#AZUL

[yuremiku]

Azul Ashengrotto manga pngs.

[colormush]

[solxamber]

Jealousy, Jealousy with: Housewardens

Riddle Rosehearts

It was honestly impressive how oblivious some people could be.

You weren’t even doing anything particularly inviting—just standing in the courtyard, minding your own business—when someone you barely knew strolled up and started laying it on thick.

“Wow, you must be tired,” they grinned, leaning a little too close for comfort. “From running through my mind all day.”

You stared. Slowly blinked. “...I literally don’t know who you are.”

They laughed, undeterred. “Oh, a little mystery! I like that. We should get to know each other. How about a—”

Before they could finish, a very distinct presence materialized beside you, and suddenly, your hand was clasped in a vice grip.

You turned your head, already stifling a grin. Riddle stood stiffly at your side, his expression carefully neutral—too neutral—but his fingers tightened around yours with unmistakable possessiveness.

And then, in the most Riddle way possible, he opened his mouth and immediately started critiquing their uniform.

“Your tie is loose, your shirt is untucked, and your posture is abysmal,” he declared, gaze sharp. “It’s disgraceful. If you have time to loiter and bother people who are clearly uninterested, then you certainly have time to fix your appearance.”

The person, previously brimming with confidence, visibly withered. “I—wait, you’re—”

“Housewarden Rosehearts,” Riddle confirmed, tone clipped. “And if you ever plan to talk to my partner again, I strongly suggest you do so properly dressed.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—without another word—the person bolted, nearly tripping over themselves in their rush to escape.

The moment they were gone, you turned to Riddle, your amusement barely contained. “Riddle,” you said, voice dripping with mirth. “Were you jealous?”

He scoffed, tugging at his collar. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You raised a brow, glancing pointedly at the way his grip on your hand hadn’t loosened in the slightest. Then, you took in the very obvious, very intense red dusting his cheeks.

He refused to meet your eyes.

You laughed, delighted, and before he could protest further, you leaned in and kissed him, pressing a quick, affectionate peck to his still burning cheek.

Riddle went still.

“…You are jealous,” you whispered against his skin, just to tease.

“I am not,” he insisted, but his voice cracked ever so slightly, and that was enough to send you into another fit of laughter.

Still smiling, you tugged on his hand, leading him away. “Come on, let’s go do something fun before you start assigning uniform inspections as an act of vengeance.”

Riddle let out a heavy sigh, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he laced his fingers more firmly with yours, the corners of his lips twitching—just barely—before he let you drag him along.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was going to lose his mind.

Three days.

Three days of watching you run around with those two idiots and that furball, pouring over textbooks, muttering formulas under your breath, completely oblivious to the fact that he existed.

You were studying. Fine. He got it. But you were studying with them.

And not him.

The moment the door to Ramshackle creaked open, you knew.

It was a sixth sense at this point—an awareness of a certain presence, of a lazy kind of arrogance that filled the air like a storm cloud waiting to break.

And break it did.

Because before you could so much as blink, a heavy arm was slung around your shoulders, and your entire world tilted.

You let out a startled yelp as you were bodily dragged from the dorm, Ace and Deuce frozen mid-review session, Grim’s tail puffed up in sheer betrayal.

“Oi—!”

“Not oi,” Leona drawled, utterly unbothered by your flailing. “Mine.”

You spluttered. “Leona, I have to study!”

“You can study later,” he dismissed, hauling you across campus with a grip so firm you had no choice but to stumble along. “You’re overdue for a break."

“I don’t have time for a break—”

“You do” he interrupted smoothly, and that was that.

You huffed, glaring up at him. “This is kidnapping.”

“Tch. If I was kidnapping you, I wouldn’t be this obvious about it.”

That was… not reassuring.

By the time he finally dumped you onto his bed, you were half-expecting him to declare an official study ban, but instead, he settled in beside you, his arms casually looping around your waist, his body half-draped over yours like an oversized, incredibly smug blanket.

“Go on, then,” he murmured against your shoulder, voice low and easy. “Study.”

You gave him an incredulous look. “Here?”

He hummed. “Why not? I got old notes. Bet they’re better than whatever those idiots are using.”

You blinked. “You actually have notes?”

Leona scoffed, reaching over to grab a notebook from his desk. “What, you think I just guessed my way through school?” He flipped it open and, to your absolute shock, the pages were filled with neatly written summaries, key points highlighted with the kind of precision that suggested he did actually pay attention. “See?”

“…I hate that this is actually useful.”

“Told you.”

You sighed, already feeling yourself sink into the warmth of him, the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing, the way his fingers tapped lazily against your side, like he knew you were starting to relax and was deliberately making it worse.

Still. If you had to study, this wasn’t… terrible.

You let your head rest against his shoulder, flipping through the notes. “Fine. But if I fall asleep, it’s your fault.”

Leona smirked, his breath warm against your skin. “Then I guess you’ll just have to take a nap right here.”

You rolled your eyes, but the next time you felt him shift, the unmistakable curve of his smile pressing into your neck, you didn’t even bother fighting it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto was a patient man.

A calculated man.

A businessman.

Which was the only reason he hadn’t already torn his hair out strand by agonized strand over the fact that you had been frequenting some other café for the past two weeks.

At first, he’d assumed it was a novelty thing. Maybe you had a moment of curiosity. Maybe they had some limited-time drink that you needed to try. Maybe you’d simply gotten lost—it happened more often than you liked to admit.

But no. You had kept going.

Loyal, devoted, regular patronage.

To a café that was not the Mostro Lounge.

Azul could not abide it.

So, instead of despairing in silence, he took action.

The next time you announced you were heading there, Azul smiled, adjusted his glasses, and accompanied you.

Because if there was something about this place that had captured your attention, then he would analyze it, perfect it, and eliminate the competition before they could even think about stealing away his most treasured customer.

(And partner. But semantics.)

At first, it seemed innocent enough. You gushed over some ridiculous limited-menu item with a starry-eyed enthusiasm that made him fond despite himself, but it was just cake. Cake was replaceable. Cake was replicable. Cake was nothing.

And then the owner came out.

Azul didn’t move, but his businessman’s smile settled into place with all the calculated precision of a predator fixing its gaze upon its prey.

The café owner, meanwhile, had their full attention on you.

And they were far too familiar.

Far too comfortable.

Far too eager.

Their eyes crinkled with warmth when they spoke to you, their laughter was just a touch too soft, and their entire demeanor—

Azul’s fingers twitched. He did not clench them into fists, because that would be petty, but—

He was going to destroy them.

With a pleasant, affable smile, of course.

By the time you finished your cake (which Azul had methodically analyzed with every bite), he had already formulated seventeen different ways to not only outdo this café, but to erase its relevance entirely.

He escorted you back to your room, silent for once, but his mind was racing.

And then, after a long pause, he asked, “Do you enjoy their presence?”

You blinked. “Who?”

“The owner.”

You stared at him, visibly baffled. “…I like their cake?”

Azul opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

And then, after a long, suffering pause, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, because of course you hadn’t noticed.

Because of course you had been utterly, entirely oblivious to the way they had been practically fawning over you.

He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

So, in the end, he simply pulled you close and kissed you, long and lingering, with a kind of slow, consuming possessiveness that had you melting against him in pleased surprise.

He held you the entire night, unwilling to let go, much to your delighted confusion.

And if, a week later, the Mostro Lounge mysteriously unveiled a bigger, better, and undeniably tastier version of that limited-edition cake, effectively nullifying any reason for you to return to that café—

Well.

Azul had no comment.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim insisted on picking you up after class every day, no matter how many times you told him it wasn’t necessary. He always laughed, dismissing your protests with a wave of his hand, as if the very idea of not meeting you after class was ridiculous. “Why wouldn’t I? I like seeing you first thing after class! It makes my whole day better!” And, honestly, how could you argue with that?

So, as usual, you waited outside, looking for that familiar flash of red and gold. You didn’t mind—Kalim was always quick, always eager, and always a little over-the-top about it, greeting you with his usual sunbeam of a grin and a greeting so enthusiastic it was like he hadn’t just seen you that morning.

But today, before Kalim arrived, someone else approached.

At first, you thought it was just an overly friendly upperclassman looking to chat, but the way they leaned in, the way their eyes swept over you, made your skin crawl. Their words were dripping with false charm, their smile just a little too knowing, and the moment they took your hand, something in you snapped.

You were seconds away from yanking yourself free and letting them know exactly what you thought about their audacity—

And then, before you could react, a firm hand wrenched theirs away from you.

You turned, eyes widening in surprise, and saw Kalim standing beside you.

Only—this wasn’t the Kalim you were used to.

There was no bright, carefree smile, no cheerful energy. His expression was carefully blank, his eyes steady and serious in a way that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. He wasn’t angry—no, you’d seen Kalim angry before, and this was something different. This was controlled, quiet disapproval as he stared the person down, his grip on their wrist unyielding.

“Don’t touch them.” His voice was even, but there was no room for argument.

The person sputtered something, an attempt at an excuse, but Kalim’s gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t shout, didn’t make a scene, didn’t need to. The sheer weight of his presence was enough, and after a tense pause, the person hurried off, clearly rattled.

And just like that, Kalim let out a breath and turned back to you, his usual grin slipping easily back into place, warm and reassuring. “Are you okay?”

You blinked.

Your heart was pounding. Not from fear—not even from lingering discomfort—but from something else entirely.

Because, apparently, Kalim without his smile was unfairly, ridiculously attractive.

You managed to nod, clearing your throat, forcing yourself to breathe as he took your hand—gently, reverently, the complete opposite of the unwanted touch from before. He squeezed it lightly, beaming at you as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened.

Later that night, as the two of you lounged together, he confessed, a little sheepishly, “I hated seeing them touch you.” His grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if just remembering it made his stomach twist.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, leaning in to kiss him. He hummed against your lips, pleased, the jealousy from earlier completely forgotten.

And if, after that, Kalim insisted on being even quicker to meet you after class, practically appearing the second you stepped outside—well, who were you to complain?

Vil Schoenheit

You had been meticulous in your planning. A surprise party to celebrate Vil’s latest movie role—because, really, any excuse to throw a party for him was a good one. You coordinated with Rook (a double-edged sword, given his enthusiasm), found the perfect venue, picked out a cake that was as extravagant as he was, and carefully avoided any suspicion.

Or at least, you thought you had.

Vil, on the other hand, was about five minutes away from losing the last thread of his sanity.

You had been avoiding him. Not in the obvious, dramatic way—but in the subtle, infuriating way that made his stomach twist unpleasantly. Shorter conversations, quick kisses before running off, whispering in dim hallways with Rook, of all people.

Rook, who delighted in keeping secrets and spoke in riddles even when he wasn’t actively trying to be cryptic. Every time Vil so much as entered the room, your conversations stopped, and all he got was your innocent, suspiciously wide-eyed smile.

It was unacceptable.

But Vil was not jealous. Of course not. He was above something so irrational. Why should he feel threatened? The very idea of it was absurd. He was merely… curious. Concerned. Watching you sneak around with Rook had been horrible for his blood pressure, but jealous? Certainly not.

(And if his skincare routine had gotten even more rigorous to account for stress-induced breakouts, that was purely coincidental.)

So when you finally waltzed into his room, all bright-eyed and smiling, telling him to get dressed, his patience—what little remained—snapped.

In one smooth motion, he had you caged in against his vanity.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Uh. Hi?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You have been distracted lately.”

“Uh.” Your bluffing instincts kicked in, but it was useless. Vil’s gaze was sharp, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t look angry, exactly—he looked… hurt.

And, well. That was enough to shatter your resolve immediately.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you!” You blurted, hands flying up in surrender. “We planned a surprise party for your movie premiere, and I didn’t want to ruin it! That’s why I’ve been sneaking around!”

Silence.

And then—

Vil laughed.

Not a quiet chuckle. Not a delicate, amused exhale. No, he laughed so hard that he had to lean on you for support, his entire body shaking with it.

And just like that, the tension was gone. He exhaled, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before straightening. “Next time,” he said, smoothing his hands over your shoulders, “just tell me.”

You sighed, half-exasperated, half-fond. “That ruins the surprise.”

“Surprises are overrated,” he declared. “Now, come. You planned this party, and I refuse to let you attend it looking anything less than perfect.”

Before you could protest, he had already grabbed your wrist, dragging you toward his closet.

And honestly? After all that turmoil, matching outfits was the least he deserved.

Idia Shroud

Idia had been off all evening.

Not in the usual, grumbly, "the outside world is a waking nightmare" kind of way. No, this was different. This was pointed.

He was pouting.

You had first noticed it when he refused to meet your gaze, keeping his head turned at an almost comical angle whenever you tried to look at him. Even when you sat next to him, close enough that your shoulders brushed, he still wouldn’t acknowledge you.

At first, you thought he was just having an introvert moment. But then you noticed his fingers—tapping on his controller in short, stilted bursts, his usual fluid movements replaced with something far more sulky.

Something was wrong. And worse, he was refusing to tell you.

So, naturally, you did what any reasonable person would do.

You grabbed his face.

“??!!??!” Idia made an undignified noise as your hands squished his cheeks, forcing him to finally look at you. His wide eyes darted around frantically, looking for an escape, but you just leaned in, resting your forehead against his.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly. “I can’t fix it if I don’t know what I did.”

For a second, he wavered. You could see it—the way his hands twitched, his lips pressed together in a battle between staying mad and melting like he always did when you held him like this.

But then—betrayal. Pure, unfiltered betrayal flashed in his eyes.

“If you don’t even realize your crimes,” he huffed, “then you don’t deserve to be told.”

…Huh.

You blinked at him, torn between concern and immense amusement. His cheeks were puffed up in an actual pout, his shoulders slightly hunched like an offended cat. His hair even flickered with a dramatic little sizzle, the blue flames crackling indignantly.

So, you did what any responsible partner would do in this situation.

You kissed his cheek.

He made another noise—this one more flustered than betrayed—but at least he wasn’t turning away anymore.

“Idiaaaa,” you coaxed, voice lilting as you gently rubbed soothing circles against his jaw. “Come on. Tell me.”

He hesitated.

Then, in a grievously wounded tone, he finally muttered:

“You did your dailies… without me. Who did you do them with?”

You stared at him.

“…That’s it?”

He gasped, looking even more betrayed. “That’s it?!”

Okay. Maybe not the best response.

“I just—” You tried to stifle your laugh, but failed miserably. “I didn’t know it was that serious—”

“IT IS,” he declared. “We have an unspoken promise! Every night! We do our dailies! We do our pulls! We suffer together in the gacha mines!” He gestured wildly, his voice spiking in distress. “And today—today, you—you—” His voice wobbled. “You betrayed me.”

You clutched your chest in mock horror. “I have committed the greatest of sins.”

“You HAVE.”

You bit your lip, barely holding back another laugh, but then—then you saw his face. The dramatic pout, the still-flickering flames, the way his fingers fidgeted against his sleeve.

And suddenly, it hit you.

This wasn’t just about the dailies. This was his time with you. The one moment of the day where it was just the two of you, side by side, relaxed and rambling about nonsense while farming loot drops.

And you had accidentally robbed him of it.

Your amusement softened into something warmer. You pulled him closer, letting your fingers trail through his hair as you pressed another kiss to his cheek—longer this time.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, resting your chin against his shoulder. “I didn’t realize how much it meant to you. I did them alone, by the way.”

He mumbled something under his breath, still sulking, but at least he wasn’t pulling away.

“I promise I’ll wait for you every day from now on,” you continued, letting your fingers trace comforting patterns into his back. “Okay?”

“…Tch,” he muttered. Then, after a long pause, he finally slumped against you, his entire weight pressing into your chest.

You grinned. Victory.

“…You are watching the Premo concert reruns with me as compensation, though,” he grumbled, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, amused. “Fine, fine.”

And that was how you ended up in Idia’s room for hours, marathoning concerts.

And if you showed up to class the next day completely wrecked from lack of sleep?

It was fine.

As long as Idia was happy.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus Draconia is above petty emotions.

He is the Prince of Briar Valley, an ancient being of immense power, the strongest fae in existence—he does not succumb to something as trivial as jealousy.

…That is what he tells himself as he watches you, once again, being hopelessly kind to people who clearly do not deserve it.

He watches as you nod along to Crowley’s latest absurd request, despite the fact that everyone knows that the headmaster is little more than a well-dressed menace with a penchant for delegating all responsibility to you.

He watches as some random student—a student who has never once acknowledged your existence before—approaches you with a bright, eager smile, undoubtedly about to ask you for yet another favor.

And he feels a peculiar, simmering sensation coil in his chest.

Malleus is not petty. He does not get jealous.

But he does dislike seeing you taken advantage of.

So, before this interloper can even get a word out, Malleus simply appears by your side, materializing in that eerie, seamless way that only he can. His presence alone is enough to make the student stumble back in terror, but then—just to be certain—he reaches out and takes your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours with casual ease.

The effect is instantaneous.

The student goes pale. Their entire body stiffens, eyes darting between you and Malleus as if calculating whether their life is worth whatever ridiculous request they were about to make. The answer, apparently, is no, because they immediately spin on their heel and flee.

Malleus watches them go, his expression carefully neutral.

He usually dislikes the way people fear him. But today?

…Today, he finds himself rather pleased.

Satisfied, he turns back to you, fully expecting you to be grateful for his intervention. Perhaps a soft smile, a quiet "thank you," maybe even a fond squeeze of his hand—

Instead, he is met with your grin.

That knowing, teasing grin.

The one that says you know exactly what he just did. The one that says you know he is not as above jealousy as he claims to be. The one that says, without words, oh, so you’re feeling possessive today?

Malleus pointedly ignores it.

“Come,” he says smoothly, giving your hand the lightest tug. “Let us go somewhere… peaceful.”

You let him pull you along, but not without looping your arm around his and leaning into him with unmistakable amusement.

Malleus pretends he does not notice.

Masterlist

[hikawilla]

(Y/N): I don't have that kind of money, but maybe we can come to an agreement?

(Y/N) starts unbuttoning his shirt

Azul: I like your desire to pay off your debts

Azul loosens his tie

Idia: Guys, we're playing… DAMN MONOPOLY!!

[kokii-omii]

Chat what do we think about him

[bluessmau]

It's Getting Hot in Here

In which Fem! AFAB! Cat Beastwoman! Reader is in heat, and her husband, the Overblot Boys, are more than willing to help her. Requested by Anon.

Warnings:18+, Fem! AFAB! Reader, breeding, sex with the intention of getting pregnant, sexting, dirty talk, sending of explicit photos/videos, masturbation

Riddle Rosehearts

Leona Kingscholar

Azul Ashengrotto

Jamil Viper

Vil Schoenheit

Idia Shroud

Malleus Draconia

[boschintegral-photo]

Forget-Me-Nots

[matialonsorphoto]

AZUL💙

instagram @matialonsor

[himasgod]

Azul x reader where the reader read that octopus die after mating and so she refuses to even KISS him by fear of hin dying (if reader is a bit cold/grumpy I would love it even more tysm)

AZUL X READER

Where you don't want to kiss him

How would Azul act if you flatly refused to kiss him because you read that octopuses die after mating?

"Can I ask you something, dear?" Azul said with his usual smile, courtesy carefully disguised as sweetness.

"No," you replied, without even looking at him, turning the page of your book with a sigh.

Azul blinked, but he wasn't discouraged. If he had anything, it was patience…

And a dangerous stubbornness.

"Come on, it'll just take a second. I promise not to talk about last week's contract or the little favor I asked Jade for…"

"I'm not kissing you."

That really stopped him in his tracks.

"Sorry?"

You closed the book with a thud and looked at it for the first time all afternoon, frowning.

"I read something. About octopuses."

Azul blinked again. Twice.

"So… what does that have to do with me?"

"They die after mating."

Silence. Long. Awkward.

"Excuse me?"

"What you heard. After mating. Phew. Goodbye. Dead. And you… you're an octopus."

You pointed an accusatory finger at him, as if you'd caught him stealing babies or something.

Azul honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"I'm an octopus-mermaid, a merfolk, not an aquarium octopus, by the Seven," he complained, pinching the bridge of his nose as if just having this conversation was draining his life (and patience). "

"And besides, that's after mating, not a simple kiss!"

"I'm not taking any chances."

"What do you think is going to happen? That you're going to kiss me and I'm going to disintegrate in your arms?"

"Yes."

Azul stared at you, shocked.

"…You're cruel."

"And you're dramatic. Perfect for dying if I get too close."

"That doesn't even make sense biologically! Technically, I'm more like a merman than an octopus! And we're not even talking about mating, we're talking about an innocent peck on the cheek! Are you telling me I'm forbidden from that too?"

"Especially that."

Azul slumped down onto the chair across from you, defeated.

"I can't believe you're letting an internet article ruin our relationship. What's next? You're only going to feed me once a day for fear I'll get fat again and float to the surface?"

"Mmm… good idea."

"...!"

"I'm looking after you, don't thank me."

You patted him nonchalantly on the head.

"Now stop bothering me. I'm on the best part of the book."

Azul looked at you with a tragic expression, as if he'd just been informed that the Monster Lounge had run out of reservations for the entire month.

"I can't believe this… Rejected for fear of death by mating. This is the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me. And Floyd once forced me to do a show dressed as a giant squid…"

"Yeah, Azul. If you can convince me with scientific proof that you won't die after kissing me, maybe I'll consider it. Maybe."

Azul narrowed his eyes.

"What if I get a medical certificate?"

"Then maybe I'll let you kiss me on the hand. With gloves. And disinfectant."

Azul sighed so deeply it felt like his soul was leaving his body.

But deep down, he couldn't help but smile.

After all, you were his favorite paranoid grouch.

You were so engrossed in your book, completely ignoring Azul, that you didn't notice him leaning toward you across the table.

"Besides, I don't even know where you got that information…" he muttered as you turned another page. "It could be a myth. Or an exaggeration."

"But still, better safe than sorry."

And that's when it happened.

Without a word, Azul cupped your face in a gentle hand and leaned in. A kiss. Quick, precise. Right on the corner of your lips.

It took your brain two seconds to reboot.

"AZUL."

He had already sat back down, adjusting his gloves as if nothing had happened.

"Ah, look at that. I'm still alive. What a miracle."

He smiled at you with that damn smug expression that you knew was going to haunt your dreams tonight.

Your heart was pounding like you'd run ten flights of stairs. The heat in your cheeks was so evident that even Grim could have pointed it out between jeers.

"That was… That was an attack!" you exclaimed, placing a hand over your mouth.

"It was scientific evidence, as you requested." He nodded solemnly.

"Hypothesis proven. I didn't die."

"I'll kill you if you do that again!"

"So I do die after a kiss?"

"AZUL!"

"You're blushing, by the way. Adorable."

You threw the book at him.

He caught it with ridiculous ease.

"Want to read to me for a bit?" he said, winking at you. "I promise not to die mid-chapter."

Your face burned. Your pride screamed. But your lips… well, those were dangerously tempted to break another rule.

And Azul knew it.

[bluessmutifyplaylist]

Riding Sebek, Jamil, Vil, Leona, Idia and Azul while praising them nonstop because our baby boys need more self-love <3

Tee-hee… I love praise. Reader is freaky in this one.

Warnings: No pronouns used (no genitals aside from a ‘hole’ mentioned), Whimpering, Praise Kink, Body-Checking and Eating Disorder Recovery (Azul), Creampie (Leona,Jamil, Sebek), Overstimulation, Safeword Usage (Sebek)

Leona Kingscholar

“Herbivore… Goddamn, slow down!” The bed of the housewarden was creaking as you kept grinding your hips on his length. The room smelled of raw, sweaty sex.

On the bed, Leona was struggling for his life. Your body was absolute Heaven to him… a drug that he was addicted to. However, he was very overstimulated, since you already made him come about two times already. “No, Leona… I… I wan’ you to re… relax…” Another moan escapes your lips as you continue to basically impale yourself on his thick, juicy cock. “You’re… You’re always s’ good to… to me…” You didn’t even want him to fuck up into you, which was near torture to him. “I’m… fuck… I’m relaxed, Herbivore…!” A growl forces itself out of Leona’s throat, and you soon feel another load shooting into you.

Finally, the torture is done, and you slump over as his flaccid dick slips out of you, and he pants to catch his breath. You could feel his cum dripping out of your sore hole… and it was the most rewarding sensation. “Are you… relaxed?” You ask, looking up into his eyes, and the question makes him smile and shake his head at your antics. “Yes… Yes, I am. Good job, Herbivore.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“Please… Please… Don’t stop…” Another whimper escapes Azul’s lips as tears of pleasure gather in his eyes.

You had been at this for about an hour and a half, and you had no plans of stopping. You kept riding him like a cowboy riding a bull and wanting to stay on for that eight seconds.

“Shhh… honey, relax…” You whisper, moaning softly as you look down into his eyes. “Wanna make you feel good, pretty boy… Get those… horrible thoughts out of your head…”

This entire thing started with you catching Azul body-checking himself, and you were having none of it. His entire body was covered in kisses within five minutes, and you were very determined to show him that you loved him, no matter if he gained or lost weight.

“Love… Shit… Love you… Y/N…” He whimpered softly, and you smiled as you leaned down to press a kiss to his neck, making him moan. “I love you, too… So… So much…” You whisper back.

Soon, you feel his member twitching inside of you, and you hop off of him and start jerking him off until he finishes with a strangled moan. “You… You didn’t come…” The poor cecaelia had more tears in his eyes as he looked over at you, and you only smiled in response. “Tonight was all about you, my love… Now go to sleep…”

Jamil Viper

“Fuck…” He whispered to himself as he was ridden into the highest echelons of oblivion. You were on top of him, smiling softly as your mind turned into mush. “Don’t stop, flower…”

You nod in agreement. His cock just made you feel so full… and you were just happy to have this moment of intimacy with your boyfriend.

“You work… so… so hard…” You whimper softly. “W-Wanna make you… feel… good…”

“You are, flower… Shit… I should work harder…if I’m gonna get… spoiled…” Jamil thought you did not have any magic, but the way your hips were grinding down onto him made him convinced that you did. There was no possible explanation, and he felt like his dick was going to melt inside you from how warm and tight your hole was.

“Love you… Love you… Jam…il…” You shuddered as you are brought to another high, euphoric orgasm.

Your lovely boyfriend, Jamil, wasn’t far behind, and he released it all inside you, breathing heavily as his hands held your hips to steady you.

“Love you, too… flower…” He whispered, starting to relax. However, his eyes widened when your hips started going again. “Baby…?”

“Shhh…” You leaned back, barely moving, but you loved the stimulation. “Wanna… Wanna go again…”

Vil Schoenheit

Your boyfriend, your beloved queen, has been so stressed with how much he had on his plate. He had recently been cast in a role that involves kissing another person, and he was worried that you would be weirded out.

However, you understood that it was just his job, and to reassure him, you went to his trailer and practically pounced on him.

The trailer was shaking with how you were riding him, and you bit your lip as you proudly ruined his mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick… smudging it all with tears and kisses.

“You’re so tense, honey…” You whisper, exhaling in pleasure as your hips rolled against his.

“Darling, please…” He whispers back, moaning in-between, “I’m supposed… t-to be on… on in… shit… an hour!”

“Shhh…” You put a finger to his lips, shaking your head. “If your… employers… fuck… have a fucking problem… they can take it to me…”

Vil never usually was the one on the bottom, but boy, did he love getting pampered like this. Having his significant other’s gummy walls wrapped around his cock made him realize that a professional kiss for a movie was insignificant. After all, you were the only one able to touch him and ruin his makeup in such a way. By the time he was close to finishing, you hopped off of him and grabbed a rag for him to shoot his load into. After all, he did not need to get more dirty than he already was.

“Thank you, darling… You always manage to make me feel better.” He smiled up at you as you grabbed a cloth to clean up any other mess. “Of course, Vil. A small kiss is nothing compared to this. I promise, I’m okay with it. Besides, I know you love me, and if you had a choice, you wouldn’t do it.”

Idia Shroud

“Please… Please…” Idia begged with tears in his eyes as you continued to grind your hips down on his cock, chasing your orgasm. You had jerked and sucked him off, and his dick felt like it was going to explode.

“You’re so pretty, baby…” You whisper with a soft sigh of pleasure. For such a lanky man, his size in the downstairs department was amazing. “...But you need to use your… fuck… your words…”

The gamer didn’t know if he could find the mental capacity to even whisper any other words aside from ‘please’ and your own name. He tried, but his mouth just stayed open as a moan came out.

He was shooting blanks at this point, with drool spilling out of the side of his lips and his eyes crossing in pleasure. It hurt… but it hurt so good. The aching in his member just felt amazing to him.

Soon, you reached your own orgasm, and you smile down at him as his body trembles and shudders. Then, you reach for your phone to take a picture to add to a gallery of pictures like that one.

“My collection is coming along nicely… mainly because the subject is beautiful when he is like this,” you teased lightly. Idia’s face and hair glow a bright pink, knowing there were many photos in that folder. He always managed to look like an ahegao hentai character when he came, and he knew that you loved it.

“Th-Thank you… you…” He whispered as he came down from his orgasmic highs.

Sebek Zigvolt

Before you, the young knight basically knew next to nothing about sex and how it can be used for anything besides basic reproduction. However, right now would be an example of when he was proven wrong.

Your hips were absolute magic, he was convinced. There was no way that his dick could experience so much pleasure and pain at the same time. You had alread made him come about three times, but you were on another level.

“H-Human, please…!” He shouts, but it’s all in-vain as he shoots another load inside of you. Yet, with how you didn’t pause, he knew that you were freaky.

“‘Please’ what, Sebek?” The smile on your face was nothing short of sadistic. Of course, you had a safeword in place just in case he was actually in pain. With how he hasn’t used it yet, you took it as a green-light to continue.

“Slow down!” He responds, looking up at you.

The way his dick filled you surprised you at first with how it was so big. You haven’t seen a size like his, and you were very excited about showing him the ropes of ‘sex for pleasure’.

“And why should I?” You ask, going a bit faster with a giggle. “Fuck, your cock is amazing, Sebek…!”

Soon, Sebek felt another orgasm coming on, and he released his fourth load inside you. Your torso was slightly bloated from how much semen was inside of you, and you finally understood why creampies were so popular during sex.

“Bottle…” The knight whispers, feeling absolutely exhausted. Your smile softens as you get up off of him, laying next to him. “You need be to get you anything, Seb? Water? A snack?” You ask, but your boyfriend shakes his head as he starts to fall asleep. Even if he would never admit it, he was absolutely adorable.

[nobody3xe]

Azul Ashengrotto

[colormush]

[solxamber]

Labor of Love with: Housewardens

Ways in which they show their devotion through actions.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is meticulous.

It’s something you’ve always known, but it hits you harder when you see the neatly organized stack of notes waiting for you on your desk. Every single day, without fail, he goes out of his way to make sure your materials are in order—sections color-coded, key points highlighted, and even definitions written in the margins in his precise, careful handwriting.

You never asked him to do it. He never mentioned it, either. But he does it anyway.

And that realization makes your heart swell.

So, when you walk in and find him seated at your desk, methodically sorting through your latest notes, red pen in hand, you don’t hesitate.

You step forward, wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, and rest your chin against his head.

Riddle stills. You feel his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

Then, slowly, he leans into you.

You press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

His hand tightens around the pen. “…I want to.”

That’s when you know.

You squeeze him just a little tighter. “I love you too, Riddle.”

His ears turn red, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he simply exhales, tilting his head just enough that your cheek rests against his.

And just like that, he continues working, letting you hold him as long as you want.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona hates unnecessary work. Hates anything that requires more energy than necessary.

And yet, when you're around, you never have to lift a damn finger.

You don’t even think about it most days—the way your bag just disappears from your shoulder, the weight suddenly gone as you walk beside him. He never makes a show of it, never announces it. One second, it’s there; the next, it’s slung over his own shoulder like it belongs to him.

Today, though, you notice.

You glance at him, watching the way he strides forward like he’s done nothing at all, green eyes lazy and indifferent. He’s grumbling under his breath about class, about professors, about how this is exactly why he doesn’t bother showing up half the time.

A grin spreads across your face. Without warning, you loop your arms around his and lean into him as you walk, practically hanging off of him.

Leona scoffs. “The hell are you doin’?”

“You’re cute,” you say simply.

His ears twitch. He clicks his tongue, looking away. “Whatever, herbivore.”

But he doesn’t shake you off. And when your fingers intertwine with his, his grip tightens, holding on just a little firmer than before.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto is, first and foremost, a businessman. A professional. A shark in the waters of commerce, always calculating, always scheming.

And yet, somehow, Mostro Lounge always seems to have a convenient couple’s discount whenever you’re craving something.

Today, it’s that seasonal dessert you offhandedly mentioned a few days ago. Suspiciously, the lounge is now offering a limited-time deal—50% off for couples! Azul, ever the shrewd entrepreneur (liar), insists that it would be financially irresponsible not to take advantage of such an incredible offer.

“We are a couple,” he says, adjusting his glasses with a perfectly straight face. “And our deals are, as always, unmatched. It would be a waste not to dine here.”

You can’t help but smile. He’s so transparent, pretending this wasn’t orchestrated specifically for you. But you don’t call him out on it—you just squeeze his hand a little tighter, warmth spreading through your chest as you sip your drink.

Azul coughs lightly, looking away, but his fingers tighten around yours.

For all his talk of profit, it’s moments like this that prove the truth: when it comes to you, he’d rather give than take.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim always, always walks you back.

It doesn’t matter if the sky is clear or if the rain is coming down in sheets. If he’s exhausted from a long day or if a million other things are demanding his attention—he will be there, right by your side.

And, of course, he insists on holding hands.

“What if a rogue cat attacks us?” he says earnestly, fingers lacing through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It makes no sense. At all. But who are you to question him when he looks at you like that? When his smile is so bright, so genuine, just because you took his hand?

You huff a laugh, squeeze his fingers, and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. He beams, delighted, and tugs you forward with even more enthusiasm.

You let him lead the way—because, really, how could you not?

Vil Schoenheit

Vil never lets you run on empty.

It doesn’t matter how busy he is, how many rehearsals, photoshoots, or brand meetings he has lined up—he will make time to ensure you’ve eaten properly. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all balanced, all nutritious, all approved by him.

So when he strides into the lunchroom, posture perfect despite the exhaustion clinging to his frame, you already know what’s coming. He gracefully sets down a container in front of you—a salad, curated to perfection, each ingredient placed with care.

“You need more greens in your diet,” he says, tone firm but eyes softer than usual. “And before you protest, this has everything your body requires for optimal function.”

You don’t protest. You just watch him as he picks at his own food, launching into a detailed explanation of the health benefits of each ingredient. His voice is smooth, poised, but there’s a faint weariness beneath it, the telltale signs of a long morning.

And yet, he still came.

Still made sure you were taken care of.

Your heart clenches, full to the brim with adoration. You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand as you gaze at him, utterly enamored.

Vil pauses mid-sentence, eyes flicking up to meet yours. He exhales, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“What?” he asks, almost amused.

You just shake your head, spearing a piece of lettuce with your fork. “Nothing,” you say, smile warm. “I just really, really love you.”

He scoffs, cheeks faintly pink. “At least finish your meal before getting sentimental.”

But when you take your first bite, he looks pleased.

Idia Shroud

Idia has his own way of looking out for you.

It’s not grand gestures or flowery words—no, he’s far too awkward for that. But when you’re struggling with a game level, you mysteriously find it cleared the next day, your inventory suddenly stocked with rare loot.

When your gacha pulls are unlucky, an absurd amount of in-game currency finds its way to your account, no explanation given (but you know exactly who’s responsible).

Even when he’s too anxious to come out, Ortho arrives with care packages—snacks, drinks, even a plushie once (“Big Brother said you might need a comfort buff,” Ortho had cheerfully reported).

Right now, you’re sitting on his bed, watching as he games. The glow of his monitors reflects off his hair, his fingers moving quickly over his keyboard. Despite being engrossed, he still glances over at you every so often.

“Are you comfortable?” he mumbles, barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenches. You shift closer, pressing against his side as you smile.

“I really, really love you,” you say softly.

Idia fumbles, missing a crucial input, and his character dies instantly.

“…Y-you just had to say that mid-boss fight,” he groans, hair flaring pink.

You just laugh, leaning into him as he frantically tries to respawn.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus always listens.

You could be rambling about the most mundane thing—a pebble you saw on the side of the road, the weirdly shaped cloud that looked like a potato—and he’d listen like you were reciting sacred text. His emerald eyes stay fixed on you, unwavering, as if every word you speak is precious.

Malleus always makes sure you’re safe, too. If it rains when you’re together, you’ve noticed something peculiar—lightning never strikes near you. Not once. As if the storm itself knows better than to disturb you.

Right now, you’re recounting Grim’s latest kitchen disaster, hands gesturing wildly as you describe the flames, the shrieking, the very near death experience of your breakfast. And there he is, watching, listening, completely enraptured by you like you’re the only thing in the world.

You can’t help yourself. You lean in and kiss him, a quick, impulsive press of your lips against his.

Malleus blinks, surprised, before his expression softens into something warm, something yours.

“…Please continue,” he says, voice gentle.

You laugh, your heart full, and keep talking.

Masterlist

[ducksido]

I LOVE YOUR WORKS Practically going to tumblr to see it, I wanna request a houswardens having s/o who has unreal beauty? And has soft melodic laugh, I am just liking the trend of unreal beauty AHHHH I wanted to do myself the fic but you will do it better[sry just love you fics they look like canon]

(thank yew ❣️❣️)

Riddle Rosehearts Riddle was raised on rules, not daydreams. But when he looks at you? Logic flies out the window. You don’t just look beautiful—you’re unreal, like a fairytale vision spun from silk and moonlight. The first time he hears your laugh—soft, chiming, and full of genuine warmth—he forgets his entire sentence mid-way.

“I-I… you’re… no, I mean—ahem! You shouldn’t laugh like that in public—it’s… distracting…” His ears are as red as his hair. He gets flustered trying to enforce rules around you, but deep down? He loves that he’s powerless to your smile.

Leona Kingscholar Leona’s seen plenty of beautiful people, but you? You're on a whole other level. He calls you “Herbivore”, but the way he looks at you—like you’re some mythical creature who wandered into his den—is pure reverence.

“Tch. With a face like that, you’ll give the sun a complex.” He pretends to nap through your laughter, but his tail always flicks toward you when you laugh—like it’s trying to chase the sound. You're the only one who can make him willingly move from his nap spot… just to hear you laugh again.

Azul Ashengrotto You’re his Achilles’ heel. Azul, ever-calculated, tries to maintain composure around you—but when you walk in, glowing like ocean pearls with that melodic laugh that ripples like waves? He short-circuits.

“W-Would you mind… not laughing like that during meetings? It’s hard to think straight when you sound like a lullaby.” He fantasizes about bottling your laugh like a potion—something precious only he can hold. No business deal could ever compare to the way you smile just for him.

Kalim Al-Asim Kalim adores you. He's stunned every time he sees you—like he forgets you're real. Your laugh? It’s his favorite song. He claps, spins, and cheers when he hears it.

“You're like a genie’s wish come true!! Even your laugh sparkles!!” He shows you off like a precious jewel—not out of pride, but pure awe. He throws lavish parties just so others can see what he sees: someone too beautiful for words, with a voice soft enough to tame storms.

Vil Schoenheit Vil is the standard of beauty. And yet—even he can’t help but pause when you walk into a room. He studies you with a critical eye at first… but soon finds himself breathless.

“You’re… quite literally dazzling. And that laugh? It’s like perfume for the ears. How am I supposed to stay composed?” You’re the only one who could make the Queen himself stumble over words. Vil admires your grace, your softness, and the way your beauty is effortless. He won't admit it out loud, but you make him feel insecure—in the best way.

Idia Shroud He thought ethereal beauty only existed in RPGs. But then you appeared—with that glowy, surreal aura and a laugh so gentle it makes his chest ache.

“You… you’re not like a ghost or a simulation, right? B-Because you look like you phased in from another dimension or something…” His hair flares hot pink whenever you laugh. He replays your voice in his head like a cherished OST. He’s convinced you're some kind of mythical NPC that accidentally wandered into his world—and he's not letting you glitch away.

Malleus Draconia To Malleus, who has wandered centuries alone, you are a vision he never thought he’d witness outside a dream. Your beauty transcends mortal standards. He doesn't just admire you—he worships you.

“Your laughter… it soothes the thorns in my heart. You must be a forest spirit, come to enchant me.” He finds himself smiling whenever you’re near, your presence brighter than even his beloved gargoyles. You’re his lullaby. His light. His reason to want the company of others—for once.

[kokii-omii]

fatherless behavior