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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 10 months

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hot in sarajevo i

[ part two ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of "y/n") / 4k words / NSFW

cw: assassination, dubcon (not really bc reader is into it and consents, but better safe than sorry bc ymmv), unsanitary conditions, rough sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, fingering, creampie, brief mention of burn injuries, pre-established relationship a.n.: no excuse for this, indulged a brain worm on my day off bc i wanted to write something nasty. enjoy!

It’s been a blistering, miserable six hours out in the hills outside Sarajevo proper. The height of summer, surrounded by dead-brown grass blown about sadly in the weak breeze. You cook in your ghillie suit, knowing it could very well be another six hours under this heat with zero shade, just waiting on your target. Sweating. Searching. Souring.

König is your spotter, and he’s already not pleased with the fact. He’d much rather be the one wrapped around the Steyr HS .50, instead relegated to the seemingly miserable role of binocular jockey. But the fact is, he’s better at recon, and you can stay planted in one place without moving even when your lower body burns with numbness.

“I’m hard,” he announces in his way—no preamble, no fanfare, moderate expectation.

“Christ,” you snort, pulling away from the scope only enough to throw a glance at him. He’s still pressed against the oculars, jaw working on sunflower seeds because they can’t smoke without setting the tinderbox field around them on fire. Otherwise, you can barely see the shape of him in his own ghillie suit among the grass. “Clench your legs and your torso, or hump the fucking dirt.”

“Not going to get the job done,” he laughs darkly, dumping back another mouthful of seeds. You can hear them crack between his molars as he bites down hard.

He’s going to be a fucking handful after this.

Going back to your scope, watching the highway, you promise him, “If you’re good helping me with this assassination, we can play when we’re done.”

Another hard bite, another gravelly laugh. Sing-song, he warns you, “Better hope he drives by so-oooh-oon, Schatzi.”

“Always nice to get a visit from mean-König,” you hum back, trying for unaffected, even as your cunt floods and clenches around nothing.

It’s just hitting golden hour when the target finally deigns to bomb past your scope in a civilian vehicle trussed up in subtle armor. You and König slot right into the predator drift, bodies left behind to fall into the hunt. Working like extensions of one body, he confirms a PID, and throws calculations your way, sharp and sleek, and your blood turns into straight adrenaline, pupils dilated to pitch black.

You work like the sword of god, lining up your crosshairs, allowing for lead, allowing for wind and elevation, and when you exhale and give the trigger what it wants, the sky cracks in half with a sonic boom, big gun bucking brutal against your shoulder. With one shot you take out the target and driver, vehicle careening off the road.

König’s low, restrained laugh blends into yours, your teeth chattering under your face covering. Two more shots cut the blood-and-gold colored sky, killing the remaining passengers, and something vile in you shrieks with delight when one of them staggers around without a head a few steps before falling backwards stiff as a board.

Your eyes catch his as you throw the safety, pulling the massive rifle into your arms to flee the scene, and he looks blood-poisoned with arousal. The normal blue-gray of his eyes are gone, sore, unblinking pink sclera around inkwell pools of black. His back heaves with his breathing, body rigid and clenched, hips grinding against the ground. He is going to fucking tear you apart and eat the pieces. Saturn Devouring His Son, König Devouring His Lover.

Without a word, you both force your bodies around in the tall, dead grass, ghillie suits blending your belly-drag crawl to the treeline.

There’s a five mile hike between your abandoned perch and the exfil vehicle, following back the steps you took this morning, with a staging site in the middle of it. Small clearing, deep enough that no one could stumble across it, a temporary home for your rifle’s case and minimal necessary equipment.

The moment you’re both upright in the treeline, König’s got a vicious hand under your camo, gripping your belt, dragging you close and up, forcing you on unbalanced tiptoes. “You’re going to fucking give it to me,” he demands.

You turn it around, snatching a hand under his hood, gun sagging in your arms. Your fist wraps around the jaw strap of his helmet, knuckles pressing into his jugular–his pulse is fucking racing, booming, screaming through his veins–and your teeth are shards of glass as you command him, “Fucking heel. You’re not being a good boy.”

That makes him pant, almost reeling, eyes blinking out of sorts, pulling you closer, almost against him.

“That is not how it’s going to work today,” he says, slow and damning. Turns your blood into lava, thick and slow and lethal pumping through your heart as it fights for its life. He pulls the rifle from your hand, and it weighs nothing to him. Nearly looks like he’s got more to say, and he’s trying to figure out how to word it, but his brain is too clouded with lust to put it in the right order.

Hefts the gun over his shoulder like a bat, and shoves you back by the pelvis, releasing you. Time to go, the moves say, leaving you no dignified way to hold onto the authority that’s slipped through your fingers.

You know he’s burning frustration, anger, and resentment as fuel for this mood. You were the designated sniper, he was a lowly spotter. In his mind, that position belonged to him, and you took it. It didn’t matter that you were the superior choice, that he was invaluable to the kill.

No. Not at all. You stole from him, and he’s taking something in return.

If you weren’t thinking solely with your pussy, you would admit that it would probably be wise to exercise caution with him at the moment. But you’re not. You’re going to get your brains fucked out and painted on a tree.

At the staging area, scant gold light is cutting through the trees as the sun lumbers its way to setting, and the woods are humid and dense. Your boots crush fallen beech nut pods and pine needles. Could almost be Thoreauvian, if there was a lake, or not a gun big enough to kill god in the arms of a sexually frustrated Austrian maniac.

König is fast and quiet, ripping the mag out of the gun, emptying the chamber, dropping the gun on its case. You’d seen him piece apart a pistol to base components in ten seconds many times, he’s making himself take time with the rifle, leaving it barely touched.

You’ve got enough time to just prepare for him to grab you around the middle so you aren’t thrown off balance, leaning into his momentum as he hauls you to an enormous beech tree, his back sliding down the trunk. Keeps you pinned in his lap, laughing harsh and ugly as you deal with your belt, button, and zipper, “Good girl–good fucking girl. Know what I’m going for.”

“You’re easy to predict,” you bullshit him with a sharp edge. He’s going to get his way, and you’re going to deliver unto him whatever the fuck he pleases, but you’re going to keep your teeth through it. “Could’ve taken the suits off, could’ve really given you a show.”

“Cute that you think I’m in a rush. You’re in the suit on purpose,” he grates, thrusting against your ass, forcing you open with your legs over his knees. “Keep being mouthy. Only fucks me up worse.”

“Stiff breeze gets you fucked up,” you snort, but when he hooks his gloved thumb in your zipper, you lift your hips to help him pull your pants down your thighs. Leaves you exposed, drenched in sweat, and wet in his lap. “Goddamned freak.”

He bypasses the true and mutually reflective accusation completely, grinding the forehead of his helmet against the back of yours. Still looking for affectionate closeness, even when he’s out for blood. “Can smell you, good god,” he growls, sliding his huge hand into your underwear, grabbing your sex in ownership. “You and the military issue drawers–typical. Been a while since I fucked you in gear. Still wearing the boxers because you wish you were hanging dick, or is it just to match the attitude?”

“Commissary ran out of crotchless combat thongs. Waiting on a restock.” The rough fabric of his gloved middle finger splits your lips, teasing your hole, and for a flashfire second you think he’d better not give you a UTI with those dirty fucking things, before it burns straight out of your head.

“Better luck next time,” he taunts, jaw tight. You can hear the wolf-fanged smirk in his tone. “Start going commando. Make it easier.”

“Maybe there isn’t a next time,” you volley back, “best you make the most of this.”

“There’s always a next time. No one else could fuck you like me. Little whore you are, you’d get bored.”

He blots all the thought out in your head, adding his ring finger to the mix, pushing both huge digits into your starving cunt. Rips a bark right out of you, arching off his chest and pushing against his hips for leverage, trying automatically to fuck down on them even as the pain of the fabric feels like it’s rasping your insides. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you gasp, going hot-cold-and-blind all at once, nipples pulling tight under your gear.

He throws a heavy arm around your stomach, pulling you back down, merciful or mindful enough to know he needs to go slow, or this isn’t going to go anywhere except the infirmary. “Take it, Liebes, swallow them down with that pretty cunt,” he commands, his English as sharp and scraping as scythe blades felling harvest in wide, practiced strokes, “I’m not even close to done.”

You can already feel his fat cock straining against his pants, even through all the layers between you, and you rut back against it, at least trying to get some torture of your own added in. That just makes him stupid and animalistic, pushing his chin over your shoulder, trying to butt into your jaw. He wants to bite your lips, but there are too many impediments blocking the way.

His fingers squelch down to the last knuckle, your pussy spasming around them, soaking the fabric. He’s a pervert to such a degree that you know he’s going to leave them unwashed, and he’s going to wear and suck on them while he beats off when you’re not there until there’s no flavor left.

For now, he’s slow, rocking them into you in a curve, his sense of touch dampened as he searches out your g-spot. The exploration makes you feel filthy, and just a little humiliated. Used. Faceless and disrespected. It’s so opposed to his usual dogmatic worship, fresh and frightening.

He gives a little something extra, grinding the heel of his hand over your clit, telling you to use it. You do, finally feeling something physically pleasurable, even though it’s too dull and not nearly enough.

König is segmented; you’ve known that for as long as you’ve known him. Don’t know if he did it to himself, or if it was an after-affect of all the bad shit he didn’t die from. He’d let you in on enough to know that his best days are numb neutrality and boredom intercut with adrenalized high-chasing. His worst days are lost dogs and veils of blood floating through his mouth.

He almost clicks over from one facet to another when you push against his arm, hissing through your teeth as a stitch on his glove catches a fold in you. For a microsecond, lover-König surfaces, shifting you around against his body, repositioning his fingers so you aren’t hurting too badly, and then he’s gone again.

With a rough hand, he shoves the tan boxer-briefs down your thighs, and bucks your ass off his pelvis, going to release his cock.

You push your shoulders back against his chest, plate carrier digging into your shoulderblades. “Only two fingers, aren’t you acting like a fucking prince today.”

“You’re lucky you got that much,” he snaps back, groaning when his cock springs free of his trappings, and he strokes it beneath you. Monster fucking thing it is, long enough you can see the swollen, leaking head between your legs, even as you’re still hovering. There’s no give in the skin, and the head is a needy red with arousal, completely slipped from his foreskin. “Put it in.”

You ignore his order, writhing against him, your discomfort only ramping up your arousal. It’s nightmarish how badly you actually want his cock fed into you, desperate to have anything to fill the void his fingers left in you, and, shit, it would be so much sweeter and smoother than the gloves. Hot and throbbing, his precum mixing with your slick–it’s going to be so loud.

“It’s your dick, you figure it out,” you hiss, wrestling your shoulders up just enough to piss him off. His other arm moves up to your ribs, slamming you back down against him.

“Nein,” he seethes, as close to your throat as he can get, and you hear him suck back spit. Wonder if you busted his lip on the way down. Trained himself too hard not to do that otherwise, because of the harelip he’s hiding under the hood. “I said put it in, Schatzi.”

His laugh is airier this time, when you cuss him and comply, thinned out with need. He shudders into you as you brush your fingers over the length–teasing bulging veins and hot, thin skin–trying to scoop him up. He squeezes you tighter, letting out a furnace-bellow breath, as you tease the head through your wet folds, stupid fly-by-night sex-trigonometry screeching through your head as you find the angle you both need to get him in. He drops his free hand on your thigh, pulling you further open, giving himself a handle to hold.

As soon as his big cockhead plugs your hole and seals a seal with the wet, you fly to grip both his wrists, nerves on high alert. For good cause, as well, because instantly, he starts fucking up into you with harsh thrusts, constricting all around you with bruising force.

The sheer mass of him is over-fucking-whelming, and white spots crackle in your vision as you pant, trying desperately to relax and accept him into your body. Usually–when he’s sweeter and taking his time with you, not punishing you for a perceived slight like he is now–he is slower, considerate, almost hesitant until you dig your spurs into his sides, demanding he cut loose.

This time he’s forcing you to ride him, emptying and filling you in deeper and deeper strokes, forcing you to take his cock. Somehow it still feels right, just being full of him, aching with it, pussy hungrily sucking him in, wanting more and more and more.

But, god dammit, you can’t just let him get away with this. You fuck back down against him, trying to meet his rhythm with the little movement he affords your bound body, the sound of his boots grinding for purchase in the substrate, your combined dead-sprint breathing, and his balls slapping wet against your ass breaking the utter still-life quiet of the woods.

“Insertion specialist,” you bite, throwing your head back against his shoulder to belt out your whimpering laughter, and, oh, that burns him.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his helpless thrusting turning focused, dragging you down in hard thrusts, hitting your cervix with every deep, powerful stroke. It knocks the wind out of you, and you’re left speechless, probably what he wanted.

It puts you in a trance state, your eyes unfocused looking up at the canopy as he uses you. A wet, liquid-gold heat starts building pressure behind your pelvis, and a frantic harebrained thought tells you that you have to piss. It only gets worse when he drops his hand back between your legs, putting a finger on either side of your clit, his intent clear.

“Wait,” you wheeze, barely surfacing the trance, rolling your eyes wildly toward him, finding his focus is between your legs. “Wait, König, I–”

“Just fucking take it,” he cuts you off, and it’s not entirely cruel. He’s forcing an orgasm on you, maybe the thought crawled up out of the part of his heart where his empathy lives, the part he hides until his real-boy-skin-suit has fallen away in tatters. You know what’s underneath. You love him for what he is.

You squirt when you come, pouring down his cock, soaking your thighs. Your cunt tries to push him out, but he belligerently stays buried, riding it out with you, and he whimpers as you spasm and ripple around him, biting your shoulder through his mask and the gaiter beneath it. It’s a dull pressure, and you wish it was sharper.

“Oh my god,” you keen, trying to turn and hide your face, trying to draw your legs back together as wave after wave of pleasure rock your body, your stomach turning in benign shame. König praises you, “Good, good, good, good,” his words falling away into a German blur that you have a hard time translating.

“Arch your back, curl up,” he tells you in his native language, his command voice withering, getting lost as he gets closer. He’s gotten fatter in your swollen cunt, and he throbs against your walls. His balls are pulled up so tight, you can feel them against your lips on the upstroke.

All you can do is listen, lifting off of him and curving like you’re living through an exorcism.

Doesn’t that make him lose his goddamned mind. Moans like a shocked virgin getting his first piece of pussy, in tandem with the cry you release, sliding in at a new angle. He can’t even help himself, he’s just stupid with pleasure, chasing it. All the bite and venom he had floods out of him, and he’s just a panting, greedy, whimpering mess, holding on to you because he needs an anchor, because he needs you.

He pushes up onto the balls of his feet, leaving the tree completely, forcing you back against him in the cage of his body. Your legs slide open over his thighs, and you’re dependent on him to keep from falling face-first in the forest floor and eating shit. He keeps you up, clutching to you, fucking you with short, fast thrusts, the soaking wet sounds of his cock demanding everything your cunt can deliver obscene, carnal.

Your idiot hand grabs for his hood as it hangs over your shoulder, spilling dumb swears and nonsense, “Fuck–oh, fucking–god dammit, König, you’re. I can’t,” that he meets with simple begging, “Bitte, bitte, Schatzi, bitte, Ich brauche, bitte, Ich brauche–”

His form staggers, and he takes a knee, locking up tight, letting out a thin, high-pitched cry of shock as he cums, flooding you completely in big jets. The pressure is uncomfortable and delirious, but you try to tighten around him, hold as much as you can.

Both of your heads ring in the immediate aftermath. You can suddenly tell that both of you reek, the scent of twelve-hours worth of stakeout body odor mixing with musk, sex, and cum. You can tell by how his mouth sounds as he pants and tries to collect himself and work through his intense but inescapable post-nut shame that he’s dehydrated. You are, too, your head pounding. And, just because you know him, and you know how you work as a team, you don’t need to look at either of set of your shaking hands to know both of your blood sugar is utterly fucked.

Slowly, he lumbers back up against the tree, his touch turning softer. You flop back against him, winching when his cock slips out of you, hanging glistening and messy between his legs. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breathing. His arms come up again–not to pin you in place, but to hug and hold you. You pat the scant sliver of bare skin between his gloves and the cuff of the ghillie suit.

Only occurs to you right now how stupid you two must’ve looked. Like a monkey fucking a football. Or maybe two bushes getting battered around in a storm. You snort a weary laugh, and he shakes his head, nosing deeper. He’s asking for quiet. You give it, letting your eyes slip closed as his cum drips out of you.

A few minutes later, he stirs, kneading your sides with his fingers. Mean-König has fucked off, you can already tell. It’s not KorTac-König, either, the one that’s nasty and loud and abrasive. This is just König. The slice of him that you know the first and last name of. The one that takes you on dates, and to go grocery shopping at Lidl–who lets you kiss his harelipped mouth, who lets you moisturize and massage the gummy wads of keloid burn scars eating up the left side of his face and neck, from when he was burnt by boiling sugar as a child, when they feel tight and miserable.

For convenience, and knowing you’re both going to seek it out, you unclip your helmet straps, letting them tumble off your heads. Further, you reach back and pull the hood off over his head, dropping it over your thigh, and pull your mask down as he pulls down his gaiter.

He helps you shift enough that you’re lying on your side over him, wet, soft cock pressing into your naked thigh. He sighs when you kiss him, light, quick, over and over, never really leaving his lips. He’ll be needy for the rest of the night.

His pupils are slowly going back down to a normal size, and the blue is coming back, all puppy-eyed and wet as he presses your foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun.”

“I shouldn’t have been that rough. Or mean.”

You shrug. “You know I thought it was hot.” You give him simple facts, easy to chew and swallow while his teeth are hurting from his harshness. You think he’d probably ask you to pull them so he couldn’t do something like it again in the future, but that is simply not in his nature. Fanged, or not, his moods will come and go.

His hands tremble, going to his thighs, and he digs up a zippo and a pack of cigarettes, pressing them into you. “Could you light some for us, please.”

You do, giving him another kiss before you break to try to attend your given task. He helps stabilize your hands, and you end up with lit menthols, popping one between his lips. He inhales deeply, shuddering as he relaxes a physical notch.

You heavily pet his face, traveling his bone structure, and then down his neck. Start to focus on his chest and shoulders, because it will help him down the easiest. Even though he took charge today, you still readily slot into the process of leading aftercare, truncated as it is by being in the field. Almost literally.

“Think you’ll be up for more later?” you ask, digging your fingers into the spot behind his ear that always makes him lax. “Safehouse would let us take our time.”

He makes a grumbling noise, touching your noses together. “Want to love you. Not fuck.”

“Yeah, no. I couldn’t take another fuck tonight,” you snort in agreement, and, finally, he snorts back. “We need to get moving. Sun’s going down, and we need to report.”

He gathers you up for a final, lingering, sloppy kiss before he unwinds from you, knowing that you’re right. And, besides, there’s a safehouse looming on the horizon.

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work #ngl i just wrote my oc in second person pov so like sorry but honestly not that sorry lmfao everyone still gets to eat #but there's no use of names or nationality markers it reads pure reader

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starcrossedyanderes · 3 months

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Heart Bound

1.4k words

Warnings: Toxic relationship, Tom is a yandere, blood, unwilling affection, this is SFW

Hey, this is kind of a birthday post for myself. I have adored Tom for the longest time and since the lack of fics, I took it upon myself.

It was a rather quiet day in the library. Almost all of the students of Hogwarts were busy watching a quidditch match, leaving the library nearly empty except for a few extra studious students.

You were currently sat in a more secluded area of the library, diligently taking notes from a textbook and putting it on a scroll.

This section of the library had maybe 3 other students at some desks, all completely engrossed in their schoolwork as well. The only thing of note would be the practical school celebrity, Tom Riddle, being present here.

After your brief observation of the library you turned back to your work, redipping your quill into your inkwell and pulling out a new piece of parchment. But before you put your paper away, you chose to pick it up and look it all over. But, tragedy stuck.

“Ow!”

It would seem your hand somewhat slid against the side of the paper, causing you to get a paper cut. You quickly pulled your hand away with a wince, trying to not get any blood on your fresh notes. You raised your hand up, about to instinctively suck on it.

“Excuse me, (Y/n)”

You look up with a startle, nearly tipping over your inkwell. To your absolute surprise, Tom Riddle had seemingly appeared right in front of you, almost as if he teleported. You let out a small laugh instinctively, as that was your instinct in such a moment

“Riddle, don’t do that. You nearly scared the socks off of me!”

Tom let out one of his pearly white smiles. Ah yes, that smile of his. That smile certainly helped him gain so much popularity and title of Hogwart’s Golden Boy. Tom seamlessly pulled out a chair before sitting in it before propping his head up on his hand.

“Oh, my apologies (Y/n), I assure you I didn’t mean to scare you. I just couldn’t help but notice that you seemingly got hurt.”

His green eyes glowed warmly, as if all of his attention was focused solely on you. You must admit, it was intriguing for him to be so concerned about you. You knew each other, but not well or anything. On occasion you would work with him in potions.

You somewhat waved your hand.

“Oh, yes. Sorry about the noise. Just a paper cut is all.”

Tom stared at your cut, like a cat looking at a laser pointer. For a second you could have sworn his eyes glowed an unnatural shade of green.

“Oh, no need to apologize. It’s only natural to make a bit of noise when hurt. Actually, I was hoping to possibly help your issue.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Help my issue? You mean my paper cut?”

Tom reached out a grabbed your hand, closely examining the cut.

“Sure, I’ve actually been wanting to practice some healing spells. But I haven’t had the chance since I obviously didn’t want to cause any harm just to practice them.”

You owlishly blinked at him, before letting out a bit of a smile.

“In that case, feel free to. I would never deny a free healing spell.”

Tom slightly traced the cut on your finger, before finally looking you in the eye.

“Oh, but just one thing in exchange. I was needing a few drops of blood for a potion, and since we’re already here..”

You slightly tilted your head, pondering the offer.

“I mean, I guess so. Don’t see any harm in that.”

Tom’s smile widened, to a point you almost felt like a predator was staring at you. But you shook it off. This was Tom, Hogwart’s Golden Boy. He would never do anything bad.. right?

Tom pulled out a small vial that was oddly in the shape of a heart and carefully placed it right under your cut. He slightly pressed against the skin until a few drops of blood spilled into the glass.

“Alright, that should be enough.”

He took out a cork from his pocket that seemed to be modified to be attached to a necklace. He placed the cork into the vial before putting the necklace on. He then pulled out his wand and with a small flick the cut was instantly healed.

“Thanks, although it does seem a bit weird for you to be wearing my blood in a heart vial around your neck..”

Tom smirked

“Oh, yes about that. Follow me to the armchairs in the corner.”

Almost robotically, against your will, you followed Tom over to a rather secluded part of the library where arm chairs and a fireplace were present. Tom gracefully sat himself down in a love seat.

“Riddle, what’s going on?!”

“Sit down in my lap”

Your body once again moved on its accord. Tears somewhat pricked your eyes.

“Tom, please. What’s going on?”

It was like your entire vision was in slow motion. Approaching Tom, seeing his face contort into what could only be described as a shot eating grin. Your body slowly placed itself in his lap, all entirely against your will.

“Wrap arms around my neck.”

Your arms shot up and encircled his neck, as if it was a loving embrace.

“Tom-“ you pleaded once more

“Oh, hush dear. I assure you you are perfectly fine and safe. Actually, if anything I can guarantee you have never better.”

Tom suddenly grabbed your cheeks, turning your face towards his where you stared at each other for what could have felt like hours.

“What a beautiful creature you are.”

He slid his face down to your neck, where he started to place a few kisses.

“Please, I don’t understand-“

“Shush, darling. Let me explain how things are going to be from now.”

Tom briefly pulled away to show you the necklace that currently held some of your blood.

“You see this vial? This vial is enchanted with a spell of my own creation. This charm is one of deep blood magic, quite possibly my finest masterpiece, really. Whoever’s blood is in this vial, I will be able to order around. The blood in your body will quite literally bend to my will, making whoever I see fit to become my own puppet.”

Tears streamed down your eyes upon hearing this. It would seem you finally found out that Tom was a very, very bad person. Upon seeing your tears he let out a bit of a teasing scoff before wiping them away with his thumb.

“Cease this crying. I assure you, no harm will be done to you as long as I own your blood. Now let me explain your new situation.”

Tom quickly placed a few more kisses on your neck before continuing.

“You, my love, are going to be my girlfriend until- let’s see- eternity. You are going to be my precious little darling until I see fit to release you. Which is never, by the way. You and I will be inseparable. We shall act like lovers, because that is what we now are. You shall embrace me, praise me, kiss me, all the things lover are supposed to do. And in return, all of that I shall reciprocate.”

You were so stunned by his words, you could only squeak out a single word in response.

“W-why?”

Tom lackadaisically played with your hair.

“Easy. Because I am absolutely obsessed with you. I can’t those eyes of yours out of my head. And normally I’m repulsed by people expressing such.. kindness but for whatever reason your kind demeanor has.. entrapped me. I simply can’t get you out of my head, my darling. Oh, and that mind of yours. That wonderful, complex, beautiful mind. All the thoughts that race through your head, I want- no simply must have it all.”

You couldn’t help your slight quivering at his affectionate touches and words.

“Oh my sweet, don’t worry. You’ll love being mine, eventually. I’ll take wonderful care of you, and you shall be endlessly adored by me and my.. followers. Later on you can have whatever you desire. It may take a while, but it’ll grow on you. Now, are you ready for my order?”

You vehemently shook your head, but Tom did not hide the fact that he couldn’t care less based off the predatory grin he possessed.

“I want you to love me, not like me, love me. For the next week you are to be as enamored with me as I am. And mark my words my dear, even once that week is up, I will draw your blood again and again until your mind is so in love with me that it becomes permanent.”

#yandere #starcrossedyanderes #romance #yandere romance #yandere male #yandere tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle

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lacunalunatic · 5 months

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What’s this?

#my art #klarion #klarion the witch boy #teekl #jason blood #dc zell #a mini little horror au event coming up based on Inkwell #just fun little horrific shenanigans

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possamble · 22 days

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farcille postcanon characterization warmup that got way out of hand. beware, here be spoilers, dragoncock, and bottoming as an extreme sport.

~~~

Marcille has always loved Falin’s voice. Soft, high, airy and girlish—it was always as gentle as the rest of her, even in the midst of pitched combat. When things went to hell in a handbasket, it was always Falin’s whispery incantations that kept Marcille grounded as blood and monster guts sailed through the air.

And that hasn’t changed. No amount of dragon could really change that, Marcille thinks. Yes, she she has moments when her voice becomes rough and ragged and guttural, mostly when she’s swinging her mace or her fists, or gritting her teeth through a monster claw stuck into her side. But maybe that urge to growl was always there, and she’s just finally able to voice it now. Marcille finds that she’s loud at times she would have been silent before—grunting with exertion when she would have grimaced quietly, singing some nonsense melody over a mundane task when she would have hummed it under her breath—and that’s a good thing.

But otherwise, nothing has changed. Falin’s voice is as delicate as ever, chiming in a lilting giggle behind a dainty gesture of her hand. Rustling like pages of well-loved books as she casts her protective wards, or ponders over how to cook a new monster, or murmurs right into Marcille’s ear while she…

Well. While she’s got Marcille bent over her own desk with her nightgown pooled at her ankles. Marcille’s not sure if it’s rude or considerate that she didn’t get a chance to dress herself before she had a girthy cock shoved up her cunt first thing in the morning.

“Marcille,” Falin whispers, unfairly shaky as if she’s the one getting fucked within an inch of her life. She’s mouthing at Marcille’s neck, draped over her and pressing as close as possible in every way, gripping Marcille’s hands tight and keening like she’s found heaven between her legs. “Marcille, Marcille…”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that she gets to do that, that she gets to sound like that—with that sweet voice she’s always had, now making obscene little noises that are still whispery fine and almost ethereal coming from her mouth. These quiet, barely voiced sighs that puff against Marcille’s ear, the dulcet moans that thrum against her skin, and that demure little gasp when she thrusts a little harder and somehow finds even more space inside Marcille to bottom out in—

“Marcille…” she whimpers like she’s in pain, on the verge of tears, fingers tight between Marcille’s as they grip the edge of the rattling desk together. “You feel—so good, oh… You’re”—another moan buried just behind her ear—"so wet, so good…”

It’s not like Marcille got the chance to be anything else right now, did she? Not when Falin fell upon her just as she was sorting through her documents, pressed against her back and already unfastening the clasps of her gown and slipping it off her shoulders. She was fully naked before she even got a playful good morning whispered into her ear—it’s a miracle she had the forethought to push her papers out of the way just before Falin had her wrapped around her finger in the most literal sense.

Well. Fingers in the plural, really, since she always starts with two. Usually while pawing at Marcille’s tit with her other hand until her stupid knees give out and she ends up buckling over whatever surface is nearby—in this case, her desk, mercifully free of any uncapped inkwells at the moment. Now slathered with sweat that makes her tits slip and slide along the wooden varnish, of course, but otherwise non-disastrous.

Hopefully her nightgown is catching most of the mess running down her thighs, or she’s going to have to make the most humiliating request to the castle staff about her carpets for the third time this month—

“Yes…!” Falin digs her heels in and fucks her even harder, taken with some kind of mindless momentum all of a sudden. “I love you,” she pants in that stupid—feathery, daisy-light tone that has no business being this sweet while she’s ravaging Marcille like this— “you’re perfect, you’re perfect—”

Marcille’s going to die like this. This is how she’s going to go: Bleating like an animal with her cheek stuck to her desk with drool, eyes just permanently rolled back in her head, toes barely touching the floor as Falin keeps fucking her further onto the desk. She hasn’t said a single coherent word since her second orgasm however many minutes ago, just broken into an endless stream of guttural noises as her cunt slobbers and squelches around Falin’s cock almost as loudly as she’s wailing.

“Marcille,” Falin keens, sounding like a bashful princess ravished to breathlessness—just something straight out of a high-minded erotica novel—all while hammering Marcille into the desk at a shallow, breakneck pace. “You feel—feel s–o good, you’re perfect, oh—oh, you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, I love you, I love you—”

For the love of—fuck. Marcille can distantly hear herself scream, can feel the desk digging into her as she flails, her grasp on sanity getting thinner and thinner with each word that tumbles out of Falin’s mouth and shoots straight through her nerves. She’s—good god, she’s not usually this talkative. It’s almost always Marcille begging and blabbering about how much she wants Falin’s cock, how good it feels, how she wants it harder and faster and more, screaming and crying Falin’s name over and over—

But now, in the absence of Marcille’s pathetic yapping—after she’s already fucked the words out of Marcille so thoroughly—Falin’s taken it upon herself to murmur a stream of honeyed nonsense into her ear, her frail and gentle voice breaking with desperation—and fuck, it’s not fair.

“Yes, yes, oh—” Falin sobs into her neck. “I love it—I love it when you sound like this, I love you—you’re so good, so good for me, my Marcille—”

No, no, no, she can’t do that, she can’t do that—she can’t say that, in that voice, while her cock is so deep in Marcille there’s hardly room for anything else, battering all her nerve endings and rearranging her so that there’s nothing left but her, Falin, Falin—

“Ah!” Falin cries out, like she’s the one getting reamed against her stupid fucking desk so hard she can barely breathe— “Yes, please, please—please say my name again!”

Well. She can beg all she fucking wants, but it’s not going to be pretty and she has no one to blame but herself—it’s her fault Marcille can hardly speak, it’s her fault her name is only coming in rough wails with both syllables separated with heaving, crying breaths. Marcille gives it her all, scrapes whatever intelligence she has left to speak, and sounds like a dying animal in a way that can’t possibly be anything but hideous to listen to—

And still, Falin sobs, as if in utter ecstasy as she fucks Marcille so hard the desk starts scraping along the floor in harsh jumps.

“Yes, yes—ah—” Her voice, not so whispery gentle now but still so melodious and clear, sounding out from deep in her chest— “I—love—you—” she weeps, punctuated by the hard slams of the desk against the floor as she drops the rapid pace in favor of mercilessly hard thrusts— “Beautiful—perfect—mine!”

Then she finally, finally comes—not that it stops her, not with how she thrusts with every spurt. Like she’s not just satisfied with letting it spill out, like she needs to fuck it into Marcille with all her strength, once, twice, then one last time, stuffing her cunt absolutely full with searing heat—

And Marcille doesn’t even realize she’s coming until she’s unceremoniously ejected out the other side of the high, that telltale swoop of vertigo rushing through her veins. The orgasm doesn't even have the grace to let her go limp with afterglow, of course, and she’s left there convulsing and twitching like a drowning fish. With her jaw pressed to the desk, she can actually hear her teeth chatter from how hard she’s shaking, Falin’s warm weight on her be damned.

(One day. One day, she’ll stop embarrassing herself like this—one day she’ll finish like a normal person during sex, instead of going off like a cheap firework every half hour and wringing an orgasm out of herself as soon as she feels Falin finish inside her, whether or not she even had one left in her to begin with.)

“M-Marcille,” Falin stammers, her voice breathless but now shy and girlish again as she slowly untangles their hands. “Are you—are you okay?”

The gall. To ask her that, when she’s nothing but a sweaty carcass slung over her desk, still twitching erratically. To be so gentle as she straightens up and kisses the back of her neck, tenderly brushing her hair to the side as she pulls out ever so slowly—

And still. Not. Slowly. Enough—apparently! Not with the sparks that explode in Marcille’s eyes again, utterly unclear if this is another orgasm or just a particularly brutal aftershock! She just goes squeaking and shaking and sliding off the desk onto her knees, hands clapped over her cunt like they’re going to protect her from the lightning racing up and down her spine. She doesn’t even know where she landed, really, convulsing and closing her thighs around her hand as cum and slick drools into her palms, falling forward and— and smacking her head against the edge of her desk.

“Oh!” Feathered arms clasp around her before she can slide past the wood with her sweaty forehead and land on her face. “Careful—are you okay?”

The gall. The audacity. The—something, or whatever, fuck, Marcille doesn’t even care anymore. Her head throbs with an oncoming bruise, she can’t feel her legs, she can feel her pussy way too much, and it’s a wonder she hasn’t fallen apart on the spot—

“Okay… let’s…” There’s some maneuvering going on, but hell if Marcille can actually tell what Falin’s doing. “Here, let’s take a bath—I’ll go draw some water.”

Marcille whines, because no—she doesn’t know where she is, she just twists until her face finds feathers and buries herself there. She even manages to bring one cum-covered hand to grip at the quils, because this mess is Falin’s fault and if she doesn't like it then she can wash it off herself—but she’s not allowed to leave.

A little chuckle under her breath—and it’s so fucking cute and girlish like she hasn’t just demolished a full grown woman to the brink of unconsciousness, but Marcille can’t even find it in herself to be mad. Falin can ask her whatever the hell she wants, do whatever the hell she wants, so long as she doesn’t let go.

“I’m bringing you with me, I promise,” Falin whispers so tenderly, pressing a kiss to Marcille’s head. There’s arms tightening around her back and under her knees, and she feels herself being lifted. “I wouldn’t leave you like that…”

Better not, Marcille grumbles to herself. Not sure if it made it past her mouth, but it doesn’t matter. Falin’s going to take responsibility for turning her morning into—into this, even if it means having to draw some bathwater with an elf clinging to her the entire time. She’s going to be the one to wash her off, bring her their missed breakfast, and tell everyone why she wasn’t there at the morning meeting—

Maybe not that last part.

“I’m sorry,” she hears, in that soft and whispery tone she’s loved for so many years. That voice that didn’t change, even with everything that happened—everything that Marcille did to her, and it’s—

It would be so, incredibly stupid if she started crying out of nowhere.

“Liar,” she whines, digging the indignant annoyance back up to pout like a spoiled brat. “You liked… every second…”

Another giggle that so infuriatingly lovely. “I did.” The sound of a squeaky valve turning, then rushing water that slaps against stone. “Did you?”

Marcille just grumbles again and clings even tighter. Falin just laughs a little louder and strokes her hair, too kind to demand an answer in so many words—or, perhaps, impishly content to let Marcille incriminate herself with her silence, as she so often does.

#farcille #fic #nsft #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #so this was just supposed to be a characterization exercise #bc i could feel my falin slipping and needed to recalibrate around her having a hayami saori voice regardless of what she's doing #and partially bc i wanted to see what my marcille narration would sound like #results: i think i did okay on recalibrating falin and reaffirming her intrinsic gentleness so i dont go too hard on the dragoning cliches #marcille narration is a little too sardonic bc im definitely borrowing from my other twinky whitegirls but i can work on it #and im so so incredibly mean to marcille this is so funny #i don't even know if this is sexy or not im so sorry i was actually laughing while i was writing #the dragoness of melini #I GUESS?? THIS COULD BE CONSIDERED A FOLLOW UP??

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roguelov · 27 days

Text

Crimson Stained Petals (Chapter 4)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~3.4k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: minor angst (dealing with nightmares and depression), mostly fluff, pining, blood (reader gets minor cut)

Chapter 3 and more chapters to come!

Over the few days, Morpheus had noticed a dreary cloud forming and seemingly growing over your head. It casted its gloom and rain dampening your radiance. Your smile was not quite as bright, it barely reached your now sullen eyes. Your presence was no longer felt in every room. Your laughter, your occasional humming, your musical-like steps were gone. You were a shadow, a husk. And big by bit, you retreated from him; you actively avoided him, or so he believed.

“Lucienne,” Morpheus asked one evening.

The pair was in the study. Papers littered all over the desk along with uncapped inkwells and used fountain pens. They poured and poured over the dull necessities of maintaining the bookshop - going over profits, bills, shipments, and new orders.

Lucienne peered at her lord over her glasses quizzically. “Yes?”

“Have you spoken with our dear mortal recently?” Morpheus still stood over the desk and continued to scan over documents, trying not to look bothered by his inquiring question or your sudden change.

“No, I haven’t.”

A tension set in his jaw. “I see.”

Lucienne quickly picked up on Morphues’s displeasure. A smile tugged on the corners of her lips. She was not oblivious to her lord’s far more chirper attitude since welcoming you into the manor. “May I ask what brought up this question?”

“Curiosity,” he replied nonchalantly.

Lucienne hummed, unconvinced. “Curiosity? Or concern?”

Her question stirred a reaction out of him. Morpheus whipped his head, now facing Lucienne directly. “And if I am, is there anything wrong in worrying about her?” His question was one of concern for you, yet his tone in which he spoke was biting - what exactly was Lucienne implying?

Lucienne’s smile only grew. She calmly responded, “No, sir.”

Upon seeing Lucienne’s calmness, Morpheus’s shoulders instantly dropped. His anger was misplaced. All the fight was drained from him, and soon the truth spilled out. “She -“ he sighed - “she does not seem happy and … and I do not know if it is because of living here or because of troubled nights.”

Lucienne thought of how there was an easy solution to his conundrum: he should speak with you. However, she held her tongue this time and instead opted to ask a question regarding you. “Troubled nights?”

“The other night, she spoke of having a nightmare.” Morpheus’s eyes shone with a heavy sorrow. “She … she was utterly frightened, Lucienne. Her fear nearly choked me.”

Lucienne frowned. “I was not aware, but a nightmare is a nightmare. There is not much one can do.”

Morpheus sighed, dropping into his chair. He tipped his head back and stared blankly up at the high ceiling. His heart - ancient and heavily barricaded - ached to see you smile. Just once more, just for a moment. In such a brief period, you had invaded his thoughts. He did not realize he craved it, sought it out, until it was taken from him.

Taken.

It seemed many things were taken from him in recent years. He pushed aside those thoughts and painful memories. He ran his hands over his face then through his tousled hair. Such complex feelings swirled inside his chest and constricted his heart.

“You care for her.” Morpheus lifted his head, looking towards Lucienne. She continued, “Which is never a bad thing, sir. She has brought new life here.”

And in you, she thought.

“I care for all of you,” he answered, dismissing her comment.

“You do, and we appreciate it.”

He raised an eyebrow at the weighted pause at the end of her sentence. “But?”

She smiled to herself. “I believe the care you feel for us and her are different.”

Morpheus frowned. Was he truly so easy to read? Did he truly become enamored with his housekeeper so quickly like a tale of forbidden romance? Did he truly want a partner … or did he want something else? He turned his head away, grumbling to himself.

Care? If one could call it such.

Does a farmer not care for his slaughter? Care, hunger, desire, it all can twist together. They can form into complex knots, making it impossible to tell where one may begin or end.

“For you, my lord.”

A beautiful picturesque rose dripping in a passionate red appeared in front of Morpheus’s face. He was working tediously in his study, and surprisingly failed to hear him. He just appeared, a magical and strange habit of his.

Morpheus blinked, gently taking the rose out of his hand. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

He smiled warmly like a sunny day. His wondrous new grander had already made such a change in the once dismal manor. Colors of all sorts were injected into the very foundation. Flowers bloomed wildly and freely, life blossomed with a new fever. “I thought you might like it, sir. Red suits you perfectly.”

”How do you do it, Lucienne?” Morphues whispered softly, changing the conversation. His voice was filled with sorrow as memories resurfaced. Sweet, painful memories, ones he wished he could forget yet also wouldn’t trade anything in the world for they were more precious than any gold or jewelry.

“Meaning what, sir?”

”To be close to her, to not be affected by her?”

Ah.

”Well, someone taught me control.” Lucienne slowly organized papers. “Someone had once found me in an awful state and was able to bring me back to my senses. Now, part of me cannot bare the smell of human blood without my stomach twisting into disgust.”

Morpheus’s eyes softened.

Lucienne gathered up the papers, ready to part of the night. “A solution to your problem: perhaps you can try to talk to her and cheer her up, sir. I’m sure she would appreciate the gesture.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how would I do that?”

She chuckled, almost in a knowing way, and strolled out of the study. “I believe you will figure it out, sir.”

The soft click of the door echoed in the now quiet, lonely space. Morpheus peered over to the window with its curtains drawn. Even drawn closed, the setting sunlight streamed through the cracks trying to warm the earth in its last moments. Tilting his head, he saw the surrounding woods fade in the dying light. As his gaze darted around taking in the surroundings, it landed on a corner of dark greens and deep reds. Lucienne’s words replayed in his head. He was on his feet, already looking for you before he fully understood it himself. His feet carried him downstairs towards your room, however he stopped in the dining room. Looking ahead, he instead saw you sitting in the sun room. You were on the couch with your back to him and your head bowed. He immediately changed course.

Quietly, he opened the door. The potted trees and fauna stretched its shadows and created unique jagged shapes. A soft orange bathed over the room. The fractured soft light shone through the glass and casted you in an ethereal halo of twinkling gold.

You were a goddess of light.

As he walked towards you, you did not stir. You had heard him by the high pitched squeak of the door and the faint clacking of the heels on the tile floor. He stopped by your side, peering down at you. “I see you are still reading that book from before.”

You laughed, a quick huff through your nose, and closed the book in your lap. You glanced up at him with a forced smile. “Trying and failing, sir.”

His eyes swept over your face. Gaunt was the first word to come to mind. You appeared gauntly and ragged. Bags were carved under your eyes, and your skin had lost its glow. He pushed on, trying not to dwell and stare at your new appearance. “And what has your mind occupied this time?”

The other night. The nightmares. An unpleasant past. You.

“I suppose a lot of things,” you answered with a heavy sigh.

Morpheus frowned slightly. Yet, he quickly wiped it away, replacing it with a small endearing smile. He extended his hand down towards you. “I know a place to help clear your mind, would you care to join me?”

Your eyes flickered up. His dazzling blue eyes - contrasted against the golden dazzling air - only showed kindness and a hint of concern. You should refuse, you should stay or perhaps return to your room for the night, but … but how could you say no? Not when he looked at you in such an alluring way, and not since he piqued your deep rooted curiosity. You carefully set the book aside on the plush cushions, and placed your hand in his. “I would love to.”

Morpheus’s smile grew as he drew you up to your feet. “Wonderful.”

He hooked your arm through his and guided you forward. Together, you walked out through the back entrance of the sun room, heading directly for the rose maze. The sun had dipped below the horizon, however its last bits of rays faintly colored the sky. Oranges and pinks still stained the vast canvas known as the sky. They desperately clung behind as rich purples, dark blues, and an all consuming black began to drip down coating all corners. The moon, perfectly sliced in half, already shone in the dimming sky. Its companions, stars, began to twinkle and fill the empty space for the moon was never alone. The rose maze, under this changing light, was mysterious. The greens almost appeared black, while the reds were embers of a dying fire. Excitement buzzed across your skin. Your heart flipped, nearly dropping into your stomach. It was all so thrilling to finally set food inside, and to be by Morpheus’s side as your guide.

Even if you shouldn’t, even if a logical part scolded you.

Morpheus drew you close as you approach the entrance of the maze. “Now, stay close. At night, it can be tricky to navigate.”

There was a hint of humor in his voice as if he was trying to spook you. You chuckled, shaking your head, “Really? Is that your plan? To take me in and do what you want without anyone seeing?”

He laughed, a deep rich laugh that vibrated in your own chest. “You have me figured out.”

You smiled, a true genuine smile. It returned as if it never truly left. It was nice to be joking and laughing with him. It was surprisingly so easy, like two friends and nothing else.

No titles, no past.

Stepping into the maze was stepping into another world. The maze hedges were easily seven feet tall and two or three feet wide, it fully blocked out the world the further you walked in. The hedges were cut and trimmed to perfection. No branch stuck out, only roses. And the roses? Gorgeous with no flaws. There were full roses with their petals spread out to greet you, there were buds still closed waiting for their time, and there were roses in every stage of blooming covering almost every inch of the hedges. The sweet floral aroma tickled your nose and filled the air.

You hummed, pleased by the scent.

Morpheus peered over at you, taken by your wide curious eyes. Your eyes darted all around, fascinated by it all, memorized by its beauty. Strolling further in, he followed the correct path leading to the center of the maze. His stride did not hesitate, but only slowed when your eyes longingly lingered back on all the passing flowers.

Best of all, and to your surprise, there weren't only red roses.

No, the deeper you walked the red stayed, yet yellows, pinks, and whites were slowly incorporated into the mix. A beautiful blend, and various shades, of warm inviting colors. It was like a storybook, a scenery plucked from a far off prosperous kingdom. Tempted by their beauty, you reached out, running your fingers along the soft petals. It was fine silk, or like a cloud.

“Careful -“

You hissed, stopping in place. A thorn had pricked your thumb.

Morpheus instantly frowned and moved in front of you. He carefully took your hand, examining your thumb. It was nothing to be concerned about. An insignificant prick, no worse than a paper cut. A small dot of blood began to well up. The dot sparkled like a certain ruby pinned to his tie. Before he could stop himself, Morpheus brought your thumb up to his lips. His lips - soft and gentle - pressed into the pad of your thumb kissing it.

Your heart flipped in your chest.

Morpheus’s eyes glanced up, locking with yours. A look flashed across his eyes, a look which could only be described as hunger. He nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs by such a simple look. He pulled away and dropped your hand. Turning his back to you, he mumbled, “Apologies for my behavior.”

He licked his lips, tasting the tiniest bit of your blood. He had to suppress a groan. It was truly addicting, like a newly discovered liquor he could happily get drunk off of each and every night.

“I have an older sister who used to do such a thing if any of us were injured. It’s a habit I unknowingly picked up,” he explained.

No, not explained but excused. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. However, it was a lie he told himself and you, rather than admit the aroma of your blood tempted him to act.

“It’s okay,” you muttered, feeling your heart skip in a way you had never felt before. “I should have known better.”

Morpheus wanted to say something, wanted to do something. He wanted to draw you close, he wanted to wrap his arms around your waist, he wanted to nuzzle his face into your neck, he wanted to hear you say his name over and over, he wanted to -

“Please,” he cleared his throat, “I would refrain from running your fingers over them. The thorns are quite sharp, and we needn’t any more accidents. Come, the center is up ahead.”

He walked - no, marched - ahead, and did not bother looking back to see if you were following.

Your lips thinned in thought. You silently followed him as this bizarre tension hovered in the shared space. The only sounds were the crunching of both of your shoes against the pebbled path. You eyed Morpheus’s back curiously and with some trepidation. He had once again pulled away from you. He showed you such kindness, yet almost scared by something he backed off. Why? What frightened him? What thoughts floated around in that head of his?

Why do you care, a voice called out.

You tensed a little. Why did you? It was so pointless and idiotic, especially when -

“We’re here,” Morpheus said. He rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Skirting around the hedge, you let out a small gasp. The pebbled path opened up. The space was carved into a perfect circle, with patches of lush full grass that tempted any tired feet to rest. One could lay and gaze up at the stars, or have a picnic in the high sun. However, most would turn to the concrete benches that surrounded the showstopper: a fountain at the very center. The fountain - smaller than the one in front of the house, yet had four tiers compared to the three - had dozens upon dozens of rose petals floating across the surface. Peering up, the moon looked back down at you in this secret oasis smiling. Its light rippled in the water, scattering its reflection. With the various colors from the roses, and the moonlight’s, it glittered here like a treasure trove.

It was breathtaking.

Morpheus glanced over his shoulder back to you. His heart lurched forward. You looked so beautiful under the moonlight. You slowly approached the foundation, dipping your fingers into the cool water. You picked up a petal, admiring it before setting it back into the water. A smile never left your lips. Any issues, any problems from before, were gone. Each of you solely existed in this moment. Morpheus felt his heart being drawn to you, bound to you. Anything you wanted, anything to keep you smiling, he would do.

What a frightening and thrilling feeling, so familiar yet so foreign to him.

You moved and sat down on the bench, watching as the water spilled over the tiered edges and as petals spun and danced on top of the water. The sounds of the water splashing, and trickling, was hypnotic and soothing. You sighed dreamily and murmured to yourself, “What a beautiful place.”

“It is.” You turned your head, looking up at Morpheus. His eyes were directly on you as he spoke, you always seemed to get his full attention. He smiled softly. He produced a rose from behind his back - a pure white rose that glittered like snow under the moonlight. He sat beside you on the bench, “May I?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, tucking the roses behind your ear. As he drew back, his nimble fingers skimmed along your jaw. His eyes softened. You truly were a fresh change in his life, a well needed change. You had taken his heart in the short time you worked here with your humor, your wit, your curiosity, and your kindness. He was smitten for deep in his heart he was a hopeless romantic.

He turned away from you, looking to the fountain. Your heart skipped. His touch burned across your skin. You reached up, touching the soft pure white petals. A smile crossed your lips as you stared at the multifaceted lord.

“I suppose I have to admit I do have an ulterior motive for asking you to join me,” he began.

“Oh?” You titled your head. “And what would that be?”

To see you smile again, he thought.

“I have a question to ask, a request, and I did not want anyone else to listen in.”

You leaned forward, silently waiting.

He bowed his head, and dare you say appeared to be almost shy. It surprised you to see him in such a way. He peered up at you with a cluster of unreadable emotions on his face. “I would like to ask if you would join me to attend my dear friend’s party.”

“What?” You breathed out.

“I want you to accompany me to Hob’s party, if you so wish to join me.”

“I … I am unsure. I am just taken back by your offer.”

“Do you truly find it so surprising?”

“Given my employment to you, I suppose I do,” you joked lightly.

“If you wish, think of it as a bonus for your wonderous upkeep of the manor.” He searched in your eyes hoping to find his answer. “So? Do you accept?”

You smiled softly, “How could I pass up such generosity? Yes.”

Lucienne was right. Morpheus knew exactly what to do.

Shortly after his surprising offer, Morpheus explained he will take care of anything. He will find a dress for you for the night, and pay all expenses - you reluctantly agreed after much arguing.

Soon, arm in arm again, he guided you out of the maze, and towards your room for the night. He paused in front of you, hovering slightly as if something weighed on him, as if he wished to say something else. His lips parted, but he just bowed his head. “Goodnight, I hope you have sweeter dreams tonight.”

“Thank you,” you bowed your head.

Say something, do something.

Instead, you just simply smiled. “Goodnight, sir.”

You twisted around to go into your room when a hand latched around your wrist. You suppressed a shiver at his cool hand. You peered over your shoulder looking down at the hand then slowly your eyes trailed up to see Morpheus’s wondrous blue eyes.

“Please,” he whispered softly, “when it is just us, call me Morpheus. No need for such formalities.”

Your heart fluttered, like a hummingbird. “Of course. Morpheus. Goodnight.”

His eyes twinkled, utterly overjoyed. A smile spread over his lips. He gently let go of your wrist and stood back with perfect posture. He bowed his head again, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You turned, finally stepping into your room. You gently shut the door as a giddy feeling washed over you. Morpheus’s footsteps soon faded away. You sighed, dreamily. Taking the rose from behind your ear, you floated over to the nightstand by your bed. You gently laid it down. Your fingers traced over the petals, unable to stop smiling. Maybe later you will get a cup and water for it. Your eyes, however, soon caught a folded piece of paper on the stand. Your smile faltered. Picking it up and unfolding it, your mother and father smiled back up at you. You folded the picture again. You tucked it under the beautiful white rose.

Just a little longer, you thought. I promise.

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #the sandman au #vampire!au #vampire!dream #vampire!morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #vampire!morpheus x reader #vampire!dream x reader #x reader #fem!reader

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polishchuk · 7 months

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Yukio Mishima as Saint Sebastian (60s)/ Guido Reni - Saint Sebastian, 1615

“I was flipping through one of the last pages of a volume. All of a sudden, from the corner of the next page, there flashed before my eyes an image that I had to assume had lurked there for my benefit alone.

It was a reproduction of Guido Reni’s Saint Sebastian, which figures in the collection of Palazzo Rosso in Genoa.

The trunk of the tree of torment, black and slightly oblique, stood out against the Titianesque background of a gloomy forest and a serene sky, gloomy and distant. A young man of singular loveliness stood bound naked to the trunk of the tree, his arms drawn up, and the straps that clasped his crossed wrists were fastened to the tree itself. No ties of any other kind were discernible, and the only covering of the young man’s nakedness consisted of a rough white cloth that loosely wrapped around his loins.

I imagined that it was a description of a Christian martyrdom. But since it was due to a painter of the eclectic school derived from the Renaissance, even from this painting depicting the death of a Christian saint exuded a strong aroma of paganism. The young man’s body - one could even compare it to that of Antinous, Hadrian’s favorite, whose beauty was so often immortalized in sculpture - bears no trace of the hardships or exhaustion derived from missionary life, which imprint the effigy of other saints: instead, this one uniquely manifests the springtime of youth, uniquely light and pleasure and gracefulness.

That white and incomparable nudity of hers sparkles against a background of twilight. His sinewy arms, the arms of a praetorian accustomed to flex his bow and brandish his sword, are raised in a harmonious curve, and his wrists cross immediately above his head. The face is turned slightly upward and the eyes are wide open, contemplating the glory of heaven with deep tranquility. It is not suffering that hovers over the expanded chest, the taut abdomen, the barely twisted lips, but a flicker of melancholy pleasure like music. Were it not for the arrows with their points stuck in his left armpit and right hip, he would rather look like a Roman athlete relieving fatigue in a garden, leaning against a dark tree.

Arrows have plunged into the heart of the young, pulpy, fragrant flesh, and are about to consume the body from within with flames of heartbreak and supreme ecstasy. But the blood is not gushing out; the swarm of arrows seen in other paintings of St. Sebastian’s martyrdom has not yet raged. Here instead, two lone arrows send their quiet and delicate shadows over the smoothness of the skin, similar to the shadows of a branch falling on a marble staircase.

But all these interpretations and discoveries came later.

That day, the moment I glimpsed the painting, my whole being quivered with pagan joy. My blood roiled in my veins, my loins swelled almost in an emptiness of rage. The monstrous part of me that was close to exploding waited for me to use it with unprecedented ardor, rebuking my ignorance, gasping in outrage. My hands, not at all unconsciously, began a movement I had never learned. I felt something secret, something radiant, launching itself rattily to the assault from within. It erupted suddenly, bringing with it a blinding intoxication....

Some time elapsed and then, in a desolate mood, I looked around at the desk I stood in front of. Outside the window a maple tree was casting a vivid glare everywhere -- on the ink bottle, on school books and notebooks, on the dictionary, on the image of St. Sebastian. Splashes of a dim whiteness appeared here and there - on the title in gold letters of a textbook, on the margin of the inkwell, on an edge of the dictionary. Some objects dripped lazily, others glowed with a dim gleam like the eyes of a dead fish. Fortunately, a reflexive movement of my hand to protect the figure had prevented the volume from soiling.

That was my first ejaculation. And it was also the clumsy and totally unplanned beginning of my “bad habit.”

–Yukio Mishima “Confessions of a Mask”

#yukio mishima #japan aesthetic #saint sebastian #guido reni #aesthetic #art #quotes #confessions of a mask #autumn #painting #dark moodboard #dark academia #japanese writing #homosexual #homoerotic #lovers #eikoh hosoe

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m-jelly · 8 months

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Chapter 1

Thank you @ladycheesington for the perfect banner <3

Vampire Levi x fem!reader

Victorian era like world, vampires, secrets, romance, falling in love, vampire lore, sexual tension, possessive Levi, protective Levi.

Story: Romance blooms quickly for you when you move to the big city. The mysterious Lord Ackerman sweeps you off your feet, but the two of you hold back your romantic and sexual desires due to unspoken fears. Something is off about the city once night falls and the secrets it holds are the reason why you both hold back. When Levi reveals he is a vampire, the two of you embark on a passionate loving romance and he opens a whole new and hidden world to you. As the two of you find bliss in each other, the vampire Queen of the city is not happy. Determined to keep her favourite pet as hers, she tries everything to get rid of you and tighten her loosening hold on Levi. The two of you must face many odds together and must make some big choices in order to remain together or lose each other in a tear and blood-filled mess.

This chapter: First meeting with Levi, the mystery of the city and what you do. Another meeting with Levi, rising romantic tension and a possible love rival.

Part 2

The flame crackled as it danced atop the candle. Hot wax trickled down the white candle and gathered on the brass holder. A loose strand of hair had escaped the hold you had placed it in. The hair lightly caressed and tickled your neck. The tip of your pen scribbled away on your paper as you focused on the open books before you. Time was ticking and the point where you needed to return home due to safety was almost long gone.

You grew up in a nice town, but city life was calling. As an educated woman, finding your way and getting a job where you could flourish was hard. Countless men turned you away or asked you to work for them only if you did something dirty. Mr Callahan was the only person who had offered you a job and meant it. However, you had your reservations.

Mr Callahan had warmly welcomed you about two weeks ago into his records and bookshop. All you did was ensure records were correct and up to date and conduct research for people who requested it. Everything was nice and you jumped right into the position, but there were a few strange things. You were warned about staying too late after work. You accepted it at first, but as the days went on it seemed that Mr. Callahan was giving you work to get you to stay longer. The time deadline was being tested.

Everything went strange when a man entered the shop three days ago. The man was in all black and wore dark glasses. His skin was white, his hair was white as snow and lightly tussled back and reached the lower part of his neck, it was slightly long and would feel perfect as you run your fingers through. When you moved past this man as you worked he just stared at you as if you were some sort of rare creature. They both went to a private viewing room for work which resulted in you staying around a lot more.

With an aching neck, you raised your head and looked over to the old clock to see it was six in the evening. The sun would be slowly setting soon due to winter getting closer. Your spine and neck cracked slowly when you turned and cast your eyes out the window to see the lamplighters doing their rounds.

You placed your pen in it’s inkwell and rose from your seat. The wooden floor creaked under your small heels as you made your way across the office to check on Mr. Callahan. You tapped your knuckles against his private office but heard no answer. No answer came, so you opened the door and peered inside to see that the place was empty. Mr. Callahan has cleared his desk for the night and left you all alone in his shop.

You were so irritated but also concerned. You raced around the building and made sure you were packed up and ready to leave. You flicked your cape around you and dragged on your gloves to fight the cold night air. Anxiety nipped away at your heart as words of warnings about the night fluttered through your head. You needed to get home as fast as possible.

The door softly slammed behind you. You twisted the key in the lock and released a sigh. The air was just cold enough for you to see your breath. It was strange for the city to be so empty, but it seemed that most people had hurried home about an hour ago. You turned on your heels and began walking as fast as you could down the road.

Your heart raced in your chest as people started to shift out of side roads. Rumours were floating around the city about monsters coming out at night. Werewolves, ghosts and even vampires were said to be around, but you tried to keep your head down and ignore the silly stories. You just got home after work, locked the door and read a book before bed.

“Hey, pretty thing!” A whistle broke the silence causing everyone to look over at you. “Slow down and come play!”

You yanked your hood up on your cape and began to almost run through the street. Home was calling you and you needed to get far away from the people who walked the streets at night. Even the police seemed to abandon this city when the sunset. The sun had almost gone, you had just a bit of a pink and orange glow to light your way.

“Come back!”

You turned on your heels and went to cut down an alleyway but a cold shiver consumed you. A woman had her back pressed against the wall as she panted and moaned in pleasure. A man slowly lifted his head from her neck to show puncture marks from two teeth. Blood oozed from her wound and trickled down to her breasts. The alleyway was too dark for you to see the biter, but the blood on their teeth glistened. Their eyes locked onto you and glimmered as they took you in.

Run.

Your brain spoke but your body remained unmoved.

Run.

The woman was released and the dark figure moved closer, their smart shoes tapping on the cobblestone path.

RUN!

Your body rebooted and strength returned to you. You turned on your heels, sprinted across the road, and past the men who catcalled you. Your lungs burned as your corset squeezed them. Running with a corset was torturous on your body, but the fear of the unknown consequences of being caught by the beast in the alleyway drove you.

Small stones crunched under your small heels as you reached the small park. A fog had rolled in from the river causing visibility to be difficult. You slowed down as you tried to catch your breath. The oil lamps had been lit in the park, but it was dangerous to be in the light. You were like a rabbit being hunted and the lights were making it easier to be caught.

You just needed to cross through the park and down a road to get to your home. You reminded yourself of your route to try and calm your heart, but it was beginning to become too much. A sob had caught in your throat. This city was supposed to be your future and now you were learning the true horrors of it. You wanted your parents. You wanted to be home. You wanted to be sharing a cup of tea with your mother while wrapped up in a blanket.

A scream caught in your throat when a gloved hand covered your mouth. Your life began to flash before your eyes as you were dragged from the path and into the darkness of the park. Your back collided with a large. Your eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, so you could not see the man keeping you in place.

Though your body was consumed with fear, something about this mysterious man aroused something within you. Even though he had grabbed you so suddenly, his touch was gentle. His natural scent mixed with a light dash of cologne was enchanting to the senses. The warmth from his body was comforting and your once-racing heart was beginning to slow.

A deep voice danced from the man’s lips as he whispered to you. “Those men followed you. They’re dangerous.”

“Th-thank you.”

He caressed your cheek as he took you in. You were so beautiful to him. “Forgive me for scaring you in that alleyway, but I was with my blood donor.”

You gulped hard. “Blood boner?”

“Your eyes did not deceive you. I was drinking her blood.”

“Vampires are real-.”

He covered your mouth and hushed you. “Not too loud. They are close.” He glanced at the path before looking back at you. “Are you new to this city? Weren’t you warned about the night?”

You nodded and waited for him to move his hand before you whispered. “My boss Mr. Callahan did warn me, but it seems these past few days he has been purposely making me stay longer.”

“What changed?”

You nibbled your lip. “A man with long hair like the colour of snow came in. He wore all back with white skin.”

“Tch, that fucker.” He groaned. “Forgive my sharp tongue.” He pressed his body against you as the men walked past talking about you. He watched them closely, made sure they gave up their hunt and turned around and returned to the street you came from. “I’m assuming you are going through the park.”

“Yes.”

He moved back from you. “You are safe to continue on your journey home. Try not to go out this late again for your own sake. You may not meet someone as nice as me again.”

You bowed your head to him. “Thank you so much for your help. I am sorry for inconveniencing you.”

He blushed a little. “Tch, there is no need for this. I wanted to help you. Go home now. I will watch from a distance to ensure your safety.”

“Thank you.” You hurried away. “Goodnight!”

He waved to you. “Night.” He waited for you to be further away before walking into the light on the lamps. Levi released a long sigh before raising his gloved hand and inhaling the scent you had left behind. “So cute and sweet.”

It was strange for Levi to become attracted and attached to someone. He knew very well he wasn’t going to part from you so soon. He wanted to see you again. Levi was very aware of Mr. Callahan’s place and was going to make sure to visit. Levi ran a trading company and owned a lot of businesses. Levi was a high-ranking pure-blooded vampire, so he held a lot of power in this city. Paperwork, records and books there at Mr. Callahan’s would help him out, but the main reason for going would be seeing you again.

Levi released a long sigh and felt shit that you had seen him in such a primal state as he fed from his donor, but he needed blood after beating a few rogue and dangerous vampire groups. Levi had gotten a few scrapes and needed to heal up, thankfully he had a donor close by. All his donors had been fully checked because Levi valued cleanliness. He was going to make sure that when he officially met you, he was going to be dressed in his best clothes and he would hide his vampiric ways from you for just a short time.

He knew he should leave you alone and be on his way, but he couldn’t help himself. Levi stuck to the shadows as he followed you through the park and reached your sweet home. He hummed in thought as he leaned against a wall while you unlocked your front door. It was clear you were still nervous and on edge, but there was something else to you. There was a hint of wanting, of need, of arousal. Levi was rather moved by your desire for him, but you were holding back.

He stared at the top window as a light came on, he was glad you had gas lighting in your home to keep the rooms lit. His heart raced like never before when he watched you in front of your bedroom window. He felt like a pervert as he kept watching you remove your dress to reveal your underdress and corset. A growl rumbled from him when you released your hair and let it down.

Levi pulled away from the wall as he felt dirty for watching you. He was determined to keep you in his life.

Mr Callahan stared hard as you moved around the shop. He released a long sigh before approaching you with a gentle smile. Yesterday he left work early and made sure you had things to do that would cause you to stay behind. The white-haired lord from the other day wanted to have you alone, but it appeared that did not happen. So, Mr Callahan needed to arrange something again.

He called your name and gave you a reassuring smile. “Are you all right? I believe you stayed late last night.”

You paused a bit and felt yourself flush at the mysterious man last night. “I did. I left just before the sunset and managed to get home.”

“Did you meet anyone?”

You hugged your books. “I met a nice gentleman who helped me home. Was I supposed to meet someone else?”

He perked up. “Did he have white hair?”

You shook your head. “No. The gentleman I met was not like the white-haired man who was here before.”

“Well, I am glad you were safe.”

You bowed to him. “Thank you, sir.”

Both of you turned to the front door as the bell dinged. A heat rushed through your body as you felt a strong attraction to the guest. Mr Callahan felt a shiver consumed him as he gazed at a very important man in the city enter his shop for the first time.

He wasn’t too tall, but a nice average height. He was dressed in all black with a top hat on his head. Small black sunglasses rested on his nose to hide some of his silver-blue eyes. His raven hair framed his pale face. His lips were slightly pink and kissable. The smart shoes he wore shined from the perfect polish on them. Leather gloves gripped his hands and made them look perfect. He held the top of his cane and tapped the bottom against the floor.

Mr Callahan hurried over to Levi. “Welcome, Lord Ackerman.”

Levi hummed at the old man. He dragged his eyes away and stared at you. He moved past Mr. Callahan and approached you. He reached up and tipped his hat to you. “Good afternoon, miss.”

You blushed as you gazed at the handsome man before you. There was something so compelling and alluring about him. You chewed the inside of your lip a little as you battled your emotions. “Good afternoon.”

He removed his top hat. “I am in need of some papers and books. Would you assist me?”

“I uh…” You gulped hard. “I can do that. I must inform you though that I am fairly new.”

He smiled and showed off two slightly pointed and sharp teeth. “I have full faith in you.”

“Thank you.” You turned. “Come with me then to a private room and we’ll talk.

“Wonderful.” He walked with you to a private room. He reached over and opened the door for you allowing him to lean in close and deeply inhale your scent. “I appreciate the help.”

You walked in first and set your things down. “I am happy to help you, Lord Ackerman.” You pulled a chair out for him. “Please, take a seat and relax. Would you like a cup of tea?”

He nodded. “I am fine for now, but thank you for offering.” He referred to the seat next to him. “Please, join me so we may talk.”

You took the seat right next to Levi as it was the one he was referring to. A blush made your cheeks hot and the warmth of the man next to you was intoxicating. “So, what is it that you would like to research?”

“I am interested in a few things.” He placed his hand in his blazer’s breast pocket, retrieved a piece of paper and presented it to you. “I have compiled a little list.”

You opened up the paper and scanned the page. “I can do that.”

It was hard not to be entranced by you and how you looked, talked and spoke. Levi was enamoured by you and the divinity of your beauty, scent, voice and intellect. Every moment you worked together was a blessing and pleasurable. As the books piled around the two of you, you both worked hard and gained the information Levi wanted. Often Levi found himself gazing at you as if you were this work of art that was produced by some goddess and was only for his eyes.

It was hard to focus with Levi so close to you. His scent was enrapturing. There was this supernatural pull between the two of you as if a divine line was linking the two of you. Forever tethered together through your hearts and fate. When you caught slight glimpses of his dazzling eyes your heart soared in your chest. Though his smiles and light chuckles were rare, they were all the more a blessing to the eyes and ears. Levi was a mystery you wanted to solve and he also thought the same about you.

You released a small yawn. “Forgive me. That was rude.”

Levi gently caressed your cheek with the back of his hand and fingers. “There is no need for such words. I have stolen much of your precious time today.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch as your body and mind craved more contact. “It has been rather enjoyable though. I am sorry for taking much longer to help you with your research. Mr Callahan would have been faster.”

He retracted his touch. “If I desired my arse to be kissed, I would have gone to him. I needed fresh eyes and a delicate precise touch. That is why I sought you out.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Most people would disagree with you on that.” He slowly ran his finger under your eye. “You should get yourself something to eat and drink.”

You nodded. “I will. Would you care for anything?”

“A tea. I will add something to it.”

You frowned a little before watching him pull out a flask. “Alcohol?”

He shook his head. “No, it is a medicine.”

You gasped as your heart went out to Levi. “Are you unwell?” You leaned closer and placed the back of your hand against his forehead. “You are slightly cold to the touch.”

Levi closed his eyes as he enjoyed your touch. “I am always cold. I have low blood pressure.” He opened his eyes and smiled at you. “This medicine helps with it. I am well, do not worry.”

You lowered your hand. “If you insist.” You held your breath as you shift to your feet. Bodies close to each other. You got a closer inspection of Levi. A warmth spread over your cheeks as you locked eyes with Levi as he gazed over the top of his glasses at you. “I will get you that drink then.”

Levi tore his eyes away from you. “I am grateful.”

Nerves bubbled in him as he remembered your gaze. He was always so cautious with looking someone in the eyes without his glasses to create a barrier. The eyes of a vampire when looked deeply into captured most people in a deep trance. Most were willing to do anything for that vampire. He dragged his sunglasses off and placed them on the table. It was clear that you were not strongly moved by his vampiric gaze as your affection for him appeared before you locked eyes.

The light tap of the tea tray broke Levi’s thoughts. He gazed up at you and smiled sweetly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He unbuttoned his coat and peeled it off his body to reveal the form-hugging suit under. He retrieved his flask and poured the blood into his tea. “Are you enjoying the city life?”

The intensity of his gaze made your body burn with desire. Words failed you for a brief moment. It wasn’t Levi’s eyes that had you hypnotised, but it was everything about him. “I am. Though, I must say it is rather scary at night.”

“It can be.” His actions were graceful when he collected his teacup and sipped from it. “I could provide protection if you allow it.”

“Provide protection?”

The seat creaked as he shifted closer to you. His alluring heat and scent mixed and made your body vibrate. His kissable lips parted ever so slightly. “The police here are not adequate at night. I would be happy to provide my assistance.”

You hummed a little laugh. “Are you proposing something?”

“I just wish to return the kindness you have shown me today.”

You retracted from Levi and faintly smiled as your heart stung. “There is no need. I’m just doing my job.” You signed off on the last of the papers and pushed them over to Levi. “Here is everything for you.”

Levi frowned as you rose to your feet. “Are you leaving me?”

“Of course, you have no need for me.”

A loud scrape filled the room as Levi’s chair dragged across the wooden floor. He stood before you hurt by your sudden declaration that you were leaving. “Have I offended you?”

You shifted to the door but Levi blocked your escape. “You have not, but there is nothing much left I can do here for you. Do contact me if you desire more tea though.”

Levi knew there wasn’t much he could do, so he moved away from the door and accepted his loss. There was something deep within him that wanted to possess you and have you as his, but you wanted to leave and he knew very well he shouldn’t force you to stay. He bowed his head as his mind raced at all the things he could say or do.

He clenched his fist tightly as he fought his emotions. “I will call upon you if I need you. I will miss your company.”

You bowed your head. “How kind, Lord Ackerman.”

“Levi, please.”

You gripped the handle tightly. “I will see you soon, Levi.” You left the office and felt the reassuring and comforting aura leave you. A long sigh escaped you once you were outside the private room. You made your way through the hall and back out the front. “Would you like a drink, Mr Callahan?”

Mr. Callahan gave you a weak smile. “I am all right, my dear.” His brow creased as he studied you. “You seem troubled.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

He placed his hand on your upper back as guilt consumed him. Although he had spoken to another Lord with white hair who craved you, the guilt of it all was suffocating him. He was conflicted because he wanted to protect you but he feared what would happen if he did not comply with this man. If he didn’t do as the man commanded, then he would go to the vampire Queen of the city. The Queen was someone to be truly frightened of.

Mr. Callahan smiled at you to give you a little comfort. “You know the young handsome gentleman with white hair?”

You chuckled. “You seem to bring him up often.”

“Well, that’s because he was rather taken by you.”

Your heart swelled. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” He moved closer to you. “It must be lonely in this city. You only have me as a friend. I am not telling you to court him, but perhaps you could meet him and spark up a friendship?”

You contemplated it for a moment and weighed up your situation and decided that it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know the white-haired man. “Very well. I will meet with him.”

“Wonderful. I will inform Lord Lucius Demont that you wish to meet.”

Lord Lucius Demont had a rather fitting name for who he was. Lucius meant light and Demont meant one who was filled with desires. He was a man of action and took what he wanted when he could. He was graced with good looks from what you could remember. Icy blue eyes with delicate long lashes would entrance anyone who would look into them. A strong jawline was complimented by his plump lips and pale skin. He was rather tall with broad shoulders and covered in muscle. His hands were large but in the good way that people wanted gripping them with prominent veins. His white hair wasn’t short nor was it long, but it was in the middle. His hair was styled messy that went down his neck and reached the base.

It didn’t take too long before the man himself entered the shop. He had such a commanding presence within the room. Black sunglasses rested on his nose to hide his icy eyes. He scanned the room and landed on you. He closed the door and moved over to you. Each step he took towards you made both your hearts race. He placed a large gloved hand against his pec and bowed slightly to you.

Levi had instantly sensed there was a rival pure-blooded vampire near. He moved to the door and spied on what was happening. Levi felt anger bubble away inside him as he watched Lucius introduce himself to you. It was well-known how smooth Lucius was with women and he had many running around him little a gaggle of geese. However, it was becoming clear that Lucius wanted you more than just another follower. He was a dangerous man to be around because of how close he was to the deadly vampire Queen.

You fiddled with your dress for a moment as you felt nervous. With Levi, you were comfortable and happy around him with some naughty desires but with the man before there was something not fully right, as if your gut was telling you to be careful. You wanted the floor below you to swallow you up so you could hide. You were tired and confused and you just wanted to disappear.

Lucius smiled a little. “Forgive Mr Callahan, I believe he has been rather pressuring towards you due to my mentioning that I was rather taken by you.”

You hummed a moment in thought. “I was put at risk one night due to working late. I understand that you both wanted to arrange something, but I do request that if you have desires towards me you talk to me instead of arranging things behind my back.”

“Allow me to say sorry by taking you to dinner.”

The thought tossed around in your head for a while before you made a choice. Loneliness had made its home in your heart and there was this longing within you to be wanted by someone and it seemed that someone was before you. “I suppose I could go, but I would much prefer a lunch as the night here concerns me.”

Lucius took your hand in his and placed a delicate kiss against your fingers. “I shall take you on that lunch date tomorrow.”

“I am off work that day. So, I shall meet you at the park near here.”

He raised his head. “Of course. How about at twelve?”

You bowed your head. “Yes.” You looked over at Mr Callahan. “May I leave early?”

Mr Callahan smiled softly. “Yes. You have been overworked. Go home early and I will see you in a few days.”

You retrieved your outdoor cloak and made your way over to Levi’s private room, which he hastily retreated into. The door creaked as you pushed it open. A divine scent filtered out of the room and wrapped around you. No matter how much you fought it, it was hard to deny the fact that you were attracted to everything that was Levi.

Levi was standing to the side so he was close when you walked in. He softly said your name causing you to look up at him. “I heard you coming. Is everything okay?”

You hummed at him. “I am going home. I just wanted to let you know as I have been with you all day and I did say I would come running to help you.”

“Well, I am finished for the day. So, I would like to walk you home.” He moved closer to you. “Only if you allow it.” The cloak slipped off your arm as Levi removed it. “If you told me to leave you alone, I would.”

You lowered your head. “That is the issue though, Lord Ackerman.”

Levi was speechless when you looked up and returned his gaze. His vampiric powers gave him the ability to move people and yet in this moment, he was moved by you. “Issue?”

You nodded. “I am unable to tell you to leave me because I don’t want you to. I desire your presence and yet I barely know you. I feel as if something is binding us together.” You placed your gentle hand on his chest. “Like there is a string binding us.” You retreated from Levi. “Forgive me. I am assuming so much.” You dragged your hood up to hide a little. “You may escort me if you wish.”

Compelled by your words and the feelings within him he could not stand by and let you walk away. Levi firmly wrapped his hand around your upper arm and squeezed. With a gentle tug, he returned you to him. “Wait a moment and I will go with you.”

You moved over to the table and looked over the papers and books on it. “Were you able to get what you needed?”

“For now, but I will return often as my view is rather nice.”

“View?” The realisation hit you causing your heart to race. “Oh, thank you.”

He pulled on his outdoor attire and turned to you. “I wish to use this room tomorrow. Would it be all right to leave everything as is?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” He raised his arm slightly as an invitation for you to take it. “Shall we?”

You wrapped your arms around Levi’s presented one and allowed him to escort you. A sweet smile spread across your lips as Levi moved with you through the building. Luckily for you both your guest and boss were nowhere to be seen, so you both could leave the building without anyone pestering you. It was a comfortable quiet between the two of you as you walked together with the sun setting behind you. This time you had plenty of time before the nightlife came.

It was clear to Levi how desperate people were to get out into the streets tonight. He could sense the tension in the air. Something was up with this city, it was as if people’s hunger and arousal had been intensified. Levi needed to get you home as soon as he could to ensure you were safe. The two of you had only met on two occasions, one of those you weren’t aware of, and spent all day today together and yet there was something so comfortable and right about you walking together and him protecting you.

It occurred to Levi that he knew where you lived, but he wasn’t supposed to. So, leading you to the park was the right thing to do but would also be suspicious. “Please, lead the way to your home.”

You glanced up at Levi. “Through this park and a bit further and we will reach my home.”

“I will protect you.”

You hummed a sweet laugh that was music to Levi’s ears. “I have full faith in you.” A thought plagued your mind as you made your way to your home. “Lord Ackerman?”

“Levi, please.”

You gasped as you felt slightly embarrassed at the thought of being so informal with a customer, but it was his request and you wanted to get closer to him. “Well, Levi…”

“Yes?”

You pondered upon your thoughts. “Why are you showing me such kindness? Is this unique to me or is this the same kindness you show others?”

Levi came to a stop outside your home. “It is unique to you. I have not cared for nor taken a fascination with a person before.” He caressed your cheek with his hand. “There is just something out you I find so compelling.” He retreated from you as a familiar voice in his head warned him about getting so close to a human. “Rest well and I will see you soon at the shop.”

A strong blush burned your cheeks when Levi’s lips lightly pressed with the back of your hand. “You too, Levi. Rest well.” You reached over and lightly touched under his eyes. “You seem tired and troubled.”

He backed up from you and knew he needed to draw a line between the two of you. He was torn. He wanted you so badly, but being together would put you in great danger. The Queen has an obsessive and watchful eye on Levi. For your safety, it was best that this relationship remained a business one even if you both felt something much stronger.

Levi tipped his hat. “Goodnight.”

You clutched your chest and shyly waved as Levi parted from you. “Goodnight.” You too had similar feelings to Levi. This city was dangerous and you were only new here. There was a worry in your gut that being involved with Levi or Lucius would mean harm would come to you. Being involved with either would mean crossing into the world of night, and from what you had seen so far the nightlife was the dark face of the city. No matter how much you told yourself to stay away, your heart just kept longing for Levi.

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