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yanderambling · 1 year

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

words: ~ 2.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

So they set your house on fire.

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

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

Huh.

They didn't count on that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the hell are you, even?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you... letting them go?

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

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

...What the hell was that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sverre is highly offended.

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

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

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

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

It’s just not fair.

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

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

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

It’s never gonna be enough.

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

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

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

"Hey! The fuck did I tell you?"

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

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

But it doesn't come.

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

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

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

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

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

"Were you trying to fix it?"

They duck their head in shame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

check my pinned post ~

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #soft yandere #sub yandere #dom reader #cryptid yandere #monster yandere #gn yandere #recluse reader #gn reader #yandere oc #yandere concept #yandere imagine #yandere requests #requests open #tw yandere

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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 7 months

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

✨THATS THE FUCKING POINT✨

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

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

REGARDLESS OF HOW IT ENDS.

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

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

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

#which is always enhanced even more by a very unreliable (1st person) narrator imo #great example is #rebecca #daphne du maurier #the first thing we learn is that they are recluses. the first thing the reader finds out is *how it is going to end*#and it makes the tension in the end even higher. r they reclused bc they were caught and are fleeing?#did they manage to escape the accusations??#similar thing with #wuthering heights #sry its just im listening to a booktuber reading #tsoa #madelline miller #and im not even a diehard fan #but they r complaining abt how the book maybe wouldve hit harder if thsy didnt know the original myth #and im like. NO. THE ENTIRE BOOK HITS HARDER IF U KNOW WHATS GONNA HAPPEN SINCE THE BEGINNING ALDKFJSJF #(i know i am getting unreasonably upset abt this btw)#or ppl complaining abt #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #suzanne collins #OF ALL THE REASONS TO CRITICIZE THE BOOK #KNOWING HOW EVERYTHING WILL END BEFORE YOU EVEN BEGIN IS NOT A VALID CRITICISM #WHY DID YOU EVEN PICK IT UP THEN. THAT IS LITERALLY THE WHOLE DEAL OF A *PREQUEL*#and yes there is a difference between retellings like #circe #or all the hundreds of #Shakespeare #retellings like #romeo and juliet #where u dont only know how it is going to end but also all the major plot points that will happen. BUT MY POINT STILL STANDS.#like its fine if its not ur thing. BUT THEN DONT PICK IT UP ONLY TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THE LITERAL *PREMISE* OF THE WHOLE THING. OH MY GOD.

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abyssruler · 2 years

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modern au xiao who’s a reclusive gamer and a big fan of your streams. donates his entire lifesavings to you and buys all your merch. he singlehandedly funds your entire career as a streamer. immediately takes the opportunity to meet you at a con when you announce that you’re attending one. “so you’re alatus! it’s so great to finally meet you in person!” he thinks he just about melts as you pull him in an embrace. being able to talk to you, hearing you laugh in person instead of a speaker, it all feels like a dream. you’re so warm, and archons, how does he tell you that you smell so nice without sounding like a total creep?

he may be broke and on the verge of getting kicked out by his landlord, but at least he got to take a picture with you.

#i love making modern au xiao a loser #something about him being a reclusive greasy shut in who’s probably also a discord mod just kinda fits so well #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin imagines #drabble #genshin shorts

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literatureinfurs · 5 months

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reclusive.

— literature in furs, jessie. (literatureinfurs) • November 16, 2023.

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starglitterz · 2 years

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"xiao?"

your voice is deafening in the quiet, shattering the peaceful silence between the two of you, yet to the last remaining yaksha it is the most pleasant sound in the world.

"yes, dove?"

moonlight filters through the open window, bringing with it a cool breeze that makes you shiver and press closer to him. though to many he is pitiful, burdened by karmic debt and carrying the weight of his past sins, you find his presence to be incredibly comforting, and his warmth now is far from unwelcome.

"are you ever... lonely?"

you hesitate to finish your question, teeth scraping your bottom lip when you bite it as if to prevent the final word from escaping. saying it out loud makes the possibility so much more real, and you're not sure if you really want to know the answer.

"..."

there is no response. xiao feels how you stiffen in his arms, muscles tensing with concern that you may have hurt his feelings or offended him by assuming the conqueror of demons experienced such trivial mortal emotions. truth be told, he is considering his answer, desiring to give you the most honest one he can, for that is what you deserve after opening your heart to someone as stained by the past as him.

"yes. and sometimes it is almost overwhelming."

xiao begins, and the melancholy blossoming in your chest at his reply is simultaneously soothed by his voice. the gentleness of his tone would probably be impossible to comprehend for those who saw him daily, as his softness was reserved for you alone, and he did not particularly care about how rough others perceived him to be.

"but..."

he falls silent once more. xiao prefers not to look at the past, but now he finds himself musing over the other yakshas and mourning their fates. though he used to be ready to welcome death with open arms, grateful for his suffering to be over, things have changed since then.

"it has become easier to bear ever since i learned to love you."

others may take xiao's words at face value and believe that he loves you only out of habit, like you were constantly by his side until he was forced to figure out how to love you. but you know better. xiao learned to love you by learning to let his walls down, that being vulnerable isn't showing weakness, that opening yourself up to the possibility of being hurt provides a fountain of opportunities and love to flow.

"i'm glad."

a smile curves your lips, and you twist in xiao's arms to press a kiss to his jawline before tucking your head into the crook of his neck once more. the stars dance across the blanket of the midnight sky outside, twinkling effortlessly, burning themselves up to give beauty to the darkness, and you are here, safe with your lover.

"i love you, xiao."

perhaps in the grand scheme of the universe the two of you are insignificant, but for now that matters not in the slightest, because:

"and i love you too, dove."

©starglitterz 2022. do not plagiarise, repost nor modify in any way – reblog / follow if you enjoyed!

#once again do not ask me to explain i genuinely have no clue i just started typing words just when i was abt to sleep 😭#i just think that xiao. and the abstract concept of loneliness that comes with watching the world you essentially helped create grow #and grow is such an important term here bc it is growing out of him; liyue no longer needs xiao to defend it as it once did in the past #especially when you consider how he is the last yaksha; and i just keep thinking about how it must feel to be the only one alive to witness #liyue's current glory when they all gave everything for it to develop into this; sacrificing themselves to sin and gaining karmic debt and #eventually dying (?) but either way leaving xiao alone. like i know that this is what they would have wanted and what they were made to do #but i keep thinking about xiao and survivor's guilt and how it plays out into his character; does he feel it's unfair that he gets to live?#does that make him feel the need to overcompensate by remaining reclusive and fighting almost every minute when there isn't rlly much of a #need to? idk idk hahaha these are just random ramblings idk why i put them in the tags 😭 also i haven't played the archon quest yet so #don't spoil!!!!! ill eat ur souls if u do /hj #ok proper tags i promise:#✏️ — quill writes !#xiao x reader #xiao fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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sanccharine · 2 years

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recluse | ys

pairing: author!yeosang x reporter!reader

genre: angst, drama

word count: 3.6k

warnings: none that i can think of

summary: yeosang took pleasure in his writing and was content creating his art, most of all he was sure of his freedom, unhindered by his suffocating past… that is until he agrees to an interview with you.

a/n: i actually had most of this written up as soon as the rhythm ta kingdom stage had been released, but with guerrilla expanding on the lore, i thought i'd finally finish this up :] thanks to @masterninjacow for beta reading this all those months ago. anygays, i think this is one of ateez's best albums yet, i love all the songs but cyberpunk song of the year !

Kang Yeosang was a lithe man with a sculpted face that would leave the Renaissance artisans in jealousy, for they could never capture such beauty. However, his words were what allured people; poems of great failures and stories of greater beasts captivated the masses. Yet he rarely appeared on interviews or talk shows, and sometimes even outright refused publicity to maintain his sense of mystery.

Simply put, the man was a recluse.

Kang inhaled the warm scent of lavender tea as plumes of steam blurred his glasses. He sat alone on the balcony of his manor, wallowing in the little sunlight that peeked through the clouds. April was ending, yet here the sky was with grey clouds, signalling the beginning of something dark.

Not that it affected Kang’s love for words. Even in all this gloom, he’d been penning little snippets and ideas relentlessly.

His peace only shattered when he made the grave mistake of accepting your interview.

Initially, Kang Yeosang refused to meet but was intrigued once he looked into your work and who you write for. Unfortunately, you seemed as private as himself. There was little information to be found about you but whatever he did come across captivated him. Instantly, he called you back and accepted the offer. Plus, you mentioned you had no problem travelling to meet him which really sealed the deal.

Kang Yeosang was as charming as he was mysterious.

The young man had waited for you at the entrance to his manor in a turtleneck that clung to his frame, he wore a warm but confident smile. There was no denying he was handsome… truly, an otherworldly beauty. Being painted as a recluse by many websites and writers, you’d think the man would scorn the sight of another at his home, assume that his talent with words would only extend to paper and not to conversation.

“Welcome to my humble abode, L/N,” Kang said, his voice deep yet soothing as he pushed his glasses up with his knuckles. He was kind enough to hold his hand to you as you walked up the stairs.

Humble was the understatement of the century.

Kang Yeosang’s manor, from its exterior alone, was lavish as they come. From afar, and hidden from the public eye, his house may look like any other large bungalow. Especially with how secluded it was, located miles away from the central town, with rows of trees surrounding its perimeter leading to the forest behind. Up close, you could see the fancy metal gates closing off the tediously well-kept garden with flowers you couldn't even begin to name. In the middle of the greenery, a beautiful outdoor swing seat was placed, rocking gently with the cold wind; scenery straight out of a children’s picture book. It wouldn’t be surprising to find fairies tending to the flowers, leaving pixie dust in their wake.

Reaching him at the door, you took his hand. “It’s good to see you in person, Mr Kang.”

His eyes quickly glanced over you, studying you from underneath his glasses and assessed the simple black and white ensemble you wore, the only colour present was the lining of crimson along the hem of your suit jacket. Offering you a nod in response, he gave your hand a firm squeeze and tilted his head to the door to welcome you in.

There was simply nothing humble about Kang Yeosang’s home.

The moment you stepped in, rich wood the colour of coffee flooded your vision. The floors were polished spotless, and every step you took was defined with a clear click of your heel, the sound reverberated down the smooth walls. The wallpaper was a wonderful crimson with an intricate pattern, luxurious yet not too gaudy. The decor was archaic and reminiscent, yet every corner of the room sat a lively house plant, thrumming with life in pots designed with care. The colours were hand-picked and tastefully put together, it was eccentric but cohesive.

It seemed Kang Yeosang was not only a master of words but a master of fine arts as well. His expression of his interests did not surprise you at all, you expected nothing else from the man.

“Your house is magnificent,” you said breathily because it was all too overwhelming. Slowly turning on your feet, you took in every nook and cranny of the home. When the owner only chuckled in response, you turned to catch his gaze. “No, I’m serious, Mr Kang. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.”

The sincerity flustered him that he had to look away from your piercing eyes. It was unfortunate because he quite enjoyed admiring the wonder in your face as you appraised the home he’d taken years to curate. The feeling boosted his pride, it was a giddy sensation. Perhaps, he should invite people more.

Gingerly placing his hand on your shoulder, he guided you to his office. “I have to say that you’re quite beautiful yourself,” the author said with a disarming smile.

You were right! A man who knows his way with words would know his way around people.

It was your turn to be flustered as Kang Yeosang nonchalantly moved ahead, leaving you stranded at the entrance to his office. You paused for a moment, a little startled at the compliment but you were thankful for the stop in movement because you had yet another room to take in.

Kang Yeosang’s office was nothing like the rest of his home.

The first thing you noticed was the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, embedded into the wall, that menacingly overlooked his desk. There had to be hundreds of books, skimming through the titles, you found classics as well some unknown to you, there were some even in languages you weren’t familiar with. To your left was a quaint wooden drawer with clawed feet, atop it was a porcelain tea set painted with blue flowers and blue butterflies. Beside it, stood Kang Yeosang with his broad back to you, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he prepared you tea.

Letting him do his preparation, you turned your attention to his desk. Now, this was the surprise. His desk was a mess… or at least it was in comparison to the rest of his meticulously kept house. Ink bottles of various sizes and colours were used as paperweights to hold down many sheets of paper, some torn and crumpled up as if they'd been thrown and then retrieved from the trash. Their presence didn’t surprise you, Kang Yeosang was known to create languages, his own sets of glyphs accompanied along with the wondrous illustrations in his books. His laptop was beneath an open book filled with sticky notes, annotations, and a perfect ring of a coffee stain. Near them, there were a few more books piled up, with envelopes pressed between them, with only the red stamp visible to you.

Smiling to yourself, you finally turned to the glass cabinet on the right. This couldn’t be examined from the entrance. Carefully, you took steps forward, desiring to study every artefact you witnessed in front of you. The lowermost shelf had nothing particular of interest, there was another tea set, and a few wine glasses, no doubt to keep the author company during his lonely nights of typing away his next masterpiece. The middle shelf was the most cluttered, there were many trinkets from opera glasses to pearl necklaces to a compass. It was an odd collection of jewellery, yet just unconventional enough to be in the possession of Kang Yeosang.

Naturally, your gaze moved up towards the top most shelf, which held the most important artefact—the hourglass. You could feel the corner of your lips twitch up as you leaned in closer to study the corroded gold on the hourglass’ circular frame, not tarnished by time or the elements but by use. The stand holding up the hourglass had an inscription on it, faint and difficult to read, but you could see it.

“Collected that from an auction,” Kang Yeosang’s voice, cut sharply through your curiosity. With your hands clasped behind your back, you looked over your shoulder. Kang wore a sombre smile while clearing up his desk to place your steaming cup of tea, then he turned to look at you. “Paid quite a price to acquire it.”

“Huh, is that so?” You asked softly, turning your gaze back to the hourglass one last time. Then, your vision moved upward where a lonesome violin stood tall, a small layer of dust coating it. “Do you play, Mr Kang?”

The author sucked in his breath, before chuckling. Intrigued, you turned to him to see him shaking his head. “No, not anymore,” he said pressing his palm to his lips, studying his instrument with a steely glare.

Knowing when to drop a topic you chuckled and moved towards your seat. “Not sure how many reporters you’ve met, we are flighty creatures but flattery! Oh, it will get you everywhere, sir.” You smiled politely as you remembered his compliment from moments before.

Yeosang mimicked your smile as the two of you settled down into your respective seats opposite each other. “Just dusting off my conversation skills, makes me seem less of a recluse,” Yeosang said as you fished out a little notebook and a voice recorder from your jacket. “And please, call me Yeosang.”

“Okay, Yeosang,” you said, taking a moment to get used to his name on your lips. “I think before we begin our interview, I should start with how much I adore your work,” your compliment brought a shy smile on the author, which he tried to hide behind his palm. Setting up the recorder in the middle of the table you continued. “I’m serious, the places you write about and emotions you convey, really… they really resonated with me.”

“I’m glad, that’s really all I could ask for,” Yeosang said with his hand placed over his heart.

You nodded as you reached for your cup of tea, its scent light and floral—lavender. Not entirely familiar with its taste, you were hesitant. Gingerly swirling the drink you raised the cup to your lips, the taste was sweet and refreshing. Yeosang watched you patiently, before joining as well.

Slightly nodding, you placed the cup down and looked up at Yeosang. “Then, shall we begin?”

Yeosang thought the interview with you was pretty smooth sailing. Every question you asked was one he’d been yearning to be asked from a reporter, he found himself having a lot to say. With every question about his pieces, you also expressed your adoration, the compliments had him blushing to his ears. You observed and waited, allowed him to explain his anecdotes and expertly chimed in with jokes that had him clutching his stomach. Truly, he had never felt so at ease with another person before. Maybe it was because he was in the comfort of his home, a place where he was free, or maybe, it was you.

The pair of you had fallen into a rhythm of questions and answers, of compliments and laughter between sips of lukewarm lavender tea.

He’d gotten too comfortable.

“Do tell me, Yeosang, where do you get the inspiration?” You said in an exaggerated manner, finishing the dregs of your tea.

Yeosang only tilted his head in question as he slowly placed his cup on his desk, completely soundless.

“I don’t know how to word this but the monsters and creatures…” you took a moment to think. “It almost feels like Lewis Carroll,” you chuckled and he followed, though a bit hesitant.

“I think you just called my work literary nonsense,” Yeosang said, which earned a guffaw from you. Stifling your laughter, you shook your head as Yeosang asked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said quietly, not looking away from the pen in your hand, tapping away on your notebook. “The cities and kingdoms, the characters and creatures, the deadly monsters—you create and bring them to life so vividly. They’re vibrant and wild and chaotic and… so free. But in all their grandeur, they stem from very real problems, painfully described in detail.” You stopped, as you finally looked up to him. “Don’t you think?”

Yeosang pushed his glasses up before folding his arms, refusing to answer your question. His face had darkened, he was aware something was wrong but he couldn’t pinpoint the issue.

“Let me rephrase,” you smiled as you placed the notebook and pen on the desk. “Your work has the recurring theme of questioning authority, of rebellion, and the pursuit of freedom—of utopia!—even dressed in fantastical creatures of a child’s imagination, those themes are clear as day.”

Yeosang gulped as you stared at him, completely unwavering. He wanted to look away, but he knew if he did, it would give him away—his body would move on its own, dragging his eyes to the hourglass seated on his glass cabinet, calling to him like a siren. His mind was reeling from his theories, he hoped he was wrong about you.

“Yeosang,” you inquired again, voice so low, he almost missed it. “Where did you draw your inspiration for your worlds.”

This was no question, it was a demand.

The warm gleam in Yeosang’s eyes had long disappeared, they were depthless and cold as his forgotten cup of lavender tea. Either you were aware of his rising terror and pressed on with your line of inquiry, or you simply didn’t care because Yeosang couldn’t get a read on you for the life of him. Your gaze flitted to his hands, which had fallen to his chair’s armrests, the leather creaking under his white-knuckled grip.

“I think you should stop recording—”

“Why, is everything okay?” You asked the words of genuine worry but your voice and face indicated no signs that you were actually concerned. When you leaned forward, Yeosang flinched back, before noticing his mistake.

Ignoring his previous fault, Yeosang touched his temple. “Sorry, I’m just tired. I’d like to wrap this up soon please.”

“Of course,” you said, with none of your witty charms. Yeosang would’ve felt bad were he not worried for his life. “Could I ask one last question though? Please?”

Yeosang was gritting his teeth beneath his pursed lips, feeling the way were grinding against each other as he pressed his back to his chair, wanting to get away from you, as far as possible. Though he nodded, feeling generous but mostly hoping you’d leave as soon as you ask your last question. With bated breath, he watched you for any sign to trust the alarms ringing in his head.

Then you glanced up at the hourglass in his glass cabinet.

“Y/N, I think you should leave,” Yeosang said in the calmest voice he could manage. You opened your mouth to protest but he wasn’t having it. “Now.”

“I travelled a really really long way to be here, Yeosang. Please be a little courteous, it’s just one more question,” your voice was so soft, so kind, and filled with honeyed words yet Yeosang couldn’t stop feeling like he was being threatened. “Listen—”

“Leave now—!”

Before Yeosang could stand up, power surged from you and Yeosang was thrown back onto his chair. A dry cough escaped his throat as his wrists fell to the armrests, leather shredding into strips before binding him to the chair. The strip of leather glowed a faint red, highlighting glyphs awfully similar to those in Yeosang’s books before disappearing completely.

Yeosang’s mouth was agape in horror as you finally let yourself relax into your chair, before grabbing your notebook and pen again. With your back digging into the chair and legs stretched out, you asked with a lazy smile. “Tell me, what gave me away?”

Yeosang only glared at you, before turning to the hourglass.

“Ah, the Cromer,” you nodded, turning to it as well. “You always were a bit slow, Kang Yeosang. Funny, since everyone just eats up your words.”

Yeosang didn’t grace your taunts with a response, instead, he turned to question you, having realised who was sitting in front of him. “How did you find me?”

“I don’t know, but how long were you planning on running away?” You asked casually, drawing whatever your hand cared to doodle.

When Yeosang remained silent, you tilted your chin up to find him seething, the sight brought such relief and sordid satisfaction that you couldn’t help but grin. Throwing your open notebook on the table, you leaned to the left, letting your right leg hang over the seat’s armrest. Yeosang’s gaze drifted across your ugly doodles of glyphs and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You were never good at drawing them, however, even in their misshapen forms it was easy to recognize what they were… and how novel they are to Yeosang.

“You got lazy, Kang Yeosang.” Unable to stop smiling, you threw your head back in victory. “Really, you didn’t bother to check my name or my history, or at least guard your home. You didn’t even charm the tea! You evaded us for almost a decade and you got cocky.”

To demonstrate, you snapped your fingers and the cup shook, white and blue porcelain shimmering with red particles but ultimately, clear of glyphs. Yeosang looked at you with disbelief, but there was also wonder and curiosity behind his eyes.

“How did you find me?” Yeosang repeated, albeit, with less insistence. His fists were clenched, but unwittingly, his body had leaned forward, and his focus was on the new glyphs. He looked up at you with his lips dry, clearly with another question on his tongue but instead asked once again, this time enunciating every word. “How did you find me?”

“Does it really matter? I have you now,” you sighed and rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “It’s about time you return home, we’ve all missed you so very much.”

“You got lucky,” Yeosang scoffed, clearly understanding he had no upper hand now. The practised demeanour of a reclusive scholar transformed into one of a ruthless rebel—the Kang Yeosang you heard stories about—the one you’d been tasked to track down. He leaned back on his chair, trying to mimic your composure. “You’ll never find the rest of us, and it will be years before you find Hongjoong?”

“Oh, will it, now?” You asked innocently, before leaning forward to snatch the envelopes stuffed in his pile of books, not caring that the stack toppled over as you did.

Yeosang opened his mouth to say something but only stuttered. Ignoring him, you sifted through his letters, throwing away the ones you didn’t recognize before arriving at the envelope with the red stamp you recognized.

“Who do you think I found first?” You asked, bearing your teeth in triumph as you flipped the letter over to show the name scribbled on it.

From Kim Hongjoong was scrawled under blood-red ink.

Yeosang’s eyes widened in terror as the realization settled in.

“After finding him, we tracked down everyone from your precious little rebel group within a matter of months,” you said, shrugging before throwing the letter onto the table. “It’s easy when your good buddies contact you—pretty smart of the lot of you, throwing yourselves in different universes! Separating so it would be harder to track, real innovative—not that it did you any good. Gave you what? Roughly a decade of freedom? No, of utopia, of a new world!”

You declared the last word in a shout, throwing your hands up as his leader, Kim Hongjoong, had a decade ago. His unruly two-toned hair accompanying his manic grin plastered on every visible screen across your monitored and carefully controlled home. You remembered the day as if it had been yesterday; the mangled static in your ear startling you awake, rousing you from your simulation, from your drowsy dreamlike state of repeated and micromanaged routine you called life. You remembered the prickling sensation of pain, the wave of fear and doubt, the flood of repressed emotions pulling you under and encompassing you whole. You were confused, afraid, and sick to the stomach witnessing the chaos grow around you. Scared to spill tears, you let out a raucous bark of laughter, convincing yourself that it was to spite Yeosang.

Fortunately, Yeosang did not take your taunt lightly. His torso lurched forward clearly to tackle you, but his binds held him back, cutting deep into his skin. Instead, he opted to yell at you. “We saved you! We freed you! We did bring on a new world!”

“No, you escaped!” The words had left your lips before you could reign them in. In fact, to emphasise you had slammed your fists on the table, rattling the books and the artefacts in the glass cabinet. Unsettled by your own show of emotion, you stepped back, trying to regain your relaxed composure but there was no return. “You abandoned us, you stole the Cromer. You escaped to another world and left chaos in your wake.”

Yeosang's mouth opened and closed, he stuttered to begin something but taking in your admission he stopped himself and turned to look at the hourglass. Shaking yourself of your jitters, you confidently marched towards the glass cabinet with a fist raised.

The glass cracked loudly and released shards like bullets, jewellery and trinkets toppled over unceremoniously as Yeosang’s violin fell to the ground with an ugly twang. You grabbed the Cromer and smirked at the instantaneous surge in power; such unfiltered energy gone unprotected.

“This is coming home,” you said, as you turned to Yeosang, “and so are you.”

The author’s body lurched upward, as his restraints brought his hands together, now completely immovable, but it seemed Yeosang had no intention of trying to escape this time. In fact, Yeosang’s expression was forlorn, eyes glazed as he was deep in thought, consumed by regret and doubt. He didn’t need to worry for long.

“Let me show you what your movement achieved,” you said softly, a little pained. Yeosang’s melancholic gaze shifted to your own. “Let me take you home, Yeosang.”

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: i struggled so much with that banner, and i had so many designs ;-; gifs and videos and cropping good lord, graphic design is not my passion, and in the end, yeosang's face looks funny hfsdkjfhk. anygays stream guerrilla and worship cyberpunk, thanks. hope everyone has a good day/night :]

tagging: @someone-who-likes-broccoli

#mala's collection #sanccharine #ficscafe #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #yeosang imagines #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #kpop ateez #ateez #ateez yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang angst #recluse

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vermillioncrown · 1 year

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[+] my revision of formulation for the whole study & thesis was majorly approved, ppl can no longer pretend to or actually be lost

[+] minion² was contained, showed up in person and got the sense that no one was going to take his nonsense

[+] no major disagreement between the supes, all subteams understand their tasks

[-] back-to-back-to-back meetings w advisors, integrators, external working groups, and study lead in the next two weeks

[-] i have to finish reading... 15+ papers and compile their data

[-] fix a data structure implementation in my optimization model that i had promised since... nov last year lol (it wasn't entirely necessary. until now)

we'll see if i'm in the mood for stress relief writing instead of just stress relief daydreaming... there's a lot of stuff for every fic but it's all over the place. tpac hyperfixation is still holding strong (esp when compared to all other wips, it is second place for most concrete ending + actual epilogue)

(first place is larb bc every chapter is outlined and scoped; just haven't felt like writing it)

(not saying the other fics don't have planned endings but besides their plot i don't have the context for the endings yet. the shape of the ending scenes are very much informed by the long, in-between chapters)

#academic jerky #redglyphs #was so 1000% business mode that one of the supes did the equivalent of '👉👈 ...we're okay right?'#also my other stress relief is trolling the new firstie under my wing (in good fun ofc)#this is the one i'm shielding from minion²'s nonsense #he's finding out exactly how willing i am to commit to a bit #but he's also a humongous weirdo so like and like #anywho rl is both rough but looking up #good things will come in march :)#also final thing: a reminder to both readers and writers that there is a real person on the other side of that screen #have been receiving a few comments that (on good faith) come from a place of praise and enthusiasm but...#there is a hint of uhhh... to them. like someone wrote it forgetting that a real person will read it without their face-to-face context #i'm not a blindly 'positive words only!! 🥰🥰🥰' type of person bc fucking obviously from my posts lol #but if one's intent is to convey something positive then do it without negging. do it without backhandedness or putdowns to others.#it is a valuable skill to learn how to communicate civilly. if this scares ppl into thinking 'well... now idk what to write or comment'...#okay. but know that you gotta practice irl or online soon enough and online is lower stakes than irl #and the only reason you might never need to know how to talk civilly is if you're an absolute recluse

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beneaththetangles · 2 years

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Reader’s Corner: Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible (Vol. 3), Assassin’s Creed Dynasty (Vol. 3), and The Elusive Samurai (Vol. 2)

We’ve got a lot of romance to share with you this week, from simple and sweet to more complex tales involving bullying and arranged marriage. But lest you think we’ve gone soft, there are some violent, pseud-historic manga in the mix, too, along with sci-fi and isekai. Check out our thoughts on the new, recent, and classic releases below!

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Rebuild World, Light Novel Vol. 1

Akira lives in a world littered with ruins of an advanced civilization, full of high-tech relics and guarded by deadly contraptions and beasts. As a boy from the slums, he tries to become a Hunter, going into these ruins to unearth those relics and sell them to escape poverty; however, his lack of skills leads to a close brush with death. One day, he stumbles upon Alpha, a holographic woman who offers to help him become a successful Hunter, as long as he helps her with her own goals. This is an action-packed novel about exploring ruins, while dealing with other humans in this world—some friendly, others malicious. One thing I like is how, as much as this story is about surviving against the odds, it’s equally about helping other people out, even when it doesn’t seem optimal to do so. There’s also definitely a sense that there’s more to Alpha than what we or Akira know, and the intrigue over who she actually is and what she really wants adds to my interest in this story. Overall, the world-building and story have caught my attention, and I will definitely be reading more volumes of this series. ~ stardf29

Rebuild World is published by J-Novel Club (and is edited by our very own NegativePrimes!).

The Princess’ Smile: The Body-Double Bride Searches for Happiness with the Reclusive Prince, One-shot Light Novel

In a fantasy world, one country starts (and then loses!) a war with a smaller neighbor. The peace terms stipulate that the losing kingdom’s princess must marry a prince from the winning side. Princess Hermine has zero interest in this arranged marriage, but her orphaned cousin Sara looks quite similar… How very convenient. Soon Sara (pretending to be Princess Hermine) finds herself wedded to the mysterious and unsociable Prince Richard. Now she must make this unexpected relationship work, and this amid the repercussions from the complicated situation she finds herself in. To me, the key point that distinguishes this light novel is that the leads are married from the outset. The marriage is an established fact the characters must deal with, giving the entire story a different dynamic from the more common tales about people building a romantic relationship from nothing. Yeah, I know it’s hardly the first light novel to do this, but the premise is still uncommon enough that it feels like fresh and interesting. I really enjoyed this volume. ~ Jeskai

The Princess’ Smile: The Body-Double Bride Searches for Happiness with the Reclusive Prince is published by Cross Infinite World.

Shortcake Cake, Manga Vol. 5

The emotional roller coaster continues! I feel I want to say this volume is more emotional than the last one, but I have a feeling that this is going to be a reoccurring theme with this manga! Thankfully these volumes pick right back up where the previous volume ended because Ten has admitted/realized she has feelings for Riku and I honestly couldn’t be happier! Well except, Chiaki is no longer hiding his feelings from Ten and it’s made for some interesting developments, even though Ten has nicely rebuffed all of his “advances” (such as him saying he is jealous or that he doesn’t want her to leave his company yet). I definitely was not happy with those moments, especially with his actions at the end of this volume. Thankfully Chiaki isn’t deterring Ten since I really like Riku a lot, but even with that said, I really enjoyed the outing Chiaki and Riku had together. I didn’t expect that due to Chiaki being more vocal to Ten personally about his feelings, but there are always fun shenanigans on page when its just the two of them! I deeply enjoyed seeing the progression of Ten’s feelings for Riku throughout this volume and think she is so adorable in not knowing what to do/how to act around him. I’m absolutely here for this blooming romance and desperately needing to see what happens next (and if Chiaki will apologize for his actions)! ~ Laura A. Grace

Shortcake Cake is published by VIZ Media.

READ: Shortcake Cake Reviews (Vol.1 // Vol. 2 // Vol. 3 // Vol. 4)

Now I’m a Demon Lord! Happily Ever After with Monster Girls in My Dungeon, Light Novel Vol. 1

Yuki finds himself reincarnated in a dungeon in another world, and in the body of a “Demon Lord” at that. After figuring out the system that lets him customize the dungeon and generate items for his use, he befriends the ancient dragon Lefisios, rescues the vampire girl Iluna and some other beastgirls, and acquires a pet slime and a Fenrir wolf familiar. This novel mainly shows all these characters goofing off and enjoying life with each other, while occasionally dealing with humans in the surrounding area who try to intrude on their peace. The highlight of this novel is Yuki’s first-person narration, which (unlike most such narration in isekai light novels) is very casual and personal. It includes many “stream of consciousness” thoughts without getting too long-winded (though be warned that there is a fair amount of profanity throughout). This makes it easy to feel how much fun he is having in the more peaceful moments, but it also highlights his unpleasant emotions when humans try to cause problems for him. The relationship between him and Lefi (who of course has a pretty girl form) is also a highlight, especially in one moment when she helps keep him from going out of control. This was a really fun read and has the potential to become one of my new favorite light novels. ~ stardf29

Now I’m a Demon Lord! Happily Ever After with Monster Girls in My Dungeon is published by J-Novel Club.

Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible, Manga Vol. 3

“I kind of feel like a protagonist.” Well, that’s because you are, Shiraishi, and of a funny and pleasant series to boot. Volume three of Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible continues the upward trajectory of the previous volumes, from the uneven and slightly ecchi tone in volume one toward the romantic and sentimental mood at the end of volume two. Whether walking home together in the rain under a single umbrella, or picnicking under the falling cherry blossoms, these chapters hit a myriad of sweet spots of romance manga in cute, humorous, and wistful ways. Kubo and Shiraishi no longer have a relationship that would fit better in the harsher genre of teasing romcom manga; theirs is growing more actively and realistically, and each seemingly accepts the feelings they have for one another (at least in their own thoughts, if not in front of friends or each other). Volume three also addresses a serious weakness of the series, namely undeveloped side characters. Kubo’s cousin and elder sister interact frequently with Kubo in this volume, and in significant ways with Shiraishi, too. The series is becoming fuller, sweeter, and better with every single release. If you’ve been avoiding it, maybe it shouldn’t be invisible to you anymore. ~ Twwk

Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible is published by Viz Media. Volume three releases on September 6th.

READ: Kubo Won’t Let Me Be Invisible Reviews: (Vol.1 // Vol. 2)

Assassin’s Creed Dynasty, Manga Vol. 3

I haven’t picked up the newest volume of this series in a while, so I had to take a moment and remember where I left off. The story follows an assassin named Li E who bears a long scar along his face, as he takes part in a war between two armies in China. One army wants to assassinate several generals of the opposing army (which Li E is part of), and the battles get very intense and graphic. This volume had some slow parts where it just went over battle strategies and naming places in China I was not familiar with, so I was a little lost in those details. But it was nice to get to know Li E more by the end, as he was pretty quiet in volume 1 from what I remember. Volume three doesn’t go into the lore of the creed or the main plot points of the franchise, so I’m waiting to see if later installments dive into that or if Li E is just an assassin in China and there is no backstory to the creed. Hopefully, volume four has some answers. ~ Samuru

Assassin’s Creed Dynasty is published by Tokyopop.

The Elusive Samurai, Manga Vol. 2

After a clunky and lengthy first volume that left me bored—and wondering, “so what?”—volume two of The Elusive Samurai is a smoother and more engaging work. Part of the problem with volume one—and I admit I’m speculating here—was that despite the mangaka’s renown, Yusei Matsui seemed to move away from his style and to emulate Golden Kamuy, both in that manga’s weird humor and extreme violence. And while volume two remains violent, it’s not the type that makes you fear turning each page lest your favorite character die on the next one; and while funny, it isn’t the jarring kind of humor either. No, The Elusive Samurai fits squarely into typical shonen territory—focusing on excellent action (particularly when Tokiyuki faces off with the Sadamune in an archery competition where more than honor is at stake), and team building (when Tokiyuki attempts to add a thief to his party as they pair up on a dangerous mission). Meanwhile, the specter of Takauji and his apparent invincibility hangs over the entire story, making him all the formidable in Tokiyuki’s mind (and in the reader’s as well). Volume two is a fun and brisk read, slowing down only with interesting historical and “game card” asides; this series seems to have hit its sweet spot, a balance of semi-serious historical epic and good old shonen adventure. ~ Twwk

The Elusive Samurai is published by Viz Media. Volume two releases on September 6th.

READ: The Elusive Samurai Reviews (First impression // Vol. 1)

A Silent Voice, Manga Vol. 4

In volume four, I love how the mangaka helps us feel some fun and excitement with and for Shoya—only to turn and absolutely rip your heart out by the end! We see Shoya really experience the beauty of friendship (even if briefly). However, what was supposed to be a fun day at the amusement park for Shoya and his friends does not end as grandly as it began. Not only is there a tragic scene that unfolds later on, but even before this we learn a heartbreaking “secret” about how Shoko views herself. I thought this volume did an amazing job showing that people change—and yet some people don’t change. And if those people change, sometimes it is not for the better, hurting or harming others instead. I also feel this series is at the point where our main characters have developed, and they have to decide how they will move forward. However, the ending of this volume was really sad. Well, maybe more of bittersweet, because this volume shows that Shoya knows and understands what friendship is. He realizes what Tomohiro meant a volume or two ago, that understanding friendship doesn’t necessarily require “logic.” While I definitely didn’t like the actions of a few side characters (specifically Naoko, who I cannot stand at this point) and that my heart broke with certain events and conversations, I really enjoyed this volume a lot more than the previous one! ~ Laura A. Grace

A Silent Voice is published by Kodansha.

READ: A Silent Voice Reviews (Vol.1 // Vol. 2 // Vol. 3)

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“Reader’s Corner” is our way of embracing the wonderful world of manga, light novels, and visual novels, creative works intimately related to anime but with a magic all their own. Each week, our writers provide their thoughts on the works they’re reading—both those recently released as we keep you informed of newly published works, and those older titles that you might find as magical (or in some cases, reprehensible) as we do.

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the-whispers-of-death · 3 months

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

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

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

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

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

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated!

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naffeclipse · 1 month

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#apex polarity #recluse!reader #orca!eclipse #orca!sun #orca!moon #naff writing

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howifeltabouthim · 2 years

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Brian hated travel, he wanted to stay at home and read.

Iris Murdoch, from The Philosopher’s Pupil

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srvphm · 2 years

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Lovecraft WISHED he had what Stoker did

#lovecraft tried too hard to make cosmic horror the most terrifying thing ever #he got tunnel vision and forwent anything else in his stories #I think that a few reminders of what normal simple human life is like would’ve done wonders to bring out the horrifyingly alien element #the reader seldom gets to know the narrator as a human person before the inhuman arrives and it’s unfortunate bc the concept slaps #but then the guy was a socially inapt recluse #and he described actual human beings in such inhuman therms that we don’t even know what minority he tried to describe #the only narrator that’s sufficiently fleshed out to count as a character is in Dagon imo #but then the descriptions of the eldritch are kinda disappointing in that story.. like the end with the tower what a mess #lovecraft: this horror was so horrible that it cannot be described #lovecraft: spends 4 pages describing it ; completely undermining the whole unspeakable horrors beyond comprehension thing

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gojorgeous · 3 months

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"creature of myth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my lady?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course… Satoru.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was… good.”

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

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

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

“You’re not… eating?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You skip ahead again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

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

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“About the estate?” he asks.

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

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

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

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

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

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

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

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

“S-Satoru–”

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

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

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

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

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

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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