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flowersandbigteeth · 6 months

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Meeting your drider general

A/N: It's the middle of October, so I wrote a spider story ^_^

There have been a lot of requests for NSFW drider content. I don't plan on doing any NSFW of my other drider character Vass (he is just too pure 😳), so this is a completely different story in a completely different universe, literally.

General Plot: You've been stolen from your home by a lich, who has declared himself King and assigned a handsome drider general to watch over you, his Queen.

Word Count: 7k

Drider (Ruvain) x fem reader

TW: arachnophobia! THERE ARE SPIDERS! (<- heavy spooky, spider content), a rather graphic death of a minor character, bondage, nsfw drider smut, some graphic violent talk, mention of self harm, yandere behaviors and talk

“You must do it again,” the lich who called himself King hissed at you.

You tried not to glare, tried not to imagine his slow, agonizing death. The amulet he’d fuzed with his body prevented you from harming him, though if you had a single second left in your life where that amulet was gone, you would use it to cut off his cock and feed it to him. You’d spend your last moments smiling as he bled out while he choked to death.

Instead, you lifted the spoon to your lips and tipped the soup into your mouth. It was delicious, as all things were in this castle, but you only tasted ash.

“Yes, that’s more like a Queen,” he cooed, brushing his hand over your hair.

His cold fingers drifted further to your cheek, and you forced yourself not to jerk your body away. Since you’d been captured only a few days earlier, you asked yourself if it was worth waiting to seek revenge. You could end yourself and join the family King Camus had slaughtered to obtain you in the afterlife.

Perhaps you were too much of a coward, but you liked to think that one day you would find a way out of this trap, and then you would take your revenge.

Camus was the cruel ruler of the country of Ventirest, where you’d been born.

You would have lived and died in the small town Cerulle, where your family lived as ranchers, if Camus hadn’t come riding through on a countryside tour. He just happened to see you leading a cow through the market and, in his words, “fell in love.”

That was a lie. Camus didn’t love anything but himself. He wasn’t a popular king, but he had that amulet and an army of monsters to keep the mostly rural country in line. You all toiled to pay his high taxes, though you made very little. He’d sent a page to your father to inform him you’d been chosen as his Queen and that your future was secure.

Perhaps your family would have thanked him for your good fortune if it were a different King, but your parents were only afraid. How long until he grew bored of you and snuffed you out? They tried to hide you, saying you’d run off, and they couldn’t find you. Camus sent his dogs to sniff you out, and when they found you, your family was punished for protecting you. They were all killed, everyone who carried your family name, and you were thrown in his carriage on your way to the Capital.

So, for the past two mornings, you’d wondered to yourself if this was all a waste of time. You pretended to be obedient. You did as he said and let him touch you, though you feared the day that his advances would grow more intimate. He’d promised you that you were lucky that he found you so desirable but was willing to give you a few days to “acclimate” before he forced you into his bed.

You shuddered at the thought of his cold body, which carried the stench of rotting corpses touching your warm skin.

“Master! Master!” one of Camus’ servants yelled, running in with a pile of maps and books in his arms.

“What is it?” Camus snapped. “I’m in the middle of an etiquette lesson with my Queen. What can be so important?”

“Of course, I would only interrupt you if it were dire!” the servant said, throwing himself to his knees in a bow. “And it is dire!”

Scrolls and books flew everywhere as he prostrated himself.

“Well, get on with it. What’s the matter?” Camus barked.

“There’s an uprising, Your Majesty,” he whimpered, afraid he’d be killed as the messenger. “The villages of the west, where you obtained your Queen, have sworn to overthrow you for stealing a child of the land! They mean to take her back to her home.”

Camus snorted, but your heart skipped in your chest. The people of the land came together for you? To seek revenge on your behalf? Your eyes misted with tears. You knew the people of the land were good and just. Their loyalty to a mere farm girl touched you deeply. Inside, you also wept for them. Camus was an immortal lich. You knew of no way to kill him. Many of the people who rode for you would die.

“I didn’t steal her! I am the Goddess's chosen ruler of this land! All women are mine,” he snarled. “I could take every farm girl in this country, and I would still not be wrong. Perhaps I will after I’ve rendered their heads from their necks!”

“Of course, of course,” the servant said. “I am only repeating the reports. I would never-”

“Ruvain!” Camus shouted to nowhere in particular, and from the vaulted ceiling, cloaked in shadows, a drider appeared, elegantly sliding down a length of silk. Despite and maybe because of his bulbous body and eight brown legs, he was incredibly handsome. His eyes shimmered a rich gold, and his hair matched, laying over his tan shoulder in a thick braid.

“You called, Your Majesty?” the half man, half spider, asked, his voice smooth as the silk he’d arrived on.

“I need to convene with my generals. Guard the Queen!” Camus snapped.

The drider looked a little offended.

“Am I not a general, Your Radiance? Have I been demoted?” he asked.

Camus let out a wet laugh.

“No, but you’re the ugliest of the bunch,” he chortled. “I can’t leave my new Queen with someone too pretty, lest she get the wrong idea. Your eyes alone would send any woman running.”

You felt outraged, not only that he questioned your character, but that he’d called this beautiful creature ugly.

The drider’s eight eyes met yours for a moment. They shined like gold coins, and you saw they held the same fire and hate. He, too, was putting on an act.

He gave Camus a deep bow.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said, and Camus ran out of the room, dragging the poor servant behind him.

When you were alone, you took the measure of the drider.

“I don’t suppose you’d agree to lose me accidentally, would you?” you asked. “I can just slip out of the window over there. I’ll give you a slap if you want to say I fought you.”

He let out a chuckle that made your heart flutter.

“It is wise to let the King have his way,” he said vaguely, though he circled you, looking more closely.

“I don’t like that he called you ugly,” you said, looking deeper into his eight gold eyes. “The only ugly one here is him. He smells like rot. You can smell that, can’t you? Everyone pretends…Anyway, I think you’re very handsome, actually. I quite like your legs, if I’m to be honest. And your eyes are…arresting…uh, in a…ah good way.”

At that, the drider smiled, revealing large, pointy teeth that sent a quake to your stomach.

“He bathes in perfume,” he commented evasively, rescuing you from your own awkwardness.

“Well, it’s not working. The perfumer should be shot…or maybe that’s just how bad he smells,” you said.

The drider looked amused.

“He hasn’t yet conquered you? Has he?” he asked.

“If I could stab him in the neck, I would,” you admitted, clutching the silver spoon you held. “Only it wouldn’t work, would it? He’s warded himself cleverly.”

“You don’t fear retribution? Telling all this to his general?” he asked, touching a lock of your hair and examining it.

“I don’t believe he’s conquered you, either,” you said. “I’d bet my life on it. You want out of here just as much as I do. What’s keeping you? You’re strong…and very stealthy, I might add. How long were you watching from the ceiling?”

He tipped his head, interested in you. Everyone around Ruvain whimpered and cowered in front of Camus; you were very different.

“Where is a monster like me to go?” he asked. “The village from where you came would never accept me. If I didn’t work for Camus, I would have to live in the forest, where some intrepid knight would come for my head on a quest, thinking I had a magic liver or some other such nonsense. I was stolen from a land far from here, and I’m unsure how to return..”

“So you bide your time serving that asshole?” you asked.

He looked thoughtful.

“I thought having access to the royal library would produce some results,” he admitted. “Camus pulled me through a portal. I can’t take a ship back. For all I know, he’s taken me from another universe entirely. In fact, that’s how he obtains all of his ‘monsters.’ To answer your other question, I’ve been watching you since you arrived.”

“And in all this time, you’ve found nothing?” you asked.

He frowned.

“Camus has a secret workshop that I think holds the answers I seek,” he said, “but I can’t get access to it. It’s warded, and if I tried, Camus would know and order my death. I have to approach it very carefully.”

“Slimy bastard,” you grumbled, and Ruvain gave you another of his silky chuckles.

“It is very frustrating, but I wouldn’t say I’ve found nothing. I’ve certainly found something,” he said, his eyes flashing.

“Well, is it useful?” you asked.

His eight eyes blinked in an eerie cascade.

“Only time will answer that question,” he said.

“Care to share?” you said, and he gave you a wide smile.

“We’ve only just met. I can’t reveal all of my secrets,” he said.

You scrubbed your hair and growled your frustration.

“Since I’ve come here, it’s been nothing but secrets,” you huffed. “I miss my ranch. I miss my family. He took the only good things in my life, and now…now I’m just a doll for him to dress.”

“Know this (Y/N): you have my protection,” he said.

You sighed.

“You don’t have to make me promises like that, Ruvain,” you said. “I know you’re only looking after me for Camus. I don’t need your lies. I’m all too aware of the truth.”

He tipped his head and gave you a curious look.

“You will learn the truth of things soon,” he said ominously.

You wanted to ask more, but Camus came in like a tornado, his face the picture of rage.

“How could they?” he snarled. “They are nothing…ants, and they think they can capture me? I’ll destroy them…crush them under my boot.”

His spooky eyes, milky white, turned in your direction.

“I’ll have you tonight!” he said, which seemed to cheer him up a bit.

He crossed the room and cupped your cheeks in his hands, meeting your gaze.

“You’re thrilled, aren’t you, darling?” he asked. “You’ve been waiting for my body, haven’t you? Saving yourself for me? I won’t make you wait any longer, and I’ll fly your virgin blood as a flag for those vermin to see as they arrive. Before they die, they’ll know I’ve taken you and filled you with my seed.”

He was too frantic, his eyes filled with madness, to notice your fear. You did not want him to touch you, and you weren’t a virgin. You trembled, wondering what he would do when he discovered that fact. It wouldn’t be your virgin blood on that sheet; it would come straight from your veins.

He clapped his hands and grinned, his crooked, rotting teeth making bile rise in your throat.

“I must prepare myself!” he beamed. “Our first night of passion and the counteroffensive must be timed perfectly!”

His eyes flicked to the drider.

“Take my Queen into the city, to the fashion district,” he said. “I want her to choose something just for me. A dress, lingerie, oils and perfumes!”

You were surprised he didn’t want to dress you himself, but it seemed he wanted to feel that you adored him, proving so with whatever you chose. You wanted to be sick.

“Don’t let me down, (Y/N),” he said, winking at you.

You gave him a tight bow.

“It will be as you wish, Your Highness,” you choked out, and he hurried out of the room.

You gave Ruvain a serious look.

“End me, Ruvain,” you said. “I’m too much of a coward to put a knife to my own skin. Do me this favor. I won’t let that…monster touch me! He’ll have fuck my cold corpse.”

Ruvain shook his head.

“There are so many reasons I won’t grant you your request, but the most important for you to know is that death will not end your misery. If you kill yourself, If I killed you…he would resurrect you…tie you to him for eternity,” he explained. “A far worse fate than a few minutes underneath him.”

Your heart turned cold as ice, and you gasped.

“No,” you murmured. “He can’t! I can’t…”

“He will,” Ruvain insisted, lowering himself so you were eye to eye.”Camus has no real magic but we can get out of artifacts. He experiments with alchemy. Reanimating bodies, fusing what few relics he finds to living hosts…But I told you. I will protect you.”

“How?” you gasped. “He holds all the cards.”

“Well, the window wasn’t a good option, but now we have some time to play with,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “First, we need to get a message out to your kin. They will only get themselves murdered coming here when we’ve just escaped.”

“Escaped?” you asked. “What do you mean? You just said you wouldn’t let me escape.”

He smiled down at you.

“I told you I would protect you,” he said. “I’ve been working out a plan since I first saw you.”

You blinked up at him.

“You-you have?” you asked.

He gave you a grave look.

“I’m no better than Camus,” he admitted. “I won’t return you to your countrymen, but I will protect you. In my web, you will always be safe. Do you…do you hate me?”

Your mouth dropped open, and you slowly shook your head. Your cheeks were burning like hot irons. The handsome drider thought he would take you for his own? Fear and uncertainty flickered within you, but Ruvain didn’t smell like death, and making love to him would be no hardship, assuming driders and humans could make love.

“Um..n-no,” you said. “I don’t hate you…”

He smiled, showing a white, sharp fang.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “Now to your message. I have many spies that can reach out to your countrymen, but they won’t believe a warning coming from me. You must record one on a recording crystal. You’ll tell them you’ve escaped and are fleeing, not to come for you.”

He gave you another sobering glance.

“Once you record this, however, there is no doubt it will eventually fall into Camus’s hands. I have many spies, but so does he. He will know you ran from him, and he will spare no expense to find and punish you,” he said.

“Wait, wait!” you said, waving your hands. “What about you? You have a mission here. We can’t run away without whatever he has in his lab!”

He smiled again.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over that,” he said. “With a gorgeous companion, my time in this realm will be far more…pleasant. Returning to my homeland can wait.”

You took a step forward, setting a hand on his fuzzy leg.

“I don’t want to tear your dreams from you, Ruvain,” you said. “It’s not fair. My family is gone…they’re never coming back, but yours are waiting for you.”

His face softened into an expression that was hard to imagine a powerful drider would have.

“You’re still very young,” he assured you. “People assume dreams are static things, that they are losing something if they change. That’s not true at all. Dreams morph and blossom like flowers. You are stealing nothing from me and giving me so much more in return.”

Again, your cheeks burned from his tenderness. If he had some nefarious plan for you, he was doing a damn good job breaking down your walls.

He chuckled.

“Camus is going to be very angry when he realizes you walked right out of the front door to escape him,” he said. “I kind of wish I’d be here to see it.”

You gave Ruvain a shy nod, and he waved a hand for you to proceed.

“After you, my Queen,” he said.

—

The sun was sinking low in the sky when you climbed into the royal carriage. Ruvain walked alongside as it made its way slowly through the bustling city. The citizens were used to seeing Camus’s monsters running errands, and many of them had even made friends when they went to drink in the bars and visit the brothels.

They were much more afraid of who might be inside the carriage. No one wanted to be in the King’s eyeline. It would only lead to ruin. Ruvain had given you a recording crystal, and in the privacy of the carriage, you’d made your message and returned it to him.

You’d told those who would avenge you that you were escaping and going into hiding. You told them not to look for you for their own safety but that you would send a message later to assure them you were okay.

You could not tell them to drop their uprising. Those who would stand up to their King did so for many more reasons than a single woman; you were only the last straw. A revolt was a long time coming, so you sent them the Goddess’s blessing and only asked them to be smart and safe. Do not fly into battle blinded by rage, you’d warned. The King is wiley and immortal. You must be quiet and clever if you mean to unseat him.

Your heart pounded as you entered the fashion district. Ruvain insisted you needed to be seen shopping, or the King’s spies would realize you were running immediately. Ruvain worked best in darkness, so you would stay out until sunset.

You went to shop after shop poking around. Not intending to wear any of it, you purchased the most expensive, obnoxious items you could, happy to be spending the King’s money frivolously. Your heart pounded in your chest as the sun set. It was time to put your plan into action.

Ruvain took you to a spa to have you bathed, plucked, and oiled up like a dinner chicken. Only you didn’t do any of that. The moment you were checked in, you asked one of the ladies for the bathroom and slipped out of the back door.

Ruvain was supposed to meet you in the alley on the other side, and the two of you would climb the rooftops out of the city.

That’s not who greeted you when you opened the door. Yes, Ruvain was there, but he was surrounded by six of Camus’s monsters– three nagas and three minotaurs. Camus stood there, smugly tossing the crystal you’d sent in his hand.

“Tsk. Tsk.” he said, peering at you in the torchlight. “I offered you everything, and you chose to betray me. You should know this spider is a devil. He would have eaten you once you left the city. However, I am kind, and you are just a naive farmgirl; I’ll give you a chance at redemption. Come to me.”

He held his hand out to you. You growled at him. Now that your escape plan had been discovered, there was no reason to pretend.

“I’d rather he eat me one limb at a time than fuck your zombie body!” you snapped, then spat at him.

Ruvain gave you a glance filled with both worry for your mouthing off and also sudden determination. Camus’s face turned to one of pure rage.

“You snivelling bitch! You’re nothing! I could have had you and then tossed you in a ditch, but I offered you the world! To be a Queen!”

“You’re nothing but a filthy murderer who hides behind creatures with nowhere else to go!” you shouted. “Those who have come to challenge you do so with nothing but pitchforks and torches. They have more spine than you’ll ever have!”

“You won’t speak to me that way!” he snarled, the nagas at his side slithering towards you and one grabbing you by each arm.

“I’m going to let you watch while my monsters tear this traitor’s legs off one by one!” Camus promised, glaring at Ruvain.

His face had lost the fear it held and was only a mask of indifference.

“Perhaps,” he said, eyeing the minotaurs approaching him. “You are not the only one protected by magic. You know so little of the creatures you've detained."

He murmured some words under his breath, and in the flickering firelight, a wave of darkness roiled around you. It looked like the earth itself was writhing, a shiny black, living oil…only it wasn’t liquid. You couldn’t tell what it was exactly until the wave began climbing one of the naga’s bodies. Then it was all too clear; millions of spiders rolled over him like the tide rising.

His screams pierced the night air as he frantically tried to brush them off.

It was no use; the wave kept coming, and more and more spiders filled the alley, climbing the walls and smothering the torches.

“I’ll give you a choice,” Ruvain told the other monsters. “You can die like your friend is going to die…or you can hand me the girl and join me.”

“Don’t you dare!” Camus screeched, watching in horror as the naga’s face, covered in spiders, began to bloat, pustules forming and popping from their venomous bites until he all but dissolved in front of you.

The other monsters looked horrified, and a moment later, you stumbled to the ground as they dropped you.

“Come here, darling,” Ruvain hissed, waving a hand at you.

You scrambled across the ground, the sea of spiders parting in your path.

Ruvain scooped you up and set you on his back.

“You fool!” Camus snarled, tearing his eyes away from the bloated, deformed body beside him. “You can’t harm me! I’m invincible!”

Ruvain laughed.

“I don’t need to harm you. In fact, I need you alive,” he said. He nodded at two of the minotaurs. “Bring him. We’re returning to the castle. I’m sending you all home.”

Camus screamed and howled, but carrying him against his will was no harm, so his amulet did nothing. His only power was in the monsters he wielded. He carried no other weapons because he was arrogant and smug. His monsters would follow his order to the letter because they had nowhere else to go.

The minotaurs dragged him behind you through the back alleys. Everyone in the city knew not to meddle in anyone else’s affairs. Camus himself had set such a precedent. So they ignored his cries, as they’d been taught. Shutters closed, and doors were locked as you proceeded to a secret back entrance to the castle.

As you moved through the castle, the monsters you passed were quite happy to let you through. Ruvain told them simply that he was sending them home, and they fell in line, interested to see how this played out. They all had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

You stopped in front of a door covered in runes.

“Open it,” Ruvain barked.

Camus, still filled with pride, shook his head.

“Never! I’ll never bow to a bunch of mindless creatures!” he spat.

Ruvain shrugged.

“I can’t hurt you; we all know that,” he said. “But spiders crawling in and out of all your orifices for the rest of your miserable eternity causes no direct harm. I can’t imagine it will be pleasant, though.”

If Camus’s face could blanch, it would have.

“Let me go; I have to use my hands!” he snapped.

The minotaurs looked to Ruvain for guidance, and after a thought, he nodded.

Camus stumbled forward, turning three of the runes so they formed a pattern you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen it after it was solved. The heavy stone door slid open to a set of stone stairs leading downward.

“Let’s go, him first,” Ruvain said, shoving Camus forward.

The parade of monsters followed Camus into the darkness. You worried he’d tricked you all when you finally reached a basement that smelled of rot. You coughed and covered your mouth.

“What is that smell?” you asked, but it was soon clear.

The laboratory, if you could call it that, was filled with dissected bodies. Monsters, people, you couldn’t tell one from the other as they were all flayed like raw fish. The only other notable thing other than sets of alchemy tools, bits of metal, and flesh was a large round mirror on one wall.

“Hold him,” Ruvain told the minotaurs, “don’t let him touch anything. I know what I’m looking for.”

Ruvain set you on the ground and started shuffling through papers. He gave a cheerful shout when he found the right scroll and a small book. You peeked over his shoulder, curious.

“This is the spell to take us home,” he said, then showed you the book. “These are the coordinates of where he pulled us all from.”

“Now then,” he said. “Since we no longer need him, what shall we do with him?”

You all looked around the room,y our eyes landing on the torture equipment, disappointed you couldn’t just dissect him like he’d done to the poor souls rotting on the tables.

One of the nagas had an idea.

“Let’s lock him away, where no one will find him, and he’ll never escape,” he said, nodding to a small inset in the wall near the back of the room where a candelabra would normally go. It was just the right size for a body.

“I expect your silk is too strong to break with his fingers or teeth," the naga said.

Ruvain's face filled with an evil smile.

“That it is, friend!” he said, “I can spin a silk so strong even steel swords or fire won’t break it.”

“No! No! You can’t!” Camus screamed, but it was no use.

Locking him up caused no direct harm, so there was nothing he could do. As a lich, he did not need to eat or breathe, so a comfy coat of spider silk was harmless to his health.

He cried and begged, promising everyone in the room the world, but Ruvain simply took him in his arms, taking his time as he wrapped line after line of silk around him. The monsters listened to each scream and cry with satisfied smiles until Ruvain stuffed his mouth with spider silk and sealed it up. He finished wrapping as Camus whimpered, a mummy of white silk. Then he stuck him in the inset and sealed the whole thing up with a web of more silk. You couldn’t even hear him inside. From the outside, it looked like a nasty spider infestation but nothing more.

The monsters gave one another high fives as their task was complete.

“Now to send you all home,” Ruvain said.

He scurried over to the mirror, twisting and turning various runes until a world appeared in the glass.

“Home!” the minotaurs gasped, racing forward through it before Ruvain had even waved them on.

You winced, expecting them to shatter the glass, but instead, they passed right through it. They ran through without a single glance back. One after another, he put in the coordinates of each of the monsters’ homes, and they left, some of them thanking him, others so excited they simply ran before the chance passed them by. When every monster was gone, you gave Ruvain a sad look.

“It’s time for you,” you said, smiling a little. “You were my savior, and I can never thank you enough for that, but I understand you need to return home.”

He smirked at you.

“Now I can go home whenever I like,” he told you. “And perhaps I will someday, but now we have your world to attend to.”

You looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean? You’re free? Why aren’t you running like the rest?” you asked.

“Because my world never needed me and this world needs a Queen,” he said. “And a Queen needs her guardian knight and first general. With the word of their Queen, your world will accept me, not as a monster, but as your companion.”

He bowed in front of you, taking your hand and kissing it.

“I offer you my life, Your Radience,” he said, then peeked up and winked at you. “But don’t think because you’re my Queen, I’m ever letting you go. You’re mine, and we will rule this land together.”

He stood and looked around.

“Now, let’s get out of this filthy place. I’ll have the mirror moved somewhere that doesn’t smell like death and seal this miserable laboratory up forever,” he said. “I’ll be sure to make it look like every other wall in this castle so no one has the bright idea to go exploring looking for treasure and instead finding an angry lich.”

He returned you to his back, and the two of you ascended back to the empty castle. Footsteps echoed through the halls, and soon, you were faced with a bunch of farmers carrying torches and pitchforks.

“Free her from the creature!” someone shouted, but you held up your hands in panic, worried they would hurt Ruvain.

“My companion is not your enemy, people of the land!” you shouted.

They all looked at one another, confused.

“He’s one of Camus’s monsters!” one of them said.

“NO, no. You are very wrong,” you explained. “Ruvain has freed us from Camus and sent all of the monsters back to their homes. They never wanted to be here to start. Ruvain is mine. You will not take him from me!”

The villagers looked confused, but they’d noticed on the way in that no one had put up a fight. The monsters appeared to be gone, and the castle was empty, but what servants hadn’t run the moment no one was looking.

“Her Majesty (Y/N) gives me too much credit,” Ruvain said, smiling down at you. “She is the one that deserves your thanks for freeing us from the nasty lich. I am only her servant, bound by the same gratitude as you should be. She is my Queen and should be yours as well for her service to the kingdom. There is a power vacuum now that the lich is gone. Do you want it filled with some other despot who cares nothing for you or a woman from your own land? She’s brave, kind, intelligent, and beautiful. The countryside will welcome a humble Queen who is one of their own.”

Ruvain bowed to you deeply. The lead villager gave you an odd look and turned to discuss the issue with his fellow countrymen. A moment later, torches were extinguished, and pitchforks hit the floor with a clang as the villagers bowed as well.

“Long live Queen (Y/N)!” they shouted in unison.

You couldn’t help your burning cheeks, but you knew your kin needed strength, not a shy girl, so you tipped your head.

“I promise to serve you well,” you said as Queenly as possible. “Now, we must rebuild what Camus has broken. You are the bravest, strongest citizens of Ventirest. You came here knowing you would face monsters with only your farmtools and spirits. I can never truly express how your care for a simple farm girl moved me. I would be honored to have you form my guard if you are willing.”

“We will begin to rebuild tomorrow,” Ruvain said. “For tonight, you have traveled a long way, and the Queen has accomplished much in only a few hours. Let’s all rest. Run and tell the heralds to inform the people Camus is defeated. Tonight, they should celebrate their freedom.”

The villagers gave Ruvain uncertain glances, but mostly because it was hard not to be frightened by such a large creature, especially one with eight legs. You encouraged them with a nod, and they gathered their tools and took off to the barracks where the monsters used to sleep when they ran the guard.

“I’ve told you a lie,” Ruvain admitted when they’d gone as he sat you on his back.

“What is that?” you asked, your heart fluttering, hoping he wouldn’t let you down, that he didn’t do this all to trick you.

“I told them you needed rest when, really, I just wanted you all to myself,” he said.

His gold eyes glinted with mischief.

“Should I be worried?” you asked, your voice wan, and he chuckled.

“Only if you don’t like orgasms,” he said, crawling down the hallway towards the unused Queens chambers.

You’d have to fumigate the former King’s room and bed. It all smelled like rot.

Your cheeks burned again at his words, and a very special tingle shot down your spine to your core.

When you entered the room, he set you down on the floor, sliding the door shut behind you with one elegant leg. You watched, your heart racing, as he slowly and deliberately lit the fireplace, then the candles, casting your bedroom in soft, flickering light.

When his gold eyes finally met yours, they were full of hunger.

"You said you'd rather I eat you than for that lich to fuck you," he hummed, circling you to take in your form.

He lowered his head, sniffing your neck.

"I liked that," he purred, and a shudder that was something between fear and excitement rolled through you.

You let out a yip, as he pounced on you, taking you up in his arms and climbing gracefully to a shadowy corner at the arch of the vaulted curling.

Candlelight flickered in his eyes so that they glowed in the darkness.

Another surprised yelp echoed against the stone, mixed with the sound of fabric tearing as Ruvain ravenously stripped your dress from you with his teeth. Strips of gold and indigo fluttered to the floor far below.

“You’ll never don human clothing again,” he insisted. “I’ll have dressed made of spider silk, so you always wear my mark.”

When you were bare, he examined every part of you, all the white spinning web he crisscrossed to form a large nest for the two of you to rest.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you asked, your breath shaking as one arm, then the other was bound by silver silk.

He grinned at you.

"This is how driders mate," he hummed, diligently tying elegant knots to bind your limbs. Your legs were tied open, and your neck and hips pulled slightly so your back was arched, your breasts presented to him.

You had to admit the knots and lace he formed with strong, nimble fingers were beautiful and complex. You trembled both with a touch of fear and a lot of desire. His chest and arms were chiseled from a lifetime of climbing around lofty places. Your eyes followed his elegant movements.

The men you'd known from town were stocky and strong from a farmer's life of chopping wood and eating beef, but Ruvain's figure was all athletic elegance. His muscles were chorded and lean, flexing as he tightened one knot and then another.

It was a delight to watch.

When he seemed happy with the lace of web he'd tied you up with; his attention turned to you. A finger traced your breasts, then drifted lower where his eyes ate up the tender flesh between your thighs.

"I've been dying to taste you, darling," he said, glancing up.

His lips brushed yours lightly at first, and then as if you were a sweet surprise, they landed more firmly, his tongue pushing into you.

"Mmm," he groaned, tasting you as it slid over yours.

When he pulled away, he looked ravenous.

Lowering his head, he returned to examining you between your thighs, fingers parting your folds.

"I'm fascinated by your anatomy. Your two legs hide such a pretty treasure."

He circled your clit, making you moan. Never in your life had you thought being trussed up would get you hot, but your cunt was dripping for him. You squirmed in the soft silk bindings, testing their tightness. You were his prey. He could do what he liked to you.

Unable to hold himself back any longer, his head lowered, a long, searing tongue collecting the moisture at your slit.

"Mmm," he hummed, licking you with long strokes between pressing kisses onto the inside of your thighs. "I love how soft you are. You're going to feel so good on my cock."

His tongue explored your channel, making you let out a loud gasp.

"Mmm, Ruvain," you murmured, making him chuckle, the silky laugh that made your nipples harden.

"Are you eager for me?" he asked, teasing you with a finger as his eyes focused on your face, a smug smirk on his lips.

"P-please Ruvain," you whimpered, every inch of your skin tense and sparkling, begging for release.

"Be patient, little human," he purred. "I'm still exploring."

One finger circled your back hole experimentally before two more entered your pussy.

"Ahhh!" you mewled, twisting in your bonds.

He lowered his head again, licking and sucking your clit until your pleading and sobbing filled the room. His fingers worked inside you gently, the third teasing you where you'd never been touched before. You didn't know it could feel good, but he drove you mad. He brought you higher and higher until you cracked, and an orgasm bloomed from deep in your core and blossomed over your whole body.

Your nipples especially were tight and desperate for his touch.

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking your flavor off the ones covered in your juices.

"Mmm," he said, briefly closing his eyes as he savored you.

When you'd regained your senses, Ruvain was perched over you, palming his cock as he watched you. His other hand pinched a nipple, twisting it gently to see your response. The eyes you were trying to keep open squeezed shut as he toyed with them, soon leaning down to play with them with his tongue.

"So sensitive," he growled, and you felt his sharp teeth nip at the sensitive skin, "and so vulnerable. You're all mine. I could keep you up here forever and torture you, making you fall apart over and over again for me."

"I need you, Ruvain, please," you whimpered, your eyes on the large shaft he was stroking in his hand.

The smile on his lips widened to show all of his sharp teeth.

"I do like it when you beg," he hummed. "Your sweet pleas are very hard to resist."

He didn't make you wait any longer, sheathing himself in your hot, wet cunt. He hissed, and his hands gripped your hips as he seated himself inside of you.

"You're searing inside," he groaned, sliding slowly out and thrusting back in with a bit more force.

You jerked in the silk as he drove into you for several strokes, purely for the pleasure of breaching you, before his sense came back to him. His eyes shone as he kneaded your breasts and curled his body down to you to invade your mouth with his tongue. It moved against yours, mimicking the treatment your pussy was getting.

His powerful hips slammed into yours, held firm by his web. You cried out in his mouth, and you heard a lusty growl build in his throat. He pulled back, leaving your lips wet and shining.

"That's it my sweet little human, milk my cock," he hummed, never taking his eyes off of yours.

Your pussy was doing all of the work since you couldn't move, squeezing and spasming around his thick cock.

"You belong to me. Every inch of your tender flesh; your mouth, your cunt, your cute little asshole are mine to use and enjoy," he growled, one hand clutching your throat while he pounded harder and more raggedly.

"If anyone else touches what's mine, I'll kill them, slowly. You understand? I'm never letting you go. I'll never tolerate a competitor," he promised. "I'll let you perform your duties as Queen, but if you ever let anyone too close, I'll steal you away to my homeland, fucking your pretty body until you forget about this world altogether. I’ll make you my toy. You'll cum when I let you and beg me for my seed…and I will make you beg."

His threats were lost on you. Your thoughts were scattered, drowning in bliss as he filled you over and over again. Your pleasure was at his mercy. He could give it and take it away as he liked. Fortunately, at that moment, all he wanted to do was give.

His finger circled your clit, while he sucked on your nipples, pushing you closer and closer to your end.

"Beg me," he demanded. "Beg me to let you cum."

You would have agreed to anything.

"Please, please , Ruvain, please, don't stop," you wailed. "You feel so good. Please let me cum!"

He gave you a devious smile at you as his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Tell me you want me to fill you with my child," he demanded. "Tell me I'm the only one who gets to spend his seed in your womb."

Your eyes squeezed shut, hovering just on the tip of an explosion.

"Anything you want, Ruvain," you said. "I'll carry your child. I'll give my body to you; just please don't stop!"

He laughed, pleased that you were willing to be his, and doubled his efforts. His mouth crashed against yours, pulling your tongue into his mouth and stroking it. You felt pleasure in places you'd never felt before. Your lips and tongue were sparkling. Your breasts ached, brushing against his chest, your nipples hard points. And finally, your cunt felt like a vice on his cock, his thick shaft hitting every sensitive spot.

You detonated in his arms, the world dissolving, and your only conscious understanding was Ruvain's scent, touch, and delicious, overwhelming pleasure. Colors exploded behind your eyes, and your body felt like fireworks. Your muscles went completely limp as Ruvain emptied his cum inside you. There was so much, waves of hot fluid gushing from your cunt. You heard it splash against the stone floor far below you from somewhere far away.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he breathed in your ear. "The moment he stole you from your village, you were mine. You may take time to feel the same tenderness for me, but I'm happy to wait."

He carefully extracted you from the nest he'd made, orienting himself so he could tie you to his chest with more silk to rest.

In any other circumstance, you would been frightened being so far up, but you felt perfectly safe tied to Ruvain's body, and your thoughts quickly muddied as you fell asleep.

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kiame-sama · 2 years

Note

i see you have your spooky time requests open..hehe

saw you do work for muzan before, so i assume obanai is a viable option? hopefully so, lol

maybe just a shape shifter obanai with 🎲?

as always i love your work!! ❤❤

- Has that snake always been there? As far as you may be concerned, yes. He has always been there.

- Obanai will be in his snake form whenever he wants to observe you and he is quite good at hiding in plain sight. Your pillows are a fantastic place for him to lay low and wait for you to return to bed.

- He will slither up next to you while you sleep and will slowly shift back to his human form so he can hold you while you sleep. If you happen to wake up, he can always change back to make you think it was all a dream and there wasn't a bi-colored eyed man holding you in your bed. Anything can be explained away as a bad dream, so he may get a bit adventurous with how far he will let his hands wander.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere obanai #yandere kny #kny yandere #yandere iguro #tw stalking #Yandere spooky requests

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hitomisuzuya · 6 months

Note

OH OH OHH THE SPOOKY SEASON IS HERE

SCREAM! KILLER SCARA?!? WANTING TO HUNT U DOWN AND SCARE U AT UR FRIENFD PARTY BUT HE ENDS UP FINGERING YOU IN A ROOM

Don’t ask why the guy who talked to u ended up dead it wasn’t him he swears

Killer!Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Fingering. Fingersucking. Degradation. Mentions of gore. Yandere Scara.

😳 You guys know I love it when requests are worded like this. I may have gotten carried away with this.

Scaramouche emerged from the woods across the street from the party, wiping blood off of his knife. Honestly, he was going to let him live. Really he was. Actually he wasn't.

Maybe he would've, but he just kept insisting. His mistake was touching you after you'd turned him down. Nobody touched what was already Scaramouche's.

Scaramouche had been carrying on a nice conversation with you, having gotten your phone number, and had just worked his way to putting his hand on your thigh when you moved closer to him on the couch so you could hear him better.

Then that shithead came up, spouted about a bunch of bullshit about how Scaramouche was a loser, and that you would be better off with him. Scaramouche wanted to grab him by the throat when the guy reached out and touched your shoulder.

Yeah, that shithead needed to die. He didn't know how it happened, and every one at the party thought his knife was just a prop for Halloween. No one would suspect a thing.

Scaramouche walked back to the party without anyone really knowing he'd been gone. Though he hoped you'd noticed and tried looking for him.

Now, where to find you. After the now very dead shithead tried taking you away from him, you'd gone off and hid by your friend to avoid the persistent guy.

Now you didn't have to worry about him anymore.

Before Scaramouche had slit his throat, he'd cut out his eyes for looking at you, and his fingers for touching you. No real big loss for the world, really.

Your friend pointed him in the direction of her bedroom, saying you were hiding in there cause it was quiet.

Up the stairs Scaramouche went. He saw the door to your best friend's bedroom open a crack. Quietly, quietly he tip toed up to the door. He was relieved when it didn't creak when he opened it. Because if it had, he wouldn't have been able to--

"Boo!"

You jumped, nearly rolling off your best friend's bed. "Holy shit, you scared me," You said, blushing at his amused laugh.

"My bad," His response was totally unapologetic. Once he sat on the bed next to you, all it took was a few teasing purrs about distressing you, and a hand on your thigh for him to get your legs spread, a single finger sopping in and out of your cunt.

"I've been thinking about this all night," He groaned, nudging his finger into your sweet spot in a way that made your back arch off the bed, letting the out the sweetest moans.

Scaramouche swiped his thumb across your throbbing clit. Your thighs shook as you bucked your hips up into his hand. "Do you feel good, slut?" He licked his lips, his cock throbbing from how pathetic your mewling sounded.

One of your hands gripped the bedsheets. "Mhm, yes! Yes I do," Begging for another finger wasn't beneath you, because come on, his fingers are fucking beautiful. "Put another finger inside of me, please!" You pleaded, looking at him desperately.

"Oh?" Scaramouche taunted, laughing at pleading mewl when he took his finger out of your cunt. "You want another finger, hm?" Gripping your chin with one hand, he tilted your head up and shoved two fingers into your mouth. They felt so good prodding and gliding on your tongue as he pushed them into your throat. "Get them nice and wet for me, doll."

You moaned happily as Scaramouche pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth, making you choke on them before bullying them up inside of you. He hooked them harshly into your sweet spot. He'd already made you cum once, and your second orgasm was fast approaching.

"Fuck, you are dripping down my wrist," He hissed, slamming his fingers inside of you, scissoring your walls apart.

"A third finger would feel so good, please!" You begged, writhing on the bed. He teased a third finger against your entrance. He would give you what you wanted. Your walls clamped immediate when he bullied a third finger inside of you.

It didn't take long for you to cum on his fingers, crying out for him as he fingered you through your orgasm. You were twitching and drooling by the time he pulled his fingers out of you. You happily opened your mouth for them when he pushed them against your lips.

"You'll be coming home with me, yes?" He asked, laughing when you bobbed your head onto his fingers to draw them into your throat. You nodded.

"By the way, I took care of your annoyance," Scaramouche said, watching drool pool out your mouth, "you won't have to worry about him anymore."

"Hm?" You muffled, too fucked out to understand what he really said.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #fem!reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche smut #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche imagines #yandere scaramouche

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diggykit-kat · 2 months

Note

I could request, Yandere CatNap x Critter Cat Reader

𝒀𝒂𝒏!𝑪𝒂𝒕𝑵𝒂𝒑 x Critter!Cat!Reader

CatNap is known for being a fucking asshole, but around you, he becomes surprisingly gentle and affectionate. You have a unique ability to understand and communicate with him, making you an instant favorite of CatNap.

CatNap loves to groom (Not like that-NOT LIKE THA-) you, and you two often spend cozy nap times together in the warmest corners of the facility.

Despite the creepy atmosphere of the facility, you bring a sense of comfort and companionship to CatNap. He is fiercely protective of you, ensuring you stay out of harm’s way during any unexpected adventures in the facility.

Your purring has a comforting effect on CatNap, helping him relax and unwind after dealing with the challenges of the place. Your presence helps CatNap cope with the eerie surroundings, turning the Poppy Playtime facility into a less daunting place.

CatNap often leaves little surprises like feathers or small trinkets for you, expressing his affection in a feline way.

Together, CatNap and you form an inseparable duo, facing the spooky mysteries of Poppy Playtime with a blend of mischief and warmth✨

#horror #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime x reader #smiling critters #catnap chapter 3 #poppy playtime catnap chapter 3 #yandere catnap #yandere catnap x reader poppy playtime #catnap headcannons #catnap fanfic #poppy playtime catnap #catnap #poppy playtime fanfic #poppy playtime headcanon

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after-witch · 6 months

Text

Horrorfest: Nothing Ventured [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Title: Nothing Ventured [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Synopsis: Sesshoumaru lets you put together stuff for a Halloween party. Jaken is whiny about it.

For Horrorfest request:

Sesshoumaru with a darling that’s really into Halloween? (Maybe she’s in a kagome situation where she’s from the modern world) and goes on and on about Halloween and spooky things in general?

Word count: 1132

notes: yandere, reader is captive but is pretty much just like "this is my life now" about it

“I don’t see why you should be allowed to waste precious supplies for such, such--nonsense!”

Jaken’s impish fury being directed at you was nothing new, and you dutifully ignored him and continued working on your makeshift Halloween garland. It wasn’t anything like the type of stuff you might have bought back home, mass-produced and printed and ready-to-go, but maybe that just made it more special.

Jaken paced back and forth in front of you, waving his stick and ranting.

“To think! The invaluable ink I use to assist our lord Sesshoumaru, wasted for some… some… silly human festival!”

“Jaken.”

You and Jaken both froze in place. Jaken, out of anxiety, and you, out of curiosity.

Sesshoumaru, who had been sitting silently with his eyes closed ever since giving you permission to make some decorations, was now looking directly at his servant. He looked, as he often did, passive; but you knew that didn’t mean he wasn’t irritated.

“Y-Yes, my lord?” Jaken gave a little bow, eyes darting from you to Sesshoumaru.

“Did I not give them permission for this?”

Jaken bowed his head a little. “Y-Yes, my lord, but--”

Sesshoumaru leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes again. “Then shut up and help them. I’m tired of your complaining.”

Jaken’s face split into fury before smoothing out into exasperated obedience. “Of-of course, my lord.”

He turned to you, mumbling, and you didn’t hold your breath that he was anything but irritated with the command his lord had given him. It wasn’t the first time that Sesshoumaru had ordered Jaken to obey your whims; something which might have seemed impossible ages ago, but now that you had settled into an uneasy acceptance of your forced servitude to a demon lord from feudal Japan, it had become more common.

“You should be grateful, you know,” Jaken muttered, grabbing one of your complete garlands and stringing it onto the rope you’d commandeered for your makeshift Halloween celebration. He looked like he could make a good decoration himself, you thought--a creepy little creature who ran around terrorizing children while they trick-or-treated.

He continued speaking, even as his hands began to nimbly put together a garland. “A high-ranking demon lord like lord Sesshoumaru should never demean himself by giving in to some… human celebration.”

You hummed. “I know. But Halloween is my favorite holiday back home. So I’m glad I get to bring it here… sort of.” You glanced at the DIY supplies you’d been creating for a few days. There was your garland--the highlight of the decorations, in your opinion, although you wished you’d been able t find orange paints; a costume, for yourself, as you didn’t even entertain the idea that Sesshoumaru would be willing to dress up (you were secretly working on something for Jaken, but you would cross that bridge when you came to it); and a smattering of dishes that you were hoping to turn into something like Halloween party food.

You sighed. It was a shame you couldn’t make mummy hot dogs or use a gelatin mold to make a Jello brain. But it wasn’t like you had a way to get back to your own time period, or a way to get back… anywhere now. Sesshoumaru wouldn’t let you, even if you asked. Even if you pleaded sweetly and obediently. That’s how you got permission to set up Halloween, by pleading and pleading, and explaining how it worked and pleading some more.

After the garland, you were going to get to work on the pumpkin carving. At first, you’d assumed that you’d have to carve something else--plump round radishes, maybe--but when you’d sketched out a pumpkin for Sesshoumaru, he murmured that he recalled seeing some in a human vegetable garden once.

These pumpkins were dark green, almost black. You hadn’t tried to carve them yet--hopefully the insides weren’t too different from the bright orange pumpkins you always bought around Halloween time.

Jaken saw you looking at the stash of pumpkins he’d been forced to procure for your Halloween celebration and scoffed. “And another thing! What a waste of food! Carving faces into food… and for what! Some silly festival that I’ve never heard of? I tell you, you are the most--”

“Jaken.”

This time, when the two of you glanced at Sesshoumaru, his eyes flashed red in warning. Just for a moment.

Jaken stammered out an apology and you bit down on your cheek to avoid saying anything. While Jaken went dutifully back to work, you kept on looking at the demon lord, who--you would swear this on your life--gave you something like a teasing smile. Just for a moment, before he closed his eyes to rest again. Or maybe it was a trick of the light.

Abandoning the garland for a moment, you grabbed one of the charcoal drawings you’d made to test out designs for the pumpkins. You approached the seemingly resting lord Sesshoumaru and dropped down to sit near him, kneeling out of a habit of forced respect.

“Do you want to see what I’m going to carve into the pumpkins?”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he opened his eyes, looking at you for a moment.

“If you want to show them to me, you may. I don’t care.”

It was the closest thing to a “yes” that you were going to get. Really, you were grateful that he was letting you do this at all. Especially after you’d talked his ear off about Halloween the first time and his only response had been, “There’s nothing like that here. It sounds foolish.”

Maybe it was foolish. But it was the only thing you had going for you right now. So you smoothed out the papers and held them up. He looked at them with disinterest, even as you chattered away, explaining the design for each one.

When you were done, he glanced over at his impish servant.

“Jaken,” he said. Jaken, busy finishing up a garland with an expression of clear distaste on his face, looked up.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Watch over them while they do this. If they injure themselves, I’ll cut off your hand.”

Jaken bristled. You could practically see little feet of fear scampering up his spine as he straightened.

“Of-of course, my lord!”

Sesshoumaru sighed, and closed his eyes.

You scampered back over to Jaken and picked up the other end of the garland to help him finish.

Maybe you weren’t going to get to go home. Maybe it wouldn’t be a real Halloween. Maybe you were being held in this quasi-captivity by a demon lord who barely spoke to you (Jaken, for all his protests about your very existence, did respond to your chatter)--

But at least you were having some fun for once.

That counted for something.

#yandere sesshomaru #yandere sesshoumaru #yandere inuyasha #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #the cutest horrorfest thing for this year I'd say

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gimmethatagustd · 6 months

Note

okay I’m here like two business days later with that request because my adhd brain forgot about it lmao

GHOSTFACE!! YOONGI!! I added the picture of yoongi because I had a very ~specific~ yoongi look in mind when thinking of this loll. I’m thinking Halloween party vibes?? or any other way that a costume would make sense. idk I’m making this request late at night so my brain is half turned off. I’m kind of letting you take the reins here and make it as spooky as you feel comfortable with. like I said I’d love to see your take on this because I love your mind <3

You've had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn't know is that he's had his eyes on you, too.

↳ pairing: yoongi x f!reader

↳ wc/date: 1.4k | October 2023

↳ warnings: dubcon, knife play, blood play, yandere vibes, mc is afraid but also turned on, mc is confused and so am i, slut shaming, humiliation, lowkey gaslighting/victim-blaming, a toxic relationship at the least, vaginal fingering, open ending, i wrote this half asleep and without editing

↳ notes: i have no idea what the fuck this is 🥲 pls forgive me. idk how this happened

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? freak - sub urban ft. rei ami

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The wind kicks dry leaves across the sidewalk, swirling them around your feet. Twisting your torso around, you glance over your shoulder as you walk. One of your red stiletto heels falls in the crack between the slabs of concrete. Pain blooms in your ankle when you wobble. The sound of you sucking a breath through your clenched teeth is the only thing disrupting the still, crisp autumn air.

Until you hear it again.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

It sounds like metal on metal, perhaps the jingle of keys or buckles knocking into each other as someone walks.

Alcohol warms your cheeks and chest despite how revealing your red corset and miniskirt are. Still, you know that the sound following you ever since you left Jungkook’s Halloween party is real and not some alcohol-induced paranoia from walking home alone at two in the morning on Halloween.

Jungkook hadn’t wanted you to walk, but finding an Uber so late at night would be impossible, and everyone else at the party had been too drunk to drive you home.

Two blocks isn’t much at all.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The sidewalk is empty when you twist around and try not to trip again. Streetlights cast shadows across the grass that could be people. Or animals. Or monsters. Creatures of the night.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly unlock the gate that opens to wooden stairs leading to the backdoor of your apartment on the second floor. You rush up the stairs as quickly as you can in the stupid heels your best friend convinced you to wear because they’re sexy, and you both thought they might help you catch the eye of a certain boy.

It wasn’t worth the trouble, though. The certain boy barely looked your way.

For a second too long, you stall, fumbling with your keys to find the one that will unlock your backdoor. Your fingers feel numb from the cold, and your reflexes are dulled by whatever was in the punch Hoseok made. Perhaps that’s why you don’t know what looms behind you until its body has yours pressed against your door.

Sticking your hands out, you try to stop yourself from hitting your face. It works, but now your arms are trapped between your body and the door. Your keys fall with a hollow thud, and for a heartbeat, the world is silent, like every creature in existence is holding its breath.

Every creature except for the one crowding you against the door. It breathes, hot and heavy, against the shell of your ear, scattering goosebumps across your skin. You’re burning up from its body heat, the creature big and firmly pressed against every inch of you.

But what makes your knees tremble isn’t the oppressive force of this thing sticking to you like a second skin. It’s the clink and then something cool and sharp pressed against your throat.

You can’t swallow down your nerves without fear of your throat bobbing against what you guess is a large knife.

“Are you scared?” a voice whispers. Soft lips brush the tip of your ear. Then a nose, buttoned and cold, drags along the side of your neck. “You’re being such a good girl, didn’t even scream.”

Fear clutches your heart, but that voice strokes a fire in your core. It’s sick how you shiver against the man’s chest because you know it isn’t only because you’re scared of him.

“You’re not funny, Yoongi,” you say with a shaky breath and do your best not to move too much when you talk.

Yoongi chuckles into your shoulder, where he’s nuzzled his face. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

The knife glides down your throat at the point with not enough pressure to break the skin but just enough for it to feel uncomfortable.

“Are you gonna let me in?”

It’s not a real knife. Yoongi is your friend; he wouldn’t threaten you. Or, at least, you think he’s your friend. He’d ignored you all night, though.

“Did you seriously follow me all the way here at two in the morning just to scare me?” You elbow him out of the way so you can bend down to retrieve your keys.

“Yeah,” Yoongi admits with a gummy smile.

Inside your apartment, you can get a better look at him. His costume is just his regular clothes with a Ghostface mask, though he isn’t wearing the mask anymore. It’s tied to one of his belt loops. The side bumps against the metal of his belt when he walks.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Yoongi’s grin grows. “Jungkook didn’t want you walking by yourself.”

“Then why didn’t you walk with me instead of following me around like a creep?”

You kick off your heels and take ginger steps toward the kitchen, the balls of your feet throbbing. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi shrugs. His pretty black hair falls against his shoulders and curls into his eyelashes when he tilts his head to watch you.

“You knew I was there,” he doesn’t ask, just smiles when you roll your eyes.

Catching your wrist, Yoongi stops you from crossing the living room to the kitchen. His grip on you is bruising when he yanks you into his chest. It’s claustrophobic and makes your stomach churn when you twist your wrist, and Yoongi doesn’t let go.

“I’m thirsty.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, can’t manage to get any louder. “Let me go.”

“Interesting,” Yoongi murmurs. “I’m thirsty, too.”

You follow his eyes when he drops his chin to peer between your bodies. At the same time, you feel the cool edge of the knife drag up your thigh. The tip eventually catches on the edge of your miniskirt. In one swift motion, Yoongi flicks the knife up and cuts through the thin, stretchy fabric. A thin line of blood sprouts from the shallow cut his knife makes up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, watching little dribbles of blood trickle down your leg. Heat spreads from the cut across your thigh and unfurls in your stomach.

The dim lighting of your living room reflects in warm tones within Yoongi’s dark irises. Squeezing your wrist even tighter, he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of your couch.

“You liked it,” Yoongi points out with a tut of his tongue, his tone condescending and judgemental. The shame it stirs in your chest makes it hard for you to breathe. “Let me press you up against the door. Mark you up with this,” he twirls the knife around, making a show of how loosely he grasps it.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi brings the knife to your lips to silence you. The tip glistens with your blood.

“Keep quiet like a good girl for me, okay, sweetheart?” Yoongi kneels on the couch in between your spread legs. The position forces your ruined skirt higher up your thighs, exposing your sheer red thong.

You watch in amazement as Yoongi drags the tip of his knife up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your thong. Lightly, he drags the tip along your clothed pussy. It doesn’t cut you, but you can’t stop shaking because it could, and you don't know what that would mean for you if you admitted that you kind of want it to.

“Why are you–”

“Shhh, don’t play so innocent,” Yoongi murmurs. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You dressed up so pretty for me. Look so good in red; I wanted to see more of it on you.”

The knife presses against the crease of your inner thigh and slices upward, giving you another shallow cut while cutting you loose from your thong.

You moan when Yoongi drags his cold fingers along your folds, dig your nails into his forearm when he plunges two fingers into your pussy and makes your muscles flutter.

“So wet for me, fuck, you’re such a slut,” Yoongi moans as your pussy greedily sucks in his fingers despite the press of the bloodied blade against your throat.

"Yoongi, please," you buck into his hand, urging him to fuck you faster. Your thighs sting from the cuts, and your legs are wet with little streams of blood, but you've never felt so close to an orgasm so quickly in your life.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jai asks #souryoong #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts angst #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #ash!#halloween 2023 #ghostface killers

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 6 months

Text

touch-starved | min yoongi

we are going to ignore how every single one of my writings has nightmares in them, i personally experience very vivid nightmares on occasion so i guess art imitates life or whatever. also we're gonna ignore that this is the second bodyguard imagine i've written, this one was a request so it's a little less embarrassing but still is a little but not enough that i won't post it on the internet because i know y'all shameless too. here we have bodyguard!yoongi x celebrity fem!reader. warnings: stalking/stalkers (not yoongi this is not a yandere situation sorry), mentions of loneliness, a nightmare (obvs its me writing duh), horror movie mentioned...........idk if there's anything else but please do lmk

There is a soft knock at the hotel room door. You check the peephole to see Yoongi standing there, tapping rhythmically on his leg as he waits for you to let him in.

“Well, as far as I can tell, you’re not being followed,” he says as he enters, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it onto the chair by the sofa.

You sit on the sofa, rubbing your temples. “Well, that’s a relief,” you say tiredly.

“All this trouble for a guy you’re not even dating,” Yoongi says mildly, but he’s looking at you with his curious eyes, trying to gauge your mood.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever even talked to him,” you agree, flopping listlessly onto your side. “Remind me never to smile at anyone in public ever again.”

He smiles. “Or wear similar outfits, or go to the same places,” he adds, his eyes gentle. Then he leans against the sofa, facing the wall. “It’s not your fault, though.”

“I know,” you sigh. “You know, I kind of wish it was real,” you admit.

“Why? You like the guy?” Yoongi asks sharply.

“Not really,” you muse. “I mean, he is handsome. But it’s really that if I were in a relationship, it would mean that someone got close enough to me to like me.”

“I know you,” he responds indignantly. “And I like you.”

“You’re my bodyguard. You are paid to like me, so it doesn’t count,” you protest.

Yoongi shakes his head, annoyed. “On a good day,” he says scathingly, “I’d like you even if you weren’t paying me.”

“That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me,” you say, and the tension in the room dissolves as Yoongi gives you a smirk. “Who knew it would be so lonely to be a celebrity,” you say lightly, unable to escape a twinge of bitterness in your voice.

“It’s not all bad,” Yoongi reminds you, nodding out the massive windows at the spectacular skyline view.

You smile at the setting sun. “True,” you allow. “This part I like.” You watch for a few minutes as the sun sinks almost imperceptibly lower. “You must think I’m so spoiled.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I can see how there would be drawbacks. Personal privacy is a luxury that only poor people can afford.”

You tsk at him. “You’re talking in riddles again,” you scold. “It’s a condition at this point. You should really have it checked.”

He grins. “Just say you aren’t smart enough to understand,” he shoots back.

You chuckle, loving the back-and-forth. “Just say you have to pretend to be smart by using big words,” you retaliate.

He bows, his grin wider, as if to say, “you won this round”. “So,” he says, going to the mini fridge and popping a can of soda open. “What shall it be tonight, madame?”

You crinkle your nose in disgust at his butler-like tone. “Something spooky. In honor of fall,” you tell him, handing him the remote.

When he had become your bodyguard two years ago, at the recommendation of your agency, you had learned that he was required to work long into the night at your side. Feeling bad, you had started to watch movies every night when he came around so that he’d at least have something to do. Your relationship had come a long way — he had started out watching the movies from the back of the room, standing by the door, to now, sitting beside you on the sofa. This was representative of your relationship as well — when you had first met he was cold and professional, but now the two of you bantered back and forth in a way that was comfortable and easy. You really couldn’t remember ever feeling so comfortable with anyone, in fact.

It was hard to know when your less responsible feelings for him had begun. Truthfully, you suspected that you had just developed an unhealthy attachment to the only person you spent time around, but there were nights when you’d watch him writing in a little pocket-sized notebook, his long hair falling in front of his face, and imagine how it might have been if you’d met in a normal way — at a college somewhere, where he’d bring you a juice every day and help you study for exams. Now, there was barely a way to tell if what you felt when you saw him — that accelerated heart rate, that quiet thrum of energy in your mind — was real, or if it came from your own foolishness.

You watch him now — his face in the dying sunlight is so pretty you’re almost jealous, and the feeling in your chest pulses in a way that is almost painful. He turns on the TV and scrolls through shows until he finds a promising title: some horror film about an old woman in a spooky old house with a mysterious secret. As you begin the movie he has his arms folded, watching with veiled interest. But he notices the first time you flinch.

“Scared already?” he teases.

“You don’t miss a trick,” you say ruefully. “Pay attention.” You gesture to the screen.

About fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock at the door that corresponds perfectly to a jump scare in the movie, and you yelp in fright. Yoongi gets up, brow furrowed. “Are you expecting anyone?” he asks.

You shake your head no. He looks through the peephole and curses. “It’s your stalker again,” he grumbles, pulling out his cell phone. “Hey, Harvey,” he says, and his voice is calm, but you can tell he’s angry. “I need you to come up to the room and grab something. I was hoping it had already been taken care of.”

The voice of the hotel security team lead says something unintelligible, and Yoongi thanks them before hanging up. He slides the two chains into their places on the door and takes a door jam from his pocket, wedging it between the door and the floor. He grins at your wide eyes. “Don’t worry, milady,” he says, “he can’t get in even if he figures out how to unlock the door.”

“But what if he did get in?” you whisper, spooked.

He shrugs. “I’d kill him,” he replies.

“For real?!” you squeak,

“No,” he says with an eye roll. “But I would incapacitate him in record time. That dude is a wimp.”

He seems to notice you’re nervous, and his eyes soften. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “I’ll take care of you.”

When he sits back down, he sits closer to you than normal. Your legs are touching. You look at him quizzically and he smiles. “It’s a small couch,” he says, throwing an arm up over the back of the couch — not around your shoulders, but close enough that you’re blushing.

You try to focus on the movie, but you find that despite your anxiety, you’re beginning to nod off. Almost automatically, you find yourself leaning toward Yoongi’s warmth, and your head finds his shoulder. Giving in to the exhaustion, you find yourself in dreams.

It’s not long before the dreams turn dark. You have been prone to bad dreams as a result of your overactive imagination, but these are more solid than your usual nightmares — stealing from reality and stretching it so that teeth are too long, smiles are too wide, and the hands that reach for you are too strong. You wake up with a gasp.

You’re in your bed. You flick on the bedside lamp and put a hand to your chest, breathing deeply, still anxious. When a soft voice calls your name, you nearly jump out of your skin. Yoongi has poked his head into your bedroom, and is now looking at you in amusement. “It’s just me,” he says, stepping inside. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to recover, although your voice still shakes. “I just had a bad dream.”

He grins. “No more falling asleep to horror movies,” he says in a fake-stern voice. “Do you need anything?”

“I think I’d like if you stayed with me a minute,” you confess, your voice quiet, looking at your hands. You are more nervous he’ll say no than you are about the dreams.

When you finally meet his gaze, his expression is unreadable. He walks silently to the side of your bed and sits down beside you. You can’t help but admire how the lamplight casts an alluring shadow on his face before he does something unexpected.

He reaches out, and without looking at you, slips your hand in his.

You stare at him. He has never done this before — never touched you when he could avoid it. You’d always been grateful and a bit disappointed about this. You knew he should keep his distance and simultaneously wished he wouldn’t. To say you’re startled wouldn’t even begin to cover it.

And yet, holding his hand is soothing. You feel your fear fade away, and in a moment of boldness, give his hand a shy squeeze.

He looks at you, then at your interlocked hands. He takes a deep breath. “Well, I need to quit my job.”

This revelation is shocking. “Why?” you ask, suddenly panicked. “If I did something — I mean, I’m sorry if I crossed a line —“

He puts a finger to your lips. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” he says gently.

“Then stay with me,” you say, knocking his hand away from your lips.

“I can’t work for you when I feel the way I do about you,” he explains, almost in a pleading tone.

"What are you talking about?" you ask.

"I love you," he blurts.

You gape at him. "What?"

He blushes. "You heard me."

You look at his hand in your hand, and then back to him. "Are you serious?" you ask him, unable to keep a smile from your voice.

He rolls his eyes. "If you're just gonna make me keep repeating myself, this conversation isn't going to go anywhere." He stands up and places your hand back into your lap. "I'll give you some time to process."

You leap out of bed and follow him. "Wait a minute," you say, grabbing his hand. "How do you know you love me?" you ask him, your eyes searching his.

Yoongi blushes, but he looks a little pleased that you've grabbed his hand. "Well," he says, slowly digesting your question, "I think it's pretty easy to know. Of everyone I've ever met and spent time with, I've never enjoyed being around anyone the way I like being around you. Nobody makes me smile like you do, and nobody makes me crazier."

You blink. "Well, I feel all those things about you."

He raises his eyebrows. "You do?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I don't have many real friends," you explain, "but I'd rather stay in with you and watch movies than go out, or go anywhere really."

"You would?" he asks.

You give him a pointed look. "Now who's repeating themselves?"

He shakes his head. "I'm just shocked. Are you saying you love me back?"

You look at him, trying to find the answer yourself. Your heart is pounding harder than it did at any scary movie, and the heat of his gaze is making you feel flushed and squirmy. You struggle for words. "I --"

Yoongi throws his jacket and keys onto the couch, and in one swift movement he pulls you into his chest. He places his hand on your cheek. "What do you feel right now?" he whispers, his lips inches from yours.

"It's hard to know," you whisper back. "Completely crazy, but somehow calm. Entirely safe, but terrified. It's like I'm on top of something very high, but wearing a harness."

He gives you a tender smile. "That sounds like love to me." And then he kisses you.

You cling to him as he presses a kiss to your lips, then your cheeks and jaw and nose and forehead. Sighing in relief, you melt into his arms, enjoying the feeling of being adored. After he finishes kissing you, he holds you in his arms for awhile, running his hand down your back in soothing motions.

You carefully monitor your feelings as he holds you, realizing that after all this time alone, you could be a bit out of touch with them. You feel a lot of things -- wild and alive and a little dizzy -- but the undercurrent of your feelings is peace and quiet. It feels right.

"You do need to quit," you say suddenly.

He pulls back. "Why?" he asks, shocked.

"Because I do love you back, and I'm not about to pay my boyfriend to hang out with me," you say. "That's pathetic, even for me."

He laughs, tucking your hair behind your ear. "As you wish, love."

"You can hire your replacement in the morning," you say, kissing him again.

#bts #bts fluff #min yoongi fluff #missing min yoongi? well me too so i wrote this #missing yoongi hour #min yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #agust d #bts yoongi #bts suga #bts agust d #yoongi imagine #kpop

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cryptidcasanova · 2 years

Text

Skull Rock Reckoning

Demon!Eddie Munson x Reader

Ohmygoodness. Like, holy shit, I got the coolest Hellfire Haunts request in my asks. I had it all ready to go, was going to save it in my drafts, and then it never did save. Poof. It’s just gone, not in asks or drafts, so I am so sorry if I am losing you in the tumblr mess!

It was a request for Demon!Eddie, using prompt #1 (I’ve waited lifetimes for you.) It was so so sooooo good, I just had to write it!

Summary: Imagine if Jason Carver and his buddies tricked the reader into going up to skull rock, and instead it was really a sacrifice ploy. They were trying to sacrifice them to summon a demon (Eddie) who is less than thrilled, but it turned out to be a soulmate encounter.

So! If this was your ask, please let me know, and I’m sorry I lost it in the mix!

Warnings: Dark!Soulmate AU, Yandere, Soft!Dark Eddie, Violence, Blood, Dubious themes.

Words: 3k

Jason Carver was the golden boy of Hawkins High, and even after he graduated, his name still carried the same authority.

Sure, you had seen him around. You remembered the way he laughed around his friends and how his eyes would linger when he thought you weren't looking when you two were in school. You knew of his popularity and affinity for the cheer squad. So yes, you knew of Jason Carver.

You just never expected to hear him call your name while you were cruising down the grocery store aisles.

The sound of it was strong, and you turned to see him walking down the aisle with a shopping basket in his hands. You stopped with a slight wave. The smile he gave you was jolting.

"Hey," He grinned. "Have you ever been up to Skull Rock?" He asked, leaning against the wall of canned food.

He had never initiated a conversation with you before, but then again, neither had you. You two ran different circles growing up.

"I can't say I have." You told him with a lazy grin, moving down the aisle to pick up a jar of peanut butter. He watched with mild fascination.

"We're throwing a little party up there for Halloween. Tomorrow night. Spooky things go on up there," Jason continued, and you walked alongside him.

You turned your head back to his, catching his stare. "You know, they say it was a place for satanic worship." He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"It sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus."

He scoffed lightly, putting a hand over his chest.

"It's the best place to be. There are no cops, and there will be drinks and music. It'll be a lot of fun." He said. "And I wanted to see if you'll come this year." He gave you a serious look.

You had never been invited by Jason Carver to a party before.

Even when Steve used to throw parties, that was different. You knew Steve, had mutual friends with him. Jason was hardly an acquaintance.

"I don't know," You thought about it, weighing the pros and cons.

"Give it a chance," He smiled again. "Give me a chance. I can pick you up and everything."

You gave him a once over.

Jason wasn't a regular on your radar, but you did notice him. It was hard not to with his popularity and good-boy persona. And you didn't have any plans.

"Oh, what the hell," You nodded with a grin. His dashing expression was blinding. "I'll bring beer."

You should have known it was too good to be true.

Jason had his own agenda all along. You couldn't have known that it was a trap, that you were just another checkmark on his list.

You couldn't have known even when he picked you up in his truck the next day. He was a gentleman, complimenting your little black dress and bat earrings. You got all dolled up for Halloween. He even offered to help you bring your beer bottles to his truck.

For a fleeting moment, you were excited.

But as soon as you opened the truck door, his old basketball buddies jumped out. You were in too deep. You knew something was terribly wrong.

They dragged you into the backseat, covering your mouth and holding you down. The fight was laughable. There were four of them, covering your mouth with duct tape and surrounding you in the truck. They were terrible.

Your wrists and the crook of your elbows were taped. Above your knees and down by your ankles were taped. It was a little more than overkill.

And then, you were trapped between two of them in the backseat while Jason drove, one of his cronies messing with the music.

You couldn't fight off the roll of nausea in your stomach as one of them wafted something under your nose. Was it sage? Weed? It was disorienting, and you couldn't get away.

"Let's go catch us a monster, boys." Jason grinned, looking in the rearview mirror with wild eyes. "This is the year; I can feel it."

There was something deceptively charming in those eyes, something much darker than you thought Jason Carver could be capable of.

There was no Halloween party at Skull Rock.

You tried to fight against the hazy feeling in your head, even as Jason's silhouette in the front seat got blurry and you slumped against the backseat.

He was the monster.

The night was quiet when Jason and his goons finally dragged you out of the truck and into the woods. You had no clear sense of direction. You felt stoned, your legs swaying lightly as he carried you over his shoulder.

The terrain was rugged, and you could feel stray branches and pine needles hitting the back of your legs.

Your vision was blurry, even as they finally broke through the trees to a small clearing. The trees dispersed, and as you were turned around, Skull Rock was the least of your problems.

In front of Skull Rock, Jason and his friends had drawn a symbol on the floor around you. A pentagram, for fucks sake. It was surrounded by a ring of salt, and you looked at your captor like he was bat-shit insane.

“What’s the matter?” He cooed, crouching down in front of you. “We did this all for you. I said it’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

Two images of Carver swayed in front of your eyes, and you groaned out a complaint as he tugged you forward to the middle of the circle. Your knees dug into the cold ground, and you tightened your arms, trying to fight against him.

“Come on, don’t be like that.” He tormented, pulling a dark robe over his shoulders. “We can’t do it without you. There’s never been anyone in the god-forsaken town quite like you. No one is good enough. No one pure enough.”

Your stomach was in knots.

Around the outside of the circle, you could see the others lighting candles and setting down bowls of spices, crystals, and coins around the star tips of the pentagram. You thought your heart was going to beat outside of your chest.

“There’s just one more thing.” Jason tugged at your hands, and you looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t look so scared, babe. You are the prettiest sacrifice we’ve had.”

You hardly had time to notice the pocketknife he procured before it was too late. He was tugging your hands, laying them palms up into the air before slicing across your skin. Your eyes went wide in horror, and you went to scream but couldn't.

Your hands were shaking, your eyes blurry with the threat of tears.

The next thing you knew, Jason pushed down to the forest floor, straight in the middle of the circle. And as your bloodied palms touched the ground, the men began to chant.

There was a pit of anguish in your stomach.

The candles wavered, and as Jason and his goons chanted, you could have sworn that a thick fog filled the area.

You pushed yourself up to your knees. A wild wind blew through the clearing, and the smell of iron filled your lungs.

You were going to die there.

The chanting waned and wavered until the words were booming in your head. You could feel every unintelligible syllable in the crevices of your heart. It was a seizing, aching feeling. You felt like it would pull you in different directions until you realized the candles blazed with a burning hellfire. You could feel the heat against your skin.

Something was happening.

A figure slowly emerged out of the fog, sprouting from the ground in front of you. Tall and humanoid, you fought back the cry clawing up your throat. You couldn’t see anything except for the outline of two fiery eyes. It was clear to see they were angry. You needed to get out of there.

It was a man stepping out of the fog. The candlelight illuminated the shadows of his body. He was bare, save for several tattoos scattered across his skin, and his hair was a wild halo of dark locks that cascaded around his shoulders. As the figure came into view, you had to shake your head to ensure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

He was captivating.

Glowing eyes and a rounded nose looked down at the circle, his expression void of pleasantries.

"Abaddon, mischief maker, we summon you to the land of the living,” Jason’s voice boomed across the circle.

Even behind the ridiculous cloak, you could sense Jason’s confidence wane.

He got what he wanted, didn’t he?

The man, that thing, you thought, tilted his head to the side with a scowl. You almost thought you saw sharp canines poking into his bottom lip.

“We summon you with the blood of the innocent. That's what we brought you.” Jason called out with a snicker. “Hell, she might even be a virgin.”

Your head snapped from the figure to the cloaks, bile souring your tongue. You resented them, all of them.

The figure stepped forward, the dark fog swirling around his feet.

"You will do our bidding," Jason spoke bravely now. "We've called upon you, and you will obey my wishes-" But Jason's words faded as the creature reached its full height.

"No."

The lone syllable made your hair stand on end. You looked up at the man, what you so desperately tried to make out as a man, but it was fruitless. His movements were too smooth, calculated like a predator.

The heated embers of his eyes were harrowing, annoyance dancing across his features. Two short horns were poking out from under the mess of curls.

The creature stalked forward in the circle, and Jason took a step back, but you couldn't move. You couldn't breathe.

"I was not summoned here for you. I don’t serve you."

His expression shifted as he towered over you. The beast of a man crouched down to your eye level. It took everything in you not to scream or lash out. But you were terrified.

He was deceptively handsome, and the shadows of his face were illuminated in the candlelight.

His eyes, blazing with hellfire, changed, just for a moment. If you blinked, you would have missed it, but you could have sworn those dark eyes were brown. That they were almost human. But it was gone in a flash. The weight of the situation you were in was harrowing.

"You're not supposed to be here."

The low rumble of his words was unexpected, and you looked up at him in shock. His words were gentle, his tone leveled.

His eyes narrowed, burning with something angry as he looked down at your palms. You were clutching them both to your chest. The dark cloth of your dress and exposed skin bloomed red.

You were trembling.

He reached out slowly, tugging your hands away from your body before looking at the slashes welling with blood. You were too frightened to move as his eyes swept back to yours.

"They hurt you."

With his other hand, s sharp claw cut the bindings on your arms and legs. It was like he was cutting through butter instead of layers of tape. You watched in amazement as he pulled the tape back from your lips. The shuddering breath you took didn’t deter him.

The man's focus returned to your bloody palms, cupping his hands under yours like a bowl. His hands were warm, his touch slowly dissolving the tension in your shoulders.

"They tricked me," You whispered blindly.

Your focus shifted, fixated on the feeling of his warm hands in yours. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks. You watched as your blood bled between your fingers onto his and down to the ground. A low sound at the back of the creature’s throat pulled your eyes back to his.

It was frustrating. If you thought about it for a moment longer, you would have realized the sound of it was needy, longing even.

“What the hell is going on?” You heard Jason curse from outside the circle, making you wince.

The creature looked at you, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, sweetheart," His voice was tender, apologetic. Clawed fingers trailed up and over the side of your face. His eyes danced across yours.

You could have sworn you were in a trance.

For a moment, the pentagram and the men outside the circle disappeared. You let all thoughts fade away, looking at the man in front of you. And you just looked at him, scanning the curve of his eyebrows down to the cupid's bow of his lips. He was so stunningly familiar. God, he was beautiful.

"Close your eyes." He instructed, and at your hesitance, he leaned in. His clawed hand cradled your chin, and you watched his eyes soften for the second time, umber pools staring back at you. He smelled of earth and iron. “I will not forsake you.”

His tone was your undoing.

With another long moment of looking at him, you followed his instructions and closed your eyes. He hummed in approval as you felt his touch fall away.

There was a sudden crack, like lightning, in the air. You could smell metal, the heat of it fanning your face. But you kept your eyes closed.

You were steadfast even when the sound of shocked screams and pleas came from Jason and his band of goons. And then there was a thunderous noise of thousands of wings flapping around. A low-clicking noise surrounded you. Bats were swarming the skies. The sounds of carnage tore at your senses. Your lip quivered before you could control yourself.

And all too soon, it was quiet.

Fear gripped your heart, and you were compelled to call out.

“Ad – Abm –” You started but stumbled. You didn’t remember his name. There was a gentle sound of footsteps crunching on leaves before you heard him come back to you.

“I’m right here,” His voice was darker but still controlled. “Don’t call me that name, angel.”

You opened your eyes at the endearment. What was staring back at you was almost human.

You were right. His eyes were brown with the slightest glow, and Jason was gone as you looked around the circle. They were all gone. And his attention was solely on you.

“Your blood,” He urged, pulling your attention back to your hands. “Sweetheart, we need to stop the bleeding.”

You nodded blindly. God, when did your hands start shaking?

He took your left hand and turned it over, dragging his thumb along the incision.

The wound closed before your eyes, leaving behind a raised, thin scar. You let out a breath of relief. Rivulets of your blood stained his hands, but he didn’t care.

The man hesitated when he dropped your hand and moved to the other. You looked up at him carefully.

“You called for me,” His words were heavy, and the air around you was charged with electricity. When you looked up at him, his face was set with the hint of a smile. "I've waited lifetimes for you."

Your heart was hammering in your chest.

You tried to stutter out an apology, that it was all a big mistake, but the shake of his head silenced you. His intentions were set.

"You bled for me," He raised his other hand and sliced into his own palm with a clawed index finger. "And I will bleed for you.”

Thick, dark ichor pooled against his skin. It wasn't natural. You closed your fist instinctively.

"But, why?" You dared to ask. "Why would you do that?"

The look he gave you turned into a boyish grin.

"Because you called for me. I'm bound to you," His eyes were tormenting. "You didn't think I'd go away so easily, did you? If you don't like the sun, I'll make it rain for you. I'll fix all your broken things. I'll keep you nice and close. I'll keep you safe. Don't send me away, angel."

The lilt of his voice was hypnotic.

You weren't sure you could turn him away. You didn't know if you even wanted to. He saved you.

As you listened, your heart ached. You wanted that. You wanted to believe him.

"I'm already bound." He tried again, inching closer.

His plea was so soft, so tender. At the call of your name, your breath hitched, looking up at those big brown eyes. He was looking down at you expectantly.

"Take my hand. Don't make me beg."

He was down on his knees in front of you, his face shrouded in shadows and candlelight. He wasn't the monster you thought him to be.

"Who are you?" You asked in a whisper.

You pushed yourself up to your knees, meeting his eye level.

"Just call me Eddie, sweetheart." He grinned, holding his palm up to you. "Please, take my hand. And I'll explain everything."

You weren't sure if it was the compelling look in his eyes or the softness of his words, but how could you say no?

He saved you. Eddie saved you from the monsters in the woods.

You took his hand without looking away from his eyes, feeling the heat and strength in his hold. You swore you could feel the inky ichor as it mixed with your blood into the cut.

And the way Eddie's eyes lit up? It was like you had hung all the stars in the sky.

But it was too much. The heat in your veins was all-encompassing. You could feel the nerves in your body going haywire.

Eddie’s toothy grin was the last thing you saw before your eyes fluttered shut. He pulled you close before you could fall, sinking into his embrace.

There was a new excitement in his eyes. The candlelight flickered, more intense than it had ever been before.

He was already bound to you. But what he didn't tell you was that you were willingly binding yourself to him. Eddie wasn't worried; he'd have forever to find a way to tell you.

Back to Hellfire Haunts.

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