sypnosis. the twst boys seeing you in booty shorts
pairings seperate. rook hunt x reader, vil schoenheit x reader, trey clover x reader, cater diamond x reader, leona kingscholar x reader, ruggie bucchi x reader, azul ashengrotto x reader, jade leech x reader, floyd leech x reader, malleus draconia x reader, idia shroud x reader, lilia vanrouge x reader
content / warnings. reader is yuu/prefect, this is set after book 7 so all characters are aged up, established relationship, suggestive themes though nothing overly explicit
word count. 1.7k (130-200 words each)
A/N. no silver and jamil sadly because i lost motivation to write whoops, will be posting requests soon heh
♡ Rook Hunt
You’re in your room, scrolling on Magicam as usual when a soft knock taps against your window. And of course, it’s Rook. Perched comfortably on a nearby tree branch, greeting you with his usual bright smile. As you slide the window open to let him in, his attention drifts elsewhere. His eyes drift down to your shorts—how they hug your shape and leave your legs mostly bare. He stares a moment longer than he probably should, only snapping back when you clear your throat to get his attention. “Ehem.” you clear your throat, jolting Rook to look you in the eye. “Mon amour, those shorts suit you wonderfully,” he says, his smile stretching wide as he steps closer, gently pulling you toward him. “It is as if you’re tempting me.” He murmurs, voice dropping as his hands rest against your hips, sending chills down your spine.
♡ Vil Schoenheit
Vil returns from his shoot looking drained, eager to come home to you. As he steps into his dorm, he runs a hand through his hair, eyes closing as he prepares to vent about his day. “My dear, you wouldn’t believe what happened today—” he begins, only to cut himself off the moment he looks at you. But that wasn’t the point, he was more focused on the shorts you were wearing. You’re in the middle of getting dolled up, carefully applying mascara, oblivious to the effect you have on Vil. But it isn’t the makeup that distracts him—it’s the shorts you’re wearing. His gaze lingers on your thighs, the fabric fitting you almost too well. A faint flush rises across his cheeks before he quickly moves, placing his blazer over your lap. “Wha—what’s wrong, Vil?” you ask, confused by his sudden reaction. He turns his head away from you, trying to regain his usual composure. “While I must admit those shorts suit your figure beautifully—I would much rather you wear them only when you’re alone with me,” he says, his back still turned, his cheeks noticeably flushed despite his attempt to stay dignified.
♡ Leona Kingscholar
Leona wakes up from the faint feeling of you stirring beside him, He lazily opens one eye, only to find himself greeted by the sight of you stretching next to him. Normally, he’d ignore it and drift back to sleep—but something catches his attention. His gaze lingers on your shorts, how they cling to your thighs and have ridden up just enough to leave very little to the imagination. When you catch him staring, he turns his head away like it was nothing. “Ehem, you were staring, mister?” “I wasn’t, you’re imagining things.” “Mhm, sure you weren’t.” You weren’t buying it, but you knew better than to try Leona at his own game.
♡ Ruggie Bucchi
You had called Ruggie over to help with your laundry offering free food as payment—well who was he to decline right? He knocks on your bedroom door, and when you open it, his gaze instantly drifts downward. Before you can question it, he gently tugs you closer, his hands resting on your hips while he quickly scans the area, a faint blush creeping onto his face. “Hey, your shorts-” He says abruptly as he keeps glancing around. “What about them?” “They’re really short! And—look, they suit you, alright? They look really good on you, but I don’t like the idea of other people starin’ at you weird,” he blurts out, his eyebrows furrowing more with each word as he unconsciously pulls you closer, clearly bothered by the thought.
♡ Cater Diamond
You decided to stay over in Cater’s dorm for a change. He had already noticed the shorts you were wearing earlier but didn’t think much of it—at least, not until morning came. He woke up to you sleeping on your side, one leg stretched long as the other curved at your knees. He wakes up to the sight of you still asleep beside him, lying on your side with one leg stretched out while the other bends slightly. At some point during the night, your shorts had ridden up your thigh just enough to catch his attention, and he can’t help but stare for a moment longer than he should. It takes him a few seconds to snap himself out of it, a warm blush creeping across his face as he quickly looks away. He takes his phone and snaps a few pictures of you sleeping peacefully, the sevens know what he’ll do with those photos later.
♡ Trey Clover
You had agreed to helping Trey with baking, but it seems like you didn’t catch the dress code apparently. You came into Heartslabyul’s kitchen in an oversized t-shirt which was in fact, Treys but he left it in your room so you can’t be blamed—then short shorts to top it off. Hearing your footsteps, Trey turned around, a smile lighting up his face. “Oh, Prefect, perfect timing—” He stops mid-sentence when he takes in your outfit. Quick to react, he drapes an apron over you, stepping close behind you. “I don’t mean any malice, but this school is full of boys, and you know how they can be,” he says, forcing a small smile while his ears turn a bright shade of red.
♡ Azul Ashengrotto
Azul had been buried in work all day, hogged up in the VIP room organizing paperwork, barely sparing you a glance. So, you decide to tempt him. You slipped into your shortest pair of shorts and flopped down on a nearby couch, swinging your legs lazily as you casually watched him do paperwork. After a while, Azul’s patience starts to thin. “Please my pearl, quit with the staring-” he begins, only to freeze mid-sentence when his eyes inadvertently catch your thighs, barely covered by the shorts. You’re sprawled across the couch, legs draped over the armrest, giving him an impossible view. He opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it again a few moments later, adjusting his glasses and letting out a shaky breath in frustration. He returns to his paperwork, but the bright red blush on his face gives away just how flustered he really is.
♡ Jade Leech
You’d spent the night in Jade’s dorm room since it was a weekend anyways, and he had left you in his room to tend to his duties at the Mostro Lounge for a while—stating he’ll be back in a few. Making yourself comfortable, you decided to take a shower and change into something casual—a flimsy tank top and a pair of very short shorts. After an hour or two, Jade returns to find you sprawled across his bed, the shorts fitting you in all the right ways. He pauses for just a few seconds, taking in the sight, before greeting you with his usual calm smile. He acts perfectly normal around you, but the sevens know just how much restraint it took for him to hold back the urge to devour you right then and there.
♡ Floyd Leech
Out of nowhere, Floyd visits you at Ramshackle on a random Saturday. You’re in Ramshackles lounge, sprawled on the couch with a bag of chips in hand, endlessly scrolling through Magicam—when a loud thud startles you. The door had slammed shut behind him, and there he is. Floyd, here to see you. “Shrimpy, where are you?” He coos, as he walks towards the lounge, only to freeze when he spots you in an oversized t-shirt and flimsy shorts. After a brief pause, he strides over, a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Before you can react, he pins you gently against the backrest of the couch. His carefree expression fades into something darker, more predatory. “Don’t tempt me,” he warns, his voice low as his hands rest on your thighs—firm enough for you to feel, but not enough to hurt. Oh may the sevens save you from this man, but you know damn well you’re right where you want to be.
♡ Idia Shroud
Idia had invited you over to defeat a dungeon with him, he didn’t expect you to come so—comfy-looking. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice how short your shorts were, barely covering you from waist down, though he didn’t have the nerve to mention it. As you two played, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your thighs, fumbling through the game more than usual. He wasn’t acting like himself, and it was painfully obvious. “Idia what’s wrong? It’s unusual for you to be, THIS bad.” you say, raising an eyebrow as his blue-flamed hair flickers bright pink. He stammers, struggling to form coherent words. “It’s just… y’know… your shorts—” He stops, the tips of his hair glowing an even brighter pink. After a shaky pause, he continues, voice dropping a little with each word “They… they look good on you. A bit too good, maybe…” Somebody, please, save him from this mess.
♡ Malleus Draconia
You’d stayed the night in Malleus’s dorm, with the flimsy excuse that he couldn’t sleep well without you around—he could sleep well just fine without you. He was just being dramatic. Somehow, you woke up earlier than him, and decided to make the most of the quiet morning. As you brushed your hair in front of the mirror, Malleus quietly approached from behind, his hands resting lightly on your thighs as he toyed with the hem of your shorts. “Good morning, my dear,” he murmured, his chin settling gently on your head. His eyes flicked to your reflection in the mirror, lingering on your thighs for a moment before looking away—though it was clear he wasn’t trying all that hard to hide it.
♡ Lilia Vanrouge
You weren’t expecting anyone today—it was a Sunday, after all. But of course, Lilia just had to disturb your peace one way or another. As you were just waking up and stretching, you’re met with the sight of him upside down, that same infuriating smile plastered on his face. “Good morning,” he teases, flipping upright with ease. “—Lilia! Sevens, you almost gave me a heart attack!” you exclaim, clutching your chest. But Lilia’s attention isn’t on your reaction. His gaze drifts lower, lingering on your thighs, hugged perfectly by your shorts. He stares for a few more moments before meeting your eyes, flashing another mischievous smile. “Though I do think your shorts fit you quite well,I’d prefer you without th-” You cut him off instantly, slapping your hand over his mouth, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “—Lilia!” you shout, as he chuckles muffled against your palm. Gosh, this man.
" WHOOPS, HE STOLE A KISS~ " ― VIL, ROOK, LEONA AND LILIA
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
in which; how each of them would steal a kiss from you~
featuring; vil, rook, leona & lilia x separate fem reader
author's note; i wanted to add more, like jade and possibly malleus...but im too lazy 😔 THROW THE TOMATOES ITS OKAY I CAN TAKE IT no i can't. i might make another part with other characters when i have more motivation...maybe(ꏿ﹏ꏿ;) these were written in my notes, so the grammer will def be ood. started this at three am ahahahah
content; sfw, established relationship, implied female reader, surprised kisses, suggestive themes (mostly in vil's part only cuz im in love with him), unedited writing, grammar mistakes, possibly ooc, teasing, fluff, imagine/scenarios, pardon my french ( literally ! )
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
VIL SCHOENHEIT
you were brought to his dressing room for only a "quick moment" ― which, on your behalf, seemed reasonable. maybe he wanted to speak to you about costume? maybe the script? perhaps he just wanted to compliment you on your work.
and compliment he did, as the next thing you knew you were sitting against his vanity―back to the mirror, hands around the housewardens neck and his hands on your waist like they belonged there.
and according to vil? it's a match made in heaven.
it all happened too fast, you barely remember why he called you in here. one moment led to another, commenting about his makeup and asking you to blend it better―unbelievably foolish of him to think having you this close, in a private room, where your both already sweating due to the stage lights―was a smart move.
you get close to his face with a makeup brush, only getting a few strokes along his cheek in before his lips crash into yours, eyes widen and brush fallen to the floor with a loud thud―vil pushes you against his vanity and lifts you effortlessly ontop. hands respectively cup your ass to set you down comfortably before kissing you again.
it's not gentle, but it's not too rough either. somewhere in between, you couldn't quite put it into words. but you didn't need to, for vil's lips moved with yours as you wrap your arms instinctively around this neck.
with his hands on your waist, moments later he pulls away leaving you both breathless. staring into each other's eyes, you started to giggle.
you reach over to swipe your thumb against his lip, violet lipstick smudged.
"your makeup is ruined..." you pout playfully, cupping his cheeks as he readjusts his hold on you, a hand playing with the back of your hair. "hardly," he mused, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and smirked, "you, my dear, look far more disheveled~"
ROOK HUNT
it was taught a long time ago walks with rook were never expected, something always seemed to turn it around and make it special. it's rook, it's bound to have happened. he compliments you, praises you, pictures multiple different scenarios in his mind which lighting looks better―but will not lie to himself, you look beautiful in any lighting!
your both walking along the pomefiore's garden peacefully, quiet and cozy. You smile at the beautiful flowers that bloomed, rook replying with "you bloom just has beautifully, mon trésor~" leaving you a flustered mess.
as the walk went on, you left watched―turning your head slightly from one of the bushes you are met with rooks eyes staring down yours. as if he's searching for something, was there something on your face?
"rook...why are you staring at me like that?"
the vice-housewarden simply chuckles, stepping past you to pick a rose from the garden, despite you nervous about the fact he picked a fresh flower from the pomefiore garden, your thoughts were flushed away when he suddenly pushed back your hair and gently placed the rose stem behind your hair. moving your hair back into place, he traces a gloved hand along your cheekbones and stares you in the eyes once more.
"there...comme c'est beau~ i was right ... the rose definitely matches your eyes~" he whispered against your skin, hands to your skin and his chest close to yours. if the garden wasn't empty, you would have definitely melted into a mushy puddle right then and there, but his touch held you together―like glue on middle schoolers art project.
before you could respond, his lips ghost against yours, "forgive me," he mummers, ",but i simply must appreciate a discovery this beautiful~ to its fullest."
your brain barely had time to process that sentence before his lips finally met yours. his gloved hand lingers at your jaw, lips soft against yours. it was rough, but warm and deliberate. your eyes shot open, a surprised squeak muffled against his lips as he pulled away moments later, panting softly as his lashes flutter back up at you. "your reaction," he said quietly, almost pleased with himself. "it's just how i imagined in my head, over and over~"
you blushed, "rook! you can't just―" he kissed you again, quicker and more playful this time. "you wish to argue?" he teases, getting closer to your face again, "mon trésor, do you wish i test my theory a second time?"
LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
don't get me wrong, leona likes to hear the sound of your voice. he'd make it his alarm clock if he knew how to do that sort of thing―but that's not the point. the point is...it becomes too much. again, he doesn't hate it .. he just can't focus on your voice when he's trying to take a nap.
underclassmen? annoyed the hell out of him. ruggie? got his lunch order wrong due to being distracted by kalim or one of the freshmen who was also part of the conversation...for some reason. and you? no where to be seen for the whole day, causing him to be in a pissy mood.
he wanted to see you, but couldn't find you. so you know how he'll get...that's right... irritated. just at the fact your not there to be his pillow.
could he have just called you via phone or text? oh, trust me, he did. alas, your phone was on silent since this morning due to studying and sleeping during the night...which leads him to now.
your sitting on his stomach in the humbleness of his own dorm, sunlight peeking through the open spaces and the sheets messy and scrunched under the beastmen. at first, it was quiet. leona already half asleep, would be fully if it wasn't for you and suddenly starting up a conversation.
eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, your smile lines on display for him to adore as you ramble about sevens know what anymore. first it was a movie, then said actor is the movie...then school studies and now you're on about some new dish the mostro lounge announced a few days ago you wanted to check out with him.
"that sounds yummy, huh leona?"
"hm, oh yah..."
you glare at him, pouting to yourself. you just said it came with a side of vegetables...and he agreed? yah, he was barely paying attention.
you simply sigh, unaware of the flick of the princes' tail as you continued talking...and talking...and even more talking.
not even five minutes have gone by and something inside leona snapped.
he snatched your wrist, your eyes dart down with an arched brow. before you could question, leona's lips smash into yours. gently, cutting you off mid-sentence. your eyes widen, cheeks go pink and your body starts to heat up. the kiss wasn't long, just long enough to get your brain buffering so when he pulls back...your speechless.
fills his ego, look what you've done.
"you talk too much..." he states lazily, and honestly...you weren't even in the right mindset anymore to get angry. "kept going on about the same gross meal over and over again...started to actually taste it." oh...so he was listening...
he grins, arm reaching out to wrap around your hips and push you closer to him, "but hey...keep talking though," he rests his forehead against yours, "gives me another reason to shut you up again~"
LILIA VANROUGE
now, who doesn't like a good game of tag~ especially with your favorite fae of them all, lilia vanrouge! it starts with you being in a playful mood, poking at him, ticking his sides and running away quickly after, tugging at his hair tuggs while he's distracted―but we all know he was aware of your antics. this is post-general vanrouge we're talking about, you can't surprise him the way you want to.
which brings you to the present, sneaking down the halls of the diasomnia dorm, anticipating lilias footsteps running behind you at any moment. you look left and right, taking another step forward.
a pause...another step. until you walk normally down the hall, you only make it a few steps before a sudden weight drops itself on your back. you scrambled to forward, a shriek leaving your lungs as you whip around to find lilia staring at you upside down, a happy smile on his face as he laughs.
"fufu~ found you~" he mused, poking your nose as your eyes squint. "you're it! khee he he~"
"you cheated!" you accused the bat immediately, no hesitation.
lilia gasps dramatically, turning right side up as his heels click against the floors.
"me? a cheater?" he placed a hand over his chest, "my dear, i'm wounded!"
you crossed the arms, a small pout on your lips as you retort, "don't you pull that trick on me, you used magic to teleport behind me and find me easily! Also, you're flying!!"
"that is merely a creative strategy, my love~"
"don't baby name me, mister! you and i had a mutual agreement, no magic allowed, it would be a disadvantage for me!"
lilia leaned close, inches away from your face as you glared down at him. "you are quite adorable when your angry...like a little bat learning how to fly~ but never getting that far off the ground~ khee he he!"
your nose scrunched.
"i'm not―"
you didn't realize how close he was in your space, how could he possibly get closer? you blinked, arms still crossed but less tense as you arched a brow at him, "what are you planning?"
"hmm..." he hummed in thought, magenta eyes searching yours intensively, tilting his head as if studying you. you look very vulnerable, right now. Is what he would say if he was dumb enough to out right spoil the fun.
"don't you even try to puppy dog eyes me―"
you barely got your sentence through before lilia's lip met yours, tender and slow. pulling back with a sly smirk and a glimmer in his eyes, you blushed mad. you stared at him, not disgusted...but the audacity to attack you when your guard is down.
scandalous, even for a ex-general!! or...maybe it wasn't, when it comes to lilia.
"you looked so serious with your pouty lips, i thought you were about to combust. fufu~ safe to say, your right as rain, aren't you dear?"
your eyebrow twitched, "you―you can't just―"
mwah.
another kiss. quick. playful, this time.
"aha! there's that look again!" he teases, eyes dark with an evil, playful look when you hide your face in your hands, "your... impossible!" you groaned, voice muffled against your skin.
he merely chuckles at that, "and your reactions are quite entertaining...i might keep you like this for a while~" he kisses you again, fingers interlocking with yours as he dips you low while he levitates up.
you barely made to dinner that night.
end notes; these were gonna be shorter but i got carried away with lilia ahem
SUMMARY: Blame the Unbirthday revelry, the spiked punch, the swirl of sweets and music. Blame your own daring, if you must— But you can’t blame fate when you find yourself tangled in the sheets of the one you secretly longed for all along.
Finals season is close, too close, and the stress piled up over the entire year, stacking arguments, controlled and uncontrolled magic, fights, exams, and practical tests on top of each other, has left everyone’s brains practically melted. The unbirthday party of this day, or rather, this night, pushes aside the comfort zone and Riddle’s beloved (though often questioned) rules and simply… lets itself be felt. Even Crowley pretends not to notice that Heartslabyul is far too alive and awake for this hour, that several dorm mirrors glow constantly as students come and go, drifting in and out of the Queen of Hearts’ dorm.
Candles float above the rose gardens and over your head, music makes the walls tremble, and a dessert table stands proud enough to embarrass most royal banquets, most of the sweets provided by Trey and the Octavinelle staff.
The whole place vibrates with that untamable energy, the complete opposite of what once was the most structured and rigid dorm on campus. Now the aura of the lounge and the rose maze hums faintly dangerous, the kind of thing that happens when you gather a crowd of magically inclined, hormone-fueled students buzzing on caffeine and tell them, “Have fun!... responsibly, please.”
You’re not sure who decided that “responsibly” included spiking the punch, but judging by how Ace guards the bowl like a dragon protecting its treasure, wearing a suspiciously smug grin he shares with Cater, it’s no longer just fruit juice and sugar in there.
“Family tradition,” Ace whispers, pouring the contents of a flask into the bowl. Judging by the amber liquid with bright undertones, it’s probably not something that should be on campus.
Deuce trails behind him, muttering something about decency and morning-after regret, while the rest of the crowd already lines up for a taste. Even Jade watches the punch as if he’s about to inspect it in a laboratory. Meanwhile, Kalim dumps, again, maybe for the second or third time? A bag full of sweets and chocolates straight from his homeland onto the dessert table because, in his words, “everything tastes better when chaos is shared.”
You know you should pace yourself, but there’s something about the way the punch glows under the colored lights, mingling with the scent of roses from the maze, the rich, indescribable fillings of chocolates from the Scalding Sands, and the way the air hums with anticipation that makes you feel euphoric just by breathing. One glass becomes two, then three. You lose count of how many times you laugh until your sides ache, or how many times you feel an arm draped around your shoulders.
You see Floyd dragging people into a conga line that ends with someone accidentally knocking over a lamp and Riddle shouting at the next person in sight. Jade and Azul pretend to “sample” desserts, only to linger near the table and overhear the arguments and troubles of potential new unfortunate souls.
A hand grabs your wrist to pull you onto the improvised dance floor: was it Epel? Or maybe it was Ruggie before he taught you that wild Savanaclaw-style drinking song?
You remember Cater snapping an immeasurable amount of photos, surely for Magicam; or perhaps, in the darker corner of your mind, to stockpile enough blackmail material to make even Azul blush.
From the lounge window, you can see Lilia floating over the rose bushes, plucking roses to assemble a suspiciously beautiful bouquet, mixing red and white. A moment later, he sweeps inside and scatters them everywhere, like confetti made of nature itself.
Everything is too bright, too warm, spinning slightly off-axis. Someone brushes your rebellious hair away from your face, their thumb lingering a second too long against your cheek. You feel a body press behind you, bold hands resting on your hips, the brush of lips against your ear whispering words that make your heart race. The party fades into the background, dissolving into murmurs as you slip away with that person down a dim hallway, stumbling over your own feet, more intoxicated by touch than by alcohol.
The small details stay on your mind and on your skin: a door closing behind you, laughter turning into something softer, slower, more dangerous. The taste of something sweet on your lips before being coaxed onto your tongue; the sensation of arms boxing you in, a faint scratch trailing down your back, the way your body arches toward that contact almost automatically. A gasp, a shiver, the delicious ache of desire.
The night dissolves into fragmented images: a moan—yours or theirs—muffled laughter against your collarbone, cool air on overheated skin, need melting into satisfaction. Words are whispered, some too soft to understand, others too bold to repeat in the daylight.
And then… nothing.
Morning arrives with a pounding headache. You can’t even open your eyes because the sun—so warm and ever-present, usually there to comfort and burn in equal measure—is now your natural enemy. Your body feels heavy and sore in places you didn’t even know existed, and trying to move is like trying to shift a boulder. Your legs are jelly, and there’s a sweet, buzzing sensation between them.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
Riddle
It’s the annoying knocking against the door that wakes you, not the pounding in your head, although that is definitely there, and with every knock, knock, knock the pain increases.
You don’t want to get out of bed, but the more the knocking continues, the more your head throbs. You groan in frustration and roll over in bed, every muscle sore, your skin tingling from somewhere deep in your bones. You force yourself to get up, eyes squeezed shut against the sunlight.
Your feet touch the cold, hard floor and, with the muscle memory of a half-asleep zombie, you shuffle forward. You slam your shin hard against a heavy piece of furniture...a piece you don’t remember being there. “Fuck!” you hiss, hopping forward, and your foot lands on something soft and suspiciously like clothing.
…weird.
You keep walking with your eyes closed and reach the door still wrapped in a fog of sleep. You try to find the doorknob, which you’ve opened thousands of times in a dreamlike state, except today it’s strangely difficult to locate. The knocking continues.
You open the door, squinting, and find Trey standing there, perplexed, his eyes trailing down your body before quickly snapping upward toward the ceiling.
Why? Simple… because you’re naked from head to toe.
Wait… this isn’t your dorm, this isn’t your furniture, this isn’t your door…
You’re in one of Heartslabyul’s many gravity-defying hallways.
You look down and notice your nudity and do what any rational person would do… you shriek and slam the door in his face. You step back, tripping over a bundle of red and white clothing scattered together with pieces of your uniform.
The memories hit you like a bucket of cold water: Riddle’s cheeks slightly flushed, already affected by the punch, his lips swollen from kissing you so much, stammering your name in the middle of the crowd.
His nervous, sweaty hands when you led him upstairs to his room during the party, both of you slipping away from the others’ vulture-like gazes. Ace shouting in the background that Riddle was finally going to “get his dick wet” The forbidden thrill when he whispered as you reached his room, “This breaks several rules…” only to pull you closer and kiss you with intensity and nerves.
The way his fingers trembled when he touched you, soft but urgent, as if memorizing every curve, as if you were a new book he was desperate to dive into, his breathing shaky as he undressed you.
The scent of freshly cut roses and strawberries on his skin when you leaned down to kiss him again and again and again, trailing from his sweet, soft lips to his neck, collarbone, and chest.
His eyes widening when you straddled him, brushing your wet folds against his half-hard cock. The back-and-forth motion, rubbing your clit against him, letting your slick coat him and grow harder against you.
“Let me take care of you, Riddle,” you whispered before taking his cock in your hand and guiding it to your entrance, sliding down slowly; his body rigid, unsure where to place his hands, losing control as pleasure pushed him beyond every rule and ounce of self-control.
You remember taking his hands in yours and placing them on your breasts, teaching him how to touch you, massage you, even pinch your nipples. Your movements starting slow, but with every moan, yours and Riddle’s, turning into desperate bounces, feeling your spongy walls tighten around him more and more.
Fragments of his choked voice, nearly pleading, “Don’t stop… don’t… please, don’t stop,” his tone thick with desire and a hint of shame, biting his lips when you moaned too loudly, as if afraid of being heard but unable to ask you to quiet down. Your clit constantly rubbing against his pelvis, making you see stars as you cum around him with Riddle’s name on your lips.
His hands, now free from yours, still uncertainly massaging one breast while the other gripped your thigh, moving you harder and more desperately; his cock finishing inside you after a few more thrusts, filling you with him. “No… I’m not finished with you,” his words dissolving into a soft groan before flipping you onto your back and hovering above you.
His desperate mouth seeking yours, sloppy, clumsy kisses, his body pressed against yours as he started another round, messier, letting his semen spill from your cunt and soak his sheets.
The memory of his face afterward, undone and exhausted, eyes shining with satisfaction; his soft voice whispering against your hair, “I’ve never… felt something so delicious,” gently stroking your cheek with fingers still damp with your slick.
Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest.
Fuck… FUCK!
On the bed, covering his “indecencies,” sits Riddle, hair messy, mouth hanging open as if it might hit the floor. His eyes trail over your body, his face turning red, pale for a second, then red again… much redder.
“You just… opened the door? Like that?” His face matches his hair, arguably even redder.
He clutches the sheets, pulling them up to his chin with both hands, eyes now fixed on the ceiling, on his books, anywhere but your body out of mortification.
You, meanwhile, cover your face with both hands. “I just exposed myself in front of Trey!!… oh fucking hell.”
A muffled sound escapes Riddle’s lips… followed by a small laugh, very unlike him. You peek through your fingers; his blush spreads down his neck, his shoulders trembling slightly with laughter.
He seems… lighter… a little shy.
“You’re not… upset? Oh… well, upset might not be the right word.” If you start rambling, this won’t end well. “…What I mean is… did we do something you’re not happy or comfortable with?”
Please say no, please say no, please!!!
“Upset? No… I don’t think so.” Riddle is so shy he can barely meet your eyes. “Embarrassed, yes. Very… too much.” There’s a small pause that eats at you from the inside. “But I don’t regret anything.”
OH THANK SEVENS!!!
A wave of warmth rushes through you. Despite the humiliation, the chaos, there’s something strangely thrilling about waking up beside Riddle, seeing the strict prefect undone, hair messy, eyes soft just for you. You climb back into bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin and settling beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling your pulse pounding in your throat.
“We’ll have to face Trey at some point.”
Riddle smiles and runs a hand over your hip.
“Yes, but perhaps… not yet.”
Floyd
Your head is a mess of fog and sharp pain, your body heavy with sweet exhaustion and tingling vibrations. You’re tangled in something soft; sheets, maybe. All you know is that you’re far too warm and every muscle feels deliciously worn out.
You try to move, but your legs are firmly trapped, wrapped and knotted in the sheets as if you’d fought a kraken in your sleep. You struggle to free yourself, throwing an arm toward the edge of the bed for support. You grab something solid and pull… and suddenly you’re on the floor.
The world spins, your shoulder slams against the ground, and a dead weight collapses on top of you, knocking the air out of your lungs.
You squeeze your eyes shut, too stunned to process the impact and the weight pressing down. A rough, sleepy, almost dangerous, growl reaches your ears, and you freeze. A hand plants itself beside your head, warm breath brushing your cheek.
Floyd is sprawled on top of you, one knee between your thighs, heavy and naked… oh sevens, he’s really naked.
And he is very, very close.
His eyes are half-lidded, sharp teeth peeking through a slowly spreading, wicked smile. “Heeey ~ Shrimpy~”
His husky voice sends a current down your spine, igniting places it shouldn’t. He shifts, pressing you harder into the floor, and you glance down to where his knee presses, realizing you’re just as naked as he is.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.
Floyd is on top of me. Floyd is naked. I’M GOING TO DIE.
SHIT!!!
“Hehe, you’re so cute when you’re scared.”
He leans down, rubbing his nose against your cheek, his hair falling over your face. You try to squirm, the sheets still tangled around your legs. “Floyd, get off—”
“Nah, you should’ve stayed in bed, Shrimpy~”
You’re painfully aware of every place your bodies touch: his hot skin, his muscles shifting as he stretches a little more over you, the sweet scent still lingering on his lips.
Your mind spins as blurry, burning memories resurface: Floyd dragging you away from the chaos of the party, his arm over your shoulders. “The party’s boring, let’s make our own.”
His kisses tasting like peppered chocolate, his teeth biting until you gasped, his laughter vibrating as he pushed you against the wall, taking you farther and farther and farther until your body ended up shoved toward a pool.
You resurfaced, gasping for air; Floyd diving in after you, his greedy, skilled hands catching you underwater, leaving you unable to move. His teeth sinking into your thigh, making you moan and writhe.
Floyd not stopping at one bite, peeling your soaked clothes from your skin with clumsy speed; every exposed patch of skin marked: inner thighs, collarbone, lower back, the curves of your ass. “You like it when I bite you, huh? Look at how your body trembles”
You remember his fingers finding your clit easily, his legs spreading yours, keeping you open for him. His lips, teeth, and tongue playing with your neck, sometimes kissing your pulse, other times biting until you whimpered.
The water and reflected light leaving your breasts on display, capturing your nipples in his mouth while he slid two fingers inside your cunt; just as you were about to cum, he stopped you with a hand at your throat while his fingers kept thrusting hard and fast. “Not yet, Shrimpy. I want to see you cry for it”
Floyd’s hips slamming into you the second he penetrated you, not letting you adjust properly. Sometimes he thrust so hard water splashed everywhere, other times he’d stop abruptly just to watch you, toying with your bruised nipples until you begged. “Floyd! Please… k-keep going!”
“Ask me better, Shrimpy, or I’ll twist your nipples until you cum from overstimulation,” resuming his movements painfully slow until tears ran down your face, mixing with the pool water; your pleas growing louder, shouting dirtier obscenities without shame.
“Please, please! Floyd!! Faster, I need you to move your cock faster! Deeper—play with my nipples if you want, but MOVE!” your hips grinding with his, trying to rub your clit against him; his hands gripping your hips hard and moving you with incredible strength.
The orgasm hitting like a blow, trembling from sheer excess; him not stopping, riding the wave with you, spreading your legs wider and thrusting deeper, his fingers playing with your clit before slipping two—maybe three—inside your wet cunt.
At some point in the night, ending up in his room, droplets of water trailing down your body while Floyd made you sit on him, lifting your hips easily, squeezing your thighs, your ass, smacking it; making you bounce on his cock at his rhythm, occasionally changing speed, laughing if you cried or moaned too loudly. “Does it hurt or do you like it, my little Shrimpy? I won’t spill inside until I break you.”
Back in the present, his smile sharpens even more—if that’s possible—while he studies your face from above. “You look dizzy, little Shrimpy.”
You squirm, half terrified, half something entirely different while his knee remains between your legs. You try to slide away across the floor, but Floyd won’t have it; he pins your hands on either side of your head, sliding his knee higher until it rests against your wet lips.
“You’re very tasty, hehe~ So messy, so mine… maybe we should stay like this all day.”
Your heart pounds, adrenaline buzzing, but your body shudders at his words, your wetness dampening his leg.
“Floyd…”
“Aww, don’t get shy now. Let me hear you beg again…”
Vil
You wake wrapped in a cocoon of silk, the light filtering in soft and golden through elegant curtains that definitely do not belong to your dorm room. There’s a sweet scent, like wild violets and expensive perfume… very expensive. Everything feels like a dream—the sheets perfectly folded, the sunlight gleaming over the wood, the sound of someone humming in the distance, a steady, low melody that is both comforting and majestic.
And the moment you move, that perfection collapses, because your entire body aches in the most deliciously possible… and mortifying way.
You shift a little more, settling into those noticeably expensive and sinfully soft sheets, and notice warm skin against other warm skin… yours; fingers tracing your hip and sliding up along your sides, the sensation relaxing yet faintly ticklish.
You open one eye and Vil gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen him offer anyone. Radiant even in the morning, his hair spread across the pillow like a golden cloud, every perfect inch of him serene beneath the pleasant (and detestable to the eyes) sunlight.
Your heart nearly stops… how did a mere mortal like you achieve this? How did you end up in Vil Schoenheit’s bed?
“Good morning, Liebling.” Can someone’s voice truly sound velvety at this hour? Apparently his can. “Did you sleep well?”
You try to speak, but all that escapes your dry, over-kissed lips is an embarrassed sound. His, meanwhile, remain immaculate, curving further into a private smile just for you. He sits up and the sheets fall enough to gift you the sight of the delicate lines of his chest and shoulders.
Even after a wild party, he looks almost untouched, glowing under the soft light. You, on the other hand, feel disheveled, painfully aware of your state: smeared makeup, tangled hair, and a bewildered expression.
Vil brushes a strand from your face. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, darling. In fact…” He leans closer, stroking your cheek with his fingertips. “You’re dazzling like this… honest, real.”
Your cheeks burn as fragments of the previous night spiral back: his long, slender hands guiding you away from the chaos into a secluded room, the world fading as he tucked a rebellious strand behind your ear. “May I?” His kiss, light at first like the touch of a feather, then deepening until you melted in his arms.
You remember his skilled hands exploring every part of you, undoing button after button, exposing you freely before him. His fingers making you feel beautiful and desired, even as you stammered and trembled beneath their heat. His lips mapping every inch of revealed skin, describing what he found beautiful in each place.
The intensity of his focus, his eyes locked on yours while he drew every sound from your lips, making you feel like the center of his universe; his tongue on your neck, descending to your chest, tracing you with slow, controlled movements, his hand on your throat to keep you still as he circled a nipple with his tongue and captured it between his lips.
“Don’t move… I want to see you perfect, even undone,” his authoritative voice in a soft whisper as he moved lower and lower, across your stomach and abdomen until reaching your obscenely wet cunt, giving it a lick that left his mouth slick and stained.
The way he held your hips while thrusting into you from behind, in front of his massive mirror. You felt his cock sliding into you again and again and again, his hips striking your ass, admiring how it bounced against him. One hand pinning both of yours behind your back, the other gripping your hair, pulling your head back so you could see yourself in the reflection.
Your moans filling the room as he began to fuck you harder, your body pressed tighter to the mirror, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, barely holding yourself upright, tears filling your eyes as you met his gaze in the glass.
The ease with which he turned you, lifting one leg over his hip, pressing your ass against the mirror—surely leaving a sweat mark—and pushing harder and deeper. “You are a beautiful mess.”
The way he denied you over and over, promising that when he finally allowed you at the end of the night it would be the strongest, most powerful thing you’d ever feel. And it was; one final burst and the orgasm exploded between you, making you tremble from head to toe for several seconds while you felt him finish inside your tight walls, drawing even more spasms from you.
You remember how Vil cleaned you with care, combing your hair with his fingers. “You are the most beautiful of all sins.”
Intense doesn’t even come close to describing the blush that so beautifully paints not only your cheeks but your entire body.
“Are you regretting it?” The softness of the question strikes your heart like an arrow, squeezing so tightly it almost hurts.
“No! No, no… not at all.”
Ahhhh, how could anyone regret sharing sheets with Vil?
“It’s just that… how? Why?” You don’t finish the sentence, but the questions linger: how did you manage this? Why you among so many other marvels?
Vil lifts your chin with his finger and makes you look at him, no trace of harshness in his expression, only tenderness. “Is it so hard to believe that I desired you as well?”
Direct and sincere.
Vil leans in and kisses your lips slowly and sensually, then your cheeks and your bare shoulders. He draws you closer, his hand resting on your lower back, his perfume flooding your senses once more.
Wild violets, mixed with chocolate, sweat, and sex. “I want you like this, without filters.”
Vil rises to put on his splendid silk robe, intent on bringing something fresh for you both to eat and something for your headache, leaving you alone for a moment tangled in his sheets and his bed…
Was the bed always this big?
Rook
You open your eyes slowly, breathing in the sweet scent of wildflowers and fresh grass, the room dimly lit enough that you can open your eyes a bit more without your head hurting too much.
The sheets cover you like a soft mantle, brushing against sore muscles you didn’t even know could ache. Out of the corner of your eye you notice a patch of blond hair very close.
…That same patch is staring at you.
Intently.
Rook is lying beside you, propped on his elbows, eyes shining in the faint morning light, wearing a wide smile that is as beautiful as it is slightly unsettling. One hand rests on your abdomen, his thumb tracing distracted circles over marked skin.
Naked skin, to be clear.
You look where he’s touching you, look at his bare arm, and follow upward… higher and higher…
Rook is naked too.
“Bonjour, mon trésor…” His voice this early still sounds just as melodic and bright… though a little reverent and husky.
“What a spectacle, the dawn upon your bare skin. Ah, what art we created, what music your cries composed.”
“My… my cries?”
“Oui! A splendid ballad after such a feverish hunt.”
You jolt, and the ache between your legs makes your memory return in flashes: walking through Heartslabyul’s rose maze when you felt a presence behind you, tall, dense, and very, very hungry; Rook’s breath against your neck, his hands barely brushing your throat and waist. A hunter about to chase his prey.
“Mon petite proie, let me hunt you properly” The game of hunter and mouse through the immaculate rose bushes, past mirrors and through the exquisite halls of Pomefiore, until Rook caught you, pinning you against the wall and devouring your mouth.
His lips on your neck, his hands on your hips, unbuttoning your shirt, your pants, leaving a trail of clothing on the floor until reaching his room. How those clothes reached his bedroom floor unseen by other students? You couldn’t care less, not when his fingers slipped inside your cunt to curl and strike your sensitive spot.
His tongue licking and moving in small circles over your clit, fingers curving, sliding out and back in, in a delicious rhythm. Your own hand in his golden hair, pulling him closer. “Keep going… yes, yes, like that, don’t stop” Rook moaned hearing you so needy for him.
His expert fingers never leaving your pussy, carrying you to pleasure again and again and again. Maybe he made you cum three times, or was it five? Maybe he drew micro-orgasms from you with only his fingers and tongue.
You remember being arranged on your side, one leg lifted and draped over his shoulder, him savoring the feel of your thigh, your abdomen, your belly. Rook sliding slowly, the tip of his cock opening you inch by inch, your spongy walls already soaked yet tightening deliciously around him.
“Mon trésor, you are the perfect image of desire… let me admire your beauty as I make you mine,” the beginning of a slow, unhurried rhythm, admiring how your body moved with each thrust of his hips; your hand over his where he held your leg, your breasts moving freely, your eyes meeting his as the frenzy gradually intensified.
The way Rook moaned as much as, or more than you, describing how beautiful and “alive” you looked while sinking inside you, his thumb pressing against your clit so your walls would tighten more around him.
Your back against his chest when he made you kneel before him, one hand on your hip, the other moving your hair aside to kiss your spine before penetrating you from behind again. Your ass moving with each thrust, deliciously round and perfect for his hands. “Let me hear my muse scream”
The strong orgasm around his cock, held firmly, Rook deep inside you, restraining himself from finishing at that very moment; he wanted to enjoy you more, if possible, for the rest of the night; moving again once your wave ended, harder and deeper, using your breasts as leverage.
The heat of his semen when he spilled inside you, biting your neck and shoulders. “I want to adore you more, ma chérie, until I lose myself completely in your body”
A second, third, even a fourth round, all ending the same way: with Rook deep inside you, his seed spilled within and sliding down beneath your legs to the sheets.
The lascivious memories still swirl in your mind as you glance down at your body; a map of devotion, dotted with small bruises (surely from his fingers gripping you tightly while thrusting), bite marks, and the occasional hickey.
And also a lipstick mark on your thigh and hip.
Oh. Shit.
“Rook… did we… actually fuck?”
“Oui, ma chérie.” His laugh purrs beside your ear.
You try to cover yourself with the sheets, but Rook is already kissing your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone again. Slowly he finds your fingers, intertwining them with his.
“Never have I contemplated a beauty so sublime, so wild beneath me, crying out my name with every climax”
His breath brushes your skin and you shiver, a strange mix of vertigo and desire coiling in your abdomen. Rook pulls you even closer, his thigh sliding between yours. His kisses are more reverent, almost devout.
“I wish to hunt you again, every night, mon trésor,” he promises, fierce and determined, before pressing his lips to yours.
Malleus
The air is dense, the scent of rain and something sweetly electric wrapping around you. The headache feels like a minor nuisance at the back of your skull, as if the world itself were lulling you to calm down and keep resting. Immersed in that blessing, you let yourself float, feeling the aftershocks still running through your bones, the lazy ache in your thighs.
You shift between impossibly fine sheets… very elegant to the touch… cool and soft…
Okay, you’re not in your dorm
You open one eye, then the other. Dark, baroque furniture greets you. Definitely… this is not your bed.
You look down to where you feel a heavy weight, inhumanly heavy, resting over your abdomen. Long fingers, nails slightly elongated and black, belonging to Malleus’ arm and shoulder behind you.
His hair is messy and wild over that same bare shoulder, barely pushed back to reveal the scales on his forehead. Your gaze trails lower; his chest is bare, and the sheets cover just enough over both hips. Carefully, you lift them slightly and steal a furtive glance beneath, heart racing.
Ditto, you’re naked and so is he…
You blink.
That… can’t be.
You lower the sheets for a moment, close and open your eyes a few times. You lift them again and that, or rather those, are still there.
Between Malleus’ thighs, framed by the sculpted, pale lines of his hips, rest two semi-thick, awakened cocks against his abdomen. You stare at them, unable to process.
Holy shit. He has two…
HE HAS TWO AND THEY’RE HUGE!
Is this another dragon fae trait?
A nervous little sound slips from you, barely a small whimper, honestly a bit embarrassing, and Malleus’ eyes open slightly, narrowing, a nearly mischievous smile curving his lips. “Is something the matter, my treasure?”
My treasure…
The mental fog clears and the images of last night strike you like lightning: Malleus whispering things in your ear in the middle of the crowd that had nothing to do with the party, words you didn’t even know he knew, sweet and scandalously explicit. His large, calloused hand over yours as he guided you through the halls of Diasomnia to his own room.
Both hands roaming over your body, his claws tracing lines along your hips and waist. His figure over yours made you feel so much smaller, so tiny that when he placed a leg between yours he lifted you from the floor effortlessly. His palms on your hips as he rocked you over his thigh, your covered cunt already beginning to soak.
The way he prepared you with his fingers, long and cool, sinking deep, moving in and out, curling to find your most sensitive spot and stimulate it quickly and firmly. Your legs spread, one of his hands holding one up so you couldn’t close them while he ran his tongue over your clit.
That same forked tongue sliding along your wet folds, curling as if it had a life of its own, much longer than any human’s. The combination of his wet length and fingers made you cum with his face buried between your legs, your hand gripping his hair to make him suck harder.
And still he continued; opening you more and more, one orgasm after another after another until you could no longer feel your legs.
You remember the first time you touched one of his cocks: so large, fully awake, thick and ready to enter your small cunt. You couldn’t even close your hand around it, stroking and pumping with difficulty. His groan when you tried to go faster, using both hands, the second cock free and resting against your thigh.
“So small and yet willing to take me whole, even while trembling” his words filled with adoration but tinged with filth. His large hands spreading your legs and the tip of one cock brushing your pussy.
The way he folded you in half, placing your legs over his shoulders and impaling you deep, inch by inch. You were so, so full you could barely breathe, his chest so close to yours. “I want you to see… I want you to see how deeply you take me”
His movements confident and sensual at first, slicking his cock with each thrust, your cunt spasming as you felt the ridges rubbing against your spongy walls.
The second pushing in slower, making you scream in pleasure, completely open, dripping and barely able to move or form words. “T’ much… Fuck! That’s too much, Malleus!”
“Like this, my treasure, let me fill you,” Malleus thrusting deep, both cocks striking everywhere, the exquisite pressure and stretch sending shocks through your abdomen. You could only moan and cry his name over and over.
Malleus pressing you into the mattress to take him even deeper, placing you in a mating press that made the angle deliciously intense. His tips kissing your cervix, you could swear you felt them push past when he delivered a devastating thrust that made you cum instantly.
The sensation of overwhelming heat and overflow when he spilled his seed inside you, both cocks pouring semen in uncontrolled, inhuman amounts, sliding from your pussy and pooling on the bed.
Being fucked not only in bed but lifted against the wall, your legs barely wrapped around him as he held you effortlessly, slamming you harder into the cold stone with each thrust. Your breasts pressed against his chest, hands gripping his shoulders, gaze unfocused.
“No one will fill you like I do, my treasure,” he whispered in your ear, finishing for who knows what time. “I won’t stop until you’re completely full.”
Where the hell did he learn all that?
You blame Lilia. Yes, definitely him.
Slowly, very slowly, you sit up, lascivious thoughts still circling in your mind, unable to process. You pull the sheet up to your chest.
Malleus extends a hand and strokes your back, a shiver running down your spine. “Did you sleep well?” You can only nod, your cheeks ready to ignite.
I don’t know how I’m going to sleep again after this.
“My little one, you seem somewhat… distracted. Do you feel unwell?”
Damn it, this man is going to make me explode!!
“Malleus… you…” how do you even say this? “You… you have… two.” You even lift two fingers for emphasis...
THIS MAN HAS TWO HUGE COCKS THAT REARRANGED YOUR INSIDES.
“Ah, so that is what occupies your mind.” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. He shifts, letting the sheet fall from his hips, fully revealing his magnificence; impossible not to look.
“I hope I did not cause you harm, though I could feel you enjoyed it all night. And again, just before dawn.”
He leans down and brushes your mouth, soft at first, then deeper, more demanding; his tongue teasing, tasting, swallowing a moan before it escapes.
“Are you in need of anything? Water, a bath, tea to ease your soreness?”
You cling to him, still clutching the sheet to your chest, the scent of his body intoxicatingly close. “I need… a minute… maybe two.”
He releases a playful chuckle. “Take all the time you need, my treasure. I am very patient. And very, very eager.”
He wraps you in his arms, pulling you against his chest; for now you simply breathe, letting him hold you… until you feel his lengths pressing against your stomach.
Lilia
The hammering of your heart against your chest is what wakes you. Your body aches with a dull sensation in every muscle, your head feels ready to explode, and there’s a vague sense of having survived a natural disaster… or perhaps having caused one. Your skin tingles, sensitive and overstimulated, as if you’d been struck by lightning and put back together...more than once.
The sheets smell of night-blooming flowers and something sweet and smoky that makes you dizzy, too luxurious and heavy yet somehow light at the same time. You try to move, but a warm, inhumanly strong weight holds you with predatory ease.
Something brushes your leg—skin, warm and sensitive.
A foot? A leg?
You feel a hand, nails, grazing your inner thigh; it tickles until you sense where it’s headed, up, up and up, almost reaching your pulsing, expectant center.
Your eyes snap open, the world still blurry, the faint light slipping through the curtains making you squeeze them shut again as you inhale sharply against the pain.
“Oh, you’re awake already~ Good morning, darling.”
When you open them again, Lilia’s crimson eyes gleam in the dimness, a wide and dangerously playful smile on his face.
You jolt upright halfway...on a bed that isn’t yours, in a room that isn’t yours, and in nonexistent clothing.
Wrong pillow, wrong bed, dark decor, naked…
NAKED!
You look down, your body scandalously covered in marks: hickeys, finger bruises, scratches…
Is that a bite on your thigh?
Another one almost beside your pussy?
Lilia shifts, just as naked as you, resting on his side with his chin in his hand, eyes sparkling with amusement; as if the night hadn’t left him tired or hungover in the way mortals usually are.
He looks… energized.
“What… did we do last night?” your voice comes out hoarse, mouth stiff.
“I think the correct question is what didn’t we do last night, little one.”
…what?
“You don’t remember?” His hand is only an inch away from your wet folds and his body barely brushing yours.
Memories arrive in bursts: Lilia hovering over you, playing with your hair before descending to grab your hand and pull you away from the party, his laughter making your whole body vibrate. The heat of his mouth on your neck, his fangs grazing your pulse and a small bite on your collarbone.
His hands everywhere: soft and careful yet wild and playful, always one step ahead, drawing small moans and sighs from you each time his fingertips traced your bare skin.
The vertigo of being lifted as if you weighed nothing and tossed onto the bed. His laugh at your little yelp when you were airborne for a second before he captured your lips again in a passionate, hard, deep kiss; his tongue playing with yours while his hands roamed your sides.
The glint in his eyes when he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand while the other stimulated your clit, slow circular motions as he watched your face reflect pleasure and hunger for more. His laugh against your neck when he slid a finger between your wet pussy. “You’re so soaked and I barely touched you.”
A muffled gasp when he pushed in a second finger, then a third, his thumb following to claim your clit, sometimes pressing, other times moving fast and cruel or slow and careless. Your legs trembling, wanting to cum, but Lilia not letting you until your fluids stained the sheet and left your thighs slick and sticky.
His cock, hard from watching you writhe and hearing your sweet moans, sliding between your breasts, his hands squeezing them firmly so he could glide and feel their softness envelop him; the tip brushing your lips. “Come on, little one, open for me.” Lilia gripping your head to tilt you forward so your lips barely kissed and sucked him.
You remember the heat of his semen when it shot onto your face, other streams into your open mouth, landing on your tongue; droplets splattered over your breasts, Lilia spreading them with his hands, coating your skin before pushing his fingers back into your already oversensitive cunt.
You remember how he gripped both your thighs, placing them over his hips to thrust into you again and again and again, his cock reaching deeper than you thought possible, your spongy walls tightening around him. His hand between your legs to keep stimulating you until you cum around him.
The force with which he flipped you over, belly down, lifting your ass and penetrating you again, your face pressed into the pillow; Lilia going so deep and fast it felt like he was stealing the air from your lungs.
The moment he spilled inside you, but it wasn’t enough. Lilia kept fucking you, your walls making obscene sounds, both your fluids running down your open legs. He didn’t take you once or twice or three times—he took you on every surface that could hold you: the bed, the desk, against the window, on the floor.
“So small… and yet you take me so well. Want more, sweetness? Want me to fill you so completely you’ll feel me for days?” His words grew dirtier with each new round. Your cunt no longer just wet and oversensitive but red and raw from overuse, every touch making you scream, tears in your eyes as you experienced what must have been the tenth orgasm of the night.
The end: your body exhausted, trembling, covered in marks, tongue sore, legs spread and your pussy burning from delicious abuse. Lilia licking your tears and sweat with fierce tenderness. “You’d better rest, little one, because you’ve become my favorite dessert… and I very much intend to have seconds.”
Holy hell
It’s like you ascended and saw God in person.
You pull the sheets to your chin, completely red from head to toe. Lilia’s smile widens, fangs fully on display. “Embarrassed now, my little one? After everything last night… how adorable~”
This old man really knows how to move.
“You were insatiable. It’s been a long time since I’ve had that much fun.” He moves closer, his fingers playing with your wet lips.
“Did you… actually… fuck me like that?”
A sincere laugh escapes him and he kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth; when his fangs brush your neck again, an electric tremor runs down your spine.
What better moment to slide his fingers back inside you, hm?
“Don’t pout, darling, I’m not done savoring you yet~”
It goes without saying that, for Lilia, the morning sun simply means round… two?
You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie
Other Parts: Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo
Trey Clover
The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.
You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.
So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.
Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.
You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.
Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.
“Come back to bed.”
You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”
A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.
But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.
“Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”
You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”
He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.
And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,
“Come back to bed?”
This time, you didn’t hesitate.
You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”
Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.
“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”
And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.
Ruggie Bucchi
The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.
Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—
“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.
You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”
“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”
You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”
“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”
You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.
He hit you with the look.
Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.
You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”
He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.
And that? That got you.
With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.
“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.
“Shut up.”
His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—
“Sorry.”
Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”
Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.
Jade Leech
The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.
“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.
Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.
Your breath caught, but you kept still.
Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—
“…I’m so sorry.”
The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.
Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.
He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.
But your bleeding heart had other plans.
Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.
He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.
And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.
Jade froze.
“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”
For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.
“…Very well,” he whispered.
His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.
The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.
“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.
You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”
“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.
For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you—both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.
A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.
“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.
He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”
You grinned. “Bed?”
Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”
The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.
“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.
His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”
Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.
Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.
You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.
Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.
You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.
Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.
You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”
“Oui, mon amour?”
“You’re on the floor.”
“Indeed.”
“You’re going to get sick.”
“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”
You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”
“I am in bed.”
“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”
“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”
You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.
Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.
“Come to bed, you idiot.”
His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.
“Rook—?!?”
“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.
You should have expected nothing less.
You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you adore me.”
You couldn’t argue with that.
Lilia Vanrouge
You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.
You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—
Blink.
One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.
You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.
“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.
“Yes, my dear?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?”
A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”
Oh, you were about to start another argument—
But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.
You frowned. “What are you doing?”
Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”
You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”
“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”
You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.
With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.
His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”
You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”
His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.
The kitchen smelled like vanilla, warm butter, and fresh strawberries, the usual peaceful Saturday afternoon baking session. Trey had his sleeves rolled up, apron dusted with flour. His son sat on a tall stool nearby, little legs swinging back and forth as he watched his father work. But the boy’s mind was clearly elsewhere. He kept glancing toward the doorway that led to the living room, where you were currently resting on the couch with a pillow behind your back.
Trey noticed the distraction and smiled softly, wiping his hands in a towel. “What’s on your mind, buddy? You’ve been quiet today.”
The little boy looked up at him with serious eyes. “Daddy, you have to stop feeding Mommy so many sweets.”
Trey raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And why’s that?”
“Because her belly is getting really huge!” the boy said matter of factly. “and she keeps saying her back hurts. If you keep giving her cake and tarts, she’s gonna get even bigger!”
Trey let out a warm, fond laugh that filled the kitchen. He set the bowl down and crouched slightly so he was closer to his son eye level. “That’s not because of the sweets, kiddo. Mommy’s belly is big because your little sister is growing in there.”
The boy’s eyes widened in pure horror. “Mommy ate my future sister?!”
Trey had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing too hard. He reached out and gently ruffled his son’s hair. “No, no. She didn’t eat her. That’s not how it works.”
The boy tilted his head, clearly confused but now intensely curious. “Then… how did the baby get in there?”
Trey froze for a second.
Ah. The Question.
He had known this day would come eventually. He thought for a long moment, trying to find an explanation that was gentle enough for a child, and wouldn’t get him in trouble with you later for oversharing. Finally, he smiled that calm, reliable dad smile and went with what he knew best.
“It’s kind of like baking.” Trey explained. “When two people love each other very much, like Mommy and I do, they put all their love together, along with some special ingredients. It makes a kind of dough. Then they carefully shape that dough with lots of care and warmth. And after a long time of ‘baking’… a baby comes out, all ready and perfect.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled with sudden understanding. “So… it’s like making a gingerbread man?”
Trey nodded, relieved. “Exactly like that. Except way more special. And instead of cookies, you get a little sister.”
The boy thought about it for a second, then grinned brightly. “Can we make gingerbread men right now? With buttons and everything? I want to make one for my baby sister!”
Trey chuckled and stood up, already reaching for the cookie cutters. “Sure thing. But we have to save some dough for Mommy too. She’s been craving sweets even more lately.”
As father and son started rolling out fresh gingerbread dough together, the dangerous question was successfully avoided. Trey made a mental note to thank the Seven that his son was still young enough to be distracted by baked goods.
Later that evening, when you walked into the kitchen and saw the tray of slightly lopsided gingerbread babies, you raised an eyebrow at Trey. “…Do I even want to know what conversation led to this?”
Trey just smiled innocently and kissed your cheek. “Let’s just say I handled the ‘where do babies come from’ talk with minimal damage.”
Ruggie Bucchi
Ruggie was in the middle of his least favorite chore …laundry… grumbling under his breath about how how is he supposed to fold a panties. He was sorting socks when his little girl walked into the room, clutching his car keys in both hands like they were precious treasure.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oi, what’re you planning with those, kiddo?”
She looked up at him with big, determined eyes and declared. “Daddy, you need to take me to the hospital right now.”
Ruggie’s ears shot straight up. His eyes blew wide in instant panic.
1. Something was wrong with his baby girl.
2. If anything was wrong with her, you were going to kill him, bring him back, and kill him again.
He dropped the laundry basket and crouched down immediately, hands gently checking her forehead, arms, and knees. “What’s wrong?! Does anything hurt? Did you fall? Are you sick? Talk to me, kid!”
His daughter shook her head, looking perfectly fine and a little confused by his reaction. “I’m okay, Daddy.”
Ruggie let out a huge sigh of relief, shoulders slumping. “Then why do you wanna go to the hospital so bad?”
She said it so casually it nearly knocked him over. “To buy me a little sister.”
Ruggie blinked once. Twice.
“…The hospital doesn’t sell kids, kiddo.”
His daughter puffed out her cheeks and pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re a big liar! I saw it! People walk in with nothing and come out carrying babies!”
Ruggie had to bite down hard on his lip to stop himself from laughing right in her face. His shoulders shook with the effort. This was too good. He tried to keep a straight face. “That’s… not quite how it works.”
She crossed her arms, looking thoroughly annoyed. “Then where do babies come from?”
Ruggie leaned back against the washing machine, grinning that signature sly hyena smile. He shrugged. “Sorry, kid. That kind of top secret information costs a lot. And your little piggy bank doesn’t have nearly enough saved up to buy it from me.”
His daughter stared at him for a long moment, clearly plotting. Ruggie thought he was so smart. He thought he’d bought himself some peace and quiet.
He was wrong.
A few hours later, you walked through the front door and immediately narrowed your eyes at Ruggie, who was now pretending to be very focused on washing the dishes.
“Why…” you asked slowly, “did our daughter just call Leona on the phone asking to borrow money so she could ‘buy information’ from her father?”
Ruggie froze mid fold. His ears flattened. “..She did what now?”
You crossed your arms. “You heard me.”
Ruggie ran a hand down his face, groaning. “That little sneak… I knew she was too smart for her own good.” Ruggie sighed dramatically and flopped against you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Can’t we just tell her the stork brings them? Or that they grow on trees?”
“You messed up, you solve it.”
He never going to live this one down.
Jade Leech
Jade walked hand in hand with his daughter after he picked her up from kindergarten. He’s listening attentively as she chattered away about her day. His usual polite smile was soft and genuine, these moments with her were some of his favorites.
“We went to the aquarium today, Papa!” she said excitedly, swinging his hand. “We saw big fishes and tiny fishes and, and baby seahorses! They were so small and funny looking!”
Jade nodded, eyes warm with amusement. “That sounds quite fascinating. Did you learn anything interesting about them?”
She nodded vigorously. “The teacher said the daddy seahorse carries the babies and gives birth to them! It looked really silly.”
Jade chuckled softly. “Nature has many curious ways of…”
The little girl suddenly stopped walking and looked up at him with big, innocent eyes. “Papa… did you give birth to me? Just like the daddy seahorse?”
Jade froze mid step.
For once in his life, the ever composed Jade Leech was completely speechless. His eyes widened slightly as he stared down at his daughter. “…Could you repeat that, my dear?” he asked, voice still polite but just a touch strained, hoping he had simply misheard.
She repeated it cheerfully. “The teacher said boy seahorses give birth to the babies. And seahorses are fish, and you’re a fish too, Papa! So you must have given birth to me!”
Jade stood there in stunned silence for several long seconds. He had mentally prepared for many things as a father. The “where do babies come from” question had been on his list, neatly categorized with several age appropriate explanations ready. But this? Not even on the backup list.
He crouched down to her eye level, still maintaining his calm smile with impressive effort. “Humans and merfolk are not quite the same as fish, especially not seahorses.” he explained gently. “Our biology is rather different.”
His daughter tilted her head, blinking up at him with pure curiosity. “Why? Then how dose we do it?”
Jade opened his mouth… then closed it. For the first time in years, he found himself mentally unequipped. He could feel the beginning of a rare headache forming. Thankfully, salvation appeared just ahead.
“Ah!” Jade said smoothly, straightening up and pointing toward a colorful shop across the street. “Look at that. They have your favorite ice cream today. Would you like some?”
The distraction worked instantly. His daughter gasped in delight and the dangerous topic was (temporarily) forgotten as they went to get ice cream.
The next day, Azul came to visit, as he occasionally did. The two were chatting in the living room while your daughter played nearby. At one point, Azul mentioned with a small, proud smile
“Actually, my wife and I have been talking about having one more child.”
Before Jade could respond, his daughter looked up from her toys and said brightly. “So Uncle Azul is gonna give birth soon?”
The entire room went dead silent.
Azul’s teacup froze halfway to his mouth. His face went through several shades of color. Jade’s polite smile twitched dangerously at the corners.
“…I beg your pardon?” Azul asked weakly.
Jade cleared his throat, voice still perfectly polite but with a dangerous edge. “It seems my daughter has developed some… interesting theories after her aquarium trip.”
Your daughter nodded seriously. “Daddy seahorses give birth! And Uncle Azul is…”
Jade quickly stood up. “My dear, why don’t we go see if there’s more ice cream in the kitchen?” As he gently ushered his daughter out of the room, Jade glanced back at Azul with a serene yet terrifying smile.
“We will never speak of this again.”
Kalim Al Asim
It was one of those rare, perfectly peaceful afternoons in the Al-Asim household. No parties. No sudden guests. No emergencies. Just you and Kalim sitting on the mountain of colorful pillows scattered across the living room carpet, chatting about nothing important, how the new fountain in the garden looked, what the kids had drawn that morning, and how lucky you both felt to have such a lively family. Kalim eyes sparkled as he leaned in closer, a bright, affectionate smile on his face. He leaned closer playfully, already tilting his head to kiss you but before his lips could meet yours, a tiny boy burst into the room.
“NOOO!”
Your youngest son sprinted between the two of you and shoved Kalim chest with both little hands, pushing him back with surprising determination for a five year old. Then he immediately climbed into your lap and wrapped his arms tightly around your neck, glaring at his father. “Stay away from Mommy!”
You and Kalim both froze, staring at your son in shock.
“…Sweetie?” You gently patted his back, trying to understand. “What’s going on? Why did you do that?”
The little boy hugged you tighter, burying his face in your shoulder for a moment before turning to glare at Kalim again. “Daddy needs to stop!”
Kalim blinked, looking genuinely hurt and very confused. He had never once raised his voice or laid an angry hand on you. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done wrong.
“Me? What did I do, little treasure?” Kalim asked softly, tilting his head. “Did I make you upset?”
The boy pointed an accusing finger at his father. “You keep kissing Mommy! You have to stop! I don’t want more siblings!”
Both you and Kalim froze again. A long, heavy silence filled the room. You had to press your face into your son’s hair to hide how hard you were trying not to laugh. Kalim’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again.
“…Kissing?” he repeated, blinking rapidly. “Kissing doesn’t make babies, buddy. You don’t have to worry about that.”
The little boy looked at his father like he had just said the sky was green. His eyes started to glisten with frustrated tears. “But Uncle Jamil said kissing makes babies! And Uncle Jamil is really smart! He can’t be wrong!”
Kalim’s jaw dropped.
You finally lost the battle and let out a soft snort of laughter, quickly turning it into a comforting hum as you rocked your son gently. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. Everything’s alright. You’re not getting any more siblings right now. Daddy and I promise.”
The little boy sniffled, but your reassurance seemed to calm him. He stayed glued to your lap for a long time, occasionally shooting protective glances whenever your husband moved too close. Kalim just sat there, still looking stunned.
For the rest of that week, your son appointed himself the official “Kissing Guard.”
Every time Kalim tried to lean in for even a quick peck on your cheek, a tiny body would appear out of nowhere, pushing between you two with dramatic flair. “No kissing! No more brothers and sisters!”
Kalim took it with his usual good humor at first, laughing and ruffling the boy’s hair, trying to negotiate “just one little kiss” but by day four he was dramatically pretending to cry about being “banned from loving his wife.”
You eventually had to sit your son down again and explain that babies don’t appear just because people kiss. He listened, but still remained suspicious of any affection between you and Kalim for a while.
Rook Hunt
Rook was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, preparing a beautiful lunch. Soft music played in the background as he chopped vegetables. His son walked in with an unusually serious expression on his small face, brows furrowed, lips pressed together, the very picture of a tiny dramatic boy.
Rook’s sharp eyes noticed immediately. He set down the wooden spoon and turned with a warm, attentive smile. “Why such a grave face? Come, tell your Papa what troubles you.”
The little boy stood straight, took a deep breath, and said with all the seriousness a five year old could. “Papa… I’m going to be a father.”
Rook had to use everything not to burst into delighted laughter right then and there. Instead, he crouched gracefully to his son’s eye level, tilting his head with fond curiosity. “Oh? And how did this wonderful event come to pass?”
The boy’s cheeks flushed bright red. He looked down at his shoes, mumbling shyly. “I… I kissed a girl on the cheek.”
Rook’s heart melted into a puddle of pure adoration. He let out a soft, warm chuckle and scooped his son up into his arms, spinning him once before hugging him close.
“Ah, how romantic! A kiss on the cheek is a truly beautiful and noble gesture. However!” he added gently, tapping his son’s nose. “I’m afraid such a sweet little kiss will not make babies.”
The boy blinked up at him, confused. “Why not?”
Rook smiled patiently. “It is a much more complicated and magical process, my son. You are still far too young for such things. When you are older, we can speak of it properly.”
The boy pouted a little, but his curiosity remained.
But Rook’s eyes still sparkled up with pride. “ Who is the lucky girl? Did you treat her like a princess? I certainly hope so! Tell me everything, my little hunter. What is her name? Did you bow properly when…”
The kitchen door opened.
You walked in holding your phone, one eyebrow raised. “Rook…” you said slowly. “why did Vil just called me asking why his daughter came home announcing that she’s going to have a baby… and that our son is the father?”
The room went silent.
Rook kept smiling, that perfect, dazzling smile, but his face slowly drained of all color until he looked almost ghostly pale.
For the first time in recorded history, Rook Hunt whispered
“…Fuck.”
Lilia Vanrouge
Lilia was on the couch, peacefully flipping through a brand new cookbook, his eyes scanned the pages with interest when he heard the familiar tiny feet running. His daughter approached with sparkling eyes and a determined little bounce in her step.
Lilia immediately set the book aside, and scooped her up with a bright grin, settling her comfortably on his lap. “Well, well~ What brings my precious little batling to me with such shining eyes? Come, ask Papa anything!”
The little girl looked up at him seriously. “Papa… I have a question. It’s about babies.”
Lilia took a deep, theatrical breath and puffed out his chest with confidence. This was familiar territory. He had already survived this conversation once with Malleus and once with Silver. He was prepared. He would nail this one.
“Ask away, my dear! Papa knows everything!”
His daughter tilted her head. “Did I come from an egg?”
Lilia raised an elegant eyebrow. “An egg? Now why would you think that?”
“Because big brother Malleus said he came from an egg!”
Lilia’s smile faltered for half a second. He prayed internally that Malleus hadn’t gone into graphic detail about dragon hatching and mating rituals.
“Ah… I see. Well, no, my sweet. You did not come from an egg. Malleus is a dragon, so he hatched from one. But you, my darling girl, are different.”
His daughter nodded slowly, processing this new information. Then she looked up again with big, innocent eyes. “Did you find me in the woods?”
Lilia blinked. Twice. “…No?”
She pouted, crossing her little arms. “But big brother Silver told me you found him in the woods when he was a baby!”
Lilia let out a long, suffering sigh, rubbing his temple with one hand while still holding her with the other. “That… is a very different and rather complicated situation, my dear. I did not pick you up from the woods. You came here through the natural ways that babies usually arrive. If you’d like, I can explain it to you…”
Before he could continue, his daughter suddenly hopped off his lap. “Nope! That sounds boring!” she declared cheerfully. “I’m not interested anymore!”
And with that, she skipped away toward her toys, leaving Lilia sitting on the couch in stunned silence. He stared at the empty space where she had been, cookbook forgotten on the cushion beside him.
“…Boring?” he whispered, genuinely offended. “I was prepared to give her the whole speech!”Lilia slumped back dramatically. “Children these days have no appreciation for a well crafted explanation from an ancient fae…”
tysm to pomefiore anon and @mogomoago for their ideas! you can find them here and here!!!!
A popular way to woo one’s loved one would be to gift them a sprout from their very own farm - if it bore fruit, it meant the relationship would be just as sweet as the fruits it produced.
Epel Feimer! Whose fair skin was an unusual shade of pink when he had given you a little pouch filled with apple seeds - “Straight from ma family’s farm,” He’d muttered, tone awfully nervous. “You can keep ‘em, if you want.” From the way his cornflower eyes bored into yours when you’d accepted his little gift, yeah, you didn’t think so. This fact was further proved when you asked him for tips for growing the seeds, his smile so bright you wondered if you could use it as a sun for your new plant(you probably could.) Getting oh-so excited whenever he had to go to the botanical garden, at the chance he could walk pass the newly added addition of your apple tree, which had gotten so large there simply was no way for it to be feasible to keep it in your dorm - its emerald-green leaves plentiful on its branches, bark just as smooth as the apple tree’s back in Harveston. (Growing just as fine as frog hair, he wanted to add… but maybe later, when winter rolled around and the little blooms on the tree turned into crisp sugar apples…) A loud gasp leaving his mouth before he could stop it just a few weeks later, at the sight of the apple tree now - leaves wilted and fungus on the wood. “Just wha’ in tarnation happened here?!” Teaching you how to help the tree recover at your own request, watching in mesmerised silence as you began putting your full efforts towards helping the tree recover - gosh, you really did want this to work, huh? Perhaps the tree wouldn’t bear fruits anytime soon, but he was sure that even if it didn’t, everyone back home would be happy to accept a new edition into the family, regardless of the state of your fruit by the end of it. :))))
An old courting tradition that was popularised by many royals' own fairytale love stories would be to go to the home of one’s beloved and to give them your heart - by singing them a handwritten song, obviously! If the love was mutual, they’d write their own in return and return the favour to their beloved.
Rook Hunt! Who had mysteriously left you a box of your favourite snacks and a handwritten note on your dorm bed, asking to wait for him, tonight - wow! Totally not cryptic and alarming at all, besides, you’ve known Rook long enough to not worry about his occasional shenanigans :)) kicking your feet back and forth off your dorm’s little balcony, quietly waiting for the blond to arrive, probably about to spring a ridiculous idea on you yet again or profess his newfound passion towards something, which was what had happened indeed - you just hadn’t expected the focus of his attention to be on you, this time. “Mon chéri, your eyes sparkle as brightly as the stars on this very night, your laugh as bright and clear as a songbird’s -“ The mushy and stupidly sweet verses making your insides turn into something just as sugary sweet as cotton candy, though the clear adoration in the frenchie’s eyes and affection dripping off his voice like honey hadn’t exactly helped your rapidly beating heart either :((( “Mon amour, I beg of you not to look away,” And with such a pretty face - ears red-tipped, blonde hair tousled from the late night breeze - what could you do but comply? :))))
An old way people would show affection to each other in the Shaftlands would be to bare their bare face to them, symbolizing trust and the promise that their partner would love them regardless.
Vil Schoenheit! Who had been doing his nightly skincare routine while you laid on his bed, forty seconds away from dozing off, when you felt the cool finger pads of your dearest friend press against your cheeks - huh? Opening your eyelids to the sight of Vil’s clear, smooth skin, those dazzlingly violet eyes of his glimmering with something you most certainly hadn’t seen very often - hesitance? Eyeing you almost expectantly as he held your face to eye level with his, like some kind of staring contest you were unaware of, only this felt too intimate, too vulnerable for this to be something as silly as that(which was further proved when you noticed the way his breath hitched, as if he were waiting for you to do something already, but what?). Finally making up your mind and pressing your very own fingertips to his flawless face(something Vil most definitely hadn’t expected, not with how the softest of gasps had left those rosy lips of his before he could stop it, how his heart had stuttered in his chest like a schoolgirl’s, how impossibly warm his face had grown at just your mere touch. Sevens, what had you done to him?) “You…” “Mm?” Retracting his fingers in favour of taking yours in a feeble attempt to cover his flushed cheeks, he continued, voice uncharacteristically weak - “You really don’t know what you're doing to me, do you, my dear sweet potato?” Perhaps you didn’t, but if the indication of his stained pink cheeks was anything, you were sure the you didn’t mind, and neither did he :)))
hey, if you liked this… check out Heartslabyul's, Savannaclaw’s, Octavinelle’s, Scarabia's, Ignihyde’s or Diasomnia’s versions?
alternatively; check out the Pomefiore masterlist?
☆Content: third years x gn!reader, fluff, established relationships
Cuddling with: 2nd years- here; 1st years -here
w/c: 3.1K (average 300 words each)
a/n: I actually had this in my drafts for over a month, but I was waiting for Leona’s sleepwear card to drop lol
cater diamond
Cater is such a cuddly boyfriend who loves all things physical touch. He just loves holding you in his arms while laying in the bed together and is the king of posting pictures of your intimate moments on magicam with cheesy captions like #lazysunday or #cuddleswithbae
Can be a little handsy at times. Cater is unashamed to admit it. Especially if you’re not paying enough attention to him, his wandering hands take it upon themselves to explore your body until you playfully scold him
Cater wore an annoyed look on his face. One you didn’t even notice from the way you were completely engrossed in the show on your phone. For the last half hour you hadn’t paid him any mind, and it was starting to annoy him.
“Y/n~” the ginger haired male whined. “I’m in dire need of your attention right now or I’ll die from neglect.”
His dramatization makes you laugh. “Just one more episode Cay, then I’m done.”
Huffing in annoyance, Cater buried his face into the crook of your neck, your hair tickling his nose. He inhaled contentedly. The scent of your shampoo relaxes him even more. His arms wrapped tighter around your midsection to keep you closer. When you still didn’t look up from your show, he frowned.
Fine. Cater would take matters into his own hands.
You immediately flinched at the cold feeling of Cater’s fingers on your skin. He chuckled, his breath hot against your neck. His hands trace up and down your sides, fluttering teasing at first before Cater begins to full blown tickle you.
Your laughter fills the room much to his delight. You try to squirm out of his grasp with no avail, accidentally kicking some of the pillows off the bed. “Stop, Cay your hands are cold!” You manage to wheeze out through your laughs. Now, your stomach was beginning to hurt.
“Not until you give a kiss first and tell me how amazing I am,” Cater insisted.
“Okay! Okay! I yield.” You’re finally freed from your boyfriend’s torture, rolling over to face him with a playful glare. Cater smiles, waiting expectantly for his kiss which you deliver. “You’re so clingy, you know that?”
Cater’s grins only widens. “Only when it comes to you.”
trey clover
No one can convince me that this man isn’t just a giant teddy bear. He’s such a gentle cuddler that’s equal parts big spoon and little spoon. Do you want him to hold you? He does so with tenderness and love. Want to cling to him like a koala? Go for it.
One of his favorite things though is to wake up with you in his arms. You just fit so perfectly against him and there’s nothing better than being able to have you at his side each morning.
As the sun peeks through the curtains, the light makes Trey stir, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. He turns on his side, facing away from the window, in hopes that sleep would reclaim him for a few extra minutes. Sleepily, he feels around the bed before finding what he’s looking for, wrapping his arms around your midsection, and pulling you back against his chest.
You groan a bit in your sleep, shifting around to face him so that you could nuzzle against his neck, your legs intertwining together with the messy sheets. Trey’s scent leaves you content and cozy. He always smells good to begin with.
“What time is it?” Trey mumbles, his voice sounding husky and deeper than usual from the drowsiness. He presses lazy kisses across your cheek and jaw, oddly clingy yet very gentle in the way he touches you.
“Dunno,” you yawn. “Don’t you have to help with the preparations for the unbirthday party today?”
“Right…”
Trey reaches over you to the dresser so that he could grab his glasses. His vision starts to clear once he puts them on, finding it a welcome sight to see you cuddled up against him.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Trey presses a kiss to your temple.
“Do you have to get up now?” You whine. “You’re so warm.”
Trey laughed. “Unfortunately, I do have duties to attend to.”
You tightened your hold around him before giving the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. “Just five more minutes in bed? Please?”
That was all it took to break Trey’s usually so unwavering resolve. How could he say no to you? After all, five more minutes with you in his arms didn’t sound all that bad.
leona kingscholar
King of naps and cuddles. It doesn’t matter if you’re not tired. If he wants to lay down and close his eyes for a few hours, you’re joining him whether you want to or not
Is a very protective cuddler. The kind to keep you close with a lazy arm around your waist. If you stray too far or act like you’re going to get out of bed, he wakes up to ask where you’re going. Leona is not letting you out of his sight.
The sound of your phone vibrating makes you stir awake. You groggily feel around for it, shutting the alarm off by pressing the button, before trying to close your eyes for a few extra minutes of sleep. Moments later, your second alarm goes off which makes you sigh in defeat.
After turning off the alarm, you try to sit up so that you could begin getting ready for your next class. Only…you can’t. A firm arm’s wrapped around your waist, pulling you down on to someone’s chest. No amount of wiggling allowed you to break free.
“Leona~let me go,” you complain. “I have to get ready for my next class.”
“Just skip,” the man beneath you grumbles, his voice husky from exhaustion. Leona’s arm tightens around you when you try to move. His tail wraps itself around you calf, tickling your skin. Nuzzling against the crook of your neck, Leona lets out a content, almost purr-like sigh.
You sigh exasperatedly as you’re completely stuck in his hold. As comfortable as you were, you really did have to get up.
“You can’t afford to skip anymore classes either mister,” you say. “And, we’ll be late if we don’t get ready.” Leona grunts in response, still making no effort to move. You manage to turn around to face him. Placing a teasing kiss against his jaw, you add, “if you get up and go to class, I’ll clear my schedule so that we can nap together all weekend.”
“Fine.”
A few moments pass before reluctantly, the lion sits up, yawning tiredly. You follow suit and stretch out the aches in your arms, but before you could get out of the bed, Leona steals a kiss which catches you off guard.
“I hope you know, that I plan to keep you all to myself this weekend, herbivore,” Leona mused. A playful smirk spread across his face. “And I don’t plan on letting you go.”
vil schoenheit
He’s more of a casual cuddler. The kind that has you tucked against his arm while watching a movie type. He keeps one hand free to access his phone while the other will absentmindedly trace circles down your back that eventually lulls you to sleep.
In public he’s not a big fan of PDA, so when you finally have some alone time with you out of the limelight does he shower you with physical affection. And don’t even think about trying to escape
Vil emerges from the bathroom feeling refreshed and relaxed. After a long day of filming and back to back shoots, he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just get in the bed and wind down for the evening.
You were already in your shared bed, tucked under the covers in your silky pajamas (that matched Vil's) with a bowl of freshly popped popcorn in your lap. Vil frowned.
"Really? You know having that much oil before bed will make your skin break out," Vil scoffed as he pulled back the blankets to slide in the bed next to you.
"I know, but we can't watch a movie without popcorn!" You retort, smiling at him.
Vil suppressed his own smile behind an eye roll. "You're just going to fall asleep within the first thirty minutes."
"Will not!"
"If you say so."
Tucking you under his arm, Vil pulled you close against his side before using the remote to turn on a movie. You had picked the film for the night, choosing one Vil himself had starred in with Neige Leblanche (Much to his dismay), but you had insisted it was because you enjoyed Vil's performance the best in this particular movie.
Resting your head on Vil's shoulder, you sunk further into his embrace. A few handfuls of popcorn and twenty minutes later, you had fallen asleep, exactly how Vil predicted.
"You didn't even put a dent in the popcorn," Vil sighed. He set the bowl on the night stand before carefully moving to tuck you under the covers. Your hand shot out to grab his arm.
"Don't go," you mumbled in your sleep.
Vil smiled. "Wouldn't dream of it." He laid down beside you, holding you in his arms as he slowly drifted off.
rook hunt
A true romantic that will sweep you off your feet. Literally. He likes to surprise you with his affections, picking you up from behind when you least expect it and stealing kisses when you’re caught off guard
He does this in public too. He’s not shy about PDA and letting the world know how much he loves you. But of course, if it makes you uncomfortable he’ll refrain. But when it’s just the two of you, Rook loves nothing more than to hold you in his arms.
You were in the bathroom doing your nightly routine to get ready for bed. Rook had been a gentleman in running you a warm bath to unwind. After thoroughly relaxing, you applied your usual skin and hair care before rubbing your body down with your favorite lotions and scrubs.
While bending down to put your items away under the sink cabinet, you don't notice your partner enter the bathroom. Suddenly, Rook's behind you, arms wrapping around your waist to lift and spin you around. A startled squeal leaves your lips, before you begin laughing.
"Rook! Don't do that! You're going to make me have a heart attack."
"Sorry mon amour! I cannot help myself when you look très belle in the pajamas I got you," Rook apologizes with a smile. "Ah! And I see you used the new lotions as well. Might I say the fragrance is absolutely delightful."
"It's kind of hard not to want to use them when I come home to find the most romantic bath waiting for me with a basket full of more roses and toiletries one could use in a lifetime," you say knowingly.
You knew it had to have been Rook who left the giant basket of all the new skin care products, essential oils, lotions, and scented fragrances you used on the bed. There was so much stuff that you couldn't possibly use them up any time soon, which made the basket insanely heavy. But, the sentiment was so endearing that it made your heart flutter.
"I just merely want ma belle to have the best to be able to relax after a long day of hard work." Rook placed a kiss on your cheek.
"Well, hurry up and shower so I can finish my long day in your arms," you tease. "You're not allowed in the bed until you take your outside clothes off."
"If that's what ma belle wants, ma belle shall receive."
idia shroud
Physical touch makes his brain short circuit, so you have to ease him into it. You have to initiate in the beginning, taking it upon yourself to wrap your arms around him while you’re laying in bed. Idia awkwardly at first doesn’t know whether to hold you back or leave you be
Eventually, his confidence grows and he becomes more comfortable being the big spoon. One of the most comfortable positions for him is to have you in his lap, laying back against his chest with his arms around your waist while the two of you play video games together
"Dammit!" You swear, throwing the controller across the bed. "Why is this level so stupidly hard!?" This was the fourth time in a row you had died in the game, and you were beyond frustrated at this point. You hadn't even made much progress, getting killed over and over at the same opponent.
"What level are you on?" Idia asks, not looking up from his computer where he had been playing a similar game to the one you played on the console.
"Level 13," you sigh. "The stupid bird thing keeps spitting out fire, and I can't avoid it in time without running into the turtle."
Idia spins his chair slightly to face the T.V. He holds his hand out for the controller which you place in his palm. Restarting the level, he begins to walk you through it. "When you get to this point, you have to hit this box here. It'll give you this power up to be able to take out the first enemy. It only last 10 seconds though, so you have to move quick."
Once he moves the character to a safe location after demonstrating what to do, Idia hands you back the controller. You take it from him then climb into his lap. His hair turns a brilliant shade of pink as you make yourself comfortable.
"W-what are you-"
"Shh! I have to focus, and I need you for emotional support."
You take it upon yourself to wrap Idia's arms around your waist. Hesitantly, he holds you a bit awkwardly. Not too tight, but not secure enough for your liking. So you lean back into his chest. Eventually, Idia relaxes a bit and hugs you close, hoping you can't feel the erratic beat of his heart through his sweatshirt.
Five seconds later, you die in the game. "DAMMIT!"
Sighing, Idia takes the controller from you. With his arms still around you, he takes over and flies through the level with ease, you encouragingly yelling for him to kill the bad guys.
"Did you plot this all along?" He mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head.
You maintain an innocent smile. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
lilia vanrouge
A chaotic cuddler. You never know if he’s going to be a gentle big spoon and give you royalty like treatment or wrestle you into the blankets. It stresses you out, cause you could be chilling out, watching a show when he decides to initiate a tickle fight.
Although he tends to be playful, he is very comforting when and if you need it. If you have a bad day, you can always count on Lilia to cheer you up by showering you will all the affection you need.
The day had sucked.
It was just one bad thing after the other. You overslept through your alarm. You failed your history test. Then an accident in Alchemy resulted in your uniform being soaked. Needless to say, you were over the day.
Even though it was still relatively early, you went back to the dorm, showered, and put on your pajamas. Putting your phone on DND, you then got in the bed and promptly passed out.
Hours later, when you wake, dusk has crept across the sky casting its orange hue through the window. You feel small circles around your back, realizing someone was gently tracing them while you slept. Groggily, you begin to sit up.
“Oh, dearie, you’re awake,” Lilia says, closing the book he had been reading. You squint, trying to make sense of his presence. “Are you still tired? You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“What are you doing here? What time is it?”
“Almost dinner time. You weren’t answering your phone, so I was worried something happened. Imagine my surprise to find you all ready for bed at three o’clock in the afternoon.”
You let out a tired sigh and lay back down into Lilia’s arms. He resumes tracing random circles across your back, the soothing sensation nearly lulling you back to sleep.
“It was a long day,” you say.
“I figured. Would you like to talk about it?”
You shake your head. “Later. I just want you to hold me right now.”
“That, I can do, and you don’t even have to ask.”
malleus draconia
Literally loves the intimacy that comes with cuddling. He loves being physically close to you in such a casual manner and cares more about you being comfortable. Do you need him to move his arm? Do you want to lay on his shoulder? He's happy to accommodate to your needs.
Secretly enjoys being the little spoon. Malleus loves it when you hang on to him, even if you happen to be smaller than he is. He finds it endearing, and something about you not wanting to let him go fills his chest with adoration.
Malleus watched your movements curiously.
You had instructed him not to move then proceeded to straddle his waist. It caught him off guard, the level of boldness, but followed directions and let you do what you wanted. You spent the last few minutes messing with his hair, looking intently focused on what you were doing.
“Okay done!” You finally announce. You had braided Malleus’s hair back into a French braid, looking quite proud of your work. His hair was so soft and silky with a natural shine to it that made it fun to play with.
“Thank you,” Malleus says with a smile. “You seem quite pleased with yourself.”
“Well, with your hair pulled back, I can better see the scales on your forehead,” you explain. Gently, your fingers brush against the black scaling that adorned the base of his crown. You look to Malleus for permission, who nods, even bending his head down more to be able to feel the smooth texture.
“Why does something so minuscule please you?” Malleus asked curiously. “Majority of the time they are covered by my hair that they go unnoticed.”
“I like them because they’re unique to you,” you answer. “I like seeing all the most intimate parts of you. I feel as if I get to learn more about you this way.”
Your response catches Malleus off guard. The faintest hint of pink touches his cheeks before he smiles and pulls you into his chest. “You make my heart feel so full. I feel so lucky to have you.”
His arms wrap tightly around you, unwilling to let go.
Hiii!! I was wondering if I could request Jade, Leona, and Rook with a fem s/o that really really loves victorias secret? She just loves how pretty everything is and loves the clothes they have, lowkey addicted to it and she’s constantly grinding to get more money for more of their cute stuff
Take care!! ^0^
I KNOW VICTORIA'S SECRET!⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
*set refers to matching bra + panties | pt2 pt3 pt4
LEONA
take his card and SWIPE
didn’t know what the store was at first
after you did an at home try on for him…
he decided it was definitely a store he liked
sometimes you’ll just find sets a delivered to your doorstep with a note that just says “wear it.”
just don’t comment on how the color scheme always seem to be the second princes colors
or how it always smells like his cologne
sometimes he’ll join you when you go shop in person at the store
be careful cause he can and will buy everything you try on
will give you that stupidly hot smirk and lazy tail wag when you try on a set he likes
gets a little grumpy if he find your not wearing a set underneath your clothes
yk those sets with custom embroidery?
100% gets you one with his name
Say goodbye to any usual PJs in his room
Likes to just have you lay next to him in a cute set
What? Is he not allowed to stare at his girl?
If you get one of those sets with the lace details
He’ll just lay next to you silently one arm wrapped around your waist the other tracing the patterns
Doesn’t like the thought of Ruggie seeing your things but will have him on standby to get the latest limited edition sets when they come out
JADE
Absolute enabler
He already had some knowledge of the store
But after seeing it on you he’s much more… appreciative
Absolutely adores seeing you in blue sets
I think their mom would have some sort of connection to the brand
So be prepared for some absolutely gorgeous and classy sets that you just cant seem to find anywhere on their websites
When he gifts you sets their always some type of blue usually with lace and pearls
Loves playing with the bra strap when your next to him (and alone of course he teases a lot in public but he’s not stripping you in the damn halls)
Insists that you try on all your new sets for him
He wouldn’t go out of his way to get a set with his name on it like leona
But would definitely be pleased if you surprise him with one
Likes to play a guessing game where he guesses which set your wearing under your clothes
But don’t your dare lift a finger trying to lift your clothes to reveal the answer
He’ll unwrap his own gift thank you very much
Loves going shopping with you
He picks out great sets
Surprisingly good taste (his mama taught him right)
Will hold your bags
ROOK
Oh he already knows about how much you like Victoria’s Secret
Stalker
Goes on French rants about your beauty every time you get a new set
He loves the usual sets but
Also reallyy loves night gowns
Those cute frisky short ones with the lace
Thinks you look adorable in them
He likes to choose a set/dress for the day and dress you up based on it every time you guys stay in
Does your hair with ribbon and your makeup matching its colors
Your basically his life sized dress up doll
You'll find gift boxes with new stuff, love letters, flowers, and the works from him
except their not on your doorstep but on your bed
How does he keep getting in??
Likes to make dates out of your shopping sprees
He’ll plan a nice cafe breakfast in the morning
You guys shop and he helps you pick out stuff
Probably has the best taste out of all of them
Picks colors and styles off your complexion and what not
Will unironically make a sonnet about you for every outfit you try on something
Your vocabulary decently expands while your with him
Afterwords he’ll treat you to a nice dinner
You guys always get dessert together where he gives you small gift; usually something you were eyeing while shopping
Definitely likes having you lay down and pose while he paints you
Complains that he simply cannot capture all your beauty
