#the eyebrow raises- i shall not even open my mouth

[solxamber]

The Fairest of Them All || Vil Schoenheit

You've chosen Vil!

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

w.c: 5.3k

1k Masterlist ; Prologue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To him.

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

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

Your heart does a little flip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BAM! BAM! BAM!

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

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

“EP—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?” You blink, startled.

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

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

You shrug. “Sure, why not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Vil?” you murmur groggily.

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

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

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

Except.

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until afternoon rolls around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Watch me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’M NOT FAILING!” Sebek bellows.

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

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

Plan B: The Vil Schoenheit Method

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not the point!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your window.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A cold?” you echo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, this one is too fluffy.”

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

Moments later:

“This tea is too hot.” You cool it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You prepare like your life depends on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze. “Uh—”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They suit you better,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

[novaursa]

Flames in the West

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The day of Aegon’s second nameday dawned with the bright promise of revelry and spectacle. The sprawling woods outside the king’s hunting pavilion were alive with the sounds of horns, the bark of hounds, and the murmur of lords and ladies dressed in their finery. You stood at the edge of the gathering with Ser Gwayne Hightower, your reluctant escort for the day, though his easy demeanor made him bearable company.

Your sister, Rhaenyra, had stalked off toward her horse earlier, muttering darkly about the endless flattery and sycophancy that came with these events. You suspected she wouldn’t stay long before riding off into the woods on her own—leaving you to observe the spectacle.

It was then that you noticed him: Lord Jason Lannister, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight as he approached Rhaenyra with a swagger that could rival a peacock. His crimson-and-gold doublet was immaculate, embroidered with lions rampant that caught the light with every movement. Even from a distance, you could see the self-assured smirk on his face as he stepped into your sister’s path.

“Is he…?” you murmured, your lips curving in a bemused smile.

“About to make a fool of himself?” Gwayne supplied with a smirk of his own. “Most certainly.”

You leaned forward slightly, ears straining to catch the words exchanged between them. Jason was in the midst of an elaborate speech about Casterly Rock, the grandeur of the West, and how “a future queen deserves a home as magnificent as her station.” Rhaenyra’s expression shifted from polite disinterest to outright disdain.

“I have no need for Casterly Rock, my lord,” she said icily, cutting through his rehearsed charm. “And even less need for a husband chosen for his wealth.”

Jason faltered, but only briefly. “But surely, Princess, you would consider—”

“No.” Rhaenyra’s reply was final, leaving Jason standing there, stunned, as she brushed past him and disappeared into the crowd.

You couldn’t help it. A laugh bubbled up in your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you remarked loudly enough for Jason to hear, “Well, that was a rather pathetic display for the Lord of Casterly Rock.”

Jason turned on his heel, his eyes narrowing as they landed on you. “I beg your pardon?” he said, his voice tight with indignation.

“Oh, don’t mind her, my lord,” Gwayne interjected, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “She’s just an avid observer of courtly theatrics.”

You raised an eyebrow, meeting Jason’s glare with a smirk. “If you’re going to woo a dragon, my lord, you might consider bringing more than your… oversized ego.”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—amusement, perhaps? “And what would you suggest, Princess? Shall I compose a sonnet or slay a dragon for her favor?”

“Considering you’ve already wounded her ears with your drivel, a heroic feat might be a welcome change,” you shot back.

Gwayne chuckled openly now, clearly enjoying the exchange. Jason, however, took a step closer, his broad shoulders squared and his gaze unwavering. “I’ll have you know, Princess, that I am perfectly capable of charming anyone I set my sights on.”

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Anyone, you say? And yet here you are, rejected by one sister and attempting to defend your honor to the other. Perhaps you should aim lower, my lord. The kennel master’s daughter might appreciate your… charms.”

Jason laughed, the sound surprising you with its warmth. “Ah, so you’ve claws as sharp as your sister’s tongue. Tell me, do all Targaryen women delight in tormenting men, or is it just the two of you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Gwayne stepped in, raising a hand. “My lord, if you value your pride, I suggest you retreat now. She’s only warming up.”

Jason gave Gwayne a pointed look but then turned back to you, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think I enjoy the challenge.”

Before you could muster a retort, Gwayne gently took your arm. “Come, Princess. Let’s leave the lion to lick his wounds.”

As the two of you walked away, Gwayne leaned in conspiratorially. “You do realize he enjoyed every moment of that, don’t you?”

You glanced over your shoulder to see Jason watching you, his smile still lingering. “If that’s what he considers enjoyable,” you muttered, shaking your head, “the man must lead a very dull life.”

“And yet,” Gwayne said, grinning, “he’s still watching you.”

You refused to turn around again, though the faintest blush colored your cheeks. “Perhaps he’s hoping for another lesson in humility.”

“Or perhaps,” Gwayne said, his voice teasing, “he’s already planning his next move.”

The thought unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

The royal pavilion was an elaborate affair of black-and-red drapery, with King Viserys seated at its heart, a goblet of wine in one hand and a faint scowl on his face. He leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his shoulders. Around him, lords and attendants bustled, speaking in low tones or presenting trifles meant to curry favor.

Lord Jason Lannister strode in with the kind of confidence that only a man from the richest house in Westeros could muster. His polished boots clicked against the floorboards as he carried a gleaming spear in both hands, its shaft carved from rare duskwood and tipped with gold. The weapon practically gleamed with opulence.

“Your Grace,” Jason began, bowing low as he approached. “A small token to commemorate Prince Aegon’s nameday and the hunt. Forged in the Golden Gallery by the finest smiths of the Rock.”

Viserys straightened slightly, his eyes appraising the craftsmanship of the spear. It was magnificent, he had to admit, and he gave a slow nod of approval. “Impressive work, Lord Jason. My son will no doubt treasure it—assuming he doesn’t poke someone’s eye out first.”

A ripple of polite laughter passed through the tent, but Jason’s expression remained serious. He placed the spear on a stand near the king, then clasped his hands behind his back. “Your Grace, if I may, there is another matter I wish to discuss.”

Viserys’s groan was barely concealed. “If this is about my daughter Rhaenyra, I’ll save us both the trouble and tell you what I’ve told every other lord who’s come sniffing around her skirts: she will choose when the time comes. Until then, my answer is no.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard, before recovering with a polite smile. “Ah, Your Grace, I fear there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not here to petition for the hand of Princess Rhaenyra.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Lord Lyonel Strong, who stood quietly by his side. “You’re not?” he asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

“No, Your Grace,” Jason clarified, a flicker of nervousness breaking through his usual confidence. “My petition concerns your younger daughter, Princess Y/N.”

There was a beat of stunned silence in the pavilion. Viserys froze mid-sip of his wine, his goblet hovering in the air as if he hadn’t heard correctly. Beside him, Lyonel’s bushy brows climbed so high they nearly vanished into his hairline.

“My… youngest daughter?” Viserys repeated slowly, as though Jason had just declared his intention to marry a dragon.

Jason nodded firmly. “Yes, Your Grace. Princess Y/N.”

Viserys blinked, leaning forward in his chair. “Are you certain? Because if memory serves, my youngest daughter stood beside her sister not two hours ago, calling you”—he paused, as though recalling the exact phrasing—“ah yes, an ‘overdressed peacock with the wit of a trout.’”

A murmur of stifled laughter rippled through the pavilion, and even Lyonel coughed into his hand to mask a grin. Jason, however, didn’t so much as flinch.

“She did, Your Grace,” Jason admitted, his expression resolute. “And yet, I find myself more determined than ever.”

Viserys stared at him, utterly baffled. “Are you a glutton for punishment, Lord Jason? Because I can assure you, my youngest daughter is no more likely to flatter your ego than her sister.”

Jason offered a crooked smile, his usual bravado tinged with surprising sincerity. “It is not flattery I seek, Your Grace. Your younger daughter possesses a sharp wit and a keen mind, traits I’ve come to admire. I am quite serious in my intentions.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, gesturing vaguely toward Lyonel. “Do you hear this, Lord Strong? The man brings me a spear, not for Rhaenyra, not even for Aegon, but to chase after a girl who just insulted him to his face.”

Lyonel cleared his throat, his expression carefully neutral. “It is… bold, Your Grace.”

“Bold is one word for it,” Viserys muttered, shaking his head. “Mad, perhaps, is another.”

Jason, undeterred, stepped forward. “I am prepared to prove my worth, Your Grace. If the princess wishes to insult me again, I will accept it gladly. But my resolve will not waver.”

Viserys rubbed his temples, sighing deeply. “You are either the bravest or the most foolish man in Westeros, Lord Jason.”

“Perhaps both, Your Grace,” Jason replied with a self-deprecating chuckle.

The king exchanged another look with Lyonel, who shrugged as if to say, Well, stranger things have happened. Finally, Viserys waved a hand. “Fine. I’ll not stop you from trying, but don’t come crying to me when she brands you an imbecile and sends you packing.”

Jason bowed low, his grin returning. “Thank you, Your Grace. I assure you, I am up to the challenge.”

As Jason left the tent, Lyonel turned to Viserys with a raised eyebrow. “Do you think he’ll survive?”

Viserys snorted into his wine. “If he does, it’ll be a miracle. Or perhaps I’ll need to have Maesters on hand for the bruises to his pride.”

The day was alive with the energy of the hunt: the baying of hounds, the sharp trill of horns, and the crunch of boots and hooves on the forest floor. The air was crisp and carried the faint smell of pine and damp earth. You strode alongside your father, King Viserys, as you always did during royal hunts, clad in a practical riding outfit that allowed for movement but still bore the Targaryen sigil embroidered on your chest. A bow was slung over your shoulder, and you carried yourself with ease, ignoring the glances from the courtiers trailing behind.

Ahead of you, Viserys chatted animatedly with Otto Hightower, who appeared more interested in keeping pace than engaging in the conversation. Behind you, Lord Jason Lannister loomed, his usual swagger muted as he kept his eyes firmly on you.

“Forgive me, Princess,” Jason began, his tone overly polite as he fell into step beside you, “but I must say, it’s unusual for a lady—let alone a princess—to partake in something as… rough as a hunt.”

You turned to him, arching an eyebrow. “Unusual, perhaps, to someone who knows only boring ladies.”

Jason blinked, caught off guard by your quick retort, but he recovered swiftly. “I wouldn’t call them boring, Princess. Simply more… traditional.”

You snorted, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Traditional? You mean they sit around embroidering lions and gossiping about who wore the finest gown at the last feast?”

Jason opened his mouth to respond, but you cut him off. “I assure you, Lord Jason, I would rather face a charging boar than suffer through another discussion about the texture of Dornish silks.”

Ahead of you, Viserys glanced over his shoulder, clearly enjoying the exchange. “You’ve done it now, Lord Jason,” he called back, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’ve given her an opening.”

Otto smirked faintly but said nothing, his sharp eyes flicking between you and the Lannister lord. Jason cleared his throat, determined to press on. “I only meant that it’s rare to find a princess with such… unconventional tastes.”

“Unconventional?” you echoed, your tone laced with mock offense. “Is it unconventional to enjoy the thrill of a hunt, or are you implying that princesses should stick to sipping wine and giggling behind fans?”

Jason hesitated, visibly choosing his words with care. “I would never suggest such a thing. Only that—well, most ladies of your station prefer less hazardous pastimes.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though a smirk played on your lips. “Ah, so you think me incapable of handling the hazards? Shall I remind you, my lord, that I have participated in hunts since I was a child? Or would you like a demonstration?”

Jason’s lips twitched into a smile, despite himself. “I’ve no doubt of your skill, Princess. But surely there are better ways to spend one’s time?”

“Better than this?” you asked, gesturing to the sprawling woods around you. “And what would you suggest, Lord Jason? Lounging in a gilded hall while you regale me with tales of Casterly Rock’s grandeur?”

Viserys let out a bark of laughter, clapping Otto on the shoulder. “I told you, Otto. She’s got her mother’s fire. Poor lad doesn’t stand a chance.”

Otto hummed thoughtfully, his amusement plain. “It seems the Lannisters are as persistent as they are wealthy.”

Jason straightened, clearly aware of the audience but unwilling to back down. “Perhaps persistence is exactly what’s needed to win a Targaryen’s favor.”

You tilted your head, feigning contemplation. “Perhaps. Though persistence without substance is just a louder way to waste my time.”

That earned a round of chuckles from the hunters nearby, and even Viserys shook his head in mock pity. Jason, to his credit, took the jibe in stride, his smile unwavering. “Then perhaps you’d allow me to prove my substance, Princess.”

You glanced at him sidelong, your smirk growing. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll try, my lord. Whether you succeed is another matter.”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but the horns blew again, signaling the sighting of prey. Viserys raised his hand to quiet the group, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Enough banter, you two. Let’s see if we can bring down something worthy of my son’s feast.”

As the group moved forward, Jason lingered just a step behind you. “You’ve a sharp tongue, Princess,” he murmured, low enough that only you could hear. “I quite like it.”

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “Careful, my lord,” you said lightly. “You might cut yourself.”

Jason laughed softly, shaking his head, and fell silent. For now.

The feasting tent was alive with laughter, clinking goblets, and the aroma of roasted meats. Lords and ladies were seated in clusters, exchanging pleasantries and gossip as the servants flitted about, filling cups and replenishing platters. At the table reserved for House Lannister, Lord Jason Lannister had finally taken his seat next to his twin brother, Tyland, who had arrived earlier and was already halfway through his goblet of wine.

Jason dropped into his chair with a theatrical sigh, grabbing his goblet and draining half of it in one go. Tyland arched an eyebrow at his brother, clearly intrigued.

“Well, you look like you’ve fought a battle,” Tyland observed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “I take it your courtship of the youngest princess didn’t go as planned?”

Jason straightened in his seat, brushing imaginary dust from his doublet. “It went fine. Better than fine, actually. Remarkably well.”

Tyland snorted, taking another sip of wine. “Is that so? Because the way I heard it, she called you something along the lines of…” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. “Ah yes, an ‘overgrown lion cub with more mane than brains.’”

Jason paused mid-drink, lowering his goblet as he mulled that over. “Did she actually say that?”

Tyland’s smirk widened. “Word travels fast, dear brother. You’re the talk of the hunt.”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll admit, she’s sharp-tongued, but it’s all part of the charm.”

Tyland gave him a long, incredulous look. “The charm? Jason, she’s insulted you three times today. Once in front of the king.”

Jason leaned in, resting his elbows on the table, a slow grin spreading across his face. “And wasn’t it magnificent?”

Tyland nearly choked on his wine. “Magnificent? Have you gone mad? Most men would’ve turned tail after the first barb.”

Jason shrugged, his grin not faltering. “Most men don’t have the spine for a real challenge. But the princess? She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Clever, bold, utterly fearless.”

Tyland tilted his head, studying his brother as though he were a foreign creature. “Are you sure you’re feeling well? You sound like a lovesick minstrel.”

Jason laughed, gesturing for a servant to refill his goblet. “I’ve never been better, Tyland. And mark my words, I’m not giving up.”

Tyland sighed, rubbing his temples as though the very idea gave him a headache. “Jason, you do realize she’s as likely to throw that goblet at your head as she is to accept your advances?”

Jason grinned, raising his refilled goblet. “Then I’ll duck and try again.”

Tyland let out an exasperated laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Jason leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “No, Tyland. I’m in love.”

Tyland stared at him for a moment, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You’ve spent all of one day bickering with her, and you’re calling it love?”

Jason shrugged again, completely unbothered. “It’s the beginning of something. I can feel it.”

Tyland sighed, raising his goblet in a mock toast. “To your perseverance, brother. And to the princess’s patience—she’ll need it.”

Jason clinked his goblet against Tyland’s with a laugh, his mind already racing with plans for his next move. Tyland, meanwhile, settled back into his seat, muttering under his breath, “Overgrown lion cub indeed.”

The royal hunt had concluded in success—or what could loosely be called success. King Viserys had driven his spear into a fine stag, though the beast was brown, not the white hart they had hoped for. Still, the king’s mood was jovial as the procession returned to camp, the deer tied to a cart and the hounds trotting proudly alongside.

You dismounted from your horse, smoothing your riding attire and dusting off your gloves. The camp bustled with activity, and you were eager to slip away and check on your sister, who had yet to return. But as you turned to leave, you were intercepted by none other than Jason Lannister.

“Princess,” he began, his tone as smooth as polished gold, “a moment of your time.”

You sighed inwardly but forced a polite smile. “Lord Jason. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jason fell into step beside you as you walked toward the campfires, his confident grin firmly in place. “I merely wished to offer my congratulations on the hunt. Though, truth be told, I suspect you would’ve done just as well, had you been given the chance.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, unsure whether to interpret his words as flattery or a subtle dig. “A kind sentiment, my lord, though I doubt the stag would agree.”

Jason chuckled, unperturbed. “No doubt. But, Princess, I must say, there’s something quite striking about a woman who defies convention. It’s… refreshing.”

“Refreshing,” you echoed, your voice dry. “Like a cold bath in the middle of winter.”

He grinned at your sarcasm. “Exactly. Though I imagine even the coldest waters would be warmed by your presence.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him with an arched brow. “Lord Jason, is there a point to this conversation, or are you simply practicing your flowery speeches?”

Jason hesitated for only a fraction of a second before recovering, his grin widening. “Perhaps both. But more importantly, I wanted to speak to you about my earlier… proposal.”

You opened your mouth to respond—no doubt with a scathing remark—but the sound of hoofbeats interrupted you. Turning toward the commotion, you spotted Rhaenyra riding into camp, her white hair streaked with mud and blood, and a triumphant gleam in her eyes. Behind her rode Ser Criston Cole, his expression impassive but his armor smeared with evidence of their kill. A massive boar was strapped across the back of their horse, its tusks gleaming in the fading light.

“Excuse me, my lord,” you said quickly, seizing the opportunity to escape. “I must go and greet my sister.”

Jason stepped in front of you, holding up a hand. “Wait. Just a moment longer.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Lord Jason, whatever it is, make it quick.”

He straightened, his expression uncharacteristically earnest. “I understand you may think me arrogant—or, as you so eloquently put it earlier, an ‘overgrown lion cub.’ But I am sincere in my intentions, Princess. Casterly Rock is a grand place, a fitting home for a woman as remarkable as yourself. All I ask is that you reconsider.”

You stared at him, caught between exasperation and surprise. “You truly don’t give up, do you?”

Jason smiled, the hint of a boyish charm breaking through his usual bravado. “Never.”

Letting out a long breath, you gave a small shrug. “Fine. I’ll reconsider.”

Jason blinked, as though he hadn’t heard correctly. “You will?”

“Yes,” you said, sidestepping him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak with my sister before she starts skinning that boar.”

Jason remained frozen for a moment, processing your words. Then, realization dawned on his face, and his grin returned in full force. “You said yes.”

You turned back briefly, giving him a flat look. “I said I’d reconsider, Lord Jason. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

But Jason was already beaming, his chest puffed out like a victorious knight. “Still, it’s progress.”

Shaking your head, you hurried toward Rhaenyra, who was dismounting her horse with Ser Criston’s help. As you approached, you could hear Jason’s triumphant declaration behind you:

“Tyland! She didn’t call me an insult this time!”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at you, her lips twitching in amusement. “What was that about?”

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the question. “Nothing worth discussing. Now, tell me—how does one kill a boar and look like they’ve wrestled a dragon in the process?”

Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head. “Perhaps I’ll teach you one day—assuming you survive Lord Lannister’s wooing.”

And despite yourself, you couldn’t help but laugh as well.

The end of the celebrations marked a flurry of activity in the royal camp. Servants bustled about, packing away tents and preparing carriages, while lords and ladies exchanged pleasantries before departing for their respective holds. You stood near your father’s retinue, helping to secure the last of your belongings while your sister Rhaenyra leaned casually against her horse, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” she remarked, her tone laced with amusement.

“I’ve had a long few days,” you replied, brushing dust from your gloves.

“Hmm,” she mused, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain lion, would it?”

You shot her a warning glance, but before you could reply, the subject of her teasing appeared. Jason Lannister strode across the camp, his crimson-and-gold cloak billowing dramatically behind him, his golden mane practically glowing in the morning light. He looked as though he had stepped straight out of a bard’s tale, which only made his approach all the more exasperating.

“Princess,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the bustle. “A word, if you please.”

Rhaenyra straightened, her smirk widening. “This should be entertaining,” she murmured, stepping back to watch.

You turned to face him, sighing softly. “Lord Jason, if this is about—”

“Your answer,” he interrupted, his grin as confident as ever. “The celebrations are over, and I must know where we stand.”

Before you could respond, King Viserys appeared, his crown slightly askew as he cradled a goblet of wine. Behind him, Queen Alicent stood holding Prince Aegon, her expression carefully neutral, though her eyes flicked curiously between you and Jason.

“Jason,” Viserys said, his tone weary but good-natured. “Still lingering, are you?”

Jason bowed deeply. “Your Grace. Forgive my persistence, but I wished to speak with the princess before her departure.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Jason. “Ah. This again.”

He turned to you, rubbing his temples as though the matter was giving him a headache. “Well, daughter? What’s your answer? I leave the choice to you.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes on you. Rhaenyra looked thoroughly entertained, while Alicent’s expression betrayed nothing. Jason, of course, was grinning like a boy about to win a prize.

Finally, you let out a long, theatrical sigh. “I suppose… I’ll accept.”

Jason’s grin widened, though he looked momentarily stunned, as if he hadn’t actually expected you to agree. “You will?”

“Yes,” you said, your tone almost resigned. “If only to stop your endless pestering.”

Rhaenyra laughed outright, covering her mouth with her hand as Viserys gave you a long, bemused look. “Well,” he muttered, scratching his beard. “Congratulations, I suppose.”

Jason straightened, clearly taking this as a full endorsement. “Thank you, Your Grace. I assure you, the princess will be treated like a queen at Casterly Rock.”

Viserys glanced at you again, his expression skeptical. “Let’s hope she doesn’t regret it.”

Jason turned back to you, his grin still firmly in place. “You won’t regret this, Princess. I’ll ensure you have everything you could ever want.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Including peace and quiet?”

Jason laughed, utterly undeterred. “If that’s what you desire, then yes.”

Viserys groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Enough. If you’re going to spend the rest of your days bickering, at least do it somewhere I don’t have to hear it.”

Rhaenyra, still chuckling, mounted her horse and gave you a sly look. “Safe travels, sister. And do try not to murder him before you reach Casterly Rock.”

You shot her a glare but couldn’t suppress a small smile. As Jason turned to escort you toward your own horse, you muttered under your breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

Jason, ever the optimist, leaned in with a grin. “The adventure of a lifetime, Princess.”

And with that, the two of you joined the departing procession, your father still muttering behind you, “The Seven save us all.”

[alien-ally]

i Cant wait to see Qian smile again. like when was the last time he genuinely laughed, much less smiled?? Not since yuan left. or after he returned if we're being honest. he's still yet to reach that final footing. i cant wait. for him to not be confused or annoyed or disappointed or fighting his desires around yuan. Also real quick before ep 9 lemme say i love the way chris blinks as qian. idk but each flustered/expectant blink, you can see the gears turning behind his eyes. Each flicker of his eyes is so pronounced, clear and deliberate almost??

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[nottswitch]

Ahhhh thank you sm for the follow and congrats on 1k, sweets!🖤 Can I do number 30 with Theo and make it smuuuuutttty as fuck🥵🥵🥵

Smut slut til the end of time

thank you babe, and yesss, we’re moots now 💘 you ask for smut and i shall deliver pure filth! also a smut slut thank you very much

prompt list

30. "oh, fuck me."

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; theo m-list ; how to request

18+ smut

you didn’t know how much time had passed – maybe minutes, maybe hours. all you knew was the fact that your pussy was practically on fire, throbbing and aching with need as theo’s face was buried between your thighs, bringing you to yet another edge that evening. it was a wonder theo was holding out himself, considering that his cock was practically bursting out of his boxers and staining them with precum. he was enjoying every second of it, though.

your mewls grew in volume and intensity when you felt the peak approaching for probably the tenth time in the last hour. theo felt your legs starting to tremble and your thighs clenching around his face, which prompted him to remove his mouth from your cunt, giving you a bite on your inner thigh in the process.

"theo, please," you sobbed, your hands desperately gripping his green and silver tie restraining your wrists against the headboard of his bed. he chuckled, looking at you with a condescending gaze, his hungry eyes flicking between your flushed and sweaty face and your glistening center.

"please?" he drawled, the tip of his tongue sticking out to drag along your pussy, spreading your folds slightly, but not reaching the clit. "please what, tesoro?" he asked, his voice almost tender, betrayed by his cocky smirk at the sight of your shaking thighs.

"cum…" you muttered, your speech slurred after minutes upon minutes of moaning and whimpering for him. "wanna cum, theo, please…" you tugged at the tie again, your hips desperately jerking up to try meeting his mouth, his hands, anything at all.

"you wanna cum, bambina?" theo’s voice was mockingly surprised, as if you hadn’t been begging him to let you cum for ages now. "and how would you like to cum, hm? my mouth? my fingers? my cock?" he added thoughtfully, as if your decision actually mattered. not that it didn’t – he just knew that at this point, you’d be happy to cum humping his shoe if he allowed it.

"anything, teddy, anything…" you whined, your hips thrashing along the sheets and leaving wrinkled traces behind them. theo gave them a firm squeeze, pinning your body against the bed to prevent you from getting the forbidden friction even accidentally.

his hands hooked around your inner thighs, his thumbs moving up and down your outer folds and clasping around your clit through them. you sobbed again, feeling little needles of pleasure numbing your legs and lower stomach, but not giving anything more – just like theo wanted. he stared intently at the wetness dripping out of you and spread your folds out, opening up your entrance to his eyes as well. a quiet chuckle left his lips once he saw your hole, tightening and loosening around thin air in search of something to clench around.

"greedy little cunt," he drawled, raising his eyebrow at you, as if to make you answer for your neediness. as if he wasn’t the one edging you for at least an hour straight. you mewled in response, your mind already too out of it to properly think of something to say. your cheeks and neck were properly hot right now as you felt embarrassment creeping somewhere into your barely functioning consciousness at being exposed like that. but you didn’t really care, not when he was so close to where you absolutely ached for him.

"such a slutty little thing for me, principessa." a light slap right on your cunt brought you back to physical world, but barely. it wasn’t hard enough to cause any substantial pain, but just the right amount to remind you of your place, of the way you were theo’s needy slut through and through. his thumbs returned to massaging your clit through your folds, slipping and sliding around due to your pussy being completely drenched. "you want my cock, tesoro? want me to fill this pretty little pussy up?"

"oh, fuck me," you somehow managed to moan out, the pitch of your voice heightening. "please, theo, please please please… need your cock…" you mumbled, your lips barely able to move from the mind-numbing, teasing lack of proper pleasure applied to your throbbing clit by theo’s fingers. you felt drool trickling down your cheek from the corner of your mouth and creating a wet spot on the satin pillowcase under your head, but you couldn’t really wipe it away due to your hands still tightly constricted by the slytherin tie on the headboard.

theo shook his head, as if scolding a petulant child. your state, fucked out without actually having been fucked, amused and aroused him, and he felt his own need twitching between his legs. as much as he loved making you lose your mind from how horny he was rendering you, he thought he (and you) had had enough. he gave your pussy another light slap before starting to slowly crawl up your body, his lips leaving a sloppy trail over your stomach, chest, collarbones… he knew he wouldn’t let you go anytime soon.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

“I feel like I am getting fatter.”

My dear readers, I had decided to include prompts in my works as I thought this might cater to the readers of mine who prefers a shorter read. All of my prompts are my ideas (feel free to drop me any if you do have any in mind) and they will be based on my opinion of the boys :> I apologise if my writing may be offensive to some people but this is my take hence it would be nice if you could be more open-minded :,)

P.S: This fictional write is not meant to be a skinny-shaming/fat-shaming piece because I strongly believe no matter what size you are, you deserve to be loved by all! Personality triumphs over looks afterall!

Preview: An insight into what the boys think when you tell them that you feel like you’re getting plumper.

RAFAYEL

He just stares at you wildly; eyes widened, eyebrows raised to form arches, jaw opened slightly in a state of disbelief at what he had just heard coming out of your mouth. “How could you say such things to yourself?” He palmed his own face, shaking his head in suit. “You coming up to me and putting yourself down just because you think you’re chubby is ridiculous.” When he noticed that you did not say anything to rebut him, he walked closer to you, tilting your chin upwards so you may gaze into his orbs of nebulas. “You are not chubby in my eyes my love.”

“But, I just don’t like the way I look in the mirror Rafayel…” Your confidence had always been in a dip when it comes to your own body image. It especially affected you when recently, news regarding your relationship had taken a turn for criticism towards your body. You wanted to look compatible to your lover and you figured the best you could match him is if you own the body and curves of a runway model. “And, maybe, I just thought I might look better beside you if I am well…skinnier maybe?”

The man erupted a laughter, a genuine laughter of amusement when you told him that last bit of your concern. Rafayel is never the type to prey on one’s insecurity but when your determination to lose weight is based off of on pleasing his fans, he could not care less. “No my love, you do not have to lose weight just because some simpleton made some comments about your body. Come, let’s have a seat okay?” He tugged onto your wrist gently and then sat the both of you down onto the plush sofa of his. Plopping his head against the headrest, he turned his face to look at you. “Do you know back in the days, artists from ancient times prefer drawing women of flesh rather than bones?”

Seeing you hesitated to answer him, he continued on. “That is because bones equal to famine, flesh equals to well-fed my love. It is a sign of royalty. And you, I see nothing but a woman of royalty even if you do not see it yourself. The world nowadays are falling back on appreciating women with healthy bodies and I will always be here to assure you that in my eyes, you are not chubby. As you are to me, a sign of royalty which dates back to the ancient times and even till this day and age.”

Rafayel has always have a way with his words. That is the reason why you fell for him. At first, you may think satire is a part of his image, but eventually, you realised that this man spits euphemisms, and that his mockery never falls short of facts. He is very knowledgeable of the world and the way things work. “But if you still do want to lose weight, I shall do it with you as much as I hate working out. But no harm in keeping my princess fit as a fiddle if she wishes for me to join.” He blushes, eyes glanced away from yours for a moment when his mind flashed an image of you being all hot and bothered after a workout session.

“Thank you for saying that Rafayel. It really helps in calming down my nerves.” You smiled back at him, leaning your head against his shoulders and he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“By the way, just so you know, I prefer drawing you in this ‘chubby’ state—as you would call it—because I think the curves of your body catches the sunlight beams very well and it makes you look ethereal.” Rafayel grins cheekily, fingers trailed against your jawline gently as he studied your features and allowing his imagination to run wild, already planning on his next piece of artwork featuring you, his one and only muse. This time, he shall also make it his statement piece to the haters that his love for you shall not run amok and perhaps, suggest a change in the world’s definition of beauty with his artwork.

XAVIER

“So, did anyone suggested that to you?” Xavier looked up from his plate, swallowing the piece of meat after he had finished asking his question. He had noticed recently when the both of you were on dates, you had been avoiding snacks and junk foods that you would never have resist before and that was when he decided to butt in to ask if you were on a diet and when you admitted it, the conversation was led up to this point. “Or, was it in your own head?”

“I realised it when we were doing the fitness assessment before the hunter’s task that day.” You explained, the fork pushing the pea on your plate, watching it rolled around in circles. During the assessment, everyone is required to get on the scale for a routine check and update for one’s personal records file. You remembered your confidence had started to plummet bit by bit when you noticed all the female hunters are averagely weighed below normal BMI weight.

Although no one was laughing at you as the scale announced your weight but you could almost taste the hint of embarrassment at the back of your throat as you stared at the numbers shown on the scale. You figured, a good hunter should not be overweight right? Or else how does one, being overweight, excel in physical tasks? Hence, you had decided to be harsh on yourself to lose weight for the sake of excelling in physical tasks and to fit in amongst your peers. “I am one of the few ones that probably exceeded the normal weight requirement for a hunter.”

“But you are still one of the best hunters among our division right?” Xavier was quick to catch up on one of your worries for being too overweight to complete physical tasks. “You should not worry much about your weight if you are actually pulling the weight of being a good hunter. Pun intended.” His pun made you pressed your lips tightly to form a thin line. It was funny but it was said at the wrong time.

“Then do you think I am chubby?” You raised an eyebrow and the blond man in front of you let go of his piece of meat and you watch the slice of meat slipped right into the bowl of spicy soup. This conversation is getting serious now if he is willing to overcook that piece of meat just to engage in this conversation.

“I never thought you were chubby. Other girls are just too skinny to my liking.” He placed his chopsticks aside and stared right at your face, cerulean orbs burning with underlying annoyance because of what you had said about yourself. “And I don’t think your weight affects your hunter skills as they are both separate entities by itself.” Humming to himself, his hand rubbed the base of his chin as he thought of what else to say to boost your confidence. “Speaking of which, skinnier girls do tend to end up meeting their demise faster than girls like your size.”

“What do you mean by that?” You watched as the man picks up the chopsticks and starts digging around the soup base for his missing piece of meat that is probably overcooked to his taste.

He shrugged casually. “They just look all the more fragile to me. Most of the ones that got admitted to the hospitals are the skinny ones that tends to get more broken bones and bruises even from fighting the easiest category of wanderers.” He shoved the meat into his mouth almost animation-like and started chewing. His face flashed a hint of disgust as he struggled to swallow the piece of meat down his throat. “My point is, as long as you are healthy and not easily bruised, nobody is going to care about your weight. But if they ever do, I know you can easily prove them wrong.”

Xavier is more of a motivational speaker type of boyfriend. Not because he does not want to comfort you, but he would much rather remind you of the strengths you already have and that you should not get easily discouraged by such a minute issue. Not to mention, although adorning the face of an angel, this boy here does make some pretty sarcastic remarks here and there. “Here, have some more meat, it might help you to lose weight. But it would also help you to gain more muscle which would be more helpful during combat rather than being a bag of bones.”

ZAYNE

“Just because you are sat down and you realised that you had ‘flaps’ does not make you fat y/n.” Zayne laid the tray beside you, taking a seat next to you in the hospital’s cafeteria. After the routine check-up with Zayne, it usually wraps up with you stepping onto the scale and the numbers on the scale are not showing your average weight anymore. Thus, your frown pointed towards the scale gave Zayne just enough of a hint for him to catch up on what was churning in your head. “Y/n?”

“I’m sorry, it just never came to my mind that I had gotten heavier since my last checkups.” You gnawed onto your bottom lip, fingers prancing along the material of your pants. “It does not help either when my colleagues said that I had gotten a bit bloated lately.” Sighing, you hid your face in your palms. “Not to mention, my boyfriend is a doctor, what an irony for you to date someone who isn’t physically healthy right?”

Zayne placed a box of milk in front of you, the one that you would always go for whenever you stop by his workplace. “Y/n, statistically speaking, your weight data is not considered overweight. Nor would it compromise your health in any manner. If it helps, you do not look fat to me.” The doctor glanced over to you, watching you as you only started reading the labels across the box milk instead of ripping it open to drink it like a maniac you always tend to be. “Are you planning to lose weight then?”

“I guess I am planning to. For the sake of my own health and the image of our relationship.” Zayne frowned slightly at your response but of course, being the husband material he is, he would do anything to make you healthy. Even if that means he does not necessarily agree with your standpoint.

“Wanting to be healthy would be a good start, but losing weight for the sake of our relationship’s image is not a good idea. I am glad to have someone healthy by my side.” His voice was comforting, his tone soothing to your ears. “I have another surgery scheduled in 20 minutes so I have to go now, but do not attempt to lose weight without me being around you. Do you think you can at least do me that favour?” He pushed his chair back and stood up, a hand placed on the top of your head in the form of a head pat. “I do not wish to see you jeopardising your own mental health over your weight.”

The doctor leaned down to kiss your forehead before he took the milk and placed it within your palms. His lips turned upwards into a gentle smile. “I will see you after work later.” And he went off, blending into the crowds in the crowded hallways. But it did not took long before your phone rang, and you received a call from a random number.

“Hi is this Miss y/n?” The feminine voice spoke on the other end. You agreed and introduced yourself, asking her what was the purpose of the call. “Dr.Zayne had asked me to set up an appointment with you for 3pm later so that we can go through your nutritional plan later. He told me that you wanted to lose weight don’t you?” You were nearly speechless when she said that. No wonder Zayne rushed off all of a sudden. He did not have a surgery scheduled, he only wanted to make an appointment with an in-house nutritionist to help you in losing weight. Afterall, he is not against the idea of you losing weight but he would much rather you do it in a healthy manner.

Your heart felt fuzzy when you are constantly reminded of the way Zayne would always takes care of you, even if he does not particularly look like he cares. “Yeah, that’s me. May I know what did Dr.Zayne said to you?”

“Not much, he only told me that his spouse is unhappy with her healthy body and that she would like to achieve a slimmer figure…” The girl’s voice trailed off a little, seemingly a little hesitant. “But he also told me to set up a 7 day workout plan for you so that you may get too tired of losing weight and you might just give up on it halfway.” OOF. Guess Zayne is totally fine with the way you look.

[vanesycho]

I really had a hard time finding an idea ;( I actually just wanted to write jay smut lol

f!reader x tutor!jay

Warning:Smut, fingering, dirty talk

wc:1,1k

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"I'm Jay, nice to meet you." You took the man's hand and shook it, offering a slight smile. "Nice to meet you. Y/n." Jay stepped into your house and took a look around, he followed you as you headed towards your room.

Your university exam was coming up and you clearly needed help. That's why you were so glad you found Jay, a private tutor on the social media. Wearing a white shirt and rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he gently pushed his fallen glasses and sat on a chair. "Shall we start without wasting any time?"

──────────────────────

Half an hour had passed, you had almost grasped most of the topic, but you couldn't get past the part where you were stuck. Jay stopped helping you. 'We're not continuing until you do, you have to pass here.' you sighed in annoyance, you had called him for help and this was how you were being treated.He watched as you brought the tip of the pen to your mouth and bit it nervously, shifting his hips on chair and moving into a more comfortable position, crossing his arms and continuing to examine you.

You were sitting with your upper body bent over the table, his eyes drifting towards your prominent hips, bit his lower lip involuntarily. When he heard your groan in exasperation, he grinned and approached you. "How about I make it easy for you?" You turned to him. “How?” He pulled back and leaned back, nodding towards his lap. "Come and let me show you." You looked at him for a while, was he serious or was he making fun of you? Your eyes fell on his lap, his cock that was obvious even through the pants he was wearing made you swallow hard, you stood up and sat on his lap with your back to him. He grabbed you by the waist and made you sit up properly, you held your breath for a moment, one of his hands caressed your leg while the other hand took the pen. "Don't worry, this will help you learn faster."

Oh you had no doubt about it, you looked at the question but it seemed impossible to focus with his breath on your neck. His hand started to move in your thigh, you took a deep breath. “Jay- I think that’s enough for today." You squeezed your legs together as he hummed into your ear with his deep voice, grinning as his hand squeezed between your legs. "Oh, how sweet, do you want to end the lesson so quickly? We still have half an hour left." His fingers went to your pussy, he started caressing you over your clothes, he continued talking as if he never did this and it was normal "What should we do with the remaining half hour?"

Jay grabbed your knees and spread your legs while you were still on his lap, giving him easier access to your pussy. This time his hand reached your clit through your shorts. "W-wait." He raised his eyebrows slightly in question. “Wait?” You pressed your lips together to keep from making any noise as his finger slowly circled your clit. "A slut who tries to hold herself back, but you're all wet under my fingers. Are you sure you want me to stop?" When he inserted a finger into your pussy you couldn't hold yourself back anymore and let out a moan. "Jay- fuck." He smiled slightly at your reaction, talking to himself as he slowly pushed it in and out. "I thought so too."

You looked at him as he took his finger out. "Take off your pants, princess." You stood up without hesitation, he watched you as you took off your pants, felt embarrassed when he examined your body from head to toe, you settled back into his lap. This time your legs were more comfortably spread apart, one of Jay's hands went to your breast and started caressing it, while he continued to take care of your pussy. He pointed two fingers towards your mouth, "Open your mouth darling." Slightly opened, he put two fingers in your mouth without waiting, your tongue moved between his fingers and wet them thoroughly, he groaned deeply while watching this "Fuck, I bet you'd take my dick perfectly in your mouth." You whined as his fingers went deeper into your mouth, he chuckled at how cute you looked even in pain, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and guided them to your pussy.

Jay inserted two fingers without waiting, you moaned in pain at first, he swallowed hard when he felt the tightness of your pussy on his fingers. "So fucking tight and warm, you can barely take my fingers. If I put my dick in you and fucked you until I destroyed you, I bet you wouldn't even be able to stand it, am i right darling?" His fingers were moving quickly inside your pussy without getting used to you at all, the wetness was so intense that it was flowing from Jay's fingers.

"Please...I can't take it.." You couldn't even form a proper sentence, your eyes were filled with pain and pleasure, his large and veiny hands were wrapped around your body, his fingers were moving non-stop.

"You can't take? Of course you can take it, princess. Look how nicely you wrap my fingers with your pretty little pussy." Your breathing was irregular, he didn’t stop as your moans turned into screams, his fingers continued to destroy you. “Please..I- I’m so close, please..." he hummed and started to kiss your neck "Cum on my fingers baby, show me how much mess you can make." It didn't take long for you to cum after that, you came on his fingers as you let out one last tearful moan, Jay watched how the liquid went through his fingers. "Ah, good job baby."

You both looked at your phone when your alarm went off, indicating that your 'class' time was over. You stood up, put on your pants and tried to pull yourself together, Jay watched you with his eyes fixed on you, you glanced at the test books on the table "So...Will there be another lesson?" He approached you and leaned in. "Of course, I can't miss the opportunity to fuck this beautiful tight pussy." He placed a kiss on the corner of your lips and spoke one last time before leaving your room. "And you'd better get ready for the next lesson, if I see that you still can't do the same subject, good things won't happen to you."

[justporo]

The whisky neat and the strawberries sweet

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: Let's try again shall we? Tumblr ate this the first time. I listened to "Too Sweet" by Hozier too often and it caused this. What was only supposed to be a drabble turned into a whole thing... I hope you enjoy! With a wonderful gifted artwork by @nathaira-draws (please follow them!)

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, porn with feelings, blood drinking, vaginal sex, creampie, foodplay, aftercare Wordcount: 4,7k Song: Too Sweet - Hozier

~~~

You didn't really know how you always ended up in positions like this one.

But by all the gods, you for sure didn't mind that you did.

Comfortable. You were comfortable in the way you sat on Astarion's lap, straddling him, clad in nothing but a sheer nightgown. The fabric huddled along your body, leaving very little to the imagination. From the clearly visible stiff peaks of your breasts it flowed down in soft lines to where it cascaded into a bunched up mess around your eagerly and widely spread legs.

Astarion in his usual camp outfit, albeit with his shirt possibly open wider than usual, was much more clothed still. But he surely seemed comfortable too.

And if his promising smirk and playfully raised eyebrow as he looked at you wasn't proof enough? Then maybe the way he was pleasantly, almost achingly hard and pressed directly against your heated, throbbing core between your legs was.

And yet you weren't even primarily engaging In anything overtly lewd, at least this far. The two of you were simply talking. Astarion was having a glass of neat whisky while you were indulging in a bowl of perfectly sweet strawberries.

You talked about every- and anything, whatever came to each of your minds. While Astarion kept sipping on the liquor out of his fancy crystal glass and you popped deliciously sweet fruit into your mouth.

Or, occasionally bucking your hips to get a little rise out of the other - a gasp, a groan, a telltale involuntary twitch - or a bottom lip caught on a fang with crimson eyes shortly rolling back into the skull and then a blissful smile.

The two of you played that little game. Trying to get the better of the other, all while trying to maintain a somewhat civil conversation.

As civil as any conversation could be when your slick cunt was pressed against your vampire’s dick. And you could barely keep yourself from rubbing yourself against him until you would either see stars explode before your eyes - or Astarion would remember he was a predator after all.

Either end was equally titillating in your eyes.

This little back and forth went on until you eventually proverbially poked the vampire a little too hard. You ground yourself against him as he was just answering a question you had asked him a moment ago, about what his favourite places around Baldur’s Gate were. The snap of your hips was so forceful, your by now obscenely slick core rubbed against Astarion’s hardened length in an almost painful way. You made yourself moan from the friction rolling through you, coiling in your stomach.

The vampire groaned loudly, almost a growl and mid-word, head falling back. He grabbed the wooden armrest with the hand not currently holding liquor filled crystal, until his knuckles showed white even through his already pale skin. It was almost a wonder the wood didn’t crack.

His length throbbed violently. Your clit eagerly echoed it.

You bit your lip as you focused on the feeling, a lewd, wishful sigh left you. The tension was oh so delicious.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Astarion almost hissed at you, a bit breathless. His head had snapped back, staring at you from deep under his drawn together brows.  “Because if you are, you are not being very subtle about it, love.”

His tone was slightly angry and a little high-pitched. He was immediately trying to walk it off but you had obviously irked him. But he was merely teasing you. You saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched unwillingly as he took another swig of whisky. And if his attempts at deflections wouldn’t have told you the truth, something else you clearly felt yearning for more of that friction, would have surely done the trick.

You grinned at him with fiendish delight as Astarion tried to somewhat awkwardly rearrange himself in his seat. But with you pressing yourself against him he hadn’t really any room to wriggle.

His ruby eyes narrowed at you as your grin grew broader. Oh, how you enjoyed being on top of things for once - quite literally so.

“Also it is very rude to interrupt someone like thi-” Astarion tried to utter in an offended tone. But interrupted himself once more with a groan when you rolled your hips against him once more. Even more forceful than before.

Astarion’s moan almost became a whimper this time. Long slender fingers darted over and now gripped onto your naked thigh. Not pulling you closer - for now - but also definitely not pushing you off. Astarion’s cock helplessly and desperately jerked from the friction where it was nestled between your legs.

It was a piece of work to keep yourself from huffing and moaning as you were continuously trying to push Astarion into the deep end without being dragged under as well.

The vampire’s head lolled back again for a moment. Then it rolled back around, his expression a challenge now. The vampire licked over his lips lasciviously: eyes glittering like garnets and fangs shining like ivory as he observed you. Precious in any kind of way.

Playtime was over now. Time to face the consequences.

“You vicious little vixen,” Astarion whispered, fingers digging into your flesh until the twinge of it had you throw your head back this time and gasp. The way your back thereby arched drew your vampire’s attention to the way your breasts were now perfectly presented to him. To either behold them like a connoisseur would an impactful piece of art or to devour them like a doomed man would his last meal.

The pale elf’s equally pale eyebrow twitched - as did your clit still drawing pleasure from his fingertips almost clawing into your thigh. If only… a little more…

Quick flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue over the sensitive buds at the crest of your breasts made either of them perk up even more. Until your nightgown was dangling off them even more, creating soft lines draping down, surely drawing the observer’s eye to them and your now heaving breasts, heavy from lust.

Your hands immediately went to cup Astarion’s head, cradling it as his tongue swirled around the tip of your tits, not even bothered by the thin fabric between you and him. The way your hips started moving came naturally. Just like how you bowed your back even more for your lover. You closed your eyes, easily getting lost in the sensation.

Then, suddenly, sharp teeth dug into your breast, lips shortly closing down around the hardened nipple.

“Oww,” you yelped and immediately resorted to slapping Astarion’s arm in response, pushing him away. Your head snapped back to stare at him.

The vampire just laughed haughtily as he withdrew again, leaning back. He licked just a drop of blood of his lips as he did so.

When you looked down your own body you saw twin pricks that had pierced through the translucent fabric. And beneath it a tiny trickle of blood running down your chest.

In your moment of inattentiveness Astarion had shifted slightly in his seat: now sitting with his legs spread even further, the bulge between them so painfully obvious and palpable for either of you. He was leaning back, arms draped over the backrest. In one hand he was still holding the whisky glass and idly swirling it around while holding it by its rim.

By default your legs were also spread even further now, making it hard to move. And suddenly you were the one feeling a little caught. Good for you, you had found quite the pleasure in being caught by the vampire time and again.

Although that certainly didn’t stop you from leaning forward as much as possible and catching the pale elf’s chin between your fingers, trying to stare him down.

“Don’t you know that it’s rude to bite someone without asking?”

Astarion pouted. “Can you really blame me for not being able to resist, darling? It was… low hanging fruit after all,” he mused with a grin.

Your eyes narrowed - considering if you should be insulted by that or not.

Astarion eyed the lonely drop of blood he left behind slowly rounding the curve of your boobs. He angled his head observing its journey. A single strand of white hair fell into the vampire’s face as he was entranced - by your tits and the trickle of your fine red alike. 

Lost in thought and the view he lifted the crystal to his lips again. As if unconsciously trying to substitute for what he obviously craved much more than liquor right this moment.

The whisky would have to do.

But before he could take a sip, your fingers wrapped around his and wrung the glass out of them. Inattentiveness really made either of you prone to be taken advantage of. But not to either of your damage.

Before Astarion could protest you took a generous swig of his liquor and slightly shuddered as it burned down your throat. You licked your lips with a grin as you felt the burn leave behind a delicious warmth.

The pale elf’s mouth fell open slightly, eyebrows jumping up. His eyes darkened and twinkled at you as if asking you how you even dared and simultaneously promising you he’d get you back for that one - in that kind of way that would leave you desperately begging for more.

It made your lower body clench as another kind of heat washed through your body. Adding to the throbbing sensation between your legs, lashing it on.

And yet the most you had done was sit there.

Closing your eyes, you tried to regain just a fraction of composure. You had been doing so good in your little game of teasing. How did this godsdamned vampire hold that much power over you that he almost broke you with barely more than a glance?

Astarion in the meantime smiled in content as he took note of how you had to consciously concentrate to keep your wits about you. And also he had located the rest of your strawberries still sitting in the bowl on a small table next to the chair you were both wrapped up on.

Your head snapped back as you felt the vampire’s weight slightly shift below you. With his roguishly quick reflexes you only just saw how your lover had started chewing something. Then he was popping another strawberry into his mouth. And another-

“Hey,” you wailed at him as your eyes darted to the little bowl that was now almost yawningly empty. “Hey stop, that’s the last one!” you continued, grabbing for Astarion’s wrist with your free hand as he was about to devour the last piece of your sweet treat.

“Then make me, my love,” Astarion answered, not missing a beat. “Come and get it,” he finished and slowly placed the last strawberry between his lips, grinning. His fangs were bared, contrasting against the deep red of the last piece of fruit.

His hands wandered to either of your thighs, pushing into them and pulling you closer to him at the same time, spreading your legs even more for him. With your hand not holding the crystal glass you grabbed for his shoulder to try and keep your balance.

Lightning jolts shot through your body at the sight of your lover. Finding their target in between your legs. Making you involuntarily rub yourself against Astarion’s hard dick again, still comfortably pressed there. Trying to keep the electric energy going. Hoping to turn it into a constant current.

Heat was pooling everywhere in your body now at the promise Astarion’s eyes made you.

He didn’t need to be able to speak to lure you to him. Astarion leaned in a little closer, the delicate lines around his mouth deepening when his smile grew predatory. And you leaned to him, your cheeks and whole body flushed, keen to accept what he offered: the lamb willingly falling for the wolf.

But then an idea flashed through you. Acting quickly, so you wouldn’t second guess yourself, you took a small sip of whisky, keeping it in your mouth.

The vampire’s eyes sparked at you, immediately catching onto your plan. A small strained gasp worked its way around the strawberry still in between his teeth to get past his lips. The fangs dug into the flesh of the fruit ever so slightly at the strained sound. And at your core you felt his dick twitch once more.

You were both in for a treat.

With a chuckle and the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one holding power you leaned in to kiss your vampire. You slowly wrapped your mouth around the strawberry, lips brushing Astarion’s like a feather in passing - all while your gaze burned into his.

The fruit was crushed between your mouths in an instance. Its red, wet juice ran over both your chins, leaving trails that almost looked like freshly spilled blood. The flesh of the sweet treat was quickly torn and devoured between pointy fangs and more sharp teeth as your mouths worked impatiently to get around it. To get to each other - to the real treat.

The whisky had immediately spilled over your lips, down your chin. Only a few drops had actually made it to Astarion’s lips. But it was enough. The rest he could easily taste directly on your lips and tongue, in your mouth. His tongue made sure to get every last bit of it as it slipped between your lips.

The vampire tensed beneath you, his length somehow hardening more, as you melted into him while kissing him; moulding yourself to him as you slowly felt yourself get lost.

Tart sweetness mixed with smoky burning as did tongues and teeth. Remains of strawberry and whisky were already staining your faces and throats, even clothes.

One of Astarion’s hands moved from your legs to the nape of your neck as your mouths moved against each other. He pulled you closer, trying to taste more of you as you let it happen with a yearning moan.

His other hand moved to yours still clenching the crystal glass in its fingers and swiftly took it away, placing it down to free you from it. And when you were, your hands immediately grabbed the vampire’s face. You let your fingertips stroke along his pointy ears, wandering into his curls, deepening the kiss even more. Closing your eyes as Astarion’s rolled into the back of his head.

His other hand sneakily went to your ass and with a gentle push made you grind against him once more. And then again, until you took up the rhythm on your own. All while you kept kissing, now exchanging moans, gasps and other lewd sounds spilling from your lips. Passing them back and forth between you.

And when only traces of strawberry and whisky remained on your tongues, you broke away from each other. You were both panting and worked up to the point where it had become almost painful.

You stared into each other’s eyes that were void of anything playful now. The need in them was real.

Your hands cradled your lover’s face as his gaze was almost glassed over - from lust. Different from other times where his eyes had betrayed to you that he was a thousand planes of existence away.

But now he was here with you, almost violently so. The only thing Astarion was dreaming of was you and how your body seemed made to be squeezed against his. And the electricity between you was so strong you knew lightning would inevitably strike both of you.

The fruit had left Astarion messy, red stains smeared all around his chin and throat. You were used to the sight by now although it usually were less tame things than strawberry that left him in disarray. And as the yearning inside you reached a boiling point you felt the urgent desire to offer your vampire the real thing. Turning him into a whole mess in the process - in every kind of way possible.

You bowed down to him, seeing his eyes sharpen at you closing in. And nothing but a hair breadth away from his lips you stilled, reining in your boundless desire for Astarion.

“I need you, Astarion,” you whispered to him, your quivering lips brushing his as you spoke. Your breath caressed his face making his eyes lose focus as they rolled widly once more at your confession and your closeness alike. “And I want you.”

“Incidentally,” he murmured, voice raspy and promising, reminiscent of strawberries mixed with whisky, “I want you too, my heart.” His hands on your behind, fingers spread wide, squeezed hard. “And I need you even more.”

And so you let the reins slip from your hands. Your lips crushed with his again as four hands were busy to grab hold and get rid of what was still in the way.

Astarion fumbled with your already ruined nightgown. Trying to pull it up but getting distracted by how soft your skin felt along his fingertips or how your curves shifted lazily with the roll of your hips or how your fingers felt beneath the hem of his shirt.

After a few unsuccessful tries his already short tempered patience got the better of him. He just clawed at the damned fabric and tore it apart, tossed it away with a growl, breaking your passionate kiss shortly.

His short-circuit action shortly took your breath away as you felt the garment ripped off your body.

You stared at him, now fully bared before him. Crimson predator eyes took you in and couldn’t stay harsh at your softness. The moment drew out as he lovingly gazed upon you and you used it to let your hand flutter to the top of your breasts then along the curves of them, drawing a line with your fingertips. Astarion watched carefully, an almost unwilling gasp escaping him.

Then another roll of your hips, rubbing yourself against him with a moan. You threw your back into an arch, repeating the motion more vigorously, grinding yourself against Astarion’s still fully clothed but not less needy body. His pants were already a mess, you knew, caused by your slickness and his yearning cock alike.

Astarion kept eagerly staring at you as you worked yourself against him. His long fingers wandered over creamy soft thighs, wrapped almost fully around your delicate waist and then up your sides, sliding over your back as you threw yourself into them. You were melting for him while you felt the tension inside you grow. And your lover kept observing you, how your body moved like light waves hitting a sunbathed beach. His lips curled up further into a sinful grin as he felt you come closer to the peak: the shift of your hips becoming more ragged, your breaths heavy and raw.

Meanwhile your hands toyed with the hem of his already wide open shirt, tugging on the strings, wandering beneath the hem, caressing his chest as he had become almost a statue beneath you. But his stillness only betrayed that tension within him grew as well.

But then you wanted more. Without halting the movements of your body against his you urged him to draw his shirt over his head. And when he enthusiastically obliged you immediately thanked him by pressing your soft, warm tits against him.

Astarion couldn’t remain still anymore. Eyes glossed over again as he delighted in your body dragging against his naked, smooth skin now. Your hands were in his hair. And as if you weren’t already treating him enough you let your head loll back and dragged the vampire’s already parted lips to where they could immediately pick up the rhythm of your racing heart.

His fangs pressed cooly against your skin making you shudder from the sensation. Gasps filled the air. You felt Astarion’s lips press a kiss to your exposed throat. And a moment later the sharp pain of his fangs breaking your skin made left you breathless and made claw your hands into his curls.

He drank from you and you stilled. You needed to feel how with every swallow he took of you, his dick moved in unison.

And it made you both yearn to finally feel it in an even more intimate way.

Your fingers moved to unlace Astarion’s pants, making quick work of it. The sensation of his erection being freed and immediately being caressed by your deft hands made the vampire quiver. His focus was shortly broken and you felt some hot blood run down your throat. But who could blame him when you began stroking his aching cock like this. You saw how wetly his length was already glistening and felt how generous amounts of precum spread all over it beneath your hands. He really did need you.

Astarion groaned as he tried to pull himself together, licking up the spilled blood. But two different beasts were battling within him right this moment, each eager to get their fill. And both needed to be sated.

“Darling,” Astarion murmured against your throat, “you’re killing me for good.” His hands were on your ass now, squeezing it with spread fingers and urging you to move up on him.

You kept working his cock harder and you pressed yourself up on his lap slightly, obeying his silent plea.

“Good,” you replied, catching his eyes for a moment as his lips still remained lightly on your throat. “I hope it’s a pleasant way to go.”

And Astarion groaned, confirming it.

With your fingers still wrapped around his length you positioned him against your obscenely wet core. You moved your hips, making his head drag along your hot, slick folds, but not allowing him to enter you just yet.

You did it once, twice, feeling your clit and his cock in your hands throb each time. Then Astarion had enough of you teasing him. With his hands firmly holding onto your ass he pushed you down on him until he was buried inside of you to the hilt.

He began fucking you while you still tried to get used to the sensation.

Astarion started a relentless rhythm, aiding you riding him by dragging up your hips and letting them slam into him with his hands digging into your ass. All while he thrust up into you, hitting deep every single time. He praised you, whipping you on with words almost as sweet as strawberries. And the burning warmth inside you was even greater and more deliciously numbing than a sip of neat whisky.

Oh, this wouldn’t take long. The long, lascivious build-up had made sure of that.

You felt the waves grow higher while your moans grew increasingly unhinged. Already you were bracing yourself to be dragged under as you felt Astarion’s sweet nothings dissolve into senseless groans of pleasure.

But then suddenly, you felt Astarion’s hot mouth wrap around your hard nipple again - the one he had teased before. While your orgasm was already on the horizon and rushing towards you quickly, you felt another sting of pain as the vampire’s fangs broke the sensitive skin of your breast a second time.

In the meantime, a hand had wandered up your back and you felt how Astarion wrapped strands of your hair around his fingers before starting to tug on them.

He began eagerly sucking on your boob, striving to get more of the aphrodisiac that was your blood. Meanwhile his skilled tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, swirling around it.

He kept pulling on your hair, having you bow back while riding him and Astarion kept drinking from you.

The continuous jolts this sensation sent through your already helplessly writhing body pushed you even beyond what you had expected.

With Astarion’s mouth closed around your tit and his dick hitting you particularly hard and deep you dissipated fully in his hands. The vampire pushed you far further over the edge than you'd ever thought possible.

As if drifting out of your body for a while as your orgasm shook through you violently, your core clenched around the vampire buried as deep inside of you as anyone ever was.

With an obscenely wet sound he had to let go of your nipple as Astarion came just as forcefully, balls tightening before he spilled inside of you. Your bodies worked eagerly - clenching, jerking, giving, taking - to make the most out of it.

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths as you both rode out the waves of your orgasm.

After, you collapsed on Astarion's lap who held you so carefully as if suddenly he felt you'd shatter under his touch. Your arms felt weak now as you wrapped them around your vampire, your legs started to tremble from the almost impossible tension they had endured before.

Your lover only carefully moved you to withdraw from you as he softened. He kept showering you with small kisses and soft reassuring mumbles while he gave you all the time you needed to safely come down from your high.

It took a long while until you were sure you were fully inside yourself again.

“I love you, Astarion,” was the sole thing you trusted your voice to utter because Astarion kept uttering sweet nothings into your ear. His hands were rubbing a comforting rhythm over your back, your chests pressed together, sticky from sweat. Your forehead was leaning on his shoulders, eyes closed.

The vampire softly laughed and patted your back: “I love you too, Tav.”

“Come on, darling, let’s get you cleaned up and into something warm,” he whispered after a few more heartbeats of comfortable, exhausted silence into your ear.

You lifted your head slowly from his shoulder, took one look at how blood was practically smeared all over Astarion’s face and only snorted. But the vampire took it only with another chuckle and began to rise with you in his arms.

He carefully sat you down on the nearby bed, quickly grabbed a cloth and warm water and cleaned you softly. Astarion took special care of where he’d bitten you, spending extra time cleaning the small bite wounds - pressing a kiss on them after.

Slowly you began talking again while Astarion took care of you and you regained your wits but felt exhaustion and blood loss catch up with you.

Astarion continued to carefully pamper you, washing every part of your body with the cloth, almost massaging you. Then quickly cleaning himself up while you were taken over by a big yawn. You were ready to sink back onto the bed and be wrapped up in your lover’s arms as you would slip into your dreams.

“You owe me a new nightgown, Astarion,” you uttered between yawns trying to stay upright - at least until your vampire was finished with the aftermath of your little evening adventure.

The vampire pointedly lifted an eyebrow at you: “But why wear a nightgown if you could just sleep naked?”

You had no power anymore to argue. So you used your remaining energy to stare angrily at your vampire until he stood up with a smirk and returned with his discarded shirt in hand.

“Alright, my dear, I’ll get you a new one,” he promised with a wink. “But for now this will have to do, I fear. I hope you can overlook it was previously owned by me, darling,” Astarion mused and handed you the shirt which you quickly threw over your head. It smelled of his usual scent: rosemary, bergamot - and whisky. Your eyes darted to where the crystal glass with the rest of Astarion’s drink had been forgotten and smiled. Then you drew a deep breath in, closing your eyes. With this you could do.

You clambered further onto the bed then, making yourself cosy as Astarion undressed to climb into bed with you

“You also owe me some strawberries,” you continued as you stretched out your arms towards your lover who you felt was taking too long to join you.

Astarion snorted as he climbed towards you and wrapped you into his arms.

“You’re awfully demanding, darling, you know that? What about my wasted drink?” he replied with a smirk in his voice as you had already closed your eyes, feeling his comforting presence wrapped around you.

“Hm yes, you can get yourself new whisky too,” you mumbled and were already drifting off to sleep.

“Alright then, my sweet,” Astarion answered as he heard your breath deepen already. “A nightgown, whisky, strawberries and whatever else your heart desires, my darling Tav.”

~~~ If you enjoyed this you can support me by reblogging this! You can also support me on Kofi (pinned post on my profile)! ~~~ Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes @somewhatclear @miss-rebel-without-applause

[kirikeijii]

Hiyyayayayya!!! I have a request!!!

Sukuna x fem!reader or Sukuna x afab!reader

plot: …make up sex after they break up😻 PALEASE I NEED IT

ᯓ★ You ask and you shall receive<3

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

Sukuna x afab/female ! reader

synopsis: A week after breaking up with Sukuna, you start seeing someone, swearing you'll never return after that toxic fight with him a knock on your door rings through your apartment, and the moment you step out of the room you can feel his presence outside, a strong aura at your front door.

ᯓ★ MDNI

cw: nsfw, angst, raw sex, fingering, dubcon, knife kink, overstimulation, praise kink, choking, degrading kink, pet names (baby, princess, darling,) creampie, swearing, cheating, toxicity, marking, dumbification.

You opened your door to Ryomen Sukuna, who you swore not to get intertwined with again somehow now has you on your bed eating you out so well.

A few hours ago you broke up with him because he cheated on you, again. "For the 10th time, no! I am not gonna get back with you ever again. I am tired of you running around with some pretty little things while you manipulate me at home." You shouted at him.

"Please, I'm sorry. Let me explain." You should've never let him do that because now you're arched on your bed, toes curling while you moaned loud profanities, the whole apartment building could hear you.

"Ryo- fuck. ." You shouted gasping for air. Ryomen was a womaniser, this was probably one of the reasons why. You try to close your legs but he keeps prying them open. You grab locks of his hair trying to make him eat you up deeper.

"For someone who said she hated me earlier, it's not looking good for you." He chuckles. "Can't you shut up? Aren't you supposed to be making it up to me?" You catch your breath, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You're right, darling. I'm sorry, what do you want me to use next? My hands?" He slowly climbs up, towering over you when you feel his hand slowly trailing up your thighs and inside your cunt.

The pleasure you felt when you gasped for air was like heaven. Sukuna reached your deepest parts you could only dream of reaching on your own when a knot formed inside you.

God, you were starting to think the gods have blessed him with everything. His face card, undeniable. His body, if you say no to that it's because you haven't seen it yet.

You can feel your high coming down. "Sh- s' close." You mewl. You saw a smirk on his face when he moved his fingers at a faster pace making you go wild. "Ryo- fuck!" You try to remove his hands but he caught it before you could even touch it.

"You're so fuckin' stupid letting me in. You know damn well it always ends like this. Maybe you knew that. . . Always hungry for some dick." You mewl louder at him letting him know how close you are.

"Shh shh, it's okay, let it out." When he curled his fingers inside you, you exclaimed as you orgasmed all over his digits. He played with your cunt a bit more, taking it out and licking your cum.

His lips dropped down to yours and pried your mouth open with his tongue making you taste yourself. "You taste so good, no?" You couldn't even respond to his question because of how good you felt.

"Now it's my turn to feel good, okay? I'll be gentle." He smiled smugly, pulling his belt off and tying your hands up your head.

He was not gentle at all. Sukuna was big, just from his appearance you can already imagine how big. Both length and girth. You swore you felt him reach your stomach.

"Fuck. . You're so pretty like that." He whispered in your ears pulling you back by your hair. He was giving you back shots fast and hard. "You're such a fucking slut, you can't even say no to me." You clenched around him while you cried in pleasure.

You were pretty sure that you were dead and this was heaven. "Shit-!" You shouted grasping the sheets underneath you, filled with wet somethings. Every time he pulled out and shoved it back in he was hitting your G-spot. You can feel another orgasm build up inside you.

"Fuck. . I'm close. You don't mind if I put it in you don't you. . ?" He pulled your tied hands back to him, whispering sweet nothing into your ear. You looked at him wide eyed, makeup smudged up with tears.

"Ryo- no- Ahh-!" He thrusted harder in you. "s' that? Can't hear ya'. . ." He dropped you back down. "Fuck, you feel so good. . ." You felt his cock twitch inside you.

"I know you're gonna cum soon. c'mon, it's okay, princess." He lifted you back up and started playing with your clit, making you moan louder. All of this combined made you cum sooner than you expected.

"Baby, I thought we were gonna do it together. . Now I'm gonna have to fuck you through it?" You felt like you were going to black out, you laid your head back on his shoulder as he continued fucking you good. "Ryo-! I'm still sensitive-!"

"Such a good girl for me. . . No one is ever going to fuck you like I do." He held you by the neck, choking you and it didn't help that you had a kink for this. You grabbed the back of his head for the life of you. "Ahh- 'm gonna come. ."

You felt a warm liquid inside you, you let go of his head making you drop on the bed. You could feel his fingers trying to insert his cum back inside you and laughing, your eyelids threatening to close up when you felt a blanket drape over you.

"Go to sleep." Ryomen kneeled beside the bed so he talked to you face to face. You looked away from him hinting that you were still upset. "I'm not going anywhere. If you don't sleep, I'm gonna fuck you some more until you pass out."

Maybe you're an exception to his other girls. They might've been fucked by him but he still comes home to you.

ᯓ★ I'm sorry if it's bad, I haven't slept in days my brain is fried. Thank you for reading<3 | Masterlist

[sapphire-writes]

Heya! Would it be possible to request a short story with Aemond and a painfully shy lady? Like where he thinks that she hates him or that she doesn't care about him just because she cannot bring herself to speak to him and it kinda turns him on when he realizes that she has a huge crush on him? Thank you very much, you are the best (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

Run From Me ~ Aemond x Reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: sensual themes

note: love this request! was fun to write, and I needed some softness!

Aemond had always known he was not destined to be the prince the poets wrote songs about. Since the taking of his eye, he was cursed with the knowledge that he would always feared, always shied away from by the women of the court. 

He knew it was true, he watched how Helaena’s ladies drew away from him, quickening their pace when passing him the halls. Averted their eyes from his face. Even though he had taken it upon himself to hide his ruined eye beneath a patch, they still seemed fearful of the dragon prince. 

If they shall treat me like a monster, a monster I shall become. 

You were the shyest of them all, visibly shaking in his presence. Helaena’s favorite lady, nearly attached at her hip always. Aemond would make polite conversation with his dear sister and you would cling to her skirts, drifting behind her like a silent shadow, cheeks flushed, eyes downcast. 

Aemond did not know what to make of you. The disgust you must feel for him was too painful to imagine. 

Though after a particularly frustrating moment with you, Aemond decided to seek comfort from his sister. 

“She ran from me,” he told her, sitting in front of the fireplace.

Helaena stopped her needlepoint; she had been working diligently on finishing the jade-colored scorpion per Jaehaera’s request. Her lovely brow knits together at her brother’s words.

“Whatever are you talking about?” she asks. 

“Your lady,” Aemond tells her, rubbing the scarred tissue below his eyepatch.

The incident Aemond refers to happened earlier in the day. He had nearly walked into you as you hurried in from the stables. 

Aemond fervently apologized, earning a small squeak from you as you hastily turned on your heel and fled in the opposite direction. 

“I do not understand what else I must do,” Aemond says, closing his eye.

Helaena purses her lips together tightly, a smile threatening to overtake her. Aemond opens his eye, looking at her. He frowns.

“What?” he asks.

“Oh Aemond,” she says, laughing slightly. 

“What is it?” he asks again, confused about what is laughable about this torment. 

“I should not be telling you this,” Helaena admits, “I have been sworn to secrecy.”

“But you shall tell me anyway because you are my sister,” Aemond says.

“I cannot.”

“I am your blood,” Aemond insists.

“Oh hush you dramatic fool,” she teases, causing Aemond to flush slightly at his elder sister’s scolding.

“Please, Hel,” Aemond begs, “I cannot stand it. This fear, this hatred-”

“She does not hate you, brother,” Helaena interrupts.

Aemond closes his mouth, then opens it again, his confusion is evident on his face.

“What do you mean?” he asks. 

“She is rather fond of you,” Helaena admits, “She thinks you are roguishly handsome.”

Aemond is at a loss for words. Never in his life did he think a lady, especially one so beautiful as yourself, would think him handsome.  

“You jest,” Aemond says, brushing off her words.

Helaena raises an eyebrow.

“Shall I go on?” Helaena asks.

Aemond waves a hand, encouraging her to continue, but attempting to remain composed. He can feel his heart beating wildly against his ribs. You think he is handsome. 

“She told me she cannot bear to look at you,” Helaena admits. 

For a moment, Aemond’s heart sinks, he feels his worst fears have come true. You are afraid. You are disgusted. 

“She finds your mouth too enticing,” Helaena continues, “Every time you speak of your studies she cannot focus on the words that you speak.”

Aemond feels a blush blooming on his cheeks. 

“The rest I shall not tell you - do not look at me like that! It is a discussion only ladies may have in the safety of one another,” Helaena insists.

“About my mouth?” he asks.

“About things, a sister should not be partial in hearing about her younger brother,” Helaena says, shivering slightly, “Though I do adore her so much, I allow her to voice her lustful thoughts.”

“Lustful?” Aemond asks, and Helaena slams her mouth shut, “Surely we are not talking about the same lady.”

How could you be lustful of him? Of anything? You appeared so painfully shy Aemond doubted you wished for marriage or love at all.

“Women hold many secrets within them,” Helaena says, being careful with her words, “You must understand, women have desires as men do. We are just taught to hide them. To not indulge in them beyond the privacy of our chambers.”

“And what does your lady indulge in, exactly?” Aemond asks, desperate to know. 

Helaena purses her lips.

“She is fond of literature,” she admits, “Literature that should not be read outside of one’s quarters.” 

Aemond stares back at Helaena. She sighs dramatically. 

“Men,” she murmurs, shaking her head, “Stories, Aemond, erotic stories.”

“May the Maiden protect my lovely granddaughter’s virtue, along with all the sweet doves that reside within the walls of the Red Keep and those beyond,” Alicent finishes her prayer, and you feel your cheeks flush. 

You wonder how virtuous Queen Alicent would think you were, had she known what you were up to. You hadn’t meant to read it, you’d told yourself you were done indulging in such filth, but as you were scouring the library the previous afternoon, the title caught your eye. 

A Cautionary Tale for Young Girls.

Surely, it was a book you should be reading. A tale of caution, and you were a young girl. Innocent enough, perhaps? So you brought the book to your chambers and began reading when you returned from supping with the royal family. 

You had stayed awake, eyes wide, until all the candles in your room had melted to small nubs. Even then, you brought yourself to the window, squinting at the pages in the moonlight. Reading all about Lady Coryanne Wylde and her debauchery. The text was intriguing and left a dull ache between your legs that even sleep could not calm. Only when your hands drifted below your silk nightgown, stroking the wet patch on your small clothes did you find any semblance of relief. 

Your palms were sweaty as you were dismissed from the Sept. You needed to return the book before it was found in your chambers. As you returned you plucked the text from its hiding place below your bed, sneaking toward the library. 

The great room appeared to be empty as you crept towards the shelves that lay toward the back of the room. Pushing past scrolls, you found the empty slot where the book had been taken by you. Another title caught your eye as you held the book in the air. Sins of the Flesh. Blush blooms on your cheeks as you contemplate repeating your own sin from the previous night. 

“What are you reading?” Aemond says, plucking the book with the effort of yanking a flower from its stem.

Panic surges through you. A small whimper escapes your lips as you trail behind him. 

“Aemond please give it back,” you beg, following him through the stacks.

It is the first time you’ve spoken to him, the first time he’s heard his name drip like honey from your lips. Aemond closes his eye at the sound of your small voice. He stops walking and you nearly collide with his back, before he turns to face you. 

You reach your hand up but he holds the book above his head, out of reach. Even standing on the tips of your toes does no good. 

“A young lady such as yourself should not be reading such debauchery,” Aemond chastises, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

Your cheeks burn, humiliation wrapping a fist around your throat as you desperately try to retrieve the book from his grasp. The hot feeling of shame curls in your stomach, and tears begin to form in your eyes, clouding your vision. 

“I was only looking,” you tell him, though the lie does not sound convincing. 

Aemond raises a brow at you. You’re shaking like a leaf, and you cast your eyes away from him. 

“It is alright, my lady,” he says, surprising you, “I myself am fond of literature.”

Your eyes flicker to his face. Aemond opens the book, picking a page. 

“Ah yes, here it is,” he says as if he’s found the page he wanted, “The tale of Coryanne Wylde should be read with caution, as it is known once a woman indulges in sin it is nearly impossible to recover.”

You stare at him, cheeks flushed, breathing ragged. Aemond glances up at you.

“Tell me, my lady, have you indulged in sinful behavior?” he asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

It is hard to breathe, your voice feels caught in your throat as it often does when you are in his presence. 

“M-m-my prince?” you manage, while averting your gaze. 

You choose to focus on a spot on the floor in front of you, heart thumping like a rabbit’s foot. You’re sure you’re shaking by now, and force yourself to clasp your hands behind your back. You wet your lips, as Aemond brings his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“Have you indulged yourself?” he asks, voice a rough murmur. 

The way he looks at you makes your stomach flip, it’s almost too much to bear being under his eye this way. All his attention focused on you, those beautiful lips you’ve dreamt of, imagined doing such sinful acts to you. It’s too much. 

“I do not understand,” you whimper, as he caresses your cheek.

“Allow me to enlighten you, then,” Aemond purrs, before bringing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. 

Though you’re trembling against him he manages to wrap his hand around your waist, guiding you back against the bookshelves, deepening the kiss. You’re too nervous to move, you don’t want to ruin it, don’t want him to stop. Gods don’t let him stop. You’re holding your hands up in shock still, curled into fists near your head as he continues to kiss you. 

“Touch me,” he murmurs against your mouth, as his hand paws at your waist. 

You slowly lower your forearms to rest against his shoulders before succumbing to the desire to wrap your arms around his neck; fingers tangling in his silky, silver locks. His tongue darts through your lips, slipping into your mouth pulling forth a breathy moan. 

Aemond moves his lips away then, letting them dance along the line of your jaw, down to your neck. Kissing, nipping the tender flesh of your throat until you’re whimpering against him.

“Tell me,” he purrs, “Tell me what you want.”

Fire. There is fire coursing through your veins. Fire licking its way over your skin, flames consuming you whole. That’s what it feels like, what he feels like.

“Just you,” you sigh, as he connects your lips again. 

“Always you.”

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii!! First of all ur theme is so aesthetically pleasing and I love all the nagi. I like binge read all of your event works and *chefs kiss*. Could I request a piece for karasu with the theme of like academic rivals/classmates? No worries if not, hoping ur doing well and taking care of urself!

On an unrelated note I saw that post about rude comments and im so sorry that’s happening to you! I honestly don’t know what drives ppl to bother leaving nasty comments esp when it’s not like they’re being forced to read anything T-T Hoping to send you a bit of love to counter those trolls!

── FIVE WAYS TO KILL A CROW

Synopsis: Crows are clingy birds, and Tabito Karasu’s feelings are hurt easier than you realize. (part two here!) (part three here!)

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 9.1k

Content Warnings: academic rivals to lovers, karasu is an asshole, reader is also an asshole, jealous karasu 😍, hiori randomly pulls up at one point for some reason??, yukimiya requests to follow one (1) person and accidentally causes the most dramatic pseudo breakup ever

A/N: anon i used to pray for times like these 😭😩 LMAOAO karasu is my fav (behind nagi ofc) but i’ve never gotten around to writing him so getting this request made me SO excited HAHA. i haven’t done anything rivals/enemies to lovers before so fingers crossed this doesn’t feel too awkward or unrealistic or rushed anything!! and yayyy i love my little nagi theme (and also nagi in general) i’m glad you like it too!! and my writing too, you’re so sweet 🥹 there will always be jerks unfortunately but lovely people like you make it all worth it 💖 thank you again and i hope this is kind of what you were looking for 🫶🏻

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

ONE: POISON IT

You could hardly contain your smile as you sauntered up to Tabito Karasu’s desk, your exam held behind your back. He was sitting by himself — his seat partner was sick this week, from what you had heard, so he had taken the chance to spread out his things and stretch his legs. When he noticed you, he raised his eyebrows, mouth tugging into a frown at your amusement.

“What?” he said. You brandished the paper in front of you, irises sparkling as you leaned over to rest your forearms on the desk.

“I got full marks on the last Chemistry exam,” you said. Karasu made a face at you, snatching the test from your hands and scrunching his face up as he inspected it.

“Seriously?” he said.

“Seriously,” you said. “What did you get?”

He crossed his arms and looked away. “Not telling.”

“You definitely failed!” you said in delight, taking back the exam and laughing at him. “How embarrassing. You failed the easiest test of the year, and yet you consider Chemistry to be one of your best subjects? I can’t wait to see how badly you do during finals week.”

“I did not fail,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a ninety-eight.”

“Ninety-eight! That’s even worse than outright failure,” you said. “You were so close to perfection, and yet in the end, you fell short. It must sting for things to work out like that.”

“Yes, I’m positively wounded,” he said dryly before batting his eyelashes at you. From anyone else, the rapid switch in demeanor would’ve left you reeling, but the shifting mood was to be expected from him. “Will you give me a kiss and make it better?”

You rolled up your test and smacked him on the head with it. “No.”

“Anyways, my overall grade in the class is still higher than yours, because rankings were updated today and I’m still number one, so I’m not sure what cause you have to be boasting,” he said.

“Hm, but did you notice who’s number one in Modern Literature?” you said, pulling out your phone and opening the school’s app, which listed each class’s rankings in every subject. “Yup, that’s right, me.”

“Good job, Y/N!” he said, clapping mockingly. “Shall we have a party? It’s a big occasion — the mediocre number two has finally done something of such note that she’s number one for the first time in her life.”

“I’ve been number one plenty of other times!” you snapped. “For your information, I’ve been first in the class in mathematics and history every year since middle school, so who are you to be acting like this is a first? If anyone’s mediocre, it’s you!”

He raised his hands in the air innocently, his trademark smirk gracing his features once more now that he had succeeded in irritating you, as was his typical goal.

“Alright, alright, no need to be upset,” he said. “It’s not good for you. Clouds your judgment.”

“In what way?” you said.

“I mean, somehow, you got the two of us confused,” he said. “And we’re nothing alike.”

“I did no such thing,” you said.

“Well, I seem to recall you calling me mediocre, but between the two of us, the subpar one is obviously you,” he said, flicking your forehead. You slapped his hand away.

“You — the bell is going to ring, so I’m going to go back to my seat, but just so you know, you’re way more mediocre than me, Mr. Two-Percent-Short!” you said.

“Stellar comeback!” he called out. “My ego is bruised beyond healing!”

“Good!” you called back, ignoring the sarcasm. “Maybe it’ll return to a more normal size. Your head has grown too big, it’s almost as ridiculous as that hair of yours!”

“Leave the hair alone!”

During your free period, you decided to go to the library for some peace and quiet to work on your homework and find some of the sources you needed for your next research project. For belonging to a high school, the library was surprisingly extensive, and you had managed to find relevant information for every other project you had ever done in it, so you had high hopes. Unfortunately, it seemed this latest assignment was more obscure than anything you had completed before, so on your second lap of the shelves where the books, if they existed, would be located, you resigned yourself to giving up.

Just then, a volume caught your eye. The cover was shiny and pristine, the spine still unbent with newness. Crouching, you pulled it out, and when you saw the title emblazoned across the cover in bright yellow lettering, you began to laugh, making a beeline to the checkout counter with it tucked under your arm.

“Hey, Y/N! How was your morning?” your best friend said as you set your things down next to her in the cafeteria. You hummed in agreement, searching the room for a familiar head of dark hair. “You good? Looking for someone? Let me guess: your secret boyfriend that you’re keeping from the rest of us.”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Karasu,” you said before the rest of her words registered. “No!”

“You’re finally coming out and saying it?” she said, holding her hands to her heart and pretending to swoon. “I’ve been waiting for you to confess.”

“He’s not my secret boyfriend that I’m keeping from everyone, I’m just looking for him!” you said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said. “What do you need him for, anyways?”

“I got a book for him in the library,” you said.

“Right, and this is the guy you hate? Your ‘mortal enemy’ or whatever?” she checked.

“Yes,” you said.

“But you…got a book for him from the library, and now you’re looking for him so that you can give it to him?” she said. You scoffed.

“When you put it like that, it sounds different than it really is,” you said. “Trust me, this isn’t a nice gesture or anything. You can consider it revenge.”

“When are you going to get over this stupid rivalry?” she said. “He’s not even that bad, you know.”

“Not even that bad? Not even that bad? Are we talking about the same Karasu here? I’m referring to Tabito, not his older sister,” you said.

“Ah, I think so? He’s a nice guy,” she said.

“He is the spawn of the devil! And he’s the one who started it, so I’ll stop hating him once he apologizes and means it,” you said.

“Do you think he even remembers that?” she said. “It was in middle school.”

You glared at her. “I remember it. If he doesn’t, well, that’s just more of a reason for me to dislike him on principle.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” she said. “Sorry for complimenting him. He’s awful and rude and mean. I think he’s sitting outside with some of his soccer friends, if you still want to find him.”

“Thank you!” you said, instantly forgetting that you were upset with her for taking Karasu’s side instead of yours. “Watch my stuff, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“See you soon,” she said. “Have fun. Actually, maybe it’s more realistic for me to just tell you not do anything that’ll get you expelled.”

You waved her off as you marched out to the courtyard where Karasu and his friends were lounging, their chairs positioned in the shade so that they did not overheat while they ate. None of them noticed you approaching until you were tapping Karasu on the shoulder and smiling at him sweetly.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he said, sounding oddly flustered. One of his friends snorted, and more than a few chuckled, but you ignored all of them in favor of setting your bag on the armrest of Karasu’s chair.

“Hi, Karasu. I was in the library earlier and I saw this book that reminded me of you, so I took the liberty of checking it out,” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re so considerate, Y/N!” one of his friends said.

“We’re all so jealous of Karasu here,” another friend, the one who you believed had snorted, said. “You’re way too pretty for him.”

“Shut up,” Karasu said, sticking up his middle finger at his friend, though none of the group paid him much mind. In fact, it seemed to egg them on more, as they continued to hurl jabs at Karasu while simultaneously incessantly complimenting you.

You didn’t respond to any of them, instead pulling out the book and handing it to Karasu, interlacing your fingers and waiting for his reaction. At first he seemed confused, and then dismay dawned upon his features as he realized what he was holding in his hands: a copy of Chemistry for Dummies.

“What the fuck?” he said. You patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s only suitable,” you said. Suddenly, his expression cleared, and he beamed at you, which caused unease to brew in your stomach. You knew for a fact that he was about to say something infuriating, and you mentally prepared yourself to respond.

“What a roundabout way of telling me you need tutoring! Of course, I’m happy to help you anytime you want,” he said, tilting back in his chair so that he could cross his arms over his chest arrogantly.

“Why would I want tutoring from someone who does worse than me in the class?” you shot back, crossing your own arms in retaliation.

One of his friends whistled. “She got you there, Tabito.”

“Enough out of you,” Karasu said through gritted teeth. His friend winked at you and mouthed ‘nice one.’

“Look, man, all I’m saying is that if you want to ask out such a beautiful girl, you’ve gotta have a little more finesse than that!” he said.

“He can have all the finesse in the world, but I’d still say no,” you said. His friends hollered with raucous laughter, which caused Karasu’s face to turn red, but you only pressed the book into his hands. “It’s due in two weeks. That should be long enough, right? Make sure you return it on time, please, I don’t want late fines.“

“I hope you go into debt because of this stupid book,” he said.

“Aww,” you cooed. “You’ll be the one paying it off, so it doesn’t matter to me. See you around, Karasu — or, hopefully not.”

TWO: SHOOT IT

You and Karasu had met in middle school. The two of you had been assigned to work on a presentation together, and he had told you during your first meeting that because you were a dunce, you should just listen to him and do whatever he said. Ever since that day, you had done everything you could to show him how much better than him you were; for his part, he found great joy in getting on your nerves and so took part in every argument with pleasure.

You had long ago proved his middle school self wrong, by anyone’s standards, but at this point it was a habit for you to hate Tabito Karasu as well as a habit for him to hate you back. And of course, habits were hard to form but harder to break, so you would probably continue in that manner until the day you graduated and left him behind for good.

It was just the two of you who did not get along. Your friends were cordial with him and his ilk, and you did not really mind his little group all that much, crude though they sometimes were. After all, it was just in the manner of teenage boys, and when they were not taking advantage of your presence to make fun of Karasu, they were actually a pretty agreeable sort.

In fact, your friend groups tended to coexist most of the time, even having lunch together every now and again — though they were always careful to ensure that you and Karasu were kept entirely separate, or else you both were guaranteed to ruin the cheerful camaraderie with your sharp tongues and quick tempers. The measures they took were admirable, but unfortunately, they were not always enough. After all, what were precautions when compared with inevitabilities?

“Oh my god!” you squealed. “Guys! Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening?”

“Can’t believe what’s happening?” your best friend said, speaking for everyone at the table. They were all tuned in to you now, wondering what the big news might be that would bring about such a reaction from you, given how put-together you tended to be.

“Do you remember that one model I happened to meet while I was out last weekend? Kenyu Yukimiya? He just requested to follow me on social media!” you said.

“No way!” your best friend said.

“Way!” you said. The only warning you got was an arm pressing against your back, and then your phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. You gasped, spinning in your seat and scowling when you realized that the culprit was none other than that scavenging crow, Tabito Karasu.

“What the hell? He’s average at best, why are you so excited?” he said, scrolling through Yukimiya’s profile, his eyes narrowed critically. “Y/N, don’t you have any standards?”

“You’re probably the only person in the entire country who doesn’t find him gorgeous,” you said, exhaling dreamily as you took your phone back from him and stared at the artful manner Yukimiya was posing in for his profile photo. “He was even better looking in person. And sonice, too! They don’t make men like that often.”

Karasu frowned and swiped at your phone again. You held it out of his reach, reaching across the bench to press your foot against his chest, effectively holding him back from further attempts at thievery.

“Let me look at him again!” he said.

“Um, no,” you said. “I don’t need you making more fun of him. I know you’re jealous, but expressing it like this only makes you uglier, just so you know.”

“Looks like they’re back at it again,” one of your friends said, massaging her temples.

“Yup,” one of Karasu’s teammates said.

“Ugly? Ugly? You’re calling me ugly? Have you looked in a mirror recently? Also, get your gross shoe off of my shirt!” Karasu said.

“I have looked in a mirror recently, actually, and incidentally I’ve also been keeping an eye on my follow requests. Guess what? I’m obviously good looking, since a legitimate model wants to follow me! How many celebrities request to follow you, huh? I bet the answer is zero!” you said, though you did do him the favor of swinging your leg back, allowing him to brush himself off in disdain.

“Lots of soccer players want to follow me,” he said. “I’m quite good, you know.”

“That doesn’t count,” you said. “It has nothing to do with how you look. They’d request to follow you no matter how hideous and poorly styled you and your hair are.”

“Are they seriously arguing about which of them is worse looking?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“I suppose so,” your friend said. “They’re both really hot, though, so I don’t know what the big deal is…”

“Geez, they’ll take any excuse to go at it, huh?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“Pretty much,” your friend said.

“Guess all of that tension has to go somewhere,” his teammate said.

“Exactly,” your friend said, shaking her head as she finished up her lunch.

“That model probably only works for horror magazines!” Karasu said. “It barely even counts!”

“He was in Vogue Japan,” you said smugly. “Look it up, stupid.”

“So what?” he said.

“So he’s handsome,” you said. “Like I said, it’s okay if you’re envious of him, as long as you accept it instead of doing this whole weird denial thing. I don’t blame you for it — in fact, I thought you would be. You don’t have much going for you overall, do you? In all honesty, it’s only natural for you to feel like this when faced with what you lack.”

Karasu’s eyes widened, and then he stood abruptly, picking up his bag with one arm and haphazardly pulling it onto his back. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” you said, not really caring one way or another what he did with himself. Actually, you would prefer it if he wasn’t there, interrupting your meal and your daydreaming about your impending romance with Kenyu Yukimiya.

“Wow, Y/N,” your best friend said once Karasu was gone. “You’re kind of dumb, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” you said.

“It’s not her fault,” another one of Karasu’s teammates said. “He’s not much better.”

“Huh?” you said.

“Never mind,” your best friend said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have a migraine now.”

“Want some ibuprofen?” Karasu’s teammate said. She accepted it gratefully, and nothing more was said on the subject. The rest of lunch passed in a peaceful manner, though strangely, Karasu did not return.

It should’ve made you happy. You wondered, then, why it felt so odd without him there, like there was a gaping maw sitting in the place that should’ve been occupied by him.

THREE: DROWN IT

Ever since the day that Yukimiya had requested to follow you, you and Karasu hadn’t spoken. He refused to make eye contact with you in the few classes the two of you had together, keeping his gaze lowered to his work and his shoulders hunched away from you. You didn’t even try to talk to him; something told you that it would not be well-received, and you weren’t anywhere near confrontational enough to bring up his odd behavior, so the time without him dragged on and on, seemingly without end.

At first, you were happy, and you told your friends as much. It was a much-needed break from the constant aggravation he brought you, and you found your classes without your competition to be almost boring in their simplicity.

“The more you say you’re happy that you and Karasu aren’t talking, the less it sounds believable,” your best friend said, taking a sip from her juice box.

“Believe it! This is what I’ve been wanting since middle school,” you said.

“Is it?” she said. “It sounds like you’re kind of upset.”

“Am not!” you said. She shrugged.

“Sure,” she said, drawing out the word. “Definitely not.”

“Why would I be upset?” you said.

“You tell me,” she said.

“I’m telling you that I’m not upset. You’re the one with the theory, so give me some evidence to substantiate it,” you said.

“Fine,” she said. “You talk about him all of the time, even when you guys are getting along — or, at least, your twisted little version of being friendly, which isn’t friendly by anyone else’s standards but it seems to work for you two, so I won’t comment further. You keep telling us that you’re so delighted he’s leaving you alone, but you do this thing with your face when you say it that makes it super obvious you’re not. It’s not the kind of behavior you’d display when discussing someone you hate as much as you claim to hate him. Finally, there’s a reason half the school thinks you guys are dating, and it’s not just the obvious aesthetic appeal of that match.”

“What? I thought you were just trying to bother me when you brought that up!” you said. She shook her head.

“No, it’s a common misconception. It’s why no one’s ever asked you out. They all think you’re already taken. Actually, the other day, a guy asked me if I thought he might have a chance with you now that you and Karasu had broken up,” she said.

“What’d you say?” you said, half in horror, half in fascination.

“I told him probably not, and that you and Karasu hadn’t broken up, because you were never together in the first place,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” you said.

“Should I have said something else?” she said. You shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What else would you have said?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Look, you need to cheer up. I’m sure that if you just try to talk to him, things will go back to normal in an instant. Then you can return to complaining about him like usual.”

“Talk to him? About what?” you said. She gave you an incredulous look.

“You were pretty mean to him the other day, Y/N,” she said.

“It wasn’t any meaner than what he says to me on the regular,” you said. “And what I say to him in return. I don’t see why he’d be more or less offended.”

“I think it was a little worse than what you typically say,” she said. “Plus, the context was different.”

“How so?” you said. She shook her head.

“That’s for him to explain, not me,” she said. “Come on, don’t be stubborn. Work things out with him. I miss hanging out with the guys.”

“Ah, so that’s why it matters to you,” you said. “Sorry to say it, but I don’t have any plans at attempting conversation with him anytime soon. Like I said, things are finally calm and stress-free for me. He’s the one being immature, as always, so why’s it up to me to make things better?”

“Immature?” your best friend said. “You’ve held a grudge against him since middle school.”

“And?” you said. She squinted at you before pursing her lips.

“Well, I guess the two of you really are made for one another,” she said.

“What?”

The next week would mark the beginning of the swimming unit in PE class, which you were actually looking forward to. You loved to swim, you had ever since you were a child and your parents had brought you into the water for the first time, and the thought of getting to earn a good grade for something you liked doing in the first place was an agreeable on.

In preparation, you decided to stop by the pool after classes were over so that you could acclimate yourself to the motions of the strokes once again. The swim team’s practice had been canceled, and no one else ever used the pool, so you would have the place to yourself, which was just about the closest thing to heaven you could imagine while still living on Earth.

Changing into your school-issued bathing suit and putting your things into a locker, you tied your hair back so that it was out of the way and stepped into the steaming indoor pool deck. The water was a bright cerulean shade, the lanes split by lane-lines which alternated colors to match your school’s emblem. When you dipped your toe into the deep end, you found it was warm, not cold like you had feared. The school didn’t splurge on heating the water of the rarely-used pool, so usually, it was all but freezing. You supposed that they must’ve had complaints from last year’s PE classes, so they had restarted the heaters in order to ensure that no one had any cause to whine about the temperature this year.

For a moment, you just sat on the tiled edge, your legs swishing about in the water, the heels of your palms pressing against the lip of the pool as you closed your eyes and luxuriated in the tangy scent of chlorine. So lost were you that you almost didn’t notice the door swinging open, but the clang of it shutting was unmistakable. Thinking it must’ve been a confused swim team member showing up to a practice that wasn’t happening, you opened your eyes, your lips parting to issue a reprimand that died before it could take shape.

It wasn’t a swim team member. It was Tabito Karasu, wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else, his jaw taut and his fists clenched as he inched towards the water. He hadn’t even noticed you, and you didn’t feel inclined to announce yourself, so you let your elbows dig into your thighs, your chin resting in your hands as you observed him.

You had known that he played soccer almost as long as you had known his name. It was the entire reason he was so popular and well-regarded in the school, and an inextricable part of his identity, but until now, you hadn’t quite considered what that actually meant. After all, you only ever saw him in the loose, modest clothing of the school’s uniform, so why would you jump to the conclusion that he was so — so — well, you were loath to admit it, but he had a striking body, and, now that he wasn’t being all cocky and maddening, you could appreciate that even his face was of a similar quality.

Blinking, you cocked your head as he extended a graceful foot towards the first stair leading into the shallow end. Water splashed against it, and he yanked it back like he had been scalded. You could not help yourself from giggling as he did this once and then twice again. On the third attempt, you forgot that the two of you weren’t acknowledging one another and cupped your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice.

“What are you doing?” you said.

“Who — Y/N? I didn’t realize anyone else was in here!” he said, stepping back from the pool and straightening his shorts, though there was nothing wrong with them that required straightening. You sprang to your feet and walked over to him, leaving wet footprints in your wake as you peered at him curiously.

“I was just going to do some laps to ensure that I’m at my best for the swimming unit next week. Did you have the same idea?” you said.

“Something like that,” he said.

“What’s with that whole ritual, though?” you said. “It’s not that cold. You should just get in.”

“Definitely not,” he said. You furrowed your brow.

“Okay,” you said. “Why are you at the pool, then, if you don’t want to go in the water?”

“It’s nothing you need to be concerned with!” he said. “Why are you so nosy? Just go away.”

“I was here first,” you said.

“Fine,” he said, spinning on his heel. “I’ll go, then.”

“Wait! Karasu, wait,” you said, grabbing onto his wrist as he made to leave. “Look, we don’t have to talk to one another or anything. We’re experienced enough at ignoring each other, so there’s not an issue in both of us being here.”

“Is that what you want?” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” you said. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and you thought he would say something, but he only nodded curtly.

“Fine,” he said. You gave him an expectant look, but he did not move from the spot he was rooted in, so you thought that you might as well take the initiative. Looping around to the deep end, you inhaled and then dove into the water headfirst, staying under for as long as you could before finally surfacing and allowing yourself to settle into the familiar undulations that came with swimming.

After a few laps, you took a break, peeking up over the concrete to look at Karasu, who was still standing stubbornly in place, his nose wrinkling whenever he glanced at the pool.

“Hey,” you said. “Are you scared of the water or something?”

He froze. “Who told you that?”

“No one?” you said. “It’s pretty easy to tell as an onlooker. Were you planning on trying to get over your fear by coming to swim when no one was here? That’s dangerous if you don’t know how. You could drown.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he said.

“Really? Then why’re you just standing there?” you said. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and then finally he hung his head in reluctant defeat.

“Whatever,” he said. Judging by the way he tensed immediately after the confession, he was expecting you to say something cruel, but you only boosted yourself out of the water and tapped him on the shoulder.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” you said. “I’m good at swimming.”

“Why would I want your help? And why would you even offer it in the first place? This is just one more subject you can beat me in, and that’s all you care about, so save it,” he said. “Congratulations, Y/N. You get to be number one this time.”

He looped a dry towel around his neck and left you standing alone, shivering and dripping pool water, a puddle forming around your feet as you gazed at the door he had vanished through.

The class rankings updated again after the swimming unit was over. You were in first place. Karasu didn’t even make it to the top ten. You wanted to celebrate the victory — it was the first time you had beaten him so thoroughly, after all — but for some reason, it didn’t really feel like something worth celebrating.

FOUR: STONE IT

School without Karasu was lonelier than you thought it would be. You hadn’t realized just how much you relied on him until he wasn’t there anymore. Without him, there wasn’t anyone you could exchange looks with across the room when somebody said something ridiculous in class. There wasn’t anyone who you could talk to in the minutes before the period began. There wasn’t anyone who made you push yourself to be better. What was the point of being first if Karasu wasn’t on your heels, ensuring that you stayed on the top for fear of losing to him? It was boring and lonely to try if he wasn’t doing the same.

You and he were still one and two, but it didn’t matter much anymore. The rankings were just numbers. They didn’t mean anything when Karasu still refused to even exchange pleasantries with you. Why would you want to compete when the other party didn’t share your interest? Now, if you managed to pull out ahead of him, it felt more like you had kicked a dog that was already down than if you had actually won anything. When he got first over you, it didn’t fuel your ambition any. You just wished he would come over and gloat instead of sitting there so solemnly, like none of it had ever mattered to him in the first place.

You couldn’t understand why he was so angry. What had you said that was so egregious? You hardly remembered the conversation you had had with him, it was that thoughtlessly done. You really hadn’t meant much if anything by it. One second, the two of you had been squabbling as you were prone to doing, and the next, he was so furious that he couldn’t bear to interact with you even still.

The day you were ambushed was nondescript. It was just like any other Wednesday, and you were walking back home from school when you were forced to stop in your tracks. A tall man — no, he was a boy, probably a year or two younger than you based on his soft and innocent expression — was barring your way, his arms outstretched and feet planted firmly in the ground to prove the depth of his conviction. He had pale hair and sky-colored eyes framed by the longest eyelashes you had ever seen on anyone, man or woman, with a small mouth pinched into an expression of discontent and lines like tire tracks between his eyebrows.

“Who are you?” you said warily, reaching for your phone, though you hardly knew who you would call. The setting was wrong for this to be a mugging, as it was sunny out and you were on a well-traveled street, but you didn’t really know what else to expect from the stranger, who could certainly outmuscle you if it came to it despite his lovely appearance.

“Yo Hiori,” he said. “I play on Bambi Osaka with Karasu. You’re Y/N L/N, correct?”

“Oh, one of the soccer guys?” you said. “Uh, hey. Yes, that’s me. Is something the matter? I’ve never seen you before. How do you even know who I am?”

“I’ve been watching Karasu for a while,” Hiori said with the utmost of seriousness, his hands dropping to his sides now that he was sure you weren’t going to run past him. “He’s a pretty fascinating person.”

“I’m sure,” you said, thinking to yourself that this Hiori kid was more than a little weird. Did Karasu know that he had acquired such a shadow? You supposed he must’ve. He had always been the observant type, so there was no way someone like Hiori would’ve escaped his keen notice.

“He’s been kind of down in the dumps recently, though. Even our coach noticed it. His playing hasn’t suffered too dramatically, but he’s the captain of the team, so he’s the guy everyone relies on for a funny pep talk or a word of advice when things are going south. Nowadays, however, when he’s off the field, he just sulks,” Hiori explained.

“I see,” you said. “That’s terrible.”

You meant it, too. Karasu without his asshole quips and ready jokes was a different person entirely. A person who you missed more than you could let on, even to yourself.

“It is,” Hiori said. “I took it upon myself to do some digging, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason is you.”

He was definitely a freak. You vowed to bring it up with Karasu, if he ever talked to you again. Even if he was already aware, it felt like a moral or civic duty of yours to ensure that he was fully informed about the extent that this child was inquiring into his life.

“What kind of, uh, digging do you mean?” you said, neatly avoiding the second thing he had said.

“It was pretty simple,” Hiori said. “One of the guys asked Karasu if he was acting off because he broke up with his girlfriend or something, and he got so mad that he left practice early. I opened up social media as soon as I got home and saw that you’re the only girl he follows, so by process of elimination, I figured the two of you were having some trouble in your relationship.”

“Relationship? I think you’re misunderstanding,” you said. “There’s no relationship. You could hardly even consider us friends.”

“Oh!” Hiori said. “I’m sorry. He’s mentioned you once or twice, so I just thought — and given what he said — and his reaction and all — no, I really am just sorry. It was wrong of me to make that assumption in the first place.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “I’m told it’s a relatively common misconception, so I can’t blame you. At least, it used to be. We haven’t really spoken in a while, so I guess everything thinks that it’s over, even though it never began in the first place.”

“You haven’t spoken in a while?” Hiori said. “Why not?”

“I think I said something that offended him, and we haven’t been on good terms since. Not that we ever really were in the first place,” you said.

“You did? He’s a pretty rational person, so it must’ve been something terrible for him to still be angry about it,” Hiori said.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember saying anything like that,” you said.

“What if you tell me how your last conversation went? Maybe I can help you,” he said.

“Sure, since you’re apparently the resident Karasu expert,” you said. “Wanna walk with me? I was heading home, but we can go to the convenience store and get some snacks or something instead. I don’t want to get in trouble for standing around in front of some random person’s house for too long.”

“Sounds good,” Hiori said. “There’s one a couple of minutes away, so we can head in that direction and keep talking as we go.”

“Great,” you said. “Okay, so the last time we talked…I think it was when Kenyu Yukimiya requested to follow me.”

“Who’s that?” Hiori said.

“He’s this model I met while I was shopping one day. Absolutely breathtaking,” you said. “Just really a stand-up guy. We’ve hung out a few times since then, he introduced me to the girlfriend I did not know he had, the works.“

“Yikes, unrequited love?” Hiori said with a wince.

“It was more of a celebrity crush. His girlfriend is super sweet, though, so I can’t complain. Anyways, I would consider them both casual acquaintances. The type you call to have a coffee with, but not the ones that help you move into a new apartment, you know?” you said.

“Uh, sure,” Hiori said in a tone which suggested he had no idea what you were talking about but was too scared to inquire further.

“Moving on, Yukimiya requested to follow me, and of course this was at the peak of my celebrity crush, so I started fawning over him, which prompted Karasu to take my phone and start insulting him,” you said.

“Interesting,” Hiori said.

“Then I called him ugly, and he called me ugly — that’s pretty standard for the two of us, so don’t look so shocked! After that, I said something about how I had expected him to be jealous of Yukimiya, since he didn’t have much going for him overall, so it made sense,” you said. “That’s when he left and things got weird.”

“Okay, I think I get it,” Hiori said. You waited for him to explain further. He smiled at you pleasantly.

“Right, so are you going to share with the class or am I meant to read your mind?” you said after a moment.

“I don’t want to give anything away that I shouldn’t,” he said. “But it’s a pretty simple issue to fix. Try thinking about what you said from his perspective.”

“He has a dumbass perspective. It’s impossible for me to think that way,” you said automatically.

“Do you think that he dislikes you?” Hiori said, taking two bottles of Yakult down from the shelf, handing one to you and keeping the other for himself.

“I’m not really sure how he feels about me, to tell you the truth,” you said.

“I don’t think he does,” Hiori said. “So, try thinking about someone you like and then imagine them saying to you what you said to them. Would you be inclined to be nice to them after that?”

“Well…” Your tongue was heavy and leaden in your mouth, and you ducked your head as you searched through your wallet for money. “No, not at all. I’d probably hate them for a really long time. Maybe forever.”

“That’s possible,” he said.

“Do you think he’ll hate me forever?” you said.

“Most likely not. Like I said earlier, he’s a rational person. I think that if you say sorry and sincerely mean it, he’ll forgive you. There’s a chance he won’t, though; you’ll have to listen to what he says and accept it,” Hiori said.

“But when? I hardly have the chance to see him in school. He just avoids me, and the building’s so big that it’s all but impossible to track him down!” you said.

“We have a soccer game in the evening today,” Hiori said. “I’m heading over there in a bit. Wanna come? You can talk to him once it’s over.”

“Am I allowed to?” you said.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Hiori said. “If anyone says anything, just tell them I invited you. Here, I’ll give you the address and time now, and you can decide if you want to show up.”

“Okay,” you said, typing out his instructions in your notes app. “Thanks a lot for your help, Hiori.”

“Anytime!” he said. “Hope to see you at the game!”

“Even if I don’t go, I’d still like to meet you again. You’re a pretty cool kid,” you said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Kind of weird, if I’m being fully honest, but cool nonetheless. Karasu’s lucky to have a teammate like you.”

He grinned, and it was a tender, shy thing, as if he was earnestly seeking your praise or approval — like how a cat would bring a dead rat to its master or a child would show their parents a treasured drawing. “Thank you. Even if you don’t try to talk to Karasu…maybe you can still come anyways?”

“Alright, then,” you said. “Since you asked so nicely, I guess I have to. I’ll be there.”

FIVE: TAME IT

The sun was nearing the horizon, but it still had not officially begun to set by the time you settled in the bleachers on Bambi Osaka’s side. Besides a couple of women your mother’s age and an elderly man who must’ve been someone’s grandfather, there weren’t any other spectators. Hiori had mentioned that this wasn’t a particularly serious game, as they didn’t even need to beat the team to make it to Nationals, so it was more like a friendly exhibition game than anything — hence the low turnout.

“Hello, dear,” a woman said when she noticed you sitting by yourself. “Are you friends with one of the players?”

“Yes. Um, Tabito Karasu? I’m his classmate,” you said. Technically, you were there on Hiori’s goodwill, not Karasu’s, but for you to not mention Karasu would be like a betrayal. You weren’t sure if it was him or yourself that you’d be betraying, but either way you did not want to chance it.

“You’re one of Karasu’s friends? Lucky you, then,” she said. “He’s a delightful boy, or so I’ve heard. This is my son’s first year on the team, and he was really nervous to join such a prestigious organization, but ever since his first day, all he can talk about is how amazing his captain is. Karasu’s tough on all of the players, but he really works hard to make all of them feel welcomed, too.”

Bambi Osaka’s team took the field, and you smiled when you saw Karasu in the front, his name across the back of his jersey, a pair of black gloves covering his large hands, an insolent leer on his face as he greeted the other team’s captain. He had not noticed you yet, and you were not sure if this was for the better or worse, because you wanted him to see you, but you didn’t want him to be distracted and play poorly as a result.

“He’s a wonderful person,” you agreed. “He’s the only one in the entire school who can keep up with me, academically or otherwise. I didn’t realize until recently how much I admire him for that.”

The woman’s eyes crinkled around the corners with the ease that came from a lifetime of happiness. For some reason, you thought that she knew something you did not, or could not, but it wasn’t uncomfortable that she did. It seemed to you that being left in the dark was just your lot this time around, and you found that oddly enough, it felt acceptable.

“Is this your first time coming to watch him?” she said.

“Yes, it is,” you said.

“You know, he has this habit before every match of scanning the stands, like he’s looking for someone. I thought it might be his parents, but at the last match, just about his entire family showed up, and he still seemed disappointed,” she said.

“That’s a shame,” you said noncommittally, not sure what else you should say. The woman shrugged.

“Well, I wonder what it’ll be like today,” she said. “There he goes.”

True to her words, Karasu was craning his neck towards the Bambi Osaka side, his eyes darting from person to person until they settled on you. You raised your hand hesitantly, waving at him, knowing that he probably wouldn’t reciprocate.

He turned away almost immediately, but not before you saw him fight back a smile — not the smug type he generally donned, but one you had only ever seen on him once or twice. It was one that made him seem charming and boyish and sweet, that made you want to take back every negative word you had ever said about him. Only now could you understand that it showed who he really was, that at his heart Karasu was that kind of person, not anything like the facade you were so accustomed to, which he showed you for the sole reason that it was what you unconsciously demanded of him.

You had judged him to be horrible, and so he became the bane of your existence. You had told him he was good for nothing, so he disappeared like he really was just that. Everything you said, Karasu went along with gamely, and you wished you could’ve known that earlier, so you would’ve spent less time hating him and more time comprehending these intricacies, which entranced you in the way a spider’s web entranced a butterfly.

“Looks like I don’t need to worry about that child any more,” the woman said as the referee blew the whistle to signal the start of the game.

“Pardon?” you said. “Were you talking to me?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just musing to myself. Ignore me. Let’s watch the game; I have a feeling that some of our players are going to go all out today.”

Bambi Osaka completely annihilated the other team. Maybe the match didn’t matter, but none of them played that way; instead, they were aggressive and focused, with Karasu at the forefront of every goal they made, commending his teammates and deriding his opposition in the same breath.

That was something you had not expected — he had a massively foul mouth when he played soccer. You had thought that he was rude when he spoke to you, but the things you overheard from him whenever he ran by within earshot made your conversations seem tame. You couldn’t help but pity the poor defenders that he shoved past and spat barbed-wire abuse at.

He was merciless and beautiful and you could probably spend a dozen more hours watching him play without even a trace of boredom, but by the time the sky had turned gold and the sun had dipped towards the ground, the game was over and the members of Bambi Osaka were packing up their things to leave for the night after yet another landslide win.

You snuck onto the field once you were extremely assured that nobody would be upset with you for it, making your way over to where Karasu was chugging a bottle of water.

“Hi,” you said when he was finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tossing the now-empty bottle into his bag. “You played really well.”

“Thanks,” he said. There was impatience but also longing in his voice, like he wanted you to say something so badly but he knew you would not, would never, and so he would rather get the conversation over with and move on with the business of his life than stick around and waste time with you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“What?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Karasu, I’m really sorry. I don’t think that you have nothing going for you. I don’t know why I said that. Well, I do, it’s because I wanted to have the last word like I always do, but I don’t mind if I don’t have it this time. Or any other time. Or ever again.”

“What?” he repeated, as though he had been rendered dumb by your confession.

“I miss you,” you admitted. “I didn’t believe I could, but apparently, I can, and I do. A lot. I know that I’m unpleasant and disparaging and haughty when it comes to you, but I won’t be that way anymore if you forgive me for my vices one last time. If it means you’ll talk to me, I’ll be a fool. I’ll be in second place. I’ll be an idiot. But please, please forgive me.”

He took a deep breath. You handed him the bottle of kombucha that you had bought on your way to the game because you saw him drink it so frequently that you figured he must like it. He accepted it gingerly, holding it with the delicacy of a newborn, unscrewing the lid and sipping on it pensively.

“Alright,” he said.

“Alright?” you said.

“I’ll forgive you,” he said. “But on one condition.”

“Anything,” you said.

“You better not do anything as dumb as trying to be mediocre on purpose because you think it’ll make me feel better. What the hell is that proposition, huh? It’ll make me feel worse if anything! I like you because you’re unpleasant and disparaging and haughty and whatever else you said, not in spite of those qualities. I’m sure you heard me while I was playing…anyone who isn’t you would probably be terrified of me when I’m like that,” he said. “Just, y’know, I’m a person with feelings, too, so keep that in mind if you can. Oh, and don’t wait so long to say sorry next time, because it’s seriously annoying for me to feel all out-of-sorts for ages!” he said.

“That’s it?” you said.

“That’s it,” he said. “Hug?”

Ordinarily, you would’ve said no, but you were so weepy at the reconciliation that you nodded and let him embrace you, his arms caging you against his chest, holding you to him so that you could not escape.

“Ew!” you shouted when you registered what he was trying to do, shoving him off of you as he cackled and released you without much of a fight. “Gross, Karasu, you’re disgusting! Get away from me! I can’t believe you did that!”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” he said as you frantically tried to wipe yourself off, though it was largely in vain. In your emotional state, you had forgotten that he was still drenched with sweat from the game, and you were now reaping the consequences of your poor decision making.

“You’re a bad person,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

“I probably deserved that one, though, so I won’t hold it against you,” you said.

“Smart decision,” he said. “Wait. Unrelated, but whatever ended up happening between you and that model dude? What was his name again?”

“Yukimiya? He has a girlfriend,” you said. “Oh, well. What can you do, right? I’m not upset about it. Besides, everyone and their mother thinks I have a boyfriend already, so it’s probably for the best that it worked out like this. I wouldn’t want his modeling career to be ruined by home-wrecking allegations or anything.”

“It must be a pretty serious not-relationship you’ve got there, if it’s the career-ending type,” he said.

“I’d say it’s pretty serious, yes,” you said. “He’s an awesome guy. You’d like him.”

“I’ll respect it, then,” he said. “But…if you ever find yourself not-breaking up with him, then, uh, let me know. I’ll take you on a date somewhere. We can argue and reminisce about the day we met over dinner or something. It’ll be super romantic.”

He said it casually, but you were more familiar with him than either of you ever could’ve predicted you’d be. He was secretly nervous about how big of a risk he had taken, fiddling with the zipper of his soccer bag, avoiding your eyes while he waited for your response. You let the silence stretch on for a minute, just to make him squirm, and then you poked him in the ribs.

“Karasu,” you said.

“What’s up?” he said, and he must’ve been trying very hard to keep his cool, but his anxiety transmitted through the endearing crack of his voice.

“I have to tell you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m not-single now,” you said. “So. Will you take me on a date this weekend?”

He lit up, so bright that you were all but blinded by the brilliance of his joy. Then he cleared his throat and pretended to check the non-existent watch on his wrist.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “That works for me. I’ll pick you up on Saturday for dinner.”

“Great,” you said. “I look forward to it.”

“Hold on, don’t go just yet,” he said. You paused, about to ask him what else he needed when he stooped over and pressed his lips to your cheek. “Thanks for coming to my game. I’m not really sure how you knew I was playing, but I’m glad you could make it either way.”

“Um — uh — Hiori told me, he told me you were playing, and, er, where to go and what time and all,” you stammered, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened, replaying it in your mind over and over.

“Hiori? I should’ve known he’d be the type to meddle like that,” he said. “I’m not even going to ask how you know each other. The answer will probably make me feel vaguely discomfited, so I’ll abide by an ‘ignorance is bliss’ policy.”

“That’s probably for the best,” you said, composing yourself, though internally, you were imagining what it would be like if you had turned your head, if instead of your cheek his lips had landed somewhere else. “Okay, I should go now. See you on Saturday?”

“One last thing. You’re pretty transparent, you know,” he said, grasping your chin in his left hand and leaning in. Your eyelashes fluttered shut as he grew closer and closer, but right when his mouth was a hair’s breadth from yourself, he chuckled. “Also, pretty gullible.”

Instead of kissing you like you had anticipated he would, he tackled you in another hug. You squealed in protest, but he held fast, his body rumbling with laughter as you simultaneously struggled to escape and clung onto him as tightly as you could.

“I hate you,” you said when your half-hearted efforts proved to be entirely futile.

“Sure you do,” he said.

“You’re the worst,” you said.

“Absolutely,” he said.

“I’m being serious here. You smell!” you said.

“Well, that’s plain rude of you to say,” he said, messing up your hair in what you were sure he deemed to be a punishment, as if being crushed against his sweaty form wasn’t punishment enough.

“Let go of me, you idiot crow!” you said.

“No can do,” he said. “Crows are clingy birds, you know. Even the idiotic ones. Ask me again in twenty years and maybe we can revisit the issue.”

“Karasu!”

[cutiecusp]

Edelweiss

König x Royal! Reader

(Part two of the Regency AU!)

A Royal visitor from Austria looms over the Ton, and you were the reluctant head of the welcoming committee.

TW/ Regency inaccuracies, soft!König. a kiss (or two)

"Why me?" You ask, as your mother informs you of the evenings plans.

"Because, dearest, you are newly presented to the ton, your sisters are either married off or unavailable." Your mother, the Queen, replies.

You roll your eyes, you had planned on attended the ball, but making a quick escape while you could. You always felt overdressed and stifled in your role, and loved nothing more than to be outdoors in the garden.

"Besides, i hear the King of Austria is looking for a wife," She adds, making you grimace.

Looking for a husband was never expected of you. You were a princess, and it was deemed for you to marry a King when the time was right, but that didn't stop your mother trying to encourage a love match.

Your parents were fortunate, an arranged marriage, but also a love match, if you and your five siblings were to be believed.

You look up from your vanity, eyebrows raised.

"Surely not, Mother. I'm not even sure we speak the same language." You respond, rather crudely.

She just smiles and busies herself with your hair, brushing and pinning it away from your face.

"I hear he is over 6 feet tall, and is an excellent shot." She continues, weaving a braid along the crown of your head.

"What would we have in common?" You ask, picturing a tall behemoth.

"Love works in mysterious ways." Was all she replied.

A few hours later, you find yourself in the ballroom, dressed up like a Christmas tree, opals in your hair and around your neck specifically for your guest. Standing with a glass of lemonade, you hear the excitement as the King is announced.

You had heard he was tall, but you hadn't expected just how tall.

Striding across the ballroom, his eyes were on yours only, pale grey eyes boring into yours.

He greets you with a nod.

"Prinzessin."

"H-hello, Your majesty." You choke out, putting down your glass on the table, before offering your hand. He takes it, and proffers a brief kiss on your gloved hand.

"Forgive me, but i am not the dancing type." He says, a rough accent to his words.

"May we be chaperoned to somewhere quieter, ja?" He asks, his head bent over your smaller frame, looking at you, deeply.

You smile and nod, and urge your maid, Mary to chaperone you both outside. You lead him along the gravel path, the only sound is your footsteps in the cool breeze of the night, leaving the partygoers behind. You stumble and you feel a strong hand grip your upper arm, preventing you from falling, His body close enough to yours to cause whispers in society.

"Are you alright, Prinzessin?" He asks, concern written over his features, the heat of his hand sizzling over your cool skin. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Your voice trapped as his gaze holds yours captive.

You simply nod, and right yourself again, pulling your gaze away from his, and softly moving away, maintaining a space worthy of all those etiquette books you grew up reading.

You definitely weren't thinking about how his touch sent a lick of heat to your lower belly, or how you wondered how his lips would feel against yours... Or why you suddenly were a shy thing, unable to talk.

You walk into the gardens, along the rose bushes, and floral centerpieces you were so proud of, the scent of flowers permeated the air.

"We have beautiful flowers in my homeland." You hear him say.

"Edelweiss is what we are known for the most. Had i known there was a garden like this here, i may have brought some for you." His gruff voice almost the opposite of the rumours you had heard.

"Maybe i shall visit one day." You reply, plucking a few straggly flowers from the path.

"You would be welcome, When your Mutter had written to me, inviting me here to court you... I had-" You cut him off.

"My mother? What has she-" realisation struck.

"Shes matchmaking, isn't she." You realise, understanding blossoming through you.

König has the grace to blush, and avert his gaze.

"When i had heard of the Prinzessin who loved flowers and was rumoured to be extremely intelligent, and beautiful, i had to see for myself. no?" He continued, his eyes flashing dark.

"And the rumours were true, my little wildflower. You are radiant."

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to look away, you stand there, holding the flowers to your body.

"W-well, thank you, your majesty. But i must say-"

"Permit me to kiss you, Prinzessin." He asks, not letting you finish the sentence.

"If its our duty to marry, then we must see if we are compatible in other ways. no?" He takes a step further to you, hidden by the garden wall, your gaze flicks to your maid, who quickly turns around, but not before you can see a smile on her face.

You nod, cheeks aflame.

"Liebling, i need words, please."

"Y-yes, kiss me, please." You whisper, your voice low enough for only him to hear."

He cups your face, cradling your cheeks in his rough hands, his eyes searching your soul as he lowers his lips to yours, brushing over them softly.

You make a small whimper in the back of your throat, body singing with passion, as he explores your lips, opening you up to him like a flower on a sunny day.

Steadying your hands on his hips, you wait until he pulls away slowly.

Regaining your senses, you open your eyes, your cheeks pink, and your eyes wild with lust.

You feel his hands enclose around yours.

"Very compatible indeed."

a/n. i liked that this one was a little bit longer than a drabble. i didn't want to follow too similarly to Daisy But i wanted a little cutesy/ soft vibe. I hope you like it! and a mega thank you to you beauts liking an commenting, it makes my day!

@xoxunhinged @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @enjisbf @frudoo @muneca-lemon-steppa @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XX

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I died writing this chapter. This is Alastor's POV since his last chapter. So, please, do tell me your thoughts about it. Beware of: blood,gore, killing, smut and Alastor being ALASTOR. I'm happy with how the chapter came out, Alastor's mind is now available for you to discovered. What he was doing and thinking all this time, now you shall find out!

“ Is he…dead?”

You were so cute, of course his father was finally dead. He was dead, dead, dead, dead. Blood was pouring out of him like a fountain, it was a magnificent sight that he was sharing with you, how beautiful.  You were beautiful. 

He tugged you against his chest, making you dance in the snow. You really did it. You shot his father with him.  You did the worst sin with him. Robbing someone from their life. Were you feeling as powerful as he was feeling right now? 

“ You were perfect, dearest ! I don’t think I could have thought of a better performance !” he kissed your face multiple times without stopping as you laughed heartily. “ Now dearest…” He put you down before taking something out of his pocket and you couldn’t help but gasp as he kneeled in front of you.

He was kneeling in front of you, the only person he would ever show his vulnerable side. It was you, it would always be you. You were his everything, you were the curse of his sanity, everything he did, you were in his thoughts.

“ This is your last chance to run away” he scoffed “ but you know now that I can catch you.. But I’ll let you believe you have a choice.” he smirked at you, opening the box, showing you a golden ring.  He could already see it in your eyes, you were already his. You wouldn’t ever leave him, these thoughts didn’t exist in your mind.

You smiled as he slid the ring on your finger, watching him as he kissed it and then tugged you against him, kissing you like a mad man. He was starving for you. You were beautiful, all bloodied, all his. 

He laid you down on the snow as you pressed your body against his. This kiss tasted like blood, and yet, he couldn’t think of leaving your lips. You were a drug he couldn’t help to indulge. Were you aware of how delicious you looked? Like a fallen angel, all bloodied in the white snow.

He settled between your legs, groaning as he felt your hips push against his pelvis. You little tease. He pushed his tongue against your, devouring every moan that left your lips, even the breaths you were taking were stolen by his mouth. He slid his hand underneath your shirt, he needed to feel your naked skin on him, he needed you more than ever. 

“ Dearest… If you keep sounding like that…” he panted, staring at your face with dilated pupils. He wanted to eat you alive, hearing you begging him for him in more ways than one.He was surprised when he saw you take off your shirt. 

“ I want my dear husband to claim me for himself.”

He took off his hunting jacket before unbuttoning his shirt slowly, never taking his eyes off of you. You were divine, you were mind breaking…

But he knew you were thinking about your books and how you should satisfy him. He didn’t really read these kinds of books, but fortunately he didn’t need to. He would just follow his needs, like he always did with you. He raised an eyebrow when he heard you moan as you saw his torso. Did you like what you were seeing ? Even though he had so many scars on his body, you looked at him like he was the most beautiful man on earth. He could feel a warm sensation in his belly.

He stared at your face as he saw you take off your pants. So he was right, you were trying to do like in your books, nothing you were doing seemed natural. He would have to reassure you.

Alastor’s hand stopped you from taking your panty off as he bent toward your thighs.

“ I’ve always wanted to take a bite of those sinfully thighs of yours.” 

He kissed your thighs, the one that would make him go crazy even when they were hidden by your long dress. Seeing them like this, naked, in his grasp was making him lightheaded. He bit your thigh, marking them multiple times, staring at you. You were moaning but he knew you were thinking about something else, which he wouldn’t accept.

“ I know you are thinking about your stupid books. I’ll stop if you think about anything else but us right now.” he bit your thighs harder, making you moan. 

“But…But how am I supposed to know how to please you..?” you sighed.

“ Like you always did. By being yourself.” he licked the marks he had made on your skin before tilting his head against your smooth thighs. “ What do you wish for ?”

You blushed and before you could hide your face, Alastor took your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him. He hated when you were trying to hide your emotions from him. He wanted to see any kind of feeling you were experiencing because of him.

“ I want… to touch you…” you whispered. He smiled at you before moving above you.  He didn’t really understand why you always wanted to touch him but as the years passed, he understood that it was your way of showing your emotions to him.

Feeling you so close to him where he was as his worst was overwhelming.  You were accepting him as a killer. He still had blood on his face and yet, you were looking at him like he was the most precious person in your life. It was making him dizzy.

“ Is… is it okay..?” you asked but before you could once push yourself against him you felt him tugged you against his pelvis making you moan. He didn’t even notice he was hard. You looked at him like you thought he didn’t know anything about sex. Which was half true. He never was interested in that kind of experience, but with you? He wanted to try. He wanted to be your first and last. To feel you in a way nobody would ever have the chance to feel. He wanted to own you, be in the deepest of your body.

“ Dearest, you must think I don’t know anything about sex, but, trust me, I know what I want to do to you.” he kissed your lips then trailed down toward your panty. He wanted to taste you, that thought alone was enough to make him crazy.“ And as you know, I’m greedy with what I desire."He kissed your crotch through your panty, making you gasp. “ If you allow me…”

He thought he was going to faint as you spread your legs. You were showing him the most intimate part of your body. He licked you through your panty but he needed more, he needed to feel your bare sex against his tongue. He moaned as he felt your wet lips against his mouth. 

You were divine. Offering yourself to him like some kind of sacrifice the gods have decided to bless him, singing his name again and again. You have been by his side since his youngest years and you were still here. You accepted him as his weakness and here you were accepting him at his best. 

He blinked when he saw you arch your back, your body twitching.  He leaned back from his delicious meal, looking at you as he licked your juices from his lips. You were delicious.

“ How is my wife feeling?” he smirked as he stared at you.  You were beautiful , your legs spread for him, your beautiful chest moving up and down as your breathing wasn’t calming down. He had so much power over you.

Did you know the power you have over him too?

“I want you.” 

If he wasn’t on his knees, he would have fallen at your feet. You took off your bra and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander on your chest. He never watched someone like he was watching you. If it was anybody else in front of you, he would have just seen a chest , nothing worth fussing about.

But it was you, you were baring yourself to him. 

You sat on him, pressing your naked chest on his torso, kissing him sensually. He was caressing your body, he wanted to dig his nails into you, leaving a permanent mark on you. He stared at you, you were breathtaking, a spirit who came down on earth to steal his sanity. He looked at your eyes, he could see you were thinking about something else.

“ You thought about your books.” 

“ N-no– Well, yes, but I want to.. if you want of course.. Do what you have done to me… I want to suck your… Well..” you blushed looking away. He took your face with his hand while the other was playing with your clit. If you thought you could hide yourself right now, you were more naive than he expected. He could listen to you moaning for hours, you were his best melody.

“ No. Maybe next time you will not think about your books.”

He smirked when he heard you begging for him. You begged. You begged for him. He was going to lose his mind if you were going to keep this up. You were moving against his palm, clinging at his shoulder. You looked so adorable and delicious like this. 

He felt your teeth digging into his shoulder. You were biting him just like he did with you. Were you feeling the same as him? Wanting to mark him as yours ? 

He pinned you underneath, you were going to make him lose his mind. Didn’t he already lose it? He watched as you hurryingly tried to take off his belt. You seemed so eager. He took his member in his hand. He knew that the first time could hurt, he could understand, thrusting something inside someone can always be painful. But he didn’t want you to feel pain, not right now.

“ Darling…” he whispered and he pressed himself against you. You kissed his lips multiple times, your arms around his shoulder. He could feel your body becoming more tense as he penetrated you fully, until his penis settled inside your warm walls.

It was a strange feeling but not an unwelcome one. He was one with you. You let him take your virginity just after killing his father and before your honeymoon. He bit your neck, smiling even more. You were going to be chained to him, body and soul.

But he needed to know you were still okay. No amount of pleasure could stop him from observing you, analyzing your reactions. He kissed your lips, asking if you were okay. He needed you to be okay in that special moment you both were sharing.

“ I’ve never felt better.” you whispered back against his lips. He smiled at you before kissing you languishly.  You were his, completely his, awarely his.

His

His

His

He could feel your nails scratching his back like a reward, you moan being a melody he deserved to hear. You let him taste you, devour you without fighting back. How crazy of you.

“ I want you to come inside me.”

You vile temptress.

Would you be so crazy that you wished for his child right now? It wasn’t the right time, he wanted to be selfish, keep your attention on him a little longer but imagining your body changing to accommodate his child was making him lightheaded. He couldn’t control his body as he came inside you.

He bit you, where your heart was beating. He would give you everything, even a child if that’s what you wished for. But he would always be a glutton for your attention, he hoped you were aware of it. 

His body relaxed as you caressed his back. He kept his head against your chest, listening to your beating heart. Your heart was beating this fast because of him. He was the reason your heart was beating so strongly.

“ I’m just happy..” you said, caressing the side of his face. He took your hand and kissed it, staring at you.

“ So am I.”

He helped you dress yourself, winking at you when he spotted some of his sperm sliding down your thighs. Seeing your flustered face was worth it. Now, he had things to do. He walked toward his dead father and crouched in front of him.

He asked you to go back home, even though he wanted to bask in your warmth, he needed to take care of this. He waited for you to go before going behind a tree and took the shovel he hid before bringing his father here.

He smirked as he began to dig a hole, bigger than necessary for his father but he wasn’t going to be alone. It took him almost all night to dig the hole and kill a deer. He threw his father in the hole after taking your necklace that you had forgotten. He shoved it into his pocket before going with his rifle out in the woods and killed a deer. He dragged it toward the hole, covered his father with dirt and he deemed it enough, he threw the deer inside it.  

The sun began to rise when he finished his task. Now he just needed to get home.

He walked home with the weapon, the knife and your necklace. It seemed like you were talking with his mother because once you were gone, his mother was congratulating him about his proposal but was also scolding him about not waiting for the honeymoon to eat you.

They both sat down in the living room, his mother staring at him with tears in his eyes. He must have bruises on his face, but he didn’t care.

“ He is gone.”

He watched as his mother sobbed. Was she crying because they were finally free? Or was she crying because of what he was going to become? He didn’t know, but what he did know was that when he came toward her to hug her, she embraced him harder than ever.

The next day, he left to go to work. What a splendid day it was!  He greeted the people who were talking to him, shushed Victor who was being noisy as always. As he broadcast his podcast he couldn’t wait to see you tonight. He knew you were at Alice’s, after an experience like yesterday you would need your..friend.

Alice has been a strange addition in your life. One day it was just the both of you and the next, you brought a blonde blue eyed girl. He didn’t feel threatened by Alice, oh no. He was just wondering why you liked her. She could be amusing when she was in deep trouble but that was it. But oh well.

As the night settled, he walked toward Alice’s house, the butler bringing him into the living where he wasn’t surprised to see Alyzée with you. You were drunk and so were Alice as she let her secret slip so easily. How stupid. Now, he really didn’t care who fancied who.  But it was interesting information.

 An information he could use.

And so as a thank you, he played the piano as you sang, your necklace back in place.

—-----

Finally.

He was doing a podcast for the radio. He was talking into a microphone, chatting with his colleague. He wondered if you were listening to him. Would you be surprised to hear his voice? Oh, he couldn’t wait to see you and ask if you listened to him, once he got back. 

He didn’t expect to see you sitting on a bench all alone with a somber expression. 

“ What is a breathtaking lady like yourself doing outside ? Shouldn’t you be home?”

He bent toward your face, waiting for his kisses. It seemed like you didn’t want to talk about it, it was okay, he could wait. He beamed as you said you heard him on the radio, making him prouder than he was.  He was showing himself off, he would be the perfect husband for you. He didn’t really react much when you walked inside your home and your friends congratulated you both. He was just pleased by your smile, you seemed happy and it was enough.

Your home has always been noisier than his. Everyone was speaking, laughing at your father for being sad of letting his ‘little girl’ go. Was that what was supposed to be a father? Huh.

When Alice began to talk about the cottage he couldn’t help but ask for the price. He wanted to buy this house, far away from people, where you both have been completely naked for each other for the first time. The place where you accepted to be his, as his wife, his partner in crime, his other-half.

He knew you were still nervous about being found out. This feeling only confirmed itself when your father talked to you, explaining his father was reported missing. His mother wasn’t showing anything but your eyes were telling other stories. He could almost taste the panic from you. But he and his mother controlled the situation easily, they were used to worse scenarios.

Your father left, promising he would find out what happened to his father. He almost laughed in his face, in front of your dad were the killers and he couldn’t even see it. It was comical, really.

But what was important was you. He forced you to sit on a chair once his mother and your father left the kitchen. Your hands were shaking and your pupils were dilated. He didn’t want you to faint just because someone reported his father missing.  

“ There is no worry. Trust me.” 

You looked into his eyes, calming yourself and then began to talk about what happened this afternoon.

John huh…

He wasn’t surprised at all, he expected it. But what surprised him was that you were ready to let him go just like that because of the words he had said against you and him. He smirked, he was surprised but also amused. He never doubted you but it was nice seeing his little finacée defending him like that.

“ Alastor, if there is someone who would disrespect you or your mother, even if they are friends of mine, you have to tell me. I don’t want such  people in my life.” he hummed with a smirk.

“ Even Alice?”

“ Alice doesn’t like you because you are you.” you smirked as he rolled his eyes. 

He went back with you to the living room where he watched you and your friends drinked wine. He was more of a whiskey guy. He liked the taste and unlike his father, he could hold his liquor. He watched as your father left to work, you didn’t even see him leave.  Were you drunk or relaxed enough to not care about your surroundings ?

He walked you to the bathroom, wiping your makeup. 

“ Have you done your voodoo’s spell?” 

He coughed against his fist, staring at you eyes wide open, his smile twitching.  What were you asking here, woman? 

“ It’s a spell that needs time… I need to carve runes and other things that your drunk brain would not be able to understand.”

You caged his head between your thighs with a big grin when you saw his pupils dilated. Gosh… You truly were a vile temptress, doing this kind of thing with his mother downstairs.  You were tempting him to carve his name into your skin, to mark you in a way only a mad man would. But what was making him lightheaded was that he knew you would accept his sadistic tendencies. 

You arched your back when you felt his nails dig into your skin. 

“ Darling… You’re playing a dangerous game.” he said, his voice dangerously low. He hasn't tasted you since your first time. You were eagering him on in a game he would love to play. Hunting you with a knife, catching you, watching you submit yourself to him while he had all power over you.

“ We’ll talk about it later, when you’re sober. For now, you need to rest.”

You almost pouted but accepted your fate as he carried you to bed. He knew you wanted to play longer but he didn’t want your mothers to faint because they heard your screams. Your screams were reserved to him.  He put you to bed, joining you soon after once he was dressed to go to bed. Even if you have seen all of himself, he still was used to undressed far from your eyes, something you never reproached him for.

“ Alastor, my father is going to work on the disappearance of your father.”

“ Mhn.”

“ Aren’t you scared?”

“ Is it going to make you leave me?” he tilted his head with a mocking smile, already knowing the answer.

“ No.”

“ Then I’m not. Let the show begin.” he smirked.

The stage was set, so were the actors, he couldn’t wait to see the play.

—-----

He tried to summon him. He really tried, but he didn't know why, nothing was happening. He looked at his book once more, making sure everything was perfect for the summoning. 

Papa Legba is the first called in a service, so that he can open the gates to the spirit world, enabling communication with other spirits. No spirits dares show itself without Legba's permission. He controls the crossing over from one world to the other. That meant he needed to communicate with this spirit so he could do the soul binding between the two of you. 

It was 3am, he didn’t have much time in the daytime to summon him so he tried at nights, when his mother was sleeping peacefully. He looked at the tissue with your blood on it, from years ago. He would make this curse, you would be bound in a way nobody ever has. He stared at the vévé, the symbol he made on the wall.

He inhaled before asking once more

“ Papa Legba.” 

He waited but nothing happened if not a slight breeze which probably came from the door. He didn’t really focus on that, he knew the wind could come in the basement because of that door. He frowned, his smile turning into a grimace. He sat on a chair, flipping through the book once more, wasn’t there another spirit that could help him?

He flinched when the book’s pages began to flip alone, before opening on a name that made the atmosphere colder.

“ Kalfu…?”

He jerked his head up when he saw all the candles go out. He didn’t move, looking around before looking at the symbol which seemed to change form. He stood up slowly, reading what this spirit was about.

Legba is paired with his opposite, Kalfu, who also controls the crossroads. He smirked when he read that information, it seemed like he finally found another way to get what he wanted.

Kalfu controls the in-between points of the crossroads, the off-center points. Legba controls the positive spirits of the day; Kalfu controls the malevolent spirits of the night. A respected spirit though he is not liked much, he is the grand master of charms and sorceries and is closely associated with black magic. He chuckled as he closed the book  staring at the vévé with a cunning smirk. He lit up all the candles once more, stood in the middle of the room before speaking, confidently.

“ Kalfu.”

“ Yes.”

He turned around, where he was sitting a second ago. There was an old black man with a menacing smile, a small pipe in his hand, a hat on his head and his foot tapping the floor calmly. His eyes were red and his smile seemed yellowish. 

“ I was waiting to finally meet you, Alastor.”

Alastor kept his smile on his face even if he was feeling a lot of emotion right now. Did he finally make it ? Was he talking with a spirit?  

“ So was I.”

The old man scoffed before standing up, he was ridiculously tall, looming over Alastor with a knowing smile. Alastor almost flinched when the man’s hand touched the cloth where was your blood.

“ I know what you want to do, boy, I can help you with that. But you’ll need more than just one sacrifice.” the spirit said, looking at the dead wild boar on the floor. “ Bounding a soul together… Even after death, you’ll need more than just me.”

Alastor kept his smile on his lips, still acting confident. What did he mean by saying he needed more spirits ? He could already feel tiredness seeping through his body and he just started to talk with the man.

“ Which spirits ?”

“  Ohoh, the one you didn’t manage to summon, my ‘twin’ and of course, our dear friend known as Le Baron Samedi.” he smirked at Alastor, moving around him, observing the man like he was inspecting him. “ He is to the underworld or afterlife what Legba is to life. He controls access. “

Alastor stared at the spirit before reaching to his book who was flipping pages to another spirit’s name, ‘ Ghede.’ 

“ What do you know?”

Kalfu smirked before sitting at a table, crossing his arms.

“ He is the keeper of the cemetery and the primary contact with the dead. Anyone who would seek contact with the dead must first solicit Le Baron Samedi in the same way that Legba is contacted to cross over to the spirit world. He is the spirit of death and resurrection. As keeper of the cemetery he has intimate contact with the dead. He knows what their plans were, what was going on in families, what the connections of things were, and is quite generous with his information. He is an interesting guy.” Kalfu looked at Alastor. “ But you must have seen him, no, boy? Another of Le Baron Samedi’s great powers is as the protector of children. He does not like to see children die. Lastly, since he is the lord of death, he is also the final last resort for healing since he must decide whether to accept the sick person into the dead or allow them to recover.”

Alastor freezed, keeping the book in his hands. He didn’t know if he could trust this spirit but he had to ask.

“ Did my mother work with him?”

“ She sure did. With other spirits too. Now, I think I gave you enough information worth this sacrifice, I shall go, unless you want to work with me?” he asked, his smile turning wicked.

Alastor looked at the man in front of him. He gave him really interesting information. If he could work with Le Baron Samedi, you would be together in death but there would also be a chance he could have the power to heal. What was problematic was that he hadn't met Papa Legba yet. He needed three great powerful spirits to work with him and he didn’t want you to be tangled into this.

“ It would be an honor to work with such a powerful spirit.” he smiled as Kalfu's smile grew wider. He stood up before walking toward Alastor.

“ A deal has to be made.”

Alastor smirked at the spirit, no man or spirit or god was above him. He would trap this spirit into his own conditions, and so would the other two.

“ Grant me the power I wish and I shall kill for you.”

“Mhn.. Kill what?”

Alastor's smile grew, looking almost the same as Kalfu’s.

“ Pigs.”

Kalfu laughed before shaking Alastor’s hands with glee. 

“ Oh, Alastor, we are going to have so much fun together. I shall give you one power, I’ll give you more if I have more… sacrifices.” he smiled before disappearing in front of his eyes, blowing the candles at the same time.

Alastor looked around him before staggered toward the stairs. He felt exhausted, like his body was, for once without you by his side, to fall asleep. He went into his bedroom, looking at Eamon before falling into his bed, falling asleep before being able to see his shadow smiling hideously at him.

He woke up three hours later, rested. He groaned as he sat up on his bed, disgusted when he saw he slept with his clothes on. He took off his top before freezing. He could feel eyes on him, someone was there with him. He slid his hand under his pillow where he could feel his blade, ready to be used.

He turned his head toward the strange feeling and scoffed when he saw Eamon, sitting on his desk as always. But what was unusual was the shadow moving behind the fawn, staring back at him with a wide grin.

Alastor stood up, calmly.

“ Show yourself.”

He stared as the shadow took Eamon with curiosity, holding the plushie above its head. Alastor crossed his arms on his chest, was it the spirit Kalfu had given him? He rolled his eyes before looking in the mirror and saw his eyes flashing red.

Huh, interesting.

He looked once more at the shadow, that looked just like his. He turned around and could see his shadow stretch to the thing holding your plushie. It seemed like the shadow could interact with a material object… Could he use it as a spy? Could he hear what the shadow was hearing, or watch what it was looking at? 

It was getting really interesting.

He tried to control the shadow, it was like an obedient pet sometimes. He just wanted to be amused, just like Alastor himself. Boredom was something they both didn’t want  to feel.

He smirked, he couldn’t wait to show you his new abilities. He looked as his shadow pointed at the mirror next to him, moving it so Alastor could see his own reflection.

Red eyes.

Mhn, was it because his shadow was being used? It would be troublesome to have different eye colors each time… He would have to be careful. He pointed to the floor, making the shadow go back to its normal form, his eyes losing their red color.

He went into the bathroom to prepare himself for today. He couldn’t wait to see you, he needed more time to tell you he finally knew how to bound your soul to his. Would you be overjoyed? Excited like him?

The day passed quickly, his popularity as an radio host was increasing each day, people would greet him in the street if they were to recognize his voice. He clocked off later but still walked toward your home. He climbed the fence, jumping into your little garden in the back of your house. He looked up and smirked when he saw you, once again, let your window open even though it was still winter. 

He looked around him and summoned his shadow which smiled wickedly at him. Was it as excited as him to see you?  Huh.  

He sended the shadow in your bedroom as he easily climbed the tree near your window. You seemed concentrating on what was going on downstairs. You were so cute. He walked quietly toward you before putting his hand on your mouth, loving your body panicking against his. 

“ You’re such an easy prey, dearest.”

You sighed in relief as you closed your eyes. He smirked, delighted that you relaxed as quickly when you heard his voice. 

“ How did you come here?”

“ Well, the window, dear.” 

You scoffed before forcing him to sit on your bed. You sat on his lap and took his hand with yours, playing with his fingers.

“ I have my wedding dress.”   you smirked when you felt his whole body tensed underneath you. “ And you won’t see it, because I left it at Alice’s.” Vile temptress…

“ Do you really need Alice in your life, dearest?” asked Alastor with an amused voice.

“ Yes! Come on Alastor, be honest with me, you enjoy Alice’s company?”

“ Hah ! I enjoy Alice’s contacts nothing more.” he rolled his eyes, pressing you against his body. “ She is useful and she can be amusing, when she is having problems.” he smirked at you, he didn’t care about Alice, if she was here or not, nothing would change in his life. She could be amusing and useful but nothing more.

You began to explain what was going on with his father’s case. He really was amused by this, he was sure no one would find the corpse. He listened to you carefully, pride blooming in his chest when he listened to your comeback to the policeman. You were as savage with your mouth than with a knife. Speaking of knives…

“ Have you felt it again?”

You tilted your head.

“ What?”

“ The need to kill.” he asked you, gripping your waist, pressing your body against his. He almost lost his mind when you confirmed it. You thought about killing John because this insect badmouthed him. He nipped at your neck, wanting to sink his teeth in your skin, carving himself in you. He put his chin against your round chest with an innocent smile.

“ Would you like to kill him?” He needed to know if you wanted to kill him.

“ Alastor, we can’t. There would be too much suspicion on us, we already have your father’s disappearance on us, if we kill John–” he kissed you feverishly making you sigh in the kiss. You were making him dizzy with just words, what a witch you were.

“ Do you hear yourself, darling?” he smiled against your lips. “ In your mind, you are already ready to kill him… ” he sighed against your skin. You were his perfect fiancée. No one could understand him like you did and no one would understand you like he did.

You kissed Alastor on the nose, with an excited smile.

“ Not now.”

He left your room after being sure that your body was marked by his teeth and nails. Before leaving, he took your camera with him. He knew you wanted to develop last Christmas’s photo and he would find a shop that would do it , even if it was night time.

He left by the window and began to walk before stopping near an alley. His smile grew bigger as he recognized Alice and Alyzée kissing each other, both of them drunk. Now, now, wasn’t that a perfect information? He took pictures of the scene,  both women not even aware of what he just did.

He did make enough noise on purpose so they would back away from each other. He was the only one who needed to have this kind of information, not anyone else and he knew you would be upset if Alice was in a scandal. He grinned as his shadow buzzed with excitement as he heard Alice whining about having a date with a Larry guy. 

You were a naive thing, thinking that Alice would never betray you. He trusted your friendship with the lady, but it wasn’t enough. You would stay in your naive world while he would make sure no one would hurt you. He left the alley, chuckling. Larry huh…  He looked down at his shadow who seemed to laugh maniacally.

“ Go fetch information on the man, once it’s done, come back, I’ll have a photo for you to put in his room.”

He walked toward the shop, shadowless with a big smile on his lips. How fun ! If he played his cards well, he would have a victimes to give to Kalfu and he would satisfy his urge to kill. He wondered if you would join him. He entered the shop and asked for the photos to be developed. He stayed in the shop until he had all the pictures. 

Once he went out, the sun wasn’t in the sky yet. A sleepless night, nothing new. He felt his shadow coming back to him, whispering information about his next victim. He nodded with a satisfied smile. Larry would be the perfect victim.

He felt tired once more. He looked at his shadow who was smiling mockingly at him. Using the shadow demanded more strength than he thought. He wanted to send it back to Larry’s mansion but he didn’t know what could happen if he were to faint or fall asleep.

He smirked at his shadow, well, if it wanted to play this game. He gave the photo to the shadow who rushed out once he had its mission. 

He sighed, now he needed to make a contract with Alice, so he could kill him for her, which would make her chain to him in a way. She would be a complicit to his crime, and even if she would never be in jail thanks to her parent’s name, he knew she didn’t want Alyzée to be ashamed because she was in love with another woman. 

And he knew Alyzée enough to know she would feel the same. He chuckled, if he played his cards well, the mayor’s daughter and the richest woman of New Orleans would be in the palm of his hands… And your hand too. He was doing this so your life would be perfect.

He walked toward his work place, the sun was beginning to raise and he needed to do his job right. 

When his shadow came back, he felt like he could faint at any moment. His body was sore, like he ran for hours outside. He gave his shadow a cold glare as it silently laughed at him before melting into its usual form. 

He knew Alice would be on her date in the afternoon, he would have wanted to send his shadow but right now he couldn’t. He didn’t think his body would take it. He needed to build more strength. 

He left his job, after hearing praises from his coworkers, going toward Alice’s place. He needed to know if everything happened like he wished it had happened. He stopped near the portal when he heard screams.

“ This man is just a filthy pig! Touching me like I’m some kind of harlot.”

“ Maybe that’s what you are, kissing the mayor’s daughter like this. What a scoop that would be, unless we come to an agreement of course. I think you would make a darling wife Miss Alice. I’ll let you think about it, and if you need more convincing, I have proof. Now, have a great night ladies.”

Alastor hid himself as Larry walked away, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

Just as planned.

Everyone was so easy to manipulate, it was almost boring.

Everyone but you. 

You asked Alice if she wanted you to get rid of the pig. You were so… Hha, he wanted to crash into you and kiss you until he couldn’t breathe anymore. You wanted to murder someone, for better reason that he had but it was still thrilling hearing this.

“ Are you serious ?”

“ Seems like she is.”

You both turned around to find Alastor, standing in front of you, the door open.

“ My dear, we don’t talk about taking trash out at the entrance, I taught you better than that.”  he smiled widely at you. “ Is there a place we could talk about getting rid of the trash?” asked Alastor with a beaming grin.

Alice seemed to come back to herself, and she tugged you to her father’s office. He followed the both of you, still smiling. She locked the door behind Alastor, staring at you. 

“ Explanation ?”

“ Nothing too serious. You’ve been caught in a big scoop Alice, and you need us to clean the mess you’ve made!” you paled, asking Alastor how did he know, you looked adorable being so worried about Alice. You didn’t have to worry, he was the one who made the plan after all. “ Oh dear, no, but from Alice’s expression, the only things that could make her so upset would be you or her lovely Alyzée. I took a lucky guess.”

“ Alastor, you are… your father… oh… that explains so much.” Alice let herself drop on her father’s chair. “ So, that’s why you didn’t want me to help to look for his father, because he killed him?” asked Alice, looking at you, confused. Alastor looked at you with a fond gaze.

“ We killed him.”

 “ So, let me get this through, you both killed Alastor’s father and now you want to kill the man who knows I’m in love with Alyzée?”

“ Well, Alice, for once you made your brain work. I would almost be shedding a tear if I cared.” said Alastor as he sipped his drink. “ And furthermore, this man is a pig that needs to be slaughtered.” He already knew what the man was doing in his free time, which disgusted him more than he let on.

“ What are you winning from this?”

“ Nothing–”

“ Doll, I know you don’t want to manipulate me. I know. I’m talking about your murderous husband. He wouldn’t help me freely.”

“ Using your brain for the second time? What a day folks ! It’s simple really, you are at the head of one of the richest families in Louisiana. Having you on my side is a plus.”

“ I’m already at your side–!”

“ No Alice, you could be cutting yourself to prove your faith and I would still doubt you. But a crime, that is a win-win situation. The pig is slaughtered, you are free, my darling and myself are doing what we need and everything is back to normal!” exclaimed Alastor with his usual smile.

“ … Fine.” 

He smirked as he talked with Alice about the crime you were about to commit for her safety and your enjoyment. He was a little surprised she wasn’t crying about how one of her best friends was a murderer and would marry a killer. He looked at you, feeling warmth coming from you. Your eyes were closed, your body way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be awake.

“ Darling?” 

You gasped as you felt Alastor hand on your shoulder. You seemed so lost, he was worried. What just happened?

“ I’m okay.. I just.. I’m okay.” you nodded, feeling extremely tired all of the sudden. “ Alastor… Where is your father's corpse?”

“ Six feet underground.”

“ I think.. I think we should check it out.”

“ Why dig up dirt from the past?” He tilted his head, staring at you.

“ Because I think someone is trying to dig him up.”

Interesting.

—---------

The next morning, he was walking next to you because you were too stubborn to stay at home and rest. You wanted to come with him and who was he to say no to his little brat of fiancée?

“ So, you couldn’t hear me or Alice, and then you heard footsteps and the noise of a shovel digging into the ground?” asked Alastor, keeping his rifle in his left hand, the other keeping yours. 

“ Yes… Do you think I’m crazy? Maybe I fainted for a moment..?” you turned your eyes toward Alastor, wishing to be reassured, he could see it in your eyes. You were scared of what happened.

He was intrigued. He didn’t know if the fact that he was using spirits could affect you. Did a spirit try to show him something but decided to use you instead ? He didn’t like the idea, he needed to have more answers.

“ No, dear. We can’t be both crazy, this town wouldn’t survive it. No, no, I’ll look into it, okay?” he smiled at you with a soft gaze. He kissed the back of your hand. “ Don’t think you can run away by pretending to be crazy, dearest.”

You both looked around to find a trail to follow, which you found. There were footprints but also… Was that dog's paws on the mud? He almost sighed, he didn’t like animals. He asked if a policeman could come here with his dog but you tried to reassure him by saying they needed an authorization, a warrant, to enter someone’s property. You were cute, thinking people followed the law.

“ Let’s follow the trail, we’ll make a conclusion when we see where it ends.” 

You walked, you seemed to have a headache. What was happening to you..?  You sighed in relief when you felt Alastor’s hand on your waist. You both stopped when you reached the place where you’ve killed for the first time.  You looked at Alastor as he gently tugged you toward a big tree and just as you expected, it seemed like someone had tried to dig up a hole.

“ Mhn… They didn’t dig up deep enough.” said Alastor with a mocking tone, they didn’t dig up enough to find the dead deer. He walked around the hole before pointing his gun toward a noise. You smiled when you saw a deer, staring at Alastor then near his feet. You began to walk toward him but Alastor stopped you with his hand. “ Don’t come any closer, there is a bear trap.”

Alastor stared at the animal, it wasn’t a coincidence. He met too many deer with an unusual behavior, this one was clearly warning him about the trap.

The deer stared at Alastor before leaving in the forest.

“ Well… That was odd. But more importantly, a bear trap? Seems like someone really wants to catch us.” he laughed as he crouched in front of the trap. “ Did they not dig deep enough on purpose so we would lower our guard and get caught by the bear trap..?”

“ Do you think they are still here?” you looked around.

“ No, darling. The forest is noisy and I don’t feel eyes upon us. We’re clean, for now. But what is amazing is that.. You saw it coming.  You knew that someone was trying to dig up my father.” It wasn’t something that could happen just like that… Did he create a connection with you when he decided to work with Kalfu to bound your souls together?

Alastor walked toward you.

“ Darling, is there anything strange that happened to you during this week?”  You blinked at him. “ No apparitions ?”

“ Alastor, what in the sweet hell are you talking about?”

“ Well, I’m trying the soul bounding spell. It can take several months to be able to bound a soul to another one, and I was worried that maybe I did something wrong which could have.. made you have that vision.”

You smiled at him, before kissing his lips. He stared at your eyes, you weren’t lying, whatever would come from your lips would not be a lie, he knew it from your eyes. Your eyes were never deceiving him.

“ No Alastor, I didn’t see anything worth mentioning. What should I be worried about?”

“ Nothing serious, if there is something anormal, you would feel it.” he touched your forehead with his own, staring into your eyes. “ So… Do you have an idea how to kill Alice’s future husband ?”

You laughed as you felt Alastar’s arms wrapped around you. You kissed him several times, savoring the moments.

“ Mhn.. What about this? This weekend, we will go to Alice’s cottage and spend the days together, just the two of us thinking about murder?” you teased him, sliding your hands on his torso as you bite your lips. “ You could show me some techniques…”

“ I could show you how to tie someone so they can’t escape.” he smirked as he loomed over you. He could already imagine you completely at his mercy because you chose to. “ But it is a great idea, darling.” He kissed you twice before walking toward the bear trap. “ Also, I’m taking this to your father.” you tilted your head. “ Of course, dear. Someone trespassed into my domain and even put on a weapon that almost wounded me! If this is a policeman who has done this, your father would know. “

“ But.. They would want to understand why it was near a hole, so they are going to investigate the forest.”

“ I’ve never said I found it there, dear.” he smirked at you and you couldn’t help but laugh.” The only person who knows where we found the bear trap are you, my darling , myself and the one we want to catch. I’m just going to provoqued them a little bit.”

He smiled at you, relaxing at your laughter. He looked at his watch, he needed to go to work. He walked you home and then went to work.  After an hour or two, Victor knocked at his door. He turned around as he walked in, seeming uneasy. 

“ Be quick.”

“ Your fiancée is at the hospital, it seems like she fainted in the park– Alastor!”

He was rushing out, he couldn’t hear anything but his heart. How odd, most of the time this organ wasn’t making itself feel. Like you used to tell him, everything that was coming from him was coming from his head, his thoughts, his mind. Feeling his heartbeat more than his thoughts was almost scary. He entered the hospital, his smile twitching. He didn’t know if he could hold himself if someone was trying to keep him away from you. Fortunately for the poor souls here, the nurse gave him your room without a fuss. He quickly walked toward the room, his heartbeat still clouding any other noises.

“ Darling, I’m here.”

He walked toward you, the only person he could see in this storm of emotion he was feeling. You were here, you were okay. He took your hands between his, he needed to feel you right now. You went into his arms, your body relaxing at the same time as him. Everything was okay…

“ You should take better care of your future wife. She is going insane, talking to herself on a bench.”

He tensed. It seemed like you weren’t alone. He turned his head toward John with his usual smile.  The man had his arms crossed over his torso, staring Alastor down. He almost scoffed, did John really think he was intimidating ?

“ From what I have seen, my fiancée is feeling bad when you are around, should I get rid of you?” he smiled with a beaming expression making your father chuckle.

“ The day I see Alastor being violent, is the day I stop working!” he laughed before standing up. “ But John, boy, let’s talk outside.” your father said with a cold expression.

You watched as the two men left your room before feeling Alastor’s hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“ Darling, what happened ? Talking alone?” He was confused, he was used to you talking to yourself when you had a lot of things to do so you would do your checklist out loud, but why would you do such a thing in a park?

You shook your head slowly, caressing his cheeks.

“ No, I was with a new acquaintance of mine. I think you should meet, he is very interesting, he is very old though…But then my head started hurting so bad I had to close my eyes and hold my face to calm myself. He must have seen me when I was trying to smooth the pain.”

“ Yes, darling, I’ll meet everyone you want.” he sighed while stroking your hair. “ What is the name of the gentleman who stole my darling’s attention?” he teased you as you stuck your tongue at him.

“ Legba.”

…

No way.

No fucking way.

No fucking way you were talking with Papa Legba without trying to invoke him. You didn’t know anything about voodoo, how did this happen ? He needed to calm down, maybe there really was a gentleman with such a name. He needed more information as he could feel his shadow buzz.

“ Do you know him..?” you asked.

“ I… I know his name, yes. What do you talk about with him?” he sat next to you, his expression back to usual.

“ I’m the one mostly talking. And we share food! Now that I think about it, I didn’t have the time to give him something to eat today…” you gasped as Alastor helped you stand up.

You didn’t give an offering. You weren’t even aware you have been giving the spirit some offering. He needed to see if you were talking about a man of spirit. Papa Legba was a powerful spirit, why would he come toward you, it wasn’t making any sense.

“ Let’s see if he is still where you left him! I really want to meet him."He kissed your cheeks before taking your things. 

He walked toward the park, looking around, trying to find the mysterious man. 

“ It’s him, do you see him, Alastor?” you walked toward an empty bench. You sat and then closed your eyes before your head dropped. He sat next to you, quietly, staring at you as your lips would sometimes move to say words. 

He could feel the energy next to you. You really were talking with a spirit right now, but you weren't aware of it. How could he say that to you…? He looked at the sky, the night began to own the atmosphere. He looked at you as you gasped, stood up and looked at Alastor.

“ Why didn’t you speak to him? Didn’t you want to meet him?” you crossed your arms on your chest, raising an eyebrow.

“ I’m.. going to explain everything as soon as we get home.” he took your hands and made you walk quickly toward his home. He didn’t even stop for you to greet his mother, he needed to make sure you were okay, that you didn’t make a deal with a spirit without being aware of all the rules they were. He closed his bedroom’s door once you were both inside.

“ Alright darling. When did you meet this man?”

“ What are you playing at?” you asked, sitting on his bed.

“ Please, answer me.”

“ It hasn't even been a week yet.”

“ What does he look like?”

“ You saw him! He was sitting next to me!” you threw your arms in the air, feeling agitated. 

“ No, darling, you were sitting alone.”

He looked at you as you paled. He didn’t want you to panic, he needed you to be calm and tell him everything so he could get everything under control once more.

“ Alastor,” you laughed nervously. “ you saw me.. I was talking with him..”

He approached you and kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“ You sat on the bench and then closed your eyes. It seemed like you were asleep to me but you were whispering some sentences, I couldn’t hear everything unfortunately.”

He began to explain everything he knew about Papa Legba. You were overwhelmed but you were listening to him. Your hands were shaking but they were gripping on his. Your world was changing but your eyes were still on him, and him only. 

Once you were calm enough he told you who he was working with.  You seemed fascinated as his eyes turned red and the shadow revealed itself. He let it touch you as you petted its head. He explained to you how he needed to kill Alice’s blackmailer, Larry, to gain more power. 

He felt more excited than ever. If you were to work with Legba, he didn’t need to deal with him. He was already working with Kalfu. You only needed Le Baron Samedi and then you would be able to bound your soul.

He stared at you as you walked toward him and kissed him. Ahh, you were once again accepting him fully. How lucky he was to have you by his side. He wrapped his arms around you, you were his everything. How could you bewitch him like that with just your eyes?

He sended the shadow back and he stared at you as you fell asleep on the bed. You did seem very tired… He didn’t ask you to change into night clothes, you had enough emotion for today. He joined you and fell asleep with his arms wrapped possessively around you.

He woke up when he felt a warm energy in the room. His eyes flashed red as he stared at you, standing in front of the mirror, talking to your reflection. He left the bed, quietly, standing behind you, looking at your reflection.

You turned around and saw Alastor behind you.

“ Well, well, well.. Do my eyes deceive me ?”

“ What are you talking about?”

He smiled at you before hugging you from behind, nuzzling his head against your neck, staring at the mirror.

“ Red is really our color, right?”

His smile grew wider as he watched you look at your now red eyes, the same shade as his. He kissed your cheek as you told him you both needed to have a chat with his Mother. He nodded before letting you go and walked downstairs with you by his side.

He asked his mother to sit before explaining everything that had happened since he had found her book in the basement. She seemed more worried than surprised.  She pinched his ears once he told her he was working with Kalfu. He didn’t try to get away, he just smiled at his mother. 

“ Marie, are… are you still working with spirits?” you asked.

“ Why are you asking?”

“ He told me you used to work with a spirit called: Gran Bwa. And… We saw him when we went into the forest. He told me he was disguised as deer…”

So he was right, the deer with the unusual behavior was a spirit… He looked at his mother as she explained she started working with spirits because she wanted to protect him from his Father. He wanted to ask if she ever worked with Le Baron Samedi but he held his tongue, he didn’t need to tell his mother everything, not right now. He was so close to being bound to you and yet he couldn’t ask his mother this question. 

“ Mother, I am still not as experienced as you, but I’m safe in those woods now. Our biggest threat is gone.  Don’t tire yourself.” he smiled at her before standing up. “ Matter of fact, let me bring me something to eat.” 

You stayed at his house all morning. He listened to his mother’s teaching. It seemed like to maintain a connection, you needed to be calm… He looked at his shadow who was being calm, staying in its place. He looked at you as you tried to connect yourself to Papa Legba. His mother left, smiling at him, saying she needed an offering.

He stood up as he stared at you. He could feel the energy around you, always warm. He walked toward you as you opened your eyes, ten minutes after you'd close them. He smiled as he saw your red eyes looking at him.

“ You are beautiful.” 

You tilted your head against his hand, sighing in relief. You looked around, noticing that Marie wasn’t there anymore.

“ What happened ?”

“ Well, you stayed like this for 10 minutes.” he looked at his watch with an excited grin. “ I thought you were asleep but you said something and then you came back with beautiful red eyes.” 

You went toward a mirror and stared at your reflection.  You were breathtaking, were you aware of it?

“ I… He said I’ll have a spirit power but I don’t feel anything right now.” you looked back at Alastor who was looking at you with a big grin. “ What?”

“ I can’t admire you now?” he came toward you with a teasing expression. You smiled when you saw him lean toward you. You held your hand in front of him sticking your tongue at him but before you could do anything, Alastor’s hand hit an invisible surface in front of you. “ What..?”

What was that? He touched the invisible shield in front of him. You seemed as confused as him. Well, you were mostly confused while he was feeling…

Enraged.

He didn’t know what game the spirit were playing, but giving you the ability to dress a shield in front of you, keeping you away was making him feel like he was being punished. Was that on purpose? Was Papa Legba punishing him in some way?

He touched your shoulder when you rubbed your eyes. He almost sighed in relief. 

“ Oh, is she okay Alastor?” asked his mother.

“ Yes and I think you should come and see what she just did.” You looked at Marie as she had a dead rooster in her hand. She was looking at your eyes.

“ Rouge… C’est sa couleur après tout..”

He nodded, Papa Legba and Kalfu’s favorite colors were red and black. Even if they were like the Ying and the Yang, they weren’t that much different from each other… Now, he took a pillow and threw it at your face when he saw you hold your hand once more in front of you. He smirked when the pillow hitted your shield. If you wouldn’t use this power against him, this could be very useful.

He stared at you as you asked the spirit to leave after thanking it. He threw another pillow at you, making you yell at him.

“ I’m not sorry Darling, I just wanted to see if you were unshielded.” he smirked as you took the pillow from the ground.

“ You knew that! My eyes aren’t red anymore!”

“ I just wanted to make sure. And that’s your punishment, how could you create a barrier between the two of us?” he walked toward you, his smile twitching.

“ Alastor! And you call yourself a gentleman?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, making a surprised face. He leaned toward your ear and whispered.

“ You know I can be worse.” he bit your ears making you flush and turn your eyes toward Marie but the woman was already busy somewhere else. “ But you’ll keep being at my side, right?”

You kissed his cheek before leaning toward his ears.

“ Death wouldn’t be able to tear us apart, Alastor.”

And yet you used a shield against him, you little liar. He didn’t care if it wasn’t on purpose, he knew you by heart. He knew you were going to use it against him.

“ Your eyes are red.”

“ What?” you turned your back to him to look at yourself in the mirror but your eyes were their usual color. “ You liar–!” you squealed when you felt Alastor’s teeth sinking into your neck, making you grip his hair. You felt him suck on your skin, making you moan lightly. You blushed when you saw your reflection staring back at you, you tried to turn your head but Alastor held your chin with his finger, forcing you to look at yourself.

“ Look at us.”

“ Alastor..” you whispered. “ your mother isn’t far..”

“ Look at us.” He said once more. He bit you, kissed your skin, licked it. He wanted you to know you were his, no matter what kind of power you would gain with working with Papa Legba, he was the one that was supposed to haunt your heart and mind.  “ Don’t ever… think about putting that shield of yours against us, do you hear me?”

“ What if I do it again..?” you whispered. You shivered when you heard him chuckling darkly. 

“ You’ll see it for yourself.”

—--

He paid the cab before joining you into Alice’s cottage. You seemed to be very happy, he knew you must have some kind of ideas behind this lovely head of yours. He taunted you, saying your father asked him to be a gentleman with you, you shouldn’t do anything before marriage…Right?

He smirked at you before sitting on the sofa, taking his note from his suitcases before you came back.  He looked up when he heard you coming and stared at your makeup, you were devilishly good looking. 

“ Well, we are going to talk about our next target, right? I want to know how we will kill him.”  he smirked at your words, he already had so many ideas to share with you. 

Unfortunately, like the little brat you used to be when you were younger, you always had to go off script. You decided you would be the bait at a soirée and Mimzy would be the one training you. He almost laughed  out loud. He wouldn’t be surprised if they happened to have more than one victim if someone tried to lay a finger on you.

But he couldn’t say no to you, even more when you were looking at him with blood lust. He would have to be more vigilant than usual, nothing would happen to you. He stood up to make you something to eat when he heard your stomach making more noise than his fans. He walked into the kitchen making you your disgustingly sweet hot chocolate with some pastries on a plate. 

He freezed when he felt once again this warm energy in the living room. What were you scheming..?  He walked back to you with your food and your drink.

“ Dear?”

“ I saw John, not too long ago.” you sighed. Alastor could feel his body tensed at the name. Once again, his name was on your lips.

“ Is that so… What did he want?”

“ Well, he wanted me to marry me and to bear his children.” 

Cutting a tongue wouldn’t kill someone but it could shut them up. 

He wasn’t feeling the cut because of his strength from breaking the mug, he didn't feel the hot chocolate burn his hand as he stared at you. If killing John was a problem, he would just tear his tongue and eyes out. Maybe cutting his hands so he couldn’t write anymore. Mhn… That seemed to be a great idea. 

“ What did you say?”

“ I said, the only man I would marry is you. I said I was going to be your wife and bear your children.”

He relaxed , staring into your red eyes. He walked toward you, but you decided to be a little pest. You put on your shield, which was stronger than last time because he took a couple steps back because of the strength.  He stared at you, smiling widely.

You little adorable pest.

“ Darling, I hope you are not doing what I think you are try to do.”

“ I did not finish talking, Alastor.” you walked toward the plate he brought you. “  I said, you were the only man for me.” you slide the blade against your legs, never cutting the skin. He wished to see you pretty legs red in blood. How delicious you would look, and you would look like this for him only.

“ I said I would be whatever you wanted me to be.” you moved the blade near your breast, watching as Alastor was staring at you, never blinking just like a predator ready to wait for his prey to make a bad move and then devour it. “ I would be the best whore in New Orleans if you desire it. Only for you.” You put some pressure on the blade, cutting you slightly making you bleed a little. He wanted to lick it. “And if he wanted to separate us, I would kill him myself.”

You only had the time to hold your hand once more in front of you, creating your shield around you as Alastor ran toward you. He punched your shield with his fist just one time, staring down at you with a manic expression.

“ Darling, drop the shield.” he panted. He was ready to bash his head against the shield but he knew better, he needed to make it seem like you had the upper hand and then he would drag you back toward him.

You ran away in the kitchen after seeing Alastor summoned his shadow.  He followed you easily, staring at the table that was the only obstacle between the two of you. He smiled at you, his hands twitching with the need to hold you against him.

“ Darling, light of my light, curse of my sanity. Come here.”

“ Why should I?” you grinned, tilting your head.

“ You used your shield even though I told you to never use it to separate myself from you.” he grinned, even though his gaze was menacing. Your attention was on him, perfect. He sended his shadow toward you from underneath the table which made you react, trying to keep it away from you.

With agility, he jumped over the table, shattering the cutlery on the floor and pinned you down on the table. He finally had you where he wanted. 

“ You were saying?” he mocked you, tilting his head.

“ You look beautiful like this.” he said before taking the knife from your hand. You gasped as he licked the sharp edge of the blade, still with your blood on it. “ Now that I caught you, I can do anything I want, right, dearest…”

 You just nodded, kissing the top of his head. You squealed as you felt the blade against your naked thigh. You moaned as Alastor licked the bleeding cut you made on yourself, right above your nipple. You squeezed his waist between your thighs as he bit your chest, before taking your nipple in his mouth.  The blade was caressing your throat, making you tremble with need. 

You were twisted like him.

He was loving every second of this moment. You were like a sacrifice made for him. You let him make you bleed, cut your precious skin, letting him devour you…

“ I want you to carve yourself in me.” you moaned.

Alastor tilted his head back, roaring with laughter and before you could ask him anything he was kissing you madly.  You were making him lose his sanity. You were taking away his ability to think.  

 He was smiling like crazy as he dug the blade against your skin. You arched your back, sighing in bliss. He wasn’t cutting very deep, just enough to make you bleed.

“ You are indescriptible, my dearest. You have me under your spell, robbing me of my thoughts and my sanity.” He was breathing as hard as you, his gaze wasn’t moving from you. “ How did I deserve such a beautiful fiancée?”

“ You deserve me. You deserve so much..” you breathed as you felt the blade dug once more on your skin. You moaned as he kissed your neck, biting into your skin hard enough to hurt but it was so pleasurable. “ Never leave me..”

He chuckled against your neck as he stepped back, staring at your flushed face and your teary eyes. He wasn’t going to leave you, what a funny thought. His eyes were staring at you and only you with affection, fondness, envy, obsession and oh so much insanity but he could see the same in your eyes.

He pressed the blade on your skin to finish his letter, between your chest would be an A that would always belong to Alastor. 

“ Darling, even if I were to die, I would haunt you.”

You both jumped on each other, it wasn’t like your first time. He remembered, even if he had taken your virginity in the forest, on the snow with his father’s corpses not too far away from you, he had tried to be a gentleman. Right now, it was completely different, he was biting you until he could feel the blood from the wound on his tongue. It was animalistic. 

He held your necklace like a leash, strangling you with it, staring at you. You never asked him to stop or slow down, you were giving yourself to him and enjoying it. Your eyes were rolling back while he was taking away your ability to breathe. You were beautiful. Oh, so beautiful, he didn’t know what to do with you. He didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Nothing could make him feel stronger than you.

In the end, he carried you in the bedroom before laying you down. He joined you, caressing your skin as you both talked about your murder and next victims. He closed his eyes with a fond smile, your future looked amazing for the both of you.

—-

“ You look… obscenely delicious my dear.”

Alastor looked at you, you both were in the hotel’s dressing room. He really didn’t want anyone to see you like this, he would rather tear their eyes off but he needed to play his part. He would be your manager and nothing more tonight. He was wearing a deer mask, which hid his face but not his mouth. He gave you a Doe’s mask with a smirk, making you remember you were his. 

You seemed worried about him not being able to contain himself which almost made him laugh. Control was his middle name.  You didn’t need to worry one bit.

You clinged to his arm as he walked toward the hall entrance. He talked with some people while you were playing your part perfectly, you didn’t bring much attention to yourself, which he was thankful for. He didn’t need to kill another man tonight. He didn’t need to go into a killing spree. It would be complicated to cover it up.

A butler came toward him and asked for you to follow him. You stared at Alastor’s eyes which made him smile before you put your hand on your own chest, where his mark was still carved in your skin. He felt his body relaxed before going into the room where everyone was sitting. He remained standing, his arms against his back, looking at the crowd in front of him.

They looked all unaware of danger. But then one face made him smile wider.

John.

He was wearing a suit but he could see his badge on his chest. What was he doing here? Playing the hero? John wasn’t watching the stage where the performance had begun, so why was he here? It seemed like he was looking for someone…

He looked at his shadow which began to move when it felt Alastor’s demand. He sended it toward John, demanding it to listen to the conversation the policeman was having. He was still aware of his surroundings but he could hear the conversation through his shadow.

“ I don’t know, I have less than three months to find out what happened but I can’t find anything.” sighed John. So he was talking about the case huh…

“ Just give up, who cares?”

“ I can’t give up yet. I have a feeling I’m close to finding out a clue, but I don’t know… “

“ Are you not doing this for this girl you love?” 

Alastor almost laughed out loud. Love? How cute.

“ Shut up.. It’s not your business.”

Alastor called back his shadow who had a pissed off expression. What? Was it angry because John was in love with you? Who cared. A dead man can not love, right?

“ And now, our last singer, the Hunter’s Doe!”

He turned his head toward the stage, and there you were, illuminated by the stage’s lights. You began to sing and his eyes were on the crowd once more. He could see those disgusting men looking at you with lust. He could feel his shadow buzzing with fury. He counted every man that stared at you for more than 10 seconds without breaking contact. Some men would just look at you and then drink something or talk with their guests.

45… 89…100… 124.

He sended his shadow toward you which made you play with him. You were dancing above his shadow, making him feel your touch. He knew you were telling him you were his, you were doing this for him, for the both of you. You were arching your back, spreading those delicious legs…He bit his lip, not even caring about the blood that was coming out from the cut his teeth had just made.

No, he couldn’t let others' eyes than himself see you in that state.

He stared at the lights making it flickering before shutting down. The shadow caged you on stage like a prey that needed to be brought back to its hunter. His smile widened as he could hear your heartbeat raising.  He was choking you with his shadow, pressing against your neck, stealing the air from your lungs. He walked toward the stage quietly, he couldn’t even hear the noise around him, people asking what was happening. He was on the stage, next to you but you couldn’t see him. No one could. He stared at your face with a satisfied expression before the lights were back on.

“ Well, well, it seemed like we had a problem, what a shame you couldn’t see my little doe’s performance. But oh well, I know a lucky man who will join her and will be able to see it for himself.” He took you back to the dressing room, not caring about the men’s shout for an encore.

You fell on your chair, looking at him as you took off your mask. He was locking the door, humming to himself while you were fanning yourself.

“ Did someone try to sabotage us ? Who cut the lights off ?”

“ The same person who caged you on stage.” he sang before walking toward you, taking off his mask showing his red eyes. 

“ Alastor, what if–”

“ Don’t.” he smiled widely at you, holding his hand in front of you. “ We are going to forget what happened today because if we don’t, I might kill every man that looked at you tonight.”

“ There are too many, Alastor.” you chuckled, jokingly. Did you really think this little of him?

“ 124.”

“ What..”

“ 124 men were looking at you. And guess what darling, I know more than 124 methods to kill someone. How lucky !” he smiled as he loomed toward you. He had many ideas, the number 23 would get beheaded. The number 56 would be burned alive. The number–

You caressed his cheeks, looking at him while standing up. His eyes were never leaving your figure. You kissed him softly, conveying all your emotions for him. 

“ You don’t need to worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

“ When did I say I was worried?” Alastor tilted his head with a menacing grin. He wasn’t worried, not at all, he just wanted those pathetic excuses of a man to drop dead because they looked at something they couldn’t have. And they looked at you with disgusting eyes…

He turned his eyes toward the door when he heard a knock. He put his mask on once more and then smiled charmingly at the man behind the door.

“ Yes ?”

“ Oh hello dear gentleman. I’m Sir Larry’s butler. The monsieur would like to rent your employee for the night, would it be okay for you? He is ready to pay a lot.” Alastor hummed, did he still want to continue this plan? No. But he looked at you and you nodded, you wanted to keep going… 

“ Well of course my dear fella! I shall take her to his room. I guess I’ll have the money there.” he held his arm for you to take. You slid your hands around it as you walked in the stairs, going to the top of the hotel. Once you were in front of the door, the butler knocked before entering the room, introducing you to the man.

“ Ah! The brightest star has blessed us with her presence.” Alastor looked at the overweight man who was sweating from doing so little.“ Now mister… Victor, was it ? Here is the money, I will take good care of your jewel.”

Hah ! He could kill him right now if needed, why did he have to let you alone with him? Well.. You didn't have to be left alone anymore. He let his shadow merging with yours and couldn’t help but relax when he saw you noticing it.

“ Please, enjoy this night as if it was your last.”

“ Oh, trust me, I will!” Laughed Larry. 

Alastor kissed the back of your hand before staring at your eyes. You nodded at him before watching him leave with the butler. 

He looked at the butler as he gave him a briefcase with money inside. Should he kill the butler too? Should he take the money? He took the briefcase, thanking the man before making it seem like he was leaving.  

He closed his eyes so he could see what was going on in the chamber. He almost snapped when he saw you underneath the pig, trying to invoke your shield. 

He didn’t know how he did it, but one second he was in the corridor, the next he was inside the pig’s room, walking from the shadows.

“ That’s not how you are supposed to treat a lady, you irrelevant prick.” he spat.

“ Victor ! What..? Just, take care of your woman ! She is crazy, look at what she has done!”

Alastor hummed as he walked toward the wounded man, his arms nicely settled behind his back. He took a look at the man's face who let him. You really did it ! With your heel, how fun. It seemed like the man was too shocked to react correctly to his presence.

“ Oh, it does seem terrible, you shall excuse my woman, she only has done it once. She will get better!” he smiled at the man before taking out a knife from his pocket and plunging it in the chest of the man.  He grimaced, the man was fatter than he expected, the blade didn’t touch any vital organs. Oh well, let’s find another way to kill the pig.

The man tried to tackle Alastor on the ground but he gracefully avoided it with an excited smile. You watched as his shadow came back to him with its hideous smile.

“ My bad, it’s also my second time. I’m still not used to killing pigs.” he laughed as he played the blade with his fingers. He kept making fun of the man as Larry tried to catched him . After a few seconds Larry fell near the sofa on all fours, breathing hard. You walked toward Alastor with a smile. Alastor pecked your lips, he was always feeling better when you were by his side.

“ Come on, we only die once, you should smile more!”

You freezed as Larry took a gun from under the sofa’s cushions and pointed it toward you. 

“ You son of bitches,”  Alastor flinched at the insults but he kept his smile. He would have to make the man’s death even more painful.” I’ll send you back to hell!”

He was so confident in you he didn’t move when the pig shot. He knew you would invoke your shield but you did more than that. The bullet stopped in front of you. It stayed in the air before you gave it back into the man’s thigh.

Did you just telekinesis an object?

The pig shot again and the same thing happened. He was feeling euphoric, you were gorgeous, a divine punishment sent on earth to work with him. 

“ Haha ! What a show, folks! That’s the show I wanted to see!” he laughed as he passed a hand in his hair, walking toward the man who was laying on his back, screaming agony as Alastor’s foot dug into the wound you made with the bullet. “ Isn’t it much more interesting that poor ladies who don't have the choice but to be here?” He nodded as the pig screamed once more. “ You are right ! I’m relieved you’ve finally reached the voice of reason.” he crouched above the man, holding his chin with his gloved hand.

“ Now, give me a big smile~!” he said before carving a smile into the man’s flesh. 

“ Alastor, did you see? Did you see what I did? Did you?” you beamed as he stopped working on his living canvas, staring fondly at you.

“ I did, dearest. You looked delicious.” he smirked as you leaned toward him, asking for a kiss which he gladly gave you.  “ Perfect, now, I just need to let out some steam.  Come on Larry, don’t die on me yet!”

He began to stab Larry multiple times as you laid on the sofa. He encouraged the pig to stay alive, wasn’t it why he was trying to struggle ? He kissed you each time you were asking for it. Of course, how could he refuse you? The kiss was bloody but just like you both liked it. He chuckled against your lips before going back to stabbing the pig. You would clapp with the same rhythm of Alastor’s stab, encouraging Larry to stay alive, that was so cute of you.

The pig died at the 87 stab but Alastor didn’t stop. Each stab was for each man that looked at you tonight, he couldn’t kill them so why not use a pig to let out his fury?

He threw his head back, his face all bloodied.

“ Aahh. I feel better!” he smiled at you, his eyes glinting with madness and fondness. You sat up, stretching yourself with a big grin. He stood up and tugged you toward him, kissing your cheeks. Feeling you against him after a murder was so relaxing.

“ What do we do with the body?”

“ We leave it.”

You looked at Alastor with wide eyes. He kissed your lips, chuckling at your expression. He needed to find a way for you to leave without being seen and as always you found a solution that would make him tear his hair if he wasn’t used to your antics.

“ I could pass through the windows and enter another room?”

“ We are in the highest part of the hotel, light of my life. What are you trying to do?” He raised an eyebrow with a mocking smile.

You winked at him before passing through the windows, putting your feet on the balcony. You would just have to jump on the other balcony and that would be it. You turned toward Alastor who threw you something.

You almost let it drop when you saw it was the pig’s eyes.

“ Alastor !” you seethed.

“ Put it in the other room. See you downstairs, dearest.” he winked at you before lighting a match and throwing it on the bed. With the pig dead, he could feel Kalfu in the room with him, asking him silently what he wanted. He stared at the fire, wishing for it to grow bigger. He changed his outfit as the fire was beginning to be warmer, bigger and more dangerous. He threw his deer’s mask in the fire before taking another one. He walked toward the pig, looking for the photo and smirked when he found it.

Now, no more clues.

He stepped in the shadow before appearing behind you and wrapped an arm around your waist. You were wearing a rabbit’s mask, how cute. He grinned at you before going toward the buffet and gave you a piece of cake. You needed to eat after using your spirit like this. He guided you outside when the policemen urged everyone to go out because a fire had begun upstairs. He chuckled when he saw John run toward the fire. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would die in his flames too?

Alastor and you walked to Alice’s home while chatting about what just had happened. You took off your mask,sighing in relief. You entered Alice’s mansion and sat on the sofa in the living room waiting for your friend to come, which she did, almost tripping on the armchair.

“ Are you okay? I heard there was a fire not too far from here? Does it mean the… the plan is delayed ?” she asked in her pajamas.

“ We know something you don’t know~.” you sang at her. She looked at you, confused. “ The pig is dead, trust us.” you smiled at her and beamed even more when she relaxed in her chair.

“ Thank God… But, the picture..? Is it destroyed?”

“ No worries, you ungrateful pest. I took care of it.” Alastor took a picture from his coat and threw it at Alice. “ This is the only one, I looked everywhere.”

“ What if he had others in his home?” Asked Alice.

“ I’ve looked everywhere,” said Alastor with a wicked grin. “ So, unless you want to worry about nothing, which would amuse me so please do it, there is nothing that can be used against you.”

Alice sighed in relief, thanking you and Alastor multiple times. He really was uninterested, looking at his nails before looking at you.

“ I can not wait to talk about it on my broadcast, tomorrow.” you laughed as he began to tell the tale of how a deer and a doe killed a pig because an annoying bird couldn’t do it itself.

“ Am I the bird?” asked Alice, frowning.

“ Of course, you are as noisy and useless as them.”

“ You–!”

What a good way to end the week, right dearest?

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics @yourdoorisunlocked @phamtasic @karmakillz @holographicage @sarcastic-sourwolf @akuraluna2468 @everwolf-20 @thesunandmoons-blog @songbrita @noraunor @fandomsbookclub @hokkaido97 @catticora @gasiacos

[remlionheart]

Is there ANY chance you’d do a Gojo/Reader/Megumi euphoria version, just as nasty and beautiful as the other ones ??? You know, with dp, creampies, praise kinks etc

Maybe it could pick up when y/n goes back for another party like Gojo said and he found out that she also had a crush on Megumi so he invited him too and they’re all high etc. OOOFFF I got excited just by thinking about it

Let me manifest you writing this with your incredible talent 🙌🏼✨

When I tell you this had fireworks going off in my brain when I read it this morning 😮‍💨 I love all of you and your ideas so much ₊˚ෆ My schedule has been pretty tight lately between work and writing and trying not to lose my mind in the mix, but this got me up and to my laptop the minute I opened it. Manifest and you shall receive 🔮✨, ily nonnie ♡

➳ all of my euphoria fics are standalone for the most part, but meg's full story can be found here and gojo's here if you're new. this one in particular is more of an AU drabble than it is a continuation of either. (also - quick lil disclaimer: all characters are aged up to 21+, meg was raised by toji in this not gojo, and finally, i am not responsible for what i write when i'm ovulating bc this turned out fucking filthy) hope u like it ♡

۵ ⋆˙MDNI ⋆˙۵

Show and Tell ₊˚⊹♡

You stared down at your phone, rereading the text from Gojo-sensei for what had to be the tenth time when you finally took a breath and opened the front door. His living room was exactly how you remembered it: overflowing with people and music and purple lights and drunken nonsense. The only difference was that you were coherent this time and actually able to push yourself through the sea of your former classmates as you made your way up the stairs.

With each step you took though, you couldn't decide if your sobriety was a good thing or a bad thing. Your heart was jumping around in your chest, your eyes glued to the floor in a feeble attempt to avoid the suspicious eyebrow raises you were getting the closer you got to his bedroom.

“I want you over here again next weekend,” he had said in between breaths, his cum seeping out of you as he pulled out. “Got it?"

You thought it had just been the heat of the moment talking. A fleeting 3 am coke-induced thought that he'd forget about once he came back to his senses, but he didn't. He was holding onto his demands, waiting for you as you reached for the door handle.

No one was allowed in his room.

No one, except for you.

Your footsteps came to an abrupt pause, your gaze suddenly darting between the two sets of blue eyes that were looking back at you. A familiar smirk tugged at the corner of Gojo's mouth as he held his hand out, motioning with one finger for you to come closer.

Megumi watched the way you walked towards him, noting the little exhale you let out once you'd reached him. Your nervous excitement was almost as palpable as it was pitiful. A faint shade of pink decorated your cheeks as you stood between your former teacher's legs. "Open." Gojo instructed.

Megumi had heard the rumors about the two of you hooking up, but he hadn't really believed it until now. His jaw clenched, his eyes still trailing over you while you obediently lolled your tongue out for the silver-haired man. He wondered if you even knew what you were taking as Gojo placed a point of molly into your mouth, nodding proudly as you swallowed it.

It was odd, how similar you still looked to the last time he'd seen you at Jujutsu High but how absolutely unrecognizable you seemed showing off for your former teacher.

"See how good she is?" Gojo mused, breaking Megumi's train of thought. "Does exactly what she's told. Takes orders so well." Megumi's pupils widened when he noticed that you were looking at him now as Gojo began to slip your shirt above your head.

"I... should probably go -"

"Relax." Gojo said simply, his hands reaching around to unclasp your bra. Your nipples hardened as it fell to the floor, leaving you exposed in front of the two of them. "You're here for a reason."

A burst of warmth and blissful dizziness spread through your body, whatever drug he'd given you was starting to take hold. It felt different than the coke you'd done last time, but you couldn't quite place your finger on what this was. It was an overwhelming heady sensation. A fluttering in your chest. A smile you couldn't quite fight back. An insatiable urge to just touch something.

Gojo shot the raven-haired boy a grin that could've rivaled that of the devil's. "I saw the way she was looking at you the last time she was here. Think she has a bit of a crush on you." His tone was taunting, his hand running along the curve of your hip as he redirected his attention up to you. "Don't you, baby?"

You wanted to say no. Wanted to lie. Wanted to create a convincing argument against it, but the substances in your system were making it increasingly difficult to not lean into your real feelings. The things you couldn't possibly say out loud sober, the desires you'd usually bury - they were all at the forefront of your mind. Willing and ready to make their appearance the second your mouth opened again.

"I -"

But Gojo's palm found the inside of your thigh before you could get it out, you nearly moaned just from the feeling of his fingers roaming up towards your center. Everything suddenly felt so good. So unexplainably fucking good.

"Tell him." Gojo prompted, sliding your panties to the side. "Don't look at me, look at him. Tell him how bad you want him to fuck you, baby."

Even under the red glow from Gojo's headboard light, you could see the curiosity and blatant want laid out on Megumi's face. You kept your eyes locked with his as Gojo slipped a slender finger between your folds, making it impossible to keep your voice steady.

"Megumi..." it was a whimper. A sweet, lewd little nothing that made his cock twitch. You reached for his hand and he took it, slowly lacing his fingers into yours. "Will you –"

"No. That's not it." Gojo shook his head, forcing your gaze back on him as he slammed two fingers into you, almost making your knees buckle. "You're not asking, you're telling him what you want. C'mon baby, use your words."

Your whines were echoing across the room, your body grinding greedily against Gojo's digits as you looked back to Megumi with your bottom lip lodged between your teeth. Your head was everywhere. Your body so overwhelmingly sensitive.

"Megumi, please." You tried again, but it was just as desperate and feeble as before. "I... really... want – oh, fuck." Gojo was relentless, the wet sounds of him plunging into you only getting louder. "Please." you writhed against him, shooting Megumi a helpless look as your eyes began to roll. "Please, Megumi, I – want you... to... fuck, ohmygod –"

"There she is." Gojo praised, using his thumb to rub against your clit. You were clenching around him, nearly dripping as you stood before him, your vision dancing between the two men. "Keep going. Keep talking. Don't stop."

"I-want-you-to-fuck-me." It almost came out as one word with how quick and breathlessly it left your mouth. "Please. Pl – ease. Oh, fuck. Fuck... I can't.... Gojo, 'm gonna –"

It felt like something inside Megumi had snapped as he watched the orgasm rake through your body. The way your eyes glazed over. The way you leaned against Gojo for support as your cunt spasmed around him. The slick glistening down your thigh. You looked so dazed out and gorgeous, it was almost too much to handle. The molly in his system was hitting him just as hard as it was hitting you.

His fingers were still tangled firmly into yours, your knuckles almost turning white from how hard you'd been holding onto him. The second Gojo released you, Megumi was pulling you over to him, his lips meeting yours with feral urgency while he guided you on top of him.

There was an undeniable energy between the two of you. Your bodies both humming with desire as he kissed along your neck, using his other free hand to undo the buttons of his pants.

Gojo smirked watching the two of you before leaning over to his nightstand and divvying out a bump of coke for himself.

Megumi was careful as he lined himself up with your entrance, letting his tip slide in slowly. You were so wet. Already moaning with how little he'd given you. "Fuck, you feel good." He groaned, placing his hands on your hips to help pull you down further.

You gripped his shoulders, easing yourself further and further down. You felt delirious from how perfectly he was stretching you, another surge of warmth rushing over you as you matched his rhythm.

"You're s'fucking pretty." He whispered, his hips bucking up, making your eyes nearly cross as his tip met your cervix. "So cute when you're all fucked out like this."

Gojo stripped out of his pants and boxers, undoing the buttons along his shirt as he continued to watch the two of you. "She's a tight little thing, isn't she?" He smirked. "Don't worry though, she can take it." His thumb was suddenly under your chin, forcing your face next to his. "You want him to go deeper, baby?"

You nodded back him with stars in your eyes, whining into his mouth as Megumi plunged himself into you earning an arrogant smirk from Gojo. "Look at that pouty face." he teased, parting your lips with his tongue. "Such a good girl, you know that?"

The feeling of Megumi filling and laying into you while Gojo-sensei instructed him how to fuck you felt too farfetched to be real. You must've been in a dream. A delicious dream that you never wanted to wake up from.

"Oh, you're close, aren't you?" Gojo grinned, noting how feverish your movements had become. How much harder your ass was smacking against Megumi's thighs each time you came down.

He stepped away, letting you fully grab onto Megumi as you mewled out his name, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You were clenching around him, nearly shaking from how good he felt. "Megumi, 'm - I -"

"Shh," he soothed, pulling you down onto him. "S'okay, I've got you. Look at me." There were overstimulated tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when they met his. "Let me see it."

You were writhing against him. Your eyebrows knitting together as your thighs locked in place. You slid down, taking every inch of him, making your body nearly convulse. Your pupils bloomed as your mouth fell open. Loud, incoherent whines leaving you as tears began to spill down your cheeks. "I'm cumming." You cried. "Fuck, Megumi. I'm cumming, I'm cumming, 'm -"

You were inconsolable, spasming against him with fervor as you drenched him. "Oh my god," he groaned, feeling himself teetering on the verge of his breaking point too. You were smothering him.

His head spinning from how snug and warm your walls were, how they just kept getting tighter around him the harder he continued to pump into you. You were so pretty to look at - the way your tits bounced perfectly with each thrust, the way your eyes stayed focused on him, the way you kept whimpering out his name in this adorably pitiful broken voice. This entire thing felt like dream to him too. A salaciously beautiful haze that he'd think about for at least the rest of his life.

"I'm about to cum." He warned you, unsure where you wanted it. Gojo stepped back in, standing behind you to place his hands on your shoulders as he pushed you down further, drawing out another blitzed-out noise from you.

"Let her have it." Gojo nodded, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail while he kissed the side of your neck, his free hand drifting down to your clit. The sensation made you grind against him even faster, moaning into Gojo's mouth as Megumi filled you. "Good girl." he whispered. "Look at how well you're takin' him, baby. Makin' me so fuckin' proud."

Gojo helped guide you off of him once you were both done, careful to lift you as a mixture of fluids spilled out of you. "Messy girl." Gojo smirked. "Need you to get him all cleaned off before he goes back out there, 'kay?"

You looked at him from over your shoulder, giving him a dizzy smile as he bent you over and Megumi spread his legs apart to accommodate you.

He was so spent. So high. So blissfully exhausted, he wasn't sure it'd be possible for him to cum again this soon. But the minute he felt your tongue press against his base, the way you looked up at him through those heavy lashes - he quickly realized that he had at least one more left in him.

Gojo took his time, admiring how puffy and pretty your leaking pussy was. He'd gone easy on you last weekend. Tried to keep his roughness to a minimum, but he knew you were ready.

He rubbed his tip between your folds, wetting himself with the slick. "Stay focused on your breathing."

It was the same thing he'd told you the last time he entered you, only it held new meaning now that you had a mouthful of cock and Gojo-sensei's girth inside you. Your back arched for him, your eyes glazing over as Megumi's hand tangled into your hair.

"You've got it." Megumi reassured you. "Just like that."

Gojo's grip was tightening around your hips the further he went. "Don't stop just because I'm in you, I wanna see you take that whole thing."

You mewled against Megumi, drool dripping down your chin while Gojo pummeled further into you. You kept one hand on him, slowly pumping as you tried to find a good rhythm, but Gojo's pace was picking up, rocking you back and forth and making you forget how to breathe altogether.

"Gojo-sensei ~" you whined.

The formality only made his thrusts more punishing, but your walls were sucking him in so faithfully no matter how hard he went. Your body absolutely melting at his touch.

"Focus." his tone was stern, his hips meeting yours condemningly. "Show me how bad you want this. If you stop, so will I."

You opened your mouth wider, letting the pool of spit you'd gathered glide down Megumi's length as he lightly pressed your head down. "Oh shit." He muttered, watching you take almost all of him.

"There you go." Gojo praised, his hand reaching around to meet your clit again. "See how good that feels, baby? To have my cock buried in you and his down your throat?"

His fingers were drawing heavenly circles around you, the room filling with the carnal sounds of him bullying himself into you and you slurping and lapping up every bit of Megumi. You were a whimpering, soaking mess. Moaning out both of their names now each time you came up for air.

"She's already getting close again." Gojo mocked. "Poor thing, she's just so sensitive."

His fingers swirled firmly across your clit, feeling the slick that was building as Megumi thrusted himself into your mouth. Your eyes were watering again. Your legs shaking and your heart ready to beat straight out of your chest from how obscenely euphoric it all felt.

Megumi moaned prettier than any man you'd ever heard. The noises he was making alone were almost enough to keep you going. You nearly choked on him when you finally felt him twitch inside you, coating your throat with warmth as his head lulled back.

"Fuck." he rasped, pulling your head back up to look at you. "You have no idea how perfect you feel."

You gave him a glazed over smile, your cunt throbbing as Gojo continued to dominate you. He could feel you about to bottom out. "She's so ethereal, isn't she? Like a fucked-out angel." He mused, watching you reach for Megumi's hand as you clenched around him.

You were completely incoherent, your vision blurred by molly and red lights and the softness of Gojo's sheets. Megumi leaned in to kiss you, still letting you squeeze his hand for support. "God, you're gorgeous." He breathed. "Keep goin'. You're right there."

You kissed Megumi so hard you were afraid you were going to hurt him, but he didn't seem to mind, holding you tighter as you shook and moaned against his lips. “There it is.” He nodded. “You love cumming all over us, don't you?"

You nodded helplessly, tears still streaming down your face as you returned his small smile. "So - much." You choked out, your pussy clamping around Gojo as he pounded his release into you.

You were so unexplainably full, almost afraid that you wouldn't be able to stand once Gojo pulled out of you, but he helped get you to your feet.

"My little show-off," He smirked, placing a light kiss on your forehead. "Always such a teacher’s pet.”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Irūdy (Gift)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: No plot to be found here, dry humping, smut. Word count: ~1300

Summary: Aemond has always hated his name day, until today.

Author's note: A birthday gift for @aemondsmoon - happy birthday, Mar! I hope you enjoy. No tag list - follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on notification. Community labels are for cops.

The flagstones are cool beneath her bare feet, her way dimly lit by the braziers that burn low against the walls of the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast. The heavy wooden door creaks in protest as she pushes it open, slipping through the gap before closing it firmly behind her.

“Are you asleep?” She whispers into the gloom of Aemond’s chambers, moving with less trepidation now that she is in the privacy of his rooms.

“I was about to be”, comes his clipped reply, yet he eyes her with mild amusement and curiosity as he sits perched on the edge of his bed.

His hair hangs loose around his shoulders, the sapphire in his left eye socket shines faintly in the light reflected from the dying embers of the fireplace.

Seeing him dressed in only his breeches, sculpted torso bared to her, she feels less self conscious about her state of undress, though she wishes she’d taken the time to put on a robe before sneaking in here. The thin cotton of her nightgown does little to protect her from the chill of the air and she shivers slightly as she stands before Aemond, taking in the sight of him.

“Was there a reason you decided to sneak in here, or have you just come to gawk at me?” 

She would assume his words are harsh, were it not for the faintest of smirks upon his lips that hints at subtle playfulness.

Huffing a soft laugh, she shakes her head, feeling her skin grow warm with embarrassment. “It is the hour of the owl,” she tells him softly.

“Hmmm,” Aemond cocks his head, “my betrothed can tell the time, such a clever little thing.”

She rolls her eyes, moving to sit beside him on the bed. “That is not what I mean! It is your name day!”

His shoulders sag slightly, mouth pressing into a tight line as he looks away from her. “So it is.”

“Are you not looking forward to it?” She asks, craning her neck slightly in an attempt to meet his eye.

He sighs, rolling his eye. “No. It seems farcical that there should be a day to celebrate my birth, when I am ignored on every other day of the year. The only difference is that Aegon will have an excuse to be in his cups all day.”

Her heart sinks. She knows that Aemond is not especially fond of celebrations, but had never imagined that that extended as far as occasions designed to celebrate him. 

“This year is different though,” she reassures him, taking his hand. “This year you have me.”

He interlocks his fingers with hers, stroking his thumb softly over the back of her hand. “Yes, I have you. Forgive me. I do not meant to be ungrateful, it is just–”

She shakes her head, her free hand reaching up to stroke the softness of his long hair. “There is nothing to forgive. Perhaps my gift will lift your spirits?”

Aemond raises an eyebrow. “I did not see you bring anything in with you.”

She smiles, bumping her nose softly against his. “It is something we shall experience together.”

His right eye darkens, pupil dilating slightly as he lets go of her hand to cup the back of her neck. “And what is it you’d like to experience?”

A shiver of excitement runs through her and she has to remind herself to remain in control. Throughout her courtship with the One Eyed Prince it has been all too easy to allow him to dominate her; when he sinks his deft fingers into her hair as they kiss, cradling her head but also directing the pace of their movements. He takes the lead when he holds her down by her thighs and feasts on her cunny like a man starved, even when she sinks to her knees to pleasure him, he grabs a handful of her tresses as he thrusts himself into her mouth.

She knows that look, the gaze of a predator stalking its prey. It has arousal pooling between her thighs, but this time she wants to take charge. The idea has not left her mind since her chambermaid told her about it in hushed, excited whispers as she had combed through her hair just a few days ago. She had decided there and then that this would be the perfect occasion for it.

“You are going to lay back and take off your breeches,” she tells him, attempting to sound more authoritative than she feels, as she wriggles free from his grasp.

He stares at her for a moment, a silent challenge, but she juts out her chin in defiance, not backing down from her command.

Aemond sighs. “Very well,” he slips off his breeches and lays back on the bed.

Long and lean, he is a magnificent sight to behold, stretched out and bare before her, half hardened cock sitting proudly between his thighs.

She gasps it, reveling in the velvety softness of its weight in her palm and proceeds to stroke him from root to tip, watching his lips part and his breaths become more shallow as she rouses him to full attention.

Satisfied with her work, she moves to straddle him, a knee digging into the softness of the mattress either side of her hips, and lifts her nightgown above her hips, hovering over his erection.

Aemond’s brow furrows, he places a firm hand upon her thigh to halt her movements. “I would not sully your virtue before we are married for something as frivolous as my name day,” he scolds.

“Do not worry,” she soothes him, stroking a hand down the smoothness of his chest, “I will not take you inside. Trust me, this will feel good for both of us.”

He drops his hand back to his side, watching her with curiosity as she presses herself against his length, rocking her hips backwards and forwards, gliding along the length of him, coating him in her slick.

His eye widens and he draws in a shaky breath, causing her to grin.

“Does that feel good?” She asks in a whisper.

Aemond screws his eye shut, nodding as she quickens her pace, rubbing against him in faster strokes. “G-gods…yes. It feels divine.”

She giggles, feeling her core begin to throb as she continues to rock against him, gasping as his hands reach for the hem of her nightgown.

“It would be cruel of you to give me a gift I cannot unwrap,” he rasps, pulling the garment off and over her head.

His hands reach up to her breasts, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks, making her whine. He leans up, wrapping an arm around her waist and captures her lips in a heated kiss, his mouth moving hungrily against hers as she threads her fingers into his hair to draw him closer.

It’s only when she feels his other hand grab her hip, pushing and pulling her against him, as his hips buck against her, adding to the friction, that she realises he has managed to once more take control of the situation. 

She does not mind though, not when every thrust of their hips against each other builds such delicious pressure deep within her. Their breaths become ragged, their panting and the sounds of Aemond gliding through her wetness filling the silence of the bedchamber.

Feeling him throb and pulsate against her sends her over the edge and she tenses, trembling as she falls apart, clenching around nothing, watching through hazy, pleasure drunk eyes as Aemond spills pearlescent strands of hot spend across his lower abdomen with a groan.

He lets go of her, collapsing backwards and she allows herself a moment to admire him. He is truly beautiful like this, hair spread messily like a halo around his head, covered in a light layer of perspiration as he fights to catch his breath through slightly parted lips.

Flopping down beside him, she reaches out to caress his cheek. “I do hope you enjoyed your name day gift.”

He is quiet for a moment, before turning to gaze at her. “I think I will prefer next year’s, when I can spill inside of you.”

Perhaps he is growing to like this special day after all.

[witchymadness]

☆-《 The Stakes 》-☆

[A/N: Workload has been a bitch and a half to get through, and I can't focus on writing my WIP abt Lilia, so here's a little drabble to feed the gays. I saw these (1, 2, 3) clips of Patti in her younger days, and it just did ✨️something✨️ to me. I hope ya'll enjoy it! I'll probably make a part 2 sometime soon.

UPDATE: PART 2 HERE!!!

]

Warning/s: Slight NSFW (?)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Lilia, darling." (Y/N) softly called out to her beloved. "Come to bed, would you?"

"I shall soon, amore. As soon as I finish my bath."

(Y/N), an immortal vampire, wasn't really that patient. After all, she'd been alive for a century before she'd meet Lilia. She blew a raspberry, a habit she'd picked up the more she frequented local pubs.

"Really, you seem to forget yourself, (Y/N). You are a countess, not a commoner."

"And I also should've been wedded to a count, yet here I am passing the nights in the quarters of a princess at her request. Tell me, darling, who is forgetting themselves, hm?"

(Y/N) could hear Lilia's eye roll, even from a room away. "Help me wash my hair, then. So you wouldn't bore yourself out of your mind, amore."

Tighterning her robe, (Y/N) quickly padded her way over to the grand bathroom attached to Lilia's quarter. Peeking inside, she saw the girl, her damp hair hanging off the tub as she relaxed, the suds barely shielding (Y/N)'s desires.

"Took you long enough to ask, darling."

She sat on the chair beside the tub, usually occupied by the royal's lady-in-waiting, but Lilia had already sent them off for the night in hopes to have more time with (Y/N) to herself.

A melody floated through the air as (Y/N) began scrubbing through Lilia's scalp, courtesy of the young princess herself.

(Y/N)'s heart swelled as she was rinsing the bubbles off of her beloved's auburn locks. She couldn't help but stare; and if the suds were thinning out, that was no one's concern but theirs.

Lilia's eyes fluttered open, meeting (Y/N)'s gaze. Her neck hung over the edge of the golden bathtub, careful not to wet (Y/N)'s lap.

Her long, slender fingers took (Y/N)'s young face -- despite being older than her for at least a hundred years, (Y/N)'s face remained its youth. She caressed the bloodless cheeks of her beloved, slowly bringing her lips to meet (Y/N) in a quiet, yet passionate kiss.

"The ball is in a month." Lilia whispered against her lips. "I do not wish to attend, amore. There'll be the roaming eyes of men and the chattering mouth of the maidens."

"Amore, we must. After that, we shall have the winter amongst ourselves, kindling fires by the library."

"Yes, but--" Lilia whined as (Y/N) stood up to get her robe.

"I want you."

(Y/N) softened at the suddeness of Lilia's words. "You already have me, darling."

"I want you. I want to be yours. I want to go to the ball with you. I do not want to pretend to be interested in whatever pompous suitor my father will find me. I just want you. I want to tell the whole world that I am yours, and you are mine."

By this time, Lilia had stood up, sopping wet from the bath, inching forward to the countess.

It wasn't the first time that (Y/N) had seen Lilia unclothed. But this time, (Y/N)'s mouth went dry, the need for blood clawing at her throat.

Still the ever wary countess, (Y/N) only raised an eyebrow at the display of her beloved. "Darling, you shan't forget yourself. You are -- after all -- a princess and not a commoner."

Young and brash, while Lilia was the epitome of grace, her emotions were still raw; impulses flowing through her veins.

"(Y/N)..." Her voice turned into a whisper. "I saw."

"Saw what, my love?" (Y/N) answered, wrapping the robe and her arms around Lilia's frail form. She placed a gentle kiss at the young girl's temple.

But only a whimper escaped Lilia's lips.

"There was a commotion," Lilia gripped (Y/N)'s arm, drawing it even tighter around her frame. She sobbed, pain emnant in her voice. "You... Amore, you were struck. I dreamt of it last night, and I do not wish for it to happen."

After her coven had disappeared, Lilia had tried to push away her powers. But there was something about (Y/N), something that caused sleepless nights for the princess. She saw glimpses of her future to come. She searched for her countess amongst the flashes of memories of tomorrow, yet her beloved's face never quite appeared. It wracked Lilia to her core, the thought of her beloved leaving her early.

"Shh... Do not fret, my love. I promise to stay close to you tomorrow. Would that be alright?"

Lilia ran her hand up and down (Y/N)'s arm, lip between her teeth, and lashes dampened with her tears. There was a pause before she nodded, not wanting to get into trouble with her father.

"Dont leave me, my love." Lilia whispered, whirring around to face the woman. She cupped her cheeks, searching for the sincerity in her eyes.

(Y/N) then brought up her own hand over Lilia's, nodding and kissing the hand in hers. "I promise, amore."