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sarahscribbles · 6 months

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𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐮𝐩, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟔𝐤

𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 @inklore

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The God of Mischief is laughing beside you.

It’s quiet against the happy chatter of the TV but still sends a rush of warmth straight to your heart - like taking a straight shot of Tennessee whiskey on a winter’s evening. It’s nothing like the bitter, sardonic sound he reserves for most of the team - this laughter is light and joyous and unquestionably happy.

It’s…nice, and it’s quickly becoming your favourite sound in the world.

Much like how Loki is becoming your favourite person in the world. It’s been gradual, like the first blooming flowers of spring, and, if you’re being honest, entirely unexpected. Only a few months ago Loki was nothing more than a thorn in your side. Now, you can’t imagine your life without him.

In a short space of time, he’s become your best friend and your confidante; he’s the first person you want to run to when you have a bad day, the first person you want to run to when you have a good day, and, steadily, he’s starting to feel like home.

He isn’t a monster intent on destruction or a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

He’s just Loki, the man whose happiness is slowly becoming yours.

His chest bounces beneath your ear again. You have no idea what the narrator has just said, but it was evidently something that Loki found amusing, and his laughter pulls an easy smile across your face. “I love hearing you laugh,” you murmur quietly, nuzzling even further into his side.

Maybe it’s because the man who so many people are still quick to call a villain is reclined back on your sofa with his legs stretched out on the massive ottoman, maybe it’s because he’s cradling you to his cashmere clad chest like he never wants to let you go, or maybe it’s because of the random kisses he’s been pressing to the top of your head all evening.

Whatever it is, you’re overcome with softness for him. Behind the aloof, icy facade is a golden heart, and you’re seeing more and more of the goodness that lies within it every single day.

“Is that so? Then we should watch your little mortal box more often, darling. It’s rather endearing to hear Midgardians attempt to understand Asgard,” he reponds, mirth lighting up his voice while his fingertips trail softly along your upper arm.

He misses the fond roll of your eyes only because something else has caught his attention that he must pass comment on, and you listen enthralled while he explains the actual differences between Valhalla and Fólkvangr. You’ve both been watching this documentary on Norse mythology for over an hour, and Loki has spent a large chunk of it pointing out every wrong detail no matter how small.

Each deep, exasperated sigh and pronounced click of his tongue has you giggling like a child beneath his arm, to which he squeezes you that little bit tighter. He’s proud of himself, and it makes you wonder if he’s actually annoyed by the portrayal of his home or if it’s all an act to make you laugh.

With Loki, either is highly likely.

“Do you know what amuses me, darling?” he says lightly, still trailing those elegant fingers along your arm. You expect to hear something more about what the documentary has gotten wrong, but that’s not what comes. “A few months ago, you actively despised me. Now, I believe you would climb into me if you could.” His voice is soft, leaving no room for you to doubt that he’s only teasing.

You burrow deeper into his embrace. “I didn’t despise you,” you reply with a small smile.

His arm tightens around your shoulders again and something warm and golden blooms in the pit of your stomach. It’s too soon to call it what you know it is, but you feel the flame burn brighter with every second you spend with him.

The man you’re currently twisted around is brilliant and loving and your heart fits right in the palm of his hand. It’s safe there, you know. You trust him, even though everyone you know has warned you not to.

It’s one of the easiest things you’ve ever done.

Loki’s chest rumbles with laughter again. “Darling, you despised me,” he repeats, but you know he’s smiling along with you.

You pretend to huff, but reach out to poke his side, delighting in the way he squirms beneath your tickling touch. “I didn’t! I didn’t like you, but I didn’t despise you, either,”

“That knife you threw at me in the training room after Yule begs to differ,” he shoots back seamlessly, while you force back laughter at the memory of his face frozen in shock at your expert aim.

You shrug lightly into his chest. “Natasha told me I needed to practice more.

“Darling, I can assure you she meant to practice on inanimate objects.

You tilt your head back to peer up at him with a teasing smile. “You were inanimate; you were standing in the doorway.”

Loki releases an exasperated sigh but wraps both arms tightly around you to pull you fully into his lap. “Little menace,” he replies while you pretend to squirm in his grip. It only makes him grip you tighter until you’re clamped inescapably against his chest.

Through the rich material of his sweater, you can feel his firm chest and the taut muscles of his stomach. The man is a work of art, yet it’s you who's straddling his lap - an unremarkable mortal.

He smiles at you as you continue to admire him, and it’s a smile that’s almost shy. “What’s going on in that brilliant mind of yours, hmm?” he asks quietly, resting his hands on your hips.

“You. Thinking about you,” you answer, watching the faint tinge of pink that colours his cheeks.

His hands slide up from your hips only a fraction until he can dip his thumbs underneath the hem of your shirt to trace absentminded circles on your bare skin. It’s an innocent touch, but it sends something electric shooting along your spine.

“Oh? Do elaborate, darling,” he purrs.

Loki’s eyes are sparkling with amusement, but you can read the need for praise that’s swirling deep beneath the surface. It’s one thing you can’t deny him.

“I was thinking about how beautiful you are,” you tell him, sliding your hands from around his neck to stroke his biceps. “And how lucky I am,” you continue.

The muscles in his neck flex and you feel your resolve crumble to dust. It’s been calling out to you from the moment he pulled you into his lap, and you can no longer deny yourself the luxury of pressing your lips to his skin.

Loki’s broken inhale is instant and his fingers curl tighter around your waist. Your teeth are quickly grazing along his throat while you suck a bruise into his skin. You want to mark him, to stake your claim on him.

You want to leave no doubt that this god - this beautiful, wonderful man - is yours.

“Darling, you need -,” he begins, but it melts to a moan when you run your tongue along his neck. “Darling,” he tries again.

You silence him with a kiss. It’s slow and deep, and when you tangle your fingers in his hair to tug it, he rolls his hips experimentally against you. The hard length of him presses wondrously against you, coaxing your hips to grind down on top of him. Loki’s breath catches in his throat while he kisses you, and you know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth.

“Darling, anymore of that and -,”

“I’m ready,” you interrupt him, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m ready.”

His eyes soften as they take you in, scanning your face for even a breath of hesitation. “Are you sure?” he asks, while his thumbs return to stroking your sides.

“Yes,” you answer firmly, resting your forehead against his. “No more waiting. Please.”

In one smooth movement, his arms are wrapping around your middle to press you tightly against him. One strong hand weaves its way into your hair while his lips find yours again. There’s a new hunger to his kiss - it’s raw and possessive and filled with a need that has been simmering beneath the surface for months.

You expect him to flip you onto your back and finally make you his right here on the sofa, but his hands eagerly begin to run down your back and grip beneath your thighs. Suddenly, he’s on his feet and your legs are locking around his waist. You can’t help but giggle against his lips, because he’s not letting you break this kiss even for a second.

“Beautiful thing,” he whispers into your mouth, effortlessly carrying you from your living area and down the hallway toward your bedroom.

The Norse mythology documentary is long forgotten.

His lips stay locked to yours until your back hits the bedroom door, and only then does he break away to curse as he fumbles with the handle. You laugh quietly - because for some reason it’s oddly endearing - and press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Loki wastes no time in kicking the door closed when you’re finally through. Vaguely, you notice a faint green shimmer cascade over the wood as it settles in the doorframe, but it’s pushed from your mind by the frenzy of kisses that Loki is pressing to every inch of your face.

“Do you know,” he murmurs, trailing a haphazard line of kisses along your cheeks, “how long I’ve wanted this? Wanted you?”

His admission fans the flames of desire burning fiercely in your stomach. How have you lasted so long without inviting him into your bed? How have you not had this man again and again until his name is seared into your soul? How have you not realised how fiercely he burns for you too?

“Then take me. Please,” you murmur against his lips.

His answering smile is soft and gives you another swift kiss. “Begging won’t be necessary, darling.”

With surprising gentleness, he lays you on the bed amongst your pile of pillows. Your legs fall open instantly for him, to which he quickly climbs between. There’s a hesitance to his movements, almost as if he’s scared to lay a finger on you.

“I’m not going to break,” you say with a smirk. “You can touch me. I need you to touch me, Loki.”

Your hands find the hem of his sweater, coaxing it along his back until he’s helping you pull it off. You’ve seen him shirtless before - many times - but your fingers still reach hungrily for his chest. Loki shivers beneath your touch and pride blooms happily in your stomach.

An unremarkable mortal you may be, but you have a god shivering beneath your fingers.

Slowly, his hands slip underneath your shirt, and cool fingers glide along your stomach to push it over your head. His eyes travel appreciatively over you before settling on your breasts.

“Enchanting, beautiful thing,” he says, leaning to press his lips to your neck.

The reverence in his voice has a rush of heat pulse between your thighs while you grasp his strong shoulders. Too many times, previous lovers have made you feel like you were nothing more than an object, something that was conveniently there for them to fuck.

Not with Loki, though. The man has barely undressed you and he’s treating you like the most precious thing his hands have ever held.

Boldly, you reach for his belt, shooting him a suggestive smirk while you unfasten it. He lets you work, diving in for another blistering kiss as you undo the button and open the zipper. The taste of him on your tongue and the feel of him beneath your fingers is electrifying, and there’s a newfound urgency in your movements as you try to push his jeans off.

After a few strategic tugs they slide over his hips, granting you the freedom to run your hands greedily over the firm swell of his ass. You can’t help but moan shamelessly into his mouth while simultaneously squeezing him with both hands. He’s a work of art beneath your appreciative fingertips.

Something close to a growl rises from Loki’s chest and he gently nips at your bottom lip with his teeth. “Are you trying to seduce me?” he purrs lightly.

Grinning, you squeeze his ass again. “It’s been my evil plan all along.”

“Ah! I’ve been bested by a beautiful little devil!” he teases and lowers his lips back to your neck.

His kisses are slow and deliberate and punctuated by the occasional nip of his teeth. You know what he’s doing; you know that every mark he’ll place on you tonight is a claim, a message to anyone who looks that he’s finally made you his.

The molten beast of arousal burns fiercer between your thighs. You hope and pray that you’ll be covered in his marks tomorrow. You want everyone to know that you belong to him.

Loki interlocks the fingers of one hand with yours, all while slowly trailing a path of kisses along your chest and down your stomach. It’s silent adoration - a god worshipping his mortal - and he only stops when his lips meet the waistband of your leggings. You feel him hesitate, feel him run the pad of his thumb across the material while he lifts his eyes to yours.

It only takes you a second to realise he’s asking for permission.

You nod quickly and breathe out a quiet “yes.”

Loki presses a final kiss to your stomach and gently squeezes your hand. He lets go to hook both sets of fingers into your leggings, taking great care not to jostle you around while he tugs them - along with your underwear - easily down your legs. You’re suddenly bare before him and, stupidly, you feel a rush of nervousness pulse through you. This man has slept with gods and goddesses and beings more beautiful than you can even imagine.

How can you compare?

Glittering green eyes travel hungrily over you. The earlier softness is still shining there clear as day, but now it’s swirling and mixing openly with undisguised lust. It causes a gentle heat to burn beneath your skin and, almost subconsciously, you attempt to cover yourself.

But Loki is having none of it.

His hands reach to clasp yours and he folds your fingers easily between his, pinning your arms to the mattress. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on,” he says slowly, making sure you hear every word.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you repeat his question back to him, though even you can hear the shakiness of your own voice.

Loki’s answering smile is infectiously boyish. “Is it working?”

He can likely hear your heart thundering in your chest, but you still reply with, “maybe. I’m not sure yet.”

“Hmm, perhaps I need to try a little harder?” he says, still grinning impishly.

His hands slide to gently grip your wrists so he can guide your arms around his neck. It’s such a simple gesture, but it makes your heart swell in your chest because he trusts you enough to touch him. You hum contentedly and tangle your hands loosely in his hair, twisting silky strands around your fingertips as he drops his lips back to your chest.

His kisses are slower now and the warmth of his lips lingers like a dream against your skin. It’s as though he finds his pleasure from simply kissing you, like that alone is enough to send him freefalling into bliss. It’s a heady thought that has your back arching, greedily searching for more of him or maybe offering up more of yourself.

You aren’t entirely sure.

Loki’s lips travel lower in tandem with his hands that are curled around your middle. His touch is so intoxicating, so wonderfully addictive that you can’t stop the quiet whimper that slips from between your lips. You feel him smile against the skin of your lower stomach, feel his thumbs trace tiny circles against your hipbones, and when he hovers just millimeters from your cunt, you automatically hold your breath.

When nothing happens you flick your eyes questioningly down to his.

Loki is gazing at you with desire storming in his eyes, so much so that they’re almost completely black. He looks like a man starved and doesn’t break his gaze from yours as he bends his head to lick a firm, slow stripe along the length of your cunt. Electricity crackles almost joyously through your blood, setting every inch of you aflame and pulling a shameless moan from the depths of your throat.

Through the haze of your desire, you feel Loki gently squeeze your hips. “Ok?” he asks quietly.

The laugh you release is short and strangled. “Y-yes! God, yes!”

A wolfish smile curls across his face. You watch transfixed as he dips back between your thighs, never tearing his eyes from yours as he buries his tongue in your cunt. A volcano of pleasure erupts in your core, twisting through every inch of you with each skillful flick of his tongue. You groan, you whimper, you grip Loki’s curls so tightly that you’re surprised he isn’t howling from the pain.

“Ugh…fuck!” you groan when he slips his hands beneath your ass to pull you closer.

His mouth is warm and wet and talented - god, it’s talented - and when his tongue begins to lap over your clit you can’t help but buck and grind against his face. You feel him hum appreciatively against your cunt, and he swirls his tongue firmly over your swollen clit once, twice more.

“Loki!” you whimper. “Fuck, Loki, keep doing that! Please!”

He’s only too happy to grant your request. His tongue traces swirls and patterns endlessly against your clit. It’s just enough pressure and just the right rhythm that the coil in your stomach quickly begins to wind tight. Every expert flick and swirl of Loki’s tongue is like diesel to a flame, setting your core alight until you’re completely engulfed by him.

If you died right now, you would greet death happily.

Loki continues to lap at your cunt like a man starved, and when your back arches off the bed, he slips his hands further beneath your back to clamp you firmly against his warm mouth. It’s pleasure like you’ve never experienced - white hot and all consuming - and before long you’re balancing beautifully on the edge.

“Loki…Loki, please…I’m…m’ gonna come!” you say, unsure if it’s a warning or a plea.

The first tendrils of your release are licking through your core and each tiny cry that passes from your lips only encourages the god between your legs. The warm wetness of his tongue laps perfectly at your clit, making stars begin to dance at the edge of your vision, but when he moans against you - a deep, satisfied rumble of sound - you know you’re gone.

Your orgasm engulfs you suddenly and without warning. The force of it sends your eyes rolling in your head and your hands tangling in Loki’s hair like a vice. His name leaves your lips in a scream to the heavens, and his head doesn’t stop bobbing between your legs until you’re panting and boneless on top of the mattress.

Amidst the lavender haze that has settled around you like a favourite blanket, you feel Loki press a soft kiss to your still sensitive clit. It makes you jolt and pulls a strangled sound from deep in your throat, but then his thumbs are drawing lazy circles over your hip bones.

I’m here.

His lips begin a slow path from between your thighs, pressing gently and haphazardly along your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. He kisses across your collarbone and dips below your chin, making sure not to miss even an inch of your throat.

Never in your life have you felt more desired.

“Exquisite,” he murmurs before his lips find yours. "Worthy of the gods.” He kisses you deeply and the taste of you is still heavy on his tongue. It’s electrifying and only serves to reignite the flames of arousal that he’s only just quenched.

You can’t help but giggle against his lips and reluctantly break his kiss. “The only god I want is you,” you say quietly, cupping his face in your hands.

He gazes down at you silently, looking as though you’ve just placed the secrets of the universe in his hands. It’s both endearing and heartbreaking - that he’s struggling to believe he’s the one you want - and it fills you with a renewed purpose to ensure this man never goes to sleep feeling unwanted.

You tug him back down until his lips are back on yours. His kiss is slower this time, languid, as though he wishes to use every last second to commit the taste of you to heart.

A god drunk on the taste of his mortal.

“Touch me. Please,” he rasps, breaking from your lips for only a second.

It’s a plea you’re only too happy to answer. Slowly - because you want to enjoy every last inch of this man - you slide your hands from where they’ve been resting on his biceps. You marvel at the broadness of his shoulders and drink in the smooth expanse of his muscled back. Lightly, you trace your fingertips along the hollow of his spine, delighting in how he shivers beneath your touch.

But it’s nothing compared to the deep, appreciative moan that tumbles from his lips when your hands once again squeeze the smooth swell of his ass.

You laugh into his mouth and rest your arms back across his shoulders. “You are so beautiful,” you whisper, raising a hand to brush some stray curls behind his ear.

He catches your wrist before it can rest your hand back on his shoulder and presses a kiss to the centre of your palm. “You, my dove, are a treasure amongst mortals,” he says softly, all while positioning himself between your welcoming thighs. His forehead finds yours at the same time his cock nudges teasingly against you. “Let me pleasure you, darling, please. Let me give you every part of me.”

Easily, you wrap your legs around his waist where they fit like a missing puzzle piece. “If you don’t, I’ll be very upset,” you tease him.

He grins widely so widely at you that the corners of his eyes crinkle endearingly. “Well, we certainly can’t have that,” he replies, and slowly, you feel him begin to ease into you.

You inhale deeply as the blunt head of his cock slips inside you. It’s barely anything at all but already your head is rolling back on the pillow and your eyes are slipping shut. You knew Loki would feel good, but nothing could have prepared you for just how good.

You want to lose yourself in the feel of his body in yours, but before you can even draw breath two cool fingers are on your chin, encouraging you to tilt your head forward.

“Keep your eyes on me, my darling,” he commands softly and you instantly snap them open. “Good girl.”

His eyes don’t leave yours as he eases himself fully inside you, giving you all the time you need to adjust. He’s big, and every added inch has you clenching joyously around him if only to hear the groans that spill from him each time you do.

“Fuck,” he groans, dipping his head between his shoulders when you clench particularly hard. “Little vixen. Beautiful little menace,” he continues, dropping haphazard kisses to your cheeks and chin.

When you can take no more of him he coaxes your hand from where it’s been clamped to his shoulder, clutching it tightly in his own as though he fears you’ll melt beneath the cotton sheets.

You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” you assure him, giving his hand a squeeze.

A quiet puff of laughter escapes him and he dips his head. You see the sheepish look that settles across his handsome face and your heart swells for him, for this man who has known more loss than many would deem fair.

You’ve barely left his side these past few months, but still he fears that he’ll lose you.

“I know,” he answers softly, sounding unmistakably embarrassed. “Forgive me. Sometimes…sometimes I still struggle to believe that someone like you chose someone like me.”

Your free hand is instantly cupping his cheek and your thumb is caressing his flushed skin. Does he know that you feel the exact same way? “I will always choose you,” you tell him firmly.

He hasn’t even been yours for a year, but you know with unwavering certainty that you would follow this man to the ends of the earth and beyond.

Loki presses his cheek into your palm and leans in to steal another chaste kiss from your lips. “My darling mortal,” he murmurs with a roll of his hips that has you groan. “My beautiful girl.”

You can’t look away as he expertly begins to build you up. You’re lost to the pretty gleam of his green eyes as they hold yours and how stray strands of ink black hair fall to frame his face; lost to the way his jaw falls slack when you roll your hips to meet his and clench around his cock; lost to how your name falls like spring rain from his lips, like it’s the only word he’ll ever need to know.

The edge crests like a wave in your core within minutes, each ripple making you dig your heels into his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, deeper. Your climax is bubbling white hot in the pit of your stomach, promising to drown you in pleasure like you’ve never known if you can just tip over the edge.

“Loki…,” you cry, twisting a hand into his hair for leverage. “Loki…I’m ready…please!”

His hands grips yours like a vice. “Look at me,” he pleads, and your eyes quickly settle back on his. “Cum for me, my darling.”

With five words, you go soaring off the edge.

Your orgasm rips through you like a storm, each blinding wave of pleasure submerging you deeper until tiny white stars begin to dance at the edges of your vision. It’s all consuming and so powerful that it robs you of almost all your senses, though you’re vaguely aware of Loki burying his face in your neck as his own climax pulls him under.

He’s ruined you for anyone else.

As the final ripples of your release fade in the aftermath, you can hear Loki panting in your ear. You untangle your hand from his hair to stroke it and turn your head to press a light kiss to his temple.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. It’s all you're capable of saying as you lie boneless on the bed, still basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

“Fuck.” Loki echoes, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him.

You burrow happily into his side and feel him drape an arm around your shoulders. His heartbeat is still thundering beneath your ear - something that makes pride blossom in your stomach.

“Darling?” Loki speaks up after only a minute of silence.

“Hmm?” you hum back, excitement already beginning to fizz between your legs.

“I’d like to do that again…if you don’t mind.”

#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki fanfiction

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elegantsplendour · 1 year

Text

Once Upon A Time, A Dragon Met a Swan

Summary: After the Greens have won the war and Aegon’s passing, Aemond is crowned king. You, a high born lady he fell in love with during the Dance when he served as Prince Regent, became his queen. Years after your marriage, you’re still in love with each other as ever. One day, you discover age had a surprise for you.

Contains / warnings: fluff, king! Aemond, queen! Reader, smut, pregnancy, brink of death, happy ending

Comments and reblogs are always appreciated 💌

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @theroyaldixon @buglyberry @aemondx

Word count: 2k

Amidst the grand feast held in honor of your first born son Rhaegar's nomination as heir, the King and Queen of Seven Kingdoms adorned themselves in opulent attire, captivating all eyes. You wore a gown that sparkled with the brilliance of a thousand stars, its black and white hues revealing the elegance of your bare shoulders. Aemond's robe, a tapestry of red and black, was meticulously embroidered with golden thread, each stitch a testament to the Targaryen dynasty's resplendent might, emblazoned with the three-headed dragon.

As the solemn ceremony unfolded, the weight of destiny hung in the air, but it was the magnetic pull between you and Aemond that whispered a more primal truth. With each step on the dance floor, a current of enthralling energy surged through your veins, igniting a passionate flame that only grew stronger as the night wore on.

As the final notes reverberated through the hall, Aemond drew you into an embrace that spoke of a deep longing. His voice, low and husky, caressed your ear, "I need you tonight, my queen," A sly grin curved on your lips as his plea awakened a burning ache inside you.

The mighty Aemond Targaryen, pleading for your touch.

Not that the king and queen were not intimate in the privacy in their chambers.

Whispers have it that the queen has an insatiable appetite for her king.

You leaned close, the warmth of your breath grazing the skin of his neck, "There hasn't been a night when I haven't yearned for you," you teased, "Your Grace."

The air crackled with anticipation as Aemond caught his breath, captivated by your formality. Leaning his head against yours, he murmured, "You are insatiable as ever, my queen." A seductive glimmer sparkled in your eyes as you whispered back, "Then chase me to our chamber, my king." Leaving him burning with desire, you gracefully slipped away from his grasp, your sway like a seductive siren's call.

As the grand feast approached its final moments, Aemond hurried to your chamber, his heart pounding with a mix of longing and urgency. There, he found you standing near the balcony, the moon casting a gentle glow upon your exposed back. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his hands encircling your waist as his lips found the tender skin of your neck. A smile curled your lips, radiant with adoration and a hunger that mirrored his own. "Is that a wrinkle, Aemond?" you playfully remarked, planting a soft, teasing kiss where the mark of time would be.

Aemond cupped your cheeks, his deep chuckle resonating through the room. "Unfortunately, I lack the immunity to aging that you possess, my love," he confessed. Undeterred, you drew him into a fierce kiss, the intensity of your love blazing like a wildfire. "Nonsense," you purred against his lips, the fire in your eyes mirroring the heat between you. "Your Valyrian blood grants you such… an eternal grace."

With a surge of passion, Aemond's hand ripped away the fabric of your gown, leaving you gasping in delightful surprise. He swept you into his arms, carrying you to the bed with a mix of tenderness and urgency. His kisses trailed a scorching path down your body, igniting every nerve with searing pleasure. "Fear not, my love," he assured, his voice laced with raw desire. "Age brings with it a wealth of experience." As his lips traced down your neck, your breasts, your belly, and eventually down your core, your lips quivered with restrained moans as you pleaded, "Aemond, seal my lips with yours, otherwise I’ll lose control!”

You heard a barely audible chuckle before an overwhelming pleasure incited a loud moan, “Gods, Aemond.” His tongue worked expertly between your folds, his movements demanding yet tender.

“Beg for me, my love. I will give you what you want and more.”

“I want you inside me,” implored as you arched your back, showing him shamelessly how your body longed for him.

“Hmm,” Your king lifted his head, his good eye and sapphire piercing through you with amusement, “Here I thought my insatiable queen preferred some more torment.”

You left out a gasp as his rough movements transformed into a series of soft kisses around your most intimate parts but never really reached there.

His strong arms held your thighs in place as your body trembled and squirmed under his magic.

“Your Grace, please,” this time, your voice laced no more with desperation, but seductively while feigning innocence, “Spoil your poor queen.”

With a satisfied grin on his face, he hovers over you while giving a tight squeeze on your buttocks, “Is that what you want, love? To be so thoroughly ravished that you can’t even walk tomorrow?”

“No,” you breathe, uttering each word clearly,“I want you to make me unable to sit tomorrow.”

With that, Aemond finally crashes your lips, muffling your desperate moans as he thrusts into you forcefully.

Hands pinned by his muscular arms above your head, all you can think of is the sinful slapping of your skins, his growls amidst the mind-blowing pleasure crashing your core.

As Aemond felt your walls convulse, he grinned, “Let it out, my love. Let them hear you. Let King’s Landing know that the blood of the dragon runs hot.”

With a loud cry, you reached your peak together.

As he collapsed on your body, you didn’t waste a second to roll yourself on top of him, tantalizing him with your gentle yet teasing kisses.

Bathed in the exhaustion of love-making, he held you in his arms. Silence reigned over the bed chamber, the moon light casting an ethereal glow on both of you.

“I am the happiest Targaryen ever lived,”he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “If not the only one, thanks to you, my love. Before we met, I never thought a life like this was possible. With my father’s negligence and the Dance, I convinced myself that power was my only way out. For a time, I felt I was beyond redemption,” he confessed, hands tracing your jawline.

You held him tighter, cupping his cheeks, “Aemond, you are not like that anymore. You are strong. You have become a man your father never was, a man Aegon never was,” your unwavering gaze full of conviction, “You carry people, you carry the realm, our children, you carry me.”

He planted a kiss on your cheek with a contented sigh, “You are my life.”

After a peaceful silence, Aemond hovered on you again with a mischievous glint, “Ready for round two, my queen?”

You burst in laughter, “And here you said I was the insatiable one.”

The next morning, Aemond and you, hands tangled together, sneaked into the garden with a book in hand; the fresh moments before the Small Council’s meeting have become your morning ritual, reminding you both of the liveliness of your younger days.

Your children, unknown to you, gossiped while observing you from a distance. Baelon, the most mischievous of them all, rolled his eyes and whispered, “I am glad that our parents still behave like two newlyweds, but I simply wish that they would make their methods of maintaining their youth…” he paused in suspense, “Less audible.”

Elaena giggled uncontrollably. Even Rhaegar, the ever dutiful and serious son, couldn’t help but to chuckle, “It has been a long time since the realm has seen the king and queen so fiercely in love and devoted to each other.”

Just as the siblings giggled in secret, they heard a loud thud.

“Y/N !” Aemond screamed as you fell on the ground, “Call the maesters!” He picked you up and rushed to their chamber. As the royal family gathered nervously at the bedside, the maester turned around, smiling, “Congratulations, Your Grace, the queen is with child, again.” Aemond’s eye opened in surprise and joy but quickly it was quickly replaced by concern, “Is her health strong enough for delivering another child? I do not wish to risk her life, ever.”

The maester nodded, “Her Grace’s condition is impeccable for pregnancy. It is a rare thing for a woman her age.”

Relief washed over Aemond’s face as he traced your unconscious features. Elaena, fascinated by Aemond’s devoted gaze, whispered to Rhaegar, “If my future lord husband doesn’t look at me the way father looks at mother, I don’t want him.”

Rhaegar smiled, his eyes shimmering, causing Elaena's cheeks to flush. "I have absolute faith in you, my dear," he whispered.

Ten moons went by as fast as a wheel, but your labour was not nearly as easy as the maesters had described. You screamed in agony as the maesters informed Aemond regretfully, “Your Grace, Her Grace most likely may not survive, but there might be a way for the child to survive.” Aemond's eye blazed with fury, understanding the implications behind their words, "What you speak of borders on treason! I want her, the queen. If she dies, I will have every one of your heads."

The children trembled at their father ‘s roar, they had never seen him so much in despair and anger. their innocent hearts shattered by the sight of his despair and anger. They wept, clinging to one another, seeking solace in their shared fear and sorrow.

Aemond gripped your hands, tears falling down like a torrential downpour, “Fight for me, love. You are my life. It’s all my fault, I should’ve given you the tea…. ” You manage a painful smile , “It’s not your fault, Aemond. I… I had a wonderful life. You are… you and our children are at far the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never believed in destiny before, but… this is my time.”

Aemond held your hands desperately, “No, don’t you dare leave me, y/n! Don’t condemn me to an eternity of misery.”

In that moment of agony and farewell, the door to the chamber was forcefully opened.

“Rhaegar, you’re here,” You sobbed, the staggering pain muffling your words, “I thought… I thought you were at Highgarden visiting your betrothed.”

Rhaegar clasped your hands, his gaze fixed on you, “Mother, I have faith in you. Fight for us, please.”

Your boy, your first born, has grown into a fierce warrior, future protector of the realm. As you locked eyes with his violet gaze, a rush of distant memories flooded your mind, intertwining with the present moment.

The Dance had just concluded with a realm ruled by ashes, uncertainty and the Targaryen line shattered.

Where was the Prince Regent?

Pentos, in the arms of his beloved lady.

Amidst the blood-red dawn, a dragon and a swan sought refuge from violence and destruction, swirling on the shore of the Narrow Sea. Their laughter and love filled the air as if no one else existed in the world, with only the gods as witnesses to the passion of their love. Under the watchful eyes of the Seven, their bodies entwined, sealing their destiny until the end of time.

It was at that moment your first little dragon, Rhaegar, came to you.

Clinging onto the most cherished memory of your life and clenching your fists in the sheets, you let out a primal scream that seemed to reverberate through the entire Keep, pushing with a ferocity that defied your destiny, your determination burning like a flame refusing to be extinguished.

Your husband clutched you in his arms, his body seemed like an anchor to your life. Aemond gritted teeth as yours sank into his skin, his shoulder bearing the imprint of your bite, almost drawing blood. He longed to share your pain to shoulder the burden in your stead.

In a miraculous moment, you gave birth to a fragile little infant daughter. Tears streamed down your face like a river. You laid on the labour bed, trembling with both relief and agony, cried like a child while Aemond held you with all his might, “Aemond, it hurts.”

“It’s over, love. You’re so strong, so brave. I love you. I love you beyond everything,” his confession quivered, a testament of close call of losing you.

Shortly after, you drifted to slumber out of exhaustion.

Centuries later, in a scroll of healing account kept in the Citadel, the miraculous birth of Princess Daenyra Targaryen and survival of the Queen Y/N, wife of King Aemond Targaryen I, defied all reason, a baffling enigma to Westeros' maesters. Defying all signs of demise, love and hope emerged victorious even against the gods’ will.

Bedroom scene imagine

(From 1:45 makes me🤤🥰🤭）

“And a lust for life,

Keeps us alive.”

“And if I only could

I'd make a deal with God

And I'd get Him to swap our places.”

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beethereal-knight · 5 months

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Meet the Silkhounds!

Silkhounds are a mutant dog breed kept by the Enthralling Flames. Prized for their speed, paralytic venom, and intense prey drives, they make for excellent hunters on the battlefield and in bloodsport.

This breed's creation is due to several hundred generations of exposure to the Warp, giving them mutations like a prehensile tongue, black blood, secondary jaw, scaly armor on their legs and stinger-tipped tail. Their fur has also turned purple-pink, which marks their Slaaneshi origin. Most silkhounds have a plain fur pattern, but they can also feature dark, splotchy spots or stripes.

Silkhounds are actually very playful in nature, but their prey drives are so strong that even gentle play can become unexpectedly violent. Unleached on the battlefield, Silkhounds have the best time of their lives, chasing exciting new prey and shredding them like toys. As good as it is for hunting the warband's enemies, an insufficiently-trained Silkhound in battle runs the risk of it turning on its masters in playful excitement.

#my art #monster design #monster #enthralling flames

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kastalani123 · 5 months

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I know that PJO Hera is an absolute bitch and even in mythology she isn't among the best, but. But.

Tell me that Hera, Goddess of Motherhood, wasn't completely enthralled when Leo Valdez, a few months old and so tiny and fragile, grabbed her finger for the first time and giggled like it was the best thing to happen in his life.

Tell me that Hera, Mother, doesn't replay the first time Leo Valdez, a year old and always covered in bumps and bruises because he climbs everything, said "Tía" years after it happened.

Tell me that Hera, Patron of Women, didn't have cuckoos following Esperanza, young and alone and discarded by her family, when she had to lock up late to make sure no harm came to her.

Tell me that Hera, Goddess of Motherhood, didn't feel worshiped to the highest degree when Esperanza, tired and dirty and bleeding, worked nights so that she could afford to spoil her son for his birthday.

Tell me that Hera, Tía Callida, didn't care when she put Leo, all of two years old and burning with a flame so bright the Earth Mother herself felt the need to intervene, in the fireplace as though to burn away his mortality.

#pjo #hera pjo #leo valdez #esperanza valdez #the lost hero #rick riordan #headcanon #Hera doesn't care about mortals #she cares about two (2) (or three if you count Jason) mortals specifically #pjo spoilers

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fuzybby · 4 months

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Home.

Gale Dekarios x f!reader

Synopsis: You and Gale show eachother how much you love eachother through some good ol' love making

CW: breeding, his undying love for you, overstimulation? but not really. This is pretty vanilla because Gale loves you

788 words! Enjoy

You felt like you were floating. Pure ecstasy courses through your veins as your nails run down Gales chest. Admiring his hairy body as you straddled his hips, having stopped your bouncing on his dick to calm your aching legs.

Gale kept his eyes on you, always wavering to a different part of your body. Your face in pleasure, your breasts that bounced with every raise and drop of your hips, he watched his hands as he gripped your waist. Gale was enthralled by you, the ring on his left ring finger specified so, taking a look on the matching ring you wore on your left hand, which was now splayed against his pecs.

“Stopping already?” Gale teased, letting go of your hips to place his hands behind his head. Quickly raising his hips slightly to press more of him into you. His pubic bone rubbed against your clit deliciously.

“Shut up.” The words came out of you in a breathy tone, still trying to catch your breath. Moving to raise your hips up again, only leaving the tip of your lover's cock inside of you. Your legs shook before you dropped down, your ass rippled as it hit his body once again.

Everything was wet, sticky. Sweat dropped down both of your bodies, the slick from your legs dripped onto his cock, even managing to run down his balls and to the bed below him.

“As much as I love making your legs shake, you're going to hurt yourself.” Gale chuckled as he placed his hands back onto your thighs, holding you to stay down in his lap.

Air couldn't seem to get any faster into your lungs, deep breathes didn't seem to take. “Just wanna be good for you.” You whined to Gale, who looked up at you with his beautiful brown puppy eyes.

“You're being so good.” he smiled, moving his upper body to sit up, his chest coming to touch yours. “You're such a good girl for me.”

You allowed him to slowly pull you off his dick, laying you down on your back onto the bed as he climbed on top of you. The silk sheets felt smooth against your skin. Closing your eyes, focusing on how cool the sheets felt for one second before being filled again by your husband.

He was always so big, so full it made you want to keep him inside you forever. No matter how close you two became, you always wanted to be closer. Molding into one for all eternity.

“Focus on me.” You hear him say, holding eye contact with you as he slowly moves in and out of your wet cunt. Sucking him in so eagerly.

You call his name, moving your hands to hold his face, resting his forehead against your own. “A request..” You quietly ask.

His voice wavers as he says “hm?”, groaning slightly from how warm and tightly you hugged his cock.

“Fill me?” wrapping your arms around his waist quickly, feeling his lower back tense and relax every time he thrusts. His pace picks up slightly at your words.

“Yeah?” Gale smirks, moving one of his hands down to rub circles against your clit. His dexterous fingers always felt so good against your cunt. “Want me to fuck a baby into you?”

His words were always so filthy during these moments, and you nod swiftly, your forehead bumping slightly against his as you do, which causes a small thing of giggles to erupt from you both.

His fingers and thrusts don't relent even as you share a laugh, causing your giggles to quickly erupt into moans. Your body was on fire, his touch sending waves of flames up your body and through your system. You arch your back off the bed, your breasts pushing up into his own pecs as your orgasm comes quickly, rushing over you like a tsunami.

You convulse around Gales dick, and your moans of his name make him erupt into his own orgasm. He whimpers as he continues to fuck your pretty cunt as he spills his seed into you, only stopping when both of your legs are quivering.

You were so full, so full of him and his seed, you could cum again at the thought of him spilling inside of you. You run your hands through his hair as Gale's cock slowly softens inside of you, wanting to stay inside your warmth for the rest of time.

“I love you.” He says, his lips are close to yours. His breath is hot against your face.

“I love you too.” You smile, pressing your lips against his to seal your love. He tasted like home. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarious smut #gale x reader #gale x reader smut #bg3 gale

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candylandphotos · 9 months

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Fire Dancing Breathing Circus

"Ethereal Flames: The Enchanting Performance of Fire Dancing in a Breathing Circus."

#Fiery Euphoria #Dynamic Circus Spectacle #Mesmerizing Inferno Dance #Breath-Infused Artistry #Captivating Flame Fusion #Pyrotechnic Mastery #Circus Blaze Choreography #Enthralling Fire Display #Awe-Inspiring Entertainers #Ignited Movements #pretty girl #beautiful women #pretty woman

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miguelswifey04 · 9 months

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Hiii, I love your content & idk if you’ve done this already but the idea of Reader walking in on Miguel masturbating and he doesn’t care to stop actually with reader being there made him want to do it even more 😏… just an idea tho💕

for sure hehehe <3

miguel o’hara x gn! reader

cw// masturbation, exhibitionism, nsfw 18+, smut; no plot

you walk into the room, only to be greeted by an unexpected sight. there, on the bed, miguel lies naked, his muscular body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. his hand is wrapped around his throbbing length, stroking himself with a voracious hunger. you pause for a moment, taken aback by the scene unfolding before you. but rather than feeling shocked or offended, a wave of undeniable desire washes over you. miguel’s audacity ignites a flame within you, compelling you to indulge in the sinful pleasure that beckons.

a smirk plays on your lips as you saunter closer, your eyes fixated on his unabashed display of self-pleasure. his gaze locks with yours, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “well, well, well," you purr, your voice dripping with amusement. "seems like someone couldn't wait for me, miguel." he doesn't falter, his rhythm only intensifying as he keeps his eyes locked with yours, fully embracing the exhibitionist act. his confident demeanor both intrigues and excites you, fueling the flames of your arousal.

“i couldn't help it, sweetheart," he retorts, that cocky grin still firmly in place. "the thought of you walking in on me, watching me pleasure myself...it drives me wild." you release a soft chuckle, circling the bed, eyeing his body and the way his hand moves over his engorged member. the air is thick with anticipation, and you find yourself growing increasingly eager to join him in his sinful act. without a word, you slowly strip, revealing your own enticing body. your curves enthrall him, rendering his self-control near non-existent. the sight of you only intensifies his need, his strokes quickening in pace.

as you climb onto the bed, you position yourself beside him, your eyes locked on his pulsating length. the air crackles with raw desire, both of you consumed by the primal urges that stir deep within. “watch me, miguel," you command, your voice heavy with need. "but don't stop. don’t you dare stop." he grins at your words, his grip tightening around his throbbing member. his eyes flicker between you and his own hand, his arousal reaching its peak. the room fills with the sounds of your moans mixing with his, the air thick with the scent of desire.

with each stroke, each gasp, the intensity builds, the pleasure becoming more insatiable. the unhinged, raw passion between you fuels his desires further, removing any remaining inhibitions. “ooh mmm— fuck—i," he groans, his voice laden with desperation. "i...i can't hold back anymore." you watch, captivated, as he reaches the brink of climax, his body trembling with need. the moment hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation.

and then, with a deep, guttural moan, miguel succumbs to the pleasure, his release cascading over his hand, coating his abdomen. the sight of his release pushes you over the edge as well, an electric wave of pleasure washing over your own body. breathing heavily, you collapse beside him, both of you basking in the aftermath of your shared indulgence. the room is filled with the echoes of your combined moans, a testament to the insatiable fire that burns between you.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @astro1bloom @obi-mom-kenobi @emiemiemiii @sabcandoit @meeom

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #lin’s asks #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #atsv miguel #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x gn reader

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unalivejournal · 5 months

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imagine a tumblr simulator set in the velvet goldmine universe lmfao

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🎹 wilderatz Follow

DNI if you still support br*an sl*de after the shooting hoax. what he did was fucking unacceptable and pathetic. the panic and heartbreak on the dashboard that day was absolutely traumatizing. and the fact that it was all for cheap publicity makes it even more despicable. if you HAVE to listen to his records the least you could do is buy them secondhand

#so glad curt never cut that record with him

186 notes

⭐️ glittersisgay

i got new boots! seeing the flaming creatures tonight :-) life is good

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👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

sorry but the sladewild narrative is CRAAAAZY. like imagine you start off as a nobody performer and becoming enthralled by this rockstar after he shows up your act and you end up becoming famous by being inspired by his stage presence AND YOU BECOME FAMOUS ENOIGH TO GO TO AMERICA AND MEET THIS GUY AND YOUR LABELS START FABRICATING A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN U TWO TO GENERATE PUBLICITY FOR YOUR NEW ALBUM BUT THEN YOU ACTUALLY FALL IN LOVE AND HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET BUT THEN THE PAPARAZZI FINDS OUT AND YOU HAVE A HUGE FALLING OUT BUT THEN A FEW WEEKS LATER YOURE SPOTTED IN THE CROWD AT THE DEATH TO GLITTER SHOW

♻️ 🦷 roxytunes Follow

lmfao WHAT are you talking about. swear to god i’m sick of you invasive freaks trying to make things up about real peoples lives. the part about the labels trying to market slade and wild as a couple isn’t even true. yes they were heavily publicized as close friends but they never admitted to being in a relationship. also receipts on brian being at the death to glitter show???? stop spreading false information

♻️ 👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

anyways watch out for my new sladewild maxwell demon tour era fic that will be published in my next zine 💋

#my mutual was literally next to him in the crowd.

58 notes

🪩 girlboydragdemon

at the Sombrero Club with the glamrocktuals YAYYYY

♻️ 🪩 girlboydragdemon

Hangover.

#we may have made. mistakes. #also we think brian slade’s former manager was in the booth behind us

11 notes

🌟 venusinpurrs

♻️ 🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

WHY ARE WE PITTING THREE BAD BITCHES AGAINST EACH OTHER

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

better question WHY ARE VENUS IN FURS LOSING GUYS CMON ITS OBVIOUSLY THE RATS

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

do you people hate dykes

244 notes

💋 jack-fairy-fan51 Follow

Anyone else feel like this Tommy stone guy showed up out of nowhere?

6 notes

❇️ 20th-cxntury-bxy

Well…. it’s been a fun time on the road with Malcolm & co. (@/theflamingcreatures) but in the months following the hoax and the death to glitter tribute I’ve been feeling more and more inclined to move on. idk. i know there’s still an active tumblr community but in the real life scene it feels like everyone’s just…. given up. I’ll be starting a new job soon and won’t have a lot of time to post. Might delete this blog in the near future. remember to support local shows and keep being yourself

#a.journal

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👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

word on the street is that mandy slade divorced brian???? lmao get his ass

♻️👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

[#finally i have a chance with her]

you’re funny if you think any of us on this site have an inkling of a chance with her

2,658 notes

🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

Just found this on the sidewalk. does anyone know what it is?

7 notes

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writing-for-marvel · 7 months

Text

Day 7: Striptease

Mob!Bucky's Kinktober Honeymoon

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky gets turned on while you try on your new designer clothes.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, fingering, ruined orgasm, Bucky speaking Romanian & being obsessed with his wife (yes, those are warnings 👀)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: this isn’t a typical striptease but I wasn’t sure what else to call this - it’s more of a sexy try on haul with smut. Dividers by me, please do not use. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

💋 Join my Kinktober Taglist 💋

Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library | Ko-fi

“What do you think?” You ask your husband who has perched himself at the end of the luxuriously large king bed in your rented villa.

His nose is in his phone, you suspect checking on business back home even though he promised you he wouldn’t work a single minute while on your honeymoon. But as soon as he looks up, his attention switches solely to you, forgetting all about whatever had been distracting him on the device.

One of the many wedding presents Bucky had given to you was a new closet full of custom designer clothes, including that of a swimsuit collection specifically for your European summer honeymoon.

The way Bucky’s eyes widen, desire and lust mixing like twin flames in his ocean blue eyes, makes you melt.

He’s seen you naked basically every day since you began dating, watched your face contort in pure ecstasy more times than you could possibly count, and yet, even now, more than two years into your relationship, he still looks at you like you’re the most desirable woman on the face of the earth. That there is simply no one else capable of captivating his attention in the way you do.

Bucky stands from the edge of the bed, taking slow steps towards you, his cerulean eyes never once leaving your body - not even blinking.

“Uluitoare [breathtaking].” You are still working on improving your Romanian, but by the astonished tone of his voice and the unwavering gaze settled on your body, you’re fairly sure you understand the sentiment.

“Nuh uh - no touching.” Smirking, you swat his hand away playfully when he reaches out to grasp your waist, performing a slow, alluring twirl to give him the perfect view of every angle. Once his eyes have roamed every inch of your frame, lingering at the shape of your ass and tits in your outfit, you lean forward, standing on your tiptoes, and speak lowly into his ear. “Let me put on a show for you.”

With a steady hand on his strapping chest, you press him backwards, pushing him onto the bed. His complete enthralment in your every movement makes confidence soar in your chest and gives you the courage to begin seductively stripping off your blouse button by button.

Your eyes are locked when the light material falls down your shoulders and onto the floor, a soft moan escapes his throat, his bottom lip curled behind his teeth. Even though you have no music to dance to, your hips sway to a rhythm as you unzip your skirt, making sure to provide Bucky the perfect view of your ass as that piece of clothing also drops to the ground.

In nothing but your expensive lingerie, which Bucky himself picked out, you saunter over to him and elicit a groan when you palm his rock hard cock through the material of his trousers.

“What should I try on for you first?” You ask, teasingly turning around and swaying your hips over the fabric of his pants. His growing erection becomes even more obvious as you start letting your hands wander over your own body, taunting him with the sight of your fingers dipping close to your core.

Bucky’s too caught up in the little show you’re putting on for him to even register the question you’ve asked him, but that doesn’t matter, you already know he’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in the sundress you’ve been eyeing off since the start of the season.

Leaving the confines of his warm body, you sway across the room to the rack of new clothes desperate for you to try on. You can feel Bucky’s eyes piercing through your back as you slip into the new dress, and even hear him swear under his breath when you turn around and show off the complete outfit.

“You’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet.” He comments in such an assured and sincere tone that you could never doubt he truly believes it.

Bucky pulls your body into him, so you stand between his spread legs. His fingers immediately toy with the thin material of your panties at the apex of your thighs, pulling the lingerie swiftly to the side and circles his middle finger lightly over your clit.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” The rough pads of his fingers feel delightful against your slick folds, but you ache to feel more of him, to be so full of him you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

As his fingers trace tantalisingly through your core, your own cup his strong, stubbled jaw and tilt his chin up so his piercing eyes meet yours once again. You take a beat to admire just how much adoration fills them when he gazes at you, before closing the small space and slotting your lips against his.

For as long as you live, you will never tire of the feeling of his kiss. Butterflies. Palpitations. Fireworks. Even if it’s just his lips connected with yours, your entire body responds.

“Bucky, please.” You beg into his mouth, needing more than just the teasing pad of his finger against your clit.

He suddenly thrusts two thick fingers all the way inside you, his rough palm flat against your throbbing clit as he quickly begins fucking you hard and fast, curling his fingers to drag over your g-spot.

“Fuck, just like that.” His palm smacks against your clit with each push of his hand, the pleasure so overwhelming, you’re forced to hold onto his tattooed bicep for fear that your legs will give way underneath you.

When Bucky starts sucking on your neck, sure to leave a hickey, and using his other hand to massage your breast over the dress, you know you’re done for.

Your fingers tangle in the curls of hair at the nape of his neck as you can feel your orgasm begin to ignite like a match… before all of a sudden you feel completely empty, clenching around nothing, and your incoming high dissipates like smoke into the atmosphere.

“Show me another piece.” Bucky requests before sucking your sweet arousal from his fingers with lips curling in a cocky smirk.

You’re sure Bucky can detect the disappointment on your features, but he simply squeezes your hips encouragingly, head inclining to the other garments you have yet to try on.

“How about a preview of what I’m gonna wear to dinner tonight.” You purr into his ear before taking a couple of steps back on shaky legs, trying to maintain the confidence in your demeanour that you had in your prior performance and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Your movements aren’t as smooth this time, but Bucky looks just as pleased. At this point you’re fairly sure it isn’t the fact that someone is performing for him that has him so aroused, it’s that you’re the one putting on the show.

The dress you had set aside for later is hanging in a garnet bag on the rack with all the other formal dresses Bucky paid for. Your body moves fluidly as you exchange one dress for the other, teasingly giving him only a sneak peak at your best assets, and stripping off your lingerie panties in the process.

“Wasn’t gonna wear these tonight anyway.” You place the lace in Bucky’s outstretched hand, which he takes eagerly before smelling your sweet arousal on them and stuffing them in his jacket pocket.

“We ain’t making it to the restaurant if you’re gonna be dressed like this.” Bucky’s hands travel down your sides, admiring every swell and dip of your figure in the tighter fitting dress. He’s practically drooling at this point. “Especially if you don’t wear any panties.” His fingers find your entrance again and as if he never stopped fingering you, you’re right back where you left off, teetering on the edge of pure bliss when this time he inserts three fingers.

The salacious squelch of each thrust is telling of just how wet you are. You grind down on his hand, hips bucking and twisting to find just that right angle where every single nerve is on fire.

“Be a good girl and cum for me - I know you want to.” That’s all you want, to be his good girl, his perfect wife, and give him everything he asks for, including all your orgasms.

And that’s exactly what you do.

Bucky doesn’t relent, fingering you and simultaneously stimulating your clit until your legs start quivering, you’re screaming his name, arching into his broad chest, tugging on his hair and walls fluttering around his fingers.

He looks up at you while you’re coming down from your high as if you hang the stars and the moon in the night sky - like you’re the sun his whole galaxy revolves around.

“Te iubesc [I love you].” Even though your mind is still catching up to reality, you’ve heard this Romanian saying far too often to forget what it means.

“Și eu te iubesc, James [I love you too].” You respond in an imperfect pronunciation, yet a genuinely affectionate smile blooms on Bucky’s face nonetheless. You can feel his smile grow when he places a gentle kiss against your lips.

“As sexy as you look with this dress on…” He starts, fiddling with the straps on your shoulders, trailing gentle kisses down your spine as he lets the soft material of the dress fall to a puddle at your feet. “I prefer you in nothing.”

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qierxing · 7 months

Text

A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly.

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?"

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back.

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far."

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?"

Another question out of left field.

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke.

"Yeah…" they murmur back.

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual.

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that.

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while.

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things!

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone.

Ace tried two more times to meet you.

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter.

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough.

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now.

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly.

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First].

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu.

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face.

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for?

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon.

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations.

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in.

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out.

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation.

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance.

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes.

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–"

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander.

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts.

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in.

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.”

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally."

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement.

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash.

"Cater."

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen.

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair.

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.”

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt.

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him.

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards.

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?"

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him.

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors.

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved.

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day.

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard.

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges.

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down.

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants.

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him.

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute.

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate.

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes.

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other.

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air.

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.”

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear.

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back.

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.”

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary.

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago.

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you.

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says.

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.”

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed.

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak.

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam.

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone.

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking.

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #damn this is the most ive ever written.....insane

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