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mint-yooxgi · 5 days ago

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I See Red - Yandere!Vampire!Mafia!Seonghwa X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Yandere AU, Vampire AU, Mafia AU - Heavily inspired by Ateez's Last Supper performance

Genre: Mature, Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst

Pairing: Seonghwa X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Words: 12,044

Summary: When will people learn? You should never touch what's his.

General Warnings: Violence and Murder, Blood (lots of it), Mentions of torture (brief), Fat shaming (not done by hwa), Derogatory comments towards the reader, Kidnapping, Guns, Possessiveness. Hwa calls someone a hag once. (not the reader). Seonghwa is very much the epitome of the simpy 'that's my wife' trope. Reader's just as crazy as him. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

Smut Warnings: Pet names (King/Queen, My Love, My Star, Beloved, Darling, Pretty Girl), Shower sex, Wall sex, Strength kink (he's a vampire, don't @ me), Oral (fem. rec), Light fingering (fem. rec), Desperate and possessive sex, Consensual and mutual possession kink (don't take this lightly), Biting/Marking, Slight Breeding Kink (if you squint), Blood, Multiple Orgasms, Body Worship, Praise, Squirting, Overstimulation. I think that's everything!

A/n: I am so, so, so, so, so, happy with how this turned out! Hwa in the Last Supper performance has me in a chokehold and I'm okay with it. Big bad vampire mafia boss who only has a soft spot for you? Sign me tf up! Huge shout out to @pars-ley for the incredible gif that is accompanying this fic! Thank you so much again for the amazing banner! Also, shout out to @kwanisms for helping me decide on the title hehehe. Also, spot the Silent Hill reference 👀 As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

Park Seonghwa.

A name hot on the lips of everyone in the underground. Notorious kingpin and ruthless negotiator of his own crime syndicate, Wonderland. His name holds more power, and elicits more reactions than a nuclear bomb. It is not a name you want to hear is chasing after you.

There is nothing he wouldn’t do to get what he wants. If anyone dares to stand in his way, their existence is wiped completely off of the map. Empires have risen and fallen in mere days thanks to his handy work, that staying on good terms with him often depends on his mood.

Cold. Emotionless. Calculating. Brutal in the most volatile of ways. Park Seonghwa is not a man to be reckoned with, nor is he to be taken lightly.

A man with many quirks, who has but one fatal flaw.

You.

Being the wife of such a notorious crime boss is not easy. The constant threat of being targeted by hunters, assassins, kidnappers, or even rival syndicates in attempts to gain an upper edge over your husband gets quite tiring. Not many have ever succeeded in hurting you, let alone killing you. No one ever will.

Not unless they wish to live another day.

Seonghwa has spared no expense in regards to your protection, selecting only the best of the best of his most trusted men to protect you. However, there is the issue in and of itself. They’re men. Humans. They can only offer you so much. He used to have an elite team of vampires guarding you, but they were bought over by a rival gang.

Shame. They were his second strongest team.

Humans, fickle as they are, can be compelled. Once a human is compelled, no other vampire can break that compulsion. Your guards are instructed to offer their lives before accepting a rival syndicates’ offer.

Each man was hand picked by Seonghwa himself, training them with his own personal guard to defend against any other supernatural being that they might come into contact with. Guns are loaded with indestructible bullets, inscribed with his family’s signature crest. Bullets which can penetrate any raw material, and kill whatever creature they come into contact with.

Every now and then, Seonghwa will add one of his own personal guard to yours. A precaution to make sure the compelled men are doing their job, and that the compulsion hasn’t worn off. Those who cannot abide by the rules are dealt with. Should anyone so much as lay a finger on you, the kingpin himself has no issue chopping off each extremity one knuckle at a time.

Going after you is a fool’s errand. Only the bravest - or rather, stupidest - have ever tried. If even so much as a whisper of an attempt on your life, or your relationship with him, reaches his ears, he is quick to stop it dead in its tracks. Literally.

No one comes in between the two of you. Absolutely no one.

You are the apple of his eye. The only one he can truly be vulnerable with, and let his guard down. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. Anything you could ever want or desire, he will provide, no questions asked. Seonghwa worships the very ground you walk on. He worships you.

You are his, and he is yours. Nothing will ever change that fact.

Over the course of many years, the two of you have had many ups and downs. Learning about his true nature had been a bit of a rough patch, especially once you discovered what he is. However, one thing that has always remained strong is your trust in one another. Seonghwa would never hurt you. He would rather carve out his own heart than do anything that would warrant you being afraid of him. A fact which you knew was unquestionably true, especially once you saw just how much of a monster he could be.

A monster whom you love with all your heart, and who has entrusted you with his own.

Perhaps that’s why his organization has lasted so long. Instead of excluding you from his affairs, he revels in the fact that you are always more than ready and willing to help. Your ideas have saved him and his men more times than anyone outside of the organization will ever know. Because of this, you’ve butted heads with his inner circle more times than he can count, but it’s always with good reason.

Nothing makes him prouder than watching you put someone in their place, even if he’s one of those people sometimes.

Your importance spans far more than a simple marriage bond. Since you are one of the only known consistent women in his life, that’s all outsiders seem to focus on. Every nasty name, every type of derogatory comment, has been thrown your way by estranged men and women. Most attempt to push the two of you apart, hoping to drive a wedge between the two of you so they can topple his empire. They seem to mock you for being the ‘outsider’ in the group, not fitting in to the typical ‘escort’ ideal.

What they all seem to get wrong is that you are not a typical ‘escort’. You’re no ‘mistress’, either.

Well… other than the times you’ve brought Seonghwa to his knees, of course.

The other women you’ve occasionally bonded with inside of his syndicate either work undercover to gather intel for his men, or are one of their respective significant others. None of them dare to cross you, all of them treating you with the highest of respect. They all know what would happen should one decide to step out of line. The last, and only women to try was a fine example.

Unlike most of the shallow men that appear in this line of work, Seonghwa is very fond of your curves, and your height. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful, precious, perfect being to have ever walked the earth. Always, he is more than happy to remind you of that fact.

Most of the time, Seonghwa can barely keep his hands to himself. Whenever you’re around, he’s always got a hand placed so delicately against your lower back, or an arm around your waist or shoulders. If he’s feeling particularly frisky, he may pull you into his lap while discussing business plans, or casually cup your ass by sliding his hand into the back pocket of your jeans. That, or he’s making a point that you’re with him.

Seonghwa is a possessive man, and he wants the whole world to know that you’re his. Similarly, there is no being more prideful than him over the fact that he is yours. You belong to each other, and nothing will change that. Everyone should weep in envy at the fact that only he gets to touch you, and only you get to touch him.

The man can’t help it. Showing you off is one of his favourite pastimes. The whole world needs to know what they can never have. It’s become so prominent, you’ve had to start imposing a rule during the extremely important meetings to keep the touching to a minimum.

Of course, he usually toes the line between accidental caresses and handsy, but it’s not like you really mind. Despite his ruthless demeanour, Seonghwa would never truly force you into anything you didn’t want. Your comfort and safety is his top priority, and he would much rather you feel safe in his arms, than believe he could ever do anything to hurt you.

Everyone else, on the other hand…

Park Seonghwa is a man of few faces, but only you get the honour of knowing what he looks like when he’s in love.

“Where is she?” A sigh is breathed out through his nose as he sits at the grand dining table. You were supposed to join him fifteen minutes ago, but you’ve yet to arrive home. “It’s not like her to be late.”

Seonghwa begins to tap the tips of his fingers against the top of the grand mahogany table. The food is going to get colder with every minute you delay your arrival, and he never wants to serve you mediocre food. Besides, he’s supposed to be having a guest for dinner.

Dark eyes flit around the room, noting the silent guards stationed at the side of the room. Their faces are stoic, giving nothing away that would suggest they’re keeping things from him.

Not that they could hide anything, even if they tried.

Seonghwa would have gotten his own personal guards to attend this meal, but the guest’s conditions upon meeting wouldn’t allow such a thing. Still, the man sitting behind the table is smart. Despite his reputation, many still underestimate how far he will go to maintain the upper hand. No one knows this house like him and his inner circle. Besides you, of course.

Stationed in strategic parts surrounding the dining room, his personal guards wait. Some are on patrol, but the ones that never miss are on immediate standby.

Letting out a sigh, Seonghwa thinks back on the last time he saw you. It had been this morning, he recalls, your conversation echoing through his head. The vampire had been admiring you openly from the comfort of your shared bed, nothing but silk sheets draped over his hips. His head rested against his open palm, elbow supporting himself as he fought off the desire pooling throughout his entire body.

You were positively glowing beneath the light of the rising sun, his marks practically shining upon your skin. Even after an intense night of lovemaking, Seonghwa was still insatiable. How could he not be? You are everything he’s ever wanted in life; one look and he’s ready to fall apart. It didn’t help that the image of you from last night, fucked out and desperate, with tears of overstimulation in your eyes, kept flitting through his mind.

He nearly missed the fact that you told him all about your plans for today.

You were going to visit a friend for lunch.

It’s been hours since then, and he hasn’t heard from you once.

“Sir,” A voice from off to his right draws his attention, and the subordinate recoils in fear at the sharp look sent his way. “The guests have arrived.”

Letting out an irritated sigh through his nose, Seonghwa leans back in his seat. A quick glance is spare to the empty high backed chair beside him which matches his own in every way. Two thrones. One for the King, and one for his Queen. Neither are supposed to be empty while the other sits in theirs.

He’s not used to this. He’s not used to not having you beside him.

Seonghwa purses his lips, giving the servant a curt nod in response. Looks like he’ll have to start without you.

The large double doors to the dining room are pushed open, a lone figure walking inside. Short, dark blond hair is slicked back, grease practically dripping off of the strands. An air of arrogance surrounds the tall man, every step echoing off of the marble walls. His head is held high, an expression of the utmost confidence painted across his features as his green eyes dance in amusement.

“Seonghwa! My man!” Arms are spread wide in greeting as the man comes to stand directly before the large dining table. His eyes scan the empty seat beside the kingpin, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. “I didn’t think you were one to dine alone.”

The doors fall shut with a definitive slam, the room suddenly appearing much darker beneath the dim lights.

“James.” Seonghwa blinks, a look of disinterest on his features. Reaching out, he takes his wine glass into his hand, swirling the contents lightly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Did you forget about out meeting?” The man quirks a brow. “It seems your wife has.”

The wine glass stills in Seonghwa’s hand. The sharpest of glares that would make anyone crumble beneath its gaze is sent James’ way, a few of the guards stationed at the sides of the room straightening from the intensity.

“Watch your mouth.” A warning that is not to be taken lightly. “Unlike you, I don’t need to control every aspect of a woman’s life.”

Seonghwa schools his features back into a look of disinterest, sipping back the rest of his wine. He rests his now empty glass near the edge of the table, fingers delicately holding onto the stem. Two taps, and the server begins to move to refill his master’s glass.

“Such brave words coming from a man who should really be keeping tabs on that which he supposedly cares for most.”

A scowl paints itself onto Seonghwa’s features, grip tightening over his wine glass. The server sure seems to be taking his sweet ass time, and the man at the table is beginning to get impatient.

“Tell me, Park,” James hums, clasping his hands behind his back with an air of relaxed ease. “Do you know where your wife is tonight?”

Seonghwa’s lips purse into a thin line, a vein in his temple throbbing as he clenches his jaw.

“Wherever my wife may or may not be is none of your concern, James.”

The server finally steps up beside Seonghwa with a fresh bottle at the ready. Wordlessly, the kingpin raises his glass into the air, fingers delicately holding onto the base of the bowl. Wine immediately begins filling the crystal, turning what once was pure into a dark red.

“No, perhaps it’s not.” James simpers. The man begins to pace lightly in front of the notorious mobster, his nose lifted pointedly in the air. “But perhaps, it should be yours.”

The doors to the dining room begin to open, a scuffle apparent in the hallway beyond. A few shouts can be heard, loud curses followed by the prominent clicking of heels.

Unrivalled fury paints itself across Seonghwa’s features as he watches your figure, beaten and bloody, being shoved into the room at gunpoint. Your clothes are torn and dirty, clear lines cutting through the smeared blood on your face to make way for your tears.

The glass in his hand shatters into pieces.

Rivulets of red trickle down his skin, his chest rising and falling dramatically. There’s a sudden chill that fills the room, and James’ own wife who is pointing the gun at your head visibly shivers.

Maria may be a powerful witch, but even she knows not to provoke monsters.

“Some security detail you had.” James guffaws, shoulders shaking in laughter. “Military men? Humans at that? You were practically begging for someone to take out the trash.”

Slowly, James begins stalking towards you.

Maria takes a cautious step back as he approaches, uncertainty in her eyes. The gun in her hand feels heavy, and she has to bring the other up to help support it in order to stop herself from shaking.

“You know… I never understood what you saw in her.” He continues, tracing his hand over your shoulders as he circles around your back. “Weak. Pathetic. Ugly.”

James pauses right beside you, grabbing you harshly by the back of the neck. The way his nails dig unforgivingly into you causes a fresh trail of blood to begin dripping down your skin.

Wood begins splintering beneath Seonghwa’s grip as he digs his hands into the arms of his chair. Lips are curled over sharp fangs, but still, the kingpin does not move.

Not yet.

The timing isn’t quite right.

“You and I both know ‘wife’ is just a codename for ‘living blood bag.’” Stepping in behind you, James purposely rests his chin on your shoulder. He forces your head to the side as he inhales your neck, making you shudder in disgust. “I don’t blame you for harvesting one so plump. Fat makes for good insulation. They don’t break as easily, and their blood is still pretty decent if you leave them to marinate for a few days. Besides, a couple days without food could do this one some good.”

The way such a vile creature has the audacity to reach up at pat your plush cheek makes Seonghwa snap. Though, at this point, he is passed the point of dramatic, extreme violence. Right now, he is so furious, a searing sense of calm begins flooding his entire body.

A list is already being compiled within his mind of all the ways Seonghwa is going to torture this vampire for even daring to look at you. Items, even more deadly than the last, are added with each offence such filth bestows upon you. Right now, that list is up to twenty-four. And counting.

“About that territory I wanted… I figured we could celebrate a done deal by draining the fat bitch dry.” James drags a single finger along a fresh trail of blood that drips over your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, body trembling in disgust. The feeling of this wretched man’s hands on you makes your skin crawl. All you want is to rip his dick off and shove it so far up his ass his witch of a wife can taste it when she kisses him. Only, the gun pointed firmly at your head by said woman, along with the dangerous vampire quite literally at your throat prevents you from doing just that.

James’ each movement is slow. Precise. He makes sure to drag out this moment, bringing his finger up to his mouth to suck your blood from his skin. His eyes flash with glee as he meets the furious gaze of the kingpin before him, the corner of his lips quirking upwards.

“Mmmh… Not bad…” A smug expression rests over James’ face, seemingly humming to himself. Focussing on the male before him once more, he smirks. “So, what do you say, Park? Do we have a deal?”

Seonghwa takes a deep breath in through his nose, the sharp exhale being heard all the way across the room. A sound which causes each and every one of his subordinates to freeze. A white cloth quickly gets handed to him by the server, the younger man trembling in fear. No one wants to become unfortunate collateral simply by being present during one of the King’s fits of unbridled rage.

In one fluid movement, Seonghwa shakes out the cloth, beginning to dab at the dark red staining his white sleeve. Though he’s managed to control his expression, a hard look settles onto his features. There is no denying the pure, white hot fury blazing within his dark eyes.

“You come into our home,” Seonghwa’s voice is low, dangerous and steady. Slowly, he wipes off the splatter of red that covers the shoulder of his black waist coat. “Disrespect me. Disrespect, insult, and brutalize my wife. Repeatedly mock the way we conduct proper business, and then have the audacity to insist on using underhand methods to get what you want? From me? Me?”

Seonghwa clicks his tongue, halting all movement of his hand. Fingers dig unforgivingly into the cloth as he slowly begins shaking in rage, throwing the now stained fabric harshly on top of the table. The high backed chair he had been sitting in scrapes loudly against the marble as he suddenly stands to his feet.

For the first time in his life, Seonghwa allows his throne to fall to the floor.

“It doesn’t work like that, James.” Seonghwa sneers, his eyes flashings violently as black veins begin to trickle out over the skin of his cheeks. Cracks appear throughout the wood as he leans forward to slam his hands on the top of the table, every soul present jumping at the loud bangthat echoes throughout the room. “You have three seconds to rectify this misdeed before I make minced meat out of both you and that hag who has the unfortunate displeasure of calling you her mate.”

James’ wife glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. Fear is clear on her features, her hand holding the gun to your head faltering as she begins to shake.

Not even Maria’s magic can help them now.

“One.”

“James…” Uncertainty lingers in her tone, eyes darting between the two vampires in the room.

“Don’t listen to him, Doll,” James throws her a brief look before turning to sneer at the man bracing himself against the top of the table. “He’s bluffing.”

“I can assure you that those who thought the very same are more than six feet under by now.” Seonghwa rebuttals. “Two.”

“Maybe we should rethink-“

“Too late.” A malicious grin pulls at Seonghwa’s lips, his eyes crazed. “Three.”

A bullet whizzes through the room, striking James’ wife right between the eyes.

“Maria!” James can only watch in despair as her lifeless body falls to the floor with a loud thud. He rounds on the kingpin whom looks exceptionally pleased with himself, a large smile full of nothing but pure insanity stretched across his cursed lips. “You bastard! You’ll pay for this!”

James manages to pull out his own gun. The barrel barely touches your head before it’s shot right out of his hand. You manage to jump away, another bullet sinking into the man’s upper thigh and pushing him further from your form. The man immediately recoils in pain, grabbing his bleeding hand as his legs shake, barely able to support himself on his own two feet for much longer.

Slowly, Seonghwa walks out from behind the table. Each step is meticulous, echoing off of the cold marble as another bullet sinks into James’ left knee. The pathetic excuse of a vampire immediately goes tumbling to the ground, crying out in agony as his body contorts in response to his new wounds.

Blood spills over the once clean floor as James looks up at the man he attempted to blackmail.

“Oh, James… James, James, James.” Seonghwa tuts, shaking his head in disappointment as he crouches beside the male withering in agony. A harsh grip in his hair forces James to meet the mobsters unforgiving glare. “You should have known better than to try and pull something on me.”

Seonghwa throws James unceremoniously onto the floor before standing back to his full height. Nothing but the utmost disgust rests on his features, glaring down at the trembling vampire in pure malice. Fangs are bared in a silent, mocking snarling, Seonghwa using the tip of his loafer against James’ forehead to harshly push him backwards.

Wiping his hands on his front, the Wonderland leader is quick to straighten out his waistcoat.

“I’m going to enjoy destroying you.” Seonghwa’s voice is nothing but a calm timbre as he looks down upon his prey. That familiar malicious grin tugs at Seonghwa’s features, and James finally understands what it means to make a deal with the devil. “Count yourself lucky that I have much more important matters to attend to right now.”

Without sparing another glance at the vampire slowly bleeding out in his dining room, Seonghwa turns his back towards the dying man. The click of his shoes echo throughout the dining room, each step seeming to mock his enemy.

Both Yunho and Jongho have appeared by now, each male standing on either side of you. Their eyes are hard, glaring at the man on the floor for even daring to touch Seonghwa’s Queen.

James can only watch on as Seonghwa wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you through a separate set of doors. Yunho and Jongho, the most notorious for their brutal interrogation and torture tactics, begin stalking towards their newest prey.

The last thing you see of the vampire that kidnapped you is a look of terrified realization painting his features as the two others close in on him.

Once the door to the hallway you now find yourself in is shut, you let out a small breath of relief. Seonghwa’s touch is nothing short of comforting as he keeps his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you gently towards your private quarters. You can feel the way his fingers tremble against your skin; the only indication of his true emotions throughout this entire situation.

“A bath has already been drawn. Towels, as well as the proper medical supplies have been laid out for you both.” One of the head servants quickly falls into step just behind the two of you. “Mingi and Yeosang have been stationed at the first check point. Wooyoung and Hongjoong have taken the liberty to stand post outside your bed chambers. One in the hall, the other on the balcony. San will remain on watch with both Chris and Minho on the roof.”

A gruff nod is all Seonghwa gives in response, not allowing for even a hint of emotion except for displeased anger to appear on his features.

“I want to know who let that bastard so much as even look at my wife. Get the names of everyone who allowed this to happen immediately. Gouge their eyes out. Cut off their tongues. Then, feed them their severed fingers one by one.” There is no room for argument in Seonghwa’s tone, his gaze fixated on the hallway in front of you. “Do not stop until they are found, and properly disposed of. You all know the consequences. It’s time to deliver them.”

“Yes, sir.” The servant nods once firmly in understanding, swiftly turning on their heel to relay the message to the Hounds.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Seonghwa pauses just before the door to your shared quarters, turning to glance back at the servant from over his shoulder. “Tell San: ��nice shots.’”

Another verbal confirmation is given before the servant is running off, leaving the two of you alone for the time being. Not even a moment later, Seonghwa is quick to shove through the door of your bedroom. He guides you gently inside before making extra sure all of the locks are all sliding into place. All of the curtains are drawn, the soft glow of the lamps soon flickering to life.

A breath of relief escapes you as you walk a bit further into your private quarters. Finally, you allow yourself to relax, knowing you’re now completely safe. One hand comes up to rub your shoulder, rolling it lightly beneath your touch as a dull ache begins to throb just beneath your skin.

“Well, today has been a day,” You huff, exhaling a low sigh through your nose. “I-“

Turning back to face Seonghwa, the rest of your words catch in your throat.

Never before have you seen your husband like this. Never, in all of the years that you’ve been together, have you seen him look this vulnerable. This scared.

Tears stream silently down his face, his lips parted slightly. He stands frozen to his spot like a statue, none of that familiar warmth he usually holds for you in his dark eyes. Instead, a complete look of devastation pulls at his every feature, his breathing shallow, and broken.

In a few steps, he closes the short distance between your two bodies. Trembling hands come up to cradle your face, fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your cheeks. His gaze flits everywhere over your beaten and bloody features, tracing over the largest cut he can see resting just above your eyebrow.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” Another tear slides down his cheek, his throat working as a plethora of emotions flash across his features. “Darling, I’m so-“

“Don’t do that to yourself, Hwa.” Your hands come up to gently rest on top of his own. “I wasn’t worried. I knew My Star would save me.”

Slowly, thanks to the comfort of your touch, his hands stop trembling.

“How can you be so calm right now?” His gaze searches your face, holding onto you a little tighter. “You could have died! I could have-”

His throat works, the mere idea too unbearable to even conceive.

He didn’t lose you. He can never lose you.

“Because I trust you, My Love.” You offer him a soft smile. “I have faith in my husband, even when he doesn’t have faith in himself. I know he’ll always protect me. A few scrapes and bruises here and there are nothing compared to the scars that line his body just so that he can keep me safe.”

“I will gladly bleed for you if it meant you never getting into harm’s way. Ever.” Tilting his head forward, he rests his forehead against your own.

“I know, Hwa,” A loving smile tugs onto your features. “A mosquito can’t bite me without incurring your wrath.”

“Because nothing deserves to touch you except me.” He lowers his voice, taking on a slight gravelly edge as he stares deeply into your eyes. One hand comes down to slip around your waist, pulling you closer as his touch settles against your lower back. After a moment, he adds a bit more lightheartedly, “And those you approve of. Clothes are walking a thin line, though.” At your quirked brow, he’s quick to remind you, “Don’t worry, My Love. I haven’t forgotten your lecture about respecting your mind and body, along with your autonomy. I will always respect you.”

“There he is.” A giggle escapes you, your eyes crinkling in joy. “There’s the man I always fall deeper in love with. Every. Single. Day.”

Seonghwa leans forward, nudging his nose so tenderly against your own. “I strive to always be the only love in your life, just as you are mine.”

“You are, My Love,” A soft hum escapes you, tilting your head slightly to peck his lips. “You’re my one and only.”

You barely have time to blink before Seonghwa is pressing his lips against yours. Both of his hands slide around your back, digging his fingers into your skin and pulling you flush against himself. His tongue traces your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You eagerly grant it to him, hearing a content hum escape him as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

“My Glorious Queen,” He growls against your lips. “Always, you will be mine.”

“Yours, My King,” A pleased sigh is breathed against him.

“Come,” Seonghwa pulls away from you, guiding you towards the ensuite with an arm wrapped securely around your waist. “Let me wash that vile creature from your skin.”

“Please.”

Eagerly, you both enter the bathroom to see the large tub steaming with fresh water. Bubbles lightly float against the opaque surface, a pink hue to the contents as the scent of cherry blossoms float through the air. Perched on a small podium resides a med-kit. Two large, fluffy towels rest off to the side. One with his personal crest embroidered into the fabric, the other with yours.

Grabbing a small hand towel from the vanity, Seonghwa is quick to wet the material. Turning back to face you, he begins gently washing the dried blood and dirt from your face. It only takes him a few minutes to do so, discarding of the towel and turning you both towards the tub.

A large sigh is breathed through your nose, shoulders drooping ever so slightly.

“Is something wrong, My Love?” Seonghwa steps in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Soft kisses are placed along the skin of your neck, nuzzling his face into you gently.

“No.” Lightly, you shake your head. “I’d just prefer to shower than to sit in the tub, is all. I feel bad for letting such a luxury go to waste.”

“Nothing is too much for you, Darling,” A tender kiss is placed above your pulse before the sound of the water draining from the tub greets your ears.

You barely even felt him move.

“You spoil me.” An affectionate gleam shines within your eyes, the corners of your lips quirking upwards slightly.

“As I should.” Another gentle nuzzle is given into the side of your neck, Seonghwa gently turning you both to face the mirror. “You deserve nothing but the best. If I can’t spoil you, then what kind of husband am I?”

“Mine.” Your hand comes up to settle gently against his arms still wrapped around your waist.

A pleasant hum sounds from behind you.

“I can accept that.” Seonghwa tightens his grip around you. “What I can’t accept is you smelling like another man, especially while hurt. Here I am, promising to always take care of you, and I haven’t even healed any of your injuries yet.”

“They’re not that bad-“

“Bullshit.” The way his lips curl over his fangs can be seen in the reflection of the mirror before you. “Anything that dares to mar your beautiful skin, other than my own claims, will not live to survive another day.”

His one arm holds you firmly in place as he brings his opposite wrist up to his mouth. With one sharp bite, blood begins to drip from his skin, bringing the fresh wound to your lips.

“Drink.”

Immediately, you do as told.

The smooth liquid slides over your tongue and down your throat, a sweet taste flooding your mouth with every gulp. You’ve drank from him quite a few times before, but that still never prepares you for the sensation of his blood overtaking your every sense. Your vision sharpens, scents and sounds becoming that much clearer the more you drink. It’s addicting, and no one knows this fact more than him.

Seonghwa’s eyes flutter shut. The feeling of you suckling at his wrist causes a thrill of pleasure to surge through his entire being. Every time he feels your lips on his skin, his soul comes alive. The intimacy alone of sharing such an important life source with each other has always meant more to him than he could ever describe. Though, he wishes the circumstances were a bit more pleasant.

Blood is addictive. He should know. Yours is the most fulfilling, deliciously divine taste he’s ever had the pleasure to sample. Other than the nectar that flows from between your legs, of course.

Seonghwa can never get enough of you, not that he’d ever want to. The only thing more satisfying to him than calling you his is the fact that only he gets to touch you. Only he gets to experience every glorious instance with you. Others may look, but they can never have you.

The mere image of that thing having touched you… having hurt you, makes his blood boil. The fact that someone actually got close enough to do so has him already formulating a new plan for your protection.

You are now hardly ever to leave his side, two or more of his own personal guard with you at all times. No exceptions. Seonghwa can never let something like this happen again.

Time for him to restate his claim.

Slowly, Seonghwa begins stripping you of your clothing. The more he removes, the more eager he becomes, nearly tearing the fabric at the seams to expose more of your naked body to him. The small cuts that litter your skin begin to close, and he watches in smug satisfaction as his blood heals you in real time. His fingers trace over every inch of your bare skin that he can reach, admiring how your scents begin to intermingle the more you drink.

As it should be. He should always be covered in you, and you should always be covered in him.

Finally, you part from him with a gasp, some of his blood clinging to the corners of your lips. Eagerly, your tongue darts out to catch those lingering drops, humming contently at the taste. The way he watches your eyes hood over in the mirror as you stand naked in front of him has another pleased rumble shaking his chest.

“Allow me to replace such abhorrent marks with beautiful ones of my own.”

“I look forward to it, My King.” You coo, tilting your head slightly to nuzzle against his own.

Another pleased hum fills the air, a playful nip being given over your jawline.

Slowly, reluctantly, Seonghwa lets you slip out of his arms. Dark eyes flash, a low growl echoing throughout the room as he watches your naked form slip into the shower. Most, if not all of your previous injuries have already healed, pride swirling within his chest at how well he can care for you.

The sound of running water soon fills his ears, steam beginning to fill the bathroom as he strips himself of his ruined clothes. Your eyes follow his every movement through the glass, drinking in the way his skin slowly reveals itself to you. He knows you’re watching him. You can tell from the way he faces towards you, each movement purposeful as he slides off his waistcoat, loosening his tie in the next second. Once he’s slide the thin material from around his neck, he tosses it to the floor in one fluid movement.

Slowly, Seonghwa begins unbuttoning his white shirt, red splatters staining the material.

Water flows over your skin, the heat helping to wash away the dried blood and dirt clinging to your body. It helps to relax your tight muscles, letting out a soft sigh in content. Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, watching as your husband pops the button of his slacks, kicking off his shoes and making short work of the rest of his clothing. He takes his time to run his fingers through his long, bleached hair, the strands having come loose from his sleek, slicked back appearance due to your previous ministrations.

A smug look pulls at his features, lips tugging upwards in the corner as he begins stalking towards you. Each movement is slow, stepping inside the large shower and closing the glass door behind him purposefully. Those dark eyes of his drink in every inch of your naked body, shamelessly trailing over every dip and curve that he can see.

The tattoo he can see resting proudly over the side of your ribcage has that familiar sense of pride swirling within his chest. A tattoo which matches his own.

Seonghwa licks his lips.

“Allow me to cleanse you, My Queen,” Lowly, his voice rumbles out, closing the distance between the both of you in a few steps.

Your hands settle onto his shoulders as he slips his one arm around your waist. A soft inhale escapes you as he pulls you flush against his chest, never once breaking eye contact. Gently, he brings the fingers of his free hand up to cradle your chin, leaning in to press his lips against your own.

The kiss is nothing more than a brief, loving display of affection, Seonghwa parting from you after a moment. Only, he doesn’t step away. Instead, he tilts his forehead to rest against your own, his touch disappearing from beneath your chin.

Without so much as turning his gaze away, he reaches for the fresh washcloth that always hangs just off to the side.

The arm he has wrapped around your waist begins to slide downwards as he wets the cloth, a firm squeeze being given to your ass. The small peep of surprise you let out makes him smirk, beginning to massage your flesh so tenderly in his hand. A pleased growl escapes him as your body jerks forward, pressing yourself even firmer against his own.

Seonghwa is meticulous as he lathers the cloth with his own body wash, soon beginning to drag the material over your skin. Slowly.

Your eyes flutter as nothing but both his scent, and his touch, surrounds you. You’ve always loved his soap, the deep musk making your head spin.

A fact of which he knows, for he only started wearing it for you.

Anything and everything to make you fall for him. To make you his. Once Park Seonghwa sets his sights on something, he will not stop until he gets exactly what he wants. Seonghwa wanted you, - he needed you - and you are exactly what he got.

Each touch is soft, starting at your shoulders and making his way down your body. Not once does he break eye contact with you, having spent countless of hours mapping out every beautiful dip and curve beneath his fingertips.

Seonghwa knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows exactly where to touch to elicit certain reactions, and he takes full advantage of such knowledge now.

The cloth is dragged so lovingly over your back, his opposite hand giving your ass another appreciative squeeze before sliding up your spine.

The way you shiver beneath his touch makes him smirk.

Slowly, Seonghwa brings the cloth back upwards, teasing over your shoulders before lifting your one hand with his own. Wordlessly, he intertwines your fingers together, dragging the cloth over your arm. Switching hands, he’s quick to repeat the same actions on the opposite side, letting you feel his love for you, his desire, in every touch.

Still, he does not dare to tear his gaze from yours.

Your breathing deepens, heart fluttering inside of your chest. From the way his eyes shine, you can tell that he can hear every reaction his ministrations cause your body to make. The way your nails dig slightly into the skin of his shoulders once you place your hands back onto him says it all.

Tracing the cloth back up your arm, Seonghwa swipes it gently over your upper chest. His own breathing deepens as he slides his touch down to cup your breast, his free hand coming up to cup the other. A firm, appreciative squeeze is given to both, a low moan falling from his parted lips.

For a brief moment, his gaze flicks downwards. Using his thumb and forefinger on his one hand, he gently tweaks at your nipple. The other brushes over your opposite breast, lathering the soap over your skin while his thumb teases over your opposite nipple through the cloth.

A soft, pleased hum escapes you, lashes fluttering as you revel in his touch. You cannot help but arch into him, his hands burning paths of pleasure across your skin.

Water continues to softly cascade down your body, washing the soap away shortly after coming into contact with your flesh. No part of you goes untouched, Seonghwa making sure he cleanses your body thoroughly. He doesn’t want there to be any reminders left from what happened earlier in the day. Right now, all that should cover you is him.

Slowly, Seonghwa sinks to his knees.

A halo of kisses are placed over your stomach, soft moans breathed against your skin. Those dark eyes of his glance up at you periodically, lashes fluttering after each press of his lips against you.

Your husband can never get enough of you. Right now, he wants even more.

“I can never get over how euphoric touching you is, My Love,” Another wet, open mouthed kiss is pressed against your stomach. “Fuck- I love your body… So perfect… So soft…” A blissful sigh is breathed over your skin. “Love making you shake in ecstasy, claiming you for the whole world to see…”

Your breath hitches softly as both of his hands come around to cup your ass, squeezing your flesh so delicately.

A pleased hum rumbles from deep within his chest, devolving into a low chuckle.

“See?” Fangs nip lovingly at your skin, Seonghwa dragging the cloth over the curve your ass. Occasionally, he’ll give you another appreciative squeeze, nuzzling almost possessively into your stomach. “How could I ever want to stop touching you? Your body knows who it belongs to… Who you belong to… Isn’t that right, My Love?”

Seonghwa peeks up at you from on his knees. His eyes are dark and dangerous, a predatory look swirling deep within his gaze. There’s no room for argument in his tone, the cloth getting tossed to the side as his touch returns to your skin, gripping at your thighs tightly.

A thrill rushes through your body, clenching lightly around nothing as he stares up at you. You know that look all too well, your hands automatically reaching out to begin combing your fingers through his damp hair.

Only, it seems as if Seonghwa doesn’t appreciate your prolonged silence.

“I asked you a question, My Love,” A low, warning growl builds in his throat.

Suddenly, you find that he’s turned you so that your back is pressed against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His fingers sink almost unforgivingly into your plush flush, dragging the nails of his one hand down your skin and hoisting your thigh over his shoulder.

“Tell me who you belong to.” Lips curl over fangs, black veins crackling over the skin of his cheeks. “Come on, Pretty Girl. I need to hear you say it.”

The sight alone causes your heart to flutter, breath hitching slightly as you stare down at him.

“I’m yours, My Star,” You coo, continuing to thread your fingers through his hair. “I belong to you. Everything I am, everything I was or am sure to be, is yours.”

The feral snarl that reverberates against the tiles of the shower sends pleasure flooding through your veins. Dark, ravenous eyes stare up at you, irises bleeding red as white sclera shift into the deepest of voids. Seonghwa’s lips curl upwards, pulling back to expose his fangs as he slides his hands over your sides.

“Good Girl.” A sharp nip is given to your inner thigh, a small trail of blood beginning to drip down your skin. One which he is more than eager to trace with his tongue.

A thrill rushes through you, loving the deep growl that lines his voice. A tone you know all too well, affection lingering beneath every syllable.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, pausing all movements as you yank his head back so he’s forced to look up at you. The same dark look that he wears is reflected on your own features, grinning as you hear a guttural groan part his plush lips.

“And who is it that worships the very ground I walk on? Who belongs to me? Who is it that will only ever belong to me?”

The intensity in your eyes makes him shiver, his cock twitching against his thigh. Already, precome leaks from the tip, his heart beating alongside your own. He holds onto you tighter, digging his fingers into your soft thighs as a desperate moan escapes him.

“I will only ever belong to you, My Love.” Seonghwa rasps, beginning to trail wet, open mouthed kisses up the skin of your inner thigh. “I’m yours. I always have been, and I always will be.”

“That’s right, My King,” You hum, a sultry grin tugging at your lips. “You’re mine.”

“Forevermore, My Queen,” His eyes flash, nosing closer towards the apex of your thighs. “Fuck- you smell incredible… Need to make sure you always smell like me, so everyone knows who you belong to. No one- No-fucking-one is ever going to take you away from me again.”

With those words, Seonghwa slips his hands back around to your ass, burying his face into your cunt.

A pleased growl escapes him as his nose slips between your folds, fingers sinking unforgivingly into the plump flesh of your ass. He pulls you even closer, nuzzling against you before teasingly swirling his tongue around your entrance. The tip of his nose bumps against your clit, his lips laving over your cunt before suckling harshly at your folds.

You toss your head back against the wall, fingers immediately tangling in his hair. The way you pull him in closer to you makes him moan against your core, his hot breath making your head spin as he traces his tongue over your slit. Soft pants fall from your lips as he places sloppy, wet kisses all over your cunt, making sure no part of you goes untouched.

Slowly, he dips his tongue between your folds, holding your gaze as he licks a firm strip up from your entrance to your clit. The tip of his tongue immediately begins flicking rapidly over that pert little bud before his lips are wrapping around it, suckling eagerly at that sensitive little bundle of nerves.

The way you keen against him makes him smirk, a pleased hum rumbling from within his chest.

Each movement is messy. For the moment, Seonghwa is more focussed on covering his face in the wetness that drips from your cunt. He wants to smell like you, to bathe himself in your scent as he covers you in his. He needs it. Especially after seeing such a vile creature dare to lay their filthy hands on you.

Another firm squeeze is given to your ass, Seonghwa pulling you even closer against his lips. Those dark, ravenous eyes of his drink in each and every expression you offer him, desperate for more. Eagerly, he traces his tongue over every inch of your pussy, beginning to thrust it as deep as he can within you.

Soft pants and stuttering moans escape your parted lips. Nothing but absolute pleasure floods your veins, skin tingling everywhere he touches. The fingers you have tangled in his hair pull him in even closer, beginning to grind lightly against his lips as he desperately thrusts his tongue into your weeping entrance.

“Oh, fuck- just like that, Hwa- Oh!” Your lashes flutter, beginning to feel that familiar pressure building within your lower abdomen. “Don’t fucking stop!”

A snarl of agreement reverberates against your cunt, Seonghwa pressing himself even firmer into you. The tip of his nose bumps continuously over your clit, jolts of pleasure sending shockwaves throughout your entire body as your moans begin to rise in pitch.

“Fuck- make me come, My Star,” You pant out, staring down at him through hooded eyes. “Make me drip all over your pretty face.”

“With pleasure…”

The words are growled against your core, Seonghwa immediately shaking his head back and forth. His fingers dig unforgivingly into the skin of your ass, swirling his tongue inside of you as his nose presses firmly against your clit. The tip of his tongue soon focusses on tracing along the top of your inner walls, thrusting desperately as he moans into you.

With one final nudge over your clit, your eyes are fluttering shut. Your orgasm washes over you like a wave upon the shore, body thrumming in ecstasy as you arch from the wall. Lightly, your thighs shake, Seonghwa not relenting for even one second as he prolongs your pleasure for as long as he possibly can.

Though, you know that this is far from over. After all, he’s only just begun.

Just as with every other time when he’s eaten you out, Seonghwa does not stop here. In fact, he only redoubles his efforts over you. Black veins pulse over his cheeks as he laves his tongue over the entirety of your cunt, making sure no drop goes to waste.

He needs all of you. He craves it, like the very air you need to breathe.

Lips wrap around your sensitive clit, suckling eagerly at that pert bud as he balances you against the wall. One hand slides down from your ass, two fingers spreading you open to give him unrestricted access to your weeping cunt. Not even a moment later, he flattens his tongue, rubbing it in firm circles over your clit.

“Oh- Fuck!” Your eyes roll, heavy pants escaping you as you’ve barely had time to recover from your previous orgasm. Pleasure pools in your core, clenching hard around nothing as Seonghwa focusses all of his attention on your clit. “Hah- Hah- My Love- Oh!”

“More.” The firm command is growled against your throbbing clit. “Give me more.”

The lewd, wet sounds that fill the air make your head spin, Seonghwa shameless as he traces his tongue over every inch of your cunt. Pleased hum and deep moans escape him, bringing the tip back up to circle so tenderly over your clit before suckling that pert bud between his lips.

“Seonghwa…” His name is but a pleasant sigh from your lips, eyes hooding over as you stare down at your husband feasting on your cunt so ravenously. “My Love…”

“Come for me,” Those sharp eyes of his glance up at you, sucking your clit firmly between his lips. “Soak my face, Beloved. Bathe me in your sweet nectar and claim what rightfully belongs to you.”

His words have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, body shaking as with one final flick over your clit, your orgasm crashes into you. Loud moans and high pitched whines escape you, head spinning as he supports you against the wall. Nothing but pure euphoria floods your veins, chest rising and falling dramatically as heavy pants fall from your lips with every breath.

“Mmmh, that’s it, My Queen,” Seonghwa hums, chuckling lowly. Tender kisses are placed over your swollen clit, smirking against your core with every twitch he feels against his lips. “So fucking beautiful…”

This time, he slows his pace.

Soft, wet kisses are trailed over the skin of your inner thigh, his fangs nibbling at your flesh. Occasionally, he grazes you enough to cause blood to swell on the surface, his tongue quick to lap up each drop. The fingers he had been using to keep you spread open trace over the edges of your cunt, dipping down to tease lightly at your entrance.

A soft moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him push the tips of his fingers inside of you, only to remove them in the next second.

“Seonghwa-“

The desperate whine of his name gets caught in your throat, which is simply music to his ears.

“What’s that?” He hums, continuing to tease at your entrance by dipping his fingers into you gently. Only, he never pushes them more than a knuckle deep, pulling them out to trace the tips so lovingly over your folds. “Does My Pretty Girl want to come again?”

Lightly, you squirm in his hold, whimpering as you stare down at him.

“Needy girl,” Seonghwa chuckles, slowly kissing his way back up your thigh.

The one leg you still have supporting yourself on the ground begins to shake.

“Please-“ Your voice catches, hips jerking forwards in an attempt to push his fingers deeper inside of you.

“Does My Love want me to devour her pretty pussy?” A tender nuzzle is given against the skin of your inner thigh. “Will she not be satiated unless I make her squirt all over my face? Will she not be satisfied until I make her mine?”

“Fuck- Seonghwa-“ Your fingers tighten in his hair, forcing his gaze to yours as you tilt his head upwards. Something within your eyes flash, clenching hard enough around nothing to cause yourself to begin leaking prominently over your thighs. “Make me yours. Right. Fucking. Now. I need you…“

In the blink of an eye, Seonghwa has stood back to his feet. Both of your legs are wrapped around his waist as he pins you against the wall, fingers digging harshly into the skin of your thighs. Not even a moment later, he slides his touch upwards, grabbing handfuls of your ass and squeezing at your flesh.

There is nowhere for you to go. Nowhere to run or hide, for you will forever be trapped in his embrace. Seonghwa has made damn sure of that.

Not that you’d ever want to leave him…

The tip of his hard cock nudges at your dripping entrance, slipping between your folds as he pushes as close to you as possible. Each breath is but a low snarl upon his lips, black veins crackling over his cheeks. The look in his eyes is downright predatory, fangs on full display as he stares you down.

“You’re mine.”

With those words, Seonghwa buries himself deep inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, creating a brutal pace as he snaps his hips against your own.

A choked moan parts your lips, eyes rolling slightly as you cling to him. Your nails scratch down his back, each growl he breathes out going straight to your core as you clench tightly around his cock. The familiar stretch of him sinking into your core makes your head spin, pulling him in even closer.

“Fuckin’ perfect, Darling,” Seonghwa breathes, his forehead pressed against your own. Those dark eyes of his stare intensely into yours, fingers digging into your ass as he snaps his hips into you. “Your pretty pussy always sucks me in so well. My Pretty Girl is always ready to bounce on my cock, isn’t she? So wet… So tight.”

“It’s because I was made for you, My Star,” You exhale shakily, lashes fluttering as your tongue darts out over your lips. “You always fill me so well, My Love. Feels incredible having you buried inside of me. I can’t help but feel empty without you.”

“It’s because I was made for you, Darling,” The words are a mere rasp on his lips, slowing his movements only briefly in order to circle his hips so lovingly against your own. The way you keen against him makes him smirk, a pleased rumble shaking his chest. “Feel that? Feel how perfectly your pussy moulds around my cock? I never wish to part from you, My Love. You own my heart, and I never want it back.”

“Seonghwa-“ A soft whine escapes you as a sharp thrust is given into you. The wet squelch you can hear each time he buries himself deep inside of you makes you clench, pleasure thrumming throughout your veins.

The tip of his cock presses so tenderly against that special spot inside of you, Seonghwa having mapped out every inch of your body multiple times. His only desire right now is to please you. As is his every desire. Your pleasure is his pleasure, and feeling you drip all over his cock while screaming his name is ecstasy of the highest order.

“You can never escape me, Beloved,” A sharp nip is given to your ear as he leans into you, his voice but a low rumble on his lips. “The moment you let me slip that ring on your finger, you became mine. If you ever even attempt to leave me, if anyone so much as dares to take you away again, I will chase you to the very ends of the earth. You’re mine.” Another sharp thrust is given into you, emphasizing his every word. “You belong to me, just as I belong to you. There is no one else. There will never be anyone else. I’m yours, and you’re mine. Until the very end.”

“All yours, Seonghwa,” You sigh, purposely squeezing around his cock. The way he grinds himself so lovingly into you makes you hum. “Always, I am yours, just as you will forever be mine.”

“That’s right, Pretty Girl,” A pleased chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest. “We belong to each other. Forevermore.”

Shifting your hand upwards, your fingers tangle in his hair. In one quick move, you guide his lips to yours, kissing him desperately as he begins rolling his hips so sensually into your own. Each thrust fills your cunt with every inch of his cock, his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth as you part for him.

The change in pace makes your head spin, pleasure pooling within your core as you drip all over his cock.

Soft whines and gentle moans are breathed into each other’s mouths, hands desperately gripping at each other’s bodies. You hook your ankles behind his back, thighs tensing as you pull him in closer.

The way your body presses flush against his own, every glorious curve of yours being felt against his skin, makes him moan. To him, there’s no other feeling quite like it. Your body sets his own on fire, soul coming alight with every touch.

“I fucking love you, My Queen,” Seonghwa mumbles against your lips, nipping lightly at your skin.

A soft moan tumbles from you lips, clenching hard around him as he thrusts sharply into you.

“As I love you, My One and Only King.”

Pleased rumbles fill the air, a deep moan of your name being breathed out by the vampire before you. He holds onto you so tightly, as if you may disappear at any moment. Desperate, deprived, and possessive. Only you can make him this way.

Though his pace has slowed, each tender thrust into you is firm. Seonghwa makes sure to fill you with every inch of his cock, loving how your warmth flutters around him each time. The way you drip over his balls and onto his thighs makes his head spin, swallowing all of your melodic whimpers and whines as he kisses you deeply.

“Seonghwa-“ You gasp into his mouth at one particularly hard thrust. When he immediately grinds his hips into you, the tip of his cock pressing so delicately against that special spot, your eyes roll slightly. “Right fucking there, My King- Oh!“

A pleased hum echoes around you, another sharp thrust given into you. His cock is angled perfectly to hit that spot, pride rumbling within his chest as he listens to the way your breath catches in your throat..

“Oh-“ Your walls clench tightly around him, digging your nails harshly into the skin of his back. “Claim me, My Love. Fucking mark your territory so no one dares to take me away from you again.”

The deepest of snarls you’ve ever heard him emit fills your ears, echoing around the tiles of the bathroom.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself pinned beneath him on your bed. Water drips from both of your bodies into the sheets, wet strands of his silver blond hair clinging to his skin. Each strand accents his features, serving as nothing more than a bright halo beautifully framing his face.

“With the utmost of pleasure, My Queen.”

The deep snarl that lines his every word is the most feral you’ve ever heard him get. It goes straight to your core, clenching hard around him as he begins that brutal pace once more. Tingles erupt over your skin, surrendering yourself completely to the pleasure he provides.

“Not gonna fucking stop until you’ve creamed all over this cock, Beloved. Gonna fill you so fuckin’ full of my seed, I’m gonna be dripping out of your precious cunt for weeks.” His hands grip your wrists tightly, pinning your arms above your head as he thrusts relentlessly into you. The way your body shakes, tits bouncing with every snap of his hips into your own makes nothing but love, lust, and pride swell within his chest. “Gonna let the whole world know who you belong to, and who belongs to you. There won’t be a living soul in this universe that will ever touch you again, besides me. They won’t dare. You’re mine. Do you hear me? Mine!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Tears of pleasure begin flooding your vision as that familiar pressure builds rapidly within you. You can barely keep your eyes open to stare into his captivating gaze, harsh pants and high pitched whines escaping your lips with every desperate thrust he gives into you. “I’m yours, Seonghwa! All yours! Always and forever, My Star! Make me yours so I can make you mine!”

Another feral snarl greets your ears, his lips immediately finding your own. His kiss is nothing but desperate, tongue slipping into your mouth as he moans into the kiss.

In one swift movement, Seonghwa shifts to hold both of your wrists above you with his one hand. The other drags lovingly over your body, tracing over every curve delicately. His fingertips tease at your skin, continuing to slide his touch everywhere over your body. A tender caress is given over your stomach, the soft touch contrasting the animalistic way he fucks into you.

With one final squeeze to your stomach, he drags his hand further downwards, thumb finding your clit and beginning to rub in small circles.

“Oh!” Your back arches from the bed, eyes fluttering closed as your whole body begins to shake. Your thighs tremble around his waist, squeezing so tightly around his cock as that pressure within you gets close to snapping. You do your best to hold back your impending orgasm for as long as you can, needing to feel him filling you full of his come before you can even think of letting yourself go. “Seonghwa- My King! Please-“

“Come for me, Darling.” There is no room for argument, his words but a command on his lips. Wet, sloppy kisses are placed against the skin of your pulse as he buries his face into the side of your neck. “Fucking flood my cock with your love. I want to hear you scream.”

With one final flick over your clit, your body obeys his every command. What serves to make the feeling all the more intense is when you feel him bite into the side of your neck, his fangs sinking into your soft flesh and drinking his fill of your blood.

A scream of his name tears from your throat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your squirt all over his cock. You keen from the bed, whole body trembling violently as you feel him pin your hips to the mattress with his own. Spurt after spurt of come escapes him as he fills you to the brim, your walls fluttering around his cock as your combined releases begin to leak out of your core.

Heavy pants escape you, nothing but whines falling from your lips. The intensity of your orgasm washes over you, suspended in a pool of bliss as you feel Seonghwa press himself completely against you. Not an inch of your body goes untouched by him, releasing his hold over your wrists in order to gently begin tracing his hands over your sides.

Soft kisses are trailed over your neck, his tongue coming out to lave over the fresh bite mark that rests proudly against your skin. The pleased hum that rumbles from deep within his chest makes you smile, staring up at him through hooded eyes as he pulls away to admire you beneath him.

Before he even gets a chance to say anything, you beat him to it.

“Turn me.”

To say your words catch him off guard would be an understatement.

This time, it’s Seonghwa’s turn for his breath to hitch. The vampire lord stills above you, staring down at you with wide eyes as he sees the sincerity reflected on your features.

“My Love?” His words are but a breathless whisper as he brings a hand up to cradle the side of your face.

“I want you to turn me.” Slowly, carefully, you bring your own hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb traces over his skin, admiring the man above you. A soft, tender smile pulls at your lips, eyes flicking between his own. “I know we’ve talked about it before, but it was simply never the right time. I’m ready now. I love you, Park Seonghwa. You are my forever. I’m ready to become yours.”

Tears begin building within his eyes, blinking rapidly as the first drops begin to fall gently against your skin. His throat works, hands fumbling over your body as he presses impossibly closer to you. Tenderly, he cups your face, lips finding yours in a searing kiss. A kiss which he hopes will convey everything he wishes to say to you.

The moment you smile against his lips, he knows that it does.

“I love you.” A choked confession parts his lips, placing intermittent kisses against your own before trailing even more along your cheek and over your pulse. Arms slide around you, hugging you close as he buries his face within the crook of your neck. A lingering kiss is pressed against the fresh bite mark adorning your skin. “I love you so fucking much.”

Without hesitating, you wrap your own back around him, holding him close. The fingers of your one hand come back up to thread through his wet hair softly. You cradle him to your chest, refusing to let him go anytime soon as your heart beats steadily for the man held within your loving arms.

Kisses are soon trailed from your neck and down over your chest, Seonghwa nuzzling affectionately over your heart. He buries his face against you, soon turning to rest his ear directly above that muscle pumping rhythmically beneath your skin.

A tender glance upwards is sent your way.

“Are you sure?”

You expression softens, lips tugging upwards lovingly as your whole body relaxes beneath his touch.

“More than anything, My Love,” The hand you have threading through his hair comes around to cradle the side of his face. “I never want another incident like today to occur. I despise seeing you cry, especially when I’m the cause of it.”

Seonghwa looks about ready to protest, but your finger settling gently over his lips quiets him for the time being.

“You are the love of my life, Seonghwa. I promised you forever, just as you did for me.” Gently, you trace your touch over his cheek, caressing your fingertips along his skin. Openly, you admire the beautiful man before you. “I’ve wanted this for a while now, and today only served to solidify my choice. I want to be able to claim you in the same ways that you claim me. I want to be yours. Now, and until forever.”

Pushing himself upwards with his arms, Seonghwa hovers over you. Nothing but tender love and affection can be seen within his gaze, staring down at you so fondly as he admires every inch of your skin. He takes his time trailing his eyes over your body, finally pulling out of you and sliding his palms up your sides.

He licks his lips, some remnants of your blood still clinging to his skin.

“Nothing would make me happier than spending eternity with you, My Queen.” Dark eyes shine so lovingly down at you, pressing another tender kiss to your lips. The way you smile against his skin makes his heart flutter, warmth surging throughout his entire body.

Long since has Seonghwa dreamt of this day. Countless hours have been spent fantasizing about this very moment, bonding you to him in such an intimate way. Sure, you’ve shared each other’s blood enough times before, but this is different. Now, you will become like him.

After this, there is truly no turning back.

Soon, you’ll be able to share in even more pleasures this world has to offer, and he’ll be right by your side through it all. He’ll get to guide you through each new experience, showing you things he’s only ever dreamed about. You’ll be able to share meals with him in more intimate and fulfilling ways, teaching you the ways of his kind and revelling in each and every new discovery you make. Together.

You’ve always been quite efficient at biting and feeding from him, that he cannot wait to watch you make your first kill.

Excitement pours through him, indescribable unconditional love flooding his veins.

Seonghwa knows exactly who that first kill should be.

A loving smile stretches onto his features, staring down at you so fondly. He can smell the way his blood courses through your veins, mixing seamlessly with your own. Softly, his hands caress over the sides of your face, searching your eyes one final time for any uncertainty or hesitance.

He finds none.

Silently, your husband vows to be the last thing you ever see in this life, and the very first thing you see in your next.

With a subtle nod of your head, another soft kiss is being placed upon your lips.

“To the start of our forever.”

With those words, Seonghwa snaps your neck.

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cooliocumbucket · 1 month ago

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WY@

summary: what happens when you're caught during the invincible war by no goggles before he demolishes the guardians and you're "unfriendly" exes in his dimension.

notes: brent faiyaz and no sleep were the inspirations behind this one 🫡

shiesty mark and no!goggles mark are personal faves of mine but I'm sure if i wrote no!goggles like how he's seen 🤔 extra content for them regardless!

feel free to still request!

no goggles!mark x female!reader

tags: dubious consent, rough sex, female!reader, praise kink, mdni, 18+, light angst

i be doing shit i really shouldn't do fr....

"You know you are impossible to keep track of, man!" The alleyway your hunter had you cornered in seemed to grow tighter the further you ran, anywhere literally anywhere seemed to be better.

The dead-end made the reality of your situation feel even more damning and you grappled with what you were turning to face.

Invincible.

"I think you should probably stop there or are you gonna phase through the wall, Kitty Pryde?" He laughed at his own joke as your eyes frantically searched for an exit.

You knew Invincible, of course, you knew the insanely powerful superhero who flew around your city with freedom you wish you had but without the burden of lives, he insisted on saving.

This deranged bizzaro version that stood in front of you, wasn't him, however, and the familiarity he seemed to have with you made it even clearer.

"What is it with you and taking off, dude!?" Invincible asked and your brain flipped through memories to pinpoint when you'd been in the same vicinity.

"I thought with dimensions there were supposed to be like differences?" He pondered out loud, "Subtle but not so subtle shit across the multiverse you know?"

He was floating at first before his feet planted to the ground and personal space didn't exist between you anymore.

He tugged at a loose string on your t-shirt, his touch sending a shiver down your back.

Tears involuntarily began to stream down your face as death seemed to be an edge you were insanely close to teetering over.

"What the fuck are you crying for?" Invincible narrowed his eyebrows together in confusion, "If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be hurt, duh." He rolled his eyes like it was obvious. As if your heart wasn't going to beat out of your chest and explode on the ground at his feet from anxiety.

Your silence must've bothered him, Invincible inspecting your face even closer.

"You don't got anything to say?" He prodded, terrified blinking your response as he grew slightly frustrated.

"Come onnn, say something!" Invincible urged electricity in his eyes.

"Are you really not going to hurt me?"

"Hmmm I could,"On the spot, he wrapped a hand around your throat and you regretted ever learning how to speak, "It wouldn't take like any effort for me to crush your windpipe and pop your head off." You braced for him to do what he described instead he touched his forehead on yours.

"But killing you quick would defeat the purpose of finding you, ya know?"

Without thinking you shoved him as hard as you could from your space, a sudden boldness coursing through you that should've sealed your fate.

Instead he went back to gazing at you, the push having no effect on him in any capacity.

"How the fuck do you know who I am!?" There were plenty of other things you could've asked but your brain was barely processing this interaction to think of them.

Why did it have to be you?

Why were you targeted by the lunatic?

"If two plus two equals four, and portals equal multiple me's then the answer to your question would beee," He grinned at you expectantly, as if you were on a game show.

Like he hadn't just threatened to take your head from your neck.

Deciding to engage him, in the hopes it'd buy you more time you gulped back nerves.

"You're an Invincible who was close with a different me?"

"Ding, ding, ding! We have a lady with common sense!"

"But like in what way?"

'There's no way in hell I was dating this guy' you thouht to yourself, unaware of how wrong you were.

"Now there's a question you should've been asked, dude." His casual nature scared you more than a domineering presence could, in instant it could be switched- the blood that stained his hands was proof, his entire demeanor was proof of it actually.

"We were big-time in love, super duper committed to each other where I'm from, "He pointed between your bodies,"You wouldn't see either of us without the other type spiel."

"Whirlwind high school sweethearts who followed each other to college and what was supposed to be onward to the stars," Invincible prattled on, pumping up the dramatics the more he spoke, the back of his hand pressed onto his forehead for effect. "I loved you more then air, then blood and gore, then-"

"What-" Before you could finish, his hand was already moving making you clamp your mouth closed. The soaring punch he landed on the brick wall behind you crushed the structure the impact of his fist leaving a mini crater. Through your peripheral vision you could see multiple crumbles of cement fall and your feet could feel the reverberate just from how powerful his punch was.

This felt like warning number two.

"You should never interrupt anybody when they're talking, it's like really rude." He spoke deathly serious with a pout that rivaled a puppy dog's.

"I'm sorry." You said shaking, the apology's purpose to placate him but he wasn't easily swayed.

"No, you're not."

"I am." You begged, almost believing yourself but you knew he truly didn't.

That flip was switched again and he was grinning once more.

"Nah you know you're not." The intense gaze he bore into you continued, your eyes drifting for a second and he gripped your chin in place, still smiling, "You aren't different from my y/n at all, and she never meant any apology she gave." Releasing your chin he cracked his neck in boredom, eyes shifting up at the darkening sky.

"You know I'm getting the vibe you aren't interested in what I'm saying, and its honestly super hurtful." Gulping you figured that if the option to talk to him was removed the other one he was thinking wasn't pleasant.

"No I care!" You blurted out, Invincible looking at you without belief.

"You sure you want me to finish?" You thrashed your head up and down making him shrug his shoulders, "Alright, man."

"I made a mistake like any person does, "He waved his hand absent-mindedly, "I killed a couple thousand people and then suddenly it was like a ghost town with us, pun intended."

"You abandoned me, told me you'd love me no matter how much blood I had to spill and then shat on those words like it was nothing. Like what we had was nothing." He couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone even if he tried, his eyes downcast for a second in memory."But at least this time we're starting on an honest foot, hotness."

"Honest foot?"

"You think I did all that work of tracking you down for fucking fun?" Invincinble shook his head with a toothy grin, "I mean I kinda did but without me loving you I'd have no motivation, baby."

"But you just said I abandoned you."

"Yeah, that doesn't mean I don't want you."He scoffed, pursing his lips, "Who in love doesn't have problems?"

To you, you were strangers and to him you were his second chance at control.

"I don't even know you're name."

"It's Mark, Markkk,"He sounded out the syllables, slow. "Say Mark, come on you can do it."

"Mark?" You tested it on your tongue with hesitation but He swooned out loud still, unable to resist kissing you.

His lips crashed against yours, all logic being lost in how passionately he kissed you.

It wasn't gentle or slow he threw all of his emotions onto you at once. His movements were hungry and frenzied each twist of his tongue searching for more of your mouth to taste.

You tapped at his chest for a breath but he only held you tighter moaning into your mouth with a desperation that had you tightening your thighs. The print in his suit rubbed against your front in a sinful rhythm, your pussy becoming wetter by the second.

A thin trail of saliva was your only connection when you finally broke apart but he hadn't dropped his arms from the embrace.

"You never could hold out on me for long!" He bit his bottom lip hard with excitement, "Let's give that you're not the same theory a test."

i think this time i'll be through fr....

"You're soooo good," He slurred his words with so much happiness, dick covered in your cream from how fast and hard he was moving.

Your cheek was smushed against the wall he punched and you could barely keep your balance as he fucked you like a toy.

"Pleaseee," You couldn't get your request out as you came once more, body squirming from good you felt.

Straining to watch your fucked out face, you could hear his frustrated tsking.

"You know this position isn't any good for some face time." Mark flipped you with ease, back hitting the wall as he slid easily in practically purring from how slick your pussy felt.

"Muchhh better." His mask was off and you couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. The darkness in his eyes still hadn't left and what scared you was how it was beginng to spur you on.

"Nobody can ever take me like you can," He panted feverishly, fingers gripping your neck to keep control, "Ever."

"You hear that?" your wetness spoke for you but he still forced your jaw open with his thumb, spit on his hand, "I know you heard my question, what I say about being rude?" Your wrapped your legs around his waist tighter as he slammed you up and down his length on repeat.

"I do!" You sobbed walls clenching around his dick, feeling so full. You'd never been fucked with this much intensity and it was overwhelming.

"Who did that?"He forced your neck down, your eyes stuck on how much of your cum covered his girth.

"You did-" You whimpered gasping when he snapped his hips at a different angle.

"I think it was a team effort." He murmured teasingly in your ear before biting it, strokes becoming sloppier. Your hands rested on his shoulders then went up to hold onto something.

Mark twitched inside you from the sensation of your pulling his hair, and you found yourself hoping he'd fill you to brim with cum.

"Pull it some more," Your fingers sunk into the back of his hair, and you tugged but it wasn't enough,"Harder, as hard as you can!"

You felt like you were about to rip his hair out but as his eyes rolled to the back his head and his thrusting grew more hurried you knew he was close.

Sinking his teeth into your neck as he came, nut dripping onto the ground from how much it was he still continued to fuck into you.

You were just getting started.

#invincible x reader smut #invincible x reader #no goggles mark x reader #no goggles invincible #light angst #invincible #smut

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shaisuki · 9 months ago

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CIGARETTE SMOKE

|| the third entry for the series “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄”

content warnings ─── yandere themes, implied kidnapping, hints of smut, jealousy.

is it bad that you want to take someone just to protect them from this world? aki regretted but doesn't feel bad about it.

we devil hunters don't have the long life to live.

there's a certain annoyance that has been creeping up on me since you joined the division. you clearly didn't belong here and sometimes i would ask myself why are you here? why are you wasting your life in this hellhole for no reason. you're alive. happy. you aren't here for revenge. to avenge your loved ones from the devils. you have no purpose here. you don't belong here.

however it's not my place to dictate someone's choice of being here but you infuriate me to no end that i wished for your demise. i didn't understand why i feel this way towards you. it doesn't make sense. you were a nobody to mine. not the one i should care for but sometimes i can't take my eyes off you.

the gnawing feeling of seeing you so friendly and close to someone like denji makes my blood boil and it's easy to ignore it but i can't not when you're starting to grow on me.

what casual moments between us, i have cherished it. not realizing what effect it could have on me. i started to see you on my dreams. started to crave your presence that i can no longer breath and it hurts me so much that i have started to feel this way to you more than i would like to admit.

then we started to lay on the same bed. where can i hear you breath. feel you under my fingertips. the softness and warmth you provided for simply existing. how it provided the intimacy of comfort and security. drown in the depths of the pools of your eyes that i can no longer swim and sink in to you.

is this what it feels to fall for someone who is close but is distant. how could it be when you're the one who initiated it. how cruel are you but i can't blame you. we simply comforted each other with our bodies and it's my fault that i let myself feel what i wanted to feel.

this would be our last night together. allow me to cherish you. let me feel you. let me sink my teeth unto your skin that you will feel me for days.

the gasps and moans that left your lips breathlessly is the air i breath. say my name the way i like it. say my name as i touch you in places where it brought you pleasure. the stretch marks and scars decorating your skin that i have memorized. the curves and every swell of your body where i have kissed and worshipped. allow me. allow me. allow me. allow me to savor all of it. you won't deprive me of it. i know of it since you're helplessly under me.

that's right. that's how things should be. you and me. nothing else in this world that can stop us. not even the devils.

why won't you be mine?

the thought occured to me. why? we have shared our thoughts. the touch that i came to miss. the kisses that i denied at first and learned to crave. i have touched you. we've exchanged sweet nothings. the string of salivas connecting our lips. my lips on yours and my spent deep inside you. painting your walls white as you came around me. isn't it enough that we belong to each other. you're mine. you're mine. you're mine. you are mine.

so forgive me. forgive me that the last thing you will ever see is the smoke coming from my cigarette as i lay claim on you. protecting you from this cruel world that took the people i loved and i won't let it happen to you. i don't understand myself why i am asking for your forgiveness when i know you won't forgive but it won't hurt to ask. you're too kind and that was your mistake for having me. for letting me in your world that I claimed to be mine.

my thoughts are muddled and the only thing that keeps me sane of my reality is the light coming from the end of my cigarette and your warm body resting beside me. warm. it is a good thing. you're still alive and you'll wake up with me beside you. that's better. is all i can think as i watch my cigarette smoke disappear in the thin air like you were.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #“𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄”#chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #anime smut #yandere x chubby reader #yandere x reader #yandere themes #anime x reader #anime x chubby reader #chainsaw man x chubby reader #yandere aki

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ask-the-pioneer · 10 months ago

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"Yes, I am now heading towards Five Pebbles, the local iterator. I find it funny how I was born and spent my first cycles in the shadow of his superstructure, while being completely oblivious to the existence of this demi-god. And now that I came back here... it feels even more uncanny."

"Though, I really... I really wish Hunter did not abandon me like that. I thought we were meant to go on that mission together? I'm not blind, I know something is wrong with him. We used to go on expeditions in the past, but now that he has a very important payload to deliver and could use some help, he suddenly doesn't need it? I don't understand... I'm more than capable in combat, we make a good team, I thought he was happy with my company?"

"We separated earlier at Farm Arrays. Hunter kept insisting he has to do it alone, despite my pleading. Instead, I was told to head straight to Five Pebbles. I thought we had to visit there anyway? Iterators often use slugcats as messengers, I've learned..."

"Sigh... I feel a little lost all on my own. I miss Hunter already. I hope that, despite everything, he's okay and we will return to NSH soon. But first, I need to pay the local iterator a visit. I'm hoping for some guidance in regards to... ahem... rot, yeah. I heard they've been affected by the disease, too. Maybe they've got an idea on how to manage it? It doesn't hurt to try. Maybe I'll hang around this area for a while to collect as many pearls as possible, then have Five Pebbles read them to me? One of those has to have some kind of instruction on how to treat rot, it has to... I refuse to believe that the disease which plagued iterators for countless cycles is untreatable."

"Uh... the Red One?"

#rain world #rain world au #rain world oc #rw pioneer #slugcat #slugpup #artificer's pups #ask blog #rw five pebbles mention #au lore #rw hunter #marbs knows of rot but doesn't understand that it's not a regular disease #pebbles uses he/him in my AU (sometimes they/them)#in general im trying to align my AU as close to the canon game as possible #unless there's something open-ended #then i go with my own headcanons #(oof sometimes i feel like the stuff i write doesn't sound right... i need a proofreader)

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arjwrites · 10 months ago

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Hi there! Found your account through a moot and wanted to maybe request a Sam x nephilim!reader where he finds out that she had been keeping that she was a nephilim a secret to try and protect him, but the truth comes out when they're on a hunt together? Maybe with established relationship?

Heaven Hellbent- Sam Winchester x Nephilim!Reader

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. Part 1 of the series!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: F!reader! Canon-level violence and language!

A/N: THANKS SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE ON THIS! I literally loved this request so much but really desperately wanted to do it justice, so it took me a little while. Seriously, this was one of my most re-written fics so far. I really wanted to finally get something out to you, but I have a lot more to write on this topic so I AM MAKING IT A SERIES!! This is a bit out of canon context but I really really hope you still enjoy, thank you again for such an amazing prompt and for your patience!

Ever since you had come into Sam's life, things felt lighter. You were this warm, radiating presence that had wrapped itself around every facet of his life. Sometimes, when you lay together late at night, when he would trace your body with his fingers and plant soft kisses on your forehead, he would silently pray- he still did that from time to time- addressing God, fate, the universe, or sometimes simply to whom it may concern, thanking anyone he could for the miracle of you.

You were one of the most skilled hunters Sam had ever encountered. It felt like even having your presence on a hunt was an asset- when you were around, cases were solved quicker, monsters went down easier, and everyone walked away with far fewer injuries. He expressed this to you once, in your early years together.

“It just feels like everything clicks when you’re around. How is it that you make everything so easy?” He had asked you, eyes so full of admiration and innocence. Sweet, clueless Sammy.

“Hmm, I must be a pretty serious good luck charm then, sweetheart. Better keep me around,” you had purred, eliminating the space that separated you in a sensual attempt to change the subject.

Sam chuckled. “I like to think of you as our little guardian angel. My little angel.” Sam ducked down, meeting your lips with a soft, open-mouthed kiss, but not before his words sent a pang of anxiety through your body. It took a moment for you to reciprocate Sam’s kiss- you had to focus all your energy on keeping the lump that had formed in your throat from spilling to the surface.

Hiding your true identity from Sam was the hardest thing you had ever done, and yet the easiest choice you had ever made. You had been with him for years and had watched him and Dean go through so many horrible things. There were so many times you had wished you could step in- so many nightmares that could have been avoided if you had used your powers. But being a nephilim, you couldn’t. Because if you had, you would’ve had Heaven hellbent on your trail. And not just yours- anyone you had ever known or loved. Just the knowledge of your existence was a ticking time bomb, and the last thing you wanted to do was put yet another target on either Winchester’s back.

It wasn’t without hard work that you had gone unnoticed this long. Keeping under the radar had been much easier before you had met Sam. You had spent more years than you could count traveling, reading, learning, anything to fill your seemingly endless time. You didn’t use your powers, didn’t meddle in matters of Heaven or Hell, you just kept a low profile. That was, until you crossed paths with two of the highest profiles out there- Sam and Dean Winchester.

Falling in love with Sam was the last thing you had ever planned to do. But the more time you spent with him, the more you were drawn to him. You marveled at the fact that anyone could meet him and not fall in love- a man so inherently good, so kind, practically an angel in his own right. Sometimes, it felt as though there were three forces that worked to keep you alive- your soul, your grace, and your love for Sam Winchester, all three intertwined, braided together to tether you to the Earth.

So you stayed. You fought alongside Sam and Dean through every battle they faced. You did everything you could, finding ways to use your powers that would go undetected- by heaven and by the Winchesters. You could weaken demons and cast protection towards the boys, speed their healing subtly so that they wouldn’t notice. But there would be times when it would be far too dangerous to even let a glimpse of your powers show. Those were times that you would watch in agony as the man you loved faced horrors beyond your imagination. And those were the times you swore to protect him whenever you possibly could.

Sometimes, however, things wouldn’t go to plan. You and the Winchesters were hunting a demon that had been causing trouble in a nearby town. Dean had suggested the three of you split up to try to catch the demon by surprise. You had protested, but the moment he barked the order, him and Sam had split, leaving you behind. You cursed to yourself, silently willing that you would find the demon first so you could smite him with ease and not risk either brother’s safety.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t quite worked out that way. It had been well over an hour with no luck as you searched the stretch of abandoned warehouses. And neither you nor Dean could reach Sam’s phone. Fear set into your heart, a cocktail of worry and grace coursing through your veins. Your whole body was buzzing- normally, you would stop to calm it to avoid revealing yourself, but a horrible intuition left you no choice but to use it as fuel.

Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes blinked open, the dull pain in his head sharpening as he regained contact with his senses. There was a rope tied around him, anchoring him to a rickety chair and rubbing abrasively against his biceps.

“Sam Winchester. Good to see ya, champ. Rare to find you without your partner in crime these days.” Blinking back the spots in his vision, Sam’s eyes focused on the man in front of him- scratch that, the demon, as revealed by a quick flash of black.

Sam, struggling against his restraints, retorted. “Dean will be here-”

“Who said anything about Dean?” The demon cut him off, cocking his head. “I’m talking about your other little… friend. How’s it been, running all around town with that pet abomination of yours?” His smile was sickening, and there was something sinister about his words. He knew something Sam didn’t, and that was never a good thing.

“What are you talking about,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth.

“Nice try, Sam. Better get talking.” The demon sent Sam’s chair flying back into the wall to punctuate his command.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” The demon pulled Sam’s chair back to him.

“Oh, you really don’t know? Scout’s honor?” He paced a lap around Sam, lurking over him as spite radiated off his every stride. “That crafty little bitch. That’s too bad, I was hoping to ask you a few questions… I guess I have no use for you, but why not break the news before I kill you? Secrets don’t make friends, right?” He knelt, drawing himself eye to eye with Sam, before practically spitting the words. “That pretty little girlfriend of yours is really a-”

Before the demon could finish the thought, he was flat against the wall and screaming his way back to Hell. Sam, still tied to the chair, had a view limited to the empty room in front of him and the vessel the demon once possessed, now slumped in a pile on the floor. He released a breath, having watched the danger dissipate, before tensing back up. Whatever was behind him was powerful. He could feel every hair standing up on the back of his neck as his pulse began to pick up rapidly. Something was screaming inside him, begging him to get out, get away.

“Oh, Sammy. This wasn’t supposed to happen this way,” called the creature from behind him. The words hung heavy in the air, tinged with heartbreak. Sam froze. He knew the origin of the voice, but it couldn’t be. He whispered your name and you came running.

“Sam, sweetheart. Are you okay?” You knelt to the floor in front of him, unsheathing your knife to cut away his binds.

Sam simply stared in response, mouth slightly agape and confusion nestling into his furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“Cat’s out of the bag, I guess. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want it to happen this way.” Guilt weighed heavy on you, as if you had done something horribly wrong. No, it was always to keep him safe, you reminded yourself.

Sam sat dumbfounded a moment longer. “What are you?” he finally coughed out. It was as if asking the question had triggered his brain to process the situation, and he tensed in preemptive self-defense.

This was it. No going back now. “I’m a nephilim, Sam.” Saying the words out loud felt like lifting the world off your own shoulders and watching it crash down all around you.

Your confession melted Sam’s expression into a series of reactions. You watched him work through the idea as if he was tossing your heart back and forth in his hands, weighing its pros and cons.

“Please tell me you understand why I didn’t tell you, Sam. Why I couldn’t-”

Sam’s tone was tense- his lack of reaction almost made things worse. “There’s no way you didn’t tell me about this. I’ve- we’ve known you for-”

“For years, Sam! Before you knew there were even angels, before Dean went to Hell, before you had any idea about the bigger picture! That just goes to show you, Sam- I’m not part of any of this! I’ve kept my head down for thousands of years, not raising any flags or drawing any attention to myself. And then I met you- I met you and I had to love you, Sam, I had to. And then I had to watch you go through so much pain and suffering and all I wanted to do was help however I could but I-”

“But you couldn’t. Because it would put you in danger.” If Sam had landed on a stance, you sure couldn’t decipher it. His voice was soft and gentle, but his jaw flexed and his expression narrowed.

“It would put you in danger too, Sam. And Dean. And everyone else.” Your response was quick, calculated. You had played this conversation out too many times in your head. Except you never had thought very far beyond the why didn’t you tell me and into the well what the hell do we do now?

There was silence for a beat.

“The demon knew.” Sam spoke somberly, like he was hand-delivering you a death sentence.

“And now you know,” you contended, defeated. A heartbroken breath wracked through your body, shuddering out of your lungs as you stabilized yourself to avoid teetering over. It was like the wind had been knocked out of you- like you and the man you loved most in the whole world had been plucked from safety and tossed out into open season.

“So what does this mean?” Sam’s tone sat on the fence between concern for your apparent emotions and the fear and confusion that had characterized the rest of your exchange.

“It means you can’t tell a soul, Sam. Not Dean, not anyone. Anyone who knows is at risk. And it means I… should probably leave.” Your stomach churned as you spoke. All of your worst fears were materializing in front of you. Try as you might, even your powers couldn’t zap them away. Your eyes rose to meet Sam’s, and finally, you could read his expression with clarity.

“No,” Sam shook his head.

“Sam, I can’t put you in danger-”

“And I can’t lose you!” You recoiled at his outburst. “I can’t lose you.” The second utterance was softer, bearing a greater resemblance to the sweet words Sam often shared with you.

“Sam, if anyone finds out…” you pleaded. As much as it broke your heart, you couldn’t bear to put Sam in any more danger.

“They won’t. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.” Sam’s gaze was intense as he studied you. It was as if he was learning you all over again- like you were someone brand new to him. And yet, you could still see the love in his eyes. You were still you, after all. This was just a new layer of you. Sam had promised to love you, all of you. And if nothing else, he was a man of his word. He lifted a hand to your cheek and ran a thumb over your cheekbone, as if maybe you might feel different under his touch. And when you didn’t, his last scraps of hesitance melted away. Tears welled in your eyes.

“Just… promise me not to tell Dean until we figure this out.”

“Promise not to tell me what?”

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musedeluce · 6 months ago

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Failure to Communicate

Sylus X Reader - (In which Sylus learns the hard way that he must actually tell his partner his plans)

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Fluff, slight miscommunication, hospitalization.

A/n: This is set rather early in their relationship. After it becomes cordial but before it becomes openly romantic.

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You were quite good at calculating the outcomes of all kinds of situations. Honestly, it was an extremely useful skill to have, but it wasn’t needed in this particular situation. Anyone paying attention could see that you and Sylus were about 10.9.8.7.6.5. seconds from careening straight off a cliff, into some dark chasm.Right before your determined “point of no return” you grabbed him and wrenched you both off the motorcycle. There was an extremely disturbing crunch as you hit the ground, and seconds later you were cradled in reddish black shadows while sliding forward. The pain in your arm was searing, and honestly this might be the worst break you’ve ever been through in your life. But, you as a hunter have broken bones before, and you were able to keep your wits about you as you slowly come to a stop, not three feet from the chasm’s edge.

Sylus is running up to you, looking uncharacteristically shaken. It’s a relief to see that he’s okay. Immediately, he inspects your arm and makes sure that’s the only thing that’s broken. Then, the two of you are at an impasse, looking at each other silently. The bike, annoyingly, is unharmed.

“Sweetie, if you wanted off the bike all you had to do was ask.” His deep voice is smooth, but the slightly longer pause after he called you that pet name betrayed how shaken he was.

“Sure, because the situation was totally under your control.” You clutch your arm, and his eyes flicker to it as he winces ever so slightly. “It genuinely looked and felt like we were about to careen of a cliff! What the actual fuck? Even if you’re pissed, I. Do. Not. Care. That was the only action I could take to make sure you didn’t plunge five stories downward.”

“Sweetheart...” Sylus switched to using the full version of the pet-name he usually called you. Well, that and Kitten. “The fact you got hurt is what pains me the most. While I am mad at that stunt, I failed to communicate what was going on, and you acted on the information you did have.” His smile now is somewhat insolent. “I’m flattered you were so worried about me, to the point you ignored that you’d be going down with me.”

“What even was going on?”

“I was going to use my evol to maneuver over the edge of the chasm. It has the benefits of being a shortcut, and a surprise.”

“I know you’re used to working alone, and I know you’re used to not explaining your actions but I swear to whatever deities may exist, you have got to start telling me shit like this. Now the mission is a failure.” You’re clutching your arm to your chest, tightly, because every time your arm moves, intense, stabbing pain burrows through the length of it.

“Come on.” Sylus gently lifts you up, providing support as you stand. “Let’s get you fixed up.” The N109 Zone isn't quite known for being an extremely safe and lovely place to live, let alone state of the art medical facilities, but he'd be damned if you weren't going to get the best possible medical treatment he could provide. Hence, how you found yourself expertly bandaged up with your arm in a cast and on a morphine drip in "the finest back alley clinic you'll ever visit.”

“It’s a good thing I used some vacation time for this” you joked, trying to ease the tension in the minuscule room. The twins and Sylus are crammed in as well, making you feel like a sardine. Although you address them all, your gaze catches on Sylus's intense red eyes as he takes your hand, holding it tightly but gingerly. You can see a myriad of emotions swirling in them, worry, relief and anger all conveyed in his intense stare.

"How do you feel?" Sylus has lost is teasing lilt, genuinely asking after your well being.

"Hmmm. Not that bad, I'm in a fair amount of pain but it's more of a dull sort, probably thanks to the drugs. I'm also quite thirsty and hungry, actually." A glance to the twins from Sylus, and they immediately took action. "On it, Boss! We'll bring water and foods gentle on the stomach" Kieran saluted and they both left the room. Sylus still hasn't let go of your hand, and in fact holds it with both of his.

"Sweetie. You surely must know how I adore you. It would be devastating for me to lose you, and because you protected me? All that matters is that You're alive. That you're okay. Why would you do that? "

"Aren't we supposed to protect each other? I was just trying to do that, and there wasn't any time to consider alternate courses of action. Even with your evol, I doubt you'd enjoy being dashed to the ground at terminal velocity. ”

Sylus chuckles, brightening just a bit for a moment. "You know, I'm quite angry at myself for not preventing this. And slightly frustrated with you for your pragmatic thinking." His eyes rove over your bandages. "I will say thank you, as owed though. Thank you for protecting me." A playful smile graces his lips after he finishes speaking and he brings your hand up to his face, pressing it to his cheek and leaning in. "While I do so appreciate your protection, please don't do that ever again. All your efforts to save and protect me would be undone by the simple fact of your death."

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#love and deepspace #fanfic #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #lads sylus x reader #sylus x reader #He's the hardest for me to write I think

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professional-jaywalker · 2 months ago

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Paradox of perspectives

An essay about a variety of my arthropod experiences, and how I go about linking / provoking temporary cameo shifts.

I do not talk about my arthropod experiences much. I am arthropod-hearted, that much is very blatant about me from what I study to how I spend my time and what I love to read about.

I do not consider myself a spider. I could have. A lot of my experiences line up with the average therian; I feel shifts, I've felt phantom limbs, once or twice, similarly few to how my bird phantom present themselves when I don't coax them out, I've had a similar "rightness" to some kinds of spiders (and a few other arthropods) that roadrunners, and things that look like roadrunners, elicit in me. However, I am not a spider. I'm a few feet to the left of being a spider, and if I squint and tilt my head, perhaps I could have been one, or perhaps have been and that's a bit of leftover from that time past, if souls exist, but I am not one, not in the way I am a bird. And while I would choose to have feathers if I could, I am fine with now observing spiders as a separate entity to myself, more than a reflection of what I should be.

However, I still know what it feels like, to be a spider. In fact, it is from this experience that I started to amuse myself to see if I could also provoke shifts from other arthropods I enjoyed learning about, a stepping stone into shapeshifting as an amateur hobby. I'm not sure in what box to display that spider. Not a kintype. Not a linktype, as it is the only one of my arthropod experiences that was not voluntary. A little bit more than what's typically expected of a heart-type. If I got fancy, I could call it an antea-type, a past life still leaving a mark, but I am not very spiritual, so that feels shallow as well. I suppose it will stay "the spider".

There are few arthropods around. Not none, I've talked to a few, most notably a cockroach, a few moths, a few wasps, at least one centipede, and a variety of chimeric insectoid monsters. A few spiders, as well, I think, but never enough to compare my experiences to. I've found it unsatisfying, to try and seek out arthropod experiences, as a lot of it tends to simply stay in the clear water of the experience : rudimentary "I looked at that picture, and it felt right", or "I felt wings, and it was similar to a moth". Not that it's a bad, incorrect way to experience it, but it doesn't tend to leave my curiosity sated. So here are all the notes I've had about being a variety of arthropods, from my spider, to the ones I shed into at my leisure, to others like me who like unnecessarily long descriptions of Being.

First of all, title drop. Why a paradox of perspective? To me, the red line between all earthen arthropods (and affiliate) I've been is that alien feeling. Yet the world very much is not! It is all things I can still interact with, still find if I try. Noemata of being a spider involve a complex, labyrinthine world of crossing shadows and movement. Noemata of being an endoparasite involve warmth and pulsating rhythm. The centipede was mostly touch and speed and grasp in lush-moist hidden places. When I try to depict them, to a human scale, I easily end up with fantastical worlds. The rotten vale of Monster Hunter, for the filarial worms that migrate through the body. More decayed, but I feel in it that pulsating warm rhythm, although perhaps there are better analogues. Pandora and it's web of vegetation are a human-sized version of any small woods, when you're a half a centimeter long predatory beetle. Being something so small does feel alien, when I am now part of the megafauna. Every snapshot I get, when applied to human size, becomes gargantuan and unfathomable to see on earth.

Maybe that's one reason why they're so rare. How do you realize you were something so small, when it feels so grandiose. It's hard to drop to your knees, angle your eyes, and realize your Yggdrasil was never even the biggest of its kind. It is why I love becoming insects, though. It has a way of making you treasure the small.

When it comes to being a spider, I can only approximate. I have not chosen, so I must piece back what I was given. It was also shared with a long gone person who shared my mind, so I can only keep what belonged only to me. Some pieces were rather vague. I could not explain why I know I should have venom. I just knew it was how something like I was, killed. Perhaps I would not even, at the time, have known that's what it was, really. Simply a part of life. The sun lifts in the sky. Water is wet. My chelicerae pierce and liquefy. It wasn't really even the most important part of the hunt for what I was, just the finale. My hunt was not making something delicate and vicious that would ensnare for me, nor was it a brutal rushdown. I was mechanical. A biological bear-trap. Becoming More Spider meant patience to an inhuman degree (although inhuman is to be expected), it meant reactive more than proactive. I only had bribes, but it was almost meditative, to be a spider, and I quite liked it. In symbiosis with that other-mind, I could feel his phantom book lungs (like gills upon my ribs), and the phantom pattern of his eyes upon my face (not that much vision. shades mostly, clear and dark. movements.). Long, grasping limbs to each side, set apart like a jaw (strong, sensitive, like a gun-trigger). Able to fold itself flat, to become the wall it stands on (pneumatics of inner workings, fluids in and out). Whatever it was, it liked shade and coolness and moisture. It disliked movement above it, but did not exactly flee it, it simply hid better and waited. It could be fast, when it was time, but for the most part, it was simply silent.

It's a bit hard, to make a whole from bits, especially something I'm not all the time. With being a bird, I can simply reflect on myself anytime, and that is simply what I am. With the spider, I kind of had to vivisect bits and pieces when and where they happened, and that was kinda all, unless I provoked more of it, which is what I ended up doing. I played dress up with a variety of creatures that felt similar enough, to see what felt right. I tried tailless whip scorpions, but while the grasping of the forearms were right, and Feeling more than any other sense was too, the long thin whips were not quite something I'd felt before, and it lacked that inherent Venom that my brain informed me I should have. Huntsman and wolf spiders were fun. So fun that I kind of hoped that would be it, for a long time. They were something very interactive to be, perhaps not as much as a jumping spider, I've never tried that, but a lot more of a rush than mystery spider. But that feeling of being something fast wasn't right, and the feeling of grasper, while more right with Heteropoda, did not fit wolf spiders at all. I actually realized the most likely culprit pretty recently, while watching the woods near my house. There is in fact all matters of little lethal biological bear traps littered all over the flowers, like decadently dressed death angels for bees and flies alike : Flower crab spiders. I adore them, now that I know where to look for them. I've lived near these woods all my life, yet I'd never spotted them. Thomisus onustus, Synema globosum, Runcinia grammica, Heriaeus hirtus and probably more I've not met yet. I don't quite think my mystery spider is one of them, but almost. If I had to guess, it was some sort of Xysticus, or something analogous. A ground crab spider. I might be wrong, this not an exact science, it's hard to interpret what could very well be figments of my mind. But I am quite satisfied with that answer, at the moment.

So that's arthropod number 1 I've been, the one I've been the most and the one who taught me how to shapeshift.

It takes me some time to manage to decent attempt at something I've never even slightly been. It's easy to have parts. I can feel a wasp's ocelli, a dragonfly larva's mandible or a pair of earwig wings just fine, as long as I have references for it. It's just a matter of visualization, really. I draw as a hobby. I see provoking a shift in myself just like drawing, just with sensations. Take a mantis's raptorial limb. Pull up an anatomy drawing. My upper arm becomes a coxa. The elbow, the trochanter, then the forearm, the femur. My hand fuses, and becomes the tibia. I cannot fold it right, but I can feel the weight of the spines along the ridges, I can feel where it should fold and lock together like well oiled machinery. Then the tarsus, which currently feels like it should erupt from my middle finger, feeling strangely appropriate to type with. Too short, in a human body, but similarly bendy, lacking the two hooks at the end. It's a vague one, and as I am writing this, I can simply shake it out and come back to a more neutral state of human-bird confusion, a more comfortable mix when it comes to operating a keyboard.

It tends to become tricky when it comes to adding everything up. I can have a mantis's arm, but then I must maintain it, and add it's head, with its complex set of mandibles, of antennas, of eyes-made-of-eyes. One limb needs to become six, and my body starts to glitch. A bird, a tetrapod, is already somewhat complex, my human arms are both wings and bird feet analogue. What's an analogue to that third pair of limbs, where do they go? I tend to prefer to lie down when I figure out how to optimally place and draw those feelings, eyes closed, so my human feelings do not overlap too much. Even better in the dark. Once it's set, I can then usually trigger it again later, and it'll put itself in place naturally.

It was easier with something as simple as the Filaria worm, although highly dependent on me doing... not much. I did not really need to focus on phantoms then, just on the mind. The mind is not something you can easily find reference from, and to be honest, I would say whatever I feel is most likely a simulacrum of what it's like, after all I do not stop having human neurons during the experiment. But that's not really the point, is it, the point is just that it's fun. The Filaria, amusingly enough, I provoked out of loneliness. I wondered what it must feel like, to be something that is never lonely, because it lives inside something else, constantly surrounded by both it's peers and the thing that nourishes it. It was mostly sensations, what I felt, strangely easy to slip into, perhaps because I have experience with writing parasites for myself.

Back when I was not medicated, I would see the world breathe, sometimes, pulse and writhe, walls tensing and releasing, floor moving beneath my feet. The nematode felt something similar, in my mind. Warmth all around, each heart-beat a pulse, world around you contracting flowing writhing singing. Many-many others around you. Forward, without reason. Not much with reason, simply following the song. It is honestly one of the most pleasant shifts I've ever had. No fear. Nothing to flee. Death is simply a possibility of the world that also nourishes you. You cannot escape it, as there is no other world to escape too, and you are simply here, and you must go forward, and that is all. So no fear. It changes nothing. Blissfully nihilistic. The only glimpses I get are of the stage inside the body, perhaps another would be a different tune, but I'm satisfied with what I saw.

I'd say the mind will be easier to reach for writers than for visual artists. You can cross-reference, after all, since I do consider I am channeling a soul, I do not find it particularly less interesting to build that mind through readings of scientific papers that, too, try to imagine what it is like to be something else. To go back to the mantis, I suppose I chose an easy one for me to be. It is once again something that stays in wait. However, it is a lot more active, a lot more visual, than my spider. How would that feel? What colors would I see? Where are my sensors to the world in that body? What would I fear? What would I seek? That's when having the body down gets handy, to me. I simply provoke it, sometimes I do little rituals, to tie it to certain accessories or knick-knack, as I find it helps me focus. Shapeshifted, feeling the foreign limbs and foreign sensations, I find it easier to slip into a foreign mind. Everything becomes new. The woods near my house are discovered for a thousandth time with new eyes. The spider sought out moisture and shade, and silence. The centipede sought warmth, long coiled body spanning meters, then a hunt, but everything was too small, so it waited, touch-tasted, inquisitive. Perhaps the mantis would seek an elevated zone, with luxurious foliage to hide itself, and would observe. I should try it sometimes.

Perhaps my experiments with arthropods will help some new people attempt more impermanent forms of linking, quite frankly i do not think it is the time spent that makes the serious of an identity, but it is hard even for me to separate the two sometimes, with how tied they were in old forum culture (not even touching on the idea of, gasp, voluntary identity and experiences being worthy). Honestly, I recommend trying it because it is fun. So a little challenge to readers : I would love for you to pick something, become it, and come back to tell me about it. Bonus points if it's some flavor of arthropod-like. Good luck!

#otherlink #therian #therianthropy #alterhuman #bugkin #not sure what to tag this honestly #spider therian #essay

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gravity-between-us · 1 month ago

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Gravity Between Us

Chapter 3: Cosmic Ruin

Summary: Caleb and I have known each other for as long as I can remember. We were once childhood friends, our bond as natural as the stars in the sky. But now, everything has changed. What used to feel like a safe, familiar orbit between us now pulses with unspoken desire.

Our friendship is no longer enough to keep the tension at bay, and the distance between us feels unbearable. Secrets, lies, and unhealed wounds stand in our way. I don’t know if we can survive this new gravity pulling us together... but I can’t keep pretending I don’t want to try.

Pairing: Female! MC x Caleb

Spoilers: Spoilers for Caleb's Myth's as well as memories. Read at your own risk for these. Lore spoilers.

WARNINGS:

Unlikely to be completely canon. The other love interests will not be likely to appear in this fic.

MC is named. MC is socially awkward. MC can be depressed at times.

Very? Slow Burn.

Very explicit smut (Chapter 12 onward): PiV/oral (male and female receiving)/anal sex. Fingering. First time. Pet names (angel, babe, baby, pip-squeak). Kinks: Praise, breeding, creampie, light dom/sub. Rough. Some consensual degradation talk (MC is into it). Probably many, many more that I am forgetting to name. If you see one that should be listed that isn't, feel free to let me know. (MC is a repressed deviant, and so is Caleb.)

Awkward blend of darker moments, angst, fluff, and humour.

Drinking. Questionable life decisions. MC spirals.

Protective Caleb. Both MC and Caleb are a little obsessive and overly protective of each other, which could be considered an unhealthy relationship.

We will revisit memory scenes, but they will be different from the memories in-game.

As proofread as I can get it, but not beta read, so probably some mistakes.

Limited plot - most focus is just on their relationship and interactions.

More warnings could be applied, but as a general rule of thumb, please read at your own risk and do not continue if you find the content triggering.

The house is too quiet. I blink blearily at the landing pad, my sluggish brain taking too long to register what my eyes already know—Caleb’s aircraft is gone. It’s not unusual. He leaves early for duty all the time. But today, it feels… off. The space he’s left behind is heavier than it should be, like his absence has seeped into the walls, the air—into my bones.

I shuffle to the couch and collapse onto it, sinking into the cushions with a slow exhale. My limbs feel leaden, my mind foggy, like I’m moving through molasses, but I tell myself it’s just the morning. Just the remnants of sleep clinging to me like a second skin.

I tell myself a lot of things these days.

The silence stretches as I stare at nothing, trying to get my head on straight. My thoughts are a tangled mess, threads knotted so tight I don’t know where to start unravelling them.

Emotions have never been my strong suit. Not since Gran. Not since Caleb. Since they were declared dead, something inside me shorted out, like a failsafe I didn’t know existed kicked in to keep me from shattering. I flicked a switch and shut it all off because the alternative was unbearable. Grief felt too big, too endless—like drowning with no shore in sight.

So I threw myself into my work.

Being a Hunter meant never having to stop, never having to think, never having to feel. Every mission was a reason to keep moving, every fight a distraction, every kill a release. Adrenaline was easier to chase than ghosts. Blood was easier to wash away than memories.

It worked. Until it didn’t.

Pain, I’ve learned, is a funny thing.

Physical pain is predictable. It follows rules. A cut will sting, a bruise will ache, a bone will break and knit itself back together in time. You learn its language, its patterns, how to endure and wield it. You can grit your teeth through it, drown it in med gel, push past it until it fades into something distant and dull.

But emotional pain?

It doesn’t obey. It doesn’t follow a script. It seeps into the cracks of your mind like ink spilled on paper, bleeding into places it doesn’t belong. It warps time, making days stretch too long and nights pass too fast. It steals the colour from the world, leaves everything muted, drained, and hollow.

And the worst part?

You can’t outrun it. Not forever.

I press my palms against my eyes and let out a slow breath. I don’t know how long I sit there, lost in my head, but eventually, I sigh and let my hands drop, staring up at the ceiling. I need to move, to work—to exhaust myself before my thoughts drown me.

The gym is quiet, save for the steady thud of my feet against the treadmill. The rhythmic pace, the hum of the machine beneath me, the burn building in my limbs—it helps ground me, gives me something to focus on besides the ghosts clawing their way up from the depths of my mind.

But no matter how fast I run, they follow.

Caleb’s voice, low and teasing, calling me "pip-squeak" like it’s second nature. The way his fingers skim my ankle, kneading lazy circles into my foot while we sit on the couch.

The treadmill beeps, signalling the end of my run. I don’t hesitate. I move straight to the weights, pressing through the burn, chasing exhaustion—but it doesn’t stop the flood.

Him spinning me around last night, laughter tangled with mine, the heat that sparked when the moment stretched just a little too long.

I drop the weights onto the rack, my breathing uneven, sweat dripping down my spine. My muscles ache, but it’s not enough. I cross the gym in a few quick strides and slam my fists into the punching bag. The leather gives beneath my knuckles with a satisfying resistance.

I hit it again. And again.

Caleb used to be an open book to me. I knew every thought before he spoke it, every shift in his expression, every flicker of emotion behind his eyes. Now, there are pages missing—whole chapters he won’t let me read. Shadows cling to him in ways they never did before. Pain he won’t name. Secrets he won’t share.

I don’t know how to bridge that gap.

After my shower, my muscles ache, and my knuckles throb with the telltale promise of bruises. I feel like an overcooked piece of pasta as I sink onto the couch, remote in hand, flipping through the endless black hole of television channels.

There’s nothing on. Or maybe there is, but my brain refuses to process any of it. Every channel blends together into an indistinguishable mess of colour and noise. I should be able to relax, to let the exhaustion in my limbs lull me into something resembling peace, but my thoughts are restless.

Of course, they drift right back to him.

Slipping into bed beside him. The way his hand found my back in his sleep, fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt like he couldn’t bear for me to leave. The steady, rhythmic sound of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest beneath my palm. The feel of his skin beneath my fingertips—warm, solid, real.

Nope. Absolutely not.

I cannot sit here and think. Clearly, that is bad for me. I need a distraction.

Like divine intervention, it hits me.

Drinking.

Yes. That is the answer. A responsible, definitely healthy coping mechanism—just a little to take the edge off.

I make a beeline for Caleb’s liquor cabinet, fully prepared to make some questionable life choices. Unfortunately, my plan encounters an immediate roadblock. Apparently, Caleb does not stock normal alcohol. No wine. No beer. No fruity little drinks that go down easy, and let me pretend I am not actively making a mistake.

No, what he has is a collection of bottles with labels that look like they were designed for space mercenaries with a death wish. Dark Matter Blackout. Nebula Burn. Void’s Mercy. That last one feels ominous, but I grab it anyway.

I pour myself a shot. It smells like regret. I take it anyway. It burns like fire and bad decisions.

Perfect.

One more shot. Then another. By the time I down the third, my head feels pleasantly light, my body loose, the tension in my muscles finally unspooling.

Yet I still cannot sit still.

So I do the next logical thing: I turn on some music. Loud enough to make the floor vibrate beneath my feet, loud enough for the bass to thrum in my bones, loud enough to drown out every single thought trying to claw its way back into my head.

Then, because I am apparently on a roll with making excellent choices, I decide now is the perfect time to clean.

Everything.

Every room, every surface. I scrub, I dust, I straighten, I organize. I throw myself into it with an enthusiasm that should honestly concern me. The floors gleam. The kitchen sparkles. I rearrange the throw pillows three separate times before deciding their original placement was, in fact, superior.

The house is immaculate—a sharp, perfect contrast to the absolute mess inside my head.

At some point, between scrubbing down the counters and aggressively reorganizing the bookshelf, I pick up the bottle and start using it as a microphone.

Unfortunately for literally everyone who has ever possessed the ability to hear, I am now in full concert mode.

I crank the music even louder and dance like an absolute menace through the house—spinning, swaying, shaking my hips like I am the only person in the universe. Which, technically, I am. At least in this house. I belt out the lyrics, horribly off-key, the bottle clutched in my hand like a mic, and I am killing it.

Caleb is missing out. I am a vision. A drunk, chaotic vision.

Mid-spin, a new brilliant idea strikes me.

The furniture.

It is all wrong.

Which means, obviously, I must fix it.

I grab the couch and drag it to a new spot. Step back. No. Not right. I shove it to the other side of the room. Step back. Still wrong. The coffee table gets moved next. Then the side table. Then the couch again.

I am locked in a battle of wills with this furniture.

And I am losing.

I reach for the bottle to soothe the sting of my failure—tilt it back—nothing.

I blink and shake it. As if the laws of physics might bend to my will and magically refill it.

They do not.

Betrayal. How could Caleb let this happen? How could he have the audacity, the unmitigated gall, to not predict that I would one day get tipsy and need more alcohol than he has stocked?

I grab my phone, thumbs flying across the screen.

Inara: Wow. Unbelievable. Truly. I have never known such disappointment. Caleb: … What? Inara: You. Have failed me. Caleb: Okay. I feel like I should be apologizin’, but I don’t know what for. Inara: I am in crisis, Caleb. Crisis. And where are you? Off gallivanting around, leaving me to fend for myself. Caleb: … I went to work. Inara: Question. How do you feel about change? Caleb: What did you do? Inara: Why do you always assume I did something? I just had a thought. A vision. A great and powerful idea. Caleb: Oh no. Inara: What if… hear me out… we completely reinvented the living room? Caleb: … Caleb: What does that mean? Did you move the furniture? Inara: I am taking creative initiative for our shared space. Caleb: Where is the couch? Inara: Currently… in an experimental location. Caleb: Where. Inara: TBD. Caleb: … Caleb: Is it upside down? Inara: Not right now.

At this point, I toss the phone aside because this conversation is going absolutely nowhere. With a sigh, I yank open the cabinet and reach for another bottle, tucked away behind a terrifyingly strong one labelled Celestial Burn: Nova Strength Whiskey—which, frankly, sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen. Instead, I grab Black Hole Rum—Guaranteed to Suck You In.

Hm. Promising.

I take a swig straight from the bottle, wincing at the burn, then turn back to the disaster I’ve created.

The living room is in ruins. Half the furniture is positioned at angles that defy logic, like some kind of avant-garde art piece that only makes sense to the deeply unhinged. The couch is half-shoved against the wall, one leg somehow balanced on a precarious stack of books. The coffee table isn’t anywhere near the couch—just abandoned mid-movement, off to the side. Pillows are scattered across the floor like casualties of war.

It’s fine. It just needs… adjustments.

My brain stutters over itself for a moment before latching onto an entirely useless thought.

Caleb’s elbows.

His elbows.

Why? Who knows.

But suddenly, I can’t stop thinking about them—how they’re weirdly sharp yet somehow elegant. Is this a thing? Do people have attractive elbows? What is he doing to them? Moisturizer? Elbow exercises??

I scowl at absolutely nothing.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It must be the living room. The energy in here is all wrong. I need to fix it. Now.

Naturally, I launch myself back into the chaos, frantically dragging things around again, as if physically rearranging furniture might somehow realign the absolute mess in my head.

The living room remains a battlefield of terrible decisions and increasingly questionable interior design choices. I’ve tried every possible configuration—from asymmetry to something that’s probably a fire hazard. Nothing feels right. The universe is mocking me.

I stumble through the wreckage, gripping the bottle of Black Hole Rum like a lifeline, belting out the lyrics to some ancient pop song with the confidence of a rock star and the vocal accuracy of a malfunctioning AI.

Somewhere between a dramatic twirl on the rug and an ill-advised attempt to launch myself off the couch (which, to be fair, is mostly where it’s supposed to be), I realize the problem.

The real problem.

The root cause of my complete mental breakdown disguised as an impromptu home renovation.

Caleb.

I march to my bedroom, nearly tripping over an upturned chair, and grab the apple plushie from my bed. It’s soft. Innocent. Blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits it.

Flopping onto the floor amid the wreckage, I cross my legs and cradle the plushie as if it were Caleb himself. I glare at its stupid, stitched-on smile.

“You.” I jab a finger into its round little body. “This is your fault.”

It does not respond. Probably because it’s a stuffed apple.

I poke it again, more aggressively this time. “How dare you have such… offensively attractive forearms? And those elbows!” I shake the plushie like it can be reasoned with. “They’re not supposed to look that good, Caleb! They’re just bones! But noooo, even your damn bones are irritatingly good-looking! Why?”

The apple remains unimpressed.

I flop backward onto the floor with a groan. “I know you’re not actually Caleb. I’m not that far gone.” A pause. “…But if you were Caleb, I’d be yelling at you for scrambling my brain like this.”

I hold the plushie up, squinting into its beady little eyes. “This is your fault,” I mutter again, smushing its round face. “Your. Fault.”

Since the universe has a cruel sense of humour, it’s then that I hear the distant hum of engines, and my head snaps up.

I’m on my feet in an instant, pressing myself against the living room window like some kind of elite super spy. I think I’m being subtle.

I am not.

Caleb’s aircraft touches down smoothly, its sleek frame reflecting the evening light. The second the hatch opens, he steps out in his crisp uniform.

Colonel Caleb.

I sneer. He looks stupidly good in that uniform. I hate that uniform. All stiff formality, Fleet-approved rigidity, silent reminders of things I really don’t want to think about right now.

But also—ugh.

He looks obnoxiously good in it.

Caleb pauses at the bottom of the ramp, frowning. He definitely hears the music. His eyes sweep toward the house.

I duck lower, convinced I am hidden.

I am very visibly pressed against the glass.

I snort to myself. Angry. Happy. Frustrated. Relieved.

Because despite my spiralling, despite my brain being an absolute mess of elbows and bad decisions, I’m just glad he’s home.

Caleb steps inside, and his entire body tenses. He gawks, slack-jawed, at the disaster that was once a living room. The music is still blaring at full volume, and I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s staring at me like I’ve completely lost my mind.

I ignore the look. Irrelevant.

Instead, I scurry up to him—though, in my haste, I definitely trip over myself, catching a foot on the rug that I swear wasn’t there a second ago.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

I right myself and throw my arms around him, squeezing tightly before shoving my face against his shoulder—

And sniffing him.

Oh. Oh, he smells good. Too good. Unfairly good. That stupidly crisp, clean scent with just a hint of dark amber, spice, and him beneath it.

It is, quite frankly, mouth-watering.

I hum against his jacket in approval. He goes completely still. "Okay," he says slowly, his voice half-drowned by the music. "What—"

I cut him off before he can move, change, comment, or fix things. I grab his hand and yank, dragging him straight into the war zone that is our living room.

"Alright, resonate with me." I stop in the middle of the mess, gripping his hands and staring at him intently.

Caleb blinks. "What?"

I shake our joined hands as if that will somehow help. "Resonate with me. Right now. I need you to feel this with me."

He tilts his head, bending slightly to peer into my probably glassy, unfocused eyes. “Pip-squeak, are you drunk?"

"That’s not the important part here," I conclude, exasperated. "Listen, I think I need to use your Evol to move the couch—or possibly suck it into a black hole due to its sheer defiance."

Caleb exhales sharply through his nose, the sound suspiciously close to a suppressed laugh. "You want to use gravity manipulation—on the couch."

"Yes. It’s a menace, Caleb. A menace that needs to be neutralized."

He stares at me as if I’ve just proposed launching the couch into orbit. “Right. Okay," he says slowly, then looks back at the room, his eyes tracing the path of absolute destruction.

He’s clearly holding back a laugh, which only makes me more frustrated—because this isn’t funny! Okay, it is a little funny. But not in the ‘laugh at me’ way!

"Inara." He says my name, his voice dipping just enough to make my pulse stutter. There’s a teasing lilt to it, though—light, playful, knowing.

And just like that, my entire focus snaps to his lips. The way he says my name—like he’s savouring it, rolling it around like a particularly fine piece of chocolate. My breath hitches slightly, and then, because I’m this me instead of regular me, my brain promptly swan-dives into the gutter.

I wonder how it would sound when he’s moaning my name.

Nope. Nope. Don’t go there. Nope!

I jerk back too quickly, and before I know it, I’m stumbling—a disaster in motion. I swear the floor didn’t exist a second ago.

Caleb catches me like we’re in some kind of action movie, and I’m the heroine who somehow always trips over her own feet. His arms close around me, steady and unshaken, like he expected this.

And instead of letting me go—like a decent human being—he dips me. Full-on, dramatic ballroom-dance style. He doesn’t even look winded. He just looks... amused.

I blink up at him, still tangled in his arms as he holds me there, one brow quirked in silent amusement. He’s enjoying this.

"Fell on purpose, huh?" he drawls, voice laced with dry humour. "Just so I could catch you? You’ve got quite the dramatic flair, Inara."

I open my mouth to deny it, but the words tumble out in a mess of stuttered nonsense. "What? No! I—I didn’t mean to—uh, I wasn’t trying—" I cut myself off with an embarrassed laugh because this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.

Caleb chuckles, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Sure you weren’t.”

I glare at him, but it’s half-hearted because he’s already lifting me back upright, effortlessly resetting me on my feet like I’m nothing more than an unruly puppet. He’s so natural, like there is nothing remotely absurd about this situation.

"You should probably sit down.” He nudges me toward the couch, and I let myself be guided, flopping onto the cushions with an exaggerated huff.

Caleb grins and shrugs off his uniform coat, tossing it over the back of the chair like it’s an afterthought. It’s so casual and effortless. It still makes my heart flutter.

With a swift motion, he turns the music down, the thumping bass fading to a softer pulse. I watch him, still acutely aware of the lingering weight of his hands on me, though I try to shake it off. I shift in my seat, forcing myself to look at anything other than him.

Like the dangerous creature he is, he saunters into the kitchen. His eyes glint with something playful, mischievous—like he’s plotting.

He glances back at me, smirking. "If I’m going to understand what’s happening here, I need to get on your level, don’t I?"

Before I can even ask what the hell that means, he plucks a bottle from the shelf and pours himself a shot. Then, with effortless grace, he knocks it back in one fluid motion.

“You are a mess,” he mutters under his breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Okay, let me change first. I’m sure you’ve got more ‘furniture rearrangin’ plans for me.”

I cannot stop myself from grinning as he turns to leave, but the moment is fleeting. He is already heading down the hall to change. I wait impatiently, my foot tapping against the floor in anticipation.

When he returns, rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist on the verge of unveiling a grand experiment, I sit up straighter. "So? What’s the plan? Are we resonating or what?" My excitement threatens to spill over.

His lips curl into a smirk, and there it is again—that glimmer in his eyes, the one that says he is enjoying every second of this.

"Resonate, huh? Sure. Let’s not." His voice dips, laced with amusement, as he crosses the room. "You think I am going to give you gravity manipulation in this state of mind?”

I pout. "You are no fun." With a dramatic wave of my hand, I declare, "The couch must pay."

He arches a brow, a chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Right. And I am definitely not letting you use me as some gravity-defying superpower to exact revenge on the furniture. I will handle the moving while you—" he gestures vaguely, "—supervise."

I open my mouth to argue, but the way he is smiling—genuine, unguarded—makes me hesitate. I soften.

By the time Caleb has worked his magic, shifting the furniture into something resembling order, we have eaten dinner, cleaned up my earlier disaster, and now, I am sprawled face-down on the couch.

The world tilts around me, spinning a little too fast, and the only thing keeping me tethered is my apple plushie, clutched as if my survival depends on it.

As the alcohol wears off, the buzzing in my skull morphs into a slow, gnawing embarrassment, making my head throb all the more.

Caleb, however, seems entirely unbothered by the ordeal. He is mostly teasing me, which—if I am being honest—I deserve. He is a steady rock while I am a hurricane of awkwardness.

He walks over and rubs my back, his voice soft. "Still awake, pip-squeak?"

I grumble something unintelligible, half-turned away from him, unwilling to admit it. I just want to curl up and disappear for a while. He asks again, his tone warm with concern. "Do you want me to take you to bed?"

Bed. The last place I want to be. Just another lonely void where my thoughts lurk, waiting to ambush me. I shake my head—but immediately regret it as dizziness crashes over me like a wave.

He chuckles, clearly entertained by my self-inflicted suffering. "Sit up and take these," he says, pressing a glass of water into my hands, along with two pills, which I eye with suspicion.

The last time he gave me pills…

Caleb notices the wariness, and his expression flickers, guilt passing over his features.

“It's just for the hangover," he reassures. "You will regret it tomorrow if you don’t take em."

As much as I want to argue, I know he is right. With a reluctant sigh, I push myself up with a groan and swallow the pills, the cool water soothing my uneasy stomach.

He sits beside me, fingers flicking the top of my head. “Dummy.”

I stick my tongue out at him petulantly, and slump against him. My head finds his shoulder, and my sight blurs as I stare at the TV screen. Drowsiness creeps in like a tide, pulling me under. I start sinking lower, sliding from his shoulder into his lap.

"What happened today?"

The words slip out of me, slurred and accompanied by a half-hearted snort. "Forearms…"

Caleb goes still. "Forearms…?"

I nod, too sleepy to elaborate. "Ridiculously attractive forearms."

Silence. I think he is trying to decipher what the hell I just said. His hand rubs slow circles on my back, but I can feel the confusion radiating off him.

After a long pause, he exhales a soft sigh. “Come on." He slips his arms under my legs, cradling my back with ease. "Time for bed."

A small, contented sigh escapes me as he lifts me. He carries me effortlessly to the bedroom, his movements sure and practiced, as if he has done this a hundred times before. Settling me onto the bed, he tugs the covers up around me, tucking me in.

As sleep pulls me under, I mumble, barely conscious, “You’re a good man."

Chapter Masterlist Thank you for taking the time to read! I started this for fun, and decided it might be something silly others may possibly enjoy with me.

If you do, leave a comment, or don't, or you know, do whatever you're comfortable with!

Take care everyone!

#lads caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #caleb lads #lads fanfic #lads smut #caleb fluff #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lnds #caleb x mc #lnds caleb #Gravity Between Us

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otomes-world · 2 days ago

Text

"Under fantasy disguise" part Pomefiore (2)

By pure chance and coincidence, I decided to finish the Pomfiore' arc. I wanted to show interactions with all the characters, since the first part was entirely dedicated to Neige and the dwarves. Perhaps it turned out not as informative as I wanted, but the previous parts also did not have much attention to the "yandere" part. At some point, I moved away from the original idea and everything began to develop as a kind of survival in a fantasy setting. About the possibility and probability of parts of Ignihyde and Diasomnia… I will tactfully remain silent.

Fantasy AU “Under fantasy disguise”: world lore (prologue) heartslabyul savanaclaw octavinelle scarabia pomefiore p1 trigger warning: some suicidal thoughts, reader in bad state (but there is nothing grafic), barrely edited text, no pronounce but mention of famous "damsel in distress"

You obviously didn't trust Rook, Hunt or whatever he called himself and keep quiet. However, it seemed that all your eloquent glances burning into the top of his head didn't bother him at all. He continued to talk about everything at once, trying to simultaneously sing the praises of these lands and achieve the honor of learning about you. He had no honor, you decided, and therefore answered with short polite words, most often just "Yes" or "No". If this angered him, the man did not show displeasure. On the contrary, it seemed that he was amused by your expected reaction. Although everything may have been much simpler, while he was chatting up all the birds in the area, you slowly but surely moved towards the castle.

As soon as the dense greenery of the forest gave way to more sparse vegetation, the feeling of anxiety reminded of itself with renewed vigor. Whoever the king of these lands was, who "dreamed" of meeting you so much, it promised a new portion of problems. The problems that this world so amorously loved to put on your plate. Maybe that's enough, stop already? The wonders of balancing act didn't impress anyone, but the new executioner in a purple robe and a hat with a feather stubbornly led you to the final goal.

You need to calm down. Breath in. Breath out. You had to decide what you could say and what you couldn't. How to lie most convincingly, and where you need to sell the truth as if your life depended on it. The outcome of the upcoming interrogation really depended on whether you could continue your search for a return to your world or the journey would end right here and now.

What information did you have? None. The only thing you even knew about this world was what a couple of noisy guys so carefully told you… what were their names?..

What are their names? You definitely met them, spent the longest time with them. Noisy, annoying, but nevertheless risking everything to help.

Wait, what was your name?

The details of the real world stubbornly slipped from your memory, leaving behind a feeling of emptiness and doubt in your own psyche. What if the modern world had never existed? You slowed down from the sudden realization, and then stopped altogether. No. You had things with you, evidence, you couldn’t invent a promised land for yourself, just so you wouldn’t go crazy. You couldn’t, could you?

"Ma cherie?" The hunter’s voice pulled you out of your unexpected crisis again, squinting slyly as he watched you freeze in place. For the first time in a long time, you were grateful to him. You never knew where your thoughts could lead you, if you would give them the opportunity. "Although my heart bleeds at the sight of your pitying, dignified appearance, we must go. If this path will make the path a little more bearable for you, I am ready to offer my hand."

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to move forward with willpower, waving away the offered help. You didn't need disservice, especially from the one who so carefully led you to certain death. There was no need to worry about returning home if in the end everything turned out to be in vain.

The high gates of the castle and fortress walls made of large stone blocks overgrown with ivy appeared, which meant there was no time to think. Surprisingly, the building itself, although it looked like it came from a book about the Middle Ages, in the courtyard it looked very bright. Even benevolent, but you quickly threw the stupid naive thought out of your head. Who in fact even wrote that a tyrant and murderer must live in a gloomy gothic building whose sharp towers pierce the clouds. Why the king of these lands was precisely a "tyrant" you decided unconsciously. You'd written off your life to his account in advance.

The blond's shoes loudly clicked with heels on the stone-paved road. Sunlight flooded the spacious passage to the castle, the stone arches and the staircase with wide steps. When you mentally prepare for your own death, you begin to pay attention to details that would not normally attract attention. For example, how beautifully the trees in the garden are blooming, if it could be called that.

"What are these trees called?" The question escaped your lips before you thought that maybe there was information that would be more useful.

"Oh, how glad I am that you asked!" The executioner expectedly perked up. During the time on the road, you managed to understand that he was able to hold any conversation. "Although spring is not yet in full swing, the warmth of the sun was enough for the apple trees to bloom and appear in all their glory two weeks before their usual schedule. A truly wonderful sight, such an elegant shade of inflorescences!"

"Indeed," touching one of the flowers with a light movement, you noted how lost in time you were. Who would have thought that spring had come. The last one, you corrected yourself. After examining the delicate petals one last time, you turned to the man who was waiting patiently next to you. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. "I apologize for-.."

You didn't have time to finish. Turning to the hunter, you noticed that despite the absence of other people around, you were clearly not alone. From a window of the castle - whether it was the third or fourth floor - a figure was watching you, his stern and appraising gaze of violet eyes directed straight at you. There was no doubt that this was the same king, with whom you had to meet. Since you had nothing to lose, you slightly bowed your head in a supposedly respectful gesture. The royal person was clearly not impressed, as the man, maintaining his dignity, turned, drawing the scarlet curtains.

Perhaps it was worth curtsying, or whatever this movement was called. However, time cannot be turned back, which meant that all you could do was live with the consequences and hope that insufficiently shown "respect" would not become another reason for execution. After a successful escape from… you frowned, trying to remember the name. After a successful escape, keeping your head on your shoulders, you would like to continue in the same spirit. Why your memory began to fail you at the most inopportune moment was an important question, but not a top priority.

Walking along impossibly long corridors and looking into the same huge windows, not revealing anything new behind them: the same garden and the same apple trees in bloom. Finally, you found yourself in front of heavy doors, which, due to the disgusting feeling of helplessness, seemed even larger than they actually were. A few moments later, they were opened by servants, whose movements were so imperceptible and quiet that at first you decided that it was because of ghosts. However, this world had already managed to surprise you with the presence of magic. If the king was served by both the living and the dead, you could only accept the fact on faith.

In the very center of the hall, on a small elevation with steps, there was a throne, generously decorated with gold and jewelry, its shape creating a semblance of a halo behind the monarch's head. Speaking of one, it was actually the same man who had watched you paw his flowers a few minutes ago. Deciding that this time you could try to correct the mistake, you bowed deeper than before. It was better to go the classic way than to get tangled up in your legs, trying to curry favor.

This time your actions made a better impression, the corners of the man's lips twitched slightly for a millisecond. So quickly that if you were less attentive, you would not have noticed at all. Now you allowed yourself to straighten up and lower your gaze to the floor, residual knowledge from historical films and books stirred in your memory. Something about not talking to members of the royal family or looking them in the eye unless they say otherwise.

Still not taking your eyes off such a beautiful carpet, you, however, noticed that the hunter approached the throne and knelt down. You do not need to follow suit and fall at the feet of a royal person. Or do you?..

"Beautiful Roi du Poison, this humble servant has fulfilled your wish," you could only guess about the expression on Hunt's face, because you did not allow yourself to move yet. "Are you satisfied, Your Majesty?"

"It could have taken less time," the voice sounded softer than you expected to hear. Maybe a little lower, more coldness in the tone and self-esteem. "You, come here." Slightly shuddering from the address, you took a few steps, drawing level with the blond, who was still kneeling on one knee, bowing again. The extra exercise was difficult and gave pain to your rib, but you considered it a bribe to a possible future. "Raise your head."

Well, life was short, but undoubtedly eventful. You met many different personalities, good and bad, eccentric and sarcastic. The thought settled in your head, as if a new psychological defense, maybe all this was just a dream. Then with "death" will come awakening. You did not have enough courage to end life yourself, but from this perspective, giving responsibility into the hands of others did not sound so bad.

Finally, meeting the eyes of the monarch, you did not experience the fear that you were so expecting. The humility that had washed over you a moment ago was stronger than the fear of what was to come. Fight to the last? Throw threats? Jump out of the window? You've done enough crazy things. Perhaps anxiety would envelop you again at the guillotine - let the execution be quick and painless - but for now you felt for the first time in a long time a complete acceptance of this world and its cruel laws.

While the man proudly sitting on the throne looked at you, you allowed yourself to do the same. There was nothing to lose. Perhaps your last brain cell also declared capitulation, because you thought he was handsome. If you pretended that you were in an amusement park or in a full-immersion quest, you could regain for a second the lost sense of belonging. In the modern world, he would be popular. The silk clothes - most likely it was such, you didn't understand fabrics well enough - pleasantly set off his features and the gold of his hair, making his image even more ephemeral. Yes, admiring your killer was a stupid decision even for you.

"Name."

"I don't remember, Your Majesty," an inner voice gave a mental slap, but filled with inevitability, you saw no point in lying. A barely noticeable crease appeared between the king's eyebrows, he was probably assessing how best to punish the commoner who dared to contradict.

"It's true, Roi du Poison," help came from an unexpected place, you didn't think that in principle in these lands there would be someone ready to stand up for you. "On the way to the castle, fleur blessée, showed gaps in memory and knowledge, which every little resident knows about."

Was he testing you? Flashed through your head, as soon as you caught the blond's gaze, in which knowing sparks flashed. However, this also did not escape the monarch's eyes, as the wrinkles between his eyebrows became more and more noticeable.

"The purpose of your presence here," now there was suspicion in his voice, whatever the reason for his errand boy to help you, the king was not delighted with it.

"To cross the borders between lands as quickly as possible, without delaying unnecessarily."

Weighing your simple and laconic answer, the king turned his gaze to the hunter. He probably already reported the incident with the carpet. More precisely, how he personally carefully burned it down. As long as the information from your lips does not conflict with what the monarch already has, you were safe.

"Reason," continuing the interrogation, the man leaned back slightly in the throne.

"Finding a way home."

"Where is your home?"

"I would like to know the answer to this question myself."

So you were trying to say that you were violating the boundaries of the lands, risking your life to find something that was located God knows where? His Majesty did not voice this phrase, but for some reason it seemed to you that exacly the same one flashed in the gaze of his narrowed amethyst eyes.

Before another question or, on the contrary, a sentence burst from his lips, someone loudly knocked on the door behind him, attracting the monarch's attention. His appearance immediately acquired a stern, slightly arrogant look. You assumed the costs of work.

"Come in," he measured the guard with his gaze, who had disturbed very important matters . At least, you wanted to believe that the decision of your life or death was important. "I ordered not to disturb me. You had better bring news that does not require delay, since my violation of my order did not seem such a great sin to you."

"Y-your majesty," the man quickly looked around, lingered his gaze on you, but still decided that angering the ruler was more expensive. "Sir Epel… escaped."

Whoever this "Epel" was, the king's mood changed for the worse faster than rain begins to fall from heavy gray clouds.

"Bring him back immediately," he stood up, rubbing the bridge of his nose, turning to the hunter, casting a look that did not tolerate objections. "With you.." His eyes lingered for a moment on your figure. "We will finish later. Throw that in the dungeon until I decide what to do next."

So. Now things were starting to get out of hand. In the dungeon, you could wait for an hour, a day, a month, an eternity. Instant death and waiting for it were completely different things.

"Your Majesty, I beg your pardon," before the guard rushed to carry out the order, Rook spoke again, catching the king's irritated look. "I'm afraid the special guest will not survive the dampness and cold of our dungeons. There is information that you did not have time to check."

Man measured you with another appraising glance, as if wasting precious seconds was bringing closer his own death, the he gave in.

"Then throw this into one of the towers. High enough and far enough from the people that not a single soul would dare to pass by."

Ignoring the guard's hasty answer, the king quickly disappeared behind high doors. The last thing you managed to see was the fluttering hem of his robe and another sly look from Hunt. You wanted to decide later whether to feel gratitude or curse him with all your might, feeling a strong grip on your forearm, leading you, apparently, towards the towers.

You have to give them credit, even the rooms with small windows and a bird's eye view of the castle and its surroundings looked decent. True, it was worth acknowledging the fact that trying on the role of a "damsel in distress", who, according to the logic of all fairy tales, should be saved by a prince on a white horse, was clearly not part of the plans. Choosing between imprisonment underground and above it, there was no need to think too much, even if the changes were purely nominal. Propping your chin with your hand and looking down according to all the canons, if such existed, you tried to figure out your further plan of action. The approximate prospects did not look very good.

To escape from the tower, whose door was tightly closed and locked from the outside, you had to jump out of the window. You had enough falls from heights and various places, besides, to repeat such an experience you had to recover from the previous one. You looked, truly, unimportant, since His Majesty decided to change his mind in a fit of rage. Although perhaps the information you possessed was too valuable to be thrown away. The only question was what exactly you could know.

Knowledge of this world? Pass. It was unlikely that you could know any additional information that someone born and living in this world, especially a member of the ruling family, could not get. Knowledge of your world? What was the probability that someone suspected its existence? Or, on the contrary, would you not have been considered crazy if you started talking about the Internet and phones. Where must be something else..

Come to think of it, Neige once mentioned that "Vi" was the king of these lands. Could this "Vi" have sent you to the tower? What could he be looking for? Although maybe not what, but who. If you think about it a little more, the monarch's face quickly changed at the mention of "Epel". Another name that had to be connected with something.

The flow of deductive thoughts was interrupted by noise from below, or rather, you assumed the presence of loud sounds. Squinting and leaning out of the window a little more, you saw people in similar clothes - probably part of the palace guard - leading a resisting child, whose shock of lilac hair was flying in all directions. Meeting your gaze for a moment, he froze, and this mistake cost him his freedom. He was quickly tied up and led to the entrance of the castle, although he managed to throw you another suspicious glance before he was finally taken away.

Moving away from the frame, you sank down and leaned your back against the stone wall. Whatever was happening in the castle, whoever this child was, you could only wait, ignoring the option of stepping out of the window. Gradually, fatigue, both physical and emotional, took its toll and your eyes began to close on their own. A few minutes and you fell into such a desired oblivion.

Opening your eyes in surprise, you realized that it was deep night. Apparently, the king was still busy, since he did not decide to continue the interrogation. Or maybe this was just one of the options to "think about your behavior" and an urge to tell the "truth" next time. Keeping silent that you didn't utter a single word of lie.

Raising your numb body, you stretched out of habit and immediately regretted what you had done. The healing rib was very conveniently forgotten and again reminded of itself in the most unpleasant way. Forcefully exhaling the air you had unconsciously held, you tried to stand up or at least sit up. There was barely enough light from the window to take another look at the temporary prison. You wanted to optimistically hope that it was temporary. The window behind you, a carelessly thrown old thin rug, on which, in fact, you were sitting, and a pile of cold to the touch and cold to the sight of stone.

Closing your eyes once more, you concentrated on breathing. Inhale-exhale. You needed to take advantage of the rare opportunity to rest and sleep peacefully. Yes, the conditions now were many times different from those you were used to. However, in the current reality, when the entire familiar way of life had been replaced by something else, something alien, dreaming of a warm bed was often an unaffordable luxury. Wait, if you remember it right, in the house with Neige you first felt a semblance of everyday life, which you didn't know you missed. The thought of the everyday life of the dwarves and Grimm caused an involuntary smile, at least you led that hunter away from their small family. You only hoped that they would guess right and not go looking for you. Otherwise, everything would definitely be in vain.

A quiet knock distracted you from your thoughts, but, opening your eyes for a second, you closed them back. The probability that it was just the wind or some branch ootside was high. After some time, another knock was heard, more insistent than before and a muffled stubborn "Hey". It looked more and more suspicious with each passing minute.

"Ugh, are ya sleeping or something?" This time the voice sounded clearer, which finally drove away the remnants of sleep. "Hey!"

With a force of will that came from nowhere, you jumped up, almost stumbling and sprawling on the cold floor. Coming almost right up to the door, you knocked carefully in response, hoping to get his attention.

"Y-yes?" Clearing your throat, you repeated more confidently. "Yes."

On the other side, everything went quiet, as if the one calling no longer expected an answer.

"How did ya even get here? Nah, don't give a damn," the speaker quickly chattered while you tried to keep up with his stream of confused thoughts. "Listen here. I don't care one bit what ya are, who ya are, or where you're from. You clearly don't want to sit here until Vil deigns to lift a finger. So, you and I can team up-.."

"What?"

"Become friends for 5 minutes, mateys, call it what ya want. The main thing is that you and me can help each other."

"So," ignoring common sense, which had been of little use lately. "Let's say I'm with you with all my healthy limbs," of which there were few. "How are you going to get me out of here? A plan. Do you even have a plan, No Name?"

"Epel," the voice continued in an angry, dissatisfied whisper. "I'll think of somethin', just don't die there. I have no idea whether they'll feed you or not, but I'll try to get some banal edible stuff." He tried to add something else, but soon fell silent, listening to something. "Damn him, someone's walking around nearby, Rook most likely. I repeat, I'll think of something an' don't ya dare to kick the bucket ahead of time. And don't you dare blurt out that I came. Both you and I will regret"

Speaker thrown out a final warning and hastily left. The muffled echo of his feet was heard outside, and soon it died down, returning the silence of the night. Lowering your head down and closing your eyes tightly, you forced yourself to breathe. Who knew that the mysterious "Epel" would find you first, leaving out the fact that the search with your side was not on the list of tasks. He seemed like a child to you by his appearance, a tomboy by the king's reaction, and a street urchin by his style of speech, with whom you could chase pigeons through the streets as a child.

Whether it was good or bad, but since he promised to get you out… or rather, think about it, all you could do was wait and hope. No matter how disgusting it sounded. Returning to the conventional sleeping place, you tried to fall asleep again, but sleep, as expected, did not come.

It was day number… by your calculations, the third. Or the fifth. There was no calendar, with which to make marks on the wall, like a model prisoner, either. Even if you didn't feel like sleeping morally, there were few options for how to occupy yourself. A whole zero. Besides, the body tried to take everything it could in this situation, and therefore saved, or maybe restored strength, plunging you into an unconscious state with confused dreams, in which everything was mixed up at once.

You didn’t hear much about Epel, except that he showed up a couple of times, pushing through a bread that was almost rolled into a thin layer. To his credit, he did everything to pass you a handout through the crack under the door. Things were worse with water, but even then the “brilliant” tomboy pushed a saucer through. One way or another, with all the ups and downs, he partially fulfilled his part of the deal.

Either His Majesty really decided to test your condition for strength, or he simply forgot. Or Epel somehow secretly distracted all attention to himself. It was impossible to verify the guess.

The accomplice appeared before patience began to run out, and the inner voice stopped to confidently shut the mouth of anxiety. Even though you still couldn't see his face, the distinct sound of the key turning in the lock couldn't be confused with anything else. You stood up from your new favorite place in surprise, but didn't come any closer, keeping a safe distance. The door swung open abruptly, despite the hinges protesting, and revealed an excited young man - presumably Epel - whose lilac shock of hair was etched into your memory that time.

"Nice catch," he throw you some kind of bag, tied with a rope at the top. Its weight felt unusual in your hands. "Hell, don't just stand there. You need to run, do you hear, run."

You didn't have time to curse, because such abrupt starts and escapes became part of an unpleasant reality. Following your unfortunate friend, who was weaving between corridors, ducking around corners, and then continuing on his way again, you couldn't help but ask,

"Where did you get the key?"

"Stole it," the most logical answer for the first time in a long time. "Anyway, forget it, we need to hide before the news reaches Vil. I thought there would be more time, but there is plan. I'm leading us out of the castle through a secret passage: ya run to the right, I'll go left. That's it."

"What right?!" Even though you were indignant, you didn't slow down. "How should I know that I need to "go right"."

"Then I'll go right 'nd ya go left," Epel's main concern was getting out, he just angrily threw behind his back, "don't bother if ya'll do some diggin'. Even if ya bury yourself underground, we need to do it at the same time. I don't know why Vil got so mad at our local good-natured buddy, but some rumors reached his ears."

"You mean-.."

"..that he might be alive," he whispered very quietly, stopping for a moment to catch his breath, and turned another corner, standing in front of a long tapestry. "Vil doesn't know that I know about this passage. For now. We can't use it anymore, and hope won't have to anyway"

Pushing the fabric aside, he began to feel the wall, looking for a ledge. Touching the right stone, he immediately hurried you with a gesture, and then looked around the corridor one last time and slid in after you. It was dark inside, and the air was saturated with the smell of damp and dust. You had to walk, holding on to the wall with one hand. You stopped for a moment and someone crashed into your back and immediately burst into quiet curses, you exhaled. He shaken himself off, from the sounds of it you guessed what he was doing it, and began to search for something.

When the dim light of the moon appeared ahead, your eyes began to water from the sharp difference with the pitch darkness before.

"Wait," grabbing the guy by the hand, who was ready to run, you caught his irritated look. "At least tell me which way to go."

With difficulty restraining himself from starting to curse again, he looked around the area and, making sure that there was no pursuit yet, said,

"If you need to go to Scarabia, give up, ya won’t make it. They’ll catch you earlier. There," he pointed his finger into the distance. "The river. Don't give damn why Vil ordered us not to approach it, but he definitely won’t go there. If, of course, you manage to cross it. And now bye, our chances are 50/50. Vil went crazy after the news, so our simultaneous disappearance will catch him off guard. His royal ego will have to decide who he must chase first. No offense, but I'm betting on ya."

If there was definitely no way to your home behind, but maybe by some chance it could be ahead. Before the news reached the royal ears, you also hurried to hide in the silence of the forest, but for a second you noticed something white out of the corner of your eye. Turning around and not seeing anything suspicious, you continued running in an unknown direction.

Soon the young man finally disappeared into the night, and you quickly weighed the pros and cons and rushed in the direction indicated. Returning for Grimm was very risky, the last thing you needed was to turn the idea of two birds with one stone into one. Going to the river, which, according to the short review of "his majesty" in Epel's free interpretation, did not inspire confidence, but there was no choice.

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