Lilia Unable To Fall In Love Again After What He's Been Through Is A Gold Star S+ Tier, But I Raise You:

Signs a Character Is Falling in Love

ෆ They Start Noticing the Small Things. The way the other person laughs. How they stir their coffee. The exact shape of their handwriting.

ෆ Hyper-Awareness of Touch. A brush of fingers becomes a full-body event. They replay it later. On loop.

ෆ They Look for Them First in a Room. Just a glance. A check. Not because they care. Obviously.

ෆ Jealousy They Can’t Explain. A spike of irritation when someone else makes them laugh. What’s that about? They don’t want to know.

ෆ Their Defenses Go Weird. More sarcasm. More teasing. Or less of everything. Silence, suddenly.

ෆ Uncharacteristic Generosity. Lending a book. Making a playlist. Bringing coffee “just because.” They’re not in love. They’re just nice.

ෆ They Get Irritated by Their Own Reactions. Why do they care so much? Why are they thinking about this? Why won’t it stop?

ෆ They Start Mirroring. Their speech patterns shift. Their posture echoes the other person. It’s subconscious. It’s terrifying.

ෆ They Avoid Eye Contact More Than Usual. Because they’re afraid if they look too long, the truth will pour out.

ෆ They Rehearse Conversations in Their Head. Over and over, what they could say, what they wish they said. They’re not in love. Nope. Definitely not.

Lilia's got his priorities straight in this event

Stitch's Tropical Turbulance - Book 2 Chapter 1

So I love the new Mallues card, but after seeing it so much I'm starting to get Sesshomaru vibes. Is it just me?

The Epiphany

Alastor/2P-Alastor x AFAB!Reader

18+, NSFW, minors do not interact istg

Summary: Alastor tries to sever his feelings for you from his physical form and it has unexpected results—a blue, mirrored-reality doppelgänger of himself whose emotions and physical experiences he can still feel in his own immortal coil.

You decide to cuck him into being emotionally available.

Warnings/Promises: 🌶️ 18+, NSFW, AFAB!reader and related bits, p-in-v, oral [both m- and f-receiving], cucking, edging, tentacles used for bondage, toes the line of dub!con at first [Alastor is pissed off, but he wants it, and he's pissed off that he wants it], frustrated switch!reader, praise kink, bookended by mild angst with hints of future fluff at the end, sex-favorable asexual Alastor

A/N: Idk what came over me, enjoy x

Also on AO3 ✍️✨ | Tip Jar 🫙✨ (Ko-Fi ☕️)

Caring about the Radio Demon was a full-time job that had never been listed to the public. You simply bebopped into the hotel one day with your proverbial application in hand the second you laid eyes on him.

And, good god, you'd suffered for it ever since.

The worst stages of the entire months-long ordeal were the indecisive ones on his part. The ones that came long after the chuckling "jokes" of flirtation, the delicious tidbits of tension, and the initial realization that feelings were, in fact, being caught amidst all that. It was all fine until he decided he wanted to try to build something with you, got your hopes up, and then dashed them the second things got too real. The second he got in too deep.

The asshole tried to ghost you. When you lived in the same fucking hotel. Needless to say, it didn't work and you'd just days ago had the most explosive fight you'd ever had in any of your failed relationships. Explosive on your part because you were deeply hurt—because you still cared, you silly thing.

And explosive on Alastor's part because, well, he did, too. But you couldn't know that. No one could know that. It would ruin him.

He'd determined the only path forward—to solidify the barriers around a heart he'd refused to believe he had up until now, to maintain his image as the ruthless overlord who roamed the Pride Ring without a shred of weakness to be found—was to find a way to cut that part of himself out, either via viscerally physical means or by way of magic. There had to be a way. He'd tried everything to simply forget you and he couldn't. He was getting desperate.

Which was how your current predicament had come to be.

You stand with no shortage of confusion or shock at the end of the hall when you turn the corner and see a watery-eyed, blue-toned version of Alastor sitting outside your suite door. He stares despondently at his kneecaps, his booted hooves turned inward toward each other in a position that very much mirrors a schoolboy put in the hall for a timeout. His face is blushy—which is also blue, fascinatingly enough—and his clothes are rumpled. His shoulders sag with a confidence shortage and, most of all, he frowns at the crimson carpet.

At least until he sees you.

His ears flick back when he espies someone in the hall with him, but they perk up immediately when his eyes latch onto your face. He scrambles clumsily to his feet and then second-guesses himself, glancing backward down the hall before turning back to you. You're sure this is some kind of prank or another deer demon who might just look very much like Alastor until he says your name.

You decide to call him Blue in your head rather than Alastor. It's unoriginal, but it's less weird than calling this individual and the Radio Demon both "Alastor" in your thoughts, even if you don't dare call this version of him by any other name out loud. Just in case.

"Um… Hello," you say as you approach him, fiddling with the shopping bag you're carrying from a recently completed round of retail therapy with Angel and Cherri. "Are you okay?"

Blue hums, wringing his hands, and says in a watered-down version of Alastor's bombastic voice, "Yes! Well, no. I… I'm a bit overwhelmed, you see."

You can see that plainly on his face, but it doesn't tell you anything. "Why's that?"

He huffs a small sigh and says, "Well, darling, you see… I know you because Alastor knows you. I am, in essence, his broader range of emotions."

"Uh-huh…," you murmur, studying him. "Have you been just…missing from him all this time? Because that would explain a lot actually."

"Oh, no," he says, seeming frustrated that he's not articulating better. "I've actually just been, er, removed. And then he was quite angry at the result of, well, me and I've since been kicked out." His ears flattened as he continued to ramble. "And then he left, you see, but the door is locked and… And despite not feeling new to this place, I'm terribly new to feeling alive. It's all been quite a lot."

You decide Alastor isn't pulling some weird prank on you as you watch tears well up in his eyes, noting that even his monocle resembles a teardrop. And, well, you still love the guy, unfortunately. How are you not supposed to comfort a being that is, in essence, his softest parts?

"Hey, it's okay," you murmur, carefully placing a hand on his arm to steady him. He sucks in a breath at the contact, but instead of looking repulsed, he looks enamored. "Um… Oh! Hey, pspspspsps—"

He thinks you might've malfunctioned until he follows your gaze to a little black and white cat he knows is named KeeKee. His eyes shine with affection at the cute cyclopian creature, especially as it trots up to you and nuzzles into your hand.

"Who's a good li'l kitty?" you baby-talk to her, missing the way the blue deer demon nearby is watching you with unbridled adoration in his eyes. "Can you let Al back into his radio tower, please?"

KeeKee looks at Blue and her ear flicks back in time with her tail swishing. She clearly knows this isn't Alastor, at least not really, but she doesn't see any reason not to, apparently—she's already trotting down the hallway, their own personal, precious skeleton key, to do precisely that.

You smile after her before looking back up at Blue. "She'll let you in," you tell him with confidence.

"That's… That's very kind—thank you," he says sincerely, clasping your hand in his as if it's made of glass. He looks like he's marveling at the act of merely touching you. "I should feel better once I'm in my most familiar territory, no? When I have a place I can rest that's a bit more predictable?"

"I hope so," you say and you do hope so. He seems sweet and unbearably fragile in some ways. It's like he's experiencing existence at a rapid-fire rate for the very first time.

"Would you come with me?" he asks softly, imploringly as he runs his claws oh-so gently over your knuckles, almost petting you. "Please?"

"I think Alastor would kill us both if I did that," you say and your tone isn't without residual bitterness.

Blue shakes his head with a surprising degree of certainty. "Oh, no, he would never hurt you, dear," he insists.

Could've fooled me, you think but don't say aloud. Instead, you ask, "What makes you say that?"

"Because I'm only here due to his desire to extinguish his feelings for you," Blue says as if it's obvious.

And suddenly, you're more inclined to go with him because your questions just multiplied tenfold.

It turns out that Blue is probably being completely honest when he says that he's part of Alastor. That he knows you via that connection. He's just his genuine opposite and it's as jarring as it is refreshing.

Is that why you've ended up making out on Alastor's couch with his doppelgänger? Maybe. Look, breakups are hard—if breakups are what happens when the concept of a situationship falls apart—and the only thing that makes this a weird rebound is the full set of circumstances.

Still, it's hard to ponder that with a clear head when Blue's tongue is halfway down your throat and you've just learned that sucking his lower lip will make him bleat like a fawn. It's harder not to wonder if the same thing would theoretically happen to the whole version of Alastor.

It's only the slam of the suite door that proves enough to divert Blue's—and yours, don't put this all on him—attention from methodically consuming your mouth. When you both look over, Alastor is standing there, his smile snarled up with rage and his fists balled at his sides. His eyes ensnare Blue and he stalks forward.

"I thought I ordered you to dissipate," he seethed, his shadow tentacles writhing like a living threat on his back. "Instead you—," he began, only to hiss and shake his head at his unfinished thought. "No matter. Dear, be a doll and give us some privacy, would you?"

Your fingers clutch gently against Blue's coat and he grips you in turn, seeming less afraid of Alastor and more simply unwilling to relinquish you. "What are you going to do to him?" you ask and it's a brave thing to address Alastor in this moment.

Alastor rolls his eyes and regards you reluctantly. He can only imagine the follies this accidental duplicate has filled your head with and it's only added thorns to his already riddled side. "Nothing that ultimately matters in the grand scheme of things," he snaps. "That slip of a buck you're clinging to is barely a figment of a demon, you see."

Your brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

He scoffs. "Warm-blooded as he may seem, he is but a fragment of me. And he won't last on his own, so I'm told," he said with nothing short of relief. "I can only hope he simply disappears entirely and that my problem is solved despite some strange delays."

You supposed you were overdue to ask what Alastor's problem was, but you'd never thought the context would look like this.

"And what 'problem' is that?" you ask.

His pokerface solidifies as he assesses your expression and determines, "He hasn't told you. Good."

"No, I did," Blue claims too honestly. He looks at you, a cute tilt to his head as he says, "He desires you, dear. And, in turn, so do I. That's the whole matter of it."

Alastor's teeth grit and he brushes off Blue's claims. "Nonsense, all of it. You nee—"

"Hold on, hold on," you cut him off with a laugh. It's a harsh, breathy sound that holds nothing close to humor. "You…split your feelings from yourself? You're that scared of having a crush?"

Alastor bristles and you may have been frightened—he was lethal, after all—had you not known him just a bit better than that. Had you not also seen and heard firsthand from this strange, still-connected manifestation of his heart that he felt something for you.

But you did. And you had. And there was no going back now.

Blue clings to your arm, his large hands almost dainty as they wrap fully around your bicep. He shivers, but it is less the tension in the room and more the aftermath of your unexpected canoodling. He is shivering with desire, with anticipation as he feels your muscles tighten beneath his palms as you react to Alastor's enduring denial. He wants you to have a break from tearing into his origin so you might tear into him instead.

"Scared?" Alastor repeats, scathing. "Watch yourself, darling—you know better than most the things I do to demons who dare to cross me. You've seen it, yourself. I've regaled it to you, myself. I would be most put out if you forced my hand."

"That's not a 'no', now is it?" you boldly counter and his ears flatten against his head. Impatient, you ask, "Is that what he is then? Is he still you? Or is he his own being now?"

"A fragment, I'm afraid, as he's indicated," Blue meekly says beside you and your demeanor softens a little as you behold his wet, teary eyes. "I am an embodiment of a heartfelt craving. An affection. Something electric and impossible to keep checked. That is why I was shed."

"Hold your tongue, you abomination," Alastor growls, his eyes flashing black as the dials of his demon form tick away in place of pupils. "Not another word."

"So you're still an extension of him," you both realize and ask Blue at once. "Forever?"

Blue shakes his head. "Not forever, I don't believe so. Feelings are fleeting, although ours run deeper than we like to admit. Well, than he likes to admit." He offers you a watery smile. "I admit freely that I crave you, dear. Down to the very dregs of my origin's dead heart. Carnally, too. That is what frightens him most. The intertwined two."

"Why?" you ask, your eyes on Blue even as your question could've been asked of the room.

Blue shrugs his thin shoulders. "Power. It's a heady thing until you realize it's no longer entirely yours," he says with a soft, shaky sigh. "I have no need for power. I would ask that you take it from me before I fade. Take everything from me, dearest. Before I'm gone."

You realize what he's asking for just as Alastor snarls, "You will do no such thing." You eye him in your peripheral, watching the stressed heave of his chest and likening him to an earthly buck. "I still feel everything that little wretch feels—you will do no such thing. You will stand aside while I smite him from this realm entirely, reabsorb the essence that made him, and—"

"Can you use his powers, too?" you ask Blue in a lowered tone, eyes locking on his.

Blue furtively glances at Alastor's tantrum before nodding once.

You nod in reply, a slow contemplative motion. The gears in your head are turning.

Alastor has just taken a threatening step toward you both, his claws flexing as he sees you whisper to Blue. This feels like a coup in motion. Ordinarily, he would tear apart anyone who dared question or turn on him, no matter the reason, but he can't bring himself to destroy you. Even if it would ultimately behoove him to do so.

Blue's eyes flicker in his direction as if that aggravating recognition of his own affection has signaled its embodiment nearby. Alastor bristles at being known, even by his own self.

In the meantime, you've made a decision.

"Tie him up," you murmur.

Alastor is so shocked, his radio dials momentarily flicker out. "I beg your pardon?!"

"To the armchair," you clarify to Blue beside you, nodding to the plush velvet armchair adjacent to the fireplace. "Bring him over here and keep him in the chair."

Alastor's form ripples, but it's a vain attempt at intimidation. His own shadow tentacles have already surfaced to displace the chair and they angle the seat to knock Alastor off his hooves, extending to bind him to the chair as they settle their hostage caddycorner to the four-poster bed on the other side of the room.

He's furious.

"Release me, you cretins!" he bellows at a volume that shakes the room, his claws shredding the arms of his favorite reading chair as he struggles against his own power, against the will of his own temporarily sentient heart. "When I get out of this—and I will, I assure you—I will rend your soul apart, mark my fucking words!"

"Maybe," you say and his feral, snarling grin wavers just a little. "But it's better than the slow death you've been giving me and everything I've tried to give you for months, Al."

He scoffs at your comparison. "I assure you, darling," he seethes. "The swift death you're picturing is nothing compared to your due reality. Why, you will be lucky if you only die in my clutches." He watches as you lead Blue by the hand across the room, his gaze narrowing on the contact. "Well? Out with it. What do you want, hm? Do you wish to plead for his pathetic little non-life? Strike a deal to protect you from my eternal ire? Or—"

His ramble catches in his throat, however, as you guide Blue to sit on the edge of the bed by the footboard. He watches your hands move, something tender and yet assertive in them, as you press them against his chest, easing him onto his back.

"What are you doing?" Alastor asks, his voice uncharacteristically hollow with nerves.

"Giving you an epiphany," you say without taking your eyes off Blue as he softens against the mattress beneath you. Well, most of him softens. "Now, hush."

The tip of a tentacle slaps over Alastor's mouth at your command.

Blue only has eyes for you as you lean over him, your dextrous fingertips unfastening the buttons of his shirt as you say, "Tell me what you need, sweetie."

The doppelgänger's eyes fill with moisture, even your fingertips tracing his chest fluff through the parting fabric of his shirt making him tremble and arch against your palm.

"Shhh, you're alright," you coo softly, leaning in and kissing his forehead. Alastor winces slightly in the chair nearby as he feels the faint ghost of that pressure, the barest brush of the warmth you're providing his double. "You can tell me. What do you need? More than that, what do you want?"

"Strip me bare, dearest," Blue whimpers, a couple of overwhelmed tears streaming down his cheeks. "Down to my soul. I want to feel you everywhere. I want you to ravish me, take hold of my control so long as you please, and tell me what you need of me."

You smile, unable to help the affectionate way you look at him. The tender way you touch him. You hold the personification of Alastor's heart against your hand—and now between your thighs as you crawl onto the bed with him.

Alastor can't look away, as much as he wishes he wanted to. He follows your supple body as you loom over his double, his most sensitive traits and desires unintentionally made corporeal. Every trace of your skin against Blue's sends a fraction of that feeling tingling across Alastor's nerve endings and it's pure torture, yet it's precisely what he deserves after all this.

He's realizing that all too late.

You're diligently working Blue's clothes off his body, admiring the tufts of fur that dot his physique, softening the harder angles and wiry muscle that make up the rest. You can't wait to find out if he has a tail.

Blue's ears are flattened and trembling and there's something beautifully pliant and trusting about the sight. He's almost high on his unparalleled excitement as his eyes follow your movements.

Alastor is horrified to realize that Blue is, in fact, his exact copy in every way. And when you have Blue naked beneath you, it's akin to having Alastor lying there with just shades of fur as the sole difference. He looks away in disgust and shame at his double's rock-hard cock standing proud from the fur at his pubic bone, already purpled with neglect and weeping precum at the tip. And yet his eyes are drawn back, almost unwillingly, as you finish marveling at what you've unveiled and investigate your find instead.

"Look at you," you murmur soft praise as you admire his trembling length. "So responsive. You're already so unbearably needy for me and I've barely even touched you."

Blue's eyes tear up with embarrassment and shameless hope as he looks between his starving member and you, his only salvation. The only body Alastor, himself, has ever wanted. He keeps his hands fisted in the sheets on the bed, hungry to touch himself but not wanting to displease you. You look fascinated, tantalized by the sight of him and he can't get enough. He doesn't want to rush this. Your eyes on him and him alone is everything he's ever wanted.

A soft whine escapes Blue as you begin to disrobe, yourself, and his desire gratifies you. In the chair, Alastor's eyes are on you, too, wary and hungry and angry and laser-focused on every inch you bare.

Shed garments whisper against the floorboards as you let them fall from your fingertips until you kneel upon the mattress over Blue in your full glory. Blue's face is dusted navy with the intensity of his blush as he stares up at you, drinking you in and subsequently drunk on the sight of you. He feels uncertain of his worth in comparison, but he's willing to risk anything to deliver you to ecstasy.

He can smell your combined arousal mingling in the air around you both and his eyes roll back as you lean forward to press open-mouthed kisses along his neck and collarbones, all while keeping your core well away from where he needs you most.

Up to this point, Alastor has been able to convince himself that the stirrings he feels in his slacks are a cheap echo of his double's lust, but as he hardens at the sight of you laving the velvety expanse of a torso that, by all rights, should be his, he can no longer persist in the lie. As his own touch-starved cock twitches to life, he can't even cross his legs to ease the tension—he's bound to the arms and legs of the chair, held captive, and all he can do is watch.

He shudders as he hears your voice in his ear despite your whispers falling against the sensitive canals of his double. "You're so pretty, Al," you're whispering as you run your hands along Blue's almost ethereal body. "You're so good for me. So patient. I'll make it worth your while, I promise." His ears begin to flatten in submission, even as he tells himself it's an attempt to block out your words.

Blue hiccups a soft, whiny bleat from the bed as you let the curve of your stomach brush his throbbing member and it smears a glistening line of precum from your navel to your tits.

"Tell me what you want, my darling little buck," you murmur in Blue's ear. "Tell me what you've fantasized about. What you've dreamed about."

"I…," he murmurs breathily. "We do have one… One fantasy…"

Alastor's ears flatten completely at the betrayal.

"Tell me about it," you encourage him, noticing Alastor's silent despair in the corner of your eye. "I won't judge you. Let's see if we can make it real—does that sound good?"

"Yes," Blue half-sobs.

"Then describe it to me," you say between more kisses pressed across his chest, working your way down his abdomen. "In detail."

"W-We're coming home…sometimes from a date, sometimes from anywhere," he stammers, staring up at the red velvet canopy above him as he relishes every press of your lips to his flesh. It's hard to think with you kissing and licking him, with his cock throbbing in the cold air between your bodies, but you've asked him so nicely to share his secrets with you. What can he do but fulfill your request? "We come here…to our suite. You live here with us in the fantasy. We're rarely apart."

Your eyes soften where Blue can't see them, but Alastor can see the thoughtful, tender look on your face. It breaks something in him, to see you look like that in response to secrets never meant to be borne aloud.

"We… We dress each other down from the day," he whispers, his lashes fluttering as you run your tongue along his navel. "And we embrace, kissing each other—sometimes with us carrying you in our arms—as we make our way here. To the bed."

"I can visualize it," you say and the slightly breathless tone of your voice sends a chill up both deer demons' spines. "Keep going. You're doing wonderfully."

The praise makes his eyes well up even as he whimpers out, "We spread you out on the bed. You… You look like an angel, darling—you deserve so much better than us… We should have never—"

But you shush him gently, petting a hand along his thigh to soothe and ground him. "That's behind us, sweetheart," you tell him and Alastor as well. "We're making up for all that lost time now. What happens then?"

Alastor watches you with something unfathomable in his gaze.

"We devour you," Blue grinds out between clenched teeth, his hips jerking slightly as his pupils blow wide at the fantasy replaying before his mind's eye. "We ask you if you've ever dreamt of being tongue-fucked by the Radio Demon and, darling, the way you moan…it's pure music. We spread you out and shatter you on our tongue again and again…until you're shaking and writhing and incoherent beneath us."

You swallow against a suddenly dry throat, mesmerized by his words. By the raw emotion in them.

"And then you reciprocate… We tell you that you needn't, but you want to. You taste us and your lips wrapped around our cock is second only to your—your—"

"My cunt?" you purr and it sends a painful throb through both of them individually.

"Y-Yes," Blue breathes, his chest heaving. "And then we make love to you, dearest. As many times as you like, in whatever way you like. And then we hold you close as you rest and recharge. We keep you safe while you slumber and count the minutes until you wake and we can pleasure you all over again."

You study Blue and his fragile state as you ask, "Would you like to do that?"

His eyes widen and he leans up on his elbows. "Right now?" he whispers, his features slack with awe at the possibility.

You nod. "Right now, Al," you murmur as you crawl further up the bed, further up him. "You and me. Just like in your fantasy. Only we can make it so much better than what you've only imagined…"

Blue's eyes darken with depraved lust as he takes you in, his gaze fastening on the juncture of your thighs as he asks lowly, "May I taste you, darling?"

Alastor presses back against the chair he's bound to, his cock aching and staining a dark dot into the crotch of his slacks.

"Would you?" you request in turn, a blush staining your face.

Blue memorizes the look of the blush on your cheeks as he lies back down and, opting for boldness, reaches out to adjust you into a position over his face. "It would be my greatest honor, my darling," he murmurs, looking on the verge of a spiritual experience.

He encourages you to lower yourself just a bit further before laving a slow, hot stripe along your slit. You shiver at the contact, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as he pulls you more tightly against his mouth, gently spreading your glistening folds with careful claws and nosing against your clit as he begins to fuck you in earnest with his tongue. Its demonic length unfurls and thickens in your quivering channel, reaching far deeper than a tongue ever should—it's the epitome of sin and would have been a one-way ticket to Hell were you not already firmly there.

Alastor can taste you on his own tongue and he salivates, so focused on your slowly unraveling expression that a string of drool cascades from his thinning smile, unnoticed.

Your nerves regarding your position to the thin but eager buck beneath you fade out with your thoughts. When the first moan falls from your lips, Blue redoubles his efforts, slipping one long finger into your weeping cunt and then a second as he uses his mouth to instead suckle and lick tight relentless circles around your swollen clit. He makes a beckoning motion with those clever fingers and the terminology of "coming" has never made more sense than the exact second you start to fall apart on his fingers from it.

"That's it, my love," Blue moans against your folds, his eyes fixated on you from the vee of your thighs as he buries his mouth back into your lower lips, intensifying every effort he's made so far until you're shaking like a leaf, your hips grinding down against his mouth as you mindlessly chase your release. "Use me, love me, give me every drop of your pleasure so long as I've earned it."

You can't help but do precisely as he asks. A wanton moan escapes you as you come apart on his mouth and fingers. He eases you through it, his fingers slowing their pace but not leaving your trembling, clenching cavern. He noses into your mound and inhales deeply as his origin shivers nearby, learning secondhand precisely how delicious your musk smells post-orgasm.

Blue licks up every bit of your slick, diligently cleaning you and holding you in place until he's satisfied he's found it all. When he shifts you down to straddle his torso instead, his nose, mouth, and chin are all shiny with your pleasure and you blush at the sight.

"That was incredible, dearest," he murmurs, his claws massaging the meat of your hips like a contented cat. "You taste divine. Far better than we could've imagined."

You smile at him and lean down to kiss him deeply, a soft moan escaping you as you taste yourself on his tongue. When you finally need to breathe, you shift your lips back to the elegant column of his throat and ask, "Would you like me to tend to you now, sweetheart?"

The pitiful, silent shape of a "yes" falls from Alastor's covered mouth, every muscle in his frame straining.

"Yes," Blue says, too, before looking a little chagrinned. He adds a demure, "Please."

You almost feel badly when you work your way back down the bed and notice how many pearls of precum his needy cock had wept while he was eating you out, but you're determined to help. He seems unbothered, more or less—rather, he appears to have enjoyed seeing you through to oblivion before worrying about himself.

His hooved feet kick out a little against the footboard as you lick him root to tip, following the pulsing vein wrapped around the underside of his dick and mapping him out with your tongue. You can hear the sheets shred beneath his claws as you kiss and suck the long, thick ridge of him before getting brave enough to take him into your mouth. You gently clean the sticky, salty trails of drying precum from his velvety skin, moaning around his tip and causing a violent shudder to wrack through his limbs.

Alastor can feel the phantom heat of your mouth bobbing slowly down his clothed cock and he throws his head back against the cushioned back of the chair, his claws splintering the wood beneath them in synchronicity with his double's destruction of the bedding.

"You feel like heaven, cher," Blue whimpers, reaching a trembling hand toward your hair. He just rests his hand upon it, featherlight, as if afraid you're an illusion he's capable of shattering. You reach up and encourage him to grip your locks and the groan he rewards you with just spurs you on.

Only when he's shaking, not with anxiety but with the threat of euphoria, does he use his hold on your hair to stall your efforts. As much as he'd love for you to keep going, he doesn't know how much longer he can last at this rate and doesn't want to lose the opportunity to lay proper claim to you. He's emboldened in this time with you and it shows as he pulls your mouth slowly off his cock with a soft, wet pop.

Blue stares at you, your bruised lips and the thin thread of saliva bridging them to the tip of his cock, and he looks like he's admiring a work of art. "Exquisite," he breathes, loosening his grip on your hair and cradling your face in one large hand instead. "Absolutely breathtaking."

You blush a little as you ask, "What now?"

Something petty is roiling in Blue's chest at the very idea that Alastor has wasted so much time when this was right in front of him—in front of them when he was still part of Alastor—for the taking. It's occurred to him that his origin, his maker of sorts, will double down after this despite the absolute mess Blue knows he is internally via their connection and externally via one brief glance toward the armchair.

And he wants to ensure that before he fades and his existence's fragment returns to the whole—and it will happen, he can already feel it—that he makes it as difficult as possible for Alastor to ever forget that this happened. Call it a favor, call it revenge. Whatever it is, it's as personal as anything ever could be.

"Get on your hands and knees for me, sweetheart," Blue says in a whisper that is still sweet and even a little fragile, but now holds edges of purposeful intent. "For both of us. Face him, if you would, please."

Your blush darkens a few shades as you do as he asks, turning to face Alastor fully for the first time since you three were arguing with one another across the room. He's a mess of the proud, angry overlord he was before and you've never felt more proud of yourself or more physically confident in your misdeeds. A sheen of sweat decorates his brow and makes his shirt collar cling to his neck, wooden ribbons have curled out of the chair from beneath his claws, and then there's the unmistakable ridge of his painfully hard cock in his slacks, a dark stain seeping through the fabric from the tip.

At first, when you meet his eyes, you think he's still angry. But he's not—his stare is pure intensity and focus, a mesmerized state of debauched and desperate. He looks into your eyes and doesn't look away this time. He can't.

The legs of the chair scrape across the floor as the shadow tentacles drag it and him closer to the edge of the bed. Not nearly close enough to get any sort of collateral relief, but close enough to see even more closely and in further detail what he's missed out on. To inhale the aroma of your sweat and slick and ache even more deeply in his lower belly.

Your thighs clench as you see his cock give a pathetic twitch in his pants.

Soon enough, you feel Blue's heavy, throbbing cock nestle against your folds and your body jumps slightly at the contact before his gentle, guiding hands steady you by your hips.

"Is this alright, dear?" he asks softly behind you and it's a very shy way to ask something while someone is already bent over in front of you, unwrapped and spread open like a gift. When you nod, your breath coming in small, uneven pants, you feel him lean over you and his breath tickles the shell of your ear. "If at any point it isn't, please say so."

"I will," you say, still locked in Alastor's stare like a bird confronting a snake. No, like a snake confronting a snake. You have the upper hand here, not him. To Blue over your shoulder, you murmur, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me for that. It's simple etiquette," he says, still sounding a bit shy. He sounds far less shy as he says, "I'm going to fuck you now, darling. With all I have left in me in this form, I'm going to claim your lovely body and worship your lovelier soul. And, on the off chance he hasn't grasped the concept of what we feel yet, I want you to look him in the eyes while I do both."

You draw in a shaky breath, but you nod. "Okay."

"Good girl," Blue whispers and you feel yourself buckle under the praise, swallowing hard as you feel him rock his hips against yours and lubricate his cock with your slick. You shudder as he stimulates your already overstimulated cunt, but he runs a gentle hand over the curved length of your spine to reassure you. His stroking hand settles against the nape of your neck as he says, "You're going to take me so well, sweetheart. Remember, eyes on him."

"I remember," you whimper, leaning your head back against his hand.

"That's my good girl," Blue praises you again as he begins to push his thick cock inside you, inch by precious inch.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open at the feeling of being so perfectly stretched, so incomparably full. Alastor watches you take his cock while his cock still weeps, unattended, in his trousers, practically throbbing with desperation as he witnesses you unraveling all over again.

You whimper and Blue groans as he fully seats himself inside you to the hilt with a pratical snap of his hips on the final few inches, his balls settling against your clit. You grip the bedspread like a lifeline as he slowly begins to roll his hips again, building a slow, sensual rhythm that makes you salivate and melt down against the mattress in a reverent bow.

"That's it, darling," Blue moans, adjusting his hand from your nape to tangle in your scalp when you're in danger of hiding your expressive face from Alastor's unwavering stare, his eyes a storm of envious agony at the mere sight of you speared on his doppelgänger's prick. "Show him how good he feels inside you. Show him what he's squandered, sweetheart."

Blue's thrusts become a little harder, a little faster as he speaks and you mewl in response, the sound going straight to Alastor's straining erection like a jolt of electricity. His hips buck against his restraints, once and harshly, as a muffled groan finally falls from his covered mouth.

Hazy-eyed, you look up at Alastor and note the knitted pain in his brow, the redness in his cheeks, the wild wanton desperation in his eyes that look on the cusp of watering.

"What do you think, my dear?" Blue grits as he continues stirring your insides with every purposeful pistoning of his hips. "Should we free one of his hands? Let him touch himself while we finish what we started?"

Sympathy sparks in the dopamine-fog of your eyes and you nod, a moan ripped from your throat as Blue angles his hips and finds that sensitive, spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars.

The tentacle holding Alastor's right hand recedes and he's immediate to rip his trousers open, freeing his red, angry cock from his pants and pumping it with his hand. First quick and with desperation and then, gradually, matching the pace at which Blue is pumping into you. A shuddering breath eases from his nose as his eyes roll back with relief—only briefly before refocusing on you.

Your eyes shift between Alastor's hand wrapped around his twitching length and his face as Blue works you into a flustered, babbling, cock-drunk mess before him. You feel yourself clench down around him, your walls fluttering and his resulting sharp gasp.

"A-Al, I'm…," you whimper out as Blue rocks you back by his hold on your hair and his hand gripping your hip to bounce on his cock. "I'm close… I'm so close…"

"I know, sweet girl," Blue grits, holding himself off as long as he could in spite of the way your channel squeezes and tries to milk his length. "Come for me, dearest… I'll catch you, you'll be alright."

Your glistening, swollen pussy spasms around his cock and you scream his name—their name—as you fall apart, his hands the only support you're able to afford as your body goes boneless in his grasp. He chases his own release, his rhythm getting quick and sloppy as he fucks you in earnest and Alastor sits before you, gripping and pumping his own cock at a pace that borders on violence.

As Blue is on the cusp of his release, he looks at Alastor, something feral in his eyes as he mouths, "Don't waste this, too," and Alastor doesn't entirely understand what that's supposed to mean until his double fades from existence and the tentacles holding him down to the chair finally recede in full.

And it's a good thing they do—he's just in time to catch your weakened, thoroughly sated body before you slip off the bed.

You startle a little at the sudden emptiness inside you, at the change of hands touching you, and you feel a pang of loss when you glance back and see that Blue is, in fact, gone, as he suspected he would be soon. You knew it would be temporary, but it still fills you with a sort of loss to know the demon you were just so enraptured with in the throes of passion is simply gone now. Rather, he's part of Alastor again, but there's no guarantee that Alastor has changed his mind past your little "show."

A soft sigh passes through your lips as you look up at Alastor, who still holds you under your arms until your hands find purchase on the bed again. His grip eases once you do, but he doesn't remove it—rather you feel the very tip of a claw trace across your forehead, smoothing away the hairs that cling to the layer of sweat on your skin.

He looks abashed, or at least a touch guilty, as he returns your stare. Perhaps embarrassed. You're both disheveled and far more nude than your bodies could account for—your clothes may be gone, but the walls around his heart have been cracked enough to peer through. You've seen him in the most visceral way possible, he thinks, and he's not sure how to feel about it yet.

Still, he takes in the fucked-out, delicate state of you with mixed appreciation and concern. And he clears his throat, tucks his still-hard cock away in his trousers, and stands on shaky legs with the taste of you still lingering on his tongue to stalk away to the en suite.

You hold back tears when he leaves without a word. It feels almost worse than his anger of earlier, than any sort of death threat he could've drummed up for your audacious actions. You pull your knees to your chest, trying to sort through your delirium and the encroaching shame until Alastor's stained maroon slacks reappear in your vision.

When you look up at him, he looks torn but he doesn't avert his eyes to hide that from you. Softly, almost tenderly, he says, "I've drawn a bath… I imagine you could use it, dear, after…well. Would you care for it?"

It's better than any apology he could've given although he will give an apology once his head's a bit clearer. He'll apologize a few times over, in fact, before he's forgiven himself, which is well after you will have forgiven him. But neither of you will be surprised by this discrepancy.

"Thank you," you murmur, cautiously uncurling your legs from your chest and wondering if you'll be able to stand just yet.

It doesn't end up mattering because Alastor carefully scoops you up from the disaster that is his sheets and bedspread and carries you to the steamy bathroom. He settles your spent body into the tub and the warm water immediately begins soothing the knots in your muscles. The air contains the faint aroma of lavender oil.

"You needn't look so sad, dear," Alastor says suddenly in a lowered tone. You glance at him and he's leaning against the counter, watching you mope. "You look like someone's just met their second death."

"Didn't he?" you murmur as you smooth the water up over yourself, settling back against the side of the tub to better sink into the hot water.

"Not precisely," Alastor said with a rumbling sigh, coming down to sit on the floor beside the tub. He sits with his back to you, respectfully giving you privacy despite seeing you in your entirety and for more than just the trip to the en suite. "Merely part of me again, as I suppose it—he—always should have been. It was foolish to attempt what I did, but I was scraping for solutions."

You feel a bit silly for grieving a fragment of the man who still sits, very much alive, beside you, but it was a complicated situation even before the intimate tryst you shared. Now, in the aftermath, Blue is gone and Alastor seems thoughtful and uncharacteristically quiet, but still detached. You're where you were before again, just with more hopes dashed now than when you started.

"He still exists as part of me. Unchanged. For whatever that might be worth to you."

You freeze, but turn a glance toward Alastor. He's turned his head just enough to watch you in his periphery, his eyes careful but with something tender in them just beneath the surface. It's a more complicated glance than you've ever seen, something with layers on layers that are all at war with one another. He's fighting himself so much, of course he would be overwhelmed with needing to fight you, too. It's a strange concept and it feels like you're making excuses for him. And maybe you are.

But the fact is that caring for Alastor remains an unlisted position. And no one—not one soul in this hellscape, especially not now—is more qualified than you.

So cute!

Summary: Despite his flirtatious acts and many years of living, even Lilia Vanrouge gets nervous while trying to court you.

Imagine if Lilia was awkward and shy when it came to romance.

Lilia has traveled and gained experience when it came to physical intimacy through the centuries.

But this feeling between you two? It was different. It wasn’t something he had experience with. Not something he can just do whatever he wants.

Well…he can but…this feeling in his stomach stopped him. A feeling that’s similar and yet different from his time on the battlefield.

Could he be nervous? Over something like this? At his age?

He usually acts all charming and flirtatious. He knows how to get a reaction out of you, but that was before you two started courting.

Now he doesn’t know how to react. The most embarrassing part of it all? The other three noticed.

Which makes it worse.

Malleus teasingly, “Oh? Are you having trouble romancing YN? How unlike you. Should I message grandmother and ask her how she had courted grandfather?”

Silver, direct as ever, “Just tell YN how you feel about them as you usually do.”

Sebek hesitantly, “Do you want some help from popular novels?”

Meleanor strike him with thunder now.

…she’s probably laughing at him from the stars with Levan.

But Lilia is not the type to give up, didn’t kids these days say to fake it till you make it?

He can do this.

Nope.

He can’t do this.

He would rather be on the battlefield right now.

It didn’t help the other three were watching nearby, making sure he didn’t run away.

Malleus ready to smite him if he hurt you in any way.

He would never do that.

He cared for you too much to do so.

But he needed a minute!

“Lilia?”

Shit.

He was so overtaken in his thoughts he didn’t realize the door had opened in front of him.

Lilia straightened up.

He took you in.

His heart rate increased.

His mouth felt dry.

His hands sweaty.

Fuck.

Oh Great Thorn Fairy help me.

I had this thought one day and it just wouldn’t leave me. Ahhhh it’s such a funny and cute thought if Lilia’s this way when you two start courting 💚🫶🫶 I love it so much 💞💞

He's a silly goose.

Thank you to everyone who got me to 100 likes!

I've never had a post get this many likes. Thanks everyone.

so who are you?

"Lulled into rest

with Lilia Vanrouge"

He swore he'd never fall for any human. It would only bring sorrow and misfortune, should he lose you. Besides, you simply couldn't grasp the gravity of a situation with a fae lover.

Yet, he still stared, mesmerized.

Silver was fast asleep in the commons of the Diasomnia dorm with his lap. He was completely relaxed as you lulled a soft melody. If he had human ears, there's no way he'd be able to hear such a quiet and serene song.

He'd only ever witnessed such a peaceful rest from his son while in his own arms. So why? Why did you have this effect?

He heard a soft chuckle behind him and recognized immediately that Malleus was behind him. "Have you noticed? They are trying to earn their place in our family. They have everyone under their spell, despite having no magic."

The shorter of the two went rigid.

Everyone? Under a mere human's spell?

"Even Sebek is at ease in their presence, so why is it that you're so guarded, Lilia? Are you perhaps.." he bit his tongue, "scared?"

Yes, he was. Very

I heard this song come on my recommended and I just couldn't help but think of Lilia Vanrouge

"Why are there so many female archers in fiction?"

Please forgive the clickbait-y title! This is a super complex and interesting topic that I barely scratch the surface of here, but I hopefully will be able to do more justice to things like this in the future!

Also, it's not the point of the video, but I had fun with the outfits in this- do you have any faves?

As always, please consider supporting me on Patreon if you can, or watching on youtube if not!