#asirel sakuverse

[peppymintdreams]

A Moment of pampering

Asirel Cain x Pet

The estate was quiet tonight. No visitors, no business to attend to, no pressing matters that required Asirel’s sharp mind and steady hand. The only sound was the faint crackling of the fireplace in his study, casting a warm, flickering light across the room.

Pet sat on the plush rug near his chair, knees tucked beneath them, eyes lowered. They had been there for some time now, silent and waiting, as they always did when Asirel wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Yet tonight, something about their quiet obedience caught his attention.

“Pet,” Asirel called softly, his voice a low, velvet command.

Their head lifted immediately, eyes meeting his in that familiar blend of hope and hesitation. “Yes, Master?”

He studied them for a moment, taking in the way their shoulders seemed a little tenser than usual, the faint crease of exhaustion around their eyes. It had been a long day for them—a task carried out on his behalf, something dangerous and demanding. And though Pet had returned without complaint, Asirel knew they were tired.

“Come here,” he said, patting his leg.

Pet blinked in surprise. Asirel wasn’t usually one for physical affection—at least, not openly. But they didn’t hesitate, rising gracefully and making their way to his side. They stopped just short of the chair, unsure of what he wanted.

Asirel reached out, his hand gentle as he guided them to sit on his lap. “Relax, Pet. You’ve earned it.”

Pet settled in cautiously, their heart pounding with a mixture of curiosity and longing. Moments like these—moments when Asirel’s cold exterior softened just enough to let them glimpse something warmer—were rare, and they savored each one.

His hand moved to their head, fingers threading through their hair with a deliberate, soothing touch. Pet’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, a soft sigh escaping their lips. It was such a simple gesture, yet it carried a weight they couldn’t quite explain.

“Comfortable?” Asirel asked, his tone light, almost teasing.

“Yes, Master,” they whispered, leaning subtly into his touch.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rich. “Good. You’ve done well today. No mistakes, no misbehaving.” His fingers continued their gentle exploration, tracing slow, deliberate patterns across their scalp. “I suppose that deserves a reward.”

Pet’s heart swelled at the praise, their body relaxing fully under his touch. “Thank you, Master.”

Asirel’s hand stilled for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of their ear. “You like this, don’t you?” he murmured. “A simple touch, a little attention… That’s all it takes to make you content.”

Pet nodded, their voice barely a whisper. “I do.”

He smirked, the corner of his mouth lifting in amusement. “Such a simple yet vicious creature.” His hand resumed its gentle movements, each stroke calculated to soothe and reassure. “But I suppose it’s fitting. After all, you belong to me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Pet agreed without hesitation. “I belong to you.”

His other hand reached for his glass, taking a slow sip of the dark, amber liquid within. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

The words were spoken with casual authority, yet they sent a warmth through Pet that had nothing to do with the firelight. They leaned further into him, resting their head lightly against his shoulder, waiting for him to reprimand them for the boldness.

But Asirel didn’t. Instead, he allowed it, his fingers continuing their gentle, rhythmic motion. “You’ve earned this, Pet,” he murmured, voice soft and almost indulgent. “For tonight, rest. Tomorrow will bring new tasks, new challenges. But for now…” His hand slid down to their cheek, cradling it briefly before returning to their hair. “Enjoy this.”

Pet melted into his touch, feeling the rare warmth of his affection envelop them.

[lil-binuu]

What did they go to prison for? / ZSakuVA characters

did i miss anyone?

@xzhdjsj @belladonnadawn @kieran-rhoades @peppymintdreams @xxminxrq @dollsprincesa @xxluneilaxxaus @penelopesbaby @shelllyy

[beccixxiluv]

We miss you old Asirel, you were fine asf 💔.

[zsakuva]

Who's your favourite listener???

Pet.

[claiestve]

ꨄ sakuverse tweets ! pt. 5 :

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

well hello pickle

[yoursinisforgiven]

ENVY ──

pairing: asirel x reader (pet) 

cw: smut, pwp, penetrational sex, afab reader, master–pet relationship, semi–public sex, car sex, blood play, spit play(?), drooling, biting, mentions of drugs, thoughts of murder, dissociative episode (?), isaac and pickel appearance, breeding without intentions of pregnancy, dry humping, voyeurism(?), reader is wearing a dress of some sorts, oral (male receiving), light hair pulling, cum eating.  

you are responsible for your own media consumption

“You’re going.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, whether that be drugged or not. Your choice, of course.”

You hadn’t been facing him, instead perched on the cushions of the bayside window. From there, you watched as life continued beyond the walls of the manor, unaffected by the confines of your world. You didn’t need to look at Asriel to know the smug smile that curved his lips, the glint of amusement in his voice. It was always like this—Asriel’s insistence, his way of bending the world to his will, and your quiet defiance. It had been decades since anyone had dared to speak to you like this, but for Asriel… You allowed it. Most of the time.

Fingers flexed against the windowsill, the wood creaking slightly under the pressure, almost as if you were considering something dangerous. It was no secret that you, the ancient vampire—Asriel's pet—was an object of both fascination and fear.

And tonight, Asriel was forcing him into the lion's den.

Asriel's voice dropped lower, just a touch, but there was no mistaking the finality in his words. "Don’t make me drag you there, pet. It’ll be much less enjoyable for both of us.”

There was a beat of silence. The weight of Asriel’s expectation hung in the air, thick and suffocating, and you could feel it like an invisible chain pulling him forward. The words weren’t threats; they were just facts. Asriel wasn’t asking for cooperation. He was demanding it.

Amber eyes flickered in Asriel's direction. No matter how much you wanted to rebel, to slip into the shadows where you belonged, you knew that resistance was futile. You had no true freedom. Not here, not in this world of glittering masks and whispered lies. Asriel had the power to break you, to make you a prisoner again, and you had already tasted what that might feel like. You weren't ready to go back to the darkness—the cages where Asriel had found you.

Not yet.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, the smallest trace of irritation twisting your features. “You’re making a mistake, Master,” your voice cool but laced with the warning of a predator forced to play a game you never wanted to join.

But Asriel didn’t flinch. He never did. The human stepped closer, his fingers brushing your arm with deliberate slowness, sending chills down your spine. You arched slightly at the sensation—a reminder of just who held the power in this relationship.

“I don’t make mistakes,” Asriel said softly, his voice a dangerous purr that sent an involuntary shiver down your neck. “And you are a very important part of my social circle tonight. You will make a good impression.”

Your existence—his servitude—was a curiosity. A symbol of Asriel’s wealth and power.

And no matter how much you resented it, you were part of that image.

 ──

You didn’t want to be here. You shouldn’t be here.

You stay close to Asriel’s side, just far enough to remain in his shadow, but not enough to draw attention. The weight of his presence presses down on you, and you force yourself to ignore the way it feels too familiar. You ignore the tug of memories, the fleeting flashes of Ivan that refuse to be buried.

No. Asriel wasn’t him. Far from it.

You are ripped from your thoughts by a feminine—obnoxious—voice. You catch the movement from the corner of your eye, and before you can stop yourself, your gaze snaps to her. A delicate hand brushes across Asriel’s shoulder, lingering too long, her laughter piercing the air like a sharp, brittle note in a too-perfect melody. Her voice is sweet, syrupy, the kind that makes your teeth ache.

She’s laughing at something he said, her lips curling with practiced flirtation. Surely it wasn’t that funny.

You feel your jaw tighten, the familiar gnaw of irritation rising in your chest. The way she touches him—light, teasing, as though claiming him for herself—makes your skin itch, and for a moment, you wonder what she sees when she looks at him. Does she see the same power that everyone else does? Does she know how easily he can crush anyone who stands in his way?

Or does she think of him as a prize to be won? Just another man with wealth and a title, who can be charmed and seduced like any other?

You can hear her laugh again, and the tension in your body spikes. You’re not jealous, you tell yourself. You shouldn’t be. You’re attractive—naturally seductive, in a way that has always drawn attention. You don't need to feel threatened by her. 

But you can’t help it. You can’t help the dark, bitter twist that curls in your stomach. Asriel is yours. He’s always been yours. And no one else has the right to touch him. Not like this.

You feel it—a pulse of something raw, something almost animal in its intensity. It starts low in your chest, the need to assert yourself, to remind them all of what you are to him. But then you catch yourself.

No. Asriel wasn’t Ivan.

The thought settles over you like cold water. You take a deep breath, forcing your fingers to relax at your side, your claws retracting.

You’re nothing like you were back then.

But that doesn’t stop the jealousy from bubbling beneath your skin.

Asriel doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. His attention is still fixed on the woman beside him, his smile wide, though it holds no true warmth. It’s the same practiced smile he’s given a thousand times before, a mask of politeness, of obligation. His eyes, however, flicker briefly toward you, and for a split second, you see the familiar glint of amusement in them.

It’s as if he knows exactly what you’re feeling. He knows you’re watching, knows you’re seething just beneath the surface.

And he enjoys it.

You try to keep your expression neutral, to push the gnawing sensation in your chest back into the dark corners of your mind. But it’s harder than it should be.

The woman laughs again, her fingers drifting to rest lightly on his arm now, and you can’t stand it anymore.

You need to make her stop.

The smile on her face, the way she tilts her head, the way her eyes flicker toward Asriel with that pitiful, calculated desire—it sickens you. It eats away at the control you’ve worked so hard to maintain.

She thinks she has him. She thinks she can have him.

A strange heat rises in your chest, filling your body with the kind of rage you haven’t felt in decades—since him.. It’s not just anger. It’s possessiveness. It’s primal, it’s raw. And it’s like a fire inside you, burning, threatening to consume everything else in its path.

Your vision sharpens, the edges of the room blurring into a dull fog. Her laughter starts to sound like nails scraping against your skull, the sweetness of it curdling into something unbearable. You want it to stop.

You need it to stop.

What would it take?

Your breath quickens, shallow, too fast. Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, nails digging into the soft flesh of your palms, leaving half-moon indentations. Your pulse throbs in your ears, growing louder, the pounding rhythm matching the wild beat of your heart. The world around you feels distant, unreal. As if you’re watching from somewhere far away, a spectator in your own body.

What would it take to make her shut up?

You glance at her again, her fingers trailing slowly over Asriel’s arm. You can see it—the way her eyes darken with flirtation, the way she presses just a little closer to him, like she’s staking her claim.

No.

The feeling inside you builds, swelling. Something inside your chest twists like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. You watch her, study the soft curve of her neck, the delicate line of her jaw. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she laughs, oblivious to the monster she’s awakened in you.

And then you imagine it.

It’s like a switch flipping in your mind. Suddenly, everything else fades away. All you can see is her. The way she’s touching him, the way she’s smiling at him, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

You imagine reaching out, your fingers curling around her throat, tight, too tight. You could do it so easily. You could crush her in seconds. The blood would rush to her face, her eyes wide, gasping for air, panic setting in, but it would be too late. She’d choke on her own breath, the life draining from her as she tries to scream, tries to beg.

Would Asriel even care?

The thought flashes across your mind, sharp and brutal. And something in you cracks open.

You can feel the heat of her skin beneath your fingers, the delicate pulse in her neck. You could break her. You could take that fragile neck in your hand, snap it like a twig. The power would be intoxicating—so simple, so final. No more laughing. No more touching. No more her.

You feel it. The pressure in your chest, the pressure in your throat as you imagine it. The power of it. The raw, satisfying violence of it. It’s the kind of hunger that can’t be satisfied with anything else.

The woman laughs again, oblivious to the madness rising in you. Her fingers move down to the crook of Asriel’s arm, a small touch—insignificant. But to you, in this moment, it’s the end of everything.

You could feel her flesh crumple beneath your hand, her body going limp with a single, vicious motion. You could hear her scream. No. You could make her scream—beg—but no one would stop you. No one could.

The world feels lighter now, as if everything else has melted away. The floor beneath you is no longer solid. The walls bend and warp, the edges of the room fading in and out of focus, like a hallucination. Your hands tremble at your sides, but it doesn’t matter.

You could do it. You could kill her. You could make this all stop.

You’re not sure when you stopped breathing, but you feel the suffocating weight of the air around you. Your vision is narrowing now, the voices in the room, the laughter, all drowned out by the pounding in your head. All you hear is the sound of her throat snapping, the wet, final sound that would end it all.

You need this. You need her to stop existing. You need Asriel to stop looking at her the way he does. You need it.

But then, suddenly, you hear Asriel’s voice.

“Pet,” he says, and it’s enough to bring you back. “Are you okay?”

The world crashes back into focus. You blink, and the woman is still there, laughing, still touching Asriel’s arm like she hasn’t a care in the world.

You step back. Your breath is shaky, your hands unsteady. The rage, the hunger, still coils inside you, but now there’s a coldness. A sudden, sharp distance from the scene in front of you.

You force your hands to unclench. You force yourself to breathe.

Asriel wasn’t Ivan.

You simply walk away. You hadn’t expected Asriel to chase after you—not that he would. He was a man of too high a status, too important to give chase to someone like you. 

You slip out of the dining hall, the murmurs and laughter fading behind you, swallowed by the heavy oak doors that close with a soft, final thud. The air feels cool as you step into the hall beyond, the stone walls of the manor thick and oppressive. The corridors stretch long and narrow, the architecture grand, but suffocating. Marble floors reflect the distant flicker of candlelight from chandeliers above, casting shadows that play like whispers on the walls. Heavy tapestries hang in every corner, depicting scenes of war, conquest, and power.

You feel the weight of those tapestries on your shoulders, the gaze of the countless ancestors staring down at you, judging. You pause at the top of the staircase, your hand on the iron railing. The staircase curves downward in elegant spirals, and from the balcony above, you can see the vast entryway below—polished floors gleaming in the dim light. There’s no sound here, nothing but the distant echo of voices from the ballroom behind you, murmurs of the rich and powerful who are far too busy with their own lives to notice a creature like you.

You take a step down.

Another.

Your feet make no sound on the marble, but your pulse is thudding in your ears, matching the rhythm of your steps. There’s something almost suffocating about the silence of the manor, as though the house itself is holding its breath, waiting for you to make a mistake.

You feel the hairs on your neck rise as you continue your descent. A couple walks past at the bottom of the stairs, laughing softly, their voices carrying to you like a distant melody. The man seems familiar. You stop and squint into the shadows of the hall, studying him with renewed focus.

He’s tall, impossibly so. His frame is lean but broad-shouldered, a stark contrast to the delicate elegance of his companion. His pale skin almost seems to shimmer in the candlelight, as though he’s carved from marble. 

And then you hear it.

The thrum of their hearts.

You don’t need to see it, don’t need to touch them to know. Their blood is singing to you, a rapid pulse that echoes through the hall, sharp and frantic. The person beside him clings to him, laughing softly at something he says, their head tilting back as they gaze up at him. But it’s the sound of their heart that draws you in—the quick, erratic beat as their emotions flare. They feels something deep for him, something frantic, a kind of desperate need, and the air around them practically hums with it.

You stand frozen for a moment, watching them, feeling their pulse rise with each passing second. Their hands are on his chest now, gripping his jacket with a possessiveness that mirrors something you know too well. It’s familiar—the fluttering, nervous energy that comes with attraction, with desire.

It’s strange. There’s something about him that feels different, an energy that’s colder, sharper. You can feel it even from this distance. The kind of power that ripples off him, like a storm waiting to break. It’s unnerving, that calmness in the face of such a flurry of emotion, as though he sees something she doesn’t. Or perhaps he’s seen it all before.

You don’t know why you’re still watching. You should turn away, walk past them, let them live in their moment. But something pulls at you. A curiosity. A kind of sick fascination with this stranger and the strange magnetism that surrounds him.

“Isaac?” The name slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, unsure if it’s the right one, but it feels familiar. Like a whisper of something you should know.

The man stops. His companion, still nestled in his embrace, also halts, her eyes flicking between you and the man, a flash of confusion crossing her features. The man turns toward you, and the moment he does, you feel an unsettling chill. His gaze is sharp—too sharp. It’s like he’s seen you.

There’s a moment of silence. You feel the blood rush to your face, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck as you realize how out of place you must look, standing there, disrupting something so... intimate.

You’ve interrupted them. You shouldn’t have called out. You shouldn’t be here.

“Sorry,” you mutter, the words leaving your mouth like ash, bitter and unformed. You turn quickly, your heart racing, almost as if you can feel his gaze still on you, heavy, like a weight pressing into your back.

You hurry down the steps, not daring to glance back, the sound of your shoes echoing against the marble floor, the silence between you and them stretching longer with every step. The doors at the entrance loom ahead, the dark night waiting outside, offering the only escape you can reach. Without looking back, you push through the heavy doors and step into the cool, fresh air of the night.

 ──

You begin to see people exiting the building, their voices rising in a murmur of light chatter. The event must be over. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you stepped away from the crowd, but it doesn’t matter. The weight of their gazes still presses against your skin, their judgment an unspoken burden. You ignore the dirty looks thrown your way—some dismissive, others openly curious—as they file past you toward the valet.

Your gaze sweeps over the crowd, and then you see him.

Asriel.

He’s walking toward you, effortlessly parting the sea of people as if they’re little more than obstacles. You catch his eyes almost immediately. There’s a brief flicker of something—something unreadable—before he looks away, his attention shifting toward the parked limo. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t acknowledge you beyond that brief, knowing glance. He never does.

For a moment, you stand frozen, just a little too aware of how invisible you are to him, how easily he walks past without a second thought. It shouldn’t sting, but it does. You don’t need to turn around to know the driver is still not behind you, that he’s probably already in the car, waiting, prepared for Asriel’s exit. Of course he would be. You would sense him if he were close. That feeling of presence, that pulse of life, the faintest energy ripple in the air. And there’s nothing.

But then, just as your thoughts begin to wander, you hear the familiar sound of a door opening. Asriel’s deep voice cuts through the tension, pulling you back to reality.

“Get in.”

You look up, and for the first time, you see the door to the limo held open—for you. His posture is straight, commanding, but there’s something almost disinterested in his expression, something too practiced in his gestures, as if this is all routine, just another moment for him to play his role. You hesitate only for a second, the residual weight of the evening still hanging around you like a cloud. 

With no more hesitation, you step forward and slide into the car, feeling the cool leather beneath you as you settle into the plush seat. The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and the silence inside the limo feels heavier than it should. Asriel follows, his presence filling the small space like a shadow. He sits across from you, his gaze flicking briefly in your direction, though his face remains unreadable.

It was isolating, the privacy window closed in. Leaving just you and Asriel.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The hum of the engine starts, the car pulling smoothly away from the curb, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is hanging in the air. Something unsaid. The distance between you and him feels almost palpable, thick with things left unspoken.

“You caused a scene.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, and you can feel your jaw tighten in response.

“I did not,” you reply, your voice firm, betraying none of the seething frustration that churns beneath the surface. “I could have truly made a scene by killing her.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don't even flinch, though you know how dangerous that statement sounds, how easily it could be taken as a threat. But at this point, you’re too far gone to care.

Asriel’s gaze flicks over to you, his eyes sharpening for the briefest of moments, before they return to the window. There’s no anger in his posture, no reaction at all, really. He merely gives a soft sigh, a sound so casual it almost feels dismissive.

“You wouldn’t do that.”

It’s not a question, just a statement. And in his voice, you hear something like amusement, a soft mocking edge that only adds to the bitterness building inside you.

“You remember what happened to Rehne, don't you?” you mutter under your breath.The car continues its journey through the night, the hum of the engine the only sound between you now. But it’s the silence that stretches between you both that fills the space, that makes the air feel too thick, too heavy.

Asriel shifts slightly, his suit jacket rustling as he adjusts his posture, but he doesn’t speak again. The only indication of his awareness is the slight tightening of his jaw, the faintest flicker of something—almost like concern, though you’re not sure if it’s for you, or just because you’ve finally dared to speak out of line.

You’re not sure why you said that. Why allow yourself to feel the need to claim something, to show that you were capable of something more than simply being in his shadow. But the words had spilled from your lips, raw and unfiltered.

The weight of it lingers.

“Is that what you think of me?” you ask quietly, before you can stop yourself. Your voice isn’t challenging, but there’s a trace of vulnerability in it that surprises even you. "A thing that just... exists by your side? Something to look past, to ignore?"

You didn't expect him to answer right away. In fact, you almost wish he wouldn't—because you’re not sure what you want to hear. But Asriel's silence stretches longer this time, and with it, something shifts inside you.

The urge to say something more, something sharp, something biting, is almost overwhelming. You want to make him feel something. But the quiet calm that fills the limo only tightens around you, like a vice.

Then, without warning, he speaks again, his voice quieter this time, as if he's carefully choosing his words.

"I never ignore you."

The words are so simple. So strange. They shouldn’t mean as much as they do, but they cut through the thick silence between you like a knife. His eyes meet yours, the first time in what feels like an eternity, and there’s something in his gaze—something difficult to interpret. A flicker of something human, something that almost feels... apologetic.

You try to read his expression, but the instant your gaze lingers, his face shifts back into that unreadable mask, his eyes going cold again, distant.

"But that doesn’t mean I’m going to entertain your tantrums," he adds, the edge of his voice sharpening once more.

You clench your fists at your sides, willing yourself not to snap, not to show how much those words hurt, even if they’re true. How he can so easily dismiss you, push you aside, and yet never fully let you go.

A bitter, almost desperate ache curls in your gut. The irony is sickening. The contradictions between what he says and what he does never fail to unravel you.

He pats his lap, an almost casual gesture, but it sends a jolt of icy awareness straight through your core. His eyes glint with something dark, a mix of command and something else—something you can’t quite place. 

“Come here, pet.”

The word settles in the space between you both like a weight. It’s not a question. It’s an order, and you know what happens when you don’t obey. The thought of disobedience—it’s never really been an option, has it?

You hesitate for only a heartbeat before the instinct to comply surges within you. The friction of your frustration against the smoothness of his control. You move, almost too swiftly, as if driven by something far beyond reason. Your body finds its place on his lap, the cool fabric of his suit brushing against your skin, the familiar, intoxicating scent of him enveloping you. 

Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, your breath shallow, the tension in your chest rising. It’s so close. Too close. And then it happens. You feel the tug of something primal, that raw need, the hunger building inside you like a drumbeat, steady and insistent. Your teeth ache at the thought

His fingers graze the back of your neck lightly, almost absentmindedly, as if his touch is meant to ground you. It doesn’t work. If anything, it only makes the need grow sharper, more unbearable.

“Is it attention you want?” His voice is quieter now, threaded with an almost teasing note. 

You feel his words like a whisper across your skin, like the edges of a blade. It would be so easy to give in, to let that hunger consume you—to claim what’s yours. Him. 

You stay still, just for a moment longer, holding your breath, trying to wrestle control back. Your hands are trembling slightly, but you refuse to show it. You don't want to show any weakness, not now, not in front of him. 

“I don’t need attention,” you murmur, your voice muffled against the soft fabric of his collar, but it lacks the conviction it should have. 

You hate the way it’s so undeniable, how your body betrays you every time. How you need him, in a way that makes your heart feel twisted and raw. How he makes you ache without even trying. 

But you don’t dare voice it. Not aloud. Instead, you stay silent, pressing your face deeper into the crook of his neck, the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. The urge to bite him, to mark him, to feel that rush of power, it surges again. You bite your lip, clenching your fists tighter.

“I think you do,” he says, his fingers threading through your hair, his touch gentle but commanding. “Tell me what you want, pet,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a rasp now. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, your breath coming in shallow bursts. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. His lips curl upward just slightly, a smirk—one that is both knowing and cruel.

You want to scream, to fight against the waves of need crashing over you. You want to push him away, tell him to stop, but the truth is—you can’t. 

“I…” You stop, words catching in your throat. You try to force them out, to demand what you crave, but they don’t come. It’s too much. 

“Go on,” Asriel presses, his voice darker now, more coaxing, like he’s savoring the moment. “Tell me. What do you want?”

Everything. The thought hits you before you can stop it. You want everything he has to give. You want him. You want the control, the attention, the bite, the warmth, the sting of his presence.

But instead, you close your eyes, exhaling slowly, and force the words out, though they sound hollow in your own ears. 

“I want… you,” you whisper, barely audible. The words feel wrong on your tongue, like a confession of weakness.

You lift your head from his neck, eyes locking with his, searching for any hint of softness. Anything that could tell you that, just once, he might see you as something more than his possession.

He smiles, his thumb gently brushing across your lips. "Good." The single word hangs in the air between you both, heavy, loaded.

He tilts his head to the side, an almost imperceptible motion, silently offering himself up—for you to feed. And you do. Your fangs find their place against his skin, sinking in with a soft, practiced ease. His hands move to your waist, steadying you, as if the gesture is both a comfort and a reminder of his control.

You feel the burn of your fangs against his flesh, the subtle tug of his skin, and it sends a shiver down your spine. You know he’s giving this to you, but there’s something more in his touch—something that tells you he’s not just the one being consumed here.

His grip on your waist tightens slightly, a subtle shift that makes your heart skip a beat. He’s holding you in place—not just physically—but emotionally, too. His power is all-consuming, pulling at the edges of your sanity, demanding your submission without a single word spoken.

Slowly he rocks you against the growing bulge in his pants, "That's... enough," he says, his voice still commanding, even though it's laced with a faint breathlessness. You pull away immediately, obeying the command without hesitation.

Asriel's fingers start their exploration, his touch gentle yet firm as he traces the curves of your body. His hands roam lower, skimming over your hips, your thighs, until they reach the hem of your skirt.

He pauses, his fingers hovering just above your skin, waiting for permission. But you don't give it. You can't.

Instead, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat as you wait for his next move. His fingers twitch, the anticipation almost palpable.

And then, slowly, deliberately, he pushes your skirt up, exposing your thighs to the cool air of the room. You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin, but not from the temperature.

Asriel leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You're so beautiful, pet. So perfect."

His hands continue their journey, sliding higher and higher until they reach the apex of your thighs. He pauses again, his fingers resting lightly against your clothed sex.

You can feel the heat of his touch, even through the fabric, and it sends a jolt of electricity straight to your core. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of his touch.

He brings a hand to his neck, his fingers brushing over the spot where you had fed, dipping into the blood you’d drawn. Asriel's fingers push your panties aside, exposing your slick folds to his hungry gaze. He trails a finger along your slit, gathering the wetness there before bringing it to his lips. His tongue darts out, tasting your essence with a satisfied hum.

He brings his blood-smeared fingers to your entrance, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. The blood acts as a lubricant, allowing his touch to glide smoothly over your sensitive flesh.

Asriel slowly pushes one finger inside you, coating your walls with the metallic tang of his blood. You gasp at the sensation, your body clenching around the intrusion. He begins to pump his finger in and out, gradually adding a second and then a third, stretching you deliciously.

He angles his fingers, searching for your clit. When he finds it, he rubs it relentlessly, his thumb circling your clit in tandem.

The dual stimulation is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Asriel can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, knowing you're on the verge of climax.

"Come for me, pet. Give yourself to me completely."

With a few more skillful strokes, he sends you flying over the precipice, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. You cry out his name, a litany of pleasure and submission, as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Asriel works you through it, his fingers gentling as you come down from your high. He withdraws from your body, bringing his blood and pleasure-coated fingers to his lips once more.

Asriel's eyes darken with lust as he gazes at your flushed, satisfied expression. He can't wait to claim you fully, to feel your tight heat wrapped around his aching cock.

With a growl of impatience, he fumbles with his belt, undoing it with clumsy fingers. He shoves his dress pants and underwear down his thighs, freeing his impressive erection. It springs up, thick and hard, the tip glistening with pearls of precum.

"On your knees, pet," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how much you want it."

You comply immediately, sinking to your knees on the plush carpet of the car. Your hands reach out to grasp his shaft, stroking him from root to tip. Asriel hisses in pleasure, his hips canting forward into your touch.

He tangles his fingers in your hair, guiding you closer to his straining cock. You take him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him deeper.

Asriel groans, his grip on your hair tightening as you bob up and down his length. Careful not to cause him pain with your fangs. He sets a brutal pace, fucking your face with abandon, chasing his own pleasure.

"Enough," he grunts after a few minutes, pulling you off his cock. "I need to be inside you. Now."

You hesitate for only a moment before climbing onto his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. His cock brushes against your entrance, and you shiver at the contact.

Slowly, carefully, you sink down onto him, inch by delicious inch. He stretches you, fills you in a way you've never been filled before. When you're fully seated on his lap, your bodies pressed together intimately, he lets out a low groan of pleasure.

You begin to move, lifting yourself up before sinking back down. The motion sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and you moan, unable to hold back the sound.

"Fuck, you're tight," Asriel groans, his head falling back against the seat. "So hot and wet and perfect."

You quicken your movements, rising up and down on his cock, finding a rhythm that has you both gasping and moaning. The car rocks with the force of your coupling, the leather seats creaking beneath you, and the windows fogging up with the heat of your passion.

Asriel's hands roam your body, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, driving you wild with lust. He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure.

"That's it, pet," he pants against your lips. "Ride me harder. Take what you need."

Asriel meets your movements, thrusting up into you, driving himself deeper with each stroke. 

His hands roam your body, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt. He leans forward, capturing one pert nub between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to send a jolt of pain-tinged pleasure straight to your core.

You ride him harder, faster, chasing your impending orgasm. Asriel's hips piston upwards, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. You can feel your walls starting to flutter, knowing you're close.

Asriel's thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding. He's close, you can tell by the way his body tenses beneath you, by the guttural moans that escape his throat. "So—good" he encourages, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. 

With a final, brutal thrust, Asriel buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his climax. "Fuck” he breathes, his head thrown back in ecstasy. 

You feel the hot rush of his seed flooding your insides, claiming you, owning you. It triggers your own orgasm, your walls clamping down around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

You collapse against his chest, both of you panting and spent. Asriel wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you bask in the afterglow. “I own you.” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

You shiver at his words, a thrill running down your spine. You've never felt so possessed, so claimed. Asriel's cum still pulses inside you, a physical reminder of his ownership.

He reaches down, scooping some of the excess seed from where it leaks out of you, and brings his fingers to your lips. "Clean up your mess, pet," he commands softly.

Obediently, you part your lips, sucking his fingers into your mouth. The taste of him, salty and musky, sends another shiver through you.

 ──

You’re not sure when you fell asleep—vampires didn’t need sleep. It was more of a state of rest, a brief lull where time didn’t matter and everything was suspended. The gentle hum of the car’s engine is a soothing backdrop to the quiet space you occupy with Asriel.

The steady rise and fall of his chest against your back tells you he’s asleep too, though the way he holds you—still and unyielding—keeps the tension between you palpable. His warmth presses into your side, the faintest shift of his breath against your neck. Even in the calm, the presence of him feels suffocating, but not in a way that you mind.

Your eyes flutter closed once again. The motion is almost automatic, as if the weight of the night, of everything that’s happened, is too much to fight. You can feel his hand still resting lightly on your waist, fingers barely brushing the fabric of your clothes, yet the touch is enough to send a rush of heat through you. The proximity, the intimacy of it, makes your pulse quicken in the quiet darkness of the car.

The car continues its slow journey, the outside world distant, muffled by the tinted windows and the silence inside. The lights from the city pass by, casting brief flashes of pale illumination across the interior, but the moment you share with Asriel remains shadowed, hidden. The rhythmic sound of his breathing, steady and deep, lulls you deeper into the softness of sleep.

For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to surrender to the sensation of his presence, of his warmth.

──

author's note: just in case there's any confusion, pet does not posses any romantic feelings towards isaac, vise vera.

elias requested fic is next!

if you like this, read the mirrored sequel! (heavenly)

[ryn-halo26]

Alea iacta est. — The die has been cast.

First time posting on the Sakuverse tag, I'm nervous

[literary-motif]

You Hurt Me

Asirel Cain x Reader

You execute your revenge.

Warnings: mentions of syringes and tranquillisers, past torture, abuse; the general tone of this is a bit darker than usual so proceed with caution

I Hurt You

The ordeal had been roughly two weeks ago. You bid your time. 

Asirel had looked at you with an apprehensive glance, cautious as you stumbled through the door of his study after being knocked out for a week. You had gone straight back to normal, grumbling something about being hungry and leading him to a false sense of security that his betrayal — because that was what it had been to you — could be glossed over like one of your quickly fading moods.

You could act when you wanted to, lounging on the couch that had been your prison, unwelcome memories of being paralyzed lurking on the edge of your mind while you leafed through a book disinterestedly, keeping him company as you had before. You kept testing him, riling him up enough until he scoffed and his eyes darkened while you ultimately succeeded in peeling him away from his desk, always mindful of that damned tranquilizer he kept in the right pocket of his suit jacket. 

You knew his tricks now. 

It had not taken long to figure out Asirel. Now you knew how far you could push, now you could pinpoint when teasing, toying turned to genuine concern on his part, fear as his hand twitched, restraining himself from plunging the needle into your heart again. 

He did not know that you knew, and you wanted to keep it that way. Ignorance was the best way to serve revenge, you supposed, and when an opportunity arose to execute your plan, you seized it with a grin he mistook for your usual playfulness. 

“Careful,” he rasped, hitting the mattress with a force that knocked the wind out of him. “I don’t know why I indulge you when there is a buffet at your disposal.”

You chuckled, moving to straddle his lap as you smirked. “You taste better,” you said, lips tightening in displeasure as he placed a hand on your chest, pushing you off. You let him, allowing Asirel to swing his legs over the edge of the bed and sit up.

“I think you enjoy feeling me writhe under you,” he replied, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt to expose his neck. 

Your mouth watered, leaning in before he could prepare himself and piercing his skin with your teeth. 

Asirel groaned, tensing under your touch immediately. His head spun at the familiar feeling of blood loss, but the force with which you were draining him was unlike anything he’d felt before. You were rough, sucking him dry as if you were starved. 

“Slow down,” he warned, his voice breathier than he would have liked. A feeling of weakness settled in his chest as he felt his strength bleed out of him. The pounding in his head intensified, and his stomach twisted in sudden nausea as his hands began to shake. “Pet!”

You did not care, continuing to feed as if you had not heard him. You could feel him shaking against you, his breathing getting more strained the more blood you took.

He thought you would drink up every last drop if he did not stop you. Placing a hand on your chest, he tried pushing you away — to get you to snap out of the frenzy he had thought you had slipped into — but of course, you did not budge. 

“Stop!” he said, pouring every morsel of strength into his voice. His usually so commanding tone sounded deflated even to his own ears, the refined cadence of his voice smeared in exhaustion. “Did you hear me? Stop it!”

The annoyance he felt flipped into fear. You could smell it on him, the moment he realized you were not going to stop, the moment he knew this was your idea of revenge for what he had done. You heard his breath hitch, his heartbeat surging suddenly. 

This time you were prepared. You felt his hands shift, reaching into his suit jacket. He seized the syringe, pulling it out in the blink of an eye and aiming for your heart. You caught his wrist easily, pinning him to the bed in one swift movement. 

“Fool me once, Asirel,” you said, flicking the hateful object out of his grip as he stared up at you with wide eyes. 

“I told you to stop,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. You could feel his entire frame shaking beneath you, his chest heaving as his heart pounded painfully. 

You sneered. “I told you not to overdo it. I told you it hurt. Did that make you stop?”

He panted, squirming fruitlessly to get out of your hold. “Get off,” he said. “Pet, stop it.”

“Come on, Asirel,” you cooed, a self-satisfied grin on your face that widened as you heard his heart skip a beat, the smell of his fear intensifying as he submerged in his panic. “This does not work if you do not trust me. Don’t you remember?” 

You sunk your teeth into his neck again. You knew you were overindulging, but the startled noise of surprise and pain escaping him as he suffered — like you had at his hands — went to your head in a mixture of satisfaction and anger. 

“Did you think you’d get away with drugging me up like that, Master?” you mocked, the title rolling off your tongue laced in venom. “You think you can go ahead and do what they did because you fooled me into trusting you? Do you think I’m stupid? At least they knew to keep me weak so I could not rip out their hearts, but you—” You sunk your teeth into his neck again to corroborate your point. 

Asirel jolted, his breath coming in short heaves as his heart pounded against his ribcage vigorously. He was afraid, terrified as he fought against your relentless grip. “Stop, stop,” he croaked. You pretended not to notice the wetness in his voice. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Pet. Stop!”

You raised your head, his blood staining your teeth as you looked into his wide eyes, trails of tears rolling down the side of his face. He looked a mess, bloodied, terrified as he was helpless against the force that pinned him in place — helpless against you.

You sneered, the feeling all too familiar. “What? Are you begging me now?” you mocked, a sick twist of contentment filling you as you saw his eyes water again. “‘I’m sorry’ won’t cut it here.”

He looked at you for a long moment. His heart surged again, and you knew he was about to try something new. “Hel—!”

“Stop breathing.” 

His scream died in his throat immediately, the shock of your compulsion tearing through him like a lightning strike. Asirel looked at you, his face ashen, lips parted with an expression of utter heartbreaking betrayal.

It made you pause, reconsidering your method of fighting fire with fire.

He slipped out of your grasp, his hands darting to his throat immediately as his chest spasmed, desperately trying to take a breath that was denied him. 

Your words had a chokehold on him, but as you saw the person who had saved you — betrayed you, yes, but also taken you out of that hellhole — fed you, the same person who threaded his delicate fingers through your hair when you rested your head on his lap or nuzzled your face against his neck, the person who had to suppress a fond smile every time you slipped into bed next to him in the middle of the night, squirm in agony beneath you, horrified, certain he was going to die because you willed it, you felt a black mass of disappointment, grief and shame rise in your chest. 

The game was over. You had no intention of playing anymore. 

Asirel rolled onto his side with a deep gasp, sputtering coughs as his vision slowly cleared from the black spots clouding it. He had a death grip on the bed sheets, his whole body shaking with the force of his heaving breaths. 

You had slid off the bed, resting your back against the bedpost while you sat on the floor, dejection hanging over you like a cloud. You could hear his heart still rattling in his ribcage, but it was gradually slowing from the height of his panic. The syringe had rolled to the other side of the room, mocking you with its presence. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice airily light. You turned your head, meeting Asirel’s eyes. They were carefully blank as if he had not decided exactly how to feel about what had just passed between you. 

“Are you okay?” you asked slowly. 

He glared. “Take a guess.”

You hummed, hesitating to break the silence between you despite the words you were painfully dragging to the surface. They rested on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out if you dared to open your mouth. 

Asirel sat up slowly, swaying a little as he did. His hand shot out to steady himself, and you reached up to wrap an arm around his waist to keep him upright. He froze, but the words of dismissal never passed his lips. 

You spoke. “When I was with them — the traders. I— they work together with other organizations sometimes. They like to earn a few extra bucks in rentals, turning us over to people running tests, experimenting to develop new weapons for the hunters, or simply to get a kick out of torturing us. I’m not sure. 

“They— well, I know those types of people very, very well and when you drug me — when you ram that needle into me and my muscles go slack and I can’t fucking move — I feel cold metal beneath me, and straps around my chest and limbs, digging into my skin, and— and I’m back with them, anticipating pain any moment when they would try something new to hurt me while I lay there powerless and vulnerable, and I just can’t take it, Asirel. I can’t!”

You blinked away the tears gathering in your eyes. You did not see Asirel’s gaze soften, but you felt his hand reaching down hesitatingly, his fingers burying themselves in your hair, playing with the strands in a silent offer of comfort. 

He knew there were things you had not told him. The scars littering your body spoke of the trauma he only now began understanding the scope of. 

“When you take my blood,” he began, confessing weaknesses of his own, “I feel— it makes my head spin and I feel my life draining away. There was— Once I nearly bled out, a long time ago, but I still remember the feeling and the cold. I hate letting you feed off of me, but I try to indulge you sometimes. But when you don’t stop, my mind goes blank in panic like I’m a little child again, bleeding out in his father’s arms. 

“It’s why I’m quick to use the tranquilizer,” he said. 

You nodded, scooting closer to rest your cheek against his thigh. “Will you throw it away if I promise I’ll stop when you tell me?”

Asirel considered it for a moment, biting his lips in uncertainty. “After this—” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry I deceived you,” you said, absentmindedly tracing shapes against his skin. “And I’m sorry about, well, all of it.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, sighing deeply. “How about a new start? Do you still trust me?” 

“Yeah.”

“Alright. I do, too, against all odds. I’ll throw it out.”

You looked up at him, the determination in his eyes mirroring the honesty in yours. “Thank you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his middle.

The trauma would take a long time to work through, but with Asirel’s arms coming up around you as well, squeezing you tightly against him, you had a feeling the scars of your past might stop stinging quite so much.

“I promise, I’ll keep my word.”

[skrunklebink]

Asirel Cain the man you are

[wildflowerblurbs]

Late Night Negotiation | Asirel Cain

Asirel Cain x GN! Reader

CW: slightly suggestive at the end, asirel's usual dynamic with the listener, dependent behavior

A/N: don't mind me, just clearing out my drafts.

-

When Asirel had first referred to you as “pet,” he’d done so emphasizing the fact that you now belonged to him but, although he knew that you were motivated by your need to be wanted, he never expected this. 

You were settled on the floor next to him while he sat at his desk, resting your head on his thigh as if it were the most common daily occurrence. You’d walked into his office with not so much as a knock or warning, something he’d punish others for doing but his quick acceptance of your actions made him realize that he may have spoiled you a little too much. He said nothing as you sat down on the floor and maneuvered his chair to give you the necessary room beside him. He felt you sigh in contentment as soon as you were comfortable and he couldn’t quite find any words to comment on your behavior for a good while.

It’s not like you’d caused a big scene or were trying to get his attention. You’d taken the precaution to stay quiet and seemed to just be happy in his presence. He wasn’t sure if it was the endearing nature of your actions or his newfound instinct to return your acts of affection but it was of his own volition that he’d reached down to stroke your hair while he completed his work. 

To anyone else witnessing this, this would seem laughable and insane. Here you were, a creature so dangerous you could wipe out his entire estate without so much as a scrape to your own body yet choosing to simply lounge by his side like a house cat.

“And to what do I owe this warm and sudden visit, pet?” His voice finally broke the comfortable silence you’d created, his curiosity finally outweighing the importance of the work in front of him.

“…You said you were going to visit me today but you never showed up.” 

Upon hearing your words, he quickly looked over at the clock on his desk and realized it was already past midnight, six hours past the time he’d promised to have dinner with you the night before. He was so caught up analyzing the intel he’d received earlier that day that he’d completely lost track of time and broken his promise to you in the process. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh before pushing the chair back and motioning for you to come up and sit on his lap. Despite the disappointment and slight annoyance you felt when he essentially stood you up a few hours ago, you quickly obliged him, wasting no time in settling in and resting your cheek on his shoulder. 

“I apologize, pet. I’ll have my dinner schedule cleared tomorrow so I can make it up to you. How does that sound?” 

You noticed that his voice carried a hint of regret at his actions. He wasn’t a gentle man by any means, but he did take responsibility when he did something wrong. It was times like these you were grateful that you chose to go with him the day he’d come to “adopt” you. He was someone you could depend on. 

“I want to stay with you tonight too,” you requested, knowing that he was more likely to accept now than any other time. 

His eyebrow raised at this request, the edges of his mouth seeming to fight off a smile. “Are you negotiating with me right now? It seems you’ve picked up a few things from me as of late.”

You don’t bother lifting your head from where it’s resting, opting to stay put as you fidget with the collar of his shirt and answer him, “I am simply asking my gracious master to grant me a wish to make me feel better after abandoning me.”

“I did not abandon you.” 

“It sure seemed like you did.” 

Ah, so that was the game you were playing, he thought to himself.

“Fine,” he relents while getting up from his chair, picking you up in the process and leading you towards his bedroom. “As your gracious master, I’ll grant you a space in my bed tonight.” 

Before you can silently cheer the success of your plan, Asirel leans in close to your face and you can see unclear intent in his eyes, “But I will be the one to decide how we spend our night.” 

[peppymintdreams]

I wanna ask for Asirel taking Pet out for a walk or smth, I just need more of him

A Stroll in the Moonlight

Asirel Cain x Pet

The estate grounds stretched endlessly under the pale moonlight, a private world walled off from the chaos beyond. Tonight, however, that pristine solitude was disturbed by something unusual.

“Keep up, Pet,” Asirel said, glancing back over his shoulder. His tone was casual, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“Yes, Master,” Pet replied quickly, their pace quickening to match his long strides.

It wasn’t often that Asirel decided to leave the comfort of his study, let alone drag Pet along for an evening walk. The very idea of it had seemed strange at first—Asirel never did anything without a purpose.

“May I ask… why this, Master?” Pet ventured after a moment, their tone careful.

Asirel paused, turning to face them with that calculating gaze that never quite revealed his thoughts. “Do I need a reason?”

“N-no, Master,” they stammered.

“Good.” He began walking again, slower this time, letting them fall into step beside him. “But if you must know, I find it amusing that you’ve been cooped up all this time and never once asked to leave the estate. Tell me, Pet, don’t you ever get bored of your restraints?”

Pet hesitated, unsure how to answer. “It’s… comfortable, Master.”

“Comfortable,” Asirel repeated, his voice laced with mockery. “Such a diplomatic answer. You should consider politics—you’d thrive.”

They didn’t respond, keeping their gaze fixed on the ground as they walked.

The gardens were immaculate, their layout a testament to Asirel’s penchant for control. Every tree, every flowerbed, every stone path was perfectly placed, as if the land itself bowed to his will. But tonight, the air was different—lighter, almost peaceful.

As they approached a small fountain surrounded by benches, Asirel stopped abruptly, causing Pet to nearly stumble into him.

“Careful,” he teased, turning to look at them. “I don’t recall giving you permission to crash into me.”

“Apologies, Master,” they murmured, stepping back.

He chuckled, the sound low and indulgent, before gesturing to the bench. “Sit.”

Pet obeyed without hesitation, perching on the edge as Asirel took a seat beside them, pulling them to lay their head on his lap, running his hands through their hair, his movements graceful and deliberate. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, and tilted his head to look up at the sky.

“Do you know why I keep you here, Pet?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

“To protect you, Master,” they replied automatically.

“Ah, but that’s only part of it.” His gaze shifted to them, sharp and probing. “You’re entertaining. Useful, yes, but more than that… you amuse me.”

They blinked, unsure whether to take his words as a compliment or something else entirely.

“And yet,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “even I can see that a creature as powerful as you shouldn’t be confined to four walls all the time.” He smirked. “Consider this my generosity. A taste of freedom, supervised, of course.”

“Thank you, Master,” Pet said quietly.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Asirel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied them. “Tell me, Pet, what would you do if you were truly free? No leash, no estate, no Master?”

The question caught them off guard. They stared at him, struggling to find an answer. “I… I don’t know, Master.”

“Hmm.” He seemed unsurprised by their response, leaning back again with a faint smile. “How delightfully predictable.”

For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by the gentle trickle of the fountain. Then, Asirel stood, brushing off his coat.

“Come,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Pet rose immediately, falling into step beside him once more as they resumed their walk. The path wound deeper into the gardens, where the air grew cooler, the scents of night-blooming flowers mingling with the crisp breeze.

Asirel walked slowly now, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed but regal. “You should consider yourself fortunate, Pet. Most wouldn’t dream of stepping onto these grounds, let alone wandering them freely.”

“I am fortunate, Master,” they agreed earnestly.

His smirk returned, sharp and knowing. “Flattery will get you nowhere, but I’ll allow it.”

They continued walking in silence until they reached a tall wrought-iron gate at the edge of the grounds. Beyond it lay the world Pet hadn’t seen in years—a world that felt distant, almost unreal.

Asirel stopped, his hand resting lightly on the gate’s cold metal. “This is as far as you go,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind.

“Yes, Master,” Pet replied, their tone tinged with longing.

He turned to face them, his expression unreadable. “Remember this, Pet: freedom is a fleeting thing. Most don’t appreciate it until it’s gone. But you… you’ll learn to find solace in what I give you. And I give you much, don’t I?”

“You do, Master,” they said softly.

“Good.” He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against their cheek for the briefest of moments—a rare display of tenderness that left them momentarily stunned.

Then, just as quickly, he turned away, beginning the walk back toward the estate. “Come along, Pet. We’ve indulged enough for one night.”

“Yes, Master,” they said, falling into step behind him once more.

[lil-binuu]

Pickle meeting Pet for the first time.

“so you’re a vampire?”

“yup.”

“and other types of supernaturals exist?”

“yupp”

“do unicorns exist?”

“…”

“what are you fucking five?”

[penelopesbaby]

Pet =D

Yes I did trace the vivianne westwood necklace I don’t wanna hear it. In my head Asirel made the vivianne westwood necklace a shock collar so pet can suffer in style #couplegoals

I’m literally obsessed with pet I probably love pet more than Asirel himself icl

She has that little ( | ) ( | ) eyes because they remind me of cats and I like cats and uhm so yeah

"Uhmmmm but its canon by saku that all vampires have normal eyes" is this sakus oc I don’t think so ✋🙄 just kidding but like its my oc and I like cats so for my entertainment she had a birth defect

Maybe her parents beat her for it as a kid hashtag bonus lore I guess

Her scars? What about them?

I like how she kinda looks like a lizard

Imagine shes wearing some badass heals guys please I love her

[zsakuva]

My first ever question in the big 2025! Lolol

1.) which character/s hasn't said the phrase "I love you" to their listeners in the present times? Why do they not say it?

(Happy new year btw!! Just wanted to say that we crumpets will be here to support you no matter what!! May u have a wonderful new year! 🫶🫶)

Elias - They're not in a safe enough environment to consider being lovers, and Elias wouldn't say it unless he meant it.

Asirel - He's not the type to say it, but is he the type to feel it? We'll see.

Zaros - ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Julian? - I'm not sure if he has or hasn't.

(Happy New Year!)

[claiestve]

ꨄ sakuverse tweets ! pt. 4 :

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

well… well okay LUCA HAS BEEN ADDED

[yoursinisforgiven]

HEAVENLY ──

pairing: isaac x reader (pickel) 

cw: smut, afab reader, pet and asriel appearance, references to this fic (envy), reader wears a dress (stops at about the mid thigh), public–ish sex, dry humping, isaac cums alot, pickel falls for peer pressure, nonconsensual use of drugs (aphrodisiacs), likely takes place after episode 12 of isaac’s series, vaginal fingering, cum eating, use of condoms (but also not, you’ll see), breeding without the intentions of pregnancy, spanking, unintentional humiliation, choking.

you are responsible for your own media consumption

"Too flashy?"  

You mumble under your breath, the question more for yourself than for Isaac, though you catch his reflection in the mirror behind you. The soft lamplight pools across the room, casting a warm glow that accentuates the dress’s intricate details. You turn slightly, letting the fabric shimmer as it clings and flows, elegant yet undeniably eye-catching.  

Your brows knit together as doubt creeps in, knotting your thoughts. You know you’re being indecisive—again. A small huff escapes your lips, frustration mingling with the nervous flutter in your chest. If this were just another night, you wouldn’t care so much about what you wore. But this wasn’t just any night. This was important. The kind of evening where first impressions were everything, where the way you carried yourself could shape conversations and leave marks that would linger long after.  

"Do you think it’s too much?" you ask, this time louder, your voice breaking the quiet tension of the room. You glance at Isaac briefly before your gaze darts back to the mirror, searching for reassurance in your own reflection.  

Isaac looks up from where he’s perched on the edge of the bed, his head tilting slightly as his eyes settle on you. For a moment, you’re unsure whether he’s assessing the gown or the way you’re fidgeting with its hem, smoothing invisible wrinkles in an effort to steady your nerves.  

“It’s perfect—” His voice is calm, grounding, but it carries the faintest edge of something deeper. You feel his eyes on you even before you see him move, his presence growing closer with each step. Goosebumps ripple along your neck as the sound of his footsteps nears.  

You meet his gaze in the mirror just as his hands find your waist, large and warm, their weight a comfort against the uncertainty stirring inside you. He leans in, his breath brushing your skin, and begins to press soft kisses along the curve of your neck, each one deliberate and unhurried.  

“—You’re perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice low, carrying a sincerity that settles like a balm over your doubts.  

For a moment, the weight of the evening lifts, replaced by the steady rhythm of his touch and the warmth of his presence. You let out a small laugh, part relief, part affection, and lean into him slightly, your hands coming to rest over his.  

The tension in your chest loosens as his hands glide from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer. You let your head tilt back slightly, your smile softening as his lips brush just below your ear, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“Isaac,” you murmur, half warning, half surrender, but the way his fingers curl against you makes it clear he’s already decided where this moment is heading.

“What?” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk you can feel against your skin. “Just making sure you’re feeling confident. Can’t have you second-guessing all night.”

His teasing tone melts into something darker as his lips return to your neck, a deliberate press that sends warmth cascading down your spine. You catch his gaze in the mirror, and the way his eyes darken makes your breath hitch.

“Careful,” you warn again, though it’s less convincing now, your voice catching as his hands trace slow, deliberate patterns over the smooth fabric of your gown.

Your protest dissolves as he turns you gently away from the mirror, his hands firm but careful, as though savoring the moment. The gown you’d been so worried about now feels like little more than an afterthought, forgotten in the heat of his touch and the promise in his eyes.

The evening’s worries blur into the background as his lips find yours, hungry and insistent, and the world outside your shared bedroom fades entirely.

──

A wave of nausea rolled through you, nerves twisting your stomach and surging like static through your veins. Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your gown, its soft shimmer catching the light. Despite the uncertainty that had gripped you last night, you’d grown to love it—partly because of its undeniable beauty, but mostly because of Isaac’s reaction. His touch, his gaze, his... reminders had left little room for doubt about how he saw you in it.

A faint smile played on your lips as your mind wandered. Perhaps your wedding dress would take a similar shape—sleek yet elegant. What would Isaac think of it? You could almost see him at the end of the aisle, waiting for you, his expression unreadable save for the soft warmth in his eyes. And what would he wear? Something sharp, no doubt. A black suit, tailored to perfection, his tie knotted just so.

The thought sent a flutter through you, but you shook your head, willing yourself to focus. This wasn’t the time to get lost in fantasies.

The heat of Isaac’s hand on your thigh brought you back to the present. Warm and steady, his fingers rested there with casual confidence, as if they belonged. You glanced toward him, taking in the sight that never failed to stir something inside you. One hand on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead, his other hand resting possessively on your thigh. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent warmth pooling low in your stomach, a reminder of how effortlessly he commanded your attention.

Your gaze flicked to his wrist, where the sleek lines of his watch caught the light. The engraving, Vacheron Constantin, glinted like a quiet boast of his refined taste. Everything about him seemed deliberate, controlled—except, perhaps, the way his fingers lightly squeezed your leg, drawing your focus back to him.

Your eyes trace the sharp lines of his jaw, his expression relaxed yet focused. Sinful. That’s what came to mind. How shameful it was that a simple gesture—a hand resting so casually on your leg—could stir such warmth in you.

“You okay?” His voice broke through your thoughts, deep and calm, yet threaded with a faint curiosity.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you with its softness. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat rising despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. You turned your head toward the window—it was nighttime. The blur of passing scenery is a feeble distraction from the warmth of his touch.

──

You knew you had arrived when the grand manor loomed into view, its towering stone facade shadowed by the dim evening light. Rows of expensive cars lined the roads like trophies on display, their gleaming exteriors a reflection of the kind of crowd you were about to face. Your hands grew clammy as Isaac pulled the car into a spot, the soft purr of the engine fading into silence. He wasted no time, stepping out and coming around to your side to open the door.  

“Always a gentleman,” you teased softly, though your voice wavered under the weight of your nerves.  

He offered you his arm with a slight smirk. You didn’t hesitate, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow, holding on tightly—possessively, even. The warmth of his presence steadied you as the heavy oak doors swung open before you, two suited men pulling them aside with ease. One gave Isaac a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of something you weren’t privy to.  

The air inside the manor was cool, the kind of chill that seeped into your skin. The stone walls, thick and oppressive, seemed to absorb the faint hum of life within. The corridors stretched endlessly, their grandeur undeniable but suffocating. The marble beneath your heels gleamed, reflecting the flicker of distant candlelight from ornate chandeliers above. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements like whispered secrets.  

Your heels clicked softly against the marble as you walked, the sound a sharp contrast to the muted classical music and faint laughter echoing from deeper within. The melodies mingled with the distant murmur of voices, weaving an ambiance of luxury tinged with unease.  

“Are we late?” you asked, your voice a near whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile balance of the atmosphere.  

Isaac glanced at his watch, the familiar glint of his timepiece catching your eye. “Seventeen minutes,” he replied, his tone as casual as if he were remarking on the weather.  

You brought a hand to your mouth, a soft gasp escaping. His smirk deepened as he led you up the grand staircase, its elegant curves spiraling upward like a work of art. From the balcony above, the vast entryway sprawled below, its polished floors gleaming in the dim light.  

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe we wouldn’t have been late if you’d gotten out of bed when I told you.”  

You gasped, scandalized, and lightly swatted his arm. “Maybe I could have if you hadn’t stolen all sensation from my legs,” you shot back, a playful grin tugging at your lips.  

Isaac’s laugh was rich, low, and infectious. You couldn’t help but join him, the tension from moments before melting away in the shared humor. But the moment was short-lived.  

“Isaac?”  

The voice was soft, hesitant, as if unsure of its place in the room. It cut through the air like a subtle warning, halting your laughter in an instant.

At the base of the stairs stood a figure, their posture uncertain, their expression torn between indecision and something deeper. Something raw. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the ache in their eyes, a silent pleading that tugged at your chest despite yourself.

They were undoubtedly beautiful. No, more than beautiful—angelic. Their features were impossibly perfect, almost otherworldly, like something sculpted by the hands of a master artist. But there was something unsettling about their beauty, something too perfect, too intense.

You furrowed your brows, your pulse quickening. Something about them felt... unreal. You couldn’t quite place it, but their presence stirred something uneasy within you.

Isaac’s demeanor shifted instantly. His laughter faded, his body tensing as he regarded the person below. He said nothing, his silence heavy, measured.  

You opened your mouth, instinctively wanting to ask if they were all right, but the words caught in your throat. Before you could find them, the person mumbled an apology and turned abruptly, disappearing through the heavy doors at the bottom of the staircase.  

You stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the exchange settling over you like a chill. “Who was that?” you finally asked, your voice softer now, uncertain.  

Isaac didn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the door they’d just passed through. Then, with a shake of his head, “No one important,” he said. You fur your brows slightly at his dismissive tone.

He placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you further into the manor. But as you ascended the remaining steps, you couldn’t shake the image of the figure’s troubled face—or the lingering feeling that they had left something unsaid. 

 ──

As you entered the ballroom, the grandeur of the room nearly took your breath away. A sea of glittering chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests who mingled in soft murmurs and laughter. The air was rich with the scent of expensive perfume and freshly poured champagne. Velvet curtains framed the tall, arched windows, allowing the faintest touch of moonlight to spill in. A string quartet played in the corner, their delicate notes weaving through the crowd like a distant lullaby, adding to the atmosphere of quiet opulence.

Isaac’s grip on your back was reassuring as he guided you further into the space. His posture was confident, almost regal, a man at ease in such settings. But as you walked with him, you couldn't help but feel the weight of all the eyes in the room drifting toward you. It was as if the room had paused, just for a second, in anticipation of something—a moment of collective awareness, where the air itself seemed to hum with unspoken expectations.

He steered you toward a group of men gathered near the far side of the room. Their voices were deep and authoritative, cutting through the ambient hum of the ballroom, filled with discussions of business deals, mutual acquaintances, and the kind of power that came with wealth and influence. As you walked closer, you could tell by the way they nodded to Isaac that he was a familiar presence here—expected, perhaps even revered. Their glances flickered between you and Isaac, curious and calculating, but you did your best to appear composed, to match Isaac’s unshakable confidence, even as an uncomfortable flutter stirred deep inside you.

Before you could fully immerse yourself in the conversation, a sharp movement across the room caught your eye. You froze, heart quickening, your gaze locking on a man and a woman standing near one of the marble columns. A scene unfolded between them that felt strangely out of place amidst the polished elegance of the ballroom.

The man was somewhat tall, his features sharp, his presence commanding. He held the woman’s wrist in a tight grip, pulling it forcefully away from his chest. The look on his face was one of pure distaste, as if her touch had somehow offended him. The woman, delicate and startled, tried to pull her hand back, confusion written all over her face, but he wouldn’t let her. His gaze shifted, scanning the room quickly—looking for someone, or perhaps something. 

A chill ran through you. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a brief moment, you thought his cold, penetrating gaze was aimed at you. But then you realized with a sudden shift in his attention that he wasn’t looking at you at all. His eyes were fixed on Isaac, who was gliding through the group with effortless confidence, completely unaware of the tension that had sparked between the two figures.

The woman, abandoned and disoriented, hesitated for a moment. She glanced at the man, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. With a dismissive flick of his hand, the man turned his back on her, leaving her standing there, frozen, a mix of confusion and frustration evident on her face. She glanced after him, a flicker of something in her eyes—perhaps longing, perhaps anger—but she didn’t follow him. Instead, she allowed herself to be swallowed by the crowd, her steps faltering as she hesitated, unsure whether to pursue or retreat.

Your gaze lingered on the woman for a moment longer, noting the sharpness in her eyes and the way she held herself with a mixture of dignity and something else—a sense of quiet desperation. It was a brief interaction, one that seemed to go unnoticed by the rest of the room, as the guests continued their conversations, unaware of the subtle drama that had just unfolded.

Isaac’s voice cut through your thoughts as the men he had been speaking to began to make their exit. They mentioned something about heading home, offering polite farewells before walking away, their conversations already fading into the distance. Just as the last of them disappeared from view, a new figure approached. You stiffened slightly as you recognized him—the man you had seen earlier.

He walked with a purposeful stride, his eyes never leaving Isaac as he approached. “Isaac,” he greeted smoothly, his voice tinged with amusement, as if he were smirking even though his lips never fully moved. 

Isaac’s response was flat, unamused. “Asriel.”

You couldn’t help it—a stifled giggle escaped your lips, the contrast between Isaac’s cool demeanor and Asriel’s calculated smugness making the moment oddly amusing. Asriel’s eyes flickered toward you for a split second, but his attention quickly returned to Isaac, as though you were an afterthought. “Here with your pet?” he asked, the words laced with condescension.

Isaac’s reply was instantaneous, but there was no warmth in it. “They aren’t my pet,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for interpretation.

Asriel didn’t seem phased by the sharp correction. “Speaking of which,” he continued, brushing a hand through his hair dismissively, “Have you seen my own? I’m afraid they had a little... tantrum and stormed off.” His eyes glinted with an almost sadistic amusement, like the whole situation was a private joke he was enjoying alone.

“I saw them on our way inside,” Isaac replied, his voice cool, almost bored. “They called after me—Keep it on a tighter leash, it’s dangerous.”

You froze, the harshness of Isaac’s words striking you. ‘It.’ The way he referred to a person with such impersonal detachment—it unsettled you, the cruel dismissal hanging in the air. It was a stark contrast to the warmth he had shown you moments before. You furrowed your brows at Isaac, unsure of how to process the casual cruelty of his tone, or if the words themselves carried a deeper meaning.

Asriel, however, seemed delighted by the exchange. His laugh was low, mocking, as he glanced from Isaac to you. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, assessing, before shifting back to Isaac. He was toying with both of you, and you could see it—he was enjoying it entirely too much.

Isaac didn’t seem to notice or care, his gaze flickering over the room as though searching for something—or someone—else to divert his attention. His eyes landed on a group of women clustered together near the far side of the ballroom. They were elegantly dressed, no doubt the wives of some of the men in attendance, their laughter soft and insincere, like the rest of the evening’s delicate façade. Isaac turned back to you, his posture still immaculate, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

He leaned down toward you, his voice low, almost casual. “Why don’t you join them?” he suggested, his words almost too casual, as though the decision were yours to make, but there was an unmistakable edge to his tone. You weren’t sure if he was offering you a choice, or subtly pushing you away. Either way, you felt the weight of his suggestion, a quiet command wrapped in the guise of an invitation.

Your brow furrowed as you glanced in the direction Isaac was looking, at the group of women, their laughter light and the soft clink of their glasses mingling in the air. A part of you wanted to refuse, to stay by Isaac’s side, but the other part of you felt an unsettling pull—something about the way Asriel and Isaac spoke, the tension that still lingered between them, made you feel like an outsider in a world you hadn’t quite understood yet.

Despite the unease gnawing at you, you found yourself walking toward the group of women. It felt almost absurd, as if you were back in primary school, hesitating at the edge of a playground, wondering whether or not you’d be accepted. The weight of their gaze, though polite, felt like a quiet judgment you couldn’t shake. You couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in a world that was already perfectly in place.

The women were gathered in a tight circle, their laughter light, their conversations flowing effortlessly. As you approached, they turned their heads, their eyes briefly assessing you before their expressions softened into warm, inviting smiles. They looked like they belonged here, each of them effortlessly at ease in the opulence of the ballroom, dressed in gowns that shimmered with wealth and grace.

"Well, well," a woman with dark hair and a knowing smile said, tilting her head as she looked you up and down. "Isaac's latest, I assume?" Her voice was smooth, like velvet.

You smiled nervously. "Yes, that's right. I'm just... trying to get to know everyone."

One of the other women, a petite brunette, grinned. "You’ve certainly come to the right place, darling. But don’t worry, we’ll help you fit right in."

You felt an unfamiliar pressure mounting in your chest, as if they were already measuring you up, assessing where you stood. The woman who spoke before raised an eyebrow, studying you with curiosity. “So, how did you meet Isaac?” she asked, her tone polite, but there was a subtle edge to her words. 

You shifted your weight awkwardly. “We’ve known each other for a while,” you said carefully. “Just… recently started spending more time together.” Lies. a mask you wore to shield yourself from the questions you weren’t sure you wanted to answer.

“That sounds interesting,” the raven-haired woman chimed in, glancing between you and the others, clearly interested in what you’d say next. “What is it about Isaac that’s so... irresistible?”

Before you could answer, the woman with dark hair spoke again, her voice light but with a sharp undertone, “I’d be careful. Men like him don’t usually settle down.” She let out a soft laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not that you should expect that, of course.”

The words hung in the air like a subtle warning. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you pushed the thought aside, trying to mask your discomfort. “I’m not expecting anything,” you said, your voice steady, though you were unsure of your own feelings.

Another woman, a blonde with a sharp chin, tilted her head, sizing you up. “No expectations. That’s a good approach,” she said with a smirk, her voice casual but calculating. “Just enjoy the ride, darling. Life’s too short to overthink it.”

You nodded, trying to smile, but the words felt hollow. As the conversation shifted to something lighter, you felt the attention shift from you, but the undercurrent of subtle judgment remained. For a moment, you wondered if you truly belonged here.

Then, as if on cue, one of the women— the raven-haired beauty—held out a delicate glass of champagne to you, her expression almost playful. “Here, try this. You’ll feel much better.”

You hesitated, looking at the glass. There was something almost predatory in the way she was offering it, but her smile was warm, and the others were watching expectantly. The pressure mounted, the subtle challenge in the air. You couldn’t back out now, not without feeling like you’d just failed some unspoken test.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Come on, it’s just one drink. It’s harmless.” She pushed the glass toward you again, her voice sweet but firm, as though it were an unspoken rule you couldn’t break.

You took it, and drank it.

The group of women exchanged pleased glances, and for the briefest moment, you felt a sense of belonging. You’d crossed an invisible line, done something small to cement your place in their world. But as the liquid settled in your stomach, you couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of regret. Had you made a mistake? Had you just given in to something that felt wrong? You glanced back at Isaac across the room, his figure easily spotted among the crowd, but he was talking to someone else, his attention elsewhere. For now, you were alone in this strange, glittering world, caught between the allure of its opulence and the nagging sense that you weren’t truly meant to be here.

The women continued to chat, the conversation flowing around you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being pulled further into a game whose rules you didn’t fully understand.

"See?" the blonde woman said, smiling at you with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Wasn’t so bad, was it?"

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere, but you felt a sense of ease flood over you, a dulling of the sharp edges of your self-doubt. For a brief moment, you felt like part of the group, like you’d passed some invisible threshold. 

But just as quickly as it had come, the feeling was replaced with something else—a deepening unease that you couldn’t quite place. You looked around, catching glimpses of the other guests as they mingled in the ballroom, their conversations a blur of names and deals and laughter. 

As the night wore on, the conversation turned to idle gossip, and you found yourself talking more freely, offering your opinions in an attempt to fit in. The words came easily, the alcohol loosening your tongue, but somewhere in the back of your mind, the feeling that you didn’t truly belong here grew louder.

One of the women leaned closer to you, her voice low, “You know, you’re really starting to fit in. Just keep playing the game.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. The evening felt like a game you hadn’t agreed to play—yet here you were, caught in it, taking another sip of the drink in your hand, and wondering how far you were willing to go to keep up the charade. 

The conversation turned to more casual topics, and soon you found yourself swept into the rhythm of the group. They spoke of the latest social events, the fashion, and the discreet gossip that swirled in the upper circles of society. You listened, offering the occasional comment, feeling the pressure to fit in, to be part of the group, as though your every word and gesture were being scrutinized.

──

The night wore on, the laughter and chatter of the ballroom slowly blending into a dull murmur around you. You sat next to the blonde woman who had offered you the drink, her presence still warm and welcoming, though something about the evening felt off. She had taken a particular interest in you, leaning in every now and then to share intimate details about her life. Her husband, she explained, treated her poorly, often leaving her feeling neglected and alone. You could hear the vulnerability in her voice, and you wanted to listen, to offer some comfort. But something else was tugging at your focus—something you couldn’t shake.

As she spoke, you could feel the growing heat within you, the sudden warmth spreading across your skin. Your mouth was dry, and you swallowed nervously, a strange pressure building in your chest. Your heart beat faster, and you realized, with growing discomfort, that it wasn’t just the warmth of the ballroom that was affecting you. No, there was something in that drink.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, arousal had pooled underneath you. your fingers tightening around the glass as the sensation inside you intensified. You looked down at the champagne in your hand, your thoughts racing. The heat coursing through your body made you feel dizzy, lightheaded. It was like a fire building inside, a quiet but insistent force you couldn’t ignore.

You blinked, trying to focus, but the room around you seemed to blur at the edges. Your gaze instinctively flicked to Isaac, who was still conversing with a group of men across the room, his figure confident and composed. But even from across the room, you felt the pull, the strange sensation tugging at you, a magnetic force that seemed to center on him.

You could feel your body reacting, growing warmer under his presence, even from afar. But this...this wasn’t right. You quickly turned back to the blonde woman beside you, your voice barely a whisper. 

“W...what was in that drink?” you managed to ask, your words slurring slightly, though you tried to steady yourself. “It’s really—good...”

The blonde woman’s smile widened, and she leaned in closer, her voice low and almost soothing. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s just champagne,” she replied, her tone casual, almost too casual. “But there is something else in there... just a little popper.”

You blinked in confusion, your mind struggling to catch up. “Poppers?”

She chuckled, her eyes glimmering with something almost too knowing. “Aphrodisiac, honey.” she clarified with a wink, as if the answer were as simple as breathing.

A cold wave of realization washed over you, and your heart skipped a beat. Your pulse quickened, and the room seemed to close in on you. “Aphrodisiac?” you repeated, your voice hoarse.

She nodded, her gaze steady as she studied your reaction. “Just a little something to help you relax, darling,” she said, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s a common thing here, especially for... special guests. Men only want one thing, might as well make it somewhat enjoyable for us ladies too right?”

You could feel your stomach churn with a mix of anger and confusion. The heat inside you seemed to grow, and you suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. You tried to keep your composure, but it was difficult. Your mind swirled as the reality of what was happening settled into your chest, tightening like a vice.

Your eyes instinctively sought Isaac once more, but he was still deep in conversation, unaware of the turmoil you were now drowning in. You felt a mixture of betrayal and helplessness—how could this have happened? Why hadn’t you noticed sooner? The blonde woman’s presence seemed to amplify your discomfort, but you couldn’t pull away. You couldn’t leave, not yet.

As the heat continued to build, your thoughts started to blur, and you felt a sudden pull in your chest. The woman’s words echoed in your mind, and you realized that you weren’t just fighting the growing warmth inside you—you were fighting to keep control, to keep yourself from slipping into whatever game they had planned for you.

You had to find a way out of this.

The warmth inside you continued to grow, and despite every attempt to focus, it became harder to keep control. The room seemed to spin ever so slightly, the lights growing too bright, the air too thick. The woman beside you continued talking, her words blending into a soft hum in the background as your focus wavered. Every inch of your body seemed to ache, a kind of restlessness pushing at the edges of your mind.

You needed to focus, but the desire to be near Isaac, to feel his presence, had intensified. It was like a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist, drawing you toward him even though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way. The heat that burned in your chest now seemed to consume your every thought.

Without thinking, you stood up abruptly, excusing yourself from the blonde woman’s conversation, her voice following you with a soft chuckle that only fueled your unease. You stumbled slightly as you moved through the crowd, your legs unsteady, but you couldn’t stop. Isaac’s figure loomed ahead, still surrounded by his conversation, his back to you as you approached him.

As you neared, you realized how out of place you must have seemed. There was something desperate in your movements, something needy, and you couldn't stop it. The moment you reached Isaac, you placed a hand on his arm, feeling a surge of heat course through your fingers at the touch.

Isaac turned, a slight flicker of surprise in his eyes as he met your gaze. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice cool but with an edge of concern.

Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost breathless. “I—I need you,” you said, your words feeling foreign even to yourself. “Please.”

His brow furrowed as he assessed you, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. But before he could respond, the man he had been speaking to earlier interrupted, stepping forward with a slight smirk. “Everything alright, Isaac?”

You barely registered the man's presence, your focus still on Isaac as you felt a deep, gnawing need take over you. It was like something was clawing at you from the inside, demanding attention, pulling you towards him.

Isaac’s gaze shifted between you and the man, his expression unreadable, before he gave a quiet, almost dismissive nod to the other man. “I’ll be fine,” he said curtly, his voice returning to its usual calm composure. 

Then, turning to you, his tone softened, but only just. “Come with me,” he said, his hand sliding onto the small of your back. 

You nodded eagerly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You couldn’t think straight anymore, and you didn’t want to. The heat inside you was all-consuming, and all you wanted was for Isaac to take you somewhere quiet, away from the eyes of everyone else.

As you moved together, you caught a glimpse of the blonde woman’s eyes, watching you from across the room. Her smile was wide, knowing, and it made your stomach twist even more.

But Isaac's hand on your back was grounding, and you allowed yourself to follow him. You needed to escape the sensations that were overwhelming you, but deep down, you were starting to wonder if there was any way out at all.

──

Isaac’s hand was firm on your back as he guided you through the maze of the ballroom, his pace quickening now that you were away from the prying eyes of the crowd. The tension in your body only increased with each step you took. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you, and the heat that had been building inside you all evening was becoming unbearable. The hallway ahead was dimly lit, leading to a small restroom tucked away from the main gathering.

Isaac’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in his energy, as though something had clicked into place. You could feel his presence next to you, his body close, and yet it was as if there was an invisible wall between the two of you, one that only seemed to grow the further you moved away from the noise of the ballroom.

When you reached the restroom, Isaac opened the door with a firm push and ushered you inside, his movements swift but not harsh. The room was cool, the polished marble floors and gold accents adding a sense of luxury, but the air between you both was heavy, charged with something else.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and then he turned to face you, his eyes narrowing as they took in your pale face and the discomfort that seemed to radiate from you. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low, tight with an edge of concern that you hadn’t heard before.

You swallowed hard, the words feeling thick in your throat. Your body was still trembling with the effects of the drink, and your mind was a haze, but you forced yourself to meet Isaac’s gaze. There was no use hiding it from him now. “The drink,” you said, your voice shaky. “The woman gave me something in it... something to make me... feel different. I—I didn’t know what it was at first. But now… I feel like I can’t think straight, Isaac. There’s something wrong. I didn’t know what was happening.”

Isaac’s expression hardened as he listened to your words, his features sharpening with a visible flash of anger. His eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually composed exterior. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“What the hell did she give you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word dripping with fury.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice faltering. “She said it was a... aphrodisiac. She told me it would help me relax, that it was something they do here for... special guests.”

Isaac’s face twisted with disgust, and his hands clenched tighter. “I should’ve been there,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his tone venomous. “I should’ve been watching. You’re not supposed to be left alone with people like that.” His eyes turned back to you, a look of regret clouding his usual control. “I never should’ve let her near you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, the weight of his words sinking deep within you. You had never seen Isaac like this—his anger was palpable, filling the room, and yet it was not directed at you. It felt as though he was angry at himself, as though he was blaming himself for letting this happen to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice softening, though it still carried the edge of his previous fury. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your shoulder, his touch almost apologetic. “I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve let anyone get close to you. This is on me.”

You felt a swell of emotion inside you, the combination of his apology and his anger, but also the overwhelming pressure of what you were feeling. The heat inside you had not abated; if anything, it had only grown stronger. You could feel the intensity in your body—something between desire and panic—and you had no idea how to fight it. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come out right.

Isaac studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he exhaled sharply.

“It’s not your fault, Isaac. You didn’t do this. I—this wasn’t your fault.”

Isaac’s brows furrowed, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for something in your gaze. “But I wasn’t there. I should’ve been more careful. You—” He stopped, his words trailing off, and the anger shifted into frustration. He took a step toward you, his voice low but urgent. “I should’ve never let anyone near you like that. I should’ve protected you.”

You felt a wave of something soft, a quiet understanding stirring within you, even as your heart raced with the aftermath of everything. The heat, the dizziness, the overwhelming feeling of loss of control—it was all there, but so was the fact that Isaac was trying to make it right.

“No,” you repeated, but this time, you stepped forward, closing the space between you. “You don’t need to protect me from this. I’m not a child, Isaac.” You reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart under the fabric of his shirt. “I know you care, but this wasn’t your fault. You can’t always be everywhere at once.”

Isaac stood still, taking in your words, his expression still etched with guilt. “I should’ve been watching out for you,” he muttered, almost to himself, before looking down at you, his gaze softening as you continued to reassure him.

“You were there for me, Isaac,” you said, your voice steady now, even though the heat still simmered inside you. “You’re here now, and that’s enough. Please… don’t blame yourself.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, you reached up, cupping his jaw gently with your hand. His breath hitched at the touch, and you could see his internal struggle playing out across his face. “Please, Isaac,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Stay with me.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood there, his eyes locked onto yours, the flickering candlelight from the restroom’s sconces casting shadows across his face. You could feel the heat between you growing, not just from the drug still working its way through your veins, but from something else—a tension, an electricity in the air that felt impossible to ignore.

Then, as if something finally gave way, Isaac leaned in slowly, closing the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours with a careful hesitance, like he was waiting for you to pull back, to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you deepened the kiss, your hands threading into his hair as his grip on your waist tightened.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as though you both needed to reassure each other that this moment was real, that you weren’t just victims of a situation that you couldn’t control. Isaac’s hands slid to your back, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together, the heat of his touch mixing with the warmth still rising in you.

For a brief second, the room seemed to disappear. The distant hum of the ballroom, the lingering discomfort of the drug, the world outside—it all faded as the kiss consumed you both.

Isaac pulled away just slightly, his breath ragged against your lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Not now, not ever.”

You didn’t answer him with words—there was nothing left to say. Instead, you kissed him again, this time with everything you had, as if the kiss itself would somehow erase the fear and confusion that had clouded your mind.

And in that moment, for a fleeting second, nothing else mattered.

Isaac's hands roamed your curves, desperation fueling his touch as he gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact, feeling the hard length of him through the fabric of his tailored trousers. The heat pooling in your core intensified, the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins demanding more.

"Isaac," you gasped, your fingers fisting in his dark hair as he trailed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His lips found your pulse point, and he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin as he felt your heart racing beneath his touch.

With a low groan, Isaac's hands slid down to grip the hem of your dress, his fingers slipping beneath the silky fabric to caress the bare skin of your thighs. He gripped your legs, his thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles on the sensitive flesh as he slowly inched the dress up, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze.

You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his fingers brushed against the lace edge of your panties. The damp fabric clung to your heated flesh, the evidence of your arousal unmistakable. Isaac's eyes darkened with lust as he felt the dampness, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he growled, his voice rough with desire. 

His fingers pushed the lace aside, and he stroked your slick folds, his touch maddeningly slow and teasing. You bucked against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure, anything to ease the ache building inside you.

Isaac chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers delving deeper, two digits sinking into your tight, clinging heat. "Greedy" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "So hungry for my touch."

You could only whimper in response, your hips rolling against his hand as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, circling motions. The pleasure was intense, the drug amplifying every sensation until you could hardly think straight.

Isaac's other hand slid up your body, pushing the top of your dress down to expose your breasts to the cool air of the restroom. Your nipples pebble, Isaac leaned in, capturing one of your hardened nipples between his teeth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as he sucked hard. His fingers never ceased their relentless assault on your dripping sex, plunging in and out, curling to stroke that spot deep inside that made your toes curl in your heels.

Your head fell back, a sharp cry of ecstasy tearing from your throat as the dual assault on your breast and sex pushed you closer to the edge. Isaac seemed determined to make you come undone, to prove that he could give you the pleasure you craved, that he could wipe away the lingering traces of the drug-induced haze and replace it with the clarity of your shared desire.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips trailing kisses up the swell of your breast, over your collarbone, until he reached your mouth once more. He kissed you hard, his tongue delving inside to claim you, to make you his.

"Come for me," Isaac demanded against your lips, his voice a low, urgent growl. "Let me feel you come apart in my arms."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers and the press of his hard, clothed cock against your thigh, proved too much. With a silent scream of his name, you shattered, your sex clenching and fluttering around his fingers as wave after wave of intense, mind-numbing bliss crashed over you. Isaac’s free hand moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping gently but firmly around it, applying just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze unwavering.

“Quiet,” he murmured, his voice low, commanding, though there was no malice in it—only a subtle warning. The air between you thickened with a mixture of heat and tension as he held you there, his grip almost protective, as if daring anything or anyone to threaten this fragile moment.

Isaac worked you through your climax, his fingers never stopping their movements until the last aftershock had left your body trembling. As you slowly drifted down from the high, he pulled his fingers from your still-spasming sex, bringing them to his mouth to suck your essence from the digits.

"Delicious," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, dark with satisfaction and lingering desire.

Before you could respond, he captured your mouth in another searing kiss, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor of your shared passion igniting the embers of your arousal once more.

As the kiss deepened, Isaac's hands slid down to grip your ass, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he turned to press you against the cool marble wall of the restroom, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of your skin.

Isaac's hips rolled forward, grinding his clothed arousal against your sensitive, dripping sex. The rough fabric of his trousers created a delicious friction, stoking the embers of your desire back into a raging inferno. You gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, needing to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations.

Isaac's hands slid under your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he held you aloft with an almost bruising force. He tore his mouth from yours, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. You tilted your head to give him better access, a breathy moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," Isaac growled, his voice strained with barely restrained desire. His words, crude and vulgar, sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You could feel the thick outline of his erection straining against his trousers, the heat of him scorching your core even through the fabric barrier. The ache between your legs intensified, your body yearning to be filled, to be claimed by this dominant, demanding man.

Isaac's fingers found the hem of your dress again, pushing the material up and over your hips to pool around your waist. His hands slid around to cup your ass, kneading the globes roughly as he ground his clothed cock harder against your lace-covered sex. The damp fabric of your panties clung to your swollen folds, the evidence of your arousal coating the delicate lace.

"You're mine," Isaac rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Say it."

He punctuated his demand with a sharp thrust of his hips, the head of his cock catching on your clit through the fabric, sending a jolt of pleasure radiating through you. Your back arched, pressing your breasts against his chest, the hard points of your nipples straining against the confines of your dress.

"I'm yours," you gasped out, your voice ragged with need. "Only yours, Isaac."

Isaac's eyes flashed with a dark, primal hunger as he tore your panties away, the flimsy lace offering no resistance to his brute strength. He tossed the ruined garment aside, his large hands gripping your bare ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The cool air of the restroom hit your exposed, dripping sex, making you shiver and clench around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Look at you” He coo’s, words punctuated by grinding the thick ridge of his erection against your naked, swollen folds, the rough fabric of his trousers creating a delicious friction that made stars explode behind your eyelids. You could feel every rigid inch of him, feel the heat of his flesh even through the barrier of clothing, and it made your core clench and flutter wildly, a fresh gush of arousal flooding your core.

With a low groan, Isaac reached into the back pocket of his tailored trousers and withdrew his wallet. He flipped it open, his fingers deftly plucking out a small, square packet. Tearing it open with his teeth, he pulled out the condom, tossing the empty wrapper carelessly aside.

He undid his belt with quick, efficient movements. The leather slipped through the buckle, the sound of it hitting the marble floor loud in the charged silence of the restroom, he popped the button of his trousers, lowering the zipper with a soft hiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as he tugged his trousers and boxers down, just enough to free his throbbing erection. It sprang forth, long, thick and hard, the swollen head an angry pink and already glistening with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight, your core clenching with anticipation.

"Do you really want me to take you here?" Isaac taunted, his voice a low, rough rasp as he tore open the condom packet with his teeth.

He rolled the condom over his impressive length with practiced ease, the latex stretching taut over his thick flesh. Once sheathed, he gripped your thighs harder, his fingers digging into the soft skin hard enough to leave imprints. With a sharp spank to your ass the stinging slap of his palm against your skin making your sex clench and flutter wildly around his pistoning cock. Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to him, meeting his fierce thrusts with the roll of your hips. “Answer me.”

“Here—please Isaac” You beg, your voice hoarse.

Isaac's eyes darkened with lust and a hint of something wilder, more primal, as he lined himself up with your entrance. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick folds, parting them easily, teasingly. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, could sense how desperately your body ached to be filled by him.

"Breathe, my love." Isaac murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. 

As if on cue, he thrust forward, sheathing himself inside you with one powerful, decisive stroke. A guttural groan tore from his throat as your tight, wet heat engulfed him, your walls clenching and fluttering wildly around his thick girth.

"God" Isaac groaned, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to move, his hips snapping forward and pulling back in a relentless, driving rhythm.

He set a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts that had your entire body jolting with the force. The obscene slap of skin against skin echoed through the restroom, mingling with your wanton moans and Isaac's harsh, ragged breathing.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to him, meeting his fierce thrusts with the roll of your hips. Isaac's hand slid up your body, cupping one of your breasts, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse before he suckled hard, marking you as his.

Lost in the throes of passion, neither of you noticed the condom stretching taut around Isaac's pistoning shaft, the latex straining with each deep, driving thrust. It was only when a sharp, snapping sound cut through the fog of lust that you both froze, your eyes widening in realization.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice high and breathy, tinged with a note of desperation.

Something primal and possessive flashed in Isaac's eyes at your wanton plea. With a low, animalistic growl, he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim you utterly. At the same time, he began to move again, his hips surging forward in hard, deep thrusts that struck that secret, hidden spot inside you with every plunge of his shaft. He began grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, the rough friction sending you hurtling over the edge. Your body convulsed beneath him, your sex clamping down on his length like a vice as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

You could feel the hot, heavy spurts of his seed flooding your core, painting your insides with his essence. It was a deeply intimate, primal moment, the two of you locked together in the throes of mutual climax, joined as closely as two people could be.

Isaac collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the wall as he struggled to catch his breath. He peppered your face with soft kisses, his touch almost reverent as he traced the contours of your cheekbones, your jaw, your lips.

As the waves of your shared climax subsided, Isaac slowly pulled back, his softening length slipping from your tender, well-used sex with a gush of combined fluids. You both winced slightly at the sensation, the intimate act leaving you feeling deliciously satisfied yet oddly empty.

Isaac carefully set you back on your feet, his hands on your waist to steady you until you found your balance. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling slightly as they took your weight once more. He kept you pressed against him for a moment longer, his chin resting atop your head as he held you close.

"Be careful, love," he murmured, his voice a low, concerned rumble. "I don't want you collapsing on me now."

He reluctantly let you go, taking a step back to survey the disheveled state of your clothing. With deft fingers, he smoothed your dress back down over your curves, his touch lingering on the swell of your hips, the dip of your waist. He retrieved your ruined panties, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he held them up, assisting you by putting them back on.

"Looks like these won't be needed any more tonight," Isaac quipped, tossing them carelessly into a nearby wastebasket. He tucked his own shirt back into his trousers, doing up the button and zipper with quick, dusting off his blazer with his hand all in efficient motions.

Isaac then took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his own. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Offering you his arm once more as he leads you out the restroom. “You're exhausted” He says, “Let’s go back home.”

As you and Isaac descended the grand staircase, the weight of the night seemed to press down on you more than ever. The echo of your footsteps reverberated in the cool, marble corridors. The doors opened ahead by the same two men from earlier before. The chill of the night sent a shiver through you, and without hesitation, Isaac slipped his blazer from his shoulders and draped it over yours, pulling it tight against your frame. The warmth of the fabric immediately wrapped around you, but there was still a heaviness in the air, a subtle tension that clung to you both as you made your way into the night. His hand brushed against your back, his touch firm and reassuring.

Standing near the doors, leaning casually against the wall, was the figure you had seen earlier—the one you had recognized as “Asriel’s pet.” They were impossible to ignore, even now. Their beauty was ethereal, as if sculpted by the hands of some unseen artist—too perfect, too captivating. The moonlight danced off their features, accentuating every sharp contour and the way their eyes seemed to glow with an unsettling intensity.

You looked up at Isaac, instinctively waiting for his reaction. As you both drew nearer, the figure’s eyes flicked to you, a slow and deliberate gaze that seemed to take in every detail of your exposed legs. The way they looked at you sent a chill down your spine, a feeling that almost bordered on possessive. A smirk stretched across their lips, and you could feel the weight of their gaze before they spoke.

“Must’ve been a fun night,” they said, their voice dripping with mockery, sharp and pointed. There was a cruelty in their tone, but beneath that, something darker, more dangerous—almost predatory.

Confused, you furrowed your brows, not quite understanding the insinuation. But then, your eyes dropped to your legs, and the sickening realization hit you like a wave—Isaac’s essence, the remnants of your intimate moment, was trickling down your leg. A hot flush of embarrassment burned through your chest, but before you could react, Isaac’s grip on your hand tightened, his body stiffening as his jaw clenched in barely contained fury.

“Stay close,” he muttered under his breath, his words low but firm. His gaze locked onto the figure, filled with an icy, silent threat. Then his attention turned back to you, his eyes softening momentarily as his hand moved to steady you, the concern for you outweighing the rage that simmered beneath the surface. “Don’t pay attention to them.”

The figure, still leaning casually against the wall, continued to smirk, their eyes flickering over you with an unsettling amusement. They didn’t push further, but their silence spoke volumes—mocking, daring, almost as if they were watching you both, waiting for something to break.

Isaac, sensing your unease, led you away, his body moving closer to yours. He guided you with a firmness that conveyed both his protectiveness and his anger, the night air colder as it bit at your skin. As you walked past the figure, you couldn't help but glance over at them once more, and in that moment, the figure’s eyes locked onto yours.

They mouthed something, their lips curling into a smile as they spoke the words that sent a shiver down your spine. "See you soon." The smirk on their face deepened as they gave a small, deliberate wave, the motion almost mocking as you walked away.

Your pulse quickened at the thought of their cryptic words, the warning behind them making your skin prickle. You looked up at Isaac, who kept his focus ahead, his anger still apparent in every step he took, but he offered no explanation.

By the time you reached the car, you could feel the cold still clinging to you, the remnants of the uncomfortable encounter sticking in your mind. Isaac opened the door for you, the tension in his body still evident as he held your gaze for a moment longer than usual.

“Sleep,” he said, his voice softer now, though there was still a firmness in it. “I’ll cook for you tonight.” There was something comforting in the simplicity of his words, and as you climbed into the car, you allowed yourself to relax just a little, despite the lingering unease. Isaac started the engine, the soft hum of the car providing a strange sense of normalcy after everything that had just happened.As the car rolled out of the manor's driveway and into the night, your mind continued to whirl with the figure’s haunting presence and those words—“See you soon.”

──

author's note: dedicated to the anon who referred to me as dear, if it matters to anyone at all i imagined isaac wearing this watch.