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vivalabunbun · 4 months

Text

An Encore of Betrayal

Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.

Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)

Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.

Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!

Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.

One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships.

Would you believe that such a place exists?

Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues.

Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.

A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’.

Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine.

A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy.

Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.

But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy.

It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.

Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling.

Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers.

----------

There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.

But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.

The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.

Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown.

Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes.

‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.

Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’

Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’

So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly.

The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water.

‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored.

‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed.

But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.

So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name.

‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered.

‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked.

The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon.

Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish.

‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’

A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom.

And they lived happily ever after.

----------

Ah, so it was that tale.

Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.

Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children.

A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.

This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears.

However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.

Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory.

Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last.

Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.

Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.

Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t?

What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?

To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?

Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests.

From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance.

“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon.

A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum? It’d be best that he alleviates their worries.

“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf.

His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.

Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd.

“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette.

Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.

Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face.

“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict.

“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin.

It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides.

To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate.

Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.

Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.

“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.

His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest.

The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode.

Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows.

Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.

A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh.

Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.

This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh.

Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds.

Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace.

How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.

His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face.

The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.

Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness.

Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil.

They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces.

He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him.

Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago.

The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much.

Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?

His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away.

Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels.

It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale.

A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.

The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside.

Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands.

The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.

Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately.

A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago.

Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself.

A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.

The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath.

“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes.

Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert.

“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand.

He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.

Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled?

“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.

Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?

The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.

This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil.

“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response.

Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words.

“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation.

Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you.

“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets.

A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips.

“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone.

“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy.

A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.

Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress.

“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.”

It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude.

“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare remained on her short form.

“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand.

“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish.

Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her.

“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces.

“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him.

“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”

Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back.

Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth.

“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup.

A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return.

Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his.

“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand.

There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it.

“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips.

That was his rebuttal to that snarl.

The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth.

Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry.

Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.

Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.

With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it.

The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.

They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them.

In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.

About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like.

The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.

Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity.

Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.

What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago?

From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale.

Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for.

However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away.

He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.

Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring.

Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface?

This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight.

But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least.

Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.

The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea.

Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?

It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation.

“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment.

He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation.

“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.

His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.

Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry.

“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater ruining crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out.

“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up.

The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.

“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs.

He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals.

Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.

When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above.

Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own.

Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.

Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons.

“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.

His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer.

“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low.

No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.

Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks.

As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders.

“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce.

He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation.

In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description?

“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question.

He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself.

A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans.

In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity.

Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions.

“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter.

Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale.

If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations?

After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him.

No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders.

“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing.

“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.”

The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on.

“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you.

“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes.

Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.

Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within.

“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer.

He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes.

“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.

Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.

That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale.

Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful.

There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance.

No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him.

Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more.

A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.

Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces.

“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence.

An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.

Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased.

“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him.

Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels.

“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag.

Yes, Consomme Purete.

It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.

The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today.

Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.

The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before.

Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?

Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.

His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.

Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew.

“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly.

The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.

A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young.

Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning.

“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite.

There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate.

“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains.

A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Monsieur! Monsieur! Come look!”

Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices.

There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.

The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors.

Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.

Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands.

While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust.

Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.

Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him.

Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.

A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it.

A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.

Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.

It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does.

“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror.

It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical.

“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.

“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens.

Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.

“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair.

Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.

Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame.

“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.

A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.

“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air.

Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.

Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate.

“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads.

Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment

A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully.

“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.

His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes.

Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean?

“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.

A deep breath as he formulates his response.

“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.”

“Oh, I see,” you hum.

Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.

Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises.

An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back.

The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.

Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience.

Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines.

Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat.

“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket.

A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.

The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips.

“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand.

Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too.

“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses.

Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight.

There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape.

Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.

He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him.

Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue.

“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips.

His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.

A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself.

Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips?

Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.

He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness.

“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting.

Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.

Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience.

However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.

Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations.

A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.

Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.

Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.

A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse.

This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.

He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong.

Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?

To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting.

Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted.

The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same.

Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek.

A glimmer he once believed was love.

The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did.

For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.

She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.

Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.

Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity?

Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine?

If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.

Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth.

She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.

What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.

A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear.

Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine.

Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:

‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’.

What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves.

That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.

You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty.

Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself.

So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.

Was his torment entertaining to them?

Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse.

Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions.

Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates.

To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence.

The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.

The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection.

His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.

The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire.

The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.

But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame.

The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.

The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves.

Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil.

An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils.

Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star.

You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud.

A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.

Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression.

A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.

Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.

However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound.

His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder.

Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.

With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.

Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.

Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame.

A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.

Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself.

Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate.

A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.

One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.

It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides.

A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.

Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times.

The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.

It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight.

The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.

What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.

You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.

To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.

It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours.

Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?

Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him.

Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.

Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play.

“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.

Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.

How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?

Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you.

“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins.

After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer.

“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders.

“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.

Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions.

However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs.

“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.”

Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes.

“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire.

“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.”

“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes.

He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing.

“That is what you must find for yourself.”

Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end.

The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead.

“Oh?”

What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.

Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor.

“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you.

Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath.

“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up.

Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.

The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon.

He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly.

“Oh…”

It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight.

This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.

It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his.

Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him?

“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws.

“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?”

Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?

The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions.

You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire.

Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs.

Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation.

“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen.

Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl.

“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over.

“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.

A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel.

This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup?

“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness.

Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat.

“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises.

A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space.

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something.

As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders.

Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride.

You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return.

“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation.

The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips.

“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something.

After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.

Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup.

In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Is your name Édouard?”

Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.

You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.

Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.

However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?

Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows.

Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics.

Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.

He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name.

Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.

All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.

He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.

“There’s a tear in your coat…”

Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear.

“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams.

He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say.

“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer.

It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands.

To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment.

Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host.

“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.”

His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.

As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.

“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands.

Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.

Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him.

“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair.

Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.

However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture.

Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.

His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table.

The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences.

“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth.

Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.

Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.

Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long.

“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself.

Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.

Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body.

Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.

If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them.

Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.

Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure.

By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.

Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support.

Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.

The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands.

“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude.

He hums an answer.

“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows.

“Why did you say that?” You finish your question.

Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences.

The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool.

“Do you really wish to know?” He warns.

You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here.

Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat.

“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals.

The needle stops.

“A curse?…” you stammer out.

Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.

The answer was sitting just in front of him.

“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?”

To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.

But such hands could not touch a being such as him.

“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept.

“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber.

Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.

To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.

For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea.

Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse.

“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper.

Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears.

“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.”

Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale.

Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?

A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal.

Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape.

Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.

More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.

Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?

The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal.

A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool.

What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.

A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting.

“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present.

Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer.

“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.”

Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves.

He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.

Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.

“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap.

A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace.

However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice.

Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.

Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.

It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles.

Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor.

Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.

Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette.

“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.

“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.”

“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…”

There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt.

“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.”

She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face.

“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate.

You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel.

“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns.

A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets.

Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd.

“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress.

“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside.

“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted.

Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.

They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses.

He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.

For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison?

His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now?

“Could you be expecting?”

Huh?

Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.

Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation.

“Will there be a new addition to the village?”

“How long do we have to wait?”

“Are we getting a brother or sister?”

Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat.

“No,” he coughs out.

A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes.

“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement.

A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.

A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine.

“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps.

You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.

A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down.

“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles.

Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness.

Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time.

Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?

Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?

“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks.

Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down.

“Where does a baby come from?”

The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.

If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?

How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?

“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.

“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?”

At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.

The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve.

“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.

“Of course, Sébastien.”

His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts.

“Regrettably, that is not my name.”

“Was it at least a decent attempt?”

He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.

Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed.

His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.

Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.

Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.

No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.

“Do you miss the sea?”

Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.

Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response.

“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.”

After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.

Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight.

Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.

One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.

For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.

“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment.

Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips.

His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.

Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.

However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands.

When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle.

It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.

The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish.

A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.

An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…

Neuvillette clears his throat.

“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you.

“Oh?...” The comb stops.

At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone.

A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff.

“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly.

The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’.

Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily.

He needs to leave now. For your sake.

Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face.

Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?

The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn.

The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin.

How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering.

A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory?

Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.

No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.

Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct.

From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly.

But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity.

He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows.

Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought.

The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.

“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.

Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust.

“Neuvillette?”

He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust.

The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart.

Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure.

However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment.

So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets.

A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer.

“Neuvillette?…”

His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion.

He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face.

“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes.

The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut.

“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown.

Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.

“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.

Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.

“...But I missed you…” You whisper.

Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth.

“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this.

“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.

Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body.

“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit.

“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder.

Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes.

Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.

“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours.

Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat.

And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy.

“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it?

Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long.

Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat.

The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.

His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air.

Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.

A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away.

Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?

They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.

Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right?

His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.

Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise.

His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections.

Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?

Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?

There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch.

Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper.

Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin.

Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.

A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.

Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit.

Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.

Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires.

A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.

Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well.

Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.

Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.

He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?

His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you.

There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.

Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up.

Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.

Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat.

Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds. Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.

The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.

Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.

The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.

They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried.

The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before?

Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows.

“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face.

This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils.

Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?

That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress.

“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him.

Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.

An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets.

Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?

A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.

His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit.

Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.

The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities.

“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort.

Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon.

“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice.

Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.

The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.

The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.

The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.

As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter.

A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.

It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.

Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him.

That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight.

Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life.

One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been.

Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.

Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.

His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.

Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for.

Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.

Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.

A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.

Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up?

“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear.

Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you.

“That’s too bad.”

His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms.

He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.

Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you.

The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.

Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.

Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him.

Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat.

A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.

Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity.

Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.

As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his.

In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?

Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.

He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.

Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface.

Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.

Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was.

Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.

He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.

A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.

He doesn’t want to see it.

The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues.

But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.

What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much.

It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.

As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin.

Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them.

How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick.

You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.

How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters.

You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition.

If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting.

Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.

The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.

Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?

There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.

Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame.

There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.

Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.

His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips.

The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.

The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head.

Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.

He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all.

Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.

The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges.

There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.

No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.

Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls.

You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.

Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body.

An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse.

Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.

An offering made to him.

So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.

Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body.

He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.

Why not renew it?

Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.

Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape.

‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.

Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.

No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well.

It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.

But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper.

Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon a burly hand.

Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.

An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his.

Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.

Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind.

A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.

However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart.

The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession.

For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.

No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles.

He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.

Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown.

Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.

To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged.

Oh, how could he not love you?

The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.

A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile.

The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.

Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was.

The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.

Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls.

Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing.

Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.

Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe.

Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same.

With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.

The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you.

Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality.

He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure.

Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.

Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.

Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes.

Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.

However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy.

However, this wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance.

The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin.

A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers.

A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness.

A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.

Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort.

“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel.

You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.

Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you.

“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.

Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom.

“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand.

Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism.

“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue.

“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind.

A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him.

“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”

A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”

“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice.

Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.

Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.

“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support.

With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.

Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.

What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface.

“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone.

However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall.

“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues.

‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears.

“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning.

There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.

But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water.

To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.

However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?

To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.

Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?

Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth?

His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.

No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending.

Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.

The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before.

“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him.

Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace.

As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile.

Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.

Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time?

Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours.

Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors?

A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.

Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon.

“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?

“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away.

Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.

“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.

Why must you keep lying to him?

Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.

Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away.

Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called?

“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him.

A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.

For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale.

“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over.

This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that?

“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle.

Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation.

Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.

The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.

Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in.

He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve.

“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know.

But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity.

He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires.

“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands.

He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his.

“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.

His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish.

Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.

Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.

Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions.

He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses.

The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks.

“Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now.

Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could.

Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches.

Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks.

Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here.

What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil.

“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”

A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?

Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks.

“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.

“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.

Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue.

“How could I hate you?” he confesses.

Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation.

For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time.

Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.

Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours.

“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks.

That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you?

Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long?

“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict.

“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.

He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes.

Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.

Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge.

A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods.

However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition.

If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS.

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ozzgin · 3 months

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A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

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mutfruit-salad · 24 days

Text

Long post ahead. My full thoughts on the fallout series. TW for references to Sexual Assault, racism, antisemitism. It's not particularly in depth here- but I do reference specific acts of violence done in the show.

I've had people insinuate I'm only mad because I'm a New Vegas fan, because I think they retconned the lore. I'm not upset at the fallout show for its dubious lore additions and reworks. I think they're quite bad in places, but they're by far the least of the show's problems.

This isn't a case of a New Vegas fan mad they messed with my game in a way I didn't like.

Please refer to literally any of my posts pointing out the racism and antisemitism in the show. They brand a black man in episode 1. They named the enclave scientist after a real life holocaust survivor and then spent most of the show lobbing around his decapitated head like a volleyball.

But I'd like to consider other elements of the show. View it as a whole.

Consider the inherent misogyny of having a female main character whose entire character arc is just her getting abused for 8 episodes. How the trajectory of her character revolves around not giving up on the humanity of the man who waterboarded her and sold her to organ harvesters. A female main character who is raped in the first episode and watches her entire community get brutalized and who comes out of it completely unphased- still as plucky as ever- just worried about her dad.

Consider the horror of having a black woman be the one to drop the bombs. Consider the horror of her leading a council of elites who have infiltrated and taken over the US government. Consider the ways this group is presented and shown, the ways every fault of the US government in the series is offloaded onto a shadowy group of elites.

Consider how the capitalist critique of the show only goes so far as saying there's a secret organization of bad people who must be purged. The antisemitism and conspiratorial nonsense inherent to that premise.

Consider the rampant classism with the show's depiction of Wastelanders as either animalistic monsters or too stupid to live.

Consider the ways the show punishes nearly every act of kindness- the ways the world rewards might-makes-right authoritarians.

Consider the way the NCR collapsed offscreen because a disgruntled husband was mad his wife left him, and how after it collapsed the army immediately became raiders and the survivors became blood drinking cultists. Don't give me "it's just shady sands that collapsed" because the NCR was a developed nation. If one of their cities blew up, they would send aid. They would assist.

Consider the way the show constantly uses sex crimes as comedy and horror- the incest jokes and the "chicken fucker" bit, and the Vault 4 monster impregnation and the main character's rape in the first episode.

Consider the ableism of the treatment of ghouls, how every ghoul is now a ticking time bomb, how Lucy helps free a small dementia-riddled old ghoul woman from a medical torture facility and then is immediately punished with the woman trying to inexplicably murder her. Thaddeus openly talks about ghoul exterminationism and it's never a joke or a bit- he just says it and nobody reacts or says anything.

Consider the way the Vault 33 town councillors use real world progressive talking points about restorative justice and prison abolition and multiculturalism- meanwhile Norm advocates for the death penalty and a closed society. How Norm is shown as good and righteous and the vault dwellers range from deluded to damningly stupid- how the mere concept of restorative justice is made a farce because the NCR raiders are screaming about eating organs and murdering people 24/7.

Consider the way they removed the Boneyard, and the Followers of the Apocalypse by extension. In New Vegas we heard about the Followers operating a university in LA. It's gone now. Not destroyed by bombs- but written out of existence because the Boneyard never existed, and Shady Sands is in its place. Consider what that says about this world- that the group most dedicated to peace and rebuilding has been surgically excised from the narrative- destroyed more wholly than even the NCR- written out of existence entirely.

This is the single most reactionary fallout story that has been produced. By a fucking country mile.

Whatever lore critiques there are should be secondary. The storytelling is reactionary in ways I straight up have not seen from other Bethesda entries in the series. It is cruel to a fault, and depicts a world that is incapable of healing or growing- where the best you can do is hold onto that small spark of goodness while every bit of the society around you tries to murder it out of you. This isn't a story about rebuilding, or about postwar politics, or about society- it's about dueling warlords and might makes right attitudes and grimdark views of the nature of humanity. It's fallout in aesthetics alone- and it's perhaps the most hateful thing I've seen come out of this series outside of the actual neonazis in the fanbase.

Whatever hope there is in Moldaver's final moments looking out over the glittering ruins of LA is undercut by the knowledge of what came before. What was destroyed. And it's undercut by the Brotherhood's totalitarian control. It's not hopeful, it's the bare minimum of survival. It's all the progress of the postwar world, 200 years of humanity and history, reduced to just barely getting the lights back on.

In the intro to fallout 1, "War Never Changes" is used as thematic glue. It ties together two concepts- past wars- and present capitalism and militarism.

Ron Perlman describes the Roman Empire, the Spanish conquests of the Americas, and the Nazi regime- and then he says "war never changes" and uses it to connect those past atrocities to the modern world of the setting- to the war that ended everything. The phrase existed to link the resource wars and their ensuing fallout to all the crimes of empire prior. War never changes wasn't a hard and fast rule of human nature- it was a specific condemnation of America.

Lonesome Road even ends with the phrase refuted. War Never Changes. But men do, through the roads they walk. There is hope. That's what this series has always been about. The Master died at the end of fallout 1 and said "leave while you still have hope."

In this show, the black woman Vault Tec exec who ends the world says the phrase. It's stripped of all meaning. Just a generic throwback because it's a famous phrase in the series' history. It's not a condemnation of America, it's a celebratory thing. Vault Tec toasting to the end of the world.

What a thing to see this series become. What a thing to see celebrated.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout show #this has gotten more feedback then I was expecting #and i'm glad this is resonating with some folks #turned off reblogs cuz i cant actually deal with the response this has been getting at this point 👍

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dogbites-puppylove · 22 days

Text

Apple seed cyanide

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Joker x reader, Yandere! Harley x reader (platonic)

If you want the honest to god truth, Harley knew that the Joker was spewing saccharine filth from the start when he reached out with promises of a sweet little life, one with a darling family of their own. She knew because, after years of watching him pant after the trials of Batman, she saw he had no room other than his obsession left in his heart. But like a moth to firelight, she flutters dutifully back into his arms attracted by promises already broken

Imagine her surprise when shes greeted at the door with a bright smile, almost sane enough to trick her. He ushers her in with a sweet note in the air and a “surprise waiting for her” in the living room. Bound and gagged a couple is crying out on the floor, shaking their hands in a pathetic plea, and attempting to crawl away, and usually, Harley would be all for making a joke or two, but instead, all she can see is you. Your little presence floods all of her senses, sitting perfectly pacified on the floor. Behind her, she's aware of her partner's sick laughter, but she can't shake off the trance she's in.

You couldn't be older than 3, still without proper motor skills and a morbid curiosity stopping any critical preservation instincts that might have had you crying. This becomes more evident when instead of screaming, you giggle as the clown prince of crime crouches down to haul you up into an embrace, even bouncing you up into the air a few times to pry out more laughter. She can barely hear the shrieks of your old parents as the Joker finally deposits you safely into her arms, and as she cradles you close to her chest that aches for you. It's a physical hurt that almost overwhelmed her, the need to crawl inside you and live there, or for you to do the same, and it is in a stranger's house that Harley falls in love again.

“Sweet as honey ain't they?” the Joker coos and cackles at you, waggling a few fingers in front of your face, grinning even wider as you grab at them. “Full of curiosity that one is, a real riot!” but Harley can barely hear him much less acknowledge him past the roaring of blood in her ears. Her heart beating out of her chest she thinks it might just spill open to accommodate the organ trying to crawl closer to her darling. For the second and last time in her life, Harley is chained and leashed to another's will, a fate of coming to their beck and call, your will, her darling wrapped perfectly in her arms.

To the Joker's credit he does love you, or as close to love as he can get. He hushes your cries, indulges you in sweets behind Harley's back, and she's even caught him humming silly little tunes as he dances with you wrapped up in his arms. You bring clarity to him, a surety in his life that he doesn't feel unless pulling Bats along in another joke. You were going to be his perfect legacy, proof that he cannot truly die, you're a part of him in this way. Of course, you’d need a quick little dip into a vat of toxins to truly make a perfect legacy but you needn’t worry, he still loves you. You just need a little preparation first.

Every week he takes you on little daddy-darling outings, he tells Harley your going around to sightsee, and he lets you play a lot of fun games until the sun sets. And he's truthful because his warehouses are far and in between, and every mutilation he leads you so lovingly through is a fun little joke. His little comedian, hell coo as he leads your hand tightly clasping a knife against the throat of one of his own boys who had tried to run. Isn't this fun sweetheart?

He underestimates, however, just how devoted Harley is because while she was fully delusional when they had first gotten into a relationship Harley cannot spare you as collateral damage to her own fantasies. She is painfully grounded as she takes in everything about you 24/7, your expressions, words, actions anything she can she takes to covet away in her mind forever. As much as she is a monster she is your mother and she loves you, you are anything she's ever had and everything she'll ever have. He doesn't realize that she obsessively checks over you, even spotting the smallest flecks of blood, how when she kisses you goodnight she can see the thin sheen of apathy take hold of your gaze.

The final straw comes in the form of a huge argument, she comes home early from work eager to see her little baby, when she finds the Joker cooing into your ear, goading you into doing your best as your hands wrap around a familiar gun. Like the devil on her shoulder, she can't even scream as you pull the trigger, eyes momentarily twitching but no other expression as your former parent's brains paint the windows. And she realizes as you turn around to smile at her sweetly with blood on your teeth and tears that seem so foreign streaming down your face that you need to leave, she has to get you away.

That night she takes you, just 9 years old, and runs. She has no real destination, just a desperate notion to get away, to save you from all that she knows the joker is trying to make you. She can't, she can't let you go through what she knows will force you into the type of person you never wanted to become. Because she can see herself in the mirror and can mourn normal happiness and stability, and she has watched the joker bleed himself dry until he has nothing to himself but an old laugh track repeating over and over again. It's a life of agony and you don't deserve that, not you, never you.

Of course, her body ends up leading her to Ivy’s place, and the woman can only stare in shock as her best friend who had gone radio silent all those years back collapses at her door holding a kid so close she might be trying to meld into one. “Please, please not my baby” Harley begs and any anger that Ivy could have had melts.

For a while it's paradise, the Gotham sirens all corralling once again in their glory, and with their very own new member, you. Selina takes to you quickly, cooing about how her kitten is just the most clever thing in the world as you quickly work through her little trips. (Privately she will worry to Harley about the lack of awareness you have for your own health, the way your eyes glaze over when a plan takes place, and the brutality you exhibit.) Ivy also takes to you quickly, teasing you with little nicknames (how can you be a sapling when you're a human?) and she teaches you how to nurture, how to care for plants and love them as they deserve. (And she will confide to Harley how you seem to take to poisons particularly well, how you are able to craft things more disastrous than she can dream, how your curiosity always leans to the morbid.)

Harley herself takes great energy and care into trying to undo what the Joker has done, it's laughable how Gotham's greatest villains all sit in a circle every week and preach about morals and empathy. But to their credit, it works, and though you may not be able to feel the full existence of motion, though you can't seem to feel it as deeply as others your heart still throbs with what must make you human. You learn consequences and cling with desperation to these little lessons that prove you aren't your mentor. (not father, not anymore)

And yet Harley can still see how your apathy takes hold in the face of curiosity, how you prefer crowbars over teddy bears, and how despite your hardest efforts empathy is always a little too easy to push away in favor of hard-earned apathy. (and she knows, she knows that as long as that bastard is still out there doggedly searching the ground for you, you won't ever truly be safe) so she makes a deal.

The phone rings and Bruce can only raise an eyebrow at the untitled phone number, he doesn't make a habit of giving out his number so uselessly so after the third ring he picks up.

“Hello? This is Bruce Way-”

“Hey Bats.” Alarm shoots through the roof at a voice he hasn't heard in years, and yet still so closely relates to his arch-nemesis.

“Harley? How did you get this-”

“Listen, listen I know it's gonna sound real bad but I- I need you to hear me out. A favor, I need a favor. I'll go back to Arkham, stay there for the rest of my days but, I” she breathes and it's far too shaky for the woman he knows her to be. “My baby” she sobs “You gotta keep my baby safe, he's out there Bats and he won't leave em alone as long as their alive.”

Through his confusion, Bruce manages to calm her down, and wrangles a short story out of her, how she and Joker had played family until she couldn't bear to see you break anymore and how she knew that she alone couldn't keep her darling safe. And maybe it's the boy staring at the corpse of his family in Crime Alley that speaks instead of himself but he finds himself reaching out to help. (he can't let another family split, not when he can help it). As long as Harley doesn't kill, no more lethal tactics, and as long as she reports everything she knows about joker, and works with him against him, she can stay outside of Arkham walls. And as for you?

Your tenth birthday hits and Bruce Wayne steps into your living room with a strangely calculating gaze and a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N? Ah, nice to meet you officially, my name is Bruce Wayne, and ill be your foster family.”

Author's Note: Another reupload. ALSO! I HAVE GOTTEN THE ANON ASKS!! I AM JUST A SLOW WRITER I’LL GET TO EM I PROMISE!!

#yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #harley quinn x reader #joker x reader

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wake-me-up-inside-imagines · 1 month

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Ok, I just read your sweet yandere post and would like to add something.

I love the idea of like a mafia boss yandere or someone who is usually cruel (like maybe a Hades sort of character) but is an absolute sweet heart to their darling. One of my fave tropes

OOOOOOH I LOVE THIS TROPE! I have a character who's just like this actually, a total sweetheart to whoever he's with but has a very low tolerance for most other people.

Sorry, this is a long one lol

I'm gonna make headcanons now because you've inspired me lol.

(Banner/divider credit goes to @cafekitsune)!

Tw: Kidnapping, mentions of violence

Mafia boss! Charlie who is no stranger to violence. He's lived his entire life surrounded by it, in fact. Having a mafia boss for a father will do that to you, he guesses.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's spent his whole life working for the mafia, being trained to kill, smuggle, and deal ever since he was a child. He grew up living a life of crime, rising up the ranks (thanks to his father), before taking over as the boss when his father was killed by an unruly client.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's a cruel, ruthless man. He's killed dozens of people, injured many more, and runs his organization with an iron fist. He may be young, but he's learned enough to know that any show of trust, any display of kindness is a show of weakness, a show of vulnerability. He can't afford that, not when he's the head of the mafia, so he makes sure to make it so that no one will question or challenge his authority by any means necessary.

Mafia boss! Charlie who has very few real friends, keeping those he does have at an arm's length. He'd rather die than admit that he craves real relationships, that he desires to make genuine, true connections with others. But he can't, so he pushes his wants to the side, reminding himself that his only purpose is to keep his business running smoothly, nothing more.

Until he sees you, that is.

Mafia boss! Charlie who meets you out on a grocery run one day. Your interaction is nothing special, at least to you, but Charlie can't help but marvel at how easily you make conversation with him while ringing up his items, how seemingly unfazed you are by his snappy attitude and unapproachable appearance. It's been a long, long time since he's met anyone unafraid of him, and those people are usually rivals who are too cocky for their own good. So this, this is new. He knows it's stupid, he knows that your tiny interaction shouldn't have mattered much to someone like him, but he can't help but feel giddy about the connection he's sure he felt.

Mafia boss! Charlie who, against his better judgment, wastes no time in trying to find out who you are. It's not hard, he has an entire organization full of trained trackers, stalkers, and informants at his disposal, and by the end of the day, he has your full name, address, social media accounts, family tree, medical records, and much more safely in his welcoming hands. He knows this is a bit overkill considering he only met you today and your interaction lasted five minutes at most, but now that he has a taste of real human interaction, he's addicted. He needs more.

Mafia boss! Charlie who quickly becomes awestruck and obsessed with you. His whole life, he's been surrounded by the craftiest, cruelest. most violent people imaginable, so to see someone, especially someone as precious as you, live a completely normal life, naive to the dangers he faces everyday? It's captivating! Of course, he can't follow you all day, he is a mafia boss after all, but he has enough people following you around and recording your every move that he doesn't need to! He's never been happier to be who his is than now.

Mafia boss! Charlie who thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world. You're a sweet little thing, too gentle and too unaware of the dangers around you for your own good. He loves everything about you, no matter how weird or embarrassing. He's content to watch you carefully for a couple months, but as time goes on, his need to feel our touch, to talk to you, to see you face to face is too much. He needs you. He needs you NOW. It doesn't help that you're so vulnerable and weak compared to him, with no knowledge of weaponry or stealth to keep you safe. What if someone were to try and hurt you? Of course, his goons wouldn't let that happen, not if they wanted to keep their organs, but he would feel so much better if he could keep an eye on you personally. Not to mention, every mafia boss needs a spouse, and some of his higher ranking associates have been hinting that it's about time he found someone...

Mafia boss! Charlie who immediately starts planning your "transfer" to his house, meticulously drafting out every last detail to secure your safety. He chooses his best, most skilled employees to carry out his plan, only the best for his darling, and sends them out to bring you "home". That day you come home from work, completely unaware of the people in your apartment, completely unaware of the sleeping pills dumped into your water while you weren't looking.

Mafia boss! Charlie who's ecstatic to finally have you with him, to finally have someone to hold, to talk to, to love. He brings your unconscious body to your new room, laying you softly on the bed while instructing his employees to pack up all your belongings and bring them to him. He doesn't tie you down or chain you up, he has enough security measures in place to make sure you won't be able to escape. You won't even be able to leave your room without him being notified.

Mafia boss! Charlie who watches the camera in your room as you wake up for the first time in your new home, confused and disoriented. All of your stuff is here, but this is NOT your apartment. Where are you? He watches as you start to freak out, guilt flashing through him for the first time in his life. He doesn't want you to be scared, he just wants to keep you safe!

Mafia boss! Charlie who sends one of his gentler employees into your room to explain everything, too afraid of scaring you even further by showing up himself. He waits a few days before revealing himself to you, when your terror has calmed down and you've become more familiar with your surroundings. He kind of just stands there, unable to formulate a sentence, which is extremely unnerving to you. You've been told you're to be married to a highly respected and violent mafia boss, and here he is, just...staring. When he opens his mouth to speak, your surprised at how soft his voice is, calmly explaining to you that you're safe, you won't be hurt. He reaches out his hand to touch you, but recoils when you flinch, not wanting to push you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who does everything he can to make you more comfortable and less afraid of him, getting you anything and everything you've ever shown interest in, giving you as much space as you need, and letting roam the rather large house freely. All you can't do is leave. He doesn't understand why you're still so scared, sure he's a criminal, but he promised he would never hurt you!

Mafia boss! Charlie who gets more desperate for your love as time goes on. He starts appearing in whatever room your in, softly talking to you about his day or about whatever you're doing, trying to get you to be more comfortable with him. Once you've gotten used to that, he starting slowly initiating physical contact, holding you in his arms like he's never going to let you go (because he won't). He tried his hardest not to push your boundaries, but eventually his need to be near you becomes too great. Rest assured though, he would never, ever dream of hurting you or purposely scaring you.

Mafia boss! Charlie who can't get enough of the feeling of your skin on his. He starts hugging/cuddling you whenever he can, holding you like you'll break if he presses too hard. He's always near you, cuddling up to you while telling you about how much he loves you, adoration shining in his eyes. He's the clingiest at night though, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you fall asleep, him watching over you until he succumbs to his own tiredness. And his kisses? They are the softest, fluffiest thing you've ever felt. He cannot get enough of your lips, and he always kisses you passionately, like you'll disappear once he separates from you. With how loving and gentle he is, it doesn't take long for you to start loving him back.

Mafia boss! Charlie who starts giving you more privileges the farther you fall into stockholm. He'll even start taking you out in public on dates once he thinks there's no chance of you trying to escape him. He'd be able to find you if you did, he has many, many connections, but he trusts you won't. He loves going out with you and doing normal, coupley things with you, it's a nice break from his usual, violent life.

Mafia boss! Charlie who is insanely protective of you, never leaving you alone in a room with anyone except for himself. He knows how dangerous it is to be associated with him and now that he has you, he refuses to let anything happen to you. Any rival who attempts to hurt, kill, or kidnap you is met with Charlie himself, who enacts the most brutal, torturous death he can possibly think of on them. Nobody will come close to hurting you, he'll make sure of it. But no matter what happens, he'll always make sure you're far, far away from the violence. He never wants to subject you to the horrors he's seen (and done).

Mafia boss! Charlie who feels awful the first time you hear him raise his voice. It wasn't at you of course, he would never, ever think of yelling at his darling, you just happened to be in the room when he was meeting with one of his associates. It's scary seeing him yell, threatening brutal acts of violence on his own employee, and for the first time you realize how different he is with others than he is with you. He's quick to shut the meeting down once he realizes you're there, spending the rest of the night apologizing to you and assuring you he would never speak to you like that. This'll be the first time he truly opens up about what his job is like and why he has to be as cruel as he is, trying to help you understand why he behaved the way he did. It's difficult for him to make himself vulnerable, but he'd gladly to it if it meant easing your mind. From then on, he makes absolute sure you aren't around whenever he has to take care of business. He refuses to let you see him like that ever again.

Mafia boss! Charlie who never lets you forget how much he needs you in his life. You're the only thing keeping him from devolving into insanity, he wouldn't know how to handle himself if you were gone. He'll give you everything and anything if you listen to him and stay by his side, so please... please don't try to leave him.

Not that you would be able to, anyway.

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libraryraccoon · 3 months

Text

How Amusing : Imposter ?

P1 -> P2

TW : Bad english, english isn't my first language.

Gender : GN

Pronouns used : They/Them

Info : The Reader amused finally having their fic !!

The life of the Creator wasn’t funny.

It was always the same, people recognizing them, talking to them, wanting their attention..

All was made for them.

And they hated it.

They wanted to discover thing, meeting people like normal mortals do, they want to do chaos and have consequences for their actions.

Not being always prayed.

And one day, their dream come true.

<----->

They were at Teyvat, in their human form, when it happened.

Some soldiers (are they soldiers ? They look like soldiers, guards maybe ? The Creators can't really say from that far) of Teyvat, going after them and screaming to the imposter ? That they have take the appearance of their creator ? That they have to make them see him ?

And at that moment, two things struck them.

One, they called the creator a man, even though they had no gender. I mean, yeah, their human appearance looked like a man, a young one to be more precise, but they didn't have any reproductive organs. So even though they looked like it, they weren't a man, or a woman, because they don't have a reproductive organ. Or can they have a gender even without any reproductive organ ?

Well, anyways, they called the creator a man and they are not, so they aren’t talking about them.

And, two, imposter ?

They thought that them, The Creator of the universe, of the worlds, of Teyvat, are an imposter ?

How amusing.

In their 67 824 169 001 years, it’s the first time it happen !

To say the Creator was amused and intrigued by this fact would be an understatement.

It was their dream becoming true here ! Being called a human, a mortal !

Well, not really a human and mortal, an imposter, but imposters are mortals, so that mean that they saw them as a mortal in a way.

Well, looks like the Creator will stay a little longer at Teyvat than what they were expecting...

<----->

Being chase was the funnier thing that had happened to The Creator since a long time.

They were playing with their creation, appearing and disappearing in front of them, making the mortals chase them, annoying them, listening all their meetings about the Creator and the ‘imposter’ that they are.

It was so fun.

Especially because the Creator can’t be tired, so they can run fast and forever if they want, when the mortals can’t.

It was fun.

The Creator was happy, really happy.

Finally, their creation do something that they want really, and without asking it !

Teyvat was really a strange world.

In a good way.

<----->

Jean hated that imposter.

One month. The imposter come at Teyvat a month ago; they didn’t stop tracking him, as their dear creator had asked them, to capture the imposter and bring them back to him.

All Teyvat know that there is an imposter, they were all searching him. Except Aether.

Jean always respected Aether, but now that he think that this imposter is the real creator ? She start to hate him. Just like all Teyvat.

Aether was always seen with the fake creator, the two acting like olds friends.

Maybe Aether betray all of them by saying to one of his friend how was the creator, what he looked like, and like that they can replace their creator ?

It was possible.

Jean felt ashamed for trusting Aether. Paimon too, who had been much quieter since Aether's betrayal.

<----->

Aether always knew who was the real creator.

It was normal, it’s a feeling that all the travelers of worlds have, knowing who’s the Creator.

He try to say that they wasn’t an imposter, but The Creator stopped him, saying that it was 'funnier' like that.

So he didn't say anything, but he stayed with them for their safety. He didn't care what people thought, he had to stay by his creator's side, no matter what.

But, he wasn’t the only one to know who the Creator really was. The Hexenzirkel, RhineDottir, Celestia and Albedo know they are the creator.

The others descendants, that are in Celestia, also know it; actually they come back only for seeing them being ‘a little gremlin of chaos’, they words, not his.

But they do nothing except watching, after all they know the Creator don’t want them to interfere.

Even Aether isn’t always with them, knowing sometimes they want to do crimes alone.

Because, yes, the Creator was a criminal now.

Stealing, killing, being a spy in a way… But nothing bad. I mean, they killed the ped0 like Albert, so it was a good thing. They, Teyvat, should thanks them for that.

<----->

“Don’t you want to go somewhere else ?” ask Aether to the h/c haired.

“Why ?” ask the Creator. “Mondstadt is so cool and fun ! I mean, there is always people for chasing me. And their archon, Barbatos, is always funny to talk to.”

Oh, yeah, them and their ‘talk’ with Venti.. More like Venti trying to kill the Creator while the Creator makes fun of him and saying that he was weak, all in a humorous tone..

Yeah, his Creator was really different than what people expect.

“Yes, but Liyue is more fun than that ! There is adepts that can chase you for days without being tired !” said the blond.

“Really ?!” ask the energic one.

“Yep ! And it will be really sad to miss it.” Aether answer.

“Then let’s go to Liyue ! But before, a last chase at Mondstadt.” Said the creator before disappearing in the air, probably searching people that want to chase them.

Aether laugh a little, his Creator was a really a funny specimen, huh.

<------------>

I know Venti isn't weak, but for the Creator of the universe ? He is.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x male reader #sagau gn reader #sagau reader #genshin sagau #aether #genshin venti #paimon #jean genshin impact #Raccoon is writing

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epigstolary · 4 months

Text

Real Talk

TW: Medical fatphobia, health issues, fat shaming, toxic masculinity

Dude, you say you want me to help you, but you’re going to have to get serious if you really want to start losing weight. I’m a trainer, not a miracle worker. I mean, look at you; you know your body’s fucking disgusting, right? You let yourself get so huge that even your fat guy clothes can’t hide your belly anymore. Every inch of you is covered in blubber. Everywhere you look. And you have to push all that fat around every time you want to walk or move. It’s so gross watching you try to go anywhere. You’re just waddling around under hundreds of pounds of fat, wheezing like you just ran a marathon. Like… people aren’t supposed to get to the size that you have. And don’t give me that “health at any size” bullshit. You’ve got to have some serious problems to get this big and think it’s ok. Nobody your size is healthy. Your body’s a fucking disgrace, tubbo.

You gotta realize just how bad being this fat is for you, right? Think about it. All that fat’s wrapping around your organs. Either they work harder, or they just quit working. Your joints are getting annihilated having to move all that extra weight around. Your heart’s having to work so much harder just to do its thing because you’re so fucking big. Your body’s not supposed to work like that. It feels like it’s under attack 24/7 — because it is — so you’ve got anxiety, you’ve got inflammation, your hormones are all out of wack. Your body chemistry is basically fucked once you get fat. And fucking forget about it when you weigh as much as three normal people, like your flabby ass does.

Not that you seem to care, since you pay zero attention to your diet. It’s just fucking scary, bro. I’ve seen you pound an entire pizza or a bag of burgers and be ready for more. And that’s just, like, a regular lunch for you. There’s so much saturated fat and sugar in all the shit you eat for every meal, it blows my mind that you’re even able to function. Where do you think that shit goes after you cram it down your throat, meal after meal? It’s blowing up your body even fatter. It’s clogging up those arteries to make that overworked heart work even harder. It’s running through all the insulin your body tries to pump out so that it can deal with the abuse you put it through. I bet if I went through your kitchen right now, I couldn’t find one goddamn vegetable — all sweets, and takeout, and chips, and junk food, am I right? Yeah, you love kicking back on the sofa and working through a big pile of garbage like that, don’t you, fatass? I bet you sit there just belly out, crumbs and shit all over your tits, like a big fucking blob, huh?

Keep eating like that, and you don’t have a fucking chance. You’re just gonna keep blowing up until you finally have the fucking big one. That shit is so, SO bad for you. You want to not be a total embarrassment, fatty? You’re gonna have to throw the snack cakes in the garbage. You’re gonna have to cook stuff that’s not loaded with butter or grease or sugar. You’re gonna have to eat something green that grows in the ground every once in a while. And yeah, you’re probably going to feel like shit for a while because your body’s used to getting fed lard nonstop all the fucking time. But you gotta get a little self-control. The whole reason why you look like a fucking enormous cow, why you’ve got that belly packed full of fat fucking garbage, is that you’ve never had any.

I guess what I can’t figure out is, why the fuck did you do this to yourself? It’s so much harder to make it through life when you’re this fucking heavy. You can’t even go anywhere or do anything because you’re too fat to leave the house. Everyone you meet has to be shocked at what a lardass you are. Nobody who sees your disgustingly obese body is gonna want to fuck you, except the fucking weirdos who get off on that shit. Maybe that’s who you have to settle for, since there’s no way you’re reaching your dick with all that fat in the way. God, I can’t even imagine letting myself get too fat to be able to fuck. That’s so fucking gross, bro.

Like, look at me. Look at this rock-hard bicep next to that big flabby fucking water wing of an arm you have. Look at these abs next to you and that belly hanging down to your knees. It doesn’t even have a fucking shape. Look at these tight glutes next to that wide, wobbling, fat ass you’ve gotten from sitting in front of the tv stuffing your fat face for years. With a body like this, I can fuck anyone I want. How do you think that same hookup’s gonna go for you, huh? Nobody out there’s going home with a pile of jello like you You’re going home, alone, to try and figure out a way to get yourself off.

And dude, I’m not saying all this just to shit on you. I’m worried about you. It sucks to see my bro blow up into a fucking whale and get all mopey ‘cause he can’t get any ass. But you need someone to be real with you. Someone’s gotta tell you how much of a fatass you are, and how much of a fatass you’re gonna be until you get to the gym and shut this fast food and shit down. You can’t blame anyone but yourself for how you got this way. Keep complaining, and you’re going to keep being a gross fatty. You’re gonna have to go out, get some fucking exercise, and deal with being embarrassed at being the fattest guy at the gym until you’ve put in the work to fix it.

Trust me, bro, you’ll thank me later.

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #gaining #gainer stories

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pearlywritings · 5 months

Text

A nickname's origin

synopsis: after meeting your lover's family and having a great start of your trip to Morepesok, Childe wakes you early in the morning, because he has something to show you...

prompt: 21

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Childe x fem!reader

tw: fluff, established relationship, usage of Childe's real name

word count: 1.5k+ words

a/n: part of my Token of appreciation writing event! Closed now, still have 3 more requests to write.

“Isn’t the scenery marvelous?”

It absolutely is. Snowy planes sparkle in the rising sun as if the ground is covered by richest furs and most precious gems - it’s almost blinding. The giant pine trees look enormous even kilometers away from you, creating a thick forestland; you remember how your lover told you that it is home for many species you can’t find anywhere but Snezhnaya. Looking back, you release a puff of warm air, adoring the sight of wooden cottages - or how the locals call those izba’s - lining perfectly, each with a fence, which is carved with intricate patterns and charms to protect from evil spirits. Smoke curls from the chimneys and it immediately reminds you where you are.

Outside. In the early hours of the morning.

“Wish we were watching it from the inside of your family’s house,” yawning, you reach to adjust the scarf - along with the hat it was knitted by his mom and gifted to you with the warmest of smiles. It’s been just a couple of minutes since you two exited the village and the cold is already biting the few uncovered areas of your face.

Ajax laughs. Heartily, with his hands resting on his hips and head thrown back. Of course, he is laughing, of course he’s going to suffer less - he was born and lived all his life in such an environment.

“It’s not funny!” Your huff is ignored and a punch that was aimed to his shoulder is easily caught by his palm.

“Sorry, sorry. I just imagined how my siblings would’ve been glued to your sides and mama and papa continued their yesterday’s quest to ask you hundreds of questions. Don’t be mad, I thought you’d like to have a little break, at least for half a day, my fierce ounce.”

Ounce. That’s what he’s been calling you for the longest time now, yet never, never, telling you what that means (but he did assure you it’s a good thing, he loves you after all). However, he promised to show you once you come with him to Snezhnaya to visit his family.

To make it short - here you are, in Morepesok, at dawn, with your gingerhead of a fiance, motivated to stay in this harsh weather only to finally find out what or who was your lover’s inspiration behind his nickname for you.

“You have a point,” you sigh. You are happy his relatives were excited to meet and accept you, so much joy filled your heart yesterday, when you arrived. But dealing with so many people drained you - just a second of your head touching the pillow was enough to send you right to the gates of the dreamland. “I need some energy-refill before being ready to maintain a proper conversation with them again…”

“Don’t forget that the whole village wants to meet a lovely bride I brought with me,” it makes your groan.

“Is that really necessary..?”

“It’s a tradition. But it’s going to be fine, I promise,” the snow crunches under his heavy felt boots as he steps closer, arms circling your waist, and lips touching the bridge of your nose, making you close your eyes. Oh, the frost is already brimming your eyelashes. “Mama and papa are going to organize a feast - to celebrate you, to show you are a part of the family now, and our neighbors are going to come to congratulate us and bring some presents.”

“Well, I like presents,” his words and embrace soothe you, and you bury your face into the fur of his sheepskin coat. “And I like people acknowledging our relationship.”

“See? It’s a win-win,” he grins widely, boyishly, and it’s enough to reassure you. After all, you won’t be alone - he will be by your side.

“Alright, alright. Now, can we move? it’s getting cold, even with all these extra layers of clothes…”

“Sorry, baby. See that forest? There are mountains on the other side, that’s where we are heading to.”

“Wait, we’ll have to climb?” You look at him incredulously, perfectly aware that neither your clothes, nor your abilities are suitable for such an activity. Childe pats your back reassuringly.

“Nope, simply observe from a good spot. Come on, to that house to the left my dear, I made an agreement with Uncle Vladislav to give us a ride. Don't let go of my hand, alright? The path can be a bit slippery.”

The first experience of riding in the sleigh drawn by horses was magical. Though it was open, you had a very warm fur blanket covering your legs, snuggling into Childe’s side, taking in the vast snow fields surrounding you. Uncle Vladislav appeared to be a nice old man, with a long beard and bushy white eyebrows that almost covered his gray eyes. Before the ride he let you offer some carrots to the three beautiful white horses and gently pat their big noses. And during the ride he managed to entertain you with all kinds of stories of local folklore - his words perfectly flying behind his back and to you, and then he even started singing. Something about three white horses named December, January and February taking him somewhere into the ringing snowy far far away. You even managed to doze off a little - your lover had to shake you out of it when you finally arrived.

“Wow, we’ve ridden right into the forest?” You can’t help but ask in astonishment - from the distance the forest looked absolutely dense, but now you can clearly see a road wide enough to get through the way you did.

“Cool, right?” The smiling gingerhead offers you his hand, before turning to the old man. “Uncle, it can take some time, sure you want to wait for us?”

“Haha, that’s a funny thing you ask, chap. If I make you walk back your mother will have my head. Not that I was going to do so in the first place. Don’t worry about the cold - for the worst case scenario I have a bottle of fire-water with me. Might offer you and your girl to take a sip when you return.”

“Hope, it won’t be necessary!” Clasping his gloved fingers around yours, clad in mittens, the young man leads you away with a giddy look in his eyes.

“Sooo, are you ready to see a real ounce?” That wide boyish smile is back on his face and excitement exhilarates in your system. Ready? You were born ready. At your enthusiastic nods Childe presses his nose to your temple, gently rubbing in affection. “Great, because we are almost here. But please, be careful. Even with all that snow you can easily trip. And above all, do not let go…” his hold on your hand tightens. “For any reason, understood?”

“Ajax, if you tell me this one more time, I will let go. You've been telling me this since yesterday as if there is danger looming over me. Then again, how are you gonna protect me with one hand occupied? Or- Oh. Ooooh~” a smug smile appears on your lips. “Is my darling clingy~?”

He whines something about being worried and protecting you with no hands at all, to which you just laugh, promising that you are just teasing. And it's not like you can resist his adorable devoted clinginess - thus the lock of hands stays unbroken.

Not a couple of minutes later you are standing in a clear spot among the rows of trees which is enough to see the side of the mountain above the coniferous tops. Your lover is squinting, sharp eyes searching the expanse of the rocky surface. You patiently wait, quickly realizing that it’s pointless to stare there not knowing what you are looking for. Besides, admiring Ajax doing such a concentrated face is a treat.

Finally his eyes widen and a toothy grin tugs his mouth wide.

“Well, my dear, we are lucky. Look at that cliff.”

Trying your best to follow the direction of his unoccupied hand pointing you to lift your gaze. A thin ribbon of steam is momentarily broken when your breath hitches - and there is a solid reason for it.

A majestically looking large cat is getting ready to make a jump to the next protruding ledge. Fur is whitish to grey with black spots on the head and neck, with larger rosettes on the back, flanks and bushy tail. Oh, the tail. It’s so long and thick, like a whole other body. And then the animal jumps, flawlessly landing on all paws and getting a nice stretch, as if showing off specifically for the two of you.

“It’s a snow leopard,” your partner explains. “But here we call them ‘ounces’.”

“It’s… It’s so pretty…” You can’t take your eyes from the creature, so perfect among the snowy mountains.

“Part of the reason I gave you this nickname,” he embraces you from behind, putting his chin on top of your head and gently rocking your body in place. “Another part is because you are fierce and strong and also I really loved these animals when I was a kid. Always begged dad to take me hunting birds just to see the cats.”

“Aww, it’s so sweet,” despite the freezing cold your heart melts and you put your palms on top of his locked on your stomach. “But why being a tease and calling me a word I don’t know? Why not ‘my snow leopard’ instead?”

“About that… Let’s just say I wanted to keep the intrigue and increase my chances when convincing you to visit my homeland.”

A sheepish chuckle that follows makes you want to give him a little punch, but you quickly decide against it. Admittedly, Ajax did everything perfectly - this whole trip to Morepesok has been excellent so far, and he did not disappoint with the inspiration behind this unique term of endearment.

“Can we watch it a little bit more?”

“As long as you want, my pretty ounce."

#pearly writing appreciation event #token of appreciation #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #childe x fem!reader #tartaglia #childe #genshin impact fluff

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yutafrita · 6 months

Text

Dollhouse

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

half-vampire!Sungchan x Vampire Hunter!Reader (she/her; femme presenting)

Genre: Angst, dark fantasy

WC: 6.5k

Synopsis: You, an elite vampire hunter, have been assigned to take down the son of the infamous vampire, the puppeteer.

TW PLEASE READ: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! +18 ONLY. Excessive swearing, obsessive behaviors, stalking, a lot of gore, mentions of bullying, emotional abuse, psychological abuse, murder, suggestive/ sexual themes, dubcon heavily implied, violence/ threatened violence, death of family. Please proceed with caution.

I do not believe that any person written into this fic or any of my fics acts at all like these characters here. Their real life counterparts are just my inspiration and are utilized as actors for the story. No ill will is intended.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ * ੈ✩‧₊˚｡⋆｡ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ﾟ☾

You were going to get fired.

You felt it in your bones. Your leg wouldn’t stop fidgeting as you sat in Irene’s office, the crest of the organization looming over you making you feel small.

Irene walked in, her face cold as stone as she threw a file in front of you before she sat on her chair, “this is your new job.”

You blinked, “what?”

“Initially, I was going to give it to Seulgi and put you on probation-.”

“I killed the vampire cleanly and quickly-.”

“And in front of another human,” Irene cut you off before pinching the bridge of her nose, “look. An insider told us that you would work best for this job, and,” she sighed before opening the manilla folder, “I think they’re right. The puppeteer has been missing for months after we had finally devised a plan to take the motherfucker out.”

You squinted as you looked over the carefully collected information before you asked, “how much time do I have?”

“Not a lot, so hurry up.” -----------

The library was warm and inviting. It was a small public library that matched the small town it was nestled in. Even when agents were sent weeks ago, they all agreed- it was entirely unremarkable, which made him an even stranger anomaly. The town itself was often forgotten on maps and glossed over, but as you entered the library, you were in awe of the coziness.

It was almost too easy to find out everything about him. Graduated from community college in library sciences. No one had a single mean thing to say about him… ever. Apparently he hadn’t been in a long term relationship in years either. Your angle had written itself to ensnare him without much help from anyone else in the organization.

You sauntered in slowly, your heels muffled by the dusty carpet as you slowly approached the center table where he sat. You had on a loose fitting dress that stopped at your calves, a low cut top that was still mildly conservative, your dark sunglasses, and your freshly done hair wrapped in a silk bandana.

You found it difficult to hold back your laughter as he locked eyes with you. He was processing a few returned books when he dropped his stamp to fully stare at you. You gave yourself permission to smirk once you made it to the desk, leaning against it to allow him to take full stock of you. His big brown eyes were scanning over every part of you, and by the tremble of his jaw you could tell he was fully trying to hold himself back.

"Hi sir, could you help me out?" your voice was low, and you watched as his dropped jaw slowly lifted. He blinked quickly, looking between your chest and lips before he cleared his throat and looked away, his ears now an embarrassing shade of red. The council had perfectly planned every minute detail down to the final strand of hair, and he was reacting even more deliciously than anticipated.

It was almost too easy how much he was falling like putty in your hands.

"O-Of... of course! How can I help, miss?"

You removed your sunglasses and placed your hand on his chest where his name tag sat.

"Well... Sungchan," you smiled, tracing your fingers over his name before placing them back to your side, "I'm currently working on a project for a research course."

You began spouting off on a topic you knew Sungchan was absolutely fascinated by. The Vampire Hunter Council had done extensive research on the half-human bastard off-spring of the missing high profile leader of the Vampires. The puppeteer’s son’s eyes were still rounded, hanging onto every word coming out from between your glossy lips as you spoke.

After you finished, there was a pause, and then, "you're perfect."

"I'm sorry?" you pretended to not hear his mutter as you batted your eyelashes at him. He was half-vampire, but as far as you could tell either his vampiric side was fully dormant or barely did much- there were no reports of missing humans in the area, didn’t seem to have his father’s gifts, he was not nocturnal, and didn't bare any fangs.

You almost felt bad about having to kill him.

Even if Sungchan didn't know his monster of a father, it was still an absolute shame to vampires to have your offspring be murdered, and you planned to bring Sungchan's head to the feet of the Puppeteer. At least, that’s the plan. You’ll have to lob Sungchan’s head off after using him as bait to bring the puppeteer out from hiding.

Sungchan had led you to the back of the library, his large hands holding several books and tapes for you.

“You seem to know a lot… are you busy later? I would love to pick your brain,” You were nearly purring, your hands squeezing his forearm. Cold. Not as cold as other vampires you’ve suckered into thinking you’re weak before killing them, but still colder than an average human. Was this the only way his vampiric side showed?

“No! I mean… I’m not I…” Sungchan was sputtering out now, his free hand pushing up his glasses. “I- I would love to help you.”

“Hm… are those prescriptions?” You asked, your fingers moving to tap the bridge of his glasses and watch his breathing hitch. Vampires typically had enhanced vision, and while he was only half-human, none of his medical records showed that he had any possible visual impairments.

“N-no they’re for the uh… blue light…” his muttered, clearly flustered. After he led you back to the front desk he began typing away at the computer before nervously looking back up. "Do you have your library card?"

Before you left the vampire hunters council headquarters, you were given every bit of fake identification you would need and this indeed included a library card.

"I... I've never seen you around here before," he was clearly racking his head to remember you as he continued the check out process. He had read off your fake name, and you watched him mutter it to himself to commit it to memory.

"I got it somewhere else in the county," you fibbed, "so. I'll see you at the diner at 9?"

"Y-yes, absolutely."

_______________

You arrived at 9:12pm.

Sungchan sat in the corner in a small red booth with a bouquet of flowers, twiddling his thumbs upon your entrance. There were only three other patrons at the small diner, all at the counter with their backs to you as they stared up at the old television set playing a hockey game.

According to your research, Sungchan had gone on a few dates with a few people he went to the local high school with- so between his bashfulness, innocence, and likely exhaustion with his small dating pool, his eagerness to see you made sense. It was also something you and the rest of the vampire hunters council were banking on. You needed him to be obsessed with you- to post you online, for everyone in town to see you with the librarian, and allow this information to trickle up to his father. You were a top level hunter and were well hated enough by Vampires that this would not be overlooked- especially not by the Puppeteer.

"You look so handsome," you complimented, sitting across from the nervous young man. You were late on purpose- aiming to put him more on edge. You were in a tight mini dress and a pair of combat boots. A combination in your daily life you wouldn’t normally pick, but from his internet history seemed to be outfit pieces he really loved on women.

“Th-Thank you,” he then shoved the bouquet towards you, “these are for you.”

“Roses,” you hummed, staring down at the perfectly red petals, “you’re so sweet, thank you.”

“Um s-so roses are a great way to convey joy, friendship… passion,” he scratched the back of his neck bashfully. “They’re beautiful and uh… reminded me of you.”

“Roses are my favorite… are you a mind reader Sungchan?” you playfully reached across the table and tapped his shoulder. Lying was easier when you got to mix in the truth. Roses were your favorite, but they were also a part of the crest of the Vampiric Hunters for their scent is supposed to keep vampires at bay.

It seemed to also be another way that Sungchan’s vampiric side didn’t bare its teeth.

Sungchan was sickly sweet. As the weeks passed, each time you would go on a date he would bring either flowers, a book regarding your paper, or a poem he had written for you.

You were inside the motel you were crashing at, recounting this to the president of the hunters.

“Has anyone heard from the puppeteer?” you asked. A part of you was starting to genuinely feel guilty- Sungchan was so human. He ate human food, lounged in the sun, and even seemed to have a heartbeat.

You had considered that his vampiric powers had simply never awoken, and that they never would. This was highly uncommon in vampire hybrids, but genetics were fickle, so Sungchan wouldn’t be an exception if he really just seemed fully human despite having a vampire dad.

“No, but it seems like he’s still giving orders through his lackeys. There was even a small scourge of his puppets tearing up a small town,” Irene recounted, “Remember to keep him sweet on you.”

“Did I not read to you this latest poem? The last stanza was talking about how he wants to fuck me and keep me with him forever.”

“Wow, that’s a little creepy… and maybe sweet?”

“His face was all red when I teased him about it.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t fucked him yet.”

“I have to kill him, Irene.”

“That has never stopped you before,” she noted. Irene was right of course. Vampires tended to be overly sexual creatures, so seducing them often led to placing them in more vulnerable positions that could allow you to take advantage of them.

“Fair,” you muttered, glancing out the window to see the same person who walks their dog at this time every night passing the street across the motel. This town was sleepy and boring, but it was almost odd how scheduled everyone was. No car accidents ever, the same groupings of people throughout town all in the same places. Static.

After you hung up with Irene, you moved across the room to the stack of books you checked out from the library all those weeks ago. They were due soon, and you were planning to swing by the library to drop them off with Sungchan while also sweet talking him with stupid facts you had picked up.

You flitted through the last book you hadn’t opened yet and paused. Crammed in between a few pages was a tightly folded note. Curious, you unraveled it. In extremely messy handwriting and covering the entire sheet was one sentence.

Write forever until I die. Write forever until I die. Write forever until I die.

You squinted and scoffed. Likely it was a kid in detention that was assigned to write out whatever was on the board and instead did this as a weird joke. Without much thought you tossed it into the trash.

Still. You had a shiver run down your spine. Wrapping yourself up in a coat, and grabbing the ice bucket you stepped out of your room. Maybe a walk around the motel would make you feel better about having to kill the kid who didn’t ask to be born.

The ice machine sat in the lobby and was usually only manned by the same two people who would hardly look up from their books. You filled it up and looked back over to see the young man again reading Slaughter-house five.

“Yknow, Vonnegut has written other books,” you joked. The young man flinched, his grip tightening on the book to a point that his knuckles were white. Yet, he didn’t speak or react in any other way. You frowned, and returned to your room.

“Do you like the stars?” Sungchan had asked the following night as you helped him close up at the library.

“Hm, they are pretty, yes,” you hummed, sitting on the edge of the desk. Just like the other nights you had helped Sungchan, the same patrons who seemed to be there every night, left at the same time in the same fashion, all with the same smile and wave to the librarian as they exited.

“I… Do you wanna go into my truck and look at them?” he asked, and you noted he was avoiding your gaze as the red tint on his ears shone.

“I’m a lady, Sungchan,” you pouted, watching as he seemed to jump, “I hope you’re not… expecting anything.”

He was so easy to fluster. It wasn’t even just to keep him obsessed with you at this point- it was because you found it downright exciting. He was so cute as he jumped up from his seat.

“I would never expect anything from you that you don’t want.”

Sungchan was soft and sweet. Your job as a hunter didn’t allow for much dating outside of your profession, and most other hunters were too preoccupied to give romance much attention. Every minute you spent with Sungchan gave you the delusion that you could leave the life of being a hunter and runaway together. You could protect him, and be happy. But then, you were reminded of the oath you gave, your few friendships, and the fact that you have been lying to Sungchan, and you’re brought back down to earth.

You laid on the trunk bed with Sungchan. He drove out a few miles to empty farmland and covered the trunk bed in pillows and blankets. The stars shone bright in the sky, and you looked up to see Sungchan staring up with a smile on his face. He was beautiful with stars reflecting themselves in his eyes.

“My Mom used to take me out here all the time,” he started, his voice a whisper. “I would get bullied a lot in school, so on the weekends when all of the other kids would hang out, my mom would bring me out here and tell me stories.”

“I’m sorry kids were so cruel to you,” you were sincere, squeezing his arm as you laid on his chest, “do… you have any favorite stories? I’d love to hear them.”

“It’s okay- I got to be the bigger person in the end,” you swear you could hear a smirk, but you were too comfortable to check, “but stories… well. She would always tell me this one story whenever I was really down.”

He cleared his throat, kissed the top of your head, and started working from his memory, “there was once a sickly, meek child. He had a hard time gathering his breath, and struggled to keep up with other kids his age. Running was especially a challenge, and his legs would often give out as his peers would run off, laughing at him. He was clumsy, and his limbs were so stiff and wooden. He began to be known as the puppet because of this. Between the torture of the other children, and the torture of his own body, the boy fell deathly ill. The local doctor told the boy’s mother that her son only had a few hours left at best- but, if she gave her own life, her son could live forever.”

Sungchan paused, and you could hear him swallow thickly before continuing, “the mother begged for there to be another way. It was just her and her boy- while her son could live forever, how was he going to grow fully into a capable young man without a guiding hand? The doctor assured the mother though, that the son wouldn’t be alone. He will create a new family of his own one day.”

“And so, the boy was not only given the gift of eternal life, but also another, even more special gift,” he hummed a bit then, “can you take a guess?”

There was a chill that raced down your spine. You sat your chin on his chest, meeting his eyes. You absolutely could take a guess- a real guess, but you decided to continue playing dumb, “hmmm, flying? So he could fly far away from the bullies?”

Sungchan chuckled before he kissed the tip of your nose, “no, but that’s a great guess. The boy was able to control the minds of those bullies, so they could never be cruel to anyone ever again.”

“The puppet became the puppeteer,” you froze, unable to stop yourself. His mother presented this story, and Sungchan had it fully memorized without realizing that the puppeteer was his own father.

“Yeah,” Sungchan was quiet before he met your gaze. “I know you won’t be here forever, but I wish you could stay. I want to know everything about you. Did your parents tell you stories at night?”

“My parents died when I was very young,” you confessed, “they were killed in a home invasion.”

This was partially the truth. Your parents were killed in a home invasion of a pair of twin vampires who slaughtered them mercilessly. You were in the room next door when it happened, hiding under the bed until it was over. The hunters arrived hours later, and you were then adopted into their ranks.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. That’s not fair,” he squeezed you closely and you shrugged.

“Can’t change the past,” you shrugged, forcing a smile.

Despite your own hesitations, you gave in to Sungchan’s begging, and stayed the night at his place. You couldn’t sleep though, and after you were sure he was knocked out, you stepped outside to the back of the apartment complex to call your closest friend.

“Seulgi… he’s a human,” you whisper cried. The back of Sungchan’s apartment complex held a small forest, and seemed to absorb any bit of light the complex offered.

“And you’re sure he’s not manipulating you?”

“You know I can always spot that shit. Remember the orphanage?”

“Vampires turning young children into vampires so they could more easily kidnap humans… you spotted it faster than Irene did,” Seulgi conceited. There was a rustle in the trees and you froze. Your small wooden stake was always hidden somewhere on your person, this time in the lining of your jacket.

“It’s your job, though. Think of the lives you’ll save by bringing the puppeteer out of the shadows.”

“I’ve gotta go,” you hung up, shoving your phone back into your pocket and sliding out the stake. The forest was quiet, and for a moment you thought you imagined it.

Then, a hand holding a clean white napkin appeared before the rest of their body followed.

“I’m not here to attack, just have a chat,” Yuta had a mischievous grin as he skipped out from the forest and towards you. Yuta was a five hundred year old vampire who had climbed the Royal ranks due to his ability to game information. He was never a liar, but just someone who knew how to use knowledge to his advantage.

“You miss me?” You taunted, arms crossed.

“Of course,” he simpered, now fully in your view as the lighting coated him. He was inhumanely handsome, which was to be expected. “However, that’s not why I’m here.”

“And why are you here? Yknow, most people drive past this tiny little town and yet…” you let your voice trail off, an eyebrow raised as you studied his features.

“I’m one of the few people that know about Sungchan, the puppeteer has kept his half-human son under wraps for a while. How did the hunters find him?”

“Ah, so you want information from me?” You chuckled at his nerve.

“Hm, I think we can exchange actually,” he raised his eyebrow, and your eyes widened instinctually. Now this was very appealing. “You see, I pop in every few months to see how the young man is doing. Check him out from a far. Then, I write out a report, and give it to his dear old daddy.”

“Why would you tell me where he is?”

“Hm, perhaps I have my own ulterior motives for leading a top hunter directly to him,” Yuta then took out an envelope from his shirt pocket. “Tell me our leak, and I’ll tell you what you want.”

“It wasn’t a leak,” you rolled your eyes, “Sungchan did one of those family ancestry online dna things. We utilized it see if there was any human-vampire matches… he just popped up one day.”

“God, is there no such thing as data privacy anymore?” Yuta sucked his fangs before extending the envelope towards you. “I hope you are prepared to face the true wrath of the puppeteer.”

You slid back upstairs after a short while, the envelope tucked into your jacket.

——-

Yuta was a fucking liar. The address made no sense- it was clearly just Sungchan’s apartment. You wanted to rip your hair out- how could you be so stupid?

While Sungchan was at work you looked through every crevice of his place, and the only off putting thing you could find was his high school yearbook. God, the kids were so cruel to him. Sungchan couldn’t hurt a damn fly now as a fully grown man, let alone defend himself against the relentless bullies he faced.

You were hitting a dead end. No other vampires had made their way to the town since Yuta a month ago, Sungchan had completely become infatuated with you, and you were becoming too close to the half-breed.

One night, after he returned from work, you bought a bottle of wine. You had hoped potentially getting him a little drunk could coax any memory of his father out. He had spoken at length about how great his mother was, but shrugged off any prodding you made about his dad. It didn’t help that Irene was breathing down your neck, and Seulgi was struggling to keep her at bay.

“It’s not too strong, is it? I’m not good with alcohol,” He giggled as he helped you uncork the bottle.

“It’s not strong,” you lied as he took out two untouched wine glasses from the cabinet.

“Oh, can you grab me my phone? I left it in the bathroom,” he smiled. Without a second thought, you maneuvered to the bathroom to take it off the counter. While you still on occasion stayed at the motel, Sungchan was incredibly needy. And since your job was to keep him interested in you, you felt inclined to bend to his will, especially when he didn’t care about anything else you did. You still hadn’t even slept with him yet, much to Seulgi’s and your own surprise.

No messages on Sungchan’s phone, or calls, as per usual. You knew he didn’t have a ton of friends or anything, but it was still… weird. No one else in town spoke to you unless it was more than a word and you initiated it. Everything here had felt fake, but without any real reason to be suspicious, you couldn’t really share your concerns. A town full of people, and yet it still felt empty to you.

Seulgi was busy keeping Irene from slashing your throat, so your own phone has been dull as of late. Maybe Sungchan just sincerely didn’t use his phone, ever, unless it was to speak to you.

“Here, Sungie,” you placed it on the counter, and took the drink he handed off to you. You took a large sip and frowned slightly to yourself.

“Everything okay?” He tilted his head, his beautiful brown eyes filled with concern.

“No I guess I just left the wine under the sun for too long,” you reason, taking another sip. It was a little funky, as if the wine had soured.

“Ah, maybe. All wine tastes the same to me,” he took a sip of his own, and you noticed the small dimple that formed and disappeared.

“What are you ssssmiling about?” You asked. Your words came out more slurred than you’d like. You were a strong drinker, but you also haven’t been drinking as much lately. Maybe that’s why the wine was hitting you faster than usual?

Sungchan leaned a little closer, his hand holding your chin up, “how long were you planning to lie to me?”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you leaned your head fully on his hand as you slowly processed what he said, “I… haven’t -.”

“You thought that I wouldn’t notice a pair of hunters in my town following me around?” He squeezed your chin and you yelped in surprise. You were fighting your body now, trying to stay awake despite whatever he put in your drink. “I’ve been waiting for you… for so long. I’ve planned it all and yet… you still won’t be honest with me. That’s okay though. I’ll forgive you.”

————-

You don’t remember meeting Sungchan, but he remembered you.

Years ago, Sungchan had done a solo trip to the big city, and wanted to test his world. Everyone did what he said at all times- how far could he push this gift?

“That’ll be $4.26 for your coffee, sir.”

“This coffee is free for me,” Sungchan hummed. He didn’t ever have to do extra work to make this gift pop in- whatever his wish was, as long as it was physically possible, was his command.

“Yes, your coffee is free,” the man nodded as Sungchan walked off.

This is how Sungchan lived life. He had gotten the entire shit town he lived in to follow his every whim. The world was his giant dollhouse.

Until you shattered it.

Sungchan was able to control the folks working the front desk at the nicest hotel he could find. He was set up in the best possible suite, and sat one night at their rooftop lounge that overlooked the concrete city.

“It’s a great view,” a voice above the chatter of other guests caught his attention. You wore a simple dark t shirt and dark pants, and spared him a smile as you leaned against the railing with him.

“Yeah,” was all Sungchan offered. It was difficult to force himself to engage in conversations anymore, but you were pretty enough that he didn’t feel like shooing you away.

“What brings you here?” You asked, your gaze still set on the city below.

“Hm, I’m on a journey of self-discovery. You?”

“I’m here for work,” you replied. Sungchan looked at you again. Your voice was nice, you were attractive, and he didn’t have other plans.

“Come to my room with me,” he spoke, moving off the railing. Instead of your eyes losing their sparkle and glazing over, though, you stayed just as you were.

Instead, you burst out laughing.

“You’re funny,” you chuckled, unmoving. He froze. Maybe he didn’t say it loud enough.

“Come-.”

“You wish. Maybe buy me a drink next time,” you gently shoved his arm, and then disappeared out of the lounge.

Sungchan was frozen, his eyes not moving from where you once stood next to him. After what felt like hours, he rushed downstairs to the concierge and got your information.

You were made for Sungchan, you had to be. Why else would the universe deliver him the exciting puzzle that was you? A vampire hunter since childhood was now the only being Sungchan, a half-vampire, couldn’t control. It was fate. To him, you were star crossed lovers, destined for one another despite the complications.

Sungchan had discovered his parentage early in life. He was able to easily get his mother to tell him the truth about his father since she, like everyone else, was susceptible to their gifts.

So, his next steps to get you trapped, were set.

Sungchan had been using the town he lived in as a dollhouse for years beforehand. He loved testing the limits of his abilities, and had hoped that it would one day awaken his proper vampiric powers. In the meantime, though, he would use the citizens to cultivate a proper image for the hunters to happen upon.

Having every town member edit their social medias. Perfectly crafting and tailoring his existence to seem like a shy, bullied child. Make sure every person in town, if ever approached, all know exactly what to say. All that was left was to get a few vampires that knew their way around the hunters so Sungchan could fully execute his plan.

———-

You were awake, but kept your eyes shut.

It was a technique learned early in your hunter training, but one you didn’t ever use. You didn’t lose the upper hand often enough to be foolishly knocked out.

And, yet, you failed.

“Your breathing is uneven and your heart rate spiked,” his voice sent a chill down your spine.

You cracked open your eyes. You were laid on a plush mattress, and Sungchan sat at the corner of the bed, his eyes unmoving from you.

You wanted to die. Sungchan’s big, beautiful brown eyes that you had become prey for, were gone and replaced with your worst fear. Ruby red eyes, and they were fixed on you.

“You awakened me,” he cooed, crawling towards where you laid. Your eyes searched the space frantically for anything to defend yourself with. Your wrists were bound by rope, and you had been stripped down and changed into a completely different outfit without any of your hidden weapons. The bed you sat on was on top of a metal bed frame, and the wooden nightstands didn’t offer a quick change into a stake. You sat there, like a piece of fresh meat as he now hovered over you. “I want to show you something.”

Sungchan tossed you over his shoulder like you were nothing, taunting you with his newly found vampiric strength. You were reeling.

“You were out cold for three days. I didn’t think what I added to the wine would do that much,” he chuckled as he carried you past beautiful marble flooring and down a few sets of staircases. You were trying to create a mental map, but he was going too fast for you to get much down. “I’m so happy you’re finally here so I can show you your gift.”

Like you were a child, Sungchan placed you on your feet and turned you around. You gagged, staring at the horrific site in front of you. It had to have been months judging by the level of decay, and this matched up with your previous information.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Sungchan snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you tightly to him, “the old, fake puppeteer is dead. Now, the hunters don’t need you to pull him out of the shadows.”

“Y-You’re the puppeteer now,” you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut. Yuta wasn’t being a dick- he was helping you.

“I had to throw the hunters off our scent-.”

“There is no- Sungchan what the fuck?” you broke from his grasp, terrified and searching the basement area for anything you could use to kill the monster in front of you. “You… you were a human-.”

“And bringing you to your new home awakened me fully!” he was so joyful as he said this, the dread consuming you.

“I was only with you so I could bring,” you glanced at the horrible sight of his slain father, “him down. I was going to kill you.”

“You don’t get it,” he whispered. He looked away, and for a moment you swore his dead eyes were going to shed tears before he met your gaze with a dead glare. “I have planned everything so I could have you. I stole my father’s empire, I had the head of the hunters controlled into giving you this fake assignment…”

As he paused, you decided to make a run towards the basement stairs. You were desperate, and that desperation had made you stupid. Sungchan caught you within an instant, one hand wrapped around your waist and the other squeezing your wrist with an iron grip.

“I didn’t want it to come down to this,” he pouted, “that friend of yours… I have it set that if you escape from me, she’ll burn down the hunters headquarters with herself inside.”

“Seulgi?” you whispered, eyes wide with terror.

“Don’t you get it, though? We are meant to be!” he was smiling as if he did not threaten your livelihood. “Ever since that day in the hotel when you told me no! You’re the only person in the world who did- and you’re a hunter! You are the Juliet to my Romeo!”

“They both die at the end you fucking idiot,” you replied through gritted teeth.

He let go of your wrist, and instead gripped under your chin with his cold hand, “we’re going to have to work on how you speak to me my love.”

Then, you remembered him. The encounter was so brief and so small to you, and yet, it seemed to be absolutely defining for Sungchan to a point that you became his whole focus. Now, your knees trembled as your fate settled.

You set your gaze down, submitting as he let go of your chin.

“See? This is good. I have your favorite foods, and everything you could ever need here,” he squeezed you to his chest, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to cry. “I know you hate cooking, so I have a team of chefs here just for you.”

“Not of their own will,” you bit, and you felt his grip on you tighten before he forced out a hearty laugh.

“These people are all dolls. Now that I’ve taken over my father’s empire…” his voice trailed off. “Nothing in this world matters except for us.”

_______

You snuck onto the rooftop one night. Sungchan had fallen asleep next to you, and you had managed to slip out. Despite the chill in the air, it was not nearly as cold as when you would be forced to be by his side. Before his vampiric powers awakened, he was still slightly colder, but now it was like being next to dry ice.

You needed to breathe.

You missed Seulgi. You hated seeing the glazed over eyes of the people Sungchan took from god knows where. You hated having to be around the monster of a man.

You hated yourself, especially, for feeling so weak and succumbing to him.

You stared down at the plethora of bites lining your arms, and lifted a hand to touch the ones on your neck that were still fresh. You couldn’t even bring yourself to poke at the ones that lined your upper thighs. You choked back a sob, the wind of the night air rustling through your hair as you stared at the fresh blood Sungchan had managed to leave behind after feeding from you.

You had let a monster inside of you, and the worst part was that you liked it. Sungchan was very clear about the fact that he had been studying you- everything about you. How you took your tea, how you liked to sleep curled up in a ball, and how to properly pleasure you. He had been studying you for years- knowing exactly how you seduced other vampires and how you would get yourself off. It was already an unfair advantage. This, coupled with the fact that being bitten by a vampire has the same effect on your brain as an orgasm, you were pretty much subdued physically as often as possible by him. And it felt fucking incredible- addictive, even. You hated yourself for being so weak. Weak to a point that you’d be begging for him to fuck you, just like he dreamed you would. Just like he hoped, you’d become his little doll. The shame was becoming unbearable.

You stared out at the surrounding area. In the darkness, all you could tell was that there was no city at all nearby, the light pollution nonexistent as you were able to see all the stars clearly. You were previously able to piece together that this residence used to be Sungchan’s father’s, but he had decided this was best for you. Maybe he was right, in a way. You felt like you were meant to die the night your parents did, so being here with Sungchan was a way to repair that broken strand of fate.

You heard footsteps and turned towards the door. It was one of the housekeepers Sungchan had around the property.

“Hello,” you stared blankly. This woman, like every other servant in the manor was instructed to not speak to you under any circumstances. She smiled awkwardly and within the blink of an eye, was in front of you.

Instinctually, you went to the pocket of your jacket for your stake. Of course, though, there was nothing. You were unarmed, and physically at your weakest.

She knocked you down to your back, and began dragging you by your hair towards the edge of the roof. The height was only a few stories so it wouldn’t be enough to kill you, but certainly hurt you enough to make killing you quicker for her.

You were clawing at her hands, tears streaming down your cheeks as you fought for your life. You hadn’t made it this far with Sungchan only to be killed by someone else.

She shoved your head over the edge as a wicked grin formed on her face. You sent a swift kick to the back of her knees, causing her to let go of your hair. You stood up and ran towards the door only to then see Sungchan standing there, eyes bright red in anger.

The woman let out a yelp of fear before you heard a sickening crunch. Sungchan had, without a drop of hesitation, lobbed the head off the vampire and was holding her by her scalp.

“I’ll have another servant pick this up.” he tossed her head off the side of the manor as if it was a crumpled piece of paper. He wrapped you in an embrace, the blood of the woman that landed on his chest now coating you.

“I don’t have anything to protect myself with,” you replied. You were desperate. Maybe, you thought, you could use his obsession with you to get him to give you a stake under the guise of self-preservation. Shit, even some vervain would be useful.

“You’re right…” he whispered, letting go of your embrace and holding you at an arm's length. He brushed the hair stuck to your face away, as you were still sniffling. His hand lowered to the bite marks on your throat. “I’ll make it so that you’re as strong as me.”

As strong as me.

“Sungchan no-!” you were struggling as Sungchan held you with one hand gripping the back of your neck. In the dim moonlight, you watched as his fangs pierced his wrist and exposed his blood.

“No, please!” You had hit a new low, begging for your life.

“I need you safe… and I need you by my side forever,” his voice was melodic as he shoved his wrist into your mouth. You were struggling as he jammed it in as deeply as possible, but you refused to swallow. In your struggle, you two had collapsed onto the ground. He had you fully pinned down, and seemed to relish the fear and disgust in your eyes as is his other hand moved to pinch your nose.

“You know you want to,” he purred, his lips now next to your ear. You were running out of air and the tears and snot were running down your face as you vigorously tried to shake your head no. “I know you love the power you feel when I bite you. When you get to boss the servants around. You’re mine. And now…”

You gulped, your eyes wide in horror as realization set in. His blood flowed down your throat, an ambrosial taste of iron now flooding your tongue and throat.

“Now… you’ll be your whole self with me. Forever.”

——————————————-

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Tag! @nini0620

#sungchan x reader #sungchan x y/n #riize imagines #sungchan fic #dark sungchan #vampire!sungchan #riize x reader #nct yandere #riize yandere #vampire nct #yandere themes #nct x reader #dollhouse #kflixnet #sungchan fluff #vampire riize

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callsignfate · 5 months

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My dear, What are you going to do now?

Day Five of Writemas/Birthday posts!

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here TW: Talk of guns and fake weapons, Valeria hunts you? If I've missed any let me know!

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Valeria endured a tedious day filled with dry paperwork. She huffed her way through the endless stacks until, succumbing to her boredom, she sought you out. Typically, you'd be in bed or somewhere close to the bedroom, avoiding Valeria's men who always seemed to be around.

She understood your need for space, even if she preferred having you close for reassurance that you were alive and well, combating her nagging thoughts.

Pushing open the bedroom door, she was surprised to find it empty. The room was neatly organized, and a brightly colored plastic gun sat on the bed. Caution etched her features as she approached, glancing at the note stuck to the bed.

'Here is your weapon, I have one too, good luck - xoxo your future wife.'

She scoffed but picked up the toy gun with a smile, stifling a small laugh. Turning on her heels, Valeria left the bedroom quickly, head moving rapidly as she inquired one of her men. He looked at her in confusion before pointing down the hallway, watching her laugh to herself as she headed in that direction, holding the brightly colored fake gun as if it were real.

Valeria repeated this process, asking her men about your whereabouts, each time following their directions as she stalked toward you. You had chosen a small corner with a large plant pot, a chair, and a small bookshelf nestled into it.

Spotting her from your cramped hiding spot, you slowly pulled out your Nerf gun, aiming it as she approached. The small click preceded the foam bullet shooting out, hitting Valeria in the leg. Her eyes widened before you leaped out of your hiding spot, dashing away while trying to stifle your laughter.

Valeria took off after you, yelling that she would win, playing along as she chased you. To your dismay, you took a left instead of a right, leading to a dead end. You cursed under your breath before Valeria laughed, standing only a few feet away.

"You've hit a dead end, my dear. What are you going to do now?" Valeria said, clicking her tongue in mock disapproval.

"Beg for my life?" You said, trying to act innocent and giving Valeria your best pouting puppy-dog eyes.

She scoffed before smiling and shaking her head. "It wouldn't work; El Sin Nombre can be pretty ruthless," she said playfully, observing your every move carefully.

"Then I'll... run!" You said with a laugh, attempting to run past her. Her arm grabbed your waist, pulling you towards her roughly.

"You've lost, but I bet there's one way you could convince me to let you live," she hummed out lowly, pressing the fake gun to your side as she escorted you back to the bedroom, her lips whispering obscenities as she did.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

#valeria cod #valeria garza x reader #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x you #valeria mw2 #mw2 valeria x reader #valeria garza cod

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wowowwild · 19 days

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Ace's All Time Best Fic Rec List (AATBFRL) April 2024: Ace Attorney

It's been a 6 months since my last list so here we go again! (I specified Ace Attorney in case I start doing this for other fandoms.) I originally planned to have all the old recs here as well but the list was too long so here's a link to the previous list. These aren't necessarily in any particular order, but if you can think of a good way for me to organize them, please let me know for future lists!

P.S. Anything rated over T mentions that immediately for your browsing convenience.

Doing more self promotion this year, so check out my pinned post or fic tag (desktop only)!

London, 2021- 7 yg Wrightworth hint of Krisnix. Phoenix is presently in London with Edgeworth. Phoenix is presently knowing that he knows about Kristoph but doesn't want to acknowledge it bc Kristoph has been really good to him and Trucy. But that doesn't matter right now bc they're going to the theatre.

if you leave the light on- 7yg Wrightworth. Nothing can happen until it's over but something Keeps happening. Miles will wait as long as it takes and Trucy decides he's part of the family.

In The Dead Of Night- During the 7yg Edgeworth invites the Wrights to Europe. Trucy has a nightmare and 'Uncle Miles' comforts her.

Phoenix's List- After getting his badge back, Phoenix has some regrets and sets about fixing what he can.

Perfect- I actually found this on another fic rec list and I can see why it was their favorite. Set towards the end of the trial of Bridge to Turnabout. TW if you have memory issues, it might be a little hard to get through parts bc of all the mindfuckery. I have to be really vague here so as not to spoil it. (Wrightworth)

Eo Nomine- Klapollo fake marriage turned real marriage but ig that's what happen when you get fake married while being real in love.

the best you'll never have- Rated M for sex reasons. I love the tagline: "Someone else's wedding is something that can actually be so personal". It's a Blackmadhi complicated relationship, what relationship, they weren't actually dating but also...

Apollo and the Artist (1975 - Oil paint, wax crayon, pencil, collage)- Rated M for mentioned sex reasons. Apollo is not an art person. But to Klavier he is art... and also a person. They've known each other for 8 years and it's probably been coming for just as long. It was a long time coming.

darling i'd wait for you (even if you didn't ask me to)- Wrightworth fake date bc Edgeworth needs a plus one to a wedding for some guy, it's not really important. But the cake sucks.

A Knight in a Loud Red Suit- oh my god oh my god oh my god Klavier gets shot and Apollo stabs a guy. And also love confessions at the hospital. They could have me also if they wanted.

Written- Rated E for sex reasons. Edgeworth moonlights as a Steel Samurai fic writer, and due to it being an obvious coping mechanism for his life and feeling Maya finds out... and accidentally sends a fic to Phoenix who... finds out. Half of the smut is Edgeworth's own fanfic, so we get like... fanfic-ception. That doesn't really work with more than one syllable words, huh...

Lover Be Good to Me- Rated M for implied sex reasons. 5+1 klapollo wooing each other.

Love Love Love- Rated M for implied sex reasons. klapollo is messy in a good way and takes wayyyy too long to call themselves boyfriends. Set from middle of aa4 to past aa6.

delicate- Rated M for sex reasons. klapollo is messy in a bad way (long distance is hard) and they break up but it works out, I prommy. If you don't like angst you'll want to skip this one, though.

(i was) enchanted to meet you- klavquill! I love them, I need to read more fics with them. They meet at the Prosecutor gala for the first time and sparks fly. Actually, they were fireworks, but that's not important.

Process of Elimination- Rated M for sex reasons. One day I will read a fic where Blackmadhi is not complicated as hell. Can they ever talk about their feelings? Apparently I like this, though, bc I keep reading and recc'ing them. Um, Nahyuta is looking for a fuck buddy and by 'process of elimination' ends up deciding on Blackquill but whoops! Feelings.

feel your skin- Rated M for one boner. Klavier is infuriating AND wearing lipgloss and Apollo can't take it. Cue making out in the janitor's closet.

moribund- I keep thinking about this one so I need everyone else to read and think about it with me. Pre Gant busting, POV Lana has to help clean up his messes. This a comedy, mostly of errors.

chronophobia- StarrSkye (AngelxLana) Be forewarned, you are going to cry. Lana has done her time and is trying to find a way to reconnect with the most important people from her past.

Crash! Landing- Junithena, fantastic traumatized autistic representation, if I do say so myself as a traumatized autistic person. It is very sweet and Juniper is a real one. I need me one of those.

In Pursuit of Justice- This one is not yet complete, but I preemptively j'adore'd it. It's a klapollo. Sebastian is great. He says Apollo looks like a frog (accurate).

Witcheln Woes- Secret Santa klapollo and they are cute and Clay is alive and it is sooooo fluffy.

Samurai Swear- Maya making besties with Edgeworth! Maya and Phoenix being besties also! Dash of mutual pining wrigthworth.

Missing You/Missing Time- Ok, hear me out, yes, the mystical bullshit tag is accurate, and de-aging is a weird concept, but !!! It actually serves this story very well! It is a fanfic that feels like a fanfic, but sometimes you want that, you know? Not every fanfic needs to feel like Little Women. Established klapollo first I love yous.

#aatbfrl #ace attorney #klapollo #wrightworth #narumitsu #blackmadhi #junithena #starrskye #klavquill #ace attoney #krisnix #i'm not listing individual characters but there are other things in here besides ship fics

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salaciousdoll · 2 years

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Trading Places- Multi JJK Men

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Pairings : Geto, Gojo, Sukuna, Toji, Hiromi, and Nanami x Cloned! Fem!reader

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Encapsulation : if she won’t remove herself, you’ll do it

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Tw : Smut, Dacryphilla, Somnophillia, Dub-Con, Dark!content, vi0lence, G0re( just a little), cigarette smoking, latex gloves used for pussy inspection, anal play, pet names, pussy eating, dick sucking, plot with smut, story turned to HC’s, double penetration, Gojo and Geto are bi-sexual here, mxm( just in geto/ Gojo part), squirting, split-tongue Sukuna, assimilating to the pass wife life, clone mention, dr*g mentions( only in the backstory), lube use, house wife reader, chubby reader hint, just overall smutty headcannons.

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ WC : 4.5k

18+ Barbies Allowed

This idea was in my mind for some time, but I thank @toji-bunny-girl for coming to me for her kinktober collab, it was a honor to join

You envied your doppelgänger or should you say “ clone”. She had everything you desired and more. She had seven men fawning over her and obeying at her feet so why couldn’t you have that. Was it because of her smile? Was it because the way her feet graced the earth’s surface so celestially?

She physically and emotionally irks you because she got the life that you deserved. You were an complete bitch to everyone. You had a reason, it was your own reason too. Whether it was extreme or simple, it’s the reason behind your atrocious behavior towards everyone.

You manipulated a lot of people in order to get your way so manipulating her and her men will be as easy as cutting a piece of pie . Maybe you should hang her organs as Halloween decorations in front of their lawn, but that would be too extreme. You couldn’t do that to the “nicest woman” you have ever seen from a distance. You constantly watched her and you’re doing it now while she walked with a polka dot sundress on with black flats surrounding her feet. God! Did she have terrible taste in clothing, it was almost pitiful to see her dress like a common woman in the 1950s era. She radiates housewife energy and you hoped once you took her place, you didn’t have to become a housewife like her. Deep down you know that the thought is ludacris on your end.

They liked her for what exactly? What did she have that you didn’t have? You’ll never get the answer to that question. But never say never right.

You followed her into her garden in the green field expressing itself with all types of flowers, dandelions, and other garden accessories. You finally got her in your grasp and you weren’t gonna miss this opportunity, “ Why have you been following me?”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, but it never displayed as an expression on your face. You smirked at the back of her head before pulling your hoodie off your head, “ I think you know why, sweetie.”

She quickly turned around when she heard a voice similar to hers, gasping loudly at the sight of you, “ Whatever joke or prank this is, this isn’t funny because why do you have a mask of my face?” God! She was a classy Bimbo! You noted that thought to yourself.

You rolled your eyes stepping towards her in your own pair of shoes/heels/ boots, “ Let’s skip the dumbness and theatrics, k’? I want your life. Your lifestyle but you could keep the shitty fashion statement you got going on. Not my style especially with the bad eyelashes and liner you have on. Now we could do this the easy or hard way? I’ll be a good person today and let you choose.”

“ Wait what?! Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to anyo-”, you snapped her chin up allowing her to bite her tongue with a cry of pain slipping out her pretty-pouty lips. You didn’t care how much she looked at you with innocence dancing in her eyes with bliss, she took everything from you and you were about to take it right back while making her life a living hell.

A vicious grin crossed your lips, “ don’t act innocent, y/n or should I call you your real name: Stephanie. You are supposed to be in my spot and you know that. Don’t worry I’ll take care of you and then I get my life back. I’m supposed to be in your shoes, not these. You are supposed to be in mine yet you just had to switch places with me when the scientist was about to do his final experiment.”

You continued on speaking, circling around her shaking body, “ you have brought nothing but terror and agony in my life all because you managed to fool the scientist after giving me a drug, which almost took away my ability to speak, yet you didn’t care, so I don’t care about this.” You grabbed the scissors from the bench she sat them on, pointing towards her neck, “ Strip, Now!”

Her faint cries and pleads were going in one ear and out the other. You had no time to spare her sympathy as you watched her look around while stripping out of her clothes, “ Now hon I want you to tell me what you do at this house, want every detail.”

She didn’t want to speak or look at you but she had no choice especially with the scissors pointing to the vein on her neck. You hated that she looked exactly like you, it’s like you’re killing yourself.

She told you everything that she does around the house and what her interests are. She was confused about the question until she caught on to the way you were smirking at her, “ I’ll see you in hell maybe, who knows.” You moved the clothes out of the way before slashing her throat. The slash of her throat was almost too satisfying to you. You loved the look of panic and hopelessness reflecting in her eyes like the moonlight reflecting on your skin on a warm summer night. She was playing dumb until the very end. You respected her for it, honestly.

The blood looked so good on her skin complexion, you honestly thought about eating her but you would never be into cannibalism. Maybe if she wasn’t such a backstabbing ass bitch, you two would have gotten along. Maybe.

Her body finally went limp and now you had to bury her right beneath the soils of your feet. What a beautiful garden with a new accessory being added to complete the garden.

After an hour, you were done burying her heavy body in the ground of her garden. The dirt under your fingernails irked you, maybe the vision of dirt just irked you or maybe you needed a shower. So you managed to get into her clothes, fixing your hair like hers in whatever hairstyle you had.

You got off your knees and put the vase she had outside with her. You guessed she was getting some more things from the house when she finally caught you stalking her, hence why the flower vase was here already.

Dusting off your knees was the easy part but dealing with seven different husbands will not be so easy especially when you just killed their wife. Oh well, may she rest in peace.

You walked to the house with the basket of garden tools setting them down by the rest of the tools lined up on the little stand just outside the back door of the house. You were amazed at how organized she was. You were also amazed at how big this house was. I mean there are seven of them here, including her of course, so you felt this house size was valid until you heard her name being called by someone with a deep voice.

“ Step?! Babe, we’re home.”, you swore you were about to piss yourself because he and the others were home before you got to wash your hands of dirt and the blood of your enemy.

You took a deep breath before opening the sliding door, taking off your shoes before walking to the sink, “ Uh, I’ll be right there baby.”

Gojo was highly confused because “you” always called him babe or sato, not baby. That was for Nanami. He thought you must’ve been tired so you mixed them up. He looked around at the others and knew they felt something was off from the way half of their facial expressions showed confusion.

You were practically scrubbing bits of her blood off since you knew their footsteps were near you, “princess, I missed you so much, why didn’t you greet us at the door like you usually do.” That was a different voice and you couldn’t make out who it belonged to. This was starting to get frustrating but you had to keep your composure since they were now entering the kitchen standing behind you in a line, waiting for your answer.

“ I’m sorry, I just didn’t get the time to since I just came back from gardening, would you like your kisses now.”, you say looking down at yourself to make sure not an inch of blood was shown on your glistening wet skin.

You turned around and put an ample smile on your face. You walked towards the blonde man you were quite fond of since you’ve been following their other wife around.

You leaned to kiss him on the cheek, slowly and passionately savoring this moment. Meanwhile they were all thinking the same thing, why are “you” kissing them so sensual like this? You never kissed them like this: affectionate and passionate. You always looked tired too, right now, you didn’t look tired at all. There weren’t any deep bags under your eyes that weren’t genetic so that means you were sleeping right?

After you finished kissing every last one of them on their cheek, you walked away with a wide grin on your face. You were gonna love this and you were right.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Toji:

Toji loves it when his wife gives him a blow job after a long day. She always willingly got on her knees whenever he came home before or last of the men. He always made it his mission to come first or last served. The feeling of “your” warm lips wrapping around his cock was like feeling the mild air hit you in the grocery store on a cold, icy day in the winter. So imagine his confusion when you’re not already waiting on him with your knees on the bed. He was confused but then thought his wife was trying to be a brat, so he had no choice but to fuck your throat.

Toji grinned at you like a cashmere cat waiting for the chance to get his food. He took in your lips that were covered in his pre-cum mixed with your saliva. The only difference you could tell from lipgloss is that it doesn’t have the glitter that embodies the little tube you always used.

Your freshly manicured nails grabbed his cock with both hands prior to licking from his balls to the tip of his cock. You swirled your thick tongue around his tip, taking him into your mouth inch by inch, wetting his dick with your saliva even more. For the parts you couldn’t fit into your mouth you stroked with both hands to occupy his pleasure, “ Atta girl! You’re taking my cock in your throat so good, the best I've ever seen you do. Fuck!”

You wanted to smile but you couldn’t do how wide your mouth was stretched and how full it was of his cock. Spit dropped down the veins of his cock, onto your hands and down to his big breeding balls. The sound of your dick sucking was so perfect to him. The way you hollow your cheeks was pristine as well. “You've” gotten so much better over these past few weeks and he wondered why. He was about to ask but you took one hand off his cock to massage his balls while his dick was still lodged in his throat, “ Holy fuck! You're such a little slut, wanna record ya’ can I, my pretty little princess? Hmm?”

When you hummed, he had no choice, he almost nutted from the vibrations dancing along his thick cock he fumbled with his phone, finally turning the flash on recording you with low groans in the background. His groans to be exact. He was about to cum, so he was restraining himself. This was the best head he’s gotten, so he had to capture the moment.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Gojo & Geto:

Geto and Gojo were two people that were the same but polar opposites. You couldn’t explain it well because it’s only been a few weeks since you took her out. Their wife always indulge with them during sexual moments. She either likes to watch them kiss or watch them fuck before joining. You couldn’t blame her because when they tied your arms up and told you to sit on the bed and wait for instructions, you were confused until you saw them kissing each other. That’s when you knew she liked to watch them and so did you, joining them later.

“ Come on, pretty baby, you can hold on, Gojo’s taking my dick in his mouth, so why can’t you take him inside of your warm pussy? Hmm?”, Geto taunts, pulling his hips back and forth fucking into Gojo mouth on the side of your head as you lay underneath Gojo getting spilt in half by his long cock, he lacked in the grith area and you honestly didn’t mind since it was gonna be much harder for him to fuck you espciallyif you ain’t use to dick like that.

He was too big to fit inside you and they always smiled at how you can’t take either of them, not even Toji inside of your pussy. Mouth is a different story, Toji learned the other day and the others didn’t, but they will eventually know.

You felt Gojo thrusting his cock deeper into making you scream out, earning a light slap on the face from geto, shutting you up as your face turned into a shock expression, only going back to the moral lewd look when Gojo moans on Geto’s cock brought all three of you pleasure. Pleasure for Gojo since you tighten around his cock with your pretty walls meanwhile geto moaned from the vibrations upon his thick cock as he face fucked one of his lovers. He loved having sex with two of his lovers and it wasn’t gonna change, especially from the way you have Gojo panting and moaning on his cock.

Gojo couldn’t help but to roll his eyes to the back when you tried to lift your hips to fit more of him inside of you. You were hungry for his cock and he loved it. He couldn’t wait to do more with you, same as Geto, who now had his long hair sticking to his forehead while his head was tilted back, face screwed in pleasure. Gojo and geto never had this much fun before, it was like you were a different person.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Sukuna:

Sukuna was something different. The way his tattoos littered his body was a clear warning to you. You didn’t understand why that should be a warning because he’s just like everyone else right. He’ll treat you nice just like he’s been over these past few weeks, especially when you made dinner for all of them every now and then, so why is the voice in your head kept screaming warnings? It was annoying you and you wanted to ignore it, so you did. Oh, how much of a mistake that was.

“ kuna’, I don’t think I can hold on, please!”, You moaned as his split tongue teased your clit over and over in different directions. It was becoming too much for you. His fingers were even too much for you.

He laughed against your pussywhile looking up at you, “ You should know this now, my pretty dove, I don’t stop on your account. If I want to keep tasting my pussy that’s what I’m gonna do. Now, shut the hell up and take it before I give you something more iniquitous to cry and bitch about.” You gasped at his tongue flicking back over your clit even faster now and at the type of wording he chose. Was he always this vicious, damn I guess you underestimated her and them, her in general given that she took this much tongue and dick from these beautiful men every other day. You thought they, including her, were vanilla/ simple, you thought wrong.

Sukuna laughs caused waves on your pussy and you whimpered at the feeling. This felt too real and good. As soon as you got out of the shower which was 30 minutes ago, he pushed you on the bed and started devouring you, nonstop. you pushed your hips into his feeling his fingers reached deeper into you making you squirt out clear liquid at the jamming of his fingers at your g-spot. He ate pussy like a strayed fat man during the eating contest at the pumpkin fair. He watched as your body shook and loved it.

Your love handles/ hips along with your thighs were his favorite thing to grab as he ate you out. The key part he noticed is that you squirted on his face and chest. He didn’t mind since he kept eating you out, it just never happened before. Your body raised up in an acute angle as you grabbed his pink hair tightly in your pretty little hands, making him groan from the pain. His split tongue circled your clit counter clockwise and clockwise causing you to orgasm from the impact of his fingers and tongue. You orgasmed two times already and this was your third one he managed to pull from you. Sukuna was now sucking on your clit as he slowly took his fingers out of your soaking pussy. You screamed at the movement of him sucking on your clit after abusing it with his tongues.

My pretty girl, shaking like a warm starter-up truck in the winter, he thought. He also thought you looked different since there were tears in your eyes. You never cried until now. He studied you as you tried to move your body away from you while you squirt on his face nonstop with tears flowing down your eyes. He studied you until he came up with a conclusion. This was somebody different, this reaction was very different from his wife because she would’ve passed out after the second round. Maybe you grew and learned how to take him. Yeah, you learned, right? Right?!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Choso:

Choso was a big fan of somnophilia, he managed to talk his wife into that at the beginning of their long-lasting relationship. Their wife was someone who wanted to understand each of them and they loved her for that. Of course, that’s not the only thing they loved her for. Choso was tired and had a long day at work. He hated working in the same company as Gojo and Geto because these two are non stop talkers and pranksters. He just needed a good sleepy fuck and you were his prime target right now. He slowly made his way into the room and looked at your silk pj dress covering your beautiful body.

“ Fuck, I’m getting hard just by imagining your body underneath me.”, Choso whispered to himself as you lay there sleeping like a doll in her dollhouse. God, were you his most precious doll of a wife he could ever ask for. He noticed you’ve been stepping your game up especially from the stories he heard from everyone else you fucked already. He also noticed how different your aura and clothes were. He loved every minute of it and now he couldn’t wait to hold your body close to his as he fucks you in your sleep.

He watched as you turned to your side, giving him the perfect position he was gonna take you in. He peeled his clothes off, one by one before taking his place behind you. He breathed in your new and exquisite scent, letting out a dreamy sigh. He reached down to pull your panties to the side, taking in the feeling of your warm pussy juice on his hands. You were soaking his hand in your juices, that’s how he knew you were having a wet/good dream.

Choso glided his pretty fingers over your clit, rubbing in circles about 4 times. Lining his angry tip to your opening made his body shudder from the impact. He let out a few curses when he slid inside of your warm pussy and immediately after your walls clamped down on his dick like a snake catching its prey between its venomous teeth, “ Hah, hah, fuck yes, squeeze around me just like that honey.” His hands slid over your body so carefully like he was afraid to break you, “ I’m gonna take good care of ya’.”

You could feel your pussy being split open as you slowly gained consciousness. You didn’t know what was going on until you heard the grunting of a deep voice inside of your ear. He was hungry for you and you knew that. You had to guess that this was a routine so you went along with it for your sake. Or maybe you just loved this feeling too much. This was something new and you liked it especially when you looked back to connect your lips with Choso’s warm lips. The fact that he was moving so sensually and slow was enough to make your legs shake, let’s not even get on his beautiful facial expressions he made whenever you tightened and untightened around his cock in want and need. You uttered the one word he never got to hear, “ More.” His wife let him do what he wants and never asks for what she wants and needs so why did this feel so new?

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Nanami & Hiromi:

These men were the epitome of mysterious and sexy with a hint of danger. You couldn’t tell where the danger came into mind while hanging out with them but you could feel it. They had the brawn and brains, you guess that could be considered dangerous, but you knew that wasn’t it. These two were the reason for the house. Whatever conflict you all had within this house, they heard everyone’s side, putting their input in later. You were amazed at how the other 5 men listened to what they had to say. What made them so dangerous in your mind though? You didn’t find out until today on a Saturday night.

“ Nanami, do you think we should see how sensitive her little pussy has been, I mean you have been fucking this entire week? Right?” Hiromi says, putting his leather gloves on. You looked at the both of them standing side by side in their clean suits as you were tied by the hands waiting for them to touch your leaking pussy.

You shook your head which earned a low chuckle from Nanami, “ Come on, sweetheart, tell us the truth and we could just get to the good part. Yeah?” His voice along with Hiromi’s was making you squeal inside. You couldn't believe that you finally got the chance to have the men you wanted since the beginning and you would never let them get it done and over with quickly, so you stayed silent with your hands tied in front of you. Hiromi noticed your silence and raised an eyebrow. What Choso and Sukuna brought up in their conversation they had the other day came to mind. Oh you’re definitely different and he couldn’t understand because “you” hated pussy inspections so why weren't “ you” trying to talk your way out of it now.

The next thing you felt was your hair getting pulled roughly by Nanami as your body now lay on the bed with your legs up against your chest, “ Since you’re not speaking, we have no choice darling.” The lube-covered leather glove he has on glided over your labia in excitement. Hiromi had his eyes peeking down at you similar to the wolf peering in the houses of the three little pigs: malnourishment. He squeezed your pussy lips together while Nanami placed small kisses all over your face easing you up. Hiromi put one finger inside of your pussy and used his other hand to place a finger inside of your ass, taking a moan away from your pretty glossed lips. He moved his finger in and out of both holes making your face scrunched up at the pain coming from your ass. After a minute of teasing your little, fat pussy and ass, he took both fingers out to inspect it prior to nodding his head at Nanami, “ She’s ready.”

Indeed you were because now you were getting fucked in your wet pussy by Hiromi while Nanami took you from behind. They were both bare right along with you after taking their clothes off. Nothing but moans and groans were heard around the room as you three joined together. Hiromi bites your neck as your chest bounced against his chest, earning a low moan from him. Your moans were so beautiful to them, but they had to get their point across, “ Ahh, fuck yes, this feels am-amazing! Fill me up, nigh!”

Hiromi lifted his head to lock eyes with you, then locked them with Nanami, “ first, smoke this with me.” Your eyes widened when you saw a white cigarette in his hand. Nanami kept fucking your ass while leaning to grab a lighter from the dresser. Hiromi smirked up at you with his head against the headboard, “ Why the, mmh, surprise face. Loosen up for me, darling.” You wanted to cry right then and there because you couldn’t understand if he was talking about you smoking a cigarette or your pussy. It was both. You had tried to smoke cigarettes before and it didn't work out even if you were playing their now dead wife. You made up excuses time after time saying that you weren’t feeling it. You hated that that bitch smoked cigarettes like a pro.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice that they stopped moving and Hiromi was now offering you the cigarette, which was already lightened by the way. You hesitantly wrapped your pretty lips around the tip of the cigarette, bracing yourself to inhale the scent and flavor of the cigarette. Once you got the smoke in your mouth you released it too late and now you were coughing like a maniac. They both laughed because their suspicions were right. This was someone else, not their wife. They were gonna confirm it later with everyone else. Right now, your ass and pussy felt too good to not cum inside of them. Nanami moans started again as he thrusted into you while Hiromi put out the cigarette, kissing your lips as he moved his hips up into your pussy letting his dick ruin your perfect little pussy.

After the tiring night from yesterday, you woke up to your arms being tied to the bed with your legs being tied at the end of the bed. You had on a new bra and pantie set on, so you knew after you passed out yesterday, they bathed you and put you on something new. Your pudgy stomach was showing, thighs too. They loved those features on you and their wife.

The sun shines through the window on your pretty skin. You were yawning and trying to stretch, but couldn't because of the restraints, “ Let’s get down to business should we?”

You knew that voice belonged to Toji. You looked where it was coming from and saw all of them standing at the foot of the bed, well Toji, Nanami, and Hiromi were.

Gojo, Geto, and Choso were either sitting on the chair beside the bed or leaning on the wall/ door frame.

“ Who the hell are you?”, Gojo asked, walking closer.

“ Where is our wife? Because you’re definitely not her.”, Geto says after Gojo.

You smirked at their questions, which only made Choso get up from the chair on the side of the bed, snatching your face to him, “ And don’t play games, just answer us. Not really in the mood for playfulness right now.”

You smirked at them. You got them and her, that’s all that matters now. You could now die a happy woman.

━━ ༉⁩༊⁩ Tagging: @dejwrites @simpingforwakasa04 @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @emomanswhore and plenty more people who wants to join( just tell me)

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