of violets and bows.

For someone who falls asleep randomly, Silver was wide awake as he situated you on top of him.

Just a few moments ago, you were cuddling in his bed, spending some quality time with him. It didn't take long for you to notice Silver slowly grinding against your ass, his soft groans directly going into your ears.

“That's it… You're doing so well…”

Going back to your current situation, Silver brushed a stray hair back into your ears, his firm grip on your hips easing you down on his cock. No matter how many times you took him, it was still a big adjustment for you. Silver was simply huge.

Every inch that disappeared into your cunt made a burning stretch, a hiss slipping past your lips at every jolt of pain. Silver was a sweetheart—whispering sweet nothings and praises to encourage you. He patiently waited for you to take in his cock, stopping a few moments to give you room to breathe.

His hands stopped your movements halfway in when he took notice of your discomfort. You can't do it. It felt like you were being split apart, and you've only taken half. You wanted to complain—to beg him to take over—but you knew Silver wouldn't allow it. He wanted you to set the pace. He wanted you to take the lead for even just a second.

“Si-silver, please… Help me.. I don't thi—!” You couldn't even finish your sentence when Silver gave your ass a gentle smack. His eyes gazing intensely at you as he spoke, “Don't say such a thing. Of course, you can do it.” His sweet words paired well with his gentle actions, slowly easing you down once again.

Your hands frantically gripped whatever it could—his shoulder, hands, chest, even his hair—anything that could help you at that moment.

“It's almost all the way in. You're taking my cock so well, my beloved…” His praises are starting to get to your head. Everything that came from his mouth went straight to your pussy, making it even slicker to help his cock push deeper.

Finally, after what felt like forever, his entire cock was settled inside of you. A small groan escaped his lips as his head was thrown back on the pillow, relishing the way your cunt clenched and twitched around him.

Your hands settled on his thighs, gripping them ever so often to relieve some of your pain. You made the mistake of looking down on where you connected; a prominent bulge on your stomach was present. Silver's hands held your hips, squeezing them slightly to encourage you to move.

Slowly, you ground your hips, making slow circular motions to help you adjust to his size. Silver was still in a daze, his eyes tightly shut as he savored the warmth of your pussy.

“Feel so good… Just like that! Take your time, don't worry about me…” One thing about Silver is his prioritization of your pleasure. He made sure that you came first before he could. Sometimes, he'd be too focused on making you feel good that he would neglect his own needs.

Feeling a bit more confident thanks to Silver, you began to raise your hips slightly before pushing his cock back in. The new sensation seemed to be well-received by him, a small moan tumbling from his lips the faster you moved. A string of praises mumbled from his lips as his grip on you tightened.

Silver still has yet to open his eyes. You wanted him to look at you. You needed him to see you. “Sil—! Look at me, pl-please… Need you to—haa!” Your trembling hands reach to caress his face, coaxing him to finally open his eyes and look at you.

The sight that awaited him was beyond his own imagination. The prominent bulge in your stomach immediately caught his attention. His hand hesitantly reached to touch it—to confirm it was what he thought. A slight jolt of your body was the only confirmation he needed.

His hand applied a bit of pressure, pressing down on the bulge just to see your reaction. Sure enough, your hand immediately reached to stop his actions. Your panicked expression made Silver hesitate for a moment, but after feeling the way you tightened around him, he knew you didn't want him to stop.

“Don't worry, I'll make you feel good, okay? Just listen to my voice."

Every instruction that came out of his mouth was followed flawlessly, his hands guiding your hips to move faster and rougher. Silver never forgot to praise you. Every little thing you did warranted a sweet praise along with a kiss. If Silver continued this, you'd get addicted and greedier.

Your body was starting to feel the exhaustion. You weren't used to being on top, as you always let Silver do everything. And he was quick to notice this. His body reacting immediately to your needs and readjusting your position. Your back hit the soft mattress as Silver thrust back in.

“Sil—?!"

“I'll continue; you must be tired. Lie down and enjoy what I'll give you.” Silver unconsciously commands you during sex. It's like his brain is wired to guide you through everything.

His hips started a relentless pace, abusing your cunt in a familiar fashion. His eyes took notice once again of the bulge that appeared every time he thrust his cock back inside. Silver was quick to press down on it, adding to the already delirious pleasure he was giving you.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you, almost ripping them from how hard your hold was. You were close. The more he pressed down, the more you felt your orgasm approach.

“Clo—! Silver, I'm com-coming!”

It didn't help that Silver started to rub circles around your clit. With a sharp thrust of his hips, your walls clamped down on his cock, restricting him from pulling away from you as you rode your high. Your hips grinding down on his to help you through your climax.

Silver, ever the kind soul, whispered praises onto your lips, keeping his body still as to not overstimulate you. Once you had calmed down, he slowly pulled out of you, watching your cum cover and drip all over his cock.

You noticed that he was still hard. Did he not come with you…?

He saw the confused look on your face and immediately gave you a warm smile. “Don't fret. I can take care of this later.” Silver tried to reassure you that this was something he'd handle.

Unfortunately, you're stubborn. You immediately shifted to all fours, lifting your hips to tempt him in some way. “I'm not tired yet… Can we go another round?”

And who was Silver to deny you any of your wants and needs?

It’s not until a few weeks later that the ramifications come. One day, out of the blue, Silver gifts you with a piece of jewelry (a ring, a necklace, an earring, etc; whatever your preference is!). Embedded in it is a clear gemstone that refracts the light in pastel pink, baby blue, and pale purple… exactly like his eyes.

He helps you secure it on for the first time and oh, how gentle his touch is as his fingers brush against your skin. Silver gives that small smile that melts your heart. “There. This way, you’ll always have ‘me’ watching over you,” he says, lightly tapping the aurora-colored jewel, “even if I am not right at your side.”

Sometimes you feel Silver’s own gaze lingering on you too. You know him to be an airhead or half asleep most of the time, so the thought never occurs to you that this spacey behavior is odd. But once or twice, when you’re stealing glances back at him, you notice a seriousness set in his eyes, a darkness creeping into the light. The same deadset look that scares off children and makes others mistake him for someone far more aggressive than he actually is, you think.

He lingers close when you walk to and class together, his protective instincts sending him into action to catch you if you so much as stumble, and remove errant leaves and petals that tumble onto your hair. “I have you,” he reassures you, oblivious to the electricity in his touch and how it makes you leap. “Don’t worry.”

Silver acts as though you’re as delicate as glass and as pure as freshly fallen snow. It’s not uncommon for him to praise your positive traits (while totally overlooking your flaws) or talk about how good of a person you are—and that also drives him to keep you that way. Untouched, untroubled. He’s so quick to steer you away from stressful situations or charging in to settle an issue himself, typically by talking down the aggressors. That’s thoughtful of him… right?

He has the habit of falling asleep on you when he gets to be comfortable. You usually don’t mind it, but sometimes he gets a little too clingy in his sleep. It’s hard to pry him off when he looks so peaceful and mutters your name under his breath while he has your body in a death grip.

Silver takes you on quiet nature strolls. You often drift off the beaten path and wander deep into the woods behind NRC, far, far away from the other students and staff. The sun sinks and sinister sounds come from the dark—you get nervous and leap into his arms, asking Silver if you should turn back now. He agrees every time, walking you back and wishing you sweet dreams. By the time you collapse into your bed from exhaustion, you don’t realize he has stolen you away for the entire day for himself.

It’s strange. You start to get the sense that you’re seeing Silver in your dreams just as much as you see him in the waking world. Rarely do you fully recall the details of your dreams, but there’s always that vague feeling of catching a flash of silver hair or feeling the heat of his eyes uncomfortably pressing into you when you wake up.

You tell him about this and joke that maybe he’s using his UM to haunt your dreams. “It’s impossible. You’re not Rook-senpai,” you laugh. He chuckles at the idea. But oh, how weird. Somehow the conversation tends to steer toward whatever you happened to recall of last night’s dreams. If Rook appeared in your dream, Silver coincidentally slips him into the discussion. Lightly probing questions like, “What is your opinion of Rook-senpai?” and, “Are you comfortable around him?”

Silver tells you about the stories his father has shared with him from his travels. Many are folklore from different regions in Twisted Wonderland, but more recently he has been fixated on fairy tales from the Shaftlands. “A couple finds true love and live happily ever after, nothing able to tear them apart…” he says dreamily. “It sounds just like us.”

Silver appears stoic on the outside, but you know that’s not the case. A few months into the relationship, you become acutely aware of his insecurities and his low self-worth. Not strong enough, not long-lived enough, not alert enough, not… enough. He will never be able to repay his debt to his father, Silver has confided in you many times.

“It’s okay. You’re here now, and you’re doing your best to keep the people you love safe.” You do your best to soothe him in those moments of weakness, for which he is thankful for. With shining eyes, auroras in the dark, he whispers, “You’re so kind to me.” Raptly, as if beholding a higher being. “What did I do to deserve someone like you…?” And there it is again, that seriousness, the light fleeing from him, as he vows to repay your kindness.

You’re acquainted with Silver’s animal companions and get along with them. Now you’re noticing them everywhere, not just around Silver. In fact, you see them without Silver. Birds in the trees, a rabbit hopping alongside you, the stag poking its head out from the bushes.

Then those animals reappear when you meet up with Silver later, looking all innocent, while Silver asks you about your day. If there’s a slight discrepancy (due to poor memory) or a detail you overlooked, he’ll gently correct you or clarify. “Blueberry muffin? As I recall, you had a cranberry muffin for a midmorning snack.”/“Ah, you forgot to mention you asked Ace if you could borrow a pencil for the exam.” You blink, surprised. How did he come upon all that information? How can he recite your day better than you can? It doesn’t hit you until much later that his animal friends have been serving as his eyes and ears.

He sincerely apologizes to you when you confront him about it. “Please tell them I don’t appreciate them snooping!” you cry out. Silver promises he’ll ask them to curb their curiosity—and while it’s true that you no longer see the animals following you, you can still feel their beady gazes around every bend and corner. Paranoia claws at your scalp, and you try to calm your doubts with one thought: No way would Silver be encouraging this. I must be imagining things.

You try to get your mind off of your worries by hanging out with your classmates. Sebek, ever boisterous and over-the-top, uplifts your mood. Pretty soon, you’re chatting away with him at the lunch table (even if he loudly refers to you as a HUMAN), paying no mind to the shadow that has fallen over it until a deadly quiet voice speaks up.

“Sebek.” It is so cold, so hollow, it startles both you and Sebek when you realize the speaker is Silver. “I don’t like it when you talk with them like that.” Sebek makes to say sorry to his fellow knight—or is it to challenge him? You never find out, for Silver has grabbed you by the wrist and is yanking you away from him.

He doesn’t let go until you’re in a secluded area of the courtyard. There’s a red mark left behind, and it causes tears to well up in him. Silver collapse like a house of cards. He’s extremely apologetic—he has hurt you, hasn’t he? He failed to protect you. How terrible. He shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have been so petty and jealous.

It breaks your heart to see Silver a mess, blaming himself so profusely for what happened. You do whatever you can to calm him, and eventually the conversation somehow turns to you accepting some fault. It’s not, though, the little nagging voice in your head protests. You silence it, prioritizing the emotionally vulnerable Silver. “I’m sorry, I should have considered your feelings and avoided giving Sebek the wrong message. I’ll avoid getting all buddy-buddy with him in the future, okay?”

And it happens again, again, again. One by one, your friends are cut off from you in a similar manner. It’s always something they do or say that concerns your boyfriend, something that impedes or disrupts that pristine, picturesque fairy tale he has laid out in his head.

Silver’s presence in your life becomes increasingly invasive, like unwanted briars creeping into a garden, thorns cutting off your access to air. He’s soon consuming every second of your day, whether physically beside you or planted in your worried thoughts like a demon disguised as a guardian angel. You can’t do anything anymore without feeling anxious and watched.

He starts to talk about… strange things. Tall towers, glass coffins, the bars of a bird cage. All manner of motifs pulled from fairy tales, items and places meant to keep a character shackled and stowed away from the world. “I feel bad for the person locked up in them,” you’d tell him. “Sometimes,” Silver murmurs mysteriously, “people will take drastic measures to protect the ones they love.” You cannot explain why, but those exchanges leave you feeling immensely uneasy.

You timidly share your experiences with people you think are safe. Silver’s dorm members, his friends, his family. The people who know him best, who can maybe talk some sense into him. To your dismay, your concerns fall upon deaf ears. You earn many blank looks and dismissive comments, all citing Silver’s good nature. (“He loves you very much. This is his way of demonstrating that, he’s just sort of clumsy with it. Give him another chance.”/“That doesn’t sound like him. Are you sure you’re remembering it correctly?”/“You’re overreacting.”)

It beats down your spirit, starts to make you question your own judgment. You second-guess your words and actions. Is your perception of reality right when everyone else is telling you that you’re wrong, that Silver could never harm a fly.

Then comes the guilt like a wave crashing into you as you think about all the good times you’ve had together. Rose-colored days under a balmy blue sky. Your thoughts are like a brewing storm, and every evening when you tuck into bed, dread, unease, and uncertainty follow you.

You’re waking from the lovely dream that was a whirlwind romance, seeing Silver for the imperfect and obsessive person that he is. Unfortunately, you don’t have the heart to bring up the tough subject with him. He looks so darn happy with you, continues to dote on you and act the part of a valiant knight. Your mouth will open, then close again before any words can come out. It hurts, it hurts, and it is eating you up from the inside out.

You bottle it up for Seven knows how long, but it comes torrenting out one night. Silver is walking you home as per usual when you blurt out the suggestion of taking a break from each other. He stills, hurt crumpling his face. And then he has you by the shoulders, softly demanding to know what is wrong, has someone made you feel unwell? You, it’s you, you’re suffocating me, you want to say, but you cannot.

Silver presses and you resist, the two of you taking up the middle of main street with your desperate quarrel. He’s becoming increasingly frantic and desperate, his eyes dark and obsessive. It’s then that a passing mob student angrily speaks up, giving you a rough shove. You meet the hard ground, pain shooting through you. “Move already!” he gruffly stomps by—but he’s caught by Silver, his expression like clouds that have drowned out the moon. “You put your hands on them just now,” he says evenly. “Please apologize.”

“Like hell I will! They shouldn’t have been in my way,” the mob student grumbles. He attempts to leave but to no avail. There’s Silver walling off his escape route, an icy fury overtaking him.

You can’t bring yourself to watch what happens next. Wrenching your face away, you do your best to block out the horrible noises that come. The crunching of bones, the dull thud of flesh against something solid, agonized screaming. And then it’s silent.

You slowly gather the courage to dare a look at the scene. The world tilts, and bile rises in your throat. Silver calmly stands over a fallen figure. The street—and him—are painted in red. The mob student isn’t moving. Not anymore.

He smiles. The small, awkward one that once made your head buzz and cheeks flame. It only yields a gaping hole in your heart now. Silver strolls toward you, caked in blood but acting as though he isn’t.

You’re too paralyzed with fear to attempt backing away or rejecting his advances when Silver tenderly embraces you. You tremble violently, hiccups and tears spilling out.

A hand strokes your hair, his voice a lullaby to soothe you. “Shhh, shhh, shhh, it’s okay. You’re safe. I took care of the big, scary monster. You don’t need to look at it—it’s not fit for your eyes.”

Silver holds you and allows you to sob until you’ve tired yourself out and into a dream. He will carry you home, setting you down on your mattress like laying a corpse in its glass coffin and taking in the sight of you from the foot of the bed.

Sword training was a chore, a recreational activity, and as simple as breathing to Silver. Once his father had deemed him ready to hold a wooden blade with some type of grace, he'd been training. It was only an added bonus that he didn't fall asleep as easily when he and Sebek practiced.

But, while he was tutored heavily in the blade, he wasn't sure how effective he'd be as a teacher.

Silver checked over the wooden tool, making sure the handle was properly covered with the cotton stripes, "Are...you sure about this? I'm in full support of you learning proper technique for self defense reasons, but am I the right one to teach you?"

The prefect smiled from across the practice area, still stretching in a warm-up routine, "I mean, I couldn't think of anyone better! Unless you mean to have Sebek or Lilia teach me-"

"No, this is for the best."

"Wow, not even a moment to defend your dad..."

"I love you and believe in your abilities. But, I am sure you'd die from my father's training methods..."

The prefect smiled dryly, walking over to take the sword from Silver's hands, "Thank you for the vote of confidence..."

"I just..." Silver looks away, his face a mixture of bashful and pensive, "I don't want you harmed..."

"..." The prefect smiled, leaning over to press a kiss Silver's cheek before walking away, "Don't worry! I'm much tougher than I look." They turned around, wooden sword in hand and moving to mimic a stance they've seen Sebek do, "Now, let's get started!"

Silver corrected their stance before grabbing his own wooden sword and standing opposite of them. He guided them, showing simple swings and block moves before he moved closer.

"Ok. We'll start simple. Use the moves I demonstrated and we will work to more complex moves as we go."

" Got it!"

What followed could barely be counted as a spar between babies. The dull clicks of wood gently tapping wood as Silver lack lusterously blocked and swung his blade. While he had sacrificed his normal battle mindset to keep the lesson safe, the prefect had grown more annoyed at seeing just how much he was holding back.

When Silver went to swing his sword, instead of blocking, the prefect swung their sword to hit Silver on the forearm. Their attack proving too harsh in their frustration, the resulting clack of Silver's sword moving to block was enough to make both of their eyes widen.

"...Um...I think it best we stick to basics-"

CLACK

The prefect moved again, this time thrusting their sword forward to his stomach only to have it quickly slashed away. Working on pure muscle memory, Silver moved to attack back with more force.

The once dull and rhythmic clicks had turned into a rapidly off-beat assortment of sounds of wooden swords clashing and chest-heavy grunts. Even with the prefect being the clear aggressor of the two, almost chasing Silver around the arena, the knight was stone-faced. He'd let the stray grunt slip past his lips, but his movements almost effortlessly blocked their swings. He couldn't place why the racing of his heart felt so different from normal training, why the sound of the prefect's panting made something in his brain rattle against a cage he never knew was there.

As they lock eyes, the prefect suddenly close enough to grab unto the collar of his shirt, a desperate attempt to stop his elusions. Silver wasn't entirely sure what happened. But the now enormous cage within his mind rattled his very bones and he moved without thinking.

He gripped the prefect by the collar, lifting them off of their feet and over his head. Slamming them to the ground and pinning them beneath him. The two of them staring into each other's eyes as they gave ragged and gasping breaths. As his breathing evened out, he finally took notice of their position. Him straddling their hips, one of his knees pressed against their inner thigh with a hand balled into a fist and pressed in the area between their visible collarbone and sweat-laced throat.

Blushing, Silver blinked and pulled away, but didn't release the prefect's shirt, "Sorry...Sorry, I got carried away. I might have thrown you too hard, are you hurt-"

"Silver, I don't know where this is going, but I am ok with it."

"..." Silver felt the blush on his face darken, the prefect looking into his eyes with an almost hungry intent. He briefly looked to the side before looking back to them, "Where...Where are we going?"

"I don't know, but if you throw me like that again, we're gonna find out."

Just stay as you are, that’s all Silver asks. If he could protect you without removing himself from your side, he’d do so without question, but paranoia had taken hold of his virtue and warped it into vice. Still, he did not want to hurt you, nor did he want blood on his hands. It would taint Malleus’s image if his own ward were to take a life for selfish reasons, yet Lilia was more than willing to keep his son from thinking of doing so anyway. The only option for Silver to keep you safe was to lock you away. Lilia dealt with outsiders that dared try to take you from his son.

Unusually enough, you developed his same condition of narcolepsy under his custody. Rarely does your sleep schedule align with Silver’s, however. You slept longer, and fell asleep at sporadic times of the day. Whenever you did fall asleep and Silver was awake, he’d observe the serene rise and fall of your chest with adoration in his eyes until he had to forcefully snap himself out of it. He would waste hours of the day simply watching you in blissful rest, but would it be a waste if he only enjoyed it? No. Of course not.

Sometimes he’d fall asleep while redressing you after a bath. Sometimes you’d fall asleep during a meal while he was feeding you. Sometimes you’d both be awake and you’d try to negotiate tearfully for some sort of peaceful resolution, but the conversation alone wore you out and you’d fall asleep yet again. Either way, the only way out was through him or Lilia who would come when both of you would be knocked out to complete the tasks you started before. He doesn’t mind doing this much. You’re practically family now!

You’re safest here, and that remains an unshakable truth for Silver. No matter how much stress you put yourself under, blissful rest would come after to cushion your angry thoughts.

...If that was the case, then why did he feel so terrible running his hands down your body when you were incapacitated? Your skin was so soft and warm beneath his calloused palms. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding his clothed crotch against yours as he felt beneath your pajama shirt. Of course, it was his shirt he let you wear, and it suited you way better. The hem of it had already been shifted right below your collarbones, revealing your soft chest to him.

Your nipples were hardened by the cold air of his room and Silver couldn’t stop himself from latching onto your chest like a baby and kneading the other while continuously rocking his hips against yours. ‘It’s not enough,’ he thinks to himself; the friction isn’t enough to get him off anymore. He wants to feel you more. He wants to drown in your smell.

He has had enough sex education from school and his father to know what to do with his own arousal. He’d never engaged in intercourse with you before, and swore he’d never do so until you finally could accept your circumstances. Even so, you adjusted so well in his care and even allowed him to bathe you— it’s time, isn’t it? He’s had enough fucking your thighs and cumming on your ass and chest while you were asleep. He wants to take that next step with you.

The next thing Silver knew, his boxers were discarded off to the side of the bed as was your underwear and shorts. He ran his fingers down your slit, gathering your juices on his fingers and pushing two of them into your cunt. The muscles of your thighs twitch at the intrusion and your face contorts slightly, but you still remain unconscious. It’s not like he’s hadn’t fingered you after getting himself off before. He couldn’t bear keeping pleasure to himself while you sat there so prettily for him.

Trailing his nose downward, his tongue meets his thrusting fingers by the entrance of your pussy and swipes upwards to your clit to suck at the erect mound. It took a few tries before to get the reaction he wanted, but taking Lilia’s advice had surely paid off when your walls clench around his fingers. He had your walls constricted around three of his fingers before pulling them out and sucking on them, unlatching them with a wet pop. You even taste heavenly.

Silver’s tongue dives down to your cunt as he placed his mouth flat against your pussy to get his tongue as deep into you as possible for a better taste of your juices. By now, your thighs twitched sporadically as he massaged them gently as they rested against his shoulders. His pale hair was now messed up from the friction of being between your thighs, but he could care less about his appearance right now. He just wants you to cum into his mouth.

His dick twitched and leaked against the blankets of his bed, rubbing against the fabric and making it sensitive with every passing second. It took all of his willpower not to cum before you, keeping his eyes trained on the lewd expressions on your face as he continued to fuck his tongue into you. When your walls clench around his tongue again his hand comes over your thigh to press his thumb against your clit, sending you over the edge with a whimper.

“Even like this,” Silver heaves over your twitching hole, your release dripping down his lips and chin. “You’re still asleep?”

His tongue runs over his lips catching as much as your cum as he can before sitting up on his knees again. Cock erect almost painfully, Silver abstains from shoving his entire length into you as he positions himself between your thighs.

Silver’s nearly out of breath from your warmth radiating off your skin. “Just the tip...” he mumbles to himself.

By the seven, you’re so pretty, you know that? Your hair is disheveled by the slightest toss of your head on his pillow and your expressions are so serene. You barely have any idea what he does when you’re asleep. You’re so vulnerable right now, and he has you all to himself without anyone to come between you and him. You’re all his to admire from now until he dies.

By the time his tip passes through the entrance of your pussy, your brows twitch in discomfort. Isn’t it a little early for you to wake up?

“Mmh?” Your vision is blurry as you groan.

Silver’s breath hitches in his throat and his hips falter, and suddenly the entirety of his length sinks into you. The sting of the stretch wakes you up forcefully like a bucket of ice water. Your body freezes up as you’re met with Silver’s flushed expression over yours.

“S-Sil—,” you’re barely able to say his name correctly as your thighs twitch around his waist. You feel too paralyzed to even twist out of his grasp.

“I-I’m sorry—,” he holds your face gently kissing your cheek as his cock pulls out gently and thrusts back in. “But I want you so much.”

The force of his thrust makes your spine arch unwillingly as he begins to piston his hips too fast for you to process the whole situation. All you could feel was his breath against your jawline and his cock pounding into your sweet spot. Silver knows your body from touching it so many times that he knows exactly how he should move to have you cream on his dick. Lilia had gave a few tips of his own as well— which surprisingly was useful when used in practice.

“‘M gonna... cum—,” he moans against your lips, pecking at them as if he was asking for your to kiss him back. “You’re so wet...”

In a moment of panic, you tug at his shirt with whatever sanity you had left. He needed to pull out— you weren’t even married, better yet, you didn’t want someone who held you captive to cum in you!

“S-Sil— p-pull—,” you stutter out as his hips rut frantically against yours. The tempo of his thrusts knocking the wind out of your chest as his hands pinned you onto the bed— exactly where he wanted you to be. “P-pull out!”

As soon as the last word fell from your lips your legs unconsciously tighten around his hips and your walls clamp down on him simultaneously. Heat spills into you as your body trembles from orgasm. Tears brim your eyes as Silver tries to wipe them as they slide down your skin. His soft lips press against your damp skin in attempt to soothe you. Even when your thighs slide onto the bed from exhaustion he keeps his soft cock pressed into you as he holds you close to his chest.

More pecks against your collarbone follow as he whispers ‘I love you’s’ like a chant to ward off those dreadful words you thought of saying to him. The entire time he doesn’t let go of you, choosing to remain a tangled mess of limbs on your shared bed until you both fell asleep again. With you falling back into your dormant state, Silver could only sit and wait before he, too, could join you in your blissful dreams, whatever they were. There, he’s certain you still imagine him as your lover and not your captor.

Winter days are his favorite, even if he wouldn't outright admit to it. The cold does not bother him much, but he still uses it as an innocent excuse for warming his hands.

•

He doesn't mind where his hands are going, so long as they are sandwiched between warm skin and fabric.

He could slip his hands under your gloves, the fabric stretching yet somehow not tearing. It was strong, though not meant to hold the hands of two people in one. He intertwines his fingers into the nooks of yours inside the glove, keeping it there until you ask him to pull out.

He loves slipping his hands into stockings if allowed, the tight yet elastic fabric keeping snug contact between the two of you. Depending on how high the stockings go, he will adjust his hands accordingly. Waist-high? Hips. Knee-length? Calves. Thigh-high? Obvious. Ankle-high? Fee--

It does not have to be stockings, he will do the same with legwarmers or long boots. If you are lounging and not wearing any of these, he still sees how comfortable you look when warming your own hands between your thighs 🫵 he asks to do the same, gently and politely.

•

For the main garments, he likes to wrap his entire arms under the shirt and around the midsection. Or, sometimes, only his hands on the stomach. This will typically come while spooning, as with all else previously mentioned above. If your back is sore, he will gladly warm his hands through massaging you.

Silver will ask for more permission than the usual when venturing into otherwise restricted places, even if he won't be doing much. If allowed to bring his hands further up, he may subconsciously end up making biscuits there. It doesn't matter the size, he is going to be making those biscuits.

If allowed lower, you will practically end up sitting on his hands. He is resisting every fiber in his body that is telling him to give another massage. His will to resist would immediately melt in the millisecond you give permission.

•

Do not be mistaken, it does not only need to take place beneath clothes. He loves resting his hands against your cheeks, rubbing in circles with his thumb. Your face, now reminiscent of a hamster, also warms his heart.

Your hair is also warming, running his hands through the length or simply petting and scrubbing the crown of your head. Sometimes, he may cup his hands around your ears, but that is mostly to keep you warm.

•

He dodges the pillow you throw at him, laughing like a maniac. “Ahaha! Shoulda seen the look on your face!” “You’re a jerk!” You cry. You don’t know if this banter or genuine frustration is from you, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t care either way. He takes joy in your suffering, perhaps even pride when he’s the one to cause it. You’ve always known that, the little sadist. He’s propped himself on his elbow now, looking at you in anticipation. An eager cat always ready to play with prey. He laughs again when you glare at him tearfully.

“Relax~ How’re ya gonna get a good night’s sleep when you’re working yourself up this much?” He brings you to his side, gentle yet anticipatory, as if feeling like something good is gonna happen. “Doubt you ever had a decent wink in that rundown dorm of yours.”

Sleeping face-to-face with Ace is not something new for any of you. You’ve had plenty of sleepovers with him and Deuce, sometimes even the other first-years, but the comfort of Ramshackle and its ghosts kept you from overthinking things. You stifle your feelings and pout at him. “Like you didn’t sleep there whenever you and Riddle had a fight.”

He chuckles fondly, tracing your pouting lips with his finger. “Yeah, yeah. I’m grateful, so I’m paying back the favor, see? Got Riddle to say yes despite all his fuckin’ rules. Gave you a neat hoodie to sleep in since all your clothes are under that rubble now.”

The beating in your chest seems ever louder, even as his fingers pull away, the faintest warmth only lingering on your lips. “You just want to see me in your clothes, asshole.”

He grins. “Damn right I do, prefect. Might sell ‘em to Deuce, the poor pervert. Might keep them for myself. Who knows?”

DEUCE SPADE is on you the next day, Grim leaping out of his arms and grumbling about Deuce being too noisy to sleep with. He got the boot from Ace last night, and you’re a bit relieved to have a bit of familiarity back in your arms as he resumes his napping. “[Y. Name]! Oh Seven, are you okay? Did you get some sleep? What did that bastard do to you?” He whips his head to Ace, who’s ambling lazily behind you with a lazy stretch. “What the fuck did you do to them?”

Ace waves him off with a grin, walking off to the kitchen. “Nothing you wouldn’t do, hypocrite.”

The growl that Deuce lets out is outright guttural that you would have thought him a student of Savanaclaw, but he softens when he feels you flinch under him. “Sorry, [Y. Name], it’s just that… well, you know Ace.”

You laugh gently. Whereas Ace was a little sadist, Deuce was overprotective in ways that made you feel suffocated, but grateful nonetheless. It was nice to know that some friends were looking out for you rather than laughing at you. You ruffle his still-messy hair. “I know, I know. Nice to know the ADeuce combo is still chaotic even in the early mornings.” His face crumples a bit when you pull your hand away, but he guides you to the common dining hall for breakfast. 

Being the overeager gentleman that he is, Deuce prompts you to make yourself comfortable while he fetches your breakfast. Grim is still curled up on your lap, trying to catch a few missing Zs, and Ace is across the room fighting with the roommates he kicked out last night. You feel a bit of guilt, but not as much when Ace is in a verbal match with them. They’re probably using Riddle’s absence as an opportunity to scream their heads off at him— you hear them call him an opportunistic man who’s trying to get their crush in his pants. You cringe upon hearing that. He laughs and says ‘At least I’m getting some!’ and a fistfight ensues.

Your breakfast plate, an impressive feast of golden honey pancakes topped with maple syrup and strawberries, is set before you. But Deuce’s eyes are narrowed at the fistfight happening, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “What the hell is that idiot doing?” He grumbles, sitting before you. “Spreading these malicious rumors about you… I should knock some sense into all of them!”

“Don’t,” you softly admonish him. “It’s only a matter of time before either Trey or Riddle walks in and they all get beheaded. Might as well let them learn their lesson.” You flash him a grin. “But thanks. Always nice to see my lil delinquent ready to defend my honor.”

He flushes and nervously picks at his own platter. It’s more meat than dessert, and he’s playing with the peas. “It’s nothing. You just don’t deserve to be talked about like that. You’re too…” He trails off, blushing bright red at what he might say, and stops. You don’t push further and let yourself enjoy the comfortable silence between the two of you. In the corner of your eye, you watch Ace and the other roommates get dragged off by the collar by Trey and Cater’s clones.

“Peace and quiet at least,” Deuce sighs. He glances at you before chuckling into his palm. You knit your eyebrows at him. “You’re so… oh well, hold still.” His thumb brushes against the side of your lip (a rather odd recurring event at your stay here) and pulls back to reveal the syrup residue. He eyes it for a bit as if pondering his next course of action. Then, locking eyes with you, his tongue peeks out and licks it off his thumb. 

“Th– Deuce that’s…” Your voice catches in your throat. “That’s… dirty.”

“Dirty? You?” He hums softly, cocking his head to the side. Expression dazed and ditzy, he smiled like a boy partaking in something he's so long desired. “Never. But I… well, haha, sorry. Can’t really play normal around you for too long. But you knew that, right?”

stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): check this out you dumb fuck stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): [image attached] Deuce Spade took a screenshot. You (Deuce Spade): you!! what the fuck have you been doing with the prefect last night?! You (Deuce Spade): i’ll beat u to the fucking ground if i see even one fucking mark stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): haha stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): magichat tells y when you screenshot something u kno. stuupid. stupid hypoocriiite You (Deuce Spade): IT CAN?!?! stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): dun worry your lil brain bout it. stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): we besties rmember??? i aint doing squat without ya. hbu jack off to this as apologies stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): [image attached] Deuce Spade took a screenshot. stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): sooo fuckin easy ✌️✌️

As soon as you go back to Heartslabyul after another day of class, CATER DIAMOND whisks you away before Ace and Deuce can even say anything about it. He’s rambling about something or other, about how he’s so stoked to have you here and how much fun you’d have together. Sleepovers are the highlight of youth, after all! Cater might be in his third year, but he’s not so old as to relinquish all the fun to the freshies!

So he has you sitting still and pretty on his bed, your hair held back by a cloth headband and a nourishing face mask to prep you for the how-many-steps skincare routine that you’ll be doing for tonight. He has his own matching headband as well, and yes, he did take a selfie before posting it to the ‘net with the hashtags #twinning, #sleepover, and #cute. His dorm room is as loud and vibrant as he is, walls covered with posters of his favorite bands and shows, a table full of cosmetics, and the phone and ring light glaring at you.

You shift nervously. It’s like part two of Ace’s incessant photography from last night, but you know that with Cater it will always be twice as bad. Something to do with the desperation in his eyes every time he snaps a picture of only the two of you. Or maybe not. You can’t just assume.

Cater finally turns around, grinning lightheartedly as he brings over a pot of moisturizer. “Hey, hey~ Sorry for the wait. It was, like, reeeal hard to find this pot. I’ve been so messy these days.” He’s always been a bit messy, but taking a look at the desk, you have to agree that this is worse than most days. He sighs when he sees you glance at his table. “IDK… something weighing on my mind and… agh! Lookit me dragging the mood down! Cringe. Let’s take off your mask…”

He takes off the gel mask gingerly. Tonight, you see Cater in his rawest form. No makeup on, not even that little mandatory diamond he always wears, and just him in his pjs. He likes to play rough sometimes, especially if it means getting a reaction out of you, but right now he is gentle. Without the makeup, you can see the eyebags under his eyes that are usually hidden under concealer, and you can’t help but massage them away with your thumb. Green eyes stare back at you wide.

“Have you not been getting enough sleep?” You murmur. It’s glaringly obvious to you and to whoever bothers to look closely that he’s always been hiding underneath a mask, and your suspicions seem to be proven true. You feel him soften under your touch as you continue pressing gentle circles on his eyebags. “We’re in your room, Cater. You don’t have to pretend.”

He makes a face as he pulls away. Disgust, you assume when he laughs drily to himself. “Sometimes I can’t stand you,” he murmurs to himself, but the room is so silent that you can hear it as if he’s saying it into your ear. “You’re too stupidly perceptive, it's creepy. What’s up with that? You don’t even have magic.”

You huff out a laugh. “I don’t think anyone needs magic to have some basic empathy.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but twists the moisturizer cap open and starts to slather the cream on you. “Please. It’s Night Raven College. People don’t have empathy, aside from you and Kalim, anyway. But we know what the deal is with the two of you.” You don’t belong. “You act like some sorta therapist, then boom— you got yourself a horde of hormonal men at your doorstep who could kill you at a moment’s notice.” He pinches your cheek so hard that you yelp at the burn, and he pulls away smugly. “And it’s a~ll your fault.”

You rub your cheek and frown. It hurts. Like, no joking hurts, and Cater looks guiltless as he eyes the red mark. “You’re a doll, aren’t you?” He coos. “Nothing makes you special except for this adorable lil face. Why don’t you just stick with Cay-Cay and let him make you special? I’m sure my sisters would like a sweet thing like you.”

“You’re a dick,” you grumble. He laughs out loud, not even trying to deny the claim, and he throws a peace sign to the camera. “What’s that for? You’re not livestreaming, are you?”

“‘Course not!” Cater laughs, switching back to his usual preppy self. He reaches over and stops the recording, checking the video with small appreciative hums. “Can’t let my peeps know that their Cay-Cay is a sick, sick man who gets off hurting their cute junior! One more selfie, please?”

He tilts the camera towards both of you. Within the frame, Cater’s grinning face and your frowning, bruised one are obviously filtered to hell as he takes the shot.

“Looks like Cater got to you, huh?” TREY CLOVER laughs, handing you an ice pack. It’s later in the night, and Cater’s decided he isn't in the mood to have you in his bed for the night. Shame, Trey had said to him. I know men who’d kill for this. Cater had only stuck out his tongue and waved you off before retreating to his chambers. You hiss when you press the pack against your face. Moonlight silhouetting his figure like an ominous foretelling, Trey leans on the island as he inspects you.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, brushing the messy strands away from your face. “You got your dorm ruined, forced to move into Heartslabyul of all places, and you get bullied by our members two days in a row. Must be tough for you, huh?”

You want to pout. Maybe complain. Cry a little bit. In the first few weeks that you’d known Trey, maybe you would have. You had always mistaken him for an exasperated elder brother type, exhausted by the dorm members’ antics but laid back enough to go along with it. But you know better than to vent to Trey of all people, not when he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as he watches you shed tears. 

“Not gonna work on me, devil,” you mutter. He laughs again and holds two hands in surrender, caught red-handed trying to make you rely on him. You eye him warily. “I’m sleeping with you tonight?”

“Oh, don’t word it like that, pet. The walls have ears.” You flush at the innuendo. “But hey, if you’re okay with that, then by all means go ahead.” 

You sigh deeply. First Ace, then Trey. Where the hell was the housewarden when you needed him? Someone needed to keep these crazies in line. Trey, for the most part, was far more responsible than any of the other members. But he hasn’t bothered to be decent around you for a long time now. Always quipping subtle lewd jokes when you least expect it, hovering his hand on your hips as he guides you through a recipe… Riddle’s mentioned it once, calling it a display of indecency. Trey had brushed it off and teased that you liked it that way. You don’t know. Riddle hasn’t brought it up ever again.

Lost in thought, you barely register Trey’s fingers prying your mouth open until he’s peering into the recesses of your mouth. This guy and his mouth fetish. You try to squirm away from him, but his steady hand on your shoulder tightens, and you still. “Steady now,” he murmurs. “Ate chocolate, didn’t you?” You can’t nod like this, but something in your eyes probably gives the answer away. He chuckles. “Yeah, thought so. Cater bought those chocolates for your sleepover. To think he was so excited for this as well. Doesn’t really strike you as the moody type, huh?”

He cocks a grin at you. “C’mon, brush your teeth. I got some extra spare ones.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t want you staring.”

“Every man has his interests. You really think you can stop me?”

Being vice housewarden, Trey has the privilege of having his own dorm and bath, and now you’re alone with him in the latter. He’s the only thing blocking you from escaping out the door, leaning on it with arms crossed and the grin of a man who’s gotten what he wants. You make a face at him and turn to the sink. His reflection in the mirror continues to watch.

“Scrub more gently, why’re you rushing? Too eager to get out?” You heard it from Ace and Deuce, but you didn’t think that his being this naggy about brushing was real. “You’re neglecting the upper teeth.” Seriously. You didn’t think anyone was this naggy about brushing. “Scrape off the plaque from your tongue. Don’t wanna wake up with bad breath, do you?” You thought his family runs a patisserie? Not a dentist clinic?

You turn to him, features contorted in annoyance as you bare your mouth to him as proof, then clamp it shut again. “Here. Done. Now, can we sleep?”

“Mm, not yet. Open it again.”

You make a face at him, but sigh and relent. You know he’s gonna pry it open one way or another, magic or not. No use trying to argue against a man with magic and muscles bigger than yours. You open your mouth again— “Mpfh?!”

Trey’s two fingers invite themselves into your mouth, poking and prodding at your teeth as if they ought to be there. They’re gliding across molars, pulling against the inside of your cheek to get a proper see… It’s all uncomfortable. You shake your head and grab onto his wrist to try and pull him away, but his hold on you grows more painful as he levels you with a stern stare. “Always squirming, this dormouse. Stay still and excuse this senior’s… habits. Siblings back home, and all that.” He’s not even bothering to put any effort into his excuses. He presses down on your tongue.

“Mpphf mmh mpf!?”

“Just… a lil bit more. Can’t risk cavities.” He smirks at you, his handsome face taking on that sadistic expression that’s ever so common in this college’s students. “It’s okay if you’re scared. Really. More than okay.”

You’re beyond exhausted. You’ve always thought that Heartslabyul was the most normal of the dorms, but perhaps you’d hand that over to Pomefiore. One crazy (Rook) can’t possibly outcrazy four crazies. Especially not when you’ve had to suffer from them two days in a row.

But you’ve never been so happy to see that gorgeous shade of red hair until now.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS sits at his room’s tea table, enjoying himself with some warm lemon tea. His strict expression softens when he sees you enter through the doors, possibly due to your distraught state. Ever since the overblot, he’s loosened up and allowed himself to be vulnerable, especially around you. Riddle’s fond of looking after your quartet of misfits, but even the others admit that he favors you more than them. You’ve always chalked it up to you not getting yourself into trouble like the others do.

“Riddle!” It’s a bit pathetic, how needy you sound. But with the few days of being tossed around like clothes in the dryer, you’re willing to take any sense of order, no matter how extreme it may be. You don’t notice how Riddle’s smile twitches into self-satisfaction before he smooths it down. He gestures to the seat across him, and you take it. He pours you tea, the scent of warm lemon warming your senses.

“Apologies for not being able to properly welcome you these past few days,” he starts, leaning back on his seat. “It’s been quite a busy week for us housewardens, with the new event just around the corner. But things have settled, and I was really hung up on the fact that I couldn’t greet you properly.” He scowls, setting down his teacup as he remembers something. “Or my house members, for that matter. I’ve heard of the upheaval your presence has brought on these past few days.”

You shrink into your seat, shame coloring your face. “I’m sorry… after asking you for shelter as well.”

Riddle waves off your worry. “Oh no, don’t trouble yourself. As far as I know, you haven’t done anything. Goodness, Cater and Ace are throwing out their roommates! And just when we have a spare room as well. Although I do understand their worries, that room hasn’t been cleaned out for a while…” He fails to mention that their opportunistic ways of gaining privacy with you. “Ah. Well. There is always mine and Trey’s room.” He watches you shift uncomfortably and smiles understandingly. “Apologies. Trey hasn’t exactly relayed what happened last night to me, but I can imagine. And well, it wouldn’t be proper for us to be sleeping together.” You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, some damn common sense in this house. Now you know why Riddle is such an excellent housewarden. You tell yourself never to doubt—

“Not when we aren’t married yet.”

You catch the teacup before it can spill anything. Riddle continues sipping in front of you. He cocks his head when he catches you gaping and you shake yourself out of it. Misheard, misheard… joking?

“I brought you up to mother, of course, she was rather outraged that I harbor feelings for a magickless, but…” He laughs awkwardly, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. “I convinced her that you very much mirrored her, just not in… magical prowess or… um, fierceness. Your softness and ability to care for others are captivating, and she still isn’t convinced, but— well, she does have some sort of intrigue. I was hoping to bring you to her at the next break, and… [Y. Name]? You look unwell.”

Softness? Ability to care for others? Your qualities as a doormat seem to have been exaggerated and worse of all, placed on a narcissistic mother who couldn't care less about anything other than her trophy son succeeding. And worst of all, marriage talks? You put down your teacup, fingers shaking from the tumultuous feelings stirring within you. Dread, maybe. Riddle looks at you from across the table, staring at you worriedly with those adorable grey eyes, as if he hasn’t said anything concerning.

“You… want to get married?” You choke out, laughing like you can’t believe it. You shakily point to yourself. “To me? The one who’s going to leave Twisted Wonderland?”

Riddle furrows his brows. “Who says you’re leaving Twisted Wonderland?”

You laugh again in disbelief. “Me! The headmaster! As soon as he finds a way—”

“I don’t think so, not really,” he hums. “It’s obvious he’s delaying, or that there really isn’t a way out. And even if there was, I doubt the numerous people attached to you would allow that.” He looks out the window, perhaps thinking of the number of mages who are so eager to prey on you and your affections. “I, for one, wouldn’t allow that. Ah, don’t look so down, my family is well-off and I will work; I will provide you with everything you desire.” His hands, smaller and softer than yours, squeeze yours gently. “I promise.”

You feel sick.

“You will be a great partner. I know my mother’s extremities far too well, but I’m sure once I find myself a solid position in the government, she will be far too content to say anything about our marriage. All you have to do is be who you are now.” Riddle shyly smiles to himself. “Sweet, caring, docile… motherly.”

Sevens, you feel so fucking sick.

Jack shares a room with others, but Ruggie’s shovelled them to some other room so that territorial instincts don’t scare you out of your wits. Looking around… It’s Savanaclaw, alright. Ripe with the scent of testosterone and training equipment scattered across the room. Jack’s shelf is full of cacti, protein powder jugs, textbooks, and a picture of his family. You send him a grin when you catch that.

“Family-oriented, huh?” You coo, picking up the frame as he towels your ends. You let out an aww when you notice that the whole pack shares his fluffy ears and tail, just in varying shades of gray. You tap the face of a handsome mountain man. “Guess I know where you got your looks from.”

Jack splutters behind you, flustered yet refusing to comment. “Don’t know what you want with all this flattery.”

“... The answers to Crewel’s homework.”

He does something halfway between a grunt and a laugh, the rare smile reflected in the mirror as he gives your hair a final pat. Jack must not be aware that a normal human’s follicles aren’t thick enough to stand his rough toweling, with the way your hairs look aired out. “Can’t get anything out of me. I’m still trying to figure out the alchemical compositions.” You pout, but relent.

There’s a certain aura of domesticity as Jack guides you to your— well, his bed. Grim has opted not to sleep with you, something about the stink of multiple beastmen putting him off. You plop on the mattress face-first and make yourself comfortable rolling around. You fail to see Jack’s shoulder stiffen and his tail straighten when you do so. “Smells nice,” you smile as you prop yourself up to look at Jack below. “Did you pull out some fresh sheets? Thank you.”

Jack gives you one of his half-smiles, those charming and boyish ones that you wouldn’t expect from a beastman as gruff as he was. “I brought you here, didn’t I? It’s common sense.”

“Well, I’d hope so.” Your eyes sparkle with that mischievous shine that Jack’s taken an awful liking to. “Pretty sure Ace had sugar on his bed.”

Jack scowls, and you follow his stiff tail thumping slowly on his mattress. “Hmph. Ace could do anything he puts his mind to, but all he wants to do is act sloppy and undisciplined.”

“Yes, yes~” Some Heartslabyul slander was welcome after that hellhole of a week you went through. You reach out to stroke his ears, lowered for you to scratch behind. Both of you were close enough for this to be normal. “Ace and the rest of ‘em are assholes. I’m happy you took me away, Jack.”

An… unexplainable shadow crosses Jack’s eyes, and even the happy waving of his tail had slowed. A cross between two emotions that you could not quite grasp, tugging back and forth before he shakes himself out of it. “It’s no problem. You…” Though you’re affectionate with him, Jack does not make it a habit to initiate contact with you. You know very well how hesitant he is, with how easily you fold under both magic and brawn. So when he lifts his hands to your face, hovering as he considers how to touch you, the warmth of his calloused palm is a nice surprise.

“You just don’t deserve the way they treat you, is all.” His hands cover your eyes, prompting you to close them. Hiding the expression he makes from you. “You’re not supposed to be here. You have to be protected. It’s only right.”

Are you imagining the warmth that hovers just above your nape? Maybe so, because as soon as Jack lifts his hands, he’s turning away from you and switching the lights off.

RUGGIE BUCCHI’s eyes narrow as soon as you and Jack enter the room, sniffing the air as if something about you two has deeply offended his sensitive nostrils. “Ugh, get a load of that. You smell.” You jolt back and try to smell yourself, frowning when you don’t smell anything. He snorts. “Not you. Well, you. But, like, something else.” Ruggie’s discerning eye slowly moves to his junior, who is opting not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. “Or someone.”

Your frown only grows deeper. “What do you mean? Should I wash it off?”

The hyena grins, eyes still on Jack as he busies himself making his morning protein shake. “Oh, you could, but someone might get sad.” He snickers to himself. “Ah, well. If you ain’t planning on washin’ that off, help me whip up some breakfast. Least you could do after sleeping over ours, yeah?” He laughs again when he sees the crestfallen expression you’ve begun sporting. Face barely inches away from each other, his hands pinch both cheeks, and he steps away before it could actually hurt. “C’mon, I was just joking~ You’re welcome anytime in Savanaclaw, if His Majesty upstairs got anything to say about it.”

Well, that was nice to hear. Your spirits now lifted, you follow Ruggie into the kitchen where he’s busy prepping breakfast. “Just an omelette today,” he hums. “But Leona likes his in a specific way. Psh, specific way.” He rolls his eyes. “Better to just eat it anyway and not feel your stomach rumble for the rest of the day, but who are we to disobey princes, right?” He gives you some potatoes and carrots. “Peel these for me?”

You eagerly comply. In these wee hours, you and Ruggie stand side by side chopping and prepping meals. Sometimes one of you makes idle chatter to fill in the silence, but there is still comfort even when no one talks. It was nice, you thought. You and Ruggie hung out often enough to be familiar with each other, and though it wasn’t on the same level as you had with Ace and Deuce, there was no need to keep up any pretenses around Ruggie.

“What’re ya thinkin’ about?” The hyena’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He eyes your idle hands and then your spaced-out look. You shake your head and place the diced vegetables into a bowl. 

“Nothing,” you hum. “Just thinking how nice you are to be around.” At that, his tail and ears immediately stiffened up. But you fail to notice that as you affectionately rub the back of his ears like you always do. You do notice how aggressively he starts beating the eggs and give him a curious glance. His face is angled away from you, but his bristled tail flicks now and then.

“What’s gotten into ya?” He huffs, turning over the meat while he beats the eggs. “Getting all sappy and stuff… What, cooking breakfast together got you sentimental?”

Right. NRC students don’t take kindly to affection, do they? Especially the prideful Savanaclaws. “Sorry, was I overstepping? I thought it was just nice that we didn’t have to force conversation… stuff like that.” You snicker when his tail and ears bristle again. “Too much?”

“Get outta here,” he grumbles. He takes the meat out and pours the beaten eggs into the pan. “Saying cheesy stuff like that… You’re gonna make a man get the wrong impression. Not saying that I’m getting the wrong impression, mind you. But—” He jabs the whisk in your direction and gives you a warning glare. “Night Raven’s full of fucked up people. One of these days, you’re gonna be so cheesy that they’ll think you actually like like them!”

Your smile falters a bit when he turns his attention again to the omelette. “Right…” You know that as well, with how Heartslabyul acted around you when you slept over. Before that, you were eager to dismiss their teasing or advances as jokes. After all, they were the very first dorm that you befriended and, therefore somehow more special to you than the others. But now you’re wondering if you gave your affections too easily, to the point that they’d be delusional enough to think of marrying you… “I– I guess I have to think about that, huh. Someone tried to— well, someone’s trying to marry me. They’re planning talks with their parents and— ah, it’s all just so awkward. I didn’t even know they like liked me so…”

“Who.”

“Hm?” You startle at the sudden dip of his voice. His tail is upright as he continues frying the omelette. “Oh, who? I– I don’t wanna give it away… It’s not a nice look, I don’t think.”

“Too kind,” he scoffs, turning to you. You pull out a platter for him to put the omelette on— light and springy, with meat wrapped in the middle. “I don’t get why you’re looking out for this creep. Why you put up with the rest of us, anyway.” The latter part doesn’t seem to quite reach your ears, but he’s all up in your face again before you can even ask. “Sevens know why the Dark Mirror put you here. You’re a wimp and a pushover. Someone like you—” He taps the middle of your forehead. “Should be in Royal Sword Academy, where you brush animals and sing pretty songs with the rest of ‘em. But unlucky you, huh?”

He gives you a sardonic smile. “Buncha creeps following you around, and you still smile at them like they deserve it.”

“It’s better than being… rude,” you frown. “I can’t… I just couldn’t.”

He shrugs. “Pushover, what did I say? In the streets, they’d maim you and sell you ten times over. You’d be like a living money cheat, yanno?”

“But these aren’t the streets.”

His expression is downright gleeful. “Yeah, just worse.” 

He laughs when you reel away, watching you with those predator eyes as you grow more uneasy. “Oh, relax. I’m just kidding again. My point is, ya shouldn’t be putting up with horrendous behavior. That’s not how a real mate should act.” He pulls out another plate and sets another serving of omelette. “They should bow their heads, make ya feel loved, cook ya meals… all that sappy shit.” He places down the omelette before you, still warm, and smiles at you gently… as gently as one can when they look like they’re having the time of their life tormenting you.

“Sit. You’re not gonna turn down poor me’s cooking, are ya?”

You were right. Savanaclaw was just another form of prison. Ruggie seems to be playing coy around you, and you’re quite sure that your missing blazer is all due to him. You’re sure of it, with the way he smiles too innocently when you confront him about it. Jack, you had some hopes for. But then you walked into a bloodbath he was responsible for as he taught a lesson to the men making crass jokes about you. You had run away before he could see you, the image of blood dripping from his knuckles never leaving you.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR caught you by the scruff as you ran and dragged you into his room to be used as a living body pillow. Now, your prime concern was squirming out of the tight grasp that the lazy lion has on you. At another failed attempt to wiggle out of his grasp, Leona pries one eye open with a low growl. “What the hell are you squirming for, herbivore?” He yawns, tail languidly waving back and forth as he looks at you. “Can’t get a good nap if you keep moving around like that.”

You huff and crane your head to glare at him. “Let–! Ugh, let go! I’ve got places to be!”

He snorts, but loosens his grasp on you. “Places? Like what? Back in that bloodbath?”

“Away!” You exclaim, exasperated. “Away from this den of—!”

“Beasts?” He smirks at you, propping himself on one hand as he eyes you like prey. “Careful of what you say. The leader of these beasts is right in front of you. You should be grateful, you know. Lots of hormones raging out there, and this is the one place that those fools wouldn’t dare intrude on. Ruler’s territory and all that.” You watch him warily as he muses to himself. “They know they’re as  good as sand the moment they walk in here.”

“Nice to know your leadership skills come in handy when protecting your bedroom,” you snort, eyes narrowed at him. “Why don’t you use them to, I don’t know, break up the fight outside?”

He raises a brow at you, as if the suggestion was just downright ridiculous. “You’re odd. You know, the whole reason Jack’s bloodying his knuckles is for you. You should be thanking him.” He shakes his head. “Poor pup. Here he is being all chivalrous only to find out that his crush is being ungrateful.”

Crush?! You shake it off. You shouldn’t be surprised. If you were a tad more narcissistic, you’d be using all these stupid sorcerers as a one-way ticket to richness. “So? Gonna break them up?”

Leona snorts and plops back down between his pillows. “Hell no. Too much effort. Just stay here till the mess dies down.” When he feels you unmoving, he looks at you and the deep frown that has settled on your face, and sighs. “Seriously, I don’t get it. Why the hell do you care so much? It’s Jack’s choice if he wants to do stupid shit, and it’s certainly no concern of yours if someone breaks a nose or a rib ‘cause they were going around calling you a whore. If anything, they probably deserve it.”

“It’s because I don’t like anyone breaking a rib or a nose or whatever over some stupid comment! Maybe if they, like, actually tried to do something to me, but…!” You shake your head, feeling less and less in control of your emotions and thoughts. “I just…! It doesn’t feel right, is what you want to say, not when Jack was smiling as he beat those boys up more than needed to.

“Look at you, thinking too much over nothing.” He is sporting that same lazy grin, the one he wears when he ropes you into schemes that you can’t get out of. “Just be grateful that people are looking out for ya, even if there are too many of them. Just sit here, lie down with me, and don’t move too much. Then we can get a pretty decent nap and erase all those useless thoughts. The moment you step foot out of my territory, you’re either getting mauled by one of those weaklings or pounced on by the pup. Your choice.”

What a…! But he’s right. The crowd outside was too aggravated not to do anything to you, the reason behind their beating. Leona’s smug smile as you crawl into bed next to him is apparent as he tugs your leg closer to him, making you yelp in surprise. “You!” You gasp, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Don’t you think you’re being too close?!”

“It’s nothing you ain’t used to,” he yawns. “You sleep like this with that idiot duo, don’t you?”

You gawp at him. “How do you–! No, it’s just… different!”

He raises a brow at you. “Different, how?” When you fail and stumble over your words, he laughs snarkily. “Ah, I get it. It’s different when you’re sleeping with foolish boys. But I guess lying with a lion has you all flustered, then?” With a blush that grows redder by the second, you try to refute his words, only to stutter. “I’m flattered, herbivore. One little comment or a little skinship, and you show me that pretty lil blush.”

“Pity you show yourself so easily,” he hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Otherwise, I’d have whisked you away already.”

“Not you too…” You whimper. He doesn’t seem surprised, only growing more amused when you squirm uncomfortably under his fingertips.

“Oh, yes, me too. Baffling, isn’t it? One magicless herbivore, and you have men begging for you to look at them. It needs to be studied.” His fingers tickle as they graze down the side of your face. “Personally, I don’t want to work for many things, but look at you messing up my whole work ethic. Audacious of you, really. You’ve got no~o idea how much effort I put into making sure you don’t get marked by one of these horndogs, you know?”

You squeak when he brushes against your nape. The predatory look on his face is not lost on you as he wets his lips. “Not gonna fight back?” His lips curve hungrily. “I’m surprised.”

“What am I gonna do?” You whimper. “Jump out the window? Get mauled?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, with how easily you throw yourself into danger.” He brings his lips closer to your nape, chuckling lowly when his fangs barely graze over it. “You smell delicious for a herbivore, but I already knew that.”

“Weirdo…!”

“The audacity to call a prince that,” he says, but there’s no real heat behind it as he relishes in your scent. “You don’t have to tremble so much. You might not have a title, but you’ll live like royalty in Sunset Savanna. Doesn’t sound bad, does it? You sit pretty, and I’ll give ya everything you desire. From the physical—” He tugs on the back of your shirt. “—To the more, hm.. physical.” You shiver when his whisper brushes against the shell of your ear, grinning as your eyes widen in embarrassment. “Not a bad deal?”

You glare at him. “As if.”

“Hm.” He scrutinizes you for a bit. Then, with a newfound conviction, his fangs dig into your nape, ready to mark you as his. You squeeze your eyes to prepare yourself for the pain… till his tongue, sandy and rough, drags across the spot.

“A-Ah!” Your response brings on more humiliation than you need, and you try to push Leona who keeps sucking and nibbling and licking. Doing anything but biting. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Playing with my prey,” he mutters against your nape. “C’mon, just keep making those pretty noises till this lion is satisfied, yeah?”

“You—! I thought you were gonna!”

“Mark you?” He pulls back to show you a smug cat’s expression. “Oh, we’ll get to that in the future, herbivore. They say not to play with your food, but… It’s pretty damn hard when dessert’s this fuckin’ cute.”