#twst x reader

Trey thinks of all the times you’ve called him a pushover (affectionate). As if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. How could you look him in the eye for four years and tell him to be more open, when you’ve been allowing an entire campus call you by the wrong name? Is he really the laid back one in this relationship here? God it’s ‘the girl with the green ribbon’ story all over again. When was he going to find out, when you’re both senile in a nursing home?

“Your name is … nice?" He adjusts his glasses slightly, if not a bit awkward. "I don’t know how I’m supposed to react in this situation. Just give me a second. Maybe sixty.”

Deuce is stuck remembering all the times he’s doodled your name in the margines of his notebook. He feels a bit slighted, did you not trust him? Did you think he wouldn’t believe you if you told him the truth? What’s he going to tell his mom? It already took a hour to convince her that ‘Yuu’ was your actual name and not some sick joke. You made him a liar! Dylla is not going to let him live this down. It’s 100% being mentioned to every party guest at your wedding and in her speech too.

“I already told my mom your name was Yuu!" He groans loudly, genuinely distressed "Do you know how hard that was to explain? Stop — stop laughing damn it! She is never going to forget this!”

Ace. Who doesn’t care. You’re ‘Yuu’. It’s what he’s called you these past four years and what he’ll keep calling you until the day you die. If you had a problem with it, you should’ve correct him before. Sorry, not sorry (secretly a bit miffed). Jokes aside — he takes absolutely no time getting over it and just mashes the names together into a nickname that sounds new levels of wrong. That becomes your permanent title.

“You just let me look stupid all this time, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “That’s messed up. So…do I get to pick now, or are we pitching names in magnets on the fridge like you’re a newborn? ‘Cause I’m cool with either.”

Leona is drifting through every thought he has ever had about you for the past for years. Your name spoken in his dreams, stuck on his tongue each time he watched you walk away. Etched in his eyelids and written in the red glow when sun blinds him awake in the morning. Spoken from his chest during moments of binding intimacy. All those moments now tainted by that damned Crow. He’s pissed you never once corrected him. Out of spite, you lose name privileges for an entire day. That old title of ‘herbivore’ coming back after a three year drought. In truth, he’s just buying a bit of time to figure himself out. Even though you’re the one who let him, calling you by the wrong name is a disrespect he cannot believe you allowed an entire campus get away with.

“Tch. So all this time, you let everyone get your name wrong and just sat there. If it bothered you, you should’ve said something.” He clicks his tongue, looking away. “You know what? Fine. Don’t make me out as the idiot for taking you at your word, herbivore.”

Ruggie writes your name on a piece of notebook paper and clips it to your collar. Makes sure to do it in the biggest red marker he can find too, so people know exactly what they’re seeing. He’s got secrets, yeah. Sure. Not from you though. Did you seriously expect him to take one look at that file and let it go? Do you have any idea how important it is to have your documents right (or at least convincing forgeries)? Never-mind that you’ve had him write home to his Grandma about you with the wrong name. For four years. She’s actually going to kill him for this. You are aware that hyena households are matriarchal, right?

“You know how hard it is to keep paperwork straight?” He taps the file against your head like it is obvious. “If you were gonna be all mysterious, you could’ve picked a better time. Sheesh. Gran's gonna have my tail for this...”

Jack can’t stop staring. His whole body went stiff and he forgot that it was just supposed to be a subtle glance over your shoulder. Now there’s this hunk of meat breathing down your neck, looming there like the words will change if he stares hard enough — because how. How do you go four years with someone and not tell them your real name? He feels even worse once you tell him the reason why you let everyone call you ‘Yuu’.

“…Oh.” His ears twitch, and his terse expression softens when you explain why you didn’t correct anyone. “So that’s why, huh.” A pause. “I get why you did it, but I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me sooner. We could've set the record straight together. as a team.”

Azul dumps all your name-tags out on his desk for prime viewing. Mostro Lounge. Sams. Student ID. Newspaper Club ID. He does the same for all your old documentations. Train tickets, movie stubs, class schedules, etc. Don’t ask why he has these. Definitely not because they’re the only proof that you exist. Anyways. What do they all say? Oh, ‘Yuu’? And what is your name? Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha. Never-mind that you could’ve used this to cheese him out of a contract. He can’t believe you’ve held such an Ace up your sleeve and did not use it once.

“Fascinating. You had the perfect loophole and chose not to exploit it.” He exhales, somewhere between impressed and irritated. “I don’t know whether to applaud your restraint or question your judgment.”

Jade just found out your dirty little secret. He always had an inkling that you were hiding something from him. Yet the sense he got was unlike that of debtors intentionally fabricating stories. To him, a name is but a string of letters. Although this is good to know for when binding matters are concerned.

“I had wondered what you were withholding.” Jade chuckles into his closed fist. “But I must admit, I did not expect it to be something so straightforward.”

Floyd gets your last name and then instantly forgets it. Kidding! Does it really matter, when your last name is going to be ‘Leech’ anyway? For a long time he assumed you didn’t have one and was already content with sharing. Your first name is interesting. He thinks Crowley sucks for making an entire campus call you by somethin’ you’re not…but to Floyd, you’re always going to be ‘Shrimpy’. (He uses your given name often later on. Azul is Azul. Jade is Jade. When the time comes, you will be yourself too.)

“Hehe, that’s so weird. I thought you just didn’t have one, like a stray or somethin’.” Floyd grins, leaning closer. “Your last name’s gonna be Leech soon anyway, so who cares?”

Kalim feels guilty. Like the kind of guilt that gets passed down six generations. Despite his large family, he's made an effort to learn the names of all his siblings and cousins. Yet he's been addressing the literal love of his life as a pronoun?! You might think it's hilarious but this sweet summer child has an existential crisis. Naturally he'll laugh it off if you do, but it's like he's 16 again and there are important things about the people he cares about flying over his head. For the next week, expect him to overuse your name. Although, he is a bit sad. He's called you 'Yuu' for so long and he can't exactly forget how much love was poured into each time he spoke it. He still calls you Yuu sometimes out of habit, catches himself, then laughs it off, switching back and forth without much care.

“Wait—so I’ve just been calling you the wrong name this whole time?!” He laughs, a little too loud to sound natural. “No way — say it again, we can start over! Hi, I'm Kalim 'Al Asim. It's nice to meet you!”

Jamil is wondering how you've managed to survive this long. He knows for a fact that you've been to the doctor. Mainly because it was his butt seated in the waiting room with the same six shoddy pop-songs stuck on loop for two hours. Pure torture but necessary since you apparently had to be forced there. So just...why didn't you correct him when filling out forms back then? Better yet, why didn't you correct him at literally any point in time? It's been four years. Even if you were apprehensive at first for very valid reasons....seriously? This is how he finds out? He's honestly impressed you can keep a secret, considering you text him about eggshells in your cake or when someone sneezed a fart during class. Someone...help him.

“Four years.” He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ll tell me every minor detail of your life, but this is what you decide to keep to yourself?”

Epel does a spit take. You’ll need to request a new, laminated copy, alongside a change of shirt. This one’s been drenched in apple juice and crumpled from when he all but snatched the papers from your hands. Subtly be damned — you mean to tell him he’s been simpering and whimpering over the wrong name for four long years? What if he got it tattooed on his blastcycle?! Or carved into a ring box, huh?! Ah. No. He wasn’t going to do that. Forget everything he just said! Hells…if he wasn’t close to graduating too, he’d take the detention just to tell Crowley off. How the heck could you let this sort of thing go!

“What do you mean that ain’t your real name?!” He coughs, then wipes at the mess on his shirt with a horrified look. “Hells, I knew Crowley was negligent, but this is ridiculous. You’re lucky I’m tryin’ not to get detention, else I ought to go have a word with 'im myself."

Rook cannot believe there was something about you that he did not know. He resigned the knowledge of your last name to time and convenience — but to mistake your first? The revelation is both a thrilling miracle and an utter travesty! The mere thought that you haven’t spoken your own name in four years? Oh, you know his heart is shattered when not a word of purple prose escapes him. Yet he cannot sulk. No. The name ‘Yuu’ is still so special. It is the name that dots every love letter, every thought, every passion that has consumed him for four years. He welcomes your birth name as the dawn of a new era, seeing you as a vibrant blossom finally in bloom within Twisted Wonderland.

"Je te vois, mon cher, and yet there was still a part of you I had not known.” He closes his eyes for a moment, almost savoring the revelation. “A secret so intimate, so tenderly kept, and now at last revealed to the one who adores every facet of you.”

Vil loses his decorum for a brief moment. The documents are plucked from your hands, his unoccupied one grasps your bicep so that you don’t just run off on him. He points to the nearest chair and makes you sit while he skims through all of NRC’s paperwork. Your personal details are not his business and Vil is all for privacy…but he honestly has no idea what you were thinking. You do understand that you have the right to stand up for yourself, yes? Even if you wished to keep being called ‘Yuu’ — which based on your story, he assumes is false, did you not think to tell your lover? It seems a discussion about confidence is due…and an aspirin. Maybe two.

“Even if you tolerated it, why would you not correct me?” His eyes narrow slightly. “Confidence is not optional, especially when it concerns your own identity.”

Idia short circuits. His palms are moister than they get after a 24hr code jam. Not even the time crunch of a same-day deadline can get him like this. He really is the worst boyfriend in existence. Not only did it take years for you to receive proper documentation — y’know, proof of your existence so you can’t just go ‘poof’ on him someday? But to be called something like ‘Yuu’ which he is realizing in real time is just ‘You’. Wow. That’s so messed up. Why are you with him? Why didn’t you correct him? Why didn’t he think to check your stats before? Holy shit. Keyboard smash in his chest and everything.

“W-Wait—so ‘Yuu’ is literally just… ‘you’?” He stares at you like his brain just blue-screened. “How did I not catch that? I’ve min-maxed entire RPGs but couldn’t fact-check my own relationship? — god, what is wrong with me?!”

Malleus wanes as if his entire world has been flipped upside down. You were his first friend. His first and last love. Yet he cannot be remiss with you for holding your name close to your heart. He did the same when you first met, after all. Except Malleus’ ruse lasted some months while yours has held strong this entire relationship. Malleus cannot believe he’s been completely in the dark for four years. What bothers him most is that you may have gone forever without sharing this with him. Names are bonding for fae. Did you intend to bind yourself to his one day, but not allow him to do the same? Don’t bother checking the weather forecast. A monsoon is on the way with three days of heavy rain.

“Ah… I see.” He studies you with a look steady, almost aching. “Your name is not a small thing, child of man. It is a part of you, and I wish I had been worthy of cherishing it sooner.. You need not fear giving it to me now. Whether you are called by the name this world gave you or the one you were born with, I will always know exactly who stands before me.”

Lilia plays it in good fun. Anytime someone asks after ‘Yuu’, he plays dumb. Even if you’re right there. One of his little students asks about his partner? Oh, sorry dearie. They’re not around anymore but have you met my new sweetheart? Then he introduces you by your given name, and suddenly you have to explain to a class of five year olds that their teacher is a jerk who will not be getting the lunch you’ve come to drop off. Lilia’s another one who doesn’t hold himself too harshly for not knowing. Names hold power, yes. Although he’s begun to accept that one such as ‘Vanrouge’ can be desired, even though it is stained in unfathomable amounts of blood. He is just waiting for you to accept it.

“If it makes you feel better, I shall pretend to be scandalized for your sake.” He grins, utterly delighted. “But between us, dearie? I rather like that I can get to know you all over again.”

Sebek deems this as a betrayal. You could point out to him that for the first year you both spent together, he hardly used your name at all. You corrected him for calling you ‘human’ countless times back then and yet he never listened until reality slapped him in the face. Even now he still relapses on occasion, to which he apologizes. Except that reminder would only serve to upset him further. Sebek expects you to hold him at the highest regard. Even if the entire world calls you ‘Yuu’ and you were okay with it, as your partner it is his responsibility to ensure you are not just satisfied, but comfortable. Uplifted. Your name is your legacy. Wear it with pride.

“You should have corrected everyone immediately!” He’s already halfway to pacing. “No, do not look at me like that. This is a matter of honor, as your true name is part of your dignity. You will not be forced to wear a name that is not yours if I have anything to say about it."

Silver is overcome with a deep sense of melancholy. For most of his life, he went without a last name. Which is why seeing ‘Vanrougue’ written next to his person is still an adjustment. A fond one, but an adjustment nonetheless. Yet this overwhelming sensation is actually attributed to the fact that with the name ‘Vanrouge,’ it was like the world finally recognized him. He wonders how you must have felt to be given a new name in a new place and thrust into this new life. ‘Yuu’ is just one piece of who you are. He wants to know the person behind your true name. To see all of you.

Deuce♠️

Cater♦️

Trey♣️

Riddle🌹

Aight, imma try to finish The rest.

Unbirthday parties at NRC always follow the rules—the oh-so-“questionable” rules of Heartslabyul—but for some reason, whether it’s the music or the sheer number of another dorms guests, the tension released after finals, or maybe just the chaos of other dorms sharing food, sweets, and drinks right in Riddle’s territory, this party doesn’t even feel… unusual anymore.

Maybe it’s also the fact that Ace is way too quiet in the corner, hunched over himself, trying (and failing) to hide a rather large vial in his hand. You know that when Ace has that mischievous smile and not a shred of remorse in sight, nothing good can come out of the redhead; and this occasion won’t be an exception. Especially not after you saw him pour that very vial into the punch bowl.

“Trappola tradition,” you hear him say. It seems his older brother has passed down the baton for the worst prank.

Whatever Ace poured in there, the air gets sweeter, tinged with a rainbow of colors, with that feeling you get when you finally come of age and know exactly what you want and desire, and that hint of something not entirely legal for a school campus.

Someone, probably Floyd, starts chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” and Epel’s already on his second drink, trying to prove he can handle alcohol better than anyone. Grim, meanwhile, is busy fishing out slices of floating fruit, muttering about the injustice of being banned from the dessert table.

Riddle tries to keep his composure, doing his best not to think about the countless rules being broken in his own lounge, but the blush on his cheeks and the way he wobbles from side to side give him away—he’s not immune to the spirit of the party… and maybe he’s already had a taste of the punch.

You try to take it easy, but it’s hard when everyone keeps handing you drinks, plates of fruit, little candies with mysterious fillings. The world feels slow and slippery, like honey running through your veins, and suddenly you’re part of a tightly packed crowd in the lounge, shoulders pressed together, glasses raised, clinking them to the beat of a song nobody quite remembers the words to.

You catch Ruggie stuffing three types of chocolate into his pockets—not before slipping a couple into your hands, though. “Eat up! Or you’ll regret it tomorrow.” Kalim drags you onto the dance floor, his laughter easy, his hands never still, bracelets jingling as he spins you through the crowd.

The drinks get sweeter, the candies and fruits stronger. You lose track of how much you’ve had after the third glass. Laughter floats in the air, yours mixing with theirs.

You remember Vil’s perfume enveloping you as his knuckles brush along your cheek, making you shiver. “Having fun, darling?”

You just nod before walking to the other side of the room to separate Ace and Deuce—apparently both are on the verge of causing nuclear disaster in the middle of the lounge over who can fit more marshmallows in their mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Leona sprawling even lazier than usual across the sofa, and Malleus… well, laughing and making the air tremble a little.

Everything that came after you remember in lazy waves: laughter blooming warm in your chest, the tickle of someone’s breath on your ear; someone tucking a wildflower behind your ear—was it a white or red rose? It doesn’t matter, 'cause seconds later someone else snatches it away with their teeth and a grin that’s barely even trying to be subtle.

The music pounds in your ears until, at some point, everything settles and you’re wrapped in silence. You remember flashes in that quiet: lips tasting of chocolate pressed to yours, teeth biting your throat, hands brushing your skin under your clothes, laughter melting into moans.

Your hands are everywhere, entwined with someone else’s, tangled in soft strands of hair, clutching a shirt as you fumble with the buttons, at a belt, at the bedsheets, everything is heat, color, and taste. The world tilts and spins and you let go, trusting in the madness of it all, in the hands gripping your waist, in the mouth claiming you, in that lovely sensation of being wanted, claimed, and utterly ruined all at once and in every possible way.

When you finally wake up, the light is all wrong and comes in without asking permission, your thighs feel heavy and there’s that pleasant tingle between them, something itches at your neck, and you’ve got hair in your face.

Your head hurts—no, scratch that, your head is pounding and trying to open your eyes is a very bad idea right now. You take a deep breath and the pain’s still there, hammering away, demanding you face the day.

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

Trey

When you slowly turn your head, you find Trey sleeping on his stomach, one lazy arm under the pillow, hair a mess but annoyingly attractive. You assume his glasses are on his nightstand, the sheets dangerously low over his hips.

His hips… bare.

His chest is bare too.

You look down at your own body and—bingo—you’re naked too.

And these aren’t your sheets, this isn’t your pillow, and obviously, this isn’t your dorm bed.

Holy… fuck.

You try to remember, even with the pounding headache, half mortified, half… half what, exactly? Surprised? Embarrassed? Or just utterly satisfied to have such a god lying next to you?

Flashes hit you without warning: the warmth of Trey’s hand guiding you away from the crowd, his soft laughter by your ear, both of you laughing at some joke only the two of you found funny, stumbling together until you crashed into bed.

The taste of icing and the sweetness of strawberries on Trey’s lips when he kissed you fiercely; did he feed you with his fingers, or did you steal the flavor right from his mouth?

His hands roaming every inch of you, his palms warm; his tongue scandalous, licking you slow and deep, teasing your clit, sliding between your wet folds, holding your hips so you couldn’t escape.

Him straightening up, wiping his mouth with his thumb, looking you right in the eyes.

You felt the tip of his cock pressing against your wet pussy, sliding in slowly, panting against your lips, deep strokes, but completely sensual.

“You like how I fill you up, right? You’re so wet, so beautiful,” he’d murmured against your ear, holding one of your legs up over his shoulder to push even deeper.

The way he held both your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, thrusting over and over, deep, hitting your sweet spot, probably making you scream.

Trey’s name on your lips when he made you cum, slipping two fingers inside you to stretch you even more while his cock was still buried deep.

The moment he held you after it was all over, the fingers of one hand tangled in your hair and the other lazily drawing circles on your back.

Trey shifts, stretching and opening one eye, still half-asleep. He gives you a small, crooked smile when he sees you—serene… and breath taking.

“Good morning.”

Goddamn, even his voice is too sexy...add that rough, low tone and you’re already wet again.

“Did you sleep well? Headache?”

Is it that obvious?

“Uh… yeah, yeah, a little.”

Trey sits up and the sheets slide dangerously lower, lower, on his hips. You try not to look… but fail.

Obviously you fail, who are we kidding? The view of this man’s torso alone is enough to make you start drooling. Those strong arms from all that kneading, the abs, the broad shoulders, and…

Marks?

He has marks on his neck?

Some are obviously hickeys… others look like the start of scratches that trail down his back.

You bite your lip, desperate to look at his back, to see the scratches you obviously left, and see how strong his muscles are there.

“Did we…?” It’s a dumb question—you obviously had sex—but you need to hear it from him.

“Yup… several times, actually.”

The heat that rushes to your cheeks is uncontrollable, almost the same shade of red as his bed curtains.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

“Are you regretting it?”

Please, this man can’t be any sweeter or he’d cause diabetes.

Trey kisses your temple when he realizes there’s not even a hint of regret, or fear, or doubt.

Then, he gets up and starts looking for something to wear before going to get breakfast.

OH MY GOD THAT BODY!!!

And the scratch marks from your nails down his back, and his ass… and his cock, half-hard.

Trey notices you’re basically devouring him with your eyes… “Do you want breakfast, or do you want me to jog your memory with another round?”

He winks at you before pulling on his glasses, boxers and uniform pants and leaving the room to get you something to eat and something for your hangover.

Ah… you could die peacefully in that bed.

Leona

It’s the heat that you notice first—something heavy and solid pressing against you from behind, half-sprawled over your side, as if you were a possession. His possession

Your nose fills with a musky, warm, spiced scent, with hints of something… wild. It’s accompanied by the soft, steady sound of breathing.

You try to open your eyes, but the light only makes things worse, so you’re forced to rely on your other instincts and sensations.

You feel something wrapping around your leg, something soft, moving, tickling you lightly with part of its fur.

Wait… fur?

Is he holding you with a tail?

A TAIL?!

You force one eye open and the first thing you see, in all its glorious splendor, is Leona’s bare chest pressed against your back, one arm wrapped around your stomach.

You follow the line of that arm and realize you’re naked too…

You lift the sheets. Yep. Very naked.

Your skin tingles and your hips ache, your thighs feel like jelly, clear evidence that the bed wasn’t used just for sleeping.

You try to move, but Leona’s arm is like an iron bar, stopping you from even sitting up, his fingers tightening possessively on your hip. A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his tail slide upward, his ears twitch.

“Going somewhere, little mouse?” His voice is deep and rough right by your ear.

You turn your head and meet the lion’s wide green eyes, far too awake for this early in the morning. He gives you a half-smile, one fang showing, dangerously smug and a little arrogant… well, very arrogant.

That look is unmistakably that of a predator about to pounce on its prey.

You pull the sheets up to cover yourself a bit more, as if there were any way to hide a nakedness that had clearly already been explored hours ago for… quite a while.

“What happened last night?” Your mind is racing and your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest.

Leona growls softly, though he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest that you’re covering your “modesty.”

“After how loud you were all night, I figured you’d remember at least something.”

Your face goes nuclear red. You clutch the sheet tighter, but it’s useless. You’re in his bed, in his territory.

“Did we… sleep together?”

“Sleep?” You hear a low, amused scoff from his chest. “Oh, we did more than sleep… want me to remind you?”

He doesn’t need to. Your body does it for him.

Not only do you feel the dampness between your thighs, but there are bite marks along them, already starting to bruise, traitors that reveal just how intimate last night was.

You can feel a few on your neck and collarbone too; they don’t hurt, but you know they’re going to be bright red well into the morning.

Your own memories begin to surface: your hands in his hair as you both devoured each other’s mouths in the hallway, his low, rough voice murmuring when he finally pulled back, “Do you want me to take you to my bed, or do you want me to wreck you right here in the hallway?”

His lips moving from your shoulder down to your breasts, massaging one with his large palm while he trapped your nipple between his lips, licking it and making you arch your back.

“Say my name, again. Do it again” every time you moaned with each thrust. Your face buried in the pillow while he took you from behind, relentless and unhurried, panting heavily over you.

His hands roaming your entire body, strong, confident, taking what he wanted without asking; his teeth grazing your neck. Was it just one bite he left, or several?

His name on your lips every time he made you cum, even when he was nowhere near finishing himself. Pride mixing with hunger as he felt you clench those soft walls around his cock.

The boldness in your voice when you begged for more and more. “Please, harder… harder, Leona” How could he possibly say no?

You remember being on top of him, legs spread wide as you rode him desperately, thighs shaking; him leaning back, hands behind his head, enjoying his private show.

His strong hands on your ass, “helping” you move faster, impaling you with every thrust.

Leona coming inside you, holding you tight against him. “That’s it, little mouse, fill yourself up with me”

“You were wild—I barely managed to get your clothes off,” Leona pulls you out of your thoughts as he props himself up on one arm without a hint of shame, his body fully on display.

“Not that I’m complaining. You were pretty insistent when you rode me and asked for a second round. And a third.”

You let out a small squeak and cover your face with both hands. “Please, stop.”

Leona straightens and takes your hands in his, pinning them above your head against the pillow; he flips you onto your back with ridiculous ease, looming over you with a feral grin. You’re caged, completely at his mercy.

And gods, his body lit by the morning sunlight is far too delicious.

“You look incredibly tempting.” His gaze roams over your face and body, barely covered by the sheets.

He gives your shoulder a small bite and laughs when you let out a little yelp. “Want another round? Or breakfast so you don’t pass out on top of me?”

You glare at him, cheeks burning; you want to strangle him. Or kiss him. Possibly both.

“Breakfast… then we’ll see.”

He pecks your lips softly. “Good girl.” And then he gets out of bed without the slightest bit of modesty, tail swaying, letting you admire the scratch marks trailing down his back.

Jade

Why does the silence feel like you’ve been swallowed by the sea?

And why does it smell like seawater? And sea salt?

The room is so dim that the few rays of light filtering through the curtains make strange patterns on the bed.

And it’s a kind of dimness you haven’t seen in Ramshackle for a long time… which means, this is not your room.

Everything hurts; your throat is raw, your lips are swollen, your body heavy, like something squeezed you until there was nothing left.

You try to move but there’s a hand on your belly, a thumb lazily drawing small circles on your bare skin.

Bare skin…

BARE SKIN?!?!

You sit up—and it’s a very bad idea. The hangover slams into your head and you bring your hand up to your temple.

“Ah… looks like you’ve got a hangover, and considering how eager you were last night…”

You turn your head to find Jade’s smile—small and polite, but absolutely terrifying.

“Does my pearl need something to make her morning… more productive?”

“Jade…” your voice comes out hoarse and rough, and you cough, trying to clear the discomfort.

“Ah, I warned you I might wear you out. Seems I was right, hm?”

The memories hit you so hard they make your headache worse:

Jade pulling you away from the party, an astute glint in his eyes and his voice serene yet venomous, coaxing you into the comfort of his room—his bed.

His hands stripping away every piece of clothing until you stood naked before him, his fingers mapping your sensitive skin, anticipating every tremor, seeking out what made you sigh, moan, or arch.

Your boldness as you made him sit and you knelt in front of him, your lips around his cock, trying to take him deeper and deeper. His praises made your pussy wet and made you want to do better, his hands in your hair guiding you, helping you choke on him.

Your eyes brimming with tears when you looked up and saw him smiling, pleased, fingers caressing your cheek before plunging you into a fast, unkind rhythm, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

Your own mouth screaming in pleasure as he took you from behind, you on all fours on the bed, ass up, completely at the mercy of his hands and hips.

“Come on, little pearl, cum for me” the authority in his voice, impossible to resist, every word a praise tangled with a command.

Your climax hitting so hard it left you sprawled on the bed; Jade grabbing your head so you couldn’t move, your screams muffled by the pillow as he found a better angle to fuck you, making you cum again.

The taste of his cum when he made you take him back into your mouth and spill inside.

You swallow, trying to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky, ruined, “holy shit”

He runs his thumb over your hip bone, where the bruise from his grip is already fading… only to grab you there again, just as hard as you barely remember.

“Overwhelmed, maybe? Though I must say… you were so hungry for me you nearly made me mistake you for a predator.”

Jade sits up and the sheets slide even lower on his hips. He’s so tall it feels like he could cover you completely. He admires the bites and marks he left all over your chest, shoulders, and neck.

You’re his own personal canvas, and the fact that there are still places left unmarked… it’s intoxicating to him.

He pushes you back, slipping between your legs again, hands running along your sides before gripping your thighs and positioning them around his hips.

“Dare to tell me you regret it, little one.” When you shake your head, terrified but just as aroused, he adjusts your legs around his hips, letting you feel how half-hard and hungry for you he still is.

“Excellent,” he kisses the tip of your nose before rolling his hips, brushing against your clit. “So, do you want another round or some tea for that poor throat?”

You shiver, completely lost to his movements and the pleasure slowly building inside you.

“I won’t let you surface just yet, my pearl”

Jamil

For a few blissful seconds you think you’re safe in your own bed, within the walls of Ramshackle… until the scent of countless spices fills the air. Clove, cinnamon, something deep and intoxicating, spicy.

Yeah… you’re not in Ramshackle.

Is it wise to open your eyes with the sunlight filtering in through the window? Unfortunately, you’ll have to.

Eyes open and a hammering headache, you recognize the décor: elegant, gold details, Arabic architecture… Looks like you ended up in Scarabia.

Okay, one problem solved; now… who’s breathing against your neck, slow and steady?

You turn just enough to see the mess of dark tousled hair belonging to Jamil, splayed across the sheets and pillow. He’s on his stomach, facing you, eyes closed but with a small smile on his lips; his arm stretched out across your hips, giving you slow, gentle caresses.

You blink—once, twice, three times.

One more, just to give your brain a chance to process that his torso is bare and the sheets are dangerously low.

You freeze, memories hitting you in dizzying flashes through your hangover: his eyes shining in the half-light, pinning you with his gaze from across the lounge, like he was drawing you to him with nothing but his eyes.

Your body pressed to his while he whispered something in your ear that had nothing to do with the party, but still made your cheeks flush… more than they already were from the punch.

His hands, so careful with everything he handles, guiding you into a different kind of dance—one that didn’t need music or an audience; your laughter mixing with his before finding your lips, his mouth hungry.

The taste of spicy spices, and a hint of mint, with every kiss and stroke of his tongue across your skin, intoxicating and making you shiver.

Jamil kneeling at the edge of the bed, grabbing your feet and pulling you toward the edge so he could run his tongue along your soaked folds and slip it inside. Sucking on your clit until you were shaking.

The cry of his name when he made you cum with his fingers inside, curved and massaging your most sensitive spot.

His voice in your ear, soft but commanding, ordering, “Look at me, habibti” every word coaxing you closer to the edge. Sharp images of your wrists pinned above your head by his hands, of how he made you arch for him, Jamil’s long hair falling over your face as he watched you from above, his pupils blown wide and a bead of sweat trailing down his neck.

Your legs shaking, the pressure of his hand on your throat while he pounded into you again and again, his hips driving hard, his abs rubbing against your belly; his movements calculated, slow when you were desperate, brutal when you begged.

You let out a whimper, and that’s when Jamil opens his eyes. He blinks, then his gaze sharpens, lazy and sly.

“Morning”

Your mouth is dry, cheeks blazing. “Oh my Sevens… what happened last night?”

Jamil kisses your shoulder, moving up to your collarbone, your neck, up to your jaw before giving you a little bite.

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Fr-fragments.”

You feel his hand sliding down your thigh… and realize you’re also naked under the sheets.

Okay, yep, we fucked… got it.

“You were bold. Even eager.”

His hand slides up, up, reaching the wetness between your legs. Your skin lights up and a jolt runs down your spine.

“I regret not doing this sooner,” is all he says before claiming your lips again, his fingers slipping inside.

You moan into his mouth, biting his lower lip, heart stumbling—but all you care about is melting in Jamil’s arms.

“Let me take care of you, habibti,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll make you forget about your hangover”

And when Jamil pulls you back under the sheets, you’re pretty sure you don’t want to remember anything but this.

Idia

The silence in the room is so intense it feels like you can hear your own breathing and heartbeat.

The first thing you notice is that the bed feels… off—not the pseudo-comfort you remember from your bed in Ramshackle.

Second, your head is about to explode; third, you’re naked and there’s a chill in the air, as if warmth doesn’t exist, making every hair on your body stand on end.

You crack one eye open, grateful that the blue light is diffuse and not too harsh, though it still hurts to look at.

Blue light… you turn your head and see a glowing skull. On the other side, way too many monitors crammed onto a single desk, one of those screens has thirty code windows open.

You bolt upright when you realize you’re not just in Idia’s room… you’re completely naked in Idia’s room.

There’s a groan beside you, the creak of bedsheets, and movement.

You turn around; a chaos of blue hair, pale bare shoulders, and a pair of yellow glowing eyes blinking at you from behind a curtain of messy hair.

Idia stares at you, mouth open, emitting a high-pitched, static-like whine; the ends of his blue hair turning pink, then pure red from embarrassment.

There’s a sound like a computer blue-screening right before Idia lets out a strangled squeak, scrambling backwards to put distance between you...then promptly falls off the bed with a loud crash.

“HOLY SHIT, IDIA!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“N-NO!! I’M NOT OKAY!! Wh-what did we do last night? Ohgodoh godohgodohgod—”

Idia grabs a pillow, but no matter how hard he tries, he’s bigger and taller than it.

He’s about to combust

“I died last night and on my way to the dorm something hit my head and I died again, and got isekai’d to some forbidden erotic world…”

You reach over and pinch his arm hard to bring him back to reality. “Ow!”

“This is real, Idia! We actually had sex!”

Heat rushes up your neck as flashes of last night come back: your hands on his, surprisingly warm, pulling him close to you in the middle of the party. Shy smiles, nervous giggles.

Idia’s inexperienced lips on your neck, his hands awkwardly squeezing your hips until you taught him how to hold you right.

His monotone voice now a whisper, full of need and want, “Are you sure? I-I’ve never—” and yours, suddenly bold, telling him you want him now.

The blue fire of his hair lighting up the darkness of his room and the naked skin of you both; the nervous way he looked at you and touched you, learning with every move of your hands over his on your hips, your breasts.

His eyes going wide as you guided his fingers to your clit and whispered in his ear how wet you were for him; his long, slender fingers working magic between your folds, barely realizing what he was doing.

Idia stammering as he tried to put on the condom backwards and failed—twice—begging you for help between gasps and awkward laughter. “Why is this so complicated? This… never happens in doujins…”

The exact moment he entered you for the first time, his breath hitching, a sharp, surprised moan as he felt himself inside you—slick and completely ready for him to go deeper, harder; to be entirely his.

Him finishing ‘embarrassingly’ fast (according to him). But all it did was make you want another round, and another, and another.

His lips traveling down your neck and, in a moment of sheer daring and lust, squeezing your breasts together to suck and bite your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back to give him more and more.

The way he moaned your name when you rode him for the first time, desperate not to finish too soon again, but absolutely mesmerized by the sight of your body so free and needy for him.

You taking complete control, hands on his chest, grinding your hips to rub your clit against his pelvis and clench your soft walls around his cock.

Idia groans with embarrassment, interrupting your lascivious memories.

“I-it’s not like… I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, it’s just… this is… max difficulty! Like, y-you’re like a goddess… most beautiful OP character… y-yeah and I—”

“And you’re Idia… was it at least good for you?”

His voice turns to static and he locks eyes with you in a rare burst of confidence.

“Good?! It was… it was overlord level. Uh. You were… really… really—”

Another memory hits: Idia clutching the sheets with every roll of your hips, moaning in time with you. His hands grabbing your hips, squeezing your thighs and holding on to you like his life depended on it.

After a while, still avoiding your gaze, Idia returns to the bed, hiding behind the pillow again. It’s almost cute...

No, it’s very cute. And funny.

You take the pillow away and let him curl up beside you again. For now, both of you log out of reality outside his room and let Idia melt under your touch.

Game over for virginity, am I right?

Silver

You wake up with the weight of an arm draped across your waist and the warmth of a body pressed against your back. The bed is way too comfortable, and your body… way too happy, though aching and with a hangover that could flatten you in the sun.

Little memories float to the surface: lights, very loud music, punch spiked with alcohol, a whirlwind of colors… and something silver blurring your vision.

Silver’s hair between your fingers as you kissed, his eyes—clear and bright—locked on yours in the middle of the chaos, giving you a look that told you both to take this moment somewhere else.

The feel of soft, sweet sheets on your bare skin stops your thoughts in their tracks, making you open your eyes and turn your head to the side.

Girl… you’ve got Silver, completely naked, behind you. His strong, well-trained arm pinning you against his chest.

Ahhhh… his chest; bare, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s beautiful in that fairytale way that only storybooks promise.

How can someone, even while asleep, look so utterly tempting?

Why is there a tingling between your legs? And why can’t you feel them? Or rather… why do they feel so wet?

Your heart skips several beats. Holy. Shit.

I slept with Silver. I slept with Silver.

You can’t stop staring at the perfect physique of the man beside you, so muscular, drinking in the view, flashes of the night before returning in blinding white bursts:

Your laughter muffled against his shoulder in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, his voice low but steady whispering sweet things—and something that made your pussy throb, needy and expectant. The warmth of his hand on your waist as he led you to a deserted hallway to devour your mouth right there.

The taste of his lips, sweet and a little shy at first, but no less hungry and full of desire, his tongue sliding into your mouth and both hands gripping your thighs to lift you up and pin you to the wall.

His fingers playing with every button and fold of your clothes, peeling you out of each layer until you were completely exposed for him; the pressure as they slipped inside you and a moan escaped your lips.

His warm, solid body over you, until he sat you on his lap; face to face, your breasts pressed to his chest, your nipples rubbing against his skin as you bounced with each thrust of his hips, his arms holding you tight against him.

Gentle, noble kisses on your cheeks, your shoulders, even your knuckles; kissing you softly, slowly, savoring you and making you feel wanted and loved.

His cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy with ease, not too fast, not too slow, wanting to set a pace that could last all night.

But your moans and pleas for him to go faster—“More, Silver, please, more”—made it a little difficult.

“I’ll give you everything, beautiful, just hold on tight”

And you did; to his shoulders, his arms, even to the sheets themselves when the pace sped up, laying you down on the bed, your legs thrown over his shoulders, the new angle making you cum again and again and again, so easily it was almost ridiculous.

You feel the tingling intensify down low and you shift.

Silver stirs and blinks awake. A few seconds of confusion before he notices your face, your bare shoulders, the way you’re clutching the sheet… adorable.

“Good morning beautiful”

And he says it with the most natural, gentle tone in the world.

“Are you alright?” he squeezes your waist and pulls you a little closer.

Boom, straight to the heart.

For a moment, he hesitates, thinking maybe… maybe, there’s regret in your eyes, maybe even shame.

Finding none, he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead and settles you against his chest; he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You look so beautiful in the morning, I want to wake up like this every day”

A soft kiss on your cheek, then another on your nose, then one more on your neck.

And, to finish, one slow, sweet kiss on your lips—savoring the promise of more in the future.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

Anticipation shivers under your skin.

“Don’t stop”

╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌

Ace … and ... Deuce

You wake up with the worst hangover of your life—moving is a lost cause and opening your eyes isn’t even an option. You feel like you might throw up at any second and then just go back to sleep.

There’s a pounding behind your eyes, the kind that makes you swear you’ll never drink punch again… never drink punch that’s been tampered with by Ace; hell, you’ll never go to another party again.

You roll over and two things hit you: first, you’re naked, like, obscenely naked; second, someone is snoring rudely right in your ear.

A sharp flash stabs through your skull. You remember being squished from all sides while dancing, multiple hands on your waist, and two pairs of lips on your neck.

Turning left, you see Ace waking up. Looks like the hangover is killing him too. He grabs his head as he sits up, elbow propped on the mattress, lets out a heavy sigh and tries to open his eyes—and they lock with yours.

God knows how, but this bastardly redhead manages to give you the cockiest, most infuriating grin that makes you want to punch him right in the face.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty”

“Call me that again and I’ll shove your uniform shoe up your ass, Ace.”

Ace just grins wider and lets out a little laugh… followed by a pained groan as he closes his eyes, keeping the pain under control.

You smack his arm to wipe that smile off his face...and realize he’s just as naked as you.

“Ace… what the hell did you do?”

You blush, covering yourself with the sheets as much as you can, actually, even more. All that’s left is to cover your face and you’d be a mummy.

“Aww, don’t make that face, you’re the one who climbed on top of me after the punch.”

“You’re the one who spiked it!!”

“Didn’t hear you complaining when you were begging us for more—”

You smack him on the head with a pillow; your shrieks and his, plus the loud thump of the pillow, echo through the whole room.

“What the fuck… why are you two so noisy?”

Deuce’s voice sounds from behind you, raspy and just as hungover as you two.

You look at him… he looks at you… his eyes travel down to his own equally naked body… Confusion turns to horror, horror into high-pitched groans.

“What happened? What did we do? Why are we naked?!”

Between the throbbing headache and Deuce’s panicking, you try to remember a little more of this… wild rebellious night.

You remember being with the dynamic duo on the dance floor, Ace whispering dirty promises in your ear, Deuce pulling you closer to him. Then both of them trapping you between them.

Their taste—Ace like candy and mischief, Deuce like cinnamon and adrenaline.

The three of you running through Ramshackle’s halls, stumbling, sometimes collapsing in a tangle of laughs, hands, and feet.

The bed—Sevens, the bed. Sheets scattered everywhere; Ace’s mouth on your neck, Deuce’s trembling hands pulling off your clothes, both fighting over who would take off the last piece.

Spoiler: both of them did it with confident hands before lunging for your lips, your breasts, your legs.

Kisses mixed with laughter, limbs tangled, the chemistry between these two as they made you cume; sloppy at first, then more assured.

The pressure of one sliding between your legs, spreading you open and burying himself deep; the other opening your lips to take him in your mouth. Both working as a team, building a rhythm, admiring how your body adapted to being fucked from both ends.

“Look how we’re breaking you, baby. You’re so wet… I could drown in here,” Ace groaning, rough and loud, grabbing your hair and pushing you down on Deuce’s pelvis with every thrust.

“That’s it, pretty, just like that, don’t stop, swallow it all,” Deuce murmuring as his cock slides down your throat, robbing you of breath for a few delicious seconds.

The way they took turns—one in your pussy, the other in your mouth… but you also remember a sharper pressure at your ass.

The moment when they both wanted to be in your wet pussy together; when one pulled out, the other pushed in, stretching you until you screamed their names, rubbing together inside your softest, most sensitive spot.

The moment you didn’t just cum with both their cocks inside, but, thanks to the pressure and the delicious way they filled you...you squirted, soaking the bed, your belly, and probably Ace’s too.

You moaned, screamed, writhed; the boys turned on by seeing you so free, so full of them, Ace twisting your already-sensitive nipples, Deuce running his tongue over your dripping pussy.

Dizzy flashes of being held in the air, legs around Deuce hips, hands and arms held by Ace, your arms wrapped around his waist too. Each of them fucking you from a different end, watching your tits bounce with every thrust; a mess of spit, sweat, tears, and their cum leaking from both your holes.

The three of you collapsed in bed, panting; Deuce’s arm wrapped around your waist, Ace curled around your chest, fondling your extra-sensitive tit in a playful way—until he switched to gentle caresses. Both seeking your warmth and your touch.

Your breath catches with all the memories. The heat rises not just to your cheeks, but a lot, lot lower.

“I’m never drinking your punch ever again,” Deuce growls, holding his head.

“Don’t you wanna know how good we are at sharing this pretty princess?”

Deuce tosses a pillow at him, but with no force, Ace catches it with one hand, laughing.

The redhead just gets cockier, trapping you in his arms, your back pressed to his chest. You feel his lips leaving little kisses on your nape and cheeks.

Deuce, still hungover and dying of embarrassment, scoots in front of you, wrapping you up with one strong… very strong… arm.

Both of them attack you with twice as many kisses.

Alright. He'll agree. But only if you follow some of his rules. You must use separate blankets whilst you sleep and must sleep facing opposite sides- mainly because he doesn't want you to see the reddening of his cheeks. Not a word will be spoken between you two- as he doesn't want you to hear the nervous cracking of his voice- and, of course, you must come to his next unbirthday as repayment! Both you and him must abide by these rules, or else its off with your head. And maybe even his if his face doesnt cease its flushing.

However, in the dead of the night, where silence and chill slowly seep in through the cracks, you might catch Riddle shuffling closer to you for warmth. Arms wrapped around your waist as he digs his head into your chest, feeling your arms wrap around his form, your loving warmth envelopes him completely. You'd best hope that he doesn't wake up like this though, for the collar around your neck won't be the only thing red.

.

#. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

Leona, of course, was annoyed with the arrangement, muttering something about simply paying for another hotel room- or perhaps even the entire floor. However to his extraordinary luck, none were available. Great. Well whatever, it wasn't like you two hadn't shared a room before.

He would most definitely make you sleep on the floor, and probably wouldn't even give you a blanket. The lion would roll his eyes and tell you to deal with it on your own. But let's say he's grown a softspot for you... and the way that pretty little nighty fell over your shoulders. He'd beckon you over to his laying form, pulling you onto the bed opposite from him. You'd be tucked in, back to his chest, feeling his eyes staring intently into your form. However, whenever you snuck a peek back at him his piercing eyes were shut closed, seeming as if he was sleeping soundly. It’s like sleeping with a predator, much more different from the naps he’d take in the botanical gardens.

As your body finally succumbs to sleep you may feel Leona shift closer to you, pulling you into him. His arms are snug against your waist, head against your shoulder, hair sprawled against you. A sigh left his lips as he pressed small kisses into your neck. His tail would be wrapped loosely around your thigh, legs entangled with yours. It was like he was trying to mold every body part to yours. And when you snuggled back into him, the lion couldn’t help but chuckle, he knew he chose the right one. It was some of the best sleep either of you had ever gotten.

Oh, and he's not letting you go the next morning.

.

#. AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

The concept of sharing, plus Azul Ashengrotto, is practically unimaginable. Sharing anything with him, let alone a bedroom, would most definitely end in your sanity cracking. He would come up with a plethora of ideas, all no doubtly ending in you making some sort of deal with him. Such as potentially giving you half the room if you take a couple shifts at the lounge. If you disagree he'll let you sleep on the floor... only to lie awake the whole night because, 'how could he ever let you of all people sleep on the floor.' If you agree, however, he will undoubtedly become a flushed mess, trying to stay calm and dignified as he utters his terms with a completely red face. He was absolutely sure you were going to disagree!!

Either way it'll end up with you sleeping besides him. Either due to his own guilt or a badly written contract.

Azul sleeps like a brick. His arms are by his sides or resting on his chest, legs straight and still. He doesn't move whatsoever, it doesn't look like he's even breathing. His face is unmoving and calm, like he has nothing to worry about. However if you look closely you can see the faint twitch of his eyes, and the slight reddening of his pretty cheeks. Its amazing how a man who tries to present himself as classy gets flustered so easily.

Late into the night he finally begins to loosen up, turning onto his side to face you. His hand intertwines with yours, pressing your foreheads together in a sleepy spell. Your breaths mix with one another, adding a feeling of warmth that contrasts his cold body. His legs entangle with your own, acting as his tentacles that he so desperately wants to hold you with. He can't help but smile within his dreams. Hmm... he might have to make a deal with you to do this again sometime.

.

#. KALIM AL- ASIM.

Kalim doesn't complain when Crowley tells the two of you to room together. He even offers his bed to you with no hesitation whatsoever. He could probably buy the entire hotel for you if you had just asked. A bright smile is on his face as he takes your hand in his, dragging you up to his room. Out of all the boys hes the one most used to sleeping with other people. His parents were always so busy, that his younger siblings came to him, their older brother, to get comfort at night. This ritual of always sleeping together suddenly stopped when he came to NRC, and it took him a while to finally be able to sleep alone. That's likely why he always asks to have sleepovers with you.

It would take a while to actually fall asleep with him next to you though, as the two of you would be too busy goofing off instead of actually sleeping. He'd make the two of you watch musicals late into the night, singing loud enough to be heard by the underworld. You would have pillow fights, toppling over one another in a fit of giggles.

When the two of you finally get too tired to continue Kalim climbs into bed facing you, his smile never once leaving his lips. He faces you as he lies there, his hand cupping yours in a comforting manner. He would entangle his legs with your own, sometimes playfully kicking yours when you would accidentally tickle him within your pile of blankets and pillows.

As exhaustion begins to settle in Kalim shifts closer to you. He hugs you in his sleep, both arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you into his chest. His head rests atop yours, smile never once leaving his face as he cuddles you even closer. The blankets are kicked off as one of his legs wrap around your hips, the other hanging off the bed. Its a mix of holding you like a koala and a monkey. If even possible, his smile grows tenfold, not being able to help the dreams of doing this over and over again with you.

.

#. VIL SCHOENHEIT.

Vil is probably the most irritated with Crowleys negligence. Because of the headmasters bare-bones way of thinking he is stuck with you in his room. However, he begrudgingly agrees, quick to tell you that there will be no horsing aorund when you both need as much sleep as you can possibly get. Yet, he's not too upset with the arrangement, he'd rather it be you he's stuck with than some other loudmouthed potato.

He sits you down at the nightstand when arriving in the room, taking out skin-care products to begin prepping your face. If you're going to be staying in his room you must follow his word, including his skin care routine. There's a hint of irritation in his eyes, still a bit peeved by the situation. What if his fans get a hold of this? What kind of scandal would occur? However, as the night goes on you can see the stress leave his gorgeous eyes. As the two of you sip on tea, enjoying quiet laughs and soft smiles, Vil begins to relax.

When finally getting to bed the two of you lay on your backs, Vil having his hands crossed over his chest with his eyes closed like a sleeping princess. He's tucked into his blankets carefully, legs straight and poised. Of course he had perfect posture even in bed- it only made sense. No words would be exchanged between the two of you. Its almost ungodly how beautiful he looks asleep.

Vil doesn't move much in his sleep, but he definitely sleeps elegantly. Even while you cuddle into his side, a hand resting on his chest with a leg thrown over his own- sleeping like the potato you are- he still stays regal. One of his hands holds yours, intertwining your fingers while the other pulls you in by the waist. He moves your head to rest on his chest, moving the hand that was on yours to comb through your messy hair. He sighs to himself, but it's not one of annoyance.

.

#. IDIA SHROUD.

Idia is probably the quickest to shut down Crowleys suggestion of the two of you sharing a room. He didn't even want to be in this hotel anyway, being surrounded by other students from Night Raven was absolutely terrifying in itself. And sharing a room with you would be petrifiying. Ortho is way too fast to interfere, though, seeing a golden opportunity to have you and his brother have your very own romance route moment- he wasn't about to let it pass!

Idia is flabbergasted. He planned on letting you keep the room to yourself- close to renting a whole ass hotel for himself. He much rather preferred being ten thousand miles away, watching you from afar then actually interacting with you. Plus his brother's excitement to the whole situation was a bit too overwhelming to handle. However, seeing that guilty look on your face as you asked him to stay made his heart race in ways he had never experienced. Sevens... he felt like he was about to melt into his own hair. What the fuck did he just agree to.

He would be pressed to the corner of the room, trying to distract himself with his tablet. He steals glances at you, tapping away nervously as the tips of his hair begins to flush a pale pink. He's clearly freaking out internally, a million scenarios running through his head like a hamster on a wheel. What if he somehow messed up by tripping over your suitcase and landing on his head, embarrassing himself forever? Or, what if while tripping, all your clothes come tumbling out of your bag and he sees something he shouldn't?! Its shocking just how pink he can get.

When it comes time to sleep he's as still as a brick, eyes wide and trying his hardest to not move. The two of you would be back to back, sometimes brushing up against one another when shuffling around for comfort. Whenever this would happen he would curl up into a ball, pressing his hands to his face as he apologized profusely. And when he would hear your laugh- telling him not to worry about it- he couldn't help but flush more. God this was way too much to handle!!

Idia could not fall asleep the whole night. And it definitely wasn't because you were pressed up against him. Nor was it because you were hugging him like he was a stuffed animal. And it for sure wasn't because he could feel your breath at the back of his neck, sending cold shivers down the hot mess he was becoming. He just hoped Ortho was actually charging and not giggling silly at his ship finally coming true.

Not that he'd mind if it did.

.

#. MALLEUS DRACONIA.

Malleus is actually the most accepting of the arrangement. It's Sebek who has a massive problem with the situation, however Malleus is quick to ease his worries. He has always wanted a sleepover with someone, and who better than you, prefect?

As soon as you enter the room Malleus is all over you. He fusses over every little detail, trying to make sure everything is comfortable and in a good enough condition to suit your needs. But in the least subtle way possible. Is the room too hot? Perhaps too cold? How are the pillows? Do you need more? Are they too stiff- or too fluffy? Or maybe you need some more blankets? Perhaps he should get some more just in case.... He knows he is being overbearing but how could he help it? He had to make sure everything was just absolutely perfect for his child of man.

It takes a while, but once you finally get Malleus to settle down he flops down into a comfortable position on the bed. Right on top of you. His head lays on your stomach, horns near your chest. One of his hands supports his head, feeling how your heart beats while the other holds you in place by the hip, gently rubbing circles into it. His claws lightly dig into your skin, feeling your heartbeat increase as he gets closer. Its ever so enticing to just sink his claws into you to see how you'd react. His legs trap yours in place, wrapping around them like a dragons tail would. He can't help but sigh in content, looking up to your flushed face with a sly smirk on his face. Oh how he would love to cuddle you for eternity. Your forced to sleep like this the whole night. And the next... and the next.