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stllmnstr · 6 months ago

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sacred monsters: part two

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part two word count: 12.4k

part two warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, me forcing you to read extensive vampire lore, the supernatural elements are ramped up a notch (or, like, eight notches), semi-graphic descriptions and depictions of violence

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh)��- the neighbourhood

note/disclaimer: and to absolutely no one’s surprise, I cannot stop talking about vampire heeseung, so this story will be more than two parts. this is not the end. I want to say it will be around 4-5. potentially more. (yay if you’re excited, and my apologies if you’re not.) again, I want to name the sources I used to help me create this: the dark moon webtoon is where lots of the lore comes from, and influences from twilight are also scattered throughout. okay I think that’s it. for now at least… as always, happy reading ♡

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A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

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Everything hurts.

As your consciousness slowly begins to trickle back in, pain is the most prominent sensation. It comes in slow, steady waves. With a certain kind of deep ache.

Eyes still screwed shut, your brow furrows. The movement only inspires anothing intense wave of throbbing pain that thuds against your temples.

As senses begin to emerge, you can tell that you’re horizontal. Lying down. The surface beneath you is soft. It dips and curves, gives to the shape of your body. A bed, maybe.

Delicately, you try moving your right arm. Wiggling your toes. Both are responsive, but there’s a profound soreness sitting deep within your muscle that makes you strain against a whimper from even the tiniest of movements.

And your throat. It’s so dry. Scraped raw as if someone has taken sandpaper to it. As if you’ve been screaming.

You inhale deeply, assessing the way air inflates the lungs beneath your ribs. Even there, deep within you, there’s a dull, muted ache. A pain that lingers. As the ensuing exhale leaves your body, you note another sensation.

The emptiness of your stomach. The deep pangs of hunger that roll like nausea.

With no small amount of reluctance, you begin the arduous task of opening your eyes. One slow blink that bleeds into another.

At first, the only thing you see is a vast expanse of white. Blinding light makes you want to squint. Close your eyes again. But it’s nothing but a trick of your own senses. Causes by eyes that have gone unused for an extended period of time.

Slowly, the space above you begins to take on its true tone. A soft, even light gray that coats the expanse of the ceiling. Turning your head to the side, you ignore the protest of pain from your neck.

You let your eyes wander for a minute. But as the space around you begins to come into focus, you’re left with more questions than answers.

Your earlier assertion had been correct. You are lying in a bed. But it’s not the one you’ve grown used to. This isn’t your apartment.

No, the bedroom around you is an unfamiliar one. But that’s undoubtedly what it is: a bedroom. Threadbare maybe, but with small touches of life. Aside from your current resting place, there’s a desk on the opposite side of the room. A nightstand right next to you. A small lamp that emanate a warm, golden glow.

Forcing your body into an upright position, you wince at the effort it takes just to sit upright, to maneuver every aching limb into place.

More details of the room come into focus. A computer monitor and keyboard on the desk. The small stack of books next to it. A record player. A small dresser. Little trinkets of personality, but nothing that serves you now.

Even through the haze in your sleep-addled mind, you’re sure you’ve never seen any of it before. Why are you here? Where is here?

And why does your body hurt so damn much, nerves under your skin singing like they’ve been wrung out to dry?

The fog in your mind refuses to clear. Soon, another emotion begins to emerge alongside the confusion as the reality of the situation sets in.

You’re alone. In an unfamiliar room. Hungry as if it’s been days since you’ve eaten.

Judging from the way your limbs respond to even the most minute of movements, you’re injured. Badly.

Flexing your left leg again, you wince. Can you even walk right now?

This is bad. This is very, very bad.

The beginnings of panic begin to trace your mind. Again, you’re searching the room. This time, however, you focus on memorizing the layout. Finding anything that might be of any use to you, that might help you identify your location. That might help you craft an escape.

Your search turns up two doors, one to your left and one directly across from the foot of the bed. Both are unmarked. Both are pulled shut.

It’s possible that your panic is premature. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that this was nothing more than the bedroom of a rather minimalistic university student. But if that were the case why did you wake up here alone, head pounding, body aching?

That alone is definitive. Something is very wrong.

Instinctively, you try to retrace your steps. You must have gotten here somehow. But the more you try to walk back through your memory, the hazier things become. The inside of your mind is like a murky labyrinth, dead ends at every corner. Rearranging and shifting the more you try to focus.

It’s as if a dense fog has clouded over your ability to think, to recall. No matter how close you get to a memory, you can’t see anything.

That alone is enough to send another fresh wave of panic straight to your bones. Alone, injured, and you can’t remember any of the events that led you to this strange place.

Gingerly, you turn your body so that your legs hang off the side of the bed, bare feet resting lightly on the floor. That movement alone requires several of your deep inhales.

Slowly, you try putting weight on your feet, your legs. It’s not pleasant by any means, but they hold steady. Or at the very least, they don’t buckle beneath you. Aside from the soreness, there’s a distinct fatigue in your extremities. One that gives them a slight shake the longer you try to stand.

You doubt you can run, but at least you’re not completely immobile. Maybe, given enough adrenaline, you can walk. Crawl.

But now you’re faced with another dilemma. Two doors. Two points of entry, two potential routes to escape. Or two paths to further danger. Trapped in a windowless room, you have no way of knowing which of your two choices, if any, is better.

But you can’t just stay here. Backed into a corner, practically a sitting duck. Eyes darting between the two doors, you steel yourself for the inevitable flash of pain fully standing will inevitably cause.

The door to the left of the bed. The door at the foot of the bed.

Just as you’ve decided to veer to the right, muscles tensing in anticipation, a knock rings out. Your breath catches in your throat, panic reaching its peak as your heart beats a furious rhythm in your chest. There’s nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go.One rap against the door to your left. Two. Three.

You won’t make it to the other door in time. Not on your legs.

There’s a moment of suspended silence. And then, the door is opening.

Instinctively, you push yourself backwards on the bed., trying to put as much space as physically possible between you and the stranger that enters.

And a stranger he certainly is. With a tentative sort of slowness, a boy peers around the edge of the door, squinting in the low light.

When he sees that you’re upright, he pushes into the room fully, closing the door quietly behind him. The glimpse you get over his shoulder doesn’t reveal much. Another room, maybe, but it’s gone too quickly to be certain.

“You’re awake,” he nods, more to himself than anything. “I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

Back pressed against the wall, you have nowhere left to go. Still hunched as if that will do anything to protect you, you stare at the boy in front of you.

Maybe, you think. Maybe you could move fast enough to grab the lamp from the nightstand before he realizes what’s happening. Could use it as some sort of weapon, some meager means of self-defense.

“Who are you?” Your throat is scraped raw. It hurts to speak, to think, to do much of anything. “Where am I?”

“Oh.” The boy pauses for a moment. For the first time since he entered, he stops to look at you. Really look at you. The extent of the terror that’s embedded in your features, written in the positioning of your body.

Immediately, he stops in his tracks. Retreats a few steps until he’s back at the far edge of the room, just in front of the door he entered from. “Sorry, I guess it was probably quite the shock to wake up here. My name is Jake. You’re in our…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “Well, our home, I suppose.”

For a moment, you just look at him. Chest still rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even your breathing. You can still feel your pulse in your neck.

If the situation weren't so disorienting, so terrifyingly confusing, you might be mildly amused by the almost… sheepish look that crosses his features. Where he avoids eye contact with you from the doorframe, this boy certainly doesn’t look like a threat.

If you had to guess, you’d say that he — Jake — is around your age. With dark hair that falls across his forehead and wide, dark eyes, he has a distinct sort of beauty that almost reminds you of…

Suddenly, in the confines of your missing memories, you’re grasping at straws again.

“Specifically,” Jake adds, realizing the information might be pertinent to you, “this is Heeseung’s room.”

Heeseung. You know that name. You think it’s the one you were searching for.

Heeseung.

It sparks something. A flicker of a memory. A ghost of the answers you seek.

You feel like you’re on the verge of a revelation when you ask, “Where is he? Heeseung?”

Jake’s expression betrays no surprise. He’d expected you to ask him that, you realize. It does, however, suddenly appear a bit more guarded. “He’s recovering. That poison he got out of you really did a number on him.”

For a moment, his words do nothing but reverberate in your aching skull. And then—

“Poison?”

Jake just looks at you for a second, brow pulling down in confusion as if you’re the strange one in this situation. As if poison and Heeseung’s apparent removal of it should already be old news. Then, a flicker of realization crosses his features. His brow softens.

“That’s right,” he mumbles. Again, it seems more for his benefit than yours. “I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

Moonflower? In humans?

“Memory loss?”

“It’s only temporary,” Jake says, as if that’s enough to make everything better. “Everything will start to come back soon, I’m sure.” He pauses, frowning. A flicker of sympathy enters his gaze. “I feel like I should warn you, though. Judging from the way you and Heeseung came in here a couple of nights ago, it might be a lot to take in all at once when they do.”

A couple of nights ago. Which means—

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Just over two days. It’s Friday night now. Almost midnight.” While the shock of that settles into your system, Jake continues, “Which reminds me, I brought you some things I thought you might need.”

He turns away from you, opening the door. When he closes it behind him again, he now has two bags in his hand. Carefully, like one might approach a wounded animal, he takes slow footsteps towards you.

Setting the bags down next to the nightstand, he explains, “This one has water and food. I wasn’t sure what you would like, so feel free to have whatever, and let us know if there’s anything else you want.”

Looking at the second bag, he adds, “I also brought you some clothes. We didn’t really have anything for a girl here. I mean, Sunghoon had a couple of things, but I didn’t really think you’d want them. Sunoo and Niki went out and got some stuff. I’m sure they did their best, but, uh,” He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “No promises.”

Jake nods towards the dresser that sits by the desk. “If you hate everything, you can also look through whatever Heeseung has in there. I’m sure he wouldn't mind.”

That name again. Heeseung. There’s nothing solid in your memory, but heat finds itself on your cheekbones anyway. The thought of wearing his clothes just feels like something that should warrant that reaction, even if you’re not sure why.

“There’s also a bathroom through that door.” Jake jerks his chin towards the door across from the foot of the bed. And maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t have enough time to craft an escape through there, you think. This conversation might have been significantly more awkward in a bathroom. “Feel free to use anything in there, including the shower, if you want. There should be clean towels in the bottom drawer.”

He takes another long look at you, that same sympathy from earlier coloring his gaze. It feels weighted, heavy. As if he’s forseen some great tragedy you’re not yet privy too. As if he knows something you don’t. “I’m sure you have a million questions, but I think you’ll feel better with some food and water in you.” He nods towards the bags he set close to you. “And a fresh change of clothes.”

He’s probably right. With the urgency of your former panic subsiding, you still don’t feel at ease. But neither fight nor flight seem like appropriate responses to this situation. Which leaves you stuck with a third one: reluctant trust.

As you make your peace with it, something begins to press at the fog in your mind. It swirls, collects as if being pressed against a glass window. Your memories are still evasive, but there’s something there, in that haze. Syllables stuck on a loop, a constant repetition that begs your attention.

Heeseung.

There’s a sudden urgency in your gut. The distinct feeling that things will start to make sense again if you can just see him, talk to him. Jake said that he’s recovering. From poison. But you don’t know what that means, don’t understand what kind of gravity it might hold.

Vague sentiments conveyed through a messenger are hardly enough to satisfy the tugging in your mind.

So you ask, “Can I see him? Heeseung?”

Something flickers across Jake’s gaze, too fast for you to catch it fully. Concern maybe. A premonition of fear. Still, he says, “He’s okay. I promise. You’ll be able to see him soon.” For a moment, Jake falls into silence, weighing words on his tongue like he can’t decide if he should share them or not. “But he’s not really in the best shape for visitors right now. Take care of you first, and then we can talk more if you want. And when you’re both ready, you can see Heeseung, too.”

It’s hardly a satisfying answer, but Jake holds the cards here. You have nothing to leverage, nothing to bargain.

Before he leaves, he reiterates, “I’m sure that your memories will start to come back soon. Like I said, it might be a lot all at once. I’ll let you eat and get changed, if you want. The door locks.” He nods to the door handle. “So does the one on the bathroom door. And please, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be just outside.”

Gently, Jake opens the door, pulls it shut behind him. And then you’re alone again.

Gone is the frantic terror you awoke with, and left in its wake is a gentler sort of fear. A deep sense of unease that refuses to fade.

Pushing it aside for now, you attend to your baser needs. Heeding Jake’s advice, you retrieve the first bag he left for you, pulling it up onto the bed.

The first thing you see is a bottle of water. You make quick work of pulling it out, removing the cap, and taking a long sip. It’s cool, refreshing. Soothes your aching throat before settling heavily at the bottom of your empty stomach.

Taking another handful of gulps, you replace the cap before setting it on the nightstand. Opening the bag further, you reveal its other contents.

It’s possibly the strangest assortment of food that you’ve ever seen. Frowning in confusion, you take stock of what you’ve been given. It just gets weirder the more you look at it. It’s as if Jake went to the grocery store and just grabbed the first thing he saw in every aisle with no regard for how they would fit together. As if he hasn’t made himself a meal since the day he was born.

The first thing you pull out is a box of dry pasta, completely inedible without cooking utensils you currently have no access to. Jake did say you could ask him for anything, but even boiling water has a way of feeling like an insurmountable task in your current state. You move on.

What follows is hardly better. There’s a singular, unripe avocado, an entire family sized bag of clementine oranges, three boxes of breakfast cereal, a loaf of bread, and — you pause a moment to count — eight different kinds of granola bars.

Pushing past the strangeness, you figure you don’t need a Michelin star meal to ease the hunger. For now, you decide that one of the granola bars and a clementine look the most appetizing.

After a few minutes, the blunt edges of hunger lose their sharpness. But even with a bit of food in your system, the nausea hold steady.

Mind addled, you curse yourself for not asking him the most obvious question. What the hell happened to you?

But he did say your memories should be coming back soon, and you decide you’ll just have to trust in that for now.

Next, you reach for the bag of clothes. You didn’t think it was possible, but it somehow manages to be even stranger than the food.

To your shoppers’ credit, they are girls’ clothes, yes, but it seems that was the only criteria for selection. It’s the dead of winter, and the first two things you pull out are a pair of denim shorts and a sundress. Frowning, you refold them both, placing them back in the bag. At least they still have their tags. Hopefully the two boys Jake mentioned kept their receipt.

That leaves you with your other option. Glancing over at the dresser, his dresser, you’re at an impasse.

Even with gaping holes in your memory, it feels invasive, far too intimate to look through his things. To go through his clothes until you find something that suits you. To wear it without his permission.

Taking a sidelong glance at the pair of denim shorts, you decide you don’t have all that much pride left to barter, anyway. After all, you work up disoriented, weak, and missing all of your memories in the boy’s bed. What’s a spare change of clothes in comparison with that?

As you gingerly pad your way to the dresser, you decide it feels less like snooping if you only reach for what’s on top. Luck is on your side. The first thing you see when you open the top drawer is a sweatshirt and matching pair of sweatpants, both of which are ridiculously soft.

Stolen goods in tow, you continue towards the bathroom door. Pulling it closed behind you, you see that Jake was telling the truth. The lock slides into place with a small click.

Like his bedroom, Heeseung’s bathroom is fairly nondescript. Devoid of decor, it holds what he needs and little else. Opening the bottom drawer of the vanity, you find a clean towel and set it down on the counter, next to the clothes.

Lifting your head, you catch your reflection in the mirror. It’s enough to have you double take. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The tangled mess of hair and dark circles of exhaustion beneath your eyes are things you could forgive. Two days of straight sleep is enough to wreak at least a little havoc on anyone.

But that’s not what has your reflection freezing.

Delicately, as if the truth will somehow be less awful if revealed slowly, you tilt your head to the side. Pull your hair away, tuck it behind your ear. Expose the dark, mottled assortment of discolored marks that extend all the way from your jaw to the base of your neck.

Bruises. Deep, dark bruises.

And on top of them, uneven, flaky patches of multicolored crimson. Dried blood, you realize as your stomach gives a sickening lurch.

Is it yours? Heeseung’s? Someone else’s?

The fog in your mind suddenly feels like an enclosure. Holding you hostage and dangling your forgotten memories just out of reach. Trapping you in the darkness and offering no way out, no way through. Just a dim candle against the vast, midnight darkness of terror.

You’re too wrung out to cry, too confused to so much as gasp. As reality unfolds, devastation seems to be the norm, not the exception. Even if your throat weren’t raw, you’re not sure you’d scream.

With trepidation, you raise a hand, watching the way your fingers tremble in your reflection. And then your run a gentle touch over the evidence of destruction, a war waged on your skin. Once it nears your jaw, you feel something. A small bump that has you hissing at the contact.

Leaning forward, you examine it closer. It’s a tiny wound, barely perceptible. It reminds you of a vaccination at the doctor’s office. Neat, sterile.

Enough to be confusing, yes. Arguably even concerning. But it’s not what has you reeling.

Because around the tiny mark are two more puncture wounds. Perfectly circular still, but decidedly larger. Rougher. Deeper. They’re embedded into your skin on either side of the smaller wound. And if you didn’t know any better, if your mind had any more capacity for the impossible, you’d almost think they look like…

You’d almost think they look like bite marks.

The longer you stare, the more sinister they appear. The more hopelessly horrified you feel. What happened to you? Why does the side of your neck look like a watercolor painting of violets? Why does it look like you’ve been bitten?

If this is what you look like, what kind of state is Heeseung in? Jake said it himself that he’s in no condition for visitors.

What if he’s not recovering as well as Jake said? What if it’s your fault—?

No. You won’t let yourself spiral there.

Memories, you just need your memories.

Which means you just need a little more time.

The shower, to your relief, has plenty of hot water to spare. For long minutes, you just stand there, letting it pour over you, your skin, your aching muscles. As water seeps through the drain, it carries some of your tension with it.

You watch as the water that circles the drain runs red before it clears again, blood washed away from your skin.

It’s instinct, mostly. The desire to confirm what you already know, that has you retracing the strange marks on your neck.

A hiss of pain is the only thing that ensues in response at first. But then something else comes.

A flicker of a memory.

A strange place, a dark room.

New Haven. The publishing house. Because you had gone there to meet Professor Kim, to show him your draft, to see the space you’d won an internship in.

It’s coming back now, in fragments.

There had been something strange, though. It was dark when you arrived. Dark and empty and quiet until—

Until suddenly it wasn’t. Until Heeseung was there with you.

Warm water traces steady lines on your skin. Your memory reappears in tangled, discombobulated jumbles. Things clicking into place as you do your best to sort them chronologically.

Heeseung was there, but he wasn’t supposed to be. You had gone there to see Professor Kim. Why wasn’t he—?

The sudden flash of memory is sickening. Has another bout of nausea threatening the contents of your stomach.

It all comes back, all at once. Replaying like a nightmare, like a scene plucked from a horror film.

Blood dripping from your professor’s mouth. Clothes tattered on his body. Heeseung shielding you, protecting you.

But Professor Kim wasn’t himself. He wasn’t right. He threw something at you. Something that hit you right where he intended.

Without your permission, your fingers are back on the slippery skin of your neck. The blood is gone, but the wound remains just the same. The wound that Professor Kim gave to you.

You remember the feeling of floating, of being distant from your body, removed from reality. Mind on some other plane of existence.

You remember gentle, insistent, desperate hands on your waist. Your jaw. Your forehead.

Heeseung, bent over you, consuming your limited plane of vision as your eyelids became too heavy to remain open.

Pain in your neck. Sharp at first. Then dull, numbing.

Heeseung. Heeseung bit you. Held you in his arms as consciousness drained from your body along with your blood.

Poison, Jake had called it. ‘Poison he got out of you.’

It’s all so strange. They’re your memories, yes, and you’re sure of them, but why was there poison in your neck? Why was biting you the solution? How did his teeth leave such perfectly circular marks on—?

The final puzzle piece clicks into place.

Vampire attacks. You had been worried about Heeseung, relieved to see him safe and sound at New Haven. Because you had just read about vampire attacks.

Robotically, you turn the water off. Step out of the shower, wrap a towel around your body.

His clothes are soft against your skin.

Heeseung saved you. Of that, you’re sure. But what about the three people at the river? The three victims of a vampire attack?

It can’t be true. It can’t. You don’t know him, not really, but he’s just… Heeseung.

An annoyingly competent poet and a massive pain in your ass. Someone that walks you home when you stay too late in the library. Someone that calls your writing awful when it is, when you need a cold, hard reality check.

He’s… he’s just Heeseung. He’s not a—

You can’t even bring yourself to finish the thought.

But your memories are back, and there’s a alertness to your mind that only sharpens as the fog clears.

At the edge of your mind, Jake’s voice replays. Something you glossed over in your confusion, something you fixate on now.

“I always forget that moonflower can cause memory loss in humans.”

“I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up.”

The strange assortment of food. Jake’s undeniable, uncanny beauty. The kind you’ve only ever seen in one other person.

Jake was right. You do feel a bit better with food and water in your stomach. With the last three days of horror washed off of your skin. But your mind is alert now. The memories are coming back. Puzzle pieces rearranging and clicking into place with alarming accuracy.

And as the dust settles, you’re suddenly very, very afraid of the reality that greets you.

In your mind, the facts play on a loop.

You don’t know where you are. You don’t know how to leave. Jake has been nothing but kind, but if he so wished, you’re sure he could overpower you easily. And he insinuated that he’s not the only one here.

You need answers. You need to leave. But Heeseung…

You have to know.

Is the boy you’ve been trying to outwrite for months, the boy you shared a moment under a moonlit sky with, is he a… a vampire?

Why was he at New Haven that day? Did he know about Professor Kim? Did he know about the deaths at the river? Was he complicit in them? Was he responsible for them?

Clothed in determination and a fleeting moment of bravery, you undo the lock on the bathroom door, passing through the bedroom, his bedroom, on furious footsteps. The second door opens just as easily as the bathroom had, and suddenly, you’re in the room you caught just a glimpse of before. A living room, of sorts. Some sort of common area.

True to his earlier word, Jake sits nearby. Planted on a navy sofa, he looks up when you enter. “How are you feeling? Do you need any—”

Manners are the last thing on your mind when you interrupt him mid-sentence. “What are you?” Not ‘who are you.’ That won’t give you the answer you seek. The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous.

Jake’s mouth falls shut, presses into a line. Hesitation paints his features. “I don’t think this is the best—”

You won’t hear it. “What are you?”

Jake holds up his palms in surrender. “Your memories are starting to come back, I take it. Look, we can explain everything, just—”

On the far end of the room, another door opens. Another boy enters. Just like Heeseung, just like Jake, he’s beautiful. Moves with that same unnatural grace that you used to admire when you thought no one would notice. Now, it has another surge of nausea rolling in your stomach.

Jake glances at the new arrival. He sighs. “This isn’t really a good time, Sunghoon. Why don’t you—”

The boy, Sunghoon, never hears Jake’s suggestion. Instead, he cuts him off. And once again, your world is spinning.

“He’s back.”

…..

You are the last to enter the strange room. On the heels of Jake and Sunghoon, despite the former’s insistence that you wait and see him later, you take in your surroundings.

Odd enough was the long, winding hallway that led you here, but this is even stranger. Instead of a proper door, the room is guarded by long, thick metal bars. They stand ajar now but bear a rather impressive lock. You have the distinct impression that this place was designed to keep people out. Or maybe rather to keep someone in.

You hear him before you see him. Memories recovered, the sound of his voice is something you’re well attuned to, even if it flickers with a strong tone of annoyance.

“Yes, I’m fine. I told you, it’s a ridiculously strong sedative at its core. We’ll react strangely, yes, but it’s not the same as bloodlust—”

“Still,” another voice argues. “We all saw how she looked when you brought her in. You had to have drank a considerable amount—”

“I told you I’m fine, Jungwon,” Heeseung counters. “Do I look out of control to you? Would I be sitting here having this conversation with you if I was?”

“Fine.” It’s the same voice. Jungwon. “If you’re alive and well, then maybe you can answer my question. What were you doing at New Haven? Do you know how long we’ve—”

It’s probably stupid, shoving past people in their own home. People that you suspect are dangerous, that might not really be people at all. But you have to see him. You have to know.

Once you finally get around Sunghoon, your view of the room opens up. Sparsely decorated, dimly lit, and there are four other boys you don’t recognize. You pay them no attention.

Because in the middle of it all stands Heeseung. Maybe, if you squint, you could argue that he looks a little worse for wear. There’s a pink flush under his eyes, a slight disarray to his usually perfect hair, but other than that, he paints the perfect, untouchable picture he always has.

At the commotion of your sudden movement, all eyes in the room turn from Heeseung and land squarely on you. For a moment, seven gazes just look at you. All of them are blank. Lost. Out of depth.

All except for the one you match.

Where he stands, Heeseung stares at you with an intensity you’ve only seen once before. In a moment you wish you could forget. In a fragmented memory you already know you’re cursed to carry forever.

Slowly, his eyes scan the length of your body, something in his jaw tightening when he notes the clothes you’re wearing. His clothes.

Jungwon is still pressing him for answers. Heeseung doesn’t bother to provide any.

Instead, he says, “Give us a minute.”

He’s still looking at you. Frozen in place, his eyes trace the line of your neck, ghosting over the array of bruises, the twin wounds he left there. His voice betrays no emotion, but his eyes flash with something that looks all too much like regret, shame.

Jungwon balks for a moment. “No, I’m not giving you a minute. You could have jeopardized everything we’ve been working towards—”

Heeseung does break eye contact with you then. Turning to the boy that stands next to him, he says, “What’s done is done, Jungwon. A few more minutes won’t change that. You can shout at me some more in a minute.”

“Ouch.” A boy that you don’t recognize winces.

“Right?” another one of the strangers agrees. “A pretty human over five hundred years of brotherhood.” He shakes his head. “I’d expect that from Sunghoon, maybe, but—”

Behind you, Jake sighs. “Is this really the time, you two?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon agrees, arms crossing his chest as he pouts. “And I take offense to that, you know. I would not put all of your hard work in danger for a human.” Sunghoon takes a sidelong glance at you. “No offense.”

“Just give us a minute,” Heeseung repeats again, more command in his voice this time as he slides a palm through his hair in frustration. “Please. All of you.”

There’s enough authority in his voice time. Or maybe enough pleading. Whatever it is, the rest of the room files out, one by one. Even Jungwon, although he does cast one final, warning look over his shoulder.

It’s lost on Heeseung, who has already turned his attention back to you. “Are you okay?”

An echo of the past, a reminder of why you’re here. Of why your throat threatens to close up now, just looking at him.

Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how you’d answer him. Physically, you’re sore. Tired even though you’ve been sleeping for days. Temporary aches. Things that will heal with rest and time.

Mentally, though… Your mind is spinning a million miles a minute. Even now, face to face with him, you can’t reconcile all of the pieces of Heeseung you’ve gathered.

Indifferent student. Brilliant writer. Honest reviewer. Maybe even a friend.

Vampire.

You don’t know what to make of him. You don’t know how to piece him together.

He’s here, standing in front of you. You used to stare at the back of his head during lectures. Used to fantasize about him giving you a minute of his time.

And now, it’s just the two of you. Alone. His eyes search your face, his focus consumed by you. And he’s never felt further away.

You don't answer his question. Instead, you ask one of your own.

“What’s going on?” Your voice is small, holds none of the command you wish it could. “And don’t… don’t you dare lie to me.”

Across from you, Heeseung exhales. There’s a distinct sorrow in his eyes. “I won’t. But it’s a long story. And there are parts of it I’m not sure you’ll like.”

“I don’t care.” But you do, so much that it hurts. You almost wish you were still begging for scraps of his attention. At least then, you knew where you stood. “I want the truth.” That much, at least, is honest.

Heeseung nods, as if any of this is simple. “Then you’ll have it.”

A beat of silence passes. You remember the question you had asked Jake less than an hour ago. What are you? You can’t quite bring yourself to ask it now. Not with everything that has passed between you. Not when it feels like more of an accusation than an inquiry.

You wear his wounds on your skin. You don’t know why you still want to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Still, you ask, “Who are you?” The difference is subtle. The difference is cavernous.

Heeseung doesn’t smile, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips. “I’m not undercover. My name is Heeseung.” The flicker of amusement dies. He knows what you’re really asking him. He knows it’s not an easy answer to give, not an easy truth to receive. “But I’m… different. I was born with a strange ability.”

You breathe. “What kind of ability?”

Heeseung looks down at his hands. Studies them for a moment before turning back to you. “It would be easier to show you, if you’ll let me.”

Instinctively, your hand finds the wound on your neck.

A dark shadow crosses Heeseung’s features. “That’s not the ability I’m referring to.”

There’s a chair in the room, just behind him. He walks to it and sits down at the edge, knees wide. “Come here.”

You shouldn’t. You should stay as far away as space allows. You shouldn’t let him do anything. In every sense of the word, he holds the advantage here. You’re in his home. He has knowledge you don’t. The only thing you have left to leverage is the distance between you and your decision to maintain it.

But every inch between you was doomed to be a losing battle. Steady, slow footsteps erase the distance between you as you come to stand directly in front of him.

At this angle, with your positioning, he’s forced to look up at you. Chin lifted, he whispers, “Hold out your hand.”

You could try to fight. You could question him. You don’t. Resistance was always going to be futile. In no time at all, your hand is outstretched.

Once again, Heeseung studies his own fingers. A shudder traces the length of his spine. Hesitation spills from every minute movement, every microexpression you’re allowed. It’s straining him, you realize. This ability is not something he’s excited to share.

You can’t decide if that eases your worry or increases it tenfold.

But after another wasted moment, his right hand reaches out to encircle the skin of your left wrist. For a few stilted heartbeats, it’s just the two of you in a strange room, a cage of sorts, your wrist cradled in his loose grip.

Then, your vision begins to flicker. At first, you think it’s a trick of the light. Something lingering side effect of a long sleep as everything begins to go out of focus.

But as the room around you fades, something takes its place. It takes a moment to manifest completely, for your eyes to adjust.

In front of you, Heeseung still sits in his chair, gaze trained on your wide eyes. But the two of you are no longer in the small, threadbare room. Instead, you stand in an open field, freckled with wildflowers and teeming with butterflies. Above you, the sky is blue and vast, the late summer sun casting a vibrant glow over everything.

In your shock, you nearly wrench your arm out of Heeseung’s grip. He senses the movement, tightens his fingers around your wrist before you can pull away.

“Sorry.” He glances at where you two are touching. “It’s better not to break contact once you’re in. It’s quite disorienting if you do. And it will give you awful motion sickness.”

Once you’re in where? Turning your head, you look for something, anything, that makes even the tiniest bit of sense. But all you see is grass. The vast expanse of an open field that only ends where it meets the sky.

“Where are we?”

“Still in the same room,” Heeseung says. “Physically, at least.” He takes a deep breath. “This is the ability I referred to. It’s a bit difficult to describe, but I can… project my consciousness, I guess. As long as we maintain physical contact, I can show you things from my mind. Memories, visions, anything I dream up. What you see now is the field where I discovered my ability, actually. A friend and I were playing here. I was ten.” He pauses, looks at you. “The year was 1534.”

The full weight of his words barely has time to settle before the vision is morphing, the scene changing into another.

“It’s difficult to know where to start, but I suppose the beginning is as good a place as any. In the Kingdom of Celedis,” he narrates, “there were eight noble families that had been feuding with each other for over a century. As a result of their petty infighting, the common people suffered. There was constant strife throughout the kingdom. Pains that caused immense suffering but left the nobles untouched. There were frequent blockades, limits on trading, restricted movement, and nasty skirmishes along the borders. Petty crime ran rampant, unchecked. People weren’t safe anywhere, not even in their homes.”

You see it just as he imagines it. Tired, hungry, exhausted people. Mistreated and left to the whims of whatever best suited the nobles’ current desires.

And the rulers, the nobles themselves. Eight men, adorned in finery, showered with gifts and praise and fine wines while the people just outside the walls of their ornate homes suffered just to survive, starving to death while they gorged themselves on luxury.

You wouldn’t consider yourself an expert in history, and it’s not like the scenario is exactly uncommon, but you still find it strange that you’ve never heard of this place, not even in passing.

“Celedis?” You frown.

“It’s been erased now,” is all Heeseung says. “From both existence and memory. But it was real, a long time ago. And it was where I was born.”

Again, the scene around you starts to take on that odd, unfocused quality. It’s changing again. By now, you almost feel accustomed to the way images and light start to distort as one vision bleeds into another.

“Celedis was a strange kingdom,” Heeseung continues. “Full of old magic. Ancient rituals and rites that faded from most places but held true there. The land was, in many ways, just as alive as you and I. And it grew weary of seeing its people suffer.”

You see a man now, dressed in simple clothes, tucked in the back corner of what appears to be a shop. He’s surrounded by crystals, trinkets, and old, leather-bound books.

“One night, the eight noble lords received a message from a seer, one that claimed to communicate with the land, to speak for Celedis as its messenger. The seer told them that the old magic of the land would grant them a single wish on one condition: There had to be peace in the kingdom by the night of the blood moon. A night that comes only once every hundred years. When the moon itself shines bright red.

“Seven of the lords, eager to have a wish granted, did as the seer advised. They ceased their fighting, recalled their troops. Began to support and protect their people once again. The eighth lord, however, did not.”

After a moment, you’re plunged into darkness. Above you, the night sky of Heeseung’s mind twinkles with distant stars and a distinct, crimson red moon. Seven men, all dressed in finery, stand around an oak tree. The rules of Heeseung’s ability don’t seem to be governed by the laws of physics. You watch as an eighth man appears, seemingly out of thin air. The same man from the crystal shop.

“The seven who heeded the seer’s advice gathered on the night of the blood moon to pass along their wish — they wanted their bloodlines to endure forever.

“The seer passed this message along, but old magic is a fickle thing. You have to be precise with your words, or things will be lost in translation. Interpreted in strange ways.”

Now, you stand in a nursery. There’s a crib in the corner. A pregnant woman bends over it, singing a soft lullaby.

“Within the year, each of the seven noble lords gave birth to a son. They took this with great joy, a sign that their wish had come true. Before the year reached its end, each of the seven had procured a strong, healthy heir to succeed them.”

Suddenly, you’re back in the endless field from before, watching two young boys play in the distance.

“But these were no ordinary sons. And around the age of ten, each of them revealed a special ability, a supernatural gift.”

The two boys are playing a game, you realize. You can’t decipher the rules, but you watch as they throw their heads back in a burst of carefree laughter. The first young boy grabs his friend by the wrist. A harmless gesture. A meaningless touch.

The second boy recoils as if he’s been burned. Hand back at his side, he doubles over in pain, emptying the contents of his stomach.

In front of you, Heeseung looks away.

In the distance, another version of Heeseung apologizes profusely as the other child turns his back.

He changes the scene before you can watch any further.

You’re in a bedroom now, watching a young man put on a jacket. It’s startling, almost, how similar he looks. The two of you watch as Heeseung, because it is undoubtedly him, pulls the jacket over his back, slides his arms through the sleeves.

The resemblance is so uncanny that the only thing that sets this Heeseung apart, really, is the style of his clothing. The coat that obviously belongs to another century, lost to time.

“And once each son reached their twenty-first birthday,” Heesung says. “They stopped aging.”

Heeseung and his jacket dissolve, change into something else. The new scene you look out upon is somber. Heeseung is there again, this time dressed in all black. The clothes of a mourner. Aside from that, he looks exactly the same.

Then you see the casket. The portrait standing next to it. It’s her, you realize. The woman from the nursery, the one who hummed the lullaby. Much, much older though. Fifty years older. Maybe sixty.

You look at this vision’s Heeseung again. He hasn’t aged a day. Still the epitome of youth, even as he mourns the death of his mother.

“This was the interpretation of the wish, how it was warped through old magic. The bloodline would endure forever, because each son that had been born in the year of the blood moon was born immortal. But by doing so, the seven lords’ wish had also effectively ended their bloodline. Their sons would never grow old, never bear children. And none were ever given a sibling.

“The eighth lord, the one that did not agree to peace and therefore did not receive a wish, had not yet foreseen this tragedy. He didn’t understand the implications of immortality, the terrible burden it brings. All he saw was an opportunity that he had lost. In his eyes, it had been stolen.”

You watch as the eighth lord bangs on the door of the crystal shop, face red, fury obvious in every inch of his visage.

“When he discovered the nature of the gift the other lords had been given, the eighth became enraged. He went to the seer and demanded that he pass along his wish to the old magic of the land. That his son, born as an ordinary human, would also be given the gift of immortality.”

In front of you, the lord lunges at the seer, rage in his eyes. The seer raises his hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense.

“The seer pleaded with the lord. He tried to explain that he had no way of passing his request along. That the ability to communicate with old magic was not something he could do whenever he so pleased.”

The scene changes, the seer and his shop disappearing. Again, you see the oak tree. This time, though, it is only the eighth lord that stands before it. His eyes are sunken, shaded with deep, dark shadows. A mad desperation is painted across his features.

“After murdering the seer for his insolence, the eighth lord went to the oak tree, a place rumored to be full of old magic. He wished for his son to become like the other seven sons, and he gave the seer’s blood as an offering.”

The scene morphs again, fading until you’re surrounded by the ghastliest thing you’ve seen yet. You and Heeseung are in a small room. In the center, there’s an ornate dining table adorned with expensive cutlery and fine china. Lined with a lacy white tablecloth.

And blood. The room, the tablecloth, the plates, are covered in dark, red blood.

“There was one last thing that the eighth lord did not yet understand about immortality. About the other seven sons.”

One by one, you watch as they appear.

Jake. Sunghoon. Jungwon. The others whose names you do not yet know. Heeseung.

Their mouths, clothes, faces, are all covered in it, dripping with it. Blood.

“The old magic, above all, favors balance. In exchange for eternal life, it deemed that the only thing capable of sustaining it would be the life of others. Their blood. Once a year, on the anniversary of the day the seven noble lords cast their selfish wish, their seven sons would need to feed. To consume blood. This would sustain them for the rest of the year. They did not need to eat, drink, or sleep on any other day.

“But that one day, every year, they would always need blood.”

The horror of the bloody dining room fades. Now, you see the eighth son. Your eyes widen in fear as the image continues to develop in front of you, one ghastly scene traded for another. He is in a throne room, back bent unnaturally, a predatory glint in his eyes. Blood covers his mouth, his jaw. And as he rises to his full height, the rest of the horror is unveiled.

He stands above the pale, drained, lifeless body of his father.

“As I said before, old magic is a fickle thing. It listened to the eighth lord’s request that his son ‘become like the other seven sons,’ but not everything was the same. He was granted immortality, yes, and he also needed to consume blood to sustain himself. Unlike the original seven, he needed to feed frequently. Consume blood often. If he didn’t, the urges would drive him mad. Send him into a frenzy.

“It was in such a state that he killed his own father. Murdered the rest of his family and every other living soul he found in the castle.”

You now stand in the dim light of a castle corridor. Beams of moonlight cast a cool glow as a soft breeze rustles tree branches just outside the window. It’s quiet, eerily so. In front of you, a person lies motionless. The wound on their neck matches yours, but instead of bruising, it’s surrounded by fresh blood.

You watch in silent horror as the eighth son’s victim begins to twitch. At first, it’s just the fingers of their left hand. A spasm that shakes their shoulder. And then their mouth opens, face contorted in agony as they let out a long, blood curdling scream.

Heeseung spares you the burden of hearing it.

“One of his victims, however, he did not drain fully of blood. Lost to his instinct, he had gorged himself so full that he could drink no more. This human, nearly dead, began to transform. And after long hours of acute agony, turned into a vampire of the same nature as the eighth son. Uncontrollable. Frenzied. And full of bloodlust.”

It reminds you of a montage, the scene that plays next. Still standing in front of Heeseung, your wrist still between his fingers, you watch as villages appear and fade. Families, lovers, children running in fear as the domino effect begins to take place. As one vampire becomes ten. As they fall into bloodlust, leaving a bloody path in their wake.

The image of a young woman, mouth agape and features frozen in terror, remains imprinted on the backs of your eyelids as the small, dark room of Heeseung’s home comes back into view. As the last of the illusion fades, he releases his grip, freeing you from his ability.

Your arm falls limply to your side.

“For years,” he tells you, and there’s no image to accompany his words now. Nowhere to look but his eyes. “We just existed. Tried to carve meaning into our lives, tried to find a reason to keep living once it became apparent that was never something we would need to fight for.

“But terror continued to reign. Vampire populations continued to spread and after three hundred long years of acting only in our own self-interest, we decided to intervene. To help the human effort to eradicate vampirism and the blight it had become.

“But we never wanted to become judge, jury, or executioner. And playing god was never something we found pleasure in. We let many live. Vampires that demonstrated restraint, that chose to live far away from humans. Vampires that we came across on days we were tired of killing. Of being monsters.”

His words hang heavy between you. Was it a mistake, not finishing the job? Was it mercy?

“Professor Kim is what brought us here, actually. He has an unnaturally high level of control over his instincts. One we’ve never seen from a descendent of the eighth son.”

You inhale, more pieces beginning to fall into place. “So you enrolled in his course—”

“With the intention of winning the internship, yes,” he confirms. “Of getting a chance to study him up close.”

Heeseung smiles wryly. “You were quite the pain at first, actually. After those first few days of class, I wasn’t so sure I could outwrite you.”

You have no idea what to say to that. An apology feels strange, but he’s just told you that you essentially foiled a grand plan to reduce the threat of vampires, to better understand their nature. “I…”

Heeseung pushes on, “It didn’t end up mattering, though.” He frowns. “The last day of the semester, the day I was late. I’d been following him. Trailing him from his house when he…” He trails off. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened. But I think he scented me. Or somehow realized I was on his tail.”

You frown. “Is that unusual?” You remember Jake’s words earlier. I thought I heard your heartbeat pick up. “I thought that vampires had heightened senses.”

“We do,” Heeseung clarifies. “But there are differences between us — the original seven — and all other vampires. Our senses are much stronger. They still have sharper senses than a human, yes, but I accounted for that. He shouldn’t have been able to detect me.”

“What are the other differences?”

“The seven of us are the only ones with any kind of additional abilities. We each have one, and they’re all different. We only need to feed once a year, and we have far more control over our instincts. We don’t experience bloodlust nearly as strong.” He passes you a meaningful glance. “Unless we’re feeding.”

Looking around, Heeseung confirms your suspicions. “That’s what this room is, actually. A precautionary measure. It hasn’t happened in the last five hundred years, but we like knowing that there’s somewhere we won’t be able to escape, should the need for that ever arise.”

“And you’re in here, because you… you drank my blood.”

Heeseung’s expression is unreadable. “Yes. The others thought it would be wise. It was precautionary. And ultimately unnecessary.” Again, he glances at your neck. “I didn’t experience any bloodlust. I was weak for a couple of days, but that wasn’t because of you. The dart that the professor shot you with had traces of moonflower in it. It’s poisonous for us.”

As he looks at you, he explains, “Humans can ingest it safely in small doses, usually. Some brew it as a tea. You just have to be careful not to have too much, since it can cause temporary memory loss. But injected straight into the bloodstream, the effects are unknown.” His eyes flicker with a memory. You, crumpled in his arms, losing your grip on consciousness. “But it didn’t look good.”

So he had sucked it out of your neck.

Your neck. Where he bit you.

Another piece of the vision he’s just shown you comes flashing back.

“You bit me.”

Heeseung meets your gaze. “I did.”

“Am I…” It’s hard to quell the panic once the realization starts to set in. Flashes of faces contorted in agony swim across your vision. “Am I going to change?”

“No,” Heeseung shakes his head. Leans forward, as if to reach for you. He thinks better of it, letting his hand fall back to his side. “No, that’s another difference. The seven of us can’t create new vampires.”

“Oh.” As the panic ebbs, you find yourself at a loss again. He saved you. Knowingly ingested a substance that could harm him to do so. Gratitude feels in order, but you can’t quite bring yourself to express it.

The truth you want most to avoid dances on the tip of your tongue. “And you only… feed once a year.”

Again, Heeseung nods. “It doesn’t hurt us to ingest blood more frequently, but it’s not necessary. And like I said, we avoid it. We’re better at maintaining our inhibitions, but blood still has power over us. When we feed, it’s in a room like this. One we can’t get out of until we have complete control again.”

The questions that arise are morbid. How much blood is required to satisfy a year’s worth of thirst? How do they choose? Who lives, who dies for the hunger that binds them to this world? In the last five hundred years, how much blood has been washed from their hands, from his hands?

You can hardly ask him, but the truth still remains. “You’ve killed people.”

Heeseung’s gaze falls to the floor. “I won’t pretend to be innocent.” There’s a distinct edge of self-loathing when he says, “I won’t pretend that I’m not still… a monster. But the blood we ingest comes from animals, not humans.”

He looks back to you, gaze searching as if he craves something from you. A flicker of trust. The reassurance that you’re not appalled by him, by everything he’s told you.

You match his eye, and he hates the fear he finds reflected there.

A moment of stilted silence passes. Another. The weight of a million revelations and a thousand unanswered questions rests heavily between you. It’s a lot to digest all at once. Too much. So much that your mind struggles to bear the weight of it all, to organize the information you’ve received into categories that give sense to the illogical, the impossible.

Outside the barred door, you hear the whisper of a scuffle.

“Stop that!”

“Move over. It’s been way more than a minute. I don’t care what he says. I’m going to—”

Heeseung sighs, rolling his eyes as he turns towards the door. “Just come in if you’re going to.”

Six boys tumble through the door in an excited heap. It reminds you a bit of overenthusiastic puppies. Again, you find the differences hard to reconcile. Killers. Monsters. Immortals beings with unnatural powers.

And they look about as threatening as a gang of kittens.

“So,” Jake starts, glancing between the two of you. “Did he tell you everything?”

You spare a look at Heeseung. The long fingers that rest at his side. “Showed me, actually.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Jake’s features. “Oh.” He tamps it quickly. “That is more efficient, I suppose.”

“Well,” another boy pipes up, one you don’t yet have a name for. “At least now you know why he’s been following you home like a lovesick puppy every night. You can rest assured he’s not just some crazy stalker, and he—”

“Jay,” Heeseung bites. “Would you shut up already?”

“You’ve been following me?”

“Oh.” Jay winces, realizing the misstep a moment too late. “Sorry, man.”

Heeseung exhales again. “We were worried Professor Kim might do something,” he explains, looking at you. “It was a precautionary measure.”

Behind you, you hear a snicker. “Precautionary measure, my ass.”

But you’re too caught up in a sudden realization. Your professor. “It was Professor Kim, then. Those bodies at the river…”

“No, actually.” Jake shakes his head. “We don’t think he was responsible for the bodies at the river.” He nods towards another boy. “Sunoo had eyes on him that night. He was home when the attacks occurred.”

You frown. “So who was?”

“We don’t know.” Jungwon’s ire may not be directed at you, but you feel it all the same. “We have no idea, and your professor was our best shot at figuring it out.” He looks at Heeseung. “Thanks to the stunt you pulled, we have no way of getting closer to him now.”

Heeseung glares back. “If by stunt, you mean saving someone’s life, then yes, I pulled a stunt.”

“And now there have been three more attacks in the last two days!”

“Wait.” For a moment, your voice reverberates off the walls as all seven of them fall into silence, gazes turning to you. Your face heats at the sudden influx of attention. Finding your words again, you state the obvious oddity. “But it doesn’t make any sense that Professor Kim is a vampire. He hates vampires. Everything New Haven has published is essentially just anti-vampire propaganda.”

“That’s another mystery,” Heeseung says. “Something else we were trying to figure out. And honestly, Jungwon, I don’t think it would have mattered. I told you, he scented me that day, so I’m sure he already knew—”

“That’s impossible.” Jungwon scoffs.

“And yet it happened.” Heeseung frowns. “There’s something strange about him.”

Jungwon’s lips pull into a thin line. “Something that we’re no closer to finding out. It will take months for another one of us to get any sort of trust from him. Never mind access to New Haven.”

With the urgency of an alarm bell, an idea starts to take form in your mind. Rough around the edges but solid in shape. “I think I can help with that.” Again, seven pairs of eyes fall on you, all in varying states of disbelief. “I’m interning with him. At New Haven.”

Heeseung is the first to break the silence. “Like hell you are. Or did you forget that the last time he saw you, he shot you with poison?”

Sunghoon nods. “It does seem like a pretty bad idea.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head. “Think about it. He shot me with something that’s poisonous to vampires. And I think it’s because he saw Heeseung. If he really did… scent you, then he knew you were a vampire. I think… I think he might have been trying to protect me.”

The room is quiet for a moment, your inference settling into the air. It’s a long shot maybe, but it’s starting to come together.

After a minute, Sunoo says tentatively, “She might be right.” No one else speaks up, but you see a few heads nod in agreement.

Heeseung is quick to shut them down. “No way. No fucking way. Those are terrible odds, and I’m not betting on them. None of you should be either.”

But the more you think about it, the more it makes sense to you. Why else would your professor shoot you full of something poisonous to vampires?

You try to think of the scene from his eyes. He walked in on you and Heeseung alone in a dark room. You were frightened out of your mind, and in the split second he had to analyze things, he could have misjudged the source of your fear. One vampire for another.

So you double down. “I’m serious. This could be the in we need.”

“There is no we,” Heeseung shakes his head. “You’re not a part of this.”

His dismissal makes you bristle. If what Jungwon said is true, the attacks are only increasing, leaving more victims in their wake. And your professor may have unusual amounts of control, but he certainly wasn’t demonstrating that two nights ago.

“So what, I’m supposed to go home, pretend that everything is normal, and just let people keep dying?” Your gaze meets Jungwon’s. “That’s what will happen, isn’t it? You said there were three more attacks just in the time I was unconscious. How many people have died now?”

Jungwon’s lips are tight. “Eleven.”

“Eleven people,” you echo. “If I go to Professor Kim and tell him—”

“You’re not going anywhere near that man,” Heeseung counters. “We’ll take care of it. It’s what we do.”

But his excuses are wearing thin in your mind, turning flimsy the more you consider them. “How? If he can identify you as vampires, then there’s no way you’ll ever get close enough to figure out how he might be connected to all of this.” You turn, addressing all seven of them. “I, on the other hand, have a draft written about the intrinsic evil of vampirism. I have a bite mark healing on my neck. If I go to him and say that I hate vampires too, that I was attacked by Heeseung, and his poison was the only thing that saved me, then I’ll earn his trust.”

Heeseung just scoffs, shaking his head. “Are the rest of you hearing this?”

Sunghoon opens his mouth hesitantly. “I mean… she kind of has a point.”

Heeseung glares. “Besides you.”

Sunoo frowns for a moment, parts his lips.

Heeseung doesn’t let him get a word out. “Don’t even try it.” He turns to the others, something pleading in his gaze. “Jungwon, Jay, Niki, Jake, you have to see how insane this is. She’s a human.”

Your lips pull tight. “A human that’s standing right here.”

Jungwon maintains an even tone when he restates the simple fact, “If this professor truly can scent us, we don’t have any way of investigating him further. Not without using force.” He turns to look at you, gaze assessing. “Do you really think he’ll believe that you’re on his side?”

Do you? Maybe Heeseung is right. Maybe you’re betting on ludicrous odds, wasting the last of your luck on a game that was rigged from the beginning. But why inject you with a substance poisonous to vampires? Why publish all of those anti-vampire stories?

You match Jungwon’s eye. “I do.”

“Okay.” Jungwon nods, mulling it over in his mind. “Okay.”

Heeseung watches the exchange with heated eyes. “Absolutely not—”

“You’ve been overruled,” Jay interjects.

“Six to one,” Niki agrees. Glancing at you, he amends, “Make that seven to one.”

Heeseung is still seeing red. “This isn’t a fucking group vote. We’re not deciding which coffee table to put in the living room. This is a life.” Turning to you, his voice softens, an edge of pleading in his tone. “This is your life.”

“Exactly.” You’re begging too, for a bit of understanding. “It’s my life. A week ago, it was completely consumed by winning an internship, getting my writing published. And now there are vampire attacks ravaging my city. The professor I wanted to impress so badly might just be one of them. Even if I walk away from here and vow to never go near New Haven again, my life won’t go back to what it was. I won’t be safe. So I’m going to do what I can to get back to the things that are important to me.” Eyes heating, you add, “So yes, I am a part of this now, whether you like it or not. And I have the marks on my neck to prove it.”

“Damn,” Sunghoon whistles lowly. “That was kind of beautiful.”

“You have a way with words,” Sunoo agrees.

“Of course she does,” Jay nods. “Remember how frustrated Heeseung was a few months ago after she presented her analysis or whatever in class? He was so stressed he’d lose out on the internship bec—”

Heeseung’s glare could freeze hellfire. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“It’s late,” Jungwon interrupts, sensing the response that builds on Jay’s tongue. Pouring water over the flames before they can escalate into a full blown argument. Again, he addresses you. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight.” He glances around the room, and you imagine he’s trying to see things from your perspective. “Or any one of us would be happy to take you back home, if that’s what you prefer.”

There are aspects of your apartment that appeal to you. Sleeping in your own bed comes to mind. As does getting some distance from all of this. From him. You’ve taken in far too much information in the span of a few hours, and the throbbing against your temple has yet to ease.

But your apartment is also empty. Quiet, isolated. With recent events in mind, you’re not sure it would feel like such a safe haven. If you’re quite ready to be truly alone.

Still, you’re tentative. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You’re not,” Jake shakes his head. “It’s been a long few days. I’m sure you could use some rest.”

“Hasn’t she been asleep for, like, two days straight?” Sunghoon whispers to Jay.

The only thing he gets in response is an elbow to the ribs.

Jungwon ignores them. “You’re not overstaying anything. You can go home when you’re ready.”

“Ugh,” Niki grumbles. “Does that mean Heeseung’s gonna try and hang out in my room again? Because—”

He falls silent when at least three matching glares turn in his direction.

Suddenly sheepish, you offer, “I can sleep somewhere else.” Glancing at Heeseung, you add, “I’m sure you want to sleep in your own bed again.”

Heeseung just gives you a strange look. Niki bursts out laughing.

“Damn,” Jay says. “Two hundred years really is a long time, I guess. Humans these days don’t remember anything about vampires.”

Cheeks heating with embarrassment, you realize your mistake. Of course. Not only are the boys in front of you blood-drinking immortal beings that have been alive since the early sixteenth century, but they also don’t sleep.

Mollified, you feel the urge to defend yourself. “Why do you even have beds, then?”

This time, it’s Sunghoon that erupts in a fit of laughter. The other six avoid your gaze pointedly.

You didn’t think it was possible, but once the realization sinks in, your cheeks heat even further.

“Oh, cut the poor girl some slack,” Sunoo scolds. Turning to you, he’s kind when he explains, “We don’t sleep, but we do relax. An old force of habit, I suppose. It’s nice to just lay down sometimes.”

Jay can’t help himself. “Among other things, right Sunghoon?”

“Ignore them,” Jungwon advises. “Five hundred year old children.”

“Hey!” Sunghoon protests. “We’re not the ones that couldn’t handle a sex joke—”

Heeseung just sighs, a stray strand of hair falling over his eyes. For a moment, he looks like the boy you used to sit behind in class. Dreamy. Moody. Untouchable. So painfully out of reach that spite made you want to try anyway.

He’s here now. Within your grasp. And when he looks at you, the quiet words he whispers are meant only for your ears. “I can walk you to my—er—your room, if you’re ready.”

You’re not ready. You don’t think you ever will be. But even a life spun on top of its head has a way of unfolding in predictable ways. Such is the nature of things, and so flows the progression of time.

You don’t say anything, but you do nod.

Trailing after him silently down the hallway you came from, you’re not sure if it feels more right to fall into step beside him or let him lead you. In the end, he makes the decision for you. Without breaking stride, Heeseung slows down until your shoulders are aligned, eyes facing forward.

He doesn’t say anything as the two of you track a steady path to his bedroom. Mind leaden with the weight of the last five hundred years, you remain silent as well. Finally, you pass the common room again.

He opens the door to his bedroom, steps to the side to let you walk in first.

Unwittingly, your eyes land on the most conspicuous piece of furniture in the room. Your cheekbones are flaming again, and finding sleep in that bed suddenly feels like an arduous task.

Heeseung follows your gaze. The golden glow of his skin remains the same, but his eyes flash with embarrassment. “You don't, uh…” He trails off. Even poets struggle with finding the right words at times. Finally, he settles on, “Not all of us live like Sunghoon.”

“He seems nice,” you say, desperate to draw your minds away from where they’ve wandered.

“That’s one way of putting it.” But there’s affection in his voice when he says it. Brothers, you think. All of them. They seem like brothers.

Heeseung’s eyes scan the expanse of his bedroom as if he’s looking at it for the first time. “There’s not much.” He seems almost apologetic for it. “But help yourself to whatever you like. The computer doesn’t have a password. And there’s books on the desk, too.”

“Thank you,” you tell him. And you mean it. He’s not someone you expected to be generous with their space, their belongings. Another aspect of him you had all wrong.

“I’ll let you have some space then.” He pauses at the door. “Don’t be afraid to let me know if there's anything you need.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He hesitates a moment longer. You can see it in the curve of his lips, the arrangement of his features. There’s more he wants to say. Something else he wants to tell you.

Instead, he closes the door behind him on his way out. Gently, so that it hardly makes a noise.

His bed is comfortable when you lay down, even if your mind is still racing a million miles a minute. Distantly, you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat now. What he thinks of the way it picks up speed every time certain moments replay in your head.

But despite yourself, despite him, despite everything, you manage to drift off after only a few long minutes. Tucked away in the corner of a strange home, the sleep that greets you is blissfully dreamless.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: WHEW. This is the most info-dumpy we'll be getting, so I hope this made for an enjoyable follow up to the first part regardless. The relationship between our two leads will really start to take off in the next part, as will the remaining aspects of the ~mystery~ now that (most of) the lore/backstory is covered. as always, I love to know what you're thinking!

#heeseung fanfiction #heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x reader #heeseung x you #enhypen x you #heeseung scenarios #enhypen scenarios #heeseung angst #enhypen angst #heeseung imagines #enhypen imagines

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secretlyazombi3 · 2 months ago

Text

Setting Up a Christmas Tree .ᐟ⋆.˚

leon kennedy x gn! reader

๋࣭ ⭑⚝word count: 2k ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ SFW, fluff, 2nd person, gender neutral reader, re4r!leon, younger reader, (also you guys have cats ^_^)

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ summary: you and leon buy and set up a christmas tree yay >_<

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Leon took careful steps out of his new Jeep (which, somehow, had not been in a crash yet) and moved with intent to make sure he wouldn’t slip on the ice beneath him. He walked over to open the car door for you like a true gentleman.

“Thanks-” you said as you took a step out the car, you paused as you felt your foot begin to slide on ice.

“Woah, careful, babe.” Leon warned, placing his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you held onto the car and tapered out. “You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, only a little embarrassed..” you replied as you treaded out onto the snow.

“Well, I’m sure feeling a bit embarrassed would be better than being in pain from slipping on ice and falling onto your ass, right?” Leon responded, a hint of a teasing tone laced in his voice as he took your hand.

“Yeah, I guess.” You chuckled awkwardly. You suddenly became incredibly aware of how cold it was outside. You felt the icy, crisp around you and felt the wind brush by ever so often.

The sun was gone, disappeared behind a blanket of light gray clouds, as if it had also gotten too icy to be out. A sprinkling of small snowflakes trickled from the sky and twirled in the wind like little dancers.

Part of you just wanted to just find a tree as soon as possible and go back home with Leon so you wouldn’t just be standing here in a tall duvet of pearly white snow, which was wetting the bottom of your pants.

You trudged through the snow, smiling ever so slightly when you heard the satisfying crunch of the snow under your feet with each step forward you took towards the row of Christmas trees.

Another gush of wind blew by, pushing some of the light snow on the ground into the air, making you shiver from the freezing temperatures.

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” Leon asked quietly as he gently squeezed your hand. You could see his breath in the chilly air.

“Take my jacket.” Leon suggested as he began to pull off his winter coat.

“No, Leon, keep your jacket on-” You tried to protest but Leon handed you his coat anyways, giving you a weary look.

“You’re shivering, babe… Just take the jacket, I don’t want you to get sick.” Leon said.

You looked down at the jacket, then back up at Leon. “But then you’ll get cold…” you retorted.

“Me? Come on. You know my line of work, if I could survive all that shit I’m sure I’m capable of surviving a little windchill.” You nodded a bit and reluctantly wrapped the jacket around you, which protected you a bit better from the wind. You knew Leon wasn’t going to let you reject his offer, so you gave in easily. Leon walked towards one tree he randomly picked out, he grabbed onto one of the branches with two fingers and twisted it, which caused a bit of pine to fall off the tree and get lost in the sea of snow.

“Do you like this tree? It’s a good height…” Leon asked as he turned to you.

You looked the tree up and down, it was missing a few branches in a few places. You stayed quiet for a second before replying.

“Eh… not really. It just doesn’t speak to me, you know?”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Speak to you…?” “It’s just not that pretty or unique.” “They’re trees, they all look the same…” Leon mumbled. He didn’t really understand your thinking, but he’d let you pick out the tree as long as it made you happy.

You walked down the rows of trees, looking for a tree you liked that was also a good height. Leon just followed behind you like a lost puppy, letting you take the lead, he trusted your judgement more.

“I think I like this one.” You said once you finally found a tree that actually looked pretty.

“Yeah?” Leon asked, putting his arm around you. He looked at the tree - all the trees looked the same to him, but if you liked it, he did too. And he wanted to get out of the freezing cold as much as you did.

You nodded your head and smiled as you looked at the tree. It was super pretty, it’d look great in your home.

“Alright, then. I’ll get someone to chop down the tree.” Leon said, walking away from you for a moment.

The tree had to be chopped down, obviously, and the quickest way was with a chainsaw. Leon tensed a bit, the sound of the chainsaw blades whirring was definitely reminding him of some unpleasant memories…

“You’ve got snow in your hair.” You teased as you smiled at Leon, which grounded him back to reality. He truly hated thinking about Spain. He pushed aside those memories of the past and just… focused on you instead.

You headed inside to pay, the warm air immediately slammed you the second you opened the door. Leon paid, of course, and you were reluctant to leave the comfort of the cozy little building.

You rushed inside Leon’s car. The tree had been strapped to the top of the car by the employees, Leon still checked to make sure it was on there sturdy.

You were trembling in the passenger’s seat of Leon’s car. The inside of the car was barely warmer than the outside, but a small improvement was still an improvement.

Leon got into the driver’s seat and turned the car on before placing his hand on your thigh and gripping it lightly. When you glanced over at him, you noticed his nose, cheeks and ears had turned pink from the snowy weather outside. He looked so cute…

“You ready to go home?” He asked.

“Mhm..” You replied.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were relieved when you got home and managed to escape the frigidness of the outside world. You turned the heater on all the way nearly the second you stepped inside.

Your pet cats were scattered across the home, resting under blankets and on beds in an attempt to also escape the chilliness, but one did greet you at the door.

Leon had insisted on bringing the tree in himself. He didn’t want you to have to do any work. He managed to get it in the house just fine by himself, and he set it up in the stand.

“Alright, now you can decorate.” Leon said as he smiled at you.

“You don’t want to decorate with me?” You frowned.

He tilted his head to the side a bit like a confused puppy. “I thought-” he started before pausing. For whatever reason, he didn’t realize you wanted to decorate with him. He never had decorated a Christmas tree before, except for the few times when he was really little. So he just thought you’d think he was going to do everything wrong.

“I mean, I can help, yeah.” Leon agreed as he moved a bit of hair out of your face. “If it makes you happy,” he added. He smiled ever so slightly seeing you smile at him.

You threw some Christmas cookies into the oven and put on your favorite Christmas movie. You brought out a box of ornaments and placed it on the couch beside your cat, who was sleeping. She had curled up around herself, wanting to use herself as a heater, and was purring quietly.

You handed Leon a couple of ornaments and smiled. “You look so cute when you smile, you know that, sunshine?” Leon teased as he began to help decorating the tree.

Leon was taller, so he placed all his ornaments near the top of the tree for you so the ornaments would be evenly distributed around the tree.

You put the ornaments on the sections of the tree you could reach. You had bought an ornament set filled with limited colors that compliment one another to make your guys’ tree more appealing to the eye.

“You like being organized, huh? Leon commented as he noticed that the tree had a color scheme.

“It looks nicer. I don’t want the tree to be an eyesore with clashing colors.”

“It could be all messy and disorganized and I’d still love it because I know that you were the one who put it up.” Leon replied as he reached up to put on some more ornaments around the top.

You reached over for a different type of ornament. You had bought a little ornament where you could slide in a polaroid picture, so you put a polaroid picture of you and Leon from a few months back.

You said nothing and handed it to Leon, silently watching his face as he looked at it. You finally saw him fully smile, not just another half or slight smile.

“Cute.” Leon said simply, not wanting to be caught gushing over an ornament. He hung it up near the front of the tree where everyone could see it.

“You want me to give you a boost on your shoulders so you can put up that star, hm?” Leon asked.

“How gentlemanly,” you joked.

“Anything for you.” Leon returned as he kneeled down. You set your foot down on his shoulder, and he wrapped his hand around your leg. You couldn’t believe that Leon was basically letting you use him like a stepstool…

“I got you.” Leon assured you. You set down your second foot, attempting to keep yourself steady and balanced, giggling a bit feeling Leon’s strong hands around you. You put on the star as quickly as possible so you could get off.

“Good job, babe.” Leon praised you once you got off of him and stood on the floor. Leon stood up, rubbing his shoulders afterwards.

“You okay, old man?” You asked teasingly.

“Excuse you…” Leon replied, feigning offense. “I’m not that much older than you, babe..” Leon scoffed.

“Right, well you’re still older and getting joint pain so, maybe you should look into a retirement home.” You taunted.

“No way. If I went to a retirement home, who would be keeping you out of trouble?” Leon quipped, moving to wrap his arms around your waist.

“Who said I needed you to keep me out of trouble, hm?” “Just today alone, you needed me to keep you from falling on ice and damn near busting your ass.”

“I-” you started, before simply pouting at Leon. You couldn’t argue about that. “That… doesn’t count.”

“Mhm, you just know I’m right…” Leon mumbled into your neck.

“Just.. shut up and watch the movie I put on.” You muttered, playfully attempting to push Leon away.

“Mm.. yes, amore mio…” Leon replied obediently.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A few batches of cookies later, you were sitting by the fireplace to warm up as you looked up at the decorated tree. You caught a whiff of the fresh pine scent coming from the tree, one of the reasons you loved real trees.

Leon was taking scant small bites of the Christmas cookies you had baked, you had already had your fair share of cookies…

Since you were both freezing, you made two cups of hot chocolate for you and Leon. Leon was more of a coffee guy, but he was willing to change things up for the holidays.

Leon sat next to you, pulling you close, nibbling a bit on your neck. His body was warm, he felt like a giant personal heater.

He wrapped his arm around you and rubbed your side. “It’s getting a bit late, you know. Maybe you should come to bed with me…” Leon purred calmly into your neck.

“Yeah, I agree..” You replied as Leon kept kissing your neck. “We can cuddle.” you suggested.

“Cuddle?” Leon repeated lowly. Leon moved his kisses up your neck and kissed your cheek before moving to get up. “If that’s what you want…” Leon said as he offered you a hand to help you get up and follow him to your guys’ room.

#leon scott kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #fanfiction #{¬ºཀ°}¬ z writes ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

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pandj0ra · 1 year ago

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ᥕrᥲ⍴⍴ᥱძ ᥙ⍴ 𝖿᥆r mᥱ

Husband!Wriothesley x FEM!reader

–genre. smut, nsfw , starts off fluffy, suggestive before getting gud

–tw. sex by the fireplace, bondage(as in ribbons), gift exchange, reader has winter blush, aftercare, reader is implied to be smaller than wrio, big dick!wrio, creampie, missionary, mating press, breeding, belly bulge, creepy themes but no yan, maybe yan themes idk, yandere Neuvillette??, pet names, blow job, not proof read and small plot, ooc wrio, slow to rough,

–synopsis. You and your husband decide to have a gift exchange(just you and him) to see whose gift is the best. Since he hasn't been inside his wife in a while, he might as well get something that she won't regret.

Mari/yai's message – uhh reader can be viewed as busty if you want or chubby. This was supposed to come out yesterday 😒

December 3rd, ????

It was a miracle sight to see Fontaine covered in a thick white snow blanket. You've lived here for quite a while with your husband.

Since he has been busy at the fortress, he wants to spend time with you, Neuvillette was fine with it. Since he wanted you to be happy.

His boots were making the snow crunch beneath him, he was snuggled in a gray and red fluffy scarf that was wrapped around his neck that was made by you. Your scent was all over it as if you used your own smooth skin to make it.

You were busy decorating the tree with Sigwinne. She purposely put stickers on some of the ornaments and maybe glitter. The Melusine's came to help but they left since you told them that it was all fine and they can go back to what they were doing. You were finally done with the tree. Now you just had to place the star on top. You tried to place it but due to your height and the stools height it was still not enough.

You held Sigwinne by her waist and hoisted her up to the top of the tree(not on the tree like she isnt stuck up there). She was able to slide the star on top but it was leaning far off left.

You heard the knob to your home rattle and then a bundle of keys jiggled. You knew it was your husband and let out a relaxed sigh.

The door opened, snow slowly creeping in. He quickly shut the door and kicked his boots off and placed them next to the door. He shrugged off his coat and scarf and hung them up on the rack. His eyes quickly landed on you. Your small body glowed in the golden light that was cascaded on the tree.

“Hey baby, I see you and Sigwinne put up the tree together.” he slid his hand around your waist and pressed kisses onto your chubby cheeks, occasionally nibbling on them.

“Eww! Get a room!” Sigwinne gagged slightly. You giggled at her child antics.

You placed a hand on his face to stop him but he pressed himself into you more, as if he wanted to merge himself into you(which he has already). “Mmm.. Wrio let go..” you whined but that only made him squeeze harder. Sigwinne already left so you have one less thing to worry about.

You wheezed as he squeezed harder than ever. You tapped on his bicep, desperate for a few breaths. You love the way he is cuddling you right now as you are enjoying his warmth. He noticed your struggle and released you. Already missing the warmth that was coming from your body.

You were left panting. If only you could see the look on his face. “I appreciate it wrio, but next time, not so hard.” he nodded. “I'm sorry bunny, I just miss you that's all.” he scratched the black and grey tuffs on his head. he placed his scar filled hands on your chubby cheeks which sent a jolt down your spine from how cold they were.

“C'mon Wrio, let's get you warmed up.” you dragged him to the living room and made him sit on the couch. You placed more logs to create a strong fire(but not too strong or else,) enough to make the room warm. You were oblivious to the lovesick eyes he was giving you. There was a hint of worry in his eyes since he was the one usually putting longs in the fire.

You brought yourself to the kitchen to warm up some hot chocolate (or his favorite tea) for you and him. These were given to you by Sigwinne since you mentioned that you wanted to get some but Wriothesley refused to let you out in this freezing cold weather. You had winter close but he would blame you if you got sick and he'd have to take care of you. You put water into the kettle and placed it on the stove, turning the heat on for it to warm the water.

You put enough water to make two hot chocolates and tea for Wriothesley. Just in case he wanted hot chocolate.

As you let it boil, you ran to your shared bedroom and grabbed a big fluffy blanket for both of you to cuddle up and stay warm.

You ran back to the living room to see Wriothesley with his head leaning back on the couch. He looked as if he was in pain. Or maybe he was cold and getting a fever. “Wrio, are you alright?” you carefully and slowly step towards him. He jumped out of his skin when he heard you. “I'm fine, bunny. Just getting cold is all.” he avoided eye contact with you for as long as he could. You walked towards him and placed the blanket between both of you.

You snuggled more into him, heat emitting off his body. He wrapped his large hand around your waist, nearly engulfing it whole.

You heard the teapot yelling which was your cue to get up. But your movement was restricted by his hands

“Please stay.” he nuzzled himself into your hair. “I promise we'll get back to this when I get back.” you said as you pressed a kiss on his lips. You got up and traveled to the kitchen.

After a few which was not long, you went back to the living room placing the tray on the coffee table. “You must let it cool before you can drink it.” you said as you caught him staring intently at the beverage. “I—I don't want that right now.” he said nonchalantly. “I want you.” he said. You looked down at the blanket to see a tent forming. You guessed it was him.

“Do you want me to help with that?” he nodded as you began to kneel down in front of him. You move the blanket out of the way, revealing his hard-on. His face was flushed red and low pants coming from his mouth. You looked back up at him with your doe eyes.

“Go ahead bunny, do what you want.” you removed his belt slightly pulling down his pants. You tugged the hem of his boxers down. his cock sprang out, nearly hitting you dead in the face.

You gave cat licks down his shaft which was twitching too much to the point you had to grab it. Precum was drooling from the tip. Finally, you bobbed your head down on his cock, already webbed in the wetness of your drool. Your tongue licking the base of his cock as you bob your head up and down, granting him the pleasure he wanted.

“S-shit baby, you take it so well.” he started to tug at your hair softly not trying to discomfort you.

His cock began to twitch in your mouth and his breathing got harsher signaling his release more. Thick ropes of cum splurged at the back of your throat, some leaking from your mouth. He panted, leaning his head on the sofa trying to catch his breath. You gathered yourself on the sofa beside him. He looked over at you as you were clearing the cum from your mouth and chin.

“Swallow.” he grabbed your chin as you swallowed, sticking your tongue out as proof. He chuckled, wiping left over come that was on your chubby cheeks.

“Now bunny, it's my turn for me to help you.” he picked you up bridal style as he brought you to the bedroom.

I guess you could say you hoped for this.

December 24th, ????

You and your husband were currently out and about, roaming the streets of Fontaine. You look so cute with that scarf covering half of your face and blush sprouting from behind it. Since you had the idea of a gift exchange, you got him and Sigwinne a gift as you'd give her hers tomorrow.

You got Wriothesley something special, as you saw him gazing a few times at things at stores that fit his style. You had no idea what Wriothesley got, which was more exciting.

You both arrived home, taking off your coat, sweaters, scarves, and boots and placed them in an organized place and order.

You placed yourself on the reclining chair that was by a window and opened up a book you started to read(as well as recommending it to Wriothesley) and going back to where you book marked it. You didn't realize where Wriothesley went so you figured he went in the bedroom to rest.

Wrio came back with a lace ribbon(?) In his hand. He quickly placed it behind his back as you glanced over at him. “Is something wrong?” you tilted your head as he shook his head no. “Can't I just admire my beautiful wife?” you stayed quiet as blush began to creep up on your face. He chuckled which made you roll your eyes.

“C'mere bunny.” he signaled his hand towards you. You got up and walked to him. “Do you mind if I blindfold you?” he said with a hint of worry. “Yeah you can, but why?” you asked. “It's a surprise.” you signaled him to put the blindfold on. He stepped behind you, placing the black lace ribbon blindfold over your eyes. He chuckled as he led you to the living room, sitting you down on the carpet on the floor. He grabbed a pillow from the sofa, placing it beneath your head.

You felt him tug at the hem of your shirt, the hot pooling gathering at your pussy. He lifted your shirt up taking it off and throwing it somewhere. His hands trailed around your skirt trying to find the zipper. He placed your skirt on the side not wanting to dirty it up.

You were only in your black lace bra(the your husband gifted you) and black stockings with black lace panties underneath. He used the middle and index finger with both hands to rip open your stockings, revealing your wetness soaking through your panties. “Ah, you're already wet. I bet it was just from me touching you.” he said with a seductive voice.

He moved your panties to the side revealing your drooling cunt.

You gasped and shivered as the slightly cold air brushed up against your cunt. Wriothesley felt this and went to the fireplace and threw a few logs inside, the flames gathering up on the newly put fire. He looked back at you to see you stop shivering.

He went back to you and pulled off the rest of your stockings and panties and bra. He placed your legs over his shoulders, leaning down so his nose was touching your cunt. You jolted as he licked at your clit. You whimpered and started clawing at the pillow beneath your head. He thrusted his tongue in and out of you, the clawing at the pillow became apparent.

He chuckled which sent a vibration up your core. “Your reactions are so cute. It makes me mad.” he made circles on your thigh as he continued to swirl his tongue inside you and played with your clit. Your hands latched onto his hair as tears soaked the black lace fabric covering your eyes. Your breathing became harsher, as the knot in your stomach started to tighten.

Before you can climax, Wriothesley removed his tongue. You were a little disappointed and started to pout even though you couldn't see him. “Sorry bunny, but the only thing you'll be coming on is my cock.” he pulled down his burgundy/red(I might be color blind) tie and removed his shirt and accessories along with it. You heard his belt rattle as the embarrassment filled you up more which is why you're red in the face.

Wriothesley grabbed the black and red box off the sofa that you didn't see since you passed by the sofa(or he just placed it there). Although you couldn't see he made a grabby motion with his hand. “Give me your hands bunny,” you moved your hands from your sides and lifted them towards him. You felt something clamp onto your wrist. It was Wriothesley's signature handcuffs.

He placed his hands on your waist, turning you over to your side. You feel some type of silk fabric wrap around your body; up and around your breast, your thighs, shoulders, and arms(that were bound by handcuffs already). You heard his belt jingle and shuffling of his pants. His large hardened cock sprang out from his boxers. It was slightly twitching and a white bead of precum at the slit. He leaned down, pinning his hands on both sides of your head and your legs on his shoulders.

He rubbed his cock on your pussy, coating it in your juices. You flinched at the sudden contact but got used to it and let out a few whimpers and moans. He pushed the tip into your entrance your pussy nearly engulfing the tip whole. He started to sink his cock inside you, wanting you to feel every inch possible. Your moans get more high pitched every time Wriothesley jolts his hips into you. It's like fuel to fire as your moan sends blood down his cock, making it grow bigger every second.

His entire length is sunk deep into your core. The tip almost forces its way into your cervix. Wriothesley starts to rock his hips back and forth. Getting faster as your moans and whimpers become more apparent to him.

The yellow glow from the fireplace cascaded your body, leaving both of you in a sheen of sweat. His cock repeatedly bumped against your cervix, it was big enough to hit your sweet spot and leaving a bulge in your stomach. Wriothesley let out a strangled chuckle and rubbed the bump on your stomach, occasionally pushing down on it. You let out yelp as your cuffed hands tried to cover your mouth. Drool was leaking onto the pillow as you turned your head to the side, your hair sticking onto you and the rest on the pillow.

His thrusts got harsher, he leaned down more, getting deeper into you as you were nearly folded over since your legs were on his shoulders.

His breathing got caught up in his throat as his cock began to twitch, both of those signs signaling his release. You came for the nth time as you arched your back. You didn't realize you came on his cock. Wriothesley leaned down giving cat licks to your chubby cheeks.

He soon came inside you, spurting ropes and globes of pure white cum filling your insides instantly.

You whimpered as Wriothesley pulled out. The sudden emptiness was gone. Your legs went limp and revealed your cunt that was spurting out his cum since you were over filled.

You felt the blindfold being lifted and revealed your bleary eyes to Wriothesley. “How do you like your gift bunny?” you looked up at him still panting. “I-I love it..” you said.

He chuckled. “Glad you do bunny, because we're not done.” your eyes went wide as Your husband flipped you onto your back, grabbing your hips and lifting them up. His hand reached in front of you to grab your chin and tilt it back, it was uncomfortable for your neck, he pushed his tongue inside your drooling mouth. He released your chin as your cuffed hands grasped at the pillow. He pushed himself back inside you with ease, to which earned him a yelp that went to a moan.

He bucked his hips more intently, you arched your back as he pressed his hand on your back, arching you further. Your breast jiggled with each harsh thrust he sends inside you. You were already stimulated due to the previous round you both went through. “A-Ah! Wriooo~ i-it's too much—f-fuckk!” your face was muzzled into the pillow, you felt the knot coil tightening in your stomach. Your juices webbed his cock, his legs were drenched in your cum. He leaned down and spoke into your ear. “Are you gonna cum? Come for me bunny, come for me!” you came on command as he came inside you with a grunt.

You collapsed onto the carpet and laid your head on the pillow with Wriothesley still inside you. He released you from the cuffs and ribbons. He pulled out and brought your limp body to the sofa, now you were cuddling with him. He pushed his cock back inside not wanting any to spill out.

“You did well bunny, I love you so much.”

Im finally done with this bull

Made [ December 14th ]

Finished [ December 25th 9:53 ]

#𓆩ri.𓆪 #[ ♪o(〃＾▽＾〃)o♪ ]#✉️.txt #✎ suggestive 𓆪 #𓆩!smutty.𓆪 #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #Wriothesley x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #✎ other club characters #no yandere fic this time but next bit with blade from hsr #sigwinne #how tf do you spell her name

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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Dude I feel so bad for zombie Yan, I tend to be accidentally honest but would totally keep up their delusion. Like, their little half exposed brain can't process their (probably bad) death, how am I supposed to tell them?

Like, "yeah babe lots of humans have half of their brain out, don't worry pookie" "Yeah I know their arm fell off, would you stop being such a dick about it?" "They just drank too much water from the sink, that's why their skin is gray"

"Hey, babe.... Do you still think I'm cute?"

They feel like such a terrible partner - piling stupid questions on top of all the care and attention you've given them since they got sick. You must be so tired of them now, but they needed to hear it from you. The difference between them now and the person you fell in love with were like night and day. They'd lost so much weight in these past few months, their eyes are hollow and empty. Their skin remains the same blotchy gray color no matter how many hours they lay rotting in the sun.

"Of course I do. Why wouldn't I, silly?"

"I don't know.... I guesx I just haven't been feeling like myself lately....With that whole dog bite incident and everything that's happened since I feel like a burden to you...."

"Hey, don't think like that. You're just sick - that's all, remember?"

Sick... That's right. They said so themselves. Ugh, it's not fair. How come you still be that same wonderful you that they fell for all that time ago? So understanding and still so, so cute. You just get cuter by the day to them...It makes it so hard for them to control their temper when they see neighbors interacting with you outside. Don't they know you belong to them? Just because they get to be outside with you doesn't mean a damn thing. They hate how buddy buddy everyone gets when their symptoms flare up and they can't leave the house with you. Hate, hate, hate- They just want claw, and stomp, and bite all their dumb, smiling faces into a mangled heap no one would be able to tell apart. It's what they deserve for trying to steal you away.

But they'd never do anything like that - Hurting people would make you cry and if they did that what good were they to you?

"I think it's time for bed."

"Yay!"

Your partner crawls in bed, leaving their ankle hanging off the edge of the mattress for you to shackle to the frame. Once testing the strength of the chain, you climb in right alongside them - loosening the latches of their muzzle by a few notches as you both get comfortable. You kiss the cheek with the lesser amount of decay as they nuzzle up to you - breathing in your intoxicating scent. Deep down you both knew they'd never bite you. You satisfied a different craving and if they ever lost you their hunger for human flesh would swallow them whole.

"I'm sorry we have to do this, but we can't risk you running out while I'm asleep again."

"It's okay. I know you're just trying to help me get better. I actually really like the idea of being chained to you for the rest of my life. I love you so much, baby. Soon as I get better I promise I'll be the one taking care of you."

"Yea.... I'd like that."

#yandere zombie #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere x reader #yandere drabble #yandere angst

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sillysillygoofygoose · 1 year ago

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Helloooo can I request single dad Toji living with his son megumi but then neighbor reader moves in and yk HAHHAHAH anyways love ur works

Hi!! Okay, okay, okay SOOOOO cute 🥰 I LOVE this trope sooooo much. Thank you smmm anon 💕💕 I have the smexiest ask in my inbox rn, so I thought I would start with some innocent fluff 🤭

Toji is like... super down bad in this one btw

One and a Half Men □○

Toji swore off of dating the day he became a single father. Never again, he told himself. He was too busy. Too preoccupied. Too grown to be playing a twenty-something year old's game. It was evident by his whisps of gray hair, earned over the three and a half challenging years of fatherhood.

When Megumi was first born, Toji found him and his bundle of joy a nice enough apartment, conveniently next to an uninhabited one so Megumi's cries wouldn't wake up any neighbors. Toji kept his head down and focused on what he needed to do. He worked, he took care of his baby boy, and he just kept moving forward.

And he kept good on his promise... very good. Until you showed up.

"Oh, good morning Megumi! Hi Mr. Toji, how are you guys doing today?"

There you were. A beautiful, shining sweetheart, kind and angelic down to your very core. A college student, roughly twenty years old, full of life and hope and love. And the Fushiguro's neighbor of six months.

"I told ya' a million times doll, don't call me Mr. Anything. Makes me feel older than I already am." Toji can't help the way his heart pulses in his chest everytime you flash that bright smile his way. He wishes he could.

"Okay, Mr. Toji." You giggle him off, shrugging away his gruff tone as Megumi let's go of his dad's finger and starts waddling over to you, the smallest smile parting his chubby cheeks.

"Hi y~y/n. M'mmorning. I have new shirt." Megumi makes his way over to you, grabbing your hand with one of his while the other stretches the fabric of his yellow and blue t-shirt towards you, showing it off.

"Oh wow! I see! You look very dapper this morning, Megumi!" Toji watches as you crouch down in front of Megumi, absent-mindedly patting down the raven strands of hair protruding out of the little boys' scalp

Hm, Toji thinks, watching as you blabber back and forth with the little man, smile widening more and more with every word Megumi stumbles out.

A buzzing notification from his phone distracts him from the heartwarming scene. Fuck, graveyard shift tonight.

"Well, I'm very glad you like it, you look suuuuper handsome, just like your daddy." Toji's ears perk up when he hears that. He let's a smirk slip when he realizes you're already looking at him, holding little Gumi's hand.

Hearing Megumi's quiet giggles reminds him of his current conundrum. He doesn't have anyone to look after Megumi tonight.

"Um hey, y/n, are you busy tonight?" Toji scratches the back of his neck, keeping a cool composure as his heart picks up speed.

"No, I don't think so! Why?" You stand up, caressing Megumi's head when he clings to your legs.

"I don't like asking for favors, but could you watch Megumi tonight? I'll pay ya." Toji ignores Megumi's excited squeal at the mention of spending the night at your place, knowing at this rate, he would probably have the same reaction.

"Oh my god, I'd love to! You really don't have to pay me, it would be my pleasure. He's such a little gentleman." Almost as excited as Megumi, you agree, softly squeezing the toddler's tiny shoulders.

You say your goodbyes, explaining how you need to run to the store and that Toji can drop Megumi off whenever.

As you wave goodbye, Megumi turns back to his daddy, huge smile overtaking his dumpling face.

"Yay, tank you dada! I wuv y/n, so nice and pretty." Toji has never seen his little boy so excited.

"Yeah, me too, little guy." Toji mused, walking down the apartment building's hallway, distracted by confirming his shift with his boss.

"Dada wove y/n too?" Megumi mumbles to himself, looking up at his dad with bright, hopeful eyes.

"Uhm, huh? Uh she's a very nice young lady, Megs." Realizing what he said, he backtracks, distracting Megumi with under chin tickles.

"Okay Dada." Megumi giggles, scrunching his chin to his chest, trying to stop the tingles infecting his little body.

...

Megumi was quick to warm up to you when you first moved in. It was just something about you. Maybe it was the same thing that had Toji head over heels the moment he first talked to you.

You were so refreshing to be around. Both Toji and Megumi were so used to only having each other. A young, smiling, motherly woman was such a fulfilling person to have around. Like a missing piece. Your presence was magnetic to the small family, both of them adoring you, only in different ways.

Everything about you was so beautiful. It almost made Toji nervous...

"Dada... knock knock." Megumi pulls Toji's hand towards your door, reminding him of the task at hand.

"You got it bud." Toji picks Megumi up under his armpits, letting him do the knocking.

Immediately, the door swings open, revealing a smiling you, clad in a flimsy tank top and baggy sweatpants.

"Megumi!!" You exclaim, laughing as the little boy grabs your neck and transfers himself into your arms.

"Yayyayayay, y/n!" Megumi squeezes you before turning to his dad.

"Bye bye, dada. Night night." Megumi immediately waves to his dad, almost kicking him out.

"Hold on, little man. Let me talk to y/n for a minute." Toji huffed a laugh as you smiled, moving to the side to let him in.

Toji declined coming in, explaining that he didn't want to intrude. He began explaining that Megumi was due for sleep, saying how it's already way past his bedtime. You point to your room, assuring him that Megumi would be sleeping like a king and that you were drowning in school work, too much to worry about sleeping on the couch.

Toji nodded along, beginning to tune your melodic voice out as he observed the way a sleepy Megumi snuggled into your neck, and the way your hand cradled his head, carding through his messy hair.

"Okay, well, I don't want to keep you too long, Toji! Megumi is safe and sound, and will be asleep verrryyy soon." You tease the little boy, knowing that he's already fighting sleep, dozing off on your shoulder.

Toji smiled when he didn't hear an honorific before his name. Your body froze up as he moved unbelievably close to you, face rubbing against yours as he cups the back of Megumi's head, kissing him goodnight.

"Thanks again, text me if you need anything. Be a good boy Gumi, love ya." Toji waves goodbye as you close the door, turning in your place to take a deep breath, feeling your heated cheeks with the back of your hand, pulling yourself together. What a man.

Your fan-girling subsides when you feel a yawn against your neck, reminding you of the exhausted little boy in your arms.

"Let's get you to bed, buddy. We can have fun in the morning, okay?" You feel a mumble on your skin as you walk to your room, taking in the little boys matching pajamas, little toes covered with fluffy socks. Your heart melts in your chest. How cute.

"Alright, there we go. All set, bud?" You smile down at Megumi tucked in your pink bedding, little head resting on your memory foam pillow.

"Back rub, please?" Megumi pleads, instinctively rubbing his scalp with flat hands. That's where the messy hair comes from.

"Okay, bud." You soften your voice as the boy rolls around in your bed, laying on his chubby little tummy.

He hums happily when he feels the weight of your hand on his back, making grabby hands at your unoccupied one, asking to hold it.

"Dada woves you. He said so to me." Megumi smiles softly, squeezing you hand.

"Oh! Um... oh! He said that?" A wave of shock and flush runs through your body, chest and face heating up.

"Mhm. He thinks you're pretty. I think he wants- marry you." Gumi goes rouge as sleep clouds his little mind, cutting into his own sentences.

"Allrrighhtt Megs... let's focus on bedtime, okay?" You giggle out, feeling like a schoolgirl after hearing the unreliable narrator's thoughts.

"Mmh, okay. Night night, Mama."

...

You didn't get a lick of sleep. How could you? Piles of work was banging at your brain, but the only thing you could think of was Toji and Megumi. Mama.

Pulling at your face, you snap out of your panicked thoughts when you hear a door open and the weight of a tiny body running to your couch. Looking up, your heart breaks in half.

"Y/nnn, bad dreammm. I had bad dream." Megumi sobs out, hands seeking comfort in his hair rubbing his head in agony. His face is puffy and red as tears run down his chubby cheeks, sniffing and crying.

"Oh Gumi, I'm sorry baby... here, come here honey." Climbing onto the couch, Megumi rushes into your arms, holding onto you like you would disappear. Sighing, you stand up with the little boy koala bear-ing you, pacing back and forth as you hush him.

Gazing at the time displayed on the oven, you see that it's already four in the morning. Megumi burrows himself into your body, getting as close as possible to you, seeking the maternal comfort your provide.

"M so sleepy. Don't wanna be by myself." Megumi eventually sighs after tiring himself out, fidgeting with the strap of your tank top.

"Let's sit down, okay bubs? Let's just take some deep breaths." You feel like a nervous wreck, hoping you're comforting Megumi well enough, not fully knowing what to do.

Sitting back down, you pat his back, resting your head on the back of the couch. The weight of Megumi's tired head on your chest grounds you. As you begin dozing off, you feel Megumi's grip on you relax, signaling his sleep.

Exhaling, you rest your arms around the resting lump, finally letting sleep overtake you.

...

Bright and early, you're awoken by the sounds of cabinets opening and closing. You freak out, thinking someone was ransacking your apartment before you open your eyes to see a little body wandering around your kitchen.

"Thirsty." Was the only explanation you get from the messy haired boy as he continued look for a glass.

Pouring him a glass of water, you place him on a chair in your small kitchen, starting his breakfast.

Megumi mumbles to himself as you prepare his scrambled eggs, keeping himself entertained. As you sit across from him, placing his plate in front of him, he smiles and thanks you quietly before digging in.

You drink your coffee, enjoying the peace and quiet provided by Megumi's preoccupied mind...

"Y/n?"

"Yes, Gumi?"

"Do you love dada?"

Megumi brings it up again. Great. Nosey little boy.

"Because I want a mommy. And you're good at it. I think you should be my mama."

"Hey, Gumi, what's your favorite dinosaur?" You blurt out, stopping the conversation as soon as possible.

The little boy glares at you, too smart to be tricked, but giving in anyway.

"T-rex."

...

"Dada! Y/n took good care of me!" Megumi sung the highest of praises when you opened the door to an exhausted Toji.

"I'm sure she did! I hope he didn't give you too much trouble." Toji teased, seeing the dark bags manifesting under your eyes.

"No, not at all, he's a very good boy." You smiled giving Megumi one last hug before he grabbed onto his dad's thumb.

"Thank you so much again, really it means the world to us." Toji reminded you, pulling a fifty out of his pocket, almost begging you to take it. You insisted on him keeping it, joking that the economy is too tough to be stealing his money. Saying their final goodbyes, Toji and Megumi left you alone with your thoughts.

Oh my god. Toji looked so good. His sweatshirt made his already huge frame look unbelievably broader, looking so protective as he held onto his little boy at your door.

You needed him. Bad. And it freaked the shit out of you.

Hope you enjoyed! Xoxo

*PART TWO IS NOW UP!!!!!* https://www.tumblr.com/sillysillygoofygoose/740703539826917377/one-and-a-half-men-one?source=share

#fem reader #jjk x reader #size difference #age difference #jjk #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #toji headcanons #toji x you #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #💗asks💗

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sw33t-oubliette · 5 months ago

Text

my hellsing designs yay !! i got some more additions and stuff that i couldnt really fit in here but theyre not that major its fine >_< click for details and so you can actually See the images . notes under cut!

anderson:

general darker color palette

his skin is actually skin colored and not gray with left brown

decapitation scar ! 2 me he can pop his head on and off . 4 fun

gold cross instead of white/silver

maxwell:

unwhitewashed him . + vitiligo

changed the hairtie from red to blue to flow with the design better

darker color palette aswell

blue-er vest thing to sort of match anderson's coat thing . also same colored cross as anderson

eyeshadow ! 2 me hes a regular makeup wearer

earrings

brown eyes to match the color palette better

alucard:

darker and redder color palette

tail ! grins

orange-r glasses

eyeshadow 😁

redder eyes

decapitation scar aswell . sword dancer

seras:

slightly darker hair

vampire bite scars and s/h scars (she is one of my (excuse the terminology) comfort characters so i get to project let me have this)

green uniform instead of blue to match integra and to generally flow better

integra:

darker and greener outfit

skin that actually looks like skin . and isnt grey with left brown

brown fade on the hair + hair slightly darker

#my edits #hellsing #okay ill maintag . cause i spent a while on all these #alexander anderson #enrico maxwell #alucard hellsing #seras victoria #integra hellsing

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thebibliosphere · 6 months ago

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Hi! When/if you have time, may I ask what sort of stroller you have for Holly and if you like it very well? Or what features you like/don't like? I am wanting to get one for our two new foster kittens and am looking for personal recommendations over reviews.

The contrast between the old and newer pics of Holly always make me cry. I remember when you got her, and the transformation has been so amazing. It gives me such deep happiness every time I see her. She's such a radiantly happy little Muppet. Her smile could bring stars back to life.

Thank you. She’s the light of my life and I’m so happy we get to share her happiness with so many people.

They don’t make our model anymore, but this is the upgraded version

https://www.petco.com/shop/en/petcostore/product/everyyay-places-to-go-reflective-gray-pet-stroller-34-l-x-217-w-x-375-h-3156393

It’s the Every Yay stroller from Petco. We like ours a lot, and while the wheels are better suited to smooth sidewalks, it survives going off road for a bit at the park and renfaire.

One thing I wish our stroller had is a way for Holly to see us through the back when the hood is up, but it looks like this model added that.

I hope it works out well for the foster kittens if you decide to get it!

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sinnabum45 · 7 months ago

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Narumitsu sketches 😳

Links to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (Palestine flag). End plain text.]

[Image description: Colored digital sketch of Miles and Phoenix. Miles is wearing an orange maid dress with a while frilly apron and knee high socks with garter belts. He’s embarrassed and trying to pull the apron down. Miles, “W-Why is it so short?!” Middle image: Phoenix: ”Just say it one time—“ Miles, angry, “NO.” Right image: Miles’ body is facing away and he is looking back towards the viewer. He is blushing. Bottom image: Phoenix is sitting and drawn like a chibi. He’s excited and clapping his hands with a heart in his mouth, “YAY!” End description.]

[Image description: Colored digital art of Miles and Phoenix. Phoenix is wearing a blue shirt with gray sweatpants. He is scratching under his shirt and the back of his head. Phoenix looks tired and has a stubble. Miles is wearing pink silk pajamas and holding a tea cup and plate. He has his glasses on and bed hair. Trucy is off-screen and says, “Are you guys watching??” Phoenix: “Yes, honey. We’re watching…” Text on top left: 8:32AM. End description.]

Maid dress Miles cuz I saw that one official manga with him wearing it 😳🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ Phoenix is very happy UwU

Also, Phoenix is also happy to watch Trucy, he's just tired. He loves seeing Trucy show off her new tricks/ routines 🥺 I love the idea of Trucy waking her dads up to show off her magic tricks tho- she's just so excited!

#image description #described #ace attorney #ace attorney fanart #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #wrightworth #narumitsu #art #digital art #my art #sketch #SinnaArt

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rangerbarbz · 14 days ago

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Mirror, Mirror

Author’s Note: Y’all please don’t hurt me i know this isnt an update on my ford series but i had to get this one out of my system i fucking love this man

Mirror, Mirror

You applied your mascara in the dingy mirror in Stan’s bathroom in the light of some ancient, yellow light bulbs. Anytime you got ready, it was always in the same spot: sitting on the edge of the sink. You didn’t mind doing your makeup in there, but there were no full length mirrors in the house for you to see how your outfits came together. Of course, you could always ask Stanley and he would give you an honest answer, but you wanted to be able to tell if your outfits were cute when he wasn’t around. He was at the store right now picking up a couple of things so you decided to message him.

You: Hey honey ;)

Stanley <3: What do you want?

You started giggling. He always acted like he didn’t enjoy buying you things, but he really did like spoiling you. He got you anything you wanted usually before you even asked despite his cheap persona.

You: Well… I was wondering if you could pick me up a full length mirror please? They have some pretty cheap ones at the store.

Stanley <3: Sure. Why do you need one?

You: YAY!! Thank you, baby. I need one for trying on outfits. I was going to put it in our room if that’s okay with you.

Stanley <3: Sounds good. Where are you thinking about putting it?

You walked into your shared bedroom to scope out a potential spot for your new mirror. You saw a patch of bare wall in front of where your bed was. There was plenty of room for you to attach it to the wall with some sticky strips you had.

You: [picture of wall] I was thinking right here. It’s in front of our bed. What do you think?

Stanley <3: That’ll be fine. Can you turn the camera around?

You looked at the message puzzled.

You: Why?

Stanley <3: I wanna see that sexy face of yours that’s why.

You felt butterflies form in your stomach at his response. You quickly took a selfie of just you smiling. Your hair was a little frizzy and you just had mascara on, but Stan loved that look. Hell, you could look like a hobo and he would still try to get in your pants. You pressed the send button.

Stanley <3: That’s my girl ❤️I’ll see you when I get home. I love you.

You: I love you too, handsome 😘

You sat on the edge of your bed kicking your feet, giddy from Stan’s messages. There was something about his bluntness that just got your heart beating like crazy. You then decided to place your phone on your nightstand and play some music while you straightened up around the room. It wasn’t too messy. There were just some clothes that needed to be folded and put away. You sang softly to the song that played as you placed the last of the clothes in your drawer.

You then heard the front door swing open and Stan’s thundering footsteps. You smiled and began hurrying down the stairs. You saw him placing grocery bags on the table with his back turned to you. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, and the new belt you had got him for his birthday. His fez was scarce from his head showing off his thick, gray hair. You had encouraged him to start growing out his hair and stop wearing his fez as often. He was now beginning to form a delicious cowlick at the nape of his neck.

“Thank you for getting these, Stanley,” you murmured, running a hand up his back and placing it at his shoulder to give it a squeeze.

His body jolted at the contact. “Jesus!” He placed his hand over his heart. “Don’t scare me like that.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “See, this is why I don’t invite you over to the house when I watch horror movies.” You placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Scaredy cat.” He gave you a glare, but with the smirk on his lips, you knew he wasn’t serious.

“You want this mirror or not?” Stan asked, stepping back to reveal a beautiful mirror that had been leaning against the fridge out of your view. It was a cream color with delicate flowers carved into it and LED lights around the rounded arch. It was much nicer than the cheap one you thought he was going to get you.

“Stan!” You ran your fingers along the sides of the mirror while he gave you a toothy smile.

“Ehh? You like it?” He spread his arms out and raised his eyebrows.

“Honey, I LOVE it! Thank you so so much. It wasn’t too expensive was it?”

He scoffed. “Nah, it was a steal.” Then, he winked at you.

You frowned and squinted your eyes at him. “Stan, did you steal this? Like, for real?” You had been trying to get him out of his shoplifting habits. He had been getting better, but the man still fell off the bandwagon occasionally.

He paused. “Maybe.” You smacked him on his shoulder

He held his hands up in a defensive manner. “Look, babe. The guy at the cash register was an ass to me when I came in. I had to blow off some steam, and maybe I broke my stealing streak, but look!” Stan gestured to the mirror once again. “I got you a frilly mirror for you to get ready in. Thought you’d like it.” He was now smiling fondly at you, hoping for your approval.

You returned the smile and placed the mirror back against the fridge. “I do like it,” you reassured him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you.” He placed his strong hands at your waist and squeezed softly before kissing you. His stubble tickled the soft skin of your face.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Stan said, his hand now rubbing the small of your back. “Now let’s get this mirror set up.” His hand left your back to give your ass a playful swat.

You laughed and followed his lead. He was carrying the mirror with just one arm as he stepped quickly up the stairs. When you made it to your room, you both worked together to use your sticky strips and his leveler to make sure it was perfectly positioned on the wall. It was easily the most delicate thing to ever grace Stan’s bedroom. Besides you, of course.

Stan sat on the bed while you stood in front of the mirror. You did a couple of practice poses in the light of the mirror, mimicking how you would try on future outfits. “Oooh. Sexy. Stunning. Work it, work it, work it.” You struck a silly pose with each phrase earning a laugh from Stan. You saw his charming smile in the reflection. Gah, you could just eat him up.

“C’mere, gorgeous,” Stan said, patting his lap. You giggled and walked backwards towards him. “That’s it. Put it in reverse.” You burst out laughing and finally sat yourself on his wide thighs.

“Oop, I forgot something,” you joked, standing up.

“Uh, uh,” Stan tsked, wrapping his arm around your torso and pulling you back into his lap. You squealed excitedly. “You ain’t going anywhere. I gotta try this mirror out for myself.” His hands found your hips and began to massage them through the thin fabric of your shirt. You immediately knew what he meant and you felt that familiar fire in your belly.

He lifted up your shirt a little revealing your midriff. “Mind if I keep going, sweetheart?” he asked with a devilish grin, kissing underneath your ear and keeping eye contact with you in the mirror. You nodded as a small exhale escaped your lips. “Good,” he said. He patted your elbow. “Raise them arms up.” You smiled and lifted your arms so that he could remove your shirt.

Stan let out a low whistle at the sight of you. “Goddamn.” He began to knead your breasts over your bra and bit at your neck. His fingers then nimbly unhooked your bra from the back, pushing the straps gently off your shoulders and tossing the article of clothing to the side. His big hands held your breasts and massaged them; you took your hands and placed them over his. He groaned, sucking the dip of your collarbone. His thumbs then grazed over your nipples, hardening them further before he pinched them. You sharply inhaled and tilted your head back as Stan chuckled darkly.

“Like that?” Stan spoke against your cheek. His stubble was once again tickling you. This time it was a more intense feeling, adding to the arousal building between your thighs.

“Yes,” you whined. He smiled and kissed your skin softly. His hand then traveled across your belly to your loose shorts, pulling them down along with your panties.

“What about this?” His pointer and middle finger slid over your cunt, gathering the slick at your entrance and bringing it to your swollen clit. You gasped loudly as he rubbed slow circles against it. You began grinding on his calloused fingers, wanting as much friction as possible.

“No one but me can get you wet like this,” Stan growled, the tip of his middle finger dipping slightly inside you.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “Stanley…” You craned your head towards him, but his other hand quickly grabbed your face. His thumb rubbed your cheek bone soothingly before he physically turned your face back to the mirror.

“No, doll. Look at you, not me.” He breathed deeply. “Because I wanna see your face when I do this.” Stan slid his finger in fully, a guttural noise escaping his throat.

You gasped at the sudden, delicious stretch that he was giving to you. You watched your reflection in the mirror, seeing the way you took his thick middle finger over and over. A lewd squelching noise filled the room making Stan’s cock twitch. It made him feel so good knowing how much you had been wanting this, wanting him.

“That feel good, baby?” he mumbled, his nose pressed to the side of your face. He continued to pump his finger in and out of your cunt at a quickening pace, hitting that sweet spot every time.

“S-so good,” you answered shakily. Stan groaned letting his other hand grope at your breasts, watching the way your flesh filled the palm of his hand. His cock was straining in his pants; you could feel his tip press into your ass through the fabric of his khakis.

“Fuck, you’re so damn sexy. You gonna cum on my fingers? You gonna do that for me, doll?” Stan was breathing against your neck now, eyes locked on the mirror in front of him. He watched you writhe in his arms as you nodded. He then growled and picked up speed, wanting so badly to see you come apart in his arms. You began to feel that tightness in the pit of your belly.

“I’m so close,” you whispered. “Please…” Suddenly, you felt your body start shaking, overcome with the ecstasy that Stan’s touch gave you. Your eyelids fluttered and your chest rose and fell. He groaned, watching you intently.

“Goddamn, I almost came in my pants just watching you,” Stan murmured, removing his finger from you. “Think you got one more?” He smirked, kneading the flesh of your hips.

You grinned at him in the mirror. “Yeah.”

He gave you a devilish smile. “That’s my girl.” He patted the side of your thigh. “Alright, hop off and get on the bed.”

You chuckled and did as he said. You kneeled and faced towards the mirror, leaning into the soft comforter with your forearms. Stan walked to the back of the bed kicking off his shoes and settling behind you on his knees. His mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were wide as he looked at you in the mirror.

“What?” you asked softly. Your tone caught him off guard. When your voice got this way, it just did something to him.

‘I’ve just, ah…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Was he nervous? “You just look really pretty, that’s it,” he grumbled. “Don’t think too much about it.” He always made himself flustered giving you compliments, and it was the cutest damn thing.

“Aww, thank you, Stanley,” you replied through giggles, flashing him a smile. You saw a grin spread across his reddening face while he looked down, fumbling with his zipper.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” He didn’t give you time to respond because he was then teasing your entrance with his tip and grabbing your ass gently. You squirmed, arching your back to gain more friction.

“Hold on, baby. I got you,” Stan reassured you. You could hear his confidence return to him due to your neediness. He pushed the rest of his cock into you easily. You gasped at how full you felt while Stan let out a faltered moan. “Fuck, you feel good.”

You whined as he thrusted into you, starting a steady pace. Your fingers were intertwined with the bedsheet while Stan’s were pressed into your waist. The pressure on your G-spot and the way he grazed your clit was too much. Your body inched forwards subconsciously, trying to ease some of the stimulation. Stan immediately noticed and grasped your waist pulling you back back to him. “You ain’t getting away from me that easy.’’ His gravelly voice sent shivers down your spine. He began to thrust into you faster, his hands groping your breasts. You howled from the pleasure racking your body. He moaned loudly, leaning onto your back and pressing you against the fabric of his shirt. His eyes were filled with lust as he watched your reflection. Your eyelids parted from being screwed shut to see an absolutely pornographic scene before you.

Stan was sweating, still in his clothes from earlier, fucking you without abandon. His hands were now splayed across your stomach, trying to get you as close to him as possible. The grunts leaving him were quickly bringing you to the brink of another orgasm, and he could feel it. He then, still on his knees, held you against his chest and bounced you on his cock. One hand held you while the other rubbed circles onto your clit.

“Come on, sweetheart. Make me yours. Cum on my cock.” He was now kissing all over your neck while you rode out your second orgasm, your cunt clenching around his cock. Stan followed suit, a string of curses leaving his lips into your collarbone. You watched as his cum leaked out of you in the mirror, your breathing syncing up with his. When both of you had a moment to recover, he lifted you off of him gently.

“Alright, let me get you cleaned up. I did a number on you.” Stan reached over to your bedside table to retrieve baby wipes that were tucked away in a drawer. You laid on your back as he carefully wiped away the evidence he had been there. “You’re good.” He patted your thigh and gave you a kiss on his forehead. “Now, go take a leak. Love you.” You stumbled to the bathroom, and when you returned, Stan was smoking one of his cigars. His pants were unzipped but his boxers were pulled back up; the first three buttons of his shirt were undone revealing his curly, gray chest hair. You curled up next to him, laying your head on his chest while his strong arm pulled you close to him.

He blew out a puff of smoke, a sweet tobacco smell filling the room. “Thank you for the mirror, Stan.” You kissed his stubbled cheek as he tapped the ash off his cigar into the ashtray you made him.

“No, thank YOU,” he replied. “Best thing I’ve ever stolen.”

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