#AU Little Nightmares Dark Fate | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelsdreamm · 6 months ago

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Bound by Fate: The Tyrant’s Reluctant Bride (001)

↳ gojo satoru/reader

short summary: when you encounter a twist of fate by dying in an act of unintended heroism, you awaken as the doomed bride of Gojo Satoru, the tyrannical male lead of a trashy romance novel you once read. Determined to escape your fate, you plan your end—only to discover that the tyrant is obsessively protective, annoyingly clingy, and hiding a curse that might rewrite both your stories.

genre: angst with a happy ending, referenced/implied suicide attempt, temporary character death, enemies to lovers, historical au, 18+

series masterlist ↳ episode two

You ran your palms over the absurdly expensive wedding dress, the silky fabric bunched between your trembling fingers. It didn’t matter how much you smoothed it out; the dress felt foreign and heavy, suffocating even. The layers of lace and embroidery that were supposed to symbolize elegance now felt like a weight dragging you deeper into the nightmare. You glanced around the ornate room, the grandeur of it all only making your chest tighten further. None of this felt real.

Except it was. Every bit of it.

You inhaled sharply, trying to steady yourself, but the breath caught in your throat. Today, you were to marry a man known far and wide as a tyrant. The thought alone made your stomach churn. And worse, you already knew how this story ended. Five months from now, you’d be dead. Not figuratively, not metaphorically—just dead. Slowly, painfully, and irreversibly.

You bit the inside of your cheek. How did it come to this? You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be her.

Your life—your real life—had been nothing special. Twenty-eight years as a contract worker, with no family waiting for you and no friends to keep you grounded. When your last job ended, you had finally decided that would be it. Your plans had been straightforward: step out onto the bustling streets of Seoul and fade away quietly. No one would miss you.

But fate had other ideas.

It started with a little girl tugging on your sleeve, her big, scared eyes silently asking for help crossing the street. You hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t thought twice. After all, what was one more minute when you had nothing to lose? But that single act of kindness had turned into chaos. An angry voice, an accusation, a knife—it all blurred together until you were lying on the ground, bleeding out. The girl’s tear-streaked face had been the last thing you saw before the world went dark.

You thought it was over then. It should’ve been over.

But instead of finding peace, you woke up in this gilded cage, surrounded by strangers who acted as if you were made of glass. The realization came quickly, too quickly, and it hit you like a freight train: you’d been thrown into the pages of a trashy romance novel you’d read years ago. A novel so poorly written it was laughable—except you weren’t laughing now.

The name Gojo Satoru had burned itself into your memory long before you arrived. He was the male lead, the man with impossible looks and power to match. He was arrogant, manipulative, and utterly indifferent to anyone who didn’t amuse him. And now, somehow, you were his bride. The woman who, according to the book, would suffer for the crime of being tied to him.

The sound of footsteps outside the door jolted you from your thoughts. A tall man entered, his expression neutral as he gestured for you to follow. “It’s time,” he said simply.

Time. The word echoed in your mind as you stood, your legs feeling like lead. The veil they’d placed over your head made everything blurry, but it couldn’t hide the towering spires of the castle or the overwhelming weight of what awaited you. You trailed behind your escort, your heart pounding as you walked through the grand corridors.

You worked up the nerve to speak, your voice barely audible. “Who am I marrying?”

The man glanced at you over his shoulder, his expression briefly softening into something close to pity. “You’ll see,” he replied.

Before you could press further, a sharp voice echoed down the hall. “Where is she?” The tone was low but commanding, each syllable precise and brimming with impatience. “I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Your breath caught as he came into view. White hair framed a strikingly handsome face, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto you. He looked every bit as untouchable as you remembered from the book, but the weight of his presence was far more crushing in real life.

“Well?” he said, his tone clipped but calm. “Are you going to stand there all day?”

You froze. The words you wanted to say caught in your throat, tangled with the growing panic threatening to spill over.

You couldn’t find the words to answer, every nerve in your body screaming at you to run. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood frozen as he reached out, his gloved hand lifting your chin. The veil fluttered back, and for the first time, you saw him fully. He was strikingly handsome in a way that felt almost unreal, but his presence was suffocating, his gaze sharp enough to cut.

“Interesting,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. “They didn’t tell me my bride would be this… intriguing.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze despite the fear clawing at your throat. “Do you always inspect your fiancées like livestock?” you snapped, your voice trembling but defiant.

His smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with something that looked disturbingly like amusement. “Oh, so you do have a tongue,” he said, leaning in just enough to make your pulse race.

You clenched your fists, determined not to let him see how much he rattled you.

"I'm not here to entertain you."

Gojo chuckled, the sound low and unsettling. "We'll see." He turned then, motioning for you to follow as he strode toward the grand doors leading to the chapel. You hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. Every fiber of your being screamed to run, to fight, to do anything but follow. And then an idea struck-a terrible, impulsive idea, but the only one you had.

Her jaw tightened, but she refused to look away, meeting his gaze head-on despite the warning thrumming in his tone. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears, a mix of defiance and fear she couldn’t suppress.

He straightened, brushing off his gloved hands as though the conversation were merely a formality. “Now then,” he said lightly, his tone returning to its usual playfulness, “shall we proceed?”

With an almost lazy flick of his hand, Gojo gestured toward the doorway, his commanding presence making the air feel heavier. “Let’s not waste more time,” he said, his tone light but carrying a clear edge of finality. “It’s time for you to fulfill your end of the deal.”

She hesitated, her chin lifting as though to steel herself against the inevitability of it all. But after a moment, she stepped forward, the faint rustle of her dress echoing through the otherwise silent room. The veil felt like a prison over her face, but the weight of Gojo’s presence ahead of her was even more suffocating. She forced herself to match his steady stride, ignoring the tightness in her chest with each step.

The grand hall stretched before them, its opulence somehow amplifying the dread knotting in her stomach. The details of the novel came flooding back, every word now a cruel script she was forced to follow. Five months, she thought bitterly. Five months until death.

Her steps slowed, her mind racing. No. If she was going to survive this, she had to act. The script wasn’t unchangeable—not if she could seize some control.

“You’ll regret this,” she muttered, her voice low but cutting, as much to herself as to him.

Gojo didn’t even glance back, though she caught the faint curve of his smirk. “You’re welcome to try, my dear.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The calm dismissal in his voice lit a spark of frustration. She scoffed without thinking, the sound sharper than she intended. “Or what?” she bit out, her voice louder now. “You’ll kill me? Let me save you the trouble.”

Without hesitation, she turned and stepped toward the open window nearby. The cool air rushed in as her dress flared out behind her, the veil fluttering free from her face. She didn’t glance back. The shock rippled through the room like thunder, and for a split second, she thought she might actually escape—not just the marriage but the story itself.

But before she could tip over the edge, a strong arm encircled her waist, yanking her back with an ease that left her breathless. Gojo’s laughter filled the air, rich and mocking, as though the whole thing had been a performance just for him.

“Dramatic much?” he drawled, his tone laced with amusement as he swung her into his arms like a child. She thrashed against his hold, her fists colliding with his chest, but he didn’t so much as flinch. “If you wanted attention, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask.”

“You—let me go!” she snapped, twisting against him. Her frustration only seemed to amuse him further, the glint in his eyes bordering on predatory.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he replied smoothly, turning on his heel and heading straight for the chapel. “Suguru, fetch another priest. It seems this one won’t last long enough for the ceremony.”

Suguru blinked, momentarily stunned before he sighed and muttered, “Yes, Captain,” disappearing down the hall. Even as his footsteps faded, the bickering between Gojo and his reluctant bride echoed through the space.

When the new priest finally arrived, Gojo’s grip remained firm, as if daring her to make another escape attempt. Her glare was fierce, but the subtle tremble in her form didn’t escape his notice. As the priest began the ceremony, his focus never wavered from her face. She clenched her jaw, refusing to let her fear show, though she couldn’t stop her voice from shaking slightly as she spat out her “I do.”

By the time Suguru returned, a faint red handprint was visible on Gojo’s cheek, though it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. In fact, the smug satisfaction on his face made it clear he’d enjoyed every second of her rebellion.

Suguru sighed again, watching the new couple leave the chapel. He wasn’t sure what sort of chaos the two would unleash on each other—or the world—but at least his captain looked genuinely entertained for the first time in years. That, he supposed, was a start.

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saphiccarma · 5 months ago

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- Sweet Thing Pt.3

pt.2

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - And sometimes, you don't think Rio and Agatha are all that bad, like when they comfort you after a nightmare. Other times they are the people you hate most.

Warnings: kinda sexual content (not really?), lil' bit of gore, side character death (kinda)

A/N: When I say i spent an hour searching for some sort of mermaid anatomy.... also i have started to slowly develop and entire freaking lore for sirens in this au sooooo good for me Reblogs and comments make me happy :>

The water swirled around you, powerful and familiar. You were home. Elation burst in your chest and you tried to swim forward. Key word: tried. Seaweed held you in place, keeping you firmly trapped and unable to move. Your home was so close. It was right there. That little cave you lived in with your parents. Where you braided your sisters' hair and wrestled with your brothers. The safe place where your mother tended to any wounds you could while exploring and your father would fondly tell stories of his youth.

It was right there.

Movement in the corner of your eye forced you to look away and you did so reluctantly. Something dark lurked between the different structures, other homes and coral. It could easily have been a bigger fish or a turtle, but you knew it was something else. Eyes narrowing, you gasped at what you saw. Perhaps the largest shark you had ever seen, a great white that weaved through the gaps in the coral and was heading straight for your home.

You opened your mouth to shout a warning, but nothing came out. Your mother passed through the doorway of your house as the shark got nearer. It swam with intent, getting closer and closer to your home without moving. Tail flicking frantically, you tried to propel yourself forward, find a way to save your mother. And then you saw another small little figure. It was your sister. She was only a few years old, just learning how to talk, and she trailed after your mother with a toy in her hands. The toy was something you had found for her, a shell shaped in an odd way that she adored because it looked like a fish. She always tried to catch the fish.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you could feel it mingling with the salt water. For the briefest of moments, your sister glanced in your direction, her hair drifting in a small braid and her head tilted curiously. Hope filled you as you thought she noticed you, but then she shrugged and turned around to follow your mother. The shark swam closer, and you swore there was dark intent in its eyes. Beady eyes that were trained on your little sister. She was too innocent. Too small. She didn’t deserve to die. Not like this. She deserved to live a long life where she found someone to be happy with and had her own kids. Not to die by a stupid shark.

Where was your father? You looked around for him, he was never far, not while your sister was still so young, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was always there to protect you. To keep you and your siblings safe, no matter what, even if it hurt him. But he wasn’t there. One moment you were scanning for your father and then the next you were screaming, one filled with pure pain and shock, as the shark bit down on your sister's tail. Her voice was shrill as she shrieked, tiny body thrashing around in the shark's hold, but her attempts did nothing. With one solid bite, her tail was gone. Blood flooded the water around her.

Your mother rushed forward, grabbing at your sister who was crying, staring at her tail in shock and terror. It was bloodied, the end ruined and torn. The shark didn't waste a moment before surging forward again. You were forced to watch as it ate your sister, swallowing her small body whole. Shock prevented you from doing anything but stare as your mother sobbed, her body hunched over as she sunk to the floor of your home. You tried to call out to her, tell her to move before she met a similar fate. Even if it worked, the shark got to her first, biting her head off in one swift chomp.

And finally, you could move, and you surged forward, bolting through the water. Once it caught sight of you, for some reason the shark swam away, blood trailing out of its mouth. You cradled your mother in your arms, her neck spewing blood out and onto you, but you hardly cared.

That was all you saw before your vision went black.

A shriek died in your throat as you jolted upright in bed. Sweat beaded down your forehead as your hands fisted into the bed sheets and panic kept you locked in place. Your breathing was heavy as the images flashed in your mind, your sister with her tail bitten off and your mother's head following. They replayed over and over as you stared into the darkness. It was all you could see. Your body trembled violently. The sun slowly began to rise behind you, the light shimmering faintly through the window, but you couldn't focus on that.

Your sister. Her blood, flowing out into the water, red mingling with clear blue. Her little scream echoed sharpy throughout the sea. You would hear that sound forever. Then followed by your mother. Her head - her kind face that had looked at you with so much adoration, so much love and tender care - was just gone in the blink of an eye. You hardly noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks, a constant flow, and the heaving of your chest as sobs racked your entire body.

"Y/N?" Agatha's groggy voice didn't even reach your ears as your knees came up to your chest. You rocked back and forth. All that you could process was your dream. They couldn't be dead, right? There was no way. It was just a dream.

A hand landed on your arm, and you flinched away, your back hitting the wall, and a feral hiss leaving you. For once, Agatha didn't berate you for it. Maybe it was the crazed look in your eyes and the sweat that dripped down your face. Or maybe the way your body shook as if there was an earthquake. Rio was standing behind Agatha who sat on the edge of your bed. You whimpered as the older woman scooched closer and you tried to move further back.

"Stay back!" you cried, hardly recognizing the woman in front of you. Your sister. A shark. Blood. Your mother. Agatha wasn't there. Rio wasn't there. They were out of the question. To you, they weren't even here. You were still underwater, stuck in place, blood everywhere. Your teeth slotted out and you hissed at Agatha once again, your mind clouded with distress.

Rio tapped Agatha's shoulder lightly before she sat close to you. Her movements were slow giving you time to react and she ignored your distressed sounds, noises of defense that were meant to keep her away. She only hushed you softly instead of leaving you alone like you wished. Curling her fingers around your shoulder, Rio tugged you close. For a moment, you struggled as she held you close to her chest, earthy scent flooding your nose.

For a brief moment, you struggled against her chest, your protests loud. She made that hushing noise again her hand stroking your hair softly and running down to your back. Slowly, your movements stilled, and cries quieted. Rio mimicked your rocking motion from before as she held you in her lap, her touch oddly comforting. And as time passed on all visions of your mother and sister's death faded into the back of your mind. They were still there, still present, but quieter now.

She shifted so that the two of you were leaning against the wall, and your legs bracketed Rio's waist and you buried your head into her neck. Her arms were wrapped around you, and you felt like a little seahorse, tail wrapped around its father's. And then Agatha started to hum softly, the tune lighter than you had ever associated with her. That, combined with Rio's fingers gently tangling through your hair and tracing down your spine, it lulled all the loud thoughts.

Once again, your vision went black, but this time you felt a bit more at peace.

^___________^

Fingers prodded around your scales, rubbing against them and pulling them back. You hissed every now and then, only stopping when Agatha glared at you from the corner, her eyes sharp and daring you to do it again. Each time you met her with a harsh look of your own. To which Agatha would only smirk and scoff a little as if you were a child. In turn Rio pushed down harder on your scales and drawing another annoyed sound out of you. It kept repeating.

You were laid out on her desk, tail dangling over the side, and the wood digging into your skin. Agatha had swiped everything off and placed you on the surface with a surprisingly gentle touch. Then she promptly demanded for you to turn into your "fish" form, and it took some threatening, followed by sweet praises, for you to do so. Turns out Rio wanted to examine your tail, a first, and it wasn't like you had any choice. Rio tapped on your scales once again, her nails scraping on the smooth surface.

For an odd reason, her touch warmed your scales which were normally cool to the touch. That was another thing you learned was that it was often warmer on the ship than in the ocean. The water down there was cold, freezing if you went deep enough, and you nearly hated the heat of the human land.

"Turn over," Rio's words weren't negotiable, even as much as you wanted to, and her hands turning you over only reinforced her command. Her nails dug into your waist, Agatha's shirt ridden up slightly on your skin, and she flipped you over. It was your cheeks turn to dig into the harsh wood and if your scales weren't there to protect you, then you were sure there would be splinters in there. Running her fingers down your spine, Rio stopped right above where scales met skin.

You shivered beneath her touch. Faintly, you heard Agatha getting up from her chair in the corner and her boots hitting the floor smoothly, but you were too focused on Rio as she trailed down. She hummed above you, her fingers pressing lightly. Your hand came to clamp over your lips to muffle an embarrassing sound when Rio's fingers reached your sensitive spot. Scales covered your reproductive system, only opened when given proper stimulation - it was part of the mating process. You could feel heat pool in the pit of your stomach and blood rush to your face.

A hand grasped your own, gently pulling it away, and you could feel the scales on your cheek turn an embarrassing shade of green. Agatha chuckled. She held your hand in her eyes, sapphire eyes shimmering with amusement as she took in the odd coloring that ran over your scales.

"Your scales change color?" she asked, almost perplexed, but also dripping delight, "Aww are you embarrassed?" Her tone was the embodiment of teasing, a single eyebrow raised in faux question.

Every light spotting of scales on your upper half was now tinted pale green, a common sign of embarrassment amongst siren folk. Your scales would change color to match strong emotions, a light pink being happiness, or deep blue being sorrow. Although the shades varied between each and everyone, the general concept was the same. And right now, you felt like something small, merely a toy to them, nothing of value, just something that they could play with. A subject.

You had half a mind to curl your teeth at Agatha and snarl, but you stopped yourself, well more like Rio stopped you. Her fingers pushed down right near your entrance. You could feel your scales loosening beneath her touch and her nails dug beneath them. Unwillingly, you whimpered slightly and Agatha's small smirk grew.

"Is someone sensitive there?" She cooed, her tone mocking. You hated it. You hated your body for reacting this way to Rio's touch. This type of reaction was meant to be reserved for your mate, not the pirates who had kidnapped you and forced you to be on this ship. Agatha gripped your chin, squeezing your mouth open, and her thumb brushed against your lower lip. Your fins twitched nervously. As much as you loathed to admit it, you enjoyed it.

Scales loosening further, slowly revealing your entrance, you could hear Rio let out a surprised gasp. The two pirates exchanged a look over your head and the one above you poked at your entrance. An obnoxiously loud noise escaped you, unable to seal your mouth shut with how tightly Agatha was gripping your chin.

Before Rio could dip her fingers any further in, the boat rocked harshly and there was a deafening sound that echoed. You squeaked and could feel your scales tighten just like your muscles locked up and tensed beneath the humans' touch. Agatha stood abruptly and you were grateful for her nails to be gone from your face. There was hardly a moment between the boom and now before Agatha and Rio were both rushing out the door.

The former turned around, fixing you with a stern look, "Stay here. Turn back into a human and stay that way until we come back, understand?"

You wanted to protest but there was no time before you heard the telltale click of the lock. Panic surged through you and you turned yourself around, sitting up on the desk. Your tail turned into legs, leaving your lower half bare, but you didn't care as you scrambled for the door. Frantically, your hands wrapped around the handle, but it didn't budge as you tugged. Footsteps pounded above deck, and you could hear frantic shouts and Billy's panicked voice above all of them. Agatha gave sharp orders, her voice recognizable even though you could hardly make it out, and Rio's soft steps that were just barely audible, the quietest of them all.

You couldn't stop the amounting worry in your stomach when you heard more people board the ship, not at all sounding friendly based on the harsh shouts. Heart beating loudly in your chest, you scrambled back into the corner of the room when you could tell someone was coming down the stairs. Covering your mouth in an attempt to hide your distressed breaths, you waited with increasing anxiety as doors were slammed open followed by thudding steps.

Somehow, you had half enough thought to grab Agatha's dagger from where it sat next to you. She had left it on her chair. The weapon shook in your grip as you kept yourself pressed into the corner, but it was better than nothing. Even if you didn't know how to use it properly. All you had seen was Rio twirling it between her fingers or Lillia preparing food with a knife or Billy using one occasionally or Agatha when she nicked your cheek to teach you a lesson. But you had never actually held one yourself.

The door handle jiggled, and your breath caught your throat. You hoped whoever it was would leave, think this room had nothing in it, but you didn't have such luck. Something hit the door, hard, and you jumped slightly. It happened again. And then once more before the door was kicked open, a man storming in. He had scruffy hair that ran over his face and covered his eyes, dark ones that locked onto you. Fright clouded any rational thought as he made his way over to you.

You scrambled to your feet, swinging the dagger around rather pathetically. It did nothing but make it easier for him. He grabbed your wrist as you tried to hit him, and you shrieked when he tugged you close. The knife clattered the floor and out of your grip. Thrashing around, you kicked your feet and tried to get out of his grip. It did nothing as his strong arms, muscles flexing against you, held you close and dragged you out of the room.

He seemed to get tired of dragging you because he swung you over his shoulder in a similar way to when Rio did it. And while you hated it the first time you hated it even more when it happened again. Your fists hit his back over and over and you were proud to hear him wince at least once. Still, he did not let go as he carried you out and above deck. Although you didn't know human customs very well, you could hear the distinct sound of fighting. Swords clashing and Billy's hurt cry that made your heart hurt. Rushed and garbled orders shouted over the heat of the fight.

You craned your neck to try and catch a glimpse and instead you caught Agatha's eye. Her blue eyes were flashing with anger, but once she saw you it changed to something almost like concern. Then you did something you never thought you would do. You cried to her for help.

"Agatha!" You thrust your hand out, reaching for her as if she could reach you from all the way across the ship. She blinked slowly for a moment, processing your words before slamming the blunt of her sword into her opponent’s stomach. She raced towards you, but it was no use. Most of the enemy pirates had retreated to cover the man carrying you, and they held your crew at bay while you were hauled onto the opposing ship. Frightened tears welled in your eyes and your struggles increased tenfold.

Rio looked ready to murder every single person who stood in her way, and she would have if not for the plank lifting and the ship begging to sail away. You heard Agatha shout orders for someone to get moving, but it was too late. This ship was smaller, faster, and was already zipping away. Despair and pure terror, unfiltered terror with no hope in sight, flooded your system as you watched Agatha's ship slowly disappear from view.

Taglist: @vigilante24ish

#agatha harkness x reader #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal x you #agatha harkness x you

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elizaaarts · 6 months ago

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Oh my GOD AISJAJJDNS I LOVE THIS ART SO MUCH! THANK YOUUUUUUUU SO MUCH!! AAAAAHHHHHH 💖💖💖✨️✨️💕💕💝💘💖✨️✨️

I guarantee you, everyone is depressed in the same way

This probably isn't what's happening in @elizaaarts Au but I was bored, thought it was funny, and I really like the au

Based off this

#Little Nightmares Dark Fate AU

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neocrias · 5 months ago

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all of my fears, my inner scars

synopsis: In a cursed village where the leaders plan to sacrifice their own to monsters in the forest, you escape for freedom and safety. But instead, you encounter a terrifying vampire who lives in an isolated castle. After an attack that leaves you on the brink of death, escape becomes impossible. Vernon’s dark castle is your new prison… or perhaps the key to your survival.

pairing: vampite!vernon x female reader wc: 5,8k genre/aus: thriller; suggestive

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of death, violent content, +18.

No one could explain the reason for the countless misfortunes that plagued the small village where you lived. Before, life had been calm, peaceful, and quite prosperous – except for a few mysterious disappearances. The crops flourished, and the livestock were healthy. Now, the crops were devoured by pests, animals were disappearing, the water tasted strange, women and children fell ill constantly, and the men who volunteered to hunt in the forest never returned.

The leaders – the ones everyone accepted as leaders, though no one had ever chosen them – began to worry about the village's grim fate and proposed a very old practice as a miraculous solution.

— Dear villagers! — said one of the leaders, the eldest. — You all know that our village is plagued by terrible afflictions! But what have we done to the heavens to deserve such punishment?

His deep voice stirred the crowd, men and women shouted fervently at his words, shaking leaves of cycas revoluta to ward off curses. All the houses were decorated with these same leaves and scented with rue. Everyone took superstitions seriously, no one dared leave the village without a sprig of rosemary in their pockets. Mothers feared losing their children, and men feared not returning home before nightfall.

Everything was in chaos.

— We must calm its anger! — the second leader cried.

A murmur of “its?” and “who?” spread through the crowd, silencing the men standing on a sort of pulpit. Seeing the villagers’ agitation, the man smiled wickedly, his hollow eyes glinting with sadism.

— The beast! — he shouted. — The terrible monster that lives in the depths of the forest, he’s responsible for the curses. He’s poisoning the fertile land and killing our animals. We must appease him, or he’ll come after us, slaughtering our women and children; there will be nothing left once he’s satisfied.

— How will we do this? — the crowd cried, exchanging startled glances.

— A sacrifice! — said the last leader. — A virgin, as was done in ancient times.

The young girls in the crowd began to tremble, clinging tightly to the long skirts of their mothers, who, in turn, now appeared less confident. The last leader, noticing the women’s indecision and resistance – that made up most of the village now – rushed to continue.

— It only needs to be done once — he shouted. — One single life in exchange for many. A noble death.

— Who will it be? — a voice cried from the back, a man. — The chosen girl, who will it be?

The girls squirmed, hiding their faces in their mothers’ clothes, their small hands shaking and their eyes welling with fear at the thought of an imminent death. Mothers clutched their daughters tightly, terrified of losing them.

— Don’t worry! Young children will not be chosen — the leaders assured. — A careful conversation will be held to select a worthy offering who can rid us of these curses.

This did little to calm the villagers, but only one person really needed to fear the fate that awaited her, after all the girl had been chosen long before the solution was shared with the villagers.

You.

Consciousness returned slowly as if you were emerging from an endless nightmare. Your senses awoke one by one, revealing the cold dampness of the night, the smell of dry leaves, and the feeling of something hard against your body. You’re being carried, you realize with a shiver. Your body swayed with the heavy steps of the man holding you, and a throbbing pain pounded in your head, blurring your thoughts.

A growing panic took hold of you as you realized where you were and who was carrying you. You tried to move, but your body was still weak, your legs barely responding to your commands. Your heart raced, your breathing grew ragged, but before you could react, you heard a deep, mocking whisper:

— Finally awake, aren’t you, sweetheart? — said the youngest of the three leaders, with a venomous smile.

— Damn, finally! I thought she’d overdosed. — The man carrying you grumbled and dropped you to the ground.

You stumbled, your body still a bit numb, your legs trembling from cramps, and you only didn’t fall to the ground because the man held you roughly. Suddenly, you found yourself surrounded by them, the three of them looking at you with a predatory gleam in their eyes, their expressions cynical, as if they took pleasure in your vulnerability.

At some point in your life in the village, you had noticed those looks, but you never paid much attention. Surviving on your own, without family or friends - no one to rely on - already took all your energy. You focused on staying alive, ignoring the intentions of the men around you.

But now, in their presence, the discomfort you’d once felt was real fear and pulsing panic. Their expressions were open, undisguised, and filled with a malignant desire and a bitter resentment. The oldest leader tilted his head to the side and let out a dark laugh:

— And to think if you hadn’t been so proud… — he left the words hanging, intentionally unfinished, his eyes tracing your face and finally lingering on your body.

The three men encircled you, their dark faces illuminated by the faint lamplight, their eyes fixed on you with a threatening intensity, making it clear that their interest went beyond the sacrifice they had spoken of so fervently. When you finally found the strength to speak, your voice came out weak, but full of confusion and panic:

— Why are you… doing this?

For a moment, there was complete silence. Then, a laugh echoed, low and cruel, and the three men looked at you with cutting contempt. The oldest leader, his hollow eyes dark and menacing, leaned close so you could hear his cynical laughter up close. He grabbed your wrists firmly, pinning you to the damp ground, mud spreading across your skin as he brought his face close to yours.

— Why are we doing this? — he repeated, dragging out the words with irony. — Why do you think?

His words hit like a blow, revealing something deeper, something you’d been afraid to see. He laughed again, a cold sound full of resentment.

— Did you really think you could avoid us forever?

He pressed you harder against the ground, immobilizing you in the mud, his eyes now closer, full of contempt and barely hidden desire.

— So beautiful… A shame it has to end like this — muttered the second leader, crossing his arms as he watched the scene. — You know, I would’ve married you. You would’ve been protected, safe, and quite satisfied, but you chose to scorn us as if we were nothing.

You tried to move, but the grip was too strong, the weight of the oldest leader’s body preventing any chance of escape. The truth began to take shape on your faces as the panic inside you grew like an unrelenting wave.

The youngest of the three, with small, cruel eyes, shook his head with disdain. — If you’d been smarter, you could have saved yourself from this. Well, we have other plans for you now but don’t worry, sweetheart. It’ll be quick!

— Will it? — said the quietest of the three, his voice filled with sarcasm and poison. — I don’t think the creature will be satisfied if she suffers too little…

You shook your head in desperation. — Please, don’t-

— Sungjin… — the youngest warned, but the other just shrugged.

The eldest, who was holding you down, pulled a silver dagger from his back pocket and raised it above his head, smiling darkly. He let out a laugh as you struggled harder and closed your eyes, screaming in fear.

But instead of what you expected, you only felt the soft scrape of the silver tip against your cheek, making you shiver. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes to find the three men looking at you with sadism and twisted smiles. You turned your head, glancing from one face to another in confusion and dread.

— Silly… — the oldest cooed, and with the tip of the knife, he cut the high collar of your simple harvest dress, slitting it until your skin was exposed.

You groped at the ground around you, searching for something to grab onto, something you could use to strike at them and escape. The youngest of the three noticed what you were doing and kicked the ground near your hand, clearing away anything you could use to flee. Then he knelt beside you, holding both your wrists as their leader continued to cut the collar of your dress.

The terrified scream of the third man interrupted the others’ actions, and they turned around completely startled. Because of their large statures, you couldn’t see what they were looking at, but you knew it was bad by the way their bodies tensed.

The savage growl echoed through the trees, slicing through the heavy air with a bestial force. Before you could react, the body of the man on top of you was brutally torn away and ripped apart with a deafening noise. The blood of what was once the oldest leader now stained your skin and dress, and fear exploded in your chest, propelling you into instinctive, desperate movements.

You crawled through the mud, trying to escape the beast capable of tearing a man apart, looking up at the colossal creature standing before you. A monstrous figure, covered in thick black fur that absorbed all light around it, like a living shadow.

The powerful muscles moved beneath dense skin, each step causing a slight tremor on the ground as he advanced with a predatory and lethal grace.

The eyes, two large blazing embers, red as freshly spilled blood, locked onto you before shifting attention to the two remaining men with a glint of hunger and cruelty. The elongated snout revealed razor-sharp fangs, so long they barely fit in its jaw, dripping with thick saliva that glistened in the moonlight. Its hot and dense breath carried a metallic scent of blood, filling the air around with the smell of death.

The beast’s claws were enormous, like dark, gleaming daggers, each one capable of tearing flesh and bone with ease. The creature emitted a low, guttural sound, almost like a sadistic laugh, as it advanced toward the middle brother, throwing him to the ground with brutal force in a single move. The sound of bones breaking echoed, muffled only by his strangled cry of despair and pain that faded into the night. The beast then crouched over him, its fur soaking in blood as its teeth sank into the flesh.

You watched, paralyzed, unable to look away from the carnage before you, your mind swirling with terror and disbelief. The shadows seemed to dance around you as if every drop of blood attracted the very evil haunting the village.

The last man, the youngest leader, backed away slowly, his face a mask of pure terror as his eyes darted frantically between you and the creature that was now advancing toward him. He barely had time to scream before the monster struck him down, his body falling lifeless.

Breathing heavily, you stood up, legs trembling and heart racing. Your mind was a whirlwind of terror and confusion, desiring one thing only: to escape. You ran as soon as you could, stumbling in the mud and over roots, unsure of where to go, guided only by the need to distance yourself from that carnage and avoid a painful, imminent death.

Adrenaline was all that kept your legs moving, even as your feet became bruised and bloody from stepping on broken branches and sharp stones. You continued running without thinking, each heartbeat echoing like a frantic drum in your ears. Blood still pulsed in your temples, and the metallic smell mixed with sweat and mud covering your skin only intensified the sense of terror corroding your senses.

With each step, the forest seemed to close in around you, the twisted shadows of trees extending like deformed, menacing fingers. You refused to look back, afraid of what you might see – the creature with red eyes, the claws that tore bodies as if they were nothing, the growls that still echoed in your mind. The ground beneath your feet was treacherous, filled with roots and sharp stones, but the pain in your feet was just another detail you ignored, fighting to keep moving forward.

Suddenly, the forest opened into a corridor of trees, the twisted trunks like dark guardians of a forbidden path. The silhouette of something massive emerged in front of you: an ancient construction, a fortress of dark, impenetrable stone. A castle. You stopped for a second, panting, your mind was torn between the impulse to enter or try a different direction, but a distant, familiar growl broke the night's silence again, and the decision was made in an instant.

Without thinking twice, you ran toward the castle. Your hands trembled as they touched the worn, damp, slippery stone stairs. The steps were narrow and winding, like a serpentine path climbing the fortress's side, almost like a mountain road. The cold wind whipped against you, lashing your face and mixing with the sweat and dried blood, while you climbed without stopping, stumbling but refusing to give up.

You hesitated at the door, your trembling fingers tracing the rough surface of the old, heavy wood, dark as coal and damp as if it had never seen the sun. There was no time to think; another growl tore through the forest's silent air, and your hand, almost acting on its own, pushed the door. It creaked with a grave, ominous sound, revealing a cold, damp interior steeped in shadows.

The air inside was dense and icy. Each step echoed as a ghostly sigh while you advanced, feeling the weight of the walls around you as if the castle itself were breathing. You knew you weren’t safe here, but if the alternative was facing the creature outside, the castle had become your only hope. The silence of the castle enveloped you in a cold embrace, and your heart still pounded uncontrollably, adrenaline sustaining your caution, trying to figure out where to go and what to do.

You followed a long corridor, shadows seeming to stretch and intertwine around you, guiding you to a grand room at the end of the path. As soon as you crossed the carved stone arch, your gaze was immediately drawn to the center.

The throne made of bones was a macabre and impressive work of art. Countless interwoven bones formed its base and structure, arranged with terrifying precision and symmetry, composing a throne worthy of a dark king. Human and animal skulls were arranged in layers, forming a deadly crown around the man seated at its center, enclosed by a prison of bones, reinforcing his aura of power and predation. There was something disturbingly alive in how these skulls seemed to gaze at anyone who approached. Every detail seemed to breathe darkness, and you felt that if you got closer, the cold of the bones would engulf you, bringing with it all the secrets and sufferings of those immortalized there.

Vernon sat there, motionless, as if he were a statue sculpted by a divine artist. His skin was of flawless paleness, so delicate and translucent it could easily be compared to porcelain. His face was angular, with severe and incredibly beautiful lines, a dark, well-defined brow that highlighted even more the icy sharpness of his eyes. The gaze – cold, cruel, piercing – seemed to cut through you with unsettling ease, as if he could see every hidden fear and thought within you.

The dark black hair fell around his face with an almost ethereal softness, glinting in the room's dim light, making him stand out even more amid the shadows. He exuded a surreal beauty, too perfect to be human, unreachable and dangerous, something out of a dream. And yet, everything about him inspired dread: every detail, from the predatory look to the barely-there smile curving his lips, showed a threat that couldn’t be ignored. You felt every cell in your body scream to run, but something stronger – perhaps his very presence – held you captive, hypnotized.

Vernon was imposing, a figure that dominated the entire space with undeniable authority, and the aura around him was dark and powerful. Whoever he was, he looked at you as a helpless prey who entered the predator's territory unknowingly.

The simple sight of him was enough to steal the air from your lungs. You didn’t know his name, or what he was, but even so, you knew you were in the presence of something ancient, far older than you could imagine.

When he finally moved, leaning slightly on the throne, your heart skipped a beat. And then, a single word, soft and laden with danger, slipped from his thin lips: — Who dares enter my castle?

You felt the impact of his voice reverberating throughout your body, a low, cutting sound that seemed to grip your heart with invisible claws. His sharp gaze was the last thing you saw before everything began to blur and darken. Your body felt heavy, as if being pulled down, the ground coming closer, and you felt your legs give way, unable to bear the weight of fear any longer.

Your field of vision narrowed until only shadows surrounded you, like a dark veil closing slowly. The sound of your heartbeat echoed, muffled, and your mind grew cloudy and unfocused. The sensation of being pulled away from yourself intensified, as your senses faded one by one. All that remained was the cold feel of stone against your skin…

And then, nothing.

When your eyes opened again, a face was looming above you. Vernon was even more intimidating up close, his flawless, unreal skin under the shadows hanging over him. He gazed down at you with a look of disdain and cruel curiosity, as if examining a broken insect. His eyes slowly traced over your blood - and mud-streaked face -, then over your injured body, as if trying to decipher every mark of pain and suffering you bore.

In his expression, there was a hint of interest, cold and impersonal, an almost predatory fascination with your fragility.

Realizing you were awake, he curved his lips into an icy smile, his eyes glinting with a silent threat. In one swift, ungentle motion, he gripped the torn collar of your dress, pulling you to stand, despite your trembling legs and aching body.

— What do you think you’re doing in my castle, little creature? — he murmured, his voice low and disdainful, full of curiosity.

His touch, though delicate, was impossible to ignore. His cold fingers held the fabric tightly, and the slight smile on his face suggested he already knew the answers—he just wanted to see you struggle, vulnerable, as you tried to explain your presence.

Fear coursed through your veins like poison, even as the question lingered in the air, laden with palpable tension. You tried to respond, but the words tangled in your throat, choked by panic and pain. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming, and you squirmed, trying to break free, but your strength seemed to slip like sand through your fingers.

Vernon continued observing you with disdain and amusement. His smile was a thin mask covering the cruel curiosity that sparkled in his red eyes. When he tilted his head, assessing every fragment of your being, every ragged breath, and tremor of fear.

— Silence, then? — he whispered, but his voice still held an authority that allowed no opposition. Vernon brought his face close to yours, and the smell of damp earth and fresh blood surrounded you, sending a chill down your spine. — Do you think you can escape your fate?

You tried to avoid his piercing gaze, but it was as if an invisible force compelled you to meet his eyes. Fear burned like a wildfire in your chest, and as he leaned closer, you felt the sensation of drowning in the darkness of his gaze. Emotions clashed within you – despair and the determination to live.

— I am not an offering — you finally managed to murmur, your voice rough and weak, almost a challenge. The tone of your voice made a subtle smile form on his lips, but there was no joy, only a recognition of your bravery — or perhaps your foolishness.

— I’m not the one who decides, dear. Your village has already chosen your fate — he replied, irony evident in his words. — Pathetic. Sacrificing virgins as if that would solve the plagues that they created.

— It wasn’t a sacrifice — you denied it, knowing your fate was still death, but it was not justified as the village’s salvation. Still, your heart tightened at his contempt and mockery of your pain. — You have no idea what you’re talking about!

But Vernon’s expression remained impassive, his eyes fixed on you as if analyzing every word.

— I’m not interested in the concerns of a village that ignores its destruction, although sacrifices always have the finest blood…

His words resonated like a death knell, and you felt hope slip away. But amid the despair, a thought arose. You should fight, and find a way to escape, even if every fiber of your being screamed to surrender to the terror Vernon represented.

Vernon noticed your hesitation, pulling you closer, the fury behind his gaze now evident. — What will you do now? What do you desire?

A challenge. A spark of determination rekindled within you. — I want freedom — the words came out as a whisper, but there was an intensity in them that changed his expression. The disdain transformed into something deeper as if he were assessing the essence of your soul. Vulnerability mixed with a glimmer of courage for a brief moment, the air between you charged with possibilities.

— Freedom, you say? — he repeated thoughtfully. — Do you think that’s something you can have? What would you do to earn it?

— I… — you began, your heart pounding fiercely within your chest. — I’ll do whatever it takes. Just let me go.

Vernon smiled, but it offered no comfort, only a promise of a negotiation in which you’d never come out ahead. The game between the two of you had taken on a new form, and you found yourself walking a tightrope between life and death, between freedom and captivity.

— Then let’s see what you’re made of — he said, releasing your collar but keeping his gaze fixed, as though every move you made was being evaluated.

You didn’t back down, though you wanted to, you knew you had to face him head-on, with every ounce of courage you had left, preparing for the next step with the monster before you. An enigma wrapped in shadows and desire.

The atmosphere in the castle grew dense, as though the air was electrified by an impending storm. Vernon moved around you, surrounding you with his presence and power, his steps silent and graceful, like a serpent ready to strike. Every movement was laced with grace, and you found yourself struggling not to shrink back, not to let his presence intimidate you.

— Ah, the fair virgin — he whispered against your ear, his seductive voice dancing in the space between you.

Vernon dragged his cold fingers across your jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps that ran down the length of your skin and weakened your knees, clouding your mind with an uncontrollable urge to melt into the arms of imminent death.

Your eyes became hazy, and your eyelashes trembled with an uncontrollable urgency to shutter your eyes closed. Your soul sought his touch, the same way your lungs sought oxygen. You turned your head to the side, looking at the man behind you.

— Is it freedom you seek? Or deep down, is there a hidden desire for something… more thrilling?

You swallowed hard, your emotions a mix of anger and confusion. The way he moved closer, how the dim light of the lanterns reflected on his pale face, made your heart race, but you wouldn’t give in to the attraction you felt. He was just toying with you, you knew you shouldn’t fall into his traps.

— I am not a plaything for your amusement — you replied, your voice firm, though a tremor had started to seep into your words.

Vernon tilted his head, examining you intently. — That’s exactly what you are, dear, a game. What do you think happens when a little mouse gets lost in the cat’s den? Do you think there’s a way out?

He was almost touching you, and the intensity of his presence left trails of fire on your skin, the warmth spreading throughout your body, mingling with the cold of the surroundings. You found yourself wondering if he felt the same if this attraction was just an illusion born of fear — or perhaps it was exactly what he wanted you to feel.

— What do you want? — you asked, your voice now a whisper, almost defiant, but the emotions you were trying to suppress began to bubble to the surface.

Vernon smiled in a way that was both charming and terrifying.

— Intriguing. I could want many things... Your submission, perhaps? Your despair? Or maybe a piece of your resistance, just to see how you break under pressure?

He grasped your chin, tilting your head back against his shoulder. He inhaled along the length of your neck, reveling in the sweet, pure scent that you carried in your being. His red eyes glistened in the darkness; his scent was intoxicating, deep, and primal, making your body react even against your will.

— I will not play your game! — you murmured, indignation breaking through in your words, though your conviction had already begun to waver. What he was doing was dangerous, and you knew you were playing a risky game, a dance of seduction and power.

— You already are, my dear — the provocation in his voice was clear. — Every word you speak, every emotion you reveal, only feeds my curiosity. Do you not understand what’s at stake here?

You tried to remain firm, pulling your face away from Vernon’s touch, but his gaze was so hypnotic it was hard to focus.

— I know you're feeling something you shouldn’t — he whispered, brushing your hair from your shoulders. The soft touch of his cold fingers on your skin made you close your eyes, holding in a sigh. — Your scent betrays you, darling. Part of you wants to surrender, while the other tries to break free.

You bit your lips, trying to keep your composure, but his words were a direct assault on your resistance and desire. The tension between you was oppressive, and the warmth of his body enveloped you as if he were a flame and you, a moth drawn to the light.

— You can’t deny there’s something between us — he whispered, challenging you. — Something that transcends your fear. And if you allowed yourself to feel, you might discover a pleasure you never imagined possible.

His proximity was almost unbearable, and you found yourself on the thin line between surrender and struggle. Each word was a trap, and you were already ensnared in the web he wove without realizing it. Vernon smiled, knowing he was winning the little power struggle between you.

— Surrender, darling.

— I'm no fool — you replied, your voice now weaker, the defiance almost fading into uncertainty.

— No, you're an untamed spirit — he replied, his penetrating gaze making your heart race even more. — And that's your true beauty. But what will you do when your resistance begins to crumble? Will you surrender your soul to me or run away like a frightened kitten?

— I’m not afraid of you— you declared, although your words were nothing more than lies that didn't convince him at all.

— Oh, you are. And it’s that fear that makes this all so delicious. Now, what will you choose? Resistance or surrender?

You found yourself at the edge of a precipice, Vernon’s question resonating in your mind as he awaited your answer, his eyes gleaming with a near-predatory expectation.

Vernon leaned in closer, his eyes penetrating your soul. The space between you diminished even further, and he leaned in, his lips separated by only a breath. You felt the warmth of his presence, and the way he held your hair, elegantly pulling it, made your heart race. He left a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth, intimate and provocative, as if he were peeling away every layer of defense you’d built over the years.

Your eyes met, and you blinked slowly, the internal struggle beginning to dissipate under the intensity of the moment. The way he moved, so close and yet so distant at the same time, made you feel a deep connection that defied your logic.

— I can give you everything you’ve never had — he whispered seductively. — Pleasure, power, freedom. The choice is yours, but you must be willing to surrender.

You hesitated, but something within you, a curiosity and desire, began to shine brighter than fear. You’d never allowed yourself to feel like this, never surrendered to anyone. And yet, here he was, this magnificent and terrifying being you didn’t know, offering a new life, a new experience you never thought you could have.

— I… — you began, but the words were lost as he touched your face with his cold fingers, the softness contrasting with the strength he emanated.

In an unexpected movement, he pulled your face close, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was eager and intense, an explosion of sensations that seemed to break all barriers. It was as if he’d awakened something inside you, a passion and desire that had been hidden, ready to emerge. You felt his cold, demanding lips molding to yours, and the ferocity of the moment consumed you both.

The elegance of the kiss contrasted with the urgency of the moment. It was as if you had known each other for centuries, every movement perfectly synchronized, a supernatural connection. Your emotions intertwined – passion, fear, desire, and a silent understanding that went beyond words. You surrendered, the world around you fading, and for a moment, there were no curses, villages, or sacrifices, only the two of you.

You brought your hands up to his neck, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingers, and sighed, surrendering to the intensity of the moment. As he felt your warm sigh against his lips, he abruptly pulled back, surprising you. Your eyes widened in confusion, and before you could protest, he turned you around, lifting you effortlessly into his arms.

You were surprised by Vernon's speed and strength as he walked to the throne of bones, your pulse quickening with each step. The sinister throne of skulls and bones didn’t terrify you as you expected; in fact, you felt safe, as if that were your place.

Vernon sat, placing you gently in his lap, his powerful presence enveloping you as he observed you with a burning need. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, and you realized that the surrender that once seemed distant now became inevitable.

— Now, you are mine — he declared, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and possession. — And there is nothing you can do to change that.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at those words. Vernon’s tone was final, laden with an authority that seemed to carve his declaration into the air. Your heart raced unevenly, torn between the fear of the unknown and an attraction that felt impossible to resist.

— I’m not an offering, sir — you replied, your voice low but defiant, reaffirming. It was a fragile attempt to maintain some control over the situation, though your own will was dissolving under the weight of his gaze.

Vernon’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile as if savoring the confrontation. He tilted his head, his fingers softly tracing the line of your jaw, a touch that felt both like a promise and a threat. Suddenly, he grabbed both sides of your face, locking you in place and reclaiming the dominance he so effortlessly exuded.

— You’re a bad liar, my sweet little creature. — His voice was a husky whisper, each word dripping with an unsettling familiarity. — Your body has already made its choice. Your soul… well, it was mine the moment you ran straight into my castle.

You couldn’t explain why, but those words sent a tremor of anticipation and dread through your body. He was terrifying, his sharp eyes reflecting pure power, and everything about him screamed danger. Yet, the gods knew just how much you had longed for the idea of belonging.

In a late, unpremeditated reflex of self-preservation, you tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around you, firm as steel. Yet there was a surprising gentleness in his control over you. Your eyes never left his, and you saw something there deeper than desire or possession — an abyss of conflicting emotions, dark and seductively enigmatic.

— Why..? — you whispered, the question slipping out before you could hold it back. — Why is all this happening?

Vernon paused, his expression softening for a brief moment, as if your question had struck a chord he didn’t expect. His fingers stilled, and he leaned in closer, his lips hovering dangerously near yours.

— Because, my dear, you’re the only one who can destroy everything — he murmured. — Or save it.

His words resonated within you like a distant echo of a forgotten prophecy. Before you could process them, Vernon pressed his lips to yours again, this time slower, as if he wanted to etch every second into his memory. The intensity lessened, but the gesture carried a deeper, more possessive meaning.

When he pulled back, his eyes gleamed with determination.

— But you won’t have a choice. In the end, you’ll understand.

And then, he ran a hand along the side of the throne, a casual gesture that made the shadows around you come alive, making even the bravest warriors tremble in fear. The sensation of being under his power was overwhelming; the shadows danced and twisted, forming barriers that pulsed with living energy. It was as though the entire world bent to his will, molding itself to seal your fate.

Now, more than ever, you felt like you were walking toward something inevitable.

Vernon’s lips returned to yours, but this time with an urgency you hadn’t expected. It was as though all the careful control he had shown earlier was dissolving. His kisses became more desperate, less precise, yet there was still an innate elegance in every touch. His lips trailed down the line of your jaw, exploring with an almost reverent attention.

You sighed as you felt his lips trace a slow, deliberate path down your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through your skin. When he reached your shoulder, his kisses became softer, but the weight of the moment was even more intense. Each touch seemed to claim you, marking not your skin but something deeper, something essential.

Vernon’s hands, large and firm, slid down your back to your hips. You felt the precise strength of his fingers as he held you, as though he didn’t just want to touch you but anchor you to him. Without warning, he pulled you down against him, the movement firm and possessive. Your body responded before you could think, a warmth spreading through your veins as the closeness between you seemed to erase any trace of space or doubt.

— You feel it, don’t you? — he murmured against your skin, his voice low and laden with a desire that felt inescapable. — This connection… the destiny.

His words touched something deep inside you that you didn’t know existed, a call that echoed in your very soul. Your breathing grew uneven, and for a moment, you thought of protesting, of pulling away. But when his fingers lightly pressed against your hips, a fire ignited in you, burning away all doubt.

You brought your hands to his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but Vernon tilted his face, his dark eyes meeting yours with an almost overwhelming intensity.

— Don’t fight it, my little creature — he whispered, his voice both a command and a plea. And then his lips were on yours again, more insistent, more voracious. His movements became less calculated, more primal, as though the entire world around you had disappeared, leaving only the two of you and the destiny he seemed so determined to claim.

Vernon acted like a man insatiable — if he was a man at all. He sought to claim every piece of you with his kisses and needy touches as if quenching the longing for something he hadn’t possessed in a long time. What remained of his earlier delicacy gave way to something raw and primal.

His lips explored your skin hungrily, descending along your neck and collarbone, where he paused for a moment, pressing kisses that sent a scorching heat through your body. The sharp tips of his white teeth scraped against the crook of your neck.

You felt his hands grip your hips more firmly, as though he wanted to fuse the two of you into one. He pulled you even closer, and the force of the gesture made you gasp against his lips, the sound escaping involuntarily.

Vernon lifted his head for a brief moment, his eyes gleaming with an almost feral intensity as he watched you, each heavy breath of his matching your own.

— See? — he murmured, his voice rough, almost unrecognizable. — You belong to me, little creature.

Before you could respond, he tilted his head again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that seemed to consume everything around you. He moved his hands with confidence, exploring the curves of your body with a mix of urgency and reverence, as if engraving every detail into his memory.

When he slid one hand along your side, the other remained firm on your hip, holding you against him. His breath was warm and uneven as he kissed the curve of your shoulder, slowly trailing down to the base of your neck. Each movement made your body react in ways you couldn’t control, a mix of desire and a strange sense of surrender that left you breathless.

You found yourself gripping his shoulders tighter, your fingers digging lightly into his skin as a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over you. Vernon noticed, and his arrogant smile returned for a moment. He leaned his body, adjusting your position on the throne of bones, and you realized just how much at his mercy you were. But strangely, there was no fear. Only an intensity so overwhelming that resisting felt impossible.

The bones beneath you creaked slightly, creating a trail of mystery and unease, but you were so absorbed by his presence that all you could feel was the electricity flowing between you.

As Vernon held you firmly, his lips traced a gentle path along the length of your neck, each touch affectionate. You tilted your head back, giving him space to continue kissing the skin of your neck and shoulders, holding onto his broad shoulders, trying to find balance as he enveloped you in his powerful presence.

— I missed you so much, darling — he murmured, but the words left you confused as if a mystery lingered over you. What does he mean by that?

Before you could ask, Vernon bit your neck, and the sharp pain exploded through your body, making you scream. It was intense as if time had stopped for a moment, while you found yourself lost between pleasure and agony. The feeling of blood trickling down your skin, the awareness of what was happening, all turned into a nebulous confusion.

You began to feel dizzy from the blood loss, your vision beginning to darken as a metallic taste spread in your mouth. And then, you were thrown to another place, another life.

A vast open field stretched as far as your eyes could see, the fresh morning air still carrying the dampness of the previous night’s rain. Your bare feet sank gently into the wet grass, the sensation both comforting and raw as if grounding you to the earth in a way few things could. Ahead of you, an enormous creature rested. Its coal-black fur gleamed faintly under the first rays of sunlight, and its red eyes, which could inspire terror in any mortal, gazed at you with a mix of reverence and affection.

To the world, he would be a living nightmare, a sight capable of freezing even the bravest in their tracks. But to you, Monster was just that: a big, needy baby, whose soul was as heavy as the footsteps he left upon the earth. You reached out instinctively, your fingers sliding through the dense, coarse strands of his fur as he closed his eyes briefly as if savoring the tenderness of your touch.

— Who’s my favorite guardian? — you asked in a soft, almost whispered tone, as if protecting a precious secret.

He replied with a deep, guttural growl, easily mistaken for a threat, but you knew it was pure happiness. A sound that vibrated in his chest, resonating through the air, and brought an involuntary smile to your lips.

— Yes, it’s you — you confirmed, your eyes meeting his once more.

There was something deeply moving in that exchange of gazes, an understanding that transcended words and forms. You knew he was more than the monster his fearsome appearance suggested – he was yours.

Your guardian. The creature who would kill anyone just to protect you.

He moved closer, his massive head resting gently against your shoulder, as though seeking a comfort only you could provide. The connection between you was as visceral as it was inexplicable. In the vast and silent field, surrounded only by nature, you were two exiles who had found a home in each other.

Vernon’s whispered voice pulled you from that memory, only to throw you into another, further back. — It’s been so many years this time, darling. I suffered every day you weren’t here.

The small room seemed even smaller under the silver moonlight timidly filtering through the dusty window. The air was heavy, almost tangible, carrying the unspoken intentions that lingered between you and Vernon. Shadows danced on the walls, partially concealing your figure as he remained motionless, a predator waiting for the right moment.

— I know you're here, Vernon. — Your voice cut through the silence firmly, but not without a hint of provocation. — Come out now.

For a moment, everything stayed still, the sound of your breathing filling the room. Then, he emerged from the shadows with the ease of someone who had always belonged to them. The smile that spread across his lips was predatory, sharp, and dangerous. He ran his tongue slowly over his fangs, a gesture that should have made you uncomfortable but only fueled the tension between you.

— You were quite confident I’m not a killer — he said, his voice low, laced with a veiled threat.

You raised an eyebrow, responding with a defiant smile as you stepped forward, closing the distance between you.

— You are a killer, darling. — Your provocation was accompanied by a look that said you knew exactly what you were getting into.

Before you could react, Vernon moved with feline speed, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders as he lifted you effortlessly. Your back met the wall with a light impact, enough to remind you of your vulnerability. He leaned in, bringing his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

— Then you should be terrified — he murmured, the threat in his words softened by the kisses he trailed along your shoulder. His lips were insistent yet controlled, struggling against the evident desire to bite.

You tilted your head, exposing more of your neck in a gesture that seemed both defiant and submissive.

— I’m not afraid of you, darling. — Your voice was low but carried a strength that made Vernon’s eyes narrow.

He laughed, a deep, almost amused sound, as he tilted his head to the side, observing you like he was assessing his next move. Suddenly, his tongue slid across your cheek, an unexpected gesture that carried as much challenge as it did desire.

Before you could respond, he lowered his head, his teeth capturing your shoulder gently. The bite was firm but controlled, leaving a trail of heat where his fangs grazed your skin. There was no pain, only enough pressure to remind you of who he was and the power he held at his fingertips.

The air around you seemed to crackle, charged with an almost tangible electricity. It was as if fate itself was caught in the fine lines between you, pulling you closer with every word, every touch, every provocation. And in that moment, in the silence of the moonlit room, you knew there was something irrevocable about what you shared.

— Nothing will take you from me now, I promise — Vernon's voice pulled you out of that memory again, throwing you into a much more cruel one.

The world around him seemed to crumble slowly, as if time itself had decided to prolong the agony of the moment. Vernon knelt by your side, his hands trembling as they held yours, his eyes lost in a void so deep it seemed there was no return. The shadows on his face highlighted the pain etched into his expression, every feature marked by guilt and remorse.

Your body felt heavy, sinking into something that was both physical and ethereal, as if the line between life and death was dissolving. The pressure of the silver dagger embedded in your chest was a constant reminder of what was happening. Each breath felt like a battle, the air burning your throat as the metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You coughed, the weak, wet sound breaking the somber silence that surrounded you both.

Vernon’s eyes finally met yours, and something in them shifted. The pain he had tried to hide spilled over, leaving him as vulnerable as you. He gripped your hand tighter, as if that alone could stop you from slipping further away.

— This won’t happen again, darling, I promise. Never again. — His voice broke on the last word, every syllable laden with the hopelessness of someone who had already lost everything and couldn’t bear the thought of losing again.

You wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. There was no strength to form the syllables that might have eased his pain—or yours. The connection between you, even in such a tragic moment, was unbreakable, a bond forged in something deeper than time or circumstance.

Vernon lowered his head, pressing his forehead against your bloodied hands as if praying to a god he knew would not listen. His body trembled slightly, but his resolve was clear. He wasn’t just making a promise to you; he was making it to himself.

The distant sound of thunder rumbled through the air, but neither of you paid it any attention. The world outside was irrelevant. There was only the two of you, trapped in that instant, sharing the pain and love that defined the essence of everything you were.

And as the light began to fade from your vision, you saw something in Vernon’s gaze. Not just regret or sorrow, but a dark, almost dangerous resolve. Something that said, if he had to defy fate itself to keep that promise, he would.

Reality rushed back to you like a lightning bolt, cutting through the haze of unconsciousness that had clouded your mind. Your body was overwhelmed by a new and strange sensation—a mix of overpowering strength and unsettling vulnerability. Your eyes opened slowly, and the world around you seemed sharper, more alive, as though every detail carried an intensity you had never noticed before.

And then your eyes locked on him again.

Vernon’s figure was cloaked in an aura of dark majesty, but there was something different in his sharp eyes—a rare warmth.

— Vernon? — Your voice came out as a fragile whisper, full of confusion and recognition.

He didn’t respond immediately, merely continuing to watch you, as if committing every detail of your expression to memory. Tears began to stream down your face, tracing warm paths over your cheeks as you struggled to process what had happened.

— What did you do? — Your voice trembled, laden with disbelief and a mix of surprise and anxiety.

Vernon leaned forward, the shadow of a smile on his lips, but his eyes were intense, carrying the weight of the world.

— I transformed you. — His voice was deep yet soft, a combination of disdain for the world around him and a nearly desperate affection for you. — You will never be apart from me again. I cannot lose you, not ever again…

His words struck you like a blow and an embrace all at once, and your body shuddered. Vernon extended his hand, his fingers brushing your face with a tenderness that contrasted with the possessiveness in his gaze.

— You are mine forever. — He declared, the words sinking deep into your soul, sending shivers down your spine.

You closed your eyes, feeling emotions crash within you—the despair of this sudden twist in your life, the weight of eternity beside someone as intense as Vernon, and a spark of something undeniable that felt much like relief. As you trembled in his arms, his firm hands held you steady, anchoring you to a new reality.

And there, in that room consumed by silence and Vernon’s overwhelming presence, you realized there was no going back. The line between love and obsession, between fear and desire, was completely blurred.

You belonged to him, just as he had always belonged to you.

Forever.

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elizaaarts · 10 months ago

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[AU] LITTLE NIGHTMARES: DARK FATE (PART 49)

Good reading... youre gonna need it.

> NEXT

> PREVIOUS

They tried to protect each other but ended up getting hurt...

● Plot explanation:

Mono not only changed Six's memories but also her personality. In other words, she should be the cruel Six from LN 1 and 2, but she is now a Six with more empathy and who really cares about others. And because of this, it's as if The Lady's entity that inhabits Six was "asleep" because this Six is different/the entity is in the "wrong body".

I hope this made sense :V

I know there will be a lot of people defending Mono, because his motivation and the change in Six was not something serious, especially because he did "something good" for her. But Six does have the right to feel betrayed, since he invaded her mind. I wouldn't want someone to do that to me either.

I don't belong to any team in this discussion, but I just want to explain their situation. I'm just an author who wants to see the circus catch fire HAHAHA. But I'd love to see your opinion on comments!

In fact, I'm going to take a short break for a few days! See you soon! :)

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zstartrixxx · 1 month ago

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𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔢𝔳𝔦𝔩, 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔊𝔬𝔡

ˢᵗᵃʳᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵛᶦˡ, ᵖᵃʳᶜʰᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵍᵒᵈ

ᵛᵃᵐᵖᶦʳᵉᵈᵉᵐᵒⁿꜝʳᵉᵐᵐᶦᶜᵏ × ˡᵃᵗᶦⁿᵃꜝᵒᶜ

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Freedom burned in Dulce Dollores' soul like a sacred fire. Her hollow prayers and stubborn rejection of a fate too cruel for her tender heart drove her to forbidden paths - nights of clandestine revelry with her dearest friend, where whiskey flowed like salvation and cigarette smoke curled around their laughter. Here, in these stolen moments of dancing and delirium, she tasted the liberation her spirit craved. Yet her stifled existence in 1930s Mississippi, trapped between the close-knit world of Mexican immigrants and the weathered Black sharecroppers who worked the land, could never have foretold how her destiny would collide with the devil's hunger. He came disguised in mortal flesh - a predator's eyes gleaming above a serpent's silver tongue. Remmick. From their first encounter, he recognized in Dulce something rare, something he must possess. As nightmares bled into waking hours, as menstrual stains marked sheets like sacrificial offerings, as folk superstitions whispered through the magnolia trees, Dulce waged war against his dark seduction. She would not yield to the sweet poison of his kiss. But Remmick's obsession had crystallized into destiny. And when the devil covets, he takes - whether by heaven's reluctant permission or hell's own dark designs. 𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: Here is my humble contribution to this incredible fandom with my work. In this fanfic, the idea is to really be an alternative universe within the canon of the film's plot; to bring Remmick's character, yes, but with interferences about how I see vampires, as well as to play with religious elements (mainly Catholic, which hurt and touch Remmick a lot) as well as the protagonist, a woman of Latin origin in the middle of a Mississippi that is inhospitable to outsiders. I am really putting a lot of effort, love and a little bit of madness from my clever little head to write it. I write slowly, like a quilt that you sew, part by part, so don't expect immediacy from me (unfortunately, life out here is busy) BUT I swear that the fanfic is well underway [from here on I will update as I publish the other remaining parts]. part I: published (here and on AO3, link below). part II: published (here and on ao3). part III: writing... ��𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰&ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰: ADULT CONTENT, +18. it's a dead drove - do not eat here! AU!CANON (stils remmick, some adapted vampiric workings, strong poetic license here, set exactly in 1930s), OC!FEMALE LATINA, vampirism, blood kink (ofc!!!), toxic&manipulative behaviour, angst, sexual content (oral, penetration...), dub-con, implied queer, violence and a some of gore, foul language, latin reference, catholic guilt and religious themes (seriously, there's a lot of that, be warned!!!), southren goth and a ethel cain & chelsea wolf inspo (listen hers, for real!!!); iwtv, dracula, carmilla and others vampires universes refes&inspos; some words and phrases were written in spanish, and each end of the part has its own small glossary with the translations. lmk if i missing something!!! ;) 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: ---- [if you prefer the AO3 reading experience, the fanfic will also be published on the site. you can access it through THIS LINK. ;] a great read for anyone who reads it! <3 likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑ - ℌ𝔬𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔢 𝔐𝔞𝔩 [wc. 7360]

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑ - 𝔓𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔡𝔞 𝔏𝔲𝔫𝔞 [wc 7480]

𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑℑ - 𝔏𝔞 𝔅𝔬𝔡𝔞 𝔑𝔢𝔤𝔯𝔞

“The Devil exists, my child, and He roams the earth. Here, among us, He lives and feeds on those who do not believe in God’s salvation… Therefore, keep true to your vows. The Christian path will shield you—your purity will keep you focused on God’s designs, and soon, so very soon, you shall witness the fulfillment of His divine promises: a decent and righteous husband. A sacred family, and the utter bliss of being a woman built upon God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit… And so, I tell you again as your Priest and your most devoted counselor: keep praying, follow God’s teachings, obey your parents, and above all—keep your soul fixed on salvation. For we alone can save ourselves.”

[...]

Remmick murmured:

"You're so wet for me, it's impossible not to devour you whole."

Moving softly, like a shadow both pursuing and more subtle than its prey, the man parted her legs, settling between her thighs as he bent forward until the tip of his nose touched her most intimate apex. Dulce closed her eyes – not from fear, but to control the electrifying sensation that overwhelmed her at such proximity. He then trailed his nose, lips and chin downward, smearing his face with the blood flowing from her. His hands gripped Dulce's thighs, pinning them to the bed, already anticipating the restless undulations of her virginal body. He waited for no permission to continue; his tongue simply descended to lap the menstrual blood before ascending to her clitoris, where it moved rhythmically, mingling saliva and blood as rough groans of primal pleasure escaped him, feeling her undulate against his tongue.

[...]

(PART I - HOMBRE MAL)

[...]

"Well now... I thought you'd understood my message." He tilted his head sideways, grinning slyly, as the woman stumbled backward toward the altar - Remmick smiled, utterly mesmerized by his prey:

"I only want to give you the best this world has to offer, Doll! No more suffering, no reprimands, no unanswered prayers—I am the one who came to save you, my love!" His voice was so soft and sweet that for a brief moment, she paused, looking at him with a mix of anguish and pity.

Remmick stood face to face with her, fang to fang. His breath carried a metallic sweetness, the pungent scent of morbid death clinging to him, yet his eyes shimmered like fragments of the twilight sky. With hands still stained by others' blood, he cupped her face without hesitation, forcing her gaze to remain locked on his:

"I cannot love you the way a human longs to be loved, not anymore... But I can free you from all your pain and introduce you to carnal pleasures, my dear. I can make you love me in your life, and in your brief death, we shall share each other. Just let me possess you, and we'll become one. Equals, one flesh, one spirit."

[...]

(PART II - PALIDA LUNA)

[...]

(PART III - LA BODA NEGRA)

#[★] zstartrixxx #[⋆♱⋆] zstar fanfics #remmick sinners fanfic #remmick × oc #remmick x oc #remmick fanfic #remmick #jack o'connell fanfic #[𐕣] bibliotheca (files)#[🦇] zstar jack o'connell

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elizaaarts · 6 months ago

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Mono became a grumpy old man after the fight with Six. Ironic, huh?

I hope I’m just overthinking but Mono has totally turned kinda gray since the fight with Six, and his jaw is more sharp and everything. What if he’s slowly turning into the thin man (again) bc of emotional things like what Six is going through. (not really the best explanation) Maybe it’s just the lighting. I might post something like this on my TikTok. Credit to @elizaaarts

#Little Nightmares Dark Fate AU

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penheadie · 2 months ago

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another batch of sketches and doodles of the side characters for the dark fate au except this time in a warrior cats au dark fate au belongs to @elizaaarts daisy and jack belong to her as well

#little nightmares #little nightmares dark fate au #little nightmares au #little nightmares ocs #ln comic

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yandere-paramour · 3 months ago

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So you did a post about asteria and Jamie wedding night and the whole servants preparing Jamie for asteria really stuck with me and I was wondering if you could something similar with atalanta and her darling but make it like 1800s gothic vampire au 😼 where atalantas like a secret vampire and butch lesbian who's an aging suitor and asteria if she's in the au is like GET MARRIED NOW! and low and behold darling is either from a poor family or a family desperate to social climb and is sold off rawr.

So cue darling who's very scared of this random ass person who probably more experienced than her and after darling is getting washed and prepped for atalanta what does atalanta do will she automatically take her blood since darling is her wife and ata has rights or whatever to do so or is she understanding to the feeble young human?

(I'm thinking darlings probably in lingerie as she's presented to ata does ata have thoughts about this.)

I know this is long and you're very busy with uni so I understand the wait 😊

Wedding With A Vampire

There was just so much white.

You hated white. You liked cleanliness well enough, and you liked peace a normal amount, but if you never saw white again it would be too soon.

You weren't a parcel, although you were sold like one. A family with one daughter and no sons in this time was said to be cursed. No sons to take over the family business, no sons to carry on the family name. Only a daughter who would eat your food, spend your money, and might not even marry well enough to recoup your losses.

And that might've been you. If not for your father marrying you off to Atalanta Montclair.

The Montclairs were an old house, very old. They had money out the ass, connections to every royal house on the globe, and such a beautiful appearance that to look upon them was to gaze at perfection itself.

But there was something off about them. You remembered Atalanta when you were young, before she was sent off somewhere to mature somewhere prestigious and far from prying eyes. You were three or four, meaning she must have been seven or eight, and her parents in middle age. Those eyes stopped you. Not the color, they all had dark eyes, but the way they pierced you, made you stop in your tracks, made you want to curl up and simply... wait for whatever fate she would deal you. Nanny said you had nightmares for days after, but you could never explain what you saw that bothered you so much.

The next time you saw her was The Avarice Ball nearly twenty years later. It was a day in condemnation of the sin, a day for piousness and charity. Nobles were supposed to donate and redistribute their wealth, to volunteer with the poor for everyone to come out a little more human afterward. But instead they just partied. The wine never stopped flowing, there were endless sweets and pastries, and only the richest of rich were invited, all while the poor starved outside.

It was positively sickening.

And you were participating in it. Unwillingly, of course.

That was where you saw her next. All the Montclairs, a family that defied the odds, somehow turning the uselessness of a daughter into the pride and joy of a son. Atalanta Montclair was a girl, but her parents had passed their millions down to her, and she had turned that wealth into even more wealth, uninterested in a husband or children. She was the jewel of society, smart, beautiful, with piercing eyes that made you want to kneel before her. Her mother, Lady Asteria, was the former diamond of society. She looked not a day over 35, even though she must be in her 50s at this point. Her father looked the same, although his eyes had less of an effect.

But this meant nothing to you. All you wanted to do was smuggle some macarons back to your personal maids in hopes of having some way to lessen the sin of being here when you inevitably met God. You wanted to get the goods and get out. There was no reason to socialize. You didn't have any friends and your father was planning on passing everything down to a distant nephew anyway. As long as you remained quiet and well-behaved, you could escape notice and hopefully escape being sent to a nunnery.

But you were unlucky.

She must've seen you there, seen you stuffing your face with lemon tarts like a glutton. While you slept peacefully in your bed with a belly full of sugar, Montclair must have been up, penning a letter to your father and gathering a dowry large enough to make a baron faint. Before you even woke up, your future was set, your clothes were packed, and debts were already being repaid.

The only thing you regret is that you weren't able to say goodbye to your mother. She was buried in the family mausoleum behind the garden, but you were hurried out so quickly that the butter hadn't even melted on your breakfast toast. There was no time to say farewell to a corpse, Father said, and you didn't argue.

You were taken straight to the Montclair manor as the wedding was prepared. You expected to undergo bridal lessons, or to at least meet your betrothed properly, but no. Lord Montclair met you, and he was as kind as your future father-in-law could be, but the temperature of his skin during the handshake made you flinch, and you felt that was a terrible faux pas. Did the man have sluggish blood or something?

The only instructions you were given were to eat your fill and rest. The week was long, but restful. This wedding shit was all moving faster than you were comfortable with. You could tell the staff was frantically getting everything together, but all you were told to do was pick out your dress, some lacy white thing that showed off your neck and wrists, and you weren't privy to the rest. Every time you tried to help with the work or even ask about the plans, the staff just waved you away and brought you another cake. You gained five pounds before Friday.

It would've been okay if you could have at least met Atalanta, but the woman was a recluse. She spent hours in her office, but whenever you tried to catch a glimpse of her, she wouldn't be there. You ate meals alone, and spent most of your time in your room. It was a lonely week, and you hoped that the rest of your life as Duchess (a terrifying title) would not be the same. If you were meant to spend your whole life in such frozen temperatures, maybe a convent would have been kinder.

But at least the wedding was soon. Saturday morning you were strapped into your dress and delivered to the alter. It was a private affair, although much more private than you expected. You expected your father to abandon you the second he received your dowry, but you never expected Montclair to send a proxy to her own wedding. Lord Montclair was there, apologizing for his daughter's absence at her own damn wedding. There was some sort of problem with the vassals, he said, an emergency. Atalanta would be back later to properly attend to the wedding night.

Like you gave a shit. As far as you knew, you'd go your entire life without seeing your wife and be just fine with it.

After a bath that bordered on obsessive (honestly the maids were way too concerned with the cleanliness of your ass crack), you were delivered to Montclair's chambers in a white nightgown and told under no uncertain circumstances that you were to lie back, relax, and comply with whatever Montclair asked of you.

You only waited ten minutes before she came in, fresh from her own bath. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at you as she brushed her own dark hair. You fidgeted, acutely aware of your own lack of undergarments.

"You're as lovely as I remember."

"Huh?" The first words you ever said to your new wife and it was something stupid. Typical.

"I said you are as lovely as I remember. Your dress at the Avarice Ball was beautiful. It complimented your figure well."

"Oh, uh... thanks?"

"I apologize that I was unable to see you this week. I was very busy with the combination of my duties and preparations for our wedding. I'm very sorry about everything, especially not being present at our wedding. I never intended for you to do all of this alone. I promise it won't happen again."

All your frustration and anger at her evaporated in an instant as her apologetic eyes compelled you to forgive her, "It-It's okay. I forgive you."

"Thank you, my lady. You are so kind."

Atalanta finishes with her hair and gives you her full attention. Her eyes roam over your body, concentrating primarily on your ankles, wrists, and neck. Uncomfortable, you cross your legs, praying to God that she can't smell your dripping arousal.

"Do you know what happens on wedding nights?"

The thought of the erotic novels you sent your maid out to buy flashed in your mind. Many lustful scenes from "I Slept With the Emperor" and "My Knight's Real Sword" ran behind your eyes, and you blushed.

"I-I know that I will be expected to lay with you as my... wife and we will become one."

"Correct," She gave you what was supposed to be a reassuring pat on your bare ankle and you flinched from the chill of her hand, "And do you know what you will become tonight?"

"... A Montclair?"

Atalanta gave a strange, indulgent little smile, "That's right, Darling. A Montclair. After tonight, you'll be one of us."

"Yes..."

You watched as she abruptly stood up, crossing over to the bedside table to pull out some... silk? Baffled, you couldn't help but remember the maid's warnings from earlier: lie back, relax, and comply.

"Lie back," Atalanta's gentle command, along with a hand on your shoulder, pushed you to lie on your back in bed, and Atalanta's cold hands gently gathered your wrists and began... tying them to the bedposts?

"What are you-"

"Hush Darling. Stay calm."

Atalanta's light scolding shut you up immediately, and you let her secure your wrists with lengths of red silk to each bedpost. There was clear fear and confusion in your eyes, but every time you felt yourself about to say something, her eyes met yours, and all your resistance died away. You let out a small whimper as she parted your legs to tie them as well, but that was the extent of your protests. Within five minutes, you were spread eagle on the pure white sheets, your wrists and ankles tied soundly to each bedpost with red silk.

This was... not a sexual position often used, even in your erotica, but Montclair had the power here. If this was her fetish, as her wife, you were to stay calm and accept it. You were supposed to be partners; whatever kinks she had, you would endure them together.

Montclair gently stroked your face, looking at you adoringly. You would have flinched at her cold hands, but you expected them this time. Her finger dragged down your jaw onto the side of your neck, choosing a particular spot to lean down to kiss, a chaste peck that make you emit a little squeak.

"Are you ready, my Darling?" Atalanta asked, gently massaging the spot on your neck.

"W-Will it hurt?" As strong as her eyes were, you couldn't help but whimper this one desperate question.

"I will try to be gentle," Atalanta's hand slid under your nightgown up your bare thigh, moving closer and closer to your core, "And in a few days, everything will be different. You will be different."

"I-I will?"

"Yes, love. As soon as it's over, I will bathe and redress you myself, and in three days everything will be different. You will be a Montclair. You will be one of us."

"Three days?"

"Only three. Now hush, love. No more questions. It's time."

Atalanta's thumb gently begins to circle your clit and you writhe, straining against your binds. You've touched yourself before but the added elements of the sexually charged nature of your wedding night and the coldness of Montclair's hands add so much to the situation. A drip turns into a stream turns into a faucet, and tears flow down your face as Atalanta stimulates you with no relent.

"This will help with the pain, Darling. Just focus on the feeling and it will help," Atalanta coos to you, obviously enjoying the sight of you struggling beneath her.

As you grow close to the edge, you feel Atalanta's free hand turn your head to the side, holding it in place as her other hand pumps in and out of you.

"Almost there, sweet one. I'll know when you're ready, trust me."

You buck against Montclair's hand, seeking more friction as you border on the edge of the precipice. Atalanta leans down, kissing from your cheek to your jaw to your neck, centering around that special spot.

"It's time, baby. Come for me. I love you already. I'll see you soon."

As Atalanta's words begin to enter your overstimulated brain, your orgasm crashes upon you and you convulse in pleasure. Right then, Atalanta leans down, presses one last apologetic kiss, and bites.

#Atalanta my oc #yandere blog #yandere imagine #yandere headcanons #yandere darling #soft yandere #yandere oc #yandere fluff #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere lesbian #yandere woman #yandere wlw

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