"Yes. But I should be back before the ceremony."

Damien grimly nodded. Border disputes weren't handled by either king. Perhaps the Minister of Border Land was out.

Stan sat at the island. "How do you feel?" he asked. Damien shrugged. He missed Vicky, but he said that every day since her death. "I wish I could do more. I do, Damien. I cared very much about Vicky as well."

Damien's lip wobbled and he wiped his eyes. He didn’t feel any different since the first day she died, but all that meant was he hurt like an open wound.

“It feels wrong without her. The more I think about it, the more it hurts.”

“Yes, but she left pieces of her with you and Brian. I’m sure you remember how much she loved you,” Stan said. Damien nodded. “I know it’s not a lot, but she loved you so much, and that is something that will never die.”

Damien smiled at his dad. He appreciated the effort, but Stan’s reassurance didn’t change how badly he ached. Damien could only hope the funeral would soothe him.

---

Brian woke up alone and it felt like the air was thin. He stumbled into the hallway, gasped for air, he tried to find Damien, but the LaVey’s basement suite was built like a surreal, inescapable nightmare where Brian was doomed to circle the hallway until his death. He braced himself against the wall and tried to convince himself to calm down so he could find a way out.

Voices came from beyond the door Brian was beside. He turned his gaze to watch it.

“Mugandr,” Lucien’s muffled snarl came, “exactly how is Vicky alive? Her head was blown to pieces.”

“Her body was, but her condemned soul remained intact.”

“Then we would have been notified of her entrance into Hell!”

“Your Majesty, please quiet down. I understand why this upsets you but our conversation may not be private.”

Lucien sighed. “Nonetheless, why weren’t we notified of her death and damnation?”

“It’s likely her soul was intercepted. I’ve looked into it and… Your Majesty, I’m sorry to tell you this, but Oz and Zoe were right, it is the Aquino family. I found correspondence with the drug manufacturers detailing who attacked them and where to find Vicky, and ingredients to summon the dead.”

Wood snapped inside of Lucien’s room. Brian slapped his hands over his mouth to stifle his yelp. “Unbelievable!” he bellowed. “Mugandr, summon Oz and Zoe to the Divinator’s Room immediately and keep this between the two of us.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Brian made a run for it before he was discovered. It felt like he swallowed molasses. Vicky was alive? What did Dahlia’s family want with her? Why did it have to be a secret? Why wouldn’t Oz and Zoe tell him if Vicky was alive?

He ran straight into Damien in his maelstrom of confusion. He was grabbed before he fell.

“Brian,” Damien said, “what’s wrong? You look like shit.”

Brian panted wordlessly before he threw his arms around Damien. He wished he was dreaming. He wanted to wake up with Damien and Vicky, safe and sound, where he didn’t feel like the world was crashing around him.

“Babe, what’s wrong? You’re freaking me out.”

Reluctantly, Brian whispered, “I think your dads are keeping secrets,” he said. “I think… I think Vicky’s death is bigger than we think it is.”

Damien pushed Brian out of the crook of his neck and scowled perplexedly. “What the fuck do you mean they’re keeping secrets?”

“I-I couldn’t find you, and then I overheard Lucien talking with this Mugandr guy about Vicky. They were saying stuff like they didn’t have any record about her entering Hell, and that Oz and Zoe knew about this, a-and the Aquino summoned her soul. He wanted to keep it a secret.”

“I’m sure it was just a bad dream.”

“Damien, listen to me!” Brian snapped. “Something’s wrong! This is bigger than we realize.”

Damien’s lip curled. “Get your head out of your ass, Brian! Vicky’s gone. She’s not coming back. And don’t you ever fucking say my dads are lying to me! They wouldn’t ever do that!”

“Listen, Damien,” Brian grabbed Damien’s shoulders. Damien knocked his hands away.

“Fuck off! You’re being a huge asshole right now, dude! Don’t fucking talk to me until you get your shit together.”

Damien stormed away. Brian was left breathless yet again.

---

Damien stared into the mirror. His tuxedo felt ill-fit.

It was the tux he went to prom and homecoming in. He went to one of his aunt’s weddings in it too. All three occasions, Vicky was with him in that pretty polka-dot dress and a big smile. The mere memory was enough to make Damien tear up.

The only other time he got to wear it with Vicky was at her funeral.

Stan entered his room. “Damien…” he said, “are you ready?”

“Dad, I don’t think I can do this.”

Damien’s father hugged him. “I know it’s hard. But Brian needs you, and you need this too. This ceremony will give you closure.”

He couldn’t meet Stan’s gaze. He couldn’t even return his father’s hug. What Brian mentioned about Vicky haunted him, even as he mourned. He tried to tell himself Brian only had a bad dream. His parents would never hide something as enormous as that from him.

“Let’s go,” Stan said. “You’ll be okay. I’ll be there for both of you.”

Damien’s heart fell into his gut. “What about Dad?”

“Lucien’s attending to a land dispute.”

“Still? That’s odd. I thought those were handled by the Minister of Borders.”

“Ordinarily. However, this involves the Aquino Family. Lucien’s there to make sure it’s addressed delicately.”

Damien felt sick as he followed Stan. His father was a terrible liar. Was Brian right about Vicky and his fathers? It had to be impossible, yet the events of the last couple of hours begged to differ.

---

Oz held Zoe’s hand as they ran. Her dress was hiked up to her crotch as they ran up and up the tower. “I cannot believe he’s doing this now of all times!” Oz screamed. “The funeral is in two hours.”

“We’ll be fine, Oz. Lucien won’t miss his son’s girlfriend’s fucking funeral,” said Zoe as they stormed up the weathered stone steps.

When they reached the top, Zoe knocked upon the heavy door. It opened and they were heaved inside and surrounded by the smoke of Biggleworts to ward off the prying eyes of magic. Oz took a deep breath.

“I’m glad you two have come,” Lucien said. He gestured to the bony creature with the skull of a snake. “That is Mungandr, my most trusted associate.”

“I don’t care. Just make this quick, I would like to comfort my friends,” Oz said.

“I’m sure you’d like Vicky back more.”

“You found her?” Oz gasped.

“Yes and no. We know she is in the care of the Aquino,” Lucien explained. Oz wanted to break something. “We need you to find her and bring her back. You’ll have Mungandr to help. His magic will prove useful.”

Oz looked to Zoe.

“You need to go,” she said to him. “I will stay for Brian and Damien, but you need to go save Vicky.”

He nodded. “Apologize to our friends for me.”

“I will. Promise me you’ll be safe.”

Oz cupped Zoe’s face. “I’ll come back to you with Vicky. I promise you.”

[bookaholic1012]

Prythian Magazine Part 16

A/N: I am so sorry for updated late! I was not productive at all last week and only started writing this chapter on Saturday! I am super proud of this one, however, and it is the longest piece for a fic I have written so far at 3,242 words, so I hope this makes up for the wait! This is also not edited bc I wanted you guys to read this asap, so sorry for mistakes!

PM Masterlist  AO3  My Writing

Lucien cursed himself for drinking so much. Vodka, tequila and bourbon were the only he could name. He turned away from the light shining on his face, but when he did, Lucien rolled into a wall - a moving wall.

He reached out with his hand, refusing to open his eyes, and felt warmth; muscles flexed and relaxed under his touch. Oh Gods.

At last he cracked open his eyes to reveal a tattooed back - a naked tattooed back. Tanned skin, Illyrian tattooes, and dark, disheveled shoulder-length hair. Oh Gods, please no.

At that moment, the body rolled around, revealing the only person Lucien knew who fit what he saw.

Cassian Burakgazi.

Lucien sat up quickly - something he regretted instantly. He felt incredibly nauseous and his head was pounding like a thousand drummers were banging on their instruments. Lucien didn’t have time to see if there was something he could throw up in; instead he swiftly rolled so he was leaning over the bed and purged on the floor.

A grunt sounded behind him as a toned arm wrapped around his waist, pulling Lucien to Cassian’s chest. “Cassian,” Lucien hissed, poking Cassian’s arm. “Cassian!”

“Lucien,” Cassian’s voice was rough, and he burrowed his face in the spot where Lucien’s neck and shoulder met. And Cauldron boil him if that didn’t make Lucien harden.

“Cassian! Wake up!” Lucien jabbed at his arm harder, but that only prompted Cassian to hold him tighter.

Lucien needed to leave now! The close contact was doing things to his brain, his heart and his cock. His cheeks heated at the thought. Lucien wanted nothing more than to stay here - in the comforting position, the safety - it was far too soon. Too soon after Andras. Too soon to be doing something with another person.

Lucien pried off Cassian’s arms and - ignoring the pounding in his head, the nausea, and the twinge in his heart - got out of bed. He was relieved to see that his underwear was still on. Quickly, Lucien found his clothes, got dressed, and left the room.

“Do you want an aspirin for the hangover?” A velvet smooth voice asked.

Spinning around - another movement he regretted - Lucien was greeted with the sight of Azriel, who was stirring something in a bowl.

“I’m good.” A lie. One Az saw through.

“Sure. Just take an aspirin and have a glass of water. Then I’ll drive you to Mor’s.”

“I am fine.” Also a lie. He was not doing well - mentally, physically, and emotionally.

“Lucien,” Azriel sighed. “You are clearly having a killer hangover, and dealing with whatever you feel as a result of sleeping in the same bed as Cassian. I won’t interrogate you, but at least hydrate and take something for the headache.”

Lucien gave in, shuffling to the kitchen, and took the glass of water offered to him. He just finished taking an aspirin, when a thought struck him.

“How’d you know I was with Cassian?”

Azriel looked guilty. “You walked out of Cassian’s room.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you looked guilty.”

“Lucien, do you remember anything from last night?”

Lucien concentrated. He only remembered blurred moments: Talking with his newfound friends - because despite the history between them, they were indeed friends now - dancing, and… and lips. He told this to Azriel.

“Do you know anything specific about the lips?” Az was starting to act weird.

“I - Did I kiss the lips?” It seemed like the only logical option to him.

“Yes. Now do you remember who you kissed?”

A flash of shadows. “You?” Azriel did seem to be a part of the shadows after all, but Lucien knew the person he kissed.

A shake of his head. Finally, Lucien said the name of the person to whom those lips belonged.

“Cassian.”

Azriel nodded. “Do you regret it?” Of course he would ask that. He and Cassian are brothers. They would do anything for one another.

“No,” And that was the truth. “But I’m not ready for a relationship.” Another truth.

“Then tell him. I know Cassian and if you were to leave, he would brush it off, but it would have an affect on him. Cassian tends to blame himself and his… bastard status as he calls it on people who walk out on him.”

The two ate in silence after that. Slowly, the ache receded. Still there, but not as much as when he woke up. Lucien was scraping the last bit of his scrambled eggs when someone joined them.

“Azriel,” Cassian moaned. “Please tell me you already have a hangover breakfast prepped.”

With a roll of his eyes, Azriel got a plate for his brother, as well as water and aspirin. He put the latter in front of Cassian then left, leaving Lucien and Cassian to figure out what happened.

Seconds ticked by, the silence suffocating.

“Do you regret it?”

Lucien looked up at Cassian, startled by the question. “No. Why would I be?”

Cassian looked at him in disbelief. “Really? We kissed last night, and if how I woke up was any indication, we did a whole lot more than that.”

“What do you mean ‘how I woke up’? How did you wake up?”

“Well, for starters, I woke up in my boxers. I mean, sure I go to sleep like that anyway, but I remember our make out session. Also, I have hickeys and scratch marks, which I’m assuming are from you.”

“Cauldron boil me!” Lucien wanted nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow him.

Cassian let out a booming laugh before wincing. “Gods, it even hurts to laugh right now. But I don’t mind it Lucien. In fact, I kind of like it.”

“Shut up, Cassian!” Lucien had never been more mortified in his entire life. This moment surpassed the time when he and Andras were caught banging in a closet. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“I don’t know. I guess because I’m not good enough for you.” Cassian shrugged, faking nonchalance - a mask. He was pretending to not care about how Lucien thought of him.

Lucien’s temper flared. “Are you serious? Cassian, anyone would be a fool to not love you! No one is good enough for you, okay? Not the other way around! Don’t degrade yourself because you are not a bastard! You are one of the best people I have ever met. Gods, Cassian! Accept the fact that I love you and you are perfect for me, and I would love nothing more than to be with you, if I didn’t have so many gods damned problems!” It wasn’t until he finished yelling at Cassian that Lucien realized what he said.

“You-You love me?” Cassian gasped.

“Clearly.” Lucien snorted. “All the banter between us? That was me express my love. Well… it eventually became that.”

“You have a very interesting way of expressing your love, Foxboy.” Lucien loved the sound of his nickname on Cassian’s tongue. It had been awhile since he last heard the name - and he missed hearing it. Cassian cleared his throat. “I, um, love you, too.”

Lucien was sure he misheard, that somehow his mind was still foggy from his excessive drinking. “Seriously?”

“Yup. It’s hard to not fall for you, Lucien.” Cassian smiled - and Lucien thought it was the most beautiful sight in the world. “I actually loved you for awhile now. I didn’t tell you because I thought you did not feel the same way.”

Now it was Lucien's turn to grin. His joy was short lived when a recurring thought entered his mind.

Traitor. Traitor. What about Andras?

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asked, noticing the change in Lucien’s mood. He reached out to hold his hand.

“I want to be with you, Cassian. But… I also don’t want to.” The mix of shock and sadness in Cassian’s expression was heartbreaking. “It’s not you, I swear! The thing is… my previous boyfriend he recently… died.” Lucien's voice cracked on the last word. Two and a half months have passed, and he was still heartbroken.

“Was it Andras?” Cassian tentatively said.

“How do you know?” Lucien asked.

“I remember hearing in the news there was a car accident in the Spring Court part of the state. Two died - both were the drivers - and the passengers - five, I think - were injured.” Lucien remembered now. It was the biggest story, mainly because of who were part of the crash.

“It was Andras,” He whispered. “Andras died.” Tears welled in his eye.

“That’s why you have the scar; why Tamlin became a bigger asshole than he already was.” Lucien nodded; he hated thinking of that time in his life.

“Gods, Lucien, I am so sorry. And we don’t have to be in a relationship if you’re not ready. I’ll always wait for you.” Cassian said gently, placing a kiss on Lucien’s knuckles.

Love swelled inside Lucien. When an emotion he hadn’t felt since Andras became present in the presence of Cassian, he knew it was love; Lucien just hadn’t wanted to confront it. “I want to be with you, though. I want to be able to kiss you and hold you and go on dates with you, Cass.”

“Then what should we do?” And Lucien knew that if he said he did not want to be in a relationship, then Cassian would back off.

“I think… I think I can give us a try, but baby steps, Cass. Like, we would have to go at fucking grandma speed.” At that Cassian laughed - one of the most wondrous sounds Lucien had ever had the honor of hearing.

“I can do that,” Cassian promised. “But you’re going to have to tell me what I can and cannot do.”

And Lucien told - and showed - Cassian exactly that.

Weeks passed and Feyre still was pissed at Rhys. More than that even. He knew how much the truth meant to her and for him to not tell her his feelings, even if she understood why… it hurt.

She did not fail to notice, however, the light steadily returning in full force to Lucien. When Feyre returned to Mor’s house, she immediately noticed a difference in his demeanor - and he was more than eager to tell Feyre about what happened after Rita’s.

Cresseida - who Feyre learned was Amren’s boyfriend’s sister - called the two of them back. Apparently, other women had reported Tamlin, but nothing ever happened, which, as Cresseida had said, was likely because Tamlin bought people’s silence. This time, though, silence would not be bought, because Feyre was discovering her voice, and she was going to use it.

A court date had been set and news outlets caught wind of the news. Of course Tamlin was denying everything, saying Feyre was trying to get his money and ruin what he had built as “petty revenge for exposing her,” but she and Lucien were not backing down. The two were pushing back against Tamlin and Ianthe - who got roped into the matter - and it appeared they were on the winning side. Past victims of Tamlin’s abuse were now speaking out, and Feyre never felt better.

Of course, when the media would start talking about the case, Feyre knew she had to confront her sisters. Azriel found out they were staying at a nearby motel and he dropped of a letter from Feyre asking them to meet with her at The Sidra Café to talk.

“Feyre!” A cheery voice called when she stepped into the cozy building. Elain.

The sisters hugged. When they seperated, Feyre was greeted with the sight of a straight-faced Nesta. She was surprised when Nesta hugged her; Elain was the only person Nesta would openly show affection for. The three of them sat at a secluded corner table to provide them with as much privacy as one could get at a fairly busy café.

“I am so sorry, Feyre.” Nesta said.

“Why?”

“Why? Because you are my - our - baby sister and we did not realize you were with an abusive asshole! That’s why!”

“Until you showed up at Mor’s doorstep I hadn’t spoken to either of you in three years! Did you really expect me to reach out to you when I was in a difficult situation? Besides, I have Lucien and had Andras.” Feyre told them.

“We still would have wanted you to tell us, Feyre!” Elain cried.

“Well, How was I supposed to know? You never once bothered to help me before!” Feyre snapped. She inwardly sighed. This was not how she wanted their discussion to go; they were falling back into their old ways.

“We are sorry for that. It is my biggest regret, Feyre.” Nesta apologized. Elain nodded in agreement.

“I’m sorry too,” Feyre sighed. “For not telling you what was going on between me and Tamlin.”

“Can we start over?” Nesta asked.

“I would like that.” Feyre said. Maybe coming here wasn’t so bad after all, she thought.

Nesta, Elain, and Feyre spoke for the remainder of the afternoon before they had to leave. Nesta And Elain had to head back home, but they promised to keep in touch.

Feyre left feeling like another weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“Rhys, can’t you talk about this to someone else?” Mor whined. She loved her cousin, but his moaning and groaning about messing up with Feyre was starting to get on her nerves.

“But I need to know! Will she talk to me again? Why did I think having alcohol would be a good idea?” Rhys moaned.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you, Rhys, really. Do you have to complain to me, though? Isn’t this why you have Cassian and Azriel? Go bug them!”

“I already tried,” Rhys pouted. “But Cassian is being lovey-doves with Lucien and Azriel said it was my fault for not telling her sooner. Can you believe that?!”

Mor rolled her eyes. She could. Everyone told him to tell Feyre how he felt not more than a month after he had met her. It was obvious that he was in love, but Rhys refused to do anything about it.

“...And I just don’t know what do!” Rhys flopped down on the golden couch in Mor’s office. “Every time I attempt to talk to her, Feyre gives me the stink eye and walks away!”

“Then give her time. Now leave. I have work to do and you have to meet with Amren.”

“Fine, but I’ll find you later.” Rhys sighed, finally leaving and giving a Mor some peace. The second the door closed, Mor got a call from Andromache.

“Hey, Andi!”

“Mor!” Her girlfriend greeted. “Listen, do you think you can come down for the weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free. Why?” Mor was curious; Andromache had never been a cryptic person.

“You’ll see. Just let me know if something comes up and you can’t make it!”

“Okay?”

“Love you!”

“I love you, too, Andi.” A warm smile graced Mor’s lips. One always did when she said those three special words to her girlfriend of five years.

Hours later, Mor finished finalizing the details for her show. In three weeks, her designs would be shown to the world in a fashion show. She couldn’t wait for the day to come! Her phone pinged, signaling she had received a text.

Want pizza???

I was thinking of Rita’s instead, Fey. That cool with you?

Yes! I haven’t been in awhile.

More accurately, she refused to go back after Rhys revealed his love for her. Mor really hoped her friend would decide what to do next. Mor hated seeing Rhys in such despair.

I’ll pick you up. I’m leaving now.

K. Lucien and Cassian are tagging along btw

We will suffer through their nauseating love together.

Deal.

Azriel was beyond exasperated. After telling the Inner Circle Hybern, Tamlin, and Ianthe’s plan, he could not find any information. They couldn’t do anything about it though without concrete evidence, and the recordings Azriel had could not be used. His contacts had nothing to tell him either - everything was silent. Between that and dealing with Rhys’s woeful behavior, he was in desperate need of a vacation.

Viviane burst through the door, Kallias hot on her heels.

“Az! Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Viviane exclaimed.

“Be happy Viv wants to get down to business now. I had to listen to her rant for hours!” Kallias said, earning him a light slap on the arm from Viviane.

“I did not!” She said.

Kallias and Viviane Winters. They became the best of friends when the two were only five years old. Viviane and Kallias had done everything together, never leaving each other’s side. When Kallias was eighteen, he left to go across the country to attend Stanford University. Four years later, he came back to Prythian where he reconnected with Viviane and ended up professing his love to her. As it turned out, Viviane also loved him, and thus began their relationship. Now the two were a happily married couple of five years.

“Sorry, Viviane,” Azriel laughed. “But I am so glad you are here. I knew you would be the best choice to represent Feyre and Lucien in court.”

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Now when do I get to meet them?”

“Today I think we should go over the details for the case, so… tomorrow? If they are available of course.” Azriel told her.

“Great!” Viviane squealed.

“Rhys, I swear on the Mother and Cauldron that if you do not shut up right now, I will cut out your tongue!” Amren hissed.

Rhys immediately shut up. He did not want to face Amren’s wrath.

“Now as I was saying,” She continued. “After the trial, you, Feyre, and I will go to Adriata. Tarquin has requested our presence for the unveiling of his new line. We will spend a few days there, hopefully find something on Hybern and his dealings, then come back.”

“Got it.”

“And you are going to be the one to tell Feyre. I do not care about whatever silliness is happening between you two; you will see if she will come and that is final.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Now go.”

Rhys was in total despair. He had given up hope on Feyre talking to him ever again. He swore that he would never drink again, but of course that promise wouldn’t be kept. For years Rhys fantasized how he would reveal his feelings for Feyre and all the ways she would react. Not once did he imagine a drunken revelation would be how she found out.

Rhysand contemplated asking Feyre in person, but ended up taking the coward’s way out.

You, Amren, and I were invited to Adriata after the trial.

No reply.

Are you going to join us?

Same response.

If you are, let me or Amren know.

Finally, an answer came.

Fuck off.

But are you coming?

I’ll let Amren know.

Ignoring the stinging feeling, Rhys called Amren.

“What?”

“Hello to you, too, Amren. Feyre’s coming with us.”

“I know. Ask Feyre to come again.”

“Why? She said she would come?” Rhys said.

“I wanted you to grow a pair and ask Feyre in person. You did not, so ask her again.” Amren demanded.

“You never said I had to ask Feyre in person!”

“Well I’m telling you now!”

“Alright, I’ll ask her again. In person!” Rhys emphasized.

“Good.” Amren stated before hanging up.

“Mother help me.” Rhys muttered to himself.

*Burakgazi means “warrior” in Turkish*

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[ddaddsprompts]

How would dads react to a dadsona who calls/texts them regularly throughout the day not even sending one text one day? and whenever they text/call dadsona doesn't respond, and when they get home it turns out dadsona's cell phone was dead?

Dadsona is me, I’m always texting my boyfriend too! - Mod Mare

🥃 The door is thrown open withsuch strength, you’re sure there’ll be a dent where it hit the wall. Youstartle up from your nap and stare at the intruder – Robert, holding a knife inone hand and his phone in the other. When he sees you, his shoulders sink downas he lets out a long breath. “What’s the matter?” You ask and stand up to walkover to him. He puts away his knife and pulls you close. “You lost your phoneor something?” There’s an undertone to his voice you can’t immediately put afinger on. It’s like the tension you feel in his body affects his voice, too.He’s got that look in his eyes, the one he has whenever he tries to bottle uphis emotions, whenever he wishes he could drown them with whiskey. You wrapyour arms around his middle. “No…? Why are you asking?”“No texts from you the whole day. Didn’t answer to my phone calls either. Thefuck am I supposed to think, kid?” Realisation dawns on you in a flash. Yourmouth forms an ‘o’ and your chest tightens. Robert doesn’t say it, but he doesn’tneed to. You guide his head to rest on your shoulder, brush your fingersthrough his hair. “My phone ran out of battery, I only noticed about an hourago. I’m sorry for worrying you.”“You didn’t,” he grumbles against your neck, but he doesn’t even try to makehimself sound convincing. If he knows you can feel the damp spot forming onyour shirt, he doesn’t say anything, and neither do you.

🍸 The knock on the door pulls you fromyour light slumber back into the world of wakefulness. You groan, but go toanswer it, after checking you’re presentable. Much to your surprise, it’sChris, Christian and Christie. “Hey guys,” you greet, confused. “Is something—“Chris wordlessly holds his phone, which Joseph got him a few months ago foremergencies, up and in your face. You take it and hold it to your ear. “Hello?”“Oh thank god, you’re alright.” Joseph sounds so worried, the last remnants ofsleep fall off of you in an instant. You try to get a word in, but he continuestalking. “I tried not to interpret too much into it, you know, but I couldn’thelp but worry, you’re never so silent throughout the day. Is everythingalright, dear?” You blink a few times. Christie meets your gaze with a shrug,as if to say she’s dumbstruck too but suggests you get used to it, now that you’rein a relationship with her father. It’s interesting how much a simple gesturecan convey. “Yeah, I am. Of course I am, Joe.” Your thoughts catch up with whathe said and you let out what would have been a curse, but manage to catchyourself just in time. Judging from Chris’ unimpressed look, he knows what you’dwanted to say. “I forgot to charge my phone! It ran out of battery.” Over thephone, Joseph laughs lightly. “I’m glad you’re okay and nothing’s the matter.But maybe remember to charge your phone next time? I had to bribe the kids withcookies to go over to your place.” They look smug about it too, the littlegremlins.

☕ Without your phone, you’re almost bored. Sure, you still have yourcomputer, TV and other things to do, but you’re so used to talking to Mat allday, you feel like an addict on withdrawal. You check the screen, but it stillreads 20% battery, as it did one minute ago. Sighing, you sprawl out on yourbed again and stare up at the ceiling. At least, Mat would be home in—“Y/N?!”You sit up just in time before the door is thrown open. Mat’s frantic gaze goesfrom the window, to the wardrobe and then the bed, before finally settling onyou. That moment, he deflates like an air mattress someone poked a hole into. “Babe,are you…” He puts down his bag, kicks off his shoes, then sits down on the bednext to you. You nudge him and tug on his arm until he lies down, his headcushioned on your chest. He turns on his side, his eyes, you figure out after afew moments, on your phone. “Battery?” He asks, his voice rough, tired. You nodand cup his face with your hand. “Why are you so… anxious?”“I can’t always answer the phone because of work, but you know I text you back.Today, no texts. Not even a phone call during my breaks. I tried not to worry,but…” He still did, you finish the sentence for him in your head. Cooingsoftly, you tighten your grip around his waist and lean down to kiss his head. “I’msorry.” He shakes his head. “Don’t be. You’re okay, that’s all that matters,babe. Give me a few to convince my anxiety of that.”

🌹 There’s a knock on the door, just one. You reluctantly drag yourself awayfrom the word scramble you’ve been working on the last hours and go to answerit. “Lucien?” The teen looks you over, one of his pierced eyebrows rising tonearly meet his shaved hair. “Your phone dead?” Confused, you only nod. Lucienscoffs. “Charge it.” With that, he turns around and walks off, hands in hispockets. You stay there for a few more minutes, trying to make sense of thatstrange encounter, before you turn and close the door again. Hours later, when it’s already dark outside, you head over to Damien’s placefor dinner. He meets you at the door with a smile and a kiss, then leads you tothe dining room. There’s no sight of Lucien, but that’s nothing too out of theordinary, given his moods. “Say,” you breach the comfortable silence betweenyou two, as Damien serves you his latest culinary masterpiece. “Do you know whyLucien showed up at my place a few hours ago, asking about my phone?” He triesto hide it behind his hair, but you see the rush of blood that colours hischeek red. “Damien?” The goth looks down, blushing deeper. “Yes, I… you mustunderstand, Y/N, I am so used to receiving messages throughout the day, thefact that none came today worried me greatly.”“You asked Lucien to check up on me?” His nod warms your heart. You stand upand lean over to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” He makes adismissive gesture with his hand and returns the kiss. “I’m not mad, my dear.”A pause. “The dish in front of you was a favourite of the Victorian era—“

🎣 “Where are my three favourite people in theworld?” Brian’s booming voice echoes through the whole house. You chuckle whenyou hear the excited barking of Maxwell, followed by Daisy’s “But Maxwell is adog, not a person”. Sad to extract yourself from the embrace of the bed, youclimb on your feet and go out to join them. Your foot barely crossed the thresholdto the living room when Brian pulls you into his arms and into a bone-crushinghug. He loosens his grip when you wheeze, gasping for air, but doesn’t let go. “Well,what were you up to all day? I missed hearing from you!” It’s only thanks tothat question that you realise you haven’t seen your phone since last night. “Shiii…oot!”Brian lets you go and watches as you search the whole living room, thendisappear in the bedroom. You return with the phone in your hand and a sheepishsmile on your face. “It’s dead… huh, I could have sworn I charged it in thenight.”“I’m surprised you didn’t notice sooner. Normally I can’t drag you away fromthat damn thing.” You elbow his side in exaggerated hurt, but that only causeshis grin to widen. “I don’t text and call you that often.” Brian laughs. “Y/N, you’re literally glued to it!”From behind you two, Daisy pipes up. “I think you mean figuratively, Dad. If hewas literally…” Brian sweeps Daisy into a hug and kisses her cheek. “I know,dear!” You watch with a fond smile as Daisy tries to wriggle out of her father’sgrip, laughing and trying to avoid his raspberries.

👟 Longingly, you stare at your phone, wishing itwould charge faster. Work had you so busy, you only noticed it’s empty when youtook a break and wanted to text your boyfriend. Only to find you couldn’t. Maybeyou should be concerned you’re obsessed with the thing, but you tell yourselfyou only use it to talk to Craig while he’s at work or training. The stars mustalign today or something, because just as you wonder whether he’d notice thelack of calls and texts, you hear the key being turned in the lock. The nextmoment, the door opens and Craig’s head peeks out from behind the doorframe. “Hey,bro!” He’s out of breath, looking like he came here straight from gym. “Bro,what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Craig shrugs and crossesthe distance between you two. The smell and taste of his sweat long stoppedbothering you, so you eagerly lean up into his kiss. “I wanted to check up onyou, so I quickly jogged here. The radio silence’s nothing like you. The onlytimes you didn’t text or call me during college were when both of us werehangover and sleeping in.” The memory makes you laugh. You kiss him again, thengesture towards your phone. “Battery’s dead.” Craig chuckles against your lipsbefore leaning back. He stretches, purposely flexing his muscles because heknows the sight never fails to take your breath away. “Glad to hear you’refine! I better go back to work. I’ll see you after!” One last kiss and he’s joggingback out of the door, which he closes behind him with his foot. You fondlyshake your head and get off the couch. You might as well play with River insteadof moping because of your phone.

📖 You’re used to Hugo not replying to your texts, so you think nothing ofthe silence as you go about your day. You throw a look at the clock mounted tothe wall and take the bowl of pasta, pouring out the water. Punctual to theminute, the front door is opened. A moment later, Hugo enters the kitchen andwraps his arms around you from behind. “I hope you’re hungry,” you throw overyour shoulder. “I made dinner.” He hums and rests his chin on your shoulder. “Ican see that. It smells divine.” Hugo kisses your jaw and squeezes your sidesbefore letting go again. “You do know I appreciate your texts, even if I can’treply to them, right?” You turn around, furrowing your brows in confusion. “Yes,of course. Why are you asking?” Hugo pushes his glasses up. “You didn’t writeanything all day. I sent you a text or two whenever I could, but you neverreplied.”“I sent you a text when I woke up,” you say, growing only more confused. “Did yourtexts go through? My phone’s been silent. Here, I’ll show you.” You fish it outof your pocket and press a button. Nothing happens. You press it again, andagain, but the screen stays black. “I don’t under-“ Your eyes widen. “Oh shit,it must have run out of battery! I didn’t notice.” Hugo raises his eyebrow; youcan tell he’s trying not to laugh. “I never got that good morning text you allegedlysent me.” You go through your memories. You could have sworn you texted him,but now, you’re not so sure anymore. Hugo kisses your cheek, which had gone redwhen you realised you only imagined you texted him. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N.”He wraps an arm around your middle. “Tell me, what did you cook?”

[forevercaroline]

Im going with you.

So I started writing this during season 3 of the originals. And it has taken me forever to finish this. So this is during when The ancestors cursed Kol he has to leaves. For @amyesme14 who wanted more kolvina. Xxx " Do you feel better?" The ancestors cursed Kol to have an uncontrollable hunger and anger. Marcel told him to leave town. Davina found out Kol left and didn't even say goodbye she did a locator spell and found he was stealing some blood bags and she told him she's going with him. He tried to get her to change her mind by telling her it was to dangerous but she wasn't taking no for an answer she loves Kol she just got him back she's not losing him again. They just passed the city limits when Kol begins to calm down and relax " Yes you still shouldn't have come if this didn't work I could of hurt you and I couldn't live with myself if that happened." Davina looks out at the empty backroad they're on " Pull over do you even know where we're going." Kol looks down at the map on the hood of the car trying to figure out the best route to use " Right there the one place I really don't want to go but we're out of options." Davina putting the bracelet Kol asked her to locate the owner back in her pocket and looks where he's pointing. " Northern Virginia." " There's a one horse town there that's were we were turned into vampires." Davina remembers when they were trying to find Freya when Lucien took her "Mystic falls we will be safe there and does anyone like you there." " A friend of Nik's might help and we might possible be safe we can stay at Nik's old house." " A friend of Klaus should we really be going then, Klaus friends include Lucien who is terrorizing the city Cami who is dying, and Aurora who is crazy." Kol laughs " Relax darling this friend doesn't terrorize, is alive well as alive as you can be as a vampire and is not crazy." " So how does someone like you just described be friends with Klaus?" Kol puts a hand on her leg "We're going to be fine and I asked myself that same question how could these two people be friends but they are." Xxx Kol and Davina pull up to the Mikaelson mansion "A couple years ago Nik compelled people to build this place then when we were undaggered he said that he wanted it to be a place for all of us a place we could call home then our mother I believe you had the misfortune of meeting her-" Davina nods " -Walked threw the door alive shocking us all and said she wants us to be a family again we were all in that room." Kol points to the dining room Davina looks into the room there is only a table and chairs. " Did you have any happy memories here unless that was a happy memory. How long did you live here?" Kol walking up the stairs to his bedroom " That was a shocking memory I hadn't been alive so to speak since 1914 then our mother who was very much dead walked threw the door. A happy memory let's see in the living room I teased Rebekah about being a strumpet and guilt tripped Nik into entertaining me, on one of the balconies I broke the quarterbacks hand. I didn't live here long a couple days when the Bennett witch broke the spell linking me and my siblings we all fled. " Xxx Kol wakes up in the middle of the night and sees Davina looking out the window he goes over to her and puts his arms around her waist and kisses her shoulder " Darling what are you doing up?" Davina looks behind her and snuggles into his arms. " I can't sleep what are we doing your a resurrected original vampire and I'm a ex harvest girl/ex regent running from the ancestors who want me dead and want you to kill me." Kol turns her around and into his chest " I would rather die again then hurt you and we ran to safe ourselves from the ancestors. " " Your not dying again." Kol leans down to kisses her " I'm here to stay this time you and me remember we can do anything." Davina smiles up at him remembering when she told him that before she told him she loves him for the first time. " I love you." Kol walks back to the the bed " I love you too now let's go back to sleep." Xxx Caroline Forbes likes to go past the Mikaelson mansion every opportunity she gets. It brings back good memories for her: like her and Klaus dancing, Klaus telling her he fancies her, Caroline looking for invisible pieces of white oak from his back, Klaus asking if they can be friends. And last but not least Klaus giving Caroline the night of her dreams by giving her a beautiful prom dress. When she sees something move past one of the Windows. She pulls into the driveway and opens the front door " Klaus, Klaus, Klaus." Davina is looking around the house when she hears Klaus name. " He's not here." " Who are you?" Davina doesn't know if the blonde is an enemy of the Mikaelsons. Kol was upstairs showering he gets out and hears voices downstairs he vamps down the stairs in just a towel and sees Davina and Caroline looking at each other. " Well look at that you sensed a Mikaelson in town and came running." Caroline turns around to look at the half naked Mikaelson " Oh my god your-" Kol interrupts "-Devastatingly handsome, the perfect specimen of man, a Greek god." Caroline has been around enough Mikaelsons to know just let their ego go they eventually finish complimenting themselves." I was going to say alive and naked how are you alive I saw your burned body I put a blanket over you." Davina looks surprised and looks between Caroline and Kol " You saw Kol die?" " No I didn't even know about the plan to kill Kol until he was already dead but if I had known I would of talked them out of it. It was a terrible plan and Klaus wanted to kill them all he almost killed me." " You had to know Nik wouldn't have let you die it's completely obvious my brother loves you." Caroline puts her hand on her hip and sighs " I know If Klaus had his way I would be a Mikaelson right now." " So how is Klaus?" Kol smirks " The same everyone wants to kill him. Except now it's his entire sire line. Well not everyone your part of his sire line and you don't want him dead." " I have my moments." Xxx Kol vamps upstairs to get dressed and finds Caroline and Davina sitting on the couch " So tell us what is going on in this town." "Well this town is back to normal. We had to evacuate the town to save them from Damon and Stefan's mom Lily and her family of heretics. Then Lily and her heretics brought back Lily's boyfriend Julian and he decided to have fight night in the streets after Lily died. Julien died a couple weeks ago. Now everyone is obsessed with the armory." Kol looks intrigued " I'm saying this because Nik would dagger me if I didn't. You need to say away from the armory." Caroline looks confused as to why he said that she knows Klaus loves her and doesn't want her hurt but what is so dangerous about a building full of witch stuff, Kol elaborates. " As you might know the armory loves collecting magical artifacts and studying magical things. For centuries they were trying to capture one of us to study how we became a vampire and how we are immortal and they were also after Esther's grimoires. They failed at trying to catch us and retrieving the grimoires we've killed a lot of them in their quest to try to study us. So I say again stay away, the armory loves studying things and if you were taken word would get back to Nik and the armory would have a field day with him trying to figure out how he is a hybrid." "Why does every conversation always lead back to an original?" Kol smirks " For two reasons one we are awesome and two if you were researching and doing tests on a species wouldn't you want to study the people who created the species." "I guess but how do we tell the others to stay away?" Xxx "Did you miss me because I didn't miss any of you." Both Salvatore's and one Bennett witch go out Into the foyer and standing before them is the last person they ever expect to see Kol Mikaelson and a brown haired girl and next to them is Caroline. "Kol." " Wow blondie I know Klaus is in love with you but I didn't think you would choose Kol over all the Mikaelsons." Caroline glares at him " Shut up Damon and I didn't choose Kol as of right now I haven't chosen a Mikaelson." "I heard you idiots are messing around with the armory. And since you people care nothing about Caroline and her safety stay away from the armory." Bonnie steps forward to confront Kol " Why should we listen to you. You have tried to kill us all." "Because I know first hand what the Armory is or more importantly what it's hiding. So if you want to deal with people who want to study you and because you are all stupid enough to unleash the monster living inside be my guest but don't come crying to me when you are dying because you didn't listen to me." "It's hiding something what is it hiding?" " A woman but not just any woman a siren think Silas but instead of making the person see what they want she changes your memories and controls you she doesn't drink blood like Silas she gets her power from killing people. She's a servant of hell. In the late 1600's I was cornered by both sirens asked if I wanted to help them in their mission to kill to serve the devil I refused so they tried to kill me but I snapped their necks instead." When he sees that they don't believe him he turns to Davina " Come along darling let's not waste anymore time one these idiots." Xxx Kol and Davina went back to the Mikaelson mansion and are in the living room. " Do you want to leave I feel like we have exhausted this town plus there are so many other fascinating cities and places I could take you." Davina smiles up at him and kisses him " Let's go." Kol and Davina get back in the convertible and drive off.

[op-peccatori]

just your friendly neighbourhood demon | Incubus?Lucien (MLQC)

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Incubus?Lucien/Witch!Reader

Rating: 18+ 

Word Count: 4500

Warnings: explicit sex, semi-public sex, sex with demons, magical adjustments 

Summary: You’ve barely left your apartment since your breakup a month ago. To get you back in the game and your mind off your disappointing relationship, your friends decide to enlist some help – the demonic kind. 

a/n: can u tell I just finished the second season of the chilling adventures of Sabrina? it's heavily inspired by the show.

music: 

Animals by Maroon 5

Fetish by Selena Gomez

You stand still amongst the crowd, bodies clothed in silk and lace twirling around you, the chatter a muted sound in the background when you see him. 

A feeling of trepidation crawls up your belly and the bodice of your gown feels suffocating all of a sudden. You glance around the great hall wildly, hoping to catch a glimpse of your friends, the ones who dragged you here with promises of unholy merriment and daiquiris. The ceiling, enchanted to reflect a cloudless midnight sky, bathes the room in soft moonlight, adding to the shadowy and mystifying atmosphere of the room. All you see are masks, framing intoxicated eyes, some of them reflecting the faux hellfire hovering within antique lanterns.

You don’t see your friends, but do you manage to lock eyes with the source of your panic who, despite the delicate mask covering your face that clearly wasn’t doing its job, recognizes you at once. He turns to say something to the girl next to him and as they both look at you, you turn around and half-sprint towards the nearest hallway. 

‘Vivienne. She’s from the Eastern Coven.’ 

It stings, even though it’s been weeks since your relationship ended. It’s the ball of hurt and bitterness swirling in your stomach, that prevents you from turning around at the call of your name, that has your fingers twitching with the urge to hex the person you know is following you.

His voice is getting nearer, and you can’t help but turn around to check if he’s really coming after you – he is, but he’s struggling to move past the dancing couples and as you turn around with your heart in your throat, you manage to run into a wall. You're startled by the sudden appearance of a dead-end, but slender fingers curl around your forearm to let you know it’s not a wall that stopped your escape in its tracks.

“Ah, forgive me. Are you alright?” A voice richer than vintage vine at your ear, and cologne that reminds you distinctly of rain, and smoke are the first things that register.  Warm eyes like amethysts, framed by inky bangs and black lace are next. You’re aware that he’s waiting for a response, his gentle smile slipping into something quizzical at your gaping. This is not someone you've seen before.

“Hey, ___!” 

Oh no. The man in front of you glances at the one behind you before returning his gaze to your now resigned expression. You turn around with a grimace, hoping your reluctance to talk to him isn’t too obvious, even if it's to be expected.  

“Oh, hi, Kyle,” you say, defeated. “Sorry, I was-“ 

“In a hurry to find me,” the stranger cuts in with a disarming smile aimed at your ex-boyfriend, whose eager expression fades at the sight of your unexpected companion. Kyle’s eyes follow the other man's arm as it slides loosely around your waist. "We were in the middle of a game."

“Oh. Right. And you are?” Everyone knows what kind of games people play here.

“Um, this is-“ 

“Lucien.” You’re weak with gratitude when the stranger, Lucien, introduces himself and offers a hand to Kyle, who takes it with mild reluctance. “A pleasure to meet you.” 

“Yeah, likewise. I’m Kyle,” he says before glancing at you as if expecting you to add something, which you're certainly not obligated to do. He tugs at the high collar of his cape when all you do is lean into Lucien’s side with a smile. “Um, yeah, I just wanted to say hi. Enjoy the party. And your game, I guess.” 

‘I guess?’ You watch him leave with silently, knowing he's bothered by you coming here with someone. You marvel at how oblivious he can be, to be so baffled by it when he could be seen with different witches even just a week after you ended things for good. And you know that there was a time when the slight slouch in his back could tip you off to his bad mood and have you running around trying to fix whatever had him in a sulk. You had made countless comforting charms, helped him with ridiculous missions and saved his ass from being eviscerated that one time he pissed off your High Priestess – only to get an 'I don't think we're compatible' the one time you didn't show up to watch his band play.

Ugh, warlocks.

“Charming man,” Lucien comments when Kyle is out of hearing range, skulking back to the girl he’d been talking to earlier. You can’t help but laugh a little self-deprecatingly. 

“Yes, well, I certainly thought so, until a few weeks back,” you admit with a sigh. Then, realising you’re still leaning into him as if you haven’t just met him, you step away hastily. He looks disappointed at that, and you're quick to change the subject. “Oh, yes, thank you. I really didn’t want to face him on my own." The warmth in his smile tugs at your withered heart-strings. 

"I think he should be the one saying that, but I suppose it is usually the ignorant ones who are brimming with false confidence."

"I really owe you one, huh?" You're startled by the shyness in your own smile. Something about him feels overwhelming, as if it's being kept at bay so he can blend in. With the sleek grey suit he's wearing, you think he never had a chance. Talk about tall, dark and wicked. Kiki's going to flip when she sees him.

“I’m honoured to have gotten the chance to come to your aid. And, to be honest, I can't help but be glad your former lover is an idiot. He did chase you into my arms after all." The curve of his mouth is sly as he watches the way your cheeks flush. "I’m Lucien, by the way.” 

“I’m ___.” You offer him your hand, but you don’t expect the way he maintains eye contact as he ducks his head to press his lips to the top of your hand, his half-lidded gaze doing funny things to you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he cast a spell on you. Your heart throbs to an unsteady rhythm as he lifts his hand to skin a finger along the edge of your mask.

"I like your mask."

"I like your mask too," you tell him, your smile hinting at mischief. "It's quite...infernal."

 His low chuckle, accompanied by the crook of his arm offered to you, makes you fight the urge to check for hexes. “Well, ___, since I’m supposed to be your plus one...can I get you a drink?” 

As you blush and say yes, curling your arm around his, you miss the two witches watching you both with triumphant grins. Willow clamps a hand over Kiki’s mouth as you pass by the pillar behind which they’ve concealed themselves, biting back her own squeal when Lucien looks straight at them and winks. They undo the concealment spell and school their expressions into something more innocent than smug as their High Priestess raises a brow at their antics. 

"But Willow, how did you get him to make a deal without payment?" Kiki asks curiously, pouring them both some toxic punch. Willow shrugs a bit uneasily, glancing back at at the bar where you're standing next to your new friend, an easy smile she hasn't seen in weeks lighting up your face. 

"He just said there's no need for it, and that he'll take care of her." They both look at each other at that. 

"Is that...safe?" Kiki watches as Kyle continues to glance at you, looking grumpier with each look. "I think this could be good."

"I hope so. I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Three poison apple cocktails have you pleasantly buzzed, tucked away in one of the several alcoves with your unexpected date, giggling helplessly as he whispers awful things in your ears; secrets about the High Priests/Priestesses leave his mouth with no trace of fear, and when you ask if he isn't scared they'll hear him, the laugh that tears from his throat has you shivering under his arm. The window seat is big enough for four people, but with the way he's stretched out over the cushion, with you hidden away in his arms - it's clear there's no room for anyone else. The thick velvet curtains at the entryway are drawn to ensure others know not to disturb the occupants. 

“No, darling, I don’t...fear your leaders," he finally answers as he nuzzles your neck. You take his hand in your own, playing with his fingers as you think. Witches and Warlocks are taught to fear their leaders, to respect them above all others, regardless of how undeserving they may be.

Your head tilts as you study him carefully. There is a single lantern in this corner, the hellfire burning softly as if in response to the intimate atmosphere. “You’re not from any of the covens, are you?” 

“What do you think?” he asks, his breath cool against your cheek, mouth quirking up at the burning curiosity in your eyes.

A nonconformist. An independent warlock? Clearly held in high enough regard for no one to bat an eyelid at his presence here, but still. For him to also be familiar enough with the coven leaders to know their dirty secrets - he's no simple loner. His fingers trace unknown patterns at the base of your spine, brushing kisses like feathers on your temple.

“I don’t think you fear anyone in this room,” you say honestly, and when he presses his mouth to yours, it’s with a laugh that sinks into your bones like fire a glyph.

You're not sure how much time passes, but when you finally surface with a breathless the party has settled into a low chatter and you're vaguely surprised no one came to find you. Your mouth feels numb, and when you glance at your hazy reflection in the window, your lips are bitten a bright red, and blushing bruises decorate the tender spots below your jaw and along your neck. You feel as if you're just waking up, spotting your mask on the floor and feeling a cool breeze on your shoulders where the straps have been pulled down.

Lucien watches you as you take note of everything, including his abandoned topcoat, half-unbuttoned shirt and - the crinkles by his eyes as he smiles at you and the high, sculpted cheekbones you remembered kissing. His mask is off and with it, the protective shield of hidden faces and identities. You feel it - the strange tingling of your senses, the barely caught flashes in his eyes whenever you moaned as he was kissing you. It's all coming together in a picture you're not sure what to make of.

"What are you?" you ask shakily, mostly because of your own throbbing arousal that hasn't ebbed with your dawning suspicion. Thrilling fear curls around the base of your spine, edged with excitement. You don't feel like you're in danger, even if Lucien kisses with the intent to devour.

He smirks knowingly at your attempt to sound wary, when it's clear you're trying to keep from continuing your slow, delicious grind along his crotch. You're not sure what broke you out of the daze, and you're not sure if you're thankful for it.

"What do you think I am?"

You scrunch up your nose, yelping when he tries to nip at it. "My first guess would be...incubus?" You're not alarmed - dalliances with the so-called sex demons were not unheard of. They usually don't bother with witches or their counterparts because they never get a proper meal out of it, just a light snack at most, as your magic makes you resistant to their lure and traps. Questionable at the moment, but you're pretty sure you remember everything that happened despite the drugged feeling.

"I see."

You wait for him to continue but he only tilts his head with an innocent smile, his thumb tracing soft patterns on the inside of your wrist, your pulse fluttering under his touch. "Well? Am I right?" you ask, trying not to huff. Sex addicts or not, they're still powerful demons.

He shrugs. "Sure, let's go with incubus." Before you can express fully your outrage at his non-committal tone, he pulls you back into a loose embrace, making you stumble into his chest. "I believe the more important question is - will you allow me to make love to you tonight?" His words are blunt, delivered with a lascivious smile and a soft kiss below your ear. "Will you let me taste you?"

"Wh-what?" you ask, admittedly dumbly, not expecting him to want to continue where you left off. You brace your hand against his abdomen, feeling the muscle ripple as he continues to pull you closer. "But I'm a witch."

"A beautiful one," he agrees.

"You won't get anything out of it," you can't help but point out, lips parting when you feel his mouth on your skin, wet and wanting.

"On the contrary, darling," he whispers as he licks at the marks he'd sucked into your skin so fervently. "I think I might cry if you deny me."

You take a moment to weigh your options. On the one hand, dealing with demons always has some kind of consequences. You're not sure which one this is, how dangerous, how revered. On the other hand - he is very attractive, a fantastic kisser and clearly wants to take you to bed. You don't know anyone who's taken a demon as a lover personally but the one thing everyone agrees on is that you can't top sex with an incubus. They will show you a good time or they will take up unreasonable amounts of time trying.

And now that you're no longer with the man, you can admit to yourself that sex with Kyle was mediocre at best. Looking at it that way- you haven't had a good fuck in years.

"What if I choose to send you away?" you ask carefully. He stills at your question, his eyes burning violently as they meet yours. The air between you grows heavy, tense with his magic and yours as if dreading an explosion. He wants you, badly. And you’re confused at the strength of his desire, but flattered all the same.

"Then I will leave you here in peace," he answers slowly. The curl of his mouth is anything but pleased. "And hope that your fingers can give you at least a quarter of the pleasure that I can." You relax at his words, knowing that you won't be spending the night with your fingers buried in you. Not unless that's something he likes.

"And if we continue...will I get into trouble?" you ask, your answer evident by the way you move back into straddling his hips. He tugs at the zipper of your dress, unzipping it smoothly, caressing your smooth skin worshipfully.

"Only the good kind,” he promises. His eyes are fixated on the slow reveal of your breasts, and a string of unintelligible words leave his mouth when the top of your dress is bunched around your waist, leaving you half-exposed to his wolfish stare. The moment his mouth is on you, you know you won't be leaving this corner anytime soon. Struggling to tilt your head back as his tongue flicks at a taut nipple, you lift your hand towards the slim entryway, throwing every privacy spell you know at it. You feel the way Lucien smiles against your skin.

"Don't worry, darling. No one will be disturbing us - unlike some of my friends, I don't share." The last words are said in a growl that sends arousal thrumming within your bones, before he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh above your breast. You let your head fall back with a groan, uncaring of anything except his mouth and the friction provided by your sex grinding on his. He kisses you again and again until you're drunk on desire, moaning and writhing in his hold as two of his fingers push into you, sliding in and out easily within your slick walls while his tongue dances across your breasts, wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

Lucien tugs at the hem of your dress, pulling it up to your hips before he pushes you down onto the seat. He kneels between your legs, admiring the flimsy lace of your thong as he presses cool kisses behind your knees, over them, curling your thighs over his shoulders. He bends over to tug at the edge of your underwear with his teeth before he rips it off, dropping it on the floor so he can finally, finally begin to lick into your dripping cunt, his actions akin to a starved man given access to a feast. The drag of his tongue along your slit feels odd for a moment, too wide, too rough, as if it's not...

Oh.

You lean up onto your elbows, your breath suspended in your lungs, and he looks at you from beneath lowered lashes - what little you see of his eyes is a bright, violent red, glazed over at the taste of your arousal. The curve of his mouth widens and, sure enough, you feel his chilly tongue much further in than it should be, curving within you to stroke sensitive spots and you fall back with a startled cry as your orgasm washes upon you unexpectedly. 

He laps at you hungrily, his shoulders trembling with want, with his frayed control. He slides his mouth to your fleshy thighs, sucking and rubbing his cheek into your warm skin as you take a moment to breathe. And then his mouth closes around your swollen clit, a sharp tooth scraping against it and you scream as jolt after jolt of pleasure assaults your body again, throwing your head back and digging your feet into the wide expanse of his back against the wild pleasure.

You try to squirm out of his hold, whimpering at how sensitive it feels, but his hold is iron around you, keeping you spread open for him to consume. 

"You taste better than I imagined, darling," he croons, rising up to return to his kneeling position, letting you glimpse his mouth, glistening with your essence and his teeth, sharper than before and you're impressed at the lack of injuries where they just were. "But I think there are too many layers between us."

"I - can't argue with that." And you're quick to finish unbuttoning his silk shirt, mouthing at his collarbone as you work, licking up the slender slope of his neck before he catches your mouth in another kiss, which you barely break as you help him slip you out of your dress and unbutton his pants. "Oh...fuck."

He laughs at your response to his sizable cock, but you're not nearly as amused. You've heard what people say about them, but this? "This is not going to fit." It's pale and much larger than the average, normal cock.

"It will," he assures you with a devilish smile. "And you're going to enjoy it. Don’t worry – I’m going to fuck you real good, darling.” He rubs the length of his cock along your entrance for emphasis, coating it with your wetness as he nudges your legs so you wrap them around his waist. “You like it slow, don’t you? I can tell.”

“Then show me,” you gasp as his length rubs against your clit. He smiles at your demand, sweeping your hair away from your forehead. 

“As you wish.” With that, he pushes into you, and your breath freezes at the feel of his wide head entering you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever felt in your heat and for a moment, you’re afraid it’ll break you. It feels colder than flesh, as it stretches your slick folds open. “Look at me, ___.” 

His strain is shown in the bulging vein at his neck, the way the purple-grey of his eyes has once again given way to a savage red, and in the way he fights to keep from snarling at how vulnerable you look, with his cock about to spear you.

“Good girl – don’t look away, there, keep looking at me,” he murmurs, voice cracking as he pushes deeper with shallow thrusts. And it burns, you feel fuller the deeper he slides in, as if you’re going to come apart at the seams, and still – you want more. Until you can’t take any more without shattering. You whimper, moan and buck your hips, with Lucien drinking it all in with a smile that slowly edges into something feral. “Breathe.” 

Over half of his thick length is in, your walls clamping down tightly with the force of your helplessness. Your hands dig into the seat. “Lu-Lucien, I don’t think I can take anymore.” 

His lips press into the hollow of your throat, humming a soft, broken tune before the words come out, in the same indecipherable language from before a cool whisper against your skin. He keeps pushing and pushing, and your heart seizes in your throat before you realize the discomfort has eased. He slides the rest of the way in, sheathing himself in your silky heat, and you’re not entirely sure how he’s fit himself, what spell he used, and you can’t bring yourself to care as you push up into him. You meet his gaze with a slow grin, squeezing your walls around him as tightly as you can.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest, bordering on a purr, as his thumbs press into the crease of your hips, leaning forward until your legs are bent on either side of you, thighs nearly touching the cushion under you. He grinds into you until your skin meets his, transitioning into delicate thrusts, gauging your reaction, testing angles, noting what makes your eyes roll back, what makes you plead, what makes your hips buck up despite his tight hold on your legs. 

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even Lilith herself would kill to get a taste of you,” he groans, static energy crackling in the air, and your own blood sings as it rises to the surface to respond, in a song it's never sung before, one you didn't know it could sing. The lantern vibrates as the fire it holds surges to life, barely contained by the protective glass, trying to break free and curl around your fingertips. Lucien is fixated on what he sees in your eyes, stilling his thrusts as he stares down at you. You bite back a sound of frustration, something inside you curling inwards at how he studies it through the shield of your flesh.

“Lilith won’t have me.” Your hand winds around the back of his neck, pulling him down into a long kiss with clashing teeth and tongue. “And I need you to fuck me.” 

He pulls out halfway in response, before snapping his hips into yours, repeating the motion until your hold on him falters, and there are tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. It’s a slow ascent, the force of his thrusts getting harder and harder until you’re sure he’s going to break you in half. His arms curl around you and pull you flush against his body, and the slow drag of his skin against your overstimulated bundle of nerves makes you come with a sob, and he fucks you through that too. 

This might be why they say it takes some time to recover from intercourse with demons. 

He shows no sign of stopping even as he sits back into his knees, with you clinging onto him for dear life as he thrusts up from a new angle, repeatedly impaling you on his cock. His eyes are wild, reverent, hinting at obsession. You won’t last too long, you know that. Already, things are getting blurry as another orgasm creeps upon you, and you know this one will end you. 

“Lucien...” you croak, your head lolling back and your chest heaving. You meet his gaze and it’s as if something takes a hold of you, slithering between your ribs to give you the strength to push your hips down, circling them with his every thrust and reaching down to work your clit until everything is awash in bright light, making you wonder if the unholy one has come for you – then you feel how he throbs in you, painting your furiously fluttering walls, filling you up with his seed until it’s dripping from your cunt down his cock. “I...” 

“We’re not done yet, darling,” he breathes into your hair, kissing away the tears that fall from your eyes. It's as if a mask has fallen away from his face, leaving behind the untamed parts that could burn if you aren't careful. “Focus on your home. I’m taking us there.” 

You do so with your head tucked under his chin, while he grabs your clothes and undoes the privacy ward. And then, with a blink, you’re in your bedroom, with your messy bed and scattered knickknacks. The moon is bright outside your massive window, and Lucien is transfixed by the way you glow in the silvery light, your eyes fighting to stay open and your limbs shaking with strain. You fall onto your familiar, soft mattress with a sigh, drifting contentedly as Lucien presses soft kisses into the dimples in your back. The frenzied air between you seems to have settled for the moment, letting you breathe and appreciate the way he touches you in the silence, like you're art, a sculpture he's allowed to touch after an eternity of being denied.

“I don’t think I can take anymore,” you admit with a defeated sigh, rolling over onto your back and watching in amusement as his eyes light up at the sight of your bare breasts. He begins to nuzzle them instantly, lying down beside you and slipping a leg between yours, pulling you closer. 

“That’s fine, I can wait until you recover,” Lucien says readily. He vanishes the cool, thick seed still drying on your skin with a wave of his hand and reaches for the thin blanket folded at the end of the bed. “Why don’t you take a nap?” 

You pause, surprised that he’s not leaving, and by the way he clings to you. “I didn’t know demons like to cuddle.” 

“We fuck. We cuddle. We’re not all that different.” He says it casually, but he’s got to be joking. He’s a fantastic lover, but you haven’t forgotten the fact that he’s an immortal being capable of erasing you with a snap of his fingers. 

'Maybe it's because I'm not a mortal?'

Said immortal being is currently planting soft kisses in the valley of your breasts, making it hard to hold onto your previous notions of awe and terror. As your mind fades into the darkness, he begins to hum the same broken tune from before, and you wonder what magic he’s weaving now. His eyes, now a dim red as they watch you intensely, are the last thing you see before a numbing sleep steals you away.