#he seems so disappointed. like not even in the murder

[mylastmoleculeofserotonin]

How is Silco actively trying to make her mental health worse for his personal gain

Did we watch the same show??

I’m planning to make a post going more in depth on this later, but basically it boils down to:

1) He takes her history with Vi and twists his with Vander to make it seem similar as a way to create a false sense of closeness and solidarity between them. He uses this as “proof” that she cannot rely on anyone else, making her extremely dependent on him and him alone for everything from getting her basic needs met, to emotional support. Which alone is bad enough for one’s mental health, not to mention that his approval and affection is connected to how well she performs in missions/what she does to further his plans. Now where I got the intentionality from is that what happened between Silco and Vander was, to put it generously, a conflict of ideologies between two adults, whereas what happened with Vi and Powder was the heat of the moment getting the better of Vi after Powder accidentally killed their whole family as kids. And Silco knew this: prior to the time skip, the only things he says to/about Vander are about their ideologies, how he doesn’t hate him for trying to murder him, and that this whole thing isn’t personal, it’s a necessary step in his plan, the base violence necessary for change. However, that narrative changes completely when he talks to Jinx about it. Silco overemphasized/exaggerated how close he and Vander were and completely downplayed the ideological reasons that pushed them into conflict since that was 100% not what came between Vi and Powder, instead implying it came out of nowhere. Also he talks about it a lot to Jinx even though he was supposedly over it, creating too much disparity for there not to have been at least some level of twisting the story. (Now, even if he genuinely did see it as that harsh of a betrayal and truly is a deeply still affected by it, dumping it onto his teenage daughter who supposedly went through the same thing and using it to tell her to never rely on anyone else while he fully trusts and relies upon at least Sevika if not some other of his operatives, making it still an intentional action to worsen her mental health).

2) he encourages her conflict of identity: Jinx, in season one, is still torn between her identities as Powder and Jinx, and the mentally healthy and constructive thing to do would be to help her accept both parts of herself to create an identity where “I destroy everything I touch” isn’t the core of it (as we see with AU Powder). But that’s the exact opposite of what Silco does. He creates a false dichotomy between Powder and Jinx, saying that one is the source of all her weaknesses and needs to die and the other is perfect and can do no wrong. Accepting and embracing one’s shortcomings is necessary for good and stable mental health, however, Jinx feeling like she’s not allowed to be weak and has to be perfect like Silco says she is, lest she disappoints/lets him down is one of the worst things for one’s mental health. Plus the fact that what made her become Jinx was one mistake and the Powder=mistakes=weakness/Jinx=perfection=strength narrative he spins for her doesn’t allow for her to process her trauma and encourages her to push aside any mistakes she makes and bottle up the subsequent emotions which also is awful for her mental health.

3) He gives a very young, traumatized kid military grade weapons and has her run jobs to hurt her community for his crime empire. Not to mention that one of those said weapon is explosives, the very thing that caused her so much trauma. Also, he has her make another hextech explosive and when she says no, it’s too traumatizing, he still forces her to do it and uses it as an opportunity to bring up the first two points.

4) He only shows his approval/gives her affection when she is successful. The only times we see him be affectionate/approving of her is when she steals the hex tech gemstone and helps him with his eye. Meanwhile, when she is clearly suffering after the mission in episode 3, he only addresses it in terms of “what happened and how can we fix it” while barely looking at her before sending her away. The last thing Jinx needs is to be deprived of connection when she fails at something/makes a mistake as that was also at the center of her past trauma, which Silco is fully aware of and yet still does to her anyway.

5) the only time where we really see that he may genuinely care about her is when he is prepared to sacrifice the peace treaty for her. However, we get to hear his true thoughts about her and it is clear that he sees her as his undoing bc he couldn’t help but grow attached to her. Which definitely implicates that he was actively trying to avoid forging emotional connections with her while he makes her so dependent on him. This is reinforced by the fact that he saw Vander’s kids as prizes to be won, not children to be adopted or even people to be cared for, but tools to be used.

6) and this one isn’t one that he would have for certain known and actively used against her, but Powder’s main motivation is to help those she cares about, and with Silco, helping him is equated with hurting others, which again world exacerbate her conflict of identity and making it extraordinarily difficult to see herself as a good person, which is also a key factor in children’s development and mental health.

And out of doing all this, he gains an unwaveringly loyal teenage super soldier who everyone in the undercity is deeply terrified of.

Now with all that said, this isn’t meant as any hate towards Silco or anyone who likes him. I find him an extremely well written and compelling character. I just think he’s an awful person.

[tcoaal]

Should've sent this yesterday but ever felt like Renee ever felt guilty or remorse for anything she did to the kids? At all?

happy belated mother's day Renee wish the kids had killed you worse! anyways... that's an interesting question because like, it feels like you could make an argument for that based on two separate scenes but I'm much more inclined to believe she doesn't and that Renee was largely more uncomfortable when faced with the reality "I'm murdering my children for money" more than actual guilt or remorse for doing it. i used to think maybe she did when i first only played Chapter 1 but not anymore

so first in chapter 1 Renee seems to have some regret or hesitation about what she's doing, and then again in the 3a flashbacks she seems to have some hesitation to the point of having to ask if there's truly no chance the kids are going to live for assurance to go through with it

but also Renee's response when she's lead to believe the kids definitely died in a fire and they're 100% in the clear was to buy steaks and wine to have a celebration dinner. Renee's flashbacks shows her viewing her kids solely as Embarrassment and Disappointment in her internal narration. nothing about her actions after believing them to be dead hints at any kind of actual remorse in any capacity, only joy

Renee is a Tar Soul To-Be and i think these scenes are more like... Renee being uncomfortable with being confronted with the reality of what she's doing more than feeling guilty about it. something Nemlei talked about in that Q&A regarding Renee's original plan is noting that there are some similarities between them, and I think Insincere Catholic Guilt is definitely one of them. teen Andrew laments that he would turn himself if it would bring back Nina but justifies because it won't there's no reason to, there's a really great post about it here and I think Renee is kind of the same. this was still presumably early enough she could've gotten her kids out quicker, but the Surgeon says there's no way her kids are gonna make it. she knows the parasites aren't real. but this grand conspiracy with forces stronger than them has taken root... if her kids are going to die no matter what, shouldn't she get something, a compensation for the 22 years she spent on these hellions? it's going to happen no matter what, even if she warns them, they'll probably prevent them from leaving right?

that's just how i read these scenes. i think if Renee felt actual genuine remorse she would've probably like, more calmly accepted her fate in chapter 2, you know? like, ha. i tried to kill my own kids. of course they're going to kill me and their father. i had this coming. of course the situation was fucked beyond belief, but that's my personal take. if Renee had been a full Tar Soul i doubt she would've been uncomfortable facing the reality of it though. what Renee really wants is both justification for her actions and to be able to turn a blind eye to the reality of what it cost

you could say that maybe she was written to be harsher than initially intended when the early game was still out before chapter 2 and some aspects of her changed just a little bit, but i doubt Nemlei would've done that and i think her character has been pretty consistent. i suppose you could also argue the first scene isn't reliable as it was solely from Ashley's POV and Ashley shows throughout the game (and especially in 3A) she has an odd relationship with wanting her mother's attention despite hating her and that this might've been more being shown from her perspective alone and that Renee was harsher, but unless Burial shows Ashley misremembering things from the past with her own rose-tinted filter i find it really unlikely. everything in this paragraph is purely just wild mass guessing speculation

tl;dr: no i think she's just uncomfortable being confronted with the reality of her actions like Andrew usually is because she also wants to believe she's a normal person in normal society

[countravenwatch]

my only hobby now is harassing abnur tharn by committing crimes in front of him

[kermdoeswriting]

The worst jobs ever lead to 0 Student debt

Have you ever been so broke that you've resorted to gigs that normally would make you seem like a minor villains goon?

Danny has.

Being practically broke, drowning in constant student debt, college student has led to some of the weirdest side gigs Danny has ever done. He can at the very least confirm that as he continues his degree in Astrophysics at MIT.

But in all honesty, he's not very picky or upset about how weird they are. Danny would rather do something strange once, then continue drowning in debt the way he was currently.

Student debt was not a joke.

And even if it were, it wasn't a very funny one, considering he himself was just scraping by on his two front teeth due to them.

Either way, the point was Danny's done practically everything in Gotham possible just to make some small bits of cash here and there. Danny only ever goes to Gotham for the sake of an extra ectoplasm boost on top of the fact it has the most jobs out of any city possible due to the crime rate.

He's been a temporary goon and a guard to several different warehouses throughout Gotham & New York City (most times there isn't even anyone or anything in them but a jobs a job). He's been in charge of covering a front temporarily for what looks like fake companies (nothing to do with drug dealing or the mob for some reason, he usually tries to stay clear of those offers).

He also was a tester for some of Mr. Nygma's traps being hired for the sheer fact that he couldn't really die and therefore could test several of Mr.Nygma's traps at once.

He took a temp job to help feed Dr.Quinzel's pet hyenas when she was in Arkham for awhile as well as pet sit. That one was his favorite honestly, Lou and Bud were sweethearts despite the carnage thing.

He recently had even been a personal insta-cart driver for a certain Penguin mob-boss strangely enough (until the guy got sent back to Arkham that is).

Danny really isn't picky when it comes to jobs unless it was just something mostly immoral and just insane, like drug dealing and/or murder & world or several life ending situations or just involved with someone like the Joker.

It's gotten to a point that the average Gotham goon usually recognizes him when he passes by during a job visit. They tended to recommend him a new job when they saw him, knowing he was just as eager as they were in this economy.

Which is how he ended up here, sitting in an empty warehouse yet again for possibly another hour before he could leave and get paid. Danny was sat on the floor doing his advanced calc homework and trying not to scream about it as he sat there.

It was something he did when the nights were slower honestly. The night was ruined quickly after that though when the glass shattered above him and scattered all over his homework and the rest of the ground.

Danny only sighed and mourned the possible money he'd be losing to that mess before shaking the glass off of him and his papers. He didn't bother looking up at his possible attacker.

"You have got to be fuckin kidding me. Not again, Kid."

Only then does Danny look up to see who broke the window. Red Hood sounds exasperated despite the mask covering all of his real voice with a mechanical voice changer. Besides him was Nightwing who seemed just as disappointed as his partner was while putting his escrima sticks behind his back.

"Can I help you Red Pill, Blue Pill?"

That made Red Hood snort while Nightwing just sighed into his hands and dragged them down his face before responding.

"Kid, what are you doing in he- Is that homework???"

Nightwing walked closer almost sounding offended as he looked down at the mess of Danny's math that he was going to have to redo before turning in tomorrow. The thought of recopying everything made him feel angry all over again.

"The one you guys wrecked by getting glass all over it? Yes," Danny leaned back into his plastic chair provided by the Goonion. "Thanks for that by the way, I'm going to have to recopy everything before class tomorrow."

"That wouldn't be a problem if you just got a normal part-time job like a normal young adult." Red Hood snorted as Nightwings slight lecture and it made Danny roll his eyes at the both of them as he sat up.

As if he hadn't tried that route already. In between his space museum internship during the day and his thousands of classes every week, he didn't exactly fit a lot of younger adult jobs schedule.

"Do you know any nearby normal adult jobs that are hiring a current university student with millions in debt and a internship schedule that only allows them to work at night?" Danny snapped back which made Red Hood start to snort and laugh again at Nightwings expression.

"Well..." Nightwing at the very least had the decency to look sheepish as if he had thought about it genuinely and couldn't think of a thing.

"Thought so." Danny slumped against the chair again, before shutting his eyes. He waved them away as he sat back, already mentally preparing himself for another all nighter for the sake of recopying his papers.

"If thats all, I'll see you next time I get a fake listing or bad job that you guys have a tendency to break into. Go away."

Nightwing only sighed again before Danny heard his grappling hook sound off back through the broken window into the night. Red Hood only chuckled one last time before ruffling his hair.

"See you, Kid. Make sure you try to sleep before class"

Danny just huffed at him and waved him off again as Red Hood shot his grappling hook off into the night and joined Nightwing. With a sigh, Danny sat up again and grabbed his nearby backpack filled with scrap paper.

Time to restart the equation all over again.

______________________________________________________________

Basically Danny needs money to keep going to MIT so he continuously decides to take up jobs for hire in Gotham (and other places but mostly Gotham), which lead to him breaking a lot of laws for another cash grab.

Meanwhile, the Batfam is very concerned that they keep meeting this meta young adult (who doesn't even live in Gotham!!) who seems to continuously be running through villain placed ad offers like water to get cash.

How desperate for cash is this guy????

[mywritersmind]

DO NOT DISTURB - LN4

summary : In which an early morning surprise comes in the form of Max Verstappen staring at his little sister in his rivals jacket.

listen up : swearing! maxverstappenssister!reader

words : 982

⋆｡‧˚⋆

The constant banging on the door woke me up with a groan. I didn’t think before slipping out of bed, rubbing my eyes and slumping my way to the door to see dare bother me so early. I put the do not disturb on last night!

I twisted the handle, running a hand through my hair and peak my head out. Now, you know that feeling when your stomach drops on a rollarcoater? When you’re driving a little too fast and slam your foot on the break because you are not going to make that light? That feeling that you get when you get caught.

I immediately regret it.

I immediately regret it because my brother is staring at me, his mouth open and his eyes wide. I try to slam the door shut because in my groggy haze, I forgot that i’m not in my room.

The feeling of Lando’s jacket on me suddenly takes over as I scream and push my back against the door. Max fights back instantly, not letting it close as I struggle to hold him off.

“What the fuck!?” He bangs on the door, “Y/n!?”

My eyes go to the bed where a lazy figure sits up, clearly confused until Max pushes the door open, my heels dragging on the floor in a last ditch attempt to stop him.

“Shit.” Is all Lando says, practically falling out of bed and standing up. He’s in pajama pants only and normally I would grin stupidly at his naked chest but i’m pretty sure i’m about to be murdered.

“Yeah, Shit!” Max slams the door behind him as I back away quickly, “Someone better start talking!”

See, I didn’t mean to start hooking up with my brother's rival/friend! But Lando Norris had his eyes set on me and even though at the time I thought it was just for bragging rights or a one night stand, he kept coming back.

“Um…” Lando’s voice is still scratchy from sleep as he looks at me, panicked.

“We’re dating!” I say quickly as Lando’s eyes get wide and he takes a step back. Max steps forward, something new that i’ve never seen on his face. He seems to try to find words, opening and closing his mouth a hundred times with hand gestures to match.

He stops, slapping his hand against his mouth, “I told you to stay away you little-” He screams at Lando and I suddenly wonder if he’s woken up the whole floor.

“I tried but your sisters hot, mate…” This gets Lando slammed up against the wall with a bloody grin on his face.

“Lando!” I scream, not because I'm scared for him, but because he’s being a little shit about it.

He’s wanted to tell Max for months and at times, I did too! Most of our friends our suspicious or completely know but Max is my brother. And a very protective one at that.

Hence, my boyfriend slammed against a wall.

“I will fucking destroy you, Norris.”

“Go ahead, Max. But when you do I want you to imagine me coming home to a Verstappen who really likes and pittys me.” Fucking hell he’s a complete cunt and I have to pretend it’s not hot as hell.

“Will you two stop!?” Is all I say when I see Max genuinely raise a fist! He backs away from Lando and starts pacing. I look at my curly haired who has a cheeky grin on his face. “Shut it.” I mumble and come closer to my brother.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” He looks at me and it’s the first time I realize he might be genuinely hurt.

“I knew you’d react like this.” I cross my arms, getting embarrassed that my big brother is disappointed in me.

“No, I reacted like this because I came to my friend's hotel room only to find my baby sister in his clothes!” Okay so maybe I should have told him earlier…

“It’s my fault, I didn’t want to tell.” Lando cuts in.

“No, don’t.” I groan, hating taking responsibility for my own actions, “Lando wanted to tell you. He did, actually! You both may have been piss drunk but still, he really wanted to.”

“Like me more now?” I can hear the smile in Lando’s voice as my brother blinks.

“No.”

“Anyway!” I eye Lando, “We’re dating. And I know I should have told you and you’re probably pissed-”

“Definitely pissed!” Max cuts in.

“But, I really like him.” I'm actually in love with him but I think that would make Max have a heart attack.

“You.” Max points to Lando who’s eyes widen, “You ever hurt her, Please remember that we have the same job, with the same danger, except i’ve been doing this a lot longer than you. I can play anything off as a track accident.”

Lando’s face drops as he looks to me, “Did he just threaten to kill me?” I smile and nod, “You Verstappens…”

“You threaten him before?”

I nod, “All the time.”

“Good.” Max lets out a dry laugh, walking towards the door. “I’m still pissed so don’t get any ideas about PDA around me, ever!” He pointedly says to Lando. “Ugh ew, I hate you both.”

“Love you too, Maxie.” I say with a smile and a sigh of relief.

“Hey, Max.” Lando walks up behind me and I'm already worried. My brother turns, his hand on the door, “While we’re here… we have another surprise.” Lando slips his hands over his jacket, holding my stomach. I slam my foot on his as he laughs and my brother looks at us with murder in his eyes.

I can’t help but laugh, leaning back into Lando as he holds me tighter. “Go back to your room, he’s a dick, I know!”

Then, Max does something I completely didn’t expect. He smiles.

[swtheartz]

i loved your little drabble of the “breaking up with mark doesn’t work” post and i’d really like to hear your thoughts on how that would go down with some of his variants if you have the time pretty please🫶✨

ohh of course dear !! been thinking abt it and this req inspired me even more info : obsessive behavior, mentions and acts of murder, stalking, he’s crazy in every universe. gn!reader a / n : this is a gift to you guys for 348 followers. i’m soo grateful n happy <33

SINISTER MARK

he thinks it’s a joke at first. you’ve no real reason to actually want to leave him, right? he’s utterly convinced that there was nothing wrong with the relationship. and to be fair, there wasn’t. other than the fact he was possessive as shit and always had tabs on you. would scare off your friends and constantly linger around you whenever he wasn’t terrorizing the masses. the second he realizes that you’re serious? he doesn’t take it very well. you won’t ever find someone better than him. he won’t let you. just what human could ever be better than him?

“You’re not very good at jokes,” Mark says—voice and expression both hauntingly blank. It sends chills down your spine for the simple fact he’s never had such an empty tone. The way he looks at you is something that you can’t exactly put into words. Maybe he’s disappointed. Maybe he’s annoyed, or expectant, or some other emotion that you cannot be bothered to decipher. Not when there’s blood staining your clothes and his, the floor, your cheeks and his hands. Whatever ‘friend’ you were hanging out with was dead before they’d hit the ground. It’s been twelve days since you had gathered the courage to tell Mark you wanted a break, and it took him this long to take you seriously. Thought, it hadn’t taken much effort for him to take a life. “I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea. . .” He hummed, tilting his head as he crouched down in front of you, watching you tremble like a deer in front of an incomprehensible creature. ”But let’s not do this again, hm?”

OMNI MARK

calm. at least, he seems calm. but he also doesn’t take you very seriously. acts as he usually does, even asks you when the next date night is. as if he’ll even be able to make it with his schedule and how often he cancels on you. looks at you as though you’ve said something ludicrous when you answer that there isn’t a date night—you’re not together anymore. surely, you don’t know what you’re talking about. if you wanted him to plan the next date, you could have just told him. he’s usually the one that does all the thinking, anyway, so it doesn’t really matter. honestly, what made you think you could walk away from him? the one human he cares for, and you’ve the nerve to try and separate from him? funny.

“We’re not dating, Mark.” The way the two of you stare at each other for a few tense moments is a little awkward, though he doesn’t seem to care. He holds eye contact with you before sighing—like you’re a child who doesn’t know what they’re talking about. Like you’ve garnered the nerve to tell some dry joke. “If you have a problem,” Mark starts, arms crossed against his chest as he ignores your exasperated expression, “we talk it out. Like a couple is supposed to do.” “But we’re not a couple anymore. That is what I’m telling you.” You’re attempting to be reasonable, you really are, but you swear up and down he’s making you feel like the crazy one. This has got to be the third time you’ve had this conversation with him, and it hasn’t even been a week. There isn’t any way you can get through to him and you just don’t understand why. Mark scoffs, again, ignoring you. “I’ll make sure I’m not busy. Crime’s been going down, so it should be fine. They’ll manage without me.” “Just kill me already.” You mutter to yourself, unable to decide whether or not you’ll be able to ever get your point across. . . . You’ll just try again tomorrow.

FULL MASK MARK

more pathetic than mainstream mark. this man is like a wet cat in the rain. tries to maintain distance, but ends up following you everyday, texts you without thinking about it while he attempts to reason that it’s okay. you just need some distance and time, and maybe you’ll both get better. ends up outside your window after a particularly bad fight with a villain he had. he didn’t do it on purpose, he just sort of ended up here. call it muscle memory if you will. all he knows is that he’s a mess without you—needs you like oxygen, can barely think or focus on anything without you. probably the only one that tries to be the best he can be for you outside of the main universe. and probably the only one you didn’t really want to break up with.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“Markus.”

“ ‘m sorry,” Mark sniffles, face tucked into your neck as he clings to you. You’d think of it as pathetic if it were anyone but him, honestly. He’d shown up with your favorite candy and drink, bloody and looking like a stray abandoned on the side of the street. You practically had to drag him through the window when he tried to turn back around. It took a bit of insisting and a med-kit to get him cleaned and patched up, despite him reminding you that he technically didn’t need it. You snapped at him to shut up before inevitably pulling him to your room again—letting him stay the night was an easy decision, almost too easy. As of right now, he was simply listening to the sound of your heartbeat, your soft breathing, enjoying the way your gentle fingers tangled in his hair. It was sweet. Familiar. Something Mark had missed so much it made his heart ache and hurt, to the point felt as though it was being ripped apart. Though, if it were done by your hands, he wouldn’t mind.

a / n : i liked writing this, i might make a part two to this and i’m gonna make the healer reader thing a series if you guys are up to reading that. mwah mwahhhh

taglist : @lxkoluvsu // @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha // @tokoyamisstuff

[space-blue]

Disappointed in the Vander backstory

I fully expected that it was coming, but I'm disappointed in the timeline all the same.

The "Vander got upset because a fight against Piltover Silco instigated killed the woman he loved" was literally my first draft for my longfic Fathers and Daughters, and I ended up scrapping it because I felt it was too cheap and wouldn't justify the violence of his actions against Silco.

"When she died I lost my head" he says in the letter.

But when she died you actually dropped your gauntlets and picked up the girls and everyone has been assuming this was the moment you swore off violence...

The fact she goes on to let Vander name her kid, and seems to be thick as thieves with them, and ALSO tells them of the pregnancy before she builds up the courage to tell her partner... Tells me that surely... SURELY by the time Vi is 10-11, whatever she is on the bridge in season 1, she would KNOW SILCO as her mom's bestie, no??? Not just Vander.

It feels like this entire angle is pulled under the rug to simplify the conflict in act 1.

I do appreciate being right on the money with Silco knowing and being friends with the mom, and having known Vi as a baby. I think it makes sense, especially if he was an important community leader.

I just hate her death being the catalyst of Vander's actions against Silco. It means that the timeline actually like this:

Mom-Silco-Vander are best friends. Silco is "Bozo 1" and has been leading the transformation of the Lanes with Vander's help. He's already planning his nation of Zaun. His notebook is literally saying "NZ" for Nation of Zaun.

At an ONGOING confrontation with enforcers, Silco throws a molotov cocktails that doesn't seem to even kill an enforcer (Powder and her innefectual bombs parallel? The entire scene is intercut with the monkey bomb clapping so... The scene leading to a friend's death also parallels the events of Jinx's birth.)

As the smoke clears/the POV looks down, we have the reveal that the girls' Mom is dead.

Vander admits the blood was on his hands as well, meaning he either started this confrontation with Silco, or fought just as badly/increased the violence (and we see him murder enforcers later on). Anyway he admits to carrying the blame, and apologized in person to Silco for the dubbed "betrayal".

Then he went home, shaved, dragged Silco into the Pilt, and tried to drown him *because their common friend died at the failed uprising*.

He's then haunted, seemingly, by visions of Silco being dead:

To me it's sort of weaker and sadder, as it establishes Vander as someone more flawed and less ruthless. It's not that he wanted the Lanes, it's not that Silco was getting in the way of what he wanted.

Vander was out there happy with everything they were dishing out, right until their actions cost the life of a friend, and he broke, emotionally, and BLAMED it on Silco, going so far as to kill him (or try).

He surrendered his gauntlets, picked the children up, tucked them in at home, shaved (I cannot stress this enough), then took Silco into the fucking river and brutally attempted to murder him.

Then he massively regretted it and left little breadcrumbs of apologies in case Silco found them and returned to him.

So, canon couple, first off lol

Fellas, is it gay to hang your jackets inside each other's in your secret hideout? Is it gay that all your core hidden memories begin with your mate smiling at you?

Yes, yes it is. Zaundad is canon and I'm not taking commentary.

Secondly, that means Vander was an emotional ticking time bomb who wasn't ready for the price to sacrifice in order to gain their freedom. I really wonder what the alternative reality would have been like, were Silco the one dying on that bridge.

Anyway, it brings some twisted sadness to the situation, because the mom wanted Zaun "no matter what" for Vi's sake, her child's future. But Vander decided that lives weren't worth spilling over that dream and tried to kill Silco over it, before teaming up with Grayson to continue enforcing a status quo.

So that means that Silco, even as he raises Jinx, is continuing her mother's dream, of building Zaun, a country that's safe for her children, "no matter what".

But very sadly the show also acts like Silco doesn't know the kids, and like the kids don't know him. Powder, sure, but Vi not knowing Silco is just downright stupid. Not even knowing him by name? When her mom was out fighting alongside him??? The mom is ALSO a miner, very clearly working with Silco and Vander, alongside the nameless poor husband.

I feel like this doesn't really solve the issues that were already raised when we speculated about act 1. It just clarifies that Vander was truly, willfully a force of oppression inside the fissures, working against the revolution necessary for Zaun becoming possible.

But it implies Silco didn't recognise Powder and Vi, and that Vi didn't recognise him or understand how he knew Vander. It's a disservice to the story, because that tie, that old bond, could really have worked to dramatize the sacrifices Silco is ready to make, as well as the depth of Vi's hatred for him.

But the show acts like they're strangers and that Vander's death is the core beef between them until Jinx enters the picture.

And then there's the Benzo scene, when Vander holds his wound from Silco's knife, and says "we both know there's worse than enforcers out there" WHO ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT??? Yourself? You seem to be the worst thing around here! It seems clear he knew Silco was alive but had nothing to blame him for by then.

I'm left with holes that take the shape of "shock value" and "plot twist".

"Ooooh Silco knew the mom, twiiiist, but please don't think about the implications, because we wrote season 1 without taking this in consideration."

Feels like another job for fic writers, but IDK if I have the strength for it. I just like my own version better.

At least now we know that Silco did not IN FACT DO anything to "deserve" what he got. I'm sorry, but throwing a molotov at enforcers when fighting for your freedom is based and Vander was dishing death right there next to him.

The base violence necessary for change, eh? Vander just delayed the price being paid for Zaun's creation.

[satorurize]

Love me, love me, love me, love me more!

Pairing: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings and Content: MDNI (I'll haunt you, seriously), yandere themes, implied consent, stalking, obsession, murder, gore, sex, delusional satoru, he's unhinged and does not care about consequences as usual, creampies (lots), gojo has a breeding kink, masturbation, perv gojo, sex, fingering. Dead dove.

Plot : Megumi has a new nanny and Satoru is so so..lovesick.

Yandere!Satoru knew he fumbled the moment he fell in love with Megumi's nanny. He had hired you because he couldn't provide for the time and sufficient emotional care that a second grader needed to be a normal person. After all that the boy went through and then being under care of someone like him, Satoru didn't think that his Gumi-chan would ever be normal.

But then he met you, you were everything he was not. Gojo Satoru was impulsive, eccentric, the strongest, he shone so brightly that the sun was put to shame. And you were so normal, so mundane, you simply seemed to blend in with everyone like a lovely, plain chrysanthemum that could mix in with every bouquet.

there was truly nothing special about you in comparison to him.

Perhaps that was why he found you so beautiful. You weren't complicated, you were too simple and perhaps this absence of simplicity was what made his fast paced, glorious life so lack luster.

He knew he had to have you.

One thing you realised about Yandere!Satoru is that, he is a child in a grown man's body. You had seen him being much more petulant than Megumi, but with time your surmises around him had reduced and your edges had softened. You would see the flash of tiredness in his eyes sometimes, something about those azures in those moments would tell you a piece of his story. You didn't ask a lot but you knew. He was tired.

Being a full-time nanny to Megumi also meant, keeping meal preps ready. It had become a habit to put together a few extras after noticing that Gojo would often make it a point to eat them. He probably ate it, dead in the night when he was back from his daily missions. No one witnessed his joy of eating a homecooked meal at 3AM.

Yandere!Satoru who would take the advantage of your softened demeanor towards him and flirt with you shamelessly even after seeing the ring adorned on your pretty little finger. He kept affirming to himself that it wasn't real and whatever he would imagine, would materialize to be true.

"You do a terrific job, looking after Megumi you know?" He'd muse, in the usual teasing tone of his as his hand trails to your chin, gently tipping your head up so you'd look into his eyes and his eyes only, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"I can't help but wonder if there is room in your heart for me too~"

But then his playful demeanor would drop away when his eyes would fall onto that pathetic, miserly looking gold band after you'd tell him to stop flirting with you with finality in your tone. That ring wasn't even high in carats, it was an alloy and yet you would it wear it such pride. It would tug at his heartstrings, his darling deserved so much better.

"I see, didn't realize that, miss.." He lied through his teeth with such insouciance and a smirk, masking his disappointment as if even a petite speck on your arm would be amiss with his six eyes

Yandere!Satoru, who was never religious but started obsessively manifesting you after learning about your husband. What a hassle. Why couldn't he just have you, like everything else in his life?

Yandere!Satoru who would think of you riding him to tears, closing his eyes to conjure the lewd image of your tits bouncing as he fucked you upward, anchoring his large hands on your waist. All while zestfully fisting his cock, wrapped like a gift with your cute pink panties that he quite subtly stole when you were staying over to care for Megumi for a few days because he had to fly somewhere else to tackle off a special grade curse, substituted for the warmth of your velvety walls. For now.

Yandere!Satoru who knew you had no clue that he teleported from the location far away just to steal your panties.

Yandere!Satoru who also knew that you had no idea that he had tapped in your phone, having his hawking watch over who you texted and talked to.

Yandere!Satoru who couldn't be nonchalant anymore the minute he saw you texting your husband as you watched over Megumi, on how badly you wanted a baby after being a nanny to the young boy. That was his job, you were his, afterall.

Yandere!Satoru who felt angry and stupid because manifesting you didn't work. He knew he could never trust the higher powers with the people he loved so he took the matter in his own hands.

Yandere!Satoru who stood over your husband's dead body, ripped to shreds when you returned home. The worries of your husband not texting you back for hours now washed with horror and pain.

His handsome, angelic face was unnervingly calm and composed, his blue eyes amalgamated with mania and hollowness while he held her husband's filthy heart in his bloodied hands, a scowl of disgust washing over his face as he looked at the organ, darting his eyes at you almost pitifully, crushing it in a glimpse before walking to you.

"What a shame..your husband was quite bothersome, wouldn't you say? I had to take out the trash, y'know..got sick of him getting in the way" He'd speak in a smooth, saccharinely affectionate tone that you knew was empty. He ignored the shock laced on your face, the paleness of your skin, the fear in your eyes and your flinch which he found oh so..adorable, as he caressed your cheek with the strong metallic scent of crimson lingering.

"Let's play a game!" He brightly smiled, clapping his hands together which made you furrow your brows, a dry gulp going down your throat. The room only filled with the momentary sounds of his footsteps and your shaky, palpable breathing.

"The game is...name things you love about Gojo Satoru!!" He chimed, so happily that it sent a shiver down your spine, insinuating nausea.

"S-stay away..."

He frowned, titling his head as his empty eyes bored into yours.

"Wrong answer darling..the answer is Satoru, isn't it..?" He leaned in, cupping your face and tenderly kissing your lips.

Yandere!Satoru who teleported you two immediately to his estate as he pulled away from the kiss, your back hitting the silk sheets that screamed luxury.

Yandere!Satoru who would see you giving in to his gentle kisses all over your body, who'd feel your pulsating guilt and shame in your eyes while your pussy pulsated with pleasure having his fingers in your gushing cunt knuckles deep.

"Why did you say no to me, hm..? You're milking my fingers baby..fuuuck...I love you so much.." He whispered while his face nuzzled into your cheek. His hot breath mingled with phrases of love felt so gross, so filthy, so sinful but you saw yourself liking it, even after seeing your husband in such a state.

Yandere!Satoru, who'd dump his cum again in your oozing pussy even when his cock felt raw after kissing your cervix so many times, painting it white. Now finally pulling out with a squelch, he immediately replaced his two thick fingers to push his load back in.

"You're gonna be such a pretty mama baby..I will make your wish come true.."

©𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐢𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬

Plagiarism not authorised. Please consider reblogging and liking if you enjoyed the content :)

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[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 2

Part 1 2 3

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, smut (piv, loss of virginity, fingering, semi-public sex, Daemon talking you through it), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, mentions/depictions of death/suicidal ideation/murder, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i am surprised I got as many comments as I did on chapter 1 🥺🫶 it's not that I think my writing is bad... Well... Idk it felt aimless when I started so I am grateful for the positive reinforcement. 👉👈 I am once again asking for more pls comment n reblog I would love u forever if u did | cross posted on ao3

Tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

Daemon heads to your chambers, eager to shake you awake and ruin your morning once more. When he arrives to the room, he stops in his tracks, disappointed to see you were risen. That is, until he realizes the state you were in.

You roused long before the sun had and could not find sleep no matter how badly you searched. You decided to draw yourself a warm bath in hopes of finding sleep in the tub; you only find more restlessness and simply accept your fate.

You hear Daemon's entrance and turn to him from the vanity you were wallowing. You were half dressed. Your corset was undone and you had given up on braiding the sides of your head. You smile weakly at him, "good morrow."

Nothing about your tired, sullen eyes agreed with that, and it irritates him to know that you're one of those people. Pretenders.

"Well, finish up then," Daemon furrows his brows, "get dressed. We have yet to accomplish our task."

You mimic his expression, brushing your dark hair back, "task?"

He rolls his eyes, "I do not believe yesterday counts as an introduction."

Upon realizing he meant the introduction to Caraxes, your body tenses. You look sick. You stand to try and convince him out of it, but Daemon reaches you before you can get on your feet. He places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. Your heart thunders when he brushes your hair to one shoulder. He secures your dress from behind, and your breath grows heavy as you watch him from the mirror.

"It is not so bad, riding a dragon," the prince says to plant a false sense of trust in you, "who knows? You might enjoy it."

There is an unnatural warmth that spills across your form when your husband then completes your braids. He weaves in a manner far gentler than Gwayne ever has. It makes your lips part.

He brings you to your feet. Daemon takes in your expression, lips curling slightly, "there you are, wife."

Your brows knit.

He knew his artificial gentleness has you off-guard. There is no better moment to have you do his bidding than now.

One might be surprised to know that Caraxes actually enjoyed having you on his back, as did Daemon, not because they suddenly liked you— gods no, but because the sound of your screams were oh-so satisfying.

You could do little else but release cries of terror as you clung to your husband from behind. Daemon made it a point to do flips and all sorts of unnecessarily moves whilst flying, hoping your hold would falter. The time you spent in the air felt like eternity. It seemed your husband was set on touring the entire 7 realms.

You never thought you would be so ever happy to see the pit. The pit could not say the same about you however. You spill your guts out to the floor exactly like the first time you were here.

Daemon makes a face. He turns to the keepers and orders them to clean your mess up, lest it get on Caraxes' claw.

Woe is you who is forced to repeat the exact thing the next morning. You could not even plead your case, for your throat was sore. The sound of your screams this time were not as entertaining to Daemon, as your voice is hoarse. At some point, the terror is too great, you cannot scream. Because of this, he cuts the flight short in boredom, excited instead at the promise of watching you suffer through another retch. But, oh, by the gods, were you an inconveniencing woman.

Instead of remaining consistent, you just had to make a show and faint into him, did you?

He could not care less for you, which is why he chucks you off into the arms of a dragon keeper, but the damned old man could no longer carry such a weight, and so he was begrudgingly forced to throw you over his shoulder and bring you to a maester himself.

In truth, he'd all forgotten about his wife fainting until the next morning, when he came to the maester's quarters to ask for something to soothe his hammering head from his heavy drinking the night before. He was, in fact, offended, when the maester insinuated that he had come to check up on his bride.

Before he could give the greying maester a piece of his mind, he hears a terrible voice barking from the ward. Its grating timbre made it clear to Daemon that Lord Hand Cunttower was off on a yapping session again.

He walks deeper into the room. Weeping sounds become audible.

"—no, you do not understand," Otto snaps, hunched over at the side of your bed.

Ah, twas you who was being terrorized.

You dare not turn to your father, for you knew your throat would only tighten more that it already has. You force yourself to take deep breaths, but it's easier said than done. You remain still on the bed you laid on.

"You must sire as many children as your body can take, or you will die," the man says.

But you were dying anyway.

"The process will not be pleasant."

Nothing is pleasant.

"It will hurt-"

Everything hurts.

"-but it is a better fate than-"

"Enough!" you snap, glaring at him with angry, red eyes. You repeat, though your voice is weaker, "enough, enough, eno-"

Otto gravely speaks your name. Your body recognized the danger, but having realized upon waking up to the face of a maester, it mattered little where or who it came from, you were destined to hurt- to die.

"Do not fall complacent be-"

"You are no longer my lord," you quip. Sweat forms on your nape. This is the first time you've ever interrupted your father.

He is gobsmacked. He is bewildered. His back straightens, "what?"

You feel yourself descend into heavy fraught. Your saliva tries to choke you.

"What," he presses, "did you say, girl?"

"You are my father," your voice falters, "but not my lord."

Otto's face warps.

Your breath grows shorter and shorter, "my liege lord is my-" pant "-husband, and what he-" pant "-desires, I will-" pant "-do."

Daemon's ears and brows perk at your misplaced loyalty. Part of him wants to laugh out loud and make himself known, but then he sees, even from where he stood, how it got Otto twisted. He chuckles to himself instead.

Your father enunciates as though he means to stab you with them, "you stupid fucking whore."

You crumble like chalk. You fall into another round of body arresting tremors. Your chest is tight and you screw your eyes painfully shut. It becomes apparent to Daemon, as it would anyone who'd witness, where your condition sourced. Otto grabs your shoulders, "you know nothing of-" but then recoils.

Daemon shoves him away, glaring as he says, "unhand her."

Otto manages to balance himself, but he looks as though the veins on his temples were about to pop. He clenches his jaw, "I am speaking to my daughter."

"You mean at her," his silver hair slips over his shoulder as he turns to you, "she does not look like she can hold conversation."

"This is personal matter," Otto steps forward.

"Mmm," Daemon turns back to him, "I do say, I am glad to have interrupted," he shifts on his leg, linking his fingers together, "a dutiful husband should know all personal matters of his wife. Don't you agree?"

Though you were still wrestling with yourself, you heard every word. You knew if you did not interject, they will fight each other for your carcass. You feel lightheaded, but you force yourself to open your eyes and speak.

Of course, the only sound you manage to make is a strangled and pained one.

Otto averts his attention to you, and tries to come to your side.

Daemon steps in front of him and tilts his head back, "oh... I would adore it if you give me a reason to kill you."

You choke out, "Daemon."

Your father stiffens as he looks past the said man to inspect you, missing the way the said man smirks. Otto turns back to Daemon, feeling bile spread in his mouth as the prince says, "see. She does not want you."

Otto's lips curl and his hands ball into fists.

Your husband waves a hand, "go away. You're clearly upsetting her."

Otto does the most to remain calm, "she is my da-"

"She is my wife," Daemon snaps, imposing upon him.

You gulp with difficulty as you catch the way your father's jaw clenches. You force yourself to sit up and open your mouth to speak, but everyone's attention is averted to the Kingsguard that walks into the room.

Daemon's forehead curls at the Cargyll knight, "my prince. Lord Hand."

"Which one are you?" asks the prince.

"Arryk, my prince."

"State your business, Arryk."

"I-"

"I requested a ward for the princess," Lord Hand answers instead.

Daemon makes a face at him and chuckles dryly under his breath.

Arryk looks between the two again then slowly continues, "I and my brother have been awarded the honor of serving ward to the Princess of Dragonstone. I take first watch today."

Daemon chuckles again, "a bit late, aren't you?"

The white cloak stiffens then bows, "I was just given word this hour."

"Hmm. Well, Arryk," he motions, "why don't you go escort the Lord Hand out of the room before someone dies."

He stiffens again, but turns to the said man nonetheless. He does not question it and merely does what was instructed.

Or at least tries to.

"I do not trust you with my daughter's well-being," Otto steps forward, pointing a finger to the ground, "you are the very reason she is in that bed."

Daemon gasps dramatically. At this point, you finally had enough wits about you to speak, "please-" but your voice is easily drowned out however.

"Do you not remember thanking my brother for the, what was it," the prince pretends to think, "joyous union? Or would you like to watch me stake my claim upon he—"

Otto's face twists in horror and repulsion, but that is not why Daemon's words are cut short. It is because of the cold, clammy, trembling hand that takes his own that he looks down. He watches as you sigh out, "leave us, father."

The said man turns to you in grave offence. In your fear, you do not notice the betrayal that is mixed with it. His anger flares and he scoffs. He gives you one last look, and you knew exactly it was just that. This would be last time he would ever look upon you. When he storms away, you feel it in your chest: this is the last time you will ever call him father. You were forsaken, truly forsaken.

Otto is seen out by Arryk.

Your hand slips from Daemon's, as you no longer had the strength. You muster all your remaining energy to reach the drink propped on your bedside table. It was a futile attempt though, as instead of grasping it, you knock it over, which only leads you into another fit of tears.

Daemon curses and shakes his foot that's gotten soaked. He did mean to snap at you for it, but you were already clearly suffering. Your breathing is short and it seemed like you were mumbling something.

He hunches over in an attempt to hear you, "what?"

It takes a myriad of repetitions for him to realize you were apologizing.

His face contorts, "gods," what pathetic creature had he been given to?

Daemon's upper lip curls and he can no longer bear the sound of your whining any further. He calls for the maester, asking for another cup of water because you had knocked over your own. Just as the maester goes off to get you another drink, he remembers he came here for his own affliction because his head begins to hammer again. He rubs his temples and sits on the vacant bed besides yours.

"Here, my prince," the maester says upon arrival, "milk of the poppy enough for the both of you."

Daemon squints as the man places a tray on your bedside table. Daemon is handed a cup first, but does not drink it until after he watches you be helped to drink your own fill. After, the maester promptly leaves with a curt nod. The drink does not take effect on you until after Daemon finishes his own

Your voice shakes, "t-thank you."

Daemon puts his cup down.

"You did not have to come," you say softly.

"Do not flatter yourself," he scoffs, "I did not come for you. I came for my headache."

"Yet it remains," you turn to him, face tight and gleaming from all the tears you've shed, "you did not have to come."

He stares at you for a moment. You looked so frail, so devoid of hope. Truly, death would be mercy to you at this point.

Just then, ser Arryk returns. He finally sees you and gives you a deep bow, "princess."

Being addressed as such makes you feel sad... and lonely.

"I am ser Arryk Cargyll. I will be your ward, along with my twin brother, Erryk, who you will meet after my shift." The kingsguard straightens up, "I will do all that I can to ensure your health does not falter and that you are always seen to."

You think of your own twin as you take in the man's features. The idea that your father purposefully chose twin brothers as your ward made you feel sad and sick, but it was hardly Arryk's fault Otto liked mocking you, so you smile at him, "I have a twin."

The man nods, offering you a smile far more genuine than yours, "aye. Ser Gwayne Hightower. He is deft with the short sword."

You turn to your hands, recalling just a few days ago when you had watched him train. Your lips curl upwards, "though, not as good as I."

Daemon pulls his head back, face contorting. He is taken aback when Arryk's sniggers. The latter nods, "perhaps you will show me your tricks, my lady."

There is a twinkle in your eye as you turn back to him, "perhaps."

Daemon raises a brow at the interaction and decides to stand, "come," he reaches a hand to you, "some fresh air would do you good."

Fresh air? Your jaw slacks and you turn to Daemon with a fallen expression. Be as it was, you were no fool. You did not believe your husband had your best interest in mind, and yet, it was not like you had much of a choice. Against yourself, you to take his hand.

He pulls you up and Arryk comes to your side to assist you. He helps you to your feet, hand on your arm and shoulder.

Daemon is annoyed by his fussing. "Yes. Very good, Cargyll. I can manage to bring her to the dragon pit myself."

You close your eyes and sigh. Just as you dreaded.

"Dragon pit?" Arryk repeats.

"Yes. She needs fresh air." The prince narrows his eyes, "do you contest me?"

Arryk releases you and shakes his head, "I would not."

"Good," he motions with nod, "out of the way then."

You see, after being scorched by the fire of your maker— your father, the sight of Caraxes emerging from the depths did not strike as much fear into you as it did before. In fact, the promise of malice from the beast felt... cathartic, and for once, you welcomed Daemon's insistence on being brought to its maw.

You stumbled against Caraxes' scaly cheek. Having done nothing but lay in the maester's chambers, your hair was not tied or braided in any way. As the wind blew, it tickled against the dragon's face. Caraxes did not seem to enjoy the sensation, and so he growled and snapped his teeth.

Daemon was quick to chastise his mount, and for that, he did not realize your lack of self-preservation. Oh, but Caraxes did; he even growled again, only to be met once more by your unflinching demeanor.

Daemon would only realize your change after taking flight and landing on a beach. Upon dismounting, Caraxes takes it upon himself to screech as you hover. The prince doesn't know who is more bewildered, him or his dragon, when you screech back.

Your neck veins pop and spit comes out of your mouth at the intensity of it all. A harsh wind blows your hair and your skirt. You heave after releasing such a harsh noise.

In truth, perhaps Caraxes is more perturbed as, unlike Daemon's who presses forward, the beast pulls back and shakes his head. He bleats as he watches his rider grab your arm.

The prince means to berate you for your insanity, but then, gods, you rather conveniently succumb to another arrest to your heart and lungs. He does not know why he catches you when your legs give in but he knows exactly why he suggests: "get in the water."

You look up at him, your glassy eyes meeting his violet ones.

He lets you crumble to the ground and bends down to undo your dress, "a swim would do you wonders."

"N-no- you will regret-" you sputter.

But Daemon ignores you, not that it took much effort, for you were incoherent soon enough.

He pulls you out of your dress until you're in nothing but your slip. You sob, and he hushes you, assuring he will be by your side. He removes his tunic. Soon, he is dragging you down deeper and deeper, and you are choking and spitting saltwater.

Daemon decides to simply release you and wait until your body floats lifeless. With how you were gasping, it would not take long. He turns his head when his face is splashed by your flailing arms. When he looks back, the water is calm and your body is nowhere to be seen.

... well, that was rather quick.

He waits for a moment, watching bubbles float up. After a while, he purses his lips and decides to go back ashore. He should have done this sooner.

He freezes when you emerge in front of him, pushing your brown hair off your face. He is perturbed by the serenity across your features; it was as though you were reborn.

You sigh, "I told you you would regret it."

Daemon blankly stares at you.

"There is a great river in Oldtown," you wade around, "the water there is not nearly as pleasant or warm as this, but still... swimming was one of the only ways I could calm myself."

His jaw clenches. He does not even try to hide his disappointment.

You lick your lips at it and turn to Caraxes, who was happily soaking in the sun from the sandy shore, "take heart. Your dragon might entertain himself by eating me yet," you turn to him, "or perhaps my Lord Hand will kill me himself."

His face twists, "what?"

You shake your head and roll your eyes.

He pulls his head back, offended and confused by your sudden nerve.

You allow your body to float up in the water, "you need not pretend. I know you long to kill me."

Daemon is insulted by your brashness. He grabs your floating hip and pushes you down until you're once again face to face. Not a semblance of fear is on your features. It only angers him further.

He snaps, "I could have your tongue for that."

He cannot deny the way his stomach rolls when you place your hands by the base of his neck. The complete change in your temperament puts him on edge. Have you been playing him all along?

"Would it not be simpler to have my head?" you speak plainly, as though you were genuinely curious of his response.

His nostrils flare.

Before he can act, you are swimming off. You emerge from the water, dripping wet. Your clothing is sheer and hugs every part of your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. He could not help but look, but then he was sorely insulted all over when you pet Caraxes head and he lets you.

It was a twisted hallucination. He is suddenly reminded of the milk of the poppy he'd drank; you've probably poisoned him and planned all of this with your cunt father like the conniving whore you really were.

You do not hear him emerge, but only know he did because he is upon you. He forces you around through a severe squeeze on your arms, "what is your game, Hightower cunt?!"

Your body seizes, but you do not succumb to the thundering of your heart, as you had just been relaxed.

He shakes you, making you gasp, "SPEAK!"

"There is no game!" you whimper.

He chuckles dryly, shaking you harshly once more "perhaps it should be said that I need no assistance from my dragon to kill you."

A shiver runs down your spine, "please-"

"Then tell me th-"

"-just do it."

The sound of Caraxes huffing brings Daemon back to reality. And yet it takes you speaking, "just kill me," for him to realize you meant exactly what he thought.

He stills where you descend into further torment. He knows then that it is true. There was no plot, or at least not one where this creature of agony could ever oversee. You were calmed by the water, but not cured. Very truly, he thinks again death would be mercy, convenient for him as well. Yet, in his nature, Daemon does opposite of what he is told and pries his hands off. He mutters under his breath, "ao mūdas run," you terrible thing.

You sob, as if you understood him.

You shed tears unlike the others he's witnessed; there is no panic or fear, only pain.

"Surely you agree it is better than living this way."

The clarity of your voice takes him aback. He turns away, uncomfortable of your sudden agency.

"I have been this way since I can remember," you confess, "and they've all have counted my days for just as long."

"Why must I bloody my hands for you?" he squints, "if you despise living so much, do it yourself."

Your laugh is haunting. You shake your head and wipe your face, "I am not as brave as you. I could not even kill the fishes Gwayne caught for me, though I ate them."

Daemon is unmoved, twice so at the mention of your brother.

"And Gwayne..." you sigh, "he would blame himself." You turn to your feet, warmed by the sand beneath it, "I would not do that to him." You shake your head again, "but again, take heart," you smile, "it will happen soon enough."

His forehead curls.

"I can feel it in my gut," you rub your belly, "it is putrid and festering... whatever it is."

He tilts his head, "then do me a favor and wallow in silence—" he walks off, sparing one last glance, "and try scheming with your cunt father somewhere you will not be caught."

You manically laugh and rip at your hair, "he is my illness, if it is not plain to you."

He stops and turns back to you.

"I am the way that I am because I-" you poke your chest, "am he, had he been born a woman." You rub your sternum, "he loathes me because he is I. I am his hair, his nose, his temper, his... weakness, only amplified because I did not inherit his cock.

"When I pray..." you sniffle, "sometimes I think the gods keep me alive for I am his reckoning— that I must torment him for all the years he has tormented others... tormented me."

Daemon watches the salt from your eyes join the salt on your slip. He stares at your pert nipples then watches you chew your lower lip. He licks his own, "did you mean what you told him?"

You watch as he inches closer, "what?"

"That he is no longer your liege lord," he reaches for your arm, "that I am."

"I-"

Daemon pushes the shoulder of your slip dress down.

Your hand darts to his chest, "i-it is the truth."

He hums and tilts his head. You gasp when he kisses your neck. He licks the saltwater off your skin, enjoying the sound you make when his teeth graze you, "very well then."

Goosebumps form when he pulls your skirt up your thighs.

"It would be beneath a prince to withhold aid for such a tormented spirit."

You do not speak for soon his mouth is claiming yours. It is not as horrid as you imagined it would be. You did not think someone who's shown nothing but aggression could behold you so tenderly. You shiver when he continues to rid you of your sopping clothes. When you break away for air, you manage to mutter, "someone c-could see."

Daemon's expression is changed as stares at you and pushes you to the ground. You gasp as you find yourself atop the garbs he already managed to remove. He undoes his breeches, "who? My dragon?"

You do not know if he means Caraxes.

"You are my wife," he drops to his knees, grabbing yours, "the sin lies with the looker," he pushes your legs apart, "not us."

You bite your lips, feeling the the need to repel him, but decide against it. You simply close your eyes and dig your fingers into the sand.

His loins burn at the sound of your sigh. He sinks into you and relishes your submission. He wraps your legs around him and rocks his hips into yours. You mewl and dig into his back. He bites your lobe before whispering, "you belong to me."

You scratch your nails up his back as his rocking hips send bolts of pleasure in your body.

"Say it."

"I-I-" you heave, "belong to you."

He squeezes your thighs, "you are to do what I so desire."

You gasp softly when he grabs your jaw, making you turn to him.

"-especially if it is against your father, yes?"

You gulp, unable to speak. You simply nod.

Daemon's eyes become hooded. He releases your jaw, claiming your thigh again, "good."

You both remain this way, kissing and rubbing, but then you begin to grow impatient. You bring your mouth to his to catch his attention but do not kiss him. He is taken aback by your unintentional tease and digs his fingers into your flesh. This is why you whimper as you speak, "you- can... enter."

He is broken from his trance, "what?"

"I," you scratch his skin gently, as if to encourage him, "know you are ready. You do not have to hold back. I am accustomed to pain."

He knits his brows, then tilts his head, "how could a virgin know such things?"

He watches bashfulness claim you. You shake your head, "I read it."

"Did your book not tell you it need not be painful?"

"I-" you let out a loud noise when you feel his fingers touch your womanhood, "Daemon-"

He purrs at the sound of his name, "I will show you how good it can feel so that you can tell your father all about it."

The horrifying thought does not even register as he makes you feel things you did not know possible. You begin to shiver and whine, but it is entirely opposite to what your body is accustomed to. Your breath begins to shorten and you instinctively begin to panic, but Daemon's voice keeps you grounded.

"Breathe," he licks your pulse, "it feels good, does it not? Breathe and think of how good I'm making you feel."

You are entirely subservient to him, to his baritone, to his fingers, to his hips. There is nothing but sand and Daemon. You whine when you feel a hard intrusion. The sensation is foreign, and it causes your belly to tense.

He kisses the line that forms between your brows, "relax, my wife. Now is not the time for pain," he hooks his hands behind your knees, "it's a time for pleasure."

It's all a blurry haze after this. Daemon moves into you in a way that makes you wonder how this could ever hurt. Every thrust sends ripples of bliss down your spine. Every hit draws out the lewdest of sounds from your throat. You understand then why they call it love making; you love every moment of it. Your bliss is heightened when he touches something inside you, and again, and again-

For once in your life, as your breath grows heavy, you do not feel like you're about to die.

Daemon alternates tempos, but ultimately resigns to fast and hard. He does not cease until your rigid body goes limp beneath him. The pressure in your stomach breaks into a million burning pieces, and just as it becomes all too much, he pulls out, propping himself up on one arm. You gasp at the heat thats spills on your thigh as he strokes himself. Soon, his arm gives out and he collapses beside you.

You behold the mess of red and white between your legs, but find no shame, only arousal, which you did not expect. You turn to your husband, watching his chest heave, his temples sweat, and his tongue lick his lips.

He's... he's beautiful.

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 9: Folklore Creatures

Spin on "Little Red Riding Hood" anyone? What could be better than someone so obsessed with you, they simply want to eat you up?

Prompt: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity Warnings: Yandere, Violence (non-main character murder, Blood Mention, Implied Bullying of the reader (off-screen)), Topic of Jealousy, Posessiveness

"Love you, hun."

Pressing a gentle kiss to your head, your boyfriend got up, stretching his arms high over his head and popping his neck before he got to his feet with a sigh. "Where are you going? Do you really have to leave?" you mumbled, the disappointment unmistakably in your voice. It had been like this for weeks now, where you two spent a passionate night before he slipped out without a trace to find him all day.

"Mhm," he sighed, leaning down to you again to catch your lips once more. "You know how much it pains me, but I got to go before it's too late. Wouldn't want to awaken the monster in me, would you?"

He said it as if it was a challenge, and you giggled, thinking it was just another innuendo. "Wouldn't let me get out of bed, huh?"

"Oh, I'd gobble you up, darling."

Laughing, he stepped away, putting his shirt back on as he dipped into the bathroom of your small apartment real quick. The moment he disappeared from view, you couldn't help your expression from showing the disappointment and frustration you felt. It had been almost a month now, and you two never went out together in the daylight, never saw each other except when he picked you up for a night out in the club or came to watch a movie that was never finished.

It felt more like you were his friend-with-benefits—you didn't even know his last name.

As if you were the other one.

The thought made your blood boil. You weren't proud of it, but in a moment of jealous weakness, you had checked his phone, seeing countless messages where he told people how excited he was to hang out and make appointments with them while he never seemed to do the same for you. It didn't seem like he had another partner in his life, but how could you be sure when he played the role of the mysterious night visitor rather than your wholesome boyfriend?

Was he ashamed of you? Were you not good enough? Did he just keep you around for his entertainment? The questions plagued you as he never gave you a good answer. He wouldn't even entertain the discussions, only vowing that he loved you and his work was very important and took him all day.

So why was he meeting other people then?

There wasn't much time once he said his goodbyes, his kisses nothing short of loving and sweet. For a possible cheater, he was good at what he was doing. You only had a few seconds of self-doubt about what you were going to do before you were out of the door and hunting after him, long coat and sunglasses on in true stalker-fashion. It felt wrong, and you hated yourself for mistrusting him so much, but at the same time, you two were still practically strangers, knowing so little while still being so in love. A little craziness was inevitable, right?

However, as your boyfriend turned from the main street into the shady path leading to the central park of your town, you suddenly felt a sense of panic. What if you accidentally got involved with some shady fellow? What if this was a drug deal or worse? Why would someone need to go to a park in the middle of the night?

You had assumed he was leaving you alone every night to hook up with other people or go back to an unsuspecting partner, but as you gently brushed through the thicket, trying to stay out of the moonlight that would give away your presence, you suddenly weren't so sure anymore.

You could still see him as he walked further into the park. It should have been your sign to leave, get away while you could, and cut all contact... but you had already gotten this far. Following closely by hiding behind trees and the occasional park bench, you tracked him through the greenery. Once, he almost seemed to spot you, but you ducked into a bush just in time, regretting this move only when the thicket tore at the fabric of your coat, making unnecessary noise. Still, you managed to stay hidden, heart racing and always alert.

Eventually, your boyfriend sat on a park bench in front of a pond. Nothing much happened for the next few minutes, and you were about to call this mission off, seeing how relaxed he was. It was as if he simply enjoyed hanging out in the park at night like a semi-normal person would.

But footsteps crunching over the gravel made you cower lower, your eyes fixating on the person approaching. Your boyfriend lifted a hand in greeting, and the person sprinted forward, hood falling off her head, revealing a cruel sight.

Because you knew the woman your boyfriend was meeting.

Your bully.

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watched as she jumped into his arms, giggling as your boyfriend spun her around. The only reason for them to meet you could think of was that the two set you up, made you fall in love with him so they could laugh at you behind your back. It really broke your heart to watch them cuddle on the park bench, your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—ruffling her hair.

You didn't want to stay to see this.

It was a good thing you found out, but with tears filling your eyes, you knew you had to leave before you were discovered or hurt yourself more by watching them. This trainwreck wasn't one you should have been observing, and it hurt enough that you wanted to never come out of your home again.

"You know, [Name]?" your boyfriend suddenly asked, the sound of your name on his tongue so bittersweet.

"Who? Oh..." your bully replied, thinking for a moment. "What about them? They are a loser, not worth your time."

"Is that so? Because they told me about you, lots of things."

"You're ruining the mood. Isn't it enough that I agreed to meet you here? It's so creepy! Did you know how they found quite a few bodies lately around this park? We should go clubbing or to a bar, why are we even here talking about some loser?"

Your bully let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her hair back over her shoulder before leaning close. "You know we never even kissed until now. Don't you think it's such a waste of those lovely lips to talk when we could make out instead?"

Letting out a dry laugh, he didn't seem flattered at all as she tried to avert the topic of you. Good, you thought, because you really weren't up to hearing about yourself from the bully and the traitor. Even so, you couldn't move. As if you were frozen to the spot.

"Good thing you mentioned that. I prefer not making my partner worried about whether I'm cheating or not."

"Partner?" your bully spat, scrunching up her nose, the ugliness of her expression matching her personality. "Don't tell me you're fucking with that. I thought you had better taste when you asked me out to dinner the last few times. Thought you'd appreciate beauty more--"

Her words were cut off as your boyfriend's hand wrapped around your throat. He brought her face closer to his, sounding more enraged than you had ever heard him before. "How dare you talk about them like that. They are perfect. Wonderful. Special. It's filth like you that needs to be taken out so my love can be happy."

The two rose from their seat, and you watched as your boyfriend seemingly effortlessly hoisted your bully into the air. Something felt off, and you couldn't look away as you watched the clothes on his body tearing apart, your bully struggling as his fingers stretched and wrapped around her neck completely. She let out mewls and gasps as she tried to kick him, tried to make him stop, but the horror was in both of your eyes as you watched your boyfriend transform.

Skin turned into fur, mouth into snout. His posture changed as his body grew taller, monstrous, into a beast. Part of you couldn't believe your own eyes as you watched him take on canine features as if you were in a movie, watching a werewolf transform, but by the way, your bully was struggling harder, unable to scream, you realized it was real, and she saw it too.

Horrified, you could only clasp your hands over your mouth, containing your shivers. Doggish years popped up from his head, twisting and turning towards your direction. You had to be quiet, undetected, or surely, you'd be the next prey of that monster. His snout opened, long, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight, and you heard the gurgled scream of your bully before the beast pounced, biting between her neck and shoulder.

Your bully was still kicking and trying to break loose as blood gushed from the bite, her sounds turning into gurgles before everything quieted out, and she stopped moving. Even though your eyes were so wide open, you couldn't believe them at all, couldn't understand what just happened, only listening to the sound of fluids gushing out and dripping to the floor, bones breaking beneath the claws and massive jaw, and eventually, her body simply slipping from his grip, seemingly meaningless.

"[Name], [Name], [Name]. Isn't it so impolite to eavesdrop on others?" the monster suddenly grumbled. Its massive head swung in your direction, eyes scanning from one side of the thicket to the other before finally settling on you despite the greenery. "I didn't want you to find out like this. We could have talked about it some other time—like on a picnic!"

Putting his feet into motion, you were still completely frozen as you watched the creature march towards you. If this was a bad dream, now would have been a good moment to wake up. You two held the eye contact, even as you watched the grotesque features slowly turn back into a human, first the head, then arms.

"Well, it is your business, too, I'll admit. I've been doing this all of you. Was I not a good boy, taking care of all these mean people for you?"

Until now, you had never taken much notice of the people you disliked disappearing. If anything, you were glad they weren't around anymore. But now that he was pointing it out, a cold shudder ran down your spine, guilt overcoming you.

"They were in the way of your happiness, and I need a good meal every now and then. We both got something out of it, you sweet, sweet thing—look at you cowering. Are you scared? Of the big, bad wolf? What if I'm a nice wolf, will you come to me then? Don't worry, no one's going to hurt you, I'll take care of all that try."

Even with the words so sweetly murmured, you didn't dare move and fall for his promises. He was a fucking werewolf or any other kind of monster! But werewolf made the most sense. It also explained so much more, for example, how he knew exactly where you were. It only made you wonder if he knew all along. Let himself be exposed to you. Wanting for you to see this.

See him.

Now back in his human form, he reached into the bush, parting it aside to reveal your cowering form. His grin widened as he watched you trembling in fear from him, this... other side of him probably enjoying a primal thrill at the prey he had caught.

"What... what are you? You had those big ears-"

"-to hear your thrilling pulse, darling."

"And your eyes were-"

"-so I could spot you and make sure you'd not hurt yourself, sweetheart."

"A-And your mouth was... you know."

At this, he simply grinned, and you gulped down any other word. "Gobble you up," he said earlier that night. It had not just been a sexy innuendo.

"Are you... going to kill me, too?" you asked woefully, feeling like your fate had already been sealed.

"You? Now, now, who'd do such a thing."

Clicking his tongue at you as if you had just insulted him, your boyfriend stepped through the gap in the bush, crossing over into your hideout, destroying every safety this thicket had provided with his presence. He leaned down, picking you up with what you now knew was unnatural strength and holding your bridal style as he carried you back towards the pond. The moonlight shined down on you two, the reflection on the water's surface blinding you. But it wasn't enough to make you forget about the body that laid just below you.

"I'm glad you could make it here, though. I wanted to enjoy the full moon with you for so long, you know? But you did interrupt my meal, how are you going to make up for it?" he asked, not a hint of seriousness in his voice. As if this was all a game rather than the brutal reality you had only just learned about.

"I--" you sputtered, unable to answer that. Your mind kept coming back to realize you were the next best meal to have and served as if on a silver platter as he carried you.

"Juuust joking," your boyfriend laughed. "How about we go home and order some late-night food? I'm so hungry!"

Ignoring the dead body on the floor, he merely stepped over it, chatting about whether he wanted burger or tacos as if he hadn't just revealed himself to be a fairytale monster and killed someone.

"Or, you know, we could make this fun. You could run, and I could catch you, have a nibble of those sweet cheeks; how about it?"

You felt the blood drain from your face, and his grin diminished as he watched you cower into yourself, his grip tightening around as you grew tense. "Okay, too early, got it."

"You're really not going to kill me?"

"Nope. Can't. You're my mate. You're what all werewolves crave—what I crave. Your happiness is all that satisfies me."

"Then... you'll let me go if I want to?"

His expression turned into a frown, and he shook his head. "There are rules," he said factually. "I'll explain them to you someday. But basically, they don't allow us to tell people about our existence. If I let you go, you might tell someone and--"

"I won't! I promise! I'll take your secret to the grave, please!" you pleaded, and your boyfriend grimaced, looking unhappy at your determination.

"And even more importantly-" he continued, raising his voice threatingly to make you behave. "-they teach us to never let our mates go, as there won't be another one. And living without is torture for a werewolf."

"Never?" you whined softly, and the smile returned to his face. Now he looked almost completely back to normal, like the sweet boyfriend you fell in love with. But you couldn't ignore the wolf in a sheep's skin—not with the blood of your bully still clinging to his chest.

"Never," he assured you firmly, and you knew instinctively that he meant it.

[moonstruckme]

hey sooooo I have a fic request for u babe! What about reader with Remus and it's like the first time she's sleeping over and she unexpectedly gets her period and she's like sorry I ruined our night I can go home and Remus is just like what?? No stay and just him soothing her through the cramps

Thank you for your request ml!

cw: period pains, mention of blood, brief allusion to mdni activities (though they truly could just have been making out if you want)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 960 words

It’s rare, this early in your relationship, that you and Remus can sit down to watch a film and actually watch it. But it seems you’re both thoroughly spent from partaking in those other activities so frequently during the day, and now you’re both just winding down for the night, waiting to see who will admit to wanting to go to bed first. 

Remus is just as content with this, your arm pressed against his and your head heavy on his shoulder, feeling your ribs expand and contract with relaxed breaths. He could get used to having you here. It’s taking more restraint than he could have imagined to keep himself from just offering you his spare key and begging you to come and go as you please. 

“Oh, shit.” 

It’s a whisper, not particularly alarmed, but the way your muscles go stiff tells Remus it’s not nothing. You sit up, taking your weight off of him. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

You don’t answer him at first, squeezing your eyes shut. Your expression is one of unmistakable mortification. You look agonized. Remus tries to let you have the time you need to think, but a worm of unease eats further into his gut with every second of your silence. 

You push out an exhale that sounds laborious. When you open your eyes, there’s enough apology in them for a capital crime. Remus thinks that he’d probably forgive you if you told him you’d committed murder (and maybe that should scare him more than it does). 

“I think I’ve just stained your couch,” you admit. 

“Okay,” he says slowly. He doesn’t see the cause for such distress, but he also isn’t sure what you’re talking about. You’re not holding a drink, so how could you…oh. “Oh, is that all?” 

His nonplussed reaction doesn’t seem to affect your unease. “I’m so sorry,” you say, wincing. 

Remus tuts. “Don’t be, you can’t help it. Do you have anything with you, or do I need to nip to the store?” 

“I’ve got stuff.” You stand to get your bag, turning to grimace at where you’d been sitting on the couch. 

Remus’ reaction skews in the opposite direction. It’s only a splotch; by your response he’d been half convinced you were sitting in a veritable puddle of blood. 

“I’m so sorry,” you say again. “I’ll be right back.” 

“You’re alright, love,” Remus promises you. “Take whatever time you need.” 

While you’re in the bathroom, he addresses the stain. Truly, it’s no great hassle. With friends like his it’s hardly the first trial his couch has faced, and besides that Remus has an unusual amount of experience with getting blood out of things. 

It’s soaking when you come back, a small rag covering the spot from your view. You’ve changed into your pajamas, presumably because you’d stained your pants as well, but this is far from an unwelcome development. You look terribly cuddly. 

“You alright?” Remus asks as you come back to stand by the couch. 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat quietly. You seem suddenly timid, like a guest in his home. He wants to hug you. 

“Does it hurt?” he presses. 

Your mouth pulls to the side, which is answer enough. “A little. It’s been hurting for a while, I just didn’t recognize it for what it was. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting it this early.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” He reaches for you, hiding his disappointment when you only put your hand in his. “That’s not a very nice surprise, is it?” 

“No,” you agree with a halfhearted smile. When Remus squeezes your fingers, you squeeze back, and you at least seem up to holding his gaze even if you still look sheepish. “I’m sorry to ruin our night. I can go home.” 

“What?” A bit of hurt bullies its way into Remus’ tone. Your expression changes like you’re surprised to hear it. “No, I think you should stay.” 

You look hesitant, so he tries again, gentler this time. 

“I mean, if you’re hurting and you want to be in your own home, I understand,” Remus says, “but I hope you’re not leaving on my account. I’d like for you to be here.” 

You watch his face as though looking for discrepancies. “Really?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he says earnestly. “Of course I’d love to keep you. Getting your period doesn’t change anything, except that now you’re in pain and I’d like even more for you to stay so I can be with you.” 

The muscles around your eyes relax, your expression softening into something so tender Remus feels his own heart turn to mush. 

He gives your hand a little tug, and you take the cue, sitting back down on the couch between his open legs. 

“Can I put my hand here?” he asks you, touching your stomach. 

“Sure,” you say, still somewhat timidly. You take his hand in yours, moving it down a couple inches until his fingers are skimming the soft fabric of your pajama bottoms. “But it’s more like here.” 

“Oh, okay. Can I put my hand there?” 

With your nod, Remus slips his hand beneath your waistband, to that plush stretch of skin between your belly button and your panty line. He presses down gently. 

“Oh.” Your body goes lax. 

Remus chuckles, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder. “That helps?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh contentedly. “A lot, actually. Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” He pushes on a tense spot experimentally, rewarded when you sink further into his front. “Just don’t try to run out on me the next time something like this comes up, yeah?” 

You agree readily. “Mhm. I wouldn’t have, if I’d known this was going to happen.” 

Remus smudges another kiss onto your shoulder, smug. “Just remember this then, I suppose.” 

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, captivity, fantasy lore, abuse, murder mention, suggestive (?)

"You seem to be upset."

He's leaning against the window not too far away from you. Not too close as well - just far enough for you to feel at ease.

"Aren't you a mind - reader." You respond under your breath, trying to focus on the book you're currently reading - but the letters are escaping you, and you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. He sighs, much like a disappointed father, before stepping towards you. And if you flinch just slightly, he doesn't pretend to notice or care.

"What is wrong, my flower?" The man gestures theatrically, soft velvet voice unbecoming of the monster he is flowing easily into the open air. You don't know what to say, really. It's been two years - or so you think, there is no way to keep track of time in this kingdom, not that time goes the same way in the elfen world as it does in the human, yet the part of you still capable of logical thought seems to think so. Two years, and there is very little you haven't already said. Very little left to be said, so your conversations are mostly rehearsed repetitions of what you already know. What you already fear - that you're going to die here. Or even worse. That you've become incapable of aging, so very consumed by this foreign land you detest that you've given up death for a life of boring, purposeless immortality.

"Don't I shower you with lavish gifts?" The noble moves closer, stalking towards you - observing you as if you're a butterfly pinned to a wooden frame under a microscope. "Don't I buy you the shiniest jewels? Not even the queen herself owns such sparkling emeralds." He scoffs, painfully used to your lack of response. You clear your throat, turning a new page - having little to recall about the last. It's completely meaningless just like all the other pages in all the other books you read. How funny, you think. In that distant, dreamy past of yours you were too busy to read - busy with work, busy with family, busy with friends. Busy with life. Now nothing gets in the way of your reading, you have all the time in the world - but there's no one to share the knowledge with. No one to spoil the ending. No time limits. No goal to it all, no final destination. So you read, and you soak the pages with salty tears not remembering a word.

"I am grateful for all the treasures you give me, my Lord." You answer nonchalantly, keeping your pointer at the end of the paper in a desperate attempt to find the sentence exactly where you left it off. You can feel him move closer to you - and the only indication of your growing fear are the shivers that travel down your spine with the beat of your violently full, thumping heart.

"Don't I provide you with all the entertainment your little human heart could possibly bear?" The duke clicks his long sharp nails together once against the other - an ugly metallic sound echoes deep into the ceiling reminiscent of a dying forest clow. "There has never been a lack of wine or music or dance in my court. I've gifted you more golden dresses than you can wear in this life. I've written you more poems than you can read." He keeps going, describing every little thing he's done for you, despite the fact that you've never asked for any of it.

"I admire your taste for indulgence, my Lord." You repeat almost automatically, the praises sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spilt from parted honey lips. Your eyes are glued to the book, but you've given up on reading long ago. Now you're simply trying not to cry - focusing your eyes at one word at a time and blinking repeatedly, manically, feeling as if the world with end the moment you let him see your weakness. You can't believe you still have so much pain in you - enough to feel loss and anger and, what's even worse, hope. Hope that one day you'll be free again.

"And tell me, flower—" His fist wraps around your low ponytail, forcing you to look up at him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. What's staring back at you might as well be the bottom of the ocean itself, misty and dark, cold and unknown. Human eyes convey so much affection - so much care that you can never mistake it for anything else. With elves it's different - you can spend centuries looking for a hint of kindness, and you'll only get lost in those beatiful bottomless pits. Shiny and sparkling and completely empty. "Don't I give you love? Don't I embrace you tightly every night?" His voice lowers dangerously, barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand what more you could possibly want. Should I prove myself to you? Should I slay a dragon for you? Perhaps I could tie the heads of your enemies with a pretty bow and give them to you as a wedding gift, hmm?" He's babbling incoherently, nails digging into your scalp with unyealding grip. "Would that finally, finally make you happy, beloved?"

"No, no, please let go." You cry out in agony, wriggling out of his hold - but he's too strong, too massive to move. "I'm happy, I'm—" You sob pitifully, weakly pushing at his chest. "I'm happy with you. Please, you make me so happy, just please let go. And please don't hurt anyone."

He slowly pulls away, chest heaving in and out wildly. The scariest part is always his face. It remains unbothered - cold and defined like a statue of a god, his true feelings hidden by a mask of barely contained rage.

"You're happy with me?" He raises an eyebrow, foot stomping on the ground impatiently. You nod hesitantly, too shaken up to comprehend what you're even agreeing to. "Then prove it. Show me just how happy I make you." He grabs your wrist, pulling you face-first into his hard chest. "Do it, and I might reconsider my other more... inhumane methods of courtship." His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "And may the Gods help you."

As you sink to your knees you try to think of what book to read next - but no title comes to mind.

[elikajinnie]

P: Vampire!Sunghoon X Human!Reader (Recommended age 18+)

Requested by: @doudouhoon -> request

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Supernatural Elements, Hypnosis, Mature Content, Obsession, Feral Behaviour, Chasing, Blood Consumption, Suggestive Content, Stalking, Murder, Possessive Behaviour.

Wordcount: 10.4k

Synopsis: Life was going smoothly—graduation was on the horizon, and your future seemed set. That is, until the new exchange student arrives. Stunningly handsome and impossible to ignore, he quickly leaves you both captivated and uneasy. Soon, strange occurrences follow. Objects move when you're not looking, whispers fill the air, and at night, you swear you see a pair of glowing red eyes and a set of sharp teeth watching you from the shadows.

a/n: nosferatu ass.... im just kidding! please read the request before commencing!

now playing: the vampire masqurade by peter gundry | bring me to life by evanescence | judas by lady gaga | kill of the night by gin wigmore | haunted by isabel larosa | kiss me you animal by burn the ballroom

True love wasn’t something you believed in—not in this generation, at least. The idea that two souls were meant for each other, so deeply intertwined that they would do anything for one another and never love another? Yeah, right. People these days didn’t know the meaning of love. They were more interested in body counts.

That’s why, every time you watched an old movie where lovers were so consumed by each other that they would sacrifice everything—sometimes even their own lives—you couldn’t help but feel like you were born in the wrong era. The devotion, the passion, the kind of love that wasn’t afraid to burn bright and destroy anything in its path—that was what you longed for. And yet, in stark contrast, your phone would light up with another message, another boy asking you something inappropriate, something empty, something that only reinforced the view of a world that had forgotten what love was supposed to be.

So you were never interested in finding a relationship. Even now, as you were finishing your years at college, you never looked into dating, choosing instead to focus on your studies. It wasn’t that you were incapable of love—you just hadn’t found anything worth your time.

You watched your friends fall in and out of relationships, some getting their hearts broken over people who never deserved them in the first place. You listened to them cry over boys who barely remembered their favorite color, who only seemed to care when it was convenient for them. And you? You refused to be part of that cycle. You had more important things to do than entertain the idea of a half-hearted love.

The only love you entertained was the love from your fantasy romance books—emphasis on the fantasy part. The love stories within those pages were different. They all made reality seem unbearably dull.

It was the kind of love that made your heart ache, not because you had never experienced it, but because you knew you never would. Not in this world.

You would spend nights curled up with a book in your hands, losing yourself in tales of knights vowing their lives to the ones they loved, of immortal beings waiting centuries just for a single touch. You devoured every word, every aching confession. Because in those stories, love was sacred. It wasn’t something people tossed aside when they got bored.

Reality, on the other hand, had never given you anything close to that. Real love—if it even existed—seemed watered down, temporary. A series of situationships, and eventual disappointments. It was nothing like the slow-burn intensity you read about, nothing like the soul-deep connections that had you believing two hearts could truly beat as one.

So you didn’t really expect anything close to love during the rest of your time in college. You had long accepted that romance, at least the kind you dreamed of, wasn’t meant for you.

Love—real, all-consuming love—was a fantasy. And you were done chasing fantasies.

But life had a cruel sense of irony.

Because in what world would something straight out of a fairytale come to life?

Apparently, in your world.

At first, you didn’t suspect anything peculiar about him. He was just another student, another presence in a school filled with people you barely paid attention to. But the more you saw him, the more you noticed. And with that noticing came something else—something strange.

Park Sunghoon. The new student who appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the semester, walking into class like he owned the air around him. He was cold-looking, unreadable, his expression carefully blank as if he had already seen everything this place had to offer and wasn’t the least bit impressed. The type of guy who could sit in the back of the class, say nothing, and still have half the room sneaking glances his way.

You didn’t think much of him at first. Just another student. Just another stranger you’d never utter a word to.

Right?

Yeah. No.

Because, as it turned out, Sunghoon had no plans of leaving you as just another face in the crowd.

You weren’t sure when it started. The way he always seemed to be around, even when you swore you were alone. The way your name rolled off his tongue so easily, as if he had known you for much longer than a few weeks. The way his eyes—cold and indifferent to everyone else—would soften, just barely, when they landed on you.

And then there were the other things. The strange things.

Like how you could’ve sworn you saw him somewhere one night, only for him to act like he had never left his dorm the next day. Like how, when you nearly slipped on the stairs, something unseen had steadied you before you could even react—only for Sunghoon to be standing at the bottom, watching.

Like how he always seemed to know things he shouldn’t.

It was eerie. It was unsettling.

But what was worse was that no one else seemed to notice.

To everyone else, Sunghoon was just the mysterious new guy, someone to admire from afar but never get too close to. He was quiet, reserved, uninterested in making friends. A mystery wrapped in sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline.

But to you? He was something else.

Because it wasn’t just that he always seemed to be around. It wasn’t just that he knew things he shouldn’t.

It was the way he looked at you—like he was waiting for something.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

You tried to ignore it, brushing off the odd feelings, convincing yourself you were overthinking. But then the coincidences started becoming harder to ignore.

Like the time you were walking home late, your footsteps echoing against the empty streets, only to feel a presence behind you. You turned around—nothing. But the air felt heavier, like someone had been there just a second before. And when you finally made it home, locking the door behind you, your phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

"You shouldn’t walk alone this late."

Your heart had nearly stopped.

And then there was the time you were in the library, absentmindedly flipping through one of your favorite fantasy books. You barely noticed when someone sat across from you, but when you looked up, Sunghoon was already staring, his eyes scanning the page in front of you.

"You like stories like this?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was something else in it.

You hesitated. Why did it sound like he already knew the answer?

"Yeah," you replied cautiously. "Why? Do you?"

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I guess you could say I have some experience with stories like these."

You didn’t know what he meant. Not then.

But soon, you would.

And by then, it would be too late.

Because Sunghoon wasn’t just another student. And he wasn’t just another presence in your life.

He was something else.

You never usually went out at night alone.

Stories on the internet, headlines on the news—they had done a good job of making you paranoid. You weren’t careless. You always had a companion, always stuck to a group, or at the very least, made sure you were in a vehicle when heading home.

But tonight?

Tonight, you weren’t so fortunate.

You were alone.

Your phone was hanging on to life by a thread, the battery percentage blinking in warning. You were still a bit of a walk away from your place, the streets quieter than they should’ve been. It wasn’t that late, but late enough for the usual crowds to have disappeared, leaving behind only shadows stretching long beneath flickering streetlights.

The night had started off fine—you hadn’t even planned to drink much. Just a simple outing with friends, a way to destress. But things hadn’t gone as expected. An argument, some misunderstandings, people leaving in different directions. And now, here you were.

Alone.

You glanced down at your phone, debating whether to risk what little battery you had left and call an Uber. Or a friend. Or even your dormmate—anyone who could come pick you up.

Your fingers scrolled desperately through your contacts, trying to make the most of your dwindling charge. But in your frantic searching, you failed to notice something.

Somewhere between exiting the club and now, the usual crowd had faded. The sounds of laughter and music had dulled into silence. The familiar warmth of bodies brushing past you, the comfort of knowing you weren’t alone—gone.

And it was only when you finally looked up that you realized:

You had walked too far from the club.

The streets, once bustling with life, were now empty. The neon lights that had painted the sidewalk in warm hues felt dimmer, the distant hum of passing cars too far away to comfort you.

A strange chill ran down your spine.

Something felt wrong.

And then—

A presence.

You couldn’t see anyone. But you felt it. The undeniable weight of someone’s gaze pressing against you from the darkness. Watching.

Your breath caught in your throat as you gripped your phone tighter, your pulse beginning to race.

You weren’t alone anymore.

And suddenly, you weren’t sure if that was a good thing.

Your fingers hovered over your phone screen, but suddenly, the numbers and names blurred together, your focus shifting elsewhere.

The air felt heavier. The kind of heaviness that wrapped around you like invisible hands, clawing at your nerves, making your skin prickle with unease. You didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t see movement, but the feeling of being watched was unmistakable.

Slowly, carefully, you turned your head.

Nothing.

Just an empty sidewalk stretching into the distance, streetlights casting long shadows over the pavement, the only sound being the faint buzz of electricity.

Calm down. You were probably just imagining things. Your nerves were heightened because of the situation, your mind playing tricks on you.

Still, your gut told you to move.

Forcing yourself to shake off the paranoia, you tapped at your screen, pressing the contact of the first person you could think of. But before the call could even go through—

A sound.

Close.

Too close.

The distinct scrape of a shoe against concrete.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest.

You spun around—again, nothing. The alley beside you gaped like an open mouth, dark and endless, but you saw no one. No shadow, no figure lingering beneath the dim streetlights.

And yet, the feeling of someone watching you remained.

Your breathing grew uneven as panic clawed its way up your throat. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you shoved your phone into your pocket, your fingers trembling slightly. You didn’t care about it anymore���you just needed to move.

Now.

Your feet hit the pavement hard as you turned away, breaking into a hurried pace. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder, didn’t want to see if someone was there. The weight of an unseen gaze still clung to you, making your skin crawl, but you refused to stop.

You just had to get out of here.

The street stretched endlessly ahead, but it felt wrong. No people, no noise, just the emptiness pressing in from all sides. You swallowed hard, your breath coming in uneven gasps.

And then—

A whisper of movement. Not from behind this time.

From ahead.

Your instincts screamed at you to get on the main road. To disappear before whatever was watching you decided to make itself known.

Without thinking, you turned sharply into an alley, the dimly lit path offering an escape—except you didn’t get far.

Because the moment you rounded the corner, you slammed into someone.

Hard.

A gasp tore from your lips as your momentum sent you stumbling backward. But before you could hit the ground, strong hands caught you.

Your breath hitched.

The grip around your waist was firm, steady. And when you looked up, your heart nearly stopped.

Sunghoon.

His face was inches from yours, his cold, unreadable eyes locked onto you. The lights from the street barely reached the alley, casting shadows across his sharp features, but even in the dimness, he looked impossibly composed.

Like he had been waiting for you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You were too stunned, too caught off guard by the sudden closeness, the way his hands hadn’t let go yet.

And then, finally, he broke the silence.

"Why are you running?" His voice was quiet, smooth, like he already knew the answer.

Your throat felt dry. Your mind was still spinning from the lingering fear, from the thing you had felt watching you.

"I—" You swallowed. "I thought… someone was following me."

Sunghoon’s grip on you tightened just slightly before he exhaled, his expression unreadable.

"You’re not wrong."

A shiver ran down your spine.

"What—" you started, but he was already moving, already shifting his body just enough to glance over his shoulder. His gaze flickered toward the empty street behind you, his jaw tensing.

"You shouldn’t be out this late," he murmured, more to himself than to you.

And then his eyes met yours again.

"Come with me."

It wasn’t a request.

It was a command.

And somehow, you knew—refusing wasn’t an option.

Your body tensed. Every instinct screamed at you to question him, to demand an explanation, but the way Sunghoon looked at you—the way his gaze was sharp—made the words die in your throat.

"Come with me."

He wasn’t asking. And somehow, deep down, you knew he had a reason.

Your heart still hammered from the chase—or whatever that was. The feeling of being watched hadn’t disappeared, but standing here with Sunghoon, something shifted. It wasn’t gone, but it was different.

Like whoever—or whatever—had been following you wasn’t as eager to approach now that he was here.

Your breath caught. Did he know?

Sunghoon didn’t give you much time to think. His fingers tightened briefly around your wrist before he let go, turning on his heel.

"We need to move," he muttered, already walking.

You hesitated for half a second, but then another wave of unease crashed into you, the prickling sensation of a gaze making the hairs on your arms stand.

So you followed.

The alley stretched into a maze of turns and side streets, leading you farther from the club, farther from where you thought you should be. You tried to memorize the path, but Sunghoon moved too quickly, like he already knew exactly where to go.

"Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice hushed but urgent.

"Somewhere safer."

"Safer from what?"

Sunghoon didn’t answer.

You gritted your teeth, frustration creeping in. You had no idea why you were listening to him, why you were blindly following someone you barely knew through empty backstreets in the dead of night. But something about his presence, his certainty, kept you moving.

Eventually, he stopped in front of what looked like an old bookstore—one of those places you never really noticed, tucked between taller buildings, its windows dark and uninviting at this hour.

Sunghoon pulled open the door, glancing at you expectantly.

"Inside."

You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder. The street behind you was empty. Too empty.

Your fingers curled into fists as another cold shiver ran through you.

Whatever had been watching you earlier… it was still there.

Without another word, you stepped inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and with it, the heavy feeling of being hunted finally lifted.

But when you turned to face Sunghoon, you found him watching you carefully, as if you were the mystery, searching for something beneath your skin that even you didn’t know was there.

"Where are we?" you pressed, stepping closer. "Where did you bring me"

But he didn’t answer.

His expression didn’t shift. He didn’t even look like he was considering responding. Instead, he simply turned away, his attention flickering toward the door, as if waiting.

Irritation bubbled up inside you. After everything—the fear, the chase, the unanswered questions—he was just going to ignore you?

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your arms as another chill ran down your spine.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to give you answers, you’d just figure things out yourself.

Your gaze wandered to the window. The streets outside were still. The emptiness from before hadn’t changed—no people, no movement, nothing but the glow of streetlights.

Had you imagined it? The feeling of being watched, of something lurking just beyond your sight?

Your fingers curled slightly as you turned back toward Sunghoon, ready to demand an answer again—

But he wasn’t there.

You blinked.

The space where he had been standing just moments ago was completely empty.

Your heart stuttered.

You whipped your head around, scanning the dark bookstore, expecting to see him a few steps away, maybe wandering between the bookshelves.

But there was nothing.

No sound.

No sign that he had moved.

Nothing.

Your pulse quickened. How? How had he disappeared so silently? The store wasn’t that big—you would’ve heard his footsteps, the creak of a floorboard, something.

And yet, he was just… gone.

A lump formed in your throat.

This was wrong.

This whole night had been wrong.

But before you could turn back toward the door, before you could even think about stepping outside, something inside you—something deep, something instinctual—shifted.

It wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t panic.

It was a pull. A whisper in your bones.

Move deeper into the store.

You hesitated, glancing toward the rows of bookshelves stretching into the dimly lit space. The deeper you looked, the darker it became, the light from the front windows barely reaching past the first few aisles.

Logic told you to leave.

But something else—something stronger—urged you forward.

And before you could stop yourself, your feet started moving.

Your steps echoed softly against the wooden floor as you moved past rows of towering bookshelves. Your mind screamed at you to stop, to turn around and run out of this cursed place. But your body? It refused to listen.

It was like you were being guided, dragged forward by some invisible thread pulling at your very soul.

Your breathing quickened as you passed worn-out seating areas and dusty reading nooks, the air growing heavier the deeper you went. You tried to force your feet to stop, but they kept moving, like you were trapped in a dream where no matter how hard you fought, you couldn’t wake up.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you rounded another corner, stepping into an aisle far darker than the rest, the towering shelves casting deep shadows that seemed to swallow everything whole.

Your footsteps slowed as you reached the end of the aisle, stepping into a section that felt… different.

The books lining the shelves weren’t like the others. Their spines were darker, older, some bound in cracked leather with gold lettering that had long since faded. And the titles...

Legends of the Undead. Bloodlines of the Eternal. The Shadowed Ones.

The supernatural.

Your breath hitched as you stepped closer, eyes scanning the books before a sudden thump echoed through the silence.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned toward the sound, your pulse hammering in your ears.

A book had fallen from one of the shelves, lying face up on the floor.

There was no draft, no reason for it to have moved.

And yet…

Something inside you whispered, urging you forward.

You swallowed hard but obeyed, stepping toward the book like you had no other choice.

The cover was worn, the edges tattered from age, but the image printed on it sent a strange chill through you.

A couple.

A woman with wide, longing eyes, and a man who stood behind her, holding her close. But his face—his features—were strikingly sharp. His skin was pale, almost ghostly, and draped over his shoulders was a dark, flowing cape.

And then, you saw them.

His teeth.

Sharp, glistening.

Fangs.

Your stomach twisted as your fingers unconsciously tightened around the book.

A vampire.

Swallowing the unease clawing at your throat, you quickly shoved the book onto the nearest shelf—definitely not the one it had fallen from, but you didn’t care. You just wanted it out of your hands.

Then, without a second glance, you turned on your heel and scuffled your way back toward the entrance, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

You wanted to leave.

Reaching the door, you grabbed the handle and twisted.

It didn’t budge.

Your breath hitched.

You tried again, jiggling it harder. Locked.

Your stomach dropped.

Fumbling, you checked for a latch, a keyhole—something. But nothing worked. The lock wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t shift, wouldn’t so much as budge.

Your chest tightened.

No. No, this wasn’t happening.

You peered outside, but the streets were just as empty as before. No cars, no distant figures, nothing but a dark, lifeless city.

Panic curled around your ribs as you pressed your forehead against the glass.

You were trapped.

A frustrated groan escaped you as you spun back toward the darkened bookstore.

"Sunghoon!" you called out, voice echoing between the shelves.

Silence.

Your throat felt dry as you called his name again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

He had to be here. He had to be.

He wouldn’t just leave you locked inside a bookstore all night… right?

"Sunghoon, where are you? This isn’t funny!"

No response.

Your fingers clenched into fists as you hesitantly stepped between the shelves, your voice growing more frantic each time you called Sunghoon’s name.

The silence was suffocating.

You peeked into one of the sections, your heartbeat drumming against your ribs. The air felt heavier here, like something unseen was pressing against your chest.

And then—

A cold breath ghosted over the back of your neck.

Your body went rigid.

The sensation was unmistakable—icy, deliberate, like someone was standing right behind you.

Your breath hitched as your entire body screamed at you to run. But when you turned around sharply—

Nothing.

No one.

The aisle was empty. Your paranoia spiked. Your mind raced with every horror scenario you’d ever read, every urban legend about being alone in places you weren’t supposed to be.

You had to get out.

"Sunghoon!" you shouted again, your voice echoing through the vast store.

And then—

A soft creak.

Your eyes snapped to the left, where a door—one you were certain hadn’t been there before—slowly swung open.

A dark figure stepped out.

Sunghoon.

He looked… perfectly normal. Calm, even.

His dark eyes met yours, and his lips curled into a small, amused smile.

"There you are," he said casually, as if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack.

For a second, you just stared, your mind struggling to comprehend the sheer absurdity of the situation. He had just appeared from a hidden door like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your initial shock quickly turned into anger.

"Are you kidding me?!" you snapped, stepping toward him. "You left me alone in here! The door is locked, and I—" Before you could finish, he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

Gently.

Yet firmly enough that it sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice low and smooth. "This way."

Without waiting for your response, he led you through the mysterious doorway.

The second you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

It was another section of the bookstore—except this one felt different.

The air was filled with the scent of old parchment and something faintly metallic. The books here looked ancient, their bindings cracked with age, their pages yellowed and fragile.

This place… it felt untouched. Hidden. Like a secret only a select few were meant to see.

You swallowed, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to Sunghoon.

"What is this place?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"The literary section," he answered simply.

Your steps felt heavy as Sunghoon led you through, then without saying much, he stopped in front of an old door, pulling out a small pair of keys from his pocket. The metallic click echoed in the silence as he unlocked it.

You expected to find another dark corridor, or maybe some secret, ancient room filled with more strange books.

But instead…

It led to the outside.

The cold night air hit your face as you stepped out, blinking in confusion. You turned around, watching Sunghoon lock the door behind you.

What even was that place? And how did he know about it?

Before you could ask, Sunghoon gently nudged you toward a sleek black car parked nearby.

"Come on. I’ll drive you home. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone," he said, his tone calm yet strangely... protective.

Your mind was spinning, struggling to process what had just happened. You barely noticed as Sunghoon opened the passenger door for you, guiding you inside before slipping into the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t until the engine roared to life, and the car began smoothly gliding through the empty streets, that you finally snapped out of whatever trance you’d been in.

"Wait, wait, wait," you blurted out, turning to him with wide eyes. "What the hell just happened back there? What was that place? And why do you have the keys to some creepy store that—"

"Calm down," Sunghoon interrupted, glancing at you with that same unreadable expression. "I told you, it’s a bookstore. A safe space."

Your eyes narrowed.

"And what does that even mean? How do you know about it? Why were you even there?"

Sunghoon let out a soft chuckle, as if your panic amused him. "You ask too many questions."

You scoffed. "Because none of this makes sense!"

He glanced at you again before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Some things aren’t meant to make sense."

That only made your frustration grow.

"You’re seriously not gonna explain anything?"

Sunghoon smirked faintly. "I probably just saved you from some creep. You could at least say thank you."

You stared at him in disbelief.

He was avoiding your questions. Clearly.

But the way he spoke… it was like he knew something. Something you weren’t supposed to know.

Who exactly was Park Sunghoon?

The rest of the car ride was filled with silence. The streets blurred past the window as you watched the empty city, but your mind was stuck on Sunghoon.

You stole a glance at him from the corner of your eye. His face was calm, as if none of what just happened was strange at all.

"You’re really not going to tell me anything, are you?" you muttered, breaking the silence.

"Would you even believe me if I did?"

Your brows furrowed. "Try me."

He let out a soft chuckle, but didn’t answer.

Frustration bubbled in your chest, but at the same time...

There was something about him that made your heart race in a way you couldn't explain.

You barely knew this guy, yet it felt like he was pulling you into something that you could not comprehend.

And the scariest part?

A part of you... wanted to know more.

Before you knew it, the car slowed down in front of your dorm.

Sunghoon put the car in park and turned to you. His gaze softened slightly as he spoke,

"Get some rest. It's late."

You hesitated, unsure whether to step out or demand more answers. But something about the way he looked at you left you speechless.

With a sigh, you reached for the door handle and stepped out.

But just as you were about to close the door, Sunghoon’s voice stopped you.

"Sweet dreams."

Your breath hitched as you turned to face him, as he only gave you a small, knowing smile before driving off into the darkness.

You stood there, watching the taillights disappear into the night, your heart pounding in your chest.

What the hell just happened?

Sunghoon was always composed. Always. His life had been shaped by discipline, by the strict standards of his legacy, a lineage built on elegance, refinement, and control. His every move, every glance, was carefully calculated. His desires? Contained.

Except for now.

Now, as his eyes flickered over to you across the classroom, something was breaking inside him. Something he couldn’t control.

You.

You, sitting there, so effortlessly beautiful, your presence radiating something he couldn’t ignore. Something he couldn’t bury, no matter how hard he tried.

You were tempting. The way your hair fell over your shoulder, the curve of your lips as you smiled at your friend, the soft laugh that escaped you when something amused you. It was all too much. And as your scent teased the edges of his senses, it became overwhelming.

He had been keeping his distance, maintaining control, but now—now—it was slipping through his fingers like sand.

One sip. One taste.

He could already imagine it: your blood, sweet and intoxicating, flowing as he licked it from your skin, savoring every drop as if it were the finest nectar.

He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, trying to suppress the need that burned within him.

You were special.

He had always known it. There was something about you, something different that called to him in ways he couldn’t explain. Something about your blood—it was made for him.

One taste and he would be hooked, he knew it. The craving had only grown since the moment he first laid eyes on you, and now it clawed at him from within.

His fingers dug into the side of the table, the wood creaking under the pressure of his grip.

You were a forbidden fruit, and resisting you was a battle he wasn’t sure how much longer he could win.

His gaze flickered back to you, and his heart clenched, a familiar hunger coiling deep within him.

Oh, how he craved you.

The sound of the classroom around him faded as his attention remained fixated on you, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn’t control. He tried to focus on the lesson, tried to pay attention to the teacher’s voice droning on, but it was useless. All he could hear was the pounding of his own pulse, the quickened rhythm that matched the beat of his desires.

You shifted in your seat, and it was like a jolt to his senses. His eyes followed the movement, the way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped lightly on the desk. Each little thing you did, each breath you took, only deepened the ache inside him. It was all too much, and his restraint—once ironclad—was beginning to feel fragile, delicate, like it could snap at any moment.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore; he was losing himself.

I can’t do this, he thought desperately, his grip tightening on the table. But it was futile. The desire was too strong, too consuming.

One sip.

Just one.

He could already taste it—the sweetness, the richness that he knew would flood his senses. He needed it. And if he didn’t get it—he didn’t know what would happen.

His fingers dug deeper into the table, the wood now splintering under the pressure of his growing need. His eyes narrowed as he tried to compose himself. But the more he stared at you, the more the temptation grew.

Control, Sunghoon. You have to keep control.

His entire being screamed for him to act, to close the distance between you two and finally claim what he so desperately wanted. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

The bell rang, shattering the tension, and students began to gather their things, but Sunghoon stayed rooted in place, his eyes never leaving you.

You stood, gathering your bag, oblivious to the storm that raged inside him.

He tried to steady himself, fighting against the instinct that begged him to step forward, to take you, to make you his.

But he stayed still, watching you walk out of the room with every ounce of restraint he had left.

Not yet.

Okay, you were officially convinced Sunghoon was a weirdo. After that night in the bookstore, it was like he had some sort of uncanny ability to appear wherever you went. He was always there—just lurking.

And it didn’t stop there. You started seeing him in your dreams. How? You had no clue. All you knew was that those dreams were way too personal to even think about, let alone talk to anyone about. There was something intensely wrong—and yet strangely captivating—about them. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you were afraid of him, or if you were afraid of what you might feel about him if you let yourself admit it.

So you did what you thought was the logical thing. You avoided him. At all costs.

You tried to keep your distance—barely acknowledging his presence when you passed him, pretending you didn't notice when his gaze lingered too long. But that was when things got worse.

The more you tried to avoid him, the more he seemed to indulge in it. It was like he enjoyed watching you squirm, like he was learning everything there was to know about you with every passing second. You could feel his eyes on you—always.

Every time you saw him, his stare was impossible to ignore.

It wasn’t just a passing glance. No, it was like his eyes zeroed in on you—completely and utterly fixed, like he was searching you. Every time your paths crossed, he didn’t just look at you. He studied you, like he could see something no one else could. His gaze didn’t break, didn’t waver, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of you, every movement you made.

It was maddening.

There was no subtlety to it—his stare was intense in a way you couldn’t explain. It felt like his gaze was undressing your soul, pulling at the parts of you that you didn’t want anyone to see. It was suffocating. You couldn’t breathe when he looked at you like that, as though you were a piece of prey and he was waiting for the right moment to claim you.

You tried to look away, to avoid his gaze, but it felt like you were trapped under his spell. It made your skin crawl, your heart race. And for some reason, you hated the way your body responded to it. How your mind kept spiraling into the thoughts you desperately wanted to avoid.

What the hell was he doing to you?

He was becoming unbearable to ignore, but you really couldn’t do much with him around. It was like he was everywhere.

Around campus. Around the dorms. At the local cafe you frequented. And worst of all, he was in your dreams, invading your nights in ways that left you breathless and disoriented by morning. Every time you woke up, it took everything in you not to curl up and hide from everything in shame.

You were going insane, weren't you? You tried to tell yourself it was just a phase, just some weird, creepy obsession you could shake off. After all, it was easy to dismiss someone like Sunghoon, right? He was weird, and you had every reason to avoid him. But somewhere, somehow, that strategy had backfired.

The worst part?

You didn’t mind it.

At some point, your mind had started craving his attention. The same attention that used to send chills down your spine, that once made your heart race with dread, now made your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. You started looking for it, hunting for those moments when his gaze would fall on you again, when his eyes would lock with yours across the room or across the street.

And every time it happened, you felt it—this rush of something deep inside you, something almost giddy.

Like you were waiting for it.

And every time it happened—when his eyes found you, when he was close enough that you could feel him but not quite touch him—you couldn’t deny it. Something in you lit up.

You hated it, but you couldn't stop it. It was like you were addicted to it, to him. His attention became a drug you didn’t know how to quit.

Because of these dreams, you hadn’t been sleeping well at all. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, your body slick with sweat, your heart pounding like a drum. The sheets would be tangled around you as you gasped for air, your breath uneven and shallow, the images from your dreams still haunting the edges of your mind.

Every time you woke up like that, you’d look around your dark bedroom, feeling an overwhelming sense of being watched. The feeling would crawl up your spine, creeping into your thoughts until you were certain someone was lurking just beyond the edge of your vision. But when you flicked on the bedside lamp, the room was always empty. Just you. Alone.

Still, the feeling never truly left. It lingered in the corners of the room, under the bed, in the darkened space between your dresser and the wall.

It was always the same. Every night. The dreams. The shame. The emptiness that followed you as you tried to settle back into sleep, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it off. It had become a cycle, one that was slowly unraveling your sanity.

And it started to show on you.

You could feel it in your body—your mind was exhausted, and it was taking a toll. You’d fall asleep in the middle of class, your head dropping onto the desk as you fought to stay awake, but failing miserably. Or during lunch, when you would try to sip at your coffee, but your eyelids would feel too heavy to keep open.

But those naps never lasted long.

You’d wake up suddenly, the whispers of your dreams still clinging to you, leaving you disoriented and groggy. Sometimes, you would even jolt awake, your body trembling as if you had been running or fighting for your life. And every time you opened your eyes, you’d be met with the same mundane reality.

It was driving you mad.

You wanted it to stop. You needed it to stop. But it was like a chain around your neck, one you couldn’t remove no matter how hard you tried. The pull of Sunghoon’s attention, the lure of his eyes - it was suffocating you.

But it seemed like Sunghoon's presence was messing with more than just your sleep. The effects were trickling into other parts of your life, too.

The little nap accidents during classes? They were starting to catch up to you. You were behind on your work, falling behind on assignments, and you could feel your grades slipping further and further away. The last assignment had been a disaster, and your professor had been kind enough to give you a second chance, offering extra bonus work to help make up for it.

So there you were, sitting at the local café, long past your usual hours. The light above your table flickered slightly as you typed away, hunched over your laptop, trying to focus on the work in front of you. You knew you had to get it done. You had to show your professor you could pull yourself together, that you were still capable of doing this.

But the longer you sat there, the harder it was to ignore how exhausted you felt. Every line you typed seemed to blur, your thoughts fragmented, the constant hum of the café around you mixing with the dull throb in your skull. Even the smell of coffee no longer held its usual comfort—it just made you feel sick to your stomach.

And yet, you kept pushing through it, knowing that if you didn’t finish tonight, you’d only get further behind.

By the time you finally wrapped up the work and rushed to submit it, the café was closing. The lights were dimming, and the staff were tidying up, cleaning tables and stacking chairs as they prepared to lock the doors for the night. You barely noticed as you walked out, your mind focused solely on the task you had completed, the slight relief of being done with it for now.

The sky had darkened while you worked, the deep blue stretching across the horizon, stars barely visible against the faint glow of the city lights. The streets were quieter now, the hum of cars and chatter from nearby shops muted.

You could feel the cool night air biting at your skin as you walked. And as you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, you became busy scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from everything.

But then, you heard it.

A sound—disgusting and wrong. A wet, slurping noise, like a dog drinking from a bowl. Only it wasn’t right. It was too sickening, too unnatural.

Your feet stopped moving before you could think. You hadn’t meant to, but your body had reacted on its own. Your eyes darted towards the dark alleyway ahead, and the sound was louder now, almost suffocating. A gut-wrenching instinct told you to keep walking, but something inside you refused. Something dark and curious tugged you closer.

Despite every ounce of your being screaming to leave, you did the one thing you shouldn’t have: you turned on the flashlight of your phone and pointed it into the alley.

Instantly, you regretted it.

The beam of light cut through the shadows just enough to reveal the nightmare you had walked into.

A woman lay on the ground, her body limp and lifeless, eyes wide open and white, her skin a sickly shade of pale. Her blood… it coated the ground around her in a dark pool, soaking into the cracked pavement. And beside her, bending over her body, was a man.

The man… was feeding on her.

He was hunched over her, his face a mess of blood, his mouth smeared with the crimson liquid as he drank from her throat. The wet sounds filled your ears, but what made your blood run cold wasn’t just the act—it was his eyes.

He looked at you.

His eyes were red. Red as the blood he was drinking.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled back, instinctively trying to move away, but your feet wouldn’t obey. You were frozen, your body rigid with terror.

Then, as if to drive the horror deeper, he parted from the woman’s mangled neck. The blood dripped from his jaw, splattering to the ground, and he slowly, deliberately, ran his tongue over the blood that covered his lips. His tongue was long, unnaturally long, and as he licked the blood, you saw it—

Fangs.

Oh no.

The world spun around you. Your pulse raced as your body screamed at you to run, to escape, but your legs were frozen in place. Every part of you was screaming in panic, but it felt like you were drowning in fear, unable to move.

And in that moment, you were certain of two things.

One, this wasn’t a man.

Two, you were his next meal.

The man’s red eyes never left you as he slowly rose from the woman’s lifeless body, blood still dripping from his chin. He straightened himself, his movements slow, as if savoring the moment. You felt the chill of terror crawl up your spine, your entire body locked in place as you tried to find your voice.

His lips curled into a sinister, satisfied smile, revealing the sharp fangs that glistened under the dim light.

“You…” he murmured, his voice smooth and dark, laced with hunger. “You smell… so delicious.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling, as his gaze seemed to pierce right through you. It was as if he could see straight into your soul, and his words sent a cold wave of dread over you.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” he continued, taking a step closer, his eyes scanning you as if assessing you. “It’s racing. Thumping so hard, so fast. It’s music to my ears. The way it echoes in your chest… it’s irresistible.”

Your knees felt weak, but you still couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear and the unnatural intensity of his gaze.

“You are a special one,” he whispered, his voice low and intoxicating. “I can see it. Your blood… It will be more delicious than hers. More… rich. I can already taste it in the air.”

You wanted to scream, to run, but the words didn’t come. All you could do was watch as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.

“I’ll take every drop from you,” he whispered, a dark chuckle escaping his lips. “Every. Last. One. You won’t be left with a single drop.”

With that, he discarded the woman’s body carelessly, the limp form slumping to the ground with a sickening thud. She was nothing to him now—just a hollow shell. His attention was entirely focused on you now.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight.

His steps grew louder, closer, and all you could do was tremble, hoping for some miracle, some way out of this nightmare.

And before you could even process what was happening, a blur of movement shot past you, fast as lightning.

The vampire-man let out an animalistic snarl, his head snapping toward the figure that was attacking him. For a moment, you couldn’t see clearly. It was as though the air around you had thickened, time slowing down. The shadowy figure collided with the vampire, and they tumbled to the ground in a flurry of motion. You could hear the sounds of a vicious struggle, but all you could do was stand there, frozen in fear, completely caught off guard.

In the chaos, your phone slipped from your trembling hand and clattered to the cold ground. You scrambled to pick it up, eyes glued to the scene unfolding before you. The vampire-man hissed, but the figure didn’t back down.

The hissing grew louder, more frenzied. The air seemed to crackle with tension as the vampire-man struggled beneath his attacker.

You couldn’t stay there any longer.

Your heart pounded in your chest as your instincts screamed at you to run, to get away before you became the next target. Your legs felt like jelly as you backed up, tripping over your own feet and tumbling away. You were shaking, the fear gripping you tighter with every step.

A voice—low, urgent—whispered in your mind.

Run. Now.

And that was all you needed to hear. You didn’t need any more encouragement. With everything in you, you bolted, sprinting down the empty street, the sound of your heavy breathing drowned out by the roar of blood rushing in your ears.

You didn’t dare look back.

Not until you reached the safety of the main road, where you collapsed against a lamppost, gasping for air, eyes darting around the empty roads.

What just happened?

Okay, you did not believe in vampires. At all. Count Dracula, Count Orlok, Bram Stoker—everything was just fiction. Fantasy. The stuff of stories, movies, and nightmares.

But what you saw last night? That… you knew it wasn’t some wild hallucination. There was no way your mind could have conjured something so real, so grotesque. You felt it—every instinct screamed that what you witnessed was not just some twisted dream. And you knew that too, because when you returned to the alley the next day, the woman's body was gone.

But the blood—the blood was unmistakable. Streaks of it still marred the ground, dark and congealing under the harsh light of the morning sun. It was a dead giveaway.

Your stomach twisted as you crouched down to get a better look, staring at the stain on the pavement. No body. Just the unmistakable remnants of what had happened.

You wanted to go to the police. Hell, part of you felt like you had to—because this was serious. Someone had been murdered, right there in that alley. You could almost hear the sirens, see the flashing lights of the patrol cars, the officers coming in to take statements, investigate.

But then something in you hesitated.

Would they even believe you? You were certain they’d just look at you like you were crazy. A paranoid college student, half asleep, imagining things. They’d probably tell you it was some late-night prank or a random street fight gone wrong or even accuse you for taking drugs. And what could you possibly say? “I saw a man with red eyes and fangs, drinking the blood of a woman in an alley”?

You winced at the thought. It sounded insane even to you.

What if it was just… something else? Some twisted person? But even then, the red eyes? And the fangs? That didn’t make sense. Not in a world you knew.

So, instead of making the call you needed to, you backed away from the alley, stood there for a moment, staring at the bloodstain on the ground as your heart raced.

Your mind was a proper mess.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore. You had to do something, anything, to make sense of what had happened. So you did what you had to do—you investigated. And you knew where to start.

After classes, you didn’t go straight to your dorm. Instead, you found yourself heading toward the bookstore—the same one Sunghoon had taken you to that one night. There was something about that place, something that made you feel certain that the answers would be there, tucked away among the pages.

As you pushed open the door to the bookstore, the familiar scent of old paper and dust enveloped you. The bell above the door jingled softly, and you were greeted by the sound of a old woman behind the counter, softly snoring, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. You looked at her for a moment, but quickly moved past, not wanting to wake her up.

The store was quiet, with only a few customers scattered around. A woman sat in a chair near the back, completely engrossed in a romance novel—so much so that she probably hadn’t noticed you enter. A man stood near the science section, holding a stack of books, flipping through one, while another man was sorting through books, likely an employee.

But none of them mattered.

You knew exactly where you needed to go, and it didn’t take long for your eyes to find the familiar shelf. You scanned the titles, your pulse quickening as you spotted it. There it was—the same book. You almost let out a small, victorious sound as your fingers closed around it, pulling it free from between two other books.

As your fingers traced the familiar cover, that familiar sense of fascination stirred in your chest. You glanced around the shop, making sure no one was paying you any attention, before you carefully flipped it open.

You opened the book, expecting to find answers—maybe facts, some history, or even some sort of guide that could help explain what you had seen that night. But instead, you were met with something entirely different.

It wasn’t what you had imagined at all.

The first page was full of elegant prose, describing a vampire's longing for the taste of a mortal’s blood, how the scent alone would send him into a frenzy. The words were written with such intensity, each line dripping with yearning, and you couldn’t help but feel an unexpected heat rise in your cheeks as you read on.

The story was not a factual account or even a mythological tale; no, this was a love story. A sensual love story about a vampire and his human. The lines were filled with descriptions of blood—how the vampire wanted sink his fangs into his lovers delicate skin and drink.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you flipped through more pages, the story growing more heated. You felt as if you were intruding on something private. Something you should not be reading. But you couldn’t stop. You were drawn in, unable to turn away.

You felt your breath quicken, and in the back of your mind, a voice warned you that you were treading too close to something dangerous. This book wasn’t just telling a story—it was shaping something in you. Something you didn’t want to face just yet.

You slammed the book shut, heart pounding in your chest, as if you'd been caught doing something wrong. The words on the pages still lingered in your mind, their heat echoing through your thoughts. But before you could shake the feeling off, a voice broke through the haze.

"Can I help you with something?"

You whipped around, startled, to see the man you had noticed earlier—the one sorting through books. He had a gentle yet curious expression, his eyes scanning you as though he were waiting for an answer.

You took a slow breath, trying to calm yourself. "No, thank you. I’m just looking."

He nodded, accepting your answer, but then turned to leave. However, before he could walk away, he glanced back over his shoulder, his voice low.

"If you're looking for something more… to your taste, there’s a literary room in the back," he said, his gaze flicking towards a door. "It's where we keep the rarer collections. The kind of books you might find interesting."

Your stomach dropped at the mention of the door, the memory of that night when Sunghoon had led you through it coming back like a rush of cold water. You quickly glanced at the door, unease crawling up your spine.

"Thank you," you managed, offering a tight smile.

He gave you a nod, before walking away.

You waited until the man disappeared into the next aisle before making your move. With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, you slipped toward the familiar door. Your heart pounded as you grasped the handle and slowly pushed it open, squeezing through the narrow gap and quietly closing it behind you.

You wasted no time, scanning the shelves for anything that would point you toward what you were looking for.

"Vampires... vampires..." you whispered to yourself as your fingers traced the spines of the worn books.

Minutes passed, and you found yourself with three books in your arms, each one titled with something related to the creatures of the night.

"The Blood Covenant: Tales of the Immortal"

"Nocturnal Desires: The History of the Nightwalkers"

"Marked by the Moon: The Forbidden Bond"

Your hands tightened around them as you glanced back toward the door. You still had the original book you’d found, making it a total of four. The unsettling feeling in your gut only grew stronger, but so did your curiosity.

What were you even hoping to find? Proof that what you saw in the alleyway wasn’t a hallucination? Or maybe... something that could explain Sunghoon and the strange pull he seemed to have over you?

Taking a shaky breath, you turned toward one of the small, round tables tucked between the shelves and set the books down. You hesitated for a moment before flipping open the first one.

As your eyes skimmed the pages, the words seemed to bleed into your mind, descriptions of ancient creatures who thrived in the shadows, who fed on human blood, who could manipulate and lure their prey with nothing more than a glance.

Your pulse quickened.

Because with every word you read, you realized...

It all sounded too much like Sunghoon.

Of course, it was only a hunch, a theory. Because in reality, vampires shouldn’t exist in this timeline... right? So he could not possibly be..

But there was never any solid proof that they didn’t.

And if the legends were true, vampires could live for hundreds of years. What if... this was one of those rare cases?

You shook your head, pushing the thought aside as you continued skimming through the books. Your eyes scanned the pages, absorbing every detail about ancient rituals, feeding habits, and the hypnotic allure that vampires possessed.

Time slipped away from you faster than you realized, and when you finally glanced at your watch, your eyes widened.

You were here way too long.

Quickly gathering the books in your arms, you slipped out of the room and made your way to the counter. The old woman, now wide awake, adjusted her glasses as she scanned the books one by one. The employee from earlier stood nearby, watching you with mild curiosity.

You paid for the books without much thought, too eager to get out of the shop and back to your dorm to properly dig through what you'd found.

As you turned to leave, the soft chime of the doorbell echoed through the quiet shop, and you stepped out into the streets.

What you didn’t notice, however, was the sneaky glance that passed between the old woman and the employee as you walked away with a bag full of vampire books.

Almost as if... they knew.

It wasn’t that dark outside, but the streets were quiet enough to make you uneasy. The streetlights barely illuminated the cracks in the pavement as you hurried along, clutching the bag of books tightly to your chest.

Your mind was racing with everything you'd read. The idea of vampires living among humans sounded absurd, but after what you'd seen in that alley...

You shook the thought away and picked up your pace.

What you failed to notice, however, was the shadow trailing behind you.

Silent footsteps echoed yours, perfectly in sync. Whoever it was, they were keeping a careful distance, blending into the dimly lit streets like a predator stalking its prey.

You turned a corner, the familiar sight of your dorm building coming into view, and felt a small wave of relief wash over you. Almost there.

But that relief was short-lived as you barely had time to react.

A cold, calloused hand clamped over your mouth, silencing the scream that tried to escape your throat. You were yanked backward, dragged effortlessly into the shadows of a nearby alleyway.

Your heart pounded violently in your chest as you thrashed against the grip, eyes wide and frantic as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

That’s when you saw him.

The man had eyes that glowed a deep, sinister red, and when he parted his lips, you saw them.

Fangs.

Sharp. Deadly. Hungering.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

This wasn’t like the scenes from the book. There was no heat pooling in your stomach, no fluttering anticipation.

No, this was wrong.

The fear that coursed through your veins was paralyzing. Your body instinctively fought against him, twisting and struggling with every ounce of strength you could muster — but it was useless.

He was far too strong.

And the worst part?

You could feel it.

The way his cold lips brushed against your skin. The way he inhaled deeply, savoring your scent.

"You smell... divine," he murmured, voice dark and sickly sweet. "So much sweeter than any other human."

Your eyes burned with tears as you squirmed, panic clouding your mind.

He wasn’t going to stop.

He wasn’t going to spare you.

He would drain you dry, leave your lifeless body to rot in this alley, and move on to his next victim without a second thought.

No.

No, you couldn’t let that happen.

Your body moved on instinct as you kicked, elbowed, and clawed at him with everything you had. Your nails scraped against his face, but it was like scratching against stone.

“Stop—” you tried to scream against his hand, your voice muffled and desperate.

But he only chuckled darkly.

"Fight all you want," he sneered. "It only makes your blood taste better."

You felt the sharp point of his fangs press against your neck.

A wave of terror surged through you, and you writhed harder, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you fought tooth and nail to keep those fangs from piercing your skin.

But he was too strong.

You felt yourself slipping, your strength fading...

But before the vampire could sink his teeth in a blur of movement flashed before you, and suddenly the vampire was ripped away from you with inhuman force. You gasped for air as you saw the creature that had been about to kill you now pinned against the alley wall.

And the one who had saved you?

Sunghoon.

His eyes glowed a deep crimson, darker than the other vampire’s, and his fangs were fully bared as he snarled. “You dare touch what’s mine?” Sunghoon’s voice was dangerous, filled with a venom that sent chills down your spine.

The other vampire let out a guttural snarl, his eyes burning with rage as he lunged back at Sunghoon, claws out and fangs bared.

Sunghoon met him head-on, moving with inhuman speed as their bodies clashed. You stumbled back against the cold brick wall, heart hammering as you watched them move like shadows, too fast for your eyes to fully follow.

The sound of hissing and grunting echoed through the alley as Sunghoon drove his knee into the other vampire’s ribs, sending him crashing to the ground. But the creature didn’t stay down for long, leaping back up with blood dripping from his mouth and launching himself at Sunghoon once more.

Sunghoon caught him mid-air, slamming him against the wall with brutal force. The concrete cracked beneath the impact, and the other vampire let out a strangled cry as Sunghoon's grip tightened around his throat.

“Pathetic,” Sunghoon spat, his fangs glistening as he bared them.

The other vampire hissed, struggling against Sunghoon's hold, but he was clearly weaker.

Sunghoon twisted his arm, snapping bone as the creature howled in agony. Yet, even through the pain, the other vampire’s eyes flicked to you — hunger and desperation burning within them.

That only seemed to enrage Sunghoon further.

With a violent shove, Sunghoon threw the vampire to the ground, sending him skidding across the blood-stained pavement.

“Leave,” Sunghoon growled, his voice low and deadly. “Before I tear you apart.”

The other vampire coughed, blood dripping from his lips as he slowly scrambled to his feet, eyes narrowing at Sunghoon, before turning and disappearing into the shadows, limping and defeated.

You stood there, frozen in shock as the alley fell silent once more.

Sunghoon stood still in the dim light, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his hair a mess and his clothes stained with a little blood. His fists remained clenched at his sides, the tension still radiating off him as his eyes remained fixed on the darkness where the other vampire had fled.

It was only when he turned to face you that you realized your legs felt weak, the adrenaline leaving your body as reality crashed down on you. Your legs gave out beneath you, but before you could hit the cold pavement, strong arms caught you.

Sunghoon was there, moving with inhuman speed as he wrapped an arm around your waist and steadied you against him. His grip was firm yet gentle, like he was afraid you might shatter in his hold.

"Easy," he murmured, his voice softer now.

Your hands instinctively clutched at the front of his shirt. Your breathing was ragged, your heart racing in your chest as the weight of everything you had just witnessed pressed down on you.

"You... you're really...," your voice trembled as you tried to form the words.

"A vampire," Sunghoon finished for you, his dark eyes watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction.

You couldn't speak, your mind spinning with fear, confusion, and something dark and magnetic that drew you closer to him.

"I wasn't supposed to get involved," Sunghoon admitted, his gaze falling for a moment. "But when I saw him touch you, I couldn’t... I wouldn’t let him take what’s mine."

Your breath hitched at his words.

Sunghoon’s hand moved to gently cup the back of your head, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his eyes.

You wanted to push him away, to run as far as you could from whatever dark world you’d stumbled into. But your body refused to move. Instead, you leaned into him, your heart betraying your fear as it pounded relentlessly against your ribs.

"What... what happens now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon’s eyes darkened, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he leaned in closer. "Now you stay with me," he whispered, his voice low. "I’ll keep you safe."

You opened your mouth to question, but before you could, his lips brushed over yours—a soft, slow kiss that was strangely gentle.

Your body froze, the kiss a shock that sent heat pooling in your stomach. The feel of Sunghoon’s lips, the dizzying sensation of his touch—it all became too much, too overwhelming. Your breath hitched as his grip on your neck tightened, not in a way that hurt, but in a way that made it clear he wasn’t letting go.

Your hands instinctively clutched at his arms, trying to ground yourself, to steady the rapid pounding of your heart.

Then, as if sensing your sudden hesitation, Sunghoon loosened his hold ever so slightly. His lips parted from yours just enough for you to catch your breath, his eyes searching yours. They weren’t glowing like before, but they still held an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice softer now. His thumb traced over your jawline in a slow, almost soothing motion. “Are you afraid of me?”

You swallowed thickly, unsure of how to answer. Were you afraid of him? The logical part of your mind screamed yes, you should be terrified. You had just been attacked, just seen something straight out of a nightmare. And yet, standing here in his arms, fear wasn’t what was keeping you frozen in place.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sunghoon’s fingers brushed against your cheek as he let out a slow exhale. “I’ll take you home,” he said after a moment, his voice gentle. “You need sleep.”

You should have protested, but the exhaustion in your body made it impossible to argue.

Sunghoon didn't let go of you as he led you toward the street, keeping his arm firmly around your waist as if he expected you to collapse at any moment.

Your steps felt heavy as you leaned more into Sunghoon’s side, your body weak and trembling. With every step, you could feel his body against yours, and it made your head spin. Being this close to him, his scent filling your senses, his arm wrapped tightly around you — it felt dangerous.

You risked a glance up at him, only to find Sunghoon’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes fixed ahead. He looked tense, almost strained, like he was fighting some inner battle.

Was it because of what just happened? Or... was it because of you?

Your breath hitched when his grip on your waist tightened for a moment, his fingers pressing into your side as if grounding himself.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, barely able to form words through the haze clouding your mind.

His eyes flickered to you, and for a brief second, they glowed that same deep crimson from before.

You felt your stomach drop.

He quickly looked away, jaw tightening even more as he swallowed thickly.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmured, voice strained.

“Like... what?” you asked, your voice shaky.

“Like you want me to lose control.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You didn’t know what Sunghoon was holding back, but whatever it was... you wanted him to break. "I-I don't…" you tried to deny it, but the way your body leaned into him, the way your eyes kept drifting to his lips, told a different story.

Sunghoon let out a shaky breath, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid you'd slip away.

"You don't get it," he whispered, his voice strained. "I’m not… myself. Not around you."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"But you keep coming around me," you murmured. "Why?"

He let out a bitter chuckle, his head tilting slightly as he looked at you. "Because I can't stay away," he admitted, his gaze burning. "Your scent, your blood… everything about you calls to me."

Your breath hitched.

This wasn’t normal. None of this was. Yet, here you were, walking through the streets with a man who quite literally fought off another creature of the night to protect you. And now, he was saying things that sent shivers down your spine — things that should terrify you… but instead, they pulled you in deeper.

You were already too far gone.

Before you could respond, your knees buckled slightly, your body still weak from everything that had happened. Sunghoon caught you effortlessly, pulling you closer to him. His strength reminded you once again that he wasn’t human.

"Come on, let's get you back," he muttered, his voice softer now as he contiouned guided you through the empty streets.

The world around you felt hazy, your mind clouded with too many questions, too many feelings. But one thing was clear — Sunghoon was dangerous. But you couldn’t help but want to know more.

More about him.

More about the darkness he was hiding.

You wanted to know what it felt like to make him lose control.

You were dangerous — too dangerous for Sunghoon.

After that night, when the truth of what he was had unraveled before your eyes, he tried to stay away. He gave you space, expecting you to react like any human would — fear, anger, or maybe the desire to drive a wooden stake through his heart.

But you didn’t.

On the surface, you acted like everything was normal. You went to class, hung out with your friends, and lived your life as if the darkness that lurked beneath the world you knew hadn’t brushed against you.

But Sunghoon could feel you.

He felt the way your heart beat faster whenever he was near. The way your breath hitched when his gaze lingered on you for too long. The way your body, your soul, seemed to call for him, even when your mind tried to resist.

And it pleased him.

Because your body already knew what you refused to admit — that you belonged to him.

He didn’t need to chase you. He didn’t need to lure you in with empty promises or sweet words. No, Sunghoon knew it was only a matter of time before you came to him.

After all, he had chosen you as his human lover.

No.

Claimed.

But it seemed like his fellow brethren of the night did not get the memo.

He felt the lingering stares from strangers in dark corners, shadows that seemed to follow you no matter where you went, even when you were not alone.

Cause they could smell you.

The way your blood called to them, sweet and irresistible. The fact that Sunghoon had laid claim to you only made it worse. Because now, you were not just a measly human.

You were marked.

And vampires were drawn to what they couldn’t have.

It was driving Sunghoon insane.

Every night, he could sense them lurking nearby, watching you with hungry eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And every night, he fought the urge to rip them apart.

Because if they dared touch what was his...

There would be no mercy.

Yet, the thought of scaring you, of pushing you further away, held him back.

So, instead, he followed you from the shadows, protecting you from the monsters that hid in the darkness.

You didn’t know it yet, but the only reason you were still breathing was because Park Sunghoon had already decided that you were his.

Forever.

You were struggling.

Every day that went by where Sunghoon acted like you didn’t exist made something in you shrivel and cry.

You wanted his attention. But at the same time, you didn’t.

Because this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? For him to stay away from you?

But that was back when you thought he was just some weirdo lurking around campus. Well, you still did. But now, he was a handsome weirdo. And more importantly—a handsome weirdo who could snap your neck effortlessly if he wanted to.

That should have been enough to keep you away. It should have made you relieved that he was ignoring you.

But it didn’t.

Instead, it made your chest ache, made your fingers twitch with the urge to reach for him, made your mind spiral every time you caught a glimpse of him in the distance.

Because no matter how much he tried to pretend you didn’t exist, you could feel it.

His gaze.

He was still watching you.

Still lurking in the shadows.

Still waiting.

And despite every logical thought in your mind screaming at you to run... You wanted him to come back.

You wanted him to come back to you.

To hold you.

To kiss you.

To bite you.

And that insane thought? It all stemmed from that stupid vampire romance book you kept hidden under your pillow.

It really wasn’t your fault.

The words in that book were too tempting, too dark, too lustful.

The idea of something ancient and supernatural desiring a mere human woman with such obsession, such hunger...

It sent shivers down your spine when you’d read the vampire’s point of view—how he’d describe his love, his yearning, his absolute need to have her, to consume her in every way possible.

It made your heart race.

It made your body ache.

And it made you realize...

That was the kind of love you’d craved all your life.

Something dangerous.

Something eternal.

Something that would ruin you.

And Sunghoon?

He was the perfect monster for it.

Every night before bed, you found yourself returning to the book.

Over and over again.

The words blurred together as your eyes skimmed each page, but you didn’t need to read every line anymore—you knew them by heart.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, your fingers trembling slightly as you felt the flutter of hidden butterflies in your stomach.

Your skin would flush, heat creeping up your neck as you read about the vampire’s longing.

And then, when you went to bed only to wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, your mind would be tangled.

A dream of Sunghoon.

A dream you wanted to experience in real life.

You wanted to feel his touch—the way his fingers would press into your skin, as if he knew exactly where to make you ache.

You wanted to feel his fangs, how they would scrape gently against your neck before finally sinking in, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

And as the fantasy lingered in your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were no longer just reading about it.

You were craving it.

And you were starting to wonder if it was only a matter of time before Sunghoon would make you feel it.

You knew you shouldn’t be thinking this way, but the urge was undeniable. The way Sunghoon had stayed distant—emotionless, cold, and detached—was making something inside of you burn with frustration. You couldn’t stand it. You needed him to crack, to show even a hint of that desire he clearly had for you.

It was maddening how composed he was, how he kept his distance, even though you knew—deep down, you knew—he was just as drawn to you as you were to him.

Vampires weren’t just creatures of the night—they were predators. They thrived on control, yes, but they also thrived on hunger, desire, and need.

But Sunghoon was strong, and composed. Every time you thought you saw a crack in that exterior, it was quickly sealed, leaving you desperate.

You cursed under your breath, frustrated by how easily he resisted. Why couldn’t he just give in?

Wasn’t this what he wanted too?

You didn’t chase, you never did. But there was something about Sunghoon that had your thoughts spiraling. You didn’t want to keep playing this game of push and pull, but you knew that the temptation would soon be too much for him. Vampires, after all, went feral under the right circumstances. And Sunghoon? He was no different.

His control would snap eventually. You were sure of it.

It was only a matter of time.

You just needed to give him that little helpful push.

Make him crave you more than he ever had before.

You had a plan—nothing too drastic, just subtle enough to see if he would slip.

You just needed to tempt him a little bit.

You knew what you were doing. You could feel it in your veins, the heat of the game you were playing, and the temptation building between you and Sunghoon. The subtlety of your actions was a carefully calculated move, a challenge thrown directly at him, whether he realized it or not.

You started small, just enough to get his attention.

You wore shirts that left your neck exposed, the skin just there for him to notice. You let your hair fall just right, grazing your shoulders, drawing the eye. When he would stare—and you knew he was staring—you would play it off, biting your bottom lip or twirling your pen in your fingers like you weren’t aware of the effect you were having on him. But deep down, you knew. You felt the shift when his eyes lingered longer than they should even if he tried to hide it.

And then, you started getting even bolder. In class, you’d casually lean into the guy sitting next to you, letting your laughter sound just a little too loud. You’d let your hand brush against his, acting oblivious to the way Sunghoon’s eyes would flash in your direction. Every glance, every flicker of jealousy you noticed, fed the fire inside you.

You didn’t need to chase him, not really. You knew Sunghoon’s pride wouldn’t allow him to come to you unless you made him. And so, you teased, gently pushing him to the edge without a single word.

Sometimes, you could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched, or how his fingers tightened into fists when his gaze locked on you. And when you caught his stare, you would give him that smile, the one that spoke louder than words, daring him to break.

It was a game, a dangerous one, and you were playing it to perfection.

You never expected it to happen like this. The tension you had been so carefully building, the game you thought you were controlling, had taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated. And that turn came the moment you stepped out of the cafeteria, your mind still buzzing with the satisfaction of teasing Sunghoon, of drawing him in little by little, only to have him slip into the kind of state you’d been aiming for.

You headed inside to the bathroom, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair, still riding the high of your victory. You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your top just a little to make sure it was perfectly placed. You knew Sunghoon had been watching, and the idea of that made your heart race with excitement. You were about to put on a layer of lip gloss when the door to the bathroom swung open with a loud, forceful bang.

You looked up in the mirror, expecting to see another female student—maybe one of the girls from class, who always seemed to pop in to check their reflection—but the sight that met you was far from what you expected.

Sunghoon.

He stood in the doorway, his presence instantly consuming the room. His hair was a mess, the strands messy and wild as if he had run his fingers through it over and over, tugging at it in frustration. His grip on the door was so tight his knuckles were white, and the sound of the door slamming shut behind him sent a wave of tension through the air.

And his eyes.

Those glowing, red eyes. They were locked on you, burning with an intensity that made your stomach drop. The same intensity you had been teasing, pulling at with every little move you made, but now, it was so much darker, so much more dangerous than you could have ever imagined.

His mouth was slightly open, and for the first time, you saw it. His fangs. Long, sharp, and hungry. Your heart skipped a beat.

He looked like a predator on the hunt.

His jaw was tight, his entire body rigid with the effort to hold back whatever was boiling inside of him. But you could tell. He wasn’t holding back anymore. Not with you.

"Sunghoon..." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. But the way his name left your lips felt so... different now. Almost like you were calling to a stranger. Something had shifted, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what that meant.

He didn’t speak, his lips curling back into a barely controlled snarl, his eyes never leaving you.

You backed up away from the mirror, but it didn’t matter. Sunghoon was already moving toward you, his steps slow but sure, like he was walking toward his prey. You felt your breath catch in your throat, your instincts screaming at you to run. But your body was frozen, captivated by the way he looked at you—like you were both the prize and the challenge.

You hadn’t expected him to break so completely. The way he stalked toward you, the hunger in his eyes, it was almost as if he had been holding onto his restraint just for you. But now?

Now he was done.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" he said, his voice low, the growl in it sending a shiver down your spine. Every word was laced with that dangerous edge, the one you had known was buried deep inside him. And now, there was nothing left to hide it.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. This wasn’t how you had imagined it. You hadn’t expected him to break now, not when you had just been playing with fire.

But Sunghoon? He was fire.

And now, he was burning everything.

You felt your heart racing, panic starting to surge through you as you kept backing up. "Sunghoon, wait!" you tried, your voice barely steady as you looked around, desperately hoping for some sense of reason to return to him. "This isn’t the right place! You can’t—"

But Sunghoon didn’t seem to hear you. His focus was so intense, his gaze locked on your neck, it was as though nothing else in the world mattered to him.

“Sunghoon, please!” You tried to push him back, your hands pressing against his chest in a weak attempt to stop him, but he was unyielding. With a speed you couldn’t keep up with, he grabbed both of your wrists, holding them in place with a force that left no room for resistance.

Before you could react, he pulled you toward him, dragging you into a random booth, and with a loud click, the door behind you was locked.

The coolness of the booth's wall pressed against your back as Sunghoon backed you into it. His grip on your wrists remained tight, and then, before you could say another word, his lips were on yours.

It was everything you wanted, intense and desperate, with no control. And the feeling of his fangs grazing your lip sent a jolt of something through you.

Then, the sharp pain.

A soft nick from his fangs, and before you could even process it, blood welled up on your bottom lip. And with a quiet, almost satisfied sound, he licked the blood from your lip, his tongue brushing gently against the small wound.

The sensation sent an unexpected rush of heat through your body, but it only intensified the swirling mess of thoughts in your mind.

Sunghoon suddenly pulled back, his eyes filled with desire, as he licked the blood from his lips. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, and for the first time, you saw the full extent of his struggle. His usually composed and controlled demeanor was gone, replaced with a raw, animalistic hunger.

Before you could even process what was happening, Sunghoon’s hand was at your neck, tilting it to the side. You barely had time to gasp before you felt the sharp sting of his fangs sinking into your skin.

Your body tensed in response, but the sensation of his fangs breaking through the surface of your skin was like nothing you’d ever experienced. It wasn’t pain—it was something else that pulled at you, making you feel both afraid and captivated all at once. His lips were against your skin now, and you could feel him drinking, each pull sending a dizzying wave of sensations through your body.

You should’ve been scared. You should’ve pulled away. But the way he held you, the way he drank so deeply, it was overwhelming in the most confusing way. Your mind screamed at you to stop him, to get away, but your body was betraying you, craving his touch, his closeness.

Sunghoon didn’t stop. He drank from you slowly, as though he couldn’t get enough. And in that moment, all you could do was stay still, lost in the pull.

As Sunghoon continued to drink from you, you felt your knees shaking, the strength slowly draining from your body. Every pull burned, everything inside you was on fire. Your whole body was buzzing, alive in a way that was almost too much to handle. You could feel your pulse in your neck, each beat, and with each pull, it felt like your very soul was being drawn into him.

If not for Sunghoon holding you against the wall, you would’ve collapsed on the floor right then and there. His grip was firm, keeping you upright as your legs became too weak to hold you up. You barely had the strength to breathe, your breath shallow as you fought to stay conscious.

You felt every second pass as he drank, the heat spreading through your body, mingling with the growing weakness. His body was pressed so close to yours that you could feel the tension in every muscle, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the way his lips moved against your skin as he drank from you. And yet, through all the overwhelming sensations, part of you wanted it to continue. A twisted, needy part of you craved more, even though you knew this was dangerous, that this wasn’t normal.

When he finally pulled away, he huffed softly, wiping the remnants of blood from his chin with the back of his hand. His gaze remained sharp, studying you intently. He tilted your jaw slightly, his fingers firm as he examined the mark he'd left on your neck.

You stared up at him, your mind still dazed, trying to process everything that had just happened. Your pulse still raced, and your body trembled, not just from the draining sensation but also from the lingering heat in your veins.

Without warning, Sunghoon leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a soft kiss, gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

His hand, still on your jaw, moved to cradle your face, his thumb gently caressing your skin as he deepened the kiss. There was something both tender and urgent in the way he kissed you now, it made you forget about the chaos of everything else.

For a moment, you lost yourself in it, letting the kiss stretch on, unable to think clearly. You didn’t know where this would lead, what would happen next, but right now, in his embrace, you didn’t feel the need to fight it.

It was only when the reality of the situation began to settle in, and your body started to weaken from the blood loss, that you slowly pulled back, your breath shallow, your head spinning.

Sunghoon’s eyes remained fixed on you, you could feel him still holding on to the edge of control, but only just.

He gently cupped your face, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “You’re exhausted,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “Sleep. You need rest.”

His words were like a soothing balm, and before you even realized it, your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the weight of everything that had happened.

He moved closer, his arms sliding around you to support your frame as you swayed against him. “I’ll take care of you now,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

And with that, like a spell, your eyes closed. The last thing you felt was him holding you close.

Waking up to soft sheets after having the best sleep you'd ever had was something you did not expect. More so, you did not expect a heavy arm draped around your waist.

Your breath hitched as you slowly turned your head, only to find Sunghoon lying beside you, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep. The usual sharpness in his features had softened, and for a moment, you forgot about everything that led you to this moment.

You carefully tried to shift, but his arm only pulled you closer, his face burying into the crook of your neck as he let out a soft sigh. The sensation sent shivers down your spine.

You wanted to try and get up, maybe find your phone and at least get your bearings, because honestly, being this close to Sunghoon was doing something to you.

Your fingers gently tried to peel his hand off your waist, but it was much harder than you expected. His grip was firm like he had no intention of letting you go. You were so focused on your little escape plan that you failed to notice the subtle shift in his breathing or the fact that his eyes were now open, silently watching you.

It was only when his hand suddenly moved, effortlessly flipping you onto your back, that your heart jumped to your throat. Your eyes met his, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice low as he hovered over you.

Your breath caught in your throat as Sunghoon’s face stood mere inches from yours. It was enough to make your head spin.

"I marked you," he whispered, his fingers tracing the faint bite on your neck. "Do you really think I’ll let you go that easily?"

Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to run, to escape this strange pull he had on you. But your heart, your very soul, seemed to crave him.

"I-I just wanted my phone," you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Your phone can wait."

Before you could respond, he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against your neck, right where his mark was. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, making you grip the sheets beneath you.

"So beautiful," he murmured against your skin.

Your heart pounded wildly as he slowly pulled back, studying your flushed face with a look that made your stomach twist. He looked... satisfied. Like a predator who had successfully caught his prey.

He brushed your hair away from your face, fingers trailing down your cheek, tracing the curve of your jaw, and slowly moving down to your neck. His touch was light, almost teasing, before he traveled lower, fingers grazing over your waist and resting on your hips.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your neck as he inhaled deeply, a low curse slipping from his lips. "You smell so damn good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline as he slowly worked his way down to your neck. "Do you know how hard it is... to resist you?"

Your breath hitched as he inhaled deeply, his fangs grazing your skin ever so lightly, swallowing hard, you tried to inch back, but Sunghoon’s grip tightened as he dragged you right back against him.

"You're being a brat," he muttered, eyes burning into yours. "Denying me when you know exactly what I want."

Your heart raced as his hand kept you trapped against him.

"Why do you keep running from me?" Sunghoon's voice dropped to a whisper, filled with something almost... desperate. "You already belong to me."

Your lips parted to respond, but before you could speak, he leaned in, brushing his fangs against your neck once more.

A shiver ran down your spine as his fangs barely grazed your skin, sending a wave of heat through your body. You could feel your pulse quickening, and Sunghoon, with his heightened senses, could too. He was toying with you, testing your limits, waiting for you to give in completely.

"Please stop resisting," he murmured. "I know what you crave," his lips brushing against your ear. "That burning desire for a love that consumes you. A love that makes you feel wanted... worshipped."

Your breath hitched as his words pierced through every wall you'd tried to build around your heart.

"I've felt your loneliness," he continued, "how hopeless you've been, aching for someone to truly see you. To make you feel alive."

Your eyes fluttered shut as his touch sent shivers down your spine.

"I can be that for you," Sunghoon said, voice low and filled with something dark. "I can give you everything you've ever dreamed of. I'll worship you... as the woman you are. My woman."

Your head spun at his words, your body reacting before your mind could catch up.

"You... you want me that badly?" you asked, barely able to speak.

Sunghoon chuckled darkly. "More than you'll ever know."

Your heart pounded so loudly, you were sure he could hear it. And as much as you wanted to deny it, he was right. You’d unable to resist the pull he had on you.

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Sunghoon’s expression softened, and he gently tilted your chin so you could meet his eyes.

“Of me?” he asked quietly.

You hesitated. “Of what I’m becoming… because of you.”

His gaze darkened with something unreadable, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But instead, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours in a barely-there kiss.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”

And with that, he kissed you fully, this time with more passion and longing. You felt yourself melting into him, all your resistance crumbling as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes glowing crimson as he rested his forehead against yours. But it wasn’t enough for him. Not even close.

“Please…” Sunghoon’s voice trembled as he slipped down to your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, leaving trails of kisses that sent shivers down your spine. “I need another taste.”

You felt his hands tighten around you as he pressed his body closer, his desperation pouring into every touch, every kiss. “I’ve been holding back… for so long. But I can’t anymore.” he murmured, his fangs grazing your skin.

Your heart raced at his words, and the way he was losing control because of you made your head spin.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, unsure whether to give in or stop him.

But he groaned softly against your neck, his lips lingering as he begged once more, “Please... let me have all of you."

Your body betrayed you as you tilted your head slightly, giving him access to your neck. And with that silent permission Sunghoon’s fangs pierced your skin just above your collarbone. A sharp sting shot through you before it melted into something strangely euphoric.

Your breath hitched as he latched on, drinking from you slowly, It was nothing like the violent and ruthless feeding from before. No, this was different, it was like he was savoring every drop, as if your blood was the very thing keeping him alive.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, holding him closer despite the dizziness slowly creeping in. His hands gripped your waist, steadying you as he drank deeper, letting soft groans escape between sips.

You should’ve been terrified. But instead, you felt… wanted. Craved. Like you truly belonged to him.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were stained crimson, and his eyes, glowing with hunger, softened as they met yours.

“You taste... unreal,” he whispered, running his tongue over the fresh puncture marks as if soothing the wound he’d left behind, savoring every drop of your blood as if he couldn’t get enough. The warmth of his breath fanned against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he licked the remaining crimson from your neck.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes — clouded with hunger — locked onto yours. The sight of him, with blood staining his lips and his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, made your heart race uncontrollably.

“Sunghoon…” you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

At the sound of his name, a desperate groan escaped him, and before you could react, he leaned in once more. His fangs sank into the soft skin near your throat, sharper and more urgent this time.

Your breath hitched as your body tensed, but soon, that familiar wave of pleasure and dizziness washed over you.

You weakly pulled him closer as he fed from you with a hunger he could no longer control. You felt yourself slipping, your mind clouding, but Sunghoon’s hold on you tightened, keeping you steady against him.

The world outside faded, and all that remained was the vampire who had claimed you, body and soul.

a/n: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! i love desperate and feral men! whos with me!? :D anyways i hoped you enjoyed reading! reblogs and commentary are welcomed! ^^ (Divider made by @kodaswrld )

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🥀 … ( reaction ) it’s not over ! ୨୧ 一 스트레이키즈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ trying to breakup with them but they don’t let you  ヾ

yandere!스트레이키즈・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・yandere ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・THIS IS A DARK GENERE manipulation , mentions of murder, language wc ・ 1.5k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i request yandere stray kids' reaction to you breaking up with them, at least trying to? if i can request something else as well, a general headcanon to the type of yanderes they each would be.

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 you asked for two things so i tried to combine them to , i hope you don’t mind !

﹙ 𐙚 : bangchan ﹚ .ᐟ

chan is a manipulative yandere; he knows how to flip a situation and make you seem like you’re in the wrong. “you want to leave?” he asks with disappointment leaking in his voice. “did i do something wrong?” he sounds hurt. “i just don’t think we’re gonna work out anymore , you’re too controlling.” he tries not to get mad, “controlling? is me wanting to protect you too controlling?” you cant answer him. “my friends don’t even want to hang out with me because you’re always there.” he complain. “i can’t even go out with out you.” chan is smart though, he knows how to gaslight you. “what happens when you go out? when you went clubbing and that guy tried to take advantage of you , your friends are just jealous , do they have boyfriend who want better for them? no.” he said. “I do this because I love you.” he said , you start to feel bad. “if you want to leave then i can’t stop you but just know everything i did for you.” by then you already feel like shit , how could you do this to him? you couldn’t leave him when he cared so much for you. “i-im sorry.” you held your head down in shame. “it’s my fault for listening to my friends.” you don’t even notice his menacing smile, cause he knew he had you once again.

“it okay , but you know i can’t just let this be.”

﹙ 𐙚 : lee know ﹚ .ᐟ

lee know is a unpredictable yandere; one minute he’s calm, the next minute he’s lashing out , throwing things and breaking them. “leave? sure you can go out for a few hours , be home by 9:30 — no leave for good.” he stops petting the cat , looking up at you. his gaze alone is enough to scare you into submission , but you stand your ground. “i want to leave for good.” he doesn’t say anything just stands up. “no.” he walks away. “no? you can’t stop me from leaving , let’s just end this before things get worse.” he’s calm and level headed , until you piss him off which is what this conversation was doing. “did you not hear what the fuck i said!” he shouted , slamming the plate down into the sink , shattering it. “minho I can’t do this!” you shouted back , but he grabs your shirt , pushing you against the wall. “you don’t get it do you? you aren’t leaving.” he says threateningly. “i will kill you before letting you go.” and you know he’s serious. “i-im sorry.”

“that’s better , now go feed the cats while i clean the mess you made up.”

﹙ 𐙚 : changbin ﹚ .ᐟ

you can’t leave him; you want to but he made it so you can’t. changbin will make it so you’re so dependent on him before you decide to end the relationship that you it’s too late when you want to call it quits. “where will you go?” he asks. “you don’t have a job, when’s the last time you paid a bill?” he’s so relaxed about the situation. “i can get one and i can pay my own bills.” you respond. “you’d forget to feed yourself if i didn’t cook for you, or buy you food don’t be stupid.” if that doesn’t work he’ll just scare you into staying; he won’t ever hit you… that being said he might not hit you but he will use physical strength to scare you ( think about that one video of him holding seungmin by his arms and wrist ). “please let me- listen here.” he squeezed the back of your neck. “ch-changbin please, do-don’t hurt me.”

“i wont hurt you , but you need to drop this shit and drop it now.”

﹙ 𐙚 : hyunjin ﹚ .ᐟ

hyune is confusing ; he doesn’t really see what he does is wrong; so what he doesn’t let you out? what’s the reason for you to go out there when he’s inside here. “i can’t do this anymore.” he’s just sitting there painting as usual , not really listening because you’re being ridiculous. “are you listening.” he turns to you. “are you done?” and you’re just in shock. “good , go sit down.” doesn’t truly believe you’d leave. “hyunjin i said im leaving, i can’t stand being in here anymore.” that’s when he drops his paintbrush. “i said go sit down.” when you walk towards the door is when he fully gets up. he’s not violent — unless he needs to be, so he will rough you up , grabbing you by your shirt , throwing you on the bed. “why can’t you just fucking listen?” he curses. “there’s nothing out there for you , you can’t get any better then here.” he says , throwing your bag of clothes in the closet. “if you get up again , throwing you to bed will be the least of your problems.”

“now sit there and be good, like i said the first time , i won’t tell you again.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jisung ﹚ .ᐟ

jisung is a unhinged manipulative yandere; and his entire life is revolves around you. you’re the reason he breathes every morning. so if you aren’t there, what’s the point? “jisung we have to end this, this isn’t safe for either of us.” you held a bag in your hand full of your stuff. “look at your arms and legs they’re all cut up.” he stared at you with tears in his eyes. “i did it to show you how much i love you, why don’t you understand i love you so much im willingly to kill myself for you.” you stopped him. “that’s the problem ji , you’re not well. he’ll cry — very loudly , cries likes he’s been stabbed because in his head he might as well have been. “no! you said you love me! if you leave me i’ll kill myself , i really will.” he goes immediately to the knife he’s hidden because you threw the rest out. “jisung where did you get that?” he doesn’t answer , just puts it to his throat.

“the moment you step out the door i’ll do it.”

﹙ 𐙚 : felix ﹚ .ᐟ

his obsession with you is too strong for him to let you go; even if his heart is telling him to, his brain is louder , he’s basically fighting himself and his brain is winning. “felix please let me go!” your legs were now tied to the bed , one arm connected to the bedpost as he tried to feed you. “im not hungry i want to leave!” you shouted , which made him flinch. “i-i can’t.” he says. “i know it’s wrong , you should be out there living life , but i just can’t.” he can’t let you leave him , he needs you. “I need you with me okay , i can’t breathe without you dove.” puts drugs in your food to keep you docile , he doesn’t want to hurt you , he’s probably the less dangerous one towards you at least. “im sorry please just drink some water.” you give in not thinking its drugged — until you involuntarily start to drift off. “fe-felix.” you can hear the sadness in his voice , he genuinely feel’s guilty. “im sorry, im so sorry.”

“i just love you so much i can’t let you go.”

﹙ 𐙚 : seungmin ﹚ .ᐟ

i have said this before; seungmin knows you’ll leave regardless if he forces you to stay or doesn’t ; not matter if he threatens you, hits you, whatever. so he lets you go, that’s fine go — but not without a cost , guess you finally decided you no longer wanted your friend alive… otherwise you wouldn't have made the stupid decision of leaving him. “what did you do?” you dropped your phone upon entering his house. he has lured you there calling you from your friends phone… the friend who was currently bleeding on the ground; beaten mercilessly. “why the fuck did you have a male friend anyway if not to be a whore , should’ve killed him months ago. literally doesn’t care if you’re crying. “don’t cry now , this is your fault.” he said. “told you , I won’t ever hurt you.” he said the knife bloody , pointed at you.

“but everyone else is free game , these are just flesh bags to me, they mean more to you than me.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jeongin ﹚ .ᐟ

jeongin is a yandere who likes to play games; you want to break up? go ahead and leave. when you do , he’ll actually leave you alone for a while , let you live your life, even let you get a new boyfriend. but that’s just cause he wants you to think he’s gone; give you that high; before the low. everything is so good — then suddenly you lose your job, so you have no income; then your boyfriend suddenly breaks up with you no warning. it’s like everything went to shit , and who is there to pick up all your broken pieces? well jeongin is there with open arms, ready for you to step right into them, but not without consequences. see that job you lost? jeongin called in a favor and got you fired. that boyfriend? well let’s just say jeongin sent a few photos of the both of you together and it was the end of that. “you see how i did all that.” he tells you after you sobbed in his arms after he told you what he did.

“i can make this much worse , don’t ever think of leaving me again.”

©️LUVYENI

[dolche-tejada]

You know, I think this ending would have been slightly less of a fucking disappointment if the heroes hadn't been so unfairly favored by Horikoshi compared to the villains. I mean, seriously

Deku destroys every bone in his body multiple times throughout the story and is warned that if he continues, he'll permanently lose the use of his limbs ? Everything's fine, his body's just got used to being reduced to a bloody pulp somehow so there's no consequences for him. In fact even when he literally loses his arms to Shigaraki, he gets them back two minutes later thanks to Eri because guess what ? Her horn still works even when cut off from her body. How convenient.

Gran Torino gets his ribcage obliterated by Shigaraki ? Don't worry guys, he'll survive that despite his old age and injuries, and this to have no particular role in the plot afterwards.

Bakugo dies heroically trying to buy time before Deku arrives ? Lmao, did you really believe it ?? No of course not, Edgeshot just uses his last-minute Deus Ex Machina to save his life at the cost of his own and- Oops nope he's fine too, my bad !

Hawks murders a criminal fleeing for his life in cold-blood ? The best Hori has to offer is him completely free and in charge of the HSPC.

And no, losing his quirk isn't a real consequence for him because not only it literally played a major part in saving the world with Vestige!Hawks raising an insurrection among AFO's quirks, but also because his quirk has always been the element through which people exploited him.

Endeavor abused his family for years and completely destroyed his eldest son ? No jail time and no media backlash for that, the only blame he received was due to the heroes' failure to stop the League during the Raid Arc.

And don't even get me started on this bs about facing hell or whatever for what he's done : He's literally free and wealthy ; he has Rei, Fuyumi, Shoto, his sidekicks and Hawks on his side ; and all the difficulties he's apparently going to suffer are off-screened.

Deku had to sacrifice OFA and his future hero career to save the world ? Guess what, Bakugo invested all his time and money to make him an Iron-Man suit and now he can still be a hero with everyone else.

There are plenty more examples of this but I think you get the idea. Now let's take a look at the villains' ending :

Toya is now a piece of charcoal kept artificially alive for the few years he has left, unable to move a finger, and whose few minutes a day during which he can stay awake will be spent talking to his father who abused him as a child.

Toga, a literal teenager, killed herself to save Ochako and because she knew it's still better than rotting at Tartarus her whole life.

And not only did she die but she did by bleding to death. Let me repeat for those who have trouble grasping what I've just said : In a manga where the heroes can survive having their heart blown to bits, being impaled Kakyoin-style or smashed against buildings like a fly on a windshield, one of the main antagonists died of a fucking hemorrhage…

As for Shigaraki, after learning that his very birth and all the tragedies of his life have been orchestrated by AFO, after all this development and narrative promises about him being saved in the end... Deku just kills him.

Because despite all his speeches about saving him, it seems like the best our MC could do was beating him both physically and mentally until he crumbles to dust…

Compress on his side is apparently locked up for life and kept alive by machines too.

A begging Kurogiri tried in a desperate attempt to save Shigaraki, only to be unceremoniously blown up by Bakugo and dying off-screen without anyone giving a shit, including Aizawa and Mic.

And Spinner will now spend the rest of his life struggling with the extra quirks inside him that affect his body and mind, while having to cope with the thought that his boyfriend best friend and companions have either died alone or are locked away for life in horrifying circumstances.

Clearly not the same as with the heroes...

Now don't get me wrong, even if they suffered just as much from the consequences of their actions or the plot as the League, this ending would still be a disaster in terms of writing but AT LEAST it wouldn't reek that much of hypocrisy.

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … TOJI FUSHIGURO TAKES A LIE DETECTOR TEST… 9.6M VIEWS

꩜ actor!toji (& implied actor toji x actress/actor reader)

⤷ synopsis: toji thought this lie detector test was going to be a breeze. he was a little mistaken.

sfw, fluff, crack, ooc toji, toji & reader are secretly together, toji lying!

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

⪩　 　  ₊　    🍪 　 　✧ 　 　⁺

“i ain’t nervous,” toji claims, cracking his neck and smirking as the crew members attach the needed equipment to his body, “i ain’t no liar either. so i got nothing to worry about here.”

“i sure hope that’s true, mr.fushiguro.” the polygraph examiner replies slyly.

“are you ready, toji fushiguro?” the interviewer asks.

“yeah, i am,” toji claps, “hurry up and get started.”

“is your name toji fushiguro?”

“yes my name is toji fushiguro.” he looks to the polygraph examiner. “it is, right?”

the woman simply stares at him.

“..alright then…”

the interviews asks another question. “are you about to take a polygraph exam?”

“yes, yes and yes, now give me the real questions!”

TOJI FUSHIGURO TELLS THE TRUTH

YOUR CAREER

“we’re going to start with the category of your career.”

toji nods and looks to the examiner. “how ‘m i doing?”

“you’re very calm, nothing unusual yet.”

“hm.”

the interview begins to speak. “one of your most popular roles as an actor was when you played Frank Castle in the Netflix series, “The Punisher”. some would say this is when you became a heartthrob. do you think is this true?”

toji sighs and shakes his head. “nah-”

“LIE.” the polygraph examiner calls out.

toji raises his hand. “…because, i was already a heartthrob before alla that.” he smiles, looking proud of himself. his answer is met with silence.

“ok.” says the interviewer and goes onto the next question. “do you face a lot of pressure being a heartthrob?”

“nope.” toji answers easily. “i’m just that kinda guy. i ain’t gotta try too hard for much, especially not ‘being hot’.”

he looks at the examiner.

“he’s telling the truth.” she states. she almost seems disappointed by the fact.

“see?” toji says, folding his arms, “as i said, ‘got nothin’ to lie about.”

“in the punisher,” the interviewer starts, ignoring toji’s cocky replies, “do you wear a muscle suit to look bigger than you actually are?”

toji throws his back, cackles echoing around the small room. “fuck no!” he gestures to…his whole body, “‘it look like i need a muscle suit? ‘didn’t even know that shit was a thing… i’m big enough without any of that stuff.” he shrugs, looking into the camera. “i think we can all see that.”

the examiner nods curtly. “..he is telling the truth.”

“do you workout often?” asks the interviewer.

toji scoffs. “i thought i’d get good questions..but yeah, yeah i do workout.”

“would you consider yourself fit?”

“yep. ‘hundred percent.”

“would you consider yourself fitter than,” the interviewer slides a photo of the actor gojo satoru towards toji, “this man?”

“pfft-” toji chortles. “oh, ohh yeah. easily. he’s like..” he looks for the correct words, “a little boy. are we kidding?”

he looks to the examiner and then to the interviewer.

“he is being truthful..again.”

toji smirks at the camera, tapping the side of his nose with his finger. “toji never lies.”

POP CULTURE

“this year, you were named “The Most Sexiest Man Alive” by People Magazine. do you believe you’re sexier than this man, 2022’s sexiest man, nanami kento?” the interviewer slides another photo, this time of the actor nanami kento.

toji looks at the photo for a second, before scoffing a little. “oh yeah. definitely. ‘guy just has a permanent frown on his face. he ain’t ugly but he could smile a little, y’know?”

“what about this ‘guy’, 2021’s most sexiest man alive, ryomen sukuna?” the interviewer also slides a picture of him to toji.

toji strokes his chin. “heh..yeah..yeah i would say so..this guy..he ain’t ugly either but..theres this energy about him..”

“what energy would that be, toji fushiguro?”

“the energy of a fuckin’ mass murderer that’s what!” he laughs at his own joke, looking at the picture of this ‘ryomen sukuna’, who is glaring into his soul through the image. “yeahh, i’d say i’m more attractive than him. just.. just a little.” he holds two fingers close together emphasis. “jesus christ, that’s one scary looking fuck.”

the examiner inspects the polygraph and looks towards toji and the interviewer. “he has been telling the truth.”

“yeah.” toji nods, exhaling through his mouth and sliding the pictures away from himself. “‘course i am.”

LOVE LIFE

toji had been doing well so far, but the category of ‘love life’ would be his downfall.

“do you want to get married in the future?”

“yeah, yeah i do.”

the examiner nods.

“have you ever been in love?”

“..yes.” toji responds, thinking about his past for a second.

the examiner nods again.

“are you in love right now?”

toji pauses for the first time in the whole test. he takes a deep breath. “no. yeah, no. ‘m not.”

the examiner raises an eyebrow at the results. “questionable.”

“oh, c’mon.” toji groans, rolling his eyes.

“is there someone you’re in love with?”

“nope. nobody at all.” he interlinks his fingers, tapping them against each other. “..nobody at all..”

“questionable. again.” the examiner states, pointedly looking at toji.

toji sighs. “oh, brother…”

“did you happen to meet this person..on set?”

“no, ‘cause there is no person?” toji says firmly.

“again.” the examiner says. “questionable.”

“christ…”

the interviewer asks another question. “do you believe in love at first sight?”

toji huffs. “no, that’s just two people who wanna fuck.”

“i see. then,” the interviewer takes out three pictures, all of them being people who he has worked with on set, including you.

“are you in love with any of these people?”

toji gulps, hesitating for a split second, his eyes focused on your picture. “nope. not oneeee bit.”

“LIE.” the examiner shouts excitedly, happy to have finally caught toji out on lying. she rings the negative buzzer repeatedly. “lie!”

“‘you serious?” he asks incredulously, looking between the interviewer and the examiner. “listen, maybe it was just my heart murmur or somethin’ like that,” he looks to side, cheeks rosy and shifts in his seat a little, “i-i don’t-”

“those are the last of our questions.” the interviewer says to toji, smiling knowingly. “thank you for taking part in our lie detector test.”

toji grumbles.

౨ৎ

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a/n: this was longer than i planned 🤥