#recluse reader

[yanderambling]

concept: Forest Cryptid!Yandere(gn) x Recluse!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 2.3k

CW: 18+, yandere behavior, arson, attempts on reader's life (brief and ineffective), goddamn long, barely proofed

Sverre has lived in this forest for centuries, the benevolent and undisputed sovereign of the vast woodland and all its inhabitants, and it’s been well over 200 years since a human last disturbed their grounds.

Then you showed up. And you just went and made yourself at home.

It was admittedly impressive, the speed with which you set up all your living facilities- Sverre only found you a day before you’d finish construction in earnest, and they’re diligent about their (admittedly vast) territory.

They immediately set about counter measures, none too keen on sharing their land with a member of such a notoriously violent and greedy species. However, past experience has taught that they must take care not to reveal themself. If you see them and make it out, you’ll come back with a mob. But, if they kill you, a mob will come searching for you anyway.

They’ve learned it’s safest to sabotage from the shadows, to remain subtle and unseen, a silent tormentor of darkness.

So they set your house on fire.

Or, what they thought was your house. It turned out to be your cooking shed.

They’d just barely made it to the treeline when you came rushing out of the other building with some kind of long snake, pointing it at the flames and forcing it to spit water until they extinguished.

Huh.

They didn't count on that.

But it was just a minor miscalculation, they’re rusty is all.

So they regroup and try again the next day, seeing as you were already on alert that night, but they actually go for your living space this time.

Which turned out to be a bigger mistake, because apparently you keep that snake and several buckets right next to it- and you're a bit of a night owl. The wood had barely even ignited before you'd doused it, and Sverre was lucky not to be spotted as they dashed across the small clearing you'd made your home.

In their third attempt, they decide to bypass the possibility of a snake entirely and just smash the building down with you inside.

They blame their enthusiasm about the brilliant idea for them not noticing the snare trap until it cinched around their leg.

Sverre barely has time to yelp and struggle against the wire before your thundering voice makes them freeze.

“You!”

They snap their head around to face you, a reflexive snarl ripping from their throat as they see you stalking toward them with an axe in hand.

"Don't give me that." Something in your tone makes Sverre instantly go silent as you stop in front of them; your unwavering confidence in the face of their rage is certainly disconcerting. "You're the fucker that's been torching my place, aren't you?"

Your voice is low, almost a growl, and it sends a peculiar shiver through Sverre's body. They give you a quizzical look, properly baffled by your lack of reaction to their inhuman form.

It doesn't seem like you actually wanted an answer, because you carry on almost immediately. "The fuck's your problem?"

Sverre steels themself as they look down at you. You're a good couple yards away, too far for them to reach. Their eye catches on the moonlight reflecting off your axe, and they can't help but notice how steady your grip is.

Why are you so sure of yourself? Other would be shaking out of their skin at the mere sight of them! Your unprecedented fortitude is making them less sure of themself by the second.

"What the hell are you, even?"

Okay, rude. Fair, but rude. They just narrow their eyes at you.

You hold their gaze easily, your sharp eyes reflecting nothing but self-assuredness and righteous indignation- they're sort of entrancing, so intense it almost hurts for Sverre to keep your stare.

They only last a few seconds before their eyes flit away almost reflexively. You huff a laugh.

"Alright, you know what? Whatever." You take a couple steps closer, Sverre cowers back without noticing. "Look, I'm a nice person. I'm gonna tell you this, and I'm only gonna tell it to you once, so listen good."

Despite the snarl that curls their lip, Sverre feels all their senses zero in on you upon your command.

"I don't know what your setup was before, but I'm here now, and I'm gonna keep being here until I decide not to be. It's a big forest, and I'm not hurting anybody, so I think you can learn to share. That said, if I see you near my home again-"

You swing the axe high over you head. Sverre flinches as you bring it down... on the thick wire of the snare, severing it with ease.

"I'm not gonna start with a conversation. Got it?"

Sverre can only stare down at you in shock as they feel the tension around their leg dissipate.

Are you... letting them go?

"Now, get!" Sverre startles and scrambles backward before they can even process your words. You wave the axe a bit and shout again, causing them to turn and dart as far away as you could possibly want them.

They don't stop until they're well on the other side of the forest and panting with exertion.

...What the hell was that?

None of the humans they've come across have ever been like this. None of them have ever dared to come so close to them, let alone speak in such a belittling manner. Honestly, who the hell do you think you are? Don't you know how powerful they are? Don't you know they could tear you to shreds in seconds? (But then why didn't they? They don't know!)

To be fair, your little speech wasn't entirely incorrect; you aren't causing any notable damage to the forest, which already sets you apart from nearly every human they've encountered before.

Yes, there's definitely more to you than Sverre originally thought. They decide you require further study.

In the following days, they take to following you everywhere you go. And they collect some fascinating data.

They learn that you're clever, that you find new routes through harsh terrain to access resources, that you can make a wide variety of tools for harvesting plants and accessing water. They learn that you're strong, that you can carry logs and boulders through the forest with ease, that your muscles move so tantalizingly under your glistening skin. They learn that you're kind, conscientious of the world around you in a way few living things are. They learn that you're absolutely enrapturing when you bathe yourself in the stream. They learn that you look so peaceful in sleep that it makes them want to curl around you and succumb to unnecessary slumber just to feel you like this.

They spend all their time watching you, taking in every action and shift with hungry eyes, obsessively recalling your sharp voice berating them again and again.

You're unlike anything they've ever seen. You're exceptional, capable, fierce, captivating, glorious-

They simply must take such an extraordinary creature as their mate.

When you wake up to a dead deer on your doorstep one morning, you don't exactly get that message.

You see a torn up, bloody corpse and assume it's a threat from that strange creature you encountered the night before. Loathe as you are to waste meat, you'd rather not be poisoned, so you drag the deer far away from your home or any water sources and bury it with a whispered blessing (Sverre would come to admire your high regard for the sanctity of life. You understand the way of the world, everything is consumed by something else eventually, but that does nothing to diminish the respect you hold for all living things- every life taken for the continuation of another deserves to be honored. They think it's beautiful, but at this moment...).

Sverre is highly offended.

But, they realize that you must still be upset about the fires and murder attempts and what all, so you likely need them to prove their dedication and earn your forgiveness before you accept their affections.

That’s just fine, it’ll make it all the sweeter when you do.

At least, that’s what they have to tell themself to get through each day. After just (ha, “just”) four of them, it’s starting to feel hopeless.

You’ve rejected every gift they’ve offered- another two deer (which you dragged to a different hemisphere of the forest), a bunch of rabbits in case you don’t like venison (you almost preferred lugging the deer over disposing of those five fuzzy corpses), bundles of vegetation and fruits in case you don’t like meat (you’ve been foraging all your food so far, to be fair, but that just makes you extra suspicious of these strange plants you haven’t seen around before), they even offered you the strongest wood to rebuild your cooking shed (you assumed it must be flimsy or rotten inside or cursed)- and you still shout and threaten them whenever you catch them lingering near your home.

It’s just not fair.

They’ve toiled tirelessly to show both their remorse and their dedication; they defend your dwelling places from wayward predators, they keep guard over you every second of the day (and night), they bring you only the highest quality offerings to keep you comfortable and safe.

They’ve more than proven they’ll be a suitable mate, but you haven’t given an inch.

They try to satiate themself with what scraps they can obtain; stealing your clothes to line their nest with your intoxicating musk, running their tongue over the handles of your tools where they can still taste your skin oils clinging to the wood, sneaking into your home when you're out and laying in your bed, soaking in your scent and reveling in the feeling of being so close to something that was close to you- but it’s not enough.

It’s never gonna be enough.

They need to try harder. If you won’t accept their offers of gifts, they’ll just have to take away the choice. They’ll just have to do something about it.

It only makes sense that they would fix what they broke. It didn't occur to them that they don't actually know how to mend a cooking shed until about the third nail in their hand.

It also didn't occur to them that construction is a noisy process until you came barreling out of your house in an obvious state of disarray.

"Hey! The fuck did I tell you?"

Sverre rips their hand away from the building, bringing a large piece of wood with it. They're just tearing out the nail and throwing the board to the ground as you skid to a stop before them.

Your gaze alone is enough to make their legs lock. They can't even consider escape, they just cower down and await your punishment.

But it doesn't come.

They risk a glance up, only to see you staring down at them with those enthralling, calculating eyes.

They can't break the stare, even though they now desperately want to. They feel their heart clench when you do so with a (downright musical) laugh and a slap to your forehead.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Sverre idly admires how the moonlight reflects off your skin, wondering if it's the last sight they'll see.

You lift you hand just enough to meet their eye again.

"Were you trying to fix it?"

They duck their head in shame.

This was a stupid idea. Maybe they aren't a suitable mate after all; all they can seem to do is mess up and upset you. They'd rather your axe to their head.

Another laugh, Sverre really wishes they were in a position to appreciate that lovely sound. "Jesus, is that what this has all been about? An apology?"

...Close enough. It's not like it'll matter in a few seconds. The only answer they give is a quick glance your way before training their eyes on the ground once more.

You let out a long breath. "Okay... okay. Damn. I wasted a lot of deer, huh?"

Sverre can feel tension gripping every muscle in their body as they await your response to this revelation. They can only imagine how they must look, an apex predator prostrated before a mere human for reasons nearly beyond their comprehension. They wish you didn't hold so much power over them, that your neutral tone didn't make panic further stir in their gut.

"Oh, don't you look just pitiful?"

Sverre feels a fission of pleasure shoot down their spine at your deprecating tone.

"Alright, get up. Here's what's gonna happen: you're gonna bring me another deer tomorrow, I'm gonna fix up somewhere to cook it, and then we'll see about calling us even. Sound good?"

Sverre can hardly believe their ears. Good! So good! More than good!

Their enthusiasm is enough to propel them to a standing position so they're looming over you once more (such an oddly unnatural feeling...), and you don't even flinch at the sudden motion.

They just stare at you for a few seconds, desperate to commit this image, this moment, to memory. They can feel a pleased purr starting to build in their throat, a sound they haven't made in years.

Maybe it's longer than a few seconds, because you seem to get impatient again before waving them off, though much less angrily than usual.

"Go on, I'm beat. And I still gotta fix this mess tomorrow."

Sverre obediently sweeps away into the wood, happy to ignore the extra work they've created for you in favor of focusing on their new chores.

They stay up all night collecting a feast for the two of you to enjoy together, helplessly fantasizing about the perfect domesticity of your future matehood now that you've accepted their advances. They'll show you what a good mate they can be, how well they can provide for you, how happy they can make you.

They'll win you over if it's the last thing they do.

You go to sleep still wishing you hadn't thrown out all those deer.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post ~

[jesuistrestriste]

Art Donaldson with literal loser reader? This is for the netizens of the world who don’t do anything but homely activities. Like for the depraved girls/nbs/boys whoever frfr like? Reader who’s obsessed w him, met him through a friend or sm??

art knows you don’t get out much.

he knows you’d prefer to stay inside and obsessively scroll twitter or tumblr or play video games as opposed to accompanying him to a party on campus.

by now, he knows all of your little habits that you’ve developed through your early youth and have grown to enjoy more than anything. he accepts them, because he accepts you.

but he also can’t deny that he’d love to take you out more than you usually let him.

he wants to take you out to a club and grab your hips and rut into your backside while you two drunkenly dance. and he wants to show you off to his friends when they all go out to the bar.

so when he fucks you.. he sometimes lets this stuff slip.

he’s pushing you down into the bedding and moaning into your neck, little gasps punctuating each roll of his hips against yours as he fills you with every single girthy inch of him. he reaches down for one of your hands and directs it to the back of his blonde locks, silently pleading with you to tug on them the way he likes.

“fuh-fuck,” he groans, his eyes rolling back as he gets close, “nobody even knows we’re dating… you— mngh—! you gotta come out with me this weekend… ohh god..”

and you pull on his hair and wrap your legs around him; your insides too stirred up to form a response. you feel him pummeling the deepest parts of your walls with an intensity that only washes in when he’s aching for something.

“… but.. ungh, fuck fuck fuck, i.. i think you like it, don’t you? staying in when im out… letting me come back to you at the end of the night and stuff my dick into this pretty hole of yours… letting me use you… AH— baby—! fuckkk, i’m gonna come inside you— i’m gonna come inside you, ’m gonna fucking— ohh god, please—“

and then he’s pulling himself out and slamming back in once, twice, three times before he lets out an anguished moan and spills warmly into your body; coating your parts in a thick, sticky, milky dose of desperation and longing as he pulls your back up into an arch while you yelp under him. he presses his stomach to yours as he rides out his high.

he so desperately wants you to quit the internet so that he can take you out properly and show you all of the ways he can make you happy.

he knows you liked him first—he was told that you’d had a huge crush on him—but none of it really mattered now. he’s obsessed with you too, so..

why won’t you let him show the world?

[yearninflowers]

Imagine...

Alhaitham as a 'snow leopard'.

Unlike their initial appearances, snow leopards will not attack a human if one ever disturbs their peace. They would rather run away, shielding themselves from the unfamiliar presence. It is widely known that those big cats are quite shy creatures. You noticed the same pattern of behavior from your friend, Alhaitham.

Well, one fact is wrong, though. Alhaitham avoided people because it proved to be a hassle to be involved with one rather than being shy, as opposed to your thought of him as a snow leopard. Somehow, throughout your childhood with him, he would prove to you again and again how easy it was to avoid the eyes of adults and children altogether while holding your hands as you both ran away to hide from everyone.

It was a little weird how often he would tell you how annoying other people are despite you being one of those 'other people' in his point of view. Nonetheless, you stuck by his side. Through all the times in his life, yours was always intertwined with his. His birthdays, his grandmother's passing day, his… alone days, somehow. You were there through it all.

Aren't snow leopards solitary animals, though? Why does he always invite you to join his activities?

Maybe he isn't a snow leopard like you initially thought. Maybe he's a… never mind, you can't think of another animal when picturing your friend now. He's a new variant, perhaps. A weird, somewhat autistic snow leopard.

"Snow leopard, huh? Is that what you think of me?" Alhaitham silently mumbled under his breath, carefully reading the content of the small diary book you had left open somewhere.

Alhaitham would suddenly slip out a small smile whenever he remembered what you were picturing him as. Such a uselessly cute thought inside that head of yours. In contrast to what you thought of him, Alhaitham thought of you as a place he would call 'home'. Warm, steady, and welcoming were all your characteristics in his eyes.

From childhood until now, you've always been there for him. You always feel like the books he would love to read—the library he would love to lounge about—the home he would love to stay in. He loves everything about you, but especially the warmer side of yours. It felt like time would stop and he could live in such a serene place whenever he was beside you.

But sometimes, you are just too accommodating. You will let people in, welcoming them just like you welcomed him. Alhaitham would watch as you converse with other people as if they were all worth your time.

Don't you know that snow leopards are territorial animals no matter how less aggressive they are than other species?

He is never an aggressive person. Never at all. However, that would be another case for the people who would shamelessly rob your time together with him. After all, he needs his home, just like you need your snow leopard, right? You often said that your life is always intertwined with his alone. How about proving those exact words right now?

[the-whispers-of-death]

Simon coming home from deployment, eager to see Recluse!Reader. He unlocks all of the locks he had installed on the door to keep you safe months ago, not complaining about how many locks he has to open because it only means that you are safe. He gets inside the flat, everything quiet because it's the night and you're asleep.

He quietly makes his way through the flat, taking off his gear in the foyer. He notes how clean everything is, which wasn't unusual. You always put everything back neatly in their place, knowing how much Simon loves the neatness due to being in the military. But it's clear you've been living here, the flat filled with warmth and love. This was the first time Simon had been away from you since meeting you, the first deployment he has come back to a flat that truly felt like home.

And so it's with a heart filled with love and safety that he walks into the bedroom, making sure not to disturb you. You're underneath the covers, completely asleep as you lay there in his shirt and your underwear. It's such an endearing sight, you curled up with his pillow in your arms because you've been missing him.

Simon very gently walks over and takes the pillow out of your arms, setting it down next to yours so that his head can rest on it when he lays down. He lays down, carefully maneuvering you to get comfortable without waking you up. He feels so safe and loved the moment he's underneath the covers, especially with the way you instinctively cuddle into him in your sleep once he's settled on the bed.

He dozes off to sleep peacefully soon after, knowing you'll be ecstatic once you wake up in the morning and realize he's home. And sure enough, he wakes up in the morning to you happily kissing his face all over, checking him for injuries like the worried partner you are. There's nowhere else he'd rather be, except here with you, his beloved.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[naffeclipse]

I'm sorry if this question has been asked in some form or another but... How would Eclipse, should he have ever moved away from the Arctic in search of a new home, react if he encountered a pair of orphaned Orca Siren Calves (Sun and Moon) being raised by a reclusive writer human Y/N? Like either their sibling got the Siren Transformation and the whole pod is just now... gone due to some unfortunate events... Or the Y/N just found the two orphans in the shallows near their very secluded home and the parents never came back?

Point is human Y/N is trying their best, but that means things aren't going all that great. Both kids can read and are cared for. Moon is a master of the door dash app when using the tablet kept on land near the water for them. But there's love... Lots of love.

How would he react to this?

Oh, I love this

You wanted to be left alone, unfortunately, the two... babies, didn't get the memo. They're so small. You have no idea what to do with the mythical creature children. Sirens. Sure, you've heard of them. So why aren't they taking care of their young? Why are they wailing at the edge of the icy land you've made your home on? It doesn't take long for you to take pity on the small things and feed them some chewed fish (but only this once).

Somehow, you end up with a small ice shelter where you've carved two breathing holes under the ice to let the seawater and the babies swim for a day, keeping a careful watch on them while jotting down a few ideas you've had for your writing (perhaps inspired by sirens). Then, at the night's end, you lovingly pick up both toddler-sized sirens, tucking one into each arm to carry them to your home where your bathtub has become a makeshift crib of seawater and half-chewed rubber duckies.

You believe they're twins despite their different appearances, one touched with cream-colored orca markings and soft yellow frills framing his face. The other brother is black and white and has a slippery dark blue tendril behind his head, trailing into a luminous bulb. They have mismatched eyes but share one blue iris.

So much for only feeding them once. The tiny fish got you wrapped around their little claws.

They growl and chuff and softly whine whenever you're not within sight, and each of them demands time alone to snuggle against your chest before you set down your bedding on the bathroom floor and urge them to sleep through the night. You're right here if they need you. Somehow, one or both end up on you, dripping wet, and you can only groan and softly hold the babies through the night despite their constant wiggles and slick, sheeny bodies.

This goes on for a few years before you start to worry that your bathtub is too cramped for the children. Sun and Moon (oh gosh, you gave them names; now you're really attached) are so smart and excel at reading and writing, making use of markers and whiteboards, and remembering to let their hands dry before grabbing the paper from the floor of the ice shelter to draw doodles of the icy waves.

There were learning curves, such as when you had to scold Moon for biting you so hard his sharp teeth drew blood, but he cried, so you stopped being angry and showed him how to help you bandage your hand. See? All better. But no biting. Another time was Sun growing impatient with your slow pace as you gathered your writing materials before joining them in the ice shelter, and he grabbed your leg and halfway pulled you into the frigid water, shocking your system with the sheer cold before you scrambled out and had to retreat to your home to undress and get warm. Sun hid away from you, unwilling to come out despite your coaxing once night fell. You had to lay down a new rule: they cannot pull you into the water. You are not built like them. He clung to you and apologized, and you forgave him with a kiss on the forehead.

You wanted to be left alone with your children. (Yours. Your babies.) Unfortunately, they're not the only sirens around. You sense another presence just at dusk when you're preparing to take Sun out of the breathing hole (you can only carry one at a time now, and even then, it takes all your strength to lift with your legs—when did they get so big?) and pause with your hands under Sun's arms, his hands still opening and closing for you. Through the slight opening in the flap of the ice shelter, out into the shallows of the icy sea, you see two pairs of eyes, yellow and red, and piercing.

A siren.

You react with adrenaline and fear, fueled by the intention to protect your children no matter the cost, and pull Sun and Moon out of the breathing holes in a second. Placing them in the far corner, you shield them with your body. The strange siren pokes his head through the breathing hole not a moment later. Eyes wide, breathing harshly, you stare each other down, siren against human. His gaze slips past you, and he grins upon finding Sun's and Moon's big eyes peeking around you as they cling to your shoulders, confused and frightened. Their flukes flip anxiously.

The siren grinned at you, and for the better half of the night, you conversed with the siren about how you came upon your children. His intentions remain sinister and masked until he at last tells you how perfect he finds you and the boys. You stare, standoffish, but he assures you, he will be the father that they need, and the mate you deserve. You don't believe him. You don't trust him with your babies, but when he grabs your leg and rips you away from your children, much to their protests and small cries, you're caught under him and his caressing claws before you realize that his hunger is more.

It starts to make sense. Of course, Eclipse can teach them far more than you can about how to navigate their marine existant and how to properly hunt and not only take food from your hands. He teaches them how to sing, how to watch prey, how to use their strength and teeth to conquer. And you... you watch, realizing that you miss those bathtub days, but your boys are happy. They love Eclipse and Eclipse, well, when he's not tending to the children, he's spending time with you, laying his crossed arms on your lap to gaze up at you, insisting you accept a dead seal from him.

Maybe he has a bit of charm. And maybe you begrudgingly let you sing you to sleep when you're left fretting about Sun and Moon swimming late into the night on their own, but they're growing big. They don't fit in your arms anymore. You start to feel a little forgotten before you find all three sirens acting very suspiciously, your boys whispering before telling you that Dad—Eclipse wants to give you something. He softly presses a beautiful black pearl into your palm. You've never been much for anything that isn't practical, but it's beautiful, so you take it. Eclipse is pleased and so are the Sun and Moon. He steals a kiss from you. You don't mind.

You wanted to be left alone, but you find yourself in the siren's arms as you both watch a burning orange sunset and your sons playfully fighting in the small waves.

[dolls-self-ships]

Why are all the Lucifer x reader fics about Lucifer being overworked and busy and that's the cause of his stress/tiredness? That man has not done a single royal duty in years. His office is cluttered with ducks and he's a scatter brained mess at least at the moment. I need more fics where the reader sees the state of his office and goes "oh... my god, he's really going through it". Where's the acknowledgement of his depression? I'm gonna write it myself if I have to damn it.

[pneumosia]

i’ll post both eventually i just don’t know which one to do first HAHAHA

[ghostsforghosts]

Recluse!Reader

This is a masterlist for all of the Recluse!Reader Drabbles. This reader is gender neutral and is with Simon "Ghost" Riley.

(Yes, I know that I've made masterlists on my main blog and could just link the masterlist to my pinned post, however, I'm making new masterlists so that I can just update this instead of the old one when/if I expand this series. Yes I am linking posts made from my main blog, yes this is me.)

You Giving Neighbor!Simon a Tool

You Moving into Simon's Flat

Simon Coming Home to You

This may not be a completed list (it may be expanded upon)!

[thewitchblue]

Recluse Part Seven:

TW: Smut and gore

You smiled happily as Bruce tells you,

"I have drafted an adoption agreement. You will split custody with me, of course, but Damian will stay with you the majority of the time."

You took the pen from his hand with a thanks and signed the paperwork. Unfortunately for you, the paperwork was a marriage certificate to marry you to Dick. Bruce's smile was dangerous, but he let you run off to pack Damian's clothes.

"When are you going to tell them?"

Jason asked with crossed arms. He still didn't entirely agree with this situation, but you were a good person and a good match for Dick. Bruce leaned back in his chair and replied,

"When this is filed. You will have to keep them here until then, understood?"

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. He hated having to lie to keep you around, but he would if he must. Anything to keep Dick happy.

Your spider sense triggered the second Damian "accidentally" fell and released the pollens on you. He was greatly apologetic and called for Dick and Tim to help as he left with the jars in his hands.

Dick and Tim sat on both sides of you, but you immediately rushed to the opposite side of the room. You tried to open a portal, but Damian must have taken your ring with him. You're stranded with these two.

Need burned through you. You hissed in pain at the forced arousal. Tim asked with false concern,

"What's wrong?"

Your mind was racing for a solution to your problem. You can't cheat on Miguel, but the way Tim and Dick looked at you made you tempted. You shuddered when they lightly touched your arms and stepped away.

"You both need to leave. Now."

Dick shook his head. He wanted to help you. He needed to be the one to help you. He asked,

"How can we help you?"

You grimaced. Not happening. Even drugged, you kept a cool head. This can't be happening. You tried to leave the room, only to be blocked by Dick. You groaned in annoyance. This can't be happening to you.

"Move, big bird."

Dick blinked in confusion at the big bird comment. Is that a Nightwing jab? Even when you are in pain, you are sassy. You're a fighter, that's for sure.

"Tell us what's wrong first."

You crossed your arms, hurting yourself further. Your pain throbbed through you like a migraine. You told them flatly,

"Damian drugged me with plant pollen. It's time I leave."

Dick softly sighed. You tried to brush past him, roughly shoving him out of your way, but he grabbed you before you could leave. You squirted some venom at him to stop him from reaching you. He froze as the venom soaked into his skin, and then the pain came. He felt like he was on fire.

"What venom is this?"

He was panicking now. What would happen if he died? Tim rushed to his side, also in a panic. They looked at you expectedly, but you already left.

He won't die. He will just be in excruciating pain for a couple of minutes while you look for your ring.

Your eyes scanned each room you came across until eventually ending up in the Batcave, where you found your ring.

Unfortunately for you, Jason was there as well. You turned invisible before you could be spotted and sneaked around him to grab the ring, which sat on a forgotten table. You almost sighed in relief before remembering Jason was there. You tensed when he turned to you, but you silently left the cave.

You smiled as the sexual pain faded. Your body must consider the pollen as a poison. You barely missed bumping into Tim, who was going to try to find an antidote for your venom without a single specimen.

You grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him back to the room Dick was in. He blinked as he saw Dick was fine now. He was only trying to relax his aching muscles. You let him go, but you stayed in the room. You felt the sudden urge to want to cuddle Dick. To massage his muscles and kiss them okay again. You shook your head to clear the urges. Hopefully your system will clear the other pollen quickly.

You picked him up and carried him to his room. He struggled and used every tip Batman and the circus ever taught him, but he couldn't escape the iron grasp you had on him.

He slumped against your shoulder in the long walk to his room and faked pouted. He's hopeful, but he can tell you are no longer affected by the sex pollen, so he wasn't so sure about the cuddle pollen either. You turn visible again once you toss him onto his bed. You crossed your arms and said plainly,

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

He noted how you twitched slightly. You were resisting the pollen. He could use that.

"I had no idea what you were hit with. Poison Ivy has a lot of different pollens."

You shook your head. There was no way he was clueless. How did he get Damian into this? Did Damian know about his plan? Did it matter anymore? You hated to give up on Damian, but maybe Miguel was right.

"I'm leaving. Miguel will need me."

Dick sighed as he locked the door. He hits both of you with the pollen this time. If you won't do it for yourself, maybe you'll do it for him.

Both of you coughed as the pollen enters you both. You stared at him in horror as the burning hit you. Your body removes the pollen quickly, but what do you do about Dick? The only cure you know about is sex. Sure, it was his fault, but could you stomach saving him from himself?

The familiar burning hit him like a truck. He had no idea how you were so calm. He groaned in pain. How can you stand there as if you feel nothing?

You don't feel the sex pollen much. You simply watched him suffer with wide eyes and horror. How can you save him without cheating on Miguel? Your body is used to the poison now, so it can clear the poison out faster. You pursed your lips before asking Dick seriously,

"If I help you, will you leave me alone?"

Dick nodded as his body shuddered. He croaked,

"I'll stop."

It was a lie, of course, but he needed you desperately. He needed you like he needed air. He needed you like he needed water.

You gave a resigned sigh before helping him undress. If you can do this quickly, you can leave to Miguel and tell him the forced situation.

"Aren't you going to undress?"

He asked with great strain. You shook your head immediately.

"No. I'm not crossing that line. You either get handjobs or you get nothing."

Dick didn't like that, but anything was better than nothing, so he didn't complain. You hesitated as you looked at his body. You can admit he's attractive, right?

"How many times do you have to cum before this is cleared out of you?"

Dick shrugged. He had no idea, but he guided your hand onto his dick and groaned when you slowly started to jerk him off.

"I don't know. There's only one way to find out."

You pressed your lips together. You didn't like not having a number. You decided to count. There is no way to really know, but you'd low ball it. Men can't cum as much without it becoming painful.

You started slow, hesitant and uncomfortable about doing this. You twisted your wrist to have your fingers brush against a vein you felt. His moan was loud, and he begged,

"Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you."

He clawed at your hips, but you whacked his hands off of you.

"No. This is on my terms, not yours. You either take what I give you or I walk out this door."

He groaned at his own damnation. Why did he dose himself? He should have known you wouldn't let him fuck you.

Your hands were slow but becoming confident. He whimpered and tried to thrust into your hand, but you slapped his thigh to stop him. Who knew you'd be so dominant?

"Be a good boy and take what I give you."

He whined but obeyed. There was a fire in his veins begging for release. He was so sensitive that he didn't even mind the slow movements.

You pressed your lips together as you watched his expressions. This is going to take forever if you kept the slow pace, so you steadily sped up. You did debate doing more, but you didn't want to hurt Miguel further. You stared at your engagement ring with guilty eyes. How could you ever look Miguel in the face again? You wanted to stop, but you felt an obligation now.

You chewed your lip anxiously. How could Miguel forgive you after this? He told you Damian isn't worth it. You should have listened.

You abruptly turn invisible as Damian came in with Miles in tow. Damian looked confused but also angry as he stared at Dick.

"Where are they?"

He asked. Miles raised his hand in front of his face and said,

"Dios mio. (My god) ¿Vamos a ignorar a tu hermano desnudo? (Are we going to ignore your naked brother?) They obviously aren't here."

Miles had to look away from Dick. You shivered while invisible, unsure what to do. You can't let go of his dick or they would see the movement. Invisibility is linked between spider people, so you can't risk Miles turning invisible as well. You both can see each other when invisible at the same time; all spider people who can turn invisible can see each other .as well. It makes fights interesting when any invisible spiders are paired together.

Miles looked around the room, and you held your breath as you turned right to you. He looked at the ceiling, and you begged the universe he didn't turn invisible. He had no reason to, but you had a feeling his spider sense was going off.

You used an invisible web to rattle the closet, and he relaxed. A girl must be inside the closet, and that is what made his spider sense go off. You sagged in relief as Miles and Damian left.

You hissed quietly to Dick,

"Handle this,"

You squeezed his dick painfully,

"Yourself. I'm leaving."

You removed your hand and stood to leave. Dick begged quietly,

"Don't leave me like this! Please!"

You portaled home with a heavy mind and racing heart. You had stepped into Miguel's office out of panic.

"Mi corazón (my heart), what's wrong?"

You rushed to his arms and cried. You felt so guilty and mortified about the entire situation.

"¡Lo siento mucho, mi corazón! No quería, lo prometo. No sabía qué hacer." (I'm so sorry, my heart! I didn't want to, I promise. I didn't know what to do.)

Miguel, confused and worried, held you while you cried in his arms. He also didn't know what to do. He didn't know what happened to get you so worked up.

"Mi corazón, what's wrong?"

You were shaking, but you explained the situation. You begged for forgiveness, but Miguel didn't know what to do. He felt numb, like you admitted to a crime. He voiced his only question,

"Were you forced?"

You hesitated but explained the guilt and that it wasn't completely non-consensual.

"He used a weird powder to make me want it. He used it on himself as well, so I felt responsible for him. I still have it on my shirt if you want lab to test it."

Miguel agreed, and you both headed to the lab. He doesn't know if he could move past this. You've been loyal so far, and you were drugged, but he was so deeply hurt, and he knew you were hurt as well. He didn't want to be a jerk and leave you over this, but you seemed fine currently. You aren't in a lust-driven state nor in a state demanding intimacy.

You two arrived at the lab quickly. You took off your shirt so they could get a sample and turned on your suit the second the shirt was off. You looked so broken, but Miguel didn't know how to help or even where to go from here. He felt crushed. Where could he go from here? The thought of you being put in such a terrible situation made him nauseous.

You watched with worried eyes as the lab worked. They managed to extract a large sample and they all stilled at the results.

"Miguel... this is an aphrodisiac drug and increases oxytocin levels. Whatever happened, you should be thankful they came back in this state and not in the state they should have come back in."

You had tears in your eyes, and you explained,

"My body considered it a type of poison and filtered it out faster than normal. Is it poisonous?"

The lead scientist paused to consider it. It's fascinating to see your poison resistance work its magic.

"I supposed it could be considered partially poisonous. It attacks all of the systems relating to sexual functions. The central, peripheral somatic, and autonomic nervous systems are all hijacked and taken over."

You nodded along, now intrigued by the odd powder combination. Now that you understood why your healing factor attacked it so aggressively, it's fascinating.

"Can you make an antidote? I have the strongest healing factor in the Society, and even I struggled with it the first time they drugged me."

Miguel looked at you incredulously,

"¿La primera vez? (The first time?) This happened multiple times?"

You grimaced and shied away under Miguel's red eyes. He looked furious at the idea that this had happened multiple times.

"Twice. I managed to escape the first time with my venom, but the second time, I was attacked by surprise."

Miguel glared at you. What good is a spider sense if it can't save you from these situations? He hated the fear his anger produced in your eyes. He would never hurt you, and he knew it's terrible, but he hated all their schemes.

"We are adopting someone else. Let Damian go."

You groaned and rubbed your face.

"Not this again. Miguel, you know I can't."

He snarled,

"You can't, or you are too stubborn to let this go? I don't want to, but I will chain you to bed if I must."

You bit your lip and looked away. You have spent too many years in chains and shackles. You ran your thumb over your scar. They branded you with a hot iron when you were taken. You were another number in the sea of prisoners.

Miguel noticed as you fell back into your past trauma with sad eyes. What is he doing? He's being so mean, and his anger has hurt you more than once. He felt like a monster.

Your eyes glazed over as you left your body to relive the horrors of your past, and he was the cause. He was the one to put you down when you desperately needed him to lift you up and hold you.

Your eyes teared up, and you began to hyperventilate. What is going on in your mind?

Miguel sighed deeply, but he knew he had to let this run its course. There was no way to get you back. At least, no way he knows of. He's tried grounding you in the past, and you immediately began to choke him out with unseeing eyes. One hospital trip with a collapsed throat and a ruptured liver, he learned to never try again. You aren't you. You are a prisoner escaping a slaughterhouse in those moments.

His eyes drift to your scar. Everyone knows the story of how you got it. Noir specifically told you he could go there and kill the higher-ups for you, but you told him you were the sole survivor.

You regularly wage a war against their replacements. You release the prisoners, the higher-ups gain more, only to lose them all again to you.

Noir sometimes helps you, claiming he wants in on the fun, but mostly, his business has to remain in his universe. He is actually your closest friend as a result of all your jailbreaks.

Miguel flinched when you flinched away from them all. It's not new for you to have physical reactions, but it hurts his heart every time.

You physically whimpered in past pain. His eyes watered. He watched helplessly as you relived whatever memory you were trapped in now.

Everybody in the lab pretended not to notice, but Miguel knew they all were watching; they always watched when you fell into a memory. It made him so indescribably angry. They all treated you with pity, as very few of the spiders can relate.

You blinked rapidly as you landed back in your body. You ran a stressed hand through your hair and shuddered. You ran away to break down in silence. Everything was too loud and the walls were too similar. You remember the chair you were strapped to as the scientists did whatever they wanted to you and the shackles they put you in. You have to escape. You have to leave. Now.

You didn't even realise you portaled back to the manor, but you also didn't notice that a much-calmer Dick followed you into an empty room.

You couldn't go back home, not after what happened with Miguel. You hated breaking in front of him, especially when the relationship was already on the rocks.

You slid down the wall and rested your head on your knees. You broke down and sobbed. Your body shook with the force of your tears. Just breathing felt impossible.

Everything hurt. Everyone hurt you, and you can't even go to Harry because he wouldn't understand. Nobody in the Society ever understands you. You felt like the freak everywhere you go. You have the darkest backstory and the worst luck. You wouldn't be surprised if you found Harry dead next time you go back to your universe.

Dick entered the room and gently pulled you into a hug when he saw you sobbing and shaking on the floor.

"What happened, spidey?"

You shook your head as you buried your head into his chest. You don't know how to explain what happened. It was hard explaining the basics to Damian, let alone what you just relived.

"Bad memories."

You finally managed to stammer out between sobs. Dick's hold on you tightened slightly. You didn't break up with Miguel, but he could tell it was getting there. You both could tell Miguel's on the edge.

"Everything hurts."

You said weakly after your panic attack ended. You pushed away from him and wiped away the last of your tears. Dick asked softly,

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You shuddered at the memory, but one glance at your scarred skin pushed you over the edge.

"I was being dragged out of my cage and to the chair. I was too weak from the sedatives, and the last time, they hurt me to fight. They spoke in a language I was too exhausted to translate, but once the straps were on, I was at their mercy,"

You rolled up the sleeves of your suit and showed him the scar.

"They branded me that day and cut me open without anaesthesia. They wanted pictures of my organs before the experiments to document any changes accurately."

You lowered the collar of your suit to show him the beginning scar that cut you all the way down your body.

You pressed your lips together as Dick's face paled. His eyes shift between both scars with horror. His lovely wife has been through such horrors, and he had no way to save her. He wanted to cry for you. This is worse than Jason. This was torture for years, not hours. The scar was long, thick, and jagged, as if they only shifted the knife slightly to the right or left before carving. That explains why you only have high-collared clothes.

"They tested how much my body could handle. I've had every venom and poison on Earth inside my arteries, and they used experimental anti-venoms to clear it out. When the drugs didn't work, they used illegal substances to see if they would work before finally giving me the safest drug to heal it. I have strong resistances and an even stronger healing factor. Nothing can hurt me for long."

You had glazed eyes as you spoke. Dick was heartbroken. He assumed you had already taken care of the kidnappers, but he needed to dig some more to find them himself. He needs to "talk" to them.

Evidently, you knew that look in his eyes, and you shook your head.

"During my escape, the other people kidnapped killed the people responsible. There's no one to talk to. Others take their place, and I bust them again and again. There is nobody left to gain vengeance against."

Dick deflated in defeat. His heart hurt deeply for you. You stood up and said,

"I'm sorry to ruin your shirt. I'll be leaving now."

Dick looked surprised. He was shocked Bruce didn't tell you.

"Why would you leave?"

You raised your eyebrows at him. Why would you stay? This isn't your universe, and your only ties now are the split custody agreement.

"I have a relationship to salvage and I need to take Damian home with me."

Dick took his hand in yours, but you moved it away. He looked like he didn't want to explain this but said,

"The paper you signed was a marriage certificate. You are married to me."

You turned pale, and your eyes widened. Bruce betrayed you. Why didn't you read the paper? You assumed you had no ties to them. Sure, you knew Dick had a bit of a crush on you, but you didn't expect to be tricked into marrying him! You had no words, only questions.

"But, I... Why?"

Why would he do something like this? He knows you're engaged! You have nothing to give him. You hold no love towards him and no trust in his character. What made him want to marry you?

"It was Bruce's idea. He wanted you in the family and loves Damian too much to let him go."

You groaned loudly and held your head in your hands. Divorce is too expensive for you to afford. You're trapped in a family you never wanted to be a part of.

"I'm going to have to divorce you then."

Dick sighed like you were a difficult child resisting him. How did he expect this to go? You don't view him like that. Why did he expect you to be all sunshine and rainbows about being tricked into a marriage contract?

You flashed your venomous fangs as he reached for you. You stepped away from him. He narrowed his eyes. Why were you resisting him? You will never have to run away again.

"You don't have to run from me, webs."

Your mind raced before eventually saying awkwardly,

"I have to pack and grab my web fluid, I'll come back."

You tried not to run into the portal you opened, but it was hard. How can you get a divorce? You should have married Miguel on the spot. How do you tell Miguel? Are you going to be left with only the Wayne family after Miguel takes back his ring?

You could run to Harry in your universe and never come back. You have lived with Harry in the past, but could you risk his safety? He knows about your superhero life, but he could never understand why you are running. He could never find out. You'll have to give up Miles and his family.

You are so, so screwed. You have nobody to turn to after destroying your relationship with Miguel.

"Mi amor, where have you been? I've looked everywhere."

You began to shake. What do you do? Could you erase the marriage? Is that a fixed event?

"Miguel, my love, I need to talk to you and you need to not tell me 'I told you so.'"

You shivered as his arms wrapped around you. He kissed the top of your head.

"I have to apologise for the chaining comment first. I never should have said that, and I'm sorry."

You nodded along. You were beyond anxious. How do you even word this?

"Miguel... I may or may not have been tricked into marrying someone instead of adopting Damian."

You cringed as Miguel stepped away from you. Your ring has never felt heavier. You felt like you ruined the one reason you live.

Miguel was your heart. He was the reason you could get up in the morning and feel okay. He made your heart beat and gave you lungs so you could breathe.

"What do you mean you were tricked into marrying someone? ¿Qué pasó, mi corazón? (What happened, my heart?)"

You cried harder and shook your head. With shaking hands, you took off the ring Miguel gave you.

"I was tricked into marrying Dick, the guy who was hanging off of me at the party."

Now he wanted to cry. What happened between you telling him the good news and now?

"We can avoid their universe and still marry. Our marriage would hold more weight than the one with Dick. Our marriage would be multiuniversal."

You sobbed.

"I'm not sure if it would be void. We can try, but I can't imagine it would work."

Miguel looked at the ring with teary eyes.

"We can try. I need to know if it's possible to save this."

You sobbed but agreed. You desperately wanted to be with him forever. You were so stupid to chase Damian when everything told you to leave him.

You found out that day that you can't marry each other. With tear-filled eyes, you gave Miguel his ring back.

"You will always be my true love. I'm sorry."

You wanted to take it back, but you know it's too late. The multiverse has already tied you to Dick and said it would be impossible to do otherwise. A divorce would have massive consequences.

Both of you sobbed and held each other.

"I'm so sorry. I wasted your years and broke your heart. I'm so sorry, my love."

Miguel nodded and spoke comforting words. You both were broken, but he felt like he had to hold it together for your sake. The universe has not been kind to you. Even in different universes, you were given such terrible luck. Every universe you step in seems out to get you. He felt crushed.

"You didn't waste those years. They were the best years of my life."

You sobbed harder. The multiverse hates you. Why were you so careless? You should have read the paper.

"You're my Gwen Stacy,"

Your voice cracked, a soft murmur more than a voice,

"It was never meant to end well..."

That broke Miguel. He began to sob with you. It hurt so deeply. Dick ripped him away from you.

"Will someone else take over my universe? I don't think Dick will let me go back."

Miguel frowned. He hated how defeated you sounded. You looked and felt broken, lost and numb.

"I can change the device from your 'cheap' ring to your other electronics."

You agreed, thankful for any way to go back to your universe and help your people.

"I guess I better pack... you are more than free to take the apartment. I have Harry, and I guess Dick now..."

You frowned. Everything hurt, but you left to pack like you told Dick you would. You had nothing left.

Everything hurts, and it's your own fault.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

whenever someone reads a prequel or a retelling and complains about knowing how it will end since the beginning I'm like. bro. dude. bitch. however you prefer to be referred to.

✨THATS THE FUCKING POINT✨

It's about the tragedy of reading all the ways the characters are unknowingly building towards the very same fate they are so desperately trying to avoid.

ITS ABOUT THE BITTERSWEET JOY OF KNOWING THEIR STORY IS STILL WORTH TELLING.

REGARDLESS OF HOW IT ENDS.

if your story is only good when reading through it the first time? if the reading experience is spoiled by knowing what happens?? (pun fully intended) it's not that well crafted a story imo.

Sometimes it's not about what is going to happen. Sometimes it's about reinterpreting the characters. Sometimes it's about exploring themes through a story we already know.

Sometimes the storytelling is enhanced by knowing how it is going to end.

[hellraiser0]

SERIES STORYLINE — ❥ 1 ❥ 2 ❥ 3

THE RECLUSE ❥ " You're talking to me? Really? Try someone else. "

THE WALLFLOWER ❥ " Oh— you probably got the wrong guy- if you're looking for someone else than- Oh, you want.. To talk to.. Me? Are you sure? "

THE EASYGOING ❥ " See, you fit like a glove here! "

THE CASANOVA ❥ " Eyes on me sweetheart. You'll never see anyone like me again. "

THE UNFORTUNATE ❥ " WOAH, You're in the hazard zone! Don't come any closer unless you want something bad to happen- "

THE BRAIN ❥ " You want help? I'm a little busy- No one else can?.. Oh, okay, no harm im lending a hand then. "

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[konigsblog]

KÖNIG P!LINK MASTERLIST. (🌽)

MASTERLISTS - BEWARE: DARK THEMES BELOW.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. STRICTLY 18+. ALL MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

A MASTERLIST OF KÖNIG THEMED VIDEOS COMPILED TOGETHER.

CREDITS: @GLUTT_R, ALL VIDEOS ARE AVAILABLE ON X/🐦

LOSER!KÖNIG

jerking loser!könig off while he plays videogames.

promising to let könig have a little fun...

bimbo!reader giving the poor social recluse a chance.

getting loser!könig off after toying with him all day.

becoming loser!könig's outlet for frustration during gaming.

big-dicked!loser!könig melting at the touch of a woman.

letting loser!virgin!könig record during sex.

bouncing on his cock while he games.

allowing the sick pervert to hump you.

loser!könig who'll humiliate himself for your satisfaction.

NERD!KÖNIG

nerd!könig who's very clearly and visibly inexperienced, but beyond desperate.

getting nerd!könig off as compensation for his helpfulness while studying together.

nerd!reader getting könig off while reading.

nerd!könig x nerd!reader.

overstimulating nerd!könig with your gentle, intimate touch.

nerd!könig who needs some extra entertainment.

tying him up and fucking with his fucked-up, perverted head.

refusing to let könig lose his virginity to you just yet.

könig and his humiliation & exhibition kink..

finally touching nerd!könig for the first time.

CREEP!KÖNIG

könig after gifting you a teddy bear with a camera hidden inside...

könig after gifting you a teddy bear with a camera hidden inside (part two)...

creep!könig secretly recording you during sex.

creep!könig who takes advantage of intoxicated women he finds. (non-con)

kidnapper!könig who abducts young, dumb, and unsuspecting women. (non-con)

creep!könig who manipulates you into consenting. (non-con)

silencing you with threats... and his thick cock.

assaulted in the boot of his truck. (non-con)

public transport with creepy, touchy könig.

PERV!KÖNIG

somnophiliac!könig and his crave for lust and control. (non-con + somnophilia)

“just the tip...” with perverted, overstimulated könig.

getting handsy with high libido!könig.

those panties? he's stuffing them into his pocket for later, mäuschen.

könig's oral fixation.

könig being unable to keep his hands to himself.

könig's inability to keep his mouth off of you.

being awoken with sex by perv!könig.

KONIG (GENERAL)

being your colonel's dumb little sex toy.

könig and his raging size kink.

könig's feral breeding fetish.

the mistake of losing to your virginity to könig...

worshiping his meaty cock.

cockdrunk off his hung and hefty dick.

first time with könig.

hole inspection with könig.

könig's intensifying and worsening breeding kink.

könig and his skillful, tactical fingers.

[the-whispers-of-death]

I know it's been for a few days, but hear me out: Recluse!Reader officially unofficially moving into Neighbor!Simon's flat.

You two have been spending time together and dating for months and Simon had gotten you to come over to his flat and stay over for at least a couple weeks before he had to leave for deployment. So one day, you come out of his bedroom, clad in only your underwear and his shirt (because why would you need to wear anything else when you don't go out and it's just you and him?) and you see him installing several more locks on the door to his flat. And when you ask him why he's installing more locks, he says it's so you, his beloved, is safe while he's away fighting for the country.

And part of you is like "but I'm not living here" but then you realize his flat is stocked with enough food and water for you to stay there while he's gone, so you don't have to go out and buy groceries (or in your case interact with that delivery man who delivers your groceries)! There's even more food in his flat than in yours, he's well-prepared for you, even better than you are. And as previously mentioned in the first post of Recluse!Reader, Simon's flat is already stocked with your favorite books and dvd collections of your favorite shows! You'd never have to be bored while he's away.

So he just continues to install the locks and you go and make him breakfast, so oblivious to the fact that he's not intending on giving you the keys to said locks, because you're not leaving.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

[naffeclipse]

Hi! Same Anon that sent in the human Y/N with the baby Sirens Sun and Moon (I'm so glad you liked it! :)

You wrote that piece so wonderfully! And I adore all of your stories so much!

I just can't help but imagine that the Reclusive Writer Y/N might be more open to becoming a Siren, with the irony being that their babies would get the chance to teach them things!

Of course that first day as a Siren might not go over that well because the babies-now-teens failed to register Y/N never had a fluke before and the things they knew the basics from birth. Like stopping...(Crashed into a rock) Depth perception (Missed the air hole and hit the ice with their head) and hunting... (Got sucker punched by an octopus)

First night ends with Orca-writer unconscious on Eclipse from a concussion...

I loved it so much, ahh! I'm glad you enjoyed it! <3

The recluse isn't an easy human to persuade into becoming a siren. As much as Eclipse adores you and wants you in the water with your siren sons, you're a bit stubborn and set in your ways. (Hence the recluse part.) So, you would spend a long time telling Eclipse no whenever he says you could swim with him, Sun, and Moon. It would be an easy song to sing.

You keep resisting due more to their nature than any logic or will, and Eclipse tells you that one day you will say yet (and you laugh at that), but eventually, you notice how Sun and Moon keep swimming farther and farther out, exploring the sea. You enjoy the closeness with Eclipse and know you could still be closer if you simply accepted...

It's just a hard thing to change about yourself. You love your babies (and you love Eclipse, you love raising Sun and Moon with him), but trading your legs for a tail is a big decision. It's not one you take lightly.

You finally ask Sun and Moon one day if it would change anything if you become a siren, if they might see you differently than the human who raised them. (Eclipse says they're almost grown, ready to be adults.) Sun and Moon look at each other before agreeing that no, it wouldn't change anything. They love you. So long as you are here with them, they are happy.

That's the only answer you need before you turn to Eclipse and tell him that you'll let him sing his song and take you into the water. Sun and Moon are thrilled.

Of course, the first day is full of baby steps (wasn't it just yesterday you were filling a bathtub for the baby sirens, and now they're helping you to swim under the ice sheet to open waters?) Eclipse guides you most of the time. Sun and Moon are a bit too eager and restless to truly teach you, but they do hold tight to your arm to keep you upright when Eclipse has to leave your side for a moment, and they sing and trill such joyous sounds because now, there's no reason to ever be apart from each other. You're with your family forevermore.

[pneumosia]

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