#aab snippets

[locria-writes]

(simptober ) can have a snippet for MC riding Val's lap while he whispers naughty things on her ear wahh >\\\\<

i deeply admire your dedication to getting this smut and here’s someone else’s snippet that should greatly satisfy this itch

You’ve never really liked him -- arrogant and disdainful men were never quite to your taste, yet here you are again. Despite the humiliation, despite the rational part of your mind screaming at you to never be near him again, you find yourself on his lap, desperately rubbing against him in search of pleasure.

Valentin doesn’t pay much attention to you during these trysts, if you can even call them that. No, he busies himself with documents, acting as though you don’t exist. It is most irksome, maybe because you really are a spoilt brat as he likes to point out, or maybe because you’ve grown to crave the constant showers of affection and adoration other men give you in hopes of the barest scrap of your acknowledgement.

Your dress and most of your undergarments have long been tossed aside, and you’re in but a thin chemise that’s been pulled up and obviously fiddled with, perched delicately on his thigh, and trying to bring yourself to that intoxicating high he gave you once before. But of course, that time was with his fingers, and while he was just as uncaring then, at least he was admiring your beauty.

This time, he had the audacity to bring you so close to the edge, only to then push you away, and tell you to deal with it yourself ‘like a bitch in heat’. Normally, you’d consider slapping someone for such impudence, but you’re so desperate for release...

“Please...” You know you’re whining, but you’re too far gone to care. You’re grabbing onto his jacket (you know he’s going to give you hell for that later), and you’re trying to look as cute and pathetic as possible, all while rutting against his thigh, in hopes of somehow triggering that tiny sliver of humanity he has. “Please...”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging painfully. “Keep whining, and I’ll throw you out, got it?”

You meekly nod, knowing that it’s not just an empty threat. So you turn your attentions back to trying to find a satisfying rhythm against him. After a while longer of your fruitless attempts, you feel him shift his legs, and you soon find yourself moaning in delight, every rock of your hips sending pleasurable thrills throughout your body.

“What a wanton little whore.” He’s gone back to reading but something about him seems...less hostile. You don’t get a chance to really question it, as he presses your head rather unceremoniously against his chest. “Are you so desperate for attention that you’ll rub against any man?”

You whimper, feeling his other hand slip between your legs, pinching your sensitive little bud with delicious callousness. “I...I’m not...” You almost shriek when he pinches again, too painfully this time to be pleasant. “N-no...I-I’m...I’m y-yours...”

“My what?” He pulls you a bit closer, and oh Providence, you know he’s but a few seconds away from pushing you onto his desk and deflowering you. He’s made that promise more than once, and you can’t deny that you’re somewhat looking forward to it.

“Y-your...your...little w--whore...” You aren’t sure if the tears in your eyes are from frustration or humiliation.

Valentin seems satisfied with that, much to your surprise. You were certain he was going to make you get on your knees and beg today, but maybe he’s just feeling merciful? You almost sob when you feel him pull your hips against his, and you can feel his hardness pressing into you, with nothing but his trousers stopping him. You’re not sure exactly what he does, and you don’t particularly care, but whatever he does, he brings you over that edge, over and over again, and you find yourself reduced to a whimpering and sobbing mess. You think you say ‘I love you’ a few times, but your mind and body are so fuzzy from euphoria, you don’t know if you just imagined it.

Once you manage to catch your breath, you happily slide off his lap, eagerly undoing his trousers to thank him. The rational part of you is ashamed to see an adoring girl reflected in his dark eyes.

“Aren’t you an obedient little thing today?” He sounds mildly amused. There might be a trace of fondness hidden in there too, but you don’t really care at this point.

[xf4iryx]

ghost files universe

IMPORTANT: Aivars and atņemiet amoram bultas (aab) is owned by my love @prettygirlmeri . These works are all within the Ghost Files Universe. This is a crossover with atņemiet amoram bultas.

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions and graphic depiction of violence, death, torture, terrorism and counter-terrorism, blood, substance abuse, loss of loved ones, mental health issues, eating disorder, hinted sexual content, pregnancy related issues and sizeism. proceed and read at your own caution. each snippet will feature potential tws if one of the above things is mentioned. again, proceed at your own caution.

ghost files ¹

SYNOPSIS: In the island state of Saint Irene capital crimes are seen as the worst. To fight against them they built a special unit to fight against these crimes. These are their cases.

ultraviolence ²

SYNOPSIS: A bank robbery and hostage situation causes the joint terror task force and the task force to join forces. Amidst a sect who seemed to have built a ideal world and a dead ex member they soon find hints that could destroy these people's very ideal world to the core.

your tears are my knives ³

SYNOPSIS: When a terror attack strucks the beating heart of Saint Irene's capital, injuring and killing people, the joint terror task force of Saint Irene police department is called into action. Upon following the traces the task force uncovers a conspiracy that could change the balance of power on the island.

a ghost's truce ⁴

SYNOPSIS: At first it all seemed like a normal homicide, nothing special. That is until Vidmantas Budrys finds a picture of one of his team in the victim's house alongside pictures of other people. Searching in the past the team finds an old case that could destroy the team.

a mockingbird's cry ⁵

SYNOPSIS: What if a case brings two teams together to catch a murderer and reveals a plot far bigger. what if someone decides to start a psychological warfare?

protocol spectre ⁶

sequel to ghost files, next generation

SYNOPSIS: when Simon McKay and his friends stumble upon a crime that does not seem to be a crime and are asked for help by an elderly woman they soon notice that something seems to be wrong. When the old woman is found dead the teenagers try to get their parents involved but the death cause at first seems to be of natural cause. When hints for an old artefact hidden on the island are found a battle against time begins, embarking the young people on a hunt for the treasure and to find out who killed the old woman.

more to be added...

tag list: @writingpotato07 , @prettygirlmeri, @queerlilchinchin, @pluttskutt , @essiesreadingcorner, @theimperiumchronicles, @mrsmungus (asked to be added or removed)

[fatmclassic]

FATM extras

Heart in a cage-Strokes cover with Dev Hynes

As Far as I could get-RSD exclusive

Pure Feeling-Target HBHBHB US exclusive

Conductor-Target US HBHBHB Exclusive

Tiny Dancer-Elton John cover

Flakes-Cover on Mystery Jet half in Love with Elizabeth EP

Wish that you were here-Miss peregrines home for peculiar children OST

Breath of Life-Snowhite and the huntsmen OST

Over the Love-The Great Gatesby OST

Too much is never Enough- Final Fantasy OST

Fairytale of new york-Pogues cover with Billy Bragg

Galaxy of the lost-Dev Hynes cover 

Last Christmas-wham cover

All I want for christmas is a gril with one eye-Cover 

Filthy Fingers- Floribble amd miserabella

Between two lungs demo-From special lungs boxset

Falling demo-Drumming song CD single release Bside

Postcards from italy-Beirut cover

Addcited to love-Robert Palmer cover-Island records anniverrasy

Cant speak french-Girls aloud cover

Sunday-Ashok

Anew years anxiety-Ashok

My baby just cares for me-Nina Simone cover with Jools holland

My best dress-Unreleased

I don’t wanna know-Mario Winans cover

I don’t care-Icona pop cover with dev hynes

decadence-Ashok

GET lucky/standing in the way of control-Daft punk/gossip cover

Groove is in the heart-DEE LITE cover

Slow tune-Ashok

Happy slap-Ashok

Under the thumb-ashok

Somethings gotta hold on me-Etta james cover

Girl with one eye (Bayou percusiion version)-Lungs deluxe

Girl with one eye demo

Delilah demo-RSD B-sdie

Back to black-Amy winehouse cover

Heard it through the grapevine-Marvin Gaye cover

Hey Girl-Lady Gaga collab

Donkey Kosh-unreleased

My boy builds coffins demo

Bird song accapella longer version

Halloween-Florrible and miserabella

Small hands-floribble and miserabella

Only love can break your heart-RSD Neil young cover

Little donkey-Video for floribble an dmiserabella

Throwing bricks-Floribble and miserabella

The grouch-greenday cover with DEV

Nice guys finish last-greenday cove rteam perfect

The rat-walkmen cover

When in disgrace with fortune and men eyes-Shakespeare sonnet reading with rufus wainwright

I love you all the Time-Eagles of death metal cover for Bataclan massacre surviviors

Aliens exist-Blink 182 cover team perfect

The chain-Fleetwood mac cover

Going down-Bruce springsteen cover with Kid harpoon

Not Fade away-Buddy Holly cover for compilation album

Oh darling!-beatles cover

All the time-Greenday team perfect cover

Don’t tell me-I’m not calling you a liar demo

Swimming demo

Swimming final version-Itunes UK exclusive

Hitchin a ride-Greenday team perfect cover

Are you hurting the one you love-rabbit heart single Bside

Tear out my tongue-Unreleased

Love hurts-neil young cover with neil young

redundant-Team perfect greenday cover

Scattered-Greenday team perfect

Hospital beds-Cold war kids cover

Part of your world-Little mermaid cover

Halo-beyonce cover

Stay with me-Sam smith cover

If I had a heart-fever ray cover

AAB-Ashok

Lean from the middle-ASHOK

Franky boy-ashok

Geri gigolo-ashok

Stand by me-Cover for Final Fantasy XV

I will be-Final Fantasy XV OST

I’m not calling you a lair-Dragon Age 2 version

I come apart-A$AP Rocky collab

Walking on broken glass-Annie lennox cover

Wild season-Bank and steelz collab

Midnight-Cosmo (Felix white EP)

Radix-ashok

Silver bells-Fleetwood mac cover

Sweet nothing-Calvin harris collab

Fireworks-sings with Drake

Take care-Rihanna cover

Where are u now-Justin beiber cover

Youve got the love-The XX live remix collab

Times like these-Foo fighters cover

Spectrum-Avcii version

Since you been gone-Kelly clarkson cover

Wild wild life-Talking heads cover

Electric feel-MGMT cover (poor quality)

Throwing bricks studio version

Dog days are over-Arcade fire collab version

You got the dirtee love-Dizzee rascal collab

An offering-Rabbit heart demo on lungs special edition boxset

THink-aretha franklin cover

Gimme shelter-live collab with rolling stones

Southern man-Neil young cover/live collab

Heavy in your arms-Twilight eclipse OST

Spectrum (say my name)-Calvin harris remix and video

Hurricane drunk-Scrapped single version with video

Paper massacre-Scrapped song snippet extended

Adams song-Blink 182 cover Team perfect

Platypus I hate you-greenday cover team perfect

Maps-yeah yeah yeah cover (shocking quality sadly)

Rebel rebel-David bowie (poor quality and little footage again)

Don’t let go-en vogue cover

Borderline-madonna cover (messing in her room)

Suspicious minds-Elvis cover with Glasvegas

Jackson-Johnny cash cover with Josh Homme

Try a little tenderness-Otis redding cover

Dog days are over demo-Lungs deluxe

Ye olde hope-Unreleased

Hardest of hearts-Lungs deluxe

Bedroom hymns-Ceremonials deluxe

Landscape demo-Ceremonials deluxe

Strangness and charm-Ceremonials deluxe

Which witch-HBHBHB deluxe

Hiding-HBHBHB deluxe

Make up your mind-HBHBHB Deluxe

Ghosts-I’m not calling you a liar demo- lungs deluxe UK

Falling-Lungs deluxe

Bird song-lungs deluxe

Bird song intro-Lungs deluxe

Remain nameless-Ceremonials deluxe

Never let me go (reworked with Blood orange)

Toothpaste kisses-Live collab with the Maccabees

Still life-Live collab with The Horrors (Good quality)

People have the power-Patti smith cover

Judas-Lady gaga cover as blinding intro

Folsom prison blues-Live cover with pete doherty (awful quality sadly)

Unfinished business-White lies live collab

Girl with one eye featuring Jarvis cocker Live

On board-Friendly fires live collab (once again, quality isn’t great)

The bachelor-Patrick wolf live collab

Here lies love-David byrne and fatboy slim collab for concept musical about imelda marcos

If I rise-Dido cover (stand in for the Oscars)

Wild Horses-rolling stones collab live (not great quality)

Ball in your mouth-Skit with jimmy fallon

Adult Table-as Flo diggity for an SNL skit

You’ve got the Love XX remix-Flo remixes herself live with the XX

[locria-writes]

Would cheating on Lothar with Val be enough to piss him off to the point of being Big Angy? I want to see,,,, forceful dubcon-bordering-on-noncon Lothar so bad it makes me stupid 😔

anons really be out here enabling my awful life choices smh (also help i need an adult after writing this)

You cry out when Lothar roughly pushes you face-down on the bed. "P-please...can't we talk...?"

"Talk?" He grabs a fistful of your hair, but doesn't pull on it like you expect him to. His other hand is pushing your skirts up to your waist. "We've talked about this countless times now, haven't we?"

"I-I'm sorry...! Please, one more -- "

"One more chance?" You flinch at how uncaring he sounds, and from the cool air hitting your now-exposed lower body. "How many times does this make now? Ten? Eleven? Twelve? Do you take me for some fool?"

A part of you wishes to scream out that it's his fault for this -- if he weren't so overbearing, if he weren't so restrictive, if he weren't so controlling -- but your voice dies in your throat when you feel the familiar leather of his gloves on your neck. There's no real force to it, but if there's one thing you've learnt from being with him, it's how unpredictable he can be.

He leans down, warm lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, "It didn't have to be like this. If you were a good girl and did as you were told, we wouldn't be in this unpleasant situation, no?" His voice is as smooth and gentle as silk, but there's a steel edge to it -- an edge you've only ever heard him use on others.

Lothar moves away a bit, and you hear the sound of clothes rustling. Before you can glance back, he pushes your face into the mattress, and pulls you up by the hips, forcing you to arch your back rather uncomfortably. Something hot and hard brushes against your backside, and you don't need to look to know what it is.

You hold your breath, trying to figure out what he's going to do. He's rubbing himself along your slit, occasionally letting the tip of his cock dip into you, but nothing more. Then he moves higher, and you feel your stomach drop. He...he can't possibly be planning to do anything there, right?

As if sensing your trepidation, Lothar laughs cruelly. "What's got you so afraid, my darling rose?" The endearments sounds like poison from his tongue. You can't help but tense when you feel him press into it slightly, eyes shut in preparation for the pain.

To your relief, he doesn't actually go further, and instead, shifts his attention back lower, before attempting to push the entirety of his swollen member into you. The shriek leaves your lips automatically -- you're nowhere near wet enough for this, and as if it weren't enough pain the first time, it takes him several thrusts before he actually manages to enter you, and you swear that you feel blood.

He doesn't wait for you to adjust before he begins fucking you -- completely devoid of his usual gentleness and concern. He pays no heed to your sobs and cries of pain, that he's hurting you, and that you don't want this. He ignores your pleas for forgiveness, that you're truly sorry and have learnt your lesson. It's like he doesn't see you as a person anymore, that you're just a pretty doll for him to use.

To your shame, it becomes pleasurable somewhere along the way, and soon your cries for him to stop become those for more, and for the first time throughout this ordeal, he happily complies. Your thoughts are barely coherent, lost in the haze of pain and lust, and you think he calls you his little whore, or maybe he called his little rose? The stray thought that he's using his magic to influence you crosses your mind, but honestly, you couldn't care less right now, drunk off of this intoxicating ecstasy.

You lose track of time. Your body feels boneless and hypersensitive, and your throat hurts. You're crying, though you aren't sure why. There's a strange, but not unwelcome, warmth spreading deep inside of you, and you feel Lothar pull out and roll you onto your back.

He's sweaty, and his eyes are a bit wild, but filled with that familiar adoration as he smiles indulgently. "You're my obedient little rose, aren't you?"

Your mouth feels like cotton, but you feel yourself nodding and agreeing anyway. His smile widens as he leans down and kisses you gently on the lips, and all you want is more.

[locria-writes]

do i have a clever title? no. am i ashamed of this? for a while, yes, but i’ve grown past this and discovered worse kinks (〃‿〃✿)

Today, he’ll finally ruin you.

Valentin had meticulously arranged for the whole night, having blackmailed the host into accepting his demands. He made sure that you would be seated next to him for dinner. For the entirety of the meal, he hiked up your skirts, letting his fingers draw patterns on your knee, then your thigh, until he finally slipped a finger into you.  

He must commend you for your masterful composure, expression barely flinching as his thumb rubbed your sensitive bud. Perhaps this is what separates your ilk from the rest, but he knows that’s not true. A lesser woman would have crumbled immediately.

So, now he pulls you into a room after dinner, one that the host prepared for him as specified. He leans against the door, a not-so-subtle sign that you will not flee from him.

“I’m quite impressed with you.”

“I’m rather flattered.” Your lips quirk to a practiced smile. “Could you please explain what you need? My father might be looking for me.”

“Forget the old man. I’m here.” He crosses his arms, staring you down. “I’m here to propose a game we should play.”

“A game?” You tilt your head, almost adorably so, as you regard him warily. “What kind of game?”

“A very fun one.” Valentin steps toward you. “I promise you’ll love it.”

“I’m not so sure I believe you.”  

“Hear me out.” One hand cups your warm cheek. “If I win, you let me do as I please with you tonight.”

Your pout reminds him of a puppy – an accursed weakness of his. “That sounds like every night we spend together though.”

“Yes, well, if you win, you can do as you please with me for the night.” It’s a preposterous idea, really, because there’s no way you can win this. He’s planned everything so that you’ll lose.

Your eyes light up at that as you clasp your hands behind you. “What’s this game then?”

Valentin smiles thinly, stepping away to retrieve the box he left in here earlier. “Take a look.”  

Your gaze is uncertain as you remove the top of the box. “What is this?” Your voice is sweet as can be as your hand touches the object inside.

Oh, he can already imagine your expression when he tells you. “What do you think it is?”

“I haven’t any idea.” You pick it up, tracing its grooves. It takes a lot of willpower to stifle his laugh. “A glass ornament?”

His hand touches your soft lips, gently tracing its shape. “Think less like a noble.

Doesn’t it look familiar at all?”

Your cheeks flush pink as you look down at it again. “Please, just tell me, Valentin.”

He chuckles as he pushes his thumb into your mouth. “You really are a precious nobleman’s daughter, aren’t you?”

You pout again, but before you can say anything, he leans down and whispers against your ear, “They use these in whorehouses. They’re to simulate a man’s cock.”

It’s hilarious and absolutely adorable when you’re face turns bright red and you stumble backward. “I beg your pardon?” Your voice is higher than normal with panic. “And you let me touch that…that filthy thing?”

He laughs. “Calm down, it’s brand new. I went through a lot of trouble to procure it, you know.” A half-truth. He knows somebody who makes and sells them.

“W-why are you showing me this?”

“For our game, of course.” Valentin flashes you his most persuasive smile as he steps toward you once again. “This will be in you for the entirety of the party. If you can handle it, you win. However, if you need me to help relieve you, you lose. Understood?”

“That’s…that’s so…immoral…”

“Immoral?” He rolls his eyes and sneers, “So that’s immoral, but our relationship isn’t? You think that letting me fuck you in my office with others next door isn’t immoral, but this is?”

You squirm under his scrutiny. “I-I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…m-my father is here.”  

“Because he’s here is the reason why we should play this game.” He catches your chin and raises your head so you’re looking at him. “Wouldn’t it be fun to do such lewd things while he’s none the wiser?”

He can see you deliberating the options in your head before you finally nod. “I…I guess it’ll be fun.”

Fun…for him, he supposes, but he won’t ruin it for now. “Sit down on the divan over there and get ready.”  

You obey him, like you always do, as he takes out the toy and covers it in the oil he had the sense to bring with him. He might hate you, but he doesn’t want to hurt you like that. If he were to hurt you like that, it would be because of himself, not some silly toy.

It’s a sight to behold, the precious scion of the Spellmeyer clan with your legs spread and undergarments loosened. It takes a remarkable amount of willpower not to tear your dress off and fuck you right then and there.

Patience, he reminds himself. He can do whatever he pleases with you once he wins.  

The wide gaze you give him almost does him in once again. “Why do you look so scared? It’s just like any other time.”

“It’s different.” You’re looking a little shy now. “My father doesn’t know anything about this and…and it feels so exciting.”

He snorts. “You want your father dearest to know that his darling daughter is being ruined by a commoner?”

You look away, a strange look on your face, but when you say nothing, he doesn’t push the subject. Instead, he presses the tip of the toy to your entrance. “Ready?”

“I think so.” Despite your words, he can hear the thrill in your voice.

He pushes it in, slowly for a bit, and when it’s clear you’re not in any pain, shoves it in quickly, eliciting a cry of his name from you. “Did that hurt?”

“N-no…” Your breathing is ragged.

“Damn, I wish it did.” He sighs as he offers you his hand to help you up, ignoring the indignant harrumph you gave him. “How does it feel?”

“Full.” Your face is pink. “It, um, doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’d imagine not.”

“I-I prefer you.”

That makes his brows go up in surprise. Your eyes are downcast as you leave the room with him, and he notices your stiff gait. So, he smirks and says, “Need any help?”

“I…I’m fine…” The trembling of your lower lip indicates otherwise, but he decides to humour you for now.

Naturally, Valentin would never dream of letting you off easy. The entire night, he sticks close to your side. Instead of your asking him to dance, he volunteers himself, a rush of excitement coursing through him whenever you faltered. He makes you sit down often, knowing that it will push his toy deeper inside you, and the faces you make as you struggle to compose yourself are nothing short of splendid.  

“Are you feeling all right?” he murmurs next to your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist.  

He’s well-aware of the whispers swirling around. They’re no longer surprised about seeing him with a woman – they’re not even shocked that it’s you – no, their astonishment comes from his tender appearance.  

Your discomposure has been chalked up to the wine he’s given you, explaining your flushed appearance and unsteady carriage. It only serves to further his purpose as he steadies you throughout the night. He’s not ignorant to the murmurings of how gentlemanly and dashing he is.

How foolish they are.

“I-I don’t…” Your voice is breathy; an inflection he’s grown used to. “I can’t do this…”

“Then shall we go relieve you?”  

Valentin wants to curse himself for his trepidation of fucking you. It’s just to further spread the rumours, he tells himself. It’s only to spite your father, he says.

But he knows somewhere deep down, he truly does love the sounds of your moans and the feeling of how warm you are around him.

“I need you, Valentin…” You’re more or less clinging to him as you leave the ballroom You must so close to your breaking point now.

“Needy little whore, aren’t you?” He can afford one kiss, right? If not to lead you on, it will at least add to his newfound reputation, right?

Your lips are soft and warm, the barest trace of wine still clinging to them as they part for his tongue. The quiet moan you give him encourages for his cool hands to cup your flushed cheeks.  

There’s something about how warm, how delicate you feel under his calloused fingers that makes his resolve falter. Deep down, he knows it’s not your fault; that it’s wrong to put Burkhard’s sins on you, but he’s gone too far to give up now. Someone must pay, and he’s long decided that that someone is you, yet…

He can’t bring himself to acknowledge that he really does love you.

“Ah, Elector Sonnen.” The voice sends chills down Valentin’s back as he lets go of you. Stepping back stiffly with his eyes darting to the source of it – the one man he’s been trying to get to.

Burkhard regards the two of you coolly, though Valentin doesn’t miss the flicker in his gaze as he looks at you. “So, this is where you’ve wandered off to with my daughter.”

“F-Father.” You attempt to curtsey, but almost collapse, and would have, had he not grabbed your arm.

“Why are you acting so unbecomingly, foolish girl?” Burkhard’s glare at you is enough to make Valentin angry.

Why is he angry though?

“It’s my fault, my lord.” He steps in front of you. “I gave her a little too much to drink, so she’s tipsy.”

“How uncouth.” His sneer isn’t even masked now that he’s out of respectable company. “The son of a whore thinks he’s worthy of helping my daughter?”

It takes all of his willpower not to punch the man right then and there. Valentin grits his teeth as he levels his own glare. “A bastard is a hundred times more respectable than yourself.”

He doesn’t let the older man speak another word, instead, he drags you away with him. You’re barely stumbling along whilst whimpering quietly, but Valentin doesn’t want to look back, fearing he’ll still see Burkhard’s face.

He pushes you into the room from earlier, hard enough for you to topple over onto the floor. “V-Valentin…” You sound like you’re halfway between sobbing and moaning.

There’s almost a pang of pity when he sees the desperation on your face as you rock your hips in an attempt to get any friction to relieve you. It’s a bit charming, dare he say.

The sweet sound of his name leaving your lips almost makes him reconsider his plans.

“Valentin…”

So, he crouches down to your level, grabbing your chin with one of his hands. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-I want this to be over…”

“You just want it out?” His other hand hikes up your dress. “That’s it?”

You nod so furiously that he chuckles while pushing your skirts up and pulling off your soaked undergarments.  

“Aren’t you a dirty little slut?” A cool finger traces the outline of your wet entrance. “You look like you’ve cum several times already.”

“I haven’t.” Your hand grabs onto his upper arm. “Please, Valentin…I-I can’t do this.”

Valentin flashes you an amused smirk as he pulls out the toy with no preparation whatsoever, drinking in the cry of relief that goes along with it. “Happy now?”

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you so much.”  

He watches your warm smile, feeling himself mimic it as well, as though your silly happiness infected him. It’s disgusting to let such vapid emotions affect him, but he doesn’t resist as he undoes his cravat.  

“It’s time for your punishment, whore.” The words are spit out harshly, yet you no longer cower nor flinch.

Instead, you look at him with wide and excited eyes. “What’s my punishment then?”

Were you enjoying this? Valentin chuckled as he tied the cravat around your eyes. “That’ll be for me to know, and you to find out.”

It’s a double-edged sword, depriving you of your vision. He takes a great amount of delight in seeing your eyes tear up and look about curiously, but the fact you’re going to be hypersensitive to his every touch is more enticing.

“Y-you’re not going to leave me like this, right?” There’s a trace of panic in your voice that eerily echoes that of his own. What happened to a precious noble girl to have such a fear?

He brings his lips close to your ear, licking the shell of it before murmuring, “A tempting idea, but I don’t turn down a good fuck by a desperate whore.”

Valentin picks up the glass toy, watching it glisten under the lights, before bringing it to your lips. “Clean it, harlot. Taste how wanton you are, letting yourself cum to this fake cock.”

You obediently do as he says, pink tongue licking along its surface. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea, since his trousers suddenly seem so much tighter as he thinks about how your mouth around him.

The thought of how warm you, the picture of your doe-eyes looking up at him with tears in them, the thought of how gently you speak to him…

Suddenly, he feels an immense distaste for the toy, and pulls it away. “That’s enough.”

It’s not hard to think that you’re blinking in confusion. “D-did I do something wrong?”

No, no, you did nothing wrong, he wants to say. It’s his sentimentality.

“Of course you did, you dim-witted slut.” He flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hair in the process. “Don’t you know what you’ve done wrong?”

“I-I don’t know.” The fear is rising in your voice. “I’m sorry.”

Valentin bites down on the nape of your neck, ignoring the pained cry you let out, and undoes his trousers. He wanted to torment you at first, but it’s unbearable now. “If you don’t know...” He presses himself against you, and he feels you stiffen from surprise. “Then I’ll make you suffer for it.”

He rubs himself against your entrance, coating his length with your wetness. “What is it that you want?”

“I want you.” You try to move with him, but he pulls on your hair harder. “Be clearer.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You’re whimpering now.

“How so?”

“P-please fuck me like your whore.”  

“Good girl.”  

Valentin pushes himself inside easily, giving you almost no time to adjust before beginning to pound into you.

He likes it this way – your being completely obedient to him, and the sex only being about lust and pleasure, but it’s almost not enough now. Now, he almost craves something more intimate. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he just wants to shower you in kisses, and let this act drop.  

Almost as though he truly wants to make love to you.

The realization of that fuels his furious thrusts, forcing himself to let your cries and moans sink in.

He only wants to fuck you.

He only wants you as a pawn.

He only wants you for revenge.

…He really wants to love you.

“Valentin…Valentin…” His name spills from your mouth time and time again as you cum, it almost baffles him. Why do you keep chanting his name? It’s always been like this, and it’s always confused him. Do you not know that this is wrong?

Do you not know that he’s a bad man?

“Fuck,” he groans, coming deep inside of you. He’s reluctant to pull out, desiring little more than the feeling of how gentle and warm you are.

But he eventually pulls out, watching his seed slowly trickle out of you. Every single time he’s cummed inside, yet he’s always fascinated by it. Will this time leave you with child? If you are with his child, what will you do then?

As if drawn by these thoughts, he uses a finger to push it back inside of you as he continues to watch, almost tenderly so.

“What are you doing?” Your voice sounds so soft.

Whatever mildness he has disappears as he presses a harsh kiss to your neck. “I was making sure that this time you’ll be left with my child.”

“Child…?”  

“What greater honour is there,” he says, untying his cravat from your eyes “than to bear my children? Think about the chaos that the precious Spellmeyer daughter has my child out of wedlock. What will they do then?”

Your eyes fill with worry as you turn to look back at him. “I-I can’t…”

“But you will.” His nips at your lips. “You’ll be my wife. It’s your duty to bear my children.”

“Wife?”  

Valentin’s cheeks warm slightly at your echo, so he buries his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Is there another position where we can fuck and have children without questions?”

There’s that adorable breathy laugh of yours. “I suppose not.”

He can still make this work. He’ll marry you, and then ruin your family – the two can be mutually-exclusive.  

You don’t deserve him, that much he knows, but he also knows that he doesn’t deserve you. You should have someone who’ll love and cherish you, neither of which he can do, and yet…

Valentin knows that he’s hopelessly and desperately in love with you. Even if it’s not the smartest thing to do, he’ll keep loving you.

[locria-writes]

Pls pls plssss release the other smut snippets (that, let's face it, we know you have :'D) of the ROs (@Edddie I'm particularly looking at you!!!!) Thank youuuuu😭💖💖💖

feeding the masses because i just love our favourite uncle so much and he deserves better (〃‿〃✿)

You practically run into Edmund’s townhouse the second you get off the carriage. You’re almost beside yourself with worry as you hastily make your way up the stairs, all the while anxiously tracing the wax seal on his letter.

It arrived that morning, and when you opened it, you learnt he had taken ill last night. Normally, you wouldn’t bat an eyelash, but this is Edmund – the man doesn’t get sick very often, and considering his lofty position, you fear perhaps one of his enemies had finally caught up with him. It doesn’t help that his message was vague at best, leaving your fretful thoughts to stew about in your head.

“Your Serene Highness.” You try not to openly sigh with relief when you see that he looks to be mostly okay. His complexion is a bit pale, and there are dark circles under his eyes, but nothing awful. You rush over, ignoring the maid who bobs you a curtsey, and cup his face between your hands. He’s a bit warm, but nothing alarming. “Are you all right?”

Edmund smiles sweetly at you, and you start to feel a little silly. “I’m fine, just a bit tired, my dear.”

You narrow your eyes at his cheery expression. The old flirt had you by the nose. Your hands drop away from him as you cross your arms, attempting your best glare. “You…you ignoble lecher! You’re not even sick!”

His expression doesn’t dim one bit as he waves away the servants in his room. “It’s just a head cold, my dear. I’ll survive.”

“I’m leaving.”  

You barely make a step before the sounds of faked coughs and sniffles fill the room. “Ahem, oh dear, I think I really am coming down with something.”

If you had a stronger will, you would have liked to walk away and not look back, but unfortunately, he’s wormed his way into your heart. You sigh as you go to his bed and sit down beside him. “You’re acting like a child, my lord.”

Edmund tries to look as pitiful as possible as he feigns another cough. “No, no, my darling, I think I really have caught my death with this.”

“You’re fine.” Still, your hand touches his forehead. “It’s just a bit warm. It’ll go away with some rest.”

He flashes you an impish smile as he takes your hand and presses a warm kiss to your knuckles. “I’m quite ill, I daresay. The physician told me to keep warm, and you, my dear, keep me very warm.”

Your cheeks flush, but you try not to give in. “I’ll tell the maids to bring up more blankets and fix you some stew then.”

“No, no, you don’t understand my dear – I’m sick because I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’m leaving.” Despite your words, you let him tug you onto his lap though and wrap his arms around you.  

“Oh, how cruel this young lady is!” Edmund wails dramatically. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his soft hair tickling your cheek. “Haven’t you the heart to pity a dying old man?”

“You’ve always been prone to theatrics.”  

“Please?” He kisses your earlobe. “Why are you in a rush to head back to that horrific house? Wouldn’t you rather spend the day here? Comforting your poor and ill lover?”

You sigh, shivering as his tongue traces the shell of your ear. “I can’t stay past dinner though…”

“That’s more than enough time for me.” His hands begin to make quick work of your dress as his lips trail kisses down to your neck, gently licking and sucking once he reaches the junction between it and your shoulder. Your dress is off now, and he starts pulling off your corset and chemise.

“Isn’t it a little early for this?” You stifle a gasp as he nips at the base of your neck.

“Nonsense – it’s never too early to lavish you with affection.”  

You start to question him, but the words die in your throat once he does away with your clothes in that infuriatingly easy manner of his, and begins peppering kisses down your neck.

“It’s...it’s t-too early for this…” You want to stay firm and sensible, but you barely stifle a whimper when he begins sucking on the delicate skin on your collarbone.

“You’re still so shy too.” You can already feel his smug (and admittedly quite charming) smile.

“T-that’s because…y-you’re so indecent.”

“Mhm.” The vibration from his low voice is almost enough to weaken your stubborn resolve. And so you begin this game of refusing to acknowledge his ministrations, and he desperately trying to get you to crack. It works for a while, as he lavishes his attentions on your breasts and neck, you can almost lull yourself into a hazy sense of stability.

In your attempt to maintain a stoic appearance, you fail to realize where his hands are. One slowly makes its way between your legs. When he pushes a finger inside of you, you almost squeal from the sudden, but not unwelcome, intrusion. “That’s n-not fair…!” Your hands tighten around his shoulders.

“Of course it’s unfair, my dear.” Edmund pulls away, an amused smile on his face as he gives your lips a quick peck. “My stubborn girl would leave me to die of ennui if I didn’t play dirty.”

Two more fingers enter you, and you can’t hold in your moan. So you opt to glare at his self-satisfied expression. “Y-you’re awful petty for an o-old man…”

“Only for you, my dear.” His lips capture yours in a sweet kiss – a gentle one that conveys his adoration, yet greedily swallows up your voice as his fingers curl inside of you.

You feel that familiar pressure building in the bottom of your stomach, but unfortunately, he slows down his pace. You forget about your attempts of modest contrarianism, and desperately rock your hips against his hand, in want of any friction to let you finally come.

“I knew you’d come around, dear one,” he murmurs against your lips, tongue touching yours for a second. “You shouldn’t be so stubborn, and just let yourself enjoy the moment.”

You almost cry out as you finally feel your release, but Edmund kisses you once more, muffling your moans as he removes his fingers from you. You watch, cheeks bright red and still panting from your high, as he licks his fingers with a bright smile. “Still as delectable as ever.”

His constant reassurances really did make you feel better. At first, you thought that if you slept with him, he would simply dump you once he was satisfied, like how the rumours spoke of him. So even though you really did love him, you held out, never allowing more than a brief kiss.  

But now here you are, months later, though not any closer to marriage, but you’re happy with this. You know he’ll marry you when he feels the time is right, and you’ll wait for him. He won’t leave you, and you won’t leave him, not when you’ve finally found each other.

“It’s still not fair,” you murmur, resting your cheek on his shoulder, suddenly feeling too shy to meet his gaze. “Why am I undressed, but you still have your clothes on?”

“You want me naked?” He laughs softly. “You only had to ask.”

You want to protest that he’s simply flattering himself, but once he’s undressed, he sits you down onto his lap, more firmly than he did before, and you feel his member against you.

“What are you doing?” Your eyes still aren’t meeting his, so you bury your face in his broad shoulders instead.  

“Let’s try something new.” Edmund’s hands rest on your rear. “Let’s do it in this position, okay?”

“Why?” Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire now.

“Why not?” His tone is amused as he kisses the side of your head. “It’s good to keep things interesting in the bedroom.”

“Are you saying that I wasn’t interesting before?”

“No, no, of course not, my dear!” His hands are gently massaging you now. “I was just thinking that you would look even more enchanting on my lap.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Here.” Edmund pulls you in closer and just a bit higher, so the tip of his length just brushes against your entrance. “Relax down onto me, okay? And let me see your adorable face, all right?”

You do as he says, slowly lowering yourself onto him, but you can’t help but tense. He feels larger like this, unfamiliar. “I-I can’t…”

“Take a deep breath, okay, my dear?” He rubs soothing circles. “Just relax, don’t tense up. You’re doing wonderful, my good sweet girl.”

So, again, you do as he says, and you manage to take him in completely. It feels…so different than from what you’re used to. You know there’s nothing different about either of you, but something about this position feels so much deeper.

“That’s my good girl.” A soft kiss is pressed on the corner of your eye. “Whenever you’re ready, you can start moving.”

You give yourself a second before you begin to rock your hips against him, slowly at first, but once you feel that familiar thrill, your speed picks up. Edmund matches you perfectly, and he kisses you deeply and adoringly once more.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum again, not with how much more pleasurable everything seems in this position. Your lover, as experienced as he is, slows down for you to ride it out, though your moans are all consumed in the kiss.

“You…did so good, dear girl…” He lifts you off of himself and cradles you gently against his warm chest. “I’m so proud of you, darling.”

“W-what about yourself?”

“I want you to watch.”

Your eyes dart down, a sweet kind of mortification filling you when you see his hardened member still glistening from you. He grabs your hand, though not without a slight hesitation in askance for your agreement – which you would give him anyway – and wraps your fingers around himself.

He slowly begins to pump himself with your hand, all the while murmuring, “I can’t wait until the day I can cum inside you, dear girl.” He’s quiet for a moment, before adding, “And…I can’t wait…until we start…a family…”

Your cheeks feel like they’ll burn off when you hear him curse under his breath, something he rarely does, and you feel something warm on your hand.

For now, your love isn’t quite conventional. It is only fitting that your relationship isn’t traditional either, but you like it that way. As much as you tease each other, you know that you love him, and more importantly, you know he loves you back.

[locria-writes]

Omg do you have a snippet of MCs cherry pop with lothar??

i actually do

(also the first chunk was already posted here as a different snippet, but i never posted the ending, so here’s the full thing)

For as long as he can remember, Lothar never liked other people looking at what he thought was his. It was negligible at first, for his mentor made certain to destroy anything that could be deemed his own.

Maybe that’s why he feels the need to protect and hide away his belongings – including yourself.

It was too easy to convince you to shy away from the world. It took some carefully engineered incidents to terrify you, some creative use of his magic to pretend as though there were those out to harm you, and a few words to convince you to stay at his home. From there, it only got easier and easier to persuade you to stop your visitors, then to stop all social functions, and then to simply stay within your shared quarters.

But Lothar isn’t a heartless man. It pains him to hurt you in any way, but it’s the only way to keep you safe, hidden away from all that can possibly harm you.

Even if that means hurting you himself.

To the outside world, he merely tells them you’re ill, suffering from constant fatigue and dizziness. Nobody thinks to doubt him – the perfect gentleman, the kind and well-mannered dog of the court.

“My darling, were you all right without me?” There’s a rush of relief when he sees you in your chambers, as always. He knows it’s foolish to expect you anywhere else, but the fear is still there. He still remembers the panic when you went to visit your brother and weren’t back when he was.

He thought you’d left him, just like everyone else.

You’re sitting by your vanity, brushing those lovely locks of yours, as you turn to him. Your face lights up as you rush over to him, flinging your slender arms around his waist. “My lord…”

He chuckles, running a hand through your hair. “Did you miss me, my sweet girl?”

“I did.” Your voice is muffled as you nuzzle your face into his chest. “It was scary again today.”

“My poor girl is so brave.” Lothar leans down and kisses your cheek. “I’ll make it all better.”

He picks you up, cradling you close to his chest, and sits down your shared bed, with you on his lap “You must have been so scared.”

“Not while you’re here.” Your gaze is still fractured, and it hurts him to see you like this.

It hurts him more that a part of him is thrilled to see you like this.

He smiles wanly, brushing your hair once more. “Before that, I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Mhm.” He reaches into his pocket for the small jar he bought earlier. “I heard that this is popular with the young ladies.”

You take the ornate jar, examining the floral patterns on it. “What is it?”

“Rouge.”

You take off the lid, and the aromatic fragrance of it fills the room. The colour is a rich and deep red, not the colour you normally wear. “This must have cost you a small fortune.”

“It’s nothing compared to you.” Lothar takes one of your hands – so delicate and untainted – in his gloved ones, dipping one of your fingers into the pot. “Try it on. The colour might be deep, but I think it will suit you wonderfully.”

The bashful flush that dusts your cheeks wipes away the day’s fatigue. How wonderful it would be if he could spend the rest of his life only coaxing such adorable expressions from you. Forget everything and everyone – that would be his heaven on earth.

He gently uses your finger to paint your lips with the rouge. It’s a bit too heavy for someone as fresh-faced and innocent as yourself, but it’s a good match nonetheless, at least aesthetically. He’d much rather you only wear the light and pastel colours of youth, not the dark and mature colours of the jaded.

“You look lovely, my sweet girl,” he murmurs, raising your dirtied finger to his lips. “Absolutely stunning.”

Your shy expression as he licks your finger is bliss. The trembling of your lower lip when he begins to suck on it is almost too much for him.

He really wants to push you down and take you right then and there, but he’s a man of patience. You’re the most darling girl he’ll ever know, and you deserve to be worshipped thusly.

“M-my lord…” you murmur, voice quivering ever so slightly.

He hums around the digit, dragging his tongue from the base to the tip of it, relishing the quiet whimper that escapes you. He pulls away, purposely allowing for a trail of saliva to form to see your flushed cheeks grow darker. “Nothing should ever mar your beautiful skin, my dear girl.”

“Nothing but you, my lord.” The soft smile you give him feels like it can absolve him of all his sins.

“You’re absolutely adorable.” He pushes you down onto the bed, golden eyes flashing crimson for a second. “You make me feel like both a terrible man and the most blest.”

“You’re not a bad man.” You reach up to cup his face, but he grabs your wrist, and leans down to kiss you.

It starts off soft, lips moving against each other, breaths mingling together. Lothar drags his tongue against your bottom lip, almost reverently as though he seeks permission, which he knows you’ll grant without fail. You moan when his tongue touches yours, and your free arm grabs onto his hair, lightly tugging it.

He groans into the kiss, releasing your hand to reach for something under his pillow. You heed little attention to it as the kiss grows more and more fervent. It isn’t until you feel a prick of pain that you realize he grabbed a dagger and was slowly cutting off your dress.

He breaks the kiss first, smears of rouge left on his lips as he gives you a saccharine smile. “It seems I’ve ruined your rouge.”

“It’s fine if it’s you, my lord.” Your breath hitches as he tears off your dress, thin trails of blood following his blade. “What are you doing?”

“Have I ever told you how beautiful your skin is?” he whispers, dragging its tip along your stomach. “I want to keep it unblemished, but at the same time, it’s the perfect canvas.”

“I’m afraid… It hurts…”

“A love as grand as ours will always hurt.” His dagger digs into your upper thigh, your whimper of pain makes him chuckle. “How can there be love if there isn’t pain?”

“Please, my lord – “

“I understand.” He sets the blade down as he moves down to your leg. “It’s a shame for such beautiful skin to break, for such precious blood to be spilled.”

Your moan is of pain and bliss as his lips press against the cut. His tongue darts out, greedily lapping away at the blood that escapes from your wound. Your blood has always been special to him – it’s the only thing he’s ever been able to taste, and it tastes of heaven and innocence.

He wonders if it will still taste like that when he’s done with you.

Your trembling and whimpers all feed into his joy. Only he can hurt you like this, and only he can bring you such pleasure. It’s his utmost honour to be able to do so.

“My lord…! It hurts, it hurts!” He ignores your cries as his tongue digs into the cut. Your blood is just so intoxicating, so alluring…

“Please stop! Please…” You’re openly sobbing now, fingers tangled in his hands. “I can’t…it’s too painful…Lothar…”

The sound of his name leaving your sweet lips pull him out of his reverie. Lothar pulls away to see tears streaming down your face. He feels conflicted – on one hand, he wants to kiss away your tears and tell you everything will be all right, that he won’t hurt you, but on the other, he wants to hurt you. He wants to spill your blood and drink it all; he wants to wrap his hands around your dainty neck and see you struggle for breath; he wants to see your sweet face twisted in pain.

“Did it hurt?” he asks softly, licking his lips for any residual blood. “Did it scare you?”

You nod pitifully, eyes wide with fear. “That’s what I always dream of – of those shadows hurting me like that.”

“Ah, that sounds awful, my darling girl.” It’s too easy to feign a sympathetic look. He has no intentions in helping to allay the nightmares he’s so lovingly crafted.

When you’re awake, he’s there to soothe you, to play the part of the concerned lover. He’ll cradle you gently in his arms, kissing away your tears, and coaxing you to calmness with soothing nothings and by feeding you his blood, citing it as a way to keep any bad magic away from you.

When you’re asleep, he makes those dreams happen, twisting whatever pleasant ones you may have into nightmares. He longs to see you truly defiled like him, so you’ll never leave him. He longs to see the light in your eyes diminish, to see your innocence wither away by his hands so you can stand with him on equal grounds.

Lothar runs a gloved hand along your thigh. “Do you want me to make it better?”

“Please…” He loves hearing you whimper.

He smiles, lowering his head to between your legs. It’s a delicious sight, to see you already so wet for him. “You seem quite excited today, my darling. Maybe it didn’t hurt so much after all.”        

He doesn’t wait for your response, licking along your slit for your wonderful moans. It’s a shame he can’t taste for he’s certain he would love the taste of your honey. Instead, he settles for those seductive sounds you make as he pushes his tongue inside of you. Your hands are gripping his hair so tightly that it hurts, but it’s a satisfying hurt. It’s not like the pain he used to feel.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs against your folds. “So wet, and just for me, darling girl.”

“Please…don’t tease….me…” You moan loudly this time as he gives you a few nips, feeling the pleasure spread throughout your body.

It only adds to his feast, luckily. He begins licking and sucking, determined not to let a single drop of you go to waste. How heavenly you must taste. “You’re…just overflowing…” He continues, ignoring the slight ache in his jaw. Your sweet moans are reward enough for him as you come for him over and over.

You’re a trembling mess by the time he pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before licking that off. The sight of you -- legs splayed out, slick with sweat and your own honey, ruined rouge, and a flushed with teary eyes brings his attention to the uncomfortable strain in his trousers.

“Are you all right?” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear. “Was that too much?”

You shake your head, though he figures you’re lying. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“It’s…it’s not fair if only I get something…” Your eyes dart away from his, and it’s so cute he almost laughs.

“I can take care of it myself.”

“No!” You grab his arm, albeit rather weakly. “I…um…I want to help…”

He almost believes he misheard you until you reach for his trousers with a red face. “My dear rose, you needn’t do this.”

“But I want to!” You pout, and his heart melts. “We…um…we still haven’t….m-made love…”

Your sentiment is so adorable, but he shakes his head. “We just did.”

“That was just you loving me though.”

“That’s enough for me.”

“No, it isn’t.” In his lowered guard, you somehow manage to undo his trousers.

“Please, my lord, Lothar – “

That’s all it takes for him to indulge you. He tugs off his clothes hastily but loses his nerve as his length touches your entrance. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes, please.” Your voice is breathy as you stare up at him. “Please make love to me.”

He pushes inside you, slowly to gauge your response. You wince at first at the unfamiliarity, and your arms start to wrap around his back, but his holds your hands down instead, lacing his fingers through yours. “It hurts at first, my love. But it’ll be over soon.”

“You’re so warm.” Lothar groans once he’s fully inside, reluctant to start moving as your walls tighten around him. “So tight, so soft.”

“It…hurts a little…” You’re squeezing his hands tightly and he can see the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“It’ll hurt more if I don’t move.” He makes a few shallow thrusts, and your moans are slightly pained. “It’ll feel good later.”

You slowly nod your assent, and he slowly begins to move, getting deeper and deeper with each thrust, and your moans growing more and more pleasured.

“You feel…so good…” The words almost get caught in his throat. “I love you, my darling…. I love you so…so much…”

“I…I love you too…Lothar…”  

Somehow, that ruins him entirely. The measured pace he so painstakingly maintained is gone now, replaced by a wild and erratic one. He pulls out of you, smirking at your needy whine.

Gone now was the fear of hurting you, and now he only wishes to see you in pain.

He lets go of your hands, gripping onto your hips with bruising force as he lifts them off the bed, changing the angle so he can hit deeper inside of you.

“Does it hurt?”  

You don’t respond, instead, crying out as he re-enters you.  

“You’re…a lewd girl…aren’t you?” He pounds into you with such fervour that it almost seems angry. “The sweet…innocent girl…likes being fucked like this…”

Your arms wrap around his back, fingernails digging painfully into his back, but it feels so wonderful with your lovely sounds.

He doesn’t know how many times you come until he does. He almost forgets to pull out, and it isn’t until he feels himself over the edge. He spills himself over your stomach, and that snaps him out of his

It was close – too close. He just got you, how could he possibly lose you?

“Lothar…”  

“What is it, my darling?” He wraps his arms around, careful not to touch the cuts from before.

“Do you really love me?”

What a silly question. “Of course, I do.” He kisses your sweaty forehead. “I love you more than anything in this world.”

Your eyes tell him you don’t believe him, but before he can question you further, you snuggle up against him. Your breathing becomes even, and you’ve fallen asleep.

Lothar sits there, stroking your hair absently. If you’re questioning him like this, you must know something.

Whatever it is, he’ll destroy it and remove it from your memory. You should only remember the good things that he does, and the evil things of the world.

You should only remember that you are his, and he is yours.

The rest of the world can burn for all he cares.

[locria-writes]

angst in an annalena lives au is too good (ʘ‿ʘ✿) assuming valentin's still shit don't fall for the enemy's daughter, imagine mc telling valentin he looks at her like her mom does to her - like he hates her one moment & loves her the next, and like her mom, mc never knows what sets him off. to have fallen for a man like this, she wonders if this is the love she deserves. bonus pts if mc can tell valentin wants something from her but she doesn't care bc she's desperate to keep his affections kek

why are you so good at coming up with these angsty scenarios??? (〃‿〃✿)

“You’re like Mother.” The words carelessly slip past your lips as you watch Valentin redress.

He raises a brow, the barest trace of a sneer marring what would be his otherwise handsome face. Well, to you at least. “Do I look like a hag to you?”

You flinch unwittingly, already able to vividly imagine the anger on Mother’s face, but you try to hide it by pulling your knees to your chest and resting your cheek atop. “I’m sorry.” The apology is ingrained into you now. “I just meant that you reminded me of her.”

“Has your brain stopped working?”

“Mother says that a lot.” The trembling is another automatic response as he stalks toward you, though you’re able to mask it by tightening your grip around your legs. He isn’t Mother, you remind yourself, but it’s a hollow reassurance.

He’s tall, unlike Mother, and physically imposing. You dare not look up to his face, fearful of what expression he could possibly be making. Would it be a scowl, one full of disdain and barely-concealed hatred? Or would it be a gentle one, a faint smile tugging on the corners of his lips? You don’t even know which one you would prefer. “A shame all you inherited from her were your looks.” He grabs your chin, fingers digging painfully into your skin, and forces you to look up at him.

While his gesture is rough, his expression is anything but. It’s a strange mix of tender pity and a reluctant adoration, not unlike how Mother looks at you. Is it genuine or an act? Which would you even prefer? A false pitying affection, a genuine benevolent act of charity? “Mother looks at me like that too.”

He lets go of your chin, but grabs you by the hair instead, a dark annoyance swirling about his already-inky eyes. It’s strangely intoxicating, being looked at with such disdain, being treated with such little care. It makes his fleeting and sporadic kindness even more precious. “What kind of girl only thinks about her mother after being fucked like a whore?”

“I-I’m sorry.” Is he done with you now? Is he going to toss you aside like some cheap trinket he’s grown bored with? “I – my head’s a bit fuzzy is all.” You get on your knees, gently pressing your cheek against his thigh. He’s warm – he’s still here. “I’m not very good at conversation…”

He scoffs. “Nobody asks a whore to make conversation, so I don’t what you expected.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” You don’t want to upset him, don’t want to give him any reason to leave you. You’ve already given him everything, so what matters of your dignity? If it means he’ll stay with you, you’re happy to do as he wishes, to simply be a pretty face for him to use as he pleases.

[locria-writes]

i have no idea how to fit in rosamunde’s backstory into aab, so i just wrote it out lol

The most valuable lesson that her late father ever taught her was to survive.

Survival, he told her, meant being able to blend in wherever and with whomever. Survival meant discarding dignity and honour, and other such lofty notions that had long been ingrained in her. To survive was to simply be alive, to thrive was to be living. Living could come later, but only if one was alive.

Rosamunde had been but seven years old when he told her this, and she couldn’t help but blurt out, “Why aren’t you telling this to Gisbert and Ernst?”

Her father smiled gently, if not a bit forlornly, smoothing her hair without a word. Then he replied, “Because my dear Roeschen is a girl.”

She frowned. “So?”

“People can be cruel and unfair. You won’t have the same opportunities as your brothers should anything happen. They can take up a sword and fight to survive, but you won’t be able to do the same.”

“But why not?”

“That’s a lesson for another day, but you already see it, don’t you? When you study with the Royal Tutor, are there any other girls around? Don’t people give you strange looks when you accompany the princes?”

It was true… People raised a brow at her whenever she studied at the castle. Sometimes there would be unkind snickers, pointed fingers, but she always ignored them. Her grandfather once said that only fools mock an educated woman.

Her father pulled out a silver bangle from his jacket and slipped it onto her wrist. It was old and deceptively simple. The engravings felt like letters, but she couldn’t quite decipher what they meant.

“What is this?”

He kissed her temple. “It’s a lucky charm.”

When she was ten, her family was exiled, stripped of all their glory and wealth, and sent to the bitter northern border. It was a bit hard to leave behind her friends, Prince Volker had hugged her desperately, begging her to stay because he would marry her, but she didn’t let it show. Weakness was a necessity for it kept one from becoming too arrogant, but it was also necessary to keep it hidden from all but one’s most trusted. That was what her father taught his soldiers, and ultimately, he passed it on to his children.

Life was difficult at first – she had grown up surrounded by servants, but neither her mother nor father complained about it, so she decided there was no point in it either. They were alive, they were surviving, and for Rosamunde, that was enough.

Her father was restricted in what he was allowed to do, where he was allowed to go, so he made and sold wood carvings. Her mother was a homemaker and sold her embroidery. Her older brothers did odd jobs around the small village, and Rosamunde helped her mother at home. She didn’t know how, but they scraped by. Their home wasn’t large, but it was clean and functional. They didn’t have a proper farm to earn money with, but they had some animals, and a somewhat fertile garden to work with. It wasn’t the life of glittering wealth they had before, but it was a life she could live with for the rest of her life.

She was twelve when her father taught her his last lesson.

“Roeschen, do you think revenge is a good or bad thing?”

She stopped sewing and tried to gauge her father’s expression. It was dark, save for the flickering light of the hearth. “It’s…revenge comes from hatred, so isn’t it inherently a bad thing?”

“It is indeed.” He was quiet for a moment. “Is justice a good or bad thing?”

“It’s a good thing.”

“Then if a man seeks retribution for his brother’s murder, is it justice or revenge?”

“It’s justice.”

“Is it justice if he takes matters into his own hands and kills the murderer himself? Is it justice if he makes it his mission to make the murderer’s life as miserable as possible without killing him?”

She didn’t know how to answer. Her father laughed quietly as he reached over and patted her head. “It’s all right if you don’t have an answer, Roeschen. You’ll find your own as you grow older.”

The next day, soldiers came with a warrant for her father. Her father didn’t seem surprised, and even laughed jovially at the sight of them. Her mother remained stoic, but Rosamunde could see her trembling as they took Gisbert and Ernst.

A few days passed, and no word came from the capital. Realistically, Rosamunde knew that it would be a while, but she couldn’t bear not knowing. They were a bit big, but she threw on some of her brothers’ old clothing, and rode off to find out what happened.

She was afraid every step of the journey, but she was never taught to fear being afraid. Wise men feared, foolish men feared not.

The capital was abuzz when she arrived, and to her dismay, it was for her father’s execution.

Everything felt numb as she watched her father’s head roll away. He dedicated his life to the Crown, he wanted nothing more than his country – his home – to be the best it could be, yet he was merely labelled a treasonous man and met a bloody and inglorious fate instead.

It was unfair, but life was rarely fair.

She should have cried, should have screamed, should have done something, but all her body could do was stare blankly. Even as the crowd dispersed, she remained rooted to her spot, unmoving and unfeeling. The only solace she found was that at least Gisbert and Ernst weren’t there, but what if they had already died? Or worse? Her poor mother…her poor younger siblings…

“Rosamunde…?”

There was a woefully familiar pair of pale eyes before her, and no she could not feel anything anymore and least of all to a murderer’s son. He tentatively reached toward her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, and please dear Providence don’t touch her because that was all it would take to shatter her.

She said nothing, but she remembered kicking and punching, lashing out however she could at him and it wasn’t his fault his only fault was to be the Crown’s son, and she fled like a coward.

When she arrived back home and told her mother, the older woman didn’t shed a tear either, couldn’t shed a tear. She fell ill, and never recovered, but was never allowed the mercy of death. Ernst came back after her, both legs broken and barely on the mend, and suddenly she was the only one who could provide for her broken family.

Rosamunde never accepted charity, never liked being looked down upon with pity. Her father taught her to survive, taught her that revenge and justice were in the eye of the judge, and by Providence, she would make her own revenge. His enemies wanted him to fall, wanted his family (she briefly wondered if it was one of her maternal grandfather’s enemies, but the man was a snake through and through, so she doubted there were even any left alive) to suffer, so she would deny them that pleasure. She would survive, survive until she thrived.

It mattered not what job she could do, so long as she could do it. If it were a woman’s work, a man’s work, she would do it. So what if her own life was robbed of her own wishes? If her younger brother and sister could thrive, she would be happy. She sold the silver bangle, albeit incredibly reluctantly, but she wasn’t selfish enough to keep it. One day, she told herself, she’d find a way to get it back.

Dignity, honour, morality, who cared? Did dignity put food on the table? Did honour keep the hearth going? Did morality entail survival? Her father was the most dignified, most honourable, most moral man in the world, yet he was undone by the scheming of others.

It took a long time, but at last, she found some sort of peace with herself, and life was difficult, but not unbearable. At least until they showed up again.

They cajoled her into agreeing to heal Prince Volker’s leg, pestered her until they finally found a crack in the walls she carefully built. She always hated Augustin and expected such impudence from him, but from Prince Volker? He had always been good at whittling her down until she was at her most vulnerable.

“Don’t you want to come back with us?” To his credit, he barely flinched when she haphazardly cleaned the wound.

“I’ve left that life.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want to.”

He was quiet for a bit. “I meant it back then when I said I wanted to marry you.”

She scoffed. “We were children. It meant nothing.”

“It meant everything.” He grabbed her hand. “I won’t marry the Rosenthal girl…I won’t marry anyone other than you.”

She felt pathetic in that moment, letting his mere touch elicit warmth in her chest. She always liked him when she was a child, he made beautiful and wonderful promises to her, but that wasn’t how the world worked. She still liked him, but it felt like a familiar and nostalgic ache somewhere in the back of her heart now.

“If you think wooing me will convince me otherwise, I suggest you stop now.”

“I’m being serious, Roeschen.” His thumb traced her palm. “You’ve suffered out here…Aunt Elfriede…Ernst…all of you have suffered a grave injustice. Don’t you want to clear Uncle Rudolf’s name? Don’t you want to return to your old life?”

In truth, of course she did. What fool would choose a life of hardship over one of ease and comfort? But she was always taught to never want for things that could not be. She wouldn’t want to return to her old life because it was impossible. She wouldn’t want to marry and be in love with Prince Volker because it was impossible. “If you’re going to continue spouting hogwash, I think you should leave now before I’m tempted to chop off your leg.”

That failed to deter him. Instead, he pulled out a familiar silver bangle and held it before her. “This is yours, isn’t it? Uncle Rudolf gave it to you.”

“W-where…?”

“You pawned it, and I was looking for your family’s heirlooms. Come back to the capital with us, Roeschen. Even if…even if you don’t wish to publicly clear Uncle Rudolf’s name, don’t you want to at least help us figure out what happened? Don’t you want to avenge his indignant death?” He leaned a bit closer and said in a quieter voice, “Don’t you want to see Gisbert again?”

Her father wouldn’t want this; her father would call it a fool’s delusion. He would want her to survive, not to fight over sentimentality, but Rosamunde wasn’t her father. She wasn’t that strong.

She closed her eyes, murmuring a quiet apology. “I’ll go then.”

[locria-writes]

is it just me or the ask where mc suddenly frogot about the ros is gone?? huhu iwant to reread them for the angst

anon i got ur back

the somewhat emotionally stable trio

the unstable trashbags

[locria-writes]

i wrote a bad thing :)

“You belong to me, right?”

‘With you and only you’, are the words that should leave your lips, but even if you wanted to say them, the hand around your throat makes it rather impossible to do so.

You don’t know why this is happening. You’d been chatting with Brigadier-General Sonnen earlier today, well, more accurate would be you two simply chanced upon each other when speaking with dear Benedikt. Your brother only stepped out for a few minutes to attend to other business, so you made polite chatter like you were taught to. Being seen together already attracts stares, so at the very least, you should look amicable so as to prevent wild stories of how much hatred they have that even you are affected by it.

You’re not naive -- you’re quite aware of the bad blood between Lothar and the Brigadier-General. What exactly is between them, you know not of. But at most, your lover would only be more touchy and clingy with you, while glaring daggers at his nemesis and maintaining his usual aloof smile.

This time, however, there was none of that. Lothar dropped the perfect mask he wore and stormed over to where you stood. “Get away from this ill-bred blight,” was all he said as he dragged you away with an iron-grip.

He said not a word on the way back to his manor, nor did he loosen his hold on you at all. Upon entering, he pulled you right to his chambers and into this bizarre situation.

The lack of an answer only agitates him further. “Darling, you belong to me, don’t you? You...you love me, right? You’re entirely mine, right...?” His voice is quiet and hoarse, trembling in vain to remain calm.

You claw helplessly at his hand. He can’t feel you through his gloves after all. Your lungs are burning for air, and the panic isn’t helping you to breathe either. A strangled sound escapes in your desperate struggle, and that seems to almost snap him back to lucidity, as his grip loosens.

“I...I...” An unsteady breath, a fearful swallow of air as you struggle to calm yourself. “W-with you...”

‘I belong with you,’ has always sufficed to soothe whatever insecure mood he was in. You don’t know why exactly, but it’s always allayed his fears and worries.

But not this time -- the last shred of composure disappears entirely as he pushes you rather unceremoniously to the floor. He ignores your gasp of pain as he straddles you, easily grabbing both your wrists in one hand. His hazel eyes are normally so gentle -- a serene kaleidoscope of soft greens, kind golds, and warm browns that betray his emotions only to you.

Now, they’re wild and almost fractured-looking. There’s unbridled fury and sheer terror in them, but all you can think about is the angry scarlet that tinge his irises. You’ve seen it a handful of times when he’s used his magic. Lothar has always kept it under control, and he’s most certainly never been more than a little irritated when this happens.

For the first time, an ice-cold fear fills you as you stare into his eyes. You’re petrified, and with horror, you realize you’re terrified of him.

“With me? That’s a cheap statement from you. If I wanted to hear that, I could go to any whore and have them say that.”

Your mouth is dry. “Why...why are you...angry...?”

“Why am I angry?” His echo is soft, almost controlled, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief. “Why were you talking with that waste of flesh? Why must you associate with that deviant cur?”

“But--”

“Didn’t you see how hungrily that untrained mutt was looking at you? I know you’re not well-versed in such worldly affairs, but that worm was obvious enough for you to understand! He has no morals whatsoever, so who knows what he would have done to you?” He’s shouting now, and you can feel his fingers digging into your wrists.

You truly don’t understand what he’s saying. “I only love you though...”

"Say it again.” His voice has softened to a whisper as his eyes close. He must be calming down...

“I only love you.”

Somehow, the smile on his lips terrifies you more than anything else he’s done so far. “That’s right...” he murmurs, his other hand coming to rest over your left breast. “My darling loves me...my dearest beloved heart loves me...only me...not him...”

You dare not utter another word in fears of invoking his rage once more.

His eyes flutter open, gentle once more in appearance as he leans down to kiss your cheek. “My darling loves me, right?”

“I-I do...”

“Is my darling willing to prove it?”

You nod. He won’t hurt you, he can’t hurt you.

He brushes his lips against yours. “Then give your life to me. Let me love you without any restraint. Let me show you how deep and true my devotion is. You’ll never have another worry in your life again, my darling. I’ll take care of any and every problem so long as you let me love you.” With each word, you find whatever reservations and fears you have melting away, becoming little more than a faint memory.

That’s...a marriage proposal, right? How wonderful it would be to live such a carefree life, right? You find yourself nodding, murmuring a soft agreement as he gives you a dizzying kiss.

“I’m delighted beyond belief...”

You’re lightheaded now -- is this euphoria? It’s getting difficult to focus on anything other than Lothar’s face.

“You’ll never have to lift a hand again, dearest heart.” The hand holding your wrists tightens its grip until you hear a sickening sound. You want to scream, but he kisses you hungrily, swallowing the sound of your sob.

“Don’t worry, my darling,” he murmurs against your lips before licking at the tears trickling down your face. “Everything good comes from pain. No love as grand as ours can come without suffering.”

Your mind is a haze now, only vaguely aware of the pain that comes from wherever his hands touch. He coos sweet nothings, kissing away your tears as he continuously declares how much he loves you.

It hurts, but it’s not from him, right?

Lothar would never hurt you, right?

[locria-writes]

What about this re: hypothetical. MC starts refusing Lothar's gifts, shuts down, doesn't speak to him.

i told myself no, but i can’t resist torturing my poor bby boi

It’s not perfect, but it’s enough for Lothar.

You don’t accept any of his gifts -- cosmetics, dresses, flowers, books, you don’t touch any of them. You don’t speak to him any longer, barely acknowledging him at all, regardless of whether he speaks of cheery or funny anecdotes. There’s but a brief spark of interest if he mentions your siblings, but it never lasts long.

He recognizes the look in your eyes, he’s quite intimately aware of that expression after all, of living but not being alive.

Lothar isn’t so naive so as to expect you to forgive him so readily. What he does is unforgivable and disgusting, but why can’t you understand? He’s doing it for you -- it’s only like this that he can be able to protect you, to be able to make that perfect world you so deserve.

(But it’s okay you’re still with him you haven’t left him you must still love him.)

Like every morning, Lothar wakes first, pleased to find you still safely tucked in bed. He tried to hold you at first, but upon seeing how you stiffened, he relented and resolved to sleep on the divan instead. It’s all right if you don’t want to be intimate -- seeing you safe and by his side is enough for him. He won’t force you to do anything for the last thing he wishes is to subject you to that humiliation he knows so well.

He steers you to the vanity, humming to himself as he begins undoing your plaits and brushing your hair. You dislike his touch, he knows that painfully well, but you do nothing to stop him. He misses the bright look in yours, the lively smiles you'd send his way. The dull look of fatigue doesn't suit you at all.

(It's all his fault he ruined ruined ruined you.)

"Did you sleep well?" It's a fruitless question that he doesn't expect an answer to. The motions of it gives him security though.

Lothar goes about the rest of his now usual morning routine -- style your hair, do your makeup, and pick out your clothes. He's careful not to touch you in certain spots and to avoid any lingering touches. The last thing he wants is to make you any more uncomfortable.

(He ignores that he should leave you alone because you should be together forever and ever and ever.)

He smiles as he surveys his handiwork. It skews more toward his preferences of your being pure and modest and youthful, but you look beautiful in anything. The time he uses to ready himself for the day is mostly spent gazing at you. He's memerized every curve of your lashes, every slight imperfection of your otherwise flawless skin, and every gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe.

How could a worthless worm like himself have ever hoped to grasp the love of a goddess?

"I'll finish work as soon as I can, darling," he says, leaning down to kiss your cheek before he thinks better of it. Instead, Lothar touches two of his fingers against his lips and gently taps them on the table. It's not the same as kissing you, but it conveys his earnest feelings well enough. "I love you always, my dear heart."

(He would kill for you die for you kill you.)

You don't reply -- you haven't in a long while.

But it's all right. You're still by his side, you're still breathing, you're still alive. He has time to work through this, to earn your love and trust once more.

For Lothar, it's enough that it's imperfect.

[locria-writes]

Hypothetical for the hypothetical au: MC goes to stay with the best big bro after catching Lothar in the act. When Lothar comes to apologize, Valentin opens the door, shirtless,to the bedroom MC is staying in like:... 😏 Can I help you???

this is so deliciously fucked up, so how could i say no?

For a brief second, it feels like liquid fire rages throughout his veins.

Lothar isn’t certain how, but he somehow restrains himself from punching Valentin on sight. Perhaps it’s the shock, perhaps it’s his unwillingness to be anything less than perfect before you. Speaking of you, he’s not certain how he feels about seeing you asleep so peacefully in bed.

(Don’t you miss miss miss him?)

“I’m taking her home.”

“Home?” Valentin snorts derisively, straightening himself to make use of his height. “Home with a man who whores himself out?”

“How very judgemental from a lowly worm.”

“I think I can safely a cheating murderer.”

“You’re not much better yourself. I know my parents at the very least.”

“My parents didn’t sell me.”

“Your mother whored herself for a single drink.”

Valentin smiles, though it’s more of a snarl than anything. “Yeah? Well, the girl’s not going with you. She chose me, got it?”

Lothar returns the snarl with a genial smile, though he finds it’s growing increasingly difficult to not stab him. “Like how one chooses to fall into waste? My darling girl is too good for you. You coerced her into this somehow.”

“Maybe if you didn’t fuck every random person she wouldn’t have.”

(Shut up shut up shut up.)

“Shut your mouth.” He can’t maintain this mask of civility any longer. He grabs the taller man by the collar, smile present as always. “Don’t talk as though you understand.”

“I do understand though -- you’re the court’s bitch, aren’t you? You do as they wish, wag your tail for their treats, growl on command, no? You choose to do this, and you reap what you sow.”

If only you weren’t there, sleeping so peacefully and beautifully, Lothar would have liked to crush the bastard’s head from the inside out. But you should never be witness to such horrendous crimes, even if you are asleep. You should only ever be present for beautiful and pure things, divorced from the horrors of reality.

(He’s not worthy of it all please please please forgive him.)

“I should have killed you back then, you wretched mutt.” He’s not really seeing anything now. It’s red like blood, the blood his veins are calling for, the blood his soul is begging to see spilt. “You should’ve died back then with the rest of them.”

“But you didn’t because you’ve always been weak.”

(You’re just a weak weak weak boy, aren’t you?)

(He’s ten summers, staring at the small dog before him. He can’t do it he can’t do it he can’t do it please gods above don’t make him do it.

Weak little boy weak little boy weak little boy. Father should have left you to be eaten by the wolves.

Every success makes his heart die and every failure makes his body die.

Useless boy worthless boy unloved boy.

Why can’t he just die?)

He doesn’t realize he isn’t breathing until his grip slackens. He can’t breathe he can’t breathe why is the world spinning?

“I...I...” He wants to vomit. “I’ll let her sleep...I...I...”

He doesn’t wait any longer before he leaves. He wants to vomit but he won’t.

He’s stronger than this.

He can do this.

He’s not worthless, right?

[locria-writes]

cute fluffy shorts for valentine’s day! posting early so it doesn’t get lost later

the theme for the shorts -- Chocolate!( ・∀・)っ■

There’s a frown on Lothar’s lips as he tastes the chocolates. They’re supposed to be sweet…but he can’t really make a qualified judgement on that. He could always ask you, but they’re supposed to be a surprise…

He heard from the maids that it is supposed to be a day where lovers celebrate by giving each other gifts, and they told him that chocolate is one of the traditional choices.

So, naturally, he sought to get the best chocolates for you – nothing less than the best shall suffice, after all – but none of them met his expectations. Thus, he’s spent the past few weeks, sneaking into the kitchens once he’s sure you’re asleep, and trying to perfect a chocolate for you.

He never thought it would be so difficult.

“Lothar?” He almost jumps at the sound of your soft voice. “What are you doing?”

“Darling…why…why are you awake so late?” Oh no…he thought he’d satisfied whatever desires he had earlier in bed, but seeing you in your nightgown made him think otherwise.

“You weren’t in bed…” You frown, rubbing your eyes sleepily as you step toward him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself with, darling.”

“What’s on your cheek?” His breath hitches as you go on your tiptoes, reaching up to wipe something from his cheek. “Is that…chocolate…?”

“I…”

“Did you make these?” Your eyes are wide with wonder as you pick one up from the table. “These look lovely.”

“My darling girl, you shouldn’t – “

He’s too late, and you pop it into your mouth. It’s an agonizing wait, watching your expression for any indication of taste, but you merely smile at him. “Thank you,” you say, in a voice sweet as can be, and you press a gentle kiss against his cheek. “They’re wonderful.”

Ah…he never thought it possible to be this happy.

***

For a second, Valentin tenses as his vision goes dark, but he relaxes once the realization that it’s just you sets in. “What?”

“Humour me for once, Valentin.” He can hear the pout in your voice.

“I don’t do ‘humour’.”

“Killjoy.” Despite that, only one of your hands moves from obscuring his sight. Still, he closes his eyes for your sake. He’d rather not deal with an upset girl later on, he tells himself. It isn’t that he’s sweet on you.

“What do you want? I have work to do.” He tries to keep the faint smile out of his voice.

Something sugary presses against his mouth – is that…chocolate? “Open.”

“I don’t take orders – oomph!” You ignore him as you force him to eat it anyway.

“Chocolate I made just for you!” Your other hand removes itself from his face as you clasp your hands together happily.

He stays silent, chewing your treat thoughtfully. The taste is all right, he supposes, a little too sweet for his taste, but not disastrous. The texture is nice too, and he likes the crushed hazelnuts.

“How did I do?” You ask, leaning so you can see his face.

“Forty points.”

“What?” He tries not to grin at the indignant look you level at him. “That had to be at least seventy!”

“Stop overestimating yourself and close your eyes.” He pulls open one of the many drawers, grabbing a chocolate from the small batch he’d made last night.

You grumble a bit but oblige him anyway as he pulls you down closer to his level, and he presses the treat against your lips. “This is what real chocolate tastes like.”

“Valentin…you…you – “ You never get a chance to finish your sentence because he captures your lips in a kiss.

He doesn’t normally like sweets, but he supposes he can make an exception for you.

***

“Are you cold?” Edmund asks, pulling you against him a little tighter.

You smile and shake your head. “I’m fine.”

Despite it being the dead of winter, and a wholly indecent hour of night, he insisted on dragging you outside for an excursion. You agreed to it, having grown used to his antics, but were pleasantly surprised to find a whole picnic set up. “What’s more romantic than a midnight picnic?” Edmund had replied upon your shocked expression.

“Are you still hungry?”

“No.” You snuggle a little closer to him. “I’m fine like this.”

He’s quiet for a bit, as you both admire the glittering stars hanging in the clear winter night sky. It’s unbelievably gorgeous, but he doesn’t know if it’s because of the novelty of it all, seeing the sky when everything sleeps, or if it’s because of you.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmurs softly, lacing your fingers together. “Something about being away from the hustle and bustle of other people makes everything infinitely more beautiful, no?”

“It does.”

“And having such a beautiful lady by my side certainly makes it a more beautiful picture.” He kisses the back of your hand, lips warm against your cold skin, with a roguish smile.

“Having a wonderful man like you does help.”

He laughs softly as he reaches for another chocolate. “Come, my dear, let’s share another one.”

He tries not to laugh as your cheeks flush – bright enough for him to see under the moonlight – but you lean forward anyway, eating the chocolate from his fingers. But it won’t satisfy him this time for he gently takes hold of you, and presses a kiss against your lips, savouring the lingering sweet taste.

He can’t tell if it’s from you or the chocolate, but it brings him an undeniable happiness.

***

By the end of the afternoon, Oskar is ready to pass out from anxiety.

It’s been hanging over him all day now – from the second he woke up (though to be entirely honest, he barely slept the night before), to when he first met with you today (O Providence, why must you look so beautiful?), and for the rest of the day, he’s been itching to give you the chocolates he painstakingly chose for you (he refuses to admit that Nikolaus helped pick them out).

It had taken all of his courage to ask you on an outing with him to the winter festivities in town. Nikolaus told him that it was a lovely place to bring a loved one. Oskar ignored the wink his brother gave him but invited you out anyway.

“Oh, that one’s lovely, isn’t it?” You tug on his arm as you point at one of the many ice sculptures. He tries to follow your finger to where you’re pointing, but he gets distracted by your face again. Ah…why must you be so beautiful?

“Uh, I guess…” he says noncommittally, focusing on you instead.

You don’t notice. “That one’s lovely too, no?”

“Mm.”

“Oskar?”

“Hm…”

“Oskar!” You lightly punch his arm. “Are you paying attention?”

He lets out a small yelp. “Y-yes…?”

You puff out your cheeks in faux annoyance. “A coin for your thoughts?”

He’s panicking now, and in his panic, he grabs the small box he’s hidden in his jacket, haphazardly shoving it at you. “H-here...chocolates.”

You blink. “Thank you…”

“Yeah…”

“I…um…I got you something too.” You reach into your coat pocket to take out a similar box. “Chocolates I made for you…”

“Oh…” His cheeks are burning as he takes the box from you. It takes all his courage, but he leans down and presses a soft kiss against your lips. “Thank you.”

***

“You don’t have to pull at me like that,” Einar grumbles, but you still tug excitedly at his arm. “The festival isn’t going anywhere.”

“But I want to see all of it.” Your eyes are shining with excitement. He wonders how you can look so cute. “This is the first time I’ve ever been to one!”

“They’re not that exciting.”

“Says you! You’ve been to one before.”

“That’s why you should listen to me when I say it’s not interesting.” Regardless, he puts up no resistance to your enthusiasm.

It’s infectious, really, seeing how joyful and exuberant you are. He can feel the decades of loneliness and weariness slowly fade simply by watching you. How long has it been since he’s felt this free, this liberated?

The town’s centre is bustling, unsurprising, given that this is such a popular folk festival. Without a thought, his hand finds yours, and he intertwines your fingers, savouring the intimacy.

“Einar?” There’s a faint flush to your cheeks – from the cold, he tells himself.

“You’re small,” he says blandly. “I can sense you, but you can’t sense me. I’d rather you not get lost.”

Ah…that silly smile on your lips will be his undoing. “That’s sweet.”

“If that’s what you want to think.”

It’s tiring to trail after you as flutter from vendor to vendor, cooing over simple trinkets, and tasting every dish you see. There’s an unbidden smile as he watches you, knowing that you were never given this freedom in your childhood.

After a few hours, a strange sweet catches his eye. “What’s this?”

“That?” You pick up a piece. “It’s chocolate.”

“What?”

“Here!” You unceremoniously shove it into his mouth. “Isn’t it sweet?”

He chews and swallows it, before leaning down to steal a quick kiss from you.

It’s nothing compared to you.

[locria-writes]

26 & Valentin, thanks, I’m curious how fluffy he can get

#26 Tending an Injury

“I told you to be careful.”

“Then don’t scare me like that.”

Valentin stifles a laugh at how indignant you sound. You’d been cutting fabric when he tapped your shoulder, and you ended up cutting your hand from the surprise. The severity of the cut surprised him a bit, so he offered to tend to it so he wouldn’t have to put up with your puppy eyes. Of course, that’s what he tells himself.

There is a bit of guilt as he wraps the gauze around your hand. He’s used to doing this for himself, so it comes second-nature, but he’s never quite felt like that. “Sorry.”

“Did...did you just apologize to me?”

It was a mistake to glance at you -- your eyes are wide and curious, but he can see the smile forming on your lips. “Maybe you’re imagining things.”

You’re pouting now as he finishes with the gauze. “Maybe if I start crying you’ll apologize.”

“If you start crying, then I need to find a way to shut you up, right?” He leans closer to you, close enough that you can feel his breath fanning across your face. “Or, maybe I’ll make you cry in another way.”

“Scoundrel.” It might be more effective if your cheeks weren’t bright red.

Valentin laughs, patting your cheek and stands. “Remember, you chose to be with a scoundrel.”

And he’s very happy you did.

[locria-writes]

#10 or 28 with my dear Edmund?

#10 A Shy Kiss

Edmund tries not to laugh as he watches you scour the room for your drawers. You’re not panicked yet, so he has no reason to give them to you -- especially since you’re not asking for his help.

“Where did they go?” Your hands are on your hips as you look around. “I can’t believe I can’t find them...”

“Dear, do you need help?”

If you weren’t so adorable, Edmund might feel a twinge of surrender at your glare, but alas, you simply remind him of an angry kitten. “This is your fault.”

“Now, now, dear, it’s not nice to accuse me of things like that.”

“I told you not to throw my clothes around like that.”

“I simply couldn’t resist myself.”

“Cad.” You shift your attention away from him once more.

Soon, it almost becomes sad, so Edmund plays nice and taps your shoulder. “My dear girl, your obstinacy is quite attractive, truly, but you’re quite dense at times.”

You turn around, lips pursed. “Excuse me?”

“Here.” He holds your drawers far above your head. “They’re yours if you can reach, dear.”

“Edmund!” He laughs as you try desperately to reach, going so far as to jump. “Give them back, please!”

“For a price.” His other hand pats your head, and he almost laughs again when you glare at him. “Kiss me and you’ll get your drawers back.”

“U-unreasonable!” Your cheeks are bright red.

He feigns a shocked look. “Why, my dear girl, after what we did last night, I’m shocked a mere kiss has scandalized you.”

“D-do hush...” Despite your words, you go on your tiptoes and shyly press your lips against his. However, he has other plans, immediately deepening the kiss.

It isn’t very often he plays with you like this, but it’s always worth it, since you never truly get mad at him.