#as our favorite demon once said

[cyb3r-st4rz]

do u guys think air ghouls can’t fall? like they just kinda float down like a minecraft chicken?

[experimentfae]

Alastor x Wife! Reader

Oneshot / fluff

After you and alastor had moved into the hotel to “help.” Let’s just say that the rest of the hotel residents saw pda all. The. Time.

Vaggie watched as alastor kissed your hand again! “Sweet satan can those two get a room already that’s literally the seventh time he kissed her hand.” She grumbled out “aw come on vaggie you have to admit it’s sweet seeing love like that’s down here, it’s rare, except our love of course.” Stated Charlie.

“I get it, we get like that, but the difference is that we do it SOMETIMES they do it EVERY TIME they have the chance.” She Argued “and besides I just really don’t like that radio dipshit.” “Oh please you don’t like anyone attached to a dick.” Angel dust butted in while he laid on the other couch busy looking at his phone.

Vaggie could only roll her eyes in response “well I think our pda is not of your concern.” Spoke alastor with a smug look which made everyone except you jump a little “satan’s asshole do you always have to come out like that?!” Argued angeldust “it’s more entertaining to watch all of you jump in a little scare.” Alastor replied proud of himself to make them a little scared.

“Dear even if it was quite hilarious we can’t do that to them all the time… it wouldn’t be entertaining anymore like that.” You advised him while you walked towards him to be next to him. “You’re right my dear, wouldn’t wish that.”

“Yep a match made in hell.” Grumbled out husk then he continued to take his beer “husk is right my dear we the perfect pair.” “I don’t think that’s what he meant sorta, but we are perfect for each other.” Just then you looked to see the clock then you let out a gasp “oh Al we don’t want to be late for our dinner reservations.” You stated, “oh yes, we must get ready.”

With a simple snap of his finger’s you and alastor were completely dressed “what’s up with the getup?” Angeldust questioned “it’s our anniversary, so we going to the cannibal colony to alastor’s favorite restaurant.” You smiled “wait you’re a cannibal too.” Vaggie asked in shock “well… I did try demon meat and it’s not that bad.” You answers shrugging your shoulders “so that’s a yes? Or … no?” Charlie questioned further “mmm yeah I believe so.” You answered again.

“Huh didn’t take you for a cannibal.” Spoke husk “yeah have you ate another’s man pecker and Al if she did would you be ok with that?” Questioned angeldust “absolutely not.” You both answered “enough with the questions we must hurry (y/n).” Demanded alastor “goodb- you didn’t get to finish you’re farewell due to alastor, once again he snapped his fingers and you were at the restaurant.

“Thankfully my love we made it on time.” Alastor spoke while he grabbed your hand and guided you inside the restaurant. A host was at the front seeming to writing something “welcome to the FedOnPals how may- when he looked up he immediately panicked “T-The alastor by hen smiled wider “yes me the radio demon and my lovely wife!” Alastor stated proudly also just because you knew he was an attention whore so he wanted others to know he was there.

Of course some of the cannibals in the restaurant seemed nervous. “Well- yes um of course I see you’re name on the list so… let me b-bring to your table.” The man said clearly wanting to get out of this situation as fast as possible.

Of course you two got the best seats in the house “a waiter will be with you shortly very… shortly p-promise.” The host immediately left with only made alastor chuckle “I do love the perks of being an overlord.” “Aw even more than me?” You teased with a smirk, he smiled wider “no dear you know I can’t love anything more than you.”

You smiled “I love the outfits you picked for us by the way very classy.” “Of course, only the best for my wife.” Just then a waiter came in “hello I’m Mindy and I’ll have your orders.” The demoness spoke as she gave you two the menus.

As the demoness left you two picked out your orders, ate, alastor paid then you two left to go to a jazz club to dance “oh honey you rembered my favorite spot.” You spoke with pure joy “I could never forget, besides our love for jazz is how we meet.” You smiled brighten as you pecked his cheek making him lightly blush “adorable.” “Me? adorable!? dear don’t joke like that.” Alastor demanded making you laugh “oh honey alright just having a little fun.”

Alastor opened the door for you, the song ‘lets misbehave’ by Irving Aaronson filled you’re ears “oh that’s a good song.” You stated, you thanked alastor and went through and he went after you.

You immediately dragged him to the dance floor which he happily let you, both you begin doing the Charleston funny enough this song always reminded you have alastor.

He then brought you into the foxtrot dance, you both looked into each others eyes that are filled with love. He the suddenly gave you a kiss making you blush but immediately kiss back.

You two continued dance, happy to in each others arms and having a loving relationship and knowing that you two where always will be inseparable.

<- Back to MasterList or back to Hazbin Hotel

[entirelysein-e]

『 Your Blessing 』

☼ synopsis: You're Douma's favorite and it's about time that his followers start worshiping you - and what's better than making them watch how you ride their leader?

☼ character: Douma

☼ wc: 1.6k

☼ cw: female!reader, afab!reader, cult leader Douma, penetrative sex, squirting, voyeurism, fingering, one clit slap, unprotected sex

☼ notes: The rot for Douma is bad so I have to bring this back

You were always Douma’s favorite as long as you can remember. The day you joined his cult, he made a vow to never eat you, that you're meant for something much greater - and while he does occasionally drink your blood, it's always as an offer from you, worshiping the very ground he walks on. You deserved the same devotion as he did in his eyes, needing his followers to praise you the way they praise him, crave your very presence and worship the ground you walk on, gracing everyone with your fragile humanity.

It was no surprise when he made you sit on his lap whenever he sat on his little throne, making sure his followers see the beauty that he calls his own, the one he would destroy the world for. The one not even he dares to disgrace.

“Look how they bow down to you, begging for you to bless them,” he hummed into your ear, the grip on your hips tightening when he saw the slightly uncomfortable look on your face. You always preferred not to be in the spotlight, to stand behind the man this was all about was almost more than you could handle, but he wanted you to be the main attraction, wanting to go one step further and make them see the way only he gets to see you, to grace their eyes once before they become his next meal. Your body was holy to Douma so he gently pulled you closer against his chest. “Wear your most beautiful dress tomorrow. I will show them my personal heaven,” he whispered, gently kissing your neck before dismissing his followers to plan tomorrow's session without your knowledge, despite the proximity your bodies held.

When everyone had gathered in front of Douma’s throne, you entered the room slowly, unsure what would happen, but Douma took your hand and guided you to sit down onto his lap once again. “You look ethereal my love,” he announced proudly and held your hips tightly before pushing your legs over his, making you sit there with spread legs as the heat creeped up your cheeks “What are you doing... this isn't decent,” you protested shyly and tried to close your legs again but he wouldn't let you. “Do not worry, my flower. I promised they will receive a blessing from you, you wouldn't want to disappoint our followers, would you?” He asked with a grin on his face and you knew that any further protest was futile - he made up his mind and nothing would change it. With a long sigh you tried to relax into his chest, knowing very well that the men and women blessed by you in any way are chosen to become his next meal if you liked it or not. You loved the man and were able to look past his ways, past him being a demon.

Douma's smirk grew when you relaxed against him, the tension in your thighs disappearing and he kissed your neck loving “That's right, my goddess. Just relax and let me handle this,” he hummed, tearing your dress in a way that exposed your perfect tits to his followers, soft gasps filling the room as you saw some of them blush or avert their eyes, displeasing their leader. “Eyes on her!” He spoke demanding and his words were final. All eyes were burning on your skin now, waiting for the leader's next move as he started kneading the flesh of your chest, gently tugging and twisting your nipples in ways that made you whimper and lean into his hands even more. You were addicted to his touch just like he was addicted to touching you, closing your eyes to drown out all the people watching the both of you, but Douma pinched your nipples harder “Tsk. Open your eyes. Bless them. Let them watch, look at their eyes, at their devotion to their goddess,” he said sternly and ripped your dress further until it was nothing but a broken piece of fabric to be tossed away. It felt humiliating to be completely naked in a room full of people who await your pleasure, who see every inch of your skin, wishing to touch you the way their leader did but they had full faith in him, knowing he will take great care of their goddess.

His slender hands traveled down your body, sharp nails leaving small streaks in their wake but not enough to cut your skin or to hurt you and you felt yourself squirm in anticipation, seeing all these awaiting faces of your followers. There was no reason to be ashamed in front of them, knowing they would never have an ill thought about their goddess, feeling like they're a witness to the most holy of all ceremonies - getting to see their leader please their goddess. The feeling of his fingers parting your folds ripped you out of your thoughts, your hands holding onto the thighs you were seated on and he smirked at the way everyone's eyes were now glued to your beautiful core, spread for their viewing pleasure. “My my, would you look at how wet you are… Are you pleased by their presence?” Douma teased before biting your earlobe ever so gently. “We should give them what they want, don't you think?” He added and watched your eyebrows knit up in pleasure the moment a single finger slid through your folds to gather your slick so he could flick your puffy clit just enough to make you whimper and clutch onto his thighs.

“That's my flower… don't hold these pretty noises back,” he encouraged you to let go, massaging your bundle of nerves in small circles until your neglected entrance started to clench around nothing.

Douma knew better than to finger you, his nails far too long and the noises you made when he splits you open on his cock without preparing your weeping cunt first are far too heavenly to miss out on. Just to tease you he ran one of his fingers over your entrance and dipped in ever so slightly, a small string of sour arousal connected to his finger the moment he pulled back to lick his digit clean.

“Always so sweet for me,” he hummed and lifted you gently, the tip of his impressive cock nudging against your dripping entrance which made you whine, knowing all too well that he will push himself in with just a single thrust to make you moan his name. He didn't disappoint you, his entire length disappearing inside of your core the moment his tip was entirely past your folds - this time much slower than usual, making sure he can feel every little ridge in your velvet walls and drawing your moan of his name out. “Douuuumaaa” you whined loudly, hating and loving the intense feeling of getting impaled on his huge length.

Douma gave you only a short moment to adjust, your walls already fluttering wildly and sucking him even further inside. “You're my little vixen… so sweet and innocent but the moment you have my cock inside of you, you make the lewdest little noises… don't you?” He mused, thrusting his hips sharply to make you squeal out a moan to prove his point. You wanted nothing more than to close your eyes, to enjoy the feeling fully, hoping he wouldn't notice but Douma had his eyes everywhere. The little slap to your sensitive clit made you open them just a split second after closing them, whining loudly

“Don't be so disrespectful… they need their goddess to bless them,” he almost scolded you and began moving your hips up and down his length, indicating for you to start riding him. It humiliated you, helplessly moaning on your lovers cock as your followers watched with this intense hunger for you, to touch you, to help you receive pleasure but they knew better than to ever lay a single finger onto your sacred body.

Your walls started to clench around Douma and moving became harder and harder until he held onto your thighs to fuck into you like there's no tomorrow - and for some chosen ones there would be none. Your moans started to sound like a lewd prayer, chanting his name over and over as it echoed off the walls until the only noise to be heard was heavy breathing and the squelching noise of your obscenely wet cunt, helplessly squirting in the intensity of the orgasm Douma brought to you. “That's it, flower. Bless these lost people with your love, cleanse their souls,” he called out proud and continued to fuck you through your release just to keep going, rubbing circles onto your overly sensitive bundle of nerves as your followers came closer and closer, wanting to receive their blessing from you which made Douma chuckle “See this, petal? It looks like you need to release a few more times for your greedy people,” he mused, feeling your walls flutter in affirmation, knowing you wouldn't mind falling apart on his length until you're begging for him to stop - you always wanted more and more the more you came for him. It filled him with pride to watch you come undone once more, your juices spraying out of you and onto the floor, some drops landing on your followers and he knew that those are the ones he will devour first - but none would leave this room alive, having witnessed his private heaven.

Networks: @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[morganitering]

Because I'm the Weakest

Pairing: yandere!Satosugu x fem!reader

Warnings: Rape/non-con, Dead dove, darkfic, dissociation, trauma, rape fantasy, rape aftermath, vomiting (not during sex), unhealthy relationships, non-consensual drug usage, drugged sex, canon typical violence, sexism, implied/referenced alcohol usage/abuse

Contains: F/M/M, spitroasting, oral sex, penis in vagina sex, blow jobs, face-sitting, come play, overstimulation, voyeurism, slight size kink, humiliation/degradation, vaginal fingering, mentioned Nanami.

Word count: ~6,5k

Summary: Growing up as a female sorcerer has not been easy, especially when you are overshadowed by two prodigies. You used to form a tight-knit friend group, but now in adulthood everyone battled their own demons whether it be a god complex or feelings of inferiority. Gojo Satoru revives a group chat that was almost long forgotten, inviting you and his boyfriend for a long weekend, just like the old days. Before the regrettable night, you wouldn't have ever thought that you'd need to raise a fist against a friend.

A/N: Hey everyone, another fic but this time featuring our two favorite dudes with insanity turned to the max. This fic is once again full of warnings and proceed with caution and read the tags! Remember to take care of yourself. Otherwise enjoy and feel free to like and comment <3

read on ao3 PART II

“Booring,” Satoru complained audibly as he looked through the streaming services’ different movies and series. The little icons changed from bombshell babes to twisted faces with titles written in blood. He was sprawled over the corner of a ridiculously huge couch and he was wiggling his foot as a nervous tick of his. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, instead he had opted for something more relaxed and comfortable.

“If you’re so bored you should help us out in the kitchen,” Suguru sighed, his black hair draping over his shoulders, still slightly wet from the shower he had taken earlier. When you had pointed out that he was leaving droplets of water everywhere where he went, Suguru had just smiled at you and told you that it’s better for hair to air dry.

He held a knife in his right hand and the other one held onto a cucumber to keep it in place. His fingers were slender but by no means unmanly. Suguru wasn’t too fixated on the vegetable in front of him, chopping away with confidence only experience would provide.

“And where would the fun be in that since I got you two as my private chefs?” Satoru pouted as he shoveled candy in his face.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, if you eat candy now,” you chimed in, poking the halloumi that kept on sizzling on the pan. The water evaporated in a mist that warmed your cheeks in the cool apartment. It wasn’t actually cold in the open plan kitchen, but you had spent long enough in front of the appliances to break a sweat.

“I’d eat it anyway,” the white haired man whined as he got up from the couch finally settling on a tv series that started playing mindlessly in the background. “So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked after grabbing a piece of pomegranate from a small see through bowl. He walked behind you both like a shark, eyeing the ingredients and you, uncomfortably close.

“Set the table and learn to bitch less,” you joked.

“You wound me,” Satoru said, feigning sadness, but did as he was told.

The three of you were residing in an apartment that Satoru had bought himself from one of the skyscrapers surrounding Tokyo. After Jujutsu High it had gotten increasingly hard for the three of you to meet as adult responsibilities weighed heavily on both of their shoulders, – especially Satoru’s, but you saw the similar pain carried in Suguru just as well.

You were not weak, but you could not compare to the two prodigies. On the days when you felt down, the pain of third wheeling constantly ate you up, sometimes so much so that you rather left the two men talking together in the group chat. It furthered the wedge between you and them, until the messages became sparse and you almost could pretend not to know them.

It had been six months since the last time you met, but one day Satoru broke the silence and a notification popped up from your shared chat. It had taken you by a surprise, you were vaguely aware that even him and Suguru had issues with fitting each other in their lives, due to individual missions and what not. So the fact that Satoru decided to deliberately send a message to you as well, got you anxiously excited. He reached out to you. You. A high school friend that barely kept in touch with him.

“Guys! I refuse to work this weekend so come to my place. Let’s have a get together like the good old times ❤️ ❤️?? A little sleepover if you will!”

“Lol what about the higher ups?” Suguru had asked, typing back way too fast.

“Actually never mind I don’t want to be made into an accomplice in your crimes,” Suguru had continued.

“Am I invited too?” You had asked, hands shaking slightly as you stared at the bright screen, already tucked into bed. It was late, but Satoru was a known night owl.

“Damn, what have I done to earn this type of reputation 😭” Satoru complained, reacting to both your and Suguru’s message. You could hear his voice as if he was there in the same room as you.

“Of course you are invited, silly. I wouldn’t send this here if you weren’t.”

So now you were there, living an almost ridiculously domestic life with the couple that you had been hanging out with ever since you were sixteen. They had not changed too much. They were still both tall and slender but years had rid them of the rest of the baby fat as they started to resemble more men than boys, vigorous fighting showing in their bodies in an ever gained muscle mass. You supposed you were the same too. Battle hardened. That’s the word you were looking for.

You were just about to sit down but you saw long limbs reaching out to the white chair pulling it backwards. You looked at Satoru with a raised eyebrow. He was acting weird.

“What? I’m a host. I’m being hospitable,” he said, voice melodic as he pressed his hand on your shoulder to pet your arm reassuringly a few times. Suguru laughed quietly as he sat down next to Satoru.

You ate and drank, buzzing with energy. It was like no time had passed and you wondered why did you ever stop talking to these two. After a drink or two you were brave enough to ask for some hot gossip. Like every high school friend, you went through old drama, like how ugly Nanami’s haircut used to be.

“Has Nanami found love yet?” You had asked. He seemed like the type to find a decent relationship first out of all of you, but to everyone’s surprise it was these two men.

“Do you still have a crush on him? I heard that he’s quite a looker nowadays” Suguru bounced a question back at you with a smile tugging on his lips. It was that one expression that looked a tad too kind.

“No, I don’t. I was just curious,” you tried to move on from the subject. You did not really discuss your relationship history with these two, at least not anymore.

“Why?” Suguru asked, leaning on the hand he had placed on the table. The atmosphere felt off, it was as if he was challenging you. You looked at Satoru who seemed to be equally as interested in your answer.

You scratched your neck awkwardly.

“I- I think he’s too soft,” you said blushing at the implication of your words. You had turned your gaze to your almost empty bowl, your mind going to improper places. As you were buried in your embarrassment, Satoru and Suguru shared a silent look with each other.

At some point during the evening you had moved to the white haired man’s bedroom. He wanted to show you the view from the window since he lived on the 30th floor. It was magnificent. The busy streets were bustling even during the night and you stared at the small lights that blinked in different colors. Your eyes followed the cars that swerved left and right as some people were gathered up in front of bars for a smoke break. You barely could make them out from the height you were in.

Satoru’s bedroom was basically the size of someone’s apartment. The bed was huge and sleek, unlike the common area. This room was a lot moodier and darker and it actually showed that he lived here, small bits and bobs decorating shelves and few paintings were hung up on the wall that you reckoned were Suguru’s taste.

Your drinks had changed from light cocktails to expensive red wine that you were almost scared to consume, but when Satoru saw hesitation in you he made a point to assure you that it’s all on him and after that almost instantaneously Suguru asked you something, leaving you no room to overthink.

The uneasiness still followed you. It was a gut feeling that you were really bad at listening to. You did not believe you were in danger – at least you’d like to think that as a jujutsu sorcerer you’d be trained to recognize threats by now. Luckily the red wine relaxed you, lulling you to the feeling of safety.

The volume of music was loud as the three of you listened to some throwback songs that still made you shamelessly want to dance. You were celebrating embarrassingly in Satoru’s room laughing, swaying your bodies along with the beat. It was as if you were in a club, except this was way more intimate. The world spinned around you, the warm lights mixed with the glimpses of the night sky and the longer outlines of your friends. You felt light, time slowing down and going overspeed at the same time as if you were alone on the highway. Your friends’ smiles stretched on their faces, eyes twinkling manically as both of the men appeared to you in double. Eventually when you tired each other out the whole group collapsed on the bed still humming happily. Satoru’s bed was plush and big enough to have room for the three of you.

You noted the way the silk felt like a warm hug underneath you, the ceiling moving like a slithering snake’s skin on savannah.

Satoru was lying on his back on the left side of you, his white hair now more tousled than before whereas Suguru was on the right leaving you in the middle of the two men.

“I think we should play a question game,” Satoru’s voice was bordering on a whisper. The music had stopped.

You stayed silent. “Satoru, I’m not feeling too good,” you managed to say. The bed was a ship and you were a passenger of the sea.

“I didn’t know you’re that lightweight,” Satoru’s hand reached out to your head to pet you, the gesture meant to lower your guards, but in your ever increasing discomfort, his touch only managed to make your skin tingle with aversion.

“Just humor us for a bit, it could be like the good old days, right?” Suguru argued, flashing a dead smile at you.

“Okay, whatever. Ask me something,” you rolled your eyes, too tired to fight them in your weird mental and physical stage.

“Hmm,” Satoru turned to his side to face you, his blue gaze piercing yours as you were still laying on your back. You had no idea when he had removed his sunglasses. You heard Suguru moving next to you as well. “What do you mean by Nanami being too soft?” The way Satoru laid down the question was impish.

The tone of the conversation had taken a full one-eighty and you opened your mouth to answer with only lies on the tip of your tongue, but then you decided against that. Those two had a very good bullshit radar.

“Do you want to hear what I think?” Satoru grinned playfully as he licked his plump lips once.

“I think Nanami would bore you out of your mind, missionary on Mondays without the lights on? Ugh, I wouldn’t want that for my worst enemy,” he said, laughter hollow full of malice. You couldn’t believe your own ears.

“I think you want it rough and behind that tough girl act, there’s an insatiable woman with some wild fantasies,” he blabbered his obscene thoughts. “Tell me, have you ever had sex with two men?” Gojo’s voice was loud and it was as if he was talking to you from a speaker that had been locked in another room. He was too close, too far away and simultaneously too here.

“What the-” you got cut off.

“Don’t curse. It’s unseemly from a woman,” Geto said calmly.

“Answer me,” Gojo demanded. During high school you would have described Gojo’s eyes as a beautiful spring day. You would have said that he reminded you of blue skies with perfectly white fluffy clouds, but now his eyes had turned to something much paler and darker. They reminded you of deep untouched snow drifts turned to blue in the moonlight as they sparkled ominously, waiting for the first little animal that dared to break the pristine condition.

“What did you do to me?” Your voice was not your own, it was weak, the accusation of your words turning dull as the red wine you had drank earlier sanded the edges away.

“Nothing permanent,” Geto said.

His admittance striked terror in you. Realization hit you, you were not safe here and you felt the familiar warmth flowing in you like a second nature. You manipulated the cursed energy, channeled it and let it flow steadily in your body guiding the power to your hands, but something in it felt unstable, it felt like a chord that was almost broken just barely connecting.

“Did you know that some drugs really affect the ability to use cursed energy? Not that it would matter in your case,” Geto explained, his voice overflowing around you, sticking to your skin like honey.

“Fuck you!” You yelled letting out a gust of wind to both sides, throwing the two men away from you. They landed nimbly to the floor, like cats, as you yourself hopped up from the bed, your vision blurred, walls moving back and forth, small figurines on the shelves changing color others dancing in front of your eye lids. Your head ached, pain banging against your skull, gnawing at the nerve endings that sent panic infused messages across your body, screaming: Stop moving!

“Oh so you want to spar? Go on then, show me what you have,” Geto purred.

It was a pathetic attempt in your current state. Your feet took you towards the door that Geto had come to protect. Hands and feet clashed together in close combat as you drew your cursed energy that was flickering unevenly in your body. Every time you got too close to escaping either Geto or Gojo kicked you further away.

The white haired bastard wasn’t even using his infinity which only added salt to your wounds. He deliberately chose to prance around you, letting you at times touch him a wild smile on his face. There was no cursed energy, no flashy techniques, just you and two overpowered men.

“Do you remember what they said in school when facing someone stronger than you?” Gojo asked, dodging your fist.

“Don’t be a hero,” Geto grabbed your arm and twisted it painfully behind you. “Contact someone better equipped to handle it,” he said and shoved you forwards with a force so great that you staggered towards Gojo’s table with the MacBook wobbling with force earning a “Hey, that’s my computer!” protest from the man himself.

The lights went out with a sound of shattering glass, leaving the three of you enveloped in the darkness, only city lights illuminating the room. Disorientated by the sudden change in environment you froze, breathing heavily as the two men practically surrounded you. Gojo appeared in front of you not a hair out of place.

“And with that, you’re dead. You really should not get distracted during training,” the white haired man shared his advice talking to you with the same tone he used on his pupils. “Truce?” He offered his hand.

You looked up. There was something sinister about the way they hovered over you. Geto’s beautiful prince-like features had turned harsh and angular, the shadows sharpening his face even more. You swallowed a bunch of bile, the effects of forcing yourself to move taking place.

“The power disparity is too big,” Geto said. He almost pitied you. You were a smart girl, you’d figure the best move soon.

You grabbed the hand bitterly. Gojo helped you up and Geto wrapped his arm around your waist when you were about to fall again.

“Careful,” he mumbled, his hand trailing underneath your shirt. His touch felt cold against your burning skin that was damp from sweat. “We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” he taunted.

“Take her shirt off. I’ve waited long enough,” Gojo said impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor.

“Always so demanding,” Geto chuckled as he worked your shirt up, unclasping your bra unceremoniously, your breasts now free for the two men to ogle.

“Perfect tits,” Gojo said as he pawed at you and played with your nipples. You were completely overwhelmed and out of energy. Luckily, you did not have to stand on your own as Geto helped you to stay up his hands unzipping your jeans.

“Why me?” You squeaked your head drooping in defeat as you looked at Geto’s hand that vanished underneath your panties, your trousers still on you. Your question went unanswered.

“Satoru I think you might have been right about your theory,” You felt Geto’s smile on your neck as he referenced the earlier conversation regarding Nanami.

“Really? Is she wet?” Gojo asked curiously.

“Soaking,” Geto said as he explored your soft folds with ease. “Did fighting us make you feel better about what’s going to happen? At least you can tell your friends that you did not break easy,” Geto mumbled onto your skin pressing kisses to your neck, his hand still working on you going up and down tantalizing on your slit.

Gojo dropped to his knees pulling down the rest of your clothes. A whimper left your mouth as you shook your head powerlessly.

“Lift her leg up,” Gojo instructed. Geto slid his hand behind your right knee, lifting it up till you were wobbling on one foot as you leaned on him for support. The white haired man had his lips slightly apart as he looked in awe at the sight unfolding in front of him. His mouth was watering as Geto maneuvered his hand back to your folds, spreading them in front of Gojo’s face so that his boyfriend could take a long hard look at everything you were offering.

You saw the gears turning in Gojo’s head as his expression turned to a mischievous one. “I want her to sit on my face,” he licked his lips and made his way to the bed, throwing the shirt on the floor.

“Can you move?” Geto asked as he let go of your leg, holding onto your trembling body. He tipped your head towards him, his face looking almost worried. It reminded you of the old times, but this was not the old Suguru. This was someone new. Twisted.

He helped you to the bed, where Gojo had been waiting, completely naked, his chest heaving in anticipation. Your eyes scanned him from head to toe, stopping at his cock that had already started to curve upwards. It already looked big, bigger than anything you had ever taken.

“Like what you see baby? Cause me too,” Gojo said jokingly. “Well, come here then or do you want to fuck us dry? Because I’m fine with that,” he hurried you, the threat looming over you.

You climbed on top of him, saddling his face. Gojo’s hands immediately grabbed at your ass, pulling you towards his mouth. You could imagine the pink tip of his tongue trying out where you were the most sensitive. He was too impatient to tease you, quickly finding the bundle of nerves that was begging for his attention. He lapped at it as obscenely wet noises filled the room. Gojo sucked on your clit and you moaned loudly, throwing your head back, a sheen layer of sweat on you.

You felt him hum into your cunt as you felt the weight shift behind you on the mattress, Geto’s hand moving on Satoru’s length, pumping it roughly.

“You see, Satoru here is a bit of a munch. He is loud during the day, but put a cock in his mouth and it works wonders at silencing him. Apparently he likes the taste of pussy too,” Geto said with a devious smile on his lips. Gojo groaned animalistically into your wet heat as the black haired man felt his own hardness straining against his boxers. It took everything in his power to not to take off his clothes and fuck you till you were cock drunk and babbling incoherently, but he had too much fun playing with you.

“How does it feel like having the strongest sorcerer lapping you up like a regular man?” Geto’s voice was just a hush in your ear. “Men and women around the globe are going to be jealous when they hear that Gojo Satoru wanted to stick his dick in you,” Geto taunted you both as his hand focused on rotating around Satoru’s tip, spreading out the drops of precome around his cock. Satoru bucked his hips up involuntarily.

You came. Hard. You thrashed around Gojo’s head as the man between your legs held onto you stubbornly, licking and sucking through your orgasm. You felt something warm trickling straight to his face as the pressure in the lower half of your body exploded. Your voice was high pitched and desperate as you rode his face till you were sore, your already weak legs giving out.

Gojo pushed you off of him, gasping for air, pupils blown out in arousal. His face glistened in your juices and his saliva.

“You know what, for a man who’s shaming me for being talkative, you sure speak a lot yourself Suguru,” he pointed out. Suguru laughed, honest to god laughed, his eyes squinting contently as Satoru pulled him into a kiss.

There was something incredibly erotic watching the two men, knowing that Geto would taste the remnants of you as their lips smacked together messily. Their bodies tangled together, black hair flowing around white as Gojo buried his hand in Geto’s luscious strands. Gojo pulled his boyfriend’s face up gently exposing the bobbing Adam's apple that he kissed reverently. It was now Geto’s turn to saddle Gojo.

“I think you need to take your clothes off. Give her a little show,” Satoru said, biting into the skin on Suguru’s clavicle as his hands fumbled with the black haired man’s belt that opened with a clink.

Geto pulled his black t-shirt over his head, his taut muscles flexing. It felt like forever when Gojo caressed the man on top of him, his face in a constant grin. He took down the boxers inch by inch until Geto’s cock sprang out after being suppressed inside his clothes for too long.

“Get on fours,” Gojo ordered as you clumsily did what he told you to. He moved behind you whereas Geto took place in front of you.

“Arch your back.”

You stretched yourself, lowering your torso and propping your butt up almost as if you were offering yourself on a silver platter. Gojo’s hand came down to your ass with force making your body jerk when he dug his nails on the soft skin.

“Wow, you must fuck a lot of dudes judging by how low you can go. If I knew you were a whore, I would have bent you over earlier,” he laughed, his finger prodding on your entrance.

Geto pulled you from your hair. It wasn’t the nice kind of pain that came when one would grab them near the scalp; instead it stung like hell, when Geto yanked your head up, putting you on the perfect level of his cock.

Gojo inserted one finger simultaneously inside you and almost immediately added another. You whined as his fingers scissored you open, your lips almost touching the head of Geto.

“You know, I get to lie with this amazing man every day. Show him the same respect as I do,” Gojo said. Had you not been caught up in their fucked up power play, their love for each other would have truly warmed your heart.

Geto’s thumb stroked your cheek as if to apologize for what was about to happen. He let his hand trail down to your bottom lip, swiping across it gently.

“Open.”

Satoru pushed his hand almost knuckles deep into you, a guttural moan making its escape from your lips as he used his hand to finger fuck you. Geto used your opening mouth to his advantage to stuff his cock in you. He was huge, your jaw already hurting. His tangy taste spreaded in your mouth as he softly rocked back and forth, not wanting to choke you just yet.

You hollowed out your cheeks and focused on the tip of his cock as you used one of your hands to touch what you could not fit. Geto’s eyes were half lidded as he guided your head to a rhythm that he liked as you squirmed underneath Gojo’s touch.

Gojo removed his hand from you leaving you empty, you almost missed the sensation of him, but soon felt the man behind you poking your folds with something much bigger than his fingers. You mewled in panic when he entered you, your eyes widening in shock. God he was huge.

“Focus. Eyes up here,” Geto said, patting your cheek with an open palm. The way you looked up at him made Suguru feel close to high, your pupils widened to the size of a plate, eyes glistening in tears that you held back, still holding onto a sliver of pride. Brave girl, he thought to himself.

Gojo fucked you sloppily, squelching, slapping and your gurgling filling the room as both the men used your body to chase their own highs. You felt like you were drowning and when one withdrew the other one rammed into you without a second thought. It was hard to keep your attention on Geto when his boyfriend did everything in his power to make your task at hand challenging, when his long cock grazed upon that one spot inside you from time to time.

“I’m going to finish in your mouth,” Geto was out of breath, his grip tightened around your skull. Gojo groaned behind you with his fingers digging into your hips. You were sure that you’d have handprints tattooed on your skin by the end of this night.

Geto’s movement got erratic, his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him painfully. The black haired man relished in the wet warmth your mouth provided him. He was panting as pleasure coursed through him, your despaired moans only driving him further. Hot stripes of his come coated your mouth. You wanted to spit it out, or swallow it, anything to get rid of it as your face soured in disgust.

“Keep it in your mouth,” he advised as he pulled out of you. You almost wanted to spit it on his face as an act of defiance. Geto smiled at the confrontational look on your face as if he knew what you were thinking. “Good girl,” he purred when you had decided not to go against him.

Gojo flipped you quickly around to lie on your back, your legs floating in the air awkwardly as he entered back into you swiftly. He pulled you in a feverish kiss, his soft lips slightly swollen. His tongue prodded inside your mouth, Suguru’s come spreading into his mouth as you explored each other. It felt disgusting, playing with someone’s fluids like this, but somehow it made your cunt clench around your white haired high school friend.

There was something deeply primal in the way Gojo drove into you, his head almost resting on yours as he fucked you deep and hard. You were vaguely aware of Geto’s eyes following the act in front of him, admiring the way Satoru’s muscles moved with every move, drinking up the disheveled look on you.

Satoru’s hips came to halt as he plastered his seed on your walls, making sure that he wasn’t too deep, keeping his thrusts shallow enough so he could see him leaking out of your used cunt.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, spent, the after glow warming him. “You didn’t come right?” He asked you, feeling slightly tired.

“No, but it doesn’t matter,” you rasped out your throat feeling hoarse after the abuse it had taken. Frankly you wanted to sleep as well.

“Suguru, can you help her out? I want to watch,” Gojo said as he fluffed the pillow underneath him to get into a comfortable position as if he was about to open the television and watch his favorite show.

“If you hold onto her other leg,” he said as he propped your left leg around his waist and Gojo took hold of your right one. You were helpless and unable to protect yourself when you tried to squirm away from the two devious men.

Geto’s nimble fingers gathered up Satoru’s come that was trickling down between your cheeks. He pushed it back inside you, moving his fingers slowly without a hurry in the world. It reminded you of the calm before a storm.

“You’re going to give us one more right?” Geto’s voice was reassured when he added another finger into you, thumb trailing to your sensitive clit. He knew just what to do, to get you fast back to the edge that you were teetering on earlier, already feeling overstimulated from the rough treatment you had gotten. His fingers made a come-hither movement hitting precisely your g-spot.

Gojo held onto you whispering sweet nothings to your ear, his thumb caressing your thigh. He was gentle, his touch light, eyes half lidded as he enjoyed the small whimpers coming from your mouth. He spoke to you, told you how much he had wanted you from the beginning. He spoke of how he saw that you wanted him – them. Gojo let you know how well you were doing, taking what they dished out to you, how you were brave and oh so good. He attempted to bury you in his twisted love, six feet underground, anxiety and arousal covering Geto’s fingers.

It was too overwhelming. Gojo next to you, Geto between your legs, your world still spinning around you, overstimulating touch and a coil about to snap. You wailed hollowly as you came apart on Suguru’s fingers one last time.

***

It was deep in the night, around two AM to be precise. You had shot your eyes open as the wave of nausea hit you. The two men had fallen asleep cuddling each other, limbs tangled on each other. You got up as quickly as you could, your head ache punishing you from your choices, stomach churning dangerously.

With a pitter patter from your naked feet, you carried yourself to the extravagant bathroom, barely having time to put the lights on as your nausea took over.

You doubled over the toilet seat, emptying your stomach of your earlier dinner and whatever else your friends had slipped in your drink. You held onto your hair desperately trying not to make a mess. A warm hand landed on your fist bunching up the rest of your hair gently.

“It’s okay. I’m here,” Suguru said affectionately, stroking your head. “Let it all out. You’re going to feel better soon.”

The acidic taste filled your mouth once again as if it was reacting to Suguru’s company. Your body forced you to throw up stomach fluids after having nothing else in it.

The way he took care of you brought up memories of the times you had taken one too many drinks, after your partner of that time had broken up with you. You remembered the way he had held you crying, snot and tears covering his shirt as you broke down.

The sound of water pouring into a glass echoed on the walls and you heard the rattle of an ice drawer disturbing the silence.

“You should drink this,” Satoru showed up leaning on the door frame, offering the glass to you. You hesitated.

“It’s just water.” He said and took a sip as if it would prove you anything. “See?”

You grabbed it from his hand, when you decided that you didn’t care anymore, downing the entire glass in almost one swing. The cold scraped your tender throat punishingly. You should have drank more slowly.

Waking up after the night had turned to day, the windows no longer covered by the blinds. You did not remember a lot of the act, except vomiting, but that came afterwards. The city was already moving fast, a new day offering new opportunities and new exciting journeys.

You felt physically a lot better, still weird, but you no longer felt like collapsing to the ground nor did you see things twice. It was almost like you had a hangover. You looked around Gojo’s room rolling on the bed that was empty feeling relieved of having space.

There were still signs of yesterday's fighting, but random shards had been taken care of and the lightbulb changed into a working one. You had your own pajamas on you, not having the slightest idea when and how you got into your clothes. Feeling nervous you got out of the bedroom walking to the toilet to empty your bladder. As you wiped, you felt around your crotch, searching for the remainder of different body fluids. You had cleaned yourself up. Or someone had.

You washed your hands, scrubbing them together with fervor, pumping out a heap of soap on your palm.

You repeated it once.

Twice.

Until your skin was scrubbed dry.

You looked at yourself in the mirror just to see familiar features, but not anyone you could recognize. You opened the overnight bag that you had left on the side of the sink to brush your teeth and spit out the foaming toothpaste. A smell of dough frying on the pan wafted to your nose as you heard commotion from the kitchen.

You took steps to the living room to find Suguru in front of the stove flipping pancakes as Satoru was hunched over a pile of strawberries nibbling on them happily. Upbeat rock played in the background as the two men joked around and chatted. You stared at them, something seething in you.

“Good morning! We’re making brunch,” Suguru exclaimed as he flipped a pancake over “Do you want coffee or tea?”

Nails bit into your skin as you clenched your fists together hard, your knuckles turning to white as anger turned on like a switch. You wanted to rage, go absolutely berserker, throw things at them, scream how dare you over and over. Some part of you also wanted to forget the night, pretend that it’s a nightmare, sit down with them to eat some fucking brunch.

“What if I tell someone,” it wasn’t really a question that you wanted them to answer.

“And what would you achieve with that?” Gojo retorted, popping a ridiculously big strawberry in his mouth, leaving the green stem outside as he bit down, the trash floating to the table.

Suguru placed the now ready pancake onto the white plate. He grabbed the black ladle to pour more mixture on the warm pan, before he started speaking calm but collected. It was this matter of fact tone that he used as if he was disappointed in your stupidity since he was always speaking the truth. The audacity of men or something like that.

“You know first hand how some clans look down on women, not believing that women should be sorcerers in the first place. So how do you think these powerful people are going to react to you saying that two of the strongest sorcerers assaulted you?” He mused, the conversation reminding you of ethics class where people discussed your human rights as a starter dish, completely disregarding that they were talking about real lives.

You knew how those types of people would react. They would see it only as normal, a woman’s place as a breeding machine, your sorcerer blood and womb more precious than your soul. They would argue that you were lucky or maybe that you had asked for it. Besides, it wasn’t exactly atypical of people in your line of work going insane, the trail of dead comrades keeping one up for countless nights. And who better to take anger out on than the people who are perceived as less.

“Even if they did believe you, it wouldn’t change our life at all. They need our skills and well, his money,” Suguru continued as Satoru grabbed three coffee cups and placed them on the kitchen island. As if, you were staying. “It would change yours though.”

That’s when realization hit you. They were the type of evil that were completely aware of their sins. They knew exactly what was right and wrong, but they simply did not care, the world as their oyster.

“You’re insane,” a tear rolled down your eye, your body trembling like a leaf.

“Not denying that one,” Satoru quipped, not taking anything serious like usual.

“If you want to, you can leave. You are free to run your mouth however you want, block our numbers, whatever makes you sleep better. Or you can eat some pancakes as friends and have powerful allies for the rest of your life,” Geto said. “I’ll ask again, coffee or tea?”

You bit your lip as the conflicted emotions flashed through your face. You despised that you viewed them still as your friends as much as your enemies. It was weird to love someone who had hurt you in one of the most violating ways possible.

“Coffee,” you mumbled as you sat down on the bar stool hanging your hands on your sides as Suguru poured the dark liquid on the blue cup.

“We got you Plan B too,” Satoru said, throwing the cardboard box into your hands. “You should take it. I’m not ready to be a father,” he added.

You fumbled the package open, popping out the small pill on your hand. You didn’t know how they knew that you weren’t on birth control nor did you really care. You placed the tablet on your tongue taking generous gulps of water as the couple continued on cooking.

Music played as the sun shone brighter, lighting up the whole kitchen, furniture basking up in the natural glow. You ate in peace, mainly Satoru and Suguru talking together but every once in a while you added something in the conversation. You fell quickly back to the old habits, maybe at times chuckling at their stupid jokes.

You pushed away the night. You tucked it in a corner of your mind that you did not dare to look at for many weeks to come. You were just three old high school buddies catching up, nothing more. The flashbacks you saw were not yours and the long weekend continued on as a happy sleep over.

[heartfullofleeches]

Consider, male secretary darling, summoned by accident to work in an office of demons ☝️🤑

Male secretary darling who starts off his new career as a jobless nobody down on his luck searching for whatever opportunity is handed to him. The ad that popped up in his email said it was a janitorial position. Pay was pretty decent too- Not much information beyond that and a phone number, but he's sure the finer details will be laid out once he makes the call.

"Jan-it-or? Ohhhh, yea we just put whatever on those ads so people will answer. You'd be surprised by how quickly your kind try to quit. What you'll be doing is far easier than whatever that is!"

"What is the job then?"

"Well, you already seem good at talking over the phone. Do you think you can manage a coffee machine?"

"I guess."

"And do you think you would good in a skirt?"

"....I guess?"

"Perfect! Then your employment begins....immediately. Happy to have you apart of the team!"

That was weird- Darling goes to hang up his phone only to find the four corners of his bedroom morphed into the walls of an office lobby. Fright and panic ensues, intensified by the unholy beasts sitting on either side of him. What appears to be a woman missing the top part of her head applies another coat of lipstick to her plump lips on his right- a lanky figure wrapped in medical bandages rehearsing its resume to a decapitated head in its many hands on his left-

This is all a dream?

" 'fraid not, fresh meat. You are one of few mortals to have the privilege to work here at our lucrative place of business. Us demons need some way to manage all the work we do up top with your kind. Our glorious boss came up with the idea for our company eons ago- Modern times call for modern changes and all that."

"Can. Can you explain the reason by the skirt thing you asked me about?"

"Company policy. Best to leave it at that."

The higher ups take an immediate liking to their new toy. For one thing, the fear wears off after his second day on the job. He really needs the money after and they can't be that much worse than his old colleagues. An additional bonus is how well he wears that skirt of his. The way it clings to his figure, how it rides up his thigh when he picks up something a coworker "accidentally" dropped on the floor. A soul with a body that appetizing was ripe for the picking-unfortunately company policy forbid them from striking a deal with their favorite mortal. Hardly any of them want to get rid of Darling with how willing to please he is- doing everything he can to fulfill their needs in a professional sense. If only that meant joining them or a date or allowing those with tails to sneak the appendage beneath his skirt during office hours.

Even the big boss himself has a soft spot for the new secretary- Dialing back his authoritive demeanor in favor of greeting the human with the gentleness he deserves.

(I'm rocking with this, y'all want more?)

[subbmissivesuccubus]

Kyojuro with a breastfeeding kink <3

Oh Anon you're so right <3

cw: Breastfeeding kink, pregnant reader.

┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °┆ ° ♡ • ➵ ✩ ◛ °

Kyojuro always had an obsession with your boobs.

Wasn't too surprising- a lot of men liked boobs.

But he was really- really obsessed with your tits. When you were dating and he'd come back from a long day of slaying demons, his favorite way to de-stress was to just lie down with you, your breasts bare and ready for him to snuggle up against, practically drooling when he finally took a nipple into his mouth. He'd suckle on you like a baby, the pressure differentiating as he'd suck like he was trying to milk you- like he was eager for a drink of something. He would suckle on one nipple for hours if you'd let him and even better, if you'd jerk him off at the same time.

While having sex, he'd always shower your breasts with attention. Whether it's groping or pinching or sucking or biting- a passionate night with Rengoku will always leave your nipples sucked raw and hickies marking your skin.

His obsession with your tits increased ten fold once you got pregnant, your breasts now full and swollen, getting milk ready for when your child would arrive. Your now husband just couldn't leave you alone. Forget the fact that he loved seeing you pregnant, belly getting bigger with each passing week, but seeing your breasts grow bigger and heavier got him more turned on than you could ever imagine.

He loved it when you complained about how uncomfortable you felt with such heavy breasts as it was the perfect opportunity to do what he loved: Suckle your nipples for hours and drinking up your milk~ He'd suck and suck and suck, ignoring the soreness of his jaw as his desire to taste you overtook any semblance of a rational thought. Only when you complain about being sore or if he drank all the milk of one breast already, will he switch over to your other nipple. He won't let a single drop go to waste. If he squeezes you with his hands and some milk spurts out, he's quick to lap it up, cock hardening at the slightest taste.

"H-Honey..." you said, threading your fingers through your mans flaming hair, tugging it as he gave you a particularly harsh suck, making your body shiver, "Once our baby is here- you can't keep drinking my milk, OK?"

The two of you were in bed, your back leaning against the headboard with your legs spread to accommodate for your husband. Your yukata was undone enough for your torso to be bare for him, Rengoku making sure to be careful of your belly as he lied on top of you, sucking your nipples. You could feel his hard cock press against your thigh, the man lightly humping you as he enjoyed himself. He growled against your skin, taking a few second to suck and gulp down the milk before separating from you. Your nipple was sucked raw, hard and covered with saliva, a drop of white at the tip.

"...they can share."

[ozzgin]

Hello, sexy drider boob enjoyer anon here. Can I kiss the lady. It's for science.

At this point you can go ahead and include her in the harem, if you so desire. 😭 Who am I to stop y’all. Why not, why not.

Yandere! Female Spider x Reader

Content: female yandere, gender neutral reader, monster smut

She is very proud and values her independence, thus she would rather not be bound by any contract. In this regard, she will occasionally mock the other yokai men by calling them "collared dogs".

She is also not the type to fight or play the traveling hero. You'll always find her in the depths of her lair, and she'll always welcome you with open arms.

She doesn't really show her jealousy. Most often she prefers to make other people jealous, particularly the beastly men following you around.

I can't believe you haven't figured that out. Perhaps you just don't understand (Y/N) as well as I do...Then again, I wouldn't expect anyone else to share our deep bond.

Oh, you poor thing. Trying so hard to have (Y/N) notice you. I'll tell you what, be a good errand boy and I'll let you witness the sounds my little (Y/N) makes when I play with them. Maybe you can learn a thing or two.

Her sly smile rarely leaves her face. She's imperturbable, eerily so. She also has a dark sense of humor, sometimes joking about eating you up. You return her amused chuckle with certain hesitation, seeing the hundreds of mummified, emptied cadavers hung around her lair. "I wonder how the inside of your head looks like", she'll remark thoughtfully as she cracks the bone open. "Oh, don't make that face. I'd never eat my favorite human."

The demoness is very flirty and will frequently tease you for entertainment. If you get caught in one of her many webs, she'll gaze at your struggling form with a malicious grin. "You have the loveliest of whines. It almost makes me want to leave you there, all tied up. Like a gift ready to be unwrapped, hmm?"

You've only seen her raw envy once. Vicious, terrifying, bone-chilling. The monstrous yokai at your side could never compete with her ruthlessness. You can't even remember what set her off. Maybe some demon messing with you while you were left in her care. "This wasn't very ladylike of me, huh?" she said with a sad expression, features morphing back into the humanoid appearance you're used to. "Come here. I must've frightened you a fair amount."

[tossawary]

It's very ironic to get comments on "Scum Villain" fics that are essentially revenge fantasies against certain characters, given... uh... everything about "Proud Immortal Demon Way" and how the story of SVSSS interacts with that in-universe story.

Sometimes, it's mildly amusing. Sometimes, it's a little disturbing, depending on how violent and disproportionate the fantasy is, because even if I've written some villain as a real asshole, I don't want to open my inbox to people wishing death and gory violence on anyone. A couple times, it took me a hot second to figure out that the violent fantasy wasn't directed at ME specifically.

Thankfully, that extremism is quite rare, so it's more often people wishing milder physical pains or, uh, complete social humiliation on certain characters, sometimes just for the "crime" of being mild inconveniences or slightly unfriendly to the fic's protagonist. Most of the time, I assume this is some form of playful exaggeration on the commenter's part, a reader exorcising mild annoyance at a fictional antagonist and expressing some sympathy or compassion for the hurt protagonist. A reader mentioning they kind of want to see a character grovel pathetically for forgiveness only to get kicked in the face is not necessarily a reader who wants that revenge fantasy to actually happen in the story.

Sometimes, though, it is hard to tell if someone genuinely thinks that all of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect should be destroyed because Luo Binghe was abused or Shang Qinghua was overworked. Like, I sure hope this is just hyperbole! I sure hope that you don't honestly think that "an eye for an eye" or "I take two of your eyes and also your tongue because you took one of my eyes" are, like, reasonable justice policies! I sure hope that you don't sincerely think that collective punishment is in any way a good thing and that a random junior disciple on the tenth peak (who probably doesn't even know who Luo Binghe is) deserves to suffer because the original Shen Qingqiu was a really shitty person.

But revenge fantasies like "Proud Immortal Demon Way" are popular for a reason, so I can never quite be sure! In every fandom, you have Peerless Cucumbers demanding that villain characters be castrated or killed for being abusive pricks, who cheer on the fictional revenge fantasy of hurting someone ten times as much as they hurt you, and some fans would be absolutely horrified by that kind of "retribution" in real life and others would... cheer that real life "punishment" on as well.

I don't really have a strong point to make with this post! This post is too long to be a casual reminder: "Hey, I hope you're always keeping in mind that messages you send on the internet are being directly received by real people who 1) can't read your tone and 2) don't know your 'real life' opinions to immediately know if you're joking." And I'm focused more here on how amusingly ironic this type of commenting is in regards to SVSSS and PIDW specifically.

Like, it's fun sometimes to get a little "Peerless Cucumber" about our favorite protagonists! (Shen Yuan said a lot of shit on the internet about PIDW but apparently generally doesn't really want people in SVSSS to suffer.) But once your revenge fantasy starts getting a little too detailed in regards to public humiliation and social ruin, torture and dismemberment, arson and leaving someone to get eaten alive by fire ants, making everyone who ever mildly slighted you beg for their life at your feet... It's like, "Bro, I don't think this comment is even Peerless Cucumber levels anymore. You are straight-up getting into original Luo Binghe territory here."

[reallyromealone]

Title: oh look a mate (s)

Pairing: demon brother's x reader

Chapter 2

Fandom: obey me

Warnings: male reader, omegaverse, nsfw content, angst, fluff, self hatred, reader has a lot of trauma, shitty family, toxic family, mentions of murder, attempted assassination mentioned

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

He remembered his first nest.

And how quickly his sister destroyed it.

His parents mocking him, his sister making him feel awful for having something like that.

This was what he thought of when he thought of inviting his family, that was the first memory he had.

He was eight at that time.

Staring at the paper, did he want to invite them?

"No, I don't think we're going to do that" he whispered to himself as he looked at the barely started letter, everytime he tried writing it another memory came back.

For once, he wanted something happy that they wouldn't intrude on.

This was for him.

Lucifer noticed something, something deeply concerning that he hadn't thought about till looking at (name) getting fitted for his wedding attire, he had no collar. His neck and scent glands exposed and no one caught this, how did they not notice this?! Lucifer looked at the ornate and beautiful collar he had commissioned, an expensive leather with their soulmate mark on a silver charm.

Simple but beautiful.

(Name) Was in his greenhouse again as Belphegor slept in the corner, (name) liked to think this was their hang out time because he would always appear when he was in here, it was nice.

(Name) Spoke about the things he was doing to the sleeping demon, a one sided conversation but (name) still enjoyed it as his happy pharamones filled the room "I'm growing tulips here, I think they would be lovely... I always loved them, they were my grandmothers favorites before she passed" he explained happily as he stretched "I think im done for the day" walking towards the demon he smiled "sorry but I'm going to need this, it's quite chilly today" he said as he went to take his cape but Belphegor had other ideas, pulling (name) in his embrace "this is very sweet but I think sleeping on a greenhouse ledge would hurt our backs"(name) said softly to the other who cracked an eye open and grunted "would you be willing to stay away a bit to go somewhere more comfortable?" He asked the Alpha who grunted "and where do you have in mind?"

Belphegor was a bit surprised when (name) had him teleport to (name)s space, the Omega leading him to his nest and gently pushing him in "much nicer!" He said simply as Belphegor let the other sit beside him as the demon pulled him close, already sleepy "you're a sleep demon right?" (Name) Asked curiously and Belphegor grunted "sloth avatar" his voice low and rumbly as (name) nodded "that must be tough"

"Not really... Now stop talking and sleep" he ordered the Omega who just let him hold him like a teddy bear.

The two slept for a few hours, the others looking for (name) everywhere before finding him in the nest "no fair, why does he get to go in the nest!" Beelzebub whined as (name) looked so peaceful "we'll get to go in it eventually" it was nice to see (name) let his guard down, he was sweet yes but always nervous...

"Let's let them sleep, his heats soon so it's best to let him conserve energy" Lucifer instructed as they begrudgingly left "I worry for his heat though " Asmodeus commented as they left the apartment and the others looked confused "he knows basically nothing... He's reading books to figure it out because he's worried he won't be good, I don't even think he's masturbated before" how could he? Suppressants basically knocked the libido out of you and not to mention his upbringing "a heat is scared, between an Omega and their body for the first few years and he was robbed of it" Satan said softly and they sighed, he couldn't have this heat by himself as their were traditions but they didn't want him going into his first heat after being in suppressants for years without knowing anything about sex.

"Maybe ask him if he wants to fuck?" Mammon said simply and Asmodeus glared at him "as much as I want that, we have to be delicate with him! Teach him how to pleasure himself!"

"Then let's to that then!" The white haired Alpha argued back and Lucifer and Satan just sighed and Levi wanted to just not be in this conversation anymore, embarrassed as hell.

(Name) Woke later on, The sun setting as Beelzebub walked in "have a good nap, sleepy?" He teased and (name) rubbed his eyes "how long did I sleep?" He whispered and Beelzebub chuckled "five hours"

"You guys let me sleep that long?!" He worried and the Alpha smiled "you were too cute to wake, now come on! It's dinner!" He seemed excited and (name) looked at Belphegor "don't worry about him, he usually gets leftovers later" Beelzebub lifted (name) as the Omega yelped "wait! I'm heavy!" He panicked and Beelzebub laughed "like holding a couple of grapes, don't worry I'm strong" he teased as they walked down the halls, the gluttony demon feeling how soft his mate was, face right near his chest... Nope don't get an erection right now! 'think of awful things!' he thought as he thought of the worst things imaginable, wasting food and uuuh Solomon shirtless!

'Bleh'

"There's the sleepy bunny~" Asmodeus teased, (name) looking a little disheveled as sleep still had him in a bit of a hold "sorry I slept so long..." He whispered and Mammon snorted "you were napping with Belph, he has that affect" the Omega nodded as Mammon put food on his plate, a bit extra as the Alpha felt the urge to make sure (name) was cared for.

They spoke of weddings and such as (name) enjoyed his meal, little chirps occasionally leaving his lips at the foods be particularly enjoyed as the demons watched happily "maybe when your garden is ready for harvest we can use them~" Lucifer on (name)s other side gently fixed the others shirt, a typical alpha grooming of his mate as he began (fixing/cleaning) his (hair/face) "how you manage to get dirty"

After dinner, (name) was curious as Lucifer halted him with Asmodeus standing beside him "could we talk to you? Just for a moment?" Lucifer asked the Omega who looked curious but nodded, letting Asmodeus take his hand as they went to Lucifer's office "we hope this isn't too forward darling but we wanted to ask..." Lucifer seemed to struggle on what to say exactly as Asmodeus stepped in "we want your first time to be memorable, not in the throws of heat where you may not remember and maybe understand your body more" Asmodeus said to the other who was now seated in a plush chair as Asmodeus crouched infront of him "you deserve to have your first time be on your terms and learn what you like, we don't have to have sex but would you be open to it?"

"I-I... Isn't mating for the alphas?" He was supposed to give alphas pleasure! He was an Omega!

"Oh darling no, Sex is supposed to be good for both parties, you and your comfort matter just as much as ours"

"You wouldn't see me as shameful for wanting that?" (Name)s voice barely above a whisper and the two got closer "darling im the avatar of lust, nothing you do would be shameful to me and Luci here just wants you to feel pride in yourself and your body" he explained and (name) felt his cheeks get wet with tears "promise?"

"Of course"

They set up for two days from now, Asmodeus would teach (name) about his body... Intimately.

And (name) was nervous but a heat pooled in his stomach he wasn't familiar with, ever since he stopped supressants his body had felt like shocks went through it whenever his alphas touched him, his omega quiet after so long begging him to do whorish things...

Oh god, he's been here a few weeks and he's already like this!

He wouldn't admit it but he liked how freeing it was, his mates never judging him....

They actively tried spending time with him, having him join their activities and lives.

He remembered when Lucifer tried teaching him how to ride a horse, the black haired demon sitting behind him on the stallion and guiding him gently, it was absolutely wonderful!

He wanted to treasure that memory forever...

Belphegor was still in the nest when (name) returned and changed into his sleep clothes getting comfortable and passing out as the sleep demon held him in a vice grip, possession absolutely noticable with the hold as (name) was soothed by how warm and cozy it felt.

(Sisters name) Was hysterical when the royal wedding was announced, a grand event that had the entire kingdom in a flurry of celebration as their town marketed that they were the town that had the Omega.

So she did what was logical.

Get rid of the problem in her life.

(Name) Wouldn't see what hit him.

"So, where do you feel most comfortable? This is about you" Asmodeus asked the Omega who fiddled with his hands and looked at his nest and his bed "would it... Be messy?"

"Only if we're doing it right~" he teased and kissed (name)s forehead "remember, this is what YOU want" he reminded (name) who looked at his bed and then his nest "nest?" He asked softly and Asmodeus smiled "of course, do I have permission to enter your pretty nest?" He asked as (name) got comfortable in it and the smile on (name)s face said a lot as he nodded, Asmodeus moving them so (name) was in his lap "remember what I taught you about safe words?" He asked the Omega who nodded "tell alpha" he commanded gently and smelt the small amount of slick that escaped the omegas body "green means good... Yellow means that I'm not sure and slow down and read is stop" he said confidently as Asmodeus kissed his neck lovingly "such a good boy" he whispered into his ear and smiled when (name) subconsciously bucked his hips, he knew this cutie had a praise kink.

After all, he always wanted to be good for him.

"Now, I'm going to remove your clothes, remember what to do if it gets uncomfortable" he said as he used his magic to make (name)s clothes vanish, the other covering himself shyly "none of that, let me see you" Asmodeus said sweetly as he watched (name) uncover himself and god, was his omega so pretty...

"Now, the first rule of sex is getting comfortable with your own body" Asmodeus explained as he took (name)s hands and moved them across the omegas own body "know what feels good" he pinched (name)s cute nipple before moving their hands lower "and to know what feels /great/" the demon wrapped their hands around (name)s cute Omegan cock that was already erect and gave it a tug, watching (name) throw his head back at the sensation "o-oh!" He was confused and awe struck by the sensation, this was way better than the pillow humping he had been pitifully been doing lately. "This is your pretty cock, stroke it, play with its head... It's yours to use whenever you want~" Asmodeus explained and (name) let out a shaky breath as they stroked his cock, legs spread across Asmodeus' own "and if we go lower, we have your ass" he whispered to (name) and smiled at how fucked out (name) looked already and they barely started "you gotta prep yourself real nice, slowly work your way in..."

(Name) Whined out as Asmodeus chuckled "none of that, pretty boy" he whispered as he pulled (name) into a sweet kiss, slipping his tongue in shortly after as he helped (name) loosen up with both of their fingers though Asmodeus was just guiding. "When you feel it's loose enough, slowly push in... Don't worry the slick will help you" he pulled away to continue his lesson with his omega who was already drooling and unfocused as Asmodeus gently helped him push in "all the way to the knuckle...~"

Asmodeus helped (name) fuck himself in one finger before slowly introducing a second finger, (name) could feel his erection on his back and rutted into it as his hips shook, his fingers felt good but not good enough... "It's not..." He couldn't figure out how to say it as Asmodeus kissed his scent gland "it's not what darling?" "M-more!" He cried out, fully lost in it as he pushed his hips up subconsciously.

"Do you want alpha to take care of you? Show you something great?" Asmodeus asked the other who wnined "what color are you baby?"

"Green!"

"Good boy"

Asmodeus removed (name)s fingers before replacing them with his larger ones, down to the knuckle before his other hand moved to the omegas cock "hey baby.. look at me" (name) complied as Asmodeus began thrusting against his prostate and jerking him off "shiaaa!" He could barely keep himself from cumming as he let out a loud cry, cum getting everywhere "and that pleasure button was your prostate... Use that whenever your heart desires ~ rub it and press it~" he said softly as (name) barely could stay awake "you wanna continue baby? Tell alpha"

"Gu-reen" he barely could sputter out and Asmodeus chuckled "you're too precious~ let's wash you up and feed you" he lifted (name) with ease and took him to the ensuite washroom "you did do good, you were so pretty~" he praised the Omega who was putty in his hold, (name) definitely bad a lot of time to make up for with how repressed the poor thing was sexually...

The other brothers stroked themselves vigorously as they heard the sounds of (name) being pleasured and inevitable climax that had the Omega screaming.

"He's fast asleep, poor thing wanted more but could barely stay awake" Asmodeus said fondly as the others gathered in the parlor "hes definitely eager, loves to be a good boy ~" the smell of a pleasured Omega was strong, the smell of (pharamones smell) stronger and sweeter "before I put him to bed, he asked if you guys could join next time ~ such a sweet little thing"

He definitely was going to be a good dam to their respective pups.

The other alphas were definitely interested in joining next time.

With the news of the wedding approaching, the men were taking even more precautions and safety measures for the Omega, already having three poisoning attempts and an assassin that they apprehended while (name) was sleeping.

Switching their cutlery to silver from gold and both the food tester and Beelzebub to test (name)s food, the demon immune thankfully as the rest.

At most he would just have a stomach ache for an hour.

It was intense, the men constantly worrying for him as he went about his day with more guards much to his confusion as the days ticked closer, the grand wedding hall being decorated along with the rest of the palace as guests from around the world began arriving as he took a walk through the gardens, the demons having (name)s favorite flowers planted as he was the one who frequented the area the most.

currently he was trying to find Lucifer, the demon wanting to have tea with him but (name) was a bit directionally challenged as he eventually spotted horns and black hair "you're late" Lucifer remarked without any bite as he stood for the Omega, checking him over "I have something for you" the demon didn't waste time as he pulled out the collar "it's not safe to be unprotected like this" his words simple as (name) looked at the collar.

His family never let him have one, a form of control he supposed and he couldn't stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as the demon looked worried "do you not like it?" His voice laced with light panic and (name) shook his head "i-i never had one??" His voice confused but soon Lucifer clicked the situation together and smiled "I will never let you go without, my love" he gently put the collar on (name), the Omega dressing in more lace and delicate clothes these days as Asmodeus had a fixation on shopping for him, it went together quite well "beautiful..."

"You think?" (Name) Asked nervously and Lucifer leaned down and kissed him "we'll get you countless collars in any color you want" he said honestly before leading (name) to the garden table with treats and tea set up "now, shall we eat?"

(Name) Was curious as he was handed a letter from his family, his father's seal in wax staring back at him.He didn't know what to do, this would be the first time in over a month that he would be hearing from his family.

He didn't know what to expect.

"Are you alright, Darling?" That was also a few development with the demons, pet names.

And Satan surprisingly besides Asmodeus was very heavy with them.

"I... I received a letter from my family" Satan was immediately suspicious of this letter as he walked to his omega "do you trust me?" He asked the Omega who nodded obediently "of course" he chirped "could I see this letter? To soothe my nerves" (name) knew of the things that have been happening and nodded, handing him the letter without a second thought and the blond gently kissed him "thank you, my dear"

He had the two poison testers open the letter in a glass room, something their grandfather made when people began putting poisonous powder in letters, it wasn't poisoned thankfully.

That would make for an angry Satan :).

But the contents of the letter?

Oh.

Ohohoho.

That made for him to get so upset he transformed a little more demonic from rage.

'(name),

We have been informed by our neighbors about your wedding, a surprise to us all as you haven't even sent your family an invitation seeing as you stole your sisters moment and flaunted it infront of her.

We are thoroughly disappointed and appalled at your attitude and would expect you to invite your sister as she deserves to see the life you stole from her even just once.

We are expecting an invite promptly.

(Mother's name) And (father's name), (lastname)'

The audacity.

The sheer audacity of these people, how did (name) manage to be related to these insects of people?! "definitely not letting Belphegor read this" or maybe he should... No (name) would be upset.

"Maybe we should invite them... One last look at someone they took for granted" and before they kept (name) away forever.

Give him everything and more.

God he couldn't wait to give that cute Omega who was currently petting one of the off duty p

[harunayuuka2060]

WHB Series #1 (Cont.)

MC: ...

Michael: *smiling*

Gabriel: God, please don't accept it!

Raphael: He can't possibly be sincere in his promise!

Michael: You've witnessed our unwavering loyalty-

MC: Obsession.

Michael: *chuckles* -to god.

Michael: That’s why there’s nothing to fear; it’s up to you to put an end to this war once and for all.

MC: ...

MC: *smiles* For once, you’ve said something sensible.

Michael: As expected, you will-

MC: Of course, I have my own set of conditions. You, Raphael, and Gabriel should swear an oath in the name of god.

Michael: What could that be?

MC: You will put an end to the war and never interfere with Hell again. Angels are forbidden from meddling in Hell's affairs, just as demons should not intrude on yours. As for the promise of marriage...

MC: *smirks* I will be your spouse, Michael, if you can defeat Asmodeus, the one who gave me this mark on my neck.

Michael: ...

MC: What's with that expression? Don't tell me you're backing out?

Michael: ...

Michael: *chuckles* Of course not. *holds their hand and kisses the back of it*

MC: *looks disgusted*

Michael: *ecstatic smile* I've just confirmed that you haven't given yourself to him.

MC: *rolls their eyes*

Gabriel: Please, god… Michael has no right to desire you.

Raphael: I will protect you by every means possible.

MC: Calm down, you two.

MC: It's not as if I'd be married to him forever.

Gabriel: Does that mean you're willing to waste your mortal life on him?!

MC: Gabriel, I just told you to calm down.

Gabriel: ...

MC: I’d marry him once he meets all the conditions, but that doesn’t mean I’ll take on the duties of a spouse. Given my current position, I don’t have the power to break heaven’s rules.

Gabriel and Raphael: ...

Gabriel: That is true.

MC: *smiles, gently caressing their faces*

MC: Michael may not be my favorite, but I won’t do anything that would lead to his downfall.

Gabriel and Raphael: *smiles, satisfied with their statement*

Minhyeok: Didn't you already lead him to his downfall when you asked him to defeat Asmodeus?

MC: I'll be careful not to say that name.

Minhyeok: ...

Minhyeok: Anyway, that's it, isn't it?

MC: Yeah? However, I don't trust it will be productive at all.

Minhyeok: ...

Minhyeok: You're an awful god.

MC: Uh-huh. An awful and crafty one.

MC: I wonder what my earth angels are doing.

Minhyeok: ...

[theamberfist]

Hell's Second Greatest Dad | Vox + Reader + Alastor

Familial! Alastor is reader's dad, Vox is the dad that stepped up

Description: With your dad, the Radio Demon, having been missing for seven years, you've come to see Vox as father figure instead. But when Alastor shows back up one day, he's furious to find his old friend trying to take his child away from him.

(Notes: CW Alastor, angst) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's kid from life) (Could be biological or adopted) (Teen Reader)

❀ This one will have a song! It's a rewrite of Hell's Greatest Dad, but with Alastor in Lucifer's place and Vox in Alastor's place (Alastor gets a taste of his own medicine) ❀

Words: 4,049

"Tomorrow's forecast calling for acid rain with tornadoes picking up around noon in the Doomsday Distract," The familiar voice of hell's iconic tech demon explained, "And now for our Reader's Segment!" He smiled, placing the papers he'd been reading off of on the table in front of him and looking back up at the camera. 

Once he announced your name, the TV screen promptly changed to show you curled up on a plush couch with a fuzzy blanket and a book on your lap. "Take it away, kid." Vox's voice said through the earpiece you always wore while on-air in case he needed to communicate with you. 

"Thanks, sir." You smiled at the camera before turning your gaze down to the book in your lap, "Tonight we'll be reading something a little slower paced. It's fun, cozy, and perfect for a night like this, so let's begin." With that, you announced the title of your current favorite book and then flipped it open, reading aloud. 

The set around you was decorated to resemble a cozy living room; with a crackling fireplace behind your couch, a fake window to your left that was supposed to make it seem as if it overlooked a snowy field, and the softest carpet you'd ever walked on. The log walls were decorated with photos of cute animals since you had no family photos to adorn them, and both the couch, blanket, and carpet were soothing shades of light pink and purple that greatly contrasted the harsh the blues and red of your boss while still remaining within the same domain. 

You read in your most soothing tone, which many viewers liked to claim had the ability to lull them to sleep almost instantly, even if you had no such power that you knew of. Though, you supposed anything calming and cozy like this would have been a great relief in a place like hell, which had been your goal from the beginning. 

Vox was hesitant about your segment when you first pitched it, considering it was so different from the rest of the shows he ran, but eventually he gave it a chance, and it had only ever paid off since. As far as sinners went, you were adorable, and it wasn't just because you were young compared to most of the adults in hell. That, coupled with the cozy vibe of your set and the books you read, was enough to keep viewers coming back, meaning there were more people to see Vox's commercials and, therefore, become his customers. 

Not to mention the fact that it made him look good in the public eye. A teenage sinner who liked to read their little books for the public, and whose soul he didn't even bother to own? He looked more kindhearted than half of hell's overlords combined, no matter his intentions. 

The only person that didn't approve of your reading segment currently stood on a sidewalk somewhere in Pentagram City, watching through the window of a shop. Despite his apparent smile, his eyes were narrowed in disapproval at the screen.

To those who didn't know him, he would have simply looked like a regular sinner; interested in listening to you read the story you seemed to excited about. Had they been paying attention, they might have noticed the way his hands tightened around the microphone he held or how his red deer-like ears tugged back slightly. 

And as for those that did have the sense to recognize him, they wouldn't have even had the time to notice those details, because they would have already turned and walked the other way upon seeing the Radio Demon back after his seven year absence. 

About an hour later, you finished your segment, feeling a little sleepy yourself from the calming sounds of the fire and a good book. Even your cameraman seemed to barely be able to keep his eyes open at this point.

"I think we'll stop there for tonight," you said with a yawn, gently placing your Vox Tech bookmark between the pages and closing your book, "Tune in tomorrow, where we'll continue the story from where we left off." You were talking even more quietly than you had at the beginning, not wanting to disturb any of the viewers at home that may have fallen asleep. Though, it was a futile effort, considering a blaring commercial would likely run the second you were off-air again. "This has been the Reader's Segment; thank you and goodnight!" 

With that, your cameraman signaled that you were now off-air and you yawned again, wrapping the fuzzy purple blanket around yourself despite the warmth of the nearby ambient fire. 

A moment later, the door to your recording set opened and in stepped Vox himself with a familiar frown on his face. He looked around, though, and the second his eyes landed on you, the expression was replaced by a  picturesque smile. "There they are!" He exclaimed happily, walking over to you as you blinked sleepily at him. 

"Hi." You smiled through your hazy tiredness, making the tech demon soften just a bit. 

"Well done, kid." He said, ruffling your hair, "As always." Vox gently placed a hand on your back, leading you towards the studio door and leaving the rest of his workers to clean the set up behind you. "I have to say, I never expected a 'cute' segment like yours to do so well," he went on, ever the businessman, as you half-listened. "Turns out comfort was exactly what pathetic sinners wanted all along!" He glanced your way, his smile becoming more genuine now, before adding, "I'm proud of you, kid." That got your full attention now. 

You'd only heard the words a few times in your whole life, despite the huge positive effect they always had on you. Even the man that had raised you; the one that should have been the most proud in the end, had never actually told you so. Vox may not have been related to you by blood, or even legally, but hearing that phrase from him still made you grin.

"Thanks." You replied, unsure of how to convey how much his pride meant to you. Luckily, it seemed you didn't need to, because he just nodded and then brought you over to the nearby elevator. 

"It's the truth, kid," he replied, pressing the button that would take you up to his designated floor. Each of the V's had one, with Vox's being the highest, that was technically supposed to be solely their living space. However, after you began working for him, Vox ended up converting one of the rooms on his floor to make it yours. Now, your bedroom was the first door on the right after entering Vox's floor. 

"Though, it looked to me like that bookshelf of yours is starting to get a little empty..." He was referring to the shelf found on your set. It housed each of the books you planned on reading next in no particular order. This way, when you finished one for the show, you could immediately pick a new pre-approved one from the back shelf. The one you were done with would then be moved up to your room for you to keep, which was beginning to look more like a library with how many titles there were inside. 

"Did it?" You asked, feeling a little embarrassed, "I can grab a few more to add to it tomorrow." Vox shook his head, though, as the elevator finally reached your shared floor. 

"No need," he replied, "How about we buy some more tomorrow; call it a shopping day?" With how many unread books you already had making a mess in your room, there was really no need to buy any more. But after the first year of having you around, he realized making you happy tended to lift some of the stress and burden he felt off his shoulders, so he did so whenever possible. 

"Really?!" You asked, stars practically shining in your eyes as you stepped out of the elevator. Vox nodded, a warm smile on his face. 

"Of course; can't have my best segment lacking stories, now can I?" You grinned, hugging him without even thinking. At some point during your time working for him, it had become a natural gesture.

Vox rested a hand on your head with a grin, patting your hair. He'd never expected to get so attached to a kid, much less you, of all people, and yet here he was, enjoying the hug as if he were your close family member. 

Once the excitement of the news seemed to die down for you, that fuzzy, tired feeling from before came back. "Thanks, dad..." You mumbled into the tech demon's coat. His eyes widened for just a moment before a smile reappeared on his face. You probably hadn't even realized what you'd just said, and yet, it felt so right for him to hear it. 

"No problem, kid." He replied. Finally, he pulled away, patting your shoulder. "Now, you'd better get to bed if you're going to have enough energy for book shopping tomorrow." You grinned again, wrapping your soft blanket a little tighter around your body. 

"Right." You said, gently rubbing your now-very-tired eyes. "Goodnight!" You called as you turned and opened the door to your bedroom. 

"Goodnight." Vox replied softly before you closed the door behind you and disappeared. He could hear a muffled 'flop' sound somewhere inside, realizing you'd likely collapsed onto your bed immediately after entering. 

He chuckled softly before turning to head to his own room. Vox tended to stay up much later than you most nights; handling various paperwork and business. Today was no exception, but as he made his way to his office, which was attached to the bedroom, he spared a glance at the framed photo that sat propped on his bedside table. In it, you were depicted, holding up the camera to take a selfie. Vox was there too, an arm around your shoulders as he posed for the camera. Both of you looked so happy; smiling brightly as if you had not a care in the world.

It was his favorite photo; thus why it always remained on his nightstand. He turned away now, heading for his office with a renewed determination to get things done. After falling out with his closest friend seven years ago, the tech demon had assumed nothing else would ever be able to bring him joy again.

And he had been right, until you came along. 

..........

You were up bright and early the next day; too early for Vox's standards. He'd barely gotten any sleep, as per usual, but had smelled the breakfast you were making in the kitchen once he came out of his extra office. 

As soon as he entered, you'd smiled and sat him down at the table, handing him a plate of your personal favorite breakfast food. Of course that had been what you chose to wake up and make this early in the morning.

Regardless, the tech demon humored you, knowing you were just excited to get to go book shopping later that day. 

Once you'd both eaten, you hurriedly shoved him into his room, insisting he get dressed and ready for the day while you did the same. Apparently, you wanted to be at the bookstore the second it opened, but who was Vox to deny you, when it seemed to make you so happy?

Once you both were ready, the two of you took the elevator down to the V Tower lobby, with Vox ignoring several calls from his assistant along the way. He could wait until later, the tech demon decided. Instead, he listened to you go on and on about the books you planned to get and how excited you were. It seemed you had a fully prepared list, and Vox was ready to get every single one on it if it brought you joy. Finally, you reached the ground floor and the elevator dinged as the doors opened.

And almost immediately, you were met with the sounds of shouting and windows breaking. Clearly, there was already a commotion, even though it was even ten in the morning yet. Sighing, Vox stepped out first, followed promptly by you, who would never miss out on a scoop if you could help it; especially if it was happening in your own 'basement.'

What you saw was even more surprising than expected. The employees that usually worked on this floor were running around like chickens with their heads cut off; many of them screaming in fear. The secretary that usually worked the front desk was dangling in the air; held by an eerie black tentacle that you recognized all too well. Following it with your gaze, you could see that it was attached to none other than a red deer-like demon, whose body had morphed so that he was almost too tall to fit in the room.

A green 'X' mark sat on his forehead, further confirming that he was currently in his demonic form as he held the secretary up to his eye level.

"Where are they?!" He demanded, his radio static voice somehow even more haunting than usual. 

"I'm not authorized to tell you that!" The secretary screeched, covering his eyes as the tentacle's grip tightened around him and began bringing him towards the demon's open mouth.

Vox's assistant stood off to the side, frantically typing something on his phone amidst the panic. So, that was why he'd been calling so much this morning.

With a sigh, the tech demon activated his mind control powers, taking a step forward into the chaos. "Stop!" He shouted, his voice distorted. Suddenly, everything came to a stop, except the giant demon still holding his secretary, who slowly turned his head in your direction.

Still smiling, his eyes narrowed for a moment before he suddenly noticed you standing there, instantly reverting back to his normal form as if nothing had happened. The black tentacles that had been holding the secretary disappeared, causing them to fall to the floor with a thud. Meanwhile, the Radio Demon adjusted his coat jacket and stepped forward.

"Finally," he called, holding his microphone-cane behind him, "The man in charge, so to speak." Both you and Vox tensed, and you looked to the tech demon, unsure what to do. 

When neither of you said anything, Alastor spoke again. "And it seems you've found my little one!" He exclaimed with an even wider smile, "Good, then I'll have no need to search this entire building for them." Vox's eyes narrowed at the idea, and he was about to take a step to the side, so as to block you, when you finally spoke.

"Papa...?" Your voice was quiet; hurt. The tech demon hated it but you took a step forward, nonetheless. This was, as much as he hated to admit it, technically your father; the man you hadn't seen or even heard from once in the last seven years. That would have shocked anyone. 

"There you are, my dear!" Alastor said, opening his arms to you as if expecting a hug. "Come along, now. We have quite a bit to catch up on!" You didn't move. 

Vox took a step forward, sensing your uncertainty. "You've been missing for seven years," he replied, "They don't have to go with you." Alastor's eyes narrowed. 

"They're my child," he said, "So I'd suggest you get out of the way before things get ugly, old pal." You bit your lip. As much as you'd longed to see your father again all this time, now that you were faced with that reality, you weren't so sure. You'd only just come to accept the fact that he would never be returning for you, and now here he was, acting as if nothing had even happened. 

You used to be close with him, but now it felt like he wasn't even the same person anymore. Vox, of all people, had had to take you in after your dad left without warning, and since then, he'd become the only father figure you had in your life. 

Alastor glanced between the two of you with what would have been a scowl, if not for the permanent smile on his face. Everyone else had all but cleared the room now; leaving only the three of you there in your standoff. 

You were frozen; unsure what to do, and you knew Alastor could see it. It was like having to choose between your two parents in a divorce, except in this situation, it was the once-loving-father that had abandoned you and the man that had stepped up ever since. 

Unfortunately, Alastor didn't seem to read the situation the same way you did, because with his flare for the dramatics, he went on.

"Darling," he sighed before bringing out his mic and beginning a song. Now you knew there was no going back. "Looks like you could use some help," he began, "from hell's Radio Demon himself!" 

Alastor swung his cane, summoning two familiar sinners to the room to back him up now. "Never trust the one who's acting so heartfelt!" He pointed in Vox's direction, and Nifty immediately scurried over, jumping on Vox's shoulder. 

"Traitor!" She exclaimed adamantly before the tech demon ripped her off of him. Husk, however, was less enthusiastic. 

"Heartless," he said, ignoring how Vox glared and began to stalk towards him, only for Nifty to jump and latch onto his back now. 

"A total snake!" She exclaimed and he tried to shake her off again. Meanwhile, the two of them provided enough distraction now for Alastor to gently grab you by the arm and pull you away. 

"Oh, with enough motivation, dear," he went on, "He'll betray you, standing right here!"  Before he could get you out of the lobby door, though, Vox had pressed a button to activate the security measures, locking it from the outside. "Usually, you'd learn it on your own, I fear," he went on, "But for you I'd do anything!"

Nifty ran over to the two of you wearing one of your hats she'd gotten off a nearby coat rack now, hugging one of Alastor's legs as if she were pretending to be you. Or at least, a happier version of you. "Thanks, dad!" 

Alastor turned, pointing to Vox, "Who needs a knock-off now that I have returned?" Nifty nodded eagerly, jumping to rest on your father's head. 

"Whoa!" She sang, having way too much fun with this. 

"Come back to radio; have all you could want!" Alastor went on, trying his best to win your favor once more. "I've all the fatherly affection you've earned!" He spun you around once before gently gripping your shoulders and pointing up as if he were showing you something in the sky. "Clothing, safety, souls of the hasty, this we would flaunt!"

Finally, Vox seemed to have had enough because he appeared between the two of you like a bolt of lightning, gently pushing you away from Alastor and towards the elevator. "Who's been here since he was gone?" He reminded you, "Even if you weren't my spawn? Who gave you the segment that makes them yawn?" He pointed to the crowd of sinners outside, who'd gathered by the windows to watch what was going on. Then he smiled and straightened his bowtie. 

"It's your very own producer!" He sang.

"That's true..." You admitted as he pressed the button for the elevator now, already using his demon powers to call the security staff to the lobby to handle Alastor. Any other day, Vox would have done so himself, but having you right there made the situation much more difficult. 

"I support you, day to day!" The tech demon went on, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder, "Your books, show; whatever you can name!" The elevator doors opened, and Vox pushed you inside before you could even think of protesting. Once Alastor was out of sight again, he brought up a photo of the bookstore you'd planned to visit.

"Remember I'm taking you shopping today?" He asked just as a video chat with the bookstore's owner appeared.

"Buy our books?" She asked in the same singing-tone everyone seemed to have adopted now, "Thank you sir!" 

The elevator doors dinged now as you reached the third floor, where Vox's security team was stationed. However, the second they opened, all that could be seen was Alastor, along with an empty office and some black tentacles still disappearing from wherever they'd came. 

"I'm truly honored that we've built such a bond," Vox went on as he hurriedly pressed the 'close door' button in the elevator. They began to do so, only for another of Alastor's black tentacles to stop them just in time, ripping the doors open. "You're like the child that I wish that I had!" If Vox could sweat, he surely would have been doing so by now as Alastor's eyes narrowed again. This was the closest you'd ever seen him to not smiling. 

"Excuse me?" The Radio Demon spoke, his pupils already taking the shape of dials. Finally, Vox stood straighter, turning back to you and patting your head. 

"I care for you just like a child spawned!" He sang, knowing it was getting under Alastor's skin. "It's a little funny," he glanced back, a smirk on his features. Your father was seething. "You could almost call me 'dad'!" The second those words left Vox's mouth, Alastor moved to attack him, only for you both to disappear in crackles of electricity. 

The tech demon almost never transported others with him this way, which meant he was taking Alastor's presence in the V's tower seriously. You appeared on your shared floor, which also happened to have a panic room. It had been designed for waiting out exterminations but, considering the situation, Vox figured it would work just fine to keep you from your father now. 

He began pulling you towards it, only for Alastor to appear out of the shadows in front of him. 

"They say when you're looking for assistance," Vox sang, trying to move around him, only to be blocked by a black tentacle, "It's smart to pick the path of least resistance!" He was getting very tired of playing nice with the Radio Demon, especially when the tentacle previously blocking him grabbed onto his arm and pulled him away from you.  

"Others say that in your needy hour," Alastor said, beginning to pull you away from the tech demon, "The one that first raised you is simply never sour!" He spun you around to emphasize the proclamation, then stopped and placed both hands on your shoulders. "Who just happens to have known you in life!" He added a little more intensely.

A second later, though, you were pulled out of your father's grip by Vox, who began rushing you towards the panic room. "Sadly, there are times a child's needs are met with strife!" He exclaimed, pushing you through the door as gently but quickly as possible, "They say the family you choose is better." 

"Pathetic excuses!" Alastor chimed in, grabbing onto your arm just as gently-but-urgently as he attempted to pull you back. 

"Can you butt out of my song?" Vox snapped, pulling harder on your arm. You were halfway through the door now, awkwardly standing there and not knowing what else to do.

"Your song?" Alastor replied with a scoff, "I started it!"

"I'm singing it; I'll finish it!" Vox shouted back, pulling back on your other arm. The pressure was starting to hurt you now but you couldn't seem to get a word in about it as they fought one another. At this rate, you'd be torn in half before they could come to a custody agreement. 

"You're always such a piece of-" Before Alastor could finish his sentence, you finally cut in, pulling your arms out of both their grasps.

"That's it!" You screamed, finally catching their attention despite the entire song having been about you. "I can't do this right now!" You backed away form them both, feeling more than a little hurt and confused. Vox went to speak up but you weren't having it; raising a hand to stop him as you turned and stomped off to your room. "I need time!" And with that, you slammed the door behind you. 

[anachronismstellar]

Hey yo, SVSSS fandom, I arrive uh *checks the clock* three years late and at one in the morning because this idea won't leave my head.

I don't think I'm going to write more of it, because I'm already two long fics deep and *shrugs* I'm also too much like our poor Airplane: high on caffeine, without enough time to write all that I want to write, and this idea deserves better

Basically, after canon, the system got bored? And as it can't mess up with the protagonist, it went on to torture our poor Mobei Jun, curious to know why he's Airplane's fav character and the only character that was kept the way Airplane originally wanted the story to be.

It's just a scene, and if you wanna adopt this idea go for it! Just tag me please, I wanna see your takes on it! :D

Anyway, scene under the cut! TW: Canon mentions of blood, torture and- let's be honest, the System itself should be a TW.

Hope you like it!

Mobei Jun couldn't see who said it, the stench of blood and piss burning his nostrils, the room too hot for him to think. Somewhere on his mind, a voice that screamed too much like Shang Qinghua kept repeating, "Get up, get up, get up, GET UP!" but he couldn't move, both his arms and legs bound by heated metal.

----

"Oh, that won't do."

"That won't do at all," the voice repeated, closer than before. Too close, the little Shang Qinghua voice in his mind would say. He forced himself to blink, head lolling to the side as lukewarm hands grabbed his face, pushing his hair back, a thumb pressing on his demon mark.

"You were written to be better than this," the voice- no, the man mumbled, followed by an annoyed "Tsk", his touch slowly bringing Mobei Jun back to the present, blue eyes widening as he recognized the soft yellow An Ding Peak robes.

"Shang Qinghua?" he tried to ask, but for sure, he only managed a gurgled sound, throat too dry to say anything. Besides, the man - should he call it a man? - in front of him had his servant's voice, but his posture was all wrong, too confident, too sure of himself. Daft fingers pressed on his cheeks, forcing him to look up, making his breath stutter.

"User 001 is not available at the moment," the strange man wearing Shang Qinghua's face said with a smile, too polite, too calm. There was also something really wrong with his eyes, as if someone had taken Shang Qinghua's warm brown ones and swapped with a poisonous green that glowed in the dim room.

"Where's Shang Qinghua?" he managed to speak, blood dripping from his lips as the room got impossibly warmer. Mobei Jun could feel in his conscience slipping, his strength melting from his bones as he did his best to keep himself awake, to not close his eyes and let himself even more vulnerable to his torturer.

"User 001 is not available at the moment," the man repeated again, and then once more, as if mocking Mobei Jun's hazy mind. "There, I hope you understand. Important things must be told three times. Now-" The thumb on his demon mark pressed further, the inhuman strenght tearing a scream from Mobei Jun's throat as a pain thin and sharp like a neaddle splited his skull in two. He couldn't think he couldn't breathe- Where was Shang Qinghua- Was he hurt? Did this skinwearer kill him?! He had to-

"Protocol 24978 generated. System's mission engaged: Author's favorite."

None of those words made any sense, what-

"I hope you enjoy our services!"

Mobei Jun's world went blank in a flash of white.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

It Takes A Village

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Included characters: Sam, Rowena, Gabriel, Crowley, and Cas

Synopsis: you’re turning nine, and the whole gang has rolled up to celebrate

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, it’s super short

When Dean went to visit Lisa on Ben’s birthday, there were a lot of things he didn’t expect to happen. First of all, he didn’t expect she’d have a son. Second, he certainly didn’t expect that son to (quite possibly) be his. And third, he definitely didn’t expect to make another child. But that’s what happened, and here he is nine years later with a little girl that’s growing up way too fast.

“When did you get so big?” Dean surprises himself by speaking out loud what he’d been thinking. You turn in surprise, your brow arching.

“Dad? You’re not gonna get all weird on me, are you?”

Dean rolls his eyes, trying to wave off his moment of nostalgia.

“What? No, of course not. No, it’s just…I mean, it feels like you were turning one yesterday and now you’re—“

“Oh for heavens’ sake, Dean, leave the girl alone. She’s turning nine, not ninety.” The Scottish accent proceeded the red head of a certain witch as she entered the bunker.

“Auntie Row!” You yell, running to the witch and hugging her despite her protests that you would “wrinkle her outfit”.

“Yes yes, hello sweet thing,” Rowena greeted. “Happy Birthday.”

“Did someone have a birthday today?” Several eyes rolled at the introduction of a certain archangel. “Oh, that’s right, my favorite Winchester!”

“Uncle Gabe!” You greeted the archangel just as eagerly as you had the witch, only Gabriel returned your hug without complaint.

“Hey, gummy bear! You having a good birthday?” At your eager nod, he continued, “Well, it’s going to be even better now, because the real party is here!”

“Is that what you’re calling yourself now?” Castiel scoffed as he entered the room bearing an armload of presents. “And since when did I become the gift-bearer?”

“Since none of us wanted to carry in our things,” Rowena stated. “So thank you for volunteering.”

Cas grumbled something about not volunteering, and you giggled.

“Thanks, Uncle Cas!” You said.

“Now now, he’s not the only one helping out here. I mean, what’s a party without the cake?”

“Uncle Crowley!” Sam took the cake from Crowley’s hands just in time for you to slam into him. Crowley staggered for a moment before hugging you back, trying not to look too pleased at your warm greeting—he had a reputation to keep, after all.

“Hello, little demon,” Crowley greeted, and for once Dean bit his tongue—he’d already told Crowley a million times not to call his daughter a demon, but he didn’t want to start a fight on your birthday. “You didn’t start the party without me, did you?”

“Of course not,” you assured him. “Can we have cake now?”

“Cake before presents?” Rowena asked. “Now sweet thing, don’t you want to see what you’ve got?”

“Hey, if she wants cake it’s fine by me,” Dean spoke up, eyeing the mountain of frosting in front of him.

One wave of Crowley’s hand had the lights out, and a wave of Rowena’s had the candles on your cake lit.

As Dean sang, he looked around at the strange group singing with him. Somehow along the way, he had found coparents in his brother, an archangel, the king of hell, a fallen angel, and a witch.

It was an unusual crew to be sure, but he knew that everyone around him would do anything to protect his baby girl.

He could think of a million safer worlds for you to grow up in, but he knew that you wouldn’t pick a single one over this family.

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Smut, One night stand, Angst, Horror AU, Incubus! Hoseok, 90s AU, Yandere!AU Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: 21.4k+ Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite 10 years of living in Harlem. Her world begins to shift, and she starts to lose sight of dreams and reality, and at the center of it all is Hoseok, a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of deja vu, but she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), main character (somewhat) death (graphic), graphic violence, reader slowly losing her mind, heavy religious themes in a large chunk of this, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, hard dom Hoseok, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, blood play, blood drinking, begging for life, extreme emotional manipulation, growling, over stimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), DARK ENDING, dubious consent (mind control/mood control/literally cannot leave Hoseok's presence), reader is severely mentally ill by the end of this, demonic possession, Stockholm syndrome, this is not a cute demon romance, read at your own risk, stopping here since there’s a lot just let me know if I missed anything A/N: After posting a teaser for this fic two years ago, I finally got around to finishing it! I’m still working on my smut skills, so I apologize in advance, but I hope you can get down with my favorite (and extremely evil) demon man. Happy Halloween (or, to my fellow Pagans, Happy Samhain)!

Prologue || Listen to the Playlist || Cross posted on AO3: here

Nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

July 1997

"How are you feeling?"

I sighed, pulling open another box. Unpacking was always the worst part of moving, like some cosmic joke designed to break you down piece by piece. Plates stared back at me from the box, and I clenched my jaw. The one on top was chipped—another thing on my growing list of replacements. I pulled it out and set it aside, determined to deal with it later. The rest of the plates went away in the cabinet. The broken one would be tossed.

"I don't know," I confessed. "Mom died. I'm everywhere."

My brother's hum of acknowledgment was all I heard. Miles had always been a quiet, distant sort, barely speaking to our parents. Their deaths hit him hard, but more so with Dad than Mom. Dad had been the stable one, while Mom was a relentless storm—never satisfied, constantly pushing, always demanding. To her, a doctor and a lawyer weren't enough. Miles had always seen her as aggressive, unyielding, and ever discontented. And Dad? Well, his complacency had its own way of grating.

Miles had moved to Oregon right after graduating from FSU, never looking back. We'd made the trek to see him a few times, but he'd never returned the favor. My stint in New York had mended our relationship somewhat. He visited frequently and spent his summers with me, and after Dad passed, he made a point to see Mom at least once a year. I didn't mind the trips to Portland; my Jacksonville home had become his family's vacation spot.

"So am I," he said, his voice betraying a hint of fatigue.

They'd been at each other's throats, arguing constantly, with his wife loathing Mom. Yet, I knew Miles held some affection for her despite their tumultuous relationship. He'd never truly made her proud, and that haunted him. I understood, but when I moved back home, the dynamics shifted. Mom used me as a weapon against Miles, making me the favored child, the one who came back. Miles was the ungrateful one who'd married the wrong woman.

Mom always blamed Trinity for Miles' "bad attitude." Dad knew better. I knew better.

"So," Miles shifted gears, "when can we come and visit?"

I smiled, "I'll be out there for Thanksgiving and Christmas. So maybe next summer?"

"That's a long wait."

I chuckled, "Well, Rory starts school this year and Trinity's pregnant. You're just as busy as I am."

I'd been the one with the most on my plate for years. Mom, a real estate agent, rarely left home, while Dad ran a plumbing company. When Miles went to college, I was knee-deep in medical school applications. During my residency, Miles was grinding through law school. When I moved back to Florida, I was buried in ICU shifts while he graduated and started his own practice. He met Trinity, and the two became inseparable. Mom despised her, but I saw how they brought out the best in each other. My career-driven life had left me disconnected, and while Mom reveled in it, I resented it.

Kids changed everything for them. Aurora was their miracle baby. Trinity had struggled with fertility for years, and when they finally had a child, it was as if their world had transformed. My brother was spent, and Mom's resentment boiled over. She was always bitter that they hadn't uprooted their lives back to Florida for the grandchild. By then, Miles didn't care. He'd made the trips for Dad but after Mom's cruel comments about Trinity's weight and their daughter being "too pretty" to be her granddaughter, Aurora never set foot in the family home again.

"Aurora is driving me crazy," Miles groaned. "She won't stop talking about the baby."

"As a big sister, I can tell you she's just being a normal kid."

"I know that," I could almost hear his eye roll. "I'm just worried. It's still early, and I don't want her hopes to get too high. Trinity's scared of another miscarriage."

It would be her sixth.

"Try to stay positive, bub," I bit my lip, surveying the cluttered room. I'd never finish today. "If it happens, it happens. But don't go into it expecting the worst."

"Between Mom and this…" He trailed off.

I understood his fear. Trinity was a few years older than me, and her anxiety was palpable. At 38, any pregnancy brought its own set of worries. Last I heard, Trinity was considering getting her tubes tied if this one didn't make it. The heartache was becoming unbearable.

"Hey," I kept my tone gentle, knowing that riling him up wouldn't help. "Keep your head up. Her next appointment is soon. Ensure she's sticking to bedrest, and you'll be fine."

"What if it happens again?"

My heart broke for him. Miles had always been the rock, the one who seemed unshakeable. Seeing him this vulnerable starkly contrasted with the angry kid he'd been in high school. Mom had pushed his buttons mercilessly, and I had vague memories of our squabbles, but they paled compared to the constant battles he faced with her.

I wondered if he ever grasped how I felt. He always thought Mom liked me more, but it was more about her being able to overlook me. While he fought for her attention, nothing I did ever really mattered. It was like a fog followed me, obscuring me from their view. Sometimes, it would lift, and Mom would acknowledge me, but then it would return, and I was forgotten.

"You'll get through it," I assured him.

We chatted a bit more. Aurora was excited about kindergarten and had picked out new uniforms. She was obsessed with Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, and her new backpack reflected that. She'd even given her Prince Wednesday stuffed animal to the baby. It was everyday family life, but the emptiness in my chest grew. I longed for laughter and the innocent joy of children in my home.

"Trinity's calling me," Miles said, his voice muffled by distance.

"I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you too, sissy."

I smiled faintly, "Later."

He hung up before I could say anything else. I glanced around the room, eyes narrowing at the boxes that seemed to taunt me with their mere existence. All of them were my own—mainly books, a few other odds and ends. The sadness that gripped me was relentless. I'd always had the most demanding job, the tightest schedule, and the deepest insecurities. Miles was angry, and I was desperate to be seen, so much so that I followed every command without question. Now, here I was, alone, surrounded by regret.

Dating felt like a cruel joke. My time in New York had alienated me more than anything else. That fog of invisibility from my childhood had returned with a vengeance. Coworkers would barely look at me for over a second; people on the street seemed oblivious to my presence and dates. They always ended badly. They weren't evil men but would forget my name within seconds. It felt like I wasn't real, like I existed on some other plane.

The only person who seemed to remember I existed anymore was my brother and his family. Dad's Alzheimer's had robbed him of any memory of us before he passed. Mom, too incoherent at Hospice, never stayed awake long enough to acknowledge my presence. Sometimes, it felt like Miles would momentarily forget me, only for my name to pop into his mind at predictable intervals—like clockwork, only calling on specific days and times, usually if he was planning a trip. It upset me more than I could recall, but now I wondered why.

"This place won't unpack itself," I muttered aloud.

I'd talked to myself so much it felt almost normal. I knew I needed to make friends, that without connections, I'd end up as lonely as my father, but the idea seemed futile. No one saw me clearly. No one ever had. When I searched my memories for anyone who had seen me, I came up empty. No one had ever really seen me. No one ever would. Instinctively, I knew this despite the facade of normalcy I tried to maintain. I had a job, a family, a house. I wasn't haunted. Or… maybe I was just being childish. I was simply forgettable, unremarkable. This I knew.

"I exist," I whispered, the words reverberating loudly in the stillness of my apartment.

The silence that pervaded my life mocked me with its omnipresence.

"How the hell do you get lost in a bar?"

"It's a lounge, sha," came a voice behind me.

What a peculiar dream. I took a bite of my sandwich, returning to the rude awakening that morning. I rarely remembered my dreams, if I had them at all. But last night had been different. I'd found myself in a dimly lit room with a man I couldn't recall clearly, dressed in white and speaking with an accent I couldn't place. I woke up before anything significant happened. The dream had been woefully uneventful.

The floor was almost eerily quiet tonight. Aside from the constant beeps and monitors scattered around and George Gilmore in room 11 watching football, no one spoke. The nurses here seemed less lively than I was accustomed to, their faces vacant, their words few. I kept to my small office most of the night, avoiding their station.

We'd had one death so far—a patient with a DNR who suffered a stroke shortly after midnight. Another woman had been pronounced brain-dead an hour ago. We'd wait until tomorrow to pull the plug, so her daughter could say goodbye. I didn't count her in my tally. The night crew had a way of seeing me even less than the others, and I didn't like them much.

"Hello, Doctor."

I jumped, startled. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. My irritation took me by surprise. I wasn't typically agitated; my feelings were either muted or overwhelming. He pushed his hair back, revealing messy chocolate brown locks, and held a clipboard stained with dubious marks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, shifting awkwardly under my gaze. I was already weary of his presence. "I was told you were new and thought I should introduce myself before leaving for the night. I'm Damon Glass, one of the anesthesiologists."

"Y/N Y/L/N," I replied, my voice flat and uninviting. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiled, showing a gap between his front teeth that reminded me of my father's. It was a rare sight among people my age. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come to me. Dr. Whitlock is on the floor, and I believe Morgan Fletcher is on call."

I nodded, appreciating the information but ready for him to leave. My distaste had faded, but I preferred brevity in conversations, especially with outsiders. I disliked the feeling of interacting with them. It was why I preferred dealing with the nearly dead; they rarely spoke, and when they did, I knew they'd be too medicated to remember much. The families were more accessible to handle than the ones back in Florida.

It was odd how my thoughts could veer into such morbid territories. Almost as morbid as my enjoyment of overseeing dying patients. It was not as macabre as my unbidden glee at my mother's death alongside my brother, but it ranked high on my list of flaws.

"Have a good night," I said, returning to my computer to refresh my emails.

Dr. Glass seemed to take the hint, leaving with an awkward smile and wave.

August 1997

I stood outside the door, the muffled sounds of grief seeping through the walls like a relentless, jagged current. The family's sorrow was palpable, a heavy fog that followed me down the hallway. I hoped to catch them in a better moment, but the cruel truth of this place was that better moments were rare. With a resigned breath, I raised my hand and knocked. The room fell silent, and a strained voice called out, allowing me to enter.

Elizabeth Fraiser had lived a life filled with grace and elegance. Once a dancer whose feet had carried her across Europe's stages, she met her husband in Paris and married him there. They had settled in New York, where her days of ballet had given way to a quieter role as a ballet instructor in Jersey. She had raised a family, and her pride in her children was as evident as her passion for dance. She spoke of them with a joy that contrasted sharply with the emptiness of my own mother's words.

Now, Elizabeth was in the late stages of lung cancer. Her family had clung to the hope of letting her pass away at home, but the relentless pneumonia and ceaseless pain had pushed them to make the difficult decision to admit her here. Her condition had worsened sharply today, and her family was struggling to cope with the harsh reality.

"Good afternoon," I said softly, a gentle murmur in the oppressive silence.

"Nice to see you," Elizabeth's oldest son, Elijah, managed a weak smile. We both knew he wasn't fond of doctors, but he tolerated me because I didn't overstay my welcome. "Mom's been sleeping for a while."

I stifled a sigh. Her body was crumbling, and delivering bad news was never easy. The small comfort was knowing she would soon feel nothing at all. We planned to increase her morphine dosage and withdraw all other medications. Her family would need to agree, but I wasn't too concerned. Mary, her daughter, had debated extending her mother's life with her brothers.

"We're really at the end, aren't we?" Mary's voice was strained, her husband's arm around her for support. Among them, she was the calmest, but the edges of her composure were frayed. Her eyes were red, testimony to her unrelenting tears. "Will she be in pain?"

I explained our focus on alleviating her suffering. She would be less coherent in the coming days but occasionally rouse enough to interact with them between doses. We aimed to ensure she had the utmost comfort and relief in her final days. The youngest Percy took the news hardest and had to excuse himself. I held Mary's hand, appreciating the warmth of human connection. I prided myself on my bedside manner.

"I know home care wasn't ideal for you," I broached delicately, aware of their crowded lives and young children. "But I'm offering it as an option. Respite care is also available, though I understand it was stressful before. It's worth discussing."

Elijah shook his head firmly. Mary hesitated, but her husband's reminder to care for herself and their baby swayed her. Percy's wife raised concerns about her own health, cementing the decision. Elizabeth would remain with us in her final days. It was probably for the best—she was too frail and in too much agony without constant medication.

"Let me know if you need anything," I said, glancing at the family. The nurses are always available, and I'm on call until six. Is there anything I can get you before I leave?"

"Mom needs a bath," Percy reentered the room. A nurse had come by earlier, asking if we were ready to step out. Let them know they could come in."

The rest of my shift dragged on. Other families were terse and uncommunicative, and their responses were minimal. I understood their grief, but it did little to ease my weary spirit. The nurses seemed as disinterested in me as ever. I had long since given up trying to connect with them.

The air outside was crisp, almost biting. I walked to the subway, the city traffic too maddening to endure. I'd trade bumper-to-bumper frustration for the quirks of the subway any day. Last week, a man in a bunny costume rapped at six in the morning. The week before, a man argued with his reflection in the window. Last night, an elderly woman beside me commented on my disheveled appearance, lamenting that men didn't like that and worrying I'd die alone. I barely remember if I responded. I hated talking on the subway; her parting insult had stung me.

Tonight promised to be different. I left the hospital later than usual, after two code blues and an injury report for a nurse. Overdue paperwork and an insurance squabble later, it was past eight when I left. My walk was short, and the wait at the terminal was OK, but the train didn't arrive until 9:30. When I finally boarded, the car was almost empty.

Then a group of men entered. They were rowdy, pushing each other, their drunkenness a stifling cloud. I almost moved when they sat too close, but I didn't want to draw attention. I could feel their eyes on me. I clutched my bag tightly, fingers brushing the can of pepper spray hooked to its strap. I was almost home. Just three more stops.

"Hey," one of the men called out. I ignored him. "Hey, you."

I hated the subway.

"Leave her alone."

That voice caught my attention. I knew it—or thought I did. When I looked up, I was met with a stranger, yet his presence felt oddly familiar. He was striking, with tanned skin and sharp features that made his brown eyes stand out under the harsh fluorescent lights. He took the seat beside mine, and I didn't stop him. The men were back to their raucous laughter, and I was forgotten. I relaxed slightly, hoping to remain unnoticed.

"Sorry about them," he said, his warm and soothing voice a gentle tenor that evoked a sense of nostalgia. "Are you OK?"

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. Something about him tugged at the edges of my memory, yet he wasn't a celebrity, and I was sure I'd never met him before. Perhaps we'd crossed paths on the subway? My brain was playing tricks on me.

"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you."

Despite myself, I stole glances at him. I had to remind myself to breathe when I ventured past his neck. He was slender, but there was a subtle strength beneath his clothes. If he noticed my scrutiny, he said nothing. He returned to his book, but I was convinced that his eyes were still on me when I finally looked away.

I jolted awake, my body wracked with shivers despite the suffocating warmth of the blanket. The room was deathly silent, save for the moonlight streaming through the window like a spotlight on a stage set for a performance I never auditioned for. I rolled over, trying to bury myself deeper into the cocoon of my blanket, but then I heard it—a voice, soft and faint, yet carrying an unsettling authority.

“Oh, Y/N,” the voice crooned, dripping with a sinister allure. “It’s time. Come to me.”

Confusion and dread clawed at my insides as I stumbled out of bed. The room was a far cry from my own—stone walls, thick and oppressive, casting shadows that seemed to dance with malevolent glee. The floor beneath my feet was icy, a stark contrast to the comfort of my bed. My nightgown, white and delicate, felt like a mockery in this alien environment.

This wasn’t my room.

The voice came again, seductive and commanding. “Y/N, come out, come out, now. I’m waiting for you.”

Compelled, I moved to the window. Below, in the moonlit expanse of the lawn, stood the man from the subway. His face was eerily illuminated, his head tilted back as if inviting me to join him in the darkness below. His eyes—glowing a brilliant gold—seemed to reach out to me, promising unspeakable things if only I would take the leap.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He raised a hand, crooking a finger in a silent invitation. It was as if an invisible thread was pulling me toward him. Entranced, my feet moved on their own accord. Barefoot, the cold stone beneath me was a cruel contrast to the warmth I’d just left behind. I wandered through hallways and passages that felt simultaneously foreign and intimately known, descending into the shadows where he waited.

As I emerged onto the lawn, his smile made me shiver. He approached, his fingers brushing the side of my face—teasing, tantalizing, yet never quite touching.

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. “So very long. And now, now you’re mine.”

A fragment of my mind screamed in protest, shouting that I didn’t belong to him, that I didn’t even know who he was or why I was here. But a deeper, more primal force tugged at me, pulling me closer until I was nearly touching him. His presence was unsettlingly soothing, and I took a breath, feeling the heat of his gaze.

“That’s right, my lamb, come closer,” he coaxed.

An overwhelming longing surged through me—irrational, illogical, yet so profound that I couldn’t resist. I needed him to touch me, to make the connection complete. I tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck to the moonlight.

He responded immediately, his fingers trailing along my throat, their cool touch sending shivers through me. I gasped, my body lighting up with each delicate brush.

“More,” I heard myself plead, pressing closer.

“Say it,” he demanded, his arms enveloping me in a possessive embrace. “Who do you belong to?”

“You. I’m yours.”

He cradled my head in his hand, leaning in. His lips were smooth against my skin, but his teeth were sharp as they pierced through flesh. I screamed as he drank deeply.

I awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, my hands clutching at my throat, searching for any sign of injury. The skin was intact, unbroken. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm my racing heart that felt as though it might burst from my chest.

The lamp flickered on with a click, casting a harsh, unwelcome light that made me squint and shield my eyes. Grabbing my robe and a cup, I shuffled out of the room, the chill of the hallway hitting me like a slap. I closed the door quietly behind me, trying not to disturb the oppressive silence that hung heavy in the air. The bathroom, bathed in the sickly fluorescent glow, was as deserted as I’d hoped.

I filled my cup halfway with water from one of the sinks, then leaned against the cold, sterile tiles, watching my reflection in the mirror as I took slow, deliberate sips. The dream—the one that had shaken me awake—felt so unnervingly real.

I traced the line of my neck with trembling fingers, the blue vein just beneath the surface. What kind of twisted message was my mind trying to send me with that nightmare? It had been a full-on gothic horror—a relic of some crumbling English manor, not the kind of place I ever imagined myself visiting, unless I was buried in a pile of classic literature.

And him. The monster. Even now, as I closed my eyes, I could still see his face—a blend of dark allure and cruel beauty. His eyes, oh, those eyes. They’d held me in thrall, made me willing to surrender to any demand he made. I could almost feel his cold touch, see his smile that promised both ecstasy and agony.

Wasn’t the whole vampire-mother-stuff supposed to be a metaphor for sex? Maybe that’s what my subconscious was trying to shove in my face—sex, or the glaring void where it should have been in my life.

I studied my flushed reflection, feeling the heat in my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to shake off the nightmare’s grip.

The man sat next to me again. It had been a week since I last saw him, and my body still reacted to his presence. Today, I admired his chiseled jawline and elongated face. He was an exquisite oval with a strong profile. This time, he caught me looking and smiled shyly.

"I'm Hoseok."

The name sent a shiver, stirring something familiar and unsettling. I quickly brushed off the uneasy feeling. It was probably my own insecurity.

"Y/N," I replied, unable to tear my gaze away from him.

He resumed reading, and I focused on crocheting a stuffed rabbit for my nephew. Miles had called that morning to update me on Trinity's appointment. The toy wasn't perfect—far from it—but I wanted to give it a try.

"How would you feel about dinner?" Hoseok's voice broke through my thoughts.

I paused my knitting. "I enjoy dinner. Who doesn't?"

He chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that made me blush. "Cheeky."

I bit my lip, unsure if it was a compliment. I felt a pang of embarrassment, struggling to maintain my composure. The first date I'd been asked on since undergrad, and I was fumbling. Miles would have a field day.

"Would you like dinner with me?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

Hoseok's laughter resonated deeply within me, and I felt a jolt of warmth as he slid closer, his knee brushing against mine. He was impossibly warm. Instinctively, I shifted away, uncomfortable with his proximity. There was something off about him, an unsettling vibe that I couldn't quite place.

But then he smiled, and that soft, disarming grin evaporated all my doubts. He was dazzling. My eyes fluttered shut as his cologne enveloped me, weakening my knees. I had to remind myself to breathe. He was captivating.

"Do you like Italian?" he asked, his voice deeper now.

I nodded, struggling to steady my breath. Panic and embarrassment churned within me, but I couldn't ignore the physical response. My mind was flooded with inappropriate thoughts of Hoseok, vivid and intrusive. I gasped, feeling a flush of heat I hadn't experienced in a long time. 

"Does two weeks work?"

Snapping out of my daze, I looked at Hoseok and nodded. 

"I'm off on the 27th."

He smiled, and I stared at his teeth longer than necessary. They seemed different—sharper, perhaps, with redder gums. I blinked, reassured that they were just as I remembered. My sleep deprivation must be getting to me.

"Meet you here?"

We agreed to meet at six. I'd catch the 5:30 train to ensure I arrived before him. As the subway pulled into my stop, I waved goodbye and stepped out, only to realize I hadn't asked him where we were going. The thought lingered until the following day.

The voice is louder now, sharper, as if it’s cutting through the fog of my half-sleep. “Y/N? I’m waiting for you. Come to me now.”

I hear it, feel the tug of it dragging me towards him, but fear clamps down on me like a vice. My bare feet are numb on the cold, wet grass as I stumble through the twisting maze of hedges, trying to escape the invisible force that pulls me like iron to a magnet.

My breath hitches, coming fast and uneven, as I sprint around corners, the long white gown tangling around my legs and tripping me up. I’m not sure anymore if I’m searching for a way out or if I’m trying to find him.

I turn another corner, my ankle twists and pain shoots through my leg as I crash into an open space—a small, white fountain sits in the middle, surrounded by benches.

Through the flickering light of the moon dancing on the water, I see him. Not a figment of my imagination, but there he is, standing as he promised, waiting.

Hoseok walks towards me with a slow, deliberate grace. He bends, lifting me effortlessly from the mess of my tangled gown and into his arms. I feel a peculiar sense of completeness as he sits on a bench, cradling me like a precious artifact.

“Were you bringing me your gift? Or were you trying to run from me?” His voice is soft, almost tender, and yet it cuts through me. I open my mouth to speak, but no sound comes. I’m lost, adrift in confusion.

I’m mesmerized by his flawless beauty. My fingers move of their own accord, reaching towards his face. That smile returns, and I see the satisfaction in his eyes.

“You may touch me.” His lips part slightly, and I press my fingers against them. His tongue flicks out, wrapping around my fingertip and drawing it into his mouth. Before I can react, I feel a sharp bite.

I gasp as he licks the blood that wells up from the small wound. “A small treat,” he murmurs. “That’s why you came, isn’t it?”

I find myself nodding, helpless under his gaze.

He licks my finger one last time, savoring the taste before swallowing. “They told me you’d be extraordinary, worth every moment of waiting. Yet, your taste is beyond anything I ever dreamed.”

My body reacts to his words and his touch—still innocent but making my skin feel like it’s stretched too tight, like I might explode. I let my head fall back, exposing my neck to him as his tongue traces a path up the sensitive skin.

And then he bites.

I bolt awake, heart pounding as if it might burst from my chest. I fumble in the dark, reaching for the light switch, feeling profoundly alone with Rose away for the weekend.

I throw off the covers and stagger to the mirror, desperately checking my neck. There’s nothing there, no sign of the bite.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I grab a blanket and a book, and huddle in the hall lounge, surrounded by the harsh light of every lamp and the incessant flicker of the television, trying to drive away the lingering shadows of the nightmare.

September 1997

I eased into my seat, the familiar weight of my bag pressed to my left side and draped an arm over it as if to claim it for my own. It was the first night off from the relentless grind of being on-call since mid-August and the first real night out in years. I’d never been much for the party scene, and medical school had only sharpened that aversion. The last time I went out for drinks was nearly six years ago, a fleeting memory of bar hopping that I’d abandoned early, too exhausted to keep pace with my friends.

Tonight, however, felt different. There was a nagging sense that I was misremembering that long-ago night, like a foggy half-remembered dream where something vital was missing. My life in New York had become a blur of medical texts and sleepless shifts, the grueling 24-hour days erasing the finer details of my existence. My final year had been a carousel of discomfort, but the specifics eluded me, lost in exhaustion. Perhaps a creep of some sort, some misguided doctor with a name I couldn’t quite grasp—maybe that’s what had soured my memory. 

I pulled out my phone and scrolled to find Hoseok’s contact. The old SeaTAC was still a relic of the past, but I clung to it out of stubborn habit. Despite its age, it was a lifeline to the outside world, a way to escape the pager’s relentless beeping. I longed for the day when I could toss the landline, but the cost of cell phone minutes constantly reminded me of its importance. With his endless chatter, Miles made sure I burned through those minutes with alarming frequency.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice was silky, a comforting balm after a long stretch of clinical detachment.

“Hey,” I breathed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just got on.”

“See you soon,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring. I could almost picture the smile on his face, and it made me smile in return. His words seemed more benign over the phone, starkly contrasting the intensity of our recent encounters. “Save my spot.”

The car was beginning to fill up, Friday night revelers claiming their space, making it nearly impossible to save a seat. I promised I’d try, even as I felt the crushing inevitability of the crowd. His chuckle was soft, almost intimate. 

“Thank you, sweet girl.”

I bit my lip, the endearment both flattering and unsettling. A tiny voice in my head cautioned me, even though Hoseok had never used his terms of affection demeaningly. The voice grew louder when he wasn’t around, whispering warnings I couldn’t entirely dismiss. It was strange, this constant inner debate.

“I’m going to hang up,” Hoseok said, his voice a sensual murmur. I moved the phone away from my ear, puzzled by the seductive undertone. Was he implying something more?

Was I expecting more from tonight?

“I’m running up my minutes,” he laughed, breaking the spell of my thoughts.

“Oh,” I blinked, snapping out of my reverie. “Sorry. See you in a bit.”

The recurring dreams of him were becoming a distraction. My nights were plagued with vivid, unsettling fantasies, leaving me restless and frazzled. I wiggled in my seat, pressing my thighs together to quell the unsettling arousal. Reality would surely disappoint, no matter how compelling he seemed in my dreams. I resolved to hold off on sex for now. I didn’t want to tarnish his allure with premature intimacy.

“Why did you want to be a doctor?” Hoseok asked, his fingers entwining with mine.

The wine started hitting, and the night air was crisp against my skin. Hoseok was the perfect gentleman; the evening was a beautiful respite from my routine. I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, and sighed.

“I wish I could say it was for noble reasons,” I said, my voice tinged with melancholy. “In truth, I just wanted my family to notice me. I thought graduating medical school would make them see me, but it never quite worked out that way.”

Hoseok hummed thoughtfully beside me. I turned my gaze away, feeling a strange mix of comfort and sadness.

“None of us are perfect,” he said after a pause, his voice low and contemplative. “I’ve made my share of mistakes, and my choices haven’t always been noble.”

I leaned closer, savoring his warmth and intoxicating scent. Despite my fatigue, the night felt lighter, almost magical. He was mesmerizing, and I was drawn to him in a way I hadn’t expected. 

“I have a hard time believing that,” I said with a soft grin, snuggling closer.

“Well,” he said, his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me into his side. “You haven’t had me all to yourself yet.”

A shiver ran down my spine, a curious blend of fear and delight. The night had been a rollercoaster of emotions—enchantment and apprehension intertwined. Hoseok’s smile was disarming, melting away my unease, but I made a mental note to reflect on my feelings once I was alone. He seemed almost too perfect, and that nagging pit in my stomach grew again before vanishing. 

“I don’t want the night to end,” Hoseok whispered, his breath warm against my ear as we waited for the train. “I’m having such a good time.”

I smiled, “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

“When can I see you again?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine longing.

“Soon,” I promised. “I’m getting the next few weekends off now that the other fellowship student is starting. My supervisor is trying to get me off every Saturday.”

“It’s a good thing my boss is flexible,” Hoseok purred, causing my heart to race. “Otherwise, I’d never get to spend time with you.”

I wanted to be annoyed by his clinginess, to remind him I wasn’t his girlfriend, but instead, I found myself grinning. His words made me feel seen and appreciated. Despite the anxiety he sometimes stirred in me, I was eager to be close to him. He looked at me so intently that I was willing to overlook my reservations. Maybe it was just butterflies?

“Where do you work?” I asked, trying to divert my thoughts.

Hoseok was a bartender at a speakeasy in Manhattan, where he’d worked since it opened. He had hinted at it throughout the evening, teasing me with its obscurity. 

“It’s a smaller place,” he said amusedly. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me,” I challenged, my heart pounding strangely.

“Dauphine.”

The name hit me like a jolt. Images of dimly lit corridors and crimson hues flashed in my mind. I was sure I’d never been there, but the name stirred a disquieting sense of déjà vu. The dream from July, the man from my dreams—there was a connection, but it eluded me. 

As we stood in the bustling, well-lit area, I edged away slightly, unsettled. Hoseok was a charming gentleman, but the name “Dauphine” had ignited an inexplicable dread. Despite his humor and warmth, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something—or maybe I was just afraid of what I might find.

I stole a furtive glance at him, and it felt as though I’d known him far longer than the scant time we’d spent together. His face was oddly familiar, like a recurring image in a dream half-remembered. I had met him before, somewhere.

“No, you haven’t,” his voice cut through the night like ice. It was cold, detached, far from the warmth he’d shown me all evening. A shiver snaked down my spine, and I forgot to breathe. His grip on me tightened as though sensing my legs would buckle beneath me. “You’ve never known me before.”

The fierce scowl on his face startled me. His eyes, glowing with an eerie golden light, seemed to burn through me. Everything about him felt otherworldly like he was something less than human. A fragmented memory of a man sitting alone at a bar surged up, only to dissolve into nothingness.

“I am Hoseok,” he whispered, his voice weaving a heavy spell over my senses. “I am your boyfriend. We’ve been together a long time, and we’re in love. You just tripped and hit your head.”

A sudden jolt of pain made me wince and try to pull away from him. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice was deceptively tender, and I sighed through the pain.

“Yes,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead. “Does it look bad?”

Hoseok’s grin was unsettling, a blend of fake sympathy and amusement. 

“You were lucky this time. Just a barely noticeable red mark.”

I chuckled at my own clumsiness. I wasn’t usually this awkward, but my heel caught on a pavement crack. I gingerly rubbed my ankle and was relieved to find it unscathed. Even my heel had survived.

“Jeez,” I said, looping my arm through his. “I completely forgot what we were talking about.”

Hoseok’s smile broadened, clearly enjoying my disoriented state. I rolled my eyes and reached over to gently tap his chest. He responded by sticking out his tongue, which only made me scoff at his childishness.

“We were talking about work,” I said.

I nodded as if on autopilot. “How’s the bar?”

Hoseok worked at a swanky speakeasy in Manhattan, though I was trying to remember its name. Despite being together for what felt like ages, I had never been there. I was never one for bars, while Hoseok reveled in the place’s gothic charm. The name eluded me again as I tried to recall it.

“Tae’s excited,” he chuckled. “With Halloween around the corner, business will pick up.”

I hummed, my thoughts still lingering on the name. I had thought his boss was Tristan, but I must have misremembered. I shrugged off the nagging thought.

“You should stop by the bar,” I heard myself say, sounding oddly mechanical.

“Sounds fun,” he replied, his tone laced with a predatory edge.

Looking back on that night, it’s almost laughable how easily he swayed me. The way he possessed me was undeniable; soon, he would own every inch of me. Those dreams of him were his twisted way of showing love—how much he craved to touch me, to keep me bound to him. It’s sick and vile, and the thought of what we’d become makes me nauseous, yet to him, it’s love. 

“Let’s get you home,” he said, his arm wrapping possessively around my shoulders.

I remember leaning into his side, kissing his cheek as if I was floating. His presence was intoxicating. Even now, I can feel the ghost of his touch and his body's heat. It’s a twisted sort of longing I have for him. This place is cold and dark without him, without his reminders of how much he cares and wants me to scream for him. Here, time stands still, and life continues in a strange loop. I can’t say whether I’m alive or dead, but I know it no longer matters. Once I entered this world, my life ended and began anew. Hoseok made me feel both alive and dead simultaneously.

And as I write this, my heart aches for him. My fingers tremble at the thought of him returning to claim me again. The pain he inflicts makes my heart pound and my stomach clench. I miss him.

It both sickens and excites me.

October 19, 1997

My bones groaned and cracked like ancient floorboards beneath my weight as I fought to catch my breath. Sweat slicked my skin, and I began patting myself down, half-expecting to find something tangible to anchor me to reality. My surroundings slowly came into focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above stung my eyes, but their sterile brightness offered an odd comfort. I was at home, cocooned in thick blankets that had twisted themselves around my legs. The bed beneath me creaked with the effort of supporting my restless form. I sighed, flopping back down, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still clung to me like a shadow.

The dreams had become relentless, evolving from vague echoes of past terrors into something far more insidious. These weren't fueled by mere fear but by an overwhelming, consuming desire that felt dangerously close to swallowing me whole. The weekends were the worst, and after seeing Hoseok, they had turned almost infernal. He was always there in my dreams, his skin smooth and flawless, his deep brown eyes burning into mine with an intensity that left me gasping for air.

Every time I closed my eyes, his image flickered behind my eyelids like a dark, seductive film. The scenes always ended the same way: I would climax, my body convulsing in a fevered rhythm, while I looked up to see his face contorted in ecstasy. His deep, guttural groans would reverberate through me as his grip tightened on my skin. He would finish inside me, and my spent body would collapse beneath him. He would drape himself over me, showering my chest with tender, lingering kisses. The setting varied—my bed, a chilling, unfamiliar void, or a dimly lit lounge—but the conclusion was always the same.

With a sigh, I fumbled for my phone, my fingers brushing the cool surface. An email from Hoseok awaited me, and a smile crept across my face despite the haze of exhaustion. He was the epitome of a perfect gentleman—never pushing beyond my boundaries, never demanding more than I was willing to give, always accommodating his schedule to mine. Even in matters of intimacy, something many men would aggressively pursue, he always respected my pace. In the hectic blur of the past month, we hadn’t had a moment alone. He hadn’t even broached the topic. As I thought about it, I couldn't recall the last time we'd been intimate outside of these dreams.

From: Hoseok Jung Subject: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 03:05   To: Y/N Y/L/N Good morning, love, I'm sorry for the early message, especially since this is one of your rare mornings off. I hope I didn't wake you. I'm heading home from work and couldn't stop thinking about you. Taehyung is throwing a simple Halloween party this year, and luckily, it falls on a Friday. Would you like to join me? I think it could be a lot of fun. I love you. Hobi

I grinned and began typing my reply.

From: Y/N Y/L/N Subject: RE: All Hallows Eve Date: October 19, 1997: 04:15  To: Hoseok Jung Hobi, Don't worry, you didn't wake me. I was tangled up in strange dreams and was deep asleep when your email arrived. Sadly, I doubt I'll fall back asleep anytime soon, so I plan on catching up on Buffy or Beyond Belief—whichever's on. Hopefully, I won't get stuck with reruns of Seinfeld, not really my thing. Lucky for me, I'm working mornings this week. I'd love to come to your party. Call me when you wake up. Love you, too. Y/N Y/L/N, M.D.   Palliative Care Physician, New York-Presbyterian Hospital

It barely registered that, to my knowledge, I had never said "I love you" to him before. I had never really pondered the oddity of our relationship. My memories of our time together were a disorienting blur, but I never questioned it. It wasn't entirely my fault—he had ensnared me, body and soul, and any unresolved threads might make it harder for him to maintain control. Regardless of our tangled history or how elusive it seemed; I was simply glad he wanted to see me at that moment.

I lay huddled in my bed, my body a coiled spring of anticipation, each nerve ending tingling with the foreboding that had stalked me all day. His voice had been a persistent whisper, a sultry hum that turned my name into a haunting lullaby. It was a melody wrapped in an insatiable longing, a caress of words that promised more than I dared to imagine.

Tonight, I wanted to resist. I tried to muster the strength to ignore the insidious pull, that relentless tug drawing me toward him like a moth to a flame. The very idea of defying him churned my stomach with a nauseous dread. But the threads of his influence were woven so tightly around me, it felt like trying to escape from silken chains.

Then it came, cutting through the murkiness of my thoughts like a scythe. His voice, now sharper, more insistent, shattered the fragile veneer of my resistance.

“Y/N. Come to me now.”

With a sudden jolt, the pretense of defiance evaporated. I threw off the blankets as if they were chains, leaping out of bed and flying through the darkened hallway. My feet barely touched the ground as I hurtled down the stairs, each step propelled by an unrelenting force, dragging me inexorably toward him.

He waited for me in the foyer, bathed in an eerie glow that made him look like an apparition from a fevered dream—or perhaps a nightmare. His smile was both welcoming and chilling, a promise wrapped in malice. When he took my hand, his lips brushed against my fingers with a cool, electric touch that set my entire body aflame.

The intensity of my reaction embarrassed me, but he tilted my face up to meet his gaze, shaking his head with a look of almost pity.

“Your blood knows what it wants, my lamb. You must let your mind follow.”

My face burned with fierce heat, but the compulsion pulling me to him was too overpowering to resist. He guided me through the meticulously manicured gardens to a secluded alcove framed by dense, sculpted hedges. He seated himself on a bench, drawing me onto his lap with a practiced grace that made me feel both cherished and helpless. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, never left mine, promising secrets I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“Are you ready, my lamb?”

Without a second thought, I bared my neck to him. The desperate craving for the bliss and torment of his bite had consumed me completely; waiting was no longer an option.

He lingered, his tongue tracing a tantalizing path along the delicate skin of my throat. The sensation was almost unbearable, and I found myself begging with a voice that sounded alien, strained.

“Please.”

And then he bit.

I shot awake, my heart a frantic drum in my chest. I had fallen asleep hunched over my desk at the hospital, my neck stiff from the awkward angle. Rubbing away the ache, I cursed the book that had plagued me with such vivid nightmares. I needed to talk to my brother again; this couldn’t be anything but a cruel trick of the mind.

The glowing digits on my alarm clock mocked me with their late hour. I stood up, stretching and feeling my heartbeat slowly return to normal. I changed into a t-shirt and shuffled toward the bed, determined to banish the lingering unease.

As I passed the window, something froze me in place. I looked down into the parking lot and saw him standing under a flickering lamppost, his gaze locked onto mine with a predatory intensity that made my blood run cold.

It was Hoseok—or at least, it looked like him. But the resemblance was grotesquely twisted. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, a sickly luminescence that cut through the night like a malevolent beacon. His skin was peeling away in ragged strips, as if he were shedding himself like a decaying husk. This was no longer my Hoseok. He was a creature of nightmares, a monster forged from my darkest fears.

My fingers clung to the windowsill as I stared, my body paralyzed by the overwhelming urge to run to him, to give in to the magnetic pull of his presence. I watched as his lips moved, shaping a single word that seemed to echo through the chill of the night.

“Soon.”

I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the vision to vanish. When I opened them again, the parking lot was empty, the lamppost casting its pallid light over a sea of unmoving cars. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, snatched my blanket and pillow, and stumbled back to the on-call room, desperate to escape the sinister call that still haunted the dark corners of my mind.

October 28, 1997

"What should I do?" the nurse asked, her name slipping from my mind like a shadow lost in the night.

"Give them some space," I replied, my gaze fixed resolutely away from the room across the hall. Elizabeth had just passed away, her DNR a cold, ironclad barrier that left no room for last-ditch efforts. Her family needed their final moments with her while we waited for the body to be transported. Mary was still wailing into her husband's chest, and Elijah looked like he'd been dragged through a storm, barely able to stand. Percy stood like a marble statue, his eyes glazed over while his wife clung to him. The sight of Percy’s frozen, unseeing expression twisted my gut in a way I couldn’t ignore. It reminded me too much of what I feared—and I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of grief.

"Should we get them out of the room?" another nurse asked, her thick southern drawl hinting at Memphis. "Seeing her like that can’t be good for their mental well-being."

I shook my head. "Let them have their last moments in peace. Offer condolences and check on them regularly."

I fiddled nervously with my ID card, the familiar unease gnawing at me. My wounds from the day seemed too fresh. Miles surfaced in my thoughts again, and I resolved to call my brother on my way home tonight. Hoseok wasn’t working tonight, so he wouldn’t join me on the subway.

"I'm going to check in with 211," I murmured, watching Percy leave the room, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "I’ll be back in 5-10 minutes to see if the family needs anything. Just make them as comfortable as you can."

"You got it, doc."

The subway ride home was a silent affair. My headache throbbed like a relentless drum, and my stomach churned uneasily. The day had been heavy with more deaths than usual. Elizabeth’s family had eventually calmed down, but their kindness on their way out hadn’t eased the knot in my chest. I knew their pain intimately.

I called my brother as I made my way to the subway. Despite his complicated feelings about our mother, he was always supportive. The conversation ended abruptly when Aurora entered the room, demanding his attention. Miles had never truly understood my emotions; I doubted he ever tried.

The short walk home from the subway was a blessing, though the cold night air bit at my skin. I was grateful for the proximity of my apartment, but the streets were alive with noise—tourists laughing, gang members shouting outside their apartment complexes. I was relieved to escape the chaos, though my street wasn’t entirely free of foot traffic. My old apartment in East Harlem had been more of a hustle, with late-night carpooling with a coworker whose name eluded me. I knew it started with an 'A,' but the memory only worsened my headache. I set the thought aside for another time.

After selling the family home in Florida and vacation properties scattered across the country, I’d managed to buy a house on Astro Row at 100th and 30th Street. It was an old building—too expensive for its size, and initially, it seemed far from beautiful. But over time, it grew on me. I loved the brownstones, the front porches, the grand trees, and the quiet streets. I couldn’t imagine leaving. Even the renovations I’d planned were postponed. The charm of the old place had won me over, and I’d made peace with its quirks. I even got along with my neighbor, a small but welcome relief.

Tonight was quieter than usual, and none of my neighbors seemed awake. I missed the old man at the end of the street who used to sit on his porch, sipping coffee and waiting for dawn. It was nearly 4:30 AM. I shrugged and continued; my mind focused on the comfort of my bed.

Fumbling for my keys, I cursed quietly when my pockets were empty. My purse, a cavernous mess of clutter, swallowed everything. As I dug through it, a sudden burst of laughter behind me made me freeze. Two women strolled down the sidewalk, their laughter echoing off the walls. They were both stunning, their pale skin glowing under the moonlight. One of them locked eyes with me, her gaze piercing through the darkness. She looked at me as if she’d seen a ghost, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew me.

"Hello," she said, her voice as light and tinkling as a bell.

"Hi," I replied, feeling strangely off-balance.

The other woman seemed perplexed. Her beauty was almost ethereal, with blonde hair as pale as her skin and eyes as dark as night. Her gaze swept over me with an unmistakable disdain, her teeth bared in a slight sneer. Yet, despite her apparent coldness, she was undeniably beautiful.

"How are you?" the first woman asked, her voice soothing.

"Fine," I responded, my throat dry. "And you?"

The nagging headache intensified as I tried to make sense of the encounter, a sense of déjà vu wrapping around me like a tightening noose. The women moved on, their laughter fading into the night, leaving me with a lingering unease that clung to me like the shadows of my dreams.

She studied me, her face a shifting canvas of emotions before settling into a look of genuine confusion. I tried to place her but struggled. There was something crucial I needed to remember, something just out of reach, but my mind remained stubbornly blank. A frantic urge to call Hoseok seized me.

The realization hit me like a cold slap. Why did I think I needed him? I tried to convince myself I could handle this alone. But deep down, I knew I needed him here. He could make this headache vanish, soothe the gnawing anxiety that had taken root in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

“What's your name?” she asked, her smile both disarming and unsettling, making my thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm.

“Y/N,” I replied, feeling dazed and disconnected.

“Cold night, Y/N,” she purred, her gaze never wavering. “You should get inside.”

I nodded absently, my words failing me as I fumbled with my keys. The blonde woman's giggle, filled with an eerie excitement, made me shiver. I wanted to retreat, to escape this strange encounter. I shoved the key into the lock, eager to shut out the unsettling night.

“Y/N,” the first woman’s voice halted me, her tone chillingly smooth. Neither of them had moved since they stopped. The blonde’s smile remained fixed, and I couldn’t bring myself to meet the other woman’s eyes. “Be careful out here. You never know who’s wandering around.”

I nodded, turning the doorknob, but her voice stopped me again.

“I work at a bar in Midtown,” she said, her words snagging my attention like a hook. I had always known she worked at a bar, but why was it important? “It’s called Dauphine. Ever heard of it?”

Yes, I wanted to say. That place haunted my nightmares, a dark shadow that clung to the edges of my memory. But I couldn’t piece together why. Hoseok would know. He’d make everything better. No, my mind screamed—he’d only make it worse. I couldn’t say how I knew this, but I wanted to listen to the little voice inside me tonight. Something was very wrong.

“You should come by sometime,” she offered. “We’re on 1st and East 54th in the far corner of the Diamond District. If you need anything, just ask for ‘Bootsy.’”

Bootsy…

“Are you okay with cherry liquor?” she asked.

I let go of the doorknob and turned to face them fully. I couldn’t meet either of their eyes. The sensation was all too familiar. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the answer I didn’t want to hear.

“Do you know Hoseok? He’s my boyfriend.”

The blonde hissed sharply. Bootsy gasped, her face a mask of surprise and something darker, more shadowy. It was clear that Hoseok was connected to these people, tangled up with my memories of New York, the root of all my confusion. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

No, I shook my head. Was that what he wanted me to believe? I wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yes,” Bootsy finally replied. “I’ve known him for many, many years.”

Before I could second-guess myself, I slammed the door shut and locked it. The blonde finally moved, stepping away from Bootsy and muttering something I couldn’t catch. She disappeared down the street, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

“What’s wrong with me?” I muttered through the door, my voice tinged with desperation.

Bootsy’s response came through with a sorrowful edge. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, my headache pounding with such intensity that I could barely keep my eyes open. “It’s him, isn’t it?” I asked, my voice breaking. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like I remember things but not really, and everything goes blank every time he’s around.”

Bootsy’s eyes, a deep crimson, darted around nervously. They seemed to glow faintly, like a cat’s eyes in the dark. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, glossy and sleek. Bootsy wasn’t human. What she was, I couldn’t say. But she was somehow tied to the nightmares that plagued me, and Hoseok’s shadow loomed larger than ever.

“He’s a demon,” she whispered hurriedly, her words laced with a fear that seemed almost tangible. “I can’t tell you exactly what he’s done. I’ve never known him to keep someone around for this long, but whatever you’ve done to make him want you seems to have spared your life. You should have died back in ’92 with your friend.”

A friend? Someone else had been involved? Hoseok was a demon? The fragments Bootsy offered were like pieces of a shattered mirror, reflecting a reality I could barely grasp. I believed her, though. I had no reason not to. My memories felt like they were being twisted, distorted by Hoseok’s manipulations.

Then I thought of the creature outside of the hospital and felt my knees go numb. I hadn't hallucinated anything. It was real. It was him. Oh my God.

“We can’t talk for long,” she said, a look of pained urgency on her face. “He won’t sleep for much longer.”

“What can I do?” I begged, clutching my head as if I could squeeze out the pain. It was unbearable. “God, it hurts.”

“Nothing,” Bootsy’s voice trembled. “Hoseok wants you, and he’s never lost a game. It doesn’t matter where you go or what you do; he will win. Whatever you’ve been doing has kept you alive this long, but I don’t know how much time you have left.”

Her words hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me and dragging me under. I had been a pawn in Hoseok’s twisted game, my life manipulated by his cruel whims. What did he want from me? My body? My soul? The realization was suffocating.

“Go to Dauphine and find Taehyung,” Bootsy instructed, her voice carrying a chilling finality despite its almost maternal tone. “He had a soft spot for you back then. If you’re lucky, he might be able to change you, make you like us. That might be enough to satisfy Hoseok.”

Taehyung. The name cut through the fog in my mind like a beacon, easing the throbbing in my head, if only for a moment. He had haunted my dreams, his image vivid: a white button-up shirt, his gentle hands, his voice firm yet tender, saying he didn’t want to share me. He had left me in that bar, but the details were fuzzy—how or why I had ended up there was a blur. All I knew was that I was lost, and he had once been my guide.

She paused, her eyes darkening with a weighty empathy. “You’d be luckier if Taehyung agrees to end your life before the demon does. I wouldn’t wish this half-life on anyone, nor would I be glad to see you die, but those are your choices. I can’t guarantee you’ll make it through this.”

“What happened in ’92?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, thick with desperation.

Bootsy shook her head, her expression darkening with sorrow. “He killed your friend and tried to lure you away. That's all I know, and I don't have time to explain the rest. The sun’s about to rise, and your demon will be waiting for you to fall asleep. Don’t fight it. Let it happen. If he knows you’re aware of him, he might decide to kill you.”

It felt wrong to just let it happen. What would this mean for me in the end? Would knowing about his influence change anything? I couldn’t be sure, but if I wanted to buy myself time, I had no choice but to take the risk. I needed answers, a plan, anything to regain control.

“Y/N,” Bootsy’s urgent voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Your memories won't come back unless he wants them to. Let it go. Either way you'll be dead.”

With those final, haunting words, Bootsy vanished as quickly as she had appeared. The weight of my predicament pressed heavily on my shoulders, my impending doom looming like a dark cloud. I stumbled back to the porch, unlocked the front door, and sought refuge in the sanctuary of my bed. Bootsy’s grim mantra echoed in my mind as I tried to push aside my troubling thoughts about Hoseok, grappling with the uncertainty that lay ahead.

He appeared to me then, in a vision that was both intoxicating and horrifying. His eyes sparkled with a predatory thrill, his touch setting my skin ablaze, igniting waves of pleasure that crashed over me with ruthless intensity. His worship was ceaseless, his lips warm and insistent, as if trying to devour every shred of my resistance. I was swallowed by him, lost in a whirlwind of passion that twisted the love I once felt (at least, I believed I felt) into something darker, more insidious. I missed him. I loved him. I needed him…

Bootsy’s words had struck me like a death knell, sealing my fate in an irreversible descent. She had unwittingly set my downfall into motion, transforming innocent affection into a ravenous lust that consumed every corner of my mind. When I awoke late in the evening, the decision to call off work for the rest of the week came with a grim resignation. The struggle to stay awake was in vain; it was becoming starkly clear how deeply Hoseok’s control had embedded itself within me. The inevitable was no longer a distant threat—it had already begun to unfold, dragging me into its dark embrace.

October 31, 1997

I tugged nervously at my skirt, my fingers trembling despite the cool night air that should have been a relief. The address that had arrived this morning was burned into my mind, glaring at me from the top of the paper—Dauphine, the bar Bootsy had mentioned. My plans were clear: find Bootsy, get directions, speak with this Taehyung, and figure out my options. But the gnawing truth was unavoidable—no matter what I did, it felt like my life was already slipping through my fingers.

Sleep deprivation had become my relentless tormentor. My eyelids felt heavy, weighted down by leaden exhaustion, and my attempts to feign illness to dodge work had morphed into a grim reality. It was a battle to stay awake each day, and I feared that simply making it to this bar would be a Herculean task.

I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to adjust the wig perched precariously on my head. I’d opted for a lazy Halloween costume—a half-hearted Cher from *Clueless*. The yellow plaid blazer was a thrift store find, the skirt a serendipitous discovery. But the wig made me look more like a grotesque caricature than a character. Frustrated, I yanked it off and tossed it onto the floor. I’d have to go without it.

Yawning, I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse back into bed. My cab was on its way, and I had to be ready. I gathered my essentials—purse, house keys, phone, and a spare outfit—preparing for a night that could very well be my last. I steeled myself for the confrontation, even if it felt like a hopeless, losing battle.

My daily struggle with myself had turned into a monotonous grind. My feigned illness had kept Hoseok at a distance, but it had only given me more time to spiral into despair over his influence. My mind was a battleground, where fragments of my past life clashed with the twisted desires he’d implanted in me. Every morning, I awoke to a gnawing need, a desperate craving for him that left me feeling sullied and repulsed.

I stepped outside and drew a shaky breath of the crisp night air. Calling my brother was both a comfort and a torment. There was a chance this could be the last time I spoke to him, and the thought tightened my chest like a vise. I fought back tears as I dialed his number.

“Hello?” Miles answered, his voice warm and familiar.

“Hey,” I forced a cheerful tone, though it felt hollow. “Still out Trick-or-Treating?”

“We just got back,” he said. “Rory wants to talk to you.”

My heart ached at the sound of my niece’s voice. “Hi, Auntie,” she said, her voice sweet as ever. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby,” I sniffled, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah!” Aurora’s excitement was a bright spot in my darkness. “I was Katerina, mommy was Miss Elaina, and daddy was Daniel Tiger.”

“That sounds amazing,” I wiped away my tears. “What about your baby brother?”

Aurora’s voice took on a scolding tone. “His name is Corbin, Auntie,” she said as though I should have known better. “He’s still in mommy’s belly, so he wasn’t anything. Mommy’s giving him candy.”

I laughed, though it was tinged with sadness. “How’s your mommy?”

“She says ‘Hi,’” Aurora replied. “We got the best candy! A lady was giving out big Starbursts. Daddy’s letting me have all the pink ones because I’m special.”

“You are special, sweet girl.”

A painful thought intruded—would Hoseok make them forget me if I asked him? The idea was almost too agonizing to bear. He’d kept me alive for five years, a perverse form of flattery that I struggled to appreciate. My self-loathing deepened as I thought about the life I was about to leave behind.

“Daddy says I have to go,” Aurora pouted. “Bye, Auntie.”

“Bye, Rory girl,” I choked out, my voice cracking as the tears welled up. “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Aurora’s sweet voice drifted through the line, a beacon of innocence in my storm of dread.

I gasped, the floodgates opening as I fought to keep my composure. “Impossible,” I managed to whisper, my throat tight with sorrow.

“Why?” she giggled, her innocent curiosity slicing through my resolve.

“Because,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “I love you more than the world.”

Aurora’s laughter began to fade as she handed the phone back to Miles. The sound of her giggles and her mother’s laughter echoed in the background, a cruel reminder of the life I was about to lose. My heart clenched painfully at the thought of never hearing those sounds again.

“What’s up, sissy?” Miles asked, his tone tinged with concern.

“I was just heading out,” I said, forcing a tremulous cheerfulness into my voice. “Thought I’d call before my cab gets here. I’m leaving a little early.”

There was a heavy pause on the other end, a silence that spoke louder than words.

“Everything okay, Y/N? You sound upset.”

“No, no,” I hurried to reassure him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing. “Just tired. You know how it is.”

“You sure?” Miles pressed, his concern palpable. He was always too perceptive for his own good, but he never pushed too hard. I hoped he wouldn’t miss me too much.

“I’m positive, Bubba,” I said, my eyes darting to the cab pulling up to the curb. “My ride’s here. I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Call me later?”

“I’ll try to remember in the morning,” I said, attempting to sound upbeat despite the crushing weight in my chest. “I know it’s late for you guys.”

I closed my phone with shaking hands and stuffed it into my purse, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. The cab driver approached, his face a blur through my tears.

“Where to?” he asked, his voice a lifeline in the growing storm of my fear.

“1st and East 54th in the Diamond District,” I replied, offering a weak, strained smile.

“Dauphine?” The driver’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror, a hint of something unsettling in his gaze. “Ever been there before?”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to steady my breath. “I don’t remember it all that well. Guess I had too much fun last time.”

“Watch yourself,” the driver said, turning on the radio with a slow, deliberate movement. “That place is crawling with freaks.”

“Welcome to New York,” I muttered, more to myself than him.

He chuckled, his voice a touch too jovial. “Been here my whole life. My name’s Jimin. Call me if you need a getaway driver.”

The car rumbled with the low hum of R&B, Jimin fiddling with the radio as if trying to mask the creeping anxiety that gnawed at my insides. I mouthed the lyrics, trying to drown out the terror that threatened to consume me.

My thoughts were a twisted mess of fear and longing. The image of Hoseok, tainted by his manipulation, flickered through my mind. The desire to escape him was overpowered by the suffocating grip of my own confusion. Taehyung was my last, desperate hope—a fleeting chance at redemption. But deep down, a gnawing realization settled in I was already damned, teetering on the edge with no way back.

The mantra echoed relentlessly in my head: I miss him, love him, and need him…

I was spiraling, caught in a web of my own making, and the thought of facing what awaited me at Dauphine was almost too much to bear.

“We’re here,” Jimin's voice cut through the thick fog of dread that enveloped me.

“Thanks for the ride,” I muttered, my fingers trembling as I fumbled with the cash. I handed him a generous tip, a feeble attempt to cling to some semblance of normalcy.

The alleyway stretched before me, a grim path between the upscale buildings of the Diamond District. It looked less menacing than I’d imagined, but its familiarity offered no comfort. Dim street lamps cast weak pools of light that barely touched the encroaching darkness. I hoped—prayed—that Hoseok wasn’t already here. The fading daylight gave me just enough visibility to navigate, and the murmur of voices outside the bar was a small, shaky comfort. I clung to the hope that these voices belonged to ordinary people, potential witnesses if I needed to make a quick escape.

As I approached, the group of people outside fell silent. My stomach churned violently, and bile rose in my throat, threatening to spill. I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face them; their gaze was almost a physical presence, making my skin crawl even though I never looked directly at them. A low, sinister snicker from one of them sent a shiver down my spine, amplifying my fear. I hadn’t even seen their faces, yet their mere presence was enough to make me quake.

The bouncer at the gate eyed me with a scrutinizing glare.

“Password,” he demanded, his voice flat and unyielding.

“I-” I stammered, my mind racing to recall the password Hoseok had given me. “Audubon.”

The gate creaked open, and I slipped past the security guard, my heart pounding like a drum. Despite my nervous bravado, the bouncer’s indifference did little to soothe me. Once inside, I felt a fleeting sense of relief, escaping the unsettling stares.

I gripped my bag tightly, knuckles white, and started searching for the bar. The interior was starkly underwhelming—plush couches and private booths scattered haphazardly, with red neon signs pointing to the restrooms. The oppressive red and black color scheme was heavy, but thankfully devoid of any overtly horrific scenes. I had no desire for strobe lights or dance floors; the thought of walking into a trap was more than enough to keep me on edge.

Navigating through the dimly lit space, I felt like I was moving through a maze. The long hallway ahead seemed to stretch into an abyss, the darkness intensifying with each step. The oppressive gloom and the eerie silence made my nerves jangle. The jazz music that had been softly playing in the background had faded, leaving me in a disquieting void.

At the end of the hall, the emptiness was almost a relief. The silence was oppressive but meant I wasn’t walking into a room full of hostile eyes. Perhaps this was how I’d met Bootsy—wandering aimlessly until she had found me and guided me out.

The bar seemed to stretch on forever, an architectural labyrinth that added to my growing sense of dread. I held my breath as the walls seemed to close in, my anxiety a tangible weight pressing against my chest. The high ceilings and claustrophobic spaces combined to create a sensation of being trapped. My heels clicked sharply against the linoleum, the sound echoing eerily in the silence. The place felt more like a mausoleum than a bar. Every step heightened my unease, and the hairs on my neck stood on end as I glanced around, trying to ignore the creeping terror that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice trembling as it cut through the oppressive silence. “Is anybody here?”

The sudden sound of a voice behind me made me jump, my heart racing as I spun around with a gasp that morphed into a shriek. My balance faltered, and I slammed into the wall, scraping my arm against the rough surface. The sharp sting of pain was immediate and searing. I clutched my injured arm, the pain and the shock making my vision blur. I turned to face the figure who had startled me.

He stood there, his white button-down shirt contrasting sharply with the dim surroundings. His tall, lean frame was framed by broad shoulders, and his long fingers seemed to move with an effortless grace. But it was his smile that made my blood run cold—a wide, boxy grin that stretched unnaturally across his face, his eyes glinting with a mischievous, unsettling light.

“My apologies,” he said, his voice dripping with a smooth, honeyed tone. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

I glared at him, struggling to steady my breathing and regain my composure. “It’s fine. It didn’t kill me, did it?”

He chuckled softly; a sound that felt more sinister than soothing. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his gaze dropping to my arm.

I looked down and saw blood seeping through a tear in my blazer. The sight of my own blood was like a cruel reminder of my vulnerability. The pain, combined with the sight of my blood, pushed me to the edge. My hands shook as I raised them to my face, tears welling up uncontrollably. The enormity of my situation crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Everything felt chaotic; my life had been turned upside down, and the relentless pounding in my head was unbearable. I should have stayed home. At least Hoseok’s presence, while twisted, had been a semblance of comfort.

The despair was suffocating.

“Are you okay, sha?” His voice was soft, but his touch on my arm was disconcertingly gentle.

I laughed, a hollow, despairing sound. “Does it look like it?”

“No, you look upset,” he replied, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mixture of sympathy and amusement.

“You don’t say?” I snapped, rolling my eyes and jerking my arm away from his touch.

Despite my evident distress, he remained unnervingly calm, his smile lingering like a dark shadow. His pleasure at my discomfort was unsettling, and the aura around him felt eerily similar to the disquieting presence of those outside. His attractiveness was overshadowed by a deeply disturbing quality that made me want to flee. It was as if fear had paralyzed me, pinning me in place.

Suddenly, a chilling realization hit me. As I forced myself to examine his face more closely, I recognized him from the shadows of my past. He was strikingly beautiful in a haunting way, like Bootsy. His pale skin was almost luminescent, and his eyes, once hidden in the darkness, now revealed flecks of red that seemed to glow with a menacing, otherworldly light. They were mesmerizing yet horrifying, a dangerous allure that made my skin crawl. The spell he cast was broken as quickly as it had begun, and I struggled to look him in the eye again.

“You’re looking for me, aren’t you?” His voice was a silky whisper that seemed to wrap around me, tightening with a sinister intent.

Embarrassed by my earlier outburst, I nodded slowly. My hope of finding help felt increasingly elusive as the night grew darker and more menacing. All I wanted was to escape, but the hope that things might improve clung stubbornly to me. Taehyung exuded a disorienting blend of warmth and menace, a mix of comfort and dread that left me feeling more lost than ever.

“I’m sorry for being snappy,” I said, my voice quivering as I wiped away a tear. “I don’t remember you all that well.” 

Or at all, my mind whispered in the encroaching darkness. The more I looked at him, the more I felt Hoseok’s oppressive influence tugging at my thoughts. Images of Hoseok’s touch, his voice, his eyes—each one flared in my mind with an insidious intensity. He misses you; he loves you, he needs you…

“Requiem was wrong,” Taehyung murmured, his fingers chillingly cold as they cradled my face. “You’re too far gone.”

“Who?” I managed to ask, my voice trembling and my head spinning. His touch was both numbing and intoxicating.

“Bootsy,” he cooed, his breath a mix of cotton and sweet pine needles. “She said you had a chance, but she was mistaken. My friend has already completed the bond.”

“W-what?” I whispered, dazed and confused. The throbbing ache in my head resonated with Taehyung’s presence. “What bond?”

“Maybe not,” he whispered, his proximity making my pulse race.

When his lips met mine, they were like ice, yet the jolt of electricity that surged through me made my knees buckle. His laughter was dark and twisted as he wrapped an arm around my waist, his tongue brushing against my lips. I mewled, clutching his shoulders as the electric sensation overwhelmed me. His groan sent shivers through my entire body, and the echo of Hoseok’s voice in my head was relentless. He misses you, he loves you, he needs you…

Suddenly, I shoved Taehyung away, gasping for air as a searing pain exploded in my head. It felt as if a sledgehammer had struck my temple. My vision swam, and I collapsed to my knees, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed uncontrollably.

“Poor child,” Taehyung crooned, kneeling beside me. His scent, soothing yet oddly comforting, did little to ease the tremors wracking my body. “I’m so sorry, but I cannot help you.”

“I’m going to die,” I sobbed, my voice cracking under the weight of my despair.

“Yes,” he said calmly. “The pain will lessen once you accept it; accept him.”

“What does he want?” I managed to choke out.

“Can’t you see?” Taehyung’s eyes glittered ominously in the dim light. “He believes he’s in love with you. It’s a pity, really. I want nothing more than to keep you, but I can’t risk angering him. He would destroy Requiem for revealing his secrets; she is my most cherished friend. Do you understand?”

Numbly, I nodded. I’m going to die. I miss him. I’m going to die. He loves you. I’m going to die. I need him. I’m going to die. I love him. He needs you. I’m—

“Your eyes look just like his,” Taehyung marveled, his gaze softening. “He’s bound to you in a way I’ve never seen before.”

As I stared at Taehyung, my vision began to blur, and the voices in my head whispered louder in the dark corners of my mind. Their weight pressed down on me, my eyes rolling back until all I could see was a void. When I came to, I was horrified to find vomit splattered across Taehyung’s pristine white shirt. His expression twisted in horror and pain as he watched me unravel.

A dark, malevolent presence loomed near, its acrid stench of soot and kerosene overwhelming my senses. My head throbbed as if it had been cleaved in two, and a grotesque, pecking sensation gnawed at my exposed, vulnerable insides. Taehyung’s icy touch against my rigid form offered little comfort as I lay helpless against his chest, terror seeping in with every passing second.

“There’s my girl!” Hoseok’s voice cut through the haze of despair, and just like that, the pain evaporated.

I exhaled, sinking into Taehyung’s embrace. His body felt like ice against my fevered skin, a chilling contrast that brought an unexpected relief. His cool fingers traced my scalp, their touch a soothing balm amidst the chaos.

“I hope you understand Bootsy’s decision,” Taehyung’s voice was as cold as his touch, carrying a weight of finality. “She thought you were still playing games. But she was wrong.”

A deep, resonant rumble filled the space, and Hoseok’s voice emerged from the darkness like a spectral echo.

“Requiem has every right to her judgment,” Hoseok said, his voice a smooth caress laced with menace. “If it were anyone else, I might not care. But Y/N’s suffering is a consequence of her meddling. I had hoped to keep her alive.”

“Why?” I croaked, the question barely escaping my lips.

“You’re my special girl,” Hoseok purred, his voice dripping with a twisted, cruel fondness. “So innocent, so malleable. You’re perfect.”

A strange calm enveloped me as I lay against Taehyung, the tumult of emotions and pain fading to a low murmur. Hoseok’s presence hung over me like a dark, oppressive cloud, his words a cruel mockery of the comfort I desperately sought.

Taehyung’s fingers moved through my hair with a cold, almost clinical precision. “You’ve been chosen,” he said softly, his voice carrying an unsettling calm. “It’s a rare bond that neither Bootsy nor I can undo. I wish there was something more I could do for you.”

My vision blurred, shadows of past anguish swirling around me. Hoseok’s voice echoed in my mind, a haunting lullaby that twisted my insides. “You’re mine, Y/N. No matter how you struggle, you are woven into my essence.”

The room seemed to constrict, the walls inching inward, shadows elongating and darkening. A biting chill settled over the space, the whispers of the damned intertwining with my deepest fears. I could almost see their forms, spectral and menacing, reaching out from the darkness.

I struggled to my feet, the world spinning dizzily around me. My head throbbed with a relentless ache, my heart pounding like a trapped bird. I stumbled away from Taehyung’s unnervingly composed presence, my eyes darting frantically for any sign of escape or salvation.

“Y/N,” Hoseok’s voice was a dissonant blend of soothing and threatening. “Don’t run from me. You belong here, with me.”

My breath came in ragged gasps, the overwhelming urge to flee battling with a stubborn thread of hope tangled in my despair. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, clinging to the faintest possibility of survival amidst the encroaching darkness.

I turned to Taehyung, my gaze pleading, desperate. “Is there no way out? Is there any hope left?”

Taehyung’s expression softened with a mixture of pity and sorrow. “Try to enjoy your final moments.”

Footsteps echoed ominously down the corridor, each step deliberate and foreboding. My heart leaped as a figure emerged from the gloom. Bootsy. Her presence was both a flicker of reassurance and a shadow of dread.

“I’m sorry,” Bootsy’s voice was a murmur of regret in the darkness.

I looked at her, then back at Taehyung, and finally at the encroaching shadows that seemed to reach out with a ravenous hunger. The weight of the choice, of my impending doom, pressed heavily on my chest, threatening to crush me under its gravity.

With a shuddering breath, I steeled myself. “I can’t let this happen to me,” I said, my voice trembling but resolute. “I don’t want this.”

The room seemed to hold its breath, the darkness thickening. Hoseok’s laughter echoed through the void, a low, mocking sound that sent icy shivers down my spine. “Of course you do. You wouldn’t be writhing on the floor if you didn’t.”

The shadows deepened, the walls closing in as if reality itself was warping to ensnare me. A cold grip tightened around my soul, a force dragging me back into the abyss I had fought so hard to escape. An aching chill settled below my diaphragm, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My head spun again, his voice a soft whisper in the recesses of my mind. I miss you. I love you. I need you…

Don’t leave me.

Taehyung’s expression hardened into one of grim resignation. “You’re already bound to him. The bond is too strong.”

As I fought against the invisible chains tightening around me, the futility of my struggle became all too apparent. The darkness swallowed me whole, dragging me back into the depths I had desperately tried to escape.

“Please,” I whispered into the void, but the darkness consumed my plea. “Please, no.”

Hoseok’s voice filled the void, smooth and victorious. “Welcome home, darling.”

The last glimmers of light vanished, leaving me in an eternal night, a prisoner of my own choices and the dark forces that had ensnared me. My mind fractured under the weight of the consuming darkness, and as the final remnants of my resistance crumbled, I faced the harrowing truth.

There was no salvation. No escape. Only the endless, consuming dark.

And in that darkness, I was utterly, irrevocably alone.

I don’t know how long I’ve been trapped in this suffocating darkness—hours, days, months, or maybe even years. Time has become an abstract concept here, slipping through my grasp like the thin veil of reality that separates me from the void. The only link to the world beyond this prison is Hoseok, a ghostly presence who appears with a gleam in his eyes that chills me to the bone. His voice, carrying the weight of a thousand tortured souls, always asks the same haunting question: How are you feeling?

We were never friends. Each passing day has sharpened my memories into a cruel clarity. I don’t know where my physical body is—doubtful it’s anywhere near this place. The ink and paper I use to write materialize out of nowhere whenever I need them, appearing and disappearing like phantoms in my disturbed mind. This place defies all logic and reason.

Initially, I fought Hoseok with every ounce of my being. Each refusal brought excruciating pain that felt like it would tear me apart. My screams echoed back at me from the oppressive void, unanswered and ignored. Hoseok would slip into the darkness with a silent, predatory grace, his hot hands roaming over my shivering body before I even knew he was there. I would scramble away, howling and begging him to take me home, but he always left without a word.

Eventually, I gave up the fight. I accepted that escape was impossible, even though my soul still ached for my old life. The pain eased only when I surrendered, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent. They were filled with idle chatter about his plans for me. I learned he was a demon, and I was destined to become one too. The possession would erase most of who I once was, but when I awoke, we would be forever linked as master and shade. My freedom would only come after I took my first human life, but that day seemed impossibly distant. Hoseok savored every bite of my soul with a mournful delight.

What I felt for Hoseok wasn’t love—it was an obsession, a malignant force that had seeped into every corner of my being. “A natural reaction of a shade to its master,” he said. I was bound to him, and escape was nothing but a cruel illusion.

The first signs of my unraveling appeared when Hoseok vanished for days on end. In the infinite darkness, where time had no meaning, his absence was a torment of its own. Despite his power to bend reality, he chose to leave me here, dependent on his presence for any sign of change. I began talking to myself, my voice the only sound in the oppressive silence. I spoke for hours, my throat raw and hoarse from the effort, desperately trying to fend off the encroaching madness.

I felt like an addict in withdrawal. I don’t recall when hallucinations began, but soon I was conversing with a phantom chorus of voices. Deep down, I knew it was Hoseok orchestrating these illusions, but my fractured mind twisted reality into something I could barely comprehend. My hatred for him only served to cloud my already distorted perception.

As time dragged on, I grew weary. My speech turned into riddles, convinced I was a prophet receiving divine revelations. Raised Catholic, I had long drifted from faith, but the darkness reignited an obsession with God. I clung desperately to fragmented Bible verses. Hoseok, ever the manipulator, provided me with a Bible. If I weren’t so far gone, I might have questioned his uncanny ability to fulfill my twisted needs.

When I told Hoseok about my religious background, he laughed, and the darkness morphed into a cathedral. For the first time, there was something tangible to focus on during his absences. It was both a prison and a gift. The pews were filled with spectral congregants, and every day became Sunday. I feverishly wrote sermons, warning of the apocalypse. Hoseok attended with a devotion bordering on reverence, but he always left too soon.

The withdrawal pangs paralyzed me, but incessant talking kept the crushing loneliness at bay. I remember the first encounter after becoming accustomed to this madness. My body trembled with need, yet my mind remained alert. Each denial of release brought physical agony, and Hoseok’s visits grew more frequent and prolonged. My breakdown was inevitable.

On the day of my final descent, I felt his presence before I saw him. My struggle had reached its nadir. Despite my lingering hope for escape, Hoseok’s presence shattered my resolve. I became an all-too-willing participant in his dark designs. Even now, as I lie prostrate in my despair, I can’t escape the haunting reality of my existence.

The words of the prayer rolled off my tongue like a ghostly murmur in the dim, solemn church. Each syllable was a desperate plea, a sacrament of my crumbling faith:

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.”

“Body of Christ, save me.”

“Blood of Christ, inebriate me.”

This prayer was a twisted sacrament, a litany of sacred pleas that felt increasingly like cries into the void.

“Water from Christ’s side, wash me.”

“Passion of Christ, strengthen me.”

“O good Jesus, hear me.”

I bowed my head, eyes squeezed shut like a child hiding from monsters under the bed. My hands gripped tightly in a futile attempt to hold onto my sanity. I prayed not just for absolution but for a distraction, for him to stay away, for the sinful thoughts to dissipate like smoke in the sun.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, spectral and insistent, urging me to rise, to accept, to finally bend to its will.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself to the pulpit, my legs trembling. I focused on the Gospel before me, the rhythm of my breath, the rehearsed words of today’s homily. I could hear murmurs of anticipation swelling in the pews, bouncing off the stone walls like echoes of forgotten promises.

Did they know? Did they sense the darkness creeping into my soul?

To be honest, I was unsure if anyone was really there or if my mind was playing tricks on me. This place had a maddening ability to distort my perception. I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, offering a fleeting smile to the choir’s children—figments of my fractured mind. Their eyes, hungry for guidance, believed in my wisdom, though I felt utterly unworthy. Their gaze was a reflection of my own inner torment.

My eyes locked on a figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat, as I beheld him. Jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—an irreverent defiance slicing through the sanctity of the church. His gaze was a burning, unholy fire that cut through the darkness with unnerving clarity.

In that moment, the last vestiges of my sanity crumbled, leaving me exposed to the consuming darkness that had become my prison.

I steadied myself, nodding to the organ player, and offered a fleeting smile to the choir’s children, who I no longer believed were real. My gaze wandered over the congregation, each face a testament to a faith I felt unworthy of. Their eyes, brimming with expectation, seemed to pierce through me, demanding guidance I could no longer provide. I questioned my own sanity, wondering if anyone in that room could see how profoundly empty I felt.

I once had everything figured out. Before this… before him.

My eyes locked on a single figure in the front row, right side, five seats in. My breath hitched, caught in my throat. There he was: jeans, t-shirt, leather jacket—a casual defiance that sliced through the church’s sanctity like a blade. His legs were crossed, hands poised by his sides, eyes ablaze with a fire that seemed to burn straight through my composure.

No holy book in his hands, no righteous smile on his lips—just an unspoken, rebellious challenge. His presence was a magnetism that pulled me toward a pit of temptation and sin. I forgot my sermon. I forgot the vows and promises etched into my soul. The solemn pledges made to men of faith and to God. Promises I had written daily to stave off the creeping insanity.

Those promises now felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by him. His eyes, his lips, his rebellious aura—an inferno of forbidden heat that ignited a longing I could no longer contain. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to escape the searing image of him. Abs, legs, an all-consuming heat that seemed to draw me into its vortex.

When I opened my eyes again, the fire remained. A cough from the crowd jolted me back to the present. I tugged at my collar, the symbol of my childhood and a cruel gift from Hoseok. It used to offer comfort, a sign of belonging, but now it felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

The faces of the congregation were a sea of silent, unspoken questions. Their eyes bored into me, filled with unvoiced suspicions and judgments.

Shit.

My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the pulpit, trying to anchor myself amidst the spiraling chaos. The eyes of the congregation felt like spectral judgments, each one a reminder of my spiraling failure. Hoseok’s presence, fixed in my peripheral vision, was a constant, unsettling pull—a dark promise of chaos just beyond the edge of reason. It pressed heavily on my chest, a suffocating weight threatening to collapse my fragile sanity.

I forced my gaze back to the Gospel, attempting to focus on the familiar lines of scripture, hoping they would restore my fractured resolve. But the words on the page blurred and twisted, tangled in the storm raging inside my head. Each verse felt like wading through molasses, and a bead of sweat trickled down my temple, mingling with the cold sweat already gathering at the base of my neck. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control, but the sound emerged as a strangled rasp.

The whispers grew louder, like rustling wings pressing against the walls of my sanity. My heart pounded like a funeral drum, each beat a reminder of my mounting desperation. I could almost hear the devil’s laughter, mocking my feeble attempts to maintain a façade of righteousness.

Hoseok’s gaze was unwavering, a predator’s gaze that seemed to sear through my composure. His movements were fluid, deliberate—like a hunter preparing to strike. My mind raced, desperately searching for an escape from this hellish vortex. I glanced at the crucifix behind me, its hollow eyes and outstretched arms now a pitifully inadequate shield against the encroaching darkness. The sacred symbol that once offered solace now seemed like a cruel joke, highlighting how far I had strayed from purity.

The murmurs of the congregation grew insistent, a chorus of impatient whispers that echoed like an unholy chant. The church, once a sanctuary, now closed in around me, its weight suffocating. I took a deep breath, summoning the last remnants of my willpower. I forced myself to meet Hoseok’s gaze again, confronting the fiery rebellion in his eyes. He offered no sympathy, only a silent taunt that echoed my own guilt.

With a trembling hand, I reached for the microphone. My voice cracked as I began to speak, the words spilling out in a disjointed stream. I struggled to reclaim my authority, but with each passing moment, my grip on sanity slipped further. The congregation’s expressions shifted from curiosity to concern, then to alarm. Their faith faltered under the weight of my unraveling composure.

Hoseok’s gaze remained fixed, a dark star in a sea of light, drawing me inexorably towards his gravitational pull. My voice faltered, becoming increasingly erratic, reflecting the chaos within. The church fell into a tense silence, broken only by the rustling of the congregation’s uneasy shifting. I felt every eye on me, their silent judgment a palpable force.

My final words came out as a barely coherent murmur, a defeated whisper lost in the oppressive silence. I stumbled away from the pulpit, my mind a tempest of confusion and dread. As I retreated from the glaring scrutiny of the congregation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was stumbling towards some dark, inevitable reckoning. Hoseok’s gaze followed me, a constant, unsettling presence as I fled the sanctuary.

I collapsed into the shadows behind the altar, my breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed through the oppressive silence of the church. The darkness around me felt like a living entity, wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, threatening to suffocate me. Hoseok's eyes lingered in my mind, their haunting intensity a constant reminder of the sin and torment that had become my existence. The certainty of my spiraling downfall felt inescapable, and every breath I took seemed to deepen my dread.

The pews had emptied in an instant, leaving the room cloaked in a suffocating silence. My heart pounded as I watched Hoseok move toward me. The man before me was no longer the mortal guise he had once worn; his true form emerged, dark and unnervingly compelling. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now burned with a shadowed hunger that quickened my pulse with a mix of terror and something I couldn’t quite name.

“Y/N.” His voice, soft and reverent, seemed to carry a sacramental weight that sent an icy shiver down my spine. There was a truth hidden in those syllables, a meaning only he understood. As his nearness intensified, confusion and fear danced across my features. His calm, deliberate hand cradled my cheek, the touch both tender and overwhelming. The heat of my skin seemed to beckon to him, an invitation that terrified and enthralled me simultaneously.

"You're so lovely," he whispered, his voice a gentle murmur that barely masked the wild intensity in his eyes. His touch guided me backward with a grace that felt almost otherworldly. The church seemed to dissolve around us, melting away into a space that was unsettlingly familiar—a fragment of my life from New York. The red brick of the two-story house brought a strange, bittersweet comfort, like a fragment of a life I had once known. It calmed my racing heart with its eerie familiarity. He led me to the front door, his touch both comforting and possessive.

The lock yielded effortlessly, and as we crossed the threshold, the gravity of the situation settled like a stone in my stomach. The house, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in with a menacing intimacy. 

"So perfectly lovely," he murmured again as he closed the door behind us. I stumbled back, my nerves crackling with an unsettling energy. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was something darker and more confusing. A part of me ached for normalcy, for escape, while another part was drawn to him with a desperate, confusing need. The line between terror and an inexplicable, forbidden desire blurred beyond recognition. I clung to the last shreds of my sanity, even as I felt myself unraveling under the weight of my own conflicted emotions.

"Why are we here?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of breathlessness and an unspoken longing. My heart pounded with a confusing blend of fear and desire. It was as if clarity had returned to me for a fleeting moment, yet I was still tethered to the confusion Hoseok had woven into my days. His promises of relief had begun to erode the pain, even as they wrapped around me like a vice. I remembered the dreams he'd planted in my mind, their seductive whispers blurring my sense of reality.

"I thought you might feel more at ease here," he said softly, his tone smooth and soothing as he followed me through the cluttered living room. Each backward step I took seemed to draw him closer, his presence an inescapable shadow. "Do you like it?"

I hesitated, glancing around at the artifacts of my past—family photos, treasured mementos, relics of a life that now felt so distant. The room was a museum of a future slipping away from me, and Hoseok's eyes seemed intent on taking it all. "Yes, I do," I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. The room, once a sanctuary of normalcy, now felt like a stage for his dark play.

"I'd like a drink," I said, placing a hand over my racing heart. I clung to the pretense of normalcy, desperate to maintain some semblance of control. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a flicker of my old self. "Is there anything here? Surely you would... like one... as well."

Hoseok, having long since discarded any pretense of humanity, closed the distance between us with unsettling swiftness. His movements were almost too fluid, his presence too intense. His hands, warm and steady, framed my face with a possessive grace, his gaze fixed on the pulse in my neck, the rich, inviting blood beneath my skin.

"Oh, Y/N, my sweet, innocent little lamb." His voice, a velvety murmur, sent a shiver down my spine. His touch, trailing down to my neck, felt both magnetic and maddening. His eyes lingered on my flesh with a hunger that was almost palpable, a craving that seemed to consume him as much as it did me.

I trembled in his embrace, my conflicting desires mirrored in his touch. A soft moan escaped my lips, my breath warm and trembling with a heady mix of fear and desire. His smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes as he encircled my waist, his touch moving possessively lower, tracing the curve of my hips and thighs. The tension between fight and flight heightened the charged atmosphere, leaving me both desperate and disoriented.

His eyes traced the flush of my lips, a reflection of the flush between my legs. The scent of my arousal mingled with my anxious heartbeat, a call to the beast inside him. His senses seemed overwhelmed by the promise of my warmth, the floral sweetness of my skin, and the earthy musk of my desire.

"You don't want... a drink?" I stammered, struggling to grasp the situation, to find a shred of reason amid the chaos of my emotions.

"Oh yes, Y/N. I very much desire a... drink." His smile was amused, his lips hovering just above mine. The taste of his breath, mingling with his tantalizing scent, sparked a deep, primal hunger within me. I was alive with all these unfulfilled needs, caught between an overwhelming desire and a paralyzing fear.

I inhaled shakily, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. "What... would you like?" The question was a desperate plea for clarity, a tenuous grasp at the last vestiges of control in a world that had become a tumultuous blur of lust and dread.

A low laugh rumbled in Hoseok’s throat as he brushed his lips over mine, savoring the teasing trace of my flavor. "I want you, Y/N. I want to drink you." His honesty was laced with a raw, consuming need, a plea that mirrored the chaotic mix of longing and fear surging through me. It was clear he had no intention of letting me escape—not now. His tongue traced the corners of my mouth, and his body pressed against mine, making his heat seep through every layer of fabric that separated us.

I trembled, caught in a storm of conflicting emotions. The scents of my home—the cheap cotton sheets, synthetic pillows, and lingering traces of my perfume—led him with a haunting familiarity. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me with a purposeful stride, and placed me gently at the foot of my bed. The moonlight offered only a weak shield against the encroaching darkness that seemed to swallow us whole.

My heart raced, feeling like a delicate butterfly trapped in a predatory web. As he dropped his coat to the floor and drew me into a deep kiss, my earlier uncertainty dissolved into a raw, electric need. Each touch of his fingers against my body made me shiver, a mix of anticipation and dread coiling tightly within me.

The bed was unmade, its disarray a silent testament to my disordered state. His scent lingered in the tangled sheets and blankets as he lowered me onto them. My sweat-dampened palms gripped his hair, my fingers exploring the nape of his neck and shoulders. The buttons on his shirt came undone beneath my trembling hands, my desire growing bolder despite the icy grip of fear that clenched at my chest. His groan as his teeth grazed my throat made me arch my hips, pressing closer, driven by a need I couldn't fully understand.

My clothes fell away under his hands, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. His eyes devoured every curve of my body, his gaze as palpable as his touch. His mouth descended on mine, hungry and insatiable, and I was enveloped by him, lost in a swirling tempest of our shared desire. His touch became a language, one that read my body with an intimate knowledge I was helpless to resist.

As he explored my secret places, my soft sighs turned into desperate pleas. His searing touch brought goosebumps to my skin, but I pressed closer, overwhelmed by the pleasure he was giving me. I was caught between wanting more and the creeping dread of losing myself entirely.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice a dark promise. "I want to consume you." His words were a growl, a warning wrapped in seductive desire.

"Yes, I want you to. Do it. Take me," I panted, clutching at his shirt sleeve. My body spoke louder than words, arching upwards in desperate need. I knew I didn't fully understand what I was asking for, but the awareness was drowned out by the intensity of my longing.

His hands covered my breasts, his fingers finding my nipples. I gasped, pushing closer as his mouth found each tip, his low growl sending shivers through me. My heart raced beneath his lips, the rush of blood whispering of more delights to come. I arched again, my body twisting off the bed, craving more.

His mouth sucked at my nipple, his tongue flicking to heighten my pleasure. His thigh pressed between mine, the fabric of his jeans rasping over my nakedness, igniting a desperate heat. I moaned and bucked against him, my fingers digging into his arms as I convulsed beneath him, reaching the peak of my desire. The exhilaration of the moment was punctuated by the fear that clawed at the edges of my consciousness, a persistent reminder that I was teetering on the brink of something both irresistible and terrifying.

The climax left me gasping, trembling, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and overwhelming need. Each wave of pleasure only heightened my fear, and my body’s reaction seemed to betray my mind's desperate protests. His touch, relentless and insistent, found a rhythm that both seduced and terrified me. I cried out, unable to stop the sounds that escaped my lips, but a part of me wanted to resist.

I tried to pull away, my hand grasping his wrist with a frantic intensity. "What... what are you doing to me…?" My voice was a ragged whisper, trembling with a blend of confusion and fear.

He looked at me with a dark, hungry smile, his eyes alight with a dangerous fire. "Y/N, don’t lie to yourself," he said softly, his fingers curling in ways that made my body shudder. "You’re not overwhelmed. Your body is telling me you want this. You’re close to coming again. I can feel it."

My protests dissolved into incoherent moans as his touch stimulated a spot deep within me. The pleasure was a cruel paradox, blurring the line between ecstasy and dread. I could barely think, my mind clouded by the intensity of his actions.

"No, Hoseok, it’s too much," I whimpered, struggling to catch my breath. "I can’t..."

His mouth moved to mine, his lips teasing, his breath warm against my skin. "You’re a beautiful little liar," he murmured. "It’s not too much. You crave this. You know you do. Beg for it."

The force of his command broke through my haze of desire. "Please, Hoseok...," I gasped, my will crumbling under his dominance. My words felt like a betrayal, but I couldn’t stop myself from begging. "Please, just... take me."

His satisfaction was palpable, a dangerous hunger in his eyes. His touch grew more urgent, driving me to the brink of madness. I was lost in a maelstrom of sensation, my mind screaming to pull away, but my body’s response only seemed to draw him closer.

The moment of his thrust was jarring, a mix of pain and pleasure that overwhelmed me. My body reacted instinctively, my hips rising to meet him even as my mind struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. The intense pleasure was intermingled with a profound fear, a dread of losing myself completely.

His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as though he were chasing an elusive climax. I was limp in his arms, my breathing ragged, torn between an unbearable desire and an escalating terror.

Despite my growing fear, I clung to him, my hands fumbling for some semblance of control. My kisses were desperate, seeking to anchor myself amidst the chaos. His touch was relentless, and every stroke seemed to heighten the conflict within me.

He pressed closer, his hands exploring with a possessive intensity. My body’s reactions were at odds with my thoughts, creating a tumultuous storm of sensation and fear. My mind raced, grappling with the realization of what was happening, but the pleasure was so consuming that it blurred the line between consent and coercion.

As the moment approached, I felt his breath on my neck, a chilling reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his seductive veneer. The final act was a blur, my fear mingling with an overwhelming rush of sensation.

I was a walking paradox—caught between heaven and hell, life and death, sin and redemption. His presence was a fiery furnace, consuming me with the heat of stolen life he had been deprived of for so long. My body clenched around him, a pulsating rhythm that seemed to drive him to the edge of his sanity. His pleasure was overwhelming, a torrent of sensations that painted the world in a chaotic blaze of colors.

“Hoseok, please…” I whispered, my voice a fragile breath against the overpowering cacophony of sensations. I wasn’t sure if my plea was for him to stop or to continue, a desperate cry from a place deep within me that I couldn’t fully comprehend. My fear was a gnawing presence, clawing at the edges of my desire, but the confusion of what I wanted and what I was willing to accept blurred together.

His eyes were dark with a twisted satisfaction as he sensed the last of my climax and my blood draining from me. The thought of taking me to the brink of death both exhilarated and haunted him. His grip tightened, and with a guttural snarl, he pulled away from my neck, his fangs retracting with a mixture of frustration and reluctant restraint. The rush of his thirst roared inside him, but he forced himself to temper his need.

I was an indulgence he wouldn’t be denied again, a forbidden pleasure he was determined to claim. He gently laid me back on the disheveled sheets, my heartbeat weak and fluttering. He licked the last drops of blood from my skin, his breath ragged and uneven. Each touch was deliberate, sealing the wounds with a final, lingering caress—a practical necessity for a demon who wanted to savor every part of me.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice a low, dark promise that vibrated through my core. “You are mine, Y/N. From now until death claims you, until I claim you.” His breath was warm and heavy against my face. My eyelids fluttered, barely able to focus, but his words penetrated my haze. “If any other man dares to touch you, I will tear him apart. Remember this, my beautiful little lamb. Remember who you belong to.”

“Hoseok,” I murmured, my voice a faint echo of surrender. His satisfaction was palpable, a twisted delight in my obedience and submission. He rose and slipped out of the room, leaving me tangled in sheets and blankets. From across the street, hidden in the shadows, he watched and listened, his gaze a persistent weight on my fragile state.

As dawn’s first light crept through the blinds, it painted the room in a sickly, eerie glow. I lay amidst the tangled sheets, each twist revealing new bruises and bite marks—a grotesque map of the night’s events etched into my skin. The aftermath was a haunting blend of pleasure and torment, an unsettling reminder of what had transpired.

Hoseok’s presence lingered in the room like a shadow that refused to lift. The darkness he brought with him clung to the corners, an inescapable reminder of the nightmare I had just lived through. My mind, once a storm of fear and confusion, now spun in a twisted acceptance—a deranged serenity that felt as liberating as it was unsettling.

The door creaked open like the groan of an old house settling into its own despair. Hoseok reappeared, his eyes still gleaming with that predatory glow, but now softened by an unsettling tenderness. He moved towards me with a deliberate grace, each step imbued with a dark reverence that made my heart pound with a blend of fear and reluctant desire.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a low, seductive murmur that slithered across the room. “Do you understand now? You are mine, every inch of you.”

I looked up at him, my smile a grotesque reflection of the twisted contentment that had taken root in me. It was not a smile of joy or freedom but a shadowy acknowledgment of a reality I could no longer escape. My old life had withered into obscurity, replaced by the suffocating reality Hoseok had imposed upon me.

“Yes,” I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips. “I belong to you.”

The truth of my submission felt like a heavy, warm blanket, pressing down on me with an oppressive weight. Despite the enormity of what I had given up—my freedom, my chance to reclaim any semblance of my old life—there was an undeniable satisfaction in surrendering wholly to him. The pain and loss had twisted into a perverse form of fulfillment, filling the void in my chest with a dark semblance of love.

Hoseok’s smile widened, a dark curve that spoke of unyielding possession. He reached out, his hand caressing my cheek with a gentleness that clashed violently with the ferocity of his claim. The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with a palpable tension, as if the very walls bore witness to my surrender.

“You will never leave me,” he murmured, his eyes locked onto mine with an unbreakable determination. “You are mine, forever.”

I nodded, the movement small and almost imperceptible, but it was enough. It was a surrender, a relinquishment of my will to the dark force that was Hoseok. He pulled me into his arms, and I felt my resolve melt away, my body becoming a canvas for his power, intermingling with the strange warmth of our shared connection.

As his darkness enveloped me, I felt a disturbing sense of belonging. In the shadows of the night, under his control, my fears and desires tangled together, creating a new reality that was both terrifying and intoxicating. In that moment, I understood there was no turning back. I was his, bound in body and soul by the twisted threads of fate and desire.

Hoseok’s eyes softened as he pulled me close, his cold skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of my own body. His embrace was a strange sanctuary, a place where I felt both ensnared and cherished. My mind, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, had slipped into a state of blissful madness. In Hoseok’s dark embrace, I discovered a twisted joy that defied all rational thought.

“I’ve given you everything,” he murmured, his breath cold against my ear. “We are bound now, Y/N. Forever.”

His words were a chilling promise that resonated through the marrow of my bones, a haunting echo that left me trembling uncontrollably. I clung to him, my grip a mix of desperate need and profound terror, as a disturbing form of happiness took root in the darkest corners of my mind. The loss of my old life, the sacrifice of everything I had once held dear, seemed like a fevered dream compared to the unsettling contentment I felt in his arms.

As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted and writhed, I looked at Hoseok with a gaze that was both adoring and disturbingly fractured. The vibrant world I had once known had dissolved into a distant memory, replaced by a nightmarish existence defined by the twisted love and passion we shared. My heart swelled with a love so profound it overshadowed any lingering regret, even as my mind spiraled further into chaos.

Hoseok’s final words were a chilling promise wrapped in disturbing tenderness. “Remember, Y/N,” he whispered softly, his voice a ghostly caress in the dim light. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.”

As the door creaked shut behind him, the morning light seeping in like a reluctant witness, I was left enveloped in the oppressive embrace of the darkness we had forged together. My smile, twisted and unnatural, reflected the bizarre, unsettling happiness I had found in the abyss. I was forever bound to the night, my soul tangled in the shadows of Hoseok’s dark desires.

The room seemed to breathe with the remnants of his presence, each corner cloaked in an oppressive stillness that mirrored the void he had filled within me. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the cacophony of fragmented thoughts that raged in my mind. Now, there was only the echo of his words, the haunting promise of a future forever intertwined with his darkness.

I lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of our twisted union, my body marked by the evidence of his possession. Each bruise, each bite mark was a grotesque map of the new life I had been forced into. The pain was now a distant echo, overshadowed by the profound and disturbing contentment that gnawed at my chest—a contentment born of both surrender and madness.

As the minutes ticked by and the morning light grew stronger, I found myself replaying his final words in my mind, my thoughts fracturing with each repetition. “You are mine, in every sense—in your heart, in your mind, and in your soul.” The truth of those words reverberated through me like a haunting mantra, a binding contract signed with my very essence, even as my grip on reality slipped further away.

There was no turning back, no reclaiming the life I had once known. I was irrevocably his, a willing participant in the dark dance we had begun. The thought brought a grotesque smile to my lips, a smile that spoke of a happiness found in the shadows, a contentment born of surrender and madness.

At least, I wanted to believe it was madness alone that made me forget how afraid I was.

October 31, 2024

The house had become an enigmatic beast, its former guise of normalcy utterly transformed. From the street, it looked like any other home—silent and shadowy against the midnight sky. But within its walls, it was something else entirely. The shutters were clamped shut, keeping out any unwelcome glimmers of daylight. The curtains, heavy with dust, obscured the outside world, making everything inside a surreal, dreamlike blur.

Within this labyrinth of darkness, the house seemed like a twisted echo of a familiar nightmare. The air was thick with the mingling scents of old incense and stale dreams, creating a heavy, almost intoxicating atmosphere. Flickering candlelight cast eerie, jittery shadows that danced and twisted, as if mocking my attempts at normalcy. Silence pressed down on me, almost alive in its oppressive weight.

Days blurred into one another, each indistinguishable from the next in a fog of disorientation. Hoseok’s routines had become my own, though I couldn’t quite remember how or when they had taken over. My existence revolved around small tasks—cooking, cleaning, and performing acts of devotion—that had evolved into a kind of ritualistic pattern. It was as though each action was a silent offering to the enigmatic darkness that had enveloped our lives.

When I glanced in the mirror, the person staring back was a ghostly apparition of my former self. My face, serene to the point of being unsettling, bore a look of eerie contentment. I was a wraith, drifting through my days with a confusing mix of dread and satisfaction.

As night fell, the house came alive with an almost palpable energy. Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming, filling the space with his dark, commanding aura. His arrival was always marked by the ritualistic locking of doors, a subtle reminder of his control. The sensations of pleasure and pain that accompanied his touch had become a surreal symphony, a haunting reminder of the path I had chosen.

One particularly cold night, as the moonlight filtered through the grime-covered windows, Hoseok and I stood together, looking out into the void. The world outside was a distant blur, an irrelevant expanse that felt disconnected from my reality. The sky stretched above us, a vast, unyielding black, reflecting the emptiness of my existence. We were bound together by something primal and deep, though its true nature remained elusive.

Time inside these walls seemed to warp and distort. The house, once a symbol of normalcy, had turned into a crypt of our peculiar existence. The outside world had faded into obscurity, replaced by the certainty of Hoseok’s presence. I had found a strange form of happiness in this eternal night, where the terror of the outside world had been replaced by the dark, enveloping comfort of Hoseok’s embrace.

As I settled into my favorite worn leather chair, the house seemed to pulse with anticipation for Hoseok’s return. My knitting supplies were spread around me, with a scarf for Hoseok in progress. I hummed softly, my heart beating with a sense of calm and eager expectancy, as if I were awaiting a beloved dream to resume.

I replayed our last conversation in my mind, Hoseok’s words lingering like a haunting melody. “An old friend is coming for a visit,” he’d said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “She’s good at dealing with werewolves.”

I couldn’t suppress a bubbling laugh, the sound rising unbidden. “Isn’t she the one Namjoon’s obsessed with?”

His kiss on my temple had been darkly tender, sending shivers of pleasure through me. “Clever girl. It will be fun.”

I teased him playfully. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

His laughter resonated through me, sending a thrill down my spine. “When have I ever been nice, lamb?”

“Nice to me,” I’d replied, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Very, very nice.”

Settling back into the leather chair, the hearth’s flickering light casting long, shifting shadows, I resumed my knitting with a serene focus. Each stitch felt like a small act of devotion, a testament to my growing obsession. I hummed softly, my heart a silent witness to the peace I had found in this twisted, eternal night. The lines between fear and love, sanity and madness, had merged into a strange, intoxicating tapestry that I no longer fully understood.

Hoseok said I was perfect. His praise was a balm to my disoriented soul.

I smiled, pushing away any lingering doubts about my sanity. I was fine. I was perfect.

Pager Codes:

110 307 - Go To Bar

209 - On My Way

08 - OK

420 - You’re in trouble

3011 - Be Careful

221 - Where are you?

419 - I don’t understand

100 - Come Back

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[izzydrawsforfun]

Participating in this year's Alt ZaDr Week! Hope it's gonna be a fun one and can't wait to see everyone's creations ❤️ @alt-zadr-b1tch3z

I'll not be doing all the days tho! I am collabing with my big bitch best sis, @reynaruina and our dearest friend and the most responsible of the trio, @tardimaid xD Hope to see their submissions too!

For Day 01 - Anime, I picked up Black Butler as inspiration! The new season of the anime is airing out and it definetly inspired me.

Dib (20) is a member, and future heir, of the Membrane Family. A family of estimated scientists and fierce students... Dib, however, has a fascination with the Supernatural, and his biggest dream is to prove to his father, Professor Earl Membrane, that the creatures in his silly books are real. To prove his theory, he goes through the summoning of a Demon to be his servant, and his evidence of the Supernatural... His ritual does indeed, bring him a demon... A Demon that annoys him, as he doesn't resemble any of the demonic creatures in his books. How is he supposed to prove to his father that this butler was a Demon??

"Zim" (???) was the name given to said Demon, as a clear inspiration from one of Dib's favorite childhood toys. Zim showed up in the form of a weird out of worldly creature, with his most "real" form resembling that of a tall, green creature with huge eyes and antennae. Zim brought alongside him Gir: a Hell Hound that, once again, was a dissapointment to Dib. No way in HELL his father would be convinced his new Butler + plush dog toy were Demons.

Zim has been designed the mission to serve, protect and help Dib prove to his father that the Supernatural is real, and in return, he shall have Dib's soul... How is he gonna do this, though? Those humans in particular were filthy and nasty creatures with little to no sense of fear for creatures like him, and STILL... The Dib Human is fascinating to him.

[marymary-diva17]

My son my boy

loak x mom reader + sully family

Lo'ak sully had always felt like he was the black sheep of his family, or maybe his father less favorite child as she could never do anything the way his father and mother wanted. He was always messing up and will never be like his golden brother neteyam or his wonderful sisters. There were a little few that saw him for himself and one of them is you his mom, you knew your sons struggles and the times he tries to be the perfect son for his father and mom. He had always tried to be the perfect child for the clan and everyone else but it always seem to fail. As he had never did it the way they had wanted he was not up to their standards. This patterns of being called the less perfect child and freak will follow him into his teen years.

Y/n " Jake can we talk for moment"

Jake " yes my love I always will give up time for you"

y/n " thank you I need to talk with you about something important"

Jake " what is that about"

y/n " lo'ak we most talk about him" Jake soon looked and you and sighed heavily, this had gotten you attention.

y/n " look Jake I wish you will just hear hime out for a bit and understand him, verse looking down on him and down playing his actions"

Jake " his actions always lead to trouble or failure"

y/n " Jake he is your son"

Jake " well I'm being honest y/n that boy is nothing but trouble at times and dangerous, always dragging his siblings into dangers or trouble he nearly got neteyam killed twice and his sister kidnapped and hurt"

y/n " he means well you have to see that Jake"

Jake " well we are lucky enough his actions didn't get us and our clan kicked out after he put tsireya, aonung, and rotox lives in endanger for saying that outcast"

y/n " that so called outcast saved our sons life and is his spirt brother, and dear friend as well"

Jake " well if I dear son knew well he would listen to what tonowari and all these other oloeythans told him and saved away, from payakan because of him we nearly lost neteyam and many other lives as well ... because of him we all had to flee our homes and now the reef navi have lost their creatures and some of their homes"

y/n " Jake that our son you are speaking about like that, don't you hear yourself"

Jake " you don't understand we have to stop letting him get away with everything he does he bring shame to the family"

y/n "he bring shame to you but never to me"

Jake " I have no time to fight with you on this I have to meet up with neytiri, because we have more important stuff to do verse causing problems" Jake soon walked away from you and you were standing there mad, it was good that all the other kids were away at the moment.

later that day

tuk " mama mama"

y/n "tuk baby what the matter"

tuk " there trouble on the beach come on" tuk soon dragged you towards the beach where you saw lo'ak standing alone as everyone was looking at him.

y/n " lo'ak what happened" you ran to lo'ak aid and you were now looking at him.

lo'ak " hey mama"

ronal " that boy was caught with payakan once again out on the water"

y/n " yes I knew that he told me he was going to see payakan"

ronal " you knew of this behavior and actions and encourage it"

y/n " yes payakan is friendly and harmless his actions in the past shouldn't reflect him now"

tonowari " your son was seen with payakan and some other tulkun is seems, like he was trying to get payakan accepted again"

y/n " lo'ak"

lo'ak " well mama you said some people should be given a second chance, and I was hoping that will apply for payakan he shouldn't be hated forever"

y/n " oh lo'ak"

navi women " so it the mother fault not raising her son right"

y/n " my son mean no harm just hear him out and let him explain"

tonowari " that boy has done enough damage getting my daughter kidnapped by the demons, along with my sons hunted down as well nearly killed"

y/n " they all went to save payakan lo'ak was not going to let payakan be hunted down and saved him ... in the end payakan saved all the kdis lives"

ronal " that boy cares about no one she but himself he nearly got his brother killed twice I have been told, and he could of gotten more killed as well"

y/n " he a child he mean good"

jaek " enough"

lo'ak " if you all will listen to me for chance you will see payakan is good and fought for a good reason he, didnt mean to get anyone killed or hurt all those years ago"

Jake " I said enough" Jake was soon looking at you and lo'ak and he was mad.

Jake " enough both of you bringing shame upon me and neytiri, disrespecting everyone and their wishes"

y/n " Jake "

Jake " I said enough"

lo'ak " dad please you have to understand I was trying to help be like you a god warrior and leader"

neytiri " you are far from that boy I pray to eywa I don't have the mood to rip out the eyes of my youngest son"

y/n " you will not do that neytiri"

navi male " now I see the issue the boy mother allows him to be like this, because she as well lack discipline"

navi women 2 " the boy is like his mother there no lying their"

y/n " Jake and neytiri are you going to let them speak to our son like that, lo'ak if you son as well"

neytiri " he is your son I have my children neteyam, kiri, and tuk your son keeps on causing trouble nearly got mines killed all because he selfish"

lo'ak " mom I'm sorry I ..."

neytiri " no enough Jake will speak with you" neytiri soon turned around and walked away she was upset and mad.

Jake " I'm sorry everyone for my son behavior I will speak with him, and make sure this doesn't happen again I swear it"

tonowari " we will hold you onto those words Jake sully lets hope your son can see sense soon" soon everyone else had slowly started to leave Jake didn't say anything else he walked away shaking his head.

lo'ak " mama I"m sorry now I brought you into my mess"

y/n " it okay my son I'm proud of you my warrior" lo'ak soon smiled towards you the rest of the kids wish to come near, but were ushered away by kiri and ronal.

The next day

Jake " lo'ak will be extra task given to him by myself and the other olo'eythan to make up for his actions of yesterday and past months"

y/n " Jake that unfair he already has enough on his shoulder"

lo'ak " mama it okay dad spoke to me about it yesterday and I want to do it"

y/n "lo'ak"

neteyam " I will go with you baby bro and we can ask others to help"

Jake " no it will be out on the water and he will be doing it on his own"

y/n " Jake"

lo'ak " it will be okay mama I will be fine"

Jake " come on boy you will be leaving now and come one once it done"

lo'ak " yes sir" you ahd followed Jake and lo'ak outside towards where the others leaders are waiting, they were speaking with Jake and soon looked at lo'ak.

olo'eythan " your father spoke for you on us trusting you with this task and we hope you do all, and just maybe this will make up for what happened"

lo'ak " yes sir I will not let anyone down"

tonowari " I hope not"

Jake " lets get on with it"

y/n " lo'ak"

lo'ak " I will be okay mama no need to worry I will be home, I promise you everything will be okay and I will come home and make everyone proud"

y/n " okay just know you make me proud and if you see payakan tell me I say hello"

lo'ak " yes mama" you soon hugged lo'ak tightly fearing the worst but you soon let him go. Soon the other children had come to say goodbye to lo'ak along with neytiri and ronal.

neteyam " we will be wait to see you later baby brother

lo'ak " I know everything will be fine" soon lo'ak was gone on his IIu as you saw him getting smaller and smaller as, he was getting away from home.

Jake " he will be fine nothing bad will happen this plan will go well" before you could say anything else against your husband Jake was gone. You stood there watching hoping and praying that lo'ak will be okay and come home safe.

Later that day

y/n " the sun starting to set and he not home yet"

aonung " dont worry y/n lo'ak will be home soon it take all day"

y/n " thank you aonung"

neteyam "yes mom he will be home soon there no need to worry"

Jake " you are worrying again"

y/n " yes I'm why are you not he out there all alone"

Jake " he is safe he needs to do this alone he doesn't need his mom treating him like a baby, he safe out there the rda will not find him"

y/n " jake please can we send someone"

Jake " no yet he will be fine when it dark we will send someone to go find him, that finally no more fighting me on this" Jake soon stormed off the children had kept you busy, until night fall had come. You were alone in the house and were wondering where lo'ak was at right now. You soon walked towards the water hoping to see lo'ak, no one else was around gone in the village.

y/n " lo'ak ... lo'ak ... lo'ak" you soon heard a loud splash as it got your attention, you soon walked into the water hear the sound of IIu call but sound bad.

y/n " lo'ak ... lo'ak" you soon saw payakan but what made you panic the most was that there was someone laying on payakan back, it was lo'ak.

y/n " lo'ak" you scream you son name as your swam towards him soon getting towards his body, and it was bad it seem he was in a bad fight but you soon saw the RDA hook on his IIU.

y/n " no please no lo'ak"

lo'ak" m... m ... mama"

y/n " I'm here lo'ak I'm here"

lo'ak " m.. mama"

y/n " help someone help"

???? " mom what the matter ... lo'ak" you soon looked and saw neteyam with rotxo, aonung, and spider and all four boys looked horrified to see lo'ak in this type of state.

y/n " help me take hime to norm and max now and go tell the others"

the boys" ...."

y/n " now" you soon yelled and the boys soon went into action aonung and rotxo raced off while neteyam and spider helped you. You were carrying lo'ak body with neteyam helped toward norm and max while spider ran ahead.

norm " what happened"

y/n " he was caught be the RDA and hurt that what happened now we have to safe him"

max " take him into the tent we can save him" you and neteyam soon placed lo'ak on a mat on the bed, as norm and Max race to get everything they need at the moment.

neteyam " mama"

y/n " stay outside and keep watch okay" neteyam said nothing as him and spider looked scared about everything that was happening lo'ak looked bad he was more hurt then neteyam.

lo'ak " mama... mama"

y/n " hush kiddo it okay I'm her with uncle norm and max we are going to make you feel better" you had placed your hands on lo'ak comforting him while norm and max put IV in him along with other stuff. Neteyam had yelled out in pain as everything hurt so badly, it seems like he had broken bones, cuts and bruised on his body along with some burns as well.

lo'ak " mama is hurts"

y/n " I know baby I know just a few more and then we can see what the matter"

norm " lo'ak kid you are going to feel some pain for a bit"

lo'ak " yes sir" Max had sticked lo'ak with some more thing making the boy scream again.

Lo'ak " they found me mama ... I was with payakan and some other tulkun we tried to escape ... then fight but it didn't work mama I don't know if the others are okay to much happened"

y/n " hush now you need to save all the energy you have"

lo'ak " mama I'm sorry I let everyone down I didn't do well I...."

y/n " don't speak like that I'm prpud of you my son you did well" you had kissed lo'ak forehead, but he still in pain. It hurt you to see your kids in pain but now it hurt more as there was nothing you can do.

???? " lo'ak lo'ak"

neteyam " dad over here he in there with mama" soon Jake came into the room with neytiri behind them, both of them look horrified to see Jake. They were soon followed by the other sully kids and tonowari kids as well.

kiri " lo'ak"

Jake " kids go wait outside"

neteyam " but dad"

y/n " everyone stop please we need clam right"

mo'at " what has happen is my grandson ... look"

y/n " mo'at we are going to need your help" mo'at soon entered the tent and started helping where she could. You soon saw Jake and neytiri still by the entrance looking, you soon went towards them.

Jake " wait can we do to help"

y/n " stay outside and out of the way" you soon closed the tent door on them and went back to your son, who was in need of help right now. Soon enough all four adults had gotten lo'ak stable and placed him on a new bed to sleep on for the night.

mo'at " you should stay with him tonight he will need a parent with him, and attention If anything bad happens"

y/n " thank you"

norm " it will take some time for him to deal but he has broken bones, burns on his legs and arms, with some cuts and bruises as well he had lost blood as well"

y/n " oh lo'ak"

max " he lucky to be alive but we will need to keep an close eye on him"

y/n " thank you all for helping"

max " the others are still waiting outside you can go speak with them, I will watch over the boy until you all come back" you had nodded your head saying nothing else as you soon left the tent with mo'at and norm. That when you saw everyone else waiting outside it seems like they been waiting for a while.

neteyam " mama" neteyam soon saw you and came running with his siblings and his cousins along with their friends.

y/n " hello kids"

kiri " mama how is lo'ak"

y/n " he if stable at the moment and now resting"

mo'at " thanks to the efforts of norm, max, and your mama we were able to get him stable"

tuk " can we see him mama"

spider " yes can we see him please aunt y/n"

norm " kids clam down lo'ak is resting right now and not taking any visitors"

tuk " aww"

y/n " you know lets make a deal tomorrow you all can go see him, if he wake by then"

tsireya " yes ma'am"

y/n " where is everyone else"

aonung " they are holding a meeting"

rotxo " we don't know about what we couldn't hear and we wanted to see how things were going for lo'ak"

y/n " thank you all for staying"

neteyam " can we spend the night here mama we can make a camp here"

kids " yes please for lo'ak"

mo'at " children y/n is overwhelmed with lo'ak right now and we should give them space, you all should be heading home"

the kids " yes ma'am"

y/n " go on home now I will see you'll tomorrow my loves and kids" the children had nodded their heads and soon left, but not before giving a goodbye to you and lo'ak. Your children had hugged you and it was easy to tell none of them are taking this whole situation well.

mo'at " I will let you deal with Jake and my daughter first and then I will deal with them later"

norm " I have some words for them as well... there are some blanks and bed for you y/n that you can use ... Max will be staying in human hut that a fee feet away along with me as well"

y/n " thank you all" soon norm and mo'at had left to go attend to the children and make sure they got home, you were waiting outside when you heard footsteps coming toward you.It was Jake and neytiri along with tonowari and oloeythans.

Jake " how is he can we see him is he talking"

y/n " he is stable for now and resting"

neytiri " then we will go see our son"

y/n " no is resting

Jake " then we will be quite we wish to see him and care for him"

y/n " I said he resting leave him be for now"

neytiri " one of us can stay with you for the night and be there for our son"

y/n " the children at home need you right now I will stay here with lo'ak and you deal with our kids at home"

tonowari " y/n we are greatly sorry for ...."

y/n " your kdis need you at home as well tonowari I will see you all tomorrow" you soon left saying nothing else as you soon looked at lo'ak as he was resting tears falling down your face, there were some words that lo'ak shared with you that you will deal with in the morning. You soon started humming the song that lo'ak and his siblings love, it seem to make matter better. You are praying deep down that lo'ak will get better as he resting in bed healing. There was so much that happened last night that will affect everyone later on, that might break relationships forever and cause damage that can't be healed so easily.