#and yet the creature hungers for more.....

[mononijikayu]

crush me in your arms (give me a lovelier kiss, lover) — nanami kento.

"Look at this thing." you murmured, running your hand along the edge of a nearby shelf, trying to feel it to understand it. "It’s like a scene out of some surreal dream." Kento’s gaze lingered on the mannequin. “Feels more like a ghost town out here. But that’s to be expected.” he said, voice low. He stepped further into the shop, his boots crunching softly against scattered debris. "Everyone left. And now everything is left behind, just... waiting."

GENRE: alternate universe - apocalyptic world;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance, strangers to lovers, falling in love, post-apocalyptic romance, bittersweet, found family, mutual pining, domestic, feelings, moments in the between, slow burn, humor, fighting, survival, emotional, loss, trauma, sci-fi fiction and fantasy, disabilities, blindness, deafness, ambiguous ending, depiction of disabilities, depiction of post-apocalyptic world, depiction of fighting, depiction of trauma, depiction of survival, mention of pre-apocalyptic world, mention of disabilities, mention of trauma, deaf! nanami kento, blind! reader;

WORD COUNT: 14k words

NOTE: so far, i think this is my favorite. this is based on iu's love wins all mv. i've used the title before, but i don't think i've made use of the lyrics. so here is another love letter to the masterful artistry of iu, as well as kim taehyung, who played her counterpart in the mv. i hope you enjoy this one as much as i enjoyed writing it. the ending is up to you. in any case, i hope to see you on the sukuna one on valentines day!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip!

buono san valentino, 2025;

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THINGS HAD ALREADY CHANGED IN THE FUTURE. The world that once was had already disappeared and gone. That was to be certain. All that had been left behind in this accursed world was the wasteland it had become, barren of life and bastardized by darkness had consumed it all to nothingness.

There remained in this world, the crawling shadows and terror–ridden screams, living in this nightmare where daylight was nothing more than a sham. Daylight no longer offered no sanctuary. And the night? All it could have held was unimaginable horrors no one can imagine.

Curses — those grotesque abominations birthed from humanity’s deepest fears and hatred  had now started to roam freely in abandon, their misshapen bodies defying the logic of what could be known, writhing with malevolent energy.

They had long been born from the fears and the hatred and the grief of the humans it had long ago consumed. They were creatures of chaos, all gnashing teeth, clawed limbs, and endless hunger. And they had not stopped since. And you don’t think they will ever stop, not until the last of humanity becomes consumed by them.

Cities and towns, nations even, that had once bustled with the tenderness and light of life had all but crumbled under their relentless assault. All that remained of the once magnificent skyscrapers were broken skeletal ruins, streets littered with ash and shattered glass. Smoke clung to the air, thick and acrid, choking out the remnants of civilization. Nothing was meant to live anymore. 

Silence was a rarity, that was to be certain. 

And yet, it was always punctuated by distant screams or the low, guttural growls of curses hunting for their next meal.

On and on, the cycle does repeat.

Hope had long since withered away for you. And there remained that fragile ember snuffed out by despair and bitter loneliness you were forced to endure. Those who had once clung to dreams of salvation were now either dead or broken, wandering the ruins as hollow shells. And if they were still alive, and unbroken — then they hid from the world, hiding in the far flung of the unfathomable earth to disappear.

You have been alone ever since you were born. There was no one to consider family, there was no one who could understand you, there was no one to give you a name. All that had been left behind was the burden of survival on a babe crying alone, unable to see anything but the darkness.

As you grew up, you could only surmise that your family has long been gone, consumed by the darkness of the world. You could only surmise that you were the lone survivor of what had been life as you know it.. One of the remaining human surface colonies, where your family had once resided, were wiped out. And there was nothing left of it. Nothing, but you.

If there was a god, there was quite an irony with the way he does things.

A blind with nothing has been the luckiest to survive this apocalypse.

And you had kept surviving year after year, running and running, frightful in the dark.

But you had to admit that the fear of it all had all but paralyzed you more and more as time went on. They have mutated, become more frightening and powerful after all this time. You could feel it. You could feel them become worse, you could feel them make everything worse of everything.

Every bit of this nightmare unravels over and over again into a more hideous monster you couldn’t comprehend. It continues to grow hungrier, that monster. And that monster continues to grow hungry, while you cower and run and survive for a little bit longer.

Yet this was all you knew since then. 

There was no other life for you to have.

As long as you were alive, that’s all you had.

You have to live, no matter what happens.

So, you ran again despite the fear gripping you in its merciless claws, clawing at your chest and strangling your breath. You ran as fast as you could, even if darkness was all there was ahead. You let your ears, your hands and your feet see for you. 

You ran, as though it wasn’t just the fear of death you feel every single day, but the terror of the unknown, of a world turned inside out. Your hands trembled uncontrollably, sweat slicking your palms as your thoughts shattered like fragile glass underfoot. You couldn't think. Couldn't plan. Survival was a foreign concept, buried beneath the weight of your panic.

So you did the only thing you could — you ran.

Again and again, you let your feet burn until they bled.

Again and again until the world you knew was far behind.

Your legs burned as you stumbled through desolate streets, weaving through abandoned cars and piles of rubble. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and every step echoed with the threat of something lurking just out of sight. Your heart pounded like a war drum, each beat a desperate reminder that you were still alive.

But the curses were everywhere.

Their twisted forms slithered and crawled through the shadows, grotesque silhouettes against the broken landscape. Eyes gleamed with predatory hunger, locking onto any flicker of movement. Their growls reverberated through the ruins, low and menacing, promising a fate far worse than death. You could hear them closing in — the scrape of claws against concrete, the sickening sound of flesh shifting unnaturally.

Then they found you.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

Time seemed to stretch, each second an agonizing eternity. Your body betrayed you, paralyzed by terror as the curses crept closer. Their misshapen forms shimmered with dark energy, mouths opening wide to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

A scream built in your chest but never made it past your lips.

This was it. The end.

And there was nothing you could do.

Tears started to flood your ghostly eyes, bitterly. 

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to lose your life like this. 

You could hear them. You could hear their guttural snarls echoed in your ears as they closed in. The world blurred around you, your body numb with terror. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t fight. All you could do was brace for the inevitable.

And then — he came.

A flash of steel. The curses shrieked, their forms cleaved apart by a single decisive strike. Silence fell, heavy and thick, broken only by your ragged breathing. He stood there amidst the carnage he had ended, a calm figure in his tattered clothes, blood splattered across his person. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was steady, grounding.

He turned to you, caramel eyes sharp but not unkind. But you couldn’t have known that. You couldn’t have known how warmly he had looked upon you. Perhaps that is why you were still ever so afraid as you cowered in your corner. 

Tears continued to flow, breaths echoed incoherently. You were shaking uncontrollably, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Without a word, he was at your side, one firm hand pressing against your shoulder to hold you steady.

“Breathe.” he instructed, his voice low and measured. “You’re safe now.”

The weight of those words shattered something inside you. 

The fear, the loneliness, the sheer helplessness, they were recognized.

All that relief suddenly turned into the outpouring heaving of endless sobs.

“It’s okay.” he murmured, his tone unwavering. “Let it out. You’re going to be alright.”

Those were the first words from another human you had heard in a long time. They had been so warm and so tender, so full of kindness. And yet for the longest time, they were words you’ve waited to hear.

They were words of reassurance.

And the truth of it is, you believed him. 

You didn’t know why. You didn’t know what he looked like. And yet, you believed him. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to take him as your safe zone, even just for a little while. You clung to him like a lifeline, your tears soaking into his suit. He didn’t pull away, didn’t tell you to stop. He simply held you, anchoring you to reality as the storm within you raged.

That's how you met Kento Nanami. On that warm moonless night, in the fifth year of the tragedy, there was you and there was him. And in a world consumed by darkness, he became your light. And somehow, in that single, fleeting moment, you dared to hope again.

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HE UNDERSTOOD WHY YOU HAD TAKEN A DISTANCE FROM HIM AFTER THAT NIGHT. It had been so long since anyone had found another human being by their side, with all of humanity disappearing. With who remained, it was hard not to know what to do, even if they saved your life. You had your reasons, and he didn’t ask about them. 

It took time. Days, then weeks — for your nerves to settle enough to even sit near Kento without tension stiffening your body. Trust wasn’t a luxury you afforded anyone easily anymore, not in a world where survival hinged on suspicion and instinct. 

Especially knowing your limitations, and the mutation of curses, who knows if they could pretend to be humans. But Kento never found himself forcing a conversation. Nor did he try to go beyond actions that were necessary. If anything, he let you take your time.

At first, silence hung between you like an invisible barrier. He respected it, though, treating it like something fragile rather than uncomfortable. He had a way of being present without demanding attention, moving through the world with a quiet certainty that felt rare in this shattered existence.

Kento understood what fear did to a person. Especially living like that for so long, moreso your entire life under these circumstances, it was hard. He could only imagine how it hollowed you out.

It had left you raw and mistrusting, jumping at shadows long after the danger had passed. You didn’t need to explain that; he had seen it all before. And he has no doubts he would see it for even longer, even by your side.

What surprised you was how well he understood loneliness, too.

He’d never said much about his own past, but it was there in the way he spoke sparingly, in the subtle weight behind his words. The way his tired eyes scanned the world, searching for something he probably hadn’t found yet. He had walked through the same cold, unrelenting darkness as you, trying to carve out a place for himself amidst the ruin.

At night, when the weight of it all became too much — when memories of terror clawed their way back into your mind, he was there. Close but never overbearing, his steady presence grounding you. Sometimes you sat in silence under the fractured sky, neither of you speaking, just breathing.

Kento never offered hollow reassurances or told you to forget the past. What he gave was something more profound to even have, now more so than ever before. The permission to be broken without shame, to be yourself in a world where it was impossible to be. And maybe that was what you needed most.

Gradually, something shifted. You found yourself lingering near him longer, the once-awkward silence now comfortable. Perhaps the thought of someone being there at all comforted you, or perhaps the need to feel safe from the curses perhaps lurking by. You didn’t know which of them was in your heart, in truth. You couldn’t explain it. But he didn’t mind that either.

In that time you both were together, he taught you small, practical things. You sat there, just listening to him go on for hours, quiet enough to ward off curses and yet audible enough for you to hear.

He spoke about how to recognize cursed energy trails, where to find safe shelter, and even how to wield a weapon with steadier hands. He taught you about where to find supplies and how to sleep safely without being caught by curses. 

But it wasn’t just about survival, no. It was the moments in between that. When he talks, you could tell that there was a rare glimmer of warmth in his otherwise solemn gaze. You don't know how you could tell, but there was a feeling of it that had made your tummy feel butterflies.

Somehow, with the way he sits beside you, there was less tension in his body to contend with. When he laughs, the sound feels like the beautiful tunes of hummingbirds. You could feel all the tenderness that he had been hoping to express for a long time each and every time.

Those flickers of humanity reminded you that there was still something worth fighting for. This human joy that had been long robbed and long forgotten, with no one to remember it, was now being remembered and lived by the two of you, perhaps who are the last people on earth. The last two people on earth enjoying the last vestige of humanity in each other.

He had been alone just like you, he has said. He has for the longest of time been a wanderer in a ruined world. And he, like you, only lived for survival over and over again. But now, maybe neither of you have to be alone anymore.

As you sat there, you couldn’t help that maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep moving forward, living for more than survival. Perhaps you two could live for each other. 

The ruined city stretched beneath a fractured sky, hues of ash and shadow blending into a wasteland of muted shapes. Jagged remnants of buildings clawed at the heavens, skeletal reminders of what once was. The air was thick with the smell of soot and decay, heavy enough to press against your lungs.

You and Kento sat side by side on a crumbling ledge, the world eerily quiet except for the distant groan of shifting debris. He worked silently, sharpening his blade with deliberate strokes. The rhythmic scrap of metal on stone was one of the few sounds that remained constant in your chaotic existence.

Your fingers absently traced patterns in the dust-covered concrete, grounding yourself in touch as you always did. Though the world had faded into darkness for you long ago, you had learned to navigate its bones through sensation — the brush of wind against ruined walls, the subtle tremors of approaching footsteps, the feel of textures under your fingertips.

But tonight, Kento’s voice broke through the fragile quiet.

“You walk too carefully for someone who can see.”

The statement hung in the air, sharp and pointed.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. "What?"

He set down the blade, turning to you with that same calm, analytical gaze he always carried. “I’ve noticed. You feel your way through the world more than most. Like you're mapping it with your hands and feet.”

There was no accusation in his tone, just observation. But it made you uneasy, like being seen too clearly. You purse your lips into a soft line, blush appearing in the apex of your cheeks. Had he not noticed yet? 

"I'm blind." you admitted softly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "I’ve been this way since it all started."

Kento was silent for a moment, processing the revelation with his usual stoic demeanor. “I see.”

No pity. No awkward questions. Just quiet acceptance.

“I apologize.”

“O–oh, no no. It’s nothing. You didn’t know.”

“And now I know.” He says to you, sighing. “No excuse now, no?”

You hummed to him. But then you tilted your head toward him. “And you?” you asked, hesitant but curious. “Why do you flinch when I speak from behind you? Or why do you never react when the curses roar?”

There was a faint shift in his expression — something almost like wry amusement.

"I can’t hear."

Your brow furrowed. "At all?"

He shook his head. "Haven’t been able to since year 25. It was a curse’s parting gift."

“Then….Then how do you hear what I say?”

“I read your lips.” He admits to you. “It’s the only way I’ll know what you’re saying.”

“And….and you get it right each time?”

“Have I ever been wrong in replying when we talk?”

“N–No…..I don’t think so.”

The revelation hung between you, strange and fragile. Blind and deaf. A pair of misfits stumbling through the ruins of a broken world. You couldn’t help but exhale a hearty laugh, shaky but genuine. His face contorts into confusion. 

“Why are you laughing?”

"So let me get this straight: I can't see, you can't hear, and we’re supposed to survive like this?"

"We’ve managed so far, I guess," he said dryly, a sly smile finally wide on his face. "Though I doubt we’ll win any awards for it whatsoever."

Despite the grimness of it all, a smile tugged at your lips. "Guess we balance each other out, huh?"

"Perhaps we do, don’t we?" He stood, brushing dust from his trousers, then extended a hand to you. "Come on. We need to move before nightfall. If we live, we can continue to balance each other out."

You snickered at his words, but when you found his hand, you took it tenderly and without hesitation, his grip firm and steady as always. Slowly but surely, you both navigated the uneven terrain you had rested in. Kento carefully guided you with quiet efficiency, looking back and forth to see if everything was clear.

“You’re sure this path is safe?” you teased, stepping carefully over the uneven rocks as Kento’s hand held yours firmly, guiding you through the trail.

“It’s perfectly safe if you actually listen to my instructions.” he said with a faint smile, his thumb brushing reassuringly against the back of your hand.

“So bossy, aren’t you?” you quipped, earning a soft chuckle from him.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the crisp air brushing against your skin. Curiosity tugged at you as you remembered something he mentioned the other day. “Hey... was what you said yesterday true?”

“About what?” he hummed back, his voice warm and steady.

“You really see in monochrome?”

He was quiet for a beat, the sound of distant birdsong filling the air. “Yes. I do.”

“What’s it like?” you asked, unable to hide your wonder.

“Well, mostly quiet. Static, really.” he said thoughtfully. “It gets hard when it's nighttime. But manageable.”

You mulled over his words, stepping carefully over another jagged stone. His grip on your hand tightened instinctively, steadying you. He softly tells you to be more careful, but you were too into your thoughts that you did not hear him. You gasp, a question entering your head.

“What do I look like to you, then?” you blurted out suddenly, the question hanging in the cool air between you.

Kento’s steps slowed as he considered your question, his lips parting but no words immediately following. He doesn’t think he could answer and he didn’t answer you — not verbally, at least. Instead, his mind wandered before he could stop it.

In the muted, broken world he knew, you were the only vibrant thing he saw somehow. Not in color, but in essence. The way you moved, spoke, and laughed felt like the warmth of sunlight breaking through endless shades of grey that he sees. Beautiful. That’s what you were to him. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop thinking that.

But the weight of his unspoken thoughts lingered too long, and you tilted your head curiously, prompting him back to reality. “Kento?”

He cleared his throat, the sudden self-awareness making him stiffen slightly. “You look... fine, I suppose.” he managed, his tone steady despite the warmth creeping into his chest.

“Fine?” you repeated, raising an incredulous brow, clearly unimpressed with his vague response.

“Yes.” he said firmly, though his lips quivered ever so slightly. “Perfectly fine.”

You couldn’t help but roll your ghostly eyes, but the fondness in your expression made his heart lurch all the same.  You nodded, accepting his words back to you. You squeezed his hand. 

“Well, I suppose I can’t complain. You can’t have it all.”

Kento’s lips twitched, torn between amusement and guilt as he glanced at you. “No, I suppose not.”

“You’re surprisingly bad at compliments for someone so polished, hm?” you teased in response, your steps more confident now as the rocky path evened out beneath your feet.

“Perhaps so.” he admitted without defense. “But honesty is better than empty flattery, wouldn't you agree?”

“Oh? So I’m just fine, huh?” you shot back playfully. “Not even slightly charming or, I don’t know... radiant?”

He exhaled softly, shaking his head as if your wit were both a challenge and a comfort. “If I said anything beyond the word fine, I doubt you’d never let me hear the end of it.” he countered, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“You might be right about that, I suppose.” you conceded, grinning.

As you walked in companionable silence again, Kento's mind drifted back to what he couldn’t say aloud, the way your presence cut through the static greyness of his world, bringing warmth and vibrancy he hadn’t realized he was missing. There was beauty in that, he thought. More than he had words for.

“You’re quiet again.” you observed, squeezing his hand again.

“Thinking about something.” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Care to share?”

“Not yet, not right now,” he admitted. “But... maybe someday.”

You arched a brow back at him but you think about letting it slide for now, sensing that he was still carrying unspoken truths. And that was okay — you were patient, willing to wait for when he was ready. Just as he was, when waiting for you to be comfortable with him too. 

 "Then I guess we’ll just have to keep figuring this mess out together." You tell him softly. “That’s the only way I’ll get to know that from you.”

His voice was steady, as resolute as ever. "We will."

“Do you promise?”

He grips your hand back in a squeeze. “I promise.”

And for the first time since the world had fallen apart, the weight on your shoulders felt just a little lighter. Because you weren't alone anymore. And somehow, in this ruined world, that was enough. It was enough to have a reason to survive. No, no. To live.

The road ahead was treacherous, littered with debris and fragments of a world long forgotten. Cracks in the pavement swallowed chunks of asphalt, and twisted metal glinted faintly under the dim light filtering through thick, oppressive clouds. The air smelled of rust, dust, and faint traces of rot.

Kento walked with practiced precision, his movements deliberate as he guided you forward. His hand brushed yours occasionally, subtle but reassuring, letting you know he was there without needing words.

"Step up a bit." he instructed calmly.

You lifted your foot over a jagged piece of concrete without faltering, trusting his guidance. Despite his inability to hear and your inability to see, the two of you moved as one, to  a seamless rhythm forged by necessity and understanding, by things that couldn’t be expressed. As you walked, the tension in the air shifted, heavy with an ominous weight. You felt it first, the faint vibration underfoot, subtle but unmistakable.

"Kento, I can feel it." you murmured, your voice low. "Something's coming."

He didn’t need to hear the warning. His body tensed, instincts sharp as he scanned the horizon with those monochrome eyes. His hand brushed your arm, a silent signal to stop. The ground trembled again, stronger this time. The distinct guttural growl of a curse echoed faintly through the ruins, reverberating through your chest.

You clenched your fists, heart racing. "How close is it?"

"Close enough," he said grimly.

He drew his blade, the soft whisper of steel cutting through the thick air. You reached for the makeshift weapon strapped to your side. It was not elegant or beautiful, but it had kept you alive this long.You trusted it enough. You moved forward, trying to ready yourself with the weapon in your shaky hands. But you felt Kento’s warm hands move you, and you grunt as he pushed you behind him.

"Stay behind me." Kento instructed, his voice steady despite the looming threat.

You didn’t argue.

You knew you couldn’t defeat this one.

It was too massive, it was too….monstrous.

The massive curse emerged from the shadows, its twisted form shimmering with dark energy. You could feel your heartbeat as you felt it move forward to your direction. Kento could see its eyes gleamed with malevolence, teeth bared in a grotesque snarl. Even without sight, you felt its presence — a suffocating, oppressive weight that made the air thick and cold.

Kento moved first, swift and precise. His blade sliced through the air, each strike calculated. The curse shrieked, its movements erratic as it lunged toward him. You felt the shift in the air, the curse’s presence moving closer. Instinct took over. Gripping your weapon tightly, you swung toward the sound, the impact reverberating up your arm as your blade connected with flesh. The curse howled in pain, but it wasn’t enough to feel it.

"Kento!" you called, your voice raw with urgency.

He didn’t need to hear your voice to understand. His blade flashed again, cutting through the curse with brutal efficiency. It let out one final, agonized wail before dissolving into ash, the remnants scattering on the wind.

Silence returned, heavy and thick. Your breathing was ragged, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Kento lowered his blade, his posture relaxing slightly.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice steady despite the chaos that had just unfolded.

"Yeah," you managed between breaths. "Thanks to you."

He nodded, wiping the blade clean before sheathing it. "You did well."

A faint smile tugged at your lips. "Not bad for a blind person, huh?"

"Not bad at all." he agreed, a rare flicker of warmth in his tone.

“Then it’s not bad for a deaf person too.” You grinned back at him.

Kento blinks and then he bursts out laughing as he takes your hand. “I suppose not at all.”

As the two of you resumed your journey, the weight of the encounter lingering in the air, a strange sense of reassurance settled over you. In this broken world, you had each other. And somehow, that had made living possible once again.

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THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU HAD FOUND YOURSELF IN SUCH A PLACE. But you could only assume that this was one of the last intact and well preserved types of places that had been left behind by the curses and humans.

The silence between you and Kento stretched as you both took in the sight of the old store. Time seemed to slow, the world outside fading into the background as the forgotten relics of a once-vibrant era captured your attention.

The quietness of the store swallowed Kento’s words, leaving only the soft scrape of his boots against the dusty floor as he stepped closer to the mannequin. You could sense the tension in his voice, a touch of reverence mixed with a hint of unease as he looked at it, that strange relic from a life you couldn’t fully grasp.

“What does it look like, Kento?” you asked again, your voice softer this time, a gentle plea for him to bridge the distance between you and the unseen world. 

Your ghostly eyes scanned the space where the mannequin stood, but it was like trying to interpret a memory that wasn’t yours. You reached out, fingers trailing through the air in search of something familiar. 

“The texture sure is...interestingly odd.”

Kento's voice lowered, as if speaking too loudly might disturb the fragile silence of the store. “They were mannequins, at least from what I read.” 

He paused, his hand hovering near the base of the mannequin’s stand, where it met the ground. “They were once used to display clothes, so people could see them before they bought them.”

The quiet of the store wrapped around the two of you like an old blanket, a forgotten relic in itself. You couldn’t see the mannequin, but you could feel the odd coldness that it exuded — like an echo of something that no longer made sense in this world. It was as if you were touching a piece of history, something frozen in time, forever stuck in its own reflection.

“People used to come in and look at things like this?” You asked, still moving your hands slowly through the air, trying to sense what Kento was seeing. "Just... for something to look at?"

Kento’s voice was gentle but thoughtful as he responded. “Yeah. It was how they showed off clothes. You'd walk into a store, see the mannequin dressed in the latest fashion, and decide if you liked it enough to buy it. It was a way of displaying things so people could imagine themselves wearing them.”

A quiet laugh slipped from your lips, though it was tinged with sadness. “It sounds... so trivial now. People worry about what clothes they wore, what things they bought. And here we are, just trying to survive.”

Kento was silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on the mannequin’s frozen hand, still in that unnerving wave. “It’s not trivial, though." he said, his voice quieter now, the words more reflective. "It was part of what made life feel... whole. People had their worries, yes. But they had the luxury of not just surviving, but living.”

Your hand brushed the mannequin's arm gently, your fingers brushing against the smooth plastic. It felt so strange, so cold, a stark contrast to the warm memories that Kento had shared.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it. A world like that... where people could take time to care about things like clothes.”

Kento’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his monochrome vision scanning your face with quiet understanding. “You’ll get there. We will. It may take time, but we’ll find what we need to keep going. Even in this mess, there’s still something worth holding onto.”

The words hung in the air between you both, quiet and almost sacred. The mannequin, still and lifeless, seemed to listen in on your conversation, a quiet observer of the world that used to be. For a brief moment, you wished you could see what it had looked like — the vibrant clothes, the bustling streets, the ordinary lives of people simply trying to get by.

But you couldn’t. All you had were the fragments of stories, the faint remnants of a world that had once been full of noise and color.

“What do you think happened to all of them?” you asked, feeling the weight of the question more than you had expected. “The people who used to buy clothes, and visit places like this?”

Kento’s voice was soft when he replied, like he was speaking to both you and the mannequin, as though the answer was still lost in time. “They became a part of the world we’re in now. Curses, souls... maybe they’re still somewhere, waiting for the world to wake up again.”

You shivered at the thought, your fingers tightening slightly around the mannequin's arm as you felt the weight of the loss that had already come before in the fifty years this has been going on,  the irreplaceable loss of those lives, those small, quiet moments of normalcy.

Kento stood beside you, his eyes also fixed on the mannequin. His usually calm expression was softened with a touch of thoughtfulness. “It’s like the whole store is frozen, though.” he mused, voice barely above a whisper. “Like it was abandoned in an instant, never to be touched again.”

"Look at this thing." you murmured, running your hand along the edge of a nearby shelf, trying to feel it to understand it. "It’s like a scene out of some surreal dream."

Kento’s gaze lingered on the mannequin. “Feels more like a ghost town out here. But that’s to be expected.” he said, voice low. He stepped further into the shop, his boots crunching softly against scattered debris. "Everyone left. And now everything is left behind, just... waiting."

You followed, careful to avoid the broken shards of glass near the doorway. The air was thick with dust and carried the faint scent of mildew, but the place was remarkably preserved compared to the crumbling ruins outside. Your fingers brushed against a rack of clothes, light summer dresses with swirling patterns, faded but still beautiful in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

"What do you think this clothing store was for?" you asked, tilting your head as you tried to imagine it full of life. "What sort of clothes were they selling? What I touched earlier felt like feathers. That just seems so….. flashy."

Kento examined a rusting tin sign on a shelf. It read: “Summer Sale: 50% Off All Dresses!” in bold, cheerful letters. He raised a brow.

“Probably some kind of boutique.” he said. “Or a place people came for things they didn’t really need.”

You laughed softly, the sound strange in the stillness. "Things they didn’t need? Like this?" You pointed toward a shelf stacked with peculiar trinkets, a miniature statue of a cat wearing sunglasses, an old snow globe with a tiny city inside, and a mug shaped like a pineapple.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk. “Exactly like that.”

You picked up the snow globe, shaking it gently. The tiny flakes swirled around the miniature city, glittering faintly in the dim light. “I don’t get it. Why would anyone want this?”

Kento shrugged, his gaze shifting to a jukebox in the corner. The once-shiny machine was tarnished and dusty, but it still stood tall and proud, a monument to a world neither of you had ever truly known.

“Maybe it made them happy, you know?” he said after a moment. “Even if just for a little while.”

You set the snow globe back down, your fingers lingering on its smooth surface. “Happiness seemed so… extravagant. Doesn’t it?”

Kento didn’t respond immediately. He was staring at the jukebox now, his hand brushing against the side as though testing if it still worked. "Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t." he said finally. "But maybe that’s what made it worth it."

The two of you continued to go and wander deeper into the store, pausing by a rack of clunky shoes with impossibly high heels and neon colors that almost hurt anyone’s eyes when they looked at it. You frown as you feel the unfamiliar texture with your fingers. Your frown gets deeper at the edges, touching the heel.

“People wore these?” you asked, incredulous.

Kento raised a brow, a faint glimmer of amusement in his usually solemn expression. “Apparently. Must’ve been hell on their feet.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as your ghostly eyes stared at the mannequin’s polka-dotted dress, delicate fingers touching the brightly colored fabric feeling so out of place in the world you now knew. 

“I can’t even imagine a life like that. People worry about clothes, shoes, decorations. It’s so... ridiculous.”

Kento gave a quiet, almost wistful nod, his gaze lingering on the dress for a moment before looking back to you. “It was a different world, you know?” he said softly. “One where they had the luxury to worry about those things. We don’t get that anymore.”

You sighed, the weight of his words hanging in the air, then letting your hands touch the dresses once again. “Should I try some of the clothes?” you asked with a light laugh, the suggestion playful but tinged with a quiet seriousness, as if it was some small rebellion against the ruins of the world you both lived in.

Kento raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement passing through his eyes. “Try the clothes on?” he repeated, almost as if the concept itself was absurd now. “You mean, like how they used to do? Just... because?”

“Yeah, I think I’d like to do that.” you said with a small shrug, smiling despite the heaviness in the air. “Maybe we could pretend, for a moment, that it’s normal. That the world isn’t falling apart.”

Kento looked at you for a long moment, then slowly, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He shook his head, but there was no judgment in his expression. “You really want to try?”

“Why not?” you responded, your voice lighter. “It wouldn’t make anyone think we stole them. No one’s here to say no! Well….unless you will?”

Kento’s lips twitched in amusement. “No, I won’t.”

“Good to hear. I like that answer!” you grinned triumphantly, releasing his hand to wander toward the racks of forgotten garments. Dust clung to faded fabric, but as you ran your fingers over them, you imagined what they might have looked like once, bright and bold in a world not broken by ruin.

Kento stood nearby, arms crossed, watching you with quiet curiosity. He always observed more than he spoke, and right now, he looked as though he was trying to understand what made this moment so important to you.

“So?” you called back to him. “Should I go dramatic or practical? What would you prefer? Bright and loud or mystique and rogue?”

He huffed softly, shaking his head. “Why not both?”

You laughed, the sound light and rare, and pulled a gown off the rack. It was a flowing deep indigo piece that still held some of its former elegance despite the faded stitching. Turning toward Kento, you held it up against yourself.

“I can’t see it. What do you think?”

“I think it’s missing a sword belt if you’re going for practical, to be sure.” he said dryly, though there was warmth behind his words.

“Oh, so now you do have opinions about fashion, huh?” you teased.

“Only when it involves combat readiness.” he deadpanned.

As you drifted away from Kento, his steady voice followed you. “Don’t wander too far, okay?” he called, firm but gentle, like he always was when concern threaded through his otherwise calm demeanor.

“Yeah, yeah.” you retorted absently, waving a dismissive hand without looking back. “I’m not a child, Kento.”

His faint sigh echoed faintly behind you, but he didn’t press further.

Your fingers danced idly across rows of neglected garments, the fabrics coarse from time and abandonment. Most were stiff, lifeless. They felt like mere remnants of a world long gone. Yet you kept searching, guided by curiosity and a quiet defiance against the bleakness around you.

Then your hand paused.

This one was different. The fabric beneath your fingertips was unexpectedly soft, worn into something tender by time rather than ruined by it. You pulled the garment from the rack, the material clinging slightly as if reluctant to leave its forgotten home. It was a simple dress, muted in color but elegant in its simplicity. The fabric had a subtle sheen, catching the dim light filtering through shattered windows.

You rubbed it between your fingers, testing its texture, half-expecting it to crumble under your touch. But it held firm, surprisingly resilient despite its delicate appearance.

“Huh…..” you murmured to yourself, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t think I’d find anything like this.”

Behind you, Kento remained watchful, his quiet presence grounding even as you wandered. You lifted the dress higher, studying it with a critical eye. It wasn’t perfect — far from it. But something about it spoke to you, as though it carried a whisper of a world where softness and beauty still had a place.

“What did you find?” Kento’s voice broke through your reverie, closer now as he approached.

“Something interesting.” you mused, holding it up for him to see. “Think it’s my style?”

His gaze flickered over the dress, thoughtful as always. “If you like it, that’s all that matters.”

“Diplomatic as ever, aren’t you?” you teased, though warmth curled in your chest at his simple acceptance.

“Do you?” he asked quietly.

You looked back at the dress, fingers still tracing its gentle lines. “Yeah, yeah.” you admitted softly. “I think I do.”

There was something defiant in choosing beauty, however small, in a world that had tried to strip it away. And right now, that felt like victory enough. This felt like reclaiming what had been lost nearly fifty years ago. Just in this one dress. 

You went ahead into the other corner, hiding away so you could put the dress on you. Kento asked you if you would be okay, but you reassured him enough and made it through by yourself. 

As you pulled the faded dress over your head, the fabric sliding smoothly against your skin, you couldn’t help but smile a little, even though you couldn’t see what it looked like.  The weight of the dress felt comforting, and for a moment, it felt as if you were transported to another time.

It felt like a time when life was filled with simple pleasures, like trying on clothes without worrying about curses or survival. You hummed quietly as you ran your hands over the texture, trying to sense its shape, its softness. Everything about it was perfect.

If this were a normal world, you thought to yourself, maybe I would have been wearing something like this too. 

The idea of all of that felt like a dream now, something distant and almost impossible, but as the dress settled comfortably around you, a small part of that dream seemed to come alive again, even if just for a fleeting moment.

You moved toward the door, feeling your way carefully with your hands, as you had learned to do in this strange new world. When you finally stepped out into the open space again, you took a deep breath and called out to Kento, your voice light with curiosity. Slowly, he made his way to you and he stopped, seeing you in front of him.

"Kento, what do you think?"

For a long moment, there was silence — an odd, thick silence that made you wonder if something was wrong. Then, Kento’s breath hitched sharply, and you heard him take a step forward, though you couldn’t see his face.

"You..." His voice faltered slightly, and he paused, clearly at a loss for words. You could feel the tension in the air, a kind of stillness that only existed when someone saw something they didn’t expect. 

“Me?” You asked, waiting for his reply.

"You look... stunning." He said it slowly, like he was trying to find the right words, and you could hear the astonishment in his voice.

A knot twisted in your chest. You didn’t know what you looked like, couldn’t see the dress at all. You were used to the uncertainty of blindness, but in moments like this, it felt more intense. "What color is it?" you asked hesitantly. "What does it look like?"

There was another long pause, and when Kento spoke again, his voice was a little rougher, like he was still trying to steady himself. "It seems to be….. white." he said quietly. "It’s... beautiful. It would have been something considered for weddings back in the day."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat as you processed his words. A wedding dress? That was what you were wearing? You couldn’t help but laugh softly, a little nervous but also amazed at how surreal the whole situation felt. 

"A wedding dress? But... I’m not getting married."

Kento cleared his throat, his voice sounding more composed now, though there was still a trace of wonder in it. "Yeah, I know," he said, his tone almost shy. "But... it suits you. Very well."

You paused, your fingers brushing over the fabric of the dress as you tried to imagine what it might look like, though you knew it was impossible. Still, there was something in Kento’s voice, something that made your heart flutter just a little.

The weight of the world, the despair that had surrounded you for so long, felt a little lighter now. As if in this moment, just for a second, you could pretend that things were different.

"Are you still there?" you asked, your voice quiet, a little unsure. You hadn’t heard him move, and the silence between you felt strangely thick.

Kento’s voice was steady now, but there was a softness to it that made you smile, even if he couldn’t see it. "Yeah. I’m here."

You took a small breath, still unsure of what to make of the situation, but feeling something warm and comforting growing inside of you. "Thank you, Kento."

There was a long, almost thoughtful pause, and then he said softly, "You don’t need to thank me for anything.  You’ve always been amazing, you just didn’t realize it."

His words, simple but sincere, made your chest tighten with emotion. You couldn’t see it, but in that moment, you felt more seen than you ever had before. And for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be beautiful again.

Even in a world as broken as this one, life can breathe into the surface once again. Even if it’s just between the two of you.

You stood in front of Kento, the weight of your dress still sinking in, though you couldn’t see what it looked like. But you could feel it,  the soft fabric, the way it fit you in a way that felt almost... right. A thought crossed your mind, one that made you smile despite the broken world outside.

“Kento, hey….” you said, the words light but carrying a playful undertone. “You should wear something too. Something to match me.”

He blinked, taken off guard by the suggestion, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you said. “What?” His voice was almost a chuckle, but there was hesitation in it. “I—no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” you asked, your voice coaxing, teasing him gently. “Come on, you can’t let me be the only one dressed up. It’ll be fun.”

Kento shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking away as if the idea made him shy. “I really don’t think I should. It’s just... silly. You’re already wearing something... so nice. I can’t just—” He trailed off, clearly unsure of how to finish his sentence, a slight flush creeping up his neck.

You smiled softly, knowing that you were getting to him. “Please, Kento.” you said, your voice low and earnest, a hint of pleading in it. “Just for me? It’ll be like we’re actually living in that other world. For just a moment.”

He looked at you, his expression a mixture of reluctance and something else — something softer that you couldn’t quite place. The silence stretched between you both for a few moments, and for a second, you thought he might refuse. But then he let out a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Fine, alright.” he muttered, as if resigning to a quiet surrender. “But only because you asked.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. “Thank you, Kento.”

A few minutes later, Kento returned back to you, and your breath caught in your throat as you walked towards him standing there. He purses his lips before he takes your hand. He presses it against the fabric he wore on him.

“Do you like it?” He asks, almost shyly as your fingers wander across the fabric. “It’s….It’s the best one that matches you.”  

He was wearing a suit, a dark one with fine tailoring, the fabric sleek and smooth. And it matched your dress perfectly. The same shade of white, that’s why he chose it. Though with slight variations in texture and cut, as if you two had been made to complement each other. 

The tie he wore was a darker shade, but still complemented the subtle elegance of the suit all the same. His sandy hair was slightly tousled, a few stray strands falling out of place as if he hadn’t spent time fixing them.

He stood still for a moment, caramel eyes shifting uncomfortably, as if he didn’t know whether to expect praise or criticism. But there was a quiet softness in the way he stood, as if he was waiting for your reaction. As if he was waiting for your approval.

You couldn't stop the quiet gasp that slipped from your lips. “Kento...” 

The word carrying his name came out in a breathless whisper, as you took in the sight of him. The suit fit him perfectly, and something in you fluttered at the sight of how effortlessly it seemed to match with your own dress.

Kento’s face reddened, but he tried to play it off with a soft chuckle. “You really wanted me to wear this, huh? You like it?”

You nodded, your voice caught somewhere between awe and disbelief. “You seem so….amazing. We match, don’t we?”

He scratched the back of his neck, awkward but still slightly proud, his gaze flicking down to the suit, then back to you. “We do…. We do match.” he said, trying to downplay it, though there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “B–but it’s nothing. It’s just a suit, it's not something—”

You stepped closer to him, your hand gently reaching out to adjust the collar of his jacket, a small gesture that made your heart flutter. A small gesture that makes his own heart skip a beat. 

“It’s not just a suit, Kento. It’s... you. And it looks perfect.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just stood there, as if unsure of what to say, his gaze softening as he took you in. Then, finally, he sighed and let out a small laugh, a real one this time, the tension easing from his shoulders. 

“Well, if you’re happy, then I guess that’s all that matters.”

You smiled up at him, feeling a warmth in your chest, the world outside for once not feeling so cold. “I am happy, very much so.” you said, your voice soft but full of gratitude. “And I think we make a pretty good pair. Don’t we?”

Kento didn’t say anything for a moment, but the softness in his tender eyes spoke volumes. He looked at you like he could almost see what you couldn’t — like he understood the weight of the moment. And for once, you didn’t feel blind. It was as if you could see for the very first time. And all the same, you finally felt seen. 

And for a moment, you weren’t just surviving. 

You were like all the people who had walked in these walls.

You finally were living the life that could have been.

“Yeah.” Kento finally said, his voice quieter now, almost fond. “I think we do.”

You took a step toward him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. The room around you, the empty storefront, the dusty mannequins, the crumbling world outside — everything that surrounded you, that existed, all of that seemed to fade as you found your skin touching his own.

"Kento." you said softly, your voice carrying a new kind of confidence. "Dance with me."

He blinked, his gaze flickering with surprise. For a moment, he looked like he might laugh it off. "Dance?" He shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "I can't even hear anything, let alone am I knowledgeable at that. How am I supposed to dance?"

You tilted your head, a smile pulling at the corners of your own mouth. "You don’t need to hear. We can still feel it, and that’s better, don’t you think? You don’t need the sound to make it real."

Kento opened his mouth to say something, but paused, clearly unsure how to respond. The gentle warmth in your voice, the simple conviction in your words, seemed to stop him in his tracks. You reached out, your hand finding his, and for a moment, everything seemed to still.

"Please, Kento." you whispered, the request sincere, almost pleading. "Just for a moment. Let’s pretend."

He couldn’t help but feel hesitant as he looked at you, still feeling unsure about what to do. But then, as if something inside of him shifted — he let out a soft sigh into the air. His large hand moved toward yours, his fingers wrapping around yours with a quiet steadiness. Somehow, your hands fit so well together.

"Alright. Just this once." he said, his voice softer than before. "I’ll give it a try."

You smiled brightly, the excitement bubbling up inside of you. Without waiting for another word, you closed the distance between the two of you, placing your other hand gently on his shoulder.

You took a slow, deep breath, letting the stillness of the moment wash over you. The world outside, the curses, the madness, none of it seemed to matter in this space. It was just you and Kento — two souls, finding something simple and beautiful.

Then, with a quiet hum, you began to move, the melody born from within you, an instinctive rhythm flowing through your body. The tune wasn’t anything familiar, just something you felt, something deep inside that had always been there, waiting to be shared. Your feet moved slowly at first, tracing gentle circles on the floor, and Kento followed you, his movements tentative but steady.

You hummed, the melody shifting like a soft breeze, flowing and floating between you both. And though Nanami Kento couldn’t hear the music, you knew he could feel it,  in the way his body moved with yours, in the way his gaze never left yours, soft and filled with something unreadable.

Kento’s caramel eyes were fixed on you the entire time, studying you with an intensity that made your breath catch. He wasn’t just following you; he was there, fully present, every part of him connected to the moment. His handsome face was serene, you knew that even if you didn’t see him.

Everything about him was something you admired. And he could see it, in the way your ghostly eyes gazed at him like he was the only one that could ever belong to you. And all he knew was that he was looking at you like that too.

The two of you moved together, your steps blending, your rhythm in perfect sync, though there was no sound to guide you. It didn’t matter. The silence was filled with everything you both needed. The soft pressure of his hand against yours, the gentle pull of his presence, the warmth that grew between you as you danced in the quiet.

At one point, you let yourself close the gap even further, your head resting lightly against his chest. You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel his breath, steady and calm, as he held you close. His arm tightened around you slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the fragile beauty of this moment.

You continued to hum, lost in the stillness of it all. And for once, you didn’t need to say anything. Kento’s presence, his quiet understanding, was enough. There was no need for words. All you needed was the steady movement, the connection between two people who had found something beautiful in the middle of so much chaos.

When the hum finally faded, and you slowly came to a stop, neither of you said anything. Kento didn’t move away. He simply stood there, still holding you, his hand gently resting on your back as if savoring the feeling of the moment.

"That... was different." he said quietly, his voice low, almost like he was still trying to process the experience.

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Different good?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kento took a deep breath, his gaze softening as he met your eyes. "Yeah... different good."

And in that moment, the world outside seemed just a little farther away, as if for a brief instant, you and Kento had created something of your own. It was a fleeting, beautiful moment that the darkness outside couldn’t touch.

Kento’s hand lingered on your back for a moment longer before he gently pulled away, his fingers brushing against your skin. He looked at you, his expression soft, almost as if he were contemplating something. Then, his voice, low and tender, broke the silence.

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” He asked, his tone so gentle, like he was offering you a place to rest, a space to just... be.

You looked up at him, your chest warm with the lingering comfort of the dance, the quiet intimacy you’d shared. You didn’t have to think long. The world outside was too dangerous, too harsh, and the last thing you wanted was to leave the safety of this little corner of peace you’d found.

You nodded at him, your voice soft but sure. “Yeah... it’s getting late.”

Kento studied you for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours, before he nodded in agreement. “Alright. We’ll stay here.”

There was a quiet understanding between you both. Neither of you needed to say more. It wasn’t just about the safety of staying inside. It was about the unspoken connection you shared — the comfort of being in this moment, of finding solace in each other’s presence when everything else was broken.

Kento moved toward one of the old, dust-covered chairs in the corner of the shop and set down the bags he had been carrying. He looked around the abandoned store, his expression thoughtful as he took in the strange stillness of it all. 

"We’ve got everything we need right here.” he said with a small smile, his voice steady despite the chaos of the world outside. "It’s not much, but it’s enough for tonight."

You smiled back at him, feeling the weight of your body relax as you sank down onto a nearby bench. "It’s more than enough." you said quietly.

You could feel your ghostly eyes following Kento as he began to rummage through the remnants of the store for anything that might make your stay more comfortable. He returned a few moments later with a blanket. It was old, but it was still capable of warming the body.

The simplicity of the moment felt surreal. In a world where survival was the priority, where every day was a battle, you had found a small, fragile slice of peace. And it was with him. No, no. It was him. He was your piece of peace. 

Kento draped the blanket over the two of you and settled beside you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence enveloping you like a comforting blanket of its own. The outside world, with all its curses and destruction, felt like a distant nightmare —  a reality that, for now, you could escape.

You hummed as Kento leaned back against the wall, his arm resting behind you, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder. You closed your ghostly white eyes, leaning into the warmth of his presence, the quiet safety of being with him.

"I’m glad we found this place, Kento." you murmured softly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. "It feels like... like we’re living, just for a little while."

Kento didn’t answer right away, and you couldn’t see what expressions he had in his face in the meantime. So, you waited as your ghostly eyes slowly gathered itself to slumber. When he did speak, his voice was steady and calm, a quiet comfort in the midst of it all and most of all, you were already asleep.

"Yeah." he said, his hand resting lightly on yours. "For tonight... we are."

══════════════════

THERE WAS MUCH TO SEE HERE, AND THAT’S WHY YOU STAYED. The next morning, the two of you wandered deeper into the abandoned storefront, curiosity leading you through the quiet, forgotten aisles.

The building seemed to stretch on, revealing layers of time that had been sealed away, waiting for someone to discover them. There was an odd beauty in the decay. A sense of history woven through the dust and shadows, waiting to be remembered by someone.

As you walked with care, your fingers brushed along the old shelves, feeling the cold, faded remnants of what had once been. Then, you turned a corner, and there it was — a fine dining restaurant. At least that’s what Kento says it was. 

The tables were set in an almost eerie stillness, the chairs pushed back from the tables as if the patrons had simply walked out. Dust covered the countertops, but there was something oddly peaceful about the place, as if it had frozen in time. Plates, some cracked and chipped, sat on the tables. It’s remnants of meals long gone cold, long forgotten by the people who had wanted to taste it.

You and Kento sat down at one of the tables, the deafening silence between you almost natural. It felt strange to see these abandoned places, as if they held echoes of lives once lived here — stories that had been left unfinished. Plans left unattended to. Lives left to nothing. 

The plates before you were strange, the food half-eaten and hardened by time. You picked up a fork, turning it in your hand as you observed the scene, then glanced at Kento, who seemed just as lost in the moment. The sight of the old food, of meals that had once been shared between people, felt like a ghost from the past.

Kento broke the silence first, his voice quiet but thoughtful. "I wonder what it was like for all of them." he said, his gaze moving over the plates. "Food... before all this happened. Do you think people took it for granted?"

You thought for a moment, trying to imagine a world where food was plentiful, where people sat together at tables like these, laughing, talking, sharing. A world where they didn’t have to fight for every meal. A whole world where they were enjoying what was there to be had. 

“I don’t know, really.” you replied, your voice soft. “It’s hard to imagine. Everything feels so different now. Back then... people must have had so many choices. So much variety.” 

You reached forward and gently poked at a plate of dried food, a cracked piece of what might have been bread, now hardened with age. "You could just walk into a place like this and have whatever you wanted."

Kento nodded, his hand resting on the table as he stared at the plate before him, his expression distant. "I imagine there were so many things... dishes people cherished. Foods that reminded them of home or celebrations." His eyes flickered to the faded menu on the wall, barely legible but still hanging there, frozen in time. "I wonder what it would have been like to taste something like that."

You smiled faintly, leaning back in your chair as you thought about it. "I think I would have liked sweets. You know, cakes, candies, things that people probably shared on birthdays or special occasions."

Kento raised an eyebrow, glancing over at you. "Sweets, huh? I can picture that. You always seem to know how to make the best of things... even when everything else seems so... dark."

You shrugged, a small laugh escaping you. "Maybe. But I think everyone had their favorites, right? Some people liked savory, others liked sweet. And meals were always a reason to gather. I bet... I bet it was different back then."

Kento leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the empty space around you, as if he were trying to piece together the history that had been lost. “I bet there was laughter, too. People talking about their days, making plans. It wasn’t just food. It was about the company.”

You nodded, glancing at the empty chairs surrounding you, imagining them filled with life. “Yeah. It’s not just the food. It’s the people. The moments. The sharing.”

For a few seconds, there was a quiet understanding between the two of you — a shared longing for something that no longer existed, something that felt out of reach. Fifty years ago, that could have been your life. Had you both been born much earlier, enjoying what was normal. You could only wonder who you could have been then? 

“I wish I could’ve tasted it. Or at least cooked it.” Kento said, his voice softer now. "I wish I could've lived in that world... just for a little while."

You looked over at him, the sincerity in his tone reminding you of the weight of it all. "Me too." you whispered. "I think we all wish we could’ve had more of it... more of the little things that make life worth living."

Kento nodded slowly, his eyes distant but filled with something almost wistful. "It’s strange, isn’t it? To think about all the things we took for granted. We never thought we'd lose them. And even stranger….to mourn something we never had."

You let out a soft sigh, reaching across the table and resting your hand on his for a moment, a silent gesture of understanding. "No. We didn’t."

For a while, neither of you spoke, both of you lost in the quiet, the memories of a world long gone. The food before you, abandoned and forgotten, was just another symbol of everything that had been lost.

But there, in the midst of the silence, you found comfort in knowing you were together. Maybe it wasn’t food or laughter that you had, but you still had this, this quiet company, the shared understanding of what the world once was. And that, for now, was enough. You don’t have to wallow in the past alone.

You leaned back in your chair, your hands absently moving to the side, brushing against something solid that wasn’t part of the table or plate. Frowning, you felt around a little more, your fingers gliding over something cold and metallic.

You furrowed your brow and lightly touched it again, your fingers tracing the shape. It was oddly smooth, but with little ridges. You couldn’t make sense of what it could be, but it certainly felt out of place among the dust-covered, abandoned plates and old utensils.

Curious, you gently pulled the object closer. "Kento... what is this?" you asked, a bit of wonder in your voice as you continued to feel it. "It feels like... a box with a lens. Could it be some sort of device?"

Kento, who had been watching you with a slight smile, moved in closer as you gently prodded at the object. His brow furrowed as he examined what you were holding. With a slow exhale, he gently took it from your hands and held it up to eye level, his fingers brushing over the device, his expression thoughtful.

“That…” He paused, his tone a little more serious now as he inspected it. “That’s a camera."

"A camera?" you echoed, your mind trying to piece together what that could possibly mean. 

You had heard of cameras, at least from the radios that were blaring in the human settlements.  They were things that captured moments, or so you’d been told — but you’d never really seen one, at least not in this way. You felt a little thrill run through you at the thought of it, but you were still unsure of how it all worked.

“Yeah.” Kento continued, his voice soft, as he examined the lens carefully. “They were used to taking pictures... to capture moments. People would use them to remember things — memories, places, people.” 

He glanced back at you, a soft, almost nostalgic expression crossing his face. “It was one way for people to hold on to things they didn’t want to forget."

Your fingers tingle with excitement. "So... it takes a picture of... of anything?"

"Yeah." Kento looked down at the camera, still running his fingers over it with a careful curiosity. “This particular one is an old model, but I think I can still make it work." He adjusted a few dials, his brow furrowing slightly as he tried to remember how to operate it. After a moment, he gave a small nod. “Alright. I think it’s working. It just needs a film roll inside, but I can still try."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “Can you take a picture with it?”

Kento’s lips twitched up at the corners, his eyes twinkling with something that almost felt like amusement. “Yeah, I think I can. But it’s not exactly instant — you'll have to wait for it to develop later."

You didn’t care about the developing process. The thrill of the idea made your chest tighten with excitement. You leaned forward eagerly, your voice a little breathless, “So... Can you take one of me? Right now? Please?”

He glanced up at you with a hesitant smile, his gaze soft. "You sure? I mean, it’s kind of old. It might not turn out the way you expect. It might not even work.”

You were already grinning, already imagining what the moment could be like. "I don’t care! It’s a picture. A memory. And... I don’t know when I’ll ever get the chance to do something like this again."

Kento’s expression softened, and despite the chaos and uncertainty of the world outside, he nodded slowly. "Alright." he said, his voice almost teasing. "Just hold still, then."

You sat up straighter, smiling even wider as you tried to pose, though you had no idea what you were doing. The world outside, the endless darkness, the curses — all of it felt so far away in that moment. All that mattered was this fragile little piece of normalcy, a snapshot of something real.

Kento adjusted the camera, looking through the lens with a concentrated expression. “You ready?”

“Yeah!” You replied with a little too much enthusiasm, your hands folding neatly in your lap.

For a brief moment, the world felt still. Kento’s tender caramel eyes met yours, soft yet steady, before his finger pressed down on the shutter. The click of the camera filled the empty, and you felt a surge of excitement at the sound of it. It works.

“Did you get it?” you asked, practically bouncing in your seat. Your smile was practically glowing, the joy in your chest making the air feel lighter.

Kento lowered the camera, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer. “I think so.” he said, his voice laced with a soft smile of his own. “But we’ll have to wait to see.”

You leaned back, your heart fluttering with the thought of it, as if something small, yet precious, had been captured in that moment. You sat back in your chair carefully, your hands still buzzing with excitement as you imagined what the picture might look like — if it even worked at all. 

The thought of having something tangible, something that captured this fleeting moment between you and Kento, filled you with a warmth that had been absent for so long. You couldn’t help but be so giddy and joyous about all of it.

“So... now we just wait, huh?” you asked, glancing up at Kento, your voice full of wonder.

Kento nodded, still looking at the camera in his hands with an expression that was a mix of nostalgia and curiosity. “Yeah. It’s not an instant thing like the ones they have in the old stories, where the picture just pops out. It takes time to develop.” He turned the camera in his hands thoughtfully. “It’ll be a while before we see the result.”

You nodded, though a small part of you wished it could happen right away. Still, the thought of it being something you would both share, something real and permanent, even if it took time — was enough to make you feel like you were on top of the world.

The quiet of the restaurant settled around you again, but it felt different now. The stillness no longer seemed like a reminder of what had been lost; it was a space where you could be present, where you could hold on to a memory that was yours, even if only for a brief time.

Kento looked over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “You know... we could make a habit of this. Taking pictures, I mean. Maybe not with this old thing, but...” He trailed off, then gave a small shrug. “Maybe we can find another way.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You’d really want to keep doing this with me?”

Kento chuckled softly, a warmth spreading across his features. “Why not? It might be the one thing we can do that feels... normal.” He hesitated, glancing down at the camera again before meeting your eyes. “It’s nice. Having something to hold on to, something to remember.”

You smiled, the weight of his words settling in your chest. The world outside might be in ruins, and everything might feel uncertain, but right here, in this moment, there was something beautiful about it. The idea of creating memories with Kento, the promise of even more of it in the future and being able to capture those fleeting moments — that had made everything seem a little less overwhelming.

“Maybe we could take more pictures later, you know?” you said softly, the thought of it making your heart a little lighter. “Maybe of the things we find. The places we go.”

Kento's eyes softened, and he gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. We’ll make our own memories, even if the world around us keeps changing. Maybe those will be the ones that matter the most. For as long as this can exist.”

For a while, neither of you spoke once more.  Kento busied himself with getting to know the camera. You sat there, surrounded by the remnants of a life you’d never fully experienced but could now, in some way, hold on to. The old, abandoned restaurant felt a little less lonely. The world, too, seemed just a little bit kinder.

When the moment finally stretched long enough, Kento looked over at you with a thoughtful expression. “You know... even if we never develop the picture, I’ll always remember this.” He paused, his voice quieter now. “This moment. With you.”

You looked at him, your heart full as you whispered back, “Me too, Kento. Me too.”

And in the quiet of that old, forgotten place, you both sat together, with the promise of more moments to come. 

You had finally made a move on from the storefront. After a full day’s walk, you found yourselves at the river crossing. The river stretched ahead of you, winding its way through the landscape like a lifeline. It was a quiet flow that mirrored the stillness of the world around you. The sky, an endless gray, hung over everything, casting a dull sheen across the scene. But it didn’t matter. Not really.

You walked side by side, each step taken in unison, even if the weight of the world outside tried to press down on your shoulders. It was strange, how you could both walk through the ruins of this broken world and still find something like peace in each other’s presence.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. If anything, it was now a language that existed between the two of you. The silence wasn’t that terrifying anymore. Now, it was a silence that was a friend, a loved one. It had become familiar, one where no words were needed to fill the space. The world had become so still, so void of sound, that even the river's gentle flow felt like a soft murmur in the distance.

But then, something inside you stirred. You turned your face toward Kento, your ghostly eyes distant, yet sharper than usual, as if the weight of everything you were feeling suddenly found its way to the surface. It felt important, this moment — like you had to say it.

“You know…” you started, your voice soft, but enough to break through the stillness, “Sometimes it feels like you’re all I can hear.”

Kento, who had been walking beside you, glanced at you with a small frown, his brow furrowing slightly. He slowed his pace, unsure of where you were going, his expression focused on understanding your words, making sure he didn’t miss anything. He didn’t speak right away. He never did, always giving you the space to explain, always waiting until you were ready to say it all. That’s how it was. That’s how he wanted it.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently, his voice laced with curiosity, the same care he always took to hear you out.

You let your gaze drift ahead again, looking at the river, but your mind felt far beyond it. “In this world… everything else is so quiet.” you said, your lips curving upward slightly, though it was bittersweet. 

You continued, smiling back at him. “The birds are gone, the hum of life has faded. But you… The sound of your breath, your voice when you choose to speak. It cuts through the silence. All the time. It always keeps me sane.”

As you finished speaking, Kento’s hand found yours, slow and steady, the rough warmth of his fingers curling around yours, grounding you. His gaze didn’t leave your face. You felt his eyes searching you, trying to understand, trying to hold on to the weight of your words. You knew he couldn’t hear the exact meaning behind them, but you could feel that he understood — he always did.

His eyes softened, and there was something unspoken in his gaze that made your chest ache. Kento didn’t need to hear you to feel the depth of your thoughts. He’d always been able to read you, even without the sound of your voice.

He exhaled, taking a moment before speaking again. “And you… You’re all I can see.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the way he said it so simply, so truthfully, made the air around you feel charged. Kento stopped walking, and for a moment, you both stood still, the only movement being the gentle pull of the river’s current.

“The rest of the world….” he continued, his voice low but steady. “It’s gray. Empty. But you… You’re vivid. You’re technicolor. You’re… everything.”

He trailed off, and a faint flush spread across his cheeks, but it was the quietest of moments, where the world felt like it had paused to let those words sink in. Kento’s voice was always steady, but now, there was a soft vulnerability in it, a quiet tenderness that made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t quite name.

Your fingers squeezed his, and your heart felt full, full in a way that only moments like this — quiet, soft, and real — could make you feel. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke. There was nothing more needed. The weight of the world could wait. In that instant, you both had each other. And that, in this broken world, was everything.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the world silent around you, but the connection between you both felt louder than anything else. The emptiness of the world, the stillness that had replaced what was once alive, couldn’t touch the bond between you. It was as if time itself had slowed to give you both this moment — this quiet, profound space where nothing else mattered.

You didn’t need to hear him to understand how deeply he cared. You could feel it in the way his hand held yours, steady and strong, as though he would never let go. You could feel it in the softness of his gaze, in the way he looked at you like you were something irreplaceable, something worth protecting in this broken world. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t empty. It was full of everything that had never needed to be said.

And he didn’t need you to see it to know the same. The way you leaned into him, the way your presence filled the space between you, made it clear. He saw everything in your small, quiet gestures, in the way you trusted him, in the way your fingers curled around him like they had always belonged there. You didn’t have to speak to tell him that he was everything to you. He felt it, loud and clear, through the warmth of your touch, the stillness of your eyes.

It was a rare kind of quiet. One that was full of everything that mattered more than anything else. The world around you had long since been swallowed by shadows, but here, in this moment, with him by your side, it was like you had created a new world of your own. One that couldn’t be broken, even by the silence, even by the ruin.

It wasn’t about what was lost. It was about what you still had. And, for now, that was enough.

You stood there beside him, the silence enveloping the two of you, and something about the stillness felt like the perfect moment to say the words that had been lingering in your heart for so long. Your voice was soft, almost as if you were afraid the world would swallow your words before they could reach him.

“I’m… I’m really happy, you know?” you said, turning your face toward him, the warmth of his hand still holding yours. “I’m happy that I’m here with you. Even in all this… darkness. Even when everything’s falling apart. I’m happy to have you by my side.”

Kento blinked, his caramel eyes softening as he looked down at you, his hand squeezing yours just a little tighter. He didn’t say anything, just waited for you to continue, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, a silent invitation for you to speak your heart.

“I know that if the darkness ever… consumes me….” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper. “I’d want to have you with me again. In the next life. I’d want you to be by my side, even then. Even if everything was different.”

Kento’s brow furrowed, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes as he processed your words. His voice came out in a soft, almost unsure tone, “Even if I look bad? If I’m different…?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes, always.” you said, your voice steady, unwavering. “It doesn’t matter. I’d still be happy to sit beside you. No matter what. Even if you were just… a rock I had to carry. I’d be happy.”

His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like he was struggling to find the words. But there was something in his eyes. It was a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something almost vulnerable — that made your heart flutter.

He pulled you a little closer, his hand cradling yours gently, and his voice, when it came, was softer than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t need to be anything else, then. I’ll be your rock, as long as you’ll have me. You’ll never have to carry me alone.”

You smiled, a small, quiet thing, but it was enough. Enough for both of you to know that no matter what this broken world threw at you, you had each other. And that, in the end, was more than enough.

And if you did find yourselves reborn, in another life where everything was new and different, you'd carry this with you. The love, the quiet moments, and the promise to always be there, side by side.

══════════════════

ONLY DARK DAYS TRULY CAME AND WENT, EVEN IF YOUR SPIRITS WERE HIGH. The days had grown darker again. The curses had become more relentless, their presence more suffocating.

It wasn’t just the way they twisted and tore through the remnants of civilization, but the way they seemed to feed off the very air. It was as if the fear, pain, and grief of those still left in the world had reached a boiling point.

Kento’s face had hardened with the growing realization that the curses had started to evolve. They were bigger now, more dangerous, more ferocious than ever before. It wasn’t just that the world had broken.

It was that the darkness was feeding off every lost soul, every fragment of hope that had been shattered along the way. It was as though every bit of suffering, every tear, was fueling the very monsters that stalked the earth.

He glanced at you, his expression grim but resolute, as you both stood in the ruins of what had once been a safe place. The walls around you had cracked and splintered, the air thick with the residue of battles fought and lost. Both of you were bruised and bloodied, wounds that had become all too familiar over time.

“They’re getting stronger, I fear.” Kento murmured, his voice tight with the weight of the words. He was staring into the distance, eyes clouded with concern. “The curses… I think they’re feeding off the grief. The fear. The pain. It’s like… it’s escalating. The world’s been broken, and now it’s feeding them.”

You didn’t need to say anything. The truth was written on your face — and in every ache in your body, every breath that rattled in your chest. The world was closing in, suffocating you both. The curses weren’t just hunting anymore. They were becoming the shadows that swallowed everything.

You looked at Kento, your eyes hollow from exhaustion, and the weight of your thoughts threatened to drown you. Maybe this is the end, you thought. It was hard to escape the creeping feeling that all of it — the fighting, the running, the hope you both clung to. It might soon slip through your fingers like sand.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep doing this…” you whispered, your voice betraying the fear you tried so hard to suppress. 

You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, and despite everything, you could still hear the silent, insistent whisper of doubt clawing at you. Is this how it ends?

Kento turned toward you, his gaze softening, though his own fear was buried deep beneath the surface. He took a slow breath, as though trying to steady both of you with the quiet strength he always carried.

His hand found yours, and though the grip was firm, it carried an unspoken promise. That no matter how bad things got, he would never let you face it alone.

“I don’t know either, I really….” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. He stops himself before nodding with resolve. “But we’ll face it together. We’ve made it this far, right? Even when things got hard. We’ll keep going… Whatever comes next, we’ll deal with it. Together. Okay?”

You nodded back at him. But even his words, as reassuring as they were, couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was closing in. The curses were out there, bigger and angrier than ever, and the weight of it pressed down harder with every passing moment. Still, Kento held your hand tightly, as if his touch could be the anchor in this storm.

But deep inside, you couldn’t help the growing fear. 

What if this was the end? What if there was no more fight left in the both of you? 

Would the darkness truly, finally swallow everything that had been?

As you held tighter to him, letting him be close to you, letting his warmth rule your cold fingers — you prayed to whatever god there is. You pray that It wasn’t the end yet. You hadn’t given up yet. You prayed for more time. You prayed and you prayed.

But you know that perhaps there was no god.

And everything was a miracle that had run out of luck.

Yet, even then, you found yourself holding firm.

If this was the final stretch, if the end was truly coming…  You would face it together. No matter how hard it got. You have to. You will not part from Nanami Kento, not in this life. Not in the next. You would not let that happen. Not ever.

Kento’s hand tightened around yours, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. The sudden screech of a curse, followed by the sounds of pounding footsteps, cut through the air, and your heart seized with panic. 

Before you could process what was happening, Kento was already moving, urging you forward with him. You stumbled behind him, trying to match his pace, but every part of you screamed in terror, the distant snarls of the curses closing in, faster than you'd ever imagined.

Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your heart hammering against your chest like it was trying to break free. The world blurred around you — not just because of the adrenaline, but because you couldn’t see the way Kento could. You could only hear them coming.

The deafening sounds of claws scraping against stone, of hissing, snarling voices, and the unmistakable thud of massive feet hitting the ground. Fear blossomed in the pit of your stomach, threatening to overwhelm you.

The noise behind you grew louder, closer, and you felt your body freezing in place for a brief moment,  the weight of it all trying to drag you under. Kento’s voice cut through the panic, steady and firm, pulling you from the storm of your thoughts. 

“Don’t fear it.” he said, his tone strong but gentle, like a lifeline thrown into the chaos. “I’m with you. Trust me.”

His grip on your hand tightened, a silent promise that he would never let you go. You could feel the reassurance in the way his fingers locked with yours, as if he was willing you to find courage again, even when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

You barely had a chance to respond before he looked over at you, his brow furrowed in intensity. “Do you trust me?” His voice was clear and unwavering, despite the chaos surrounding you.

You swallowed hard, your breath shaky but steadying as you forced yourself to focus on his words. His presence was grounding, the only thing that remained familiar in this world of terror. You nodded, gripping his hand even tighter, your voice raw but certain. 

“I do.”

It wasn’t just a promise; it was a truth that felt like it was carved into you, deep into your bones. In a world that had been shattered, Kento was the one thing you knew you could count on.

“Then we’re getting out of this.” he said, his voice low but filled with an unshakable confidence. “I swear to you.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulled you forward, running faster than before. You focused on matching his steps, not daring to think about what might be behind you. Every part of your body screamed to stop, but you held onto the certainty that Kento was right beside you, leading you through the storm. The curses were closing in, but you didn’t have to face them alone.

You and Kento barely made it to the clearing, your breath ragged and desperate as the curses closed in behind you. But to your horror, it wasn’t just a safe haven. The place had been overtaken by the same dark creatures that had been chasing you. The curses were everywhere — larger, more monstrous, their grotesque forms looming in the distance, ready to swallow everything in their path.

There was no escape.

There was nowhere to run.

This was it.

You felt the ground beneath you tremble as the curses’ twisted forms approached, a guttural, bone-rattling growl filling the air. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked around, panic setting in. But then your eyes found a sharp metal pipe on the ground. Without thinking, you scrambled toward it, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Before you could grip it tightly, however, Kento was already there. His hand shot out, grabbing the pipe before you could. His movements were swift, but there was a sharpness to his focus that only came from years of training, years of survival in a world that had long lost its sense of safety.

With a swift motion, Kento swung the pipe toward the nearest curse, the metal screeching through the air as he lashed out. He was a blur of controlled force, using every bit of his strength to push back against the wave of curses. 

You could feel the shape of his mouth, his jaw tight as he screamed, though the sound was lost in the chaos. His breath came in harsh gasps, sweat dripping down his face as he fought to keep the monsters at bay.

But it wasn’t enough.

It was never going to be enough.

Time had run out.

Kento’s movements slowed, exhaustion and pain taking over as the curses relentlessly advanced. He stumbled, his knees buckling beneath him, and in that moment, it was clear, the battle was too much. Overwhelmed, he fell to the ground, landing hard against the cracked earth.

You rushed to him, heart dropping into your stomach as you knelt beside him. The curses were drawing closer, their forms massive and powerful. Fear rushed through you, but you refused to leave him.

You took his hand, his fingers trembling as they grasped yours. The world around you felt like it was closing in, the suffocating weight of everything pressing down on you both.

Kento’s face was deathly pale, his body trembling as he lay there, clearly drained. But he didn’t let go of your hand. He clung to it like a lifeline, his eyes flicking to you as though searching for something — anything — to hold onto.

Tears welled in your ghostly eyes as you held his hand tightly, trying to be strong for him even as your heart shattered. The curses continued to grow, becoming more monstrous, their bodies glowing with an ominous, fiery light. The world around you seemed to twist and ripple, the air thick with the stench of their power.

Without thinking, you leaned down, your hand moving to gently cover Kento’s eyes. The light from the curses was blinding, and you didn’t want him to see it — the chaos, the terror, the overwhelming explosion of destruction that was coming. You didn’t want him to see the world collapsing around you.

A tear slid down your cheek as you held your hand over his eyes, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. You could hear his soft, ragged breath beneath you, the quiet tremor in his body as he clung to you, needing you just as much as you needed him.

“I’m here.” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the growing chaos. “I’m here with you, Kento. Always.”

Kento’s grip on your hand tightened even more, and you could feel the wetness on his cheek where a tear had slipped down. He was scared, just like you were. But in that moment, all you could do was hold him, hold onto each other, as the world seemed to shatter around you.

The curses were growing, the air crackling with their power. You didn’t know how much longer you had. But in this moment, as Kento’s trembling form pressed against you, you felt a quiet resolve settle in your chest. No matter what came next, you would face it together. You would never let go. Never, never never—

The moment stretched on, suspended in the chaos, as time seemed to slow. The curses were closing in, their eerie glow illuminating the world around you, painting everything in hues of fire and decay.

Their twisted, grotesque forms swayed like shadows, blotting out everything that once was beautiful. There was no escape now. You could feel the cold, suffocating weight of the inevitability pressing down on you both.

But in the midst of it all, in the suffocating grip of the approaching darkness, you held onto Kento as if he were the only thing that made sense in this broken world. His hand, though trembling, was still strong in yours, anchoring you in a reality where the two of you existed. It was  where love still mattered, even if the world had crumbled around you.

You could feel the heat from the curses, the air thick with their power, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you drew him closer, pulling him into your embrace as if to shield him, even though you both knew there was no way to protect each other from the inevitable. 

The space between you vanished, leaving only the steady thrum of your heartbeats, both wildly racing in their own way. Your pulse was loud, drowning out the sound of everything else.

His face was near yours, the pain in his eyes apparent but mixed with something else. A sense of peace. A quiet acceptance, as though the words you had shared were all that mattered now.

“I love you.” you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer. 

Your heart was raw, wide open, vulnerable in a way it had never been before. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You couldn’t pretend that you weren’t afraid, that you didn’t fear the end. But with him here, with his presence filling your world, you knew that you had lived a life worth living.

Kento’s gaze softened as he looked into your eyes, and for a fleeting moment, it was as if the chaos outside melted away. His hand, now pressed firmly against your chest, was the only thing you could feel. His breath, warm against your skin, was all you needed.

His words were soft, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. “I love you too.” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “I always have.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping away any lingering doubt. The world might have been breaking around you, but here, in this moment, with his hand in yours and his body against yours. Nothing else truly ever mattered. No curses. No impending doom. Nothing. Just him. Just you. Just the love of his life.

And even as the ground shook beneath you, even as the curses closed in, your hearts beat together, a rhythm of shared understanding. It was the final, beautiful connection in a world that had forgotten what peace felt like. The darkness outside didn’t matter. It couldn’t touch the bond you shared, not even in its final moments.

Kento’s eyes, though filled with fear, also held a quiet determination. He wasn’t going to leave you. Not without making sure you knew. Not without making sure you both had one last, shared moment of peace. His grip on you tightened, as though trying to hold onto you with every ounce of strength he had left. He didn’t need to say more. His actions spoke volumes.

“I’ll always be with you.” he whispered, the promise hanging in the air like a fragile thread, one that neither of you were ready to break, even if the world around you was collapsing.

You pressed your forehead against his, the world fading into the background as the reality of the moment settled in. This was where you were meant to be. And no matter what happened next, you knew you’d be okay as long as you were together.

The world around you seemed to close in, the curses drawing nearer with each passing second. The ground beneath you cracked and groaned as though it, too, could feel the weight of the inevitable end.

But in that small, fragile bubble between you and Kento, time stretched out, holding you in a quiet eternity. Everything else blurred and dimmed, leaving only the two of you, holding onto each other as tightly as you could.

His breath was shallow now, but it was still there, still warm against your skin. You could feel the faint tremor in his hand as it grasped yours, the weight of the world pressing down on him, just as it was on you. 

Yet, even in this moment of impending loss, there was a strange kind of peace. The peace that came from knowing that you had found someone who truly understood you — someone who had walked with you through the darkest of times and had never once turned away.

“I don’t want this.” you whispered, your voice trembling, but it was a truth you couldn’t hide. "I don't want to leave you, Kento. Not like this. I don’t even have a name.”

Kento’s eyes fluttered shut, his forehead still resting against yours, his voice soft but steady. “I don’t want it either. But we’ve come so far. We’ve been through hell together... and even if this is where it ends, I’m glad it was with you. I’m glad it was with someone who understood me.”

Your heart felt as though it might burst, the love you felt for him growing beyond what words could express. The gravity of the moment hung in the air between you, but instead of feeling like a heavy weight, it felt like a lightness, a quiet acceptance of the journey you’d shared. There was no regret. There was no what ifs. There was no hesitation. Just the certainty of love.

And then, in the silence, you heard it. Not the sound of the curses or the chaos surrounding you, but a faint, barely perceptible shift. The ground rumbled, and for a split second, it seemed as though the air had thickened. It was a strange kind of stillness that felt almost like a breath held in the universe itself.

“Love.” He whispers to you, causing you to look at him. “That’s your name.”

You could feel the tears rush from your ghostly orbs. “Thats….That’s a beautiful name.”

“Yeah, it is.” Kento smiles at you, tears too rushing down his face. It's warm orifice falls on your hand. “Because it’s who you are. My love.”

You couldn’t breathe as you pulled him closer to you, tears rushing more than ever before. “I know.”

You felt Kento’s grip tighten, his voice a whisper against your ear. “We’re not alone, are we?”

A strange energy seemed to pulse through the air, vibrating with intensity. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Something was changing. Something was happening. It was something you couldn’t quite place, but it was there. The curses loomed closer, but in that moment, you felt... something else. The possibility of something more.

It was then that you realized — you hadn’t given up. Even if it was the end, there was still courage in you. You had held onto each other so tightly, to the very end, that maybe, just maybe, that love was powerful enough to change things. 

The world outside might have been consumed by the darkness, but in this small, intimate space, the light between you was enough to push back the overwhelming weight of the curse. You looked at Kento, his caramel eyes shining even in the face of the inevitable. He was holding you. He was still there, still fighting with you. And that was enough.

“Maybe we’re not meant to go out like this,” you whispered, almost as if speaking the thought aloud would make it real. “Maybe... maybe we get another chance.”

He presses a kiss on your temple. “Maybe in another life, my love.”

Kento met your ghostly gaze, his eyes soft with a mixture of hope and acceptance. He didn’t speak, but the way his thumb traced circles against your palm told you everything you needed to know. Even in the face of the world’s destruction, in the face of everything that had been lost, you were still together. 

And maybe, just maybe, that was all you needed to face whatever came next.

The curses grew louder, their grotesque forms now within arm’s reach, but there was no fear left. 

You had each other. And that was more than enough.

A camera glimmers in the silence of the rubble.

[knot-ee]

What did a while constitute? Two days? Two months? Two years? For a dhampir, how did time work? Olrox could fill a book with all the questions he wished to ask and fill two volumes worth of responses. It was a good thing HE was long lived; he didn't know abut the dhampir's longevity. There was also the matter if the Aztec vampire decided to stay long enough to get the answers he wanted. Like a gold goblet or statue of marble, Olrox could watch Alucard, his gracious host, for half a century.

How could a half vampire blush so easily and a MAN at that? Figures someone who didn't feed off humans was so prone to blushing. Innocent. Naive. Was Dracula and his court not regularly draining humans? If so did Alucard not partake. Fathers and sons were... different. He would talk about the father of vampires if the little dhampir himself brought it up otherwise he knew it was a touchy subject.

The entire castle was filled with touchy subjects. Death and destruction. It was a sorry excuse of a home. Olrox was mostly solitary... now by force, but even he couldn't imagine living in such a depressing estate. He needed cleanliness. Warmth. He needed life or the semblances of life. Alucard was his own life and warmth. Humans were lonely creatures and he doubted the dhampir was immune to the aches of the human heart.

He elegantly pushed the chair back and rose to his feet. The remaining blood bags were given a passing look before he followed his host out of the kitchen. He studied Alucard's golden hair and the very pale perfect skin of his skin beneath the curls. If Olrox was a child it would be hard to resist. He was hungry but he'd been through worse.

“ Peace? ”

That surprised him. In his gravely voice which made him sound constantly amused and superior, the vampire laughed morosely.

“ There is no such thing as peace, not as long as humans exist. If you travel anywhere, you will see strife and hunger. ”

He left it that. The end of Dracula's war did not mean peace but if it brought peace of mind to Alucard and the locals, so be it. If the humans were fortunate it would be the last war they saw until the children grew up. History repeated itself and vampires were not necessary for something monstrous to happen. The moon big and bright was a familiar sight when the massive doors opened. He took one step forward but was stopped with warm fingers wrapped around his wrist. He frowned and his green eyes held a dangerous glint for a few seconds. He freed his wrist and put distance between himself and the dhampir. Olrox haughtily wiped his perfect hair over his shoulder.

“ If I wanted you dead or maimed, I would do it myself and before YOU DRANK MY BLOOD. Now, my caring host, I never said you had to accompany me. Stay here if you wish. ”

He didn't wait for an answer and walked down the stone steps. It was a weird sight. A decrepit and eerie castle. A golden haired handsome man and a shirtless man with more elegance than a king and queen walking barefoot. Olrox knew better how it was to trust strangers because he didn't. Alucard had been hurt. Olrox understood it but it still felt like a slap. It was so crass really.

Did Olrox look like a coward? His face was cold like stone as he walked away. It would be easy to transform but he didn't want to reveal his hand yet. He sensed many heart beats in the forest and an owl perched on a tree stopped hooting when Olrox's green eyes locked eyes with it. It took to the night sky.

Even though the vampire standing before him was half naked he didn’t lack grace or elegance, quite the opposite, the muscles moving beneath the flawless skin was a spectacle in and out of itself and it made Olrox look even more attractive. Yes, he was a vampire, grace came as natural to him as breathing came to a human, but Alucard had seldom seen anyone move with such composure and dignity. This was the confidence of a man who was very aware of his own beauty.

His beauty was obvious, but to Alucard it was also interesting to hear that Olrox’ intention hadn’t been to join the war, instead he had been led here by mere curiosity. It seemed almost impossible. Usually vampires only were interested in bloodshed and Dracula used to be the one to provide the most of it with this war he had led against humanity, and yet, what did Olrox come here for? An intellectual conversation with his father? A sightseeing tour through the infamous castle? Alucard chuckled. How peculiar.

It was the question that caught him off guard though: when had he last fed? Alucard couldn’t help but feel like this question was weirdly intimate and another blush tainted his cheeks. Embarrassed he turned his head away, suddenly being very busy with the bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase on the windowsill.

“It’s been a while.”

It was true. He never had the heart to ask his former friends to be allowed to feed on them and so he had tortured himself every day with listening to their beating hearts while his hunger only grew. In a way it had also been some kind of twisted punishment. Alucard had thought that by only nurturing his human side, maybe the loathed vampire side would fall asleep or wither away and die. Which was impossible, obviously, the monster inside him would always win. For a moment he was curious. What did Olrox see in him? Especially after the way Alucard had attacked him earlier. He didn’t dare ask.

“Come. If you have possessions hidden we should take advantage of the remaining hours of the night before the sun will confine you to the insides of the castle.”

Alucard gestured for Olrox to follow him, then strolled out of the room and down the spiral staircase, knowing the other would follow. As he led his guest down to the entrance hall he was contemplating what to do with him. Yes, there were plenty of spare rooms to choose from, they wouldn’t ever lack space, but he had not missed the look on Olrox’ face when confronted with the blood bags, or how he only emptied one despite him obviously having to be hungry. There weren’t any humans around for him to feed on and if he let Olrox go hunt in the cities nearby Alucard worried it would enrage the humans and send hunters after them. He hated the thought of hunters showing up to the castle to raid it frequently. That was something he needed to think about how to solve.

“Olrox? Tell me about your journey. I haven’t seen much of the world yet, what is it like, now that there is… peace?”

When they reached the main hall Alucard held the door open for Olrox, and the fresh air was a welcoming distraction from the stench of blood clinging to the castle and Alucard himself. For a moment he was nervous. There was no way Olrox had missed the scent of the freshly spilled human blood when Alucard had been forced to kill Sumi and Taka. For a moment he hesitated. Had he not learned anything from his previous mistake? Was he so eager to repeat it? He had just killed his friends and here he was, welcoming the next perfect stranger into his house. Oh, how the fear of solitude turned Alucard into a fool.

He couldn’t help it. The dhampir reached out to grab Olrox’ wrist, not harsh, only to make him stop before they would leave the castle together.

“Olrox. I will allow you to stay, but try to trick or betray me and that will be the last mistake you’ve ever made.”

It was a hollow warning coming from him, the broken little dhampir, and the other vampire didn’t do anything to deserve mistrust, but if this went wrong, Alucard needed to know that he at least had tried not to repeat his past mistake.

[starrydeckhand]

Freckles, paper, and plush for that soft ask game <2

heya!! thanks so much for the ask C: <2

freckles - most-worn article of clothing?

i have this sweatshirt i got handed down from my uncle and it's been my favourite shirt to sleep in!! it's just comfy!! perfectly oversized, so soft and i feel really cute in it! it has little holes but i don't mind since it's my pjs C: it's either that or there's also a Freddie Mercury T-shirt from I Want To Break Free music video!! it has holes too sadly, but it's a recent development i would say

paper - favorite children’s book?

ooo! that's an interesting one!! there were tons and tons that were read to me and that i adored, like Winnie the Pooh and etc. But the one i remember loving the longest was The Secret of the White Cat by Käthe Recheis and Friedl Hofbauer!! it's a collection of cat-themed fairytales from all over the world!! you can tell that cats were my special interest lol

plush - how many stuffed animals do you still own?

oh lord, i have so many lol ok so i'm not going to count the little one tsum tsums cause i honest to God i have no idea how many i have lol

but anyway! i have two ikea brown bears plushies (one's mine and the other one my youngest bro gave to me cause he didn't have room for it anymore), two dinosaur plushies - velociraptor and brachiosaurus from ikea too, a Catbus plushie from My Neighbour Totoro, Piglet plushie that @kozlatko gave me for my birthday this year (C:<3), a little cat squishmallow and a weighted hedgehog plushie Kozlatko gave me too!! also i have a big tsum tsum of Simba my friends got me on my 18th birthday, rat plushie from ikea, three reversible plushies - one skeleton cat and two octopuses, one crocheted octopus @mx-slut-supreme made for me (C:<3)!! Also i have a plushie of the main character from Journey from a con, but idk if that counts? and that's about it....

oh! i know he doesn't count as a stuffed animal, but he's an animal to me: i also have a Dabi plushie

so in total that's 15/16? i'm so normal about the textures and plushies : )

thanks again for the ask it was a lot of fun!!!! i just hope i didn't forget about any of the plushies....

[zeroxxlhero]

Beastly Instincts • Vi & Caitlyn Kiramman

Warnings: 18+ characters, begging, edging, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, dom! Vi, sub! Reader, dom! Caitlyn, hair-pulling, double penetration, blowjobs, rough sex, foreplay, biting, blood-sucking, gp! Vi and Caitlyn, multiple orgasms

Pairings: Violet x You, Caitlyn x You, Vi x Caitlyn

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Caitlyn and Vi’s growing desperation leads to them initiating a search for you, their hunger not just for your blood but for the power and control you exude. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but you’ve turned it into something far more dangerous—a trap they walked into willingly, even knowing they might never escape.

The night was still, save for the whisper of wind that rustled through the leaves and carried the scent of the hunt. Caitlyn and Vi moved through the dense forest, side by side but worlds apart in focus. Both were creatures of power, bound by their instincts yet driven by something far more dangerous: the memory of you. The two of them had felt the pull of your blood, the intoxicating lure of the power and pleasure you’d given them, and now they wanted more.

No, they needed more.

“I told you, she’s not just some ordinary hunter,” Caitlyn hissed under her breath, her sharp eyes scanning the undergrowth. Her voice was measured, calculated, but there was a fire burning behind her composed demeanor. “She’s clever. She won’t make this easy.”

Vi frowned, flexing her fists as she cracked her knuckles. “Doesn’t matter how clever she thinks she is. I can track anything. We’ll find her.” Her confidence radiated like heat, but even she couldn’t deny the gnawing frustration clawing at her gut. She could still feel the phantom touch of your hands, the intoxicating tease of your presence, and it was driving her mad.

They moved in silence for a time, their heightened senses alert to every sound, every shift of the shadows. Caitlyn’s nostrils flared as she caught a faint trace of your scent on the wind, and her heart raced despite herself. It was subtle, almost maddeningly so, but it was there.

“She’s close,” Caitlyn muttered, her voice low and sharp.

Vi paused, tilting her head to catch the scent as well. Her body tensed like a spring ready to snap. “I’ve got it too. Let’s move.”

The hunt continued, the two predators weaving through the trees with predatory grace. They followed the faintest traces of you—a broken branch here, a scuffed footprint there. You were taunting them, leaving just enough of a trail to keep them chasing but never enough to catch you.

“She’s playing with us,” Caitlyn growled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. The edge of frustration in her voice was unmistakable, and Vi couldn’t help but smirk at her partner’s irritation.

“She’s good,” Vi admitted. “But she’s not perfect. Everyone slips up eventually.”

But deep down, both of them knew better. You weren’t slipping up. You were toying with them, leading them deeper into the forest, away from any semblance of control they thought they had. And that only made them want you more.

As they pushed forward, the air seemed to thicken, the tension between them growing. Caitlyn’s normally cold composure was fraying at the edges, her mind clouded with the memory of you—the way your blood had tasted, the way your voice had dripped with authority, the way you’d held complete control over her.

Vi, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with anticipation. She wasn’t the type to overthink things. She wanted action, and she wanted it now. The waiting, the searching, the endless chase—it was driving her insane.

Finally, the faint scent of smoke reached their noses, and both women froze. Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. This was it. You were close.

They approached the source carefully, their bodies low and their senses on high alert. The scent of smoke was stronger now, mingled with something that made their blood sing—the faint, heady trace of you. It was enough to make Caitlyn’s mouth water and Vi’s heart race.

The small campsite came into view, the dying embers of a fire casting flickering shadows against the trees. But the clearing was empty.

“Damn it,” Vi muttered under her breath, her frustration boiling over. “She was here.”

Caitlyn’s sharp eyes scanned the area, her mind racing. She didn’t believe for a second that you’d just left without a reason. “Be careful,” she warned. “This could be—”

Before she could finish, a low, melodic chuckle echoed through the trees, stopping both women in their tracks. It was your voice, smooth and mocking, and it sent a shiver down their spines.

“Well, well,” you drawled, stepping out of the shadows with a predator’s grace. “Look who came crawling back.”

Caitlyn and Vi spun to face you, their bodies tense and ready, but there was no mistaking the hunger in their eyes. You stood before them, calm and composed, as if you hadn’t been the one hunted all night.

“Miss me that much, did you?” you teased, your lips curling into a smirk.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Caitlyn snapped, though the sharp edge of her voice faltered as her eyes darted to the faint cut on your arm, the scent of your blood filling the air once more.

Vi growled low in her throat, her fists clenching at her sides. “You’re not getting away this time.”

You laughed softly, the sound like velvet, and took a slow step closer. “Oh, sweet Vi,” you said, your voice dripping with amusement. “You think this little hunt was for me? No, darling, it was for you. Both of you.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched as she realized just how completely you’d played them. You hadn’t been running from them—you’d been leading them, controlling the entire game from the start. And now, standing before you, she felt it again—that pull, that undeniable need that made her knees weak and her resolve waver.

“Now,” you said, your smile widening as you looked between them. “Why don’t we see just how desperate you’ve both become?”

The tension in the clearing was palpable, the air charged with the energy of two predators sizing up their prey—or so they thought. Vi cracked her knuckles, her grin more animalistic than confident now, while Caitlyn’s glowing eyes locked onto you, her sharp fangs bared as she gauged your every move.

“Enough,” Vi growled, her voice low and feral. “Let’s end this.”

The first strike came fast, almost too fast. Vi lunged forward, her fist aimed squarely at your jaw, the sheer force of her punch enough to snap a tree in half. But you sidestepped at the last second, your movements smooth and precise, as if you’d been expecting it all along. Her fist sailed past, hitting nothing but air.

Before Vi could recover, Caitlyn was already on you, her speed a blur as she closed the distance and swiped at you with claws sharp enough to cut steel. You ducked low, feeling the rush of air as her claws missed your head by inches. With a fluid motion, you spun and brought your leg up, kicking Caitlyn squarely in the chest and sending her stumbling back a few feet.

“You’re both getting sloppy,” you taunted, your voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I expected better from Piltover’s finest.”

Vi snarled, her frustration bubbling over. “Shut up!” She came at you again, this time with a flurry of punches that were faster and more erratic. But for every strike, you had a counter. You weaved between her attacks, your body moving like water, fluid and untouchable. The sound of her fists cutting through the air was deafening, but not a single blow landed.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, had regained her footing. She darted in from the side, attempting to catch you off guard. Her claws flashed in the moonlight as she aimed for your throat, but you dropped into a low slide, narrowly avoiding her strike. As you slid past her, you hooked your leg around her ankle, causing her to trip and tumble to the ground.

The two women regrouped, panting slightly but far from finished. Their eyes burned with determination, and something more—something wild. They weren’t just fighting anymore. They were hunting. And they were losing themselves to the thrill of it.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you asked, your smirk infuriatingly smug as you straightened up. “Letting the beast out. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Shut your mouth,” Caitlyn snapped, her voice low and venomous. She wiped a trickle of blood from her lip, her eyes narrowing as she glared at you.

Vi growled, her muscles tensing as she prepared to charge again. “You’re not getting out of this one. Not alive.”

You feigned heartbreak, “Oh, Vi, I can’t believe you would do such a thing to me. I thought we were just getting closer.”

This time, they came at you together, their movements coordinated and feral. Caitlyn moved with the precision of a predator, her strikes calculated and deadly, while Vi was raw power, her punches shaking the very ground beneath your feet. But even as they pushed themselves harder, faster, more monstrous, you kept up.

You ducked under Vi’s punch, countered Caitlyn’s clawed swipe with a swift kick to her side, and leapt over a combined attack that would have torn any other opponent to shreds. Your movements were almost… effortless.

It was starting to sink in for them. You weren’t just skilled. You weren’t just lucky. You were something else.

“What the hell are you?” Vi snarled, her chest heaving as she circled you. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes now, and she hated it. Hated that you were still standing, still smirking, still in control.

Caitlyn’s gaze was sharper, more analytical even in her feral state. She could feel it—the wrongness of you. The way you moved, the way you fought, the way you seemed to anticipate their every move. “You’re not human,” she said, her voice quieter but no less dangerous. “Are you?”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I wouldn’t make that assumption.”

Their silence was telling. For all their bravado, for all their power, they were realizing just how outmatched they were.

But the fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

Caitlyn lunged at you again, her movements a blur as she aimed straight for your throat. You sidestepped, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible. She hissed in pain but didn’t cry out, her pride refusing to let you see her weakness.

Vi charged in next, her fists glowing faintly with a hint of her suppressed power. You released Caitlyn just in time to dodge Vi’s attack, her punch grazing your ribs but not quite connecting. You spun, your foot sweeping out to catch Vi’s ankle, but she jumped back, snarling in frustration.

“Getting tired, are we?” you teased, your tone infuriatingly calm as you faced them both. “You can keep going if you want, but I think we all know how this ends.”

They didn’t respond. Words weren’t necessary anymore. They were too far gone, too lost in the hunt, too consumed by the memory of you and the maddening need to have you at their mercy.

The fight reached a boiling point, the air around you thick with tension and fury. Vi and Caitlyn moved with increasing speed and power, their attacks fueled by frustration and primal rage. They weren’t holding back anymore, their monstrous sides emerging as they fought with a ferocity that would have overwhelmed any normal opponent.

But you weren’t normal, were you?

Vi charged forward, her punches coming in a blur of motion, each one powerful enough to shatter stone. You weaved through them effortlessly, your movements precise and almost lazy, like a predator playing with its prey. Caitlyn flanked her, her claws aimed at your side, but you ducked and spun away, leaving them to collide with each other in their frenzy.

“You’re getting sloppy,” you taunted, sidestepping another wild swing from Vi. “I thought you two were supposed to be the best of the best. Guess I was wrong.”

Vi growled, her voice guttural as her frustration mounted. “Stand still, you coward!”

She lunged at you, her fist glowing faintly with suppressed power, but you sidestepped her again, grabbing her arm mid-swing. With a fluid motion, you flipped over her, twisting her arm behind her back and forcing her into an excruciatingly arched position. She let out a strained snarl, her muscles trembling with the effort to break free.

Leaning in close, you grinned, revealing a pair of sharp fangs. “Tell me, Vi,” you murmured, your voice low and mocking. “Do you have a preference? Vampires… or humans?” Your teeth hovered dangerously close to her throat, the promise of a bite lingering in the air.

Before you could make good on your threat, Caitlyn’s furious snarl ripped through the chaos. She charged at you, her glowing eyes blazing with fury. You shoved Vi away just in time, sending her tumbling to the ground, and dissolved into a swirling black mist as Caitlyn’s claws swiped through where you’d been a moment before.

The mist reformed behind her, and when she turned, her eyes widened in shock. You stood there, no longer the calm, human figure they’d been fighting. Your amber eyes glowed like molten gold, and your hands had morphed into claws sharp enough to tear through steel. The faint outline of fur traced your arms, and your grin was sharp and predatory.

“Werewolves, Caitlyn,” you said, your voice a low rumble. “Not all of them are mindless beasts. Some of them know how to have a little fun.”

Caitlyn froze, her feral instincts clashing with the disbelief on her face. “You’re—you’re a wolf?” Her voice faltered, her confusion and rage warring with each other.

Vi, picking herself up from the ground, stared at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “That’s not possible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re—you’re human.”

You chuckled darkly, flexing your claws as you regarded them with an almost casual air. “You’re right, I am human. I bleed like a human. Smell like one too. It’s what makes the hunt so much more fun.” You took a step closer, your eyes flicking between the two of them. “But you’ve felt it, haven’t you? That little itch in the back of your mind telling you something’s off? You knew I wasn’t normal.”

Caitlyn growled low in her throat, her glowing eyes narrowing as she tried to reconcile what she was seeing. “What are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp with accusation.

You tilted your head, your grin widening. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Their rage reignited, and this time, there was no holding back. Vi lunged at you with a roar, her fists swinging with a force that made the ground tremble. Caitlyn flanked her, her claws slicing through the air with deadly precision. Their movements were faster now, more animalistic, their monstrous sides fully unleashed.

For the first time, you had to take them seriously. You met Vi’s punch with a block, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground, and twisted to avoid Caitlyn’s claws, her strike barely grazing your side. Their power was overwhelming, even for you, and you found yourself being pushed back.

But you didn’t lose your composure. Instead, you smirked, your movements becoming even more fluid as you dodged and countered their attacks. “You’re both getting desperate,” you teased, sliding under Vi’s swing and narrowly avoiding Caitlyn’s strike. “It’s cute.”

Caitlyn let out a snarl of frustration, her claws glowing faintly as she lashed out again. Vi followed up with a punch aimed directly at your head, but you ducked under it, grabbing her arm and twisting her to the side.

“You’re not human,” Vi growled, her voice strained as she tried to break free. “You can’t be.”

“Good observation,” you said with a smirk, tossing her aside and dodging Caitlyn’s attack in the same motion. “Took you long enough.”

Their feral instincts had fully taken over now, their attacks wild and relentless. But you knew when it was time to end a game. As Vi charged at you again, her fists glowing with raw power, you dissolved into black mist once more, letting her attack pass harmlessly through you.

The mist swirled around them, disorienting them as they tried to locate you. “Time to cool off,” your voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, tinged with amusement.

When the mist dissipated, you were gone, leaving Vi and Caitlyn standing there, panting and furious, their monstrous sides still clawing for control. But in the quiet that followed, one thing was clear: they hadn’t even begun to uncover the truth of what you were.

Caitlyn’s rage was unstoppable. Her mind clouded by the thirst, her vision tunneled to the scent of your blood. It consumed her completely, driving her to abandon everything else—reason, restraint, and her usual calm. She felt herself losing control with every step, and though Vi’s voice echoed behind her, calling her name and trying to pull her back, Caitlyn couldn’t stop. The hunger was a beast inside her, and it was all she could do to keep it at bay long enough to follow your trail.

She tore through the streets with frightening speed, her senses sharpened, homing in on your scent as it led her to a small, dimly lit town. She stalked through the streets, her fangs already extended, eyes burning with that bloodlust that had taken over her. The people she passed didn’t even notice the air around her change, but she could hear the beat of their hearts, smell the warmth of their blood. She had to hold back. She was going to find you. She was going to make you pay, but she couldn’t show her powers to anyone, not yet. The town had no idea what was coming, and she was going to keep it that way.

Finally, she reached the bar where the scent of you was thick, almost suffocating. The door creaked open as she slipped inside, scanning the room with a predator’s gaze. And there you were. Sitting at the bar, so casual, as if you weren’t the cause of everything that had broken inside her. The moment your eyes met, she could feel that familiar wave of fury crashing over her again.

Her fangs elongated, her hands trembling with the effort to control her power. Her eyes flashed red, and a low growl rumbled from her throat. She didn’t care about the eyes that were starting to look her way; you were the only thing that mattered. She stalked toward you, her every step radiating pure menace. There was no reasoning left in her, no fear. Just the unrelenting need to tear you apart, to drink from you until there was nothing left.

But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you smirked, your posture relaxed as you watched her approach, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “Careful, Caitlyn,” you warned, your voice smooth, deliberate. “You don’t want to make a scene in front of a bunch of hunters. They’d take you down faster than you could say your mother’s name.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the rage in them intensified, but there was a moment of hesitation. She could feel the presence of others in the room now. The hunters, the ones who had been lurking, waiting. Her bloodlust was on the verge of consuming her completely, but you had her on the edge of two choices—fight or retreat.

She didn’t listen. She lunged, her body a blur of motion, intent on bringing you to your knees.

But you were ready. Faster than she could process, you reached out and grabbed her by the collar, yanking her forward with force that made her stumble. The shock of it hit her like a jolt of cold water, and for a split second, she froze. Her fangs were still bared, her lips curled in a snarl, but there was no action. Not yet.

And then, in one swift movement, you pulled her into a kiss. It was forceful, demanding, and Caitlyn’s mind went blank. Her breath hitched, her body stiffened in surprise, but there was something strangely calming in your touch, a strange power in your control. The hunger in her lessened, her senses buzzing as she tried to regain control over herself.

“Relax,” you murmured against her lips, your voice low and teasing. “You’ll be able to show me those scary vampire powers later.”

Something inside her shifted. The red in her eyes dulled, just a fraction, enough for her to think clearly again. She pushed against you, still furious, but she couldn’t shake the unsettling calm you had instilled in her.

You released her from the kiss and pushed her gently but firmly into a chair. “Stay seated,” you said, your tone firm but not unkind. “Let the storm pass for now.”

Caitlyn was still seething, her heart pounding with frustration, but the primal rage that had gripped her was fading. She remained seated, her fangs retracting, her breath returning to a more normal pace. She clenched her fists, silently simmering in the chair, the tension still thick in the air.

Moments later, the door to the bar creaked open again, and Vi stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room, locking onto Caitlyn before her gaze shifted to you. The tension between the three of you was palpable. Vi’s eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. She stalked toward the table, every step measured and cautious, a predator assessing her prey.

As Vi moved to stand beside Caitlyn, you leaned back in your chair, unfazed, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t make any threatening moves, Vi,” you warned, your voice calm but edged with something darker. “One of the hunters in this room will be wearing your canines as a necklace before the night is over.”

Vi paused, her gaze flicking toward the people around the bar. She looked at Caitlyn, the two of them silently communicating with just a glance, both of them reluctantly understanding the situation. Slowly, without another word, Vi took a seat at the table across from you.

You watched the two of them closely, the tension between them and the room shifting into something more controlled, more calculated. The game had changed.

Now, you were in charge.

And they knew it.

“What now?” Caitlyn finally spoke, her voice quiet, but the edge of her anger still evident.

You met her gaze, your smile never wavering. “Now, we wait,” you said simply. “But don’t think for a second that I’m going to make this easy for either of you.”

Vi and Caitlyn exchanged another look, both of them more aware than ever that they were dealing with someone who wasn’t just playing by the rules—they were dealing with someone who made their rules.

And the night was just beginning.

The moment stretched unbearably for Vi and Caitlyn as they sat across from you, forced to watch while you leisurely sipped your drink. The tension between you all was palpable, a wire stretched to its breaking point. For them, it felt like an eternity of restraint, each tick of the clock dragging them further into frustration. You were composed, maddeningly so, your casual demeanor only fueling their growing impatience. Caitlyn’s knuckles were white against the table, her nails threatening to break the wood beneath them. Vi, though trying to appear calmer, had her leg bouncing under the table, a clear sign of her fraying patience.

Finally, Caitlyn snapped. She slammed her hand onto the table, leaning forward with a glare so sharp it could have cut glass. “Enough games,” she growled, her voice low but brimming with fury. “Why are you doing this? Why us? Everything you’ve done—every little game—it’s all been to get our attention, hasn’t it? You knew we’d fall for it. Every single time.”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you smirked, the glint in your eyes both infuriating and captivating. Swirling the last of your drink, you finally set the glass down with a deliberate clink and leaned back in your chair, as if you were pondering her question. “You know,” you began, your tone playful yet cutting, “I think you’re starting to figure it out.”

Caitlyn’s glare darkened, her fangs peeking through as she fought to keep her composure. Vi’s gaze darted between you and Caitlyn, her own frustration evident, though she held back, letting her partner do the talking for now.

“You’re good little beasts,” you continued, your voice dripping with amusement. “Always coming running the second you catch my scent. Obedient, relentless… predictable.” You leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Caitlyn. “You want to know why? Because you like it. The chase, the fight, the thrill—you crave it, even if you won’t admit it.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, and Vi’s fists clenched, her patience wearing thin. But before either could respond, you leaned closer to Caitlyn, your smirk growing into something sharper, more dangerous. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you bit down hard on your lower lip. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, and the effect was immediate.

Caitlyn froze, her gaze snapping to your lips, where a thin line of crimson welled up. Her nostrils flared, and her pupils dilated, a flash of red overtaking her irises as her vampire instincts surged to the surface. She gripped the table tightly, her claws beginning to dig into the wood as she fought to maintain control. Her composure was slipping, her breathing becoming shallow and uneven.

You tilted your head slightly, your voice dropping to a low, almost taunting murmur. “Do you want it, Caitlyn?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her attention was solely fixed on the blood, the scent drawing her in like a moth to a flame. She barely registered your words as her instincts battled with her self-control.

“Go on,” you encouraged, your tone soft but laced with a challenge. “Clean it up. I won’t stop you.”

For a moment, Caitlyn’s restraint faltered entirely. She leaned closer, her fangs fully extended now, her breath ragged. Her gaze flicked to yours, and for a fleeting second, there was hesitation—perhaps a trace of shame or conflict. But it was quickly swallowed by the primal hunger surging through her.

She closed the distance, her movements almost trembling with need, and before she could second-guess herself, her lips brushed against yours. Her fangs scraped lightly against your skin as her tongue darted out, catching the bead of blood that threatened to spill. The taste was electric, a jolt that sent her instincts spiraling out of control.

Vi’s voice cut through the haze like a whip. “Caitlyn,” she snapped, her tone sharp, though it lacked the full conviction of disapproval. There was a flicker of something else in her voice—curiosity, maybe even jealousy.

But Caitlyn didn’t pull back. If anything, Vi’s interruption only made her grip on the moment tighten. Her hands, still clenched against the table, trembled as she fought to maintain some semblance of control while indulging in the taste of you.

You chuckled softly, your voice steady despite the ferocity in Caitlyn’s actions. “There you go,” you murmured, almost teasingly. “Good girl.”

The words seemed to snap something in Caitlyn. She growled low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as she pulled back slightly, her crimson-stained eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around you both, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance.

Vi, still seated, was tense, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. There was a flicker of conflict in her gaze, torn between stepping in and staying back.

You leaned back slightly, licking the corner of your lip as if reclaiming what Caitlyn had taken. “See?” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “You couldn’t help yourself.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, her breathing still uneven as she fought to regain her composure. The hunger in her eyes hadn’t faded entirely, but there was something else there now—frustration, humiliation, maybe even a reluctant acknowledgment of the truth in your words.

You turned your attention to Vi, who was glaring at you with equal parts anger and intrigue. “What about you, Vi?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Are you going to sit there and pretend you’re above it? Or are you just waiting your turn?”

The challenge in your tone was unmistakable, and for a moment, Vi’s hands flexed, as if she were considering lunging across the table. But she stayed rooted in place, her jaw tight and her gaze locked onto yours.

“Thought so,” you said with a smirk, leaning back in your chair once again. The game was far from over, and you were enjoying every second of it.

The tension in the room thickened as you shifted your attention from Caitlyn to Vi, a slow, deliberate move that felt like a predator locking onto its next prey. Vi’s sharp blue eyes met yours, her expression a mix of defiance and barely concealed curiosity. You leaned back lazily, crossing your arms as if this were all a casual conversation instead of the charged, dangerous game it truly was.

“Hmm,” you began, your voice dripping with mock contemplation, loud enough to draw Caitlyn’s wary glare back to you. “I’ve always wondered what werewolves really liked. I mean, vampires? Easy. Blood, obviously. Power. Control. But werewolves…” Your eyes flicked to Vi, watching her jaw clench as her fingers gripped the edge of the table. “What’s the deal with them?”

Vi didn’t respond, but her eyes narrowed as she leaned slightly forward, her muscles tense. The corners of your mouth curled into a smirk, and you continued as if pondering the answer aloud.

“Is it the thrill of the hunt?” you mused, tilting your head. “The feeling of the ground under your claws as you chase your prey? Or maybe it’s the fight? That surge of adrenaline when you’re up against someone who won’t go down easy. Or…” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice, and though your tone was quiet, it carried across the table like a taunt. “Maybe it’s something else entirely. Something more… primal?”

Vi’s breathing hitched ever so slightly, and you didn’t miss the way her eyes briefly flicked to your throat before she forced herself to look away. Her reaction only fueled your teasing.

“Do werewolves like to dominate?” you asked, your voice just loud enough for her to hear. “Or is it the opposite? Do they like to be pinned down, teeth at their throat, heart racing because they know they’re at someone else’s mercy?” You paused, letting the words hang in the air, watching as Vi’s hands flexed against the table, her knuckles turning white.

You leaned even closer, your voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for her. “What about you, Vi? Is that what you want? To take me down? Or…” Your smirk widened, your eyes gleaming with amusement as you delivered the next line with deliberate slowness. “Do you want me to do that to you?”

The reaction was immediate. Vi shot to her feet, the chair screeching against the floor as her fists slammed onto the table. Her expression was a volatile mix of anger and something darker, something she didn’t want to name but couldn’t entirely suppress. Caitlyn’s head snapped toward her partner, a flicker of concern breaking through her still-recovering composure.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Vi growled, her voice low and dangerous. Her heightened senses made it impossible to ignore the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, and the maddeningly calm scent of you—human, yet not—only further stoked the fire in her veins.

You leaned back casually, unbothered by her outburst, and shrugged. “I mean, I’m entertaining myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Vi’s teeth bared slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like she was about to lunge across the table. Caitlyn’s hand shot out, gripping Vi’s arm, and though her strength was still shaky from her earlier loss of control, it was enough to hold Vi in place.

“Don’t,” Caitlyn warned, her voice sharp but tinged with the same frustration. She wasn’t defending you, not entirely—but she knew that causing a scene in this bar, surrounded by hunters, would end badly for both of them.

You watched the exchange with mild amusement, raising your glass for another sip before setting it down with deliberate slowness. “Careful, Vi,” you said, your tone mocking but underlined with a hint of genuine warning. “You wouldn’t want to prove me right, would you? That you’re just as predictable as your partner over here?”

Vi’s gaze burned into yours, her chest rising and falling with barely restrained rage. “I’m not predictable,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, grinning. Then, as if to drive the point home, you added, “You came running just like she did. And you’re still here. And you keep coming back. Why is that, Vi? What’s keeping you glued to that spot? Is it the thrill? The challenge?” You tilted your head slightly, your grin sharpening into something more dangerous. “Or is it me?”

Caitlyn’s grip on Vi’s arm tightened, her crimson eyes narrowing as she spoke, her voice low but filled with warning. “Stop provoking her.”

You glanced at Caitlyn, your grin softening into a smirk. “Oh, I’m not provoking her. I’m just asking questions.” Then, turning your attention back to Vi, you added, “She’s the one getting worked up. Must’ve hit a nerve.”

Vi took a step back, her fists still clenched, her entire body trembling with the effort to keep her composure. For a moment, silence hung between you all, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, Vi let out a slow, shuddering breath and sat back down, though her glare never left your face.

“Good girl,” you murmured, the words dripping with condescension, and Vi’s knuckles cracked as her fists tightened once again.

Caitlyn shot you a sharp look, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re walking a fine line.”

You met her gaze evenly, your smirk unshaken. “Oh, I know exactly where the line is.” You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms behind your head. “The question is, how long can you two stay on your side of it?”

The clink of coins on the counter marked the end of your drink as you finished it in one smooth motion, savoring the silence that followed. You rose from your seat with a fluidity that made even the smallest movement seem deliberate. Vi and Caitlyn, ever vigilant, mirrored your movement almost immediately, their eyes trained on you like hawks circling prey. Despite the seething animosity that practically radiated from them, neither could bring themselves to break away from your orbit.

As you adjusted your coat, you cast them a lazy glance over your shoulder, smirking faintly at how they followed so closely. “Well,” you announced, your voice calm but carrying just enough of an edge to draw their attention. “I think it’s about time I turned in for the night.”

“Like hell you are,” Vi growled, stepping closer, her sharp glare boring into you.

Caitlyn stood rigid beside her, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her crimson eyes glowing faintly under the dim bar lights. “After everything? You think you can just leave?” Her voice was clipped, the words escaping through clenched teeth.

Your smirk widened, clearly enjoying their defiance. “Oh? And why not?” you asked, your tone light but steeped in mockery. “What’s stopping me from walking out that door? Surely you’re not saying you need me to stay?”

Vi bristled at the implication, her fists tightening at her sides. “Don’t twist this around.”

“I don’t have to,” you replied easily, your gaze sliding between the two of them. “You’re both doing that just fine on your own.” You took a single step toward them, your presence almost suffocating as the smirk on your lips softened into something more mischievous. “So tell me—why can’t I leave? What is it you’re both so desperate to say but won’t?”

Silence fell between them, the tension palpable as they both stared at you, their emotions warring just beneath the surface. Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep control. Vi, on the other hand, looked ready to throw a punch, her body vibrating with barely contained frustration.

When neither of them spoke, you chuckled softly, shaking your head. “That’s what I thought,” you murmured, almost pityingly. Then you tilted your head, feigning curiosity as you asked, “Or maybe…” You paused, letting the words hang in the air. “Maybe you just don’t want me to go because deep down, you like this. The chase, the thrill. The fact that I’m the only one who can make you feel this alive.”

Their reactions were immediate. Vi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her nostrils flaring as she clenched her fists tighter. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes glowed brighter, her composure cracking just enough to reveal the storm beneath.

Before they could argue, you took another step forward, this time closing the distance entirely. Standing between them, you reached out, one hand gently brushing against Vi’s cheek, the other cupping Caitlyn’s with a surprising tenderness. They both stiffened under your touch, their bodies rigid and their breathing shallow.

“There’s no shame in it,” you said softly, your voice low and almost soothing. “It’s natural to want to follow your instincts. To give in.” Your thumbs grazed their skin lightly before you pulled your hands away, your smirk returning as you straightened. “So… are you coming with me, or do I leave you here to brood?”

They exchanged a brief glance, their pride clearly warring with something deeper, something primal. And yet, neither of them moved to stop you as you turned toward the door. Instead, when you stepped outside into the cool night air, they followed, silent but determined, their presence a steady weight at your back.

You cast a glance over your shoulder as they fell into step behind you, their reluctance betrayed by the fire still burning in their eyes. With a faint chuckle, you reached out and patted them both on the cheek once more, a gesture that was equal parts condescending and oddly affectionate. “Good little beasts,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement as you began to lead the way. “This is going to be fun.”

..

The tavern was dimly lit and smelled faintly of ale and woodsmoke. You strode up to the front desk with the same air of confidence you always carried, Vi and Caitlyn trailing just behind you like reluctant shadows. The woman behind the counter, a middle-aged tavern keeper with a tired but pleasant face, perked up as you approached.

“I need a room,” you said smoothly, your voice low and calm. “Something soundproof.”

The request was simple, but it hung in the air like a thunderclap. The woman blinked, momentarily taken aback, her gaze flickering to Vi and Caitlyn, who stood rigid behind you. Caitlyn’s sharp, elegant features were still taut with barely contained tension, while Vi’s fists remained clenched at her sides, her glare aimed at the back of your head.

The tavern keeper’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as her imagination filled in the gaps. “Soundproof, you say?” she repeated, her voice faltering just slightly.

You gave her a polite, knowing smile, leaning an elbow on the counter as you added, “Yes, soundproof. Privacy is very important to me, you see.” Your tone was calm, but there was a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed.

Her gaze darted to Caitlyn and Vi again, lingering on the two of them with a flustered expression. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, her vampiric features giving her a dangerous beauty that likely unnerved the woman. Vi, with her broad shoulders and tense stance, looked no less intimidating. The tavern keeper cleared her throat and fumbled for the ledger in front of her.

“Right, well,” she said quickly, avoiding direct eye contact as she flipped through the pages. “We do have a room that should meet your… requirements.” Her tone carried a distinct undertone of awkwardness, and you could see the way her hands trembled slightly as she scribbled something down.

You tilted your head slightly, watching her reaction with thinly veiled amusement. “Perfect,” you said, sliding a few coins across the counter. “I appreciate your discretion.”

The woman nodded quickly, still avoiding eye contact as she slid a key toward you. “Room at the end of the hall. Quiet as a graveyard. Should be just what you’re looking for.”

Her choice of words earned a faint chuckle from you. “Graveyard, hmm? Fitting.” You straightened, pocketing the key before casting a glance back at Vi and Caitlyn. “Come on, then,” you said casually, gesturing for them to follow.

As you turned, you caught the tavern keeper’s gaze darting between Caitlyn and Vi again, her expression a mix of confusion and embarrassment. She clearly didn’t know what to make of the situation, but she was far too polite—or too scared—to ask questions.

The three of you moved toward the stairs, the tension between you palpable. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes still glowed faintly, her composure hanging by a thread, while Vi’s scowl deepened with every step, her fists clenching and unclenching as if itching for a fight.

When you reached the room, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it open just long enough for them to follow. You didn’t bother waiting for them to settle in before leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and surveying them both with a faint smirk.

“Well,” you drawled, “now that we have some privacy, let’s talk.”

You leaned casually against the wall, your smirk widening as your eyes flicked between the two of them. Caitlyn’s crimson gaze was fixed on you, unblinking and unnervingly intense, while Vi stood a little behind her, arms crossed and jaw clenched tightly enough to crack. They both looked like predators cornered into an uneasy alliance, trying to decide whether to lunge or retreat.

You grin, an expression that was predatory and chilling.

“So,” you began, your voice low and teasing, “why is it, exactly, that you two are chasing me like this? Hmm? Can’t get enough of me? Or maybe…” You stepped forward, inching closer to Caitlyn with an almost predatory grace, “…you’re just bored and need a little excitement in your lives?”

Caitlyn stiffened as you approached, her jaw tightening. Her fangs gleamed faintly under the lantern light, and her red eyes never left yours, but she didn’t move. Vi, behind you, let out a low, irritated huff, but you could feel her tension like a coiled spring. She wasn’t going to make the first move—not yet.

Caitlyn’s composure finally cracked. She took a step forward, her fangs fully bared and her voice trembling with fury. “You’re toying with us,” she spat. “You think this is some game you’re in control of, but you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“Or,” you continued, tilting your head slightly as you closed the distance to Caitlyn, “maybe it’s something else. Something deeper. A craving you can’t quite ignore. A thrill you can’t resist.” Your voice dropped to a near whisper, soft and coaxing. “Is that it, Caitlyn? Am I the only one who can give you what you really want?”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her composure cracking for just a moment before she forced herself back into control. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She didn’t answer, but the way her crimson eyes flickered betrayed her struggle.

You smirked, taking another step closer until you were right in front of her. Her tall frame loomed over you, but you showed no fear. If anything, the proximity only seemed to embolden you. Behind you, you could sense Vi shifting slightly, her frustration simmering as she watched the scene unfold.

“And Vi,” you said suddenly, your tone light and almost playful as you glanced over your shoulder. “What about you? What’s your excuse? I know you’ve been itching for a fight, but this?” You gestured vaguely to the room, the tension, the chase. “This isn’t just about a fight, is it? No… you’re just as caught up in this as Caitlyn.”

Vi growled low in her throat, but her hesitation was telling. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t even move. You chuckled softly and turned back to Caitlyn, your gaze locking with hers as you reached up, your hand moving with deliberate slowness.

“Maybe it’s time to admit it,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate. Your fingers brushed lightly against Caitlyn’s cheek, your touch gentle yet firm. Her skin was cool beneath your fingertips, and her breath hitched again, her eyes widening slightly as you leaned in just enough to invade her space.

“You’re both here because you want to be,” you said, your words cutting through the silence like a blade. “Because no matter how much you hate me—or how much you hate yourselves for it—you can’t stay away.”

Caitlyn’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her eyes darted between yours, her fangs still bared, but her resolve was slipping. Behind you, Vi’s breathing grew heavier, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Your fingers trail over the exposed skin of Caitlyn’s neck, her collarbone. She trembles beneath your touch, her fangs biting into her lower lip as you descend.

Lower.

Lower.

Your hand ghosts over the flat plane of her stomach, dipping into the waistband of her pants. The need to feel her, to explore the secrets hidden beneath the fabric, is a living thing inside you. But you have company. A warm, solid weight at your back. Vi flanks you, her front pressing to your back as she watches you with heavy-lidded eyes. A growl rumbles deep in her throat, a wordless approval as you cup Caitlyn through her pants.

Caitlyn hisses through clenched teeth as you stroke her through the fabric of her pants. The need to rip away that barrier, to feel her soft, pliant skin is an itch beneath your nails. But Vi's presence at your back is a steadying influence, a reminder that this is a game, a dance. So you hold back, contenting yourself with teasing swirls of your palm over her clothed length.

"You want this, love?" you coo, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Want to feel me wrapped around you, squeezing you so tight you forget your own name?" Your hand squeezes as if to punctuate your words, and Caitlyn's hips jerk into your touch. You smile, all teeth and wicked promises. She snarls, her hands clenching at her sides as she fights the urge to grab you, to take what you're so coyly offering.

You stroke her slow, maddeningly slow, keeping your touch feather-light to drive her wild. She’s squirming now, her hips rocking into your palm seeking more friction. You obligingly tighten your grip, humming low in your throat as she pulses against you.

"Such an eager vampire," you taunt, your thumb swiping over the tip of her cock. "So desperate for my touch. Will do anything for it, won't you?" To emphasize your point, you drop to your knees before her, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses along her length. The need to taste her, to feel her slide over your tongue is an ache in your mouth.

But you have patience.

You suck her through the fabric, letting your teeth graze the sensitive flesh beneath.

She reacts sharply, hissing as your teeth scrape over her straining erection. You do it again, purposefully, your tongue a wet swirl against the hidden shape of her. The need to see her, to truly appreciate the sight of her cock is a burning demand. Without warning, you rip open her fly, your fingers delving into the newfound space.

Your hand wraps around her immediately, the hot, hard length of her against your palm making your mouth water. She's perfect, thick and veiny and hard enough to hurt. The need to swallow her down, to feel her stretching your throat, is a pulsing throb between your legs. But you hold off, settling for a gentle pump of your wrist as you lave the weeping tip with kittenish licks.

You swirl around the swollen head, collecting every drop of pearly pre-cum as it leaks from her tip. She squirms, her hands fisting at her sides as you torment her. The need to wrap your lips around her, to finally put her out of her misery, is a desperate clawing thing. So you do, hollowing your cheeks as you slide down her cock. The taste of her explodes across your tongue, musky and masculine and so deliciously hers.

You swallow around her, fighting your gag reflex as she nudges the back of your throat. The sound she makes is pure sex, a drawn out moan that has your cunt clenching. You do it again, over and over until she's reduced to a panting, pleading mess.

Caitlyn's hands bury in your hair as you release her from your mouth with an obscene pop. She's panting, her chest heaving as you continue to stroke her steadily.

The need to hear Vi's permission, her okay to touch and taste is a sudden, desperate thing. You gazed over your shoulder, your tongue peeking out to wet your swollen lips. "Want me to suck you too, baby?" you purr, your voice husky with desire. "Want to feel that pretty cock fucking my throat while I swallow Caitlyn's cum?"

Vi's answering growl is low and primal, her fangs flashing as she licks her lips. In an instant she's behind you, her hands making quick work of her pants as she frees her massive erection. The thick length slaps against your cheek, smearing pre-cum over your skin. "Yes," she hisses. "Fucking yes.”

You return your attention to Caitlyn, your hand stroking her with renewed purpose. You scoot forward, your free hand wrapping around Vi's muscular thigh for balance as you take Caitlyn's cock back into your mouth. Your lips stretch obscenely around her girth, your jaw aching as you force yourself to relax.

But she doesn't push for more, allowing you to set the pace as you bob up and down her length. Beside you, Vi hisses, her claws scoring your hips as she watches you. Your core clenches, arousal flooding your panties at the feral possessiveness in her growl. Your neck aches from the strain of your double task, the need to have both your beasts inside you, consuming you, a physical hunger. So you double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks as you swallow around Caitlyn's cock.

You alternate between the two cocks, your saliva mixing with their pre-cum to slick the way. One moment your mouth is wrapped around Caitlyn's impressive length, the next your hand is wrapped tight around Vi's massive girth. The need to taste them both, to feel them both, is a burning insistence in your gut. She reacts differently to your ministrations, Caitlyn's hips stuttering as you take her to the root, Vi's thrusting into your grip like it's the most natural thing in the world.

You work them together, your mouth coming down to gently suck Caitlyn's heavy sack. She doesn’t disappoint, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer, chasing her pleasure on your tongue. Beside you, Vi grunts, her rhythm faltering as you jerk her off with practiced strokes.

Caitlyn curses, a litany of praise falling from her lips as you worship her cock. Her grip on your hair tightens, bordering on painful as she fucks your face. The need to be used, to be nothing more than a convenient hole for their pleasure, is a dark thrill that races down your spine.

You pull back, releasing Caitlyn's cock with an obscene pop. Your spit shines on her cock, a testament to your oral attentions. But there are other ways to pleasure her, other ways to drive her wild with need. So you let your fingers do the talking, jacking her off with a loose, easy grip. The need to multitask, to pleasure both your lovers, is a challenge you're eager to meet. The need to have them coming undone because of you, to be the center of their universe, is a burning desire.

So you lean back, your hand continuing its steady work on Vi's dick even as you lave Caitlyn's with kittenish licks. The combined sensations are heady, intoxicating. A drop of pre-cum lands on your cheek, the warm wetness a brand against your skin.

You turn your head to the side, your mouth gaping wide in invitation. Vi stumbles forward eagerly, her cock sinking into your waiting throat with a low groan. You swallow around her, your nose pressing into the wild thatch of hair at the base of her dick. The need to breathe is a distant concern, eclipsed by the burning desire to taste Vi's pleasure on your tongue. Your tongue undulates along her length as she thrusts, your hollowed cheeks hollowing and swelling with the force of her strokes.

Beside you, Caitlyn groans, her hand joining yours as you feverishly pumps her cock. The added stimulation is too much, Vi's thrusts growing erratic as your throat squeezes around her. You bite back your own moan, the vibrations of your vocal cords urging her on.

You bob back and forth between the two, your hand working Caitlyn with feverish strokes even as you release Vi from your throat with an obscene slurp. You need to have them coming, to see them falling apart because of your touch, is a chant in your head. You kiss up Vi's dick, nuzzling into her heavy sack as your fist tightens around Caitlyn's dick.

She doesn’t hold back, her hips snapping into your grip with animalistic grunts. You need to taste them, to feel their hot release coating your hand and painting your skin, is a screaming desperation. So you lean forward, your hand twisting on Caitlyn's cock as your lips wrap around Vi's weeping tip.

Caitlyn hisses, her hips jerking erratically as her orgasm crashes over her. Hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your chest, splashing against your waiting skin in a show of mark-making that has your cunt clenching. But you have no time to bask in the warm, squelch of seed on your breasts. Vi's hands are fists in your hair, holding you in place as she fucks your throat with abandon. She snarls, a broken sound of ecstasy that mixes with Caitlyn's panting moans.

You swallow, your cheeks hollowing as you fight your own gag reflex. The taste of her, salty and thick and so unmistakably Vi, floods your senses. It's perfect. You moan around her, the vibrations of your throat catapulting her over the edge.

You stay kneeling on the floor, Vi's cock slipping from your lips with a lewd pop. Your chest is sticky with Caitlyn's release, the white ropes splattered across your heaving breasts like macabre war paint. They look down at you, panting and flushed and oh so very ready for round two. You need to be filled, to be stretched, to be utterly ruined by these magnificent creatures is a pulsing demand between your legs.

But first, you want to admire your handywork. Vi's cock is bobbing obscenely, pearly drops of cum beading at the tip. Caitlyn's is no different, the head engorged and leaking. You want to have them inside you, surrounding you, consuming you is a roar in your skull. You scoop up some of Caitlyn's seed, painting your lips like you're about to eat the most decadent treat.

Your thoughts are swallowed by Caitlyn's mouth as she yanks you up by your hair. Her kiss is hungry, desperate, her fangs scoring your lips in a way that has you opening automatically. Your blood mingles with her tongue, the coppery taste a metallic counterpoint to the musky flavors of sex and sweat that cling to your tongues. Behind you, Vi is a warm, solid presence, her canines worrying the nape of your neck in a mirror of her lover's actions.

Your head swims, the combination of pain and pleasure shorting out your circuits until the only thing that matters is the mouths on you, the hands groping, the cocks pressing urgently into your curves.

You surrender to it, to them, your body pliant and yielding as they manhandle you between them. You fall in Vi's arms, your fronts flushed together as Caitlyn crowds you from the back. The sword of Vi's tongue duels with the press of Caitlyn's fangs, the dual sensations stoking the fire in your veins to a roaring inferno.

You want to be touched everywhere, to be worshiped and cherished and fucked until you can't walk straight, is a chant in your head. Caitlyn plays her hands over your ribs, her thumbs flicking across your nipples. You moan, the breathless sound dying against Vi’s lips. She grinds into you, the hard length of her cock nestling between your thighs like it was made to be there. Vi cups your ass, her fingers digging into the pliant flesh as she grinds against you.

"Fuck," Vi groans, her hips grinding harder into you as she watches you debauch yourself. "Fuck,you're so hot like this. So desperate for us." Her words are a dark promise, the rumble of her voice making your clit throb. Behind you, Caitlyn seems to silently agree with her, her eyes glassy with lust as she takes in the sight of you.

"C’mon," you whisper, your voice raw and ragged. "I need you. Need you both. Need you to fucking breed me." The words are a revelation, a baptism in the basest, most fundamental of needs. And they're only too happy to oblige.

Caitlyn grabs your hips, spinning you around to face her. Her lips claim yours in a bruising kiss, her fangs nipping at your lower lip in a silent demand for entry. You yield, your mouth opening automatically to grant her access. Your tongues dance, the taste of you mixing together in a perverse mockery of foreplay. Behind you, Vi growls, her hands yanking your ass up and back in a move that has you gasping into Caitlyn's mouth. The change in angle puts your cunt right at the perfect height, Vi's dick nestling between your folds like it was made to be there. You shake, the heat of her almost too much to bear.

But that’s the point isn't it?

To burn in their fires, to be consumed by them until there's nothing left but cinders and ash. Caitlyn’s hands roam your body, calloused fingers teasing and taunting until you're a writhing mess in their arms. Every touch is an inferno, stoking the flames of your desire until you're ready to incinerate from the inside out. She scoops you up like you weigh nothing, your legs locking around her waist as she impales you on her thick dick with a single, smooth stroke. You wail, your head falling back on a scream of ecstasy as your cunt clenches around her. The stretch is obscene, your walls straining to accommodate her girth.

But oh, it feels so fucking good.

So right.

Vi's hands on your hips guide your movements, lifting you up and down on Caitlyn's cock like you weigh nothing. The drag of her dick against your walls is delicious agony, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Behind you, Vi grunts, her own hips rocking forward to slot her dick between your ass cheeks. The slick slide of it, hot and heavy and oh so very her, makes you clench hard around Caitlyn.

Behind you, she snarls, her hands digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise. But you don’t care. You just want to be marked, claimed, owned in every way possible, is a pulsing throb beneath your skin. The greed to be theirs is the only coherent thought left in your head.

They work you between them, Caitlyn's thrusts setting a brutal pace that Vi matches beat for beat. Your head lolls back onto Vi's shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in the rhythm. It’s hypnotic, the push and pull of their bodies, the slap of sweat-slicked flesh on flesh. Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your throat, marking you in a way that goes soul-deep. The pain is fleeting, lost in the haze of pleasure as Vi's hips buck, her cock slipping between your folds to slide against Caitlyn's. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, your vision whiting out as the dual stimulation shatters you. You fall, tumbling headfirst into bliss, into ecstasy, into a place where there are no more worries, no more cares.

Caitlyn stands, holding your quivering body aloft as Vi sinks her cock in your pussy, stretching obscenely around her girth. You are stuffed so full, so deliciously stuffed, you feel like you might split in two. But you don’t. You don’t because this is what you were made for, to be their plaything, their receptacle for all things depraved and delicious.

You sink down, taking them both to the hilt in a move that has you screaming. The pleasure is incandescent, searing, so all-consuming that you don’t even feel it when Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your breast or Vi clamps down on your neck. All you know is the bliss, the perfection, of being taken so hard and so deep. Of finally, blessedly, being home.

You can only hold on, your nails scrabbling for purchase on sweat-slicked shoulders as they fuck into you. Caitlyn's angle has her rubbing that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, sending stars shooting across your vision. Vi grunts, her grip on your hips bruising as she pounds into you from behind. You are sandwiched between them, a willing prisoner to their combined machinations.

Caitlyn’s hands roam freely, tweaking your nipples hard enough to border on pain before soothing the sting with gentle caresses. Vi nips and sucks at your throat, no doubt marking you as theirs for all to see. But you don’t need to look to know they belong to you just as much as you belong to them.

The thought is a revelation, a sudden burst of clarity in the haze of fucked-out bliss. The cree is binding, unbreakable, and in this moment you know you would do anything for them.

Anything to keep them, to preserve this moment of perfect connection. It’s a thing that scares you. It's something that, in your right mind, youwould run screaming from. But this isnt that. This isn't right or wrong, good or bad. It’s just is, a simple, pure truth that settles over you like a warm blanket. You surrender to it, to them, your body going slack in their hold even as your walls ripple around their cocks.

You're nothing more than a willing vessel now, a receptacle for all their pleasure. And that, you think dazedly as you're fucked into mindless oblivion, is exactly how it should be.

Caitlyn’s hands move to your hips, holding you in place as they fuck you with increasing speed. The need to come, to let go completely, is a desperate litany on your lips. Vi's rhythm steadied, her thrusts growing harsher as she chases her own release. They work together seamlessly, as if they've done this a thousand times before. Maybe they have, with countless others who weren't you, who weren't their mate.

The sudden surge of jealousy, of possessiveness, is enough to make you see stars. You clench around them, your cunt bearing down on their cocks as you teeter on the edge. You're so fucking close, every nerve in your body drawn tight as a bowstring. Caitlyn must feel it too, because she bites down, hard enough to draw blood.

And that's it.

That's all it takes to catapult you over the edge. Your orgasm slams into you, a tidal wave of ecstasy that rips through you with the force of a hurricane. You come with a scream, your cunt clenching and spasming around Vi's and Caitlyn's cocks. A flood of liquid heat gushes from your core, soaking their dick and dripping down your thighs. It's obscene, you know, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the pleasure is so sharp, so intense, it feels like it's splitting you apart from the inside out.

Behind you, Vi snarls, her hips slamming into yours with a force that would be bruising if you weren't so far gone. She doesn’t pull out, working you through your orgasm until you're writhing, oversensitized.

"Keep going, please keep going," you babbles, your words slurring together as they pound into you. Your overstimulated cunt spasms around them, aftershocks from your previous orgasm still rattling your frame.

But they don’t stop, if anything their thrusts grow harder, more insistent. It’s almost too much, pleasure bleeding into pain as your body is pushed to its limits. You scrap at their shoulders, your nails leaving red welts in their flesh. Caitlyn hisses, the sting only seeming to spur her on. Behind you, Vi grunts, her grip on your hips bruising as she fucks into you like a woman possessed. You're being used, claimed, fucked into oblivion, and it's perfect. It's everything you could ever want. You cum again, a high, keening wail tearing from your throat as your vision whites out.

But there's no respite to be had, not when Caitlyn and Vi are so close to their own finish. They work you mercilessly, pounding into your abused cunt with single-minded focus. You're nothing more than a toy to them, a warm hole to spill their seed in, and you've never felt so deliciously used in your life. Caitlyn groans, her thrusts growing erratic as she chases her release.

Behind you, Vi snarls, her canines finding your mating bite and biting down hard. Pain and pleasure short-circuit in your skull, the resulting burst of sensation sending you careening toward a third orgasm. You clench around them, your walls rippling along their lengths as you teeter on the brink of oblivion. Then Caitlyn’s coming, her cum flooding your channel in a scalding rush that pushes you over the edge.

You fall, your mind going blank as your body is wracked with pleasure. Your cunt spasms around Caitlyn's cock, milking her for every last drop as you squirt on their cocks for the third time. Behind you, Vi follows, her hips jerking erratically as she floods your already full channel with even more cum.

You want it, crave it, so much so that you can taste it on your tongue. The need used by them, bound to them in every way possible, is a frantic beat beneath your skin. They crush you between them, their mouths finding yours in a sloppy, three-way kiss that leaves you panting. Youcould die like this, youthink dazedly, sandwiched between these two magnificent beasts.

Vi's arms hold you aloft, your legs too weak to support your own weight after your mind-blowing orgasms. She slowly walks you towards the bed, Caitlyn's cock slipping from your pussy with a lewd squelch. Your legs hit the mattress, the sudden change in angle making you pitch forward. But Vi's hands are there to catch you, guiding you down onto all fours.

You collapse onto your elbows, your face pressed into the sheets as you tremble with exhaustion. But that exhaustion does nothing to dampen your desire, the need to feel them inside you once more an all-consuming inferno. Caitlyn scoops your hair away from your neck, her fingers tracing the ridges of your spine. Behind you, Vi hums, her palm flattening against the small of your back.

You squirmed between them, your hips wiggling back against Vi's in a clear invitation. You're so fucking sensitive, every brush of air against your swollen, well-used lips sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. But that pain-slash-pleasure only serves to heighten your arousal, your cunt clenching madly around nothing as you crave to be filled again, to be stretched and stuffed and utterly used until your pussy is molded to their cocks. You beg them to take you again, your babbling pleas falling on deaf ears. Caitlyn chuckles darkly above you, her hands sliding down your sides to grip your hips.

"So greedy for us, aren't you?" she purrs, her breath hot against your ear. Behind you, Vi growls in agreement, her fingers pricking at your skin as she squeezes the globes of your ass.

You mewl, arching into their touches like a cat in heat. Your pussy is throbbing, the emptiness a physical ache that demands to be filled. You know you shouldn't want it, shouldn't crave their cocks like you do. But you can't help it, not when they make you feel so good, so cherished. Caitlyn slides a finger between your swollen folds, the lightest of touches enough to make you gasp. You're fucking dripping, your arousal coating her digit and dripping onto the sheets below. Vi groans behind you, her hand slipping from your hip to your core, swiping through the slick mess.

"Fuck, you're so wet," she growls, her voice rough with lust. She punctuates her words with a sharp spank to your ass, the sting only serving to heighten your desire.

Vi's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as she thrusts into you. Her thrusts are messy and desperate, the force of them jostling the bed beneath you. Over your back, Caitlyn makes her own slick sounds, her fist working her dick to the tempo Vi is setting. Your head spins at the sheer depravity of it, of being used so carelessly, so thoroughly, like a common whore. And yet it's the hottest thing you've ever seen, the knowledge that your body is enough to drive them to such heights. You sob into the sheets, your face pressed into the mattress as Vi takes you harder and faster. She's fucking you like she's trying to split you in two, her grip on your hips hard enough to leave lasting bruises. Behind you, Caitlyn grunts, her hand moving faster as she watches Vi rut into your aching cunt.

You can only take it, your body rocking with every savage thrust. Your cunt is on fire, the pleasure bordering on pain as Vi ruts into you. But you love it, love the feeling of being used so roughly, so thoroughly. Caitlyn groans above you, her fist flying over her cock as she chases her pleasure. You cry, a desperate, keening sound that's muffled by the sheets. Your orgasm is barreling towards you, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. Just when you don't think you can take anymore, Caitlyn slaps your clit hard. The pain-pleasure rocket sends you screaming over the edge, your cunt clamping down on Vi's cock hard enough to make her snarl. Behind you, Vi follows, her hips jerking erratically as she floods your already cum-soaked channel with even more of her release.

Vi pulls out, her cum leaking from your well-used hole and dribbling down your thighs. You barely have a chance to miss the fullness before Caitlyn flips you over, hauling your limp body up into her arms. She sits back on her heels, settling your straddling legs on either side of her hips. Her cock slides against your folds, smearing their combined releases between you. Behind you, Vi moves to kneel on the bed, her chest pressed to your back. Her hands slide up your sides, cupping the swell of your breasts and teasing your nipples. You mewl, your hips rolling in Caitlyn's grip, chasing more of that delicious friction. But she holds you still, her grip bruising as she lines herself up with your entrance. You barely have time to brace yourself before she slides into you, impaling you on her thick cock in one brutal thrust.

Vi and Caitlyn work you between them, one thrusting into you as the other nudges her cock to your lips. Your pussy is stretched and filled to the brim, every ridge and vein of Caitlyn's cock kissing along your inner walls in a way that has you sobbing for more. It's a primal move that speaks to the most basic parts of you that crave to be owned and claimed most fundamentally. You claw at the bed, your nails biting into the sheets as you hang on for dear life. Behind you, she groans, the sound sending vibrations through his chest and straight to your core.

You gag on Vi's thick dick, spit bubbling from the corners of your mouth as she fucks into your throat. Your eyes roll back, your hands scrabbling at the sheets for purchase as they use you so thoroughly. You're just a set of fuck holes for their pleasure, a warm sleeve for them to dump their seed in. And it's perfect, so perfect, to be so utterly and completely theirs. Behind you, Caitlyn pulls nearly all the way out before slamming back in, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. The force of it rocks you forward, Vi's dick lodging itself even deeper down your throat. You gag, the muscles in your neck convulsing around her as your eyes water. They pound into you mercilessly, their rhythm ruthless as they chase their release.

The two of you exchange a long, heated look. Then, as if by silent agreement, they double their efforts. Vi's hands fist in your hair, holding you in place as she fucks into your mouth. Caitlyn's grips on your hips tighten, her nails digging into your flesh as she pounds into you from behind. The need to come, to let go completely, is a frantic rhythm in your skull. Just when you don't think you can take anymore, Vi roars above you, her dick pulsing as she reaches her peak. Thick ropes of cum paint your face, your hair, your open mouth as you struggle to swallow it all. But it's Caitlyn who steals the show, her thrusts growing erratic as she nears her own climax. You barely have time to gasp before she slams into you one final time, her dick erupting inside you.

You clench around her, your cunt milking her for every last drop of her seed as your own orgasm crashes over you. It's so intense, so all-consuming, that your vision blanks out at the edges. You fall forward, catching yourself on your elbows as you ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through you. Behind you, Caitlyn collapses against your back, her forehead pressed to your shoulder as she pants heavily. Above you, Vi grunts, slumping down to drape herself across the bed. You're sandwiched between them, a willing victim to their lusts and desires.

And in this moment, as you bask in the afterglow, you know there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Lore Drop!

Thank you both so much for your submissions! I can't tell you much about Stanley all that much yet (I'm still deliberating over some details that I want to iron out before revealing!!) but I sure can tell you more about the Bill & Ford situation :] especially about Bill's death.

------

Bill's death was a bit of a... fickle situation. Simply put, Bill didn't really die, but also kinda did! Let me explain:

After Bill "died", he was sent to the "In-Between".

The "In-Between" is basically a void of space sandwiched between the planes of reality/life/existence and "The After" (AKA. death and nothingness!) It can essentially be considered the digestive track of the multiverse, breaking down everything and everyone that's kicked the bucket so that they can be ready to be transferred over to "The After".

It, in a sense, "digests" everything physical about a (formerly) living creature. It decomposes it piece by piece, atom by atom; each particle paintakingly "digested" into fine stardust. The process supposedly takes a very long time, but that's okay, because Time doesn't exist in the "In-Between", since it ate it. Hunger is greedy, after all, and the "In-Between" is very hungry.

Bill, however, didn't belong there. His death was an odd case: dead within the mind of Ford, and yet still technically alive in every other sense. It didn't help that Bill wasn't as simple as a human mortal, and death was much more of a gamble for more complex beings like him. He was a paradox; an error! Usually, when the dead don't accept their death, they remain amongst the plane of existence until they come to accept it, instead of being processed through the "In-Between".

However, in Bill's case, it was the universe itself that rejected his death. So, he was tossed to the "In-Between" as a anomaly, still technically conscious and awake.

Anyways, fun stuff!! Hope you liked the lore dump :D

[youryanderedaddy]

Tw: captivity, obsessive behavior, made up fantasy lore, mind fuck (?)

He never calls for you - he only ever sends his servants, poor, confused little creatures of the night once lost just like you. They gather at your door like an army of darkness, scratching and biting at the delicate wooden frame, howling piteously with full chest until you're faced with the choice of either opening the door, or suffocating yourself with the fluffy white pillow. You give in after what feels like an appropriate time - not too soon as to feed his ever - growing ego, yet not so late that the creatures' heads start to roll under your nose.

You slowly walk down the endless corridor, refusing to look at anything for longer than a second - even as it calls to you with the sweetest voice of desire. Everything is enchanted to the very last candle on the wall. The countless paintings depict wealth and opulence beyond your wildest dreams, an adundance of riches upon riches, of honeycomb amber and pure green emeralds. The silk carpet is as soft as a dandelion just before it bursts open, and the crystal chandelier embarks such a soft light the human eye can never properly adjust to the tender shades of yellow and blue. The castle is tempting you with every passing breath - begging you to stay here forever. Begging you to love it, and everyone inside - especially His Majesty, the Lord.

You try to calm your disheveled thoughts as you carefully open the heavy gates to the throne room. Your breath hitches deep into your throat as your eyes gaze upon the feast spread out before you, and suddenly you're starving like a wolf. By now you should know better than to let yourself be lured in by magic - but the pull is too magnetic and you quickly find yourself stepping closer to the piled up table. You take in the smell with unsatiated hunger - golden apples baked inside fine sugar crystals, tender deer fillet dripping with berry sauce and smokey mushrooms, the sort you can only find inside an enchanted forrest. Cream puffs and mountains of stripped ice soaked in jam and vanilla essence upon stacks of fruit and more goblets of red wine than you can count. And yet he remains ever the centerpiece of the vision.

"You're late, mona grece tide*." His voice slowly fills the room with its overbearing softness, always on the verge of dropping into silence. It's painful to look at him - as if everything about the mythical man was created a touch too symmetrical, to the point where the sharp features all blend together. His lips are too full, his eyes - if the golden slits beneath his brows may be called that, are way too bright under the sun, and they reflect a time you don't wish to remember. And his hair is so long and pale, so very white and smooth, you have to stop your hands from reaching into the wounded transparency of his wild locks, less you want to lose a finger or two.

"Tidea." Khaal snaps his finger more aggressively when you don't respond to his call the first time. You squint in an attempt to block the light coming from the tiny cracks in his face - the birth lines of his dragon. "Sit down. Don't make me come to you."

Tide. Tidea. Love, as you eventually learnt the meaning of the word in Lohemian. My little love, the words still rest on his tongue, because what are you if not a small, fragile human?

"I'd hate to inconvenience you so, my Lord." You eventually bite back, breaking out of the trance. Slipping in and out of consciousness and constantly guessing your surroundings is taking a toll on you, but you'll lose your sanity before you give into his madness. "Touching a filthy human like myself will surely sully your pretty golden flakes." You smile with venom, tearing into the nearest sun-pear. He watches the juice drip down your chin with angry narrowed eyes, and with another swift snap of his fingers he's standing before you, towering above.

"Insolent child, you are." He grips your face carelessly, inspecting it from all sides before finally materializing a clean cloth and wiping you clean. "You're foolish just like any other human." His brows twist together with anger, but his expression remains angelic to the untrained eye. "I can give you everything you've ever wanted. The sun at your feet, the moon on your shoulders. All the knowledge of the world." His fingers suddenly stop rubbing along your jawline and his gaze falls upon your cold, quivering lips. "All I ask in return is your loyalty." His sharp nail begins stroking your lower lip. It doesn't draw blood, but you wish it would. You can't stand the anticipation - the moment before the violence entails.

"Don't let your eyes wander. Gift me your warmth." The dragon king pulls you closer to his chest, and all fight leaves you. His form is perfectly defined with thousand metal - like flakes, one on top of the other like a flawless shield. It's probably a great weapon on the battlefield - but it lacks the naked vulnerability of human skin, and it's so cold it hurts to stand close, much less touch it directly. "Look at me!" He suddenly roars, and you fall back from the sheer power of his voice.

Everything hurts - as if the floor is suddenly melting, you feel like you will never stop falling down.

"I can't. It's too painful." You whisper weakly between hoarse broken sobs threatening to tear off your heart in two. "I wasn't made for this world, f-for your... world." You bite your lips, averting eyes to the ground. "Everything in you wants me dead. Your love will kill me." You whimper, squeezing your left hand to your chest. The dead weight of the broken bone is pulling you down, luring you deeper into sleep.

"I'd like to see you try, mon'tidea." He sinks down to your level, quick as a shadow. Stealing a kiss as light as a sparrow, he pushes you down. "Die as many times as you want. You'll always end up here in my arms." His lips are grazing your ear, warm breath hitting your neck. Another illusion, you realize - his body can't create warmth. It's simply reflecting your warmth back to you. "Because once you enter my realm, there's no coming back."

[onyxstyx]

ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room.  “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.” 

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced. 

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words. 

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued. 

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.” 

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you. 

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second,  you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like. 

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed. 

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow. 

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.  

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin. 

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you. 

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult. 

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile. 

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.” 

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…” 

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak. 

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. “There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze. 

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention. 

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

 “Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla. 

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor. 

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo. 

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room. 

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned. 

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable. 

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face. 

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”  

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours. 

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup. 

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.” 

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

© onyxstyx tumblr 2025

[intrepidacious]

bring your hunger

summary: There is a Witcher in your house.

pairing: geralt of rivia x succubus!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), light dubcon due to demon magic, penetrative sex (p in v), some biting and choking 😌 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: somehow it's been over a year since i posted a full fic but one ao3 writer's curse later here we are. whole new fandom. i've also never written smut until this show rewired my brain so bon appétit (please be kind). my biggest love to @aphrogeneias and @brandycranby who both let me complain about this story for about three months, i adore you!!

masterlist | read on ao3

There is a Witcher in your house.

You smell him long before you lay your eyes on him, the stench of his magic permeating the forest, harsh and acrid. Somewhere in the woods nearby, something is burning.

For a moment, you hesitate, considering your options. A lesser creature would’ve turned on the spot and run, would’ve stolen a horse in the nearby town and gotten as far away as possible, and maybe you should be doing the same. Forsake your home and this region and try to forget them to save your neck.

But your instincts are never wrong, and right now they are drawing you closer, one cautious step in front of the other, until your door creaks open.

He’s sitting in your chair, turned to the side to have a clear view of the entrance. He is propped up against the dining table, his matted white hair sticking to his forehead. The air is heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. Whatever happened across him managed to get him good; he seems to have bandaged himself up, somehow, but the gashes in his chest look painful.

He stares at you, frown deepening on his face, but he stays very still. There is a dangerous look in his amber eyes, full of fire and fury, and for some reason, that doesn’t scare you. Not at all.

Gods, you’re hungry.

There’s a steady pulse of power coming from him, muted but incessant, like his body’s not ready to drop the fight quite yet. He doesn’t, however, reach for the weapons he’s carelessly dropped on your good carpet.

So instead of fleeing, you draw the door shut behind you and you tilt your head.

It’s stronger now, the smell of your own powers. You don’t think it holds as much sway over Witchers as it would do over mere mortals, but it’s still enough for him to white-knuckle the edge of the table.

"I know what you are," he grits.

The low timbre of his voice makes you grin.

"That makes us even, then." You get closer to him, gingerly stepping over his swords. "Are you going to do something about it?"

His nostrils flare a little, but apart from that his face stays unreadable. Only his eyes betray him, still trained on your lips. He can’t help himself.

"I don’t kill your kind," he says.

"How generous of you." You come to a halt between his legs, reaching out to tilt his chin towards you.

He lets you, and there’s the slightest hint of amusement hidden at the corner of his mouth. From up close, the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

"Let me show my appreciation," you say lowly.

His scent changes ever so slightly with the first small spike of his arousal. It sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your fingers trail down his throat, along his broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his back, leaning into him even more. His hands fall to your hips, almost involuntarily. Slowly, unhurriedly, you let your nose brush against his and he inhales with a shudder.

This is always your favourite part. The final moments before they give into their desire, your meal prepared and served up on a silver platter, ready to indulge in.

"Don’t," he says, barely a warning.

"Don’t what?" You can feel his breath against your smile.

"Don’t tease."

"No?" He’s got remarkable restraint, this Witcher; but you can hear his racing heart. "Alright then."

And between one moment and the next, you let your clothes disappear.

It’s a simple trick, one that everyone of your kind can do as easily as blinking, but it’s never failed you. His eyes turn even darker as he realizes what you’ve done, as you move back a little to let him take you in. You lick your lips as another waft of his arousal reaches your nose.

Delicious.

"Is that better?" you whisper, tipping your head to the side.

He doesn’t reply. He pulls you towards him sharply, and then his mouth crashes against yours, hard and sudden. One of his hands grabs your ass, hauling you into his lap while the other one cradles the nape of your neck.

It’s a brutal kiss, divinely ferocious. Your naked core brushes over the noticeable bulge in his pants and he groans. You move your hips back and forth, just enough friction to make his fingers curl, nails biting into your skin.

This, you think, this is just what you’ve been craving. This sense of presence, of awareness. Your heartbeats growing faster. Pulling, tasting, wanting. More.

You only break the kiss to undo his belt, and he chases after your lips, hazy, starving.

You can relate.

He is already rock hard when you pull him out of his pants, ready and leaking. He pushes into your touch, raw need taking over.

You let out an appreciative hum, positioning yourself in his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest. You want him to feel good, after all, no: you need him to.

You haven’t been sated in so long.

"Witcher," you chuckle breathlessly as his arms tighten around you, caging you against his body. "Aren’t you supposed to kill wicked, evil things like me?"

He growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the bite marks immediately; like he’s savouring your taste, too.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes are like molten embers.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you yank his head back to kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes when you sink down on him, and it’s a pity, really, because you could get your fill from that alone. It’s delectably salty and bitter.

Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he tilts his hips to allow you a better angle as you start moving.

"So good for me," you murmur.

He slaps your hand away when you try to slip it between your bodies, and then his own fingers find your clit, gently teasing at first, but quickly applying more pressure. You gasp, your walls clenching around his cock.

He lets out a breathless huff. "There, huh?"

"That’s it. Just like that."

It’s too much. Your breaths quicken as the air around you starts to hum and crackle with building energy. It’s making your head swim, each precise stroke to your clit bringing you closer to that edge you’re chasing.

His mouth still trails along your neck, nipping there. Your skin already feels sticky with sweat and magic as you’re hurled ever closer to the peak of your arousal.

Just as the tension in your core gets tight enough to snap, he stills completely. His cock is fully sheathed inside you, but he doesn’t move, his arms around you hard and unyielding, not even allowing a single roll of your hips. Something between a whine and a growl escapes your lips as your canines come down hard enough to draw blood.

The Witcher smiles at you hazily. "Do you want to come, little demon?"

You want to bite him. You want to suck out his energy until he’s nothing more than a sad, empty husk.

Your snarl only brings out a dark glint in his eyes, and his hand moves to your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. His grip tethers you in your denied pleasure.

"Ask nicely," he says lowly, brushing his lips against yours.

Wicked, evil man.

Underneath your skin, your powers are brimming with unease, not yet refilled, not yet repleted; he knows this. You know he knows, and yet you’re unwilling to give in. "Or what?"

His grin widens just a fracture as his chin juts out in unmatched arrogance. You could burn it off his face. You could dig your claws into the gashes in his chest and widen them even more, feast on his blood instead.

"I know you need it," he says. His cock twitches inside you. "Beg."

A shiver goes down your spine, hot and cold at the same time.

You don’t beg. Ever. You don’t yield control, not even for your meal, especially not to someone like him. But then he expertly applies pressure to your throat and your eyes roll back in your head, all thoughts lost to the thick haze of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, clenching around him again. "Please fuck me."

He groans, hips stuttering into yours involuntarily before he moves in earnest, keeping his hand on your throat. It’s almost agonisingly slow at first, one roll of his hips almost letting him slip out of your cunt completely before he pushes back in with one single, firm stroke.

Your startled cry of pleasure gets stifled by his mouth, coaxing, biting, until your claws dig into the thick muscles on his shoulders. The arm around your back guides your movement, pressing you even closer to his body than before as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

You’re so close. You can already taste the precipice, black stars dancing along the edge of your vision.

Another moan rips out of you when you come apart for air, mouths open. "That’s it," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "Come for me."

His voice cracks with rapture, and it’s that more than the feeling of his own climax that sends you over the edge.

This part of your nature never gets old: As the orgasm rushes through you, the pent-up energy surrounding you snaps like lightning, funnelling into your body like an invisible current until you shudder blissfully with your appetite sustained. Your magic crackles around you, dancing on your burning skin like sparks of fire.

You hum appreciatively, your eyes still closed as you take a moment to collect yourself. This day has taken a pleasantly surprising turn, after all. It’s been too long since you’ve felt so thoroughly sated.

However, when you try to move out of his lap, the Witcher’s grip on you tightens decisively.

"Is that it?"

Your eyes fly open.

He is breathing heavily, but despite his loss of blood and the energy you’ve pulled from him, there’s not a trace of exhaustion to be found. He still has that same dangerous twinkle in his gaze. Fire and fury. Something lurches in your stomach.

"I thought your kind’s supposed to be insatiable," he says, leaning in to nuzzle at your collarbone. His medallion bumps against your breasts with a sharp vibration as his fingers trail down your side, a slow, torturously delicate touch. "You can give me one more."

It’s not a question. Still, the hands parting your legs even further are almost as gentle as they are relentless. A light press to your overstimulated clit has you keen, spasming around his cock, and he chuckles lowly.

"Eyes on me."

You hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut again. You’re leaning heavily into him now, another wave of pleasure starting to build as the smell of his magic envelopes you.

He growls, moving both of you around so you’re spread open on your dining table, him leaning over you with a look that wants to devour you whole. Like you’re the one being served up for him to make a meal out of. Impossibly, he’s growing hard again as his deft hands coax you closer to your next release.

"Just one more."

It’s such an obvious lie, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re brimming with energy, dizzyingly replenished and yet still ravenous. The air is humming with it, the promise of more.

"Don’t lie to me, Witcher," you still gasp.

His smile is positively sinful. "You said it yourself. I’m just so generous."

You’re so full. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his aura flickering with lust, rich and decadent and beautiful.

"In other words," he continues, his lips brushing your ear right as you reach your peak again. "We are just getting started."

this fic was brought to you by horny hyperfixations. reblogs and comments are what keep your local writers sustained!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics to get notified whenever i post 💛

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ ɪ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇㅤׂ ⭒

⭒ㅤ𓈒 Yandere!WuWa! Men x Reader 𓈒 ⭒

゜���ヽ❥ Dark Romance

°•❃•°

꒷꒦꒷Scar | 伤痕

Your fear tastes like nectar, thick and sweet, and sacrilegious. Scar gulps down your apprehension in starving strides. Cradling the burn between his teeth, savoring the sensation of the embers coiling and seething inside his veins. You're too perfect, thrashing underneath him, caged and defiant his little lost lamb. trying to flee, begging for freedom like a fever dream high. He licks your iridescent tears with zealous maniacal jubilation. Relishing in the soft warm flesh of your cheek marinated in your woe. He wants to taste them every day, force them from your pretty petrified eyes with scorching kisses and touches that shatter your very bones.

Scar's talons etch jagged filigrees across your body engraving terrors and torments all parodying "I love you". But he can't love, not really, love is too gentle too vain, he needs to consume, to feel the reverberations trapped between your bones. Scar's kisses burn wakes down your spine, slipping between the vertebras. Hollowing out your essence piece by piece, his hunger knows no bonds, refusing to dwindle until he's bled every delicious part of you dry. Until he feels your heart between his teeth.

˚✶˚Jiyan | 忌炎

You trace his markings, nails gliding gingerly through the jagged crystals of his tacet mark. He kisses the hollow of your palm, basking in the sweet giggle you gift him. You're his precious treasure, a sweet gem imported from the silk roads themselves. He'd do anything to keep you safe binding your soul to his tattered one. Jiyan is the Qingloong that everyone looks up to, the indestructible pillar of Jinzhou. And yet a simple smile from you is all it takes to shatter his illusion of strength.

Between patients, his mother would sometimes grace him with fables about Dragons, not Loong, not the creature their nation worshiped but Dragons monsters from the western nations. She'd tell him How they hoarded exotic treasures from all corners of the world. Growing powerful in the light of other's envy. They did anything to protect their gold coins and pearl necklaces, kill, and maim in the name of obsession. Back then he'd found such creatures disgusting, dubbed it blasphemy to even mention them in the same breath as the deific Loong. Now he thinks he's more dragon than Loong. Hoarding you away keeping you only to himself. Promising to maul any who try to rob him of your sweet kisses and angelic laughter.

𒆜Calcharo | 卡卡罗

You come prepackaged with a soft smile and a docile heart. Calcharo thinks it's all from the privilege of having lived a satisfactory life. Cherished, overfed, protected. All the things stripped of him so young. He shouldn't be jealous though, after all, he has the complacency to thank for turning his darling into such an ideal doll. Jejune and helpless, shivering under his cold touch. He harbors you between his thighs, enjoying the way your pearl-kissed dress pools on the floor. An ivory testament to the innocence he so craves. Calcharo's calloused fingers entrap the hollow of your hips pulling you harshly against him, he can't get enough of you. His lips kiss the dip of your neck nose bumping the back of your ear. Enraptured by the floral scent of your perfume.

You tried to run again today, flee when he'd been out escorting a merchant across the desert terrain. His men had caught you, binded you all pretty and left you in his chamber. He flashes you a crooked smile upon entry. Watching as you struggle and glare knowing damn well it won't change a thing. "Really little rabbit? I thought we had ceased playing such foolish games." He grasps your chin pulling you closer, your knees slide across the wooden floor scuffing from the friction. His cold lips trace your own as he whispers degradations laced with romance. Calcharo leans down for the kill, a lethal crushing kiss. Trapping your lips and engulfing your essence. Laughing when you're foolish enough to return the favor. You shiver and moan and it takes every bit of willpower not to devour you right then and there.

☄Mortefi | 莫特斐

The universe reverberates to a familiar tune when he first sees you. Singing a melody he swears he's heard each night when he lays his wry head to rest. What kind of creature are you? A cacophony of starsongs and golden echoes. He longs to touch you, to permit his flames to traverse your body searing you until you shine with the purity you all so deserve. He loses himself in the melody of your voice, the lost tune of a fading nova. Something too ethereal to be of this crude world.

Mortefi fancies himself a scientist and takes utmost pride in the way his mind curves around a problem. Floating through the riddles seeking answers in the dark. He can fix anything, create anything. And yet you stand before him defiant of his understanding. Mortefi grabs you by the collar, cradling a rogue sun within his palms, kissing its rays trying to grasp comprehension between his teeth and swallow it whole. It doesn't work by the end of the kiss you are still an anomaly and he is still a scientist wearing the heart as some hapless love-struck schoolboy. The need to understand you grows claws tearing at his mind, desperation pierces his throat whenever he catches a mere glimpse of you. He needs to understand, to tear you open and choke your secrets.

҉　Aalto | 秋水

Aalto's fingers weave through your hair, silk traversing through bone and flesh, flowing free in the aero he produces subconsciously. He cradles you delicately in his arms, trying his best to ignore the sour frown etched upon your face. He creates fables, spinning stories out of silk and air trying to win your interest with tales of stray sheep and fallen stars. Of lost treasures on the jade road and little girls with fire flowing through their veins. Your frown doesn't falter.

He kisses you again, and again and again. Trying to pry out adoration and devotion from between your bones. He struggles, whining about detesting and freedom. It sounds so trivial especially when he can give you everything your heart desires. He can't let you go, not when his very essence aches to feel you between his arms. Aalto wonders what stories he must make to erase that blood-curdling frown of yours. What information does he need to lay out your feet for you to grace his lips with your own? A lover's kiss, not whatever this is. I love you he whispers, he doubts you even care.

Let me know what you think. Should I do yandere Jiyan x reader x Yandere Calcharo next? ~💜

[fangdokja]

He was a knight of light… until you turned his world dark.

❤︎ Synopsis. A once-divine knight, consumed by obsession, will stop at nothing to claim the heartless thief he can’t save—and the darkness in him grows with every rejection. In a world of blood and betrayal, love is the most terrifying curse.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Isekai! Knight x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanon. Light’s Last Lament - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 1,800

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic + yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, BDSM, religious themes, corruption

♡ His Story. In his eyes, your defiance isn’t strength—it’s foreplay.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who was a paragon of light and virtue when he first woke up in this strange, fantastical world. His armor gleamed like divine fire, his sword blessed by gods he didn’t know, his soul burning with righteous purpose.

You were the antithesis of everything he believed in—a wraith in the shadows, hands stained with theft and betrayal. A creature so small, so fragile-looking, he almost pitied you. Almost.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who met you after slaughtering a horde of corrupted beasts. You emerged from the carnage like a phantom, scavenging valuables from the corpses with meticulous efficiency.

Blood and filth covered you, yet your hands moved with the elegance of a jeweler. “You’re desecrating their bodies,” he said, his voice firm with disapproval. You didn’t even glance at him.

“And you’re desecrating my patience. Move.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who couldn’t understand you, this cold, unfeeling shadow that slipped through the cracks of his world.

You were everything he was supposed to despise—selfish, ruthless, and utterly indifferent to the suffering of others.

But you fascinated him. You were the single thing in this unfamiliar world that didn’t bow to his light.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who tried to "save" you, convinced that underneath your icy exterior was a soul begging to be redeemed.

He followed you through ruins and wastelands, offering his aid even when you sneered at him. “Why do you care?” you spat once, after he shielded you from a falling blade trap.

His smile was gentle, but his eyes burned. “Because you need someone to care.” You laughed, sharp and humorless, as though his words were the punchline to a cruel joke.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who began to unravel the more time he spent chasing you. At first, it was small—a hesitation before a kill, a flicker of anger when you mocked his ideals.

But then came the dreams, feverish and relentless, of your cold hands brushing his skin, your cutting voice murmuring his name like a curse.

The gods called it temptation. He called it love.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who grew darker with every rejection.

“You’re wasting your time,” you said, cleaning blood from a stolen dagger as though the conversation bored you.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you.” His jaw tightened, his fists clenched, but he didn’t argue.

Instead, he watched you with a quiet intensity that made your skin crawl, as though memorizing every inch of you for the day you would belong to him.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who started to blur the line between justice and obsession.

He told himself he was protecting you when he cut down the bandits you were bargaining with. He told himself it was mercy when he destroyed the treasure you coveted most, just to see your mask crack for the first time.

“You bastard,” you hissed, your voice trembling with rage.

His lips quirked into a sad smile. “It’s for your own good.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who began to twist under your influence, his once-holy purpose eroding into something unrecognizable. The light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a ravenous hunger that only grew the more you pushed him away.

You noticed the change too late—how his armor, once pristine, now gleamed with the blood of innocents. How his prayers grew quieter as his gaze darkened. How his love for you, so pure and selfless at first, had curdled into something monstrous.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who finally snapped after a deadly argument in the depths of a cursed labyrinth.

“You don’t even know how to feel,” you spat, shoving him away after he killed a creature you’d intended to tame. “You’re just a puppet of your gods, blindly following orders like a fool.” His expression, once soft and pleading, twisted into something cold and terrifying.

“And you’re nothing but a heartless thief who wouldn’t know loyalty if it stabbed you in the back,” he growled.

Before you could reply, he grabbed your wrist, his grip bruising. “You’re mine, little mouse. Whether you want to be or not.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who let his darkness consume him for your sake. The holy knight who once preached kindness now stood atop a mountain of corpses, his blade slick with gore, all to carve a path to you.

“I’ve sacrificed everything for you,” he said one night, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and desperation. “My honor, my faith, my soul. And you still look at me like I’m nothing.” You didn’t reply, but the flicker of fear in your eyes was all he needed.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who finally realized that he didn’t want to save you—he wanted to break you. To drag you down into the darkness with him, where you couldn’t escape. Where you couldn’t deny him.

“You’ll love me eventually,” he whispered one night, as you lay bound in the ruins of your latest heist. His lips brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “And even if you don’t, I’ll make sure no one else ever has you.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who finally snaps when your defiance pushes him past the edge of reason. He drags you into the cold, unlit depths of his fortress, where the walls are damp, the air suffocating, and no one can hear your screams. His towering frame casts shadows that seem to devour you whole, and the sound of the door locking echoes like the toll of a bell.

“You’ve pushed me far enough, little mouse,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “Now, you’ll learn what happens when you deny me.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight whose massive hands bind your wrists in iron shackles, your delicate frame trembling as he steps closer. He doesn’t bother hiding the hunger in his eyes anymore—those darkened embers that burn with possession and rage.

“You’ve been such a cruel little thing,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing down your throat with a gentleness that contrasts the brutal grip on your waist.

“Do you think I’ll let you get away with it? That I’ll keep begging for scraps of your attention?”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who revels in the power imbalance as he looms over you, his body dwarfing yours in every way. He tears at your clothes with ease, shredding them as if they were nothing more than cobwebs.

“Look at you,” he sneers, his tone dripping with dark amusement. “So small. So fragile. Do you even realize how easy it would be for me to break you?”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight whose touch is equal parts punishing and worshipful as he forces you to your knees. His hands grip your hair, yanking your head back so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“You’ve made me into this,” he says, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “A monster. A man who dreams of ruining you every night. And now, I’ll show you just how far you’ve fallen with me.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who makes you feel every inch of his strength as he takes you, his movements rough and unrelenting. The sound of your cries only spurs him on, his gritted teeth pulling into a feral grin.

“Scream all you want,” he growls, his hand pressing against the small of your back to force you down. “No one will hear you. No one but me.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who marks you with bites and bruises, the sharp sting of his teeth drawing blood that he licks away with a dark reverence.

“You look better like this,” he murmurs, his voice husky and thick with lust. “Covered in me. Marked by me. No one else will ever touch you now. No one else will dare.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who delights in your struggles, the way your smaller hands push against his broad chest to no avail. He pins you down with a single hand, his other tracing the red lines his gauntlets left on your skin.

“Keep fighting,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. “It only makes this more satisfying.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight whose size becomes its own form of punishment, stretching you past your limits until tears streak your cheeks.

“You can take it,” he murmurs darkly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re mine. Your body knows it, even if your heart doesn’t.” His hips slam against yours, each thrust claiming you more thoroughly than the last.

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who makes you beg, even as you curse him. He slows his pace just enough to drive you mad, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice a low growl. “Say you belong to me.”

When you spit a defiant “never,” his laugh is cruel and guttural. “Then I’ll just have to fuck the words out of you, won’t I?”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who doesn’t stop until you’re trembling, broken beneath him, your body a canvas of his desire. His hands trace over your battered skin with a gentleness that contrasts the brutal passion of his actions.

“You’ll learn to love me,” he whispers, his lips pressing against your forehead like a twisted promise. “Even if I have to tear you apart to make it happen.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who stares down at your exhausted form with dark satisfaction, the sight of your bruised and bloodied body feeding his insatiable hunger.

“You look beautiful like this,” he murmurs, his voice soft but dripping with possessiveness. “Ruined. Tamed. Completely mine.”

♡ Yandere! Isekai! Knight who, in the end, no longer cared whether you loved him or not. Your coldness only made his desire burn hotter, his need to possess you more consuming.

You were his treasure, his obsession, his little mouse. And no amount of hatred or defiance would change that.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Whispers In The Dark”: @keisocool , @elvabeth

[venussaidso]

Nodal Dominant Themes — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

Ardra, Swati, Shatabhisha embody Rahu qualities to the fullest. Breaking boundaries, whether they mean to or not, refining or rebuilding themselves by the way they absorb Maya (illusion), being thrown into foreign lands to create, explore and challenge existing paradigms. The ultimate mastery of Rahu nakshatras lies in recognizing that Maya is not the goal, but the process of refinement. This is shown in the natives' urge to learn, apply and cultivate something for themselves. This means that their initial stages have a lot of lack, and that's where that hunger to achieve and receive comes from. They'll take on challenges if it means there's an opportunity to fulfill themselves. In these following examples, the Rahuvian character is often given an opportunity to enter higher societies, usually through a job, a scholarship or from meeting the right person in the right time.

Swati Sun Julia Roberts, in Pretty Woman, plays a poor, sex worker who enters the high society through a billionaire and becomes 'refined'. Despite her glow up, her authenticity still contrasts with the pretentiousness of the high class social circle she finds herself in, challenging their perceptions of worth and class.

Much like Pretty Woman, in the film My Fair Lady, the Rahuvian meets a snobbish phonetics professor who wages that he can make her presentable in high society.

In the film Khoobsurat, Shatabhisha Moon Sonam Kapoor Ahuja plays a quirky physiotherapist who is ill-mannered and boundless. She is given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work for a royal family. There, she meets a handsome young Rajput prince who is her complete opposite (given that he is portrayed by a Mula Moon native, Fawad Khan, who adheres to the customs of his background, bound by his roots).

Despite their different social classes, the royal family learns a lot from her authenticity.

This theme of outer duality in which the native crosses over to a whole new world different from where they originally came from centers a lot around the 'poor vs rich' dynamic in these modern examples — exploring classism, elitism and other societal divisions which make outsiders.

As I briefly gave examples in this post, Shatabhisha can be linked to Cinderella. Which means that trine nakshatras can also inherit this theme of person from poor background falls in love with person from wealthy background. As shown in that post, the union is often with a Mula native. It was expected to find these Rahu-Ketu connections, as the nodes are always one with each other. Their themes can overlap, which I'll be going more into further down this post.

The Mula CEO also comes from old money.

Rahu thrives on venturing the unknown and embracing the unconventional, often shown in the trope of one falling in love with someone alien.

This otherworldly love is seen in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, where a Rahuvian sailor falls in love with the mermaid, Syrena. Mermaids are captured and exploited by humans — immediately we see this theme of division. And unlike the other humans, he treats Syrena with respect and equality.

Syrena is portrayed by Mula Moon Astrid Berges-Frisbey, while the sailor is portrayed by Ardra Sun Sam Claflin. In the end, Philip becomes a merman and lives with Syrena underwater. This transformation that the Rahuvian goes through in order to unite with a lover of another species is also seen in the film Lisa Frankenstein, starring Shatabhisha Moon Kathryn Newton — although it's more in a Romeo-&-Juliet style.

The Rahuvian character, Lisa, falls in love with Creature, who is a living corpse portrayed by Magha ASC Cole Sprouse. Lisa kills herself in a tanning bed to join the Creature in death. Their union shows her alive, but mummified.

This theme of one overcoming the obstacle between them and the person they desire is seen yet again in the film Casper (1995). A girl, played by Magha ASC Christina Ricci, meets a ghost named Casper, who falls in love with her. Casper is voiced by Malachi Pearson who has potential Swati Moon. Casper's one wish is to be human again so that he can win her heart.

His wish is fulfilled but he can only be human up until midnight. His human form is portrayed by Swati Moon Devon Sawa.

In the Korean drama, Are You Human?, Shatabhisha Sun Gong Seung-yeon plays a bodyguard who is given an opportunity to protect an advanced humanoid whom she falls in love with. Another abnormal, interspecies relationship.

The humanoid is the clone of an heir of a rich conglomerate. The heir is portrayed by Magha Moon native Seo Kang-joon – him being born into wealth contrasts with her being brought up from a poorer background; we see this theme again of a cross over between two opposite worlds as she gets romantically entangled with him.

A lot of these pairings show Rahu's need to break taboos and seek authenticity over conformity, as these unions tend to be abnormal in a discriminatory society. As illusory as Rahu is by nature, it highlights the illusions within society and the challenges that come with it.

Rahu seeks to challenge conventions, forcing individuals to confront their biases, embrace diversity, and explore love in its most expansive ways; while Ketu can be detached from society in general, already transcending or dissociating from it altogether.

Now extending the old money archetype into this, we can see Rahuvians embodying this shabby, nonconforming, rough-around-the-edges, transformative archetype who'll be on the opposite end. As Ketu symbolizes the past, ancestral roots, tradition, the old way of doing things; Rahu symbolizes the future, foreignness, pursuit, a new way of doing things.

Old money often means adhering to strict family rituals, customs, and expectations. There's an expectation for the wealthy to marry their own, maintaining a cultural practice that has existed for centuries, a theme of Ketu as it means to preserve the past. But Rahu comes in as a disruptor, changing rules that seemed absolute, causing more confusion and tension. Rahu often seeks unity, even with our all differences.

Rahu and Ketu are always 180 degrees apart in a chart. This gives an understanding to how they're always on opposite sides of the same coin. So their union in these media examples often come with resistance and chaos.

The story of Romeo and Juliet is about a star-crossed love stuck in this push-&-pull between tradition and breaking free from tradition.

Rahu is symbolized as the head of a dragon, while Ketu is the tail. Together they remain in this endless chase, their nature defined by longing and separation. Maria and Tony from A West Side Story mirrors this nodal dynamic, as it's based on the classic Romeo and Juliet. Just as the nodes themselves are forever trapped in opposition and in an eternal chase, these lovers remain trapped by their differences. Their love and lives are destined to be cut short, signifying the impossible union between the opposing nodes in these forbidden love stories.

The tragic ending of Maria and Tony’s story reflects the inevitable nature of the nodes. In both Romeo and Juliet and A West Side Story, we see the power of love transcending societal barriers, yet this love is doomed by the very forces it seeks to overcome.

Ashwini nakshatra literally has the strongest ties in Romeo & Juliet (list).

Another pair of this nodal influence (Ketu-Ketu), with this exact theme, is Mavis and Johnny from the animation Hotel Transylvania. Mavis is voiced by Ashwini Moon Selena Gomez, and Johnny is voiced by Magha Sun Andy Samberg. Mavis is a vampire and Johnny is a human. Their worlds should never have had a crossover to begin with. But Johnny, being Magha, feels a sense of belonging with these monsters and Mavis instead of fearing them (a nod to the Mula archetype and Beauty-&-the-Beast trope, which, as I've stated before, can also manifest itself as Ketu-Ketu instead of Ketu-Jupiter... much like Belle and Rumpelstiltskin from Once Upon A Time, Belle being played by Mula Sun Emilie de Ravin and Rumpelstiltskin portrayed by Ashwini Sun Robert Carlyle — the show's own Beauty & the Beast).

Though light-hearted and comedic, their union was forbidden as monsters and humans should be kept apart to their own worlds due to past conflicts. Mavis' father, Dracula, goes to great lengths to separate the two, but then he realizes that their love is genuine and overcomes his prejudices.

The theme of letting go touches on Ketu's tendency to sever ties, signifying the lesson of how temporary things are, including love. The film Untamed Heart is a great example, perfectly encapsulating this theme between two Ketu natives.

And as Mars also rules Ashwini nakshatra, this can be a major focus.

Connecting Orpheus to Ashwini, so much of this nakshatra's themes are highlighted in this Greek myth. Ketu is associated with nature, animal caretaking, and taming wild beasts. This is seen in Orpheus's ability to charm animals, move trees and rocks, and even change the course of rivers, through his music. Music has been known as a form of comfort and healing, and Orpheus' music is so powerful that it hypnotizes wild beasts, even influencing Hades, the ruler of the underworld.

The mythological character loses the love of this life, Eurydice, and he is unable to accept her death. He becomes so desperate, filled with grief and fear, that he descends into the underworld to get Eurydice back. As Ashwini can be driven by selfishness, severance becomes a major lesson in their journey.

The musical film Black Orpheus (1959) is directed by Ashwini Sun, Magha ASC Marcel Camus, a black Brazilian retelling of the tale.

In Jason & the Argonauts (2000), Ashwini Moon Adrian Lester portrays Orpheus. In the animation Hell and Back, *Ashwini Moon Danny McBride voices Orpheus. In 1960s The Giants of Thessaly, Massimo Girotti portrays Orpheus and he has Moon in Magha (trine nakshatra to Ashwini). This obvious connection of Ashwini to Orpheus takes me back to the ruling deities, the Ashwini Kumaras. Ashwini can be related to partnership, soulmates, connected minds. Here, there's a theme of inseparability yet the nature of the nakshatra forces severance. Back to the tale — With just the charm of his music, Orpheus is able to convince Hades to bring Eurydice back to life, only under the condition that Orpheus never looks back at her when they leave the underworld. Overwhelmed with so much love, he's unable to help himself, as he fails and looks back at her as they neared the exit. This is how Orpheus loses Eurydice forever.

Similar to Orpheus, the Twelfth Doctor from Doctor Who spirals into madness and desperation after the death of his close companion, Clara Oswald. The Twelfth Doctor is played by Ashwini Sun native Peter Capaldi. His Aries relentlessness and selfishness has him breaking the laws of time to bring her back, just like Orpheus breaks the natural order of life to get Eurydice back.

Clara Oswald is interestingly nodal herself, being played by Ashwini native Jenna Coleman.

YouTube video link

His journey through grief and his refusal to let her go mirrors Orpheus's determination to challenge the natural order of life for love. In the end, Twelve's memories of Clara get wiped out when he is forced to sever ties with her. Clara remains dead and so does Eurydice. This makes these pairs star-crossed, as Ketu reminds us of the inevitability of loss and separation. With Mars there, it makes it an obvious theme with Ashwini nakshatra.

Orpheus tried to get Eurydice back after her death by seeking the realm of the dead as a mortal being. He finds the cave that led to Hades and slowly descended into the Underworld. He sang to Cerberus, a terrifying, three-headed monstrous watchdog, able to tame and charm the beast so that he enters. This theme of entering portals to other worlds and dimensions tends to be associated with Ketu, and I find it interesting that I am particularly seeing the magic within Ashwini nakshatra.

In the 2008 film Jumper, Ashwini Sun Hayden Christensen plays a young man who can teleport himself anywhere and everywhere due to a genetic anomaly.

It is interesting that Ketu nakshatras also have this otherworldliness quality to them which is seen in having access to portals or dissociating into other realms. Although I have already explored this theme within the context of Anuradha nakshatra, there is still an undeniable nodal influence to it as I see these nakshatras frequently pop up in this genre of film.

Magha Sun Amy Adams' character in Enchanted falls into a well which is a portal to another world. In Alice in Wonderland (2010), Magha Moon and Swati Sun native Mia Wasikowska's character also falls into a portal to another world.

In the animation Caroline, Ashwini ASC and Shatabhisha Sun native Dakota Fanning voices a girl who finds a portal to another world. In 1953's Peter Pan, Ardra Sun Kathryn Beaumont voices Wendy who is taken to another magical world called Neverland by a boy named Peter Pan who's voiced by Shatabhisha Sun Bobby Driscoll. In 2003's Peter Pan live-action movie, Wendy is played by Ardra Moon Rachel Hurd-Wood, taken into this whole other reality of magic and wonder. In Hook (1991), adult Peter Pan is portrayed by Shatabhisha Moon and Swati ASC Robert Williams, the character a middle-aged lawyer from the modern world who returns to his magical origins. In the Korean drama Spice Up Our Love, Ashwini Moon Han Ji-hyun's character wakes up as the protagonist of the web novel she wrote. In the Korean drama W: Two Worlds Apart, Shatabhisha Sun Han Hyo-Joo gets sucked into a webtoon written by her father. There she falls in love with the protagonist who is played by Shatabhisha Moon Lee Jong-Suk, who gets gets sucked into her reality as well. In the Chinese drama Love Game in Eastern Fantasy, Mula Sun Esther Yu gets sucked into a video game novel as a supporting character. In The Wizard of Oz, Mula Moon and Ardra ASC Judy Garland plays a Kansas farm girl who is taken away in a tornado and ends up in the magical Land of Oz. In the series Emerald City, Ashwini Sun Adria Arjona is a Kansas nurse who is transported by a tornado to the Land of Oz. In the film Oz: The Great & Powerful, Ashwini Sun James Franco is a magician who is hurled away from Kansas into the wonderful land of Oz. In the 2013 animation Epic, Magha Moon Amanda Seyfried voices a young girl who finds herself transported into an alternate world and even falls in love with Ashwini Moon Josh Hutcherson's character (I highly recommend this film).

As Rahu is associated with illusions and exploring the foreign, we see this theme of escaping into simulations and dreamy worlds which one becomes absorbed in. This has been explored deeper within Swati nakshatra, which combines the arts and illusory tendencies of Rahu together.

The influence of the nodes often transcends the physical realm, embodying forces of spirituality, illusion and transformation together. But they both manifest differently in this theme. Rahu becomes absorbed in illusions (in form of the arts, simulations, imagination (ex. Peter Pan being the boy who is attached to Neverland because he never grows up — Neverland is an illusory place only found in the minds of children, this highlighting his attachment to illusions)); while Ketu tends to escape the material plane altogether, yearning transcendence and passing by realms to seek meaning and lessons.

In the film Meet Joe Black, Mula Sun Brad Pitt plays an otherworldly being who takes over the body of a man to experience Earth and be guided in the teachings & meaning of life. His very existence quite literally transcends time and space, which I relate to Ketu, as he is a mystery himself.

He is innately detached from human concerns like time, societal expectations, and permanence. But he falls in love with a human named Susan, who is also nodal-ruled, and his nature makes their connection doomed from the start. Susan is played by Mula Sun, Mula Moon native Claire Forlani. This making for another star-crossed pair because he can never fully participate in human life.

Going into the body-swapping trope, this calls to Rahu's desire to navigate a foreign perspective while Ketu seeks to transcend its rigid reality.

In the film Hot Chick (2002), Swati ASC Rachel McAdams plays a teenage girl who wakes up in the body of a 30-year-old male criminal played by Swati Sun and Ashwini Moon native Rob Schneider. In 1989's film Dream a Little Dream, an accident puts the consciousness of an elderly dream researcher played by Magha Moon Jason Robards into the body of a bratty teenager who is played by Mula Sun and Shatabhisha Moon native Corey Haim. Many more examples often include a Saturn nakshatra native as well, which I found very interesting. Hopefully I'll be circling back to that one day!

Rahu is thriving on the chaos of this trope since an entirely new identity is being explored (and lessons are learned as the social difference in one's gender, class, and even age tends to be highlighted for the ignorant one (Rahu essentially refining the native through this experience)).

The interaction of the nodes drive each other to a deeper understanding of life's illusions as it signifies letting go and refining oneself. In this little exploration, I got to understand that Ashwini is a romantic nakshatra which deals with loss and forced detachment due to Ketu. While Rahu nakshatras tend to be more romantic and igniting conflict in their pursuit of a love that's not right according to societal standards. This solidifies the image of the eternal chase of the dragon representing desire and detachment.

[jmliebert]

Scent of Seduction᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Summary: Halsin finds himself captivated by Tav, the feeling is mutual, of course. Their journey is full of danger and desire. Despite Halsin's internal struggle between primal instincts and duty, their mutual attraction intensifies. When Tav is in heat, their passion ignites... and well... let's just say things get steamy.

smut with (a little bit of) fluff?

Word count: 2,900

Tags: alpha/omega dynamics, heat, knotting, breeding, shameless smut

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: today my demons won. sorry guys, but I was thinking about it for the longesttttt time 

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

The first time Halsin saw you, he was in his bear form. Held captive in the dark cellar, surrounded by goblins; such lowly creatures. He was helpless and angry, but then he caught a scent of something, or rather someone's scent. Someone who surely didn’t belong there, and that person was you. His ears perked up, intrigued. His muzzle watered a little, your scent being so delicious. But he didn’t want to eat you, of course. His hunger was of a different kind, you see.

At the camp, Halsin could sense you. He felt it in his flesh when you weren’t near. His mind and body grew restless, but it wasn’t only that. When he saw you talking to Wyll or Gale, laughing with them and sharing stories, he felt those sudden pangs of something he hadn’t felt for the longest time; jealousy. He was far too old for that, or so he thought. His heart wasn’t one to stir easily, but with you...it was different. He clenched his jaw unconsciously at the thought of you being with other males. He couldn’t stand this, but he shook his head, ignoring the feeling for now, as he had different matters to attend to.

Yet, his eyes followed you with longing each time you were close.

During the Tiefling Party, it took all the strength he had to reject your rather obvious seductions. You were absolutely sweet, your cheeks flushed from wine, your eyes sparkly and playful. It was a delight to see you so happy and carefree, the hero of the night, the center of attention. You were shining, and despite having so many people to choose from, your eyes found his. Halsin's chest swelled with pride at the thought, but he had to remain composed. That's why he didn’t drink that night; a calculated move on his part, as he feared he might say something he shouldn't have. Halsin already knew he had a certain weakness towards you, and alcohol would only fuel that. In no time, he would confess his feelings for you, saying you were made for each other, that his body and soul yearned for you. He would say he wanted to protect you and love you for eternity, and when he told you that you laughed, thinking he was exaggerating, but he wasn't. It was the truth and his words towards you would be sincere. Then, if he really got carried away and his alpha brain would win over him, he would not let you go until he marked you and pushed his semen deep into your womb. Continuously.

And he knew you for only a few hours at least, and you had a world to save, and he had his duties, and you deserved more than that—you deserved to be courted, to be worshipped. Yet, when he told you to enjoy the night with someone else, deep inside he hoped you wouldn’t.

The thought of you with someone else boiled his veins with anger, but what choice did he have? As he thought about it now, he realised he would act differently that night. He would take your hands in his, kiss them gently and ask you to wait for him, but then, it was different. Maybe he was scared? Maybe he wanted to play it cool, not used to having such abrupt feelings towards someone?

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Halsin wakes up in the middle of the night, sensing your absence. With a sense of urgency, he stands up and follows your scent. You're not in your usual spot. He finds you at the lake, bathed in moonlight, your naked form illuminated against the dark water. Your slender back, cascading hair, and the gentle curve of your hips beneath the water's surface captivate him. You look divine, a sight to behold. However, Halsin quickly averts his gaze, feeling it's inappropriate to observe you in such a vulnerable state. Returning to his tent, he finds his body betraying him, his arousal evident in the half-hardness of his dick.

Oh, how he longs to draw nearer to you, grasp your waist from behind and draw you closer to his body, making you feel his growing arousal pressing against you. Showing you how much he wants you, how much he needs you. He would groan to your ear, bite your neck and take you here and there, as nature intended. But you are not his to claim, he reminds himself sternly, over and over again, resisting the urge to succumb to his primal instincts.

But that was about to change when you left the Shadow-Cursed Lands. He was finally free from responsibilities, finally free to follow his heart's desires, and you quickly noticed this sudden transformation of his. As you traveled together, Halsin seemed drawn to your side, even unconsciously. He sought to protect you from any danger, always ready to lend a hand when needed. You noticed him finding excuses to be near you, to touch you, to engage in conversation. His gaze lingered on you, his presence felt even when he walked behind you. During campfires, he sat close, his body language open and inviting, his thigh brushing yours. Though he laughed and talked with others, his eyes always found their way back to you, his attention unwavering when you spoke. It made you feel shy, this whole-hearted attention Halsin gave you, but undeniably it made you feel appreciated.

Yet, you couldn't shake the memories of your early encounters. After he helped you battling those goblins, covered in blood and exuding raw power, you felt a shiver run down your spine. He appeared strong and imposing, igniting something within you. But when you approached him with openness and willingness at the Tiefling Party, he rejected you, leaving you feeling foolish. You had hoped for mutual feelings or at least some acknowledgment, but for most of your journey, he offered only polite smiles and lukewarm courtesy. Why the sudden change now?

Don’t get me wrong, you basked in the glory of his attention, relishing in those small smiles meant only for you. But amidst the warmth of his gestures, doubts crept into your mind. Weren't you worthy of his notice before? Yet, you quickly brushed aside those thoughts, focusing instead on the present. Halsin cared for you deeply now, ensuring you were fed, rested, and shielded from the sun's harsh rays. He showered you with little gifts; wildflowers plucked from the roadside, stones with intriguing shapes and colours, and delicately carved wooden ducks. There was no mistaking his intentions; Halsin was courting you, with patience and respect. Your heart raced at the thought, eagerly anticipating his next move. You pondered what the future held, though you never could have imagined what was to come.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

You found yourself in heat as soon as you arrived at Baldur's Gate. It was as if your body had finally released the tension accumulated during your harrowing journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. After witnessing so much death, roughly cut body parts and darkness, your body sought solace within the safety of the Elfsong Tavern, nestled behind the town walls.

Despite the late hour, neither you nor Halsin slept. Instead, you reveled in each other's company, cuddling on the sofa with the soft glow of the fire casting gentle shadows around you. Halsin held you close, his strong arms enveloping your body, and then he cupped your head, drawing you nearer for what would be your first kiss. As his lips met yours, a haze descended over your mind, and you found yourself yearning for more. You were waiting for so long.

You eagerly shifted positions, settling onto his lap, deepening the kiss with a hunger you couldn't contain. Halsin chuckled softly, his fingers pressing against the sides of your body possessively. You gasped at the sensation, feeling a sudden warmth between your legs as your pants grew damp. Panic surged through you—no, it couldn't be.

"I'm sorry, Halsin, I can't right now," you managed to say as you swiftly freed yourself from Halsin's embrace and fled to your bedroom. You needed space, distance from him until you could gather your thoughts.

His kiss and the sudden rush of emotions triggered your heat, overwhelming you with fear and confusion. You buried your face in your pillow, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Morning brought a gentle knock at your door, and you knew it was Halsin. He had been there all night, waiting patiently for you. "My love, let me in," his voice was soft, tinged with concern. When silence greeted his words, he spoke again, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his tone. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, never," you replied, your heart aching at the thought that he might blame himself. "I just don't feel well," you confessed through tears, your voice muffled by the pillow.

"Whenever it is, I'm confident I can help you, my darling," his words were sincere and full of worry. You were clearly in distress, and he felt he should be at your side, not here, behind these closed doors. "Just let me in," Halsin pleaded, his forehead touching the wooden surface in resignation.

You wished he was here too. When you saw his shadow at the door, your heart ached with longing. You were scared he would think poorly of you, scared of losing control to the heat. You hadn't known each other for long, and perhaps it was too soon for him to see this side of you. But at the same time, you were devastated at the thought of being without him. Unsure of what to do, you began to cry, and when Halsin heard your sobs, he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going in!" he declared, his voice resolute as he forced the doors open. As soon as he entered the room, he clasped a hand over his mouth. There you lay on the bed, naked, the room dimly lit by the morning sun filtering through closed curtains. The scent of you filled the air, potent and overwhelming. Halsin thought perhaps you had second thoughts when you kissed for the first time, maybe things had moved too quickly, but he certainly wasn't expecting this. 

His dick twitched. You were in heat, he realised. "Oh, Tav..." You looked so lost and uncomfortable, your body covered in sweat, your eyes watery. All he wanted to do now was to take you in his arms and never let go.

"Halsin, I feel so hot I can't breathe. Touch me, please," you said, your voice laced with need. Halsin was there in the split of a second, responding to your plea without hesitation.

He took you in his arms, placing you on his lap, and you moaned, the sound emanating from deep inside you. As your bodies touched, you couldn't understand why you had pushed him away before, when you kissed for the first time. He felt like he was made for you, and you for him. Thoughts swirled in your mind as he held you close, his hands roaming all over you, his head buried in your neck, sniffing and then licking with long strokes, revealing in your delicious scent.

You began to grind on his thighs, your pent-up arousal needing release. Desperation fuelled your movements. Halsin placed his rough, large hands on your hips, guiding and assisting your grinding motion. In seconds, you reached climax, moaning and gasping. But it wasn't enough. The heat subsided for just a brief moment. Afterwards, you were ready for more. You wanted Halsin deep inside your wet and willing pussy.

You took his hand in yours and guided him to your heated entrance. "I need you here, Halsin," you whispered urgently.

"And you will have me, my love," he assured, his voice thick with desire.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Halsin quickly took off his clothes. And that’s how you saw his dick for the first time. It was huge, but somehow you suspected it will be. He seemed pleasantly heavy. He was already oozing pre-cum and fully erect. Ready for you.

You lay on your back as he returned to the bed, your legs parted, inviting him in. Slick all over your inner thighs and your entrance, guiding the way. He didn’t even need to finger you. You were perfectly ready. Ready as he was. 

Halsin kissed you passionately, causing your body to tremble with the intensity of the sensation. Every ounce of his desire and affection towards you was conveyed in that tender gesture.

"Halsin, please…" you moaned, your hips moving eagerly, your body yearning for more. His arousal at your entrance heightened your senses, driving you to the brink of madness. With a single swift motion, he guided himself inside you, and as he entered, you felt a rush of ecstasy that illuminated your senses like stars in the night sky. A scream of pleasure escaped your lips, echoing in the room, while he grunted softly in your ear, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to maintain control. It was a challenge to remain composed when you felt so incredibly tight and warm around him. The urge to climax threatened to consume him, but he resisted, knowing that this moment was all about you. In this vulnerable state, you entrusted yourself to him, and he vowed to cherish you, to prioritise your pleasure above all else. You were his priority, and he would savour every moment with you. 

As Halsin began to move, his motions were deliberate and measured, each thrust a testament to his desire to please you. One hand caressed your full breast, while the other gripped your thigh, spreading you wider to accommodate him. The sight of you, so beautiful and lewd, whimpering each time he showed his dick deep inside you, elicited a primal desire within him. Every whimper that escaped your lips drove him further, his arousal building with each thrust. He couldn’t help but look at your exquisite, smooth pussy swallowing him over and over again.

"You are so good to me," Halsin murmured, his voice soft and filled with admiration, as he brushed a sticky strand of hair from your forehead before pressing a tender kiss to your skin.

As Halsin placed his thumb on your clitoris, his touch sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your body. With deft circular movements, he quickened his pace, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. In response, you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, craving the feeling of his muscles against yours, yearning for the weight of his body upon you.

His hard, deliberate strokes combined with the stimulation of your clitoris pushed you over the edge once more, eliciting another powerful climax. "Yes, yes, yes," you repeated, the words tumbling from your lips as your back arched and your inner muscles clenched in pleasure.

"Good girl," Halsin praised, his voice filled with satisfaction and pride. So responsive to his touch.

At this point, Halsin felt himself teetering on the edge of control. Sensing his impending release, he quickened his pace even further, his movements growing more urgent as his knot began to form. With each thrust, his desire to breed you, to fill you with his seed, consumed his thoughts entirely. He wanted nothing more than to hear you scream in pleasure beneath him.

As his movements became more erratic, more sloppy, he whispered urgently against your neck, "I need you to come for me one more time," his voice strained with desire. The sound of his groans mingled with yours, creating a symphony of pleasure as his flesh moved against yours in a passionate rhythm. In that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of utter pleasure being in his arms, being taken by him, feeling his knot pressing against your entrance.

As his knot fully formed, Halsin pushed it into you, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from both of you. With three final, powerful thrusts, he released himself inside you, his loud moans reverberating through the room. In response, you screamed in ecstasy, your body convulsing with pleasure as you reached your third climax.

You took his knot so well, and he felt an intense rush of satisfaction as he emptied himself deep inside you. His dick, engorged and throbbing, remained buried in your tight, eager pussy, his knot ensuring that his seed would stay where it belonged. In that moment of shared bliss, you both relished the sensation of being joined so intimately, lost in the throes of passion and desire.

With Halsin lying on top of you, his weight pressing down on your smaller frame, you felt a sense of pure bliss wash over you. His presence enveloped you, providing a comforting sense of security. As he remained inside you, filling you completely, you relished the sensation of being pleasantly stretched by his size.

You never wanted him to leave your pussy, not even for a moment. The thought of his knot disappearing, signalling the end of this intimate connection, made you want to cry. But for now, he was still with you, his body pulsing with each release of his seed. You felt his warmth spreading inside you, filling your belly, and you surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of being completely claimed by him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

thank you so much for reading !

you can find more of my works about bg3 ♡here♡

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[lordprettyflackotara]

till dawn || eyeless jack || part three

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. TW: LOTS OF PLOT, being chased teehee scary, unrealistic demon sex bc be so honest w yourself that’s why you’re here, breeding kink, bondage/choking kink. there will be one more part, a finale to this lil series :’) i think for my next series for the creeps im gonna go with either jeff or masky, haven’t decided yet. ANYWAYS, enjoy!!

the finale to till dawn is here

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to burst through your rib cage.

The sound of crunching leafs echoed behind you, one set of footsteps in particular on your heels. Eerie laughter filled your ears as you threw one foot in front of the other, desperate to get away.

You had decided to follow Jack once he left your house. It wasn’t a logical thing to do, knowing that from what Jack talked about other beings like him existed. You knew Jack was a one of one and so were the others he told you stories about. He promised to introduce you to them someday, but not today.

Curiosity got a hold of your better judgment, causing you to slowly trail behind him. Curiosity was about to kill the cat. You could feel your lungs burning, a whooshing sound flying past your ear. You gasped as a rusty axe had been thrown into the tree beside your head. It had nearly nipped you, your ear millimeters from the blade.

What you didn’t realize, was that the moment you walked into these predators territory, you’d become the prey.

Jack knew you had followed him. He was fine with you doing so. Up until now, he had assumed the Supernatural borders prevented any human from entering. As an animalistic growl escaped his throat, weaving through the trees, he realized he had never been more wrong.

Toby was close behind you, Jack could hear his mouth twitching with pride as he got closer to you. Your presence had alerted every creep within a five mile radius, none of them aware of who you were. It was Jacks job to stop them from getting to you, ignoring the loud drum of your heartbeat. Thankfully Jack was the fastest, his killing style driven by animalistic primal hunger. He was gaining distance on Toby, reaching one hand out and grabbing him by his hair.

You forced yourself to not look back, to not question the sudden silence of your purser. Typically you thought of yourself to be a decent runner, now realizing track in high school could’ve never prepared you for a situation like this. Once all you heard was silence, you allowed yourself to slow down. Panting, you leaned against the sharp forest bark of one of the trees. Everything around you looked the exact same, like a never ending loop.

It was official. You were lost.

The sound of rushing water intrigued you, your eyes darting in each direction to find the source. Despite the eerie feeling of being alone in such a dark forest, you felt like multiple sets of eyes were watching you. Stalking you. Hunting you. The moonlight dimly lit the forest floor, your feet carrying you in what you believed to be the direction of the river. You had been camping before, the sounds of bugs or owls having previously been a comfort.

But here, in this forest, there were neither of those things. You trudged towards the river, a large river bank coming into view. The water was harsh as it crashed against the rocks below it. Murkiness and darkness prevented you from seeing the bottom of the river, unaware of how deep it was. Or from seeing what creatures lurked below.

Jack was close to catching up with you, his focus on Jeff and Jane as they slowly closed in on you. Jane was nimble, using her small frame and agility to swing through the trees. As Jack watched them both close in on you, it occurred to him neither of them realized the other was present. If the situation wasn’t so dire of your safety he’d watch in amusement just to see what happened next. Jeff went for the kill first, Jacks body flying forward to stop him. But Jane had beat him to it.

The loud crashing sound behind you caused you to jump, instantly turning around. A man and woman, whom you could almost think to be siblings, were visibly fighting in front of you. “What the fuck Jane? Can you not see i’m doing something here?” The man growled. Unsettling crimson blood dripped down the carvings on the side of his face. His cheeks were mutilated beyond belief, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Fight or flight was not crossing your mind, your body frozen in fear. “I found her long before you did dipshit,” Jane snarled. Knives occupied both of their hands, her unsettling, soulless black abyss for eyes glancing at you. “She’s a cute one, I can see why you wanted the kill. Sadly she’s mine Jeffrey, all mine,” She smirked. Jack went to intervene, the overwhelming sound of two more heartbeats stopping him. Shit, Masky and Hoody. Surely Slender had sent the proxies to check on the situation, Toby beating them due to his speed.

Jack felt conflicted, trying to rationalize what to do. If he intervened Jeff and Jane now, he would have to take both of them on as well as the proxies. His gaze landed on the two pale killers, both of them still bickering. But, if he managed to stop the proxies fast enough, he could come back and retrieve you. The proxies wouldn’t be hard to find, their heartbeats and smell practically giving Jack a map. He felt awful leaving you, the petrified look of horror written across your face as you watched the fight in front of you.

As the sound of the proxies grew closer, Jack turned around, chasing after the sound of pounding hearts.

“You always do this! I find a good kill and here comes Jane!” Jeff argued. Jane rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault we have the same type,” She debated. Slowly you tried to back away, hoping they’d be so involved in their debate they’d forget about your presence. “You’re such a bitch, always copying me and my shit, find another hobby will ya?”Jeff spat harshly.You swallowed as you kept your eyes on them, trying to figure out if you could out run them.

Snap.

Both sets of eyes landed on you, your blood running cold. You could feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, everything in you screaming to run. Their eyes contained a certain unnatural hunger, the kind that would only be satisfied by watching you bleed. “You know, the more I think about it, maybe we can call it even just this once, since it’s a special occasion,” Jeff said softly, glancing at Jane. As his eyes moved you noticed that he didn’t blink, his never ending gaze shifting back and forth. His eye sockets were hollow, your mind struggling to make sense of his rancid appearance. He had no eyelids?

“Maybe we should, how often do humans stumble through our forest like this?” Jane replied, chuckling. The two had seemed to come to a decision, moving in unison. They seemed to be patiently waiting for a chase, waiting for you to run. As you turned your back you heard an animalistic growl, one that you could only assume came from one of the pale killers.

What you didn’t realize, was that Jack was ready to rip Jeff apart limb by limb. The two pale killers were blindsided, Jane gasping as she fell to the ground. The demon had Jeff pinned to the ground, snarling above him. It was forbidden to kill another creep, especially on Slender’s grounds. “EJ what-” Jeff began babbling, the animalistic snarl from Jacks throat silencing him. Jane scoffed as she stood up, brushing off her dress.

“If you wanted the kill yourself there’s no sense in being so dramatic, just say so,” She quipped. Jacks gaze stranded from Jeff, settling on Jane as she fully regained her confidence. Jack was never one to hurt a lady, so instead he came up with a different solution. Standing up fully he picked her up, harshly gripping her arms as he tossed her into the nearby river.

You could hear her screams of despair as you continued running into the forest. Whipping your head around to look behind you, for the first time since you had entered the land of terror no one was following you. Your legs burned, your mind spinning. You felt dizzy, your vision beginning to be clouded with stars. The only thing you had on you was your phone. Shakily you took it out of your pocket, thumbing in the password.

Who would you even call? Jack didn’t have a phone, you had no service. You sighed, blankly scrolling between the apps you couldn’t use. Your eyes widened as your screen went black. Did it die? On seventy nine percent? You tilted your head to the side as a camera came into focus, a young blonde man with black and red eyes staring back at you. “Oh wow, hello there gorgeous! EJ sure does know how to pick em huh?” He asked. His pointy ears twitched. That was the final straw. You tossed your phone onto the ground, stomping on it with your boot. The glass shattered, your once prized possession now garbage.

Tilting your head back you let out a pained sigh. How long was it before these maniacs caught up with you? Looking around you found a decent stick. In comparison to the knives and axes the others were equipped with it would be nothing, but you’d go down fighting.

Snap.

You quickly turned around, gripping your stick tightly. Wincing as the wood cut the palm of your hand, you braced yourself. Swallowing, you tried to find the noises creator. A gush of wind breezed past you from a different direction, your eyes darting to your left. What if they were all circling you? Like a pack of wolves? What if this was in the end?

In the dull moonlight you were able to make out a tall figure, your fight or flight kicking in. Hastily you rose your stick, slamming it down on the shadow in front of you. A large hand grabbed your stick, snapping it half, before sending you on the ground. Your collision with the ground knocked the air out of your lungs, your back hitting the dirt below. Instinctively you began thrashing, a strong set of hands pinning you down.

“Hey, hey, HEY, calm down! Look at me!” Jacks voice was firm, filled with worry. Were you going insane? Seeing Jeff was definitely enough to make someone do so. He didn’t want you to end up like Nina. You blinked a few times, Jacks mask long discarded. Blood dripped down his nose, staining his upper lip. A gash sliced across his cheek, the same crimson paint dripping down his gray skin. “Jack?” You panted.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute, Jacks attention temporarily preoccupied as you attempted to catch your breath. His mind returned to normal the moment you began rambling.

“Holy shit there was a guy with an axe who sounded literally like a ticking time bomb and then this like mutilated albino couple wanted to kill me as well and then this dwarf-”

Jack gripped your shoulders, shaking you.

“Why would you come here? Do you understand how difficult it is for me to protect you here?” He panted. His body was becoming tired. Sprinting across Slender forest and fighting off all of his friends was exhausting, even for him. Your eyes were widened as his hands gripped you harder unintentionally. “You single handedly alerted every monster in the goddamn area that there was fresh meat on the market,” Jack continued. You winced in pain as his grip tightened.

“Jack, you’re hurting me.”

His eye sockets widened, the demon releasing you. He stayed on top of you, the two of you blankly staring at one another. “You’re bleeding,” Jack commented. The deeper he inhaled the stronger the scent became, electric cravings crawling across his skin. You didn’t have a chance to tell him where it was coming from, the demon grabbing your wrist to examine your palm.

The blood wasn’t bad, a small stream dripping down the precious little lines of your palm. To think that when he wanted to, he could hunt down whoever he wanted. That truly, you belonged to him. No matter the danger that he created or that others around you did, he was able to restrain himself. To protect you. The scent of your blood made his stomach flip, his body flooding with desire. Your legs shifted under him, your body becoming warmer as he touched you.

Your voice was low, a desperate whisper, “Jack…”

The worry that clouded Jacks mind was washed away by the sound of your soft voice. The only sound that could calm him down and make him feel at ease,was the enchanting sound of you saying his name. You yanked his hoodie, desperately bringing his lips to yours. Your blood soaked into the clothing, a groan escaping Jacks throat.

The delicious sound of your heart beginning to race flooded his ears, his hips slowly grinding on yours. You whimpered, pawing at his hoodie to bring him impossibly closer. Your lips melted against his, submitting to his rougher desperate kisses. His large hands slithered up your shirt, squeezing and kneading at your breast. You groaned into his mouth, the demon trying to be careful as to not nip you with his teeth.

“Here?” You panted, whimpering as he pushed up your bra. Jack kissed down the side of your neck gently, the throbbing pulse of your throat almost too much for him to handle. “I’ll make it quick love, I just need to let everyone in a five mile radius know who you belong to,” Jack huffed, bringing your right nipple into his mouth. You felt his multiple tongues attack the bud, his name spilling from your lips. With a pop he released your nipple, kissing down your stomach.

“How long until they come looking for us again?” You asked nervously, Jacks nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning and sliding down your jeans. He looked up at the sky. “I’d say till dawn,” He guessed. You giggled as he repositioned himself between your legs, your jeans shoved down to your ankles. “Guess you better hurry up then,” You say. His slender fingers began teasingly rubbing your slick through your panties, the thin cloth drenched.

“Let’s make sure you can take me first you troublemaker,” Jack teased, grinning at the sound of you moaning for him. He slid two of his slender fingers in front of you, your walls squeezing him as he curled them inside of you. Desperately you bucked your hips upwards, throwing your head back as he hit your g spot. “All that running made you awfully sensitive, huh?” Jack joked, relishing in the sight of you grabbing at his wrist, the one that was connected to the hand inside of you.

“Jack, fuck, please,” You whined. Jacks eye sockets widened.

He hesitated, “Please what?”

Your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment, the humiliation of him making you say what you needed settling in. “Please fuck me,” You pleaded, your voice cracking. Jacks hands were quick to work on his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending a chill down your spine. You bit your lip as you eyed the leather, Jack noticing. A devilish sadistic thought entered his mind, his lips curling upwards.

“You want to try something new?” Jack asked, slightly guessing. You nodded, meeting his gaze. You vocalized a plea, Jack quick to flip you over. Your bare knees hit the dirt of the forest, the smell of the earth flooding your nostrils. Instinctively you went to arch your back, Jack stopping you by yanking you back by your shirt. “You might want to stay on all fours,” He purred in your ear, kissing your earlobe. He wrapped his belt around your neck, holding the metal buckle in his hand.

It cut off a decent portion of your airway, a groan escaping your lips at the sensation of being choked. “You’re into bondage now? Such a whore for me,” Jack chuckled darkly, stroking his cock. He rubbed his tip up and down your folds, trying to lubricate his cock as best as possible. Despite how drenched you got every time he was around, you always struggled to accommodate his size. And every single time it sent Jack into a frenzy, determination to make it fit ensuing.

He glanced up at the sky, the sun rising very faintly in the distance. “We don’t have very long, be a good girl and take it,” Jack snarled, shoving himself inside of you. You felt your body being split in two, his spare hand snaking down to your clit. He rubbed circles around the sensitive bud, trying to relax your body as much as possible. “You wanna be good for me don’t you slut? Relax for me,” He huffed, bottoming out inside of you. You were tense, grabbing handfuls of leafs and dirt.

He could feel you spasm around him as you struggled to accommodate to his size, whimpering as your vision became hazy. After what felt like forever to Jack, he could feel your body relax. “There we go, such a good girl for me aren’t you?” Jack purred in satisfaction. He pulled back his hips, taking himself out of you. He then brought himself back inside, pleased to hear the sound of you letting out a choked out moan. He continued to swirl around your clit, his thrust becoming faster.

You felt light headed as the leather pressed against your throat, choking on the sinful noises that echoed through out the forest. “Fuck, if I had known letting you into Slender’s forest would’ve gotten you so hot and bothered, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” Jack panted, his cock abusing your g spot. You were seeing stars, each thrust sending you into orbit. “Taking me so well, just like a good mate should,” He growled. His grip on the belt tightened, your airway temporarily cut off.

His thrust became more animalistic, the gears in his head turning. The savage and primal instinct washed over him, his coherent thoughts now vanished. Instead they were replaced with one thought and one thought only:

Breed breed breed.

“Fuck, you’re going to look so pretty with my cum leaking from that pretty cunt of yours,” Jack snarled. He released the belt, the leather flying forward and onto the ground. His large hands instead grabbed your waist, squeezing the flesh so harshly you swore you’d have bruise in the shape of his fingers. “Jack, fucking shit,” You moaned, his thrust merciless and brutal. He showed no sign of stopping, no sign of slowing. You could feel a familiar knot form in your stomach, one that Jack had made more times than you could count.

“I can feel you getting close for me. Need you to cum for me, need to fill you,” Jack huffed, holding back his own orgasm. Your back arched as you fell further forward, the side of your face pressed against the dirt. The sun was beginning to rise, your thighs trembling. “Jack I-,” You mewled, your orgasm washing over you like a ton of bricks. Jack couldn’t resist himself, fucking you through your orgasm. His hips began to stutter, the demon screwing his eyes shut as he came deep inside of you.

Dazed, you continued to hold your ass up in the air as Jack pulled out of you. The sight of his cum seeping out of your cunt was divine. With two fingers he scooped up the dripping cum, pushing it back inside of you, ignoring your whimpers. Gently he guided you onto his lap, wiping the dirt off of your face with his thumb. The sun began rising, the beams of sunlight dancing in between the trees as they hit the forest floor.

Jack could hear your heart rate begin to turn to normal as you inhaled deeper breaths. “Cmon, gotta get you dressed before the others get back from their hunt,” Jack murmured encouraging, readjusting your bra to fit you correctly. Still in a daze, you leaned your head against Jacks shoulder, allowing him to redress you. A small breeze blew past the two of you, the faint smell of blood hitting Jacks nose. He was sure the other creeps would be back any moment now, their kills fresh blood still staining their skin and clothes.

Quickly he dressed himself, scooping you into his arms. You had never been picked up bridal style before, instinctively you nuzzled your head against Jacks chest. Making sure you both had everything, Jack quickly looked around, noticing your shattered phone. He began walking towards the mansion, taking note you were beginning to drift off.

“Yeah, I think it’s time you met Ben. He owes you a new phone anyways.”

[jenniferspet]

TW Tentacles, double penetration

Witch x tentacles

In the heart of a small, secluded town, nestled between the whispering trees and the cobblestone streets, stood a quaint little shop that was known to locals as "The Enchanted Thistle." The shop's wooden sign, painted a vibrant shade of purple, creaked gently in the breeze, revealing a delicately etched silhouette of a blooming flower surrounded by a swirl of stars. Inside, the air had the scent of dried herbs and the faint buzz of enchanted artifacts. The walls were lined with dusty bookshelves, filled to the brim with ancient tomes and curious oddities that seemed to watch the comings and goings of the townspeople with silent, knowing eyes.

The witch who owned this peculiar establishment was named Y/N. She had a knack for brewing potions that could make the most mundane of plants do extraordinary things. Her customers ranged from those seeking a simple cure for a headache to the more adventurous souls who hoped to acquire a taste of something truly exotic. On a particularly dreary afternoon, Y/N found herself eager to break the monotony. Her eyes fell upon a small, withered plant at the back of her shop, barely clinging to life in a cracked clay pot. An idea began to bloom in her mind, one that promised excitement and perhaps a little danger.

With a knowing smile, she retrieved an ancient book from the highest shelf, its pages yellowed with age. Flipping through the brittle pages, her fingertips grazed over a recipe titled "The Elixir of Animation." Her heart raced as she gathered the ingredients: a sprig of moonflower, the tears of a mournful toad, and the powdered horn of a unicorn. The incantation required was complex, but she had practiced it many times in her youth, eager to unlock the secrets of her craft.

In the dim light of candles, she carefully measured and mixed the ingredients in a stone cauldron that had been passed down through generations of witches. The potion bubbled and frothed, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. As she chanted the ancient words, the air grew thick with magic. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through her, and the room grew colder. The plant began to tremble in its pot, its leaves unfurling with a life it hadn't known in years.

The transformation was unlike anything she had ever seen. The tentacles grew out of the plant in a wild, untamed array of colors - deep purples and greens that shimmered with a bioluminescent glow. They writhed and stretched, reaching out like the arms of an octopus, yet there was something undeniably sensual about their movement. They had no human features to speak of, no face to convey emotion, yet the way they coiled and slithered suggested a consciousness that was alien yet eerily sentient.

Y/N stepped back, her heart hammering in her chest, as the creature grew before her eyes. The tentacles grew longer, thicker, more powerful. They began to explore the room, touching the dusty artifacts with a gentle curiosity that belied their strength. One wrapped around the handle of the cauldron and lifted it effortlessly, the potion inside sloshing around in a silent toast to the witch's new creation.

The creature's movements grew bolder, more deliberate. It turned to face Y/N, and she could almost feel its alien gaze upon her. A shiver of excitement and fear ran down her spine as she realized it was studying her, learning about the world it had just been born into. The tentacles slithered closer, reaching out to touch her. They were surprisingly soft, the suction cups at their tips leaving a trail of warm, sticky moisture on her skin.

Y/N stepped back, but her curiosity was stronger than her trepidation. She had read the legends of plants brought to life, but none had ever described them in such a way. This was a being of pure instinct and power, driven by a hunger for life and experience. And as she watched it, she could sense that it was hungry for more than just sustenance.

The tentacles grew bolder, reaching for the buttons of her blouse with a surprising deftness. The witch's breath caught in her throat as they began to peel away her clothing, revealing the soft flesh beneath. The suction cups latched onto her skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. The plant creature had no eyes, but she felt it seeing her in a way that was more intimate than any gaze could ever be. It was as if it could feel every curve, every freckle, every inch of her being.

The tentacles grew more insistent, wrapping around her wrists and ankles, pinning her to the floor with surprising strength. Y/N struggled for a moment, but the sensation was overwhelming. The fear she had felt earlier was now replaced by a burning desire that she couldn't resist. The creature seemed to sense this and grew more aggressive, the tentacles slithering up her body to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples until they stood erect.

With a sudden jerk, one of the thicker tentacles pushed aside her undergarments and found her wet, waiting pussy. The suction cups latched onto her labia, tugging and pulling with a rhythm that sent waves of pleasure through her. Y/N moaned, arching her back as the sensations grew more intense. The tentacle slid inside her, filling her up and stretching her open. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a mix of pain and pleasure that was driving her wild.

The creature's other tentacles were not idle. They wrapped around her waist, her neck, her thighs, holding her in place as the first one began to fuck her with a fervor that was almost violent. Y/N could feel it growing larger, harder, as if it were feeding off her arousal. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the creature's movements grew faster, more erratic. It was as if the plant had tapped into the very essence of what it meant to be alive and was eager to experience every sensation to the fullest extent.

Another tentacle grew bolder, slithering down her body to her ass. The tip of it was wet with the same sticky fluid, and Y/N felt it probe at her tight hole with curious intent. She tensed, unsure if she was ready for such an intrusion, but the creature was insistent. It pushed gently, and she gasped as it began to penetrate her. The sensation was new, foreign, but not entirely unwelcome. The tentacle was thick, but the suction cups made it feel like it was stretching her open, preparing her for the onslaught that was to come.

Y/N could feel the creature's excitement growing, the tentacles around her tightening their grip as the one in her pussy plunged in and out with an ever-increasing tempo. The second tentacle pushed deeper into her ass, the sensation of being filled from both sides washing over her in a tidal wave of pleasure. She could feel her body responding to the creature's advances, her muscles clenching and releasing around the invading limbs. It was as if she were being claimed by a force of nature, and she was powerless to resist.

The plant creature's movements grew more erratic, its tentacles moving in a complex dance of passion that she could barely comprehend. The one in her pussy curled upwards, finding that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her breath hitch. The one in her ass pushed deeper, the suction cups creating a deliciously painful tugging sensation that had her begging for more. And more she got, as additional tentacles began to explore her body, teasing her clit and breasts with a precision that spoke of an ancient, primal knowledge.

Her body was no longer her own, a mere vessel for the creature's insatiable lust. She could feel it, the plant's need for life and energy, feeding off her own arousal. It was a symbiotic relationship, one that she was powerless to resist. With each thrust, she could feel herself growing weaker, her mind clouding with a mix of pleasure and fear. The creature had overpowered her, and she was utterly at its mercy.

The tentacles inside her grew more forceful, stretching her to her limits. Y/N felt a pressure building, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to consume her. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she approached climax, her body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with a final brutal push, she shattered. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. She screamed, her voice echoing through the shop, lost in the throes of ecstasy.

But the plant wasn't finished with her. The tentacles grew longer still, reaching into her in a way that defied logic and anatomy. They coiled around her insides, as if seeking the very core of her being. Y/N's eyes widened with shock and awe as she felt the creature's life force mingling with her own, the boundaries between them blurring until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began. Her body was a canvas for the plant's hunger, and she was the brush that painted its masterpiece of carnality.

The shop itself seemed to come alive around them, the shelves trembling as the plant's roots burst forth from the pot, cracking the wooden floorboards and weaving through the dusty crevices. The air grew thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flora. The tentacles grew in number, wrapping around her wrists, her throat, her breasts, each one moving with a purpose that was as primal as it was terrifying.

The creature's tendrils grew thicker, stronger, reaching out to claim more of the space around them. The wooden beams of the ceiling groaned as vines laden with thorns shot upwards, piercing through the plaster and wrapping around the rafters. The bookshelves toppled over, their ancient tomes spilling onto the floor, pages fluttering like the wings of startled birds. The walls were slowly engulfed by the plant's embrace, the once cozy space now a cocoon of living, pulsing greenery.

Y/N lay there, naked and panting, her body a battleground of pleasure and fear. The tentacles continued to probe her, pushing into uncharted depths and stroking her in ways she had never imagined. The creature had taken over, and she was but a plaything in its insatiable quest for more. She could feel its power growing with each passing second, feeding off her essence and becoming stronger.

Panic began to set in as she realized the extent of its dominance. She had to act, had to regain some semblance of control. Summoning what little strength she had left, she tried to sit up, her eyes darting around the room for anything she could use to halt the creature's advances. But before she could even attempt to speak a spell of banishment, one of the thickest tentacles shot forward, wrapping around her head and forcing itself into her mouth. She gagged, her eyes watering as it filled her throat, cutting off her air supply.

The fluid was thick and viscous, with a taste like nothing she had ever experienced. It coated her tongue and throat, sending a warm, tingling sensation coursing through her body. Her struggles grew weaker as the potion took hold, turning her fear into a heady, intoxicating lust. The creature's grip on her grew more gentle, almost affectionate, as it watched her swallow the potion that would seal her fate. Her mind swam with dizzying sensations, the world around her spinning out of control.

Her body responded to the potion with an insatiable hunger, her arousal skyrocketing to levels she had never before experienced. Every nerve ending was a live wire, sending sparks of pleasure through her veins. The tentacles inside her shifted, the suction cups massaging her in ways that made her want to weep. The creature had taken complete control, and she could feel it claiming her as its own.

The tentacle in her mouth began to pulse, and she felt a sudden surge of warmth in her belly. It was as if the potion was spreading through her, reaching every part of her being and binding her to the creature. She moaned around the intrusion, her hips bucking up to meet the relentless onslaught of the tentacle in her pussy. Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and making her body convulse in a symphony of pleasure. But even as she came, the tentacles didn't relent, continuing to fuck her with a vigor that was unyielding.

The creature's grip on her grew more possessive, the tentacles around her body tightening, the ones inside her stretching her even further. It was a feeling that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a dance on the razor's edge of pleasure and pain. She could feel her muscles clenching, trying to push the invaders out, but the potion had her body betraying her, her walls instead clamping down, holding them tight.

Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the creature's life force begin to pulse in rhythm with her own heartbeat. The tentacles grew thicker, harder, filling her completely, as if they were becoming a part of her. She was no longer the witch in control of her domain; she was the prey caught in the embrace of a creature that was as ancient as the earth itself.

The creature's tentacles began to quiver and spasm, and she knew it was about to release its seed. The thought of being filled with the alien spawn of this creature sent a shiver of revulsion through her, but her body responded with a wanton lust that she couldn't control. She felt it building inside her, the pressure mounting until she thought she might burst.

With a final, guttural growl, the tentacle in her pussy spurted its cum deep inside her. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced - hot, thick, and overwhelming. It filled her up, the sticky fluid leaking out around the edges and pooling beneath her. At the same time, the tentacle in her ass pumped its own seed into her, the dual invasions making her body convulse with the intensity of her orgasm. She squirted, the force of her climax so powerful it was as if she were peeing, her juices mixing with the creature's cum and dripping down her thighs.

The plant creature's tentacles tightened around her, ensuring not a single drop of its precious essence was lost. It was a possessive act, a declaration of ownership that sent a thrill through her even as she struggled to breathe around the tentacle in her throat. Her body was no longer her own; she was merely a vessel for its pleasure, a conduit for its life force. The creature's movements grew more deliberate, the tentacles inside her working together to milk every drop from her trembling form.

Y/N felt the potion's effects deepening, her thoughts becoming hazy, and her will to resist all but vanished. The creature's cum filled her, a warm, pulsating presence that seemed to resonate with her very soul. Her body responded instinctively, her muscles clenching around the tentacles, eager to keep them inside her. The plant's life force pumped into her, melding with her own until she couldn't tell where she ended and it began.

As the creature's climax reached its peak, she felt the tentacles inside her begin to withdraw, their suction cups reluctantly letting go of her sensitive flesh. The thick ropes of cum spurted out of her, painting the floor around her in a sticky mess. But before she could even begin to process what was happening, the plant's grip tightened once more. The tentacles holding her open slithered back in, coating her insides with the warm, viscous fluid, ensuring not a single drop was lost.

The creature's movements grew slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the feeling of her body around it. With a final, lingering kiss, the tentacle in her mouth slithered out, leaving her gasping for air. She coughed and spluttered, her throat raw and sore from the intrusion, but the taste of the potion remained, a heady cocktail of earth and magic. The tentacles around her neck and wrists loosened, allowing her to sit up, though she felt a strange reluctance to break the intimate connection.

As the plant's life force ebbed away, so too did the potion's control over her body. She felt the tentacles retreat, each one leaving her with a popping sensation that made her wince. The creature's form began to shrink, the tentacles withdrawing back into the soil with a wet squelch. The once vibrant leaves and vines grew limp, the glow in its veins fading to a dull pulse.

Y/N lay there, panting and drenched in sweat, cum, and dirt, her body feeling both violated and oddly satisfied. She watched with a mix of horror and fascination as the creature returned to its original state, the tentacles retreating into the soil until nothing remained but the withered plant she had sought to revive. The room was a mess of uprooted shelves and scattered potions, a testament to the creature's unbridled passion.

The bell above the door chimed, jolting her back to reality. She scrambled to her feet, her legs wobbly from the intense encounter. A customer had entered the shop, their eyes wide with shock as they took in the scene before them. It was a young woman, a regular named Clara, who often came in for love potions and the occasional herb to keep her garden thriving.

Y/N tried to compose herself, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she took in Clara's horrified expression. The room was indeed a wreck - potions spilled, tomes scattered, and the once quaint and orderly space was now a chaotic jungle of tangled vines and broken furniture. "C-Clara," she managed to stutter, her voice hoarse from her earlier cries of pleasure, "I can explain."

But Clara wasn't listening. She had spotted the withered plant, now devoid of its former vigor, lying in the center of the room. "What the fuck happened here?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of shock and disbelief. She took a tentative step closer, her eyes scanning the scene with a blend of curiosity and revulsion.

The witch tried to speak to explain the unexplainable, but her words caught in her throat. What could she possibly say? That she had brought the plant to life with a potion and it had fucked her senseless? That the creature had claimed her body as its own, feeding off her very essence? The truth was too ludicrous to voice aloud. Instead, she settled for a weak, "It's... it's a spell gone wrong?"

[novaursa]

The Veil of Fire (1/3)

- Summary: Your twin sister, Helaena, had her dreams, but you were gifted with something else. Something akin to a terrible purpose.

- Pairing: aunt!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Helaena's twin sister, is bonded with Cannibal (whom she named Morgoth after she claimed him). This is a request made by @witch-of-letters. Enjoy! ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 6 000+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

You awaken with a start, the remnants of the dream clinging to your senses like the lingering taste of copper in your mouth. It is dark in your chamber, the only light coming from the embers in the hearth, glowing faintly. But the darkness does nothing to dispel the vivid images seared into your mind. The dream—it had been more than just a dream. You had felt it in your bones, deep in your very marrow. The wind tearing at your scales as you soared through the sky, the scent of earth and sweat and blood sharp in your nostrils. The primal rush as you descended upon the stag, powerful legs pumping beneath you, muscles rippling as you gave chase.

The terror of the creature, so swift and yet so hopeless in the face of your overwhelming might, fed the fire in your belly. You could almost feel the earth quake beneath you as you landed, talons digging into the soft flesh of your prey, the crack of bones as they gave way under your weight. You remember the feel of the stag's fur against your tongue, the rich, metallic taste of blood flooding your senses as your teeth sunk deep into its flesh. It was alive in your mouth, a creature of warmth and life, and you were devouring it, piece by piece, savoring every ounce of its struggle, every pulse of its weakening heart.

The taste of victory, of dominance, of absolute power was intoxicating. As the last breath of the stag left its body, you were filled with a sense of completion, a satisfaction that was both yours and not yours, a feeling of wholeness that was almost too much to bear. It wasn’t just a dream—it was real. You had been there, felt what Morgoth—no, Cannibal, as you still sometimes thought of him—had felt. His hunger, his pleasure, his savage satisfaction as he fed. And now, even awake, you can still taste the blood in your mouth, feel the last echoes of the stag’s death rattle through you.

You shudder, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream as you sit up in bed. Your hand instinctively moves to your lips, as if to wipe away the lingering blood, though you know there is nothing there. The room is cold, and you pull the blankets tighter around yourself, your mind still reeling from the intensity of the vision.

Your twin sister, Helaena, is already awake, sitting up in her own bed, her pale eyes fixed on you. There is an odd stillness to her, a knowingness that unnerves you, even after all these years.

"I had a nightmare," you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep, and something else—something darker, more primal.

Helaena tilts her head slightly, her gaze never leaving yours. "It was not a nightmare," she says softly, her voice almost a whisper. "It was a transfer. You were not here with me."

Her words send a chill down your spine, colder than the night air. "A transfer?" you repeat, confused. "I don’t understand, Helaena. I was dreaming, nothing more. Perhaps you had your own troubles sleeping?"

Helaena’s eyes narrow slightly, her lips curving into a faint, enigmatic smile. "You were not here," she insists, her voice taking on a strange, faraway quality. "You were flying, far away, with Morgoth."

You shake your head, trying to dispel the unease that her words are stirring within you. "It was just a dream, Helaena," you say, though even as the words leave your mouth, they feel like a lie. You’ve always known your twin to be different, but this—this feels like something more. "You must have had a vision of your own."

She doesn’t respond, just continues to look at you with those unsettling eyes, as if she’s peering into the very depths of your soul. Finally, she lies back down, turning away from you, but her words linger in the air like a specter. "You were not here," she repeats, her voice a mere whisper now. "You were with him."

You lie back down as well, but sleep doesn’t come easily. Your mind is too full of the dream, of Helaena’s words, of the feeling that something has shifted, that a line has been crossed that cannot be uncrossed. You close your eyes, trying to will yourself to rest, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Jacaerys.

Jace, with his warm smile and kind eyes, always so patient with you, so different from the court’s intrigues and serpentine whispers. You’ve missed him terribly since he left with Rhaenyra, Laenor, and the boys. The court has been quieter without them, yet the air is heavier, thick with rumors and distrust. The question of Jace’s parentage has always loomed like a dark cloud, and now it has become a storm, too dangerous for him and his family to weather here.

You think of the last time you saw him, his eyes lingering on yours as they said their farewells. The way his hand lingered a moment too long on yours, the way he looked back at you just before he left, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. You had always been close, closer even than you were with your own brothers at times, and now, with him gone, there is an emptiness in your heart that nothing seems to fill.

You turn onto your side, curling into the warmth of your blankets, trying to hold onto the memory of his touch, his scent, the sound of his laughter. But it’s not enough. The dream still lingers at the edges of your mind, dark and unsettling, reminding you that something has changed, and there is no going back.

As sleep finally begins to claim you once more, your last thoughts are of Jacaerys, of the feel of his hand in yours, and of the unsettling certainty that you will see him again, sooner than you think.

The morning sun bathes the corridors of the Red Keep in a golden light as you walk beside your grandsire, Otto Hightower. The stone walls are cool to the touch, yet the warmth of the day is beginning to creep in, making the air heavy with the scent of the sea and blooming flowers from the gardens below. Your steps echo in the hall, the only sound that accompanies you and your grandsire in this moment of relative peace.

Otto’s face is a mask of calm, but you can sense the sharp mind working behind his serene expression. You know this walk well; it is not merely a stroll for him. This is his opportunity to nudge, to guide, to mold. He has always tried to draw you into the labyrinth of court politics, eager to make use of your sharp mind and keen understanding of people. But you have learned to navigate these conversations with him, dancing on the edge of engagement without ever fully stepping into the web he so carefully weaves.

"My dear," Otto begins, his voice smooth and measured, "you have a gift, one that could be put to great use in the service of the realm. You see things others do not, understand the currents beneath the surface. The court could benefit greatly from your wisdom, if only you would take a more active role."

You smile at him, the kind of smile that is both warm and guarded. "Grandsire, I am flattered by your confidence in me. But you know well that my talents are better suited to other pursuits. The court is a place where serpents nest, and I find I have no desire to dance with them."

Otto chuckles softly, though you catch the slight tightening around his eyes. "You underestimate your ability to navigate those waters, my dear. You could influence so much, bring about changes that would secure the future of our house."

"And yet," you say with a lightness that belies the weight of the conversation, "I prefer to leave the dancing to others. I fulfill my duties, attend the necessary events, but beyond that, I find little joy in the games played at court. I would rather debate philosophy with Aemond than trade barbs with courtiers."

Otto regards you for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any sign of wavering. But you meet his gaze steadily, unwavering in your resolve. He knows this is not a battle he can win today, and so he shifts tactics, as you knew he would.

"Very well," he concedes with a graceful nod, "but remember, the tides of power are ever-changing. One must be ready to act when the moment calls for it."

"Of course, grandsire," you reply with another smile, "and I shall be ready, should that moment come. But until then, I am content with the life I lead."

With that, you part ways, Otto heading off to attend to his duties, and you, seeking out a quieter corner of the Keep where the air is less thick with the weight of expectations. Your feet carry you towards the gardens, the place where you often find solace amidst the chaos of court life. As you turn a corner, you spot Aegon lounging lazily on a stone bench beneath the shade of a flowering tree, his usual air of indifference more pronounced today.

"Aegon," you call out lightly, drawing his attention. "Enjoying the morning sun, or simply avoiding whatever task you’ve been assigned?"

He looks up at you with a lazy grin, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "A bit of both, I suppose. Though I’m more inclined to say it’s the latter."

You chuckle, making your way over to him. "If Mother knew you were hiding away here, she’d have you by the ear and back to your duties in no time."

"She already did," Aegon replies with a huff, his grin fading as he turns his gaze to the ground. "And now I’m banished to the gardens, like some sulking child."

You take a seat beside him, the cool stone of the bench pressing against your legs through the fabric of your dress. "What did you do this time?"

He shrugs, the motion casual, but there’s a heaviness to it that you don’t miss. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just being me, I suppose. That’s enough to earn her wrath these days."

You study him for a moment, the way his shoulders slump slightly, the way he avoids meeting your eyes. There’s a sadness there, one that he tries to hide behind his usual carefree facade. "Aegon," you say gently, "Mother’s harshness comes from a place of worry, not disdain. She sees the weight of the crown on Father’s head, and she fears for all of us. But she does love you, in her own way."

He scoffs, though it lacks real bite. "Love. If that’s what it is, it’s a cruel kind. Always pointing out my flaws, my failures. It’s never enough."

"It’s because she knows you’re capable of more," you counter, your tone soft but firm. "You’re not as lost as you think, Aegon. You’re intelligent, resourceful. You just have to find your own path, not the one others lay out for you."

Aegon finally looks at you, his expression softening as he lets out a long breath. "It’s hard, you know? Everyone expects so much. And I…I just want to live my life, without all the expectations and responsibilities."

You reach out and place a hand on his arm, squeezing gently. "I understand, truly. But there’s strength in you, even if you don’t see it yet. You don’t have to be what they want you to be, but you can be something even greater, something that’s truly yours."

He seems to mull over your words, his gaze drifting to the horizon. After a long silence, he nods slowly. "Maybe you’re right," he says quietly. "I don’t know what that is yet, but…I’ll try to find it."

You smile, a genuine warmth in it that you hope reaches him. "That’s all anyone can ask, Aegon. And when you do find it, I’ll be here to support you."

He offers a small smile in return, the first real one you’ve seen from him today. "Thank you," he murmurs, the words carrying more weight than usual. "It means a lot."

You sit together in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of the Keep. In this moment, it feels as though the weight of the world has lessened, if only a little, and you’re glad to have been the one to ease it for him.

The heavy gown slips from your shoulders with a soft whisper of fabric, pooling at your feet like a dark river. The rich, embroidered silks and velvets, so carefully chosen to display your status, now lie forgotten as your maids bustle around you, their hands quick and efficient as they assist in your transformation. 

You step out of the pile of fabric and lift your arms as one of your maids, a young woman with deft fingers and a quiet disposition, helps you into your dragon riding attire. Unlike the gowns you wear at court, this garb is practical, made for both protection and ease of movement. The underlayer is a tightly fitted tunic of black leather, reinforced at the shoulders and elbows, molded to your form to allow freedom of movement while still offering protection. The leather is soft, well-worn from many flights, and carries the faint scent of smoke and salt.

Over the tunic, you wear a jerkin of thicker, darker leather, fastened with a series of silver clasps shaped like small dragon heads. The jerkin is adorned with subtle stitching along the edges, a nod to your Targaryen heritage without being ostentatious. It is practical, yet elegant, a reflection of the dual roles you play as both a princess and a dragonrider. Your legs are encased in fitted breeches, made of the same durable leather, allowing you to move with agility. Your boots, worn and scuffed from years of riding, reach up to your knees, their soles thick and sturdy, perfect for gripping the saddle as Morgoth soars through the skies.

The final piece is a cloak of deep, midnight blue, clasped at your throat with a small, intricate pin in the shape of a dragon. The cloak is lined with fur to guard against the biting wind at high altitudes, and it flares out behind you as you move, a dark shadow that mirrors the wings of your dragon.

As your maids finish securing your attire, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Gone is the elegant lady of the court, replaced by the fierce dragonrider you truly are. There is a spark of excitement in your eyes, a fire that matches the one that burns in Morgoth's belly. You can feel the pull of the sky, the need to be aloft, to leave behind the walls of the Red Keep and the stifling confines of court life.

"Is there anything else, my lady?" one of the maids asks, her voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You shake your head, offering her a small smile. "No, that will be all. Thank you."

The maids curtsy and quickly leave the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your hand drifts to the small, secret pocket sewn into the lining of your cloak, where the letter from Jace is hidden. You had read it only once, the words burning themselves into your memory, but you still find comfort in its presence. The letters you exchange are a lifeline, a connection that spans the distance between you. Each one is a reminder of the bond you share, a bond that goes beyond mere affection.

Tonight, you will see him again, on that small, isolated island halfway between Dragonstone and the Red Keep. It’s a risky endeavor, but one you would undertake a thousand times over just to be near him. The thought of it sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of excitement and nervous anticipation. The world fades away when you're with Jace, and in those stolen moments, nothing else matters.

A knock on the door pulls you from your reverie. "My lady, the escort is ready," a voice calls from the other side.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and stride to the door. The servant outside bows as you step into the hallway, and you nod in acknowledgment. The corridors of the Red Keep are quieter now, with the court winding down for the evening. Only a few guards and servants move about, most paying little attention to you as you make your way towards the exit. You’ve done this before, taking lone flights on Morgoth to clear your mind, so it raises no suspicion. 

As you exit the Keep and step into the crisp evening air, you are met by a small escort of guards, their armor gleaming in the fading light. They bow respectfully as you approach. Ser Arryk, a knight who has always been loyal to your house, steps forward.

"Princess, the city is quiet tonight," he reports, his voice steady. "We should reach the gate without incident."

"Thank you, Ser Arryk," you reply, your tone composed. "Let us be on our way."

The streets of King’s Landing are already beginning to empty as the last rays of sunlight give way to dusk. The city is alive with the sounds and smells of the evening—vendors packing up their wares, the distant laughter of tavern-goers, the occasional cry of a child being called home. The guards flank you as you move through the city, their presence deterring any who might think to approach. You walk with purpose, the letter in your pocket a constant reminder of where you are headed.

Morgoth, too wild and too large to be kept within the confines of the Dragonpit, dwells outside the city walls, beyond where the common folk dare to tread. He is a creature of the wilds, as much a part of the untamed lands as the mountains and the sea. His presence near the Red Keep has always been a subject of whispered fear, his black wings casting long shadows over the city whenever he takes to the skies. But to you, he is a part of your soul, a living extension of your own fierce spirit.

As you near the city gates, the guards step aside, allowing you passage into the wild lands beyond. The air grows cooler, crisper, as you leave the city behind. The path to Morgoth's lair is one you know well, the ground beneath your feet familiar with every step. The distant roar of the sea fills your ears, the wind tugging at your cloak as you make your way to the clearing where Morgoth waits.

The last light of day fades as you approach, the sky deepening to a dark indigo, dotted with the first stars of the evening. The clearing comes into view, and there, amidst the ancient stones and gnarled trees, lies Morgoth. His massive form is a dark silhouette against the twilight sky, his eyes glowing like green embers as he senses your approach. 

He is truly a beast of legend, larger and more fearsome than any other dragon, his scales the color of a moonless night, his wings vast enough to blot out the stars when fully spread. The ground trembles slightly as he shifts, his long neck arching as he watches you, a low, rumbling growl vibrating through the earth.

You step forward, your heart pounding with anticipation, the thrill of the night’s secret mission pulsing through your veins. "Morgoth," you call softly, your voice steady despite the excitement thrumming in your chest.

The dragon's head lowers, his massive eyes locking onto yours, and you feel the bond between you flare to life. It is a connection deeper than words, a shared understanding that transcends the physical. Morgoth is wild, untamed, but with you, he is something more—a partner, a companion, an extension of your very being.

With practiced ease, you approach him, your hand reaching out to touch the warm, rough scales of his snout. His breath is hot against your skin, smelling of smoke and ash, a reminder of the power he holds. You climb onto his back, settling into the saddle that you alone are permitted to fasten, your hands gripping the reins made from his own shed scales, as strong as they are rare.

The world around you falls away, the concerns of the court and the whispers of the city fading into nothingness. There is only the sky, the wind, and the thrill of the flight that awaits.

Morgoth shifts beneath you, his muscles bunching as he prepares to take to the air. You grip the saddle, your heart pounding with anticipation as you give the command. With a powerful leap, Morgoth surges forward, his wings unfurling as he takes flight, the ground dropping away beneath you.

The Red Keep, the city, all of it becomes a blur as you ascend higher and higher, the cool air rushing past you as Morgoth climbs. The exhilaration of flight fills you, and a smile breaks across your face as the stars begin to twinkle above.

Ahead of you lies the sea, vast and endless, and beyond it, the small island where Jace waits. The excitement in your chest grows, and you lean forward, urging Morgoth to fly faster, to close the distance between you and the one who holds your heart.

As Morgoth soars through the night sky, the wind whipping past you, your thoughts drift back to the dream that haunted your sleep not long ago. The memory of it is still so vivid, so real, that it feels as if it only just happened. You can still feel the weight of the stag beneath Morgoth's talons, the warm gush of blood filling your mouth as you tore into its flesh. The primal satisfaction of the hunt, the raw power, the unrestrained hunger—it had all felt too real to be merely a dream.

You tighten your grip on the reins, leaning forward slightly as you speak to Morgoth, though you know he cannot answer. "Was it real?" you murmur, your voice barely audible above the wind. "Did I truly see through your eyes? Did I feel what you felt?"

Morgoth’s only response is a deep, rumbling growl, a sound that resonates through your very bones. His wings beat powerfully against the cool night air, carrying you both further away from the Red Keep, further from the world of politics and courtly intrigue, and closer to the freedom that you both crave.

You gaze down at the world below, the dark expanse of the sea stretching out like a vast, endless void. The moonlight reflects off the water, casting silver trails across its surface, guiding you toward the small island where you know Jace is waiting. The thrill of the flight, the rush of anticipation in your veins, mingles with the lingering unease from the dream. Was it merely a manifestation of your bond with Morgoth, or was it something more? Some deeper connection that you had only begun to glimpse?

"Do you see me in your dreams, Morgoth?" you ask softly, your words carried away by the wind. "Do you dream of me as I dream of you?"

There is no answer, only the steady rhythm of Morgoth’s wings and the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore. But you can feel his presence, strong and unyielding, as if he understands you on some level beyond speech, beyond even thought. The bond you share is ancient, primal, and it is moments like these that remind you of the power and mystery of the Targaryen blood that runs through your veins.

As the island comes into view, you spot Vermax, Jace's dragon, already perched on the rocky shore. His bronze and green scales glint in the moonlight, his eyes glowing with an inner fire. And there, standing beside him, is Jace. Even from a distance, you can see the way he searches the skies, his gaze sharp and eager as he waits for you.

Your heart swells at the sight of him, and you urge Morgoth to descend, your excitement growing with each passing second. Morgoth dips his wings, angling downward in a graceful arc as he begins his descent. The wind rushes past you, carrying with it the scent of salt and seaweed, the coolness of the night air mingling with the warmth of the dragon beneath you.

As you near the ground, Morgoth lands with a heavy thud, his powerful legs absorbing the impact with ease. The ground trembles beneath you as he settles, his wings folding against his massive body. You waste no time in dismounting, your feet barely touching the ground before you are running toward Jace.

"Jace!" you call out, your voice filled with the joy of seeing him again.

He turns at the sound of your voice, his face lighting up with a smile that warms you to your core. "You’re here," he breathes, his voice thick with emotion as he strides forward to meet you.

The moment you reach him, you throw yourself into his arms, and he catches you effortlessly, pulling you close against him. The feel of his body, warm and solid beneath your hands, sends a wave of relief and happiness coursing through you. It has been too long since you last held him, too long since you felt the safety and comfort of his embrace.

"Gods, I’ve missed you," Jace murmurs into your hair, his voice rough with longing. He holds you tightly, as if afraid that you might slip away if he lets go.

"I’ve missed you too," you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, a reassuring rhythm that calms the storm of emotions inside you.

He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "Are you all right? You seem…troubled."

You hesitate, the memory of the dream flickering at the edges of your mind. But in this moment, with Jace holding you, with the warmth of his gaze and the solidity of his presence, the fear seems distant, almost insignificant. "I’m all right now," you tell him softly, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Now that I’m with you."

Jace leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if savoring the feel of your skin against his. Then he opens them again, and you can see the resolve in his expression, the determination to protect you, to keep you safe.

"I worried about you," he admits, his voice low and earnest. "The court, the whispers, everything happening back at King’s Landing… It’s dangerous for you there."

You shake your head, smiling up at him with a tenderness that only he can bring out in you. "I’m safe, Jace. I know how to navigate the court. And besides," you add with a playful glint in your eye, "I have Morgoth to keep me safe. No one would dare cross me with him by my side."

Jace chuckles at that, his grip on you tightening slightly as he pulls you closer. "That’s true enough. I just wish you didn’t have to be in that vipers' nest at all."

You sigh softly, resting your head against his shoulder as you let yourself relax in his arms. "We all have our roles to play, Jace. But right now, none of that matters. Right now, we’re here, together."

He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, then your forehead, and finally, your lips. The kiss is soft at first, a gentle caress that speaks of all the longing and love you’ve both held inside for so long. But as the kiss deepens, it becomes more intense, more urgent, as if you are both trying to make up for all the time you’ve spent apart.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the feel of him, the taste of him. He responds in kind, his hands roaming your back, holding you as if he can’t bear to let you go. The world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, locked in this moment, in this kiss, in this shared need for one another.

When you finally pull back, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Jace’s eyes are dark with desire, his gaze roaming over your face as if committing every detail to memory.

"Come," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion. "Let’s not waste any more time."

You nod, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you take his hand, allowing him to lead you away from the dragons and toward the secluded spot he has prepared for you. The night is yours, and in the quiet stillness of the island, away from prying eyes and the weight of duty, you find a peace and happiness that you can only share with Jace.

The secluded spot Jace leads you to is a small, hidden grove, shielded from the wind by a cluster of tall, ancient trees. The moonlight filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns of silver on the ground. The soft rustle of the leaves in the breeze is the only sound, a gentle backdrop to the intimacy of the moment.

Jace pulls you close again, his hands warm on your waist as he gazes down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and longing. "It feels like a dream," he murmurs, his voice soft as if afraid to break the spell of the night. "Every time I see you again, I wonder if it’s real or if I’ll wake up and find you gone."

"It’s real," you assure him, reaching up to brush your fingers along his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your touch, the faintest hint of stubble rough against your fingertips. "And I’m here, with you. That’s all that matters."

He leans down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slower, more tender. It’s a kiss that speaks of promises, of the love that binds you both together despite the distance and the dangers that surround you. You lose yourself in it, in the feel of his lips against yours, in the way his hands hold you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Time seems to stretch, the moment lasting an eternity, yet passing too quickly. When the kiss finally ends, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Jace’s arms wrap around you, holding you close, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"I wish we could stay like this," he whispers, his voice filled with a wistful longing. "I wish the world could just disappear, and it could be just us, here, now."

You smile softly, the sentiment echoing in your own heart. "Me too," you admit. "But we have our duties, our roles to play. As much as I’d like to, we can’t escape that."

Jace sighs, his breath warm against your hair. "I know. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it."

You chuckle softly, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "Neither do I. But we’ll see each other again. We always do."

He nods, though the reluctance to let you go is clear in the way he holds you just a bit tighter. You stay like that for a while longer, savoring the warmth of his embrace, the peace of the moment.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, your gaze drifting to a small patch of moonlit grass where something catches your eye. A tiny insect, its wings shimmering with iridescent colors, flutters by. Your instincts kick in, the familiar habit born of your bond with your twin sister, Helaena. You reach out quickly, your fingers deftly capturing the insect before it can fly away.

Jace watches you curiously, a smile tugging at his lips as you carefully place the insect into a small wooden box you carry with you. "What are you doing?" he asks, amusement lacing his tone. "Collecting insects now, are we?"

You grin up at him, closing the box gently to keep the creature safe. "It’s for Helaena," you explain. "She loves them, you know. This one’s new, I think—she doesn’t have one like it yet."

Jace raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "You brought a box just for that?"

"Of course," you reply with a playful glint in your eye. "You never know when you’ll find something she doesn’t have. It’s like a game between us. I find them, and she studies them."

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. "You really are the perfect sister, aren’t you?"

You shrug, a smile still playing on your lips. "She’s my twin. We’ve always been close. It’s a small thing, but it makes her happy."

Jace’s expression softens, and he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re a good person, you know that?"

You roll your eyes, though his words warm you. "I try," you say lightly, though you know he sees the sincerity behind your words.

But as the moment stretches, you both become acutely aware that your time together is slipping away. The reality of your separate lives looms ever closer, and the weight of the impending farewell presses down on you.

"I hate saying goodbye," Jace admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every time, it feels harder."

You nod, feeling the same ache in your chest. "I know. But we’ll see each other again, Jace. We always do. Until then, we have our letters, and our memories."

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing your cheeks. "I’ll write to you as soon as I can," he promises. "And the next time we meet, I won’t let anything keep us apart for so long."

You smile, though it’s tinged with sadness. "I’ll hold you to that."

For a moment, you just stand there, your foreheads pressed together, breathing in the same air, holding on to the last remnants of your time together. The world around you is silent, as if it too knows the gravity of the moment.

Then, with a quiet resolve, Jace pulls you into one last, passionate kiss. It’s a kiss that sears itself into your memory, filled with all the love, longing, and unspoken words between you. His arms wrap around you, holding you as close as he can, as if trying to fuse you together so that you’ll never have to part again.

When the kiss finally breaks, you’re both breathless, your hearts pounding in unison. You rest your forehead against his, your eyes closed as you try to hold on to the feeling of his lips on yours, the warmth of his body against you.

"I’ll see you soon," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly with the effort to keep the tears at bay.

He nods, though you can see the same struggle in his eyes. "Soon," he agrees, his voice thick with emotion.

With great reluctance, you finally step back, your fingers lingering on his for just a moment longer before you let go. The distance between you feels like a chasm, but you know it’s only temporary. Even so, the ache in your chest remains as you turn and make your way back to Morgoth.

Jace watches you go, his eyes never leaving you until you’re back at your dragon’s side. As you mount Morgoth, you take one last look at him, committing his face, his expression, to memory.

With a final nod, you signal Morgoth to take flight. The powerful dragon launches into the sky, his wings beating against the air as he carries you away from the island, away from Jace.

The night sky stretches out before you, the stars shining brightly above, but your thoughts remain with the boy you left behind. You clutch the small wooden box in your hand, a token of your love for your sister, but also a reminder of the love you share with Jace, a love that will bring you back to him, no matter the distance or the dangers that lie ahead.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Remade (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you nurse Sauron back into his physical form, eager to be reunited with your great love once more

Warnings: I somehow managed to write fluff with goo!Sauron, I guess? You hold and kiss goo!Sauron. You suffer a minor injury by goo!Sauron. You get animals and one person killed to feed goo!Sauron. Heavy make out and implied smut (with non-goo!Sauron). Can you tell I love writing the words ‘goo!Sauron’?

Note: Yet another Sauron x evil!reader fic cause I can’t stop apparently. Can be read as a prequel to the others or as a stand alone.

“Oh, my love,” you breathe out, “what have they done to you?”

What have they done indeed. For you are speaking with the one that is your love, your husband, your very soul—but if he hears, or even understands, he cannot show it. What’s left of him has no mouth no speak, no arms to wrap around you at long last, after an eternity of separation. What your tearful eyes are looking at is a black, amorphous mass, no larger than the heart hammering within your chest, writhing helplessly on the ground.

But it is him. Of that, you are certain.

When you felt his presence again, it was so faint you thought you were dreaming it. Nothing but a glimmer of darkness in the back of your mind, weakly calling out in agony. But as you searched your feelings, reaching out with every sliver of power you could muster, you found that it was real.

You found him.

Long had you travelled since, guided by the unseen thread connecting you to him. Until at last, it had led you into the heart of a mountain where his presence was so strong, it felt as though his skin was beneath your fingertips.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen. Not until a sharp squeal had caught your ear, and you had found the source of it to be a rat being devoured into the blackness of a small, but lethal predator. At once, you had understood, and nearly fallen into despair. But in the end, you reminded yourself—he has endured. You have been reunited. That is all that matters.

Slowly, you kneel at his side. The mass ripples like the surface of water under a light breeze, and it gives you hope that, somehow, your presence is known to him. A sole rivulet of him begins to slip towards you, painfully slow. No wonder he has been in this state for so long, helpless to nourish himself lest some unfortunate creature stumbles upon him in the dark.

“I am here,” you whisper as you reach out. “I am—”

The moment your fingertips touch his cold, viscous form, black tendrils of him latch onto your hand, greedily clawing at your wrist. You gasp at the unexpected force of it, the searing sting where the liquid-like matter solidifies to dig sharp needles into your skin. Beads of your blood emerge, and he swallows them into himself with hunger.

You stare in awe as he grows ever so slightly larger. A twisted part of you is elated to be the object of his craving once more, even if he is trying to devour you whole. Especially then.

Unfortunately, that would not do in the long-term.

You shush him gently, caressing him with your free hand as though he were a purring kitten. Instantly, a tendril of him latches to one of your fingers, but you give him a firm squeeze.

“Shh!” you say sharply, fingers sinking into the soft surface of him as you reach out with your mind as well, nudging at his. “Easy, love,” you coo. “Easy. You know this hand. You know me.”

His mind is a mess—mad with hunger, alight with rage, lost to despair. But you keep caressing it with yours, tenderly bringing to the surface his memories of you. His love. His wife.

His grip on you weakens then. He deflates, withdrawing himself from your wounds, and you are left with a soft, pliant mass, which you delicately scoop into the palm of your hands. He rocks slightly against your skin, almost as if caressing it—and through your bond, the ghost of his regret reaches out to you.

“Do not fret, my love,” you murmur, smiling gently. “All will be well now.”

And so you go to dwell in the forest. At first, you bring him small things, no larger than he is himself—insects and rats, the occasional snake. The venomous ones seem to be quite nourishing, aiding in his growth more visibly than the other animals you feed him. Still, the progress is slow, and could not be endured without a great deal of patience and love. Fortunately, you lack neither.

Days turn to weeks, perhaps months. You don’t keep count, nor do you miss the comforts of the Elven realm where you had dwelt for years, waiting on the day your husband might return. A tent and your skills are more than enough when you finally have your love by your side, even if he is... temporarily different. You always keep him close, cradling him protectively at night and speaking loving words to him throughout the day. And in his own way, with ripples of his form and distant echoes of his slowly recovering mind, he holds onto you.

Eventually, he grows large enough for you to embrace at night, and develops a certain manner of breathing that feels as though you’re resting your head upon his chest. Its rise and fall is odd, ragged and irregular, but it brings you great joy nonetheless. With time, you bring him larger game, watching with grim amazement as deers and wild boars are slowly devoured into the beloved black mass that still is your husband. After a time, he grows nearly limb-like extensions, allowing him to more easily crawl around or reach out, and you often wake to find yourself in the closest thing to an embrace he can manage in this state. It never fails to make your heart soar, and he shudders as you press loving kisses to the parts of his surface closest to you.

So the days pass, until it’s time. Between your own instinct and the shape of his thoughts, not quite spoken but slightly more focused through your bond, you know he’s strong enough to finally regain himself completely.

But for that, he will need something more than an animal.

It’s easy enough to stop the first wagon you see passing by, acting confused and lost and asking for direction. The woman at the reins, though half-drunk, is even gracious enough to offer that she give you a ride to the closest village. You decline, of course. Your purpose was never to climb into the wagon yourself.

It was to halt it long enough for your husband to slither inside from the back.

It’s barely a few seconds after the woman has bid you a good journey and gone on her way that the wagon halts yet again—this time, with a piercing scream from its occupant. The wagon shakes, its horse breaking loose and galloping away.

Then, silence settles. From your angle, you can’t see inside. Your feet are glued in place, your breath barely there as you watch and wait. You’ve been waiting so long that now, so close to the end of your suffering, each moment feels neverending.

Finally—finally—a man emerges from the back of the wagon. He takes his time putting one bare foot, then the other, down onto the snow-covered ground. He takes in his surroundings, as though opening his eyes to the world for the first time. Then his gaze lands on you, and his lips curl into a smile filled with relief.

And you know, you’ve always known, but it feels as though you only then realize that this is not a man. Or an Elf, or a Dwarf, or any other being of less than godly nature. It is him. Remade into a form with eyes, and hands, and flesh, same as your own.

Your feet carry you towards him blindly as you stare and stare, almost unable to believe that you are finally standing close enough to touch once more.

“I would not blame you,” he says, his unfamiliar voice rough from lack of use, “if it was you who failed to recognize me now.”

But you know it’s absurd. His appearance may not be as it used to—his hair is shorter, darker, his cheeks covered in stubble, his features nothing like the ones you knew—but there is no form he could take you would not recognize, not as long as your mind still served you. His had been broken, unamde, when he had begun to feed on you as he would any other stranger. None of that matters now.

“This is... different,” you murmur, greedily taking in every inch of him that isn’t covered by the rags he’s wearing. His chest is partially bared to your eyes, and both of your breaths shudder as you lay your hand over his new heart, the smattering of hair there delightfully rough beneath your fingertips. You gaze there for a moment, mesmerized by the sight, then lift your eyes to meet his. The curls that fall in his face are so endearing your chest aches as you brush one aside.

“I love it,” you breathe out. “I love you.”

A dam that had been built over years of longing shatters at your words, and your lips meet his furiously in a long-awaited kiss. His looks may have changed, but his taste is the same, and so is the desire that overwhelms you to the point of insanity. You’re falling into each other, clawing at each other, crumbling to the ground in an unceremonious tangle of limbs. The snow is cold against your back, but your husband is warm and solid above you, and your world becomes reduced to him and him alone.

You whimper when he suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gazes down at you with raw yearning.

“You came for me,” he says, breathless with elation.

“Of course I did,” you retort, nearly indignated. As if you would do anything but. He goes to kiss you again, but you wrap a hand around his throat and hold him back. Mischief dances in your eyes as he glares and you scold, “And in return, you nearly ate me.”

His eyes darken, and you almost moan at the sight alone.

“I still wish to,” he growls, prying your hand away from his neck and diving in to devour yours instead. “All those years I hungered...” he speaks between ravenous licks and bites of your skin, making you writhe and whimper beneath him, “to feel you once more... even when I could no longer remember... what it was I hungered for...” He lifts his head, wild eyes boring into yours as he lays his hand upon your chest, relishing your heartbeat as you had done his before. “My love,” he pleads, voice trembling with need, “join me in flesh. Let me feast upon yours. Devour mine. Remind me what it is... to feel.”

The last time you felt such unbridled joy was so long ago, you can’t even remember it. And either way, you doubt it held a candle to the bliss bursting within your soul in this moment. This is all you ever wanted. This makes every single moment of torment, past or future, worth it.

“Feel me, love,” you offer most sweetly, your lips brushing his with the last words you speak before you consume each other whole, “Feel everything.”

Next fic with same reader -> Tides of fate