#the fate of the monster fucker

[deunmiu-dessie]

ⅹ▬ ⁽ 𝒹𝓇𝒶𝑔𝑜𝓃 ⁾ ¹

part two

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₁₀˖₆ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : slightly edited, talk of death, suicidal thoughts (??) ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : i had to split this into two parts since the entire one-shot might be at least 20k words long. there is no smut in this but in order to understand the second part i'll be writing, you'll need to read this! also, if you've read my demon one-shot, there's a little hint at these worlds colliding, let me know if you find where that is 😌

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎ : you, the princess of the jade empire, are on the run from your tyrannical uncle who is hell-bent on taking the throne for himself. following the death of your family members, you stand as the sole surviving royal descendant. as the unforgiving winter of the north looms closer and you find yourself without shelter, your desire for vengeance is set aside. stranded in a dark cavern, you struggle to stay alive and search for sustenance. but as you delve deeper into the cave, you unknowingly awaken a sinister creature lurking in the shadows, waiting to consume you whole.

꒰m!dragon ₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

“ℳ y lady, you must go now!”

    What had your world come to? And why now?

      You stand there, overwhelmed and devastated as Eunice, your personal maid, thrusts a satchel into your quivering, awaiting hands, her eyes of umber brown are widened and her lips quiver with dread— she was terrified, and rightfully so. She was soon to meet her end, and yet she was accepting it with ease, so much so that it made your heart thump painfully within your ribcage. 

    Eunice was an older woman with greying, thick brown hair that usually framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, but it was now strewn about aimlessly at the top of her head in the midst of utter chaos. Her eyes were the faultless color of brown which held just the tiniest specks of hazel. Within the depths of those chocolate pools, a previously unseen emotion emerges, leaving your hands sweaty and your face pale.

    You shake your head softly at her command, clutching her wrist within your clammy hands, pulling her along with you. "Come, come with me, Eunice, let us flee together!" you beg frantically, tears streaming down your face in heavy rivulets, your mind throbbing with an impending migraine. Your watery, scared eyes make Eunice’s stomach twist torturously— she who had taken care of you since you were a child, could only force a wobbly smile.  

  Eunice's heart trembles with fear at the thought of her death. The mere concept of dying was a chilling specter that haunted her every waking moment. No one willingly wished to die. However, when it came to you, the child she had considered her own? Eunice would willingly embrace death a thousand times over if she had to. 

  She couldn't bear to watch you die, not like this, especially when there was still a chance for you to live, to experience the pleasures of life, and perhaps even create a family of your own one day.

  With her resolve solidified, the woman firmly withdraws her arm from your grasp and gently pushes against your shoulders. “I cannot. I will stay, buy you time,” she whispers. The distant echoes of battle cries resonate in the distance, and Eunice swiftly guides you toward the concealed passage nestled within your chamber.

    "This path shall guide you to Thaos Village within three sunsets. It is my hometown, seek out Geoffrey Jill. Remember My Lady, be smart, be alert. Do not trust anyone, the Kingdom is your enemy.” Her voice trembles, yet even amidst this harrowing ordeal, she maintains her composure, selflessly offering herself as a sacrifice. 

  You’d always been a stubborn child, Eunice used to playfully say that you got it from your Father. He was a formidable figure, unwavering in his decisions, and she saw that same strength in you as a child.

    With glazed eyes, you looked on to Eunice with persistence. Your hands twitching at your sides to grasp at her frayed garments, wanting to tug on them with earnestness, a commemoration to the youth you once were. 

  However, she couldn't help but wonder if she had been too sharp with you during your moments of defiance. Perhaps if she had indulged your rebellious spirit, you would've dragged her along to escape rather than sit arguing with her about it. This notion evoked a sense of self-centeredness within Eunice, as she contemplated her yearning for survival. The longing for life above all else was an inherent trait in human beings after all.

   Her throat constricts as you swallow thickly, your head nodding with a heavy reluctance. Drawing Eunice closer, you envelop her in your arms, feeling the weight of her absence already settling in your chest. “I will miss you dearly,” you whisper, your heart skipping a beat before throbbing painfully against your breast. Her delicate arms wrap around your waist, her tear-stained face seeking solace in the curve of your neck; and her tears searing into your flesh, eternally marking you. "And I, my lady, shall forever carry your memory."

 With a heavy heart, she lets out a hiccuping sob, it’s heavy and distraught– painful. Before abruptly pushing you into the dark passage. With a haunting intensity, she leans against the door, sealing you in. "Now go, My Lady. We shall meet again." Eunice grins, it's etched with weathered smile lines and a small dimple that imprints on the bottom left corner of her mouth, and it's gut-wrenching to see it as her final farewell to you.

 The weighty door crashes closed, its resounding echo reverberating through the air causing you to crumple onto the stony floor, tears muddying your sight and sobs wracking your body. The satchel she has given you feels leaden in your grip, its contents unknown but undoubtedly important for your survival outside the unfamiliar palace wall.

 Before you can gather yourself from your hunched position, you startle at a dull sound of noise beyond the thick passage wall. While your lips tremble with trepidation, you gently lean your ear against the door, desperately yearning to catch even the faintest whisper. And there it is, piercing through the thick barrier of the passage door - the deep resonance of your Uncle's voice, reverberating in your mind like a haunting wail. 

  The tempest raging inside you teeters on the edge of an eruption, stoked by the ghostly memories of a man who once held a special place in your heart, a man you revered and faithfully trailed. But now, he’s the man who mercilessly slaughtered your entire family, driven by his insatiable thirst for power and a birthright that rightfully belonged to another. 

  However, his unappeasable greed eventually caused him to become careless, and amidst the bloodbath of your twentieth name-day, Eunice found an opportunity to aid in your escape. Yet, in just a few hours, your Uncle and his soldiers managed to infiltrate your section of the palace. Eunice, informed by the guards posted near your quarters, unveiled a hidden passage to you in a last-ditch effort. Your world had crumbled in a matter of moments.

“Do not feign ignorance in my presence, woman. My niece, where has she gone?”

    You find yourself drawn back into the moment, where Eunice's unwavering silence lingers in the air. A sense of unease mixed with anticipation twists in your stomach. In an instant, a sharp sound echoes through the room, accompanied by Eunice's anguished wail. Overwhelmed, you reflexively muffle your gasp with a quivering hand, hot tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. 

“I will ask you once more–” His words are abruptly halted and a hush descends upon the room as if time itself has frozen. In the stillness, the piercing sound of a blade being unsheathed pierces the air, followed by the steady voice of Eunice, filled with unwavering resolve. “Go to hell.” These are the last words that reach your ears before a sickening thud echoes— signifying her gruesome decapitation.

  The acrid bitterness of bile scorches your throat, causing your eyebrows to furrow as you suppress the urge to retch. Tears well up in your eyes, stinging like venomous drops. With a burdened soul, you inhale shallow breaths, feeling your heart pound relentlessly within your chest. Rising unsteadily, you clutch the satchel tightly to your breast, all while his voice booms out furiously, demanding, "Find her! Now!"

 Hobbling along the path, you descend into the darkness of the passage, your thoughts consumed by Eunice and the peril that awaited you beyond the safety of the palace walls. Outside the Palace, the Kingdom was a relatively foreign land to you; your parents had taken great pains to shelter you and your siblings from the outside world.

   As the eldest child, you had always harbored suspicions, for as the future ruler, it was your duty to be well-versed in the inner workings of the Jade Kingdom. But you dared not challenge their authority; after all, they were your parents. All they wanted to do was protect you. Right?

    But now, as you make your way through the dark and winding passage, you can't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Eunice's cryptic message left you with more questions than answers, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something sinister was at play in the Kingdom. Your parent's secrets could now cost you your life, all because you didn't know what to expect from journeying outside.

   Shaking your head, you realize it was not the time to cast blame upon the dead; you needed to clear your mind and concentrate.

   The hidden passage leads you through a labyrinth of tunnels, its walls damp and cold. The atmosphere hung heavy with the pungent aroma of soil and mildew, suffocating your every breath. But you press on, driven by the urgency of the situation and the haunting image of Eunice's selfless act.

  As you meander through the never-ending hallway, time dissolves into obscurity, lost in the depths of darkness. But then, a delicate fragrance of flowers wafts through the air, piercing the stagnant atmosphere. The scent dances around you, a fleeting moment of clarity amidst the chaos. 

   In this desolate and forsaken corridor, it becomes your lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the face of despair. It whispers sweet promises of safety and freedom, offering a respite from the relentless onslaught of confusion and fear. With each breath, the aroma seeps into your very being, until finally, you stumble upon a door.

  Emerging from the underground maze, you find yourself in a desolate courtyard garden, surrounded by towering walls that seem to close in on you. The sounds of battle echo through the air, growing louder and more menacing with each passing moment. 

   The relentless ticking of time pushes you to move quickly, and with a sense of dread, you scuttle towards a weathered wooden door seamlessly melded into the formidable barrier, shrouding yourself beneath the protective embrace of your hood. 

   You steal a final look at your home, a shiver running down your spine as it’s consumed by flames. The echoes of joy and warmth that once filled the walls now fade into the crackling of fire and the scent of smoke. The devastation grips your heart, the realization sinking in that the haven you cherished is now a haunting relic of the past. The charred remains stand as a grim reminder of what once was, a place now lost to the merciless fire. A place that was no longer. 

  Time seems to slip through your fingers like sand as you wander along the road. Your footsteps have carried you through its endless expanse, and though it seems like an eternity since you’ve started, it might have merely been a few fleeting hours. You can still see the billowing smoke of your home lingering on the horizon, the ghostly remnants of your past life looming behind you, a chilling reminder of what once was and can never be again.

 The cold breeze nips at your fingertips and cheeks, attempting to penetrate the layers of your clothing and suffocate you in its icy embrace. With rapid, heated breaths, you valiantly defy its persistent advances, feeling your bones shiver beneath your flesh as you fight to retain warmth.

  As the sun starts its slow descent, your nerves start to unravel, the fleeting warmth it provides fading away within the hour. The thought of navigating these paths in the dark filled you with unease, unsure of what creatures may be hiding in the shadows of the woods.

The sun's radiant beams gradually retreat, stretching out elongated shadows over the terrain, and a feeling of unease starts to crawl up your spine. The once comforting warmth that the sun had bestowed upon you throughout the day now dissipates, leaving behind a chilling gust of northern winds. 

As the sky transforms into a canvas of dusky hues, the once vibrant landscape takes on an eerie stillness. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves are replaced by an unsettling silence, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl or the haunting howl of a lone wolf. The encroaching darkness seems to awaken fears that lay dormant within the depths of your mind.

  The road ahead appeared to stretch endlessly, its twists and turns becoming more disorienting with each passing moment. The gnarled branches of the trees reached out like skeletal fingers, casting eerie silhouettes against the sky. The once ‘familiar’ surroundings now come off as distorted and unfamiliar, as if the very essence of the oncoming night had transformed them into something otherworldly.

And though part of you wanted to keep moving, to get as far away as you could, this was not the time to be negligent and risk losing your way or, even worse, losing your life. Not when the fate of the Kingdom rested on your shoulders. Sighing shakily, you deviate off the trail and make your way into the woods, seeking refuge amidst a gathering of trees and vegetation.

The frigid ground greets you with a harsh embrace as you sit down, the cold seeping through your clothes and freezing your body further. Sorting through the hefty satchel, a rush of emotions overwhelms you when you uncover a soft wool covering, a beloved reminder of days when you were younger. As you unfurl the blanket, you lay down, finding yourself nestled on the forest ground, tucking the satchel beneath your head for a bit of comfort, and wrapping yourself up tightly to ward off the chill.

   The hushed rustling of foliage and the indelible chirping of crickets lull you into a state of eerie wakefulness. The fast-fading light seeps through the dense leaves above, casting an unnerving ray over the forest. The fragrance of pine and soil permeates your nose, pacifying your thoughts if only for a moment. 

    However, the life of the woodland is shattered by the haunting echo of horses in the distance, the flora and fauna within the forest coming to a bone-chilling standstill. Every breath you take feels like a desperate struggle, as if the air itself is suffocating you. The trees seem to whisper warnings to each other, their leaves rustling in fear for you. 

  You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a primal instinct urging you to flee from whatever unseen danger lurks in the darkness, but you’re rooted to the spot, unable to move as the ghostly hooves draw nearer. With a sense of anticipation, you sink further into the smothering embrace of the thick foliage, clutching your quivering legs tightly to your shivering body.

  “She couldn't have gotten far while on foot! Spread out and find her!” 

    Shivers skitter down your back, it was Dominic, your Uncle’s son. The echo of his once comforting voice sends tremors down your spine, a startling reminder of the past. Who could have imagined he would also be involved in the massacre of your family? The very cousin who playfully showed you how to handle a sword, how to scale trees, and capture frogs. The very cousin who had once held a special place in your heart, akin to that of a beloved brother.

  You couldn't help but wonder what had led him and his father down this path of destruction. What demons had possessed them to betray their own family, to turn against those who had loved and cared for them? The questions swirled in your mind, but the answers remained elusive.

   The thundering hooves fade into the night, causing you to release a trembling sigh, yet you freeze at the eerie sound of a horse's whinny. “I know you're there, cousin. Your tracks have betrayed you." You stay quiet, wondering if he is testing to see if you will flee, to confirm your presence. The echo of his words fills the night air with a chilling sense of pain, it's sorrowful, and desolate as he utters again.

   “Make sure that your tracks are well-hidden and keep off the main roads. It would be wise to depart the Kingdom immediately, go as far as you must, until nay even whispers of the King's death are uttered. My father, he will never stop, he will hunt you down relentlessly, until he claims your head, cousin."

    Tears well up in your eyes, causing a sharp sting as you blink them back, your stomach knotting with anxiety– perhaps he did know you were here. “Be smart, trust no one, for even the most innocent faces may hide ulterior motives. Stay one step ahead. You must survive if you want revenge for Unc— the King, Queen, and Royal Highnesses.” 

He falls into a chilling silence, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you hear a faint sniffle. "I never wished for any of this, trust me," he whispers. And then he’s galloping away, further and further until you hear him no more. As his presence dissipates, you finally let yourself weep with sobs that darken your vision, and tears that turn frigid upon meeting your cheeks.

The weight of his words lingers in the air, haunting you as you lay alone in the darkness. The truth of his revelation slices through you, sharp as a blade, leaving you adrift and lost. You try to make sense of it all, but the pieces of the puzzle refuse to fit together. 

   You try to shake off the feeling of despair that threatens to consume you, but it clings to you like a shadow. 

    Reflecting on the events that led you to this wretched state, a myriad of questions plague your mind. How did the path you once tread, filled with hope and promise, veer so drastically off course? What unseen forces conspired to orchestrate this cruel twist of fate, leaving you stranded in a world of darkness and unfamiliarity? You wonder how such a sinister fate befell you. Your mind whirls in a frenzy, grappling with these haunting questions until exhaustion finally claims you, dragging you into a restless slumber tormented by blood-curdling visions.

  As the night drags on, sleep remains elusive, antagonizing you with its restless grip. It's not until the first light of dawn filters through the twisted branches above that your mind finally succumbs to sleep, allowing you a fleeting moment of respite.

As you embrace the peaceful caress of sleep, a faint sense of consciousness lingers. The real world has its challenges and griefs, however,  they seem almost insignificant when compared to the terrors that haunt your dreams. 

  If asked to choose between facing the bitterness of reality or the torment of your nightmares; you'd rather brave the acrimony of the real world over the haunting dreams of days long gone.

   It’s when the sun reaches high in the sky that you rouse from your unfulfilling nap. But as you pry your eyes open, which are almost sealed by the bone-chilling cold of the North, you are welcomed not by the sight of frost-laden greenery or the towering yellow Cyprus tree that stood tall yesterday.

  Instead, a face is peering down at you. A countenance that has only existed within the pages of books and tales of caution. 

 It’s a Romog, a magical beast similar to dogs yet towering in size like battle wolves. From what you've read, Romog's are renowned for their savagery, and their prowess in combat. Their hide and sinew possess an almost outlandish thickness and strength, rendering them almost impossible to kill. Even the most seasoned of knights have stumbled in their endeavors to hunt these formidable creatures.

   And since Romog's are known for their exceptional tracking abilities, enforce wizards often form magical pacts with them to harness their talent. Their keen sense of smell and knack for locating elusive targets made them indispensable companions in the realm of magic. However, as it perched on your legs, its tongue lolling and panting deeply, you couldn't help but ponder why it had not yet chosen to devour you. ( You also guessed that your lack of chill throughout the early morning was thanks to the mutt. )

   Why was it here? 

   Your breath hitches in your throat and you swallow thickly, a tremor dancing down your backbone. The Romog's cranium tilts to one side, its gaze overflowing with unsettling fascination before it inclines closer, its sleek tongue sinuously gliding forth to caress your cheek, the coarse texture catching at your skin. 

  “Ugh! Disgusting!” 

  You swiftly wipe away the wet warmth from your cheek, your upper lip curling with revulsion. The Romog, looking innocent, emits a low growl before clambering off of you, its tail wagging frantically. You observe its every movement cautiously, yet you find a morsel of comfort as it nudges you with its massive snout, darting away to perform a playful bow before dashing toward you for another gentle nudge.

   Fear dissipates in an instant, causing you to release a soft chuckle. It's evident that this Romog hadn't yet reached adulthood. Rising to your feet, you retrieve your blanket, which now feels like a thick slab of ice, and proceed to fold it as neatly as possible before tucking it away in your satchel. Throughout this process, the Romog playfully nudges your back, emitting playful yips to further lighten the atmosphere.

  Hefting the bag over your shoulder, your gaze falls to the Romog beside you. Its eyes are wide and almost pleading, and suddenly, a soft gurgle fills the air. It must be hungry – you couldn't remember if Eunice had packed you any food, but it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

  Nonchalantly discarding the satchel, you allow it to descend with a weighty thump upon the earth. You gracefully lower yourself onto one knee, slowly loosening the drawstrings. The Romog creeps nearer, its snout descending to delve into the contents of your exposed bag. With lips slightly pursed, you delicately nudge it aside, engaging in a steadfast gaze with the creature. “You must wait, I'm trying to find you something.” 

  The creature emits a soft chuff. With an air of nonchalance, it raises a front leg and stretches its neck to noisily lick at its paw. You can't help but roll your eyes at the creature's audacious demeanor. Determined to find something worthwhile, you plunge your hand into the bag, rummaging aimlessly and extracting various objects, only to discard them back into the satchel as you realize their inedibility.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you find yourself in possession of a sizable portion of compacted ivory bread, its texture cold and unyielding, as if it had been shaped by the frigid gusts of the northern winds. The Romog stirs with interest at the scent of the doughy morsel, edging nearer until it is practically nestled in your lap. Its gaze meets yours, a silent exchange passing between you, without hesitation, you rend the loaf apart and fling it away into the forest.

  The beast swiftly gives chase, its insatiable appetite driving it forward. Its viscous drool, warm and thick, tenderizes the bread, rendering it more palatable. With a gentle smile, you deftly rearrange the items within your bag, securing them in their rightful places before sealing it shut. Rising to your feet, you hoist the satchel onto your shoulder once again, ready to continue your journey.

 The time of day still lingered in the early hours, urging you to press forward and cover as much ground as possible. If Eunice's information proved accurate, you would reach Thaos Village within at least three days' time. Thaos Village, as the tales tell, revered the water Goddess Euna, it was a relatively peaceful place where mages often resided before embarking on their journeys or seeking wisdom at the renowned arcane institution. It was also the birthplace of Eunice and the man you’d be meeting in only a short while.

As you gaze upon the Romog, its sharp teeth tearing into the meager offering of bread, a shiver runs down your spine, that could've been you under different circumstances. With a forced smile, you hasten your steps out of the eerie forest, eager to escape the looming darkness that surrounded you even in the morning light. Making your way back onto the trail to continue your journey to what you were hoping was safety.  

  The frigid morning breeze froze your face, your nostrils growing numb and your mouth parched from the icy assault. Merely moments into your stroll, your ears seemed on the verge of detachment. To safeguard the remnants of your inner heat, you raise your hood and plunge your hands into the recesses of your cloak, huddling your form in an attempt to repel the gusts of the wind. The fabric provided a small barrier against the frigid wind, but it was not enough to fully protect you.

The frosty air clung to your skin, leaving a tingling sensation that bordered on pain. Each breath you took felt like shards of ice piercing your lungs, causing you to exhale in short, shallow bursts. The trees stood tall and bare, their branches coated in a layer of frost that glistened in the weak morning light. 

   With each step, you could feel the chill seeping deeper into your bones. Your muscles tensed, your movements becoming slower and more deliberate. The cold seemed to sap your energy, leaving you feeling sluggish and drained.

  The sun's feeble attempt to break through the thick layer of clouds was met with resistance, as if the heavens themselves were conspiring to keep the landscape below in a perpetual state of desolation. Its golden beams, though they managed to pierce through the gloom, seemed almost mocking in their presence. They danced upon the barren earth, casting long, eerie shadows that stretched across the desolate terrain, and illuminated the cracked and parched ground.

   As if the sun's futile efforts were not enough, a biting wind swept through the air once more. It howled through the skeletal remains of trees, their branches stripped of leaves and their insides hollowed out.

  ‘snap’ 

 Your heart nearly leaps out of your throat when you jump, swiftly turning to locate the source of the noise. It was only the Romog from earlier, its mouth still coated in breadcrumbs. You purse your lips, fully turning to confront it, cocking your hip to the side, and crossing your arms over your chest.

  “I cannot give you anything more. I also need to eat, beast.”  

   At your acknowledgment, the creature hastens forth to halt before you, perhaps taking your response as a cue to accompany you. Its frigid, damp snout presses against your abdomen, urging you onward to proceed. You delicately push it aside, your hands now finding solace upon your hips. “You mustn't follow me. Now go, I can do nothing more for you.”  

  This time it hearkens, descending into a seated posture and whimpering, its grand cranium inclining to the side. You affirm, content with your actions. "Well done, farewell beast.” 

   Twisting on your heels, you press forward along the trail, tucking your hands into your pockets once again to restore warmth. As you journey for a few more moments, the Romog's heavy, wheezing breaths fade away, which are loud even amidst the piercing gusts of wind.

   You were alone now, it was something you would have to get used to. 

  Moreover, if what you read was true, untamed Romog's were labeled as ‘kill on sight’ in numerous regions. The creature would draw too much attention to you, and you couldn't bear to see it die.

  You've witnessed an excess of death in a brief span and the thought of being responsible for yet another one weighed heavily on your conscience. You knew that if you were to survive in this harsh and unforgiving world, you would need to adapt quickly and make tough decisions.

  You would brave this journey on your own. 

   Or so you thought. The Romog continued to follow you.

   Concealing itself amidst the foliage each time you glanced over your shoulder, its mighty tail protruding from a tree and rhythmically thudding, inadvertently revealing its presence. Hiding itself within shrubs, but its snout, long and thick, would stick out, giving it away. Vanishing into the encompassing woodland, yet its profound, labored breaths would once more, accidentally expose its existence.

   What did it want? 

  Halting abruptly, you inhale deeply, the frigid air chilling your lungs as you pivot swiftly, the Romog attempting to scuttle into the forest to evade your scrutiny. "Come out!" A brief silence ensues, save for the monotonous symphony of howling winds and rustling foliage atop the towering trees. The Romog emerges from its hiding spot, albeit reluctantly. Its head hangs low, ears plastered against its skull, and tail firmly ensconced between its hind legs.

   Its eyes, once filled with mischief and childish curiosity, now reflect an uncertainty. You take a press forward, your presence commanding and unwavering. The Romog takes a hesitant step back, its paws sinking into the soft forest floor.

"I will tell you once more. You mustn't follow me! ‘Tis dangerous, for me and for you. Do you understand?"  For a moment, you forget that you're talking to a beast and not a human, it probably didn't understand a word that you were saying. This realization causes a frown to crease your lips, your eyebrows knitting together sharply.

   As you once more assert your desire for the creature to leave, it cowers slightly, its large, sorrowful eyes gazing up at you with confusion and longing. Its body, covered in sleek, dark fur, bristles in response to your rejection. Yet, despite your firm words, it remains steadfast. 

   With a heavy sigh, you realize that the creature has attached itself to you for reasons beyond your comprehension. Its unwavering resolution tugs at your heartstrings, even as you try to distance yourself from it. Perhaps it senses something in you, a connection that you are yet to understand. Is what you try to convince yourself, to somehow make this situation feel right.

 As you contemplate your next move, the creature finds time to sneak towards you, nudging your leg gently, its touch both cold and comforting. It emits a low, woeful sound as if pleading for you. And despite it, you find yourself softening, your resolve weakening as you look into its eyes, they're filled with such a deep despondency that it almost seems as if you were gazing into a mirror.

  Relenting with a soft huff, you crouch down to meet the creature at eye level. Its snout, still damp and frigid, brushes against your cheek, leaving a trail of icy moisture. You feel a surge of empathy, a sudden realization that this creature searches for companionship and purpose, just as you do. ( though you deny it. )

"I cannot promise you anything," you whisper. Your voice, scratchy from the icy breath of the northern frost, resonates with a delicate blend of tenderness and hesitation, because within you lies the awareness that this was a foolish idea. "If you so choose to accompany me, know that the path ahead is treacherous and filled with uncertainty. I cannot guarantee your safety nor mine."

   The creature's eyes glinted with a newfound emotion, as if understanding you and the risks involved with being your travel companion, but that was just wishful thinking on your end. It emits a soft, almost grateful sound at your words. With a gentle touch, you stroke its furry head, rising to your feet. 

 "Then, let's keep moving."

  “Perhaps I should give you a name. It would be improper to refer to you as ‘beast’ the entire time.” you state, your teeth clashing together in a frenzy. The creature walks alongside you faithfully, its massive form exuding warmth like a furnace, impervious to the icy chill of the north, a fact that you couldn't help but envy, even if just a tad. Your cloak had been breached long ago by the freezing air, and it genuinely felt as though you were treading on pins and needles, your body wracking with tremors from the cold.  

  As the two of you trudge the frost-covered road, you rack your brain for a suitable name for the animal. Alas, you're not particularly skilled in this endeavor, and it appears that the beast is aware of this as well. "What of Charles?" You propose, the words slipping hesitantly from your lips. The being reacts unfavorably to the name, meeting your gaze and snorting in response.

   Your mouth gapes and you narrow your eyes. "Very well, perhaps I shall persist in calling you a beast! Now's not the time to be picky." The creature lets out a low rumble, its eyes narrowing in what seems to be yielding delight. It seems to understand the concept of a name, but is not easily swayed by your meager attempts at bestowing one upon it. Especially that of Charles.

   “Fine, I’ll think of a better one later,” Your gaze shifts towards the sun as it begins its gradual descent, the darkness of night beginning to envelop the sky in its velvety cloak. The frigid air, already piercing, seemed to intensify, as if embracing an even colder essence. 

 Despite this, the two of you had made remarkable progress throughout the day, and it instilled confidence in you that the village would be within reach before nightfall the next day.  Although the tracks upon the nearly frozen ground had begun to fade, you had found them nonetheless, a mosaic of footprints and wagon imprints. A sign of life.

  “Let us stop for today, we mustn’t be out on the road during nightfall.” The latter part of your statement is uttered softly, a reminder to yourself, and the creature joins you as you stealthily veer away from the path and venture into the encroaching shadows of the woods, its tail wagging in delight. You continue walking for a brief period until you once again find yourself amidst a gathering of trees and shrubs, placing your bag on the ground before settling down beside it. You feel almost numb, as though your body has been submerged in icy waters.

The creature settles down beside you, its warm body, thick with fur, brushing against your side, providing a sense of ease in the eerie stillness of the forest. The darkness seems to press in around you, the only sound being the rustling of leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl in the distance. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the chill that has settled in your bones, digging into your satchel to pull out your wool blanket.

  You purse your lips and run your hand along its back, patting softly. “Lucky mutt.” With slow, creaky motions you envelop the blanket around your form and awkwardly collapse, distancing yourself from the creature, head landing harshly on your bag, yet you pay no mind, you were too cold to care. 

   The Romog stands abruptly and moves closer to follow down after you, massive frame wrapping around you. It smells of damp soil and dog and you scrunch your nose. “By the Gods, you need a bath.” you utter, burying your face within the comfort of your blanket to escape the scent. 

   The animal grunts, unamused at your insult, shifting away from you; and in an instant the cold envelops you, freezing the entirety of your body. Your teeth begin to chatter rhythmically, and you instinctively seek warmth by burrowing into the creature's body, no longer bothered by its scent. “P-perhaps just for tonight, yes?” 

  The beast snorts again and affectionately rests its large head on top of yours, tail curling around your body. You smile to yourself as the Romog nuzzles closer, its warm fur providing much-needed comfort in the chilly night. Despite the less-than-pleasant smell, you can't help but feel thankful to the creature for its unexpected aid. 

“What about George?”

The gates of the Village loomed ahead, towering and sturdy, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree. Though guards stood watch at the entrance, it appeared they paid no heed to verifying identities or trade permits. In most bustling regions, such protocols were customary to gain access within their walls. 

   Considering your Uncle's relentless pursuit, one would expect wanted posters or even a bounty on your head. Yet, the lax security raised suspicions— could it be a ruse, an artifice to entice you into the open?

   You duck behind the bushes once more and look toward your companion. “Alright, Aslan—,”  the Romog grumbles at the name, and you sigh, rummaging through your bag to retrieve the final piece of bread. The name was still a matter of debate, as it seemed that no matter what name you chose, the Romog disapproved. 

 For now, it was best to refer to it as 'beast'. You take out the stale bread and struggle to tear it in half. Placing one portion at the creature's feet, you reluctantly return the other half to your bag. "Remain here, you cannot enter the village. I will come for you later tonight if everything goes according to plan."

The Romog sniffs at the bread before tentatively taking a bite, its sharp teeth tearing into the tough crust. You watch as it devours the meager meal, its eyes never leaving you. The two of you had made good timing today and thankfully made it to the village before nightfall. 

   The sun was drifting lower as the minutes passed but you weren't too worried about it, not when safety was within reach. Gone were the worries and anxieties that had plagued your mind just a few short days ago. The weight of the world seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of security. Safety, once elusive and distant, now stood within reach, beckoning you to embrace its solace.

   Although the Romog remained oblivious to the intricate nuances of the Lomaliue language, there were instances when an inexplicable connection seemed to materialize. It was as if the creature possessed an innate comprehension of your commands and the very essence of your words. It was almost comforting in a way, akin to engaging in a heartfelt conversation with a fellow human being, albeit one who chose not to respond.

 “Alright?” 

   The Romog emitted another discontented growl, causing a faint smile to grace your lips. With gentle strokes, you caressed its velvety fur, which bore traces of frost from the relentless northern gusts. Although the biting chill persisted, your body had grown accustomed to its icy touch, rendering you impervious to its sting. 

  At most, you suffered from a mild case of frostnip, far from the severe frostbite that could afflict you if you prolonged your stay in this frigid wilderness for a few more days, a constant reminder of the dangers that awaited those who dared to defy Mother Nature's limits. 

The Romog, sensing your restlessness, nudged you gently with its snout, as if urging you to move on. With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly withdrew your hand from the beast’s fur, feeling a pang of sadness at the loss of its comforting presence. 

   You knew that you had to continue your journey into the Village to seek shelter and warmth before the unforgiving cold took its toll on you. You needed to find Geoffrey Jill.

  Flicking your hood over your head, you venture farther from the village to a side road, so you don't look suspicious walking to the Village from the tree line. As you approached the gate, a sense of unease settles in the pit of your stomach.

  The towering entrance, constructed from the timber of a Viloz tree, its bark known to be as sharp as a blade, was a formidable barrier, separating the outside world from the safety and sanctuary within.

   Despite the imposing presence of the gates, the guards stationed at the entrance appeared strangely indifferent to their duties. They stood there, their eyes glazed over, seemingly oblivious to the comings and goings of the villagers and outsiders alike. It was as if they were mere statues, frozen in time, rather than vigilant sentinels protecting the Village.

  If what your teacher taught you about the Kingdom was right, then in most bustling regions, gaining access to a village of such importance would require strict adherence to protocols. Identification checks, trade permits, and thorough questioning were customary measures to ensure the safety and security of the inhabitants. Yet, here, it seemed that such precautions were nonexistent. Which was odd. 

This lax security raised a myriad of suspicions in your mind. Was it possible that this was all an elaborate ruse, a carefully crafted plan to lure you into the open? After all, your Uncle had been relentlessly pursuing you, his desire to capture and kill you evident in the wanted posters that seemed to adorn every tree you and the beast had passed. 

But for now, this seemed to be your sole option at the moment. Where else could you possibly seek refuge? Escaping the bitter cold and finding this mystery man is your top priority. The urgency of the situation left no room for hesitation or contemplation; your next move would have to wait until later.

Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on your weary shoulders. The biting wind whipped against your face, numbing your senses. With a gulp, you cautiously approached the two guards, trying your best to appear nonchalant. 

Your trembling added to the act, making it seem like you were simply a weary traveler seeking refuge from the impending winter storm that loomed ever closer. The first stick of snow to the ground usually meant a winter blizzard would follow. 

 Your heart thudded rapidly in your chest, almost to the point of pain, as you breezed past the guards who seemed more interested in chatting with each other than actually checking credentials. And just like that, you found yourself standing within the walls of Thaos Village, your pulse still racing with the fear of your successful infiltration.

 ‘Mother, Father— I made it.’ 

  It was only when the moon rose high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the village, that you had finally stumbled upon Geoffrey Jill. 

     When you wandered through the village, you were initially lost in admiration of its liveliness despite the cold weather and impending blizzard. The streets were bustling with people, their laughter and chatter filling the air, while the cozy glow of warm lights spilled out from the windows of quaint cottages. The villagers seemed undeterred by the freezing temperatures, going about their daily routines.

  The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling meats wafted through the air, tempting your taste buds and igniting a hunger that had long been suppressed. The colorful array of fruits and vegetables displayed in the market stalls beckoned to you, their vibrant hues a stark contrast to the dullness of your daily routine. 

   As you meandered through the throngs of people, their laughter and chatter creating a symphony of life around you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for the simple joys that seemed so out of reach.

It resembled a passage extracted from the cherished storybooks of your childhood, it was enchanting in a way. especially for you who had rarely stepped foot out of the castle. Commoner life seemed almost… peaceful in a way. You were fine with just walking the streets, dodging running children, and gazing longingly at the food stalls— it had been forever since you had eaten an actual meal. 

   "Would you care for one?"

As you snap out of your reverie, the world around you slowly comes back into focus. Your eyes meet with those of a woman in her middle age, and you are immediately struck by her captivating appearance. She possesses a round figure, exuding an air of warmth and comfort. Her delightful rosy cheeks add a touch of vibrancy to her overall countenance, giving her a youthful glow.

Her features are refined and elegant. A flat nose sits perfectly in the center of her face, adding a sense of symmetry and grace. Her full lips, slightly curved upwards, seem to hold a perpetual smile, inviting and comforting to all who encounter her. They speak of kindness and understanding, ready to offer solace or share a laugh. Her skin boasts a rich, deep umber brown, like the earth itself.

Yet, it is her eyes that truly captivate you. They are the windows to her soul, and they hold a depth that is both mesmerizing and intimidating. A flawless, all-knowing amber hue fills her irises, shimmering with a wisdom that seems to transcend time. 

When her gaze meets yours, it feels as if she can see into the very depths of you, peering into your thoughts and emotions. There is an intensity to her eyes, an unwavering focus that demands your attention.

   You smile beneath your hood, you doubt she could see it but do so nonetheless. “Oh, that's alright; I have no money at the moment,” you utter, your voice hoarse from the winter chill, and your throat parched from the absence of water and the biting cold.

    The woman grins, it's beautiful and motherly and it warms your belly better than any beverage ever could, it makes you miss your own mother a bit more; if even possible. She grabs one of the skewers and holds it out to you. “My treat, child. Now run along and get home, the winter blizzard is coming.” 

     Initially hesitant, you tentatively extend your hand towards the bottom of the skewer, feeling the cold seep through your frost-nipped fingers as they slip out from under the protection of your cloak. Though she doesn't acknowledge it, the sad smile that encases her full lips tells you that she's noticed. “Thank you, I’ll pay you back, swear it,”  you assure her earnestly.

   She lets out a gentle laugh and gestures for you to leave, “Alright, alright, head on home.” 

   With a now full belly, warmed from the delicious blend of salty meat and spicy vegetables, you now search for Geoffrey Jill with a new intensity. Despite the freezing temperatures of the northern region, which seem to penetrate your very bones, you navigate through narrow alleyways and bustling food stalls without giving the cold a second thought.

    However, as night fell and the temperatures plummeted even further, your energy waned and your awe from earlier, quickly transformed into bewilderment. The once vibrant village now appeared eerie and desolate under the pale moonlight. The laughter and chatter had faded, replaced by an unsettling silence broken only by the howling wind. The cozy glow of lights had dimmed, leaving the streets shrouded in darkness.

   Despite being disoriented and having already been turned around twice, you struggled to find someone who could point you in the right direction to locate Geoffrey Jill. The few villagers you encountered were bundled up in heavy outside blankets, their faces hidden beneath scarves and hats, making it difficult to discern their features.

 Their hurried footsteps echoed through the empty streets as they scampered home, seeking refuge from the biting cold.

   You felt helpless, standing in the middle of the street.

    However, it appeared that the sight of you struggling to find your way through the village, weighed heavily on the shoulders of a man named Tomás Duall. He was an elderly figure, who was reliant on a cane for support, possessed a slight hunch, and a crown of wispy white hair– and he had offered to take you to Geoffrey. 

  His eyes held a deep sadness, as if burdened by the weight of his past. A peculiar scent lingered around him, a mixture of smoke and a hint of sweetness, reminiscent of candy. Tomás had led you to Geoffrey, and while doing so, spoke softly of his lost love and the children he never had, his words tinged with a sense of longing and regret.

   “Child, don't follow my example. Pursue the one you desire.”

  He left you with those words as he bid you farewell at the entrance of Geoffrey’s house. Unexpectedly, you discovered a fondness for this elderly man. Despite his cheeky demeanor and tendency to give hearty pats on the back while sharing a funny story, you found him rather endearing.

 As you brought your attention back to the present, you extended your hand from beneath your cloak and rapped on the door. It's silent, causing a brief moment of panic as your heart tightens in your chest. Could it be possible that he wasn't home? Had the elderly man led you to the wrong house?

You stood there, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you as you waited for a response. The seconds stretched into minutes, each one feeling like an eternity as you listened for any sign of life inside the house. The wind whispered through the trees, the only sound breaking the eerie silence that surrounded you.

  Swallowing thickly you knock once more. “Is there a Geoffrey Jill that lives in this home? Eunice has sent me here.” A moment of tense silence follows, the air thick with anticipation. Suddenly, the door swings wide open, revealing a large, intimidating man filling the doorway. His towering presence sends a shiver down your spine, and you instinctively take a step back, feeling small and vulnerable in his presence.

But as the door opens wider, a surprising shift in the atmosphere occurs. The sound of children's laughter fills the air, accompanied by a woman's voice, likely his wife, softly joining in the joyous chorus. The contrast between the imposing figure before you and the sounds of happiness emanating from within the house is jarring, creating a paradoxical blend of intimidation and warmth.

  “How do you know of that name, girl?” 

   You startle at the sound of his deep voice, it's thunderous even over the sound of howling wind. You gaze up and then further to lock eyes with him. “She was my nanny– she sent me here to look for you, my Unc–” 

   “I cannot help you, go on your way.” 

   Your mouth drops open in disbelief and you cautiously tug off your hood, showing him your face. “Do you know who I am? “ You watch as the blood drains from it, watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes flutter shut. He glances behind him before stepping outside to confront you, shutting the door behind him. “Why has she sent you here, where is she?” 

Despite your best efforts, tears begin to fill your eyes. “She...she is gone,”  you murmur gently, and briefly you fear he has not caught your words amidst the roaring wind due to his profound silence. Yet, as you meet his gaze, you involuntarily recoil at his steely stare and tightly clenched jaw. "She was a foolish woman..."

   You cannot bear to hear him speak ill of her, not when she was your dearest friend, your confidante, your mother in all but blood. You feel a surge of anger rise within you, but you swallow it down, knowing that now is not the time for confrontation. As the wind howls around you, you stand together in silence, each lost in your own thoughts and memories of the woman who brought you together, even in death.

Nevertheless, he eventually breaks the silence.

"Forget whatever she may have told you. I cannot help you, you must leave," he declares harshly, turning his back on you. Your breath catches in your throat, and panic threatens to overwhelm you entirely. This couldn't be real. 

You reach out to him quickly, your hand grasping his meaty wrist,  but you recoil when he flings your hand away, glaring. "P-please, I have nowhere else to go. My Uncle will find me, I cannot die like this-- not when I've done nothing to avenge my Family!"

He scoffs at your words, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Your fate is not my concern. You made your choices, now you must face the consequences," he replies, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. You feel a surge of desperation rising within you, knowing that without his help, you are truly alone in this world. Choices? What choices? You had none. “I have a family now, and I cannot risk their lives to hide a fallen Royal.”

 What has your world come to? And why now? Why was this happening to you?

 Geoffrey goes to retreat once more and you whimper in the back of your throat, restlessly fidgeting on your feet. "Only for the night, to escape the cold," he explains, his gaze meeting yours, revealing a slight softening in his expression. At that moment, he recognizes you as just a child. With a gruff grunt, he gestures towards the side of the house. “There is a shed, stay there. I want you gone as soon as the sun rises.”

  “Yes. Thank you.” 

        The resounding echo of a door's closure is the only response you receive. With a heavy gulp, you suppress the tears that threaten to cascade down your face. What were you to do now? You had no place to go, there was a bounty on your head and winter was coming—  you would surely succumb to the icy grip of death before avenging your family.

   Quivering beneath your cloak, you navigate around the corner of the dwelling and chance upon the shed that Geoffrey had mentioned. Though modest in size and riddled with gaps in its wooden structure, it was better than nothing. 

Pushing open the door, which emitted a mournful creak, you slip inside and collapse onto the floor covered in fragrant hay. As your body temperature gradually rises, shielded from the frigid northern winds, a torrent of tears breaks free, streaming down your frozen cheeks. Why you? 

   Before the sun rose that morning, you were gone, you had slipped away unnoticed, escaping through the gates where the soldiers stood watch as stoic as ever. The bustling of the villagers as they started their day only served to highlight the emptiness in your own life. With no direction and no sense of belonging, the weight of displacement settled heavily on your shoulders.

 The icy touch of the northern winds no longer fazes you, your eyes dry and unyielding to tears, and the sensation in your feet has long faded away. You wander without purpose beside the road, your hood tattered from snagging on skeletal branches. Your mind is a foggy haze, memories slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

   You trudge forward, your footsteps echoing in the silence of the winter wilderness. The road stretches out before you, endless and unforgiving, leading you further into the heart of the icy wasteland. But still, you press on, driven by a force you cannot name. 

  Perhaps it is a glimmer of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness that propels you forward. Or maybe it is simply the instinct to survive, to keep moving despite the odds stacked against you.

The 'beast' had vanished from the very spot where you had last seen it. Maybe it had decided to leave, and you couldn't fault it for that. In fact, if given the chance, you would have done the same thing in a heartbeat. 

   And although you had initially chased the creature away when your paths crossed, now you couldn't help but acknowledge the profound sense of solitude that engulfed you in its absence. It was astonishing how deeply you had connected with it, even in the mere span of two days.

   Banishing those intrusive thoughts, you shift your attention to the world around you. After trekking for what seemed like an eternity, the snow crept up to your ankles, and you were hardly able to see in front of you. The frigid air enveloped you like a thick blanket, making each step feel like wading through a sea of molasses.

   You could feel the weight of the snow pressing against your boots, making each movement a struggle. The once familiar path had become a treacherous maze, with the snow-covered trees and bushes blending in a monochromatic blur. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your labored breaths and the occasional creaking of branches under the weight of the snow.

  The bitter cold gnawed at your bones, seeping through every layer of clothing. Your fingers and toes were numb, and you could feel the sting of frostbite threatening to take hold. The frigid air seemed to penetrate every pore, leaving you shivering uncontrollably.

    As the blizzard began to manifest its icy wrath, the wind surged with newfound vigor, and the temperature plummeted to depths unfamiliar to your senses. In this desolate road, the realization of your death gripped your heart, an undeniable truth that whispered through the frigid air. You were going to die.

 You slowed to a stop, and your limbs, once enfolded tenderly around your midsection, descended languidly to your sides, resembling a lifeless puppet. You were going to die. The icy grip of death or the cruel clutches of starvation awaited you. You had no place to go. The dreams of revenge that once fueled your every action now seemed distant and unattainable.

     Perhaps it was time to consider a different path, one of acceptance and surrender. Why not just meet your family halfway? You could be reunited with them if you just…stopped. 

  So you did. Your legs gave way, and you collapsed, your bag slipping from your weary shoulder. As you tumbled into the snow, it welcomed you with open arms, cushioning your fall. Then you were no longer cold, no in fact you felt warm. 

  Nestling deeper into the snow, you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be transported to a different time and place. In your head, you saw yourself as a child, cradled in your mother's loving arms. You could almost hear her gentle humming, a lullaby- its name long since forgotten.

   The world around you faded away, and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep, the weight of your burdens finally lifted. It was a slumber that beckoned for eternity. A few moments more, and death would claim you as its own, offering you an escape from the pain and suffering that had plagued you for far too long.

   But just as you were about to surrender to sleep, a voice pierced through the darkness. It was faint at first, barely audible, but it grew louder with each passing second. "Wake up," it whispered urgently, pleading for your return. Confusion washed over you and you slowly opened your eyes, the vision of your mother fading away.

   Instead, you were met with the comforting gaze of your beast. It stood tall and formidable, its snout tenderly nudging your cheek. But you couldn't, you didn't want to go on anymore- and so, with a heavy heart, you closed your eyes once more, yearning for the eternal embrace of sleep.

It was warm you realized, almost tenderly so, the thick heat permeated every fiber of your body and it carried with it the intoxicating scent of smoke and embers, enveloping your senses in a dizzying embrace. This was no mere illusion, no figment of your imagination like the deceptive warmth you sought while nestled in the icy embrace of snow. No, this was a tangible warmth, a palpable sensation that was real. 

  It was all-encompassing, like you were wrapped in blankets and surrounded by a huge, blazing fire. It was as though the very essence of existence had been breathed back into your body. It was as if every nerve in your body was on fire. You never wanted it to end, never wanted to return to the mundane reality of life on the run. If this were death, you’d eagerly welcome it. 

  But it was not. You could hear the eerie sound of the howling blizzard wind and if you focused hard enough, you could discern the faintest touch of icy coldness caressing your skin from time to time, only to be swiftly engulfed by a comforting warmth. You were alive. You were alive. It shouldn't have tasted bitter on your tongue, the thought of living– but it did. Reality had a cruel way of creeping back in, like a thief in the night.

 Fluttering your eyes open, you’re immediately met with darkness accompanied by the faint sound of the rhythmic dripping of water. Groggily, you tilted your head towards the left, where the furious northern blizzard continued to roar with a vengeance, and you gave your weary eyes a chance to adapt to the profound darkness. After a few minutes, gradually, the feeble radiance of the moon emerged. Night had fallen.

   You could hardly think, let alone remember what happened after you passed out. Where were you? Who brought you here? And where exactly was here? All these questions but no answers. Sitting up slowly, you turn your head, scanning the surroundings with a sense of unease, the warm air wrapping you in a soft embrace, as if it were alive. Yet there was no fire to be found. No flickering flames, no glow of light, no sound of crackling firewood. Where was it coming from?

   The sound of crunching footfalls on the snow startles you and your body, overcome with a primal instinct, lurches backward, stumbling and trembling, seeking refuge against the warm cave wall. “Who is there? Have you brought me here?” Silence hangs heavy in the air, amplifying the thunderous beats of your heart, as their steps hasten and your breath becomes shallow and rapid, your chest tightening with each passing second.

   There was a high pitched whine before your Romog companion sauntered into the wide expanse of the cave. Its fur was matted with snow which seemed to twinkle like jewels in the dull moonlight. You closed your eyes and let out a soft breath of relief, resting your head against the wall, heart slowing to a soft thump. 

  You could now vaguely remember seeing the Romog before you passed out, feeling the icy cold touch of its wet nose on your cheek. Perhaps the beast had pulled you into the cave before the weather could truly put you out of your misery. 

    A nudge on your neck makes you open your eyes, gaze slanting to the right to look at the animal. Its eyes are familiar and warm, it leaves your heart to somersault lazily in your ribcage. You smile small and reach out to run your hand along its jaw. “Where have you been?” 

   There’s obviously no reply but the beast cuddles its large head into your lap and rumbles contentedly, eyes falling shut. You breathe out a sigh and caress through its wet fur, once again resting your head on the warm cave wall. With a little bit of the security you had, now that the Romog was here, you took the time to scan the cave.

  It's massive, and if the warm draft is anything to go by, it's quite deep as well. The constant but faint sound of dripping water also hints at some type of lake or stream within the cave— your mouth salivates at the thought of water sliding down your parched throat. It had been days since you'd last had anything to drink. 

   And despite how paranoid it might've sounded, this cave felt strangely, lived in— it didn't seem abandoned in the slightest, but you also felt safe. In the state that you were in, it wouldn't be wise to roam and explore the cave just yet. However, when you have the energy to go do so, you will. 

    But for now? You would sleep once more.  

[monstersholygrail]

I think the main thing that I love about monster lovers is that they do such a good job of feeling naturally dominant but still nurturing because of "instinct". Does that make sense? It's something I strongly desire in a man, but all I seem to find are Chads or christian grey mfeers.

Yesss, anon you make perfect sense. I see you. I honestly feel like that’s a big allure to monsters in general too! Like monsters know how to be rough and dominant with their partners, but they know when enough is enough, they know when to be gentle and cherishing because of that instinct to protect their mates. Monsters actually know that there’s a necessary balance between rough and gentle and even when they lose themselves and get every rough, it’s always followed up by equally measured gentleness.

I also think another factor is that monsters typically view humans as something precious and even if they don’t initially I think they usually end up doing so in the end, depends on the piece of literature lol. But if anything they at least view mates as precious where a lot of people don’t as much anymore. Making monsters all the more appealing

[m1k-019]

My FGO hot takes are that Camazotz, ORT, and Tametomo are the sexiest characters.

cuties.

[monstersmashorpass]

SMASH OR PASS: Ivan the Terrible, Fate Franchise

Propaganda from Submitter: Avid reader and supporter of local libraries. Canonically reads to people to help them sleep with the most soothing baritone voice around. And he’s 17 feet tall and can shoot lightning.

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 25

Look who's baaaaaccccckkkk.

I've written a few chapters ahead so that it will hopefully help me to stay on top of this story and not fall behind....again.

But life loves to be silly and change our plans, so let's hope we can stay consistent this time.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

I looked back down at my breakfast and was resigned to starve. I had no appetite. Not since I woke up with the vial missing. My hand consistently reached for my chest to hold it and found nothing there, leaving me feeling hollow and heavy inside. Where had I misplaced it? My father had insisted I bathe and change last night after our conversation, and I took great care to place it where it wouldn’t get lost.

I wasn’t stupid enough to not suspect my father, especially seeing how pleased he was this morning. This playing nice was all some sort of act, but I also didn’t doubt that the Lady of Triel was a means to handle our - or should I say his - debts. I wouldn’t abandon my brothers so carelessly. I would do what I needed to, to satisfy the masses and then if the gods be willing, I would disappear and I would find Drunrag

Which meant I needed that vial.

But even without the vial, I had to trust that he was still alive. I would know, wouldn’t I? I would feel something change in me if he were gone? But he and I weren’t connected anymore, maybe I was being dramatic for thinking there was something still holding him to me. I ran my hand through my hair and siged. My mind was racing too fast to keep up.

“You are not feeling well?” My father asked from across the table.

I looked up and met his eyes. I couldn’t read him. Was it truly concern I was reading in his voice? Or was there an edge to it?

I stuttered to speak, “I-I…I’m not feeling totally myself this morning.” I admitted. “Perhaps I should get some fresh air?”

My father was silent as he in turn studied me, read me. It seemed we were both still playing the game of guessing who was a step in front of whom.

“We’ll be leaving to return to Berdusk shortly, the Duke and Lady Allara are waiting for us.”

“Isn’t Berdusk days away?” I asked, before realizing that I actually had no idea where we were.

My father’s mouth tweaked at my question, “You recall how you came here through a portal, yes?”

I gave him a curt nod, “Yes, yes I remember. Then let’s just skip the meal and be done.” I pushed the food away from me and folded my arms indignantly. I was ready to be out of my father’s direct gaze.

He waited to answer before giving a short nod. “Very well. I will inform the hunters.”

“How is it that the Hunters work for you?” I asked. I knew it was unlikely that I would get an honest answer, but I had to at least try.

“The Hunters and I have a common goal, or shall I say, a common enemy.” He said, he dabbed a napkin across his lips before rising to his feet. “As long as our goals remain the same, we hold a partnership with each other that requires no monetary cost.”

“I see.” I said. 

“Shall we, then?” He asked, gesturing to the door out of the kitchen.

I said nothing, but led us out through the door. I spared a glance down to see if I caught the vial on my father’s person, but as I suspected, it would not be so easy to find.

“Looking for something?” My father asked. His eyes were narrowed.

I met them with a vacant expression. “Nothing of real interest.”

We followed the path back down the stairs to the underground maze of caverns and tunnels. It was confusing, and we were met with a cloaked Hunter who led us through in torchlight to the same large cavernous room. There were a trio of Hunters already in the room, drawing symbols within a circle on the ground. 

We watched silently as the portal opened like a maw in the middle of the air, centered above the magic ring. The space within was blurred and unfocused and shimmered like water, but revealing a landscape much different than the current dank room we were in.. It was a curious form of magic, but also fascinating. 

My father once again let me take the lead and I stepped through with him behind me. I felt a rush of vertigo that time and I forced my eyes shut as I waited for the sensation to pass. When I opened my eyes, we were standing in the Great Hall of Berdusk.

“Easy enough.” My father announced, smiling congenially as the portal winked closed behind us.

Business resumed almost immediately and a guard rushed towards us from the edge of the room. “Your Grace, a message for you.”

It was nothing more than a scrap of paper. I tried to read from the corner of my eye, I had only the chance to read a few words before my father slipped the paper into his robes.

Your Commander is not loyal. 

“Hmmm, a beautiful morning indeed.” My father breathed out. He looked down at me with a grim smile, “Shall we go meet your fiance?”

“I’d actually like to freshen up first.” I said, before clearing my throat, “I…I’d like to be looking my best.”

He nodded, “Of course. On your way, then, try to be quick, son.”

I bowed my head solemnly. “I know what is expected of me.” I turned and began the descent down the stairs and out of the room. 

As I stepped out I quickened my pace and raced towards my quarters, but not before a hand grabbed me and pulled me into a small hallway.

“What are you doing here?” Selhar’s face was panic-stricken and frantic. “Where is he?”

“Selhar?” I asked. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head, “No, you’re not supposed to be back here. He promised me he would keep you safe.”

“You’re not making any sense.” I said, and I grabbed his shoulders, trying to still his shaking body. “Selhar, what are you talking about?”

“Your…your partner. The orc. He promised me that he would try to keep you safe. I believed him. Why are you back?” 

I had never seen such extreme emotion on his face in a long time. Not since our mother’s passing, and I felt the jump in my own heartbeat as I looked back at him. “He…He’s.” I sighed. “I don’t know where he is, Selhar. I think father has him.”

“Where?” 

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“I hate him.” Selhar said, his voice came out like a hiss. “I hate him so much.”

The hallway was somber as I let my brother’s words hang between us. My mother and I had failed to protect him from the cruelties of Duke Hilmar, and the guilt that I didn’t even know what my brother had been going through suddenly overwhelmed me. This wasn’t just about me and Drun. This conflict ran much, much deeper.

“Listen, Selhar.” My voice was soft, “I’m not giving up yet.”

He shook his head,  “But he’s brought you back here twice. You won’t be able to leave now.”

I nodded, “I know. But maybe you can help me?”

His eyes widened. “How?”

“I need you to get in touch with Commander Gideon. Tell him that father suspects him of treason. If he can, I need to meet with him as soon as possible.”

“Is that all?” He asked.

I thought for a moment, then continued. “I think father has something that belongs to me. A glass vial with red liquid inside. If you can find it somehow, I need that back. And don’t let the Duke find out.”

He nodded, a small wry smile formed on his face. “I’m the middle child, Altan, father doesn’t pay attention to me unless he’s mad at me. It will be easy.”

“He’s waiting for me. I have to meet my…fiance” We both grimaced at that. “I’ll find you after that.”

He nodded and turned to go.

“Selhar.” I said as he was about to leave. “I’m sorry for whatever he’s done to you.”

He shook his head, “It doesn’t matter if we’re able to stop him.” And then he turned to go. 

There were a set of guards outside my room as I approached it. I felt the small pit in my stomach tighten as I approached them. 

“I assume you were sent by my father?”

They nodded. 

I rolled my eyes and forced my most petulant voice.. “I won’t meet with anyone until I am clean from my travels. Would you be kind enough to get someone to start my bath?”

“Young lord…” One of them began.

“Please.” I bemoaned. “And if I come out of here with you both still here, I’m reporting you to my father, he’s waiting on me, which means he’s waiting on you.”

I didn’t wait for an answer and strode into my room where everything was as exactly as I had left it. Strange to believe that it had not even been a week since I had left. So much had happened. I hoped my whining was good enough to get rid of the guards at my door. And I hoped that Commander Gideon would arrive in time for him to not be seen by them.

I paced, thinking over everything. 

This was what I knew at that point.

The first, that my father had an arrangement with the Red Hunters that meant they had a mutual goal that enabled them to work together so long as that mutual goal remained. I didn’t know what that goal was, but perhaps if I could find out what it was, I could use that to my advantage.

Secondly, I knew Drunrag was being held somewhere as leverage for me to obey and listen to my father and I also believed he possessed the vial as added leverage, but my father was holding that information from me until absolutely necessary should I misbehave again.

Third, there were spies within the Great Hall who had informed my father of Commander Gideon as an enemy to my father’s goals. I wasn’t certain if these spies were part of the deal with the Red Hunters, or separate, but it was important to note that I couldn’t trust anyone at this point besides Gideon, Doxxah, and Selhar.

Lastly, a portion of my father’s debt relied on me uniting with Lady Allara. The consequences of not doing so were unclear, and I also didn’t know if it played into the arrangement with the Red Hunters. But I could only hope that it was the case, since all of the details seemed so close together.

I didn’t know how to connect all of the details yet. I was never the most clever, though the gods know I tried to be. I only knew that I had multiple things I needed to see happen before Drunrag and I could be together again.

The first, was to prevent Commander Gideon from being arrested or blamed for treason and perhaps reveal the moles within the guards’ ranks. He was my greatest asset and ally with influence and rank.

Second, my arranged marriage had to be stopped and if I was lucky, I could incite problems with deals my father has with the Red Hunters that would help with my third, and perhaps most important goal which was to stop whatever other plans my father has. I needed to prevent him from ever doing something like this ever again. Perhaps it was time the Hilmar name faced the consequences and no longer be in power.

I was deep in thought when I heard a knock at the door.

My heart leapt the same time I sprung to my feet and raced for the door. I cracked it open and let out a breath when I saw the towering figure of Commander Gideon . There was no sign of anyone else.

“Quick. Inside.” I said and released the door.

The Commander slid into the room, an impassive look on his face. I was about to close the door when Selhar grabbed the door and followed in. “Not without me.” He said quietly, but the determination in his voice was not to be dismissed.

“Did anyone see you?” I asked.

They both shook their heads.

“We don’t have much time. My father is about to have guards on me again and I don’t know if we’ll have another chance like this.”

“I understand the Duke has marked me as untrustworthy.” Gideon said. “Much gratitude to you for warning me. I am in your debt.”

I bowed my head, “You are my ally, and selfishly I must admit I cannot do this without you.” I turned to Selhar, “Either of you.”

“Where is the young orc?” The Commander asked.

“Somewhere imprisoned by my father. I believe with the Red Hunters? I do not know the location, only that is resides underground.”

“Red Hunters?” The Commander and Selhar exchanged glances at one another, eyes wide. “Gods helps us.”

“Commander, I believe you need to disappear before you are intercepted by the Duke.” It was unfamiliar to me to be so commanding to another, but the commander eye’s were locked with me, listening intently. “I don’t know what I’m doing, so I trust you to guide me.”

“Ask me what you wish, young lord and it will be so.”

Selhar nodded, “And me.”

I looked between them and let out a sigh. “If I only I knew.”

“Do you have a plan?” Selhar asked.

“Only the beginnings of one.” I said. “I don’t know if it will work. But it’s the only plan I have left.”

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[curiousmons]

There are all these wonderfully deadly monsters that if I ever came across one I'd be so happy that I wouldn't care if I died died or died from over(sexual)stimulation

[furrbbyx]

You ever watch something so poorly written, yet entralling, that it makes you question your taste in romance stories?

[ashendalia]

Holy mother of God I was having a hell of a dream before my alarm went off

[oubliette-odette]

The Reluctance of Love Pt. 26

Do you ever write a chapter and just...hate it?

That was this chapter and I've been working and reworking it over and over again and this morning it finally clicked what I was missing and so I hope you enjoy this chapter more than I do, because I have beef with this chapter.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23 Content Warnings: unhealthy parent dynamics All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil.

Altan POV

“So,” I began, trying my best not to fidget, “How do you find Berdusk?” 

The Lady Allara seemed to be a timid creature, we had been walking along the grounds for at least an hour and conversation was dreadfully, painfully slow. Some might be surprised to know that her conversation skills were inferior to that of orcs. 

“Oh, it’s quite nice.” She replied, blinking her wide eyes at me. She had an uncanny gaze that never strayed from my face. I could never tell if she was pleased when she looked at me, or simply frightened out of her mind, either way her wide, globulous eyes and her open mouth smile never was not on me.

There truly was no time to be amused by anything, but I couldn’t help but think that Drun would find her just as unsettling as I, and there was some warm comfort in that. Despite the distance and not knowing his condition, I still felt him near me. He was in my every waking thought and motivated every breath I took. He would return to me, that I was determined, and in the meantime I forced myself to believe that all was well and that what I was doing was enough.

I looked behind me and bit back the sigh I wanted to release when I locked eyes with the guards who followed us close behind. 

Earlier that day, Commander Gideon had only just left before those same guards  had returned with the servants to prepare me for the day. Since then, they had not left my sight, even within the privacy of my own room. It took much wailing and gnashing of teeth to convince them to let me bathe without one of them watching me. The absolute perverts.

“Do you miss Triel?” I asked Allara. “You’ve been gone almost a fortnight, is that correct?”

She shrugged, “I’m content to go where father takes me.”

Odd answer. I looked over at her again. Her expression was vacant of most any emotion. She didn’t look anywhere but me, in fact I don’t think she had looked out at the gardens once.

“My mother started this garden, you know.” I changed the subject. “She brought seeds from her homeland, isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yes, quite.” She neither blinked nor looked away from me, not even once. 

I swallowed thickly. “My lady, is everything alright?”

“Perfectly.” She said, “And you?”

I narrowed my eyes while I looked back at the guards, “The same, I suppose.” I said vacantly. They wouldn’t give away anything. Even if they knew, they’re helmets concealed too much of their face to even help.

“How about some tea?” I asked. I needed to distract myself from her and a drink and something sweet to eat from the kitchen seemed like a good idea.

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She said, “That sounds perfectly splendid.”

“Do you like tea?”

“Oh yes.” She bowed her head.

“Hmmm.” I nodded softly. I clasped my hands behind my back as I led her and the two guards behind us back into the interior of the Great Hall. I glanced back one last time to the gardens, appreciating the work that had been done to keep my mother’s plants alive. Someday, Drun would see it, I vowed.

The kitchens were pleasantly warm and quite busy when we entered. The head cook glanced up and nodded sagely when I walked in. They were used to my brothers and I coming in after our studies to enjoy a sweet treat with some tea. It was a safe space amongst so few of them and the cook was always kind even though I had never seen them speak a word in all my time knowing them.

They moved quickly to set two seats for myself and Allara to rest and then placed a setting for each of us to receive tea. A kettle was already beginning to boil.

“My lord, what a surprise!” I turned and gasped when I saw in the corner the large shadowy shape of a Dragonborn. How had I not seen them there? Doxxah was carrying a tray of baked goods, steam still rising from them.

“Doxxah! Wonderful to see you.” I said. I gestured for Lady Allara to take a seat, which she obliged with no objection. I stepped away, closer to my old friend.

“Likewise my lord, though a bit unexpected.” Doxxah gave a knowing stare. “Would you care to help me?”

I glanced at my fiance, who sat contentedly on her chair, her feet swinging slightly back and forth. From my distance it even seemed she had more of a natural smile on her face as she held her cup of tea. I turned back to Doxxah and nodded, “I would be honoured to help.”

 “How is the Lady Allara?” Doxxah’s voice was soft, not carrying above the sounds of the kitchen in use. We both glanced over at her, but the girl did not seem to notice the conversation being about her.

“Odd.” I said. “But not unkind.”

They nodded in acknowledgement. “And how is your paramour?”

“I do not know.” I answered. I glanced at the guards standing at the door. “I am…a bit stuck.”

They nodded. “Take heart, my lord, things will work out.” They placed a clawed hand upon my shoulder and winked. “You have many who are eager to see you happy.”

I bowed my head, “I know that, I am grateful.”

“There’s a but in there.” They said.

“But what if even after everything, my happiness can never be mine?”

“Hmmm, an honest question.” They reached for the last tray they had that had rows of steaming cinnamon rolls. I reached and pulled them from the tray and onto the serving plates on the table next to us. “Truly I am not the right person for this question, for I am ever the optimist. If you are not happy, my lord, then that is not your ending. Do not settle until then.”

“But what if he’s gone?” I breathed. I wasn’t certain if they could even hear me. To utter my greatest fear aloud, that Drunrag might be dead without my knowing, haunted me. I was suddenly shivering where I stood.

“Oh my young lord.” Doxxah lifted a plate with a roll on it and placed it into my hand. “Do not dwell on what we do not know. Take heart and in the meantime, warm your stomach with what is good. I have to be going, but I am always nearby.” They bared their teeth in a friendly, but also quite ferocious grin directed at the guards. They lifted their stack of trays and waved to the cook who was already working on a different dish before they made their way out of the kitchen.

I sighed. I supposed Doxxah was right. I had no way of knowing and thinking about it so obsessively made no difference. I needed to follow through on my plan. 

If I’m not happy, then it’s not the end. Not yet.

Lady Allara didn’t react as if I had even stepped away when I sidled into the seat next to her and placed a plate with her own cinnamon roll in front of her. “For you.” I said. 

Her eyes locked onto me, a sudden passing expression of fear on her gaze. “You are very kind.” She said, her voice was lower than normal, more mellow and somber. “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

“Sorry?” I asked. “Whatever for?”

She looked down into the bottom of her cup. “Our parents aren’t very honest people, are they?”

I drew my hands back from the table and onto my lap. “Allara, is there something you know that I don’t?”

Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t meet my eyes. 

“Whatever you can do, don’t play their game.” She finally met my gaze. There was hate and rage in those eyes, her demure appearance shed away to reveal a creature filled with spite and revenge.  “My father and your father…they each hold each other in a chokehold of secrets. There would be no reason for a wedding if those secrets were conveniently revealed.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How might one go about that?” 

The doors suddenly burst open and I jumped, I spun in my seat and looked down at my uneaten pastry.

“There you are!” The Duke of Triel exclaimed, my father just at his heels. “We thought you two would be in the garden. We had to search all over to find you.” His voice was jovial, but when I spared a stare I caught a sharpness in his stare as he closed the distance between himself and his daughter.

“I should have known you’d show her your favourite haunts, son.” My father smirked, but it was not a kind one. “But at this hour? It is only an hour before suppertime.”

“My daughter tends to have an upset stomach if she’s consumed too many sweets before a meal. She’s probably got some shaking in her. Ah yes, there it is. Come my love.” The Duke of Triel spoke quickly as he ushered towards the young woman and pulled her away from her seat. I watched as her eyes met mine. There was nothing vacant or uncanny in them. They were alert and locked onto me and then, the duke’s hands were on her and she was dragged away and soon out of my sight.

Did they truly think I was an idiot to not see what was happening here? I looked over to my father, glaring.

“Any particular reason you’re so displeased with me today, son?” He asked dryly, “Or is it the same as usual?”

“What are you doing to her?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” My father asked. All innocence in his tone. 

I rose to my feet. “You’re both up to something, and we’re being used as your pawns. I won’t accept such dishonesty, especially from you. It’s time we stop following in the steps of our forefathers. Look where it got you. Where it got our whole family. If I am to take your place as Duke, I will set the precedent now that this will not continue.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure what you’re seeing that’s making you so upset, son. I expect a bit more congenial attitude at supper. And you better be dressed.” Was my father’s only response before he turned and walked out.

I slumped back into my chair and looked down at my tea and cinnamon roll, both still warm. I took a bite and felt the hot buttery bread soften and melt in my mouth, cinnamon pervading any other flavor. I suddenly felt hot tears on my face. 

“Drun.” I said under my breath, burying my face into my hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing without you.”

I should have hurried back to my quarters to dress for supper, but I held back for as long as I could. I savored each bite of the pastry, and then slowly sucking the icing and cinnamon off of my fingers. I imagined another world where Drunrag was sitting next to me, sitting on his hands as he expectantly watched me try something Doxxah taught him how to bake. I showered him with praises and let him lick the sugar on my lips before kissing me deeply. 

My stomach twisted at the sight of it all. If only it could be so blissful. More tears spilled over.

“Brother.” 

I raised my head and Selhar had taken Allara’s empty seat. His eyes were wide with concern. 

“I’m fine.” I said, “Just thinking too much.” I sat up straight and wiped my hands clean. “Will you be at supper?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just for you and Allara and the Duke. Father insisted on privacy.” He dropped his bottom lip. “Whose pastry is this?” He suddenly asked, a touch of his young childhood whine snuck into his voice as he looked down at the roll before him.

“Yours, if you want it.” I sniffed and wiped my nose. “Lady Allara was meant to eat it, but she had somewhere else to be.”

“But I think this might be yours.” He said, sliding out a small slip of paper from beneath the plate. In small, loopy script was written, “Altan.”

Selhar kept an eye on me as I unfolded the slip, but his mouth was already full of the warm roll. 

Altan,

I don’t know if I will ever have the presence of mind to give this to you, but you must know the truth from my side. You and I are victims of dishonorable men who happen to be our fathers. Neither of us want this marriage, I’m aware. So let us help one another. 

My father, the Duke of Triel, is the father of at least five illegitimate children. There may be more. I have in here included the names of those I was able to track down. Since my father discovered my knowledge of them, he has kept me drugged so that I will not reveal his secret. But you may be able to do something with this information.

Lastly, even when I am under the influence of the herbs my father forces on me, I am still aware of many things. I’ve heard our fathers speak about the underground guild known as the Red Hunters. I have always understood them to be a neutral force that is swayed by whatever is the stronger power. At this time, the Red Hunters and your father’s partnership is built upon a common enemy: the orcs that reside in the Fields of the Dead. The Red Hunters are promised a share of those lands after the orcs have been cleansed and your father intends to use the rest to expand the Trade routes that exist beyond Triel and Berdusk. Perhaps a bargain can be struck if you can offer something greater.

Should we both remain in the chains our fathers built for us, please know that I will not hold any ill will towards you.

Yours, 

Allara

I passed the note to Selhar and rose to my feet. “See if you can get this to who it needs to. I have to go.” I reached for his head and tussled it lightly. I didn’t dare say anything else with the present company, but I met his stare and we each shared a nervous smile. “And take a sweet to Robin. He’d like that.”

Things would be alright, I thought to myself, I still had my brothers to look after. Drunrag haunted my every thought, but I had to be realistic. My brothers were just as important and I would not abandon them.

The dining hall was vacant of any guests except for myself, Allara, The Duke of Triel and my own father, the Duke of Berdusk. It was a small, intimate dinner arrangement that only took up one end of a very elongated table. I wished that Selhar and Robin could be there, if only to distract me from the uncomfortable stare I would get from the three other guests.

Allara’s expression had returned to its vacant, empty stare and she answered everything with the same politeness and poise that I was familiar with. I searched for some sign of that trembling, human girl beneath, but whatever the Duke had done to her had suppressed her completely. I eyed the Duke cautiously as he sat across and to the right of me.

In a rare act of humbleness, my father had left the head of the table vacant to sit next to me on my right and across from the Duke of Triel. It certainly gave the appearance of two happy families preparing for a joyous wedding amongst friends.

It was just so far from that when we all knew that Allara and I were being used as toys in a game that we never were explained the rules to. And one of us wasn’t even given the presence of mind to fight back.

The food in front of me was decadent and elaborate, I envisioned the cook when I had seen them earlier that day, bustling from one end of the kitchen to the other. It was a wonder they managed to make it all on their own. But the passing thought that I kept coming to was fear that maybe if I took a bite, I too, would end up just like Allara, caught in a web that put me exactly where my father wanted me to be. Compliant, pleasant, obedient to his every desire.

“Something the matter?” My father asked under his breath. 

I looked over to him, blinking.

“You haven’t taken a single bite.”

Certainly words like that ease one’s worries when they believe they’re about to be poisoned. I felt my stomach as it twisted and I took a spoonful up to my lips and prayed silently to the gods that I would somehow be spared. Oh gods, spare me.

I waited for the inevitable to happen as I slowly chewed and swallowed the warm food. My father didn’t glance over in my direction as I held my breath and waited.

Nothing happened, thank gods.

“So, Altan.” The Duke Triel asked. “Your father and I took some time to discuss wedding dates. We believe sooner is better than later. What with kidnappings and other dangers about, we believe it’s best to heighten security and quicken the pace.”

“Is this something that can be negotiated?” I asked.

I felt a harsh boot jam into my foot below the table. I didn’t flinch or look away from the Duke of Triel.

“Well…is there a reason you would like to wait?” He asked.

“Oh yes, you see. I don’t think marrying so quickly is a competent choice on either of your parts. If such dangers are causing risk to myself and my betrothed, then such dangers also exist for our people. Until we can assure competent security and my kidnapper is brought before me, the wedding will not happen.”

“Son.” My father’s voice was tightlipped and forced. “This is not the time nor place.”

“Is it not?” I asked. “I was under the impression that you expected me to become the next Duke, what with all of those council meetings I was forced to attend. Should I not be thinking about the greater good for our people, and yours?” I nodded to the Triels. “I doubt a single council member would disagree that safety is our upmost priority, not secrecy. The people will want to celebrate this wedding, and I will have that for them, especially after so many years they’ve spent grieving the loss of our Duchess. But if you had wished me to be submissive as before, perhaps you should have expressed your intentions differently.”

Neither Duke spoke, which let me continue, “And seeing how between myself and Alarra, I seem to be the only cognizant one present in a conversation, I suppose the decision is left up to me, isn’t it my betrothed?” I asked sweetly. 

“Whatever you wish, my lord.” She responded with her saccharine tongue. “I am happy to be by your side.”

I grinned. “See?”

“She has not been well, my lord.” Her father replied.

“That’s apparent.” I sniffed with contempt. “I promise the both of you, that whatever secrets you have hidden so deep beneath your fine coats and thick necks, I will expose the both of you, unless you promise me my kidnapper returned to me alive.”

“An empty threat son.” My father said, “End the theatrics now.”

I turned sharply to face him. “Is it? You don’t know what I know. Two can play this game father, and you were such a good teacher.” I said, my grin widening. I rose to my feet. “But the game will end and when it does, I hope your names are sent straight to the nine hells.”

I didn’t wait to be excused, nor did I look back to see their faces.  Half of the battle was convincing them that I was worth being feared, intimidated by and carrying the confidence to not care what they thought. 

I stepped out into the hall and let out a deep breath. I predicted that things would likely get worse before they got better, but I was determined to see this through.

I was followed back to my chambers with an extra guard in tow. I glanced back at them and winked before stepping into my room and hearing one of them following in behind me. 

I was surprised to find Robin asleep on my bed. His face had sticky bits of frosting on his cheek. He looked peaceful. I let out a sigh. There would be no rest for me, not yet.

Want to be updated on new chapters? DM me to be added to the tag list!

@eltrolodecadadia

@sizzlinghideoutcoffee

@carjis

[wannabeeverything]

Yeah I'm pretty sure every kid who was like "Wow Davy Johnes is sooo cool, he's my favorite character!" became a monsterfucker sooner or later

The millennial litmus test for sexuality was 100% Pirates of the Caribbean. I was 13 when the first movie came out. Literally everyone walked into that movie having been lured there by the attractiveness of Orlando Bloom in LOTR. The truly straight girls had been drawn in by his entry-level attractiveness and walked out lusting over the significantly older and manlier Jack Sparrow. The others had been unconsciously drawn in by Legolas's femininity and walked out with their eyes opened and lusting over Keira Knightley.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece. 

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for. 

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them. 

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you. 

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame. 

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips. 

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words. 

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit. 

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.” 

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight. 

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready. 

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did. 

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here. 

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain. 

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you. 

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events. 

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.” 

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.” 

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm. 

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to. 

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect. 

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle. 

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love. 

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day. 

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.” 

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas. 

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit. 

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way. 

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain. 

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy. 

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on  your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out. 

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his. 

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go. 

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold. 

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs. 

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth. 

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands. 

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him. 

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist. 

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length. 

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him. 

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye. 

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder. 

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”

[teojira]

TEDDY! I checked ur old blog and saw u have a this one :3, and i saw u write for the KAIJUUUS? bro i love godzilla sosososoosoOSOSOSOSO MUCH, if you're down for it, could you do some headcanons of being Godzilla's favorite human?, ofc platonic, (i dead ass love this gigantic lizard sm i made a wedding pic art as a joke cause someone said marry the damn lizard and i said fine i will, and i wanna clarify twice, it was a joke, i just love large lizards)

[Being Goji's favorite human headcanons] [platonic]

Summary: What being a huge lizard titans human entails!

Warnings: None! Just platonic companionship between you and the Big guy.

Word count: 650+ words

A/N: Omg Tama :(( I'm so happy to see you're here from the call of duty blog!! It's always a joy to see you in my notifs 🫶 ofc I got you, Godzilla headcanons comin right up! I hope these are okay!

- Being Goji's favorite human comes with alot of good, but alot of bad as well.

- It makes you special. There is no documentation in any of Monarchs database of him having any explicit connection to humans, no country, no specific race, and you're seemingly the first person in history. But that also means you're under their control due to your ties to the Kaiju.

- He doesn't visit nearly as much as he wishes he could, despite you both being connected by seemingly fate. He is the king of monsters, bro is busy! He has to keep the balance.

- Monarch learned the hard way that you cannot be housed at a base, it sets Goji off, so they literally have to place you on a private island somewhere for when he does come to see you, he can't destroy anything.

- Contrary to most of the publics opinion, he IS sentient. He knows what he does. Destroying usually comes with the territory when he has to fight a threat, but visiting you isn't so he makes sure not to crush your home, bellowing to let you know he's come to see you.

- He doesn't know why he cares for you, but it feels right, coming to you and curling up on the sand, waiting for you to come closer.

- Goji has ever been touched by one other human without intent of harm, Serizawa. He still remembers how comforting it was, how a small little human seemed to care for him when he was at his lowest.

- He enjoys when you pet him, more often than not being more than okay with the touch. It also helps that you take care of any issues he may have due to him being in the water extremely often, and he gets the occasional barnacle.

- The first time you took one of him, he snarled so loud that it sent you flying onto your back in fear, his large head whipping around to see just what the fuck you were doing.

- You explained to him calmly that you were removing the parasites from his scales. All you got was a huff in return. But he did turn back and rest his head again, so you figure that was him saying it was okay.

- It's hard to spend quality time with the titan due to just how BIG the fucker is, but he allows you to climb up him and make your way to his head, he's eerily still when he feels you on him, he knows his strength and size and one wrong move and you fall, shattering your legs.

- He would definitely bring you back things he's found in the ocean. What do you mean you're not interested in this deep sea squid that's the size of 3 school buses? He got it just for you! (You let Monarch take it to study, but you pretend to Goji that you are taking it for yourself.) (He lets out a pleased rumble at providing for you.)

- He somehow has the uncanny ability to find you no matter where you go, one time Monarch took you to the Japan base for a meeting that they deemed you necessary to attend.

- Imagine everyone's shock and awe when he appeared, roaring in a rage as he slouched down to the ground, not relaxing until you ran out in view, frantically waving your arms.

- He takes all his naps on your private island, curling into a little ball, it's the best rest he has had in years, only thing to make it better is when you join him, bring a blanket or bring a little air mattress and sleep out there with him, it brings him so much joy. If lizards could purr, you're sure he would be.

- Where this Goji, there is Mothra! She wants to see what caught his eye for the first time in centuries, she cares for humans more than he ever has, so she takes a liking to you immediately. So she visits you when she's able to, usually chirping and letting you touch her fuzz.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 03 - Cum]

Pairing: Rough Dom!Yoongi x Needy sub!Taehyung

Genre: Vampire!Yoongi, Vampire!Taehyung, Magic!AU

Kinks: accidental consumption of a lust potion which has very fateful consequences, monster fucker smut, anything and everything cum, cum eating, using cum as lube, multiple creampies, cum being everywhere, blowjob, deep-throating, rough face fucking, unnaturally long tongues, spit, hair pulling, sloppy rimjob, rough spontaneous anal sex against the bathroom sink, choking with the monster tongue around Tae’s neck :), biting, mirror sex in a sense, dirty talk, praise, subby boy tears, multiple orgasms, gentle and nurturing aftercare

Wordcount: 5.4k

a/n: this was requested by me :) listen. i was ovulating as i wrote this. this is not at all canon JFASDJF but what if it was?? what if they were actually alone one day and did that?? what if they agree to never ever fucking mention it again?? no but in reality, this is definitely not canon, i just wanted to make them fuck violently :) and what better opportunity for that than kinktober aka the most unhinged time on this blog where everything is allowed?

Yoongi thought that he will surprise you by cleaning your wing. He has already managed to go through your living room and the hallways and is now busy in your magic kitchen. 

Yoongi really wanted to be helpful, nothing else. So when he drops one of your potions accidentally and inhales its fumes, he knows that he fucked up. A lust potion. One which is meant to be consumed carefully because getting too much of it in one’s system bears uncontrollable consequences. You made it with the help of one of Taehyung’s many sex magic books and were planning to use it in future sessions with your lovers. One drop of it, to be more exact. One fucking drop is enough. It is so strong in fact that not even Yoongi, the strongest of the supernatural creatures, is immune to it. And he fucking inhaled the entire bottle of it.

Yoongi groans and throws his hand over his nose, but too late, the magic is doing its job. His eyes are hazy, his vision blurry, his head dizzy. He tries to flee, but every step he takes aches. Sex. Sex. Cum. Sex. Cum. His thoughts are reduced to two words. His cock is so hard, his balls suddenly so heavy that his pants hurts. He rips the clothes, leaving a trail of wet desperation as he claws his way out of your kitchen. He stumbles from side to side as he tries to leave your wing, gasping for fresh air in hopes of clearing his lungs.

He needs help. His ears are ringing. It is as if he was high on five different drugs. And every drug wants him to fuck. Fuck. He needs sex. He needs to fuck.

Your bedroom. Your scents just make it worse. Yoongi moans and groans as he drags himself to the bathroom. You aren’t home right now. As a matter of fact, nobody is home because you all went on a trip to the coast.

Yoongi is all alone. And he needs help. Otherwise he might rip this whole room to shreds.

Maybe a shower will help. He tears the shirt off his body and collapses into the shower, turning on the freezing water with his last remaining clarity. The water hurts on his skin, Yoongi is panting as he takes it, forehead resting against the cold tiles while his heavy cock leaks on the floor. It doesn’t help. His cock stays hard, his bloodstream is drugged up. Yoongi blacks out. 

The next moments are unable to be put onto paper because Yoongi has no recollection of them and this author must use this moment to apologise. A lie had been spread. There was one other person home during the time Yoongi accidentally drugged himself. Taehyung.

Taehyung was clear in the head and planned on going for a stroll in the forest to move his stiffened body after a very captivating painting session. Taehyung was very close to leaving the estate when his ears picked up on very worrying sounds. Yoongi whimpering in pain. Such noises, Taehyung has never heard from him before.

“Hyung”, he gasps and runs off to your wing. He considers calling you first, but then is too busy being worried. And his phone was upstairs. Too much time would have been wasted.

He breaks through your door, calling out Yoongi’s name.

He doesn’t answer him, but the tortured noises remain. They come from your bedroom. Did he fall and hurt himself? Perhaps he fell on a stake and now struggles to get it out. 

Taehyung takes off his shoes by the door, because he still had manners, and hurries to the bedroom. It is empty. The bathroom door is open. The noises come from it.

“Hyung! What’s the matter?” He hurries to it. “What happ-” 

Taehyung quite frankly loses the abilities to properly function. The view before him is way too unbelievable. 

Yoongi is in front of the sink mirror, body wet from the shower and completely naked. He is covered in his own cum, as is the sink and the counter. Puddles of it had formed on the floor as well. His eyes spill tears. His huge hand is around his completely grown vampire cock and to top it all off, it is very obvious that he had his own fingers in his ass before Taehyung crashed into the room.

“Leave!” Yoongi screams. His voice is distorted in agony, bouncing off the walls.

“I, I”, Taehyung stutters, pressing his hand to his own crotch to hide the instant boner the view and scents give him. He is scared for his life. He knows how much Yoongi values privacy and this is beyond an invasion of it. “I am so sorry. I believed that you hurt yourself I, shit, I’m leaving already.”

“Wait, no.”

Taehyung turns, gulps.

Yoongi is staring at him with glassy helpless eyes. His hand is moving around his cock as if he had no control over it. Taehyung feels dizzy. He is watching his very private friend jerk off as if it was normal to do.

“I can’t stop cumming”, Yoongi gets out and tenses up as another orgasm shakes him, “help me please”, he whimpers, eyes crossing and cock squirting white cream on the tiles behind the sink.

“Are you out of your mind? What do you mean?!” Taehyung exclaims, feeling as if he was going crazy. Is he in the wrong movie? Yoongi is currently orgasming mere five feet from him and begging him for help. 

“Argh!” Yoongi gets out, convulsing in the aftershocks with wobbly legs. He hits the sink, gritting his exposed fangs. He is panting and growling, trying to get the words out like this. “I poisoned myself. Argh. One of her lust potions from your stupid fucking sex books.”

“Why would you do this to yourself? Oh heavens.”

“Cause I get off to it. No you motherfucker, it was an accident. Urgh fuck please not again”, he growled at first but then whimpers as he releases into the sink another time. He grabs the edge of the counter, opening his mouth so widely that Taehyung can watch the acid drip from his fangs. Dizzy, he looks at his cock next. The cum Yoongi spills is thick and aggressively white, spilling out of him in huge globs and sticking to the furniture in slimy strings.

“Why is it so thick? It is as if you are ejaculating slime, hyung” Taehyung gasps, knowing that Yoongi won’t be able to answer him.

“Are you going to help me or not, you bastard?” Yoongi spits to his surprise.

“I, I mean if you are asking me to”, Taehyung stutters and closes the distance. He falls to his knees before Yoongi, moaning when his legs get soaked in the puddles of cum.

“What-”

Yoongi never gets to finish his sentence. Yoongi instead gets his cock buried deep in Taehyung’s throat as the younger vampire sucks eagerly.

Yoongi screams up, throwing his head back and gripping Taehyung’s dark locks. He stumbles, almost falling to his knees if Taehyung hadn’t grabbed his buttocks with such vigour. He begins bopping his head up and down on his huge cock, gurgling happily from the heavy girth in his throat.

Yoongi climaxes instantly, screaming Taehyung’s name and twisting his hair. Not that the mention of this orgasm is important. On the contrary, it is rather useless, because Yoongi feels just as horny afterwards than he did before. Maybe with his balls a little lighter, but his head is still incredibly drugged. 

Taehyung swallows every single glob of Yoongi’s thick cum. It drags itself down his throat, covering every inch of his insides and coating his stomach. It warms him, making him crave more. Taehyung slips off and concentrates his sucks on Yoongi’s engorged tip. He slurps hungrily, swirling his tongue as quickly as possible. His veins are swollen, throbbing under his tongue.

“You’re fucking insane. Fuck, ah”, Yoongi growls, staring down at Taehyung. “Look at me.” 

Taehyung obeys, eyes so very submissive as he looks up at Yoongi. 

“Lilac is your safeword. Think it and I’ll stop.” 

“Yes…Master.” 

“Fuck, shut the fuck up”, Yoongi spits and forces his mouth onto his cock. 

Taehyung mewls and gurgles, tilting his head back as Yoongi fills his throat out. 

“Are you okay?”

Taehyung nods his head, showing Yoongi that he wasn’t made of glass by moving his hips for him. Tears leave his eyes, but he doesn’t gag. He simply moans and clenches his throat around his heavy length.

“You crazy fucking bastard”, Yoongi moans and picks up a punishing speed instantly, drilling Taehyung’s pretty face as if he hated it. “Take it. Fucking take it.” 

But he doesn’t hate his face. He sees salvation in his ethereal features. It feels so good to fuck it. His hand could have never felt this way. Taehyung’s lips move and stretch around his girth, his throat bulges to make space.

“Shit, you’re looking so good with cock in your mouth. I hope you get your pretty face fucked regularly. Mhm? Do they fuck your dripping mouth hole regularly?” Yoongi is talking complete shit, tongue loose in an intense drug trip. 

And Taehyung loves. He loves it so much that he wets his pants in excitement and feels his eyes cross a little. He moans around Yoongi’s cock, tilting his head back further in a willingness to completely become his’. 

“Yeah you know you look good, don’t you. Urgh! Urgh, fuck argh it’s not helping-ah!’ Yoongi growls and orgasms again, throwing his head back as he fucks his cum deep down Taehyung’s throat. 

Taehyung expected it, but still ends up having to gag from it. It is so much, he can barely keep up with swallowing, being forced to his luck as Yoongi makes sure the only thing he’ll have in his stomach today was his cream. Taehyung’s cries, scratching down Yoongi’s thighs in desperate search for support. It draws blood but heals instantly. 

“I’m sorry Tae, I’m sorry”, Yoongi whimpers as his cock squirts cum against his will. 

Taehyung mewls and shakes his head, dragging his big hands up the back of Yoongi’s legs until he reaches his hips. His hugs them, pressing his face into his pubes while his mouth still carries his heavy cock.

He can take more. Yoongi’s cum is so sweet, although much, it is so sweet. Taehyung feels droopier by the second, craving more of it like an addict having a relapse.

“Tae ah!” Yoongi slows down after his high but only because he is too weakened from it. He uses Taehyung’s head to support himself on it, hips shaking as Taehyung sucks on his cock loudly. “I can’t stop, it’s so painful”, he gets out, almost sobbing the words. 

Taehyung puts distance between their bodies, mouth leaking cum as he speaks.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi answers him, eyes taking in the view hungrily. Taehyung’s lips are so puffy and pink. His face is so messy in sticky cum. It somehow managed to get in his hair as well. 

Taehyung sticks two of his fingers into his own mouth, coating them in the cum he still has sticking to his gums. Once they are slick in it, he exchanges them for Yoongi’s cock, guiding them to Yoongi’s ass. He applies pressure, slipping them into his tight hole. He instantly finds his prostate, rubbing it vigorously as he begins moving his throat on Yoongi’s cock.

Yoongi bends his own body into unnatural positions, writhing standing up and screaming silently. He is submerged in painful fire and Taehyung just made it worse. Or better. He can’t decide. He cums again, spilling down Taehyung’s throat to the point his stomach is starting to get a little bloated from all the cum he has to keep inside. 

Taehyung takes it gladly, dimpling Yoongi’s hip with his other hand while he fingers his hole quickly. He is going crazy. Yoongi is so soft inside. So tight. And warm. Holy fuck, he is fingering his hole. Not even in his nastiest dreams would Taehyung have dared to imagine such a thing and yet here he is. He curls his fingers deeper, listening to Yoongi’s desperate noises.

“Again, argh!”

It feels too good. This is so good. This is the sex the poison craves. The skilled touch of another. Yoongi swears he fucking kisses the very creator of the univesre herself as he climaxes in Taehyung’s mouth. Both hands are gripping his head while his hips pound into him in search of sweet relief.

And then something happens. Relief. There is actual relief after the high. 

“Stop it, stop”, Yoongi croaks, pulling him off his cock with little effort. Taehyung slips out of his ass, gazing up at him. His nose is snotty and burns because Yoongi came so hard the last time that it went out through his nose. His eyes are crying. His stomach feels like bursting.

Yoongi touches him. It is gentle and nurturing. Taehyung feels taken aback by it, but melts into it nonetheless.

“You’re actually fucking mad.” 

Taehyung tries to answer him but has to come to the conclusion that Yoongi fucked his vocal chords raw. Thankfully he is a quick healer.

Yoongi pulls Taehyung to his feet, forehead falling against his’ and dirty hands cradling his equally as dirty face. Taehyung melts into the affection with closed eyes, breathing heavily.

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Yoongi whispers, voice deep and raspy.

“You wanted my help”, Taehyung whispers as well, voice just as deep and raspy. 

“Yes, as in getting an antidote, not throat fucking my cock and fingering my ass.”

“This was the antidote, hyung. I’m your antidote.”

Yoongi bares his fangs, fighting against his instincts of dragging his long tongue up Taehyung’s face. Taehyung watches it, head pounding from the high he currently finds himself on. Who knew that enchanted Creator cum is so intoxicating. He hasn’t felt that high ever since the last blood orgie he had years ago. Taehyung is currently floating on cloud nine.

Yoongi suddenly groans and scrunches his face, touching roughening on Taehyung. 

“Not done?”

“No, urgh fuck. Fuck Tae, leave. I can’t promise your safety anymore.”

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“Tae, I’m dangerous.”

“I know, I tasted it. It’s still in my stomach, feel it.” He presses Yoongi’s hand to his stomach, making him feel the sticky liquid move around. “I’m so bloated with your cum, hyung. I feel fucking high.” 

“Urgh Tae”, Yoongi growls, squeezing his head painfully. “Tae leave.”

Taehyung however shakes him off and pushes at his chest, giving himself enough space to rip off his ruined clothes. Yoongi moans at the view, blackened eyes staring at his exposed cock. It is huge and throbbing, leaking cum as if he was enchanted himself.

“I can’t leave like this. I can take it, hyung. I’m not as fragile as you all think me to be”, Taehyung says and turns around. He bends over the sink, reaching behind himself to spread open his ass and therefore reveal his willing hole to Yoongi.

Yoongi swears the view almost brings him to his knees so he could bury his tongue into the deepest depths of Taehyung’s insides. He fights the voices, twisting his own hair for it.

“No. No, I’ll hurt you.”

“I will heal. I can take it.”

“Taehyung, just leave.”

“Please hyung, you don’t have to be scared of yourself. We’re both monsters.” 

Yoongi meets Taehyung's exposed face in the reflection. They are both monsters. Taehyung is okay with it. 

He can’t hold back anymore. He growls and drops to his knees. He can’t take Taehyung unprepared. He is poisoned and not clear in the head, but his refusal to be a source of pain to his friend is stronger than any drug. He promised him to never cause him agony again and means it. He will still fuck his ass, don’t be mistaken, first he simply needs to give in to the voices in his head and stick his tongue into Taehyung’s hole. 

Because he is drooling like an animal, it is an easy task to fill him. He wastes no time holding back. He is a monster and Taehyung is the very last person who would want him to hide parts of himself. Yoongi knows how he treats Jungkook, how he gets off to his Ripper nature. He feels confident in letting himself go as well. He doesn’t even let go to such length when he is with you, mostly because your pussy has limits when it comes to depth. There are no limits to the depths of Taehyung’s ass and so Yoongi buries his long, slimy tongue deep inside his walls, moving it like a wiggling tentacle.

Taehyung, who up until now has never experienced such a sensation before, reacts accordingly. He screams, which he never does when he gets fucked. He writhes in fleeing, but has to realise that this only makes Yoongi’s tongue grow more to make up for the space created. Taehyung, who is greedy for a stuffing, moves back again, taking the new girthy inches. He still continues to scream, shaking out of control.

Yoongi growls, finding his satisfaction in the deepest creases of Taehyung’s tight insides. There is nothing better than filling out something so tight. It is so useless for vampires. Its once human purpose long gone. Yoongi is going to give it a new purpose today. He is going to reach parts no other person has ever reached before.

“Hyung please, ple-please”, Taehyung begs in fear, reaching for Yoongi’s hair. The latter simply growls and punishes him with a hard thrust of his tongue, fingers gripping his hand to instead press it to his own stomach. He picks up an angry pace with his tongue, forcing Taehyung to feel how his stomach gets filled with it.

Taehyung’s eyes cross and stay like this, his fangs grow, his own tongue drips drool. He can’t scream anymore. He can only squeak and try to breathe. He is no stranger to feeling his belly bulge, but this is something different. Something so carnal and sinful that even Taehyung feels as if he did something forbidden. But he is a sinner and sinners get off to the forbidden. Something about Yoongi’s saliva makes every inch it touches aware that it was being touched. Taehyung has never felt penetration so deep inside his guts before. It was also never that wet before, that wriggly and fast.

“You are making me climax”, Taehyung sobs, hoping that Yoongi would pull out and edge him. But there is no hope left for him. Yoongi makes him climax so deep inside that Taehyung actually sees black for a while. He screams his throat raw then begins begging to please be released of it. Yoongi growls and grants him the wish, pulling his tongue out. Taehyung cries, legs shaking and body convulsing. He feels every inch, feels how his wriggly thick tongue slips out of him. It is so quick and rough and never ending. By the very end of it, once his tip slips out, Taehyung actually collapses onto the sink in relief, standing on his tiptoes and flinching repeatedly as his gaped hole leaks Yoongi’s thick saliva. He can’t think straight. Taehyung has never felt this way before. His insides have never been cleaned so far up. He should want no more, but he does. Yoongi’s saliva is poisoning him in the most sinful of ways. He wants to be filled again.

Yoongi stands up, dragging his long tongue up Taehyung’s sweaty spine. He wraps it around his neck, using it to tug him up. Taehyung gurgles and sobs, burning eyes staring at their reflection. Yoongi’s true face is staring back at him, his red tongue is wrapped around Taehyung’s neck multiple times. Something in his eyes however is being kind to him, asking him if he could continue. Taehyung sobs miserably and reaches behind himself with trembling hands so he could align Yoongi’s cock with his hole. Yoongi growls, tongue tightening around his neck and eyes darkening. He takes his consent, finally sinking his huge cock into his hole. The face Taehyung pulls and the noise he makes is what Yoongi wanted. No pain, just relief. That is why he cursed him with his saliva, this face right here and now is the very reason for it.

He chases his depth instantly, turning Taehyung’s deep yelps to high pitched squeals. Yoongi answers him in animalistic growls and his huge hands bruising his trembling hips as he pulls him back onto his cock over and over and fucking over again. 

Taehyung tries to somehow make sense of it. He is on his tiptoes, standing only because Yoongi makes him. His nails hurt from clawing at the counter. His lower stomach aches too from getting it pounded into said counter over and over again. He drools and cries, unable to stop either of those reactions. 

Yoongi growls behind him and then Taehyung feels his cum shoot up his inside. It almost hurts in a way, forcing him to cramp up and bend forward with an agonised groan. 

Yoongi however pulls him back up, forcing him to make eye contact with his whorish reflection. 

“A-ah”, Taehyung lets out, convulsing on his cock. First his stomach is being filled to its bursting point and now his intestines are getting the same treatment. Taehyung swears he might actually leave this room feeling fucking impregnanted. 

“Are you doing okay?” Taehyung suddenly hears Yoongi’s voice in his head. His demonic mouth is unmoving, his tongue is still around his neck. Yoongi is actually using his compulsion to talk to Taehyung telepathically. His hips are fucking into him, moving as if he never orgasmed before. The cum makes it easier and a lot noisier.

Taehyung can only think his answer as well.

“It feels so good. It feels so good. It feels so good.” 

“That’s good. You’re taking me so well. Fuck, you’re such a good boy.” 

“You’re praising me?! Master please don’t stop, please, I’m so filled up. I love praise so much. Please Master, breed me till I carry your babies.” 

“You’ve got the sweetest thoughts, Tae. It’s a shame, they’re not mine constantly. Bet you’d be so fun to command around.” Yoongi taunts, giving him deep harsh thrusts. The kind which squirts cum out of his ass everywhere and which makes Taehyung go more and more cross eyed. “I’d make you do the sweetest tasks then. Make you take me like a good boy, tell you how to fucking moan for me.”

Did Jungkook talk to Yoongi? Did he tell him that Taehyung has a fetish for being controlled? Or is he that obvious that Yoongi picked up on it? No matter the answer, it makes Taehyung orgasm. Again. This orgasm feels familiar because it is done by a thick cock in his asshole, but it doesn’t feel any less magnificent because of that. On the contrary, Yoongi’s salvia made him so sensitive inside that Taehyung loses any kind of strength in his body, dropping like a limp doll. 

Yoongi lifts him and flips him in his arms. His tongue is inside his mouth again, having left purple marks all over Taehyung’s neck. Speaking of Taehyung. He is currently slacking and tangling in Yoongi’s strong arms, being held up under his bent legs as Yoongi bounces his body on his cock. His head is on his shoulder, his arms barely have strength to hug him.

“Breathe, I’m almost done, breathe”, Yoongi speaks, sounding clearer than before. 

Taehyung still can’t speak, thinking his words.

“I’m bursting please Master it hurts.”

“Hurts? Lilac?”

Taehyung shakes his head, twisting Yoongi’s hair. 

“I don’t want it to stop. I need more, please.” 

“I can provide, don’t you worry”, Yoongi assures him as he easily uses his body as a fleshlight. 

And Taehyung is in paradise. He is the second strongest in this coven. At least physical wise. He is always the second strongest and it will always stay this way even if he pretends to be weaker than others. Not anymore, not with Yoongi. He is finally, fucking finally, weaker than someone else. Yoongi never shows how much stronger he is than the rest of you, so Taehyung has almost forgotten how  superior in strength he actually is. He gets reminded with each bounce of his body, each stretch of his cock as he drills it deep inside his gaped hole. Yoongi is so strong and Taehyung is his limp sexdoll.

This is everything he ever wished for.

“Master, I have to cum.”

“I know Tae, I know. Me too. Just be patient, Master’s almost done”, Yoongi tells him, dropping Taehyung on his cock to the point his hole takes his balls as well. 

Taehyung sobs, squirming in his arms.

“I know, you’re so stuffed. You gotta feel it Tae, feel how I unload the last time.”

“Hyung, I’m cumming.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

Taehyung squeaks, lifting his head in shock. He lost control over his body. He wants to climax but can’t. Yoongi meets his scared eyes, cocking his brow up tauntingly.

“You think she is the only one who can control your orgasm? I’m the fucking master of control if only I wanted to.” 

Taehyung opens his mouth, making noises. They are unable to be described, but they both know that they are the most carnal noises he could ever make.

“Mhm, so pretty. Fuck, you’re making me cum”, Yoongi lulls. He broadens his stance and throws his head back, moaning loudly. This is going to be the last one. He finally feels it. This one is going to be explosive and messy, but it's going to be the last one. 

Taehyung takes it screaming, shaking in his arms in a desperate attempt to fight the compulsion. But he can’t. He is destined to have his intestines filled and feel Yoongi’s huge balls throb inside his hole. 

Taehyung buries his fangs in Yoongi’s shoulder not for blood but for help. He couldn’t possibly handle it any other way. He is so filled up with cum that he is scared to walk afterwards. He won’t be able to stroll through the forest that much is sure. He will have to lie on his side and hope that his body can digest it as quickly as possible.

“There we gooooo fuuuuuck”, Yoongi comes down with a guttural moan. 

“Please”, Taehyung sobs in a squeak.

Yoongi smirks, biting down on his lower lip sensually as his eyes race over his ruined features. 

“Please, I can’t do this anymore please.”

“Cum for me, doll.”

The compulsion drops, forcing Taehyung’s orgasm to hit him with such force he sees black again. Pleasure so ancient it feels as if god herself was making him climax fills him. He rips his mouth open, body falling back. Yoongi doesn’t struggle with holding it, neither with bouncing it on his cock for Taehyung’s pleasure.

“Shit your face….holy fuck those noises….you’re driving me insane. Keep squeezing my cock and balls, Tae. Good doll, good fucking doll”, Yoongi talks him through it, skin tingling where Taehyung releases on it.

“Li….lac”, Taehyung chokes out once the overstimulation hits. He never thought that he could be brought to the point of having to use his safeword, but Yoongi quite truly fucked him to the point of exhaustion. Taehyung has never felt that cured of The Horny before. Normally sex always leaves him craving more, but not right now. He needs off now.

“Good boy” Yoongi finishes instantly, lifting Taehyung off his cock. “Fuck, urgh fuck, finally. My balls were in agony in your tight hole. Take deep breaths, Tae. You did so well.” 

He stumbles weakly, sitting Taehyung on the counter and falling into his body in a hug. Taehyung cries quietly on Yoongi’s shoulder, feeling high and happy but also like a dirty disgusting slut. 

Now that the spell stopped, how will Yoongi react? They have never done such things before, they swore that they never would. Will he be angry at him now that he is clear headed? Will he send him away after making him feel shitty for what they did? 

“Are you okay?” 

Taehyung shakes and nods his head at the same time.

“Are you in pain? Do you need to throw up? I filled you with so much, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m okay”, he croaks.

“But?” 

“Please don’t be angry please.” 

“I’m not angry, just…I guess I’m embarrassed too.” 

Taehyung lifts his head, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. Well, as best as Yoongi allows him to now that he was clear headed and shy.

“What we just did. I never would have done this with you if I wasn’t enchanted. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be please. Not with me. I am the last person who would ever judge you for wanting sex.”

“That wasn’t sex. That was fucking rutting.”

They chuckle, ridding themselves of the worst embarrassment this way. 

“And it felt good. So good. Hyung, I’ve been on this earth almost nine centuries now and neve experienced such stimulation before.”

Yoongi smirks lopsidedly, reaching up to cradle Taehyung’s cheeks. He caresses his skin with his thumbs. 

“I guess being the strongest has to come with some surprises too. Did you like it mhm? You took my tongue like a fucking champ.” 

“Hyung I-”, Taehyung suddenly feels very vulnerable, burying his face in his own hands as he sobs.

“What’s the matter? Did you not like it?”

“I loved it so much, but I’m so shaken up. I do not know.”

Yoongi understands his feelings very well. He gets like this too sometimes when he submits. He gets embarrassed about how good he felt and then feels like crying. 

“Hey there, Tae. You’ve got no reason to feel embarrassed”, Yoongi speaks softly, picking him up in his arms to cradle him soothingly. Taehyung leaks onto the floor like this, writhing in embarrassment. “Relax doll, relax.”

Taehyung whimpers, growing limp in comfort. Yoongi carries him to the bathtub and turns the warm water on.

“How do you know me so well?” Taehyung asks in a ruined yet happy lull.

“I’ve been your friend for more than five hundred years now, Tae. You get drunk sometimes and tell me stuff.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, you can’t remember the next day, but I know a great deal about you actually.” 

“You do?” 

“Yeah, I do. I know you like being controlled and to be dollified. I also know that it’s trauma which has manifested this way, but that you don’t think about these moments when you have sex this way. You’re an open book when you drink magic wine, Tae”, Yoongi sinks their bodies into warm bathwater. 

Taehyung gasps, squirming on Yoongi’s lap. 

“Sssh relax. Let me take care of you”, Yoongi soothes him in a gentle voice and with nurturing touches all over his body.

Taehyung melts, limps refusing to work as he sits on Yoongi’s safe lap and lets him clean him. 

“There we go. Relax, little doll, relax. It’ll make the cum bloat easier to bear too. Are you okay? Is it very painful?” 

“No, just feels like I ate too much.”

“You definitely did. Fuck, sorry for this. That’s what I get for trying to be helpful. She is going to kill me if she finds out I dropped it.” 

“She will ask what happened.”

“What are we gonna tell her?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to think about this.” 

“Alright. Let’s just relax for now.” Yoongi cradles the back of Taehyung’s head and tilts it to his lips for a loving kiss to his cheek. “My friend of centuries.” 

Taehyung whimpers, having to hug Yoongi as tightly as his weak arms allow him. He knew how loving his friend is. The healthy and happy relationship he has with both you and Jungkook are proof enough. Taehyung always knew that he was someone who makes people feel safe, but he never thought it would be to this extent.  

Taehyung feels so safe, so nurtured and healed, thinking such sweet things that Yoongi has to smile as he cleans him.

This won’t ever be talked about by either of them again. It will be as if it never happened. But for only a small moment in endless time, they are naked together sharing a bath after intense and fulfilling sex.

[auspicioustidings]

I love your work! May I please request ghost finding a captured civilian in an enemy base and taking her for himself?

Ah little posessive freak Ghost my beloved <3 I didn't know if you were looking for fluff or twisted Simon so I've leant towards the latter!

CW: Attempted rape (non-graphic), kidnapping

They had been warned there were going to be civillians in the building, but it wasn't the first time Ghost had to work around hostages to get the job done. It was an understanding on the team that whereever possible it wasn't going to be the huge fucker in the skull mask who dealt with that side of things. If they knew where hostages were being kept, that's where they sent Gaz or Johnny or even Price to settle them and get them out. Not the Ghost.

And that was working smoothly once again. Gaz had radioed in saying he found where they were being kept, had taken out their guards and would wait for the all clear for an exit route for the handful of doubtless terrified little civilians looking at him like he was the second coming for saving them.

They were all accounted for and that always made Ghost feel some tension bleed away. The last thing he needed to be worrying about was hostage situations.

The rest of the mission was easy enough, taking out any enemies and finding the saferoom to snoop around in for intel. It was laughably easy to get into. Saferooms only really worked if the person who knew the code didn't spill it at the first little twist of an arm, the press of a knife against their throat. They only worked if they were used. But obviously playing at warlord the man was arrogant, thought he could easily take on whoever came at him. Idiot. The moment he had the code, Ghost had no more use for him until he could get him somewhere for a proper interrogation, so he was smacked in the skull with a pistol and out cold. His fingerprints and eye scanner worked just fine even with him unconcious and the code he had given beeped with a green light and the click of a lock.

It was a damn good thing that you assumed it was your captor coming in and so were aiming the cast iron at where his face would be. Instead it smacked into the tactical vest of a much taller man. You hissed and spat and fought like a feral cat when the man immediately reacted by grabbing your wrist and twisting so you cried out and dropped the pan. There went your weapon, there wasn't much else to use in this little safe room but for the small implements in the kitchen and you hadn't felt confident with a knife. A blunt object with a larger surface area had felt like a better bet.

"Don't fucking touch me! I'll claw your fucking eyes out!" you spat out at what you were sure was a bloody monster.

You had been a victim of wrong place wrong time about 12 hours prior. You had broken down on a stretch of road that barely got any use and had fuck all phone signal to get help, so were at the mercy of someone passing by. Just your luck the someone passing by was some slimy asshole with a compound nearby he thought to drag you to. He had found out quickly he wasn't getting his hands on you without a fight. You were a bit of a mess, shirt torn and what you suspected was a cracked orbital bone from where he had punched you after you bit his tongue. You wished you had bit fucking harder.

The only thing that had saved you in the end was the alarm going off. The man had thrown you into the safe room, telling you that once he had dealt with whoever dared break into his base he was going to fuck you bloody. You'd kill him before he got the chance. You'd fucking kill him before all this adrenaline fuelled fight turned into fear and had you accepting your fate.

The monster in the skull mask didn't have the laugh of a monster. It was gruff but there was something very genuine about it. He had his hands on both of your wrists, locking them so you couldn't scratch at him with yout body pulled right into him so you couldn't kick either. Your wrists were pinned at your chin so you couldn't even bite at him. Didn't much stop you from fighting, trying to just drop all of your weight to get him off balance. The added weight did not phase him in the slightest.

"Settle sweetheart, I'm the good guy."

"Do good guys often wear skull masks?!" you hissed back, still struggling to no avail.

He manouvered so that you could see out of the doorway and to the passed out man on the floor.

"They do when they're going after bad guys."

It was like all the adrenaline had finally burned off at right that moment and you felt yourself go boneless in his hold, fight gone. You had a sick moment of being disappointed that you could see that the man was still breathing.

"We sure all the civilians are accounted for?"

You felt a little dazed as you squinted back at him before realising he must have been speaking on the radio. Whatever he heard back must have been interesting because he looked at you, considering, before twisted the little dial to another channel.

"Got a stray, let's keep it out of the reports."

Simon knew that the 141 would back him up. After all, him and the Seargants had always admired the relationship between Price and his wife even if when they first met she kept trying to murder him. She had grown out of it after a few years.

And Simon had never felt like this before. He thought you truly would have killed him if you had been able when he opened the door. It was love at first murder attempt for him.

He cooed at you and comforted you the whole way through exfil. It wasn't until you realised that you couldn't leave that it really started getting fun.

[smileysuh]

twisted fate - TEASER

🌙 staring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

tw/cw. murder/blood, dickhead vampire wonwoo, yandere subthemes, kidnapping?, biting, blood play, throat grabbing, manhandling, begging, controlling!wonwoo, praise, dirty talk, fingering, mean dom Wonwoo, multiple reader orgasms, finger-licking, choking, unprotected sex, big dick Wonwoo, size kink, slight dacryphilia, gentle spanking, dumbification, begging, hair pulling, etc… I pet names: (hers) darling, brat, pet, etc.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 14.3k

🍭 aus. vampire/vampire hunter au, soulmate au, enemies to lovers, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I guess for October I just put out bangers, this one has a lot of blood play cuz it's vampire wonwoo, so be warned

His hand on your cheek moves down, gently latching around your throat. The motion makes you gasp, and Wonwoo pulls away from your lips, staring down at you. “Thirsty.”

“You fucker-”

“Thirsty,” he repeats, pressing you against the wall and tightening his grip on your neck. You watch him drag his tongue across his sharp fangs. “Just say yes,” the vampire whispers. It almost sounds like he’s begging. 

You’re at war with yourself. Your body is clearly reacting to Wonwoo, but your mind still isn’t there yet. It’s almost torture, pressed to the wall by a man with a perfect body and power that practically thrums off of him.

You find yourself giving a small nod. “Don’t hurt me,” you plead.

“Never,” he promises, kissing you softly one last time before he arches your jaw to the side. You grab at his shoulders, ready to dig your nails in when you feel his fangs- 

His lips press to your throat and a shiver runs through your body. His tongue tastes your skin, drawing a circle that has you nearly dying with anticipation. When the bite finally comes, it’s not painful or sharp, it feels something like a hickey, and then it begins to throb.

A gasp tumbles out of you, and you cling to Wonwoo’s broad shoulders, closing your eyes. The vampire releases a groan, reaching for your hand so he can intertwine your fingers, squeezing gently. 

You’ve never felt close to someone like this, and the realization has your head spinning… or maybe that’s the blood loss. 

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, starting to worry at how long he’s been sucking on your throat.

The throbbing stops, and you feel his tongue gliding over the bite mark, an attempt to soothe your skin. Then he’s pulling away, looking down at you as he licks his lips clean of your blood.

“Good girl,” he praises you, letting go of your hand. “Your turn.” You watch as he brings his thumb to his mouth, biting the tip before grabbing your jaw, pressing the digit into your mouth. “This will heal the mark,” Wonwoo explains, watching as you begin to suck on his thumb.

He doesn’t taste like blood. Instead, you’re reminded of strawberries and stone fruits. You swirl your tongue around his digit, sucking him deeper into your mouth-

“That’s it,” the vampire groans, slowly pulling his thumb from you. He drags it across your lip. “All better.”

When you touch your throat, you find only perfect skin. There’s nothing to suggest you’ve just been bitten by a vampire.  “If it’s any consolation,” Wonwoo leans down, his lips ghosting over your own, “you taste delicious.”

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[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 2 - Tate Langdon

"Gingerbread Men"

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Being a ghost in the house sucks, reader missing her family this Chrismas season. Tate takes it upon himself to make her feel better.

A/N: sorry I wrote this in one sitting in between class breaks rip. Also let's pretend Tate didn't do the freaky deaky with Vivian. And he sees Violet as a friend, nothing more.

____

When Tate first saw her, he was incredibly infatuated. 

He followed her throughout the house, refusing to let her see him for the first few days. Just quietly admiring her and her beauty. 

Because she was beautiful. 

When he finally decided to make himself known, she was sitting in the living room, lounging with a book in her hand. He knew he looked creepy, standing in the archway and staring at her, but he couldn’t help it. 

Y/N was like a goddess. 

Yes, he looked creepy as hell, and, yes, she reacted the right way, gasping and throwing her book as hard as humanly possible at him. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” she had shouted, scrambling to her feet and grabbing a lamp in defense. 

Tate, who easily caught the book in his hands, fiddled with it nervously, “Tate. You could put the lamp down,”

“What the hell is wrong with this neighborhood?” Y/N muttered to herself, grip on the lamp tightening, “Everyone and their mama just loves to show up uninvited in my fucking house! You know how rude that is, right?”

Tate already knew his mother and sister had entered the home multiple times without consent. The difference between him and them was the fact they could easily leave. He could not.

A con of being dead. 

“Sorry,” he replied, lips forming a smile as he sauntered towards her. She raised the lamp in warning, but did not act on it, allowing him to casually sit criss-cross at her feet, “What’s your name?” Tate pretended not to know, pretended he wasn’t following her around pretty much all day every day. 

“Mother fucker get out of my house!” she exclaimed. This guy… What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Relax, I just wanted to talk,” he brings his knees to his chest, trying to give off an innocent look, giving her his big puppy dog eyes, “I had to get away from home, my mom is always yelling,” he lied.

“So you decided to enter my home uninvited?” When she said it like that, yeah, he did sound weird. 

Tate shrugged, “The door was unlocked,” he replied. He had no idea if it was actually unlocked. He didn’t care. “I knocked but no one answered.”

“A sign to leave us alone, isn’t it?” she responded sarcastically. 

His grin just got bigger, dimples showing, “You’re funny,” he said, ignoring the obvious distress in her tone of voice. 

And that was how they became friends. Just friends, nothing more.

Though he was incredibly in love with her. 

So when the house finally took her from the land of the living, he felt terrible for her. He had tried his best to keep her alive and safe, but alas, the house was forever cursed. She was bound to that fate as soon as she had stepped foot into the foyer. 

Tate tried to comfort her to the best of his ability, but she was not only depressed but pissed off at him for essentially lying to her about his identity. He wasn’t Tate, the cute and sensitive neighbor who was sweet to her and just happened to suspiciously only be able to hang out in her house. No, that wasn’t him, he was Tate Langdon, mass shooter, viewed as a monster by many, and of course, a ghost. 

He tried to explain to her the nature of the house, tried to explain he was never violent, he was never murderous, till he had moved there. But Y/N was not having it. She did not care. 

And so, despite the close proximity, Tate had never felt so alone. 

Eventually, December came, and Y/N looked even more depressed than usual. She didn’t even talk to the other ghosts anymore, she simply lay curled up in some room of the house, usually changing location every day. Tate had begged one of the newer ghosts, Violet, for help, begged her to know what was making Y/N more depressed than usual. Violet had only been in the house as a ghost for a few weeks, but being close in age with Y/N and Tate, Y/N spoke to her a lot. 

“It’s Christmas time,” Violet finally explained after Tate’s pleading, “She misses her family,” 

Oh. 

Y/N was the only one in her family who had died in the house. She had died and her family could not stay there for another second, moving away. She was very close to her family, Tate couldn’t imagine how she was feeling right now. Her first Christmas alone. 

And so he had an idea. 

___

“Get your ass up,” Violet groaned, grabbing one of Y/N’s legs and tugging. 

“Fuck you!” she began to kick her legs wildly, but Violet stayed firm, dragging her ass out of the room, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Violet rolled her eyes, “Stop fucking moving,”

“I want to be left alone!” Y/N got a kick at Violet’s gut, causing her friend to drop her leg. She crawled back to the middle of the room, curling up on the floor. 

“I’ll kill you twice,” Violet hissed, already starting to get annoyed, “Get the fuck up,”

“No,” 

The ghost pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, “Look, Tate really wants to show you something. Can you please get the fuck up? For him? He did something for you,”

“Fuck him too,”

“Y/N,” Violet said, warning in her tone, “Please. Just for a minute,”

Finally, she huffed and sat up, “This better be good,”

Violet stretched out a hand, which Y/N took, hauled to her feet, “I think it’s very good. He worked hard on this. Like, really hard, and I don’t expect much from teenage boys.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Y/N followed her down the hall, arms crossed over her chest in disinterest, “Let’s just get this over with,” they went down the steps of the stairs and to the living room. 

Y/N paused. 

The living room was decorated in reds and golds, garland and twinkle lights draped over every surface. Little Santa and snowmen figurines were placed on the table and fireplace, stockings placed. Whoever placed them had scribbled out the names with Sharpie, messly writing Y/N, Violet, and Tate on them. 

And the culprit was in the corner of the living room, messly decorating a tree with a Santa hat on. Tate turned, grinning wide, “Y/N!” he exclaimed in excitement, “Do you like it?!”

She practically melted right then and there.

Unmoving, she eyed the tree, tangled Christmas lights thrown around it, ornaments crowded into the front. It was awful, but the effort was there and so fucking adorable she was starting to tear up. 

“You did this for me?” she asked after a moment.

Tate nodded, nervously shuffling towards her, “Do you like it?” he repeated, hands at his sides, fiddling with his jeans. 

She bit her bottom lip to keep her from crying, nodding quickly, “Yes, it’s so pretty…” she threw her arms around his neck for a hug. His eyes brightened, arms snaking around her waist tightly. “Thank you, Tate,” 

An alarm dinged, and he pulled away, “Oh! Cmon cmon cmon!” she was then being dragged into the kitchen, Tate rushing to the oven, opening it.

Motherfucker baked cookies.

Tate Langdon…. Baked fucking…. Cookies?

He set the pan down on the counter, terribly cut-out gingerbread men looking back up at him, “My mom came by yesterday so I kind of begged her to get me a recipe and the ingredients,” 

That touched her even more. Tate always ignored her mother when she came to the house. But he spoke to her just so he could bake Y/N cookies?

“I was thinking we could decorate them together?” he asked hopefully, emptying a shopping bag onto the island. Different icings and piping bags bounced against the counter. 

“Told you he worked really hard,” Violet mused. 

“I remember you said you always baked gingerbread cookies with your mom,” said Tate, that same excited look not leaving his face for even a second. Holy fuck when did he become so perfect?

“We did,” Y/N replied with a soft nod, trying to suppress her urge to sob on him. It was then she noticed he was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater too. He looked so hugable. She swiped at her tearing up eyes real quick, “Lets decorate these fuckers,”

Tate’s eyes lit up, him, Violet, and the love of his life getting to work decorating the gingerbread men, giggling like children at their horrible artistry, Christmas music playing on the record player in the background.

___

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